by Cecy Robson
“Good point.” My sisters gave me plenty of space as I whipped my foot back. Fear must have fueled my strength; I kicked the door from its frame with just a few strikes.
Thick musty air carried dust and the bitter stench of menace into my nose, making me sneeze. My eyes searched through the darkness. This wasn’t just a place of worship, it was a crypt laced with suffering and pieces of the dead.
Black candles in clear glass gathered in rows formed a circle at the center of the room, while skulls in varying sizes lined the shelves encasing the perimeter. It was obvious that no one had entered this place in years, and yet the flames flickering from the candles had barely chewed through the wicks. Griselda’s residual magic must have been feeding the candles’ energy.
“H-how is it in there?”
I think Emme had expected dead squirrels hanging from nooses. Hell, so had I. “Creepy, definitely creepy. But aside from the skulls lining the shelves and some candles, it’s not so bad.”
Or it wasn’t until I stepped inside and so did my sisters. The air popped in sections like a cluster of balloons, releasing the rancid aroma of death. Torturous, bloodcurdling death. We gagged, trying to beat down the sudden surge of nausea.
Something moist and sticky landed at the center of the circle. I fixed my gaze straight ahead. Nothing that smelled this bad was worth seeing. My tigress insisted otherwise and forced my head up.
My body staggered backward and my knees threatened to buckle. “Oh … God.”
My sisters glanced up, muffling their screams. Terror kept me quiet and slammed my mouth shut.
A woman was sprawled against the ceiling, anchored in place by nine-inch nails. Decomposing flesh slid along the metal shafts, splattering the concrete below while we stood frozen by the sheer brutality. Railroad spikes had been driven through her breasts, eyes, and belly button, and words were carved into her skin. NO SEE etched into her forehead. NO BREED lanced across her belly. NO COMFORT sliced above her breasts.
She’d suffered long and hard. And despite the spikes blinding her and indenting her skull, she bore an uncanny resemblance …
To me.
Chapter Six
My breath came out in a shudder and my eyes burned. It’s not you, I told myself. It’s not you. I repeated the phrase over and over. Too bad I didn’t believe me.
“Hello? Hello? Are you girls okay?” Danny’s shaky voice echoed through the dimness.
“No. No! We’re not fucking okay.” Taran’s speech mixed with gags. “There is a goddamn woman nailed to the goddamn ceiling and she fucking looks like Celia!”
“Oh, God. It must be the altar.”
“You’re just a friggin’ genius, aren’t you, asshole!”
Another lump of skin fell. Loud enough to be a foot.
Taran spit on the concrete. “Son of a bastard’s ass … I’m going to hurl.”
“Okay … okay … okay … t-tell me what’s happening.”
I beat back the burn of my roiling stomach. “The woman is falling apart in … in … chunks.”
Danny coughed as if unable to stand the thought. “That’s just … wrong.” He coughed a few more times and sounded as if he were shuddering. “But believe it or not, it’s a good sign.”
A larger portion fell. Shayna clutched her battle-ax against her like a child would a teddy bear. “Oh … I don’t think so, little guy.”
“You may not believe me, but the woman is not real,” Danny said soothingly. “She’s a culmination of the suffering your aunt caused.”
“Then why does she look like me?” I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling.
“I think because you’re the strongest, and the leader of your family. If there was a war, and the first to suffer was the general, the soldiers would panic. The image of you there is meant to cause fear and dread.”
Even through the darkness, I could see Emme’s soft green eyes water. “Well, it worked,” I told him.
Danny swallowed hard, tears of regret heavy in his voice. “I’m so sorry I did this to you, Celia, to all of you. Believe me when I say my research of the curse was intended only to help you—not to cause you distress or pain.” He sighed. “If you don’t want to do this, don’t. Get out now. I’ll figure something else out to help my dad.”
I watched the candles burn. Griselda was dead, and still she mocked us with her spellwork, keeping us firmly within her magical grasp. I took in my sisters with narrowing eyes. “If we don’t do this, Gris still has us and we’ll never be free.”
