The Price Guide to the Occult

by Leslye Walton

  Nor scrolled through her phone mindlessly before tossing it to the side with a sigh. No one had seen Fern anywhere even close to the archipelago, not since her visit to the Tower to see Nor. In fact, no one had seen her anywhere lately. The sales of The Price Guide to the Occult had skyrocketed, her seminars were sold out all over the country, and yet the woman herself hadn’t been seen in weeks. Then there was that event in Chicago: people were alarmed at Fern Blackburn’s inability to cast one of her own spells. Instead of being relieved at this turn, Nor felt more frightened than before; while their encounter at the Tower had clearly weakened her mother, Nor could feel her magic raging like a wildfire under her skin.

  She gently prodded the bruises on her face and fiddled with the gauze wrapped around her hand. She hadn’t been able to heal her own injuries, as minor as they were. Part of her wondered if that was because she didn’t want them to heal. She thought about the cold steel blade of Gage’s knife. For Nor, cutting had been a habit, a routine solution she’d reached for every time she felt afraid. No matter how many times she’d tried to let it go, it still somehow remained, a final resort she struggled to resist. How can I expect to defend myself against other people, she wondered, when I’m so busy trying to protect myself — from myself?

  When Nor finally fell asleep, she dreamed she was back at the Tower. Reed was waiting for her downstairs, but the only thing hanging in her closet was that black bustier dress. She put it on and found not Reed, but Gage waiting in the kitchen with Savvy.

  Before Nor could ask why they were there, she looked down to see blood covering her arms. She tried to wipe it away and find the source, but it was thick as paint.

  “I told you you’d never find love if you’re always covered in blood,” Savvy said.

  Nor screamed for help, and the other two watched indifferently as Nor’s blood continued to drip from her arms onto the floor and spread.

  The dream changed.

  Nor was now standing in the Witching Hour. The shop was empty and dark. The waning light of the moon spilled through a window streaked with dirt and grime and what looked like bird shit.

  She swept her arm along one shelf after another and sent candles, crystals, and row after row of tiny deities — Baphomet and Hecate, the Mother Goddess and Cernunnos, the horned one — crashing to the ground. She waded through the broken glass and porcelain, grinding tiny divine arms and legs into dust with the sharp points of her stiletto heels.

  There was movement from the back of the shop, and a putrid stench filled the air. Nor turned and instantly regretted it.

  Once upon a time, Madge had been a truly beautiful woman. Her skin now sagged like melted candle wax. Her face resembled a jack-o’-lantern left to rot in the rain. A lattice of black scabs crisscrossed her arms and legs. Her tattoos oozed with infection.

  “I told you,” the creature with Madge’s voice said. “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

  “How can I be sure that you aren’t lying to me?”

  “I wouldn’t!” Madge gasped. “Not to you. Not about this.” Madge glanced at Nor’s arm. Where once there had been a tattoo was only a gruesome wound in the shape of a fern.

  The memory of a dried-up fern lying on Judd’s table flashed across Nor’s mind. And then something else: a convention hall in Chicago packed with thousands of people, millions more watching on a live stream. She’d plucked an eager young man from the audience. The spell he’d requested had been a simple transmutation spell: relatively easy to cast, but still impressive.

  The spell hadn’t worked. The man had remained unaltered. He was quickly escorted from the stage while she stormed offstage, awash in fury and humiliation. She could hear doubt rising from the audience. She could see it in the eyes of those waiting for her backstage.

  There hadn’t been any reason for the spell to fail. The power of Bliss Sweeney’s sacrifice should have still coursed through her veins, but even the wounds she’d later carved into Catriona’s arms had done nothing but bolster her anger. She couldn’t cast the Revulsion Curse, the Wish-Granting Charm, or even Void of Reason, a spell aided by opium seeds. The only way she could conjure the Mouthful of Ashes jinx was to throw the ashes into the person’s mouth herself. Most alarmingly, even the spell she’d cast over Quinn was becoming more difficult to maintain. It was all she could do to keep that spell fed.

