“The regressions didn’t work as I’d hoped. Remus was supposed to hypnotize you into telling us where the book was…not that it mattered.”
“What do you mean?”
“I tried, but I can’t read the necessary spell.”
“What?”
“My Great-Aunt must have foreseen this. She’s hidden the words from me. The page is blank. Now I must try another route, a more dangerous route. Otherwise, I would have taken the book with me the day Móraí and I broke in.”
“You ransacked my shop. How? Alana was in on it?”
“Of course not. We drugged her, which reminds me…it’s time.”
Shona opened the white box in front of her, revealing a lonely lemon cupcake.
“Eat up, my dear.” She slid the box across the table. “Yer favorite.”
“You’ve been lacing my cupcakes. That’s why I’ve been so off balance,” I accused. “I thought it was the magic, but Shona was drugging me. Why would ye help them?”
“Because I hate ye, that’s why. Sam Walsh was my man, and ye stole him from me.”
“Sam? I didn’t—”
“He became obsessed with ye, and yer silly tramp friend.”
Sandra piped up. “In the past, I’ve simply manipulated people’s drinks, but these herbs can be quite bitter tasting. Shona’s little cupcake shop came in very handy. Sam was best friends with Liam, and like a son to me, so naturally Shona and I became friends. Don’t you remember her grand opening seventeen years ago? I offered the readings and you stopped by.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” How had I missed that? “But Sam was dating Leslie...”
“Yes, Shona wasn’t too pleased about that. She was pregnant with their daughter, Hannah. I imagine you now understand why she was so willing to help me now—forced to be a single parent and all.”
I looked across the table at Shona and Hannah. The hate was truly visible. Hannah was Alana’s best-friend. She’d been in my home more times that I could count and her mother was dating Cullen’s Da. It was all so twisted.
“Shona tells me the lemon, especially, hides the flavor.” Sandra smiled and lifted the cupcake out of the box, holding it out to me.
Thoughts of Móraí’s herb garden prickled my brain. Sandra had helped her to plant it. Sandra was the friend she’d met in Shona’s shop who invited her to join the coven.
“You can’t make me eat this.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s necessary for the spell. If you want to see Alana again, then you will eat it.”
Sandra’s gaze locked on mine and I demolished the cupcake in two large bites. I needed to get Alana back, and I was getting used to headaches and the blurred vision. It tasted of lemon, just as it always did, but now I could also taste a hint of tree bark.
“Shona, please take your daughter and go home now. This part could get dangerous.”
“But—ye haven’t punished her yet.”
“We discussed this. It’s time to go. You’ve played your part and had your revenge. The rest is up to me.” Sandra’s voice was firm and Shona’s face flashed with anger, but she got to her feet and tugged her daughter up the stairs. Sandra waited until they were gone to continue her rant.
“I apologize for manipulating you, Sophia, but as you can see, my options were, and still are, limited. My time has run out and I have no other choice.”
“Yes, you do. You can die like the rest of us will. You cursed me and you ask my forgiveness but you’re still punishing me. You can’t play with people’s lives and not pay for it. Karma will always get you.”
“Once upon a time I would have laughed at the very idea. But I’m beginning to wonder whether you are right. Still I must try to go back and make things right. At the very least I need to apologize to some people before I die.”
“So you’re going to go back to try to change things? You think you can?”
She nodded her head.
It had made sense to me once upon a time as well. If one can travel back in time—they could undo or change their actions and thus change the outcome. I’d tried to save my own loved ones that way and failed.
“I want to see Alana first,” I demanded.
Sandra shook her head.
“Let me see her,” I begged.
“She’s sleeping off the medicine—she’ll be okay unless you refuse to co-operate. Do you refuse?”
“No.” I blinked back the tears and straightened in my chair. “But Alana had better be safe or there is nowhere you will be able to hide from me.”
“She is. Let’s get started.” Madame Brun settled herself at the table, opening my book. The Book of Rochus.
