Curses, Fates & Soul Mates

by et al Kristie Cook

  ~Monroe’s Totally Wicked Book of Shadows~

  Tick, tick, tick.

  The women in my family had turned to Lilith? When? Why?

  Tick, tick, tick.

  I reached behind me, shrugging my backpack off of my shoulder and letting it slide to the floor.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  I stepped out into the hallway, ignoring NeeCee’s strange stare from the stairwell as I searched the hall. There in the corner. A grandfather clock, the pendulum within swinging slowly back and forth.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  “Monroe?” Belle asked from behind me.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  My hands found the backpack, the characters of Oz once more staring up at me. I felt like Dorothy, surrounded by people who could benefit from a little bit of courage, heart, and knowledge. Including me.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  The backpack’s zipper was loud in the quiet room, and I went to the floor, my back against the room’s entrance as I pulled out the Ayer’s grimoire.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  My eyes went from the grimoire’s cracked leather cover to Luther’s face. “You told me the book would only reveal itself to me, right?” I asked.

  Luther knelt in front of me. “Someone in your family started this, Monroe, but for your aura to be so strongly connected even now to Lilith ...” Luther looked up, his gaze moving over NeeCee, Belle, and then back to me. “Then someone in your family is carrying it on. Someone is still following Lilith, still offering her own family up to the she-Demon in return for something.”

  My whole body went numb. Somewhere beyond my own shock, I heard Belle gasp. NeeCee stayed silent.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  I clutched the book to my chest. Images of Mac, a broken Mac, being killed in the name of the Ayers and their Coven replayed in my head. My family. Mac had died for Eta. And before that, Eta’s father had died for the Coven at the hands of the Hunters.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  “She?” I asked, my gaze moving up to Luther’s face. “Why would you think it was a woman? There are men in our Coven too. And others. People not related to us.”

  Luther leaned forward. “Yes, but Lilith deals only with women. She enjoys empowering them. She even enjoys destroying them. And it is still only the Ayers’ female bloodline that is cursed. Two women in your line of every generation are dying. One is having blood spilled by the Hunters, and the other is being sacrificed to Lilith herself. Blood and Hell. I should have seen it before. It has my mother’s handiwork all over it.” Luther looked up at Lucas. “If there was no longer a lilim among the Ayers women, then there would be no witches in this generation cursed for sacrifice. The fact that Monroe and Bernice are both marked means someone is continuing the tradition.”

  Lucas sighed. “This could be more complicated than we thought.”

  Belle moved forward. “Maybe I’m naive about all of this, but how is it more complicated?”

  I looked down at the book’s cover, my fingers playing lightly over the top of it. So many Ayers sacrificed.

  “If an Ayers witch summoned Lilith, then we would be subject to her commands,” I explained.

  I’d spent my whole life listening to my mother talk about Wicca, watching her practice it, studying it with her. The most fascinating and terrifying part of any of her lessons was the Shadows.

  My eyes went to Belle’s face. “The fact that someone in our family is still summoning her means it’s too late for NeeCee and me. If the witch called on Lilith, then her sacrifice must be met.”

  This time even NeeCee gasped from her place on the stairwell. Nothing Luther could do could calm her now. NeeCee and I were this generation’s sacrifice. If my aura was what Henry said it was, then Lilith had already been summoned. We were destined to die, and there was no stopping it.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  I clenched my jaw, my hand lifting the grimoire’s cover. “But there is something we can do.”

  NeeCee moved down the stairs, her glassy gaze gone, hopeful. “What?” she asked.

  I hated to destroy the little hope she had, but I was a practical girl. My hand went to the grimoire’s pages, my eyes to Luther’s. “We can stop this from happening to the next generation,” I said. I knew by the look in Luther’s eyes that he knew what I was about to do.

  “It’s January. It’s ...” I looked up at the clock in the hall. Tick, tick, tick. “Nine o’clock in the morning.” I did this to keep myself grounded, to remind myself that I was still here in this time period.

