by Sherry Soule
“Ah, man, I’m sorry. Everyone you trust turning against you. That’s harsh. Still Trent should’ve believed you and understood.”
“Ari, it’s fine. You don’t have to make him the bad guy too.”
“Yes, I do! That’s the best friend’s duty. Do the name calling and the fault-finding.”
I groaned. “It sucks. I miss Trent so much it hurts. But he didn’t come for me. He obviously didn’t do enough to stop Jillian from dumping me in a psych ward. Whatever I felt for him had to have been one-sided. Even though we both felt this pull, you know? This magical connection between us.” My throat closed, but I managed a fragile smile. “I’m just trying to keep from breaking apart.”
“Don’t cry.” Tears welled in Ariana’s eyes too. “You’ll always have me.”
Leaning against her shoulder, I wept. “I can’t breathe. It hurts…bad.”
She stroked my hair and cried along with me. After I stopped bawling, Ariana handed me a tissue. “Your parents must be worried sick. Do you want to at least call them and tell’em where you’re at?”
I blew my nose, and wiped the snot and tears from my face. “And say what? Oh, I’ve escaped and by the way, you guys are mean nasty parents who had me incarcerated and you suck.”
She bobbed her head. “Or I could call them and say—I have your daughter—so pay up!”
We cracked up through our tears. Then our laughter died and the reality of my heartbreaking world caved in on me again.
“Not sure they realize I’ve left. Besides, I have a plan. I only need to hide out until Trent’s big end-of-summer party this Saturday. Although if they do come looking for me—this would be the obvious place to look.”
“If they show, I’ll pretend I haven’t seen you. And my aunt said her lips are sealed.” She touched my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“Thanks.” I blew my nose again. “I know what Jillian did to me, but she doesn’t know that I know—what she did or what I actually know…wait, what?”
She hit me over the head with a pillow.
“I meant, I realize now Jillian is super twisted. Ugh. That’s when I devised this sketchy plan to confront her. I’m going to sneak into the party to get something that I know is at Ravenhurst, then I’ll go home and face my parents.”
“Do you know what you’re gonna say?”
“No. But the confrontation isn’t really for me—it’s for Trent’s dead mother.”
“You’re wacky—you know that, right?”
“You shouldn’t say that to a person who just fled the nut ward.” Snorting, I threw a pillow at her. She dodged the attack and threw one back, hitting me square in the face. We giggled and it felt nice to be silly with my best friend.
“Shiloh, I don’t think you should do this. I know your heart’s hurting and maybe that’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart, but later…” Ariana hugged a pillow to her chest. “Later you’ll wish you’d handled things differently. Sometimes you have to forgive and move on. Better to let it go.”
I sighed, hanging my head. “I wish I could.” Time to change the subject. “I need to drive to the optician on Monday,” I said. “I need to buy something.”
“You don’t wear glasses.”
“I know…” I sighed. “What’s been happening around town?”
For the next hour, she filled me in on the latest gossip while I sat on the bed with my hands folded behind my head. Ariana’s two bedroom trailer was cramped, but we managed and her aunt didn’t care I was staying there for a few days. Kids in town assumed I was still in the psych ward, which majorly sucked, because now everyone would say they were right about me being weird.
On Saturday, the night of Trent’s party, I was determined to go through with my plan. First, I needed to sneak back into Ravenhurst.
“Are you sure you still wanna do this? We can just stay here and summon Claire with the Ouija board,” Ariana said when I emerged from the shower, where I’d happily shaved my armpits and legs.
“Yes,” I said with such certainty, I surprised myself. Stepping into my jeans and slipping on a pink sequined shirt and my pink Doc Martens, I added, “I’m ready.”
Ariana laid a hand on my arm. “You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
“No, it’s not safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I laid a hand over hers. “It’s just something I have to do alone.”
“I get it and I’ve never told you this, Shiloh, but I think you kick butt. Seriously. I mean, you’re strong to be dealing with all this on your own. I fell apart when my parents took off and left me behind. You...” She bit her lip. “You’ve changed this summer. You’re like the bravest person I know. I respect your strength. Your determination.”
