The Descendants

by Kirk Kilgrave

  A gust of wind waved across his face. It dried the tears in Logan’s eyes.

  He didn’t need Eloise to tell him his great-grandfather had finally left his body and now tried to attack him. Rather than respond, since the gust of wind couldn’t hurt him, he closed off his mind to Abner to keep him from reentering his body, but he didn’t want to spend any longer than necessary in the bathroom with his great-grandfather because he could still hurt him.

  “Lucretia,” Logan said, “I believe every word you said. I’m so sorry…” His eyes grew wet again. “I’d like Eloise to return my great-grandfather back where he belongs.”

  “It’s me, Logan,” Eloise said. “Lucretia will allow it.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  “She’s in deep sorrow. We should do this now before she changes her mind.”

  Logan kicked the salt on the floor, opening a small line.

  Eloise glared at him with hatred. An irate smile flashed on her lips.

  31

  Eloise’s angry temperament had vanished, but Logan knew that either Lucretia had taken complete control of her human host or Eloise had trouble placing the witch in a subordinate role. That new reality sent such a streak of foreboding through him that his muscles almost gave out on him. He didn’t know how he’d kept himself upright or not given away that he knew the truth, but he needed to continue acting as if nothing unusual had happened.

  He just needed some time to figure out how to help Eloise and end the curse. She’d sacrificed herself in order to help him, and now Logan would do everything humanly possible to do the same for her. It was a daunting task, so he kept his mind on those two goals and nothing else. It allowed him to block out his fear, his uncertainty, and the realization that both Abner and Lucretia were in the house with him.

  A second later, a whoosh of air sliced past him.

  It seemed Abner had fled the bathroom.

  Lucretia whirled around and followed.

  “Remember,” Logan said, “Abner’s anchored to the lower level. He can’t go far, but we need to get back to the kitchen table to send him back to Hell.”

  Lucretia entered the hallway, turned back to him, and a phony smile appeared. “Of course. We’ll definitely do that!”

  Logan, undeterred by the fake grin and overly joyful tone, continued walking until he passed her up. “If you want to get the table ready, I’ll text Jocelyn.” He hoped Eloise would give Lucretia the instructions to prepare for the séance.

  In the meantime, he pulled up Jocelyn’s contact info and texted: “Need your help inside to send Abner back to Hell.” Should he tell her that Lucretia had pulled a fast one on Eloise? If Jocelyn knew her friend well, she would pick up on the unsaid rather quickly. The most important part was ensuring that Jocelyn retained her composure.

  If Logan told her ahead of time what to expect, she might enter the house upset or with an agenda. That might unnerve Lucretia. She might become unstable. She might not even try to return Abner to Hell. Instead, she could try to force the old man get back into Logan’s body, after which she’d begin a round of intense physical violence. And because Logan wouldn’t want to hurt Eloise’s body, he’d have a tough time trying to dissuade her. He wanted to avoid that at all costs, so he remained mum on the subject.

  Ten seconds later, the door opened, Jocelyn arrived. She walked over to Logan with a serious expression. “Is everything okay?”

  He didn’t want to answer that question. “We’re going to send Abner back where he belongs. We need three people for the séance.”

  Behind him, something crashed to the floor. “He keeps blowing out the candles,” Lucretia said in a strained voice. An invisible force tipped the candles from their holders, and they fell onto the surface of the table. They branched off and rolled toward the edge of the table. A second later a blast of air swept them from the table. The candles clacked against the floor and skittered to a stop behind the table and against the wall.

  “The candles help to create a calm environment when welcoming visitors,” Lucretia said, as though reciting from a textbook. “They’re not necessary to send Abner back.” Then she looked back in the kitchen, disquieted.

  Assuming he’d guessed correctly, Logan felt flush with relief that Eloise was still somewhere in her body, and that Lucretia took direction from her. “I think,” Logan whispered to Jocelyn, “that Lucretia momentarily took control.” He planned to say more, but first, he wanted to make sure Jocelyn didn’t overreact. And that might be all too easy because Abner’s tantrum forced Logan to use all of his willpower to prevent the spirit’s anger from rubbing off on him.

