by Stuart Jaffe
Madame Vansandt brushed her fingers along Maria’s cheek. “Child, my brain works fine. I know how old I am. Every morning I wake up is a blessing. Every night I close my eyes, I wonder if I will have the pleasure of opening them again.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.” She wheeled her walker over to a plush, high-backed chair. “Be a dear, and help me sit down.”
As Maria rushed over, Drummond read the titles of the books on one shelf. “I’m starting to like this gal. She’s still got spunk. I never got to live that long, but I always thought I’d either end up a bitter, old fool or I’d be like her.”
Sandra walked closer to Madame Vansandt. “Maria suggested we come here to meet you.”
“Oh?” Madame Vansandt said. “What do you want with an old crow like me?”
“We need some advice about a few curses.”
“Nasty business. I don’t deal with that kind of thing anymore.”
Drummond clicked his tongue. “For a witch that doesn’t deal with that stuff, she’s sure got a lot of books on the subject.”
“Please,” Max said. “We only need you to answer a few questions.”
Maria clasped Madame Vansandt’s hand between hers. “Things have changed out beyond your doors. It’s not like it was. There’s a war brewing.”
“Bless your heart.” The old witch patted Maria’s hands. “You really think I don’t know what happens in my backyard? The war, dear child, has gone on for a long time. Well over a century. Not always with the same players or the same pieces, but I assure you, this is nothing new. You are right about one thing, though. There is something brewing. But it is the end, not the beginning, that sits on our horizon.”
Maria bowed her head and kissed Madame Vansandt’s knuckles. “These people here, they’re all caught up in this mess, and they’ve dragged me into it, too. If you can help them with their curse, then I can be done with them and get back to my life.”
Madame Vansandt pulled her fingers free. “That won’t happen.”
“Please.”
“You misunderstand, but then you always did. Always jumping ahead of me before I finished a sentence.”
“I’m not trying to jump ahead. It’s just that my life’s been hijacked, and —”
Covering Maria’s mouth and jaw with her whole hand, Madame Vansandt said, “Shh. Begging won’t change the fact that there is no returning to your old life. Once you set onto the road of being a witch, once you’ve pulled back the gauze and exposed your open heart to the real world of magic, once you had cast your first spell, your former life disappeared. Vanished into the ether. What you think you had was merely you playing house. The real world has finally caught you, as it does with all witches. There is no going back.” She turned her head towards Sandra. “Even for the amateur.”
Sandra’s nostrils flared. “I’m more than an amateur, more than some wannabe poking around the edges. Your pupil and I broke a curse and brought my husband back from near death.”
“Let me see this husband.” Waving her arms like a grandmother seeking a hug, Madame Vansandt ushered Max over. She looked him up and down, kneaded his arms and shoulders, and then gestured for him to turn in a circle. Finally, she settled back in her chair. “Like I said — amateur. I am truly sorry to tell you this, sir, but you are still cursed.”
“What?” Max said.
“Oh, for novices, your wife and my Maria did a remarkable job restoring you to your body, that much is evident, but they failed to break the curse through and through. If you don’t believe me, look at your chest in the mirror.”
Max ignored his sudden queasiness and stood in front of a narrow mirror hanging on one wall. He pulled on the collar of his shirt until he saw it — the edges of the curse marked on his body.
Sandra’s quizzical yet worried face peeked over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You brought me back.”
Stepping away from the mirror, he tried to remain calm as he faced Madame Vansandt. “So, what does this mean for me?”
“Only that you’re not free of your situation. Yes, you are back in your body, but you are not anchored to it. With a little effort and some magical know-how, whoever did this to you could send your body back into whatever state it was — probably a coma — and return you to the world of ghosts.”
Maria pulled away from her mentor. “Then what do we do? How do I get back?”
“Oh for crying out loud.” Sandra whirled on Maria. “Don’t you listen? You chose to be a witch and that’s that. You wanted to know the secrets. You wanted to gain the power. Well, you got it. You don’t get to stir a hornet’s nest and then complain that you got stung.”