Shayna adjusted her hold on her battle-ax. “Ceel’s right. This whole thing started out as a totally evil spite against us. But it doesn’t have to stay that way. We can use it to our advantage and totally kick her in the tush.”
We waited for Emme and Taran to speak. As much as Shayna and I thought the destruction was necessary, we couldn’t charge forward without them. This was a family problem. And every member needed to agree.
Emme finally stepped forward. “Griselda’s curse killed Mom and Dad. Who’s to say this bind won’t eventually strangle us if we don’t sever it?” She stroked my hand with hers. “She meant for us to die, didn’t she?”
“She did,” I answered.
She pursed her soft pink lips. “Well, I want to live. Don’t you?”
Emme never spoke much. But when she did, she was typically profound. Taran quirked a perfect brow her way. “Tell us what we need to do, Danny,” she said. “Just ’cause we lost our family doesn’t mean you should lose yours, too.”
Danny sighed. “Are you sure?”
The candles flickered as if taunting us. I cracked my knuckles. “Yeah. We’re sure.”
“Okay.” He riffled through his notes. “You said there are candles, right?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Black or red?”
“Black.”
He let out a breath. “Destroy all the candles, and you break the bind.”
I lifted the closest candle. The clear glass surrounding it felt unnaturally cold, but I didn’t hold it for long. I smashed it to the floor before Danny could finish. Pain raked up my right arm as the skulls whipped in my direction and collectively opened their jaws.
A chorus of haunting screams echoed from all directions. “Holy shit!” Taran yelled, falling to the floor and taking Shayna and Emme with her. Their heads jerked around to each of the bleating skulls, their faces blanching to white when the skulls shrieked louder.
The cries slowly dwindled. I remained cemented in place, dripping blood from a gash along my right arm and trying not to wet my pants. Taran’s “Holy shit!” didn’t quite sum up the level of super-suckdom we were in.
“Uh, was that the skulls I heard shrieking?” Danny asked. His voice quivered and he wasn’t even in the damn room.
“Yup.” I continued to gape, waiting for them to attack.
“That’s unfortunate … and disturbing.”
“Yup.” Panty-wetting terror apparently made me quite articulate.
“The good thing is they can’t hurt you—they only vocalize their displeasure. However, it says here the power of the bind will probably scratch your flesh.”
I examined my arm before glancing back at my sisters. “Danny, this isn’t a scratch. The cut I have after smashing just one candle is deep.”
“Jesus,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
At least sixty candles awaited us. Another hunk of Celia-esque dead person fell. “No. But Griselda prepared all the same. Look, this is obviously going to be painful and bloody. Can I do the majority of the smashing?”
My sisters tensed, waiting while Danny flipped through more pages. “I’m sorry, sweetie. It doesn’t appear so, since the bind links all of you. While the candles don’t have to be destroyed in equal parts, the book states you must each take an active role in the altar’s destruction.” I heard him pacing. “Had the candles been red, or any other color—or even if there had been a simpler altar—you wouldn’t be dealing with any of this
.”
The soft flickering light continued to mock me, spilling its ugly glow and reminding me of the person who had so cruelly and strategically planned our suffering, and that of our parents. If Griselda was alive, I would have killed her without hesitation and without regret. “The spell protecting the altar is strong, Danny. It could easily sever a vein or artery.”
“Then don’t do it. Just come back.”
Taran raised her hand. “Hold up. As we know, Emme’s healing sucks balls—no offense, baby girl.” She ignored Emme’s blush and continued. “But if we do this, she’ll have full control of her healing, right? If so, then she’ll fix us after we bust this shit up.”
“In theory, yes.”
“Then screw it.”
“It really hurts,” I warned.
Taran beat back the emotion that momentarily crumpled her perfect face. “I think we’ve been dealt enough pain to handle this, don’t you?” She shrugged. “Besides, anything we feel is temporary. The bind’s permanent and so is his dad’s fate if we stand here like losers and do nothing.”