  Luther lowered his head. “Don’t talk in the vision,” he reminded me.

  My eyes stayed locked on his. “Just catch me if I fall.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I no longer want to sleep. I’ve taken to spitting all of the concoctions my aunt gives me into the trash when she isn’t looking, but days without potions hasn’t lessened the dreams. Maybe I was wrong to think the drinks were causing it. I dream often of fire. Worse yet, I dream often of burning.

  ~Monroe’s Totally Wicked Book of Shadows~

  A baby cried.

  “Shhh ...” a voice soothed.

  A rocking chair creaked. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  Creak.

  “Shhh ...”

  Creak.

  I was on the porch of a small cabin on the edge of a forest, and it was early, sometime just past dawn. I wasn’t a worldly girl, but I was pretty sure this wasn’t Scotland anymore. Where, I had no idea, but it wasn’t Scotland. Eta wouldn’t have stayed in Scotland, but I didn’t see her going far either.

  The sky was grey, overcast. The baby cried.

  Creak.

  “Shhh ...”

  I looked up, my eyes going to a tired, thin Eta holding a newborn baby with tufts of blonde hair. The infant’s face was scrunched and red, its tiny fist wrapped around one of Eta’s fingers.

  “Shhh ...” Eta said again, her hand running absently down the side of the baby’s cheek. It was a beautiful baby, and my heart lurched at the thought of Mac.

  The baby’s cries turned into wails, and Eta reached up to unfasten the front of her dress. She pulled it down, baring her breasts, and the baby quieted, the suckling sound of the infant’s insistent feeding almost comforting in the silence. Only the creaking rocking chair remained.

  The cabin door opened, and the old woman from my earlier vision stepped out onto the porch, her gaze hard.

  Eta looked up. “Did you see anything?”

  Maren nodded. “I’ve scryed,” she said simply.

  The creaking rocking chair stopped.

  “And?” Eta asked.

  Maren sighed. “He’s dead, Eta. Between the Hunters and the craze they caused, Mac didna stand a chance.”

  My heart broke along with Eta’s, the tearing sensation in my chest almost unbearable, and a tear slipped down both of our cheeks. And yet, Eta did not weep. There were no gulping, gasping sobs, the kind that causes hiccups and dripping noses. Just slow tears. Silent ones.

  “We need to do something, Eta,” the woman said. “We need to find a way to repel the Hunters, to protect our young.”

  Anger coursed through Eta’s veins. “And what about the people we love?” Eta asked. “What about those? Not just the Coven, but the people we bring into our lives?”

  Maren looked down, her old eyes sad. “It’s part of being a witch, Eta. Especially during these times. And especially being women.”

  Eta said nothing, but I felt her anger, her heartache, the injustice of it all. The baby fretted at her breast, and she rocked again, her sad eyes on the forest.

  Creak.

  “Shhh ...”

  Creak.

  “The Coven—” Maren began.

  “Not right now,” Eta interrupted. “I love the Coven, and I will protect it. But for now, let me grieve.”

  Maren nodded, turning quietly, glancing over her shoulder only once before disappearing inside the cabin. Eta continued to stare into the woods.

>   The baby fussed, and Eta looked down.

  “You look like your da,” she whispered. “Shhh ... my sweet Mackenzie, my little Mac. You will be a strong woman one day. Beyond tears.”

  The chair rocked. The baby fussed. Eta soothed.

  Creak.

  “Shhh ...”

  The scene changed.

  A full moon shone above a forest, and Eta was running, her hood flying back as she glanced periodically over her shoulder. Her hair gleamed in the moonlight. Twigs snapped as she stepped, and the wind moved through the leaves, howling along with predators I didn’t care to put a name to. It wasn’t cold here, but there was a slight chill in the air as if spring was coming but winter wasn’t quite ready to let go.

