A Witch's Curse

by Nicole Lee

  Grady pulled up to the front black metal entryway. A robotic voice blared from a box-like speaker built into the side stone wall, asking him for identification.

  “I’m their son,” he said, opening the latch and then placing his fingers on the screen.

  A white line of luminosity went up and down the palm of his hand, reading his fingerprints before the two spiked shadowy metal barriers opened. He pushed the pedal, and soon they were skirting along the paved concourse surrounded by rolling green hills leading to the abode.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “The security measures are ridiculous. I think my parents are paranoid about being robbed.”

  Rose thought about saying that if she owned this place she would be too, but soon they were directly in front of the grand dwelling. She stepped out and stared upwards at the place. The roof cut out half of her view of the moon, and the stars seemed to be more visible here than in any other area besides the many beaches of Lake Pines.

  Grady grabbed her arm and lead her closer towards the main door. “Don’t be nervous,” he said, after feeling how she was shaking.

  In a matter of seconds they were now standing on the architecturally well-designed porch. It possessed massive marble pillars lining the obverse section. The floor was built of alabaster. Squares of human ranged phosphorescent lights burned brightly on the outside to keep away the darkness of the trees lining both sides of the parklands where which the residence was built.

  “Don’t worry,” he said.

  “How can I not?” Rose said. “I’ve never even seen pictures of a place like this. I grew up in a cabin.”

  “You would be surprised at how normal this becomes after you’ve been here long enough,” he said, shrugging. “Give it some time. You can move in with us if you want…if you don’t mind living with your boyfriends folks.”

  “Something tells me they would be pretty easy to avoid in a place as large as this one. If they’re annoying, that is. I’m not saying they are.”

  “They’re not,” he said carefully, taking no offense at her words. “They’re a bit removed from any class but their own, so it’ll seem like they’re behind the times. And who knows, maybe they are. My Dad doesn’t know much beyond the politics he reads about and the life he’s lived. Yet they’re still pretty pleasant. Just trust me.”

  “What if they hate me?”

  “They won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I told them not to.”

  “Oh, that’s reassuring. They could judge me as the bad girl who takes away their kid. They could view me as a cradle robber or something.”

  “You’re sounding crazy,” he said.

  “I’ve been getting that a lot these days.”

  Grady extended a hand forward to ring the doorbell. Rose tried to grab his arm to stop it, but it was no use - the sound of the bell dinging was already vibrating on the outskirts of the walls as undoubtedly on the in.

  The door swung open. A thin man dressed in a black tuxedo was behind the threshold. He wore a professional and courteous smile.

  “This is our butler Gerard,” Grady said, introducing the two.

  “Very nize to meet you, Rose.” He said in a thick accent, clicking his heels and then turning away. “Allow me to lead you two to zee dining hall.”

  Rose stood there in stunned silence as Grady walked into the main foyer. “We’re supposed to follow him.”

  She snapped out of her disbelief, taking frantic steps to pursue the two as they advanced through the black and white tiled ground.

  Spiral staircases surrounded them.

  Hidden doors were everywhere, and a prolific collection of obscure yet beautiful landscape paintings were on the ramparts.

  The dining hall was already prepared for company. The table was a glossy and almost immeasurable oak slab which could have only fit in a room that was equal to the magnitude of four kitchens. His parents stood up immediately upon noticing their arrival into the room.

  “I will go and get the drinks,” Gerard said with a slight yet dignified and masculine bow, hurriedly exiting the chamber.

  Rose tugged on Grady’s arm. “Where is your servant from?”

  “The slums of Nigeria. He works harder than most for only half the pay.”

  “Ethical,” Rose whispered angrily.

  “So nice to meet you!” Grady’s mother said, approaching her and then embracing Rose in a friendly yet tight hug.

  “Indeed,” the Dad said, acknowledging her with a smile while keeping a solid distance that was both aloof yet warm.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Rose, of course. Rose, this is my Mom and Dad.”

  “You can call me Simon,” he said inconspicuously.

  “And me, Julia.”

  “Call them Grady’s Mom and Dad,” the quarterback said.

  “Oh he’s so stubborn,” Julia said while rolling her eyes. “He has his father’s spirit.”

  “Business can only be accomplished when one sticks to their guns,” The Dad said with a wide smile.

  “That’s what I was raised to believe,” Grady said. “Can we sit down?”

  “Yes,” both said in unison.

  Even though Rose was offered champagne, she chose to instead order Cola, fearing what kind of a response would arise were she to consume any alcoholic beverages while still a minor. By the time appetizers were served, ones consisting of bread baskets and a rich array of containers filled with an assortment of local and foreign sauces, the conversation began to move beyond the initial and dull pleasantries.

  “Did you share with Rose your father’s newest accomplishment?” Julia asked, taking a sip of her vodka martini.

  “No,” Grady said.

  “You’re seeing a new girl and you haven’t even doted on me yet?” Simon asked with a certain faux swagger after taking a small shot of whiskey. “All right, allow me to tell the story, then. I sold half of my business.”

  Rose was nearly bowled over. “That must have taken a lot of thought…um, Grady‘s Dad.”

