Then Aven’s face changes. Her eyes search Mandy’s face. They widen slowly, and her lips part. Aven inhales sharply and steps back, releasing Mandy’s arm. Mandy gasps and slaps her hand over her throbbing arm.
“I see now that it wasn’t your fault. Well, not entirely your fault.”
Mandy’s brow creases, and she narrows her eyes at Aven.
“You have been under the influence of a nasty Spirit.” There is a hint of sadness in Aven’s voice. And what else—guilt? “While you have brought this on yourself, with your ridiculous jealousy of me, no one deserves to be tormented by Morris Stiles.” She lets out a long sigh. “Not even you.”
Mandy’s mouth falls open. How does she know? How can she possibly know? Mandy’s breathing becomes rapid, and blood pounds in her ears. She has been so afraid. Since the day Morris appeared on her balcony, she hasn’t known a single night’s peace nor a day without looking over her shoulder or jumping at the slightest bang or knock. Aven looks almost sad for her.
Mandy’s resolve crumbles, and her shoulders slump forward. She snatches up Aven’s hand and holds it to her chest. “Oh, Aven,” Mandy breathes, her eyes welling with tears. “Please help me.” A sob racks her body, but she holds her tears at bay.
Aven’s shocked expression softens, and she steps forward, laying her other hand atop Mandy’s. “I will,” she says with such compassion that Mandy’s tears spill down her cheeks. “I’ll come over tomorrow, and we’ll get rid of him.” Aven gives her hands a comforting squeeze.
“I can’t go back there.” Mandy shakes her head vehemently. “I can’t go home.”
Aven is quiet for a long moment. Mandy trembles at the prospect of going home.
“Then you’ll stay here.” She steps to the side and wraps an arm around Mandy’s trembling shoulders. “I may have some clothes that will fit you. Well, I take that back.” Mandy pulls away, afraid Aven has changed her mind. “I may not have any shirts that will fit over those puppies.” Aven wags a finger at Mandy’s cleavage, her eyes filled with mirth. Mandy is taken aback by the woman’s attempt at humor, then laughs aloud.
“Come on,” Aven says, taking Mandy’s hand. “Let’s get a drink.”
As they slowly walk single file down the narrow stairs from the roof, each woman clutching the handrail and taking cautious steps in their stiletto heels, Mandy feels relief wash over her. For reasons she can’t explain, she knows Aven can help her. She frowns at herself then. She let Morris control her and make her do terrible things. Aven seems to know that somehow and is still willing to help her. Mandy’s cheeks flush with shame.
The music thumps with a rhythmic groove as the party switches into high gear. The thorn-flame chandelier now pulses with strobing lights, and colorful laser beams cut through the hazy fog that hangs in the air. Aven’s shop seems to have morphed into an all-out dance club, the display cases and shelves having disappeared since Mandy went upstairs, making the entire area free for dancing. The house is packed, but there is still enough room for some wild dancing.
With drinks in hand, Mandy maneuvers through dancing couples, and pauses to gaze up at Aven. She stands at the loft’s railing, surveying the party with a proud smile, like a benevolent queen watching over her prosperous kingdom. The pride on her face changes to love and Mandy follows Aven’s gaze to witness Cal attempting to dance in the stereotypical white-man-is-oblivious-to-the-beat way, with Sylvia egging him on. Jo sways back and forth with an older man Mandy thinks looks similar to the owner of Phil’s. Jo’s face shines with exuberance and a bit of whiskey. She seems to sense that she’s being watched and turns. Jo gives Aven an emphatic wave then looks away, embarrassed by Aven’s exaggerated winking in the man’s direction.
Mandy swallows a fresh pang of jealousy and starts up the stairs with their drinks. Mandy has gotten herself into quite a situation with Morris Stiles, and she’d kick herself for being so weak if she could. She doesn’t know what happened up there on the roof, but Aven knew about Morris, maybe read her mind or something, and the special effects at this party can’t be explained by even the best technology or trickery. What if Aven is really a witch? A real, honest-to-goodness, spell-casting, magick-wielding witch. That thought stops her midway. She looks at Aven with new eyes.