  Concern flashed across Jocelyn's eyes. A second later, they hardened, and her lips curled in anger.

  A good friend wouldn’t have reacted any other way. He could feel that harsh glare blaming him for this terrifying new development, and he couldn’t blame her. But he couldn’t let Jocelyn disrupt his calm. “First we deal with Abner, and then we’ll handle Lucretia.”

  Her fierce stare promised reprisal if he were wrong.

  “All right,” Lucretia said, seated at the head of the table. “Please join me in sending this bastard back to Hell.” Just then, the lights flickered. A stiff breeze ripped across the table, pushing Logan’s letter and the page with the reversed pentagram to the ground.

  Jocelyn’s lips twisted, turning white until she let them lay flat. Then her face became an impenetrable mask. She took a seat to Lucretia’s left.

  Logan grabbed his note, folded it, and placed it in his back pocket. Afterward, he seized the paper with the pentagram, placed it under his right elbow, and sat down across from Jocelyn. He held hands with the women and made sure the page lay inside the circle.

  “Abner Pryce,” Lucretia said in a stark tone while gritting her teeth. “You are released from this dimension. Return to that which you came.”

  A cool breeze circled the table for a moment, rustling everyone’s hair. The lights fluttered again.

  The page under Logan’s elbow rustled, but he’d pinned it to the table. He’d expected his great-grandfather to make a fuss and fight the inevitable.

  “Retreat to your master,” Lucretia continued, strengthening her voice as the wind kicked up. “Return to Hell, Abner Pryce.”

  The cool draft around them stopped, and the air felt warmer, less congested.

  Lucretia emitted a vibrant smile. “Justice has been served.” She released her palms from both Logan and Jocelyn as her grin shattered. “Now,” she said in a grim tone, “it’s time to deal with Abner’s lineage.”

  Although Logan had heard that same chilling voice directed at Abner, he shivered as her statement entered his ears. And her smile, so boundless in its wicked intensity, forced him to his feet. Eloise may have spoken for Lucretia, but now they had reversed places.

  The crushing knowledge that Logan had placed Eloise’s life in jeopardy sank its hooks into him. He’d been so desperate to fix his own situation, and he’d believed so deeply in Eloise’s abilities that he hadn’t even considered that the witch could overpower her.

  Despite that demoralizing realization, Logan couldn’t concentrate on it or even waste another moment thinking how he’d let down Eloise. Doing so would only make him feel worse and reduce the likelihood that he might find a way to help her. He had to push his feelings to the back of his mind the same way Lucretia had relegated Eloise to the shadows.

  “Lucretia,” he said, “you’ve proven my great-grandfather to be a treacherous murderer. I’m glad you sent him back to Hell.”

  “You’re clever for noticing, Logan.” With the utmost precision, Lucretia rose from her chair. “Thank you for letting me handle that task.” She stepped away from the chair but didn’t approach him.

  Glaring at the witch, Jocelyn stood up. “That body belongs to Eloise. Give it back to her.”

  She clapped her hands and swished them together. “I intend to do just that…after ending the Pryce family line.” Her beaming smile brighten
ed. “Let’s get started.”

  “Why?” Logan asked, standing his ground with a resolute stare. “Did I kill your brothers? No. So why have you punished my family for three generations?”

  “It’s only fair.” Lucretia permitted a reticent nod. “Abner Pryce eradicated our family line. My brothers could not carry forth our surname. He stole our future. Your family deserves the same treatment.”

  “But he was a psychotic murderer,” Logan said, anger shooting into his tone. “Besides, he killed himself. His son did the same. And my father also committed suicide.”

  “It does sound enticing, doesn’t it?”

  Logan wouldn’t answer such a stupid question, but her impish smile made him sick to his stomach. There was so much nasty intent behind it that he had difficulty looking at her and took a couple of steps back to put more distance between them. “I’m sincerely sorry about everything that happened to you and your family.”

  Lucretia frowned in a patronizing manner. “Me too.”

  “But you’re killing people!”

