“Ophelia!” Lacey’s shout echoed off the buildings and I forced a smile onto my face. It was too early to be cheerful, but I was going to do my best.
* * *
By the time 430pm rolled around, my face was hurting from smiling and the smell of pumpkin spice was giving me a headache.
“Lacey, I’m not going to ask you again... have you been spraying that horrible pumpkin shit spice around again?” I rubbed my forehead and leaned on the counter.
Lacey turned innocent eyes to me, “You told me you were allergic!” She held up her fingers in a Scout salute, “I promise I haven’t sprayed it once...” I narrowed my eyes, and she paused. “I promise I haven’t sprayed it more than three times today?”
I groaned and pulled my apron over my head. “You’re the fucking worst sometimes, you know that?”
“But only sometimes!” Lacey sang in reply as she danced around the counter and started to put up the chairs. “So, did you get my text last night? Do you have all the stuff I asked for?”
I sighed and started cleaning the espresso machine, “Yeah, I’ve got it all. I mean, I was expecting you to ask for Midnight Margarita mix or some infused vodka... I’ve got that stuff too, y’know. I make a killer vanilla bean vodka.”
“No way, that’s kid’s stuff. I mean, we’re going to watch some movies and try to read each other’s palms, but I want to try something else too... and I have a feeling you’re the perfect person to help me!”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Why am I the perfect person?”
Lacey giggled and smiled, “Because I needed a redhead in the group! You’re the only redhead I know!”
I coughed, “You need a redhead?” That just sounded stupid, whatever she was doing, it was stupid, and definitely not worthy of my paranoia.
“Of course! I’m the brunette, Danielle is the blond, and now you’re my redhead!”
“Wait, are there only going to be three of us at this party?” This was starting to sound weird again. This was why I didn’t go out, or have any friends. People were weird.
“No, silly! No one else will be allowed to touch anything we’re doing, it would disrupt the circle.” Lacey seemed very certain about what she was saying, and I started to wonder if she’d learned everything she knew about witchcraft from Pinterest and Live Journal.
“Whatever you say, Lace.”
Halloween was only a few days away, and Lacey had begged me to let her take the two days before it off. It didn’t matter to me, but with David’s new buddy system rule, it made my life a little more annoying because I had to train a new girl.
I remembered training Rachel, it had been just as annoying, and it made the guilt in my heart flare up just a little more. The new girl was a decent space filler in the schedule, but I had made a decision early on that I wouldn’t entangle myself in human lives any more than I already had.
It was time for me to sink back into the shadows and disappear... assuming there were any shadows left to hide in.
* * *
Halloween had never been anything special to me. When my mother had been alive, we had baked oatcakes and gave thanks for the harvest as we prepared our stores for the winter months. Samhain meant something different for us. It had been a long time since I’d carried out the proper rituals, and even now I struggled to remember everything that I was shown. I should have taken more time. I should have paid the proper respect to Hecate’s traditions... to her rules.
I’d woken up the last few mornings feeling different, maybe it was because I’d been using my magic more, or it might have been because the moon was almost full. Either way, I was enjoying the feel of my powers in my fingertips and how it was absorbed by the plants on my fire escape. I took extra time to caress them and push some encouragement into their growth as I prepared them for winter.
I also missed Eli. I hadn’t seen him in almost a week, and no one had been able to give me an answer as to where he was, or what he was doing.
I went to Spiral to talk to Bishop, but Church hadn’t been at the door, and the new bouncer was taller, and surlier and wouldn’t let me through the rope. The whole way home I’d been convinced that I was being followed. Watched. Stalked.
After that, I didn’t visit the club anymore, but Bishop wouldn’t return my calls either, and the silence from the Laudan's was making me even more nervous than usual.
I’d followed David’s advice in a round about way, staying in at night, and not talking to strangers as much as I usually did. I had gone from feeling invincible and untouchable to nervous and paranoid. I thought I saw the moonshined eyes of Laudan everywhere I turned, and I came inches away from having a total breakdown after someone blew cigarette smoke in my path.
The Blood Outlaws visited my fire escape almost every night... at least, I’m sure it was them. I heard them pacing, and when the sun came up, I found cigarette butts smashed into the roots of my maple tree.
Assholes.
Between Eli, Bishop, the Blood Idiots and the Malleus, I felt fenced in, trapped... they knew where I lived, they knew where I worked, and they knew who I cared about. None of those things was good. Not in the slightest.
I was fucked, it was Halloween, and the moon was full... at least, it should have been.
* * *
Everything that happened on that Tuesday was strange to me. The air felt different, the concrete felt different under my feet. Suki was curled on my other pillow, and she didn’t get up for her breakfast, which was so unlike her that I was almost worried.
There was a static charge to everything, and it felt like there was a storm brewing just off shore. I used to be able to predict these things before they happened. Dorithie Askew, my guardian, called me a ‘weather witch,’ which had always made me laugh nervously. Mrs. Askew knew that I was special, but she didn’t know how close she was to the truth.
I walked to work with my head down that morning, counting my steps on my way through the park.
One hundred two, one hundred three, one hundred four... who needed a fitbit, right?
