Cryptic Curses in Witchwood

by Jessica Lancaster

  He moved again. Crossing the road. He headed passed The Queen’s Inn pub and the newsagent on the end of Crescent Road, where he stood still once again. This time I was positive he was waiting.

  There was nothing, and nobody on the streets, except for the two of us.

  He stood beneath a streetlamp, briefly, leaning against it. He hiked his left foot to his right knee. I stayed back. Careful not to get too close. He was behaving weirdly. He waved an object in the air, resting his foot on the ground again.

  A boot? He pulled his boot off.

  I looked around, perhaps it was a signal, some secret police code I didn’t know about. Perhaps he was just that tired he was now hallucinating and going crazy.

  I liked the latter of all those thoughts. It would’ve made some sense, at least.

  He pulled his other boot free, carrying both in his arms before he continued walking, this time making a turn to walk down Crescent Road.

  Considering Crescent Road ended in a cul-de-sac, he couldn’t be going far.

  I took a moment to brush my fingers on the precious gems in my rings. Something to bring inner peace while I continued to follow the officer. I wasn’t sure if it was a crime to follow but something didn’t add up.

  Following, I noticed him stop, occasionally, pulling at the clothes on his body. He dropped his boots outside Maureen’s house and then continued to drop his jacket.

  A hunched figure appeared from nothing.

  Gasping. I stood still to hold my breath.

  They both turned in my direction, their eyes hovering over the invisible space my body occupied. My chest swelled with the air inside. Once they looked away, my body dropped slightly in relief.

  The hunched figure began picking the articles of clothing from the ground, following in the footsteps of the police officer until he was down to a pair of white long johns and a vest. There were no words to describe watching him undress on the street.

  He finally paused at the gate of a house. The windows were boarded up with green metal mesh, the type the local government put up after evicting someone. There was light from holes dotted in the metal, spilling from the house.

  The door opened wide. I took a couple more steps closer. I had to get a look in. What was happening? Who were these people? Why were they in an abandoned house? Questions I needed answers for.

  The cloak around my neck became tight.

  It pulled me back.

  It pulled me down.

  Womp.

  TWENTY

  My newest nemesis, the dog. Luna, the alsatian. She barked a couple times before I heard its owner, Janet, shouting after it. I turned to see her running directly toward me. Janet wore stretch fit fabric leggings and a jacket, suited for an evening run with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

  The cloak made me invisible; it didn’t turn me into a ghost. I wasn’t someone who would just feel nothing if ran into. I yanked my cloak from the dog and stood back against a fence.

  “Stop it!” Janet shouted, pointing her finger at the dog. She reached around for the lead as it dangled from the collar. “Run away from me once more, and so help me, God!”

  It barked once again. Janet glared down the dog as it whimpered.

  They walked further down the road, and as I watched, I noticed all the clothes from the street were gone, but there was still light from the house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

  I continued, following them, reaching Maureen’s house. I paused, looking into her garden to see the gnomes, also on watch, like small protectors, keeping the house safe. I wished that was true, from everything that had happened, it seemed like most of it stemmed from Maureen’s house itself.

  The lights were off inside, and not a single flicker of life came from the curtains, not even the deep blue hues a TV gave when it was on in darkness either.

  Clang . The metal from the front door of the house slammed shut.

  I’d missed another chance. But it meant that Janet and her dog had also been going that way, to that house. I figured with the activewear Janet had on, she was getting in a run before supper.

  In one fell flicker, all the streetlights turned dark.

  It was clear now that none of the lights in any of the houses were on. The only source of light came from the house on the bend, boarded up with green metal shutters. I quickly made a beeline for the house.

  “Ahh! ”

  The noise stopped me in my tracks.

  I had to be careful. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Whenever I investigated things in the past, I always knew roughly what it was I was going to be doing, or at least, the nature of what I was going to be investigating.

  I was going in blind with this one.

  A chanting hum came from the house as I entered through the broken garden gate. Everything about this place was off, compared to the rest of the road. This house had an overgrown garden with pieces of wood missing from the fence, and a gate that dipped inward on a hinge.

  “Moroi, moroi, moroi—” the voices came together in harmony.

  I knew that word. It was a dangerous word to be chanting around.

  “Vampires,” I squeaked.

  Through the small spotted holes where light seeped, I tried to look inside. Dressed in red hooded robes, people moved around in the room. Most of which were in mist. I tried pressing my face against the holes to get a better look when my glasses pressed against metal with a tink .

  “Someone’s outside,” a deep voice spoke.

  They stopped chanting. A throaty cry came, but it was muffled.

  I peered through the holes again. I needed contact lenses. This time, I saw them. On a tattered sofa at the back of the room with silver masking tape across their mouths. Greg and Maureen.

  Crunch.

  Footsteps coming closer.

  I didn’t dare move my head.

  The sound of feet shuffling through the grass behind me.

  Moving slow.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Turning slowly, I noticed the front door wide open. Turning even slower, I noticed a man directly behind me, looking down near my feet. He looked around, clicking a torch, and flashing it on the ground around me.

  The hunched man. “All clear,” he grumbled.