  With enough spilled blood, there shouldn’t have been any spell she couldn’t cast, no rapacious desire she couldn’t fulfill. Something had happened. Something that had started with the girl and that vanquished fern. Blood could ooze from the walls or bubble up from the floor, and she suspected there would be no effect. And it filled Nor with cold desperation.

  “You’ve always been quite fond of the girl, haven’t you?” Nor asked in her mother’s voice. “And even as a little girl, she was fond of you.”

  “Th-that’s true,” Madge stammered.

  “And yet she hasn’t told you where she’s hiding.” Nor clucked her tongue. “Be honest with me. You don’t want me to know, do you?”

  Madge blinked at her nervously. “What do you mean?”

  “You were hoping that maybe I would just let her go? That I would move on. Didn’t you?”

  Madge lowered her head in shame. “I will find her for you,” she promised between sobs.

  “I’m afraid that’s no longer an option.” Tattoos unfurled from Nor’s skin. They attacked like cobras. Thorns, venomous and sharp as teeth, struck at Madge’s throat.

  Nor left the Witching Hour alone, branding the staircase with bloody footprints.

  Nor woke with a start, her pulse racing. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the bloody footprints she’d made on the stairs of the Witching Hour.

  Nor swallowed hard. She reached for her phone and dialed Madge. She got her voice mail.

  Daylight poured into the room through the basement windows. She could hear car doors slamming outside, the crunch of tires against gravel, and the sound of Pike and Gage arguing.

  “You heard what Dauphine said, cuz,” Pike was saying.

  “Dauphine’s being unreasonable,” Gage shot back.

  Nor ascended the stairs. Standing with Pike and Gage were Sena Crowe and Charlie. “What’s going on?” she asked Charlie quietly.

  “My brothers are going off island for a bit,” Charlie explained.

  “And Gage wants to go, but they won’t let him?”

  “Right. He’s taking the news well, don’t you think?” Charlie said.

  “You make a good point,” Pike said to Gage. “If you and Charlie really want to come with us —”

  “Really?” Charlie exclaimed.

  Pike laughed. “Hell no!” He looked at Sena Crowe. “Can you imagine explaining that one to Dauphine?”

  “She’d have our hides, man,” Sena Crowe said evenly.

  “Exactly. Sorry, cuz. It’s out of the question.”

  Gage pushed past everyone and stomped down the stairs into the basement. Pike was still laughing as he and Sena Crowe left.

  Charlie and Nor followed Gage into the basement. Gage plopped onto the couch. He pulled Nor’s pillow out from under him and tossed it forcefully onto the floor.

  “Where are they going?” Nor dared to ask.

  “Dauphine wants them to do a sweep of the entire archipelago,” Charlie answered. “I wouldn’t worry about it, though. It’s fairly routine.”

  “Do you think Pike and Sena Crowe will be gone long enough to give us time to get to the other side of the island and back?” Nor asked.

  Gage raised an eyebrow.

  Nor took a deep breath. “I want to go to the Witching Hour.”

  “Fresh out of eye of newt, are you?” Gage said with a sneer.

  Nor gave him a look. “I can’t get ahold of Madge. I want to check in on her.”

  “I’m going to need more of a reason than that,” he said.

  “I just have a bad feeling,” Nor insisted. “That’s reason enough
. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll go by myself.”

  “Like hell you will,” Gage snapped.

  “Hang on,” Charlie said. “Do you realize how pissed off Pike will be if you leave the compound?”

  “And you listen to him about as much as —” Nor paused to let Gage and Charlie think it over.

  “I can’t think of a time when we’ve ever listened to him, can you?” Gage asked Charlie.

  “Doesn’t ring any bells,” Charlie admitted.

  “So you’re in?” Nor asked.

  Charlie grinned. “Yeah, we’re in.”

  “Any idea how we’re getting there?” Gage asked Nor.

  Nor hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll text Savvy about finding us a ride,” she decided quickly.

  “Does she have a boat?” Charlie asked.

  “She has a Vespa, but Savvy’s resourceful. She’ll figure out something.”

  A few moments later, Nor, Gage, and Charlie left the basement and made their way toward the trees at the edge of the compound. Only the vacant eyes of Rona’s aegises witnessed their departure.

