by Janni Nell
I flicked through the rest of the diary, lingering over descriptions of their wedding day and the births of their four children. Although Demelza had refused to attend the wedding, they tried to include her in their family by asking her to be godmother to each of their children. Probably they meant well but failed to realize they were rubbing salt into the wound. Of course Demelza refused.
My dear Elowyn is disturbed by Demelza’s continued spinsterhood. It is understandable she would want to see Demelza as happily settled as ourselves, and I have endeavored to assist my wife in her matchmaking. Twice last week we hosted dinners which included Demelza and some of my most eligible friends. Demelza scorned our efforts, being unpleasant to the gentlemen and telling Elowyn privately that she would never love again. Elowyn was saddened by her response but she has accepted she can do nothing more for her disagreeable sister.
Despite Demelza’s disagreeableness, they invited her for Christmas. The miracle was she accepted and even managed to behave herself. Or maybe she was just plotting her revenge.
There has been a terrible accident. Our eldest child, our darling daughter Caroline, was thrown from her horse. Unthinkable. She was but twelve years old, although already a good horsewoman and more than able to control Little Star, who is the most placid of mares.
A groom found Caro’s body in Ravens Wood and carried her all the way to the house. I tried to shield Elowyn from the sight of her daughter’s broken body and twisted neck but I failed. As my wife wrenched Caro from the groom, she lost her balance and tumbled to her knees. Hugging Caro to her breast, she rocked back and forth, tears running down her cheeks, whispering soft words. When I listened more closely I heard the hiss of malice. “Curse you, Demelza.”
After we laid our beautiful daughter to rest, Elowyn gathered the other children to her. She muttered strange words over them, marking the back of each young neck with a paste of ashes and blood and bitter herbs. Little George was distressed but Steven did not mind and Martha, even though she is the youngest, smiled and nodded as though she understood. I, however, do not understand. I fear the death of our Caro has unhinged my dear wife. I pray at sunrise and sunset that God will send another child to ease her pain, but she showeth no sign of breeding.
Elowyn survived her daughter by only a few short months.
Since Caro’s death, my wife has taken to walking in the wood. I dislike the practice, but I have kept my opinion to myself because she seems less melancholy afterwards. I should have ordered her to curtail her excursions. I am to blame for what happened. How can I bear such tragedy? Elowyn was out walking when the great storm hit Ravens Wood. ’Twas swift and violent with lightning as bright and golden as Elowyn’s wedding band, and thunder that shook the very foundations of Hampton House. My ears ached from the din.
After the storm, when Elowyn failed to return home, I organized a search. Every man at Hampton House took part tramping the dark countryside armed with lanterns and hope. I had the misfortune of finding my beloved beneath an oak in Ravens Wood. I believed her dead but soon I saw she clung to life by a thread.
We carried her back to the house, where I attended her myself, removing her clothing, wiping the dirt from her face and dressing her in a nightgown. A physician was summoned. He was a kindly soul, who diagnosed a weak heart and prescribed rest and prayer.
I spent an anxious night dividing my time between kneeling, pacing and sitting beside the bed, stroking my Elowyn’s damp forehead. At times she became hot as a summer’s day. At others cold as the bleakest winter. She moaned in her sleep, plucking anxiously at the counterpane.
For two days I stayed by her bed, denying myself all sustenance but sips of the herbal infusions prepared by my little daughter Martha. On the third day, Elowyn’s eyes opened as clear and beautiful as ever. She begged my forgiveness for putting her health at risk. “Please believe I acted only to save our children. I was never as strong as Demelza and I will pay with my life. No matter, so long as our little ones are safe.”
Despite the deceptive clarity of her eyes, she was plainly in the throes of delirium. I endeavored to calm her but she brushed aside my words, clutching my hand and once again begging forgiveness.
When she asked that the children be brought to her, I refused for the best motives. I did not want the little ones distressed by her ravings. Elowyn pleaded, begging pitifully to see them one last time before she died. Eventually I relented, gathering the little ones to her bedside. She died with her family in her arms.
