by Martha Woods
“It's part of it. She blames me for it.”
“Why?” They were reaching the top of the hill.
“She's going to see me, Sara.”
“Alright.”
He kissed her on the cheek and left, leaving her with a soft whisper that seemed to dissipate along with his presence. “Ask her about Priscilla.”
“Who's Priscilla?” Sara turned around to see her grandmother motioning her to come inside. She sat back down at the table and summoned up a lit cigarette. This was the first time that Sara had seen her grandmother smoke. She was surprised. “Sit down.”
“Who is she?” Sara took her seat.
“That little shit is going to really piss me off. I've wanted him dead for years. I can't believe he came back here. Now he's toying with your head.” She shot up out of her chair, pointed the finger at the hutch to sweep it to the side and reveal a hidden compartment in the back wall, just a square. Inside it was sitting an ancient book, so old that the ends of the pages were black with wear.
“What is that?”
“It's a Grimoire, a witch's spell book.” It flew across the room and landed in front of her.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I'm going to kill the bastard.”
“Wait, what?” She tried to take the book, but it moved away of its own accord. “Why?”
“Because the son of a bitch is begging for it.”
“What did he do, grandma?”
She started pacing around, shaded by a thick cloud of smoke that smelled like burning piss. “He killed my sister.”
“He did? I thought you said that she tried to kill him with the scythe.”
“She did and when it backfired it killed her and her daughter. That innocent little girl—she...”
Margaret collapsed on the ground and started pounding on the floor, sending purple sparks flying out with her fists. Sara was up before she knew it, wrenching her grandmother up off the ground, holding her soft form close, while Margaret cried like a little girl. Margaret was a pillar of strength, so powerful that Sara had always considered being a deified archetype. Even when Sara first got there and she hated the woman, she still recognized that nothing could break her. She thought her grandmother would stand up to anything.
Now she was lying in a pile of tears on Sara's shoulder, and Sara was starting to realize just how weak the woman was. Just her sister's name could send her flying off the handle. She helped her grandmother sit back down at the table and waited silently while she finished her cigarette. When she was done, she looked up at Sara.
“What happened?”
“Caleb stalked her since high school. He had us all fooled with his talk about living without blood. He saved her life several times too. He said he was watching over the house and in return we let him go past our boundaries and come inside to see Priscilla. When she got older, she left home to travel and wound up falling in love. When she came back with the child, he found her and got upset. He wouldn't stop coming, trying to talk to her. He told her that he loved her. Then he turned and threw her to the ground right out there in the living room near the fireplace. He was screaming at her, telling her that he loved her and she betrayed him.
That's when she used the scythe. Her toddler, Isabella, ran out of my arms when the air went cold and flew directly into the scythe's path. Then it backfired and flung back at her. He refused to leave after that. I had to kick him out myself. I would've used the scythe had it not been for what had just happened.”
It sounded more like a lover's quarrel to Sara. If he had wanted her dead, he would've killed her. Maybe her grandmother didn't know that. Maybe she was still too caught up in what happened to her sister to be able to think straight about it. What Sara learned from her grandmother's story was that Caleb was more of a touchy subject than a killer. Maybe she was just prejudiced.
Sara couldn't argue with her, though. This was the death of Margaret's sister they were talking about. She was going to take her opinion of that scenario to the grave. It wouldn't matter what anyone said. Nobody was more stubbornly ignorant than a pissed off Bishop witch.
“I saw something today,” Sara said.
“What?”
“You're going to flip your shit, but I don't care. He took me to his house up in the hills. It was this ancient English country home that was falling apart at the seams.”
“I know. Why the fuck did you go there?”
“He took me upstairs and showed me this mirror.”
“He what!” Margaret shot off her feet. “Do you have any idea why?”
“Yes. Now sit down and let me tell my story, OK?”
Margaret did what Sara asked.
“Anyway, he's been trying to figure out why his brother's hunting us. I think it's so Caleb can reason with him, but it won't work. So I asked the mirror, as carefully as I possibly could. I was transported to this ancient wooden shack, sometime in the nineteenth century, I think. I saw the witch shooting up. Then her slave came in and used the scythe.”
“Oh no.” Margaret gasped.
“I'm still not right from it, but I know how to use it now.”
“Never use the scythe.” Margaret locked eyes with Sara. “Just because we can summon up energy doesn't mean we're expected to use it. It's unnatural.”
“Do you know anything about his brother Stuart?”
“No,” Margaret answered. “Caleb may seem open and honest, but there're all sorts of things he isn't telling you. He's got you, and there is nothing I can do to stop him from hurting you, just like my sister.”
“He's trying to help me. He said you can kill Stuart. He cares about me so much he's willing to give the go ahead for us to kill his brother just to save my life.”
“I don't buy it. I'm going to kill both of them.”
“It's too dangerous,” Sara said.
