“It rarely does. Once power like that is used, it seduces. In white magic, the blood is given. In black it is taken. You see the difference?”
“Sacrifice versus—” I tried to think of the opposite of sacrifice and couldn’t.
“Theft,” Peggy supplied. “Torture, slavery, bondage.”
“Got it,” Mary said. “Taking bad. Giving good.”
“The results of a blood spell cannot be undone,” Peggy continued, ignoring her.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Those spells use the elements in some way. What is burned cannot be unburned. What sinks into the earth, can’t be drawn out. What is tossed into the wind is irretrievable. Blood becomes one with the water.”
As if it were happening again, right before my eyes, I saw the fleck of dried blood from my bitten tongue dispersing into the cup of water, disappearing, becoming one with it, right before I had my last vision. That hadn’t been a spell, but it had been something. I’d seen what I wanted to, what I needed to, rather than random flashes that made no sense.
“Let’s try one.” Mary opened the book.
“No.” Peggy closed the book. “Did you hear what I just said?”
“I’ll give you my blood. All good.”
Peggy lifted her gaze to Deux—our guard for the day—who lounged just inside the doorway, gaze fixed on us as if we were pork chops dancing in front of a wolf. I kept expecting him to lick his lips.
“You might want to give me your blood,” Peggy said just above a whisper. “But if I start taking it, that’ll not only be the end of our lessons, but the end of my job. You think no one’s going to notice me cutting your arm?”
“I’ll cut my own arm,” Mary said.
“Not,” Peggy and I blurted at the same time.
Mary scowled and hugged the book to her chest, but she quit arguing.
“I wanted to do a spell of healing today,” Peggy said.
Deux made a derisive sound and turned away. But he didn’t go away. Lately, none of them did.
“Where is it?” Mary began to shuffle through the pages.
“I haven’t tried it yet. If it works, we write it down.”
Mary snapped the book closed. “Okay.”
Peggy withdrew three blue candles and a knife from her bag. She picked up one of the candles and began to carve a word into the wax.
“Whoa!” Deux plucked the sharp instrument from her hand. “Are you high?”
“Not at the moment,” Peggy said, and held out her hand. “Give it back.”
“Nope.” He tucked the knife into his pocket and strolled back where he’d been.
“Now what?” The gaze Mary turned on the guard worried me.
“Now I do this.” Peggy used her fingernail to write Mary’s name in all three candles.
“I’m not hurt,” Mary protested.
Peggy just lit the candles, held out her hands and waited until we took them before she began the chant. “Healing light, shining bright, let this sickness flee in fright.”
“Not sick either,” Mary muttered.
Peggy kept chanting. “With harm to none, including me, as I will so mote it be. Now together.”
We repeated the chant three times.
“Close your eyes and imagine Mary well.”
“Not. Sick.”
Mary’s patience was waning. Couldn’t say I blamed her. A lot of Wicca involved meditation. Mary wasn’t the type.
“What about sleeping?” Mary asked.
Peggy opened one eye. “Now?”
“Is there a spell to help me sleep?”
Both Peggy’s eyes opened. “You have trouble sleeping?”
Mary nodded. I kept silent. This was news to me.
Peggy released our hands and started to dig through her handbag. She came up with a mesh bag that smelled herby. She pressed it into Mary’s hand. “You can have this one. I’ll have my friend make another.”
Mary tightened her fingers around the bag and the smell intensified. “What’s in it?”
“Cardamom pods, salt, cloves, peppermint, rosemary, and the peel of one lemon. Crushed, mixed.”
“That’s it?” Mary held the thing away by two fingers. “I don’t want to nod off all the time.”
“You have to do the incantation while you, or whoever you wish to help, has the bag on their person—held or tucked in a pocket perhaps.”
Mary dropped the bag to the table. “What is it?”
“Sleep be with me. Ease my mind. Calm my body. Wings of darkness bring the sight of night and ease my dreams.”
“Doesn’t rhyme,” Mary said.
“Doesn’t have to.”
“It works?”
Peggy winked. “Like a charm.”
“Then why wasn’t it in the book?”
“Not my spell. Someone in my coven gave it to me.”
Whenever grandmotherly Peggy brought up her coven my ears rang.
“If it worked for you, shouldn’t you write it in the book?”
“Would you like to write it there for me?”
Peggy’s voice was a little first-grade teacher, and Mary’s gaze narrowed. But she wrote down the spell.
“All right.” Peggy gathered her things. “We’ll try something new next week, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
Mary was still writing.
Peggy left.
Mary’s gaze went to Deux and she smiled.
I suddenly understood what the sleeping spell was for.
*
Several nights later I was trying to decide if I was going to help Mary escape again. On the one hand, she was trying to kill people. On the other, so were they.
Mary must have sensed my waffling, because she came to my room. She brought along her shadow. Tonight it was Zoe.
The nurse had been keeping her distance from me. I figured she’d been warned. Didn’t prevent her from throwing daggerlike glares in my direction.
“If looks could kill.” Mary threw a killer look of her own at the nurse, then slammed the door in her face.
