by Nicole Lee
After receiving the answer, she absorbed the information and then ran her hands along the stones beside her, as if they would reveal a hidden switch which could then pinpoint her to a place of exit. Rose asked them directions as to get. One of them pointed to a solidly black painted door, a flap that was hidden by the infernal gloom. Motioning towards it, she turned around.
“Thank you,” she said, before advancing up the cold flight of steps.
The only thing lighting her way were the burning lights in the bottom room she had just left. There was a leak hitting one particular step, and it was so cold in this narrow vestibule that the puddle it had formed now turned into ice. She skipped over it, and made it to the second story.
The figure of a man sitting down, apparently reading a book, could be seen in the corner. Rose was so thankful that his back was turned. She tiptoed from the way in, and made her way to an already half opened window. Rose put one leg into the sill, and then finally put the rest of body in. She was standing on the rooftop of the house, gazing down at the expanse of green lawn and black shadows beneath her. She crouched and then slowly inched her way across the red tiles, until finally on the ledge. The drop was not a long way down, and she felt she was tall enough to hang from it. She clutched both hands on the frame of the top, and then, with eyes closed, let go.
She hit the bottom. The pain was only minimal, the rough surface proving harder on her feet than anything else.
Rose made her way through the darkened path of the cemetery underneath the blazing paleness of the full moon.
15
Rose was standing in front of Alexis Harvey’s large and Victorian dressing mirror in the bedroom above the Realm of the Out of Print, looking into the glass, wondering if she convincingly resembled a coven witch.
The room was what one anticipated of Alexis. The curtains were bright crimson, and the mattress had a thick, comfortable scarlet blanket strewn over its exterior. There was a beige arm chair in the corner, and on the walls were hung everything from souvenir wooden antiques, such as masts from ancient ships, to paintings of mythic historic figures, ones Rose was almost positive that she had not read about in school or on-line. There was a gas lit lantern with an exterior made of old metal hanging in the hub of the ceiling. However, there was one solitary shaft of sunlight pouring in through the window, although night was easily only an hour and a half away.
Rose was going to infiltrate her mother’s group. In order to do so, she had to make sure her appearance was perfect for that group.
Lying to her Dad on this day had become obligatory, telling him that she was only going to an alcohol free, drug free, boy free party. After using her best acting skills, he fell for it, even though she wondered what would have happened if he really knew what was truly going on. If he only knew that tonight was going to be the day she was going to hear her mother’s voice for the first time in ages, he would have tied her down, telling her to go nowhere near that evil woman.
She was wearing a leine, a robe of rectangular linen sewn and pinned together. The clothing draped over her body. I could hide a freaking knife collection in here if I was morbid enough, she thought. It was decorated with fringes and bright borders, made from tapestry and other needle work designs. The fabric was a dark purple, and while Alexis swore to her that it was authentic enough, she was not so confident herself.
She had cut her hair and dyed it with an amethyst streak, which was highlighted due to the homogenously colored collar on the dress which went up past her neck. Explaining the change of hairstyle to her uptight father could very well turn out to be an issue, but she figured she would cross that bridge when she got there.
“Most witches don’t like sunlight,” Alexis insisted.
“Why not?” A pound of white makeup in order to give her skin the color of snow was applied, even though she had wondered if this was truly necessary.
“It’s not in our nature to commingle with those who walk in the heat. Normal people, I think they are labeled. Not the veteran witches type.”
Rose had told Harvey the entire story of the cemetery.
“How did James react?”
“Well, of course I didn’t tell him everything. He was very sorry about not doing his job. He fell asleep.”
“Honey. Your voice.”
“What? Am I catching a cold?”
Alexis walked over to one of her dressers and pulled out a dark wand. “Your mother heard you scream when the scoreboard fell on that night, correct?”
“I think so. Why?”
“We don’t want her recognizing your voice. I am going to alter the way you sound for a seven hour time frame. Stand still.”
It felt as if half a flavorless soda was lodged in the back of her throat, but not in a way that was similar to how one might feel if they were drowning. The carbonation evaporated and she soon felt normal again.
“All right. Now speak.”
“Hello.”
After hearing herself say this word, it gave her an awareness of how different the audible resonance was. She now sounded closer to an older woman - not necessarily one who was elderly, but rather a person who was in her mid-thirties, and had spent the past two decades smoking too many cigarettes and reaching the bottom of countless bottles of Scotch.
“There. I guess that does the trick.” Alexis sat her implement of magic down, before sitting on the bed.
“Are you okay, Ms. Harvey?”
“Perfectly fine.”
“No you’re not. You’re worried about me.”
“Yes, I am. Are you sure this is safe?”
“No,” Rose said. “This is insane, but I never thought I would be given a chance like this. If I don‘t get in their group the town will continue to fall apart.”
“This covert way of meeting your mother is a dangerous idea.”
“What’s even more terrifying is to go through life without knowing why my mother is the way she is.”
“Do you really believe this will help you find the answer to that question?”
Rose pondered this for a second, before turning around to stare at her teacher. “I know it won’t.” I want to see her once again, to know that there is no chance that I will ever be as evil as she is.