“It's worth the risk. We've got two vampires hunting us. One will cut you open the second you walk out the door. The other is taking his time. I say Caleb's worse. A quick death is better than a slow one. I don't care how blind you are. I will not let him keep doing this to you because I've seen where this ends up.”
“He feels so much, Grandma. He loves so much more than witches do. That's what happened. He was jealous when he found out about Priscilla, so he got upset. You can't judge an entire species based upon your narrow view of the actions of one man. Vampires are individuals just like we are. They have personalities and temperaments. They love. They grieve. They don't lose their humanity. They still have free will.”
“I'm not going to take the chance. They all kill. They all hunt. It's their defining characteristic.”
“If you kill him, I will leave, and you will never see me again.”
“Sara, this is about staying safe and doing what it takes to survive. You don't take risks when it comes to your survival. You just don't. What if I'm right and you're just a teenager in love?”
“You're wrong.”
“Maybe so,” Margaret sat down and started going through the book, “but even if I am wrong, I'm going to make sure you're safe.”
“You think it's OK to just take somebody's life like that? He hasn't done anything to us. Stuart was the one that killed my mother, not Caleb.”
“I'm not listening.”
“You know what's really fucked up about this, Grandma? You have all of the tools that you need to find out the truth about this. You've got cards. You can try. But you've never actually sat down and done any of those things because you're too afraid of what you'll see. You want a scapegoat. You don't want to have to face the fact that your sister wasn't capable of performing one of the most difficult spells there is. It's fucking pathetic.”
Sara knew right away that she had hit the mark because her grandmother started crying. Then she got up, stood still, apparently uncertain of what to do. When she finally sat down again, she was completely drained of her energy.
“Don't you fucking dare kill him. So help me god, you w
ill regret it.”
“We'll kill his brother.”
“How?”
“I don't know yet. Let me make some dinner. Please stay in tonight, Sara. I don't want to have to worry.”
Sara delayed her reaction just to prolong her grandmother's suffering.
“I need you here, Sara. Please.” Margaret had soft, dark rings underneath her eyes and her hair was frazzled, flaring out on all ends. She was losing her mind. Sara saw her as a stern authority figure, somebody who she could rebel against and beat up, but Margaret was fragile. She needed love and attention as much as Sara did, and Sara was treating her like shit.
“I'll stay.” She got up and hugged her grandmother. “What are you making?” She asked.
“I don't know.”
“Then don't make anything. I'll cook.”
Chapter 16
“What are you going to do?” Margaret was sitting at the table with Sara the next morning, eating a bowl of cereal.
“I think that I should tell Caleb that you've agreed to kill him.”
“Will he help us?”
“Honestly, Margaret. He's conflicted. It's his brother. I suggested it, and he agreed. Then he got upset. If we kill Stuart, I'm afraid he's going to lose it. I don't know what to do, but he's useful. I think that given the right amount of motivation he might be able to make sure that we succeed.”
“Can he fight Stuart?”
Sara took a bite of her cereal. “The first time Stuart attacked me, I don't remember much except that he managed to throw Stuart off of me. Then he gave me a blood transfusion, and I think he gave me some of his blood because I had a gash on my neck where Stuart tore it open.”
“Oh my God.”
“They have these rough tongues like sandpaper.” Sara took a drink of coffee. “When it rubs up against your cut it takes little pieces of it.”
“They're known to cannibalize if you could call it that.” Margaret pushed her bowl away. “What does he say about Stuart?”
“Nothing. They're estranged. Stuart won't talk to him. Caleb has been trying to figure out why he's going around hunting people, but he hasn't gotten an answer until yesterday. He's killing every witch he can find because a witch killed his lover.” Sara laughed bitterly. “Caleb said that Stuart is a black and white thinker just like you. He's generalizing an entire species just like you did.”
“I don't trust them, and I never will, but if Caleb can help us, then I will allow it so long as you think it's safe.”
“I'm going to speak about it with him first. Will you do me a favor and let him into the barrier.”
“No. he can never enter. I don't care if you two are married. It's not happening.”
“You've got to get over this.” She sighed. “Is there a way to fly?”
“We can lift ourselves and move around, but it's too hard to control to be able to use it as a means of transportation. Even if it were I wouldn't suggest it. You're bound to have people seeing you do it.”
“You're right. What about secrecy?”
“Well,” Margaret cocked her head to the side. “That's a complicated matter. You see, we don't want to be exploited, so it's best not to just run out and tell the news. It's not safe. But individuals don't matter. I told my husband and some of his family before he died. We used magic openly in the home. But please don't go around flaunting it.”
“Makes sense.”
“In general, Sara, it's best to take a conservative approach to things. You've used magic most witches don't even come into contact with. You know how dangerous it can be.”
“You're right. But what about experimentation?”
“If you want to experiment with water or ice go right ahead. If you want to experiment with molten metal and lightning, you'd best just leave it alone.”
“It's that simple?”
“To a point. There's a lot of magic. You don't really know anything yet.” Margaret flew her bowl into the sink
“You're right.” Sara did the same. “Will you do me a favor?”