The herbs and bottle of wine felt heavy in my backpack. I’d packed a change of clothes just in case... but just in case of what, I wasn’t sure.
The moon was out early, faded and pale in the cold blue sky. It should have been full, but to me, it looked smaller, almost half. But from the way the magic was singing in my veins, I knew that it was full. I knew that the Goddess was with me, even if she was quiet.
The day at the shop passed by quickly enough, groups of children in bright costumes and capes came in, herded by harried looking parents. David had left bags of miniature candy bars (the good kind) in his office, and I was happy to hand it out, especially to the little girls whose green-painted faces were covered in big smiles and the ones who were wearing pointed hats with a certain attitude that I liked. Maybe I was getting into the witchy spirit after all.
The end of the day rolled by quickly, and I was glad to see the last of Haven’s regulars heading out the door. Lacey had texted me her address a few days ago, but I wasn’t due at her door for another few hours.
I hated being early almost as much as I hated being late.
The sun was setting earlier, and the street in front of the café looked like it had been stolen straight out of a Halloween special. The wind blew sharply, scattering dead leaves across my path and swirling them through the café door as I pulled it closed. The new girl and I walked together for a few blocks before she waved goodbye unexpectedly and took off down a side street.
So much for the buddy system.
I pulled my jacket around me and tried to ignore the fact that I could smell snow in the air. Weather reports had been threatening a storm all week, and I could feel it brewing, or maybe that was just the magic in my veins straining to get out. I felt this way every full moon, and this one was no exception.
As I passed into the residential blocks, costumed children ran shrieking around me, racing against their friends and
siblings to be the first ones to the front doors covered in decorations and maniacally cackling plastic skeletons. It was hard not to get into the spooky spirit when almost everyone in the neighborhood was reveling in it.
The streets weren’t crowded, but I wasn’t used to seeing this many people outside after dark, like Vegas, in New York it was very rare that you were ever alone, there was always someone heading somewhere or doing something, no matter how late or early it was. But in the last few weeks, crowded spaces had begun to make me nervous.
I don’t want to say that I was paranoid. But I was fucking paranoid. Everywhere I looked, I thought I saw the silvered shine of Laudan eyes, or my throat closed as the smell of smoke somehow threaded its way through the crowd. Today was no different, or maybe I was just on edge. I hadn’t been sleeping well, I’d been drinking too much (ok that wasn’t new), and everything was going to shit.
Someone bumped into me, knocking me to the side.
“Hey!” I turned to berate whoever it was, but they were gone, lost in the crowd. “Watch where you’re going,” I muttered to no one.
Children in costume ran by me shrieking, a frantic looking mother following close behind. She looked up to apologize and I recoiled as I saw her moonshined eyes.
Laudan.
I spun away from her, into the path of a man on a bike, “Watch it!” he shouted, and I saw a flash of fangs as he spoke.
No way. Not here. Not in public. They wouldn’t dare.
“Hitea…” someone hissed the slur only a Laudan would use. That was the last straw, I bolted. I pushed children; I knocked grown men out of the way. I’m not proud, but I had to get the fuck out of there. Move, or be moved.
My boots pounded against the concrete, the wind rushed in my ears, and I could hear laughter from the alleyways, above me, beside me, pushing me forward, turning me down unfamiliar streets, urging me faster.
They were herding me.
It dawned on me as I rounded another unexpected corner.
“Turn left, hitea…”
“Fuck!” I shouted, skidding to a stop. I pressed myself against the wall of a building; I pulled out my phone, nearly dropping it in my panic, trying to get the map app to calibrate. I knew New York like the back of my vibrating hands. The pin I’d dropped on Lacey’s apartment address wasn’t far away. It blinked steadily, urging me onwards. Almost safe.
Could I go home? No. It was too far, and I didn’t want to run that gauntlet again. Not again. My magic throbbed in my veins, begging to be let out. But I couldn’t do it. Not in public. I rubbed my temples trying to calm the headache that pounded there. It was too much, everything was too much.
And then it hit me; smoke. Choking and thick.
Malleus.
My eyes stung and my throat burned. I looked down at my phone, blinking away tears as I tried to get my bearings. I was so close to Lacey’s apartment. I could do it.
“Bruja!” The shout came from behind me, and I didn’t turn to see who had uttered it. I didn’t need to. I remembered that voice. He’d have a nice scar that he’d want payback for, and I wasn’t sticking around for that shit.
I ran, not caring who I ran into, or how manic I looked. I was a witch on a mission, and the sooner I got inside Lacey’s building, the better.
Another group of trick ‘r treater’s scattered in front of me, and I shouted a quick apology as I pushed against them, fighting to get through. The smell of the smoke had lessened, and my lungs were burning with the invisible smoke that accompanied those misguided bastards.
It wasn’t as old a building as mine, but it was in shitty shape, and the plaster façade was peeling in places that might make a new investor wary. I pressed my hand against the cracking surface and tried to take a breath. The sidewalk was still crowded, but that didn’t mean I was safe.
