by Amber Benson
Daniela snorted.
“You planning on taking a run before we work?”
“I don’t know why I feel like I’m about to start a triathlon,” Lyse said, and smiled.
“You’ll be great,” Dev chimed in.
“Don’t worry,” Daniela said, clapping her gloved hands together in excitement. “No swimming will be necessary.”
Lizbeth shot Lyse a secret smile. Even though she’d gotten her voice back, Lizbeth was still judicious about what she said, weighing the necessity of each word before she spoke.
“I call the protective circle now, right? To reconsecrate the ground?” Lyse asked, ninety-nine percent sure this was correct but wanting a little reassurance.
“Yes, now would be a perfect time to call the cardinal elements,” Arrabelle replied evenly, as if she were speaking to a small child. “Now that we’ve added more protection to the grove, we’ll reconsecrate the circle, and then we can start the Releasing Ritual.”
Lyse opened the box of matches she held in her hand and plucked one from the inside, lighting it. It flared to life with a sulfurous spark, and she cupped its flame with her hand to keep it from going out. She walked over to the first candle, a fat pillar with alternating white and canary-yellow swirls, and lit its wick.
“We call to the powers of the Air,” she said as she held the guttering candle. “To Wisdom and Intuition. Be with us this night.”
The others intoned their part of the call and response: “Be with us tonight.”
A gust of wind blew through the clearing, tendrils of cold air encircling Lyse as gooseflesh pimpled her arms. She stood back up and grinned.
“Well, that wasn’t too bad.”
“Three more to go before we start patting ourselves on the back,” Arrabelle said.
“Okie-doke,” Lyse said, moving to the second candle and kneeling beside it.
Another fat pillar, but this one was made of striped blue-and-white beeswax.
“We call to the powers of the Water,” she said, striking another match. “To Love and Fertility. Be with us tonight.”
“Be with us tonight,” the others intoned in unison.
They repeated the call and response twice more, using a red-and-white candle to signify Fire, and a green-and-white pillar for Earth. These two joined Water and Air to complete the invocation of the cardinal elements. With that done, Lyse began to say the spell that would reconsecrate the circle of protection:
“The cardinal candles have been lit—”
Another powerful gust of wind shot through the branches of the eucalyptus trees, the leaves rustling like whispering children. A number of the tea lights inside the pumpkin lanterns went out, but the moonlight more than made up for the lack of candlelight.
“Just the Santa Anas,” Dev said.
Daniela wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
“Let’s hope that’s all it is.”
Arrabelle nodded to Lyse.
“Go on.”
The wind picked up again, cold air rushing through the circle and nipping at the cardinal candles, almost as if it were trying to extinguish their light. A chill set in, one that had nothing to do with the weather.
Lyse realized her teeth were chattering.
“Keep going,” Arrabelle said, eyes imploring Lyse to continue. “We’re not good until you finish the spell.”
“But you said we were safe here—”
“It is . . . mostly safe,” Daniela added. “Just finish it, Lyse.”
Lyse nodded and bowed her head, her body shivering uncontrollably.
“We cast out . . . anything unwanted . . . from the circle—”
The wind lashed at Lyse as she went on with the invocation. It was like a living creature, tearing through the trees and swirling around the women as they fought to remain upright. The wind whipped hair across faces, yanked on hems of dresses, its insidious fingers pinching and prodding, battering at them without end.
Anything to stop them from finishing their spell.
A lone howl ripped through the air, and Lyse’s blood froze, time seeming to stop as the eerie sound ricocheted through the park. Every hair on Lyse’s body stood on end as the sound, a constant in every one of the nightmares she’d had as a teenager, gripped her brain, making her want to sprint into the trees, leaving her blood sisters alone and the circle unconsecrated.
“Say the rest of the damn spell!” Arrabelle yelled over the screaming of the wind.
“But you guys have to repeat after me—”
“Just finish it, dammit! It doesn’t matter if we don’t call it back to you,” Daniela cried. “C’mon, here. This wind isn’t a coincidence. Close the goddamned circle, Lyse!”
Another stygian howl echoed through the clearing, but this one was different. It belonged to a creature that was smaller and weaker than the first one, its song one of desperation and terror, not aggression.
This second cry wrenched at Lyse’s heart.
It came again, that same piteous howl. Closer now, and followed seconds later by a cry from the first creature—the one that had instilled terror in Lyse’s heart during all those nightmares.
“There’re two,” Lyse cried over the sound of the wind, turning toward the edge of the circle and pointing out into the woods. “Can’t you hear it?! The weaker one’s in trouble. It needs our help!”
“No!” Arrabelle called back to her. “Don’t leave the circle . . . you’re not safe out there!”
She took one step toward Lyse, her foot stepping just outside the bounds of the circle, and she froze in place.
“Arrabelle?”
Eyes wide and imploring, she stared back at Lyse.
“Don’t touch her,” Daniela called out to Dev as she started to move toward Arrabelle’s frozen form. “She’s on the edge. You touch her and you’ll be sucked in, too.”
Daniela turned to Lyse.