I didn’t turn around, but I heard soft wings beating the air. Was there a bird down here?
Sandra bowed her head and I used the opportunity to look around the room. I was correct. There was a black raven settled on a perch behind Madam—its black feathers gleaming in the firelight. Behind it, against the wall on a shelf, three small skulls grinned blankly at me—animal skulls, or so I hoped.
Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down the side of my face. I needed to find a way out of here. I wouldn’t be a pawn in their game.
“Hold out your hand,” Sandra Brun commanded.
I didn’t move.
“Móraí, hold out her hand.”
Móraí stepped closer to me and her hair began to slither and hiss. She encircled my wrist but I screamed and pulled away. “Snakes!”
“Relax, Sophia,” Sandra cooed. “You’re hallucinating. That’s just Móraí’s hair.”
“What was in that cupcake?” I asked.
“Sage, hemlock and a little hallucinogenic.”
“A little hallucinogenic! Why?” I screamed.
“To help you remember. To take you there.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“If you don’t co-operate, Móraí will shoot you in the knee,” Sandra declared.
I thought about continuing to struggle despite the threat, but her hair had stopped moving. She suddenly seemed almost remorseful —weak, even. Then I realized why. She was staring at a picture of Liam that sat framed on the table before us. I could have strangled her in that moment and felt nothing but pleasure.
Candlelight glinted off silver and dazzling purple gems. Sandra held a knife, high over my exposed palm—the Delhi Sapphire Dagger, the one I’d had fashioned as a wedding gift for Cullen. Blood magic. Oh, that was not good. She was going to force my help just as Liam had once intended.
The dagger descended. My blood spilled out, dripping over a pentagram drawn in half-red and half-black chalk on the table below.
“I call on dark magic,” intoned Madame Brun, “to gain another’s…” She gave me a wicked, sickly smile as she deliberately wielded the knife in the air.
My breath rasped in my throat. I was tired, as if my energy was pouring from me.
I fought, grasping at as much energy as I could—imagining walls all around me, but I felt like a newborn resisting sleep. I couldn’t think, my energy was draining away like water through a sieve and I couldn’t…couldn’t hold on to it… my eyelids fluttered.
The raven flapped its wings, danced on the perch for a minute, and then took flight. It circled the room, faster and faster, blowing the candles out. My skin crawled and the cut on my hand stung. Sandra relit the candles and placed them on the shelves alongside the stones.
Then she took either side of my face, and pressed her head to mine. Forehead to forehead. Eyes closed. Bodies close, almost touching.
A long moment passed. I could feel her reaching out to me, but I couldn’t keep my guard up. The sense was overwhelming. “Concentrate on the black mirror. Think of Elena and Alexandra, of your cottage and the castle. Concentrate without thought on seeing what is in your mind’s eye. I know you can do it. Send me home, Sophia, and you shall remain safe here with your family.”
I faced the mirror and tried not to do what she told me, but the images and memor
ies flashed before my eyes.
And in an instant, I was back there, strolling through the forest; rowing a boat in the river with a boy; brewing tea for a tall, red-haired woman.
Outside my memories, off in the distance, the shuffling of feet and voices grew unbearably loud. Someone shouted the name “Mum” repeatedly. Smells of incense and smoke wafted at me.
“Yes. Yes. It’s working. Keep going.” Sandra Brun’s words turned into a deep chant and then a screech. Through a bleary haze I saw a girl running at us from a hole in the wall. Her eyes wide with fear. She was carrying a large brass candle holder and she swung, clubbing Móraí in the head with it. Móraí went down like a sack of potatoes, knocking another candle over behind her.
Alana. My baby girl. She’d come from one of the underground passages. The house and church were connected by a series of them.
I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they might crack, and yanked my hand away from Sandra Brun. She had set the dagger down and I picked it up. The handle felt cool, solid in my hand. I had to get out of there, had to get Alana away. I couldn’t risk Sandra Brun hurting her.
A loud bang, the clattering of footsteps on the steps. Who else was here?
