Curse Strings

by Rebecca Regnier

I crouched down to her side, to try to ease her down, as the floor was wood. She couldn’t hurt herself if I was the pillow.

  “Frances, I got you,” I said and then I heard her name again, this time outside of our space. It was from the witches who were still in the store, the ones who’d not come into the enchanted area.

  The magic that concealed us disappeared and we were all six, including Frances, perched on the second floor’s narrow walkway.

  Dorothy and Maxine called Frances’ name.

  I had her hand. Fawn crouched down next to me and frantically began to work.

  “Her heart, it’s stopped,” she said to me.

  Her hand was cold, too cold. I rubbed it.

  How had she turned cold so fast? How had I not noticed it during the spell?

  I looked to see Dorothy holding Maxine, who’d begun to cry.

  Oh, no, this couldn’t be!

  The older witches knew before Fawn or I could accept the truth.

  Frances was dead.

  Chapter 9

  Aunt Dorothy, in a crisis, was a sight to see. She was calm, nimble, and projected an air of authority that allowed everyone else to feel good that, at least, they were doing the right things. They knew because Aunt Dorothy told them the things to do.

  We were in shock, stunned. I knew that profound grief was something that would come later. After the immediate moments were managed.

  Except for Maxine. Her grief began the moment she’d called Frances’ name. Dorothy’s, I could see, would come later. When the work was done.

  “Tribute will happen at Beltane, do you understand?”

  Aunt Dorothy passed on her instructions to the ambulance driver. No one questioned her: what Dorothy and Maxine wanted for their friend, would happen. Without question.

  It felt like we were moving in slow motion, from the moment Frances collapsed to the moment the EMTs agreed with Fawn that Frances was beyond help.

  Each member of the coven left to return to their businesses, and to complete the tasks that were assigned.

  Beltane, Ridge Schutte, Alvarado—all of it seemed minor in the face of Frances’ death.

  At Dorothy’s instructions, I wrote an obituary and a press release for Beltane while sitting at a counter in The Broken Spine. Georgianne researched rituals. Fawn, Candy, and Pauline, at Dorothy’s insistence, worked on things for Beltane. But none of us left The Broken Spine. It had become our command central.

  It was evening by the time I looked up. And as such, new faces arrived at the books store.

  Brule appeared in the doorway of The Broken Spine. He had several of his vampires with him, Mario among them.

  Tatum had been the furthest thing from my mind since the moment that Frances collapsed, and I realized with a dull ache all we’d seen during the spell. Mario reminded me, with a sharp pang in my chest, that we’d seen Tatum shoot Tommy Strayhorn in our vision.

  I didn’t know what to do next, or how to fix the mess that our coven and my friend was in.

  “Why didn’t you summon me? We might have been able to help,” Brule asked, and squeezed my shoulder.

  “You mean with Frances? It happened too quickly, and you’re the one who told me that she was ready to go, whenever the time came.”

  “I must talk to Dorothy.”

  Brule found Dorothy, still planning, still in charge. I watched as he took her hand and they began to talk. It wasn’t for me to know about what. Their friendship was longer than my life.

  Mario approached me.

  I wasn’t sure what to say to him. At least he was calmer than the last time I’d seen him.

  “My condolences.” Mario, the man of few words, reached out and gave me a hug.

  “Thank you.” I felt a tear escape and the mysterious vampire in leather produced a hanky. He was thoughtful, even though I knew Tatum still had to be at the top of his mind.

  “I, uh, we saw something,” I said and then couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence. I could not believe that Tatum was a murderer. I had two unbelievable facts swirling around in my head and I didn’t want to deal with either.

  “You have suffered a loss. Justice is slow. I can wait,” Mario whispered, and I nodded, though I didn’t really know what he meant.

  I could only deal with one crisis at a time. The vision wasn’t exactly admissible evidence. It didn’t change a thing for Tatum as far as Loof or the courts were concerned.

  Mario turned quickly to the door and I saw Brule, now offering condolences to Georgianne, give Mario a look to chill out.

  I realized the source of Mario’s agitation was my favorite werewolf.