The doors. I had to get inside; I pulled out my keys, jangling them like I did at home to hide the fact that I was using my magic to open the lock. The deadbolt glowed faintly purple, and the opened with a heavy chunk.
I slipped inside and shut the door hard, making the glass shake. Like a child who really sucks at hide-and-seek, I leaned against the wall behind a plant. My eyes scanning the people that passed on the sidewalk carefully.
There.
A pair of moonshined eyes turned my way, peering into the apartment lobby but not seeing me. I shrank back against the wall, my chest heaving, and my breath wheezing in my throat.
As I struggled to get my breathing back under control, I scrolled up through my texts messages again, looking for Lacey’s apartment number.
I paused on the photos she had sent me. The decorations did look good, I hadn’t told her. I zoomed in on the photo, looking again at her reflection smiling happily into the mirror. But there was something not quite right about it.
I zoomed in closer I saw that her eyes were black, not just dark. Fully black. I felt my magic flood my veins. And terror.
Those were eyes I’d seen before. Eyes I thought I’d never have to see again.
21
Those black, oily eyes had haunted me my entire life. They belonged to the woman who had burned my family, the one who had chased me to Salem. She was responsible for the deaths of countless women, Daughters of Hecate and those who had been unfortunate enough to be accused.
I knew those eyes, and I couldn’t help the rush of fear and anger that swept through me.
The picture on my phone flickered as my magic surged. I fumbled with my phone, dropping it to the threadbare carpet. Muttering curses, I dropped to my knees to retrieve it. A stifled a cough, covering my mouth as I choked.
A shadow fell over the glass door and I turned my head ever so slightly to see a pair of black paratrooper boots. Steel toed and heavy. I remembered what they’d felt like as they had slammed into my stomach.
Malleus.
I flung myself back against the wall, trying to hide as much of myself as possible behind the plant. I was inside, he couldn’t get me, I was safe. I closed my eyes and tried to control the affect the smoke had on me. I could feel my lungs clearing and my eyes slowly stopped itching. It was different when I was scared, when I was running… caught off guard like a frightened rabbit. That was when they could get me. I couldn’t control my reactions. But when I had time, I could overcome it.
I opened my eyes and peered through the fronds; it was the same black-clad asshole that had led the attack in my apartment hallway. He was speaking into a cell phone, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. His left cheek was marred by an irregular red slash. I smirked.
You’re welcome, shithead.
The stairs that led up to the apartments were on my right, and I inched towards them. If I stood up, he’d see me, and I had a feeling he didn’t have any qualms about putting his boot through a plate glass window to get me.
My heart pounded and I closed my eyes, willing him to turn away.
A fist thudded against the metal frame of the door and my eyes snapped open. The Malleus was turning, looking out into the street.
I took my chance and scrambled up the stairs and onto the landing out of sight. I sat there for a minute, collecting myself. Trying to breathe.
I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and I got to my feet, brushing whatever was on that gross carpet off my ass as I did so, and then smoothing my hair and putting a neutral expression on my face as a child dressed as a firefighter careened around the corner.
“WHEE-OOO WHEE-OOO,” he shouted, crashing against the walls, and my legs, as he went.
“Sorry,” muttered his mother, holding a small firehose in her hand as she followed the boy down the stairs.
I paused for a moment longer, listening as the woman tried to calm her son and get the door open.
I waited until I heard the door slam shut before running up the stairs to the third floor. These older buildings only had a few apartments per floor, and #12 was just at the edge of the landing. The carpeting on the stairs was worn and ripped in some places,
but Lacey had put out a welcome mat that I recognized from a shopping app she was always shoving in my face.
Bats Welcome!
I rolled my eyes. If this was what the modern world thought witches were all about, I might be safer than I thought.
The brightly painted broom sign that I had refused to put up in Haven’s window proudly proclaimed that ‘The Witch’ was ‘IN.’
I placed my ear against the door and held my breath, listening for a voices, a heartbeat, anything. But all I could hear was music… the ‘Extra Special Spoopy Playlist’ she’d been talking about for days, no doubt.
I let out my breath and knocked gently on the door, and then a little harder. My second knock pushed the door inward with a click of the handle releasing.
The smell of Chinatown sandalwood and vanilla incense hit me like a fist to the face and I sneezed. Trust Lacey to have an apartment full of that junk. I braced myself, knowing that the apartment would look like the shameful lovechild of a Genie bottle and a 50s trailer decorated by a lovesick teenager.
At least, I thought that’s what I thought I would see.
Instead, I saw an apartment that had been ripped to shreds. The gauzy scarves printed with silver stars and crescent moons were there, but they had been used as fuel for the remains of a fire that had been started in the middle of the living room rug. Every single kitchen cupboard was open, the contents spilled over the peeling linoleum. Chairs were upended; plates of Halloween cupcakes were smashed and smeared over the walls.
The walls.
The wallpaper had been ripped away, carved with knives or scissors… scissors. A long pair of sewing scissors lay open on the floor, their blades shining in the flash of the orange pumpkin twinkle lights that were draped around each of the high windows that looked out over the street below. The sheers were shredded, probably with those same scissors, and I could see the half-moon shining through them.
Sticks & Stones: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 15