Shayna lifted her battle-ax from where she’d dropped it and edged her way to the opposite side of the circle, cringing when a few toes dropped like chunks of wet snow from the ceiling. She shook off the willies and readied the battle-ax to swing. “Let’s do it then. What the heck are we waiting for?”
The rest of us spread out around the circle. “On the count of three, okay? Push past the pain, no matter how bad it gets—the faster we are, the quicker it ends.” I crouched and gripped two candles at once; so did Taran. Emme levitated four from the floor. Shayna swung her hips like a batter ready to save the game. “One. Two. Three!”
Griselda deserved to burn in hell.
The harder I smashed, the worse the pain. What felt like serrated knives stabbed through and across my arms, filleting my skin in layers and spilling my blood. I grunted from the burn and the horrific impression of my skin peeling away.
And still I refused to pause.
Despite my sisters’ blatant anguish, and how the skulls’ eerie shrieks cackled above us, I moved forward—blinking away the tears and noise disorienting me.
Deep within me, my tigress roared—encouraging me as if she knew only my human side could save us. Lift and destroy. Lift and destroy. The words became my mantra until lightning crashed and the world exploded in fire.
No … not the world—Taran.
Chapter Seven
Torrents of blue and white flame shot from Taran’s hands, striking each bleating skull and silencing them as they erupted in mini-bombs of shattering bone. She rose from her kneeling position, her bleached white eyes glowing, and panted hard as blood dripped from the slices on her arms. I lurched to her, thinking she was in shock until the corners of her lips curved into a wicked “F-U” smile.
Only one shrieking skull escaped her fury. It bounced along the floor, clicking and clacking its jaw open and shut, audibly conveying its displeasure in the form of disturbing howls.
Shayna made sure the wicked thing didn’t make it out the door.
She split the base of her battle-ax like melting silver, converting the small section into a deadly spike by the time she raised it above her head. I didn’t see her launch it; the motion was too quick even for my sharpening vision. I only saw it puncture the bone between the skull’s eye sockets and stake it to the wall, deadening the last of the horrid cries.
Shayna’s bloody shoulders shook as the first of her crazed giggles broke through the tension. “Heh-heh. I nailed a skull to a wall. Hee-hee. I’ve got aim. I’ve got mad skills. Ha. Look at me go. Ha-ha-ha.”
Taran flipped off the mound of broken glass from the destroyed altar with two very enthusiastic middle fingers. “How do you like us now, bitch!”
I grinned at my sisters, pleased and proud of their efforts, and grateful our gashes weren’t as severe as the hideous torment had suggested. We looked like we’d fallen into an acre of cacti with an army of rabid cats, but fortunately none of the slices appeared life-threatening.
My smile faded when I caught Emme’s stoic expression. Glass crunched beneath her sneakers as she moved across the demolished altar in a trancelike state, tears dripping from her jaw and her body encased with her light.
“Emme?”
She didn’t respond and placed herself between Taran and Shayna, bowing her head as she simultaneously clasped their wrists. My other two sisters tensed, waiting for the inevitable pain that accompanied Emme’s healing and obviously confused by her despondent state.
Shayna’s giggles dwindled into choked sobs as Emme’s pale yellow glow enveloped all three. “Oh,” she gasped.
Taran used her free hand to cup it over her mouth as the first of her tears began. They stood united, all three shaking from the rush of emotions encompassing their small frames. I should’ve run to them. My tigress should’ve growled. But something warned me not to move—they needed Emme’s touch, and everything else her power was granting them. So I watched motionless as their cuts sealed, their blood dried, and their soft weeping engulfed the room.
Emme wasn’t just healing them.
She was cleansing their souls.
The atmosphere shifted with the growing expanse of Emme’s radiance, combating the darkness and sin veiling the room. The plastic bags peeled from the windows, falling almost soundlessly against the dusty floor.
I stole a glance at the ceiling. The semblance of the dead me was gone. Only spider webs claimed the grimy rafters. And despite the vestiges of the skulls and broken glass from the candles, the garage became just another garage.