“What's that?”
“Will you walk me to the edge of the protection charm. I don't want to walk out of it only to find that Stuart is waiting for me.”
“Yes,” Margaret got up, “and I need to teach you how to use what we call the spiritual phone.”
“What's that? Instant communication? We've already got that?”
“It's effortless. It can send emotions, images, information about scenarios—anything you want and you will emit it when you are in trouble.”
“How do I do it?”
Margaret tried her best to help Sara understand the energy of communication. It was a difficult abstract concept, something that Sara didn't take to quickly, but like most of the spells she'd done, she could reproduce it easily once she understood it.
Before Sara left, she gave her grandmother a hug. “Thank you.”
“Just use it if you have any trouble and tell me where you are. I will come as fast as I can.”
“OK, Grandma.”
When Sara walked outside, the ocean breeze was shrieking through the hills. It was unsettling the way it roared the past, cutting into Sara's cheek. “Caleb?”
“I'm here.” He was sitting cross-legged outside the perimeter.
“What are you doing waiting so close?”
“I don't want you to leave without me knowing. You could get hurt, so I've been staying outside the house.”
“How long have you been doing that?”
“Since the first time you got attacked. Stuart's here too I'm sure. I've been trying to find him, but he won't let me.”
“Is there someplace safe we can talk?”
“Yeah.” Caleb ducked down and pecked her on the lips then took her to his house. He had a formal parlor with antique purple horsehair couches and a marble coffee table. He seemed to have maintained the room really well.
“Have you got any idea what you'd like to do to take care of him, Caleb?” Sara sat down on the couch, and he sat down next to her.
“I need to talk to him. I haven't seen him in almost a century. Even then it was just a whisper. He's going through some sort of mental turmoil. We vampires hold onto things longer.”
“You feel things more than witches do.”
“Yes. I think that he's been doing this a long time, but it wasn't until I came back here and saw you that I realized what was going on.”
“Do you have any idea why he followed me around the country. Am I special?”
“No. I think that he is going after you because you're a witch. He's angry at the entire species, not just you. If that were the case, he'd have killed you a long time ago before I met you.”
“Caleb,” Sara said, “I can't wait for you to try to hunt him down. It's not going to work. He'll just keep leaving. You're going to have to accept the fact that to ensure my safety I need to have him killed.”
“We need to think of every alternative first. I'm not going to let you do that until I know that there's no other choice.”
“What if I get killed in the meantime?”
He shook his head. Sara was infuriated by his stubbornness. “I will stay close me to make sure that you don't get hurt.”
“It's not enough, Caleb. My grandmother agrees. She's ready to kill him, and she's willing to allow you to help. We need you. I need you. You can't deny the truth. He's got to die.”
“He's my brother. Just give me some time first.” Caleb got up and pulled away.
“Think of how many people he's killed.”
“When a vampire dies, they don't get to live in the spiritual world. They just cease to exist. The death of a vampire is an atrocity. It's something that we try to avoid at all costs. I can't let you do it, Sara. I'll think of a way.”
“And if he gets too close, what do I do? Let him kill me?”
“You just can't allow yourself to get into that situation.”
“I can't live like this. I need my freedom.”
“And you
'll have it?”
“That could take decades. You have seen him in more than a hundred years. Vampires don't see time the way humans do. To you, a year is like a day. To me, it's an eternity. I'd have to live this entire time stuck in that house unless I have an escort that may or may not be able to save my life.”
“I can't allow it!”
“My grandmother is going to do it with or without you. You have to find a solution soon because I can't stop her.”
“Let me take you home.” Caleb picked her up without responding to what she was saying. Then dropped her off at the barrier perimeter.
“Caleb.” Margaret strode out of the house with a straight-lipped look on her face.
“Margaret.” He nodded his head in respect and held out his hand for her to shake it.
She ignored the gesture stayed within the barrier's protection.
“You're wrong about what happened Margaret. I know that you blame me for Priscilla's death.”
She scoffed. “You assaulted her. You had no claim on her. Yet you did it anyway. I will not let you walk away without taking some of the blame.”
“I never tried to kill her. I wasn't stalking her decades waiting for my chance. How do you come up with this shit? You've known me for years.”
“That's what you did. Vampires can't be trusted. Killing is a part of your nature.”
“And what about yours?” His voice got louder. “Your sister tried to kill me. Now you're trying to kill my brother.”
Margaret's hair started blowing in a psychic wind and the clouds gathered above them. She was exploding with static energy that flew off her body. “The second one of you touches my own, I will cut you down, and you cannot say one word about it.” She turned to Sara. “Get inside.”
Sara tried kiss Caleb but when she turned around to face him he was gone.
Chapter 17
“We need his help and you thoroughly disrespected him.” Sara stormed inside and sat down on the couch in the living room. Everything in the house was antiquated just like Margaret's ideals.
“He needs to know not to mess with a Bishop witch, and you should not be running off to have adolescent affairs with him.”