An unearthly roar bellows across the entire house, resounding off the walls, causing the music to screech to a halt and several people to cry out and grab their partners. The familiar sound cuts into Mandy’s chest. The glasses drop from her trembling hands and shatter on the stairs. Mandy’s terrified eyes meet Aven’s astonished pair.
A large, black shape begins to grow at the apex of the ceiling, overtaking the chandelier. It swirls and boils, and something within it roars again—a deep, furious sound that makes the window panes rattle and the walls quake. Everyone is transfixed at the sight. Several smile and point, thinking it is part of the special effects, murmuring that it must be a show or some sort of skit. Mandy knows better. She turns slowly on the stairs and creeps down them, trying to keep herself hidden behind the people who are watching the spectacle. She has to get out of here right now.
A vile stench wafts from the rolling mass, making people grimace and cover their noses. The stink of rotting flesh and fetid blood fills the room. People gag and someone vomits.
Mandy darts through the open front door and trots down the steps of the porch as fast as her skirt and heels allow. Panic fills her chest, and she can hear nothing but the sound of her pounding heartbeat. She is almost at the gate when her path is blocked by little lights closing in around her from all directions. It is those damn fairy lantern things. She waves her hands to disperse the mass. Pinpricks stab at her fingers and hands.
She yelps and jumps back, clutching her stinging hands to her chest. “What the fuck?”
You tried to burn our home. A small voice fills her head. The voice is more beautiful than any Mandy has ever heard. She squints at the lantern that hovers just before her. A beautiful, heart-shaped face, topped with a tiny, finely woven crown of silver and gold, glows in the light of the lantern she holds aloft. Her sharply angled eyebrows are furrowed at Mandy and her pointed ears twitch slightly. Mandy is mesmerized by her beauty, admiring the shimmer of her rapidly moving wings.
We heard the Great Witch accuse you. The sweet tone of the voice belies the harsh look on the fairy queen’s face. You must pay.
The fairy then pulls back and waves an arm towards Mandy. The surrounding fairies drop their lanterns and come at Mandy all at once. She screams. A gritty mist blows into her mouth, and she chokes and coughs, trying to spit out the sickly sweet taste, but she cannot—her tongue is numb. She feels her body being lifted from the ground. Their grip stings at every place they hold her, as if tiny daggers are being jabbed into her skin, and there are dozens of them. She tries to fight back, but her limbs are growing too heavy to manage. Her head swims and rolls backward, eyes wide but unable to focus on anything. Darkness closes around her vision as she is carried aloft into the garden.
46
I stare in disbelief at the grotesque darkness before me. Morris Stiles has grown incredibly strong from stoking Mandy’s animosity and jealousy. He should have dissipated without Melissa’s energy. What is before me now shows just how much I underestimated the hatred he harbors for me. I catch sight of Mandy as she darts out the front door. I don’t blame her. While she brought it on herself, she’s been tortured enough by this vile creature.
Coils of thick, black smoke serpentine in and around themselves, the entire mass growing with each movement. As it solidifies, its surface becomes oily and slick. Its foul odor fills my nostrils, and my stomach churns. I survey the restless crowd. How can I get them out of here? He’ll strike if they move.
Maggie’s at my side, hackles up and teeth bared as she glares at the mass.
“Morris Stiles!” My voice is strong and firm. The sound of his name from my lips causes the rolling mass to convulse, and he screams with outrage. “I command you to leave my
home at once!” My energy pushes hard at him. To my surprise, he does not give.
For a moment, silence fills the room, and the temperature drops rapidly. Within the coils, a gurgling chuckle begins. It grows slowly in strength and volume until it becomes a maniacal cackle.
“You filthy witch,” the mass growls, spitting out each word. Thick tentacles shoot out at me. The sudden movement prompts screams from the crowd, and the people behind me jump and scamper back. Hard, knife-like fingers stab into my shoulders and jerk me over the railing, my hat flying off.
Cries fill my ears as I fall, although I am not falling for long. I lighten my body and soar around the room. Screams turn into applause and amazed laughter. I alight where the crowd has moved aside to clear a space for my landing.
The oily mass roars again with all its might. People’s hands cover their ears, and screams begin anew. Some fall to their knees, hands clutching their heads, blood trickling out of noses and ears.
