The Price Guide to the Occult

by Leslye Walton

  Reed drew Nor to him. When they pulled apart, he kept his hands on her face. “Ask me what I’m thinking,” he murmured.

  “What are you thinking?”

  He hooked a piece of her wet hair with his finger and tugged on it gently. “That you are so beautiful.”

  Nor blushed. “Oh, shut up.”

  “You are so beautiful,” Reed continued, ignoring her. “No wonder it hurt to look anywhere else.” He kissed her good-bye, pressing his lips to the scars on her wrists.

  Nor scooped up Bijou and hurried into the house. Once upstairs, she plopped the little dog onto the bed and threw her sand-filled combat boots into the corner.

  Moonlight flooded the room with its opalescent light; from up there, the rest of the island was just shadows, as foreboding as a fairy tale. Monsters may very well have been hiding in those shadows, but with the briny scent of the ocean still on her skin, Nor couldn’t imagine how any nightmare could possibly find her that night.

  Nor was dreaming again. In her dream, she was standing in a cold and unfamiliar room. The walls and floor were made of stone. The room had a foul odor to it, a mix of rot and decay, and the metallic scent of blood. The only way out was up a winding stone staircase. The only light poured in from a solitary window at the far end of the room.

  Nor tapped her red-lacquered nails against her arm. Green fern tattoos spiraled across her pallid skin. Her stilettos clicked menacingly against the cold stone floors as she paced.

  Catriona held the victim down and covered the woman’s mouth with her hand. A plain girl so used to being overlooked, Catriona had proven to be very useful, devoted, and reliable.

  Madge had turned out to be far too fainthearted for such work, Mohawk too stupid. But Catriona, well, she was far too eager for it. She’d probably rip out the woman’s tongue with her bare hands if Nor let her.

  The woman kneeling on the floor in front of Catriona emitted a pathetic moan, more animal than human. She had the same nose as her son and the same fair hair. And the same too-familiar expression: instead of seeing love in his eyes, there was only ever fear and contempt, a constant reminder that, no matter what she did, time and again what she wanted continued to slip through her hands like frayed rope.

  “What do you want?” Bliss’s voice was a strangled whisper, as if the grip Catriona had on the back of her head affected her ability to speak. Perhaps it did.

  “You have nothing I want,” Nor snapped in that voice that did not belong to her, “but you do have something I need.” When she was finished with Bliss Sweeney, she would be sure to have carved out any resemblance remaining between mother and son. She would make a point of it.

  “Is it the girl?” Bliss asked. “I swear I only spoke to her about the spell once!”

  Nor’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Bliss hesitated. “I — I asked her about casting a spell for me. I haven’t seen my son in years. I was desperate. You have to understand, a mother’s love is —” She stopped.

  “And what was the girl’s response?” Nor snapped.

  “She insisted she couldn’t cast it.” Her voice wavered. “Should she be able to?”

  “That,” Nor said in that honeyed tone, “has yet to be determined.” She ran the razor-sharp point of a red fingernail along Bliss Sweeney’s soft jawline. “But thank you. You’ve been more helpful than I expected you to be.”

  Much later, the blood of Quinn Sweeney’s mother trickled across the floor. As promised, there was nothing left of her that resembled her son. There was nothing left of her at all.

  Nor wiped the blood from her face. She turned to Catriona, who had a new fern tattoo coiling up her arm like a snake. It was splattered with blood.

  “Now,” Nor said, “let’s talk about the girl.”

  The frantic beat of Nor’s own heart filled her ears as she pounded down a faint pathway near the southern shore of the island. No one had maintained this trail for years — Nor wasn’t entirely sure she’d known it existed before now. The hems of her pajama pants were torn and muddy; there were rips in the long-sleeved T-shirt she’d worn to bed, and chestnut burrs were caught in her hair. Her hands and face were smeared with dirt and blood. The wintry air burned her lungs and turned her breath to mist.

  A little fox raced through the woods parallel to her, his thoughts moving in and out of her head. He sped in front of her, and Nor could feel the racing of his heart, the cold air in his lungs. The farther away he got, the harder he was to hear, and all too quickly he was gone, leaving Nor alone in the woods.