“What else?”
“I have to see what kind of person she is after all these years,” Rose said.
“Do you really think she’s changed?”
Rose turned around, deciding not to answer that question while putting in her bronze earrings. “We have to find a way to break the curse.”
She tried to drown out the further questions, and while doing this her mind brought her to her breakup. Despite how busy she was, Grady had not left her mind. She was trying to keep herself preoccupied with the hopes of removing him from any trace of her thoughts, but her constant activity was not working. He was there, as deep inside of her as any memory of happiness or pain.
Rose was driven down to Ridgeline Cove, and because of the tension, uneasiness and nervousness flowing through her body, coupled with the probably unnecessary yet infinitely consuming thoughts of Grady, she did not enjoy the scenery of the trip.
The beach land visible over the small cliffs was colored a dark blue due to a combination of the half shrouded moon flirting with the inestimable creation in the great beyond, the sapphire tint of the water glowing against the backdrop of the darkness. Seeing this mellowed her out for a few seconds.
Alexis drove the car to a parking lot overlooking the ever shifting azure shore. Rose reached for the car handle, before Harvey put her hand on Rose’s arm.
“Make sure to be safe. Remember our plan if something goes wrong.”
She nodded. The idea was to, in an emergency situation, touch her bracelet seven or more times - which in code meant to frantically tap one’s fingers on it until a flash of red light protruded from its core. The feeling her wrist fidgeting would alert Alexis. If a skirmish of some kind actually happened, whether subtle or lethal, Rose knew there wa
s no running away. She was painfully aware of the kind of evil her mother was capable of, and there was no such thing as having too much back up.
Rose smiled, wanting to say something deeper than thanks, but not finding the right words in the moment.
Getting out of the car, she stepped away from the vehicle after shutting the metal flap behind her.
The frigid night air felt good on her face. She began strolling slowly along the shore, passing an assortment of shelled water life as they crawled from the abyss they were born in. Having escaped from becoming too lost in this thought, she discovered that the clan was not hard to find. Near one of the only docks in the distance, there was a bright fire burning, ands the orange peaks of the scorching, searing whips released large tendrils of smoke towards the heavens. Rose followed a thin strand of land wedged in between two colossal boulders that had an inch thick of moss layering their stone exteriors. Rose made her way closer to the pier.
She approached them slowly, trying to be cautious without appearing afraid. The coven was there, each of them aligned with one another in perfect symmetry. Thirteen witches, huddled around a fire, gazing into the void of the combustion before them.
The black cloaked stranger, clearly the only male, was outside of the circle. His cat was roaming near the water, as if it had chosen to run away when seeing Rose. The man in dim clothes laid his eyes on her before any of the other members did, his invisible eyes still blazing hotter than the inferno they had created.
In due time, the other ones turned around to gaze in her direction. Her mother was standing there, obscured by the shadows of the harbor.
One of them croaked something in a phlegm scarred voice that had a gagging noise. “Where are you from?”
“I summoned a spirit to lead me to the nearest coven who are the purest hearted, and it told me to be here on this night.” Rose said this rehearsed line calmly, noticing for the third instance how different her voice was. “If you don’t want me to partake in any of your practices, I will honorably observe you.”
The witches stared at each other for a second, as if they were communicating in a telepathic manner, exchanging looks with one another.
“You can watch,” a heavier set one said, leaning forward. “Yet if you try to participate, our ritual will become insolvent as a result. So get down and stay quiet.”
They all ignored her then, as Rose sat on a log that had visibly washed ashore. The group were now in a circle holding hands. They developed a strange symbol in the sand with their feet. The thirteen chanted something in a foreign language, and soon their voices become in sync with one another, their vocal chords screeching to the firmament above in unison.
What happened next stunned Rose. A bolt of lightning struck in the distance across the lake, piercing through the wind as a meteorite barricading a cloud. They were all levitating above the soft soil, hanging in the air with their toes pointed directly to the ground, like an unfortunate soul who has just been trapped in a noose at the gallows.
Rose had to stop herself from shaking. When she turned her head sideways to see if the black cloaked one was in as much awe as she was, Rose was disturbed to find that he was not even a spectator of the supposed formal procedure. Instead, he was peering at her again.
Soon, the cloaked man walked into the circle. Instead of steps in the sand forming behind him, there was a completely smooth trail of what could have been a snowmobile gliding across the dirt. He took his hood off slowly, revealing his face. It was a burnt skull with greasy gray green skin. He stood in front of the burning woodpile, before a giant serpent arose from the fire. It peered at her eyes before evaporating into smoke.
The ritual was over. They all landed again on the sand, and broke apart, scattering within yards of each other to collect their belongings. The overweight witch paced towards Rose.
“Are you hungry?”
She was not sure of what kind of diet these individuals had in mind. “I guess.”
“We always end our ceremonies with a traditional banquet. Come with us.”
They walked off the beach and made their way to a black car. It took her a few seconds to realize that the vehicle was not a normal means of transportation, but a hearse. Upon seeing this, it took every ounce of self-control to prevent herself from shaking underneath her garb.