Flinching at the verbal assault, Maria backed toward the corner of the room. Max could hear the woman stifling her tears. Though he understood why his wife had lashed out, he figured it would be best to bring things back into focus. After all, no good could come from causing such a scene in front of an old witch.
Crouching before Madame Vansandt, Max said, “My wife and I have dealt with many types of spells before. We can handle a lot more than most give us credit for. And, frankly, we don’t have a choice. Either we break this curse or we suffer under it.”
“I never said you couldn’t break the curse.”
Sandra came back. “How? What do I have to do?”
“You? What can a beginner like you do? Oh, I grant that you pulled off a complicated spell for your husband, but this curse — this isn’t stirring a hornet’s nest. This is a bear cave with twenty hibernating beasts waiting to rip you to pieces.”
“I can handle it.”
“Really, now? So bold and proud. But this is high-level magic. This is the kind of thing that requires serious sacrifice. Years of hard work and strict discipline.”
“You don’t seem to understand. The man cursed here is my husband. I love my husband. Even if it takes the rest of my life, I’ll put in the time. I’ll do whatever is necessary to break that curse.”
From behind her thick shades, Madame Vansandt’s eyebrows rose. “I see. This is about love, is it? Then come here. Come close.”
Though a slight tremor flickered along Sandra’s fingers, she stepped forward. Max tried to get her attention, tried to shake his head subtly, but she either failed to get the message or simply ignored him.
Drummond swished in front of her. “Don’t go near her. Something’s not right about her. And I don’t mean because she’s a witch.”
A hard look from Sandra forced Drummond to step aside. Two more strides and she stood directly in front of the witch. She lowered her head until they were close enough to kiss.
Madame Vansandt’s lips broke into a wide grin. “Oh, you are bold. You think you’re capable of sacrifice, do you? You think you’re capable of committing a real sacrifice. Perhaps even your eye?” She whipped off her shades. A dark, grisly hole gaped at Sandra. The old woman cackled as Sandra recoiled. Maria broke down to the floor gasping and crying.
“I told you,” Drummond said. “Damn witches. There’s always a cost with them. She probably wants revenge on whoever took her eye out.”
Pointing to where her right eye should have been, Madame Vansandt said, “You want to break your lover’s curse? I want my eye back. Get me my eye and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Even worse than I thought.”
Before Sandra could protest, Madame Vansandt lifted her head and pointed to a bookshelf. “Get the one marked with three pentagrams.”
Drummond indicated the book. “Be careful. Listen to me this time.”
Sandra selected the book, raised an eyebrow at Drummond, and returned to the witch. “Here.”
“Thank you.” Madame Vansandt put her shades back on. “Now, I am not trying to insult you or your abilities. But we all have limits, dear, and at the moment, yours are that of a novice. You will need a strong witch to break this curse. A strong witch for a strong spell, and a locatio
n of great negative energy to cast it.” She thumbed through the book until she found the desired page. “There. You find a capable witch and the right place to do it in. You get me my eye, and then I’ll use this spell to —”
Three strong knocks pounded on the door.
Max looked over, then to the witch. The book was gone. He wanted to check under her chair or beneath the side table, but the pounding continued.
“Come in already. The sign says Open,” Madame Vansandt said in a crass tone that did not suit her.
“Wait,” Max said not turning away from the witch. “Where do we get your eye?”
She grinned without joy. “That would be with a Hull.”
The door opened and PB bustled in. “They’re coming. You’ve got to get out of here.”
“Who’s coming?” Sandra asked.
“Everyone. Hulls, Magi — their war’s firing up and they’re coming on down here for the battle.”
Chapter 13
“Calm down, kid.” Max closed the front door. “Tell us what’s happened.”
PB gave a sideways glance at Madame Vansandt before moving closer to Sandra. “I did as you asked me. I followed Mother Hope again, and just like before she went into the O. Henry Hotel and didn’t come out. I got bored, and I figured if she won’t come out, I could sneak in and spy on her.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. It’s too dangerous.”