  Nor yelped as she jammed her bare foot on a rock in the trail. She sank to the ground to assess the damage: a jagged gash on the heel of her right foot. She pressed her hand to the wound, just as she’d watched Judd do a thousand times, but she couldn’t get it to mend. Perhaps it was too deep. Perhaps she was too scared.

  “What are you doing out here?” a gravelly voice asked. Startled, Nor looked up to see Reuben Finch looming over her.

  “I don’t know,” she answered hoarsely. One minute, she was falling asleep in her own bed. The next, she was waking up in a pile of frost-covered leaves and mud on one of the island’s abandoned trails with no memory of how she’d gotten there. And the dream she’d had in between? She was quite certain now that this dream — and the last one — hadn’t been dreams at all.

  Horror swept over her like a cold sweat. It had been her hand with those red-painted nails that had wiped Bliss Sweeney’s blood from her face. She had watched those ferns unfurl from her arm. Only, she didn’t have red nails. Or tattoos.

  Reuben nodded thoughtfully, as if Nor had given him an answer worth deliberation. His face, Nor noted, was lined with time and endless summers spent outdoors. His eyebrows were as thick and unruly as a briar patch, and his goatee was streaked with the fiery red hair that had once covered his head. “All right then,” he said.

  He held out his giant hand and pulled Nor to her feet, nearly crushing her fingers with his meaty paw. Her grandparents, Nor realized as she kneaded her smashed hand, were quite similar. Once upon a time, they must have made quite the pair.

  Nor stumbled, hopping back and forth on her good foot in an attempt to regain her balance. With Reuben’s help, she somehow managed to keep her weight on the ball of her foot, hobble over fallen tree limbs, and pick her way through branches sharp with thorns cloaking the path. When they finally emerged from the woods, Nor was surprised to find they were on the other side of Reuben’s farmhouse.

  Tucked back from Stars-in-Their-Eyes Lane, the large cabin sat at the very end of the property and was surrounded by acres of farmland. As she limped down the long driveway, Nor could see fields of bright-green asparagus and red stalks of chard. A few free-range chickens roamed the yard. From here, she could also make out one of the closest neighboring isles. Halcyon Island was barely a few miles long and boasted only one structure — the abandoned hotel.

  It scared her, all of it: the dream with all that blood on the floor and the fear in Bliss Sweeney’s eyes and those red-painted nails scared the shit out of Nor. Those plants, with their bloodthirsty thorns, scared her, too. And there was something disquieting about that uninhabited island.

  As soon as Nor walked through the cabin’s front door, she smelled oolong tea brewing. She hobbled after Reuben into the kitchen, passing a stone fireplace, a braided rug stretched across the hardwood floors, and a rocking chair in the corner. Aside from the tea, the house smelled of leather and pine and wet wool.

  Reuben set a ceramic mug on the table in front of Nor. The mug was large and obviously handmade, misshapen and glazed in a multitude of hues, all turquoise and cerulean and jade. After pulling a first aid kit from one of the kitchen cupboards, Reuben settled into the chair next to Nor. He took her foot in his hand, examining the gash on her heel. “You must have been moving fast,” he mused. He wiped the wound clean of dirt, applied a disinfecting salve that made Nor wince, and then wrapped a length of gauze around her foot.

&
nbsp; Though Reuben Finch was Nor’s biological grandfather, their relationship was a bit untraditional, because neither had ever acknowledged their relationship at all. Traditionally, the fathers of the Blackburn women didn’t give so much as a second thought to the daughters they’d sired, let alone their granddaughters. The only difference was that Judd Blackburn, who had loved both men and women at one time or another, and Reuben Finch had been childhood sweethearts. Ironically, the only Blackburn daughter who had ever been conceived in love had been Fern.

  “That’ll have to do for now,” he said. “Let’s get you home to Judd so she can fix you up properly.”

  He pulled her up, and that was when Nor spotted it again — through the window, the little red fox. Satisfied that Nor was safe — at least for now — he darted around the corner of the porch and scurried into the fields and out of sight.

  Reuben helped Nor through the back fields toward the Tower. When they reached the gate that divided the woods from Harper Forgette’s property, however, he turned and began walking away.

  “You’re not going to help me the rest of the way?” Nor called.