We laid her to rest beside Caroline. The light has gone from my life. I will not marry again.
I expected the diary to end here but it went on.
Demelza did not attend her sister’s funeral. I was astonished but also greatly relieved, for I could not bear the sight of her. I hoped never to see her again but some months later she came to my door. My housekeeper kept her waiting outside while she sought my instruction. Out of respect to my dear Elowyn I did not send Demelza away but neither could I endure to admit her into my home. I went outside and we conversed in the garden.
She apologized for not attending the funeral. She had been gravely ill and near death herself. It does me no credit to admit this but secretly I wished she had been the one taken and my dear Elowyn spared. Even now the ravages of disease were plainly visible on Demelza’s gaunt face and body, in her colorless cheeks, and the walking stick on which she leaned heavily.
She began by addressing me as good sir and asking after my health but soon the real reason for her visit became apparent. She suggested we marry. The idea of another wife was abhorrent to me. No one could take Elowyn’s place, but especially not her difficult sister. When I declined, Demelza’s violet eyes glowed with passion and she offered herself to me without marriage. I am a God-fearing man. I would never dishonor a woman in that manner. Demelza persisted. In full view of the house, she threw herself to her knees and begged me to take her. Clearly the woman was mad.
I politely declined her offer and told her to behave in a more seemly manner. Her entreaties became more impassioned if that were possible. I was wondering how to get rid of the shrew when I saw my little daughter Martha skipping toward the garden. Fearful that Demelza would upset her, I acted without compassion. Jesus tells us to care for others and I do believe those with feeble minds need especial care. In my desire to remove Demelza from my property I was careless of her well being. I threw her over my shoulder like a sack of grain and carried her to the stables, where I told a groom to take her off my property. I warned her not to return, threatening to have her arrested if she ever set foot on my property again. To the best of my knowledge, she did not.
On the last page was a postscript written thirty years later in a flowery feminine hand.
Today we laid my dear father to rest beside his beloved wife. Neither of my brothers understands the significance of Mother’s and Caroline’s deaths. I understand but I do not have the power to stop Demelza. She will come again. Mayhap fifty years from now. Mayhap a hundred. I cannot say but she will not rest until she destroys every one of Mother’s descendents.
Only the greatest magic can prevent her doing more damage. You who find this diary, I beg you, consult the greatest witches of your age. Find a way to stop her. Martha Elowyn Hampton
When I closed the diary, Casper was still sitting quietly beside me. Guess the Angel Awards were having a long commercial break.
“Poor Elowyn,” I murmured. “And poor Demelza. Who was the evil twin? Elowyn for marrying Steven Twenty or Demelza for refusing to let him go?” Casper remained silent, so I answered myself. “Of course it’s Demelza. But not for loving Steven Twenty. She crossed the line when she killed Caroline. You don’t touch someone’s kid, even if you believe she stole your man.”
Casper said, “That’s not the only reason she wanted revenge on Elowyn.”
“It’s the only one I can think of. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He shrugged. “You know the facts. Elowyn became a wi
fe and mother. Her position in mainstream society was secure. Demelza must’ve resented that. She was still an outcast.”
“Oh, come on. The Penrose girls didn’t care about social position. They were witches. They had their own society.”
“Not once they ran away from Cornwall. They had nothing but each otherin this country. It must’ve been difficult. But then Steven Twenty fell in love with Elowyn and offered her a place to belong, a safe home. Probably she stopped practicing witchcraft. From the diary it’s clear Steven Twenty had no knowledge of her powers.”
“So Demelza was pissed off because she didn’t have to give up her powers to become an ordinary wife and mother? I don’t buy it. Practicing witchcraft was her gift. Anyway if she’d wanted to be part of mainstream society, she could’ve married another man. Steven Twenty and Elowyn were trying to fix her up with someone. The diary makes that clear.”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t genuinely in love with Steven Twenty. She must’ve been heartbroken when he chose Elowyn. But there was more to it than that. Steven Twenty represented a place to belong. A family. Elowyn got that. Demelza ended up living by herself.”