  Not a single peep from me. I didn’t say a single word. I didn’t let out a single breath while his beady eyes looked me over. He turned, flashing his light through the long grass.

  At the moment he turned away, I stepped quietly toward the open front door. It was my opportunity to be inside. I needed to know what they were doing with Maureen and Greg, and I needed to find out now.

  The hunched man shuffled inside after me.

  I stood out of the way while I entered the house. He closed the door with the almighty clamour. I followed him down the hallway to the opening of the living room on the left. He entered, cursing about being used by everyone.

  “We don’t want anyone lurking,” a voice spoke, familiar.

  I peered in, looking at the hooded figures. Maureen and Greg were both seated on a sofa right in front of me. Their eyes fixed straight ahead, looking at the group of people. This wasn’t any ordinary situation. There was nothing ordinary or usual about any of this.

  The man I’d met outside Maureen’s house was the one who spoke, Dennis. Leading the other five people. I had no idea what he wanted or what he was doing, but I knew that I need to find out – fast!

  Janet presented a knife to Dennis. He held it in the air above his head.

  Maureen and Greg squirmed, screaming behind the tapes, shutting their mouths together. I couldn’t get to them without causing a stir. But I’d need to get them out somehow.

  Locking eyes with the dog as it laid on its paws on the ground. A flurry of panic caught me, stepping inside the room. I’d been in hairy situations before, looking gangs of witches who’d gone rogue in their eyes at a standoff.

  My mind shuddered back to those days. I’d dealt with a lot. Vampires, werewolves, all types
of monsters, the types to hide under children’s beds, or call you to your death in a lake. I’d seen it all.

  But I wasn’t doing this with the support of the Witches Council, this was all me.

  Ivory. I screwed my eyes for a moment, pushing the thought. Trace me. I need help. She’d always been there. My backup.

  The dog snapped a bark in my direction before a deep growl vibrated from his gullet.

  “Quiet!” Janet snapped back.

  My eyes were open. I was looking around at everything. I didn’t want to miss a beat. Not a single thing. With my fingers clenched together inside the robe, rubbing fingers over my knuckles. I couldn’t wait too long. Biding my time with thought – there were lives on the line.

  There were two exits. The front door, and the back. So far, I only knew the front door worked. I edged closer to the sofa, keeping an eye on the group as they chattered among themselves.

  “We have to speed things up,” Dennis said.

  Adrian laughed. “For what it’s worth, those two are the last piece of the puzzle.”

  “It’s hardly a mystery,” Janet laughed. “They should’ve been disposed of first.”

  Dennis stomped a foot on the ground. “No,” he said.

  “That wasn’t the plan,” two others spoke at the same time. “We only take what society doesn’t want.”

  My curiosity was piqued. The two others, the ones I hadn’t seen before, spoke together. I didn’t see their faces. But they sounded identical, female, somewhat hoarse. I stepped quietly, closer.

  It was like stopping time, looking at everything without it knowing you’re there. The two women were completely white-faced with giant red rings around their eyes and smudged black lips. I looked at Dennis, waving the knife around. He was the same, pale and raw, with the blackest of lips. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of the robe. Smudging the darkness. The blood.

  I stumbled back, almost standing on the dog.

  My eyes darted toward Greg and Maureen. Their arms covered in bandages.

  They’re feeding.

  “Oh, Goddess,” I let slip. The words, they came fast.

  Everyone turned.

  Yank.

  I was on the ground.

  Faces looking down at me.

  The brooch unclipped.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Their voices filled my ears as I closed my eyes and pushed my hands out. It was a nightmare situation. Maureen and Greg shouted from their throats.

  “Well, well, well,” Adrian chortled.

  “A little witch came to kneel before me?” Dennis said.

  The twins laughed. “It would be an honour to kneel.”

  I called out, loudly inside my head. I needed Ivory to hear. I need her to come.

  Clang.

  A small vibration pulled motion from the house. A smaller clang came as Dennis dropped the knife on the concrete.

  “Move!” he shouted.

  I looked ahead to see Dennis pushing the others around. He dropped to his knees in search of the knife. I turned to Greg and Maureen, they stared, a look between delight and fear in their eyes. Behind me, Luna tore into my cloak. The sound of fabric ripping hit deep in my stomach.

  Dung.

  A piece of metal came from the window.

  Ding.

  The metal sheet fell back into the grass.

  All heads turned again.

  I stood, pushing my back up against the wall.

  At the window was a giant white bird. Ivory.

  I never said she was an ordinary barn owl. Her size was five times bigger than usual, and stronger too. I looked her in the eye and gave a nod.

  A screech pulsed through the living room, rendering the six bodies to the ground, and the dog to a whimper. Maureen and Greg’s screams were muffled, and I’m sure the painful ringing of Ivory’s screech hit them too.

  Once all six of the figures in red hoods were clinging to the ground, wriggling on the spot. I began tying them up with witch yarn, spun specifically to keep capture of individuals who’ve done wrong. That was one specific ability from a ring on my right hand.

  Once they were all individually tied up and Ivory was back to normal, perched on the window, kicking at glass she’d shattered from her screech, I finally untied Greg and Maureen.

