Beautifully Broken

by Sherry Soule

  “I warned you.” Her voice echoed in the candlelight. Claire slowly faded. “Offered omens and riddles. Now look into your scars—and put that damned board away!”

  She dissolved and footsteps sounded in the corridor. Forceful, loud strides. Supernatural black shapes roiled on the ceiling in a pirouette above our heads. They made low rustling noises. My friends didn’t notice, because their eyes had settled on the open door.

  I stared into the hall, but it was empty. The bedroom door across from us made a squeaking noise and slowly opened. The swish of blankets being torn off the bed, followed by the crash of a lamp and glass breaking, startled us. I huddled closer on the floor with my friends. Subzero terror coiled in my gut. The noisy footsteps returned and paused in the doorway.

  We were breathing hard and trembling. Heavy panting sounds like that of a thirsty dog came from behind Jada. It growled. In the next instant, a translucent shadow enveloped Jada. The thing grabbed Jada’s ankles and dragged her from the room. She clutched the doorframe, screaming.

  I sprang to my feet and grasped her wrists, trying to pull her back inside. Rage and terror swiveled inside me, burning my mark. “Ari! In my bag, there’s a squirt gun with holy water. Get it!” I let go of Jada’s wrist with one hand and pointed at what I hoped was the invisible entity. A magickal charge zipped up my arms. My skin vibrated with power. Energy bolted from my fingertip and zapped the evil holding her legs. The blackness shuddered, and for a long second I saw its monstrous form. Mottled black skin, hairless, sharp teeth.

  “Shoot the damn thing,” I rasped.

  “Shoot what?”

  “Just—shoot!”

  She aimed at the indiscernible black cloud and shot a stream of water in its direction while I recited, “In God’s name, I banish negative spirits from within these walls. You may not stay—I demand you now to go away!”

  Water soaked its body and it roared. The stench of rotting meat plugged the air. Jada’s feet hit the hardwood floor and she clutched at her heart. The squirt gun was knocked out of Ariana’s hand and sailed under the sofa. The room stilled.

  Jada leaned on one elbow, her breathing fast and labored. “Ohmygod, Ohmygod. Wh—what was that?”

  Ariana hugged Jada, while I stood rooted in place, quivering in disbelief.

  Ariana stared at me. “How did you know what to say?”

  “I…I don’t know. It just came to me. I grabbed the board and planchette, threw them back into the box, and shut the lid. “That thing is dangerous.”

  They bobbed their heads in agreement, their tongues probably thick and useless from shock. After a minute or two, we pulled ourselves together.

  Ariana’s hands were shaking, and she shoved them in her pockets. “I’m never doing that again. What was that?”

  “I’m not sure. Some kind of evil-thingy. Let’s go. Follow me,” I ordered. “We should get out of here—now!” I raced down the stairs, a thunder of footsteps right behind me. My heart was still pounding too fast. Sun burst through the front door when I flung it open. I stopped on the stoop, gasping for air, then turned around.

  And saw Ariana.

  “Where’s Jada?”

  Ariana stopped, holding a hand to her side and sucking in ragged breathes. She looked back inside the black yawn that was Ravenhurst. “I don’t know. I thought she was right behind me.”

  The warm day became unexpectedly cold as the sun took a fugitive position behind several passing dark clouds. Warm breezes were replaced with cool winds, whipping at my face and hair. Shadows deepened. A shard of deep blackness seemed to part from the others and move toward the porch.

  I grabbed her arm. “Ari…” Chills rushed over me. “Where is she?”

  A summer storm brewed, making the yard look dark and ominous. Among the trees, shadows—primordial things with darkling eyes—whispered. The skies turned eerie and malignant. Rain touched my face.

  Hang on—eerie and malignant? Sheesh, I’m getting bad vibes from this place.

  We heard someone yell, “Help!” and glanced at each other.

  “HELP! We need help!”

  Cold dread twisted in my gut. My body shivered. We ran, following the shouts into the side yard. I rounded the corner and stopped short. Stared.

  At Jada’s lifeless body.

  Dark splatters of red stained the cement pavers. Her skull was cracked, and her brain peeked from beneath the gaping wound. Her lifeless eyes stared right through me.

