My Tethered Soul: Volume 2 (Reaper's Rite)

by Dorothy Dreyer

  “Kids, this is Helene Foley.” Lilura pointed to each of us as she spoke. “Helene, this is Chase, Zadie, Gavin, and Naomi.”

  “Meow. Pleasure to meet you, darlings. Though I feel I know you already. Lilura’s told me so much about you all.”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine Lilura chatting on the phone with this woman, filling her in on all the details of our lives.

  “There are two more coming along.” Lilura said. “Guess they got caught in traffic or something.”

  “No worries at all. Please have a seat. Can I get anybody anything to drink?”

  Lilura’s eyes widened and she gave us all a look, shaking her head.

  “No, thank you,” I said, taking her hint. I had to bite back a laugh, though. Lilura drank the bitterest tea that existed. It was hard to imagine Helene could serve something worse.

  Even though I had been sitting for hours, I grabbed a spot on the couch next to Gavin. Lilura sat in a fluffy purple chair, nearly sinking halfway to the floor, and Naomi perched herself on the arm of the love seat. Crossing his arms over his chest, Chase stood by the living room entrance.

  “It’s just that it’s so hot.” Helene reached into another drawer and pulled out a bright pink oriental fan. She walked over to the couch, fanning herself, but stopped once to check out her reflection in the buffed silver surface of a decorative teapot on the coffee table. She sat daintily in the spot next to me.

  “We’re waiting on the other two,” Lilura said. “Then we can get going.”

  “All right.” Helene set the fan on her lap and then opened her eyes wide, looking around at us all. “Quite a thing going on, isn’t it? Well, don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

  Lilura shifted in her chair. “Um. Thank you… for helping us.”

  I’d never heard Lilura thank anyone before. I let the moment sink into my memory. When I stopped to think about it, it was hard to imagine these two women as friends. They shared the connection that they were both Vila, but did they have anything else in common? I tried to imagine what it was like when they used to hang out.

  “Oh, you know I’d do anything for you, darling.” Helene smiled sweetly, then fanned herself again. Lilura grunted in response.

  The roar of a motorcycle sounded outside.

  Lilura stood. “That would be Hunter and Mara. We should probably get going if we want to arrive before dark.”

  “Chase, darling,” Helene called. “Would you mind going into that room there and grabbing my suitcase?”

  Chase glanced at Lilura before nodding. He strode off to fetch the suitcase, and the rest of us stood to head outside. I sighed. How many more hours of driving did we have ahead of us? It was early afternoon, and if Lilura wanted to leave now so we’d get to the Poulters’ before dark, it meant we’d be stuck in the car for a while. Gavin took my hand and gave it a squeeze, gently rubbing his thumb over my skin like he always did.

  Outside, Mara and Hunter stood by his motorcycle. Mara held her helmet under one arm, her usually gorgeous hair matted to her head. She rolled her eyes when she looked at me. I wondered how the ride had been. My guess was that it wasn’t as bad as Mara pretended it to be.

  Chase rolled out Helene’s suitcase, which was leopard printed to match her blouse.

  “Oh my God.” Helene lifted her sunglasses to survey our ride. “You still have that car? I thought that thing would be retired to some museum by now.”

  “Shut up and get in the front seat before I stuff you in the trunk,” Lilura said.

  Helene giggled and sashayed down the driveway. Sable pranced toward us, then stretched her front paws on the car door as if she wanted to be let in. “Meow,” Helene said to her.

  While the rest of us piled into the car, Chase and Hunter exchanged some words. I figured they were probably discussing directions and which route to take. I was distracted from their meeting when Helene took out a can of hairspray from her bag and doused her do. I coughed and waved my hand in the air.

  “Sorry about that, darling.” Helene primped the sides of her hair. “When you get to be my age, you hold on to all the beauty you can. Isn’t easy when you’re not allowed to use powers for that kind of thing.”

