by Cynthia Lott
“Three?” I looked again at the fortune. Out of the three games…
“Yeah. Each one is different…comprised of various parts and ingredients. I’m not sure which one will work, but we can try all three. The problem is that it’s going to take a while to obtain all of the ingredients that each spell requires. I’ve been collecting some throughout the day and scouring what I currently have in my own collection. Some of my ingredients had expired and these require everything to be fresh. It’s taken on a greater sense of urgency now, hasn’t it?” Her voice grew serious.
“Brenda?” She sensed my silence.
“Stella, is there a spell out of the three that has five parts to it? Five ingredients?”
“Yes, the second one.”
“That’s the one we need. Carpenter has informed me of this in not so many terms.” I watched Roy sit back down at the table, hands running through his hair.
“All right. Give me an hour or so. I’ll come straight over once I have everything. Keep calm…we’ll figure this out.”
“Thank you, Stella. See you then.”
I hung up the phone and looked at Roy. “Why is Carpenter leading me to the second spell? He didn’t have to tell me this, but he did. Why is he guiding me towards the right one?”
“For some reason he wants to spare you. He left you for last.”
At that moment, there was a knock on Roy’s front door. We both looked at one another, feeling the heaviness in the air, this unavoidable moment.
So soon?
“I don’t think that’s one of your neighbors.”
“We don’t have to answer it, Brenda. We can ignore it until Stella arrives. Listen to me. Look at me. If he’s trying to protect you, then maybe there’s some way we can buy time with him.” We both looked at the door as the knock came again: consistent, powerful.
“Roy, he’s not going to go away. He’s here because he has to be. Open the door. Maybe I can talk to him or stall him. We’ve spoken before. I’m different than the other four victims. For some reason, he has a connection with me.” I walked towards the front door as Roy followed.
“I’m not going to stop you, but think about this, Brenda. He’s under a spell that drives him no matter what sort of connection he has to you. He has to abide by it, to follow through on it. Please. Don’t open the door. I love you.” He put his hands on my shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Roy.”
I opened the door to find Thomas Carpenter standing in front of me, the feathered mask hiding his face.
“Hello, Brenda, may I come in?”
Roy stepped in front of me. “What do you want?”
“Hello, Mr. Agnew. I’m sure by now that you have both learned about my situation and the necessity of my actions.”
“You don’t have to do this, Thomas. There is a way out.” Roy reached back his arms, taking my hands.
There was no response from Carpenter and what seemed like a second transformed into minutes as both Roy and I fell under a complete complacency. At that moment, we wanted more than anything to invite him into the apartment.
“Come in.” Roy guided him towards the sofa as if we had been waiting for an old friend to arrive for a night of board games.
“Thank you.”
Thomas took my hands into his own. They were warm and alive. I realized this was how he appeared to all of his victims.
“It’s good to see you. It truly is.” He removed his mask.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Four
Roy D. Agnew
He opened his eyes and looked at the wired net that hung from his bedroom ceiling, the light reflecting off each crystal embedded in its lining. Tears of the Fisherman. Every crystal resembled a droplet of water, eternally suspended on the plastic wires, shining slivers of light into the corners of the room.
Where had I bought it? At a local gallery in the Arts District last year…that was it. I was looking for a unique light fixture and this one did the trick. It took me hours to hang that up….all the wires had to be delicately handled and the crystals individually hung. Every single one and there were hundreds. One of my finer pieces.
For a moment he didn’t remember how he ended up in bed alone. He sat up and brushed his hand through his hair, feeling the stubble on his face.
Jesus, I’ve let myself go.
He was fully dressed in black slacks, white shirt, and still wearing his shoes as if he had only recently lain down. He noticed the empty dog beds and remembered that he left them in the care of his neighbor for a few days. Roy wanted he and Brenda to have some space without the guilt of neglecting them.
We have a lot to sort out, don’t we?
He sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing his hands through his hair and over his slacks, straightening out the wrinkles. He looked at the framed picture of his family that hung on the wall…one taken years ago when his parents were still alive and before Debra’s death; Matt sitting next to him, smiles all around. A photographer friend offered the service for free and it had been the last photo taken of their family as his mother died of lung cancer the following year.
He was always more your son than I ever was, wasn’t he? Matt took you over the moment he was born. I never stood a chance.
A distracting scratch sounded at his window followed by another. He turned and observed five birds, all in a row, sitting on the windowsill, looking at him. The one bird in the middle was larger than the rest and he scratched again as the other four flew off, leaving him firmly planted on the sill. The bird’s head tilted to the side as he once again scratched, scratched, scratched on the glass. That’s when Roy heard voices. They were coming from the living room: a man and a woman.
Who is in my apartment? Why am I in my bedroom?
He stood up and walked towards the door, turned the handle. It was locked from the outside. His hands began to sweat.
My head feels fine. I wasn’t knocked unconscious. How the hell did I end up in here?
He placed his ear against the door but only deciphered muffled voices. Then it seemed as if the two people had moved away from the living room, down the hallway and closer to his bedroom:
“You are a lot like your grandfather and, to his credit, I adored him. I truly did. We had a lot of memories together...ones that remain with me. Great memories. I want you to know that. Out of all five of my friends, I cherished him the most. There was no one like him. Lui era il mio migliore amico.”
After this man’s voice, Roy heard Brenda and it became clear why he was locked in his bedroom, away from her.
“What happened to you should have never taken place, and here you are at the end of it. My grandfather was a good man. You know this. I’m sure he spent the rest of his life sorry for what occurred that night and the role he played in it, Thomas.”
“Do you wonder why I made this all so easy for you? Because I loved him. I saved you for last. I hoped you would be able to counter Elsie’s spell, allowing us both, you and I, to be at peace but time is running out. We are waiting for someone…I sense that. Do you feel like you are already part of this undoing, Brenda?”
“This undoing has existed since my father was murdered. But I’m sure you knew that already.”
“Yes, I did. I know a lot about you. And your losses. Unfortunately, I’m obligated to close this chapter as it’s rather out of my control. You understand. This spell has pulled me out of a former peace, but not with her. I have never been with her in death. Her spell has made it so that we will never be together until I have fulfilled what she has decreed. I long to be with her as I’m sure you wish to be with your father and mother. I was young. I had so many ideas and thoughts about where my life would go. My future with the woman I loved was taken from me. And with it a family I should have had. I wanted all of that more than you know.”
“I know and I’m so sorry. Neither of you deserved that.”
“Here we are and there’s nothing I can do about it. So you see….you will be my last victim, and f
or that I am sorry.”
Then there was silence. Too much silence.
“Brenda! Brenda!” Roy screamed and pounded on the door. He rushed over to his nightstand, looking for his gun but only found an empty holster. He screamed her name again and heard her saying something to Thomas, inaudible. They were in the living room now, further away from him. He went back over to his nightstand, fumbled through papers, books, miscellaneous stuff that had collected in there. He grabbed a screwdriver and ran back to the door. He began to loosen the screws on the hinges, pulling each screw out and throwing them across the room. Sweat ran down his neck and back, his hands dropping the screwdriver.
Fuck. Fuck. Come on.
He picked up the screwdriver and finished extracting the rest of the screws. He threw the screwdriver on the bed and removed the door, placing it against his bedroom wall.
At this moment, the apartment buzzer went off.
Stella…
Running down the hallway towards Carpenter and Brenda’s voices, he stopped when he saw them. Brenda stood in the middle of the room, Thomas’s hand caressing her cheek. Neither of them noticed Roy’s entrance. He felt like he had just stumbled upon two lovers gazing into each other’s eyes.
What the hell is going on?
“Brenda?” She was unaware of Roy’s presence. Hearing the buzzer again, he walked towards the intercom, allowing Stella entrance to the seventeenth floor. Within seconds Stella was on the landing and knocking at his door. He opened it to see her standing in the hallway, arms full of supplies, eyes wild with anticipation.