“By her own choice,” I argued.
“I’m surprised you don’t sympathize with her,” said Casper. “The situation is so similar to yourself and Lily.”
“Oh, so I’m like Demelza, the outcast? Well, newsflash, Casper, I’m not planning to murder my sister’s child. I’m going to save it.” With that in mind, I left Hampton House and headed straight for Mac’s cottage.
Chapter Fifteen
In the short while Wanda had been with Mac she seemed to have grown a few inches, or maybe she just walked taller since she’d gotten recognition for her witchy talent. Despite my own worries I was totally happy for her. When I produced the diary, she and Mac grabbed it eagerly and settled down to read. Orlando perched on Mac’s shoulder, perusing the pages as if he was reading too. No one spoke until they’d devoured every word.
Soft-hearted Wanda wiped a tear from her eye. “What a tragedy for poor Elowyn and her family. Still, the Hamptons have deteriorated since then. I mean, these days they’re all lawyers or politicians. I don’t suppose we could just let Demelza wipe them out…”
“Tempting,” I said, “except she’s also after Lily’s baby.”
“Great gremlins, that sucks.”
Mac, who had wandered into the kitchen to make tea, called, “I don’t suppose this will be much consolation, but Demelza won’t kill your sister. She’ll keep her until the baby is born and then release her.”
“You think?”
“Your sister has no direct connection to Elowyn, therefore Demelza has no legitimate reason to kill her.”
“And you think she’d care about that?”
Mac seemed surprised by the question. “Of course. Even malhags won’t kill innocent people.”
“Oh, like the baby isn’t innocent.”
“Perhaps innocent is the wrong word,” she conceded. She filled mugs with fragrant tea and handed them around. As we sank into the fat chairs in the living room, Mac went on, I mean someone who is outside the circle of revenge. Demelza is very old and tired. Believe it or not, she wants to die. She won’t waste time or energy killing anyone she doesn’t have to.”
Orlando sat on Mac’s shoulder. I think he winked at me. Then he crawled down Mac’s arm and into her lap.
“Call me simplistic,” I said, “but couldn’t Demelza just forgive Elowyn?”
“It’s not that easy. Wanda’s encyclopedia didn’t contain all the facts about malhags. For instance, it left out the vow.”
Oh wow, a vow.
Mac began to stroke Orlando’s back. “I can’t reveal all the details, but to become a malhag, a witch must make her vow during a certain phase of the moon. She must use particular words and burn a particular type of incense. And every witch knows that once the vow is made it’s irreversible.”
“Okay, one question. Why did Demelza bother with a vow at all? She could’ve killed Elowyn’s kids in any number of ways. She killed Caroline just by spooking her horse.”
“No doubt she would have,” said Mac, “if she’d had time. But Elowyn stepped in.
She cast spells of protection on her other children and then she confronted Demelza in Ravens Wood, where we found evidence of their final battle. Although it cost Elowyn’s life, she was able to weaken Demelza considerably. The diary states Demelza was too sick to attend Elowyn’s funeral. She was still sick months later when she confronted Steven Twenty in the garden. It might have taken her years to recover physically. Magically it would’ve taken much longer.”
“Would her magic need to be at full strength when she made the vow?” I asked.
“Not to make the vow, no, but to enforce it, absolutely yes. She probably made the vow after meeting Steven in the garden. His refusal to marry her, even though Elowyn was dead, would have been sufficient trigger. Once the vow had been made, Demelza was bound to retreat to her hermitage, in this case The Hollows, and hide there, resting and waiting for her magic to return. That has taken centuries. Lonely centuries of waiting and feeding off her desire for revenge.”
“She must be pretty pissed off by now,” I said.