  And then, just as fast as she ran, Eta stopped, her breathing deep as she leaned over, her eyes on the ground. She was in a clearing, near a small creek, and the moon was large and clear above her, unimpeded by the forest’s canopy. Eta stared up at it.

  “Now. It all changes now,” she whispered.

  She leaned over and retrieved a stick from the forest floor, stripping it of any leaves before using it to draw a circle in the soil at her feet. From her dress, she pulled out four items and placed them in the North, East, South, and West quarters of the Circle. Most of the items, I couldn’t make out, but one of them was a bowl, and she filled it quickly with water from the creek. She was invoking the elements. I knew this ritual well, and I hung back, my eyes on her black-handled athame as she pulled it from under her skirt and held it up.

  In a language I didn’t understand, she chanted, her body turning slowly, her face lifted.

  “Lilith,” she concluded.

  I froze.

  No!

  Eta took the athame and sliced her palm. Blood fell to the ground.

  My lips parted, and I started to protest, but a hand closed over my mouth, and I knew it was Luther’s. I may not be able to see him, but he was with me in this vision, and his body was with mine in the present.

  “No, Eta. Not this,” I mouthed against Luther’s palm.

  But this was a vision, and I couldn’t interfere. My heart broke. What had happened to Eta to make her think this was her only option?

  Eta brought her fist into her chest and lowered her athame. The leaves within the forest stirred, and a dark cloud moved over the moon.

  I shivered.

  The clouds rolled away, and there within the forest glade, her pale body bathed in moonlight was Lilith, a black-haired svelte woman in a blood red dress with fair skin and red lips. Her eyes glowed, and when she smiled, her teeth were pointed.

  Eta was suddenly unsure, her face scared. But it was too late. She had summoned the she-Demon, and there would be hell to pay.

  “You summoned me, Witch?”

  Lilith’s voice was lyrical, beautiful, enchanting, and Eta watched in awe as the she-Demon moved around the Circle, her elegant glide effortless and intimidating.

  Eta swallowed. “I-I need help.”

  Lilith’s eyes took Eta in before she finally stepped toward the witch, her long, red fingernails coming up to run pointedly along Eta’s white dress.

  “White ... how inappropriate.” Lilith laughed. “Tell me, dear, what is it you would have me do? What have you summoned me, one of the most powerful she-Demons in existence, to your petty little world for? Hmmmm ...”

  Eta swallowed again. “My family, my Coven, and my lover ... all of them have been destroyed. All but a few of the Ayers witches remain. I am begging you to save the rest. To keep us safe.”

  Lilith grinned. “And you came to me? Why? Are you not capable of taking care of your own?”

  Eta looked up, her jaw clenched.

  “Ah,” Lilith murmured. “So that’s how it is. Who has wronged you so badly, Witch, that you would seek revenge?”

  A lone tear slipped down Eta’s cheeks. “The Hunters,” she said fiercely. “All of them. We have suffered them too long. And ... a-and the people who killed my Mac.”

  Lilith laughed. “Oh, Witch, I have no issue with killing. If you want people dead, I can make that happen.”

  Lilith’s eyes went cold, and her teeth lengthened, her pretty pale face transforming into the ferocious she-Demon I knew she was. “But I don’t take highly to being summoned, understand? I am not a Demon to be controlled. What you ask, so you shall have, but you will sacrifice much to get it.”

  Eta gasped. “No! No, please. I want only vengeance. For myself and for my people. I will give you anything of myself. My blood, my death even, but nothing else.”

  Lilith cocked her head, her eyes bright. “Foolish girl! You called me and offer only yourself! Oh no, Witch! I am worth much more than that. All of those involved in your lover’s death will die. In fact, they die now, a mysterious illness taking them from this Earth, but your Hunters will live. Not all of them, but many will. I enjoy their work, you see. For, as a Demon, I find their intolerance and their methods of showing it interesting. But,” Lilith paused, her deadly face coming close to Eta’s, “I will protect your family. In fact, your own daughter will protect your family. For I will take my due. One witch of your line will call to the Hunters. Her power will draw them away from your Coven while a second witch of your line will belong to me. Your daughter’s soul will add nicely to my collection.”