She also discovered that the place they were going to dine at was not a public restaurant, but the cellar of a man who owned a mansion near the south shore. On their walk to the hall, a twisting trail of stones covered with dead leaves and contorted branches, she could have sworn that there were white apparitions forming in front of her.
The man who owned the large estate walked into their room. He had long black hair and was dressed in a full tuxedo. He sat down and smiled every once and a while, although he barely said a word for most of the afternoon. It dawned on Rose that maybe he was a hostage.
Most of the meal progressed silently, although there were a few times when the members would address one another. She listened intently, trying to remember the names of each witch. One was called Nekhbet, and she was gaunt enough to look like an anorexic. Her wiry frame was disturbing, and her eyes never seemed to reach anyone else’s gaze. Taweret was undoubtedly the heaviest, like she had not exercised a second in her life. Chantico was close to being the prettiest, with wavy blonde hair and ominous azure eyes. Yet something was distinctly untrustworthy. They all had deeply unusual names. Rose could not keep track of them.
Her mother’s coven name is Hemera. She sat at the far end of the table, not even bothering to pay attention to Rose for the majority of the feast. She was, however, talked to by Chantico.
“So what did you think of what we did tonight, newbie?”
“It was beautiful,” Rose said.
“We summoned a spirit.”
“I didn’t think it was possible to summon more than what we had,” Hemera said suddenly. “I cannot wait to see this place eat itself. When I lived here many years ago, there was nothing offered to me, except poverty of the mind spirit and body.”
Rose gazed at her, trying to find a glance of herself. Is this who I’m going to be when I grow up?
It became clear through the course of the conversation that her mother thought Lake Pines was deserving of a malevolent and substantial poltergeist.
She wanted to stand up on the table and pick up every goblet to throw in their faces. Every inch of her being wanted to drive them to the ground. Yet things would not go smoothly if she were to partake in these actions, so she refrained.
The banquet went on, therefore, without a hitch. As they all sat up to leave, Rose felt a tapping on the shoulder. She turned around to see Hemera behind her.
“There’s something interesting about you, amateur. We want you to come to the next meeting. Our next tryst will be held in Blume Park.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I am very grateful.” This lie came out steadfastly, though its alacrity failed to make it any easier to say.
“Where do you live?”
“Near there,” Rose said, as both of them continued walking to the front of the corridor.
“Where?” Hemera eyed her suspiciously.
“Blume Park.”
“Do you need help getting there?”
“Actually, I need a ride back to the beach.” She thought for a few seconds, trying to fabricate the perfect excuse for why she needed to arrive in the place they had just came from. “I was casting a spell when I came across you by accident. I was so entranced that it was something I had to see, and I’m glad I did. Yet if I leave it unfinished in that location, it will pollute the water.”
Hemera stared at her oddly for a second, and then nodded.
It took a few seconds for Rose to digest how this new story contradicted what she had told them earlier.
“We’ll give you cab money,” Hemera concluded, much to Rose’s relief. “Sisters look out for each other.”
Being called anything in a friendly manner by the wo
man she had developed a mindset of pure unmerciful hatred towards felt somehow dreamlike.
They all gave her money, approximately a dollar each, and she took a yellow taxi to the beach, where she met up with Alexis Harvey.
16
She recanted an odd night after going back at the Realm of the Out of Print. Alexis made a pot of coffee and served it with a side of rum cake.
“They talked of summoning,” Rose said.
“Did you catch precisely what?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know all of the details yet. Whatever it is, it’s going to kill us all.”
17
Grady decided to get back with her. The day he apologized, he met her immediately after Science class. Her back was hurting from bending over a microscope for two hours, and she was not necessarily in a romantic mood since she had now seen what the inside of a frog looked like, a viscous yellow mass of pus, and therefore was not in any romantic mood. Not to mention how, during this time, she was busy formulating plans for the next coven meeting. Yet he walked up to her and said something.
“I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”
She nodded, not precisely sure how she should react in this incident. Bemused, cynically happy, genuinely contented, all of the above? Yet Rose knew that she was certainly cheerful about it. It would just take a small while to sink in.
“For what?” Rose asked.
“For calling you pathetic. I never wanted to hurt you, that day or now. I accept your lifestyle.”
Rose felt a pang of guilt at keeping everything else from him, though she knew she had an obligation to tell him everything, it would only have to wait a small while. She asked him if he had told anyone, whether it was in anger or confusion in the aftermath of their breakup, and he said no. Yet she was still uncertain, though she kept the insecurity to herself.
They skipped lunch to meet one another in the room that was both a computer lab and music hall. The band students were on the ground floor, below where the rows of PC’s were lined up in coliseum type pews , banging on a piano and singing very loudly, while Rose and Grady sat next to one another surfing the internet. He was looking up rock star interviews, whereas she had two windows open. One was an article about Margaret Mitchell’s estate, which she wasn’t really reading, but only keeping available to click on should someone catch her in the act of skimming what she was truly interested in. The piece she was actually focusing on involved invocations.