Mac’s smile was grim. “And even more pissed off that she failed to kill Steven and his son.”
“Which begs the question, why kill them with accidents? If she can control minds, why not make Steven kill his relatives, then kill himself? That’d be more efficient.”
“Except that she can’t use one person to murder another—to take revenge for her. The vow doesn’t work that way. Only she can take revenge. Of course she could kill someone with her own hands rather than causing an accident, but she’d have to bring them to The Hollows first.”
“Like she’s brought Lily.”
Mac didn’t flinch from the truth. “I’m afraid so.”
“Right, well, you’ve explained all about Demelza’s vow, so now you’d better tel;t use onow to stop her.”
Mac became ominously silent. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. That wasn’t good.
I looked from Mac to Wanda and back again. “There is a way to stop her, right?”
Wanda fidgeted uneasily but Mac remained cool. “I intend to investigate this,” Mac said, “and work out the best way to proceed.”
“So you don’t know anything?” My voice rose.
Wanda said, “Mac will try her hardest to—”
“We don’t have time!” I yelled. “Lily could give birth at any moment. Her baby will be murdered.”
“Calm down.” Mac spoke in the soothing tone you use on crazy people. “I promise I’ll work as quickly as possible to discover a way to deal with the malhag.”
“Let’s use the direct approach,” I said. “Get a gun and shoot her. I’ll pull the trigger.”
Wanda brightened at the suggestion, “Sounds good to me. Mac?”
“It’s not that easy. By now her magic is so powerful the bullets would just bounce off her. Allegra, the best thing you can do is give me time to research and consider this problem. I’ll contact you as soon as I know how to help. I have your number.”
“How the hell can you be so calm?”
“Years of practice,” she answered smoothly. “I can’t help anyone if I panic. Now, it’s time for you to leave so I can get to work.” And she showed me the door. Orlando had returned to her shoulder. As I left, he lifted one of his legs like he was waving goodbye.
Wanda came outside with me. She hugged me and said, “I’m so sorry this has happened to Lily. But Mac will find a way to make everything right.”
I wished I shared her confidence. Anyway, stressing about this did no good. Guess I had to trust Mac. It wasn’t as though I had a lot of other options. Pushing my own problems to the back of my mind, I asked Wanda how she was enjoying being Mac’s apprentice.
“Wonderful. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I know this will sound silly, but for the first time in my life I h
ave a real sense of belonging somewhere.”
More talk of belonging. Were the Powers-That-Be trying to tell me something?
“Moooooo.” The sound was so close I jumped.
“What the—?”
A cow had escaped from one of the nearby fields. It had big chocolate brown eyes and a caramel coat with white patches that looked like crescent moons and pointy witches’ hats. Well, they did in the right light if you half-closed your eyes and used your imagination. When the cow nuzzled Wanda’s shoulder, I said, “Looks like you’ve made friends with the country critters.”
“Um, yeah,” said Wanda, blushing. “This is Buttercup. She’s my—” her blush deepened from red to crimson, “—my familiar.”
Resisting the urge to ask whether it had cost her five magic beans, I said, “A cow? Right. Nice.” Buttercup nuzzled me.
“She wants you to pet her,” said Wanda.
Well okay. I’d never petted a cow before, but I rubbed behind her ears as if she were a dog. She mooed with pleasure, her big brown eyes regarding me with an intelligence way beyond the average cow.
“How did you find her?” I asked.
“She found me. That’s the way it is with familiars. They choose you. What do you think?”
“Better than a spider,” I said.
Wanda shuddered. “You got that right.” Buttercup mooed appreciatively and Wanda hugged her. “She’s helped me so much with my magic.”
Maybe someday I’d ask her how a cow did that, but right now I had more important things on my mind. Obviously the most important was rescuing Lily, but since I couldn’t do that until Mac told me how, I decided to check on Mom. Leaving Wanda chewing the cud with her new best friend, I took the road to Oak Lodge.