Zoe opened it right back up. “This stays open.”
“Where are we going to go?” Mary threw out her arm, indicating the windows with bars.
“Open,” Zoe said, and Mary gave her the finger.
“Wow.” Zoe put her hand over her chest. “That hurt.”
“I’d really like to learn how to turn her into a slug.”
I’d seen Zoe talking earnestly to Dr. Frasier, setting her hand on his arm, basking in his smile. “Wouldn’t mind it myself.”
Zoe rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall in the hall.
“I hope she’s working a few nights from now,” Mary whispered.
“Why?”
“It would be so much fun to disappear on her watch.”
“About that—” I began.
“Remember what Peggy said when she explained blood magic?”
“It’s a bad idea.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
I wasn’t surprised. Mary usually heard what she wanted to, and sometimes what wasn’t even said.
She held out her hand and I took it. Her palm was slick.
“Eighty percent of blood is water,” she whispered.
I didn’t even have time to curse.
An old house—dusty, grimy, garbage in the corners—all the windows busted. But most disturbing was the upside-down pentagram on the wall above a table full of dead things.
I smelled blood. Theirs or Mary’s? Did it matter?
Voices outside, coming in. Can’t be seen. Need to hide. Hurry to the stairs, rush to the top. Wait. Listen.
Can’t hear. Creep closer. I see myself, but not myself—red hair, greenish-brown eyes. I/she is speaking to someone in the room with the dead. The voices, the words jumble together. Confusing. Head hurts. Skin on fire. Need to, need to—
A shriek fills the air. Down the stairs, into the room, lift the knife—
Why is there a knife? Why d
oes that knife appear familiar?
“What are you two doing?”
I yanked my hand out of Mary’s. Zoe blocked the light from the hall. She flipped the switch in my room, and the glare made me blink and stutter. “I … uh … W-w-we—” At least I had the presence of mind to curl my fingers over the blood.
“Praying,” Mary snapped. “Get out.”
“You wouldn’t know a prayer if one bit you on the ass,” Zoe returned.
“I’m going to bite you.” Mary started to stand.
“Shhh.” I drew her back down.
Together we closed our eyes. Then we stayed that way until Zoe got bored and left. I opened one eye. Her shadow spread long across the hall. Good enough.
“What was that?” I whispered.
“My house.” Mary rubbed her forehead, leaving a bloody fingerprint. I licked my thumb and rubbed it off. “I think … my son was there.”
There’d been other people, other voices, but I’d only seen the redhead with my face.
“You don’t know?” I asked.
“It’s been so long.”
I let it go. My main concern was—
“The woman?”
Mary sat up straighter. “Exactly like you, except with different hair and eyes.”
“We need to work on your understanding of exactly.” But she was right. Whoever that had been she’d looked “exactly” like me.
Might I have a sister somewhere? My stomach jittered. Excitement? Anticipation? Trepidation? Yes.
“She was my son’s friend, when they were kids. I haven’t seen her since I went away. She grew up. So did he. That’s why I was confused when I saw you.”
“Where did you live?”
“Three Harbors. I have to go there.”
She started to stand again. Again, I pulled her back down.
“Willow, you saw what was going to happen. Someone had a knife.”
“Mary,” I said. “I think that someone was you.”
Chapter 12
“Owen’s in danger,” Mary said.
“Peggy told me that Owen’s a marine. He’ll be fine.”
“I have to help him.”
“With a knife?”
“It was your vision, Willow.”
“I think it might have been yours.”
It had been strange. I usually saw the future, but I saw it through my own eyes. While this might have been the future, I’d been seeing things through Mary’s eyes.
“He needs me. I failed him before. I can’t fail him now.”
Mary sensed my reluctance and began to get agitated. Never a good thing with Mary.
“You have to send me to him. Why else would you have the vision?”
“Because you brought it on with a bloody hand?” I reached for that hand, and she slapped mine away.
“Promise me that when the full moon comes you’ll do the spell.”
“Let me see what you did.”
She held her arm out in the other direction.
“Don’t be juvenile.”
“I’ll let you see it if you promise to do the spell.”
“Mary—”
“He’s getting louder. He’s closer. He’s coming.”
“Roland?”
She nodded.
“You know he’s dead, right? Has been for centuries?”
“Sweetie, evil never dies.”
She sounded so lucid I got a chill. “All right. I promise.”
She shoved her hand at me so fast I stiffened, afraid she meant to punch out my lights. There was a slice across the meat of her palm. “What did you do?”
She removed a knife from her back pocket with the hand I wasn’t holding. The same knife she’d had in the vision. I realized why I recognized it. It was the knife Peggy had brought to our lesson. The one Deux had taken away.
“How’d you get that?”
“Sleeping spell works like a charm.” Mary’s lips twitched.
“Ha-ha.” I beckoned with my fingers. “Give it to me.”
“No.” She shoved it back in her pocket. “I had it in the vision. I need it.”
“If someone sees you with it you’re gonna be locked away for a lot longer than you ever have been before.”
She snorted her opinion of that. “You had the vision of me with Owen and this knife. Which means it’ll happen.”