  I studied her. She must have felt my eyes on her, because she turned around in her seat and raised a brow at me.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” I rubbed my hands on my jean shorts and offered a small smile. “Aside from Lilura, my mom, and my sister, I’ve never met another Vila before. Not that I know of anyway. I mean, a year ago, I didn’t even know what a Vila was.”

  “Oh, I’m much more than a Vila, darling.” She winked at me. “Vila, astrologist, fortune teller, card reader, and medium.”

  Naomi looked impressed. “Medium?”

  “Yeah, forget your fancy cellular service.” She waved a ring-laden hand in the air. “This gal right here is a direct line to the spirit world.”

  Naomi scooted forward in her seat. “You mean you talk to dead people?”

  Helene laughed and patted her hair. “Honey, I’ve talked to more dead people than living ones. Dead people have a lot more interesting things to say. Most of them are more fun too.”

  Lilura snorted and shook her head.

  “That’s why I’m coming along with you, you know.” Helene batted her heavy lashes at me.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “You’re going to need a medium if you want to contact a dead witch.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun just kissed the mountains in the distance when we pulled up to the Poulters’ property. Behind a massive, black, cast-iron fence, the mansion stood in all its imposing glory. It wasn’t dark and gloomy, like the image my mind conjured up when I thought of a witch’s home. On the contrary, it was built of pristine white stone with slate gray trim on all the windows and on the front double door. The lawn was an ensemble of hemlock trees and Weigela bushes, all spread out in a beautiful display on the yard of immaculately manicured grass. In the middle of the curving cobblestone walk stood a fountain with a gargoyle spraying water out of its ears and mouth.

  Chase pulled the car up to the speaker box at the gate. When he pressed the call button, I bit my lip. Would they let us in? After all, we were unannounced guests paying a visit to ask the impossible. Miraculously, the gate swung open. It moved at an annoyingly slow pace, but at least we weren’t turned away.

  The driveway veered to the right of the house. We were silent as Chase shut off the engine, glancing at each other as if we all knew this might not work. Gavin opened his door first, and I was glad to get out of the car after sitting for so long. I stretched out my legs and my back, staring up at the huge mansion and wondering what waited for us inside.

  Gavin gave my shoulders a squeeze. “You ready?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  Lilura, clutching the handle to Sable’s basket, slammed her door after Helene got out of the car. She grunted and turned her nose up in the air. “What a pretentious house. What do they need all those rooms for?”

  “For all the servants, probably,” Chase said. Gavin let out a small laugh.

  “What’s taking Hunter and Mara so long?” I looked out to the road, half expecting them to pull up.

  Chase checked his phone. “They stopped for gas. I texted him directions, though. They’ll be here soon.”

  “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Helene checked her face in her compact, then puckered up and air-kissed her reflection. For a second I wondered if she thought of life as a show, hence all the makeup.

  Gavin took my hand as we followed Helene up the cobblestone walk to the front door. The sky turned a mix of purple and orange, darkening with every step we took. The huge sweeping porch was insanely clean, as if someone had banned dirt and leaves and insects from trespassing.

  Helene glanced at Chase when we reached the door. He breathed in and out slowly, clearly frustrated by Helene’s expectations of him. He rang the doorbell. A w
olf howled in the distance.

  “That didn’t just happen, did it?” Naomi asked. “I mean, they had to have that rigged to happen. Somehow.”

  After waiting a minute and a half, Chase rang the doorbell again. He then reached up and used the brass knocker mounted on the door. It was shaped like a bear’s head, and the knocker ring protruded from its nose.

  Just as I felt it was a hopeless effort, the massive door cracked open. In the shadow of the house, two eyes appeared. The person inside inched forward, peering at us suspiciously. As the door opened further, we were met with the stoic glare of a liver-spotted face. The balding old man stood as if he carried something heavy on his shoulders.

  “Can I help you?”

  Helene didn’t miss a beat. “We’re here to see Morgan Poulter, darling.” She batted her lashes while flashing a bright smile. Lilura rolled her eyes.

  “Who, may I ask, is calling?”

  “Tell her Helene is here. She’ll know who I am.” She primped her hair and tilted her head.