  “Call for an ambulance,” I said, fighting to control my roiling stomach.

  Ariana pulled out her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed 911.

  Evans appeared and draped an arm around my shoulders. “Oh, my, this is terrible.”

  Hairs on the back of my neck rose, and the sensation drew my attention to Ravenhurst. It squatted there, its formidable size sinister and imposing. Stained glass windows with their dark shutters, like heavy lids over stony eyes, watched us.

  Ariana sobbed, hovering near the dead girl lying on the new green grass.

  “El Diablo vive aquí,” Carlos said beside me, crossing himself.

  “What does that mean?” I leaned against Evans, my legs gone rubbery.

  “My Spanish is rusty, but I believe he said the devil lives here.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  The landscaper—Miguel—swung his gaze my way and yanked at the collar of his shirt. “I came around the corner with the lawnmower and saw the girl leap from the upstairs window.”

  “Why would she do that?” Ariana came to stand by my side. “She wasn’t suicidal!”

  I wondered the same thing. Why had she gone back upstairs? Had she seen something so terrifying that she’d jumped? Jada seemed scared by our supernatural attack, but she’d wanted to get the heck out of the house to save herself, not get herself killed.

  In the distance was the wail of an ambulance, the sound coming closer every second until the van came to a screeching halt next to us. Paramedics dashed to Jada, but pronounced her dead within minutes of their arrival. We watched them load her body into the back of the ambulance. I couldn’t move. My feet planted into the earth. My thoughts a jumble. My senses shut down. They closed the doors to the van as it sat idling, its red flashers spinning in the driveway.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone.” Ariana’s frown puckered both her brow and her lips. Her face was bleached of color. She hugged me, tears trickling down her cheeks. “She’s dead…what are we gonna do, Shi?”

  “Try to stay calm. Evil thrives on fear.” Frightened, unable to breathe, I hugged Ariana hard then let her go. I took her arm, steering her away from the workmen.

  Evans followed us into the front yard. “Shhh, don’t say anything else right now, Shiloh. Relax.”

  “Don’t shush me! And don’t tell me to relax!” I helped Ariana onto the steps. She sagged against the porch rail, her face in her hands, weeping. “Should we call Trent or his dad? Tell’em about the latest death toll?”

  “Yes, I’ll call Maxwell,” Evans said. “While I do that, please get the men back to work. No need to have them standing around.”

  “No prob.” I glanced at Ariana. “Be back in a minute.” Once I had everyone cleared out and doing their various jobs, I found Evans in the kitchen on the phone with the police.

  “We’ve had another accident…uh-huh. Yes…thank you.” He hung up his cell.

  “Really? An accident? Because I don’t think so.”

  His expression was grim. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this until we know more.”

  “What? You’re joking, right?” I placed my hands on my hips.

  “Please lower your voice. Getting agitated isn’t going to help things.”

  “What will help then? Esael is always one step ahead of us and we still don’t have any idea how to stop him! Who the hell are you?” I knew I was being disrespectful, but this was my second friend to die at Ravenhurst in a month. I was beyond agitated. Beyond frustrated.

  “Sto
p shouting. I’m your mentor and your friend. And while that doesn’t seem to mean anything to you at the moment, it means a great deal to me.” He moved past me and shut the backdoor. “While your friend’s death is dreadful, we don’t exactly know what happened yet. It may not be of supernatural origin.”

  “Please.” I threw him an angry stare. “It is. And you’re supposed to be some kind of expert.” I looked at the floor and centered myself. Taking my frustration out on him wouldn’t help the situation. My tone softened, quivered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out. But c’mon, help me out. You understand more about this stuff than me. What should we do?”

  “Let me look into all the facts first. What was she doing here anyway?”

  I chewed my lip. No way am I telling him how we stupidly used an Ouija Board in Ravenhurst.

  “Nothing. We were just hanging out.”

  His brows puckered. “No more friends here, do you understand? Ravenhurst is obviously precarious.” His tone was gruff and angry. “And Shiloh, need I remind you that this is not something we can discuss openly in front of others.”