“He’s here with her. She’s under some sort of trance, like the others were.”
Stella stepped into the apartment, pouring the contents of her large red bag onto the sofa.
“Elsie?” She looked at Brenda, her eyes widening. Roy looked at her.
“Who the hell are you seeing, Stella?”
“My great-aunt. Who are you seeing?”
“That’s Brenda!”
Brenda placed her hand on Carpenter’s chest, a look on her face as if she had loved him all of her life. Her eyes studied his, a soft glist-ening of the pupils. Stella looked at Roy, sorting through her supplies.
“I think we’re seeing two different people.” She took out one of Elsie’s voodoo books and placed it to the side. She spread out on the living room floor the various items: a white candle, a black satin ribbon, four stems of dried mums (orange and red), a tincture of pure lavender oil, and a container of holy water.
“God, I’m so sorry this took so long. The holy water had to come from a specific Catholic church per her instructions and I had to create the candle myself from two separate ones…and from different corners of the city. It took time…you understand. And this…this will take a few minutes, too. Is there anything you can do to stall him?” She whisked her long dark hair back behind her ears as it fell across her eyes.
She turned to page thirty-nine in the book. Sliding her finger along the page, she took out a box of matches and placed them next to the candle. She wrapped the black ribbon seven times around her arm, saying the name of each person involved in the spell one-by-one as she drew the satin across her flesh, “Marcel, Nigel, Alain, Malcolm, Ralph, Elsie, and Thomas.” She began chanting a portion of the spell:
“May this black satin ribbon bear the names of each person involved in this spell to recognize the darkness that has fallen upon all of them in the act of murder and in the result of revenge. As I light this candle, may the names on this ribbon be released from this spell. As I pour this lavender oil over the mums, let the essence of peace and calmness drench these flowers, traditionally known for remembering and honoring the dead, and let it be symbolic of easing this spell into a peaceful slumber, no more trapped in the memory of retribution for dead loved ones.”
“As I pour this holy water over my arm, I unwrap the names on the ribbon associated with this spell. Let this water cleanse them of their best and worst intentions. Let the spell of Elsie Adelaine Coupout be lifted from Thomas Carpenter and allow him to be at peace.” Stella closed her eyes and unwrapped the ribbon from her arm, letting it fall gracefully onto the floor. Standing up, she pulled her long black hair away from her face.
“Elsie, you and Thomas are now at peace. You can go now. The spell has been lifted. You taught me well, and I want for the two of you to be together in death as you were in life. I offer you full sacred permission.” She glanced Roy’s way.
Roy turned towards Brenda, waiting for her to emerge from whatever fog she was under.
“Thank you,” Brenda said and took Thomas’s hand as he kissed her forehead. They walked past Roy and Stella as if they had already entered another realm. Her arm reached around his waist, and his lips settled on her ear, whispering something Roy couldn’t understand.
As they made their way towards the door, Brenda gave Roy a last look, wreathed in a full beautiful smile, her deep brown eyes whole and complete. She was gorgeous, graceful…and there was serenity about her that he had never seen before. They crossed the threshold of the apartment door and disappeared.
Roy looked at Stella in disbelief.
“What the hell just happened here? Where the fuck did she go?” He ran into the hallway. There was no sign of them. He returned to his open door, confused and nauseated. Stella looked down at the spell’s various ingredients still laying on both the living room floor and sofa. She picked up the bottle of holy water and looked at him, shaking her head. They both realized that she hadn’t poured out all of the bottle’s water onto the ribbon as instructed.
“No, Stella. You can’t just fucking stand there and tell me she’s gone. She can’t be gone. You said this would work. You said this fucking thing would work!" Stella covered her mouth with her right hand, silver bangles slid down her arm.
Oh, Dear God.