“Stop!” I throw up my arms at the tangle of coils. A bolt of white energy flares from my hands into its heart, and it screams in agony, writhing as the white light crackles like lightning within it. All of the Halloween enchantments vanish. Realization spreads rapidly through the crowd; this is not a show. I pass my hands over the frightened, murmuring throng. They must not draw attention to themselves; I have no idea what that monster will do. Each person goes still, their faces blank. I leave my friends free of the spell.
They run to stand with me, Cal putting himself between me and the frightening sight above. I push him behind me. Jo stares with confusion, but I shake my head. Ren comes to land on Sylvia’s arm when she offers it. I face Morris with Maggie at my side, a low growl rumbling deep in her chest.
As the lightning within the rolling blackness fades, so do his screams. A face takes shape in the center—the face of a being driven by an unquenchable lust for vengeance and an unreasonable level of hate. His jagged mouth, dotted with rotting teeth, curls wickedly at the corners. The black holes where his eyes should be hold a growing fire deep within their recesses.
From his mouth fall stringy blobs of a black, viscous matter that burns the surfaces they hit like acid. The wood floor smokes black as it burns. The stench of it threatens to make me retch but I stand firm, glaring up at the demon-like creature. He is much stronger than I would have ever thought possible. Only Spirit can touch Spirit. To make contact with me as he did, to create the solid matter that drips from his mouth—these are things I have never before witnessed. A flicker of fear travels up my spine, but I steel myself against it.
The fiery pits within his eye sockets dart to each of my friends. I grit my teeth.
“You will never get what you want, Morris Stiles,” I say. The roving eyes return to me, and his vicious grin falls. I begin to draw in energy from around me, gathering it within myself. “You want revenge, but you are very much mistaken. You deserved your end.” He does not sense what I am doing as I speak. I must distract him long enough to gather the energy that I need to cast him out.
“That’s bullshit!” the filthy mouth spits out. “Yer a goddamn witch, and you got what was comin’ to you. I did what was right in the eyes a’ God!” The mass quakes so violently, it shakes the walls and windows.
“And what are you now, Morris Stiles? You are an evil apparition, an abomination, an entity from the Other World! You are no better than a godless witch now, aren’t you?” The energy courses within me, hot and quivering. I clench my fists to contain it.
He roars with outrage and glares at something behind my right shoulder. He shoots thick tentacles towards me. But not at me—his aim is for Cal. As I turn to catch the black coils with the energy pulsing in my hands, Jo cries out and shoves Cal. The tentacles plunge into her body. A coil whips out at me, penetrating my heart, and throwing me across the room. Stars fill my vision when I hit the wall and slide to the floor. My chest burns, and I cannot breathe. Maggie’s teeth sink into the thick, oily flesh protruding from my chest, and she rips viciously, tearing off chunks of black matter, only to see the gashes close up immediately. I shout at her to help Jo.
Sylvia shrieks and lunges for her mother, but Cal holds her back. Jo is pierced throughout her body, her face caught in a silent scream. Ren claws madly at the black, ripping bits off with her beak and talons. Maggie lunges for the thickest mass, her immense ethereal strength pulling it from Jo’s body. Morris howls, lashing out at Maggie with a dagger-like tentacle. It spears Maggie’s torso, and she yelps as he thrashes her about. He throws her limp body backward and she disappears in midair.
Another tentacle whips out at Ren, throwing her hard to the floor. She does not get up; her chest looks caved in. Maggie appears over her then, shielding the poor creature with her bulk. She snarls and barks at the black, writhing mass above her.
I cannot move. My vision blurs. The sharp coil piercing my heart twists, sending searing pain through the whole of me. Faintness threatens to take over. I can’t let him kill me. I must save Jo! Maniacal laughter fills the room as the tentacles shake her violently.
The thick coils begin to draw out from Jo’s body. To my horror, they are pulling her Spirit from her. Her eyes are fixed on me, wide and frightened. Her mouth forms my name. I dig my nails into the sticky black tentacle in my chest, pulling hard, screaming against the pain, but it does not give.
I focus all the energy I’ve amassed and blast it into the cluster of tentacles embedded in Jo. He convulses and recoils with a roar, yanking hard on Jo’s Spirit. With a final shriek of triumph, he wrenches her Spirit free of her body.
The agony of what I see releases the rage I’ve stifled within me for a thousand years. White fire screams from my upstretched hands into the core of Morris Stiles.