  “Of course it did,” he said proudly, wearing a beam. “Years of strategizing, both under the table and out in the open, so to speak. Businessmen all do something illegal, and if they tell you otherwise then they’re unquestionably lying. Not like what I did was against the law, but let’s just say I did a bit of spying on others to make sure that my choice to sell half of Bell’s restaurant industry would not be the wrong one.”

  “Simon…” Julia’s voice trailed off with a tone that hinted at a warning he was talking too much.

  He lit up a cigar, one whose scent and even appearance did not give any indication of being American.

  “I’ll be the first to say I’m not a saint,” he responded at last. “If you ever end up owning a company, please don’t follow my example. Yet it must be said, my policies of understanding the other side clearly worked. I’ve doubled my profits within the past several months alone, and my competitor has steadily gone downhill, fading into near obscurity.”

  “Well then, congratulations.” Rose said this hesitantly, hoping she would sound convincing. A part of her also thought, why would you even still try to make money at this point in your life? You’re the Bell family, the most privileged group of people probably in the history of this county. Half of the free world could retire on what you make in a day alone. She naturally refrained from sharing these thoughts, but the questions kept digging under her brain.

  “Thank you,” Simon said with a nod. “Now, the trick is not to grow complacent. It’s a good thing I have a lovely wife to keep me humble, and a son I’m very proud of to give me things to look forward to. Rose, hold onto this one, let me tell you that. He’s going to go far in the NFL.”

  “Assuming that’s what I chase after,” Grady said lightly, almost in fear of the thought that he could be heard and an argument or criticism would be let loose at this otherwise agreeable meeting.

  “What are your goals in life, Rose?” Julia asked, finishing off
the rest of the libation in her glass.

  “Um, me?” Rose said, trying to think very hard beyond the truth.

  “Grady says you’re interested in cooking.”

  “Brewing,” Grady said quickly with a smirk. Rose kicked his leg under the counter.

  “You have an interest in making beer?” Simon quizzically said.

  “No,” she said. “Well…chemicals. Cleaning products. Maid service, maybe. If that doesn’t work out, I can always become a teacher. I like to -” she stared at Grady out of the corner of her eye, “-inform people of things.”

  “That’s a very noble and modest cause,” Simon said. “Our son’s also told us that you like to study unexplained phenomena as well. Is this true?”

  Rose felt her heart sink, while the blood rushed from her head. Cold chills graced her spine for a quick second. Her legs felt like jelly.

  “There’s no shame in it,” Julia said as fast as she could.

  “Well, it’s always been interesting to me. I don’t know if I actually…ha…believe in any of it. But from an imaginative perspective, it’s always captivated me. Yet I can’t speak for others.”

  “We’ve had a few strange happenings in this house,” Simon said. “Odd noises in the middle of the night when there’s no one around but us. Last month Gerard was on vacation, and we heard the sounds of an angry woman above our sleeping quarters. I went up there with a gun, and guess what? No one was visible.”

  “Simon, let’s not let our guest think of us as eccentric millionaires, now.”

  “It’s fine,” Rose said. “I don’t mind. Has anything else happened?”

  “Every now and then, I swear that I see a silhouette in the shape of a woman drop from my ceiling. I have insomnia, you see, and so it happens quite frequently when no one else here is stirring.”

  “Forgive my husband,” Julia said in a shaking voice. “He hasn’t been getting a wink of shut eye at all in recent days. Who’s ready for some dessert?”

  Rose found the mention funny, seeing as how they had not even been served their official dinner yet. Clearly Julia was someone who needed sweets in times of stress.

  She peered to her right to find that Grady was giving her a strange look, one hinting at not disbelief towards his folks, but rather a sense of open-minded yet ominous conviction in the possible authenticity of the tale.

  Soon platters and bowls full of ice cream and cherry cobbler were served. A part of her wondered if they had accommodated the menu to fit what she wanted, rather than what they ordinarily consumed on most off days, if there was such a thing in this family. She and Grady had been dating long enough for him to pick up on what she preferred to eat.

  Rose finished off half the bowl of food, knowing that if she were toe at anymore it would surely result in an awful bellyache. She looked across the table to discover that the father was preparing to get up.

  “What are you leaving for?” Julia asked.

  “I need to tell Gerard to tell the cook that the turkey needs to be prepared with a certain garnish, otherwise the entire meal goes to hell. Excuse me.”

  While only a few inches away from the table, his foot got caught on one of the legs holding the slab up. He almost fell flat on his stomach, but he regained his composure before losing balance completely. Rose watched in fascination as this otherwise sophisticated gentleman almost fell down, in part because of the drinks he had consumed, when she realized that the table was lifted a few square millimeters off the ground. Rose’s platter of ice cream fell off the table, crashing onto the ground.

  Parts of it also landed on her dress.

  “I am so sorry,” Simon said repeatedly.

  “Will it come out?” Grady asked, referring to the blemish on her garment.

  “It will if I get it quickly enough,” Rose said, trying her best to hide the irritation in her voice directed at this strange turn of events.