I couldn’t be certain if Emme’s power had purified the air and warded away the iniquity, but my instincts told me it had. After all, despite the darkness that had haunted our lives, Emme had faithfully remained our light.
She released my sisters, who continued to openly weep through their grateful smiles. Taran wiped her dirty cheeks with the back of her hand, her eyes resuming their beautiful shade of blue. “Jesus, Emme,” she said. “How the hell did you do that?”
“I’m not sure. I just knew I could.” Emme’s focus remained on me as she left my sisters, her hands extended, and her glow illuminated the darkness. “It’s your turn, Celia. Are you ready?”
My jaw tightened. “No. I’m okay the way that I am.”
Emme’s soft smile faltered. “You’re not.” She glanced back at Taran and Shayna. “None of us are, or were. Too much has happened.”
I stepped out of her reach and attempted to soften my hardening expression. “I’m well enough.”
“Dude.” Shayna rushed around the thicker patches of broken glass. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. You’ll still be you. I promise.”
“I don’t want to.”
Taran stomped through the shattered glass, kicking pieces behind her. “You don’t feel different, do you? You didn’t feel that charge that the rest of us did?”
I knitted my brows. “What charge?”
“The feeling of freedom that accompanied the severed bind.” She swore. “Celia, the only thing keeping you from embracing your full power is you. For shit’s sake, let Emme help you through this last step so we can help Danny!”
I stepped back again. “My vision is sharper—”
Taran threw her hands in the air. “I don’t give a damn. That’s not good enough and you damn well know it!”
“You used ‘damn’ twice,” Shayna pointed out, only to sigh at Taran’s glare. “I’m just sayin’ you’re usually more creative with your language than this, T.”
I held out my palm when Taran approached again. “Look, maybe this is as good as it gets for me, you know? Maybe I’m as powerful as I can be.”
Taran crossed her arms and glowered, her way of telling me no way in hell was I going to win this debate. “If that’s the case, it shouldn’t matter what Emme does to you, huh, girlfriend?”
“Well … no—but what if it has a bad effect? Danny didn’t say anything about needi
ng Emme to heal me.”
Danny, who hadn’t said a word, chose this moment to speak through Emme’s iPhone. “These old magical testaments don’t always spell everything out. I think you should try, sweetie. Nothing Emme will do should hurt, especially now that the altar has been destroyed.”
“Please don’t be afraid, Celia.” Emme withdrew some of her power to appear less threatening. “I would never risk your well-being.”
I stood my ground. “But what if I hurt you? What if instead of gaining control of my beast, your touch is the key that unlocks the cage I house her in?”
“I don’t think it is, Celia.” Emme’s attention flickered to our sisters and back to me again. “In fact, I’m certain of it.”
I teetered back and forth, unsure. Fear gripped me like a vise. I didn’t want to change who I was. A different me could hurt my family.
“Please, Ceel,” Shayna pleaded. “Let’s finish what we came for. Time’s up, dude!”
Their faces implored me to listen. Well, except for Taran’s. Her narrowing stare informed me I needed to just shut up and deal. None of them understood my fear. So I verbalized the trepidation holding me back. “Fine. But if something goes wrong, stop me from hurting anyone, any way you can.”
My sisters stilled. They knew I was asking them to kill me if I lost control. I wasn’t exaggerating. I knew what my beast was capable of. I only hoped they understood as well, and that they would end my life if necessary.
Taran unraveled her arms. Mini-streams of blue and white fire danced along her fingertips as she positioned herself on my left. Shayna took my right as she converted her battle-ax back into a bat. Great. Her strategy included bashing my head in. At Taran’s nod, Emme closed in and reached out.
My breath immediately caught. Like the dead leaves of an oak pummeled with a rush of wind, my most deeply repressed feelings were plucked away. At first my defenses fought back, refusing Emme’s touch. Yet Emme wouldn’t falter. She used her power to gently pry through my emotional barricades until she reached into my soul.
The first of my tears released at the memory of my parents’ murder. Once again, I watched the last beats of their hearts spill their blood. The memory was too powerful for me to squelch my sob, but as it released, so did a rush of pain.