“Why? A couple of uptight people at the counter and two bodyguards so pumped full of steroids they probably have no balls. Besides, I’m here, ain’t I?”
“I just meant —”
“No time for this crap. Listen. I got in, hid under a room service cart, and ended up in her office. Sat there for two hours before she said anything worth hearing. Leon Moore called — she had him on speaker — and I heard him saying they followed you here to this witch’s place. Then he said that one of his spies called him saying that Tucker Hull had sent a hit squad over here. Mother Hope yelled at him saying he had to grab you right away. I slipped out, got in my car, and raced over here.”
A sour tasted filled Max’s mouth. He swallowed hard against it. “They’re all coming here?”
“That’s what I been saying. We’ve got to go.”
“Hold on. You were in Greensboro. That’s a forty minute drive. How did you beat them? Shouldn’t Leon have taken us by now?”
“Mother Hope told him to get a ward before coming here. Protection against ghosts and witches. She talked a bunch of crazy stuff like that — I figure, when you get a lucky break, you take it and don’t ask questions.”
Sandra had moved to the balcony window. “Looks like Leon’s finally arrived.”
Tapping on his leg, Max observed Madame Vansandt. “Tucker’s men probably had to get wards, too. They’re really scared of you.”
“Hey,” Drummond said. “Wards could be for me. You know I can be plenty scary.”
Max checked out the window. Leon had three men with him, all dressed in gray suits and carrying handguns like classic G-men from a 1950s movie. Only thing missing were the hats.
As Leon pointed out positions for his men to take, Max heard Madame Vansandt snapping her fingers. He glanced back. She glared at Maria until the woman rose from her cowering corner and walked over with head bowed.
“Be a kind dear and fetch me a red candle.”
To Max’s astonishment, Maria gave a quick curtsy before heading into an adjacent room. After she left, the old witch opened a drawer on the side table and picked up a pen and pad. She bent over the pad and wrote.
Drummond flew in through the wall. Max jumped — he had not realized the ghost had left. “I was right,” Drummond said. “Those wards bounce me off like a pinball hit by lightning. I can’t get close to any of the Magi people.”
Max went to the front door, stopped, and came back. “We’ve got to leave here.”
Following Max back and forth, PB said, “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“We can’t go walk out the lobby door, though.” His mind rushed through his limited options. He pointed to Sandra. “I need you to take everyone up to the roof.”
“The roof?” Sandra said as her jaw set in defiance.
“Down’s not an option, so up seems the only direction.”
“Until there’s no more up to go.”
“I didn’t say the idea had no flaws, but it’s the only one we’ve got.”
“Then, here’s an idea for you. I’m staying to fight by your side.” Before Max could step close to her, lower his voice, and attempt to persuade her, Sandra put out her hand. “Don’t even try. We’re a team, so I’m not going anywhere.”
“Honey, I —”
But Maria entered directly between them as she brought a wide-based, red candle over to Madame Vansandt. She placed it on the floor and looked up like puppy expecting a pat on the head. Instead, the old witch handed her the pad. “Now, get these ingredients and grind them in a bowl. You remember where I keep everything?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good girl. Hop to it.”
Sandra stepped next to Max and whispered. “I’ve already lost you once. That was enough.”
He clasped her hand.
PB had moved to the window. “Tucker’s men are here. At least, I think it’s them.” Two gunshots pinged off a car’s roof. “Yup, it’s them.”
Gunfire erupted below in a constant barrage like a hailstorm smacking into the ground. Max and Sandra joined PB and peeked over the lip of the windowsill. One suited man dashed between two cars in the parking lot. A bullet caught him in the leg. With a hand staunching the blood, he limped toward a red Prius. Another bullet clocked his head back and sprayed blood next to the car.
“Don’t watch,” Sandra said to PB.
PB snorted a laugh. “You don’t think I ever seen somebody shot before?”
From the ceiling, Drummond said, “Don’t worry about him. The kid’s tough.”