She was right. My visions came true. But there was a first time for everything. Nevertheless, I let her keep the knife. I doubted I’d be able to get it away from her without more bloodshed anyway, and we should probably avoid that.
“You shouldn’t have cut yourself. What were you thinking?”
“I had to know what was coming, and Peggy said blood magic was the most powerful kind.”
She had. She’d also said it couldn’t be undone. I wondered what that meant for the vision we’d had.
“He’s getting harder to ignore,” Mary continued. “He wants me to kill you. But I won’t. Don’t worry.”
Hmm. Did I believe her? Oddly, yes.
“Why me?”
“Something about your parents.”
“I don’t have parents.”
“Everyone has parents.”
“I don’t know who mine are.”
“Roland does.”
“Who are they?”
Mary’s forehead crinkled. “That’s what makes no sense.”
None of this made sense, but I tightened my lips so I wouldn’t say so.
“He speaks about witches and a wolf.”
A wolf. Strange, but what wasn’t lately?
“What does a wolf have to do with my parents?”
She shrugged. “There’s a lot of crazy talk with him.”
With him?
“He really wants you and your sisters dead.”
“Sisters? Plural?”
“Definitely. The redhead must be one of the two.”
If I hadn’t seen her too, I might point out that Mary had delusions. Then again, a lot of her previous loony talk was proving not so loony.
The idea that I might have sisters was a concept so foreign I wasn’t sure what to think about it. Though having someone—two someones apparently—would be better than having no one at all. Better than better. If it were true.
“What about the other one?” I asked.
“I haven’t seen her.”
Neither had I, which was odd. You’d think if I had sisters, I’d have “seen” them before now. All those times I’d been alone—sad, frightened, needy—knowing I wasn’t alone would have lessened all of it. But I’d never had any control over what I saw—until lately.
“We could try again.” Mary turned her palm up. The fluorescent lights made the fresh blood glisten.
The world wavered, and I glanced away. “No.”
“But—”
“It’s nearly lights out. You need to clean up before someone besides me sees that.”
She didn’t seem happy, but she nodded.
“How are you gonna clean your hand without Zoe noticing?” I asked.
She cast a narrow glare in Zoe’s direction. “I could knock her senseless.”
“As much fun as that might be, solitary would follow.”
Which would mean no transportation spell. I’d say that would be my way out of doing it, but I was worried about Mary’s son too, as well as the woman who looked exactly like me, but different—one of my sisters.
“Can’t have that.”
“What about the sleeping spell?”
“I used what I had on Deux. Kind of hard to make more from in here.” Mary stood. “I’ll take a shower. So far no one’s watched me do that.” She stuck her bloody hand in her pocket. “And knowing Nurse Ratched, she’ll stay with you.” Mary cast a concerned glance toward the hall where Zoe still hovered. “Maybe you should come along.”
It was sweet that Mary wanted to protect me. But if there was one thing I didn’t want to do it was watch Mary McAllister take a shower. Stuff like that was almost impo
ssible to unsee.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Good. You should get your rest before the full moon.” She kissed the top of my head and left.
As Mary walked past Zoe, she gave her the finger with her nonbloody hand. I had to try really hard not to laugh.
Zoe took a step after her, then glanced at me with a frown. I shut off my lights and crawled into bed, turning toward the wall and presenting her with my back. Then I wished I hadn’t. I could swear she was creeping closer with evil intent. I turned toward the door just as Zoe hurried after Mary.
I let out a long sigh and closed my eyes. I was so tired I drifted off almost immediately. I wouldn’t have woken until morning if someone hadn’t put that plastic bag over my face.
My eyes snapped open. Everything was hazy, first because of the dark, the plastic, then because of lack of oxygen. I reached up to scratch a hole and my wrists were grabbed, held over my head.
Black dots danced merrily. I could have sworn I heard a rumble like thunder. Lightning flared. Electricity buzzed against my fingertips. Something went zzzt!
A start, a gasp, and I was released. I was almost too weak to yank the plastic off my face, but I managed. Ozone lingered in the air. The tips of my fingernails were blackened. When I touched them, they disintegrated into ash and fell away. The blood on my palm had dried, but that was the least of my worries right now.
I managed to sit up. I was feeling better by the minute. There was something I needed to do and now. What was it?
“Mary,” I whispered. If someone had tried to kill me, they were probably going to do the same to her. At the least, I should warn her.
I stood, swayed, gritted my teeth, and stumbled out my open door.
*
Sebastian worked late trying to catch up on paperwork. It was the one thing about his job he never got on top of. Probably because he hated it so much.
He enjoyed people—both helping his patients and managing his staff. But the constant, repetitive reports were so mind-numbing he’d started doing them one night a week rather than a bit every day as he should.
He’d bought a Ford Explorer the first time there’d been frost on the grass in the morning. But it had warmed up again—they called it Indian summer—and he’d been able to continue riding his bike to work. He doubted the reprieve would last much longer. According to the locals, the weather was uncommonly warm for late October.
Smoke on the Water Page 13