  “My conscience is clear. I haven’t killed anyone.”

  “You drove them to kill themselves. They had children, but your brothers didn’t. They—”

  “Didn’t get a choice to have children. I’m only here to make sure justice is served. Once your family line ends, I’ll leave this Earth for good.”

  “But you’re the reason my family killed themselves. Without the curse you placed on them, they wouldn’t be dead. Therefore, you’re to blame. You murdered them!”

  Lucretia turned to Jocelyn and shrugged. “It’s all semantics.” Then she returned her attention to Logan. “This conversation is going nowhere. You won’t be satisfied by the end.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “But it will satisfy me.”

  “I won’t kill myself.”

  “And that’s why I put the curse in place. To give you a little push in the right direction.”

  Logan looked to Jocelyn for some assistance, perhaps a new perspective that he hadn’t already considered.

  She snarled but didn’t look his way, nor did she open her mouth. She looked confounded, mired in uncertainty.

  The living room door opened.

  “Is it okay to come in yet?” Ashleigh asked. “Are you done yet?”

  Lucretia’s eyes lit up. She hurried out of the kitchen and stood on the fringes of the living room. “Ashleigh! Yes, we’re done with Abner. He’s back in Hell where he belongs. But I could use some help with your brother.” She looked back at Logan with a devious smile.

  The delight in Lucretia’s eyes turned Logan’s stomach. He gasped for air, but he couldn’t move any closer to her, although he managed to contort his body enough to see his sister spin toward the front door and wave outside.

  “Come on, Ty. Eloise needs our help!” Then she stepped through the doorway, a proud smile on her face. “What did Logan do now?”

  The door closed but swung open again as Tyler entered the house. “What’s up?”

  Lucretia stepped forward, slipped an arm around Ashleigh’s left shoulder, and when Tyler walked up to her, she slung her other arm across his shoulder.

  Jocelyn darted away from the table and rushed over to Lucretia. “Get away from them!” But she made no effort to touch the witch or even get in her way.

  Logan couldn’t hurt Eloise, so there was no use charging her and acting like he was in control of the situation. He just stood there, utterly helpless.

  Lucretia spun Ashleigh and Tyler toward Logan. “I need to convince your brother to kill himself.” The witch clutched onto their shoulders, forcing them to shrink down. “Think you can you help me with that?”

  32

  “That’s not Eloise,” Logan told his siblings. “Lucretia’s inside her body.” He watched Ashleigh’s face crimp as she let out a squeaky whine. For his part, Tyler sank down from the pressure Lucretia applied, but he remained impassive, no doubt unwilling to let the witch feel like she got the better of him.

  “Let them go!” He hated seeing them in jeopardy and under the control of an imposter with bad motives. He just knew he needed to get his siblings away from her.

  Lucretia’s smile reflected immense amusement. “Do you have a gun?” she asked Ashleigh. “That might speed things up.”

  “Ow!” She whimpered as blood rushed into her face. Ashleigh bent her body in all directions to escape Lucretia’s grasp, but no matter how many times she lifted one foot or the other, her shoes continued to come down in the same spot as it had moments before. “Please…stop!”

  Lucretia turned to Logan’s brother. “How about you, Tyler? Is there a gun nearby?”

  “No!” Tyler yelled, unable to continue pretending the pain hadn’t affected him. “Leave him alone!”

  “Well,” Lucretia said, grimacing as she met Logan’s eye. “It seems you’ll need to start cutting. Good thing we’re in the kitchen. There’s bound to be many knives to choose from. I’m in no rush, so whenever we’re ready, we’ll get started.”

  Logan’s chest felt just as compressed as when he’d found Lucretia sitting on top of him and choking the life out of him. He tried to devise a plan, something that would get him out of this jam and spring his siblings from Lucretia’s grasp.

  “Eloise?” he asked, finally getting the nerve to step forward. “Can you hear me?”

  “She’s busy right now,” Lucretia said. “But you can speak with me.” Her smile returned. “Would you like me to select a knife for you? I’d be happy to help.”