  Eta stood tall, her eyes full of fear. “No, it’s not why I called you. I summoned you, and in my Circle, you are mine. I will offer you myself and nothing more. And you will do what I say.”

  Lilith’s nails moved to Eta’s neck. “Foolish, foolish girl. You think to control me? Let’s sweeten the bargain then. From here on out, the souls of the Demon-cursed witches that belong to me will be tainted with evil. In each generation, the Demon-cursed among the Ayers will call to me, will summon me, will relish their angry power. And my collection of souls will grow. We both win then, sweet one. And yet, your Hunters will always be led astray. One Ayers witch will shed blood for the Hunters in each generation, and I will own the evil one.”

  Eta went to her knees. “No!” she cried. “No.”

  Lilith lifted Eta by her neck. “You called me, remember, witch? If you are so adamant your own blood should be spilled, then so be it.”

  And with that, Lilith ran one of her wickedly long red nails across Eta’s neck.

  I opened my mouth to scream and found myself restrained, Luther’s mouth against my ear.

  “It is Friday,” he said. “January. You are in Salem, and it is ten thirty in the morning.”

  My breathing calmed, my vision cleared, and I was on the floor of Henry’s parlor again. Luther was behind me, my back against his chest, and he released my mouth as Belle kneeled in front of us. I ignored her.

  “Oh, Eta,” I gasped. My forehead fell to my hands.

  “Eta?” Belle asked. “The girl from your Scottish vision?”

  I nodded. “She summoned Lilith.”

  It was all I could manage. My breathing was ragged, and I inhaled, concentrating once more on the clock in the hall. It helped to have a focal point when coming out of a vision. My mother had taught me that, had taught me to observe the world around me, to see it in ways other people might not.

  Tick, tick, tick, said the clock.

  And then, after a moment, “I’m supposed to be evil.”

  My words were low. Luther stood and moved from behind me, his hand lowered. I stared at his offered palm, but didn’t take it.

  “You know how I feel about evil,” he said lightly.

  I glared at him. “Bad is better for you. Not the rest of us.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I think it’s safe to say something went wrong with this generation of Ayers witches. You’re obviously not evil. Trouble maybe, but not evil.”

  I threw him another look as NeeCee made her way over to me, her strawberry blonde hair tied up, and her long-sleeve black tee wrinkled with little pieces of white fuzz on it.

  She pushed up her glasses. “What happened in the vision?” she as
ked.

  I told them, starting with the baby and ending with the ritual, my throat catching at the conclusion. I’d become Eta in those visions. I had felt her losses and her anger. Seeing her blood had torn me to pieces. Even if she had been the one to make the fatal Ayers mistake for so many of us. I’d felt her love for Mac, for her baby, for her family. Would I have made the same choice in her shoes?

  “You think too much,” Luther said from behind me.

  NeeCee touched my shoulder. “So the Ayers witch who was supposed to die by the hands of the Hunters in the last generation still lives,” NeeCee said. Her eyes came up to meet mine. “She chose to become a Hunter to save herself. By doing that, she has chosen to kill witches, to slaughter her own.”

  I knew instantly what NeeCee was saying, but it was Luther who spoke next.

  He laughed. “So the hunted became the evil one.”

  Lucas pinched his nose. “I need a drink,” he mumbled.

  I arched a brow. “Do Angels drink?” I asked.

  Lucas grinned. “I’m fallen, sweetheart. I have a lot of vices. If—”

  “Hush!” Henry interrupted.

  We all turned toward him. The seer was against the wall, his eyes on the picture window.

  “I swear,” he muttered. “I was sure—”

  There was a loud sound from the yard beyond, and we all froze.

  “Do you have any neighbors?” Belle asked, her voice low.

  Henry nodded. “But I own seven acres of land, and my home is accessible to the woods.

  The sound came again.