  “Eh, you’re strong enough to make it on your own,” Reuben answered glibly. And with that, his lumbering stride took him back into the woods.

  “Are you kidding me?” Nor muttered. She pulled herself up and over the fence, catching her leg on the barbed wire Harper Forgette used to try to keep raccoons out of the pastures. She landed on the ground with a grunt and stumbled back to her feet. The alpacas weren’t quite as pleased to see Nor this time. She was much too distressed for their liking, and the pack turned away with quick, nervous steps. She kept hobbling across the pasture, and the dogs came into view. They were waiting at their usual spot, but Antiquity’s attention and hostility, usually aimed at Nor, were directed elsewhere. That can’t possibly be good.

  Suddenly, Pike was hurtling over the gate toward her. “Where in the hell have you been?” he asked, gripping her arm.

  Nor didn’t answer but glanced toward the Tower. An unfamiliar and flashy green car was parked in the front yard.

  A familiar panic began to build in her chest. Those scars — those neat little lines that ran along her ankles, in the crook of her arm, along her hips — began to hum in anticipation. “She’s here,” she said. “Isn’t she?”

  Pike examined the cuts on Nor’s face and noticed the gauze wrapped around her foot. He made a face, grabbed her arm, and wrapped it around his shoulder. The sheathed knife he carried on his hip was thick, like a cleaver or a machete.

  “We’ll get Judd to heal you up after,” he said.

  After what?

  Nor wasn’t sure if she was more surprised to find her mother sitting at one end of the dining room table or to find Judd sitting across from Fern at the opposite end. It was an unsettling and incongruous pairing. Judd’s mouth was hardened into her usual scowl. Her calloused hands were wrapped around a teacup, the grip so tight Nor could already see cracks beginning to form in the delicate porcelain. Judd still had on her work boots, and a dusting of dried mud and grime and who knew what else had sloughed off onto the floor under the table.

  Nor cringed when she saw the provocatively fitted suit — the same sickly green color as the car parked outside — her mother was wearing. The jacket flared at the hips and was unbuttoned just enough to expose the edges of a see-through bustier. She had on four-inch heels, the bottoms of which appeared to have been dipped in red. It was the same red as on her nails and lips. Jewels hung from her ears and sparkled on her fingers. Delicate fern tattoos wound around her wrists and fingers. They spiraled over her ears and across the tops of her breasts.

  Catriona sat to the right of Fern. She was shockingly thin, skeletal even. Nor could hear the grinding sound of bone on bone when she crossed her legs. Catriona, too, had a fern tattoo, one that coiled up her right arm like a snake. Something red was splattered across that tattoo. Nor swallowed hard. It looked a lot like blood.

  The scars on Nor’s wrists started to throb. She clung dumbly to Pike as he led her toward the table. He peeled her trembling fingers from his arm, then joined Sena Crowe to stand against the wall.

  “Sit down, girlie,” Judd said to Nor. Her voice was composed, but judging from the look in her eyes, Nor’s grandmother was feeling anything but calm. The dogs seemed to agree; Antiquity was hiding under the table, her hackles up, her ears back. Bijou was glued to a spot by the front door.

  “Nor,” Fern purred. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

  She held out a hand so unnaturally white it was as if embalming fluid coursed through her veins. Nor wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Kiss her hand? Bow? Instead, she mutely sank into the chair next to Apothia. Nor’s scars were screaming so loudly, she could barely hear anything else.

  “Just breathe,” Apothia muttered, leaning toward Nor. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  Of course we’ll be fine, Nor thought, momentarily reassured. We have the Giantess.

  “All right, Fern,” Judd said. “Cut to the chase. What’re ya doing here?”

  Nor breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she heard the fierceness in her grandmother’s tone. All Nor had to do was hide in the safety of Judd’s shadow, and the Giantess would take care of everything else.

  Fern feigned hurt and surprise. “Why, you are my family.” She opened her arms wide in an exaggerated gesture of amiability. She turned to Nor and, in a voice dripping with honey, said, “I’m here to visit my lovely daughter, of course.”