  A thunderous vibration rattled the mansion. An eruption of breaking glass and crunching metal. Then silence.

  I sprinted through the house to the front and flung open the door. Ariana stood clutching the porch rail. What I saw made me suck in air. The ambulance had crashed near the end of the driveway into…nothing.

  Shock from the accident gave way to paralyzing fear. The ambulance was flipped on its side and the windshield had exploded, showering the insides with fatal shards of glass. The two front wheels still spinning. Metal grunted like the final howl of a wounded beast. Through what was left of the windshield, a man sagged over the hood. One blood-soaked arm dangled limply. His head was rotated to one side, his mouth open. Eyes wide, unseeing. Everything in my brain shut down for a time. Ariana grabbed my hand. Her body trembled and her hand shook in mine.

  Putrid vapors of smoke and gasoline hung in the air. The ambulance was filled with dark fumes. We drew closer, and the smoke burned my throat and made my eyes water. Workmen raced to the wreckage. No one said anything. Just stared, mouths open. Each person gaped in confusion. No one moved for a minute until the engine caught fire; flickers of orange and black flames leaped from between the twisted steel. The heat became unbearable.

  Evans strode across the yard, pausing to take in the scene. Everyone else sprang into action, shouting and hollering orders. Chaos erupted. Licking flames filled the skyline. The foreman, Judd appeared carrying a fire extinguisher. He aimed the nozzle at the flames, dousing them with the snow-white foam.

  I let go of Ariana and edged closer, covering my mouth and nose with one hand, coughing violently. Sparks vomited from the engine, burning the grass. Men rushed about, working together to pull the paramedics from the wreckage and lay them on the grass. They laid the paramedics on the grass. The passenger was dead. Workmen opened the backdoors and searched inside the vehicle. Jada’s body had disappeared.

  The driver, scrawny and tall, moaned. He lifted his head and stared into my eyes.

  “Something black,” he rasped. “It covered the road.” I squatted beside him and took his hand. Soot, shards of glass, and blood dirtied his face. “A dark shadow leapt in front of the van,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It happened so fast. Appeared out of nowhere…I saw its eyes. Yellow—inhuman eyes.” His head dropped to the side, his body went stiff. I let go of his hand, tears sliding from my eyes.

  I stood and examined the accident. No signs of what caused the crash. No skid marks or indications of a collision. What caused the ambulance to roll over? Nothing near the van except the oaks swaying in the breeze. No tree branches were littering the driveway or anything else obstructing the road.

  Another ambulance raced down the driveway, followed by the coroner, a tow truck and a police car. The vehicles parked at crazy angles. Sheriff Boyd, a tall African-American clad in a dark blue uniform with big black boots, emerged from his patrol car. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door. His dark brown eyes were sharp and assessing. His bulbous nose dominated his meaty features and his ebony hair was styled in a flattop. The epitome of law enforcement. Of safety. Only his daughter had disappeared just as the others had. Not even a cop could stop a supernatural entity. I narrowed my eyes. Watched him a second longer. Hmm, did he know his wife belonged to a coven gone bad?

  One of the paramedics approached him, and they spoke together in hushed voices. Sheriff Boyd nodded several times. When their conversation ended, he nodded in my direction.

  After two hours, Ariana drove home and Sheriff Boyd cleared the scene. The police were baffled by the accident and didn’t have any clues on the whereabouts of Jada’s corpse.

  Of course, I knew where she was. Rotting somewhere inside Ravenhurst. Her body anyway. Her soul would’ve been sucked out by now.

  “Is it cool if I go home?” I asked Evans.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied. “I’ll inform Maxwell of the…the unfortunate mishap.”

  As I drove down the driveway, a soft drizzle splattered the windshield. Like the tears stinging my eyes. Because I was no closer to figuring out who was next on the supernatural hit list…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Friday, on the way to the memorial service, I picked up Ariana, and if her red eyes were any indication, she’d been crying all night too. Her curly hair was pulled into a ponytail and she had on minimal makeup. Her dress was similar to mine except it had shorter sleeves. Earlier, I’d called Evans and told him I would be to work by noon. Then I had taken a shower and pulled on a knee-length black dress with ballet flats. I hoped it was acceptable attire for Jada’s wake.