“Don’t go outside the circle. Whatever you do.”
Lyse nodded.
“Okay.”
The wind licked at Lyse’s back, pushing her forward as if it were encouraging her to venture outside the protected circle and disappear into the deep, dark woods . . . though Lyse doubted she’d make it two steps before something nasty came calling for her. An evil creature lurked in the shadowy depths of the woods, and she was glad her baser instincts for self-preservation were keeping her rooted to the ground where she stood.
“No!” she yelled up at the sky, hoping whatever was out there would hear her. “I’m not falling for your trap. But I am closing the goddamned circle—”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth then her dress came flying up around her waist, the wind circling her like a cyclone, pushing her dark hair into her eyes and mouth. With flailing hands, she fought back, but she wasn’t strong enough.
“Lyse!” she heard Dev scream.
The wind shoved her with inhuman hands and she fell backward, her head hitting the ground as a starburst of pain shot through her brain. She gasped, the throbbing intense, but then she felt a pair of hands grasping her shoulders, pulling her back into the circle.
No, they were pulling her out of the circle!
She wanted to cry out for help, but her voice was gone, locked away so she couldn’t access it. Cold fingers wrapped around her living warmth, sucking away her energy, leaving her paralyzed and unable to escape. She fought to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt sewn shut. With superhuman effort she was finally able to tear them apart, and the night sky slipped into view above her. The swaying branches of the trees, their boughs laden down with the remnants of the twinkling pumpkin lights, acted like a proscenium arch, emphasizing the grinning face of the harvest moon.
No, it wasn’t the moon at all, she thought; it was a monster.
She screamed as a misshapen jaw and two bulging ye
llow eyes drifted above her, a string of drool dangling inches from her face. She closed her eyes, trying to banish the image, pretending the creature was not touching her. But she could feel its fingers digging into her skin, its will bullying her into submission.
“No!” she cried, opening her eyes to stare into the creature’s ravenous yellow gaze.
She’d never seen anything so hideous. It was humanoid in shape, but with ropy red scar tissue belting its corroded gray skin like a corset. Bits of its rotten flesh flaked off onto Lyse’s face as it grinned down at her, and she shook her head to keep them out of her mouth and nose.
“You’re not in your circle anymore, witch,” it said as flecks of foul-smelling saliva rained down on her, making her gag.
She shuddered, disgusted by the stench of its breath—which strongly reminded her of raw meat left out to sour in the sun—and sensing her revulsion, it threw back its head and howled in pleasure. The creature’s howl was followed by a string of maniacal laughter, which chilled Lyse to the core of her being.
After all the years of nightmares, Lyse realized she’d never actually seen the face of the monster that had stalked her in her dreams . . . until now.
The spell, she thought. I have to finish the spell.
She opened her mouth and nothing came out.
Only a moment before, she’d been able to scream, but now her lips were frozen solid. She racked her brain, trying to think of a way to counteract the creature’s power over her.
“Don’t let it drag you out of the circle!” she heard Dev scream, but the words sounded like they came from a thousand miles away.
Lyse turned her head, fear dawning on her as she realized most of her torso was already outside the circle, bits of ash clinging to her hair. The creature was trying to drag her out of the circle and into the trees—and God knew what it would do to her if it got her out there. For now, it could only dominate her with its will, using magic to lock her words inside her.
Outside the circle, she thought, all bets are off.
In her peripheral vision, she saw a flash of movement. Dev and Daniela were holding on to Lizbeth, trying to prevent her from coming to Lyse’s aid.
“Lyse!” Lizbeth cried as their eyes locked.
Let me go, Lyse thought, wishing she were a telepath. You’re the last Dream Keeper. You’re the important one. We’re supposed to be looking after you, not the other way around.
The monster seemed to read Lyse’s thoughts and replied by digging harder into her shoulders, its fingers pressing through flesh and muscle to get at the bone. Its face hovered over hers, scarred skin and pale yellow irises now only inches away. She turned her head, wishing this were a nightmare and not her reality.
This was it, her life ending before it could really begin. She imagined the creature biting down on her cheek, tearing into her skin, its foul breath enveloping her.
She began to cry, silent tears running down the sides of her face.
I’m sorry, Eleanora, she thought, a strange sense of calm settling over her. I’ve failed you. You were so wrong to have left all this at my door. I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t save anyone . . . not even myself.
It would be easier to remain calm if she didn’t have to see the monster coming. She closed her eyes and waited to meet her death.
Hands encircled the soles of Lyse’s feet, and their warm, human touch woke up something deep inside her, a small kernel of power that moved through the rest of her body, setting her on fire. The creature howled in pain and released her, its fingers blistered from touching Lyse’s heated skin.
Lyse closed her eyes and whispered the last two lines of the spell, her body free now that the creature’s hold had been broken: “And we draw together our power here in this protected circle with the promise it shall only be used in good works. Your blood is our blood.”
Though she could not see them, Lyse heard the others murmur their reply: “Your blood is our blood.”
There was a bright flash of white light as the magical wards flared into life and the circle was reconsecrated, the evil banished—for now—from their sacred grove.