  “Eloise,” Logan tried again, feeling courage enter his voice. “You’re stronger than her. Don’t let her do this.” His confidence emboldened him. It became easier to breathe and gave him enough strength to approach Lucretia.

  Jocelyn pivoted to face Lucretia. “Come on, Eloise. You can do it. You’re—”

  Aggravated, Lucretia tipped her head fall back a few inches. “Do you really think two people saying the same thing will help? Well, it won’t. Now, Logan? I’m getting impatient.”

  He wasn’t sure if he’d slipped some fortitude into Eloise’s subconscious and she’d begun fighting back, but he thought he’d continue to make sure. “She’s getting upset, Eloise. Keep at it.” He stopped a couple of feet from Lucretia, and although he could see his siblings still struggling in the witch’s grasp, he kept his gaze solely on Lucretia.

  “Eloise, fight her!” Jocelyn said.

  At that moment, Logan leapt forward, grabbed Ashleigh and Tyler by the wrists, and shoved them with all his might behind him and toward Jocelyn. He extended his arms on either sides of him to prevent Lucretia from attacking them.

  Lucretia, jerked forward from the force of having both kids ripped free from her clutches, continued in that direction and ran past everyone. She stopped at the counter, whipped open a drawer, and withdrew a pair of long, sharp steel carving knives. She whirled back to Logan. “This might be helpful.” She walked over to him and offered him one with a scowl. “Take it!”

  Logan obliged her. “Eloise, don’t let her—”

  The witch returned to the drawer and removed a jagged-edged meat cutting knife. “Get cutting!”

  Jocelyn pushed the kids toward the living room.

  Lucretia directed a knife at Jocelyn. “They stay! Or I’ll start cutting Logan like a turkey.”

  Logan wanted his siblings out of the house, so Lucretia couldn’t get at them. Right now, that was the most important thing. “Go!” he screamed at them.

  Lucretia sprang toward Logan, and that stopped his siblings from leaving the room. Ashleigh’s face was contorted in misery as she took heavy breaths. Tyler glared at Lucretia with a sneer.

  “Damnit!” Logan shouted. “Why won’t you just break the curse, huh? Why do you want us to die?”

  “The curse won’t be broken until the cycle ends. Either kill yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”

  But if Lucretia put the curse in motion, Logan wondered if she could break it if she chose to do so. It was worth a
try, so he put all of his efforts toward that outcome. “Fine. I’ll do what you want.”

  “No!” Ashleigh squealed, attempting to reach him, but Jocelyn blocked her.

  Logan carefully placed the blade to his left forearm, making sure it rested on the skin but didn’t pierce it. The steel felt cold. Until now, he’d never been more aware of how tenuous life could be.

  “Good.” Lucretia smiled. “Now begin.”

  “It must have been something like this, right?” Logan asked.

  Lucretia furrowed her brow. “What?”

  “The night that insane murderer attempted to rape you. The night he killed your brothers. It must have been like this.”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “You were scared. So were your brothers.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Look at Ashleigh and Tyler.”

  Lucretia, unsure if Logan planned to trick her, glanced at his siblings. “Ashleigh’s scared. Not Tyler.”

  “Oh, yeah? Look closer.”

  She risked another glance. “Nope. Not scared.”

  “Look,” Logan said, “at his hands.”

  Lucretia turned and did as requested. “I didn’t see them shaking until now.”

  “So yeah,” he continued. “They’re scared. Sort of like the night your family died.”

  “The only difference is,” the witch said, “they don’t have to die tonight. But you do.”

  “That’s true,” he admitted. “It gets me thinking…your brothers were in their twenties when that happened. They had parents until that accident a year earlier, right? Hmmm.” He nodded, thinking that over, as anger shot through his veins.

  “What?” Lucretia asked.

  “Well, my father died when I was nine. Ashleigh was four when he died. Tyler? Hell, that poor boy never even met his dad. And he hates him. You know why? Because he thought our dad killed himself because our mother got pregnant. Imagine that.” He shook his head. “Living your entire life believing that your dad hated you so much that he killed himself.”