I would gladly die if only my baby girl was saved. The candle had caught on the drapes and the flames were now spreading at the far end of the room. Every breath I drew burned in my throat and lungs. Sandra slammed the book down over Alana’s head from behind and she went down.
As I held the dagger, the room spun around me, whirling on its side like an amusement park ride. Vomit rose up in my throat climbing higher and higher in an attempt to escape. Escape—that was what I needed to do. Someone was shouting at me to run. I held the vomit down through sheer force of will. Beyond the smoke and dancing tongues of ravenous fire, I could see Sandra Brun. Cullen’s hand was on my sleeve, urging me to get to my feet, but I couldn’t move. When did he arrive?
“Cullen—Get Alana out. She’s over there unconscious on the floor,” I shouted. My voice sounded deep and distorted, as though it were in slow motion as well. It was a nightmarish sensation.
My eyes widened as he hurried to pick her up. It felt like I was being run through the wash. I knew the sensation. The time portal was opening. What were the chances we’d all be transported? I held my breath for one heart-stopping moment as I realized there was no water nearby.
Sweat ran into my eyes. Bitter herbs bubbled in my stomach. This wasn’t normal, time travel had never felt good but it had never felt this bad either.
Sandra Brun jumped to her feet. I waved the dagger at her. I’d killed before. Well sort of. Liam had fallen to his death but it had been my fault. I’d watched him fall, praying for his death because it would mean my freedom, and now they were trying to ruin everything. Send me back to save him? Hell no! I let the anger wash over me and crystallize in my head until it became something solid and hard.
Behind me all was chaos. The room was spinning like a tornado and I was at the center. I could hear Cullen shouting at me to follow him. Alana was unconscious in his arms. Leslie was pointing a weapon at Sandra Brun’s husband who had morphed from bird to man and now he just stood there with his hands up. The scent of sage and hemlock rose thick in the air. I ignored it all and stared at Sandra Brun. She was fighting me for control of the knife. I stared, and I believed, deep down, that I could drive the knife into her. At last, Sandra let go of the knife and disappeared almost immediately. Through the swirling tornado, I shifted my gaze about the room and searched for Cullen, Alanna and Leslie. They were gone. They’d been there only moments ago. I could no longer make out the anything through the thickening smoke. It was over. I was trapped and I would die of smoke inhalation alone. If only I’d had the chance to say goodbye.
THIRTYFIVE
Dublin, Ireland, Four Months later
D inner was a gloomy experience, which seemed a fairly normal occurrence these days. Alana dried the last plate and placed it in the press, watching the colorful leaves through the kitchen window as they tumbled across the lawn.
Da had moved to the sofa and was already back to work. On top of the steamer trunk sat a half empty glass of whiskey. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate and stood in the doorway, watchin’ the auld man tentatively—his eyes had lost their sparkle. It sounded cheesy but it was true. She couldn’t blame him, at least not totally. There were no more smiles over Lyons tea, lazy Saturdays spent outside, or laughter from the kitchen as her mum sipped wine while Da chopped praties. His relationship with Leslie, if ye could call it that, couldn’t hold a candle to what her parents had shared. Not that Leslie or Da admitted to being a couple but why else was Leslie here?
This was the time of night her mum would usually wet the peppermint tea and they’d all have a cup. She looked down at the worn paperback on the counter. Leslie must be reading it. It was a classic tale about a family that stuck together through difficult times. Like that really happened—she picked it up and tossed it into the rubbish.
Every good tale needs an evil step-mother. Her mum always used to say that. Cinderella, Snow White, Giselle—those girls had all lost their mothers and gained an evil step-mother in the process.
Alana could hardly claim Leslie was wicked. She was actually wildly helpful, but she wasn’t her mum and Alana didn’t want her to be. At least Da and Leslie still slept in separate bedrooms—although surely that was just an illusion, since Leslie was about to go away with him.