  The old man glanced down at the floor. “You may enter the foyer, and I will announce you to the mistress.”

  “You do that.”

  As we entered the foyer, the old man flicked on the light. Was he ordered to keep the room dark unless visitors arrived? He closed the door once we were all inside and then walked through a marble archway at the end of the foyer. I took a moment to let the surroundings sink in. In the center of the black-and-white-checkered floor sat a huge, round, mahogany table. An enormous vase stood upon it displaying an arrangement of bird of paradise and white orchids. The sparkling chandelier lit the centerpiece bouquet below it.

  Sable jumped from the basket and inspected the floor.

  “Wow, this place is clean.” Naomi whistled.

  Lilura narrowed her eyes at her. “What? You expected witches to be dirty? Dust and cobwebs and a cauldron in the corner?”

  Naomi shrugged.

  “Well, they do have cauldrons.” Helene winked. “Just not any in plain sight.”

  “Listen, Helene. Don’t be shooting your mouth off at anyone.” Lilura pointed a yellowed fingernail at her. “The last thing I need is for you to go and screw it all up with your hoity-toity attitude.”

  Helene giggled. “You shouldn’t worry so much, sweetheart. It gives you wrinkles.”

  Lilura looked as if she was about to respond, but when she opened her mouth, a barrage of coughs and sputters shot from her lips. Chase stepped into place beside her and rubbed her back. Lilura, still coughing, pushed him away.

  A beautiful, statuesque woman marched into the foyer. She had her black hair pulled neatly into a tight bun. Though I could tell she was probably around my mom’s age, her complexion was flawless. Glowing, even. She wore an expensive-looking, maroon, silk blouse and black dress pants. Her heels looked to be four inches high at least. But what struck me most was the sad look in her eyes.

  Sable backed away from her, then raced into another room.

  “Morgan Poulter,” Helene said in her high-pitched voice. “You haven’t aged at all. I mean, except for the skin and the hair.”

  Mrs. Poulter narrowed her eyes at Helene. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  “Honey, no cat would touch me with the claws I’ve got.” Helene pawed at the air.

  Mrs. Poulter laced her fingers in front of her, totally composed. “Or rather, it couldn’t get near you with all that grease you’ve got on your face.”

  Helene giggled. “If you want my beauty secrets, all you have to do is ask. Goodness knows you need it.”

  Mrs. Poulter took in a deep breath, but kept her expression complacent. She momentarily glanced at the rest of us, but then focused her attention back on the petite woman in front of her. “Is there a purpose for your darkening of my doorstep, Helene?”

  “Please. You know this is the best your doorstep’s looked in years.” Helene flung a strand of her hair over her shoulder. “Or at least it was before you came into the room.”

  Mrs. Poulter actually smirked for a second, then regained her composure, smoothing her hair back and checking the tight bun at the back of her head. “Out with it already. How can I help you?”

  Helene lifted her chin. “We’re here to talk about breaking the Reaper’s Rite.”

  Mrs. Poulter’s eyes narrowed at Helene. She then scrutinized the rest of us, her eyes like searing hot blades as they fell on me.

  “And I suppose this is no ordinary posse, is it? What do we have here?”

  Helene pointed a perfectly manicured nail at each of us. “Three Vila, an alchemist, a Cation, and—should we need to perform a sacrifice ritual—a human virgin.”

  Naomi’s jaw dropped. “Hey!”

  We all turned to her. She lowered her chin.

  “Not that it’s not true. Just don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room.”

  Lilura let out another round of coughs. She hunched over a bit more than usual. Chase supported her arm, as if she would fall if she didn’t have something to hold on to.

  Mrs. Poulter raised a delicate hand in front of her. “As much as I’d love to indulge in what I’m sure is a hilarious attempt at performing some kind of magical spell, I cannot help you in regards to the Reaper’s Rite. There’s simply no way around it.”

  Helene’s voice took on a serious tone. “You and I both know you’re lying, Morgan.”

  “I have no reason to lie.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re a direct descendant of the witch who originally made the pact. Seems to me that means you have plenty to lose.”