I smiled. Brave? Me? Maybe. I did agree with Ari that I’d changed. I was different. What I was about to do was reckless. Dangerous. It might even get me killed. But I had to save Trent and the kids. If I didn’t try to stop Esael—who would? I hugged Ari, holding tight for a moment too long, then and grabbed my car keys and took off.
The night sky was illuminated with stars and a glowing moon spilled a silvery light over the damp streets. I almost turned back, but then Ravenhurst appeared, its high witch’s cap peaking above the tall pines. Steeped in shadow, darkness echoed and folded in on itself until moonlight was absorbed completely, and the oaks, large mammoths of green foliage bunched over, bent and stooped, pouring more maelstroms of shadows across the hallows of what was the most prestigious house in Whispering Pines.
I parked the Jeep near the entrance and pulled the emergency brake. I sat there for awhile, rebellious and determined to end this tonight. Resentment and hatred collided inside me. Igniting vengeance like steel striking flint. Seeing the mansion again squelched any lingering reservations. All the lies and betrayal stirred my blood like a witch’s cauldron. And turned it just as black.
There’s a reason I met Trent. A reason I came to Ravenhurst. A reason undead Claire won’t leave me alone. Now I need to know what those reasons are.
Headlights on a parade of cars turned into the gravel drive. I slid out of the seat and hid behind an oak, watching the vehicles pass through the entrance. Trent must have invited every kid in Whispering Pines and some from his own school in the city. I spotted him by the entrance fist bumping another guy.
My stomach spasmed. I steadied myself against the tree. Trent looked unbelievably hot in his black shirt, damaged jeans, and badass boots. No time to linger. I sprinted toward the back of the mansion. Easing open the backdoor, I darted toward the rear staircase, unseen amongst the kids huddling around a keg. I crept along the second-floor hall, staying near the walls. Then, startled, I let out a loud gasp.
“Shiloh!” Madison’s warped smile greeted me in the hallway. She looked pretty with her strawberry hair freshly washed.
A grin widened my lips. “You look great tonight.”
The heavy tread of footsteps approached and I hid in a darkened doorway. My breath caught.
“There you are,” Trent said, taking Madison by the elbow. “What are you doing up here?”
“What about Shiloh?”
“She won’t be here tonight. I don’t even know where she is or why she won’t return my calls.” Trent sighed and urged her forward. She resisted.
My mouth slid open. Huh? What does he mean he didn’t know where I was? Of course, he did…didn’t he?
“Where’s Papa?”
“Remember, he had a plane to catch this morning. Business always comes first—you know that,” he said, his voice growing tight. When they reached the staircase, Madison gave me a quick wave before descending the stairs.
I snuck to the second-floor balcony above the foyer and spied on the partygoers below. A DJ spun records “Leave Out All The Rest” by Linkin Park pounded through the surround sound. Ashley and Kayla were laughing and talking to a couple of guys from school. A throng of teens all dressed up in cool party clothes were dancing to the music. Underneath thei
r feet, hardwood floors gleamed like glass. Scanning the crowd, I saw Trent standing with Madison, her arm linked through his. Even from my high perch, I could see girls surrounding him. But I didn’t care. He could have found me. Could have come for me. But he hadn’t. I hadn’t mattered enough to him.
Out the set of triangular windows, a string of clouds gathered and dashed across the moon. Twilight of the Solstice Eve. Wind whistled and screeched through the pines causing the branches to scrape against the sides of the mansion. Hearing the shadows whispering awoke my dormant wits. Obsidian shapes moved with hearts, minds, and breath. Shadows roused, rising, unfolding before my wide eyes, struggling into their true form—shades from the underworld.
I gathered my courage and hurried through the halls until I came to Claire’s bedroom. Unseen winds made me shiver as I eased open the door. I closed it behind me, and the chandelier’s prisms instantly jingled. Shadows in the corners grew darker.
A pang hit the pit of my stomach. I fumbled in the darkness until my finger touched the switch at the base of the lamp. I squinted until my eyes adjusted to the soft light, then recoiled in shock, one hand flying to cover my mouth. A short scream tore from my lips.