She strode across the hardwood and joined Da in the living room, curling her feet beneath her in the oversized chair. Daphne jumped into her lap as she took the first sip almost knocking the cup from her hands.
“Daphne!” Alana exclaimed, licking the whip cream from the top of her lip. The cat just purred and rubbed herself against Alana’s chest. Alana smiled, thinking somehow Daphne always knew when she needed comfort. She stared at the oil painting of the castle that hung over the fireplace as she stroked Daphne’s fur. The painting was not her mother’s favorite—she’d shivered when Alana painted it, but she hung it anyway—she used to tell Alana all kinds of stories about castle life—which reminded her that she should get to work on her history assignment.
Alana cleared her throat. Her father was still staring at his computer screen, obviously trying to avoid the fight they were having.
“Ah c’mon will ye…”
“No. The schoolhouse bell may sound bitter in youth but its sweet, I tell ye, in old age.”
“Oh, my actual god, Da. That’s exactly why I should tag along. I don’t want to miss the opportunity…”
“For the last time, sixteen is too young for a lass to be bunkin’ off and trailin’ after her Da on business. End of discussion, so crack on.”
Alana let out a frustrated sound akin to “Unnrrggghhh” and shooed Daphne from her lap.
“Don’t forget yer book bag. Leslie is not your maid.”
Climbing the stairs, Alana was sure to thump her book bag against each step as loudly as possible.
“Don’t get cute with me!” Da’s voice boomed from below.
Alana dropped her bag to the floor, ignoring the reprimand. She loved Da’s study, a peaceful room on the upper floor that housed the overflow from Mysterious Adventures in Ink.
She’d spent hours browsing the shelves that lined the back wall after her mum’s death as a way to feel closer to her.
She shook the melodramatic thoughts loose and pulled one of Da’s architecture books from the shelf, thumbing through the pages until she found the section on Medieval Castles. Maybe it was because Da was an architect, or because Mum was always after reading fairytales, but either way, it struck her that she’d become obsessed with the 15th century. She was actually excited to write this paper.
She set the book down. Plane tickets and an itinerary glared up at her from the mahogany desk. The itinerary was filled with castles, museums and libraries—business trip her arse. He and Leslie were obviously going on holiday without her. Again.
Alana told herself not to bother—she was sixteen and needed to be independent—but she couldn’t help but feel unloved. Her mother had wanted her, had always loved her no matter what.
A tear escaped but she wiped it away before it could roll down her cheek, shutting away the pain.
“Stuff it!” she said aloud.
All mothers died eventually, they even died in fairytales. She remembered crying the first time she’d learned that lesson. Poor Bambi.
If only she could stop her thoughts and memories—she’d been replaying her mother’s death for the last four months. That wretched black bird circling the room so fast that it whooshed out the candles and flipped the pages of the book. It was all a hazy dream. Leslie had told her it was because Móraí and some Sandra lady had drugged her. Still, it had been all her fault. What kind of monster killed her own mother?
She dwelled on the image of the leather spell book from that night. She’d been dreaming about it again—and not just about the book, but of Mum reading from it. Alana closed her lids, picturing her mother’s slanted, blue cat eyes crinkling in the corners as she kissed her good-night.
She couldn’t remember much else about the night her mother died—just a dark and scary basement with candles and skulls and that book. Why had she given her mother such a hard time at dinner? Now her mother would never know...
“Everything all right?” Leslie asked, popping her head through the open doorway.
“Brilliant.” Alana answered petulantly, glancing in the mirror that hung to her right. A delicate pink blush around her eyes was the only sign she’d been crying. She licked her lips and did her best to smile.
“Just sortin’ out a topic for my history paper that’s due next month.”
“I thought I heard you and your father having words again.”
Alana wanted to confide in Leslie. They used to be besties, but these days it seemed like a betrayal to her mother.
“I know things are tough right now but I swear to you that your Da has the best of intentions. He really loves you…and he does want you around.”
Cruel Fortunes Omnibus: Volumes One to Four Page 84