  Mrs. Poulter took a deliberate step closer to Helene, eyes locked. “You’re a crazy old woman. You always have been, and you always will be. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. Please see yourselves out.”

  Suddenly, Lilura moaned and slipped from Chase’s grasp, collapsing to the floor. I rushed to her side, crouching on the black-and-white tile. Lilura’s eyes were closed, and I couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

  “What trickery is this, Helene?” Mrs. Poulter asked.

  “No trickery, I promise.” Helene helped us prop Lilura up. “Now prove to me you’re not Satan’s daughter and help us bring her to a couch or something.”

  Mrs. Poulter hesitated for a second, nostrils flaring on her otherwise perfectly put-together face, before stepping toward Lilura and helping us lift her.

  “This way.”

  She led us into a living room with a huge fireplace. Mrs. Poulter held her hand out in the direction of a fancy-looking couch. The old man who answered the door stepped into the room beside her. After the struggle to get her into the room, we set Lilura down on the couch and regarded each other. Chase knelt at her side and felt for her pulse. Her eyes popped open. She coughed and wheezed, all the while waving at him to get away from her.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Mrs. Poulter asked.

  “She’s dying.” Chase’s voice was low and soft.

  My eyes widened. “What?”

  He glanced at me only for a second. Then he stood and faced Mrs. Poulter. “We battled a Reaper last fall. The Reaper’s knife cut into Vila skin. A knife rooted in poison, as you know. The Reaper was defeated, the Vila brought to safety. And Lilura… sucked the poison out.”

  I gasped and backed up. Gavin put his hands on my shoulders and Naomi grabbed my hand.

  Chase lowered his voice when he turned to me. “She had to. You would have died otherwise.”

  Tears stung my eyes. “And now she’s dying?”

  My head spun. It was too much for my brain to handle. Too surreal. Lilura saved my life, risking her own? My heart felt like a vice squeezed it. Who else’s pain and suffering would I be responsible for?

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said on a shuddered breath.

  Chase averted his gaze. “She made me promise not to.”

  I shook my head, unable to get a firm grasp on the situation.

  Mrs. Poulter pressed her lips together. “If she’s dying, why did you
bring her here?”

  Chase’s face reddened and he clenched his jaw. “She’s the best Vila still alive. She knows more than anyone, witches included. We need her knowledge—and your witchcraft—to break the pact.”

  I actually flinched at the strength of Chase’s voice.

  Mrs. Poulter narrowed her eyes at Chase. “What makes you think I would help you?”

  Helene stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Mrs. Poulter’s arm. “Morgan, there’s good in you. There always has been. Look at this girl. Her mother was taken away to a psychiatric hospital. Her sister was in a coma last year. Her Reaper possessed her until this one took him down. And it’s not over. You need to help us stop the torment.”

  Mrs. Poulter darted her eyes between us, brows lowered and mouth in a thin line. “I still don’t see why it’s any of my business.”

  “Let’s just say this is as much your business as it was mine to save you from that angry mob that was out to get you years ago.”

  Mrs. Poulter regarded Helene. She crossed her arms and tapped her fingernails against her elbow. “I can’t promise anything. There are no guarantees here. But I will help. We’ll at least do what we can.”

  Helene smiled.

  Mrs. Poulter gestured for us to take a seat on the many couches and chairs in the room. As I scooted in next to Gavin, my eyes immediately went to the giant samurai sword displayed above the bookcase. By the window, tall porcelain statues stood. The carpets were white and plush. It struck me again that this wasn’t at all what I imagined a witch’s house would look like.

  Mrs. Poulter turned to the old man waiting by the door. “Jeffrey, please bring our guest a glass of water, and then call my children down.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jeffrey nodded and left the room.

  With a scowl on her face, Lilura tried to sit up. Chase stepped toward her, as if to help, but when she shot him a hostile look, he backed up and stuck his hands in his trench coat pockets.

  Sable rushed into the room, hopping up on the couch next to Lilura. She meowed and gently pawed at her arm. Was she checking on her owner?