  It was the way she said my lovely daughter that made the hair on the back of Nor’s neck prickle. Fern stood, and her tattoos began to writhe. They slithered from her skin and skulked across the table toward Nor, and Nor eyed them nervously, feeling like a flower about to be plucked, an animal about to be butchered.

  “So, tell me, Nor,” Fern said, “what Burden did our great matriarch bestow on my offspring?” She laughed at Nor’s answer with a shrill cackle. “I suppose we heard right,” she said to Catriona. “She really isn’t any threat, is she?” A vine lashed out suddenly and latched onto Nor’s arm. Like a stretching cat, it unfurled its spiny fronds and clawed at her sleeves.

  Judd stood abruptly, which sent her chair skidding across the floor. At her full formidable height, Judd towered over her daughter by at least a foot, even with Fern’s four-inch stilettos. “Fern!” she commanded, her booming voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “You let her go!”

  “Mother, please,” Fern said with a yawn, “we’re just having a little fun. Besides, we both know you can’t control me any more now than when I was younger.” To prove her point, she gave a flick of her tongue, which had the effect of slamming Judd to the ground and trapping her there. The Tower rattled with the force of her fall. Antiquity skidded out from under the table and stood over Judd protectively. The dog bared her teeth and growled, a low rumble that shook the windows like thunder.

  “It is a shame,” Fern said, turning to Nor, who was struggling against the fern. “It’s almost as if no magic courses through your veins.”

  The thorns of the vine burrowed into Nor’s arm. The pain was white-hot and impossible. Fern was just playing with her now, causing pain simply because she enjoyed it, simply to remind Nor that she could.

  Nor screamed, and Pike and Sena Crowe leaped into action. Sena Crowe hacked at the stalk with his knife until just a part of the hilt remained in his hand. The rest of the curved blade was now stuck fast in the thick, unyielding stem. Pike grabbed the vine with both hands and tried pulling it away from Nor’s skin.

  Fern sighed and leaned into Nor. “You know they’ll only succeed if I decide to let them,” she said. Her breath was sickly sweet, like overripe fruit. “I won’t, but it is fun to watch them try.”

  Fern laughed as Sena Crowe began to wheeze, and Pike’s grasp on the fern weakened. Apothia’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped over. Fern’s power was thick like sludge. Nor waited for the nausea to hit her, that blurred
sense of intoxication, the loss of focus, the difficulty breathing. But it never came. Nor could feel her magic pushing against Fern’s. And for the first time, instead of giving in to her fear — the kind of fear that used to make Nor want to slide a sharp object across her skin — she gave in to her own power.

  Nor’s magic coursed, unharnessed, through her veins. It was a raging fire, a wild animal, an impenetrable shield. Fern’s control slid off her like dirty dishwater.

  Nor’s eyes fell on Sena Crowe’s knife, still lodged in the vine. Nor tugged it free, then started swinging. She hacked at the thick stalk wrapped around her arm until it finally stiffened and dropped to the table, a withered husk. Fern had stopped laughing.

  Pike and Sena Crow recovered their breath and gasped. Apothia opened her eyes and coughed. Judd, no longer under Fern’s control, rushed to her side, but Apothia waved her off, then poured herself a cup of tea with trembling hands. Catriona gaped at the shriveled fern.

  Fern stretched her arms over her head in an attempt at nonchalance, but her anger was palpable, a bloated behemoth that she couldn’t hide from Nor. It was in the clench of her jaw, the pulsing vein in her forehead, the bloodied half-moons she’d gouged into her own arms.

  She stared at Nor and the dead vine, then silently stormed out of the Tower. Catriona stumbled in her haste to follow.

  As soon as the door closed, Nor sank back into her chair. Her hands were shaking.

  Judd pointed at Sena Crowe and Pike, both battered and bloodied. “Go,” she said, coughing. “Make sure she isn’t coming back.”

  Sena Crowe and Pike both nodded and quickly disappeared through the front door.

  Judd sat down next to Nor and examined her injuries. She ran her calloused palm against the abrasions on Nor’s collarbone and the scratches on the side of her face. The wounds started to heal, and so much steam was in the air that Nor could barely see Judd’s face.

  Judd then pulled Nor’s foot into her lap and probed the deep gash. Nor winced. A viscous substance overflowed Judd’s palms and spilled onto the floor.