The explosion knocks Cal and Sylvia against a wall. Those shielded by my spell are unharmed. The windows are blown out. Pieces of the oily mass are ablaze, and he is shrieking in agony. Bits of him are burning away, disintegrating under the inferno of white light. The mass convulses in its death throes, howling with pain and disbelief. I send out a final pulse of my remaining energy. The remnants of Morris Stiles flash away in the shockwave.
I fall to the ground; my legs will not hold me. Blood is pounding in my head and dripping from my nose. Through blurred vision, I see the Spirit of Jo lofting towards the ceiling. I reach for her, crying for her, screaming her name. She looks down upon me, smiling, her face peaceful and serene. I push myself up, reaching up to her Spirit, but my fingers catch nothing. She turns to Sylvia and mouths ‘I love you.’ Sylvia wails behind me. I watch helplessly as Jo’s Spirit turns towards the Veil that has silently formed above her. With one last wave of her hand, she disappears into the void.
I fall to my knees. My friend is gone. I bury my face in my hands; sobs rack my body. The floor comes up quickly and then blackness sets in around me.
Cal’s hands are on my upper arms, pulling me up. “Aven, Aven.” My eyes flutter open, his voice echoing painfully through my head.
He turns me to him. “Aven, please. These people!” Over his shoulder, Sylvia cradles her dead mother in her arms, wailing. Fighting against Cal’s grip, I want to go to her. I have caused the death of my best friend!
“Damn it, Aven, listen to me!” He shakes me. I finally look at him. Blood streaks his face and a bruise blooms around one eye. “You can’t do anything for Jo right now, but you can for these people.” He turns me around.
Those held within my spell quiver, some spasm and twitch; their bodies are fighting against the restraints they have been held in for too long. I must release them before their minds are damaged.
I straighten myself and wipe my cheeks, ignoring the rush of nausea and the taste of blood in my mouth. When I am steady, I motion for Cal to let me go. I turn about the room, eyeing every person.
“You will remember none of these dreadful scenes. You danced and made merry, and you leave with happiness.” A light pulse quakes out from me, touching each person within my house. Bodies
straighten, eyes brighten, and faces smile as they awaken and turn immediately to the front door. They are quiet, all smiles but no words, walking in an orderly fashion out the door. It is an eerie sight, with bodies moving in unison and only the sounds of shuffling feet. No one looks around to see the blown-out windows or charred walls or what’s left of the staircase. No one looks at the two women on the floor. No one responds to the cries of the teenaged girl.
Cal stands between me and the now quiet Sylvia, who is rocking her mother slowly. His face tells me that he is at a loss for who to comfort. I step to him and take his hand. We look down at the miserable scene of Jo and Sylvia.
I kneel next to Sylvia, trying not to look at Jo’s still form.
“Sylvia,” I whisper, laying a hand on her arm. She is singing softly, her head buried against Jo’s, her hair cascading over her mother’s face. My lip trembles and my chest heaves. Cal kneels beside me.
“Let’s get her home,” he says. I squeeze Sylvia’s arm, and she nods but does not move.
“Sylvia.” I put my head against hers and wrap my arms around them both. I sway with them, hot tears pouring down my cheeks. Cal’s warm palm is on my back. I choke back the sobs welling in my chest. “Sweetie, let me lift her.”
When she doesn’t respond, I lightly tug on Jo’s body with my energy, letting Sylvia know I am lifting her. She releases her mother reluctantly. I don’t recognize the face of the young girl I’ve known for more than a year. The heavy black makeup streaking down her cheeks obscures her features, her eyes glazed over but fixed on Jo. Cal’s arms are around her, pulling her from the floor. She doesn’t resist nor does she help. Her legs give out once upright, so Cal scoops her into his arms. He strains, but he will not drop her.
I drape Jo’s thick velvet cape across her body and peaceful face. It brings me some comfort to know she is now within the serenity of the Veil and will soon move on to the next part of her journey. But I will forever miss my friend, my best friend, my sister not by blood but by love. A hundred lifetimes will go by, and I will not have forgotten the sound of her uproarious laughter, the glint of mischief in her eye, the faint smell of patchouli in her hair, or even a single line on her face.
The White Raven Page 30