Draped over the cobwebbed chandelier hung a cord of rope frayed at the end—ominously dangling there. The rope Claire had used to end her life. Untouched. Just dangling.
Everything was coated with a thick layer of dust. On her dressing table sat silver-framed photos. Against one wall, dozens of antique dolls outlined the shelves, observing me with curiosity. A spider crisscrossed a web between two of them. Dolls from different eras with cracked ceramic faces. Cold porcelain. Glass eyes. Little dresses of satin and ruffled lace. Frozen pink lips plastered into a fake smile and dark nylon hair. Painted lashes. Pale wintery skin. I lifted a doll and her eyes closed and her head lolled back. I cradled her like a mother with an infant, pushing back a ringlet from her face. If her lips could, speak no doubt she’d cry out for affection. Tenderness. A mother’s love. So little, yet holding in so much pain. Silent but screaming inside…like me. I smoothed her grimy dress. Jagged cracks in her face reminded me of my scar. And the fact that I was a dead shell too.
Sadly, it made me realize Trent and I resembled these beautifully broken dolls—fragile, imperfect, scarred, and easily shattered. No way to reconnect the pieces. No magick words to mend our cracked hearts. I knew no one moved through life without collecting scars of different kinds. Scars could be physical or psychological. His father had scarred him. My mother had hurt me. Our emotional scars hid within our souls, locked inside our hearts.
Distracted by a foul odor coming from the bed, I puckered my nose. On the pillow lay a braid of black hair. I touched it. Soft and thick. Just what I needed. Clutching the braid, I rushed from the room. In the hallway, Charm padded over to me, meowing loudly. “Come with me,” I told the cat. We ascended the narrow stairwell that led us into the attic. The vast room was dimly lit by a full moon suspended in a hazy sky. Shadows crooned and grumbled. Little goosebumps traveled across my arms.
“What now?” I cried in frustration to the room. “What do you want of me, Claire?” I waited for an answer. But my questions were met with implacable silence.
Musty whiffs of decay and neglect invaded my nostrils. The chill of the abandoned room crept through my flesh and into the hollow of my bones. I opened the bag I had with me and took out my supplies and my spell book. With my hands slightly trembling, I placed red candles on trunk lids and lit them. From what I’d read, I should be able to summon her spirit. Charm groomed her paw and watched me. I walked to the trunk where I’d found Claire’s letters. Shades watched from the rafters. Chalk in hand, I traced a circle on the hardwood floor and drew symbols for the four elements: Earth, Wind, Air, and Fire. Then I took a jar of salt and poured it around the perimeter. Next, I placed candles over the symbols I’d drawn. Yellow for air, blue for water, red for fire, and green for earth.
In the center of the circle, I placed a fat white candle to represent spirit, the braid of hair, and my dagger. Picking up Charm, I sat cross-legged within the middle of the circle and placed her in my lap. I stroked her fur with one hand and with the other lit the candle with a lighter. Grabbing the dagger, I sliced into my palm, wincing at the pain, and dripped blood onto the hair. I hummed softy to Charm, who purred and settled against me.
A draft made me shudder and the candle flickered. The wooden cradle in the corner rocked back and forth by an unseen motherly hand. The candle blinked and a chill of apprehension descended my spine.
“Spirits of this house, reveal yourselves,” I said in a loud, clear voice. “Arise! Emerge! Beyond heart and home, out of blood and bone, show your true form. With power of moon and night, spirits appear before my sight.” I held the braid of hair I’d taken from Claire’s room, closed my eyes, and sensed the rightness of the spell deep within me.
“Guardians of the Spirit realm heed, my plea. When the hour rings true, bring Claire’s soul to me. Other souls who heed my call are not welcome in this place. Only the soul known as Claire may enter this sacred space.”
I opened my eyes. The white candle sizzled and spat, sending out sparks. I waited for something to happen. Anything. Lightning to streak the sky. Ravenhurst to shudder. The ground to open up.
A dark mist rose at the edge of the circle, smoky tendrils writhing and glowing with an eerie intensity. Candles around the circle sputtered out, plunging the room into darkness. Terror washed through me. My heart contracted. Too dark. Also entirely silent. Nothing. Not even the sighing wind or shadows whispering.