  “How are you holding up?” Ariana plopped onto the passenger seat.

  “Not too good. This whole thing’s friggin’ bizarre.”

  I slipped my right arm around her shoulders. “Well, the nefarious plot thickens.” I shifted into gear and moved forward, merging with the traffic toward Harrison Street.

  “How?”

  “I suspect there’s a supernatural hit list on the kids in Whispering Pines. I don’t know everything yet, but I’m gonna find a way to stop it.”

  Yeah how? I’ve been a witch for—what? Well…technically, my entire life, but actually, only a few months. I’m still learning spells and magick. And I have no idea what I’m doing.

  “Why do you think it’s supernatural?”

  I glanced at her. “It’s a feeling. My spidey senses are tingling. Big time…”

  The church parking lot was crammed. Congested. Half the community had come to the service. I parked in the back row and turned off the engine. I could sit there and pretend like I knew nothing. Act as if nothing had changed. Or I could tell my best friend the truth.

  I took a deep breath and blurted, “Ari, there’s something I need to tell you…I’m a heritage witch. There’s a demon stalking me, and I’ve been communicating with Trent’s dead mother. Oh! And shades—paranormal shapeshifters—have been menacing me for years.” I heard myself utter the words, not sure if I should be proud of myself or shocked at the courage I had to finally say the things I’d held in silence for so long.

  “Are you serious?” Ariana turned in her seat to face me.

  I watched the cars as they came into the parking lot. I knew we should get out and greet Jada’s family, but instead I kept sitting in the car, with both hands firmly on the steering wheel. Knuckles turning white. Gut churning. “Uh… I guess my family has powers like on that TV show Charmed. I’m studying Wicca. Truthfully, I’m still figuring it out. But I do have mad skills.” I rushed on, my words tripping over my tongue. “I’ve been training with Evans—he’s like, super knowledgeable about the paranormal. And my aunt gave me a bunch of journals written by my ancestors. They’re actually grimoires, with spells and rituals.”

  Ari turned back around and stared out the windshield. Her face was blank. She did not respond. Instead, she sat unmoving, not
one muscle, not even a tremor, though her aura burned brightly. Either she didn’t know what to say or was stunned speechless by my confession.

  I lightly touched her arm. “Ari?”

  She slowly faced me. Tears leaked from her eyes. “I knew it. People have been saying your mother’s family is different for years. My aunt is scared to death of Jillian. She told me she’s a powerful dark witch. But when she said it, she whispered and looked around like she was afraid. That freaked me out. I never said anything because you’re my best friend and I didn’t care.”

  Well this confirms it. Jillian’s a dark witch. Actually, that explains a lot.

  Ariana became quiet. I held my own silence. We sat for a minute, and I chipped at my nail polish. “Did I mention I have mad skills?” I said softly, trying to lighten the sullen mood.

  “Mad,” she agreed. “And who wants to be normal anyway? Normal is boring.”

  “Yeah. Anyone can be an average teenager—but I’m a teen with super powers.”

  Now I won’t be the bizarre quirky girl who can quote Charmed.

  “Could you have saved Jada?”

  Wow. Good question. I hesitated, then my eyes met hers and I said quietly, “No, I don’t think so. But I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Sometimes I think I’m losing it…but someone has to figure out why the evil is targeting kids.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Just believe in me.”

  “Always have.” She undid her seatbelt and hugged me. Hard. Relief flooded me.

  Despite the gloomy tone of our conversation, I found it impossible not to return her smile. “I know. But you can’t tell people, Ari,” I whispered. “The founding members of this community ran away from the persecution of witches in Europe. Stories regarding witchcraft won’t be good. Especially with all this death.”

  “Sure. Like wow. My brain is on overload. So what can you do?”

  “It was hard for me to swallow initially too, but I’m accepting now. I have sight”—I made hand quotes in the air— “and I can do spells, and I’m telekinetic.” I looked into her eyes. I’d always believed eyes were like windows, revealing the truth or the lies. “Can I ask you something?”