Max didn’t think PB looked all that tough. He talked tough, but his face had lost a lot of color, and he flinched with each gunshot.
Maria entered the room again with a small bowl of grainy, brown powder. She set it next to the candle. Madame Vansandt handed her a piece of chalk and watched Maria draw a circle around the chair.
Max pushed away from the window and back to Madam Vansandt. The powder smelled of rotting fruit. “Whatever your spell is, I sure hope you can pull it off fast.”
“This is for me. You’re on your own.” To Maria, she added, “Light the candle and hand me the bowl.”
“Leon’s men are falling back,” Sandra said. “They’re coming inside.”
As if responding to her words, gunshots could be heard beneath them along with glass breaking and several residents crying or shouting. Max paced between the front door and the window.
Think, think. They had no chance of getting downstairs. That was obvious. And they had no real weapons. Max owned a handgun, but he kept it locked in his office desk. He hadn’t been there since going to the party that ended in the hospital.
He glanced at Madame Vansandt. She held her head over the bowl as though she had a cold and cleared her sinuses with steaming water. Her mouth moved but made no sound. No help there.
More gunfire. An anguished grunt.
“I don’t mean to nag,” Drummond said, “but you ain’t got much time left.”
Max’s mouth gaped open. “Gee, you think?” Taking Sandra’s hand, he said, “Okay, we’re all getting out of here. Let’s move to a different floor. We’ve got to buy some time. Hold out until —”
Sirens screeched outside.
“— the police arrive. Okay, then. Help is here. Come on, everyone. One floor up and we’ll just have to wait.”
Max, Sandra, and PB gathered by the front door. Sandra reached out toward Maria, but Maria shook her head. “I’m staying,” she said and sat at Madame Vansandt’s feet.
“Drummond, go check the hall for us,” Max said.
Drummo
nd swooped in, stuck his head through the wall, and popped back. “All clear.”
“Here we go.” Max opened the door. He stepped out and looked to the right. The Pale Man entered the hall from the stairwell. They held each other’s gaze. Then the Pale Man lifted his gun and grinned, flashing his silver incisor.
Leaping backward, Max plowed into the rest of the team, toppling them back into the room. Two gunshots splintered the door jamb. Two more shots fired off from the other end of the hall.
“You okay, Max?” Leon Moore called out.
With his foot, Max kicked the door shut before standing up. He whipped around to face Drummond. “You call that clear?”
“Hey, it was clear when I looked.”
Max rushed across the room to the sofa. “PB. Help.” Together, the two moved the sofa perpendicular to the wall. Sandra hurried over. It wasn’t going to protect them at all — a bullet would have no trouble ripping through it — but it made them feel better.
Outside, a voice on a megaphone said, “Stop firing and come out, hands up!”
PB rushed over to the window. “Is that all they’re gonna do?”
“Get back here,” Sandra said, scurrying after him. Max reached out, but his fingers slipped on the back of Sandra’s blouse.
The front door smashed open. With guns firing, the Pale Man and another entered. Three shots, spread across the room to suppress any brave soul. Sandra and Max flattened on the ground. Despite
PB’s rough experiences, he spun in surprise to face the gunfire. Max waved his hand for the boy to drop, but PB only looked at the guns.
The Pale Man stepped in, his grim, clenched jaw grinding away as he saw Madame Vansandt sitting in her chair. He cocked his head at PB and though he returned his sly gaze at the witch, he had no trouble firing at his new target. PB’s shoulder wrenched back as his face slackened.
And Madame Vansandt’s spell went off.
A bright rosy light snapped out of the circle along with a deafening and brief noise. For a moment, Max couldn’t see and his ears buzzed with a high-pitched note. A flash-bang? She made a flash-bang?
But as his sight returned, he saw the spell had been more than that. A yellow light plumed across the room like smoke from a bomb. Time slowed around them. Max had no idea if that was the result of adrenaline pumping through his body or if the spell had actually slowed time. Either way, he knew he had to move.