  When the three emerged on the other side of the trees, they found an old white pickup truck waiting for them. The truck had a long crack in the windshield and, as with most vehicles on the island, was covered with rust. Grayson and Savvy sat in the front seat. Standing outside and leaning against the passenger door was Reed.

  Nor smiled in spite of herself. She’d known she could count on Savvy.

  Reed unhitched himself from the truck, smiling that crooked grin of his. Nor wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice a susurrus in her hair. “These must be your — cousins?” he asked when they pulled apart. He nodded toward Gage and Charlie. Gage snorted.

  Nor shot Gage a look. “Something like that,” Nor said.

  Savvy jumped out of the truck, her electric-blue box braids swinging past her waist. Her face softened when she saw the welts on Nor’s face. “Oh. Now you look like a villain in a comic book. Which,” she added quickly, “you can totally pull off.”

  “Nice to see you, too,” Nor said, smiling.

  Reed stroked Nor’s bruised cheek.

  Nor smiled. “I’m okay,” she insisted.

  Grayson grinned at them from the driver’s seat. “Shut up,” Reed mumbled to him, but he didn’t take his eyes off Nor.

  Grayson laughed. “What?” He swept fast-food wrappings from the seat onto the floor to make room for Nor. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Savvy settled herself atop an ice cooler in the bed of the truck, looking like a dairy princess on a parade float. Charlie and Gage climbed over the side to join her.

  “I take it you know where we’re headed,” Gage said, his tone even more steely than usual. He was staring at Reed’s hand, which was resting on Nor’s knee.

  “The Witching Hour, right?” Reed asked Nor.

  “Yeah,” she answered, her heart pounding.

  Grayson pulled the truck onto the dirt road. Through the passenger window, Nor spotted a little red fox quickening its pace to keep up with them. Nor wondered if it was right in thinking that going in search of Madge was a horrible mistake.

  Grayson pulled the truck onto Meandering Lane and slowly drove through the fog that had fallen on that side of the island. It was so opaque, Nor could swirl it into shapes with her fingertips. What shapes would they be? An eye for caution, a hand outstretched in warning, a question mark for What the hell are you doing?

  “The whole street lost power about a week ago,” Reed said. “That’s when even Mom’s regular clients stopped coming. She decided to close up for a bit and visit my aunt Luiza in Florida. She wanted me and Grayson to go with her.” He shrugged. “The way things have been around here, Grayson probably should have.”

  They stopped in front of the Sweet and Savory Bakery. The front door was slightly ajar. A carpet of dried leaves and pinecones covered the bakery floor.

  Gage and Charlie jumped out of the back of the truck. “You three should wait for us here,” Gage said, pointing at Savvy, Grayson, and Reed.

  Savvy opened her mouth to protest, but Nor quickly cut her off. “He’s right,” she said lightly. “You should just stay put. We won’t be long.” Hopefully.

  “But I have this,” Reed said, holding up a high-beam flashlight he’d dug out of the debris on the truck floor. “I imagine the Witching Hour can be pretty creepy in the dark.” He was teasing her, but when he saw the look on her face, he changed his tone. “Okay,” he said somberly, handing her the flashlight. “I’ll have Grayson park the truck in front of Willowbark. We’ll be there if you need us.”

  Nor nodded. She glanced over at the stairs and saw a red smear on the handrail. She suspected that when all this was over, none of them would be able to stop associating her with pain. Including herself.

  The plants in the front garden bristled as Charlie, Nor, and Gage walked by. The blossoms of a quince bush snapped and hissed. A hawthorn tree, its naked limbs covered in treacherous-looking thorns, loomed menacingly over the staircase. The once-purple blooms of a French lavender bush looked like the husks of dead bees.

  “You said you had a bad feeling?” Gage said. “How bad?”

  “Pretty bad,” Nor whispered.

  Gage nodded thoughtfully. “Got it.”

  Charlie unzipped her sweatshirt and took out a rolled leather bundle she had secured to her chest. Nor watched in awe as Charlie unfurled the bundle, revealing six gleaming knives of various shapes and sizes.