  “Gerard will get the mess,” Julia said. “We do apologize. Would you like to use our restroom to remove the spot? We have plenty of towels.”

  “Sure,” Rose said, already beginning to feel weary and hopeless with the sudden calamity. Alexis would incontestably never forgive her, despite how it was not her mistake. “Where is it?”

  “Upstairs,” Grady said. “Down the hall to the left, the door at the far end.”

  Rose tried to dismiss herself from the dining room politely, and then made her way out into the airy yet intimidating, cold and bare vestibule, climbing the snaking staircase to the second story. She walked down a hallway filled with pastel portraits of leaders, artists, and worlds long dead or forgotten. Rose would have sworn that the eyes of the people depicted within the frames were following her.

  She stepped into the bathroom.

  It was like a facility that had arrived out of a seventeenth century Royal family’s address. The shower’s frame was made of gold, the mirrors were large and immaculately clean, the floor tiles were coffee colored which provided a nice contrast with the bullion tinge of the rest of the quarters, and it was easily the size of her small cabin. The bath tub was well-nigh a spa, and the ceiling held a wide and meticulously built chandelier that had diamonds hanging from its tips.

  Rose walked up to the nearest ample sink, and mulled over her encounter with Grady’s parents so far. They were wild and much less uptight than what she could have pictured beforehand, which was in some ways a relief and in others a sort of unexpected form of behavior. While amazed at their youthful vigor, she was still happy that they were courteous, albeit disappointed that Grady had told them she knew a lot about the paranormal.

  She continued these thoughts while applying pressure with the pointed end of a dampened towel upon the discoloration, happy to see that it was beginning to evaporate with the clout of steam and moisture.

  Looking into the glass, she figured it would not hurt to apply a bit more makeup, some of which had faded through out the course of the evening. She reached into her pocket and retrieved her kit, opening it up and then laying a few touch ups around her cheeks with the black brush. This was before she opened up the mirror to put a few more utensils on the inside shelf, with the faith that she would have more room to move her arms. Art required freedom, or so she had always been told.

  A second within putting the mirror back in place, she learned that there was a woman standing behind her.

  It was Karen.

  “Hi Mom.”

  Hemera took a few steps back, a malicious grin forming. “You thought you were rid of me.”

  “I’m not that optimistic.”

  “It took a lot of energy to get back here.”

  “I’m sure it did.”

  Karen was silent for a moment, and then leaned against the far wall, staring at Rose carefully in the mirror. It took a while before the daughter turned around to directly face her to notice how much she had changed. Her mother had seemed to age greatly within the past two days. The older witch’s hair was grayer, the crow’s feet beneath her eyes had become noticeably larger, and a noticeable quantity of weight had been lost.

  “You know what I’m going to do to you?”

  “Please,” Rose said. “I know you have no powers left. You might be able to pinch my arm without touching me, but that’s it. If you’re going to challenge me now, then it will be you who will lose. You’ll go right back to where you came from.”

  Instead of saying anything, Hemera grunted instead.

  “Why have you always treated me badly, Mom?”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “Everything I did was for the best. You got everything you wanted and then some in life, so don’t start with me about your tortured past.”

  “Do you remember what happened when you sent me to the fireplace, Karen?”

  She snorted. “I loved you before you grew up to be a disappointment.”

  Rose laughed to agitate her even further. “Really? Then again, let me rekindle the hearth story.”

  Long ago, on August twenty-fifth of n
ineteen ninety seven, Rose was trying to count how many boyfriends her mother had gone through. It made her eventually wonder if her Mom ever became as confused, if not more so, than she did in trying to remember them.

  Most of them ended up being awkward encounters. The new lovers would come downstairs and eat a hearty breakfast in the morning, ninety five percent of them wearing a dopey grin on their faces, ones hinting at the thought, am I truly getting away with this?

  Sadly, the answer was no. A lot of them began dying in gruesome and unexpected ways.

  One was ran over by a Double Decker bus in a country where such public transportation was rare, if not entirely impossible to find.

  Another existence was ended by sky diving, for both the first and the backup parachute failed to open. This depressed Rose, because she thought of him as a good man. A third, according the Oregon Times, had a tree crush him, in the middle of the Mojave desert no less, where such a natural growth was unexplainable.

  Rose was too young to connect the pieces, not yet mature enough to conclude that her mother was placing curses on these ex-boyfriends and one night stands, leading to their inevitably strange demises. Later on in life, she would find herself unmercifully saddened by the ends of the guys for a very long time because of how the vast majority of them were, despite their promiscuity, decent human beings merely lead into the perilous web of a black widow, a bitter divorcee who was never going to give men the benefit of the doubt.

  There was the twenty five percent of her mother’s love affairs who were not at all fun to be around. This smaller minority was genuinely mentally dysfunctional. They were sadistic to the very core, born of evil’s purest essence.

  One put a shotgun in Rose’s face, laughing at her while she stared down the barrel. The gun was unloaded, granted, although that hardly made a difference. When that man was later kicked out of the house, which was not until four months after this fact, she had no idea what became of him. She knew that no curse in the world, no matter how black, was contentious enough for someone like him.