Lyse had beaten death, her life saved by the soles of her feet. But she was unconscious at this point and had no idea that the monster hadn’t eaten her, after all.
Lizbeth
Lizbeth could feel the creature’s fury like a live current, its anger electric. It reached out to Lizbeth through Lyse, her friend’s inert body a conduit right into the creature’s mind, but then the connection was severed, and Lizbeth pulled Lyse’s unconscious body back into the circle.
The creature was repelled by the current of magic, an electric-blue light that emanated from the circle, creating a wall of power both she and the creature could see—and that the creature could not cross.
Lizbeth wasn’t scared of the beast. She’d been inside its mind long enough to know it was here against its will. Forced to do The Flood’s business when all it wanted was to be put out of its horrible misery. It had been a man once, a member of The Flood’s army, but its sacrifice to the cause had been too great. Its scarred and broken form was the payment it received for its service. A test subject that had volunteered for the honor, but had not understood the depth of what it was signing up for.
Lizbeth blinked back a wave of images. Dark places that gave way to fiery infernos and then stark, sterile rooms with cages full of . . .
She couldn’t see farther. The connection had been broken too soon. She sighed and looked back at the beast where it paced outside the circle, hungry and alone.
As the blue light began to fade from the circle, the creature let out a desperate, inhuman howl and bounded off into the woods. Lizbeth watched it go. Her pity for the beast was endless.
“Lizbeth, you could’ve been killed,” Dev murmured as she knelt down beside her.
Lizbeth didn’t want to upset the others, but she’d known as soon as she’d seen the creature that once she touched Lyse, she would be able to overpower its magic. What her blood sisters didn’t seem to understand was that Lyse’s proximity increased their powers exponentially. This was what Thomas had been trying to tell them back at the Mucho Man Cave. Lyse was a hybrid, but more than that, she was like a signal booster for their individual talents.
“Dammit, LB,” Daniela said, anger tingeing her words.
Lizbeth looked up, surprised to see Daniela wiping away a trickle of blood from one of her nostrils.
“What happened?” she asked, and Daniela raised an eyebrow.
“To my nose?” Daniela asked.
Lizbeth nodded.
“You.”
“What?” Lizbeth asked, confused.
“You pushed me out of the way to get to Lyse, and that’s when my stupid nose started bleeding.”
Daniela’s empathic powers are getting more and more out of control, Lizbeth thought. Just another example of the result of Lyse’s presence.
“I don’t understand,” Dev said. “One minute we were reconsecrating the circle and the next . . .”
Arrabelle had collected herself enough to join them. She looked the worse for wear, but the encounter had kicked some fire back into her.
“What the hell was that thing? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“A monster The Flood created,” Lizbeth said. “It should be pitied, though. It didn’t want to be here, but it’s under their control.”
“What thing?” Daniela asked. “What’re you talking about?”
“There was nothing there—” Dev started to say, but Arrabelle interrupted her.
“I’m not fighting anyone on this. I saw it and so did Lizbeth—”
Lizbeth tuned the argument out, wanting a minute to think. She needed to process what she’d seen, understand how it was visible to her and Arrabelle, but not to the others. And Lyse couldn’t comment because she was
still unconscious.
Lizbeth pulled the hem of her dress up, knotting it between her knees like a makeshift sarong, so she could move more freely. She didn’t like the red dresses, found it too tempting to the fates to wear a color so reminiscent of blood.
“It’s because we were out of the circle. Arrabelle and Lyse and then me when I touched Lyse.”
Actually, Lizbeth had seen the monster even before she’d touched Lyse. She didn’t have an answer for how that was possible, so she kept the information to herself.
The others stopped arguing and looked at Lizbeth.
“I’ll buy it,” Arrabelle said, giving Lizbeth’s answer some credence. “It makes sense. The circle wasn’t fully reconsecrated, but we’d called up enough magic that we were partially protected.”
Lizbeth picked up Lyse’s hand, curling her fingers around her friend’s wrist and giving it a squeeze. The skin was so cold to the touch that Lizbeth wished she had a blanket to drape over Lyse. Dev took Lyse’s other hand, rubbing it in between her palms to try to warm it up a little bit.
“She okay?” Daniela asked.
Lizbeth touched Lyse’s cheek.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
Lyse wrinkled her brow, eyelids fluttering as she began to stir.
“Wake up, Lyse,” Dev said, stroking the crown of Lyse’s head.
“The circle . . .” Lyse murmured, forcing Dev and Lizbeth to lean close to hear what she was saying.
“It didn’t break,” Dev said, smiling down at her. “You were outstanding.”
Lyse tried to get up, but Lizbeth saw she was too weak to manage it herself, and she and Dev helped her into a sitting position.
“It’s gone?” Lyse asked, eyes focused on the edges of the circle, searching the darkness.
She thinks it’s still out there, Lizbeth realized.
“It took off when you finished the spell,” Lizbeth said, trying to assuage Lyse’s fear.
Lyse nodded.
“Okay. Good.”
“Because you closed the circle,” Dev said smiling, “and reignited the wards.”