  “Do you always carry an arsenal with you?” Nor asked.

  Charlie adjusted a serrated blade tucked in her boot. “It’s a precaution.”

  They climbed the stairs. Though the rain had washed some of them away, bloody footprints led down the steps. Nor’s heart beat wildly as Gage opened the door.

  The dark purple walls seemed to absorb all the light from the flashlight. The air was dank, heavy with a familiar metallic odor. The velvet curtains had been torn to shreds. The floor crunched beneath their feet. Death masks and gargoyles hanging on the wall grinned down at them menacingly.

  Something brushed up against Nor’s leg. She jumped and let out a stifled yelp.

  “Oh shit,” she breathed. “It’s just Kikimora.” She put her hand on Gage’s arm to keep him from stabbing the cat.

  Nor leaned down and stroked Kikimora’s fur. Her hand came away wet, sticky, and warm. Blood. And it wasn’t Kiki’s. The cat darted out the open door.

  Nor scanned the room with her flashlight. Chaos, splattered blood, then finally —

  Madge. Slumped on the floor behind the front counter.

  “Nor —” Gage said.

  Nor didn’t hear the rest of what he might have said. She stumbled across the room. Please don’t be dead, she thought. Please don’t be dead.

  Madge’s face was bloated. Her skin was covered entirely with fern tattoos. Blood seeped from lacerations on her arms and legs and puncture wounds on her neck.

  Madge emitted a gurgled cough, and Nor set the flashlight to the side and pulled the debased woman’s head onto her lap. Nor gasped at the waves of pain she picked up just from touching Madge’s fevered skin. Nor stroked her hair, and Madge’s agony filled the space between them like scalding steam.

  But when Nor pulled her hand away, strands of Madge’s once-lustrous hair came with it. Nor swallowed a wave of nausea, wiped her hand clean, and resolutely pushed it against the wounds on Madge’s throat. Nor drew out Madge’s pain as two long quills. Madge’s wounds closed, and she took in a slow, ragged breath.

  Nor sighed in relief. She ignored the shocked looks on Charlie’s and Gage’s faces, and quickly pulled the quills out of her hands. Each one left behind a deep, bloodied gouge. She’d hardly alleviated any of Madge’s pain, but she wasn’t sure if she could do much more. Pain couldn’t heal pain — at least that was what Judd had always said.

  “Nor?” Madge rasped. She pe
ered up at Nor, her eyes mad with fever. “Oh, Nor, I thought she was going to kill me,” she said, sobbing.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Nor promised. She looked over at Gage and Charlie. “We need to get her to my grandmother,” she said. “And then —”

  Madge suddenly sat up and pitched herself at Nor. Nor’s palms collided with the floor. Broken glass cut into her hands. Madge wedged a sharp knee into her side, and Nor screamed.

  The rest came as a blur. Charlie charged at Madge and sent her flying off Nor with a teeth-rattling blow. Madge hit the counter with a grunt and knocked the cash register to the floor. It did nothing to slow her down. Charlie tackled Madge again, and Gage grabbed Nor from behind and pulled her out of the way.

  “Get back!” Gage barked.

  Nor scurried to hide behind a bookcase while Gage went to help Charlie. Someone kicked over the flashlight, and the room went dark. The sounds of a struggle continued.

  Nor crawled out from behind the bookcase, sliding her hand across the floor in search of the flashlight. She found it, and the light quaked in her trembling hand. She turned it on and aimed it at the noise.

  Madge had her hands around Gage’s throat. His face was red. His eyes were bulging. A strangled cry escaped his lips. Beside them, Charlie pulled herself to her knees, then slipped and fell. Blood covered the floor.

  It was all so familiar: blood and pain and fear.

  Nor felt something building inside her, something dark and terrible. It scratched and bit and pulled at her insides. It was so powerful Nor was afraid it would eat her alive if she didn’t let it out. She opened her mouth and —

  For a moment, it was as if all the sound had been sucked from the room. And then Nor’s scream crashed down on everyone like a wave. The floor undulated. The whole building shuddered. The death masks and gargoyles fell from the walls. A window shattered.

  And then it was over.