  “Sorry,” I said to them.

  They had several bandaged wounds on their arms.

  Maureen sobbed once the tape was gone from her mouth, while Greg sat still, looking off into the stillness around him. I’d seen that quite a bit. When people had to evaluate everything. Often things their wildest dreams couldn’t create either.

  “I can’t believe it,” Janet scoffed, elbowing her arms into Adrian propped up behind it.

  “So?” I turned to the six of them, unveiled from their red hoods. “What were you thinking?”

  “Innocent enough,” Dennis said. “Until you showed up. Until you started digging around in Maureen’s bin.”

  “Should’ve left it alone,” the hunched man said. “We weren’t doing anything but cleansing the streets.”

  Cutting their words were Maureen’s giant wet sobs.

  “But why here?”

  “Middle of Kent,” Dennis said. “Small town. Assumed all human.”

  I pointed to myself. “Unfortunately for you, I came back at a great time.” I gestured to Maureen and Greg. “And them?”

  “Collateral,” the twins said. “Because of you.”

  Neither of them said a peep. They sat still. Waiting – most likely to wake from the nightmare they’d been found inside. I couldn’t let either of them remember. I knew better than to let them keep the memories like this. It was enough to torture someone for life.

  “When you inserted yourself into their lives, they were only in the way,” Dennis said. “Any friend of a witch had best prepare for a fate worse than this.”

  “Worse than what?” I wondered.

  Janet laughed. “At least we keep it real. No smoke and mirrors.”

  I snapped my fingers and taped their mouths shut. It would only be a matter of time before someone from the Witches Council came to collect them and do whatever they did best, remove them from the world.

  “No!” Maureen cried out. “Why my soil? Why?” She stood on trembling legs. “My beautiful compost.”

  The apples of Dennis’ cheeks raised in a smile. She tore the tape straight from his lips. “Perfect for healing.”

  “Healing?” I asked, looking at Greg. He’d been spotted in the compost bin, I’d found the band from his wrist. “What do you mean?”

  If they really were trying to build a base, they’d be looking to make more people like them. More underlings. Was he one of them?

  “Don’t worry,” Dennis continued. “Poor Greg wouldn’t turn. There was something in his blood, rejecting it.”

  A tear formed and dropped down Greg’s cheek.

  The healing serum. My heavy heart sighed. I leaned against the arm of the chair, lowering myself into a seat beside him. “You’re okay,” I told him, gently clenching his forearm. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  But they both wouldn’t be allowed to remember any of it.

  “Maureen,” I said, “come sit down.”

  She took a seat beside Greg as I stood.

  “Point the proverbial stun gun—” Dennis began.

  I snapped my fingers, taping up his mouth again.

  It didn’t bring me happiness to do it, at least not to people I knew. To anyone else, this was business. This was helping.

  I stood before both Maureen and Greg, placing a hand on both of their foreheads.

  “All in dreams, it’s not what it seems. Find yourself asleep, memories are only skin deep,” I said, the words rolling from my tongue like bitter lemon stuck to the inside of my cheek. “Remember not a thing, painlessness I bring.”

  They both drooped to the side, held up by each other.

  It knotted my stomach to see them both like this. But I knew they’d be better o
ff.

  Once someone came to collect and put these trainee vampires to rest, I could put Maureen and Greg to bed.

  TWENTY-THREE

  A Week Later

  No remnants of the event remained, except the memories I held. My memory was a vault of all the experiences and events I’d been through. Some of them had been tough to deal with, and I never solved everything – those were the ones that plagued me the most.

  Maureen had presented me with a cake, chocolate fudge. A thank you for helping her get rid of whatever it was she believed was plaguing her garden. All I did after that night was give her some sage smudge sticks, telling her it would remove any evil residing in the area.

  It worked a charm, of course, because that wasn’t really at fault.

  The ravens had disappeared, as had the bats. I never figured out why there was an oddly high population of bats in the area, but part of me figured it had something to do with the starter cult Witchwood had been brewing.

  I’d reported my findings to the Witches Council. My duty was done.

  “You okay?” Greg asked, sat across the small dining table from me. He gave me a large smile, raising his teacup to me.

  I noticed the wristband as I smiled back, only polite to do so. “Perfectly,” I said. Turning to my side, looking out over the back garden and the open door.

  It was the first time the garden floor was visible, and as planned, there was a small shed at the back where Ivory was currently sound asleep. I sipped my tea, embracing the calming roll of air in the kitchen.

  “I can start on some decking outside, ready for summer,” he said.

  Placing the teacup on the table, I clapped my hands together. “Exciting,” I said. “I’m not sure how to start on it, but I think also adding some area to garden as well would be good.”

  He chuckled. “On the list.”

  “How’s the cake?” I asked.

  “Maureen always does a great job,” he replied, digging in with a fork. “And I don’t say that about anyone’s baked goods.”

  That was reassuring. The cake was delicious, but it wasn’t comparable to some of the cake I’d had while working, especially at one of the cafés I’d been to only a couple weeks ago. My last adventure as a working witch.