A slight noise disturbed the stillness. Footsteps. Charm twitched her tail, hissing. A scream froze in my throat. My muscles froze too.
Oh. My. God. What have I invited into Ravenhurst? And where did I leave that damn bat?
All at once the candles sprang back to life. The room shifted, shadows crawling toward me from the bends and crooks. Rising from the shadows was a serpent head. Its shape suggested a cobra, but its face held human characteristics. Darkness lengthened and reached out for the entity, helping it to assume the form of a man as the body became more substantial.
Esael glowered with yellow eyes, the mutated face of a serpent. “Why did you summon me?”
Charm howled, looking almost feral. Rather than freak out, I mustered my courage. “I didn’t call you.”
His face in the candlelight was distorted and eerie. “Are you sure?”
“Did I stutter?”
“Don’t be indignant.” Each second I stared at him he appeared more human, not as insubstantial. He was regaining his strength. Esael had on clothes, dark and indescribable. He stood seven feet tall and was sinewy. Scaly body rippling with muscles. No hair on his bald head. His taloned feet raked the floor. His foul sulfur scent, pungent and sharp, made me want to gag.
Panic expanded to every pore of my being. Where did he get clothes? From the trunks? “W—why are you here?”
“You summoned me, thus here I am.” His baritone voice, gruff, menacing.
Nightmare—this has to be a nightmare—not real.
Reading my mind, he said casually, “I am no figment of your imagination.”
Be careful, Shiloh, Esael is a soul-eating demon. Ancient, vile and treacherous. Something you’re totally not ready to face alone.
“You’re upset. Forgive my transgression.” But Esael didn’t seem sorry. “Are you ready to join me now, my sweet?” Esael moved a step closer to the circle. His eyes were unusual, golden and savage.
I jumped to my feet and yelled, “No! And I don’t have time to deal with your crap, Esael.”
“Mmm, I can’t wait to draw out your essence. Drink your potent witch blood.” His voice brushed against my skin, making my flesh prickle.
“Ewww, you sicko.” I scooted away, uneasy. “There’ll be no sucking of the witch’s blood tonight.”
He smirked. “Someday soon, we should have a heart-to-heart. Tell you how the sorceress you call mother res
urrected me years ago. Released me from my underworld prison.”
“How do you know my mother?” My tone sounded strong and didn’t betray the real terror sliding through my veins.
“I know a great deal about you and your powerful family.” Esael paced the outer edge of the circle, but did not enter. His aura squirming. Black and ugly. “The woman who raised you made a bargain with me many years ago. As did the others in her coven.” Esael radiated old magick, shrewdness and deadly cunning. Yet his form wavered, losing strength. His eyes were yellow orbs—searing like the light of the sun. Most substantial thing about him. That, and his demonic voice.
“I don’t understand. What exactly do you want?”
“Why do my sacrifices always ask the same tedious questions? Why are you here? What do you want? When you know why I’m here. You know what I want.” He licked his lips with a forked tongue.
“No…I don’t.” My heart clamored too loud.
“Of course, you do. Look deep within yourself. You bear the mark.” He pointed at my scar. The uneven skin on my wrist burned, stinging with fever. “I need your witch’s blood to become corporeal.”
I struggled to keep the shock his words filled me with from my expression. I held my arm against my ribcage, my chest rising and falling rapidly. “It’s just a scar,” I lied.
Esael advanced, stepping near the edge of the chalky circle. He didn’t cross it. I was safe within, but it gave me little comfort. My body vibrated with tremors. I clutched my stinging arm tighter against my chest and with the other hand, I pointed at his chest. “I bind thee with white light!” A surge of silver magick blasted from my fingertip and hit him. It did nothing more than cause him to take a step back.
He brushed himself off, the magick falling like glitter to the floor. “Another binding spell?” he asked with a menacing chuckle. “But I love the dark.” Esael lifted a black boot onto a trunk and cocked his head.
“So…is there…really a supernatural hit list?” My voice shook. I couldn’t help it.