He slid down the wall, wrapping his hands behind his head. Brenda was gone. Gone. He noticed something on the coffee table that hadn’t been there before: a beige cloth bound journal. Stella noticed it too and picked it up, handing it to him, disheveled hair falling across her eyes. Roy took the journal from her hand and opened it to the first page.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Five
April 27th, 1978 Diary of Brenda M. Shapira
My dearest Roy…today I will meet Thomas Carpenter, and, as we both know, I’m to be his fifth victim. I don’t believe any spell will counter this. Perhaps my own choice to not believe is what will result in its failure. But don’t see this as a defeat. Part of me died the night my mother took her own life so many years ago, and the rest disappeared on the day my father was murdered. You are my beloved, and I long for you to live with a joy for Life…something I found impossible to achieve. So I have left you the Chai necklace my grandfather passed down to me. I hope it fulfills its promise for you. You will find it at the beginning of this diary. Wear it daily and know that I am with you.
I’m also leaving you my diary…an account of this year’s happenings and of our experiences with Carpenter. 1978 has been anything but ordinary. My hope is that the diary will help in explaining what has already occurred and what will take place today.
I am now with Thomas and Elsie, Ralph Jr. and Sr. and my lovely mother, Marlene, your wonderful Debra, and all the others we think disappear into the mist once they are no longer in our physical presence. Do not be fooled. We are all here. And we always will be. Claire, David, Connie and Stuart…we are all like the feathers that find release in a spring wind…a lilting reminder of all that is special in being peaceful, loved, light and graceful. Here is what I will whisper to you all of your days, “Onwards and Upwards, Roy. Onwards and Upwards.”
If one day by chance, you believe in the mystery and beauty of a spell the way I could not, then maybe…perhaps… I will be able to visit you…again.
The End
Acknowledgements
I think the acknowledgements section is one of the most difficult parts. There are so many lovely peopl
e in my life who have listened, read my chapters over and over, supported and believed in me. I'm bound to leave someone out and for that, I apologize.
Let me start by thanking my wonderful parents, Tommy and Paula Lott; my sisters, Carolyn Lambert and Brenda Strauss along with their amazing husbands, David Strauss and Kerry Lambert, Jr. To my novel mentor, Matthew Clemens, you are simply the best. Thank you, sir, for your friendship and the time you gave to me. I have learned so much from you...priceless knowledge.
Thank you to my lovely editor, web designer, web host and PR guru: Patricia Lynn Dye, Laird Sapir, Jay Donovan and Gary Parkes. You guys work magic.
Thank you to my early Beta Readers who read through various versions of my chapters over the last couple of years: Tara Lee Adyanthaya, John Atkins, Diane Campbell, Fiona Carrick, Maureen Evritt, John Gaffney, Jonathan Hayes, Angela Hassell, Rebekah Hansen, Linda Lambert, Nadia Lancy, Isabelle LaPlant, Dan LaValley, Lucia Leggio, Maria Leggio, David Marks, Karissa McCoy, Neil Miller, Stephanie Miller, Lisa Niles, Paul Nitsche, Ron Palmer, Gary Parkes, Saira Raza, Ricia Rogers, Amy Hood Sanchez, Kenya Scandrick, Michael Smith, Jeremy Taylor, Carrie Teska, Jamie Truby, Sara Uehlein, Gene Wermuth, and Phaedra Wolber. Thank you for your time and patience.
Thank you to my wonderful photographer, LoriKay Stone and to Maxim Laing for his beautiful art work. You two are incredibly talented individuals.
Thank you to Benjamin Kane Ethridge for reading my novel before it was published and offering to write a blurb.
Thank you Jenny Milchman for allowing me to share my book launch with you...you made a Girl's dream come true.
Thank you to the wonderful staff at Piscataqua Press for helping my dream become reality.
Thank You to Foxtale Book Shoppe for hosting my Book Launch and for being a Great Independent book store and to Pam Stack from Authors on the Air for handling my very first Author interview. I loved it! And Thank you to Angie Wehunt Guettner for hosting my first book club visit. You all have been so Fabulous.