  Grady had arrived.

  The vampires and the werewolves had zero affinity for one another, but they’d all appeared here, now, when the witches were in need. They’d rather be anywhere than the same room, but there was a quiet truce as each offered help in our time of crisis.

  I was grateful for that.

  Grady offered me a hug and I accepted his warm embrace. I didn’t worry that Brule was around; the wolves and vampires loved Frances, and so did I.

  “You would have gotten a kick out of her in the seventies, she was a nut!” Grady said and I wondered how old he was. He was no Brule, but still, remembering stuff from the seventies was a trick for someone who looked as good as he did.

  “I bet she was.”

  “I am going to stand watch over Aunt Dorothy and Maxine. And I’ve set up the pack to always have a sentry posted. They are the last two of their kind.”

  “Thank you.” The vampires, shifters, and other Yooper Naturals had a pact with the Widow’s Bay witches, and right now, I could see, they also had a history. One I was only beginning to learn.

  They were sad too, reverent, in the wake of the death of a venerated witch. Frances, the sweet one, the slightly confused, the funny one. I imagined her as a young woman. I bet she was also a heartbreaker.

  “I appreciate that, thank you.”

  “No, it is our job. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll take the first shift and Finn is on next. We’ll be sure they’re resting and eating and all that.” This time I got a kiss on the cheek, from Grady.

  I was grateful, because it was clear, Friday had nearly gotten away from me. I had to get the word out about Beltane, that was Aunt Dorothy’s edict. Frances’ death had taken the wind out of our sails about all we needed to do for Beltane. But Aunt Dorothy insisted that it was more important than ever.

  I was tired and wondered just how we were going to pull this off. Grady squeezed my shoulder. I felt strength flow from him to me.

  “Let us go.” Brule was there. There was an undercurrent of anger directed from Brule straight to Grady. Grady enjoyed goading Brule. I was exhausted though, too exhausted to assure my vampire boyfriend that a kiss on the cheek out of sympathy from my werewolf friend was nothing to worry about.

  Aunt Dorothy finally stood; she was ready to go.

  “Why don’t you stay at my place. I can take care of you there.” I didn’t want Dorothy or Maxine to feel alone. And I didn’t want them vulnerable to whatever came next.

  But Aunt Dorothy was not having it.

  “We have work to do for Frances, and we’re not about to do it without our own toothbrushes,” Aunt Dorothy said, and put a protective arm around Maxine, who had a haunted look.

  I kissed them both. Grady slid in next to Maxine and his pack of wolves surrounded them. They’d have the best escort possible on their way home, and into the night.

  I was comforted to know they were being watched over.

  We had lost Frances, Tatum was in jail, and now it appeared Morganna’s warnings, which I’d thought were alarmist, weren’t dire enough.

  We’d lost Beltane and somehow it had turned everything sour.

  Georgianne, Fawn, Candy, and Pauline were the last witches standing at the end of the long night. Brule stepped back and let me have a moment. I appreciated that he had relaxed the hover.

  “It’s awful, jus
t awful.” Fawn shook her head and we all hugged.

  “Are we really sure we want to plan this whole Beltane thing? I mean, I know Aunt Dorothy was just giving everyone busy work, with Frances, I just don’t have the stomach for it,” Candy said.

  “Totally,” Pauline said and Georgianne put an arm around the normally gung-ho Pauline. It all seemed incredibly minor, our little battle to have that festival, in the wake of losing Frances. But something inside pushed me to speak. I knew, more than I knew anything, that Beltane Bash was crucial.

  “No, we can’t think that way. Beltane is the most important thing on our plates, next to Tatum, of course.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, we did as Aunt Dorothy said, but it just feels so, I don’t know, hollow.” Georgianne looked me like I might be losing it.

  “I have zero doubt that what we need to make things right is Beltane. We dropped the ball by letting Schutte steal this weekend from us. Frances would want us to fight for it and show that jackwagon what’s what.” I was fired up. And I was sure that Beltane was the key to more than I could explain.

  “I’m the last to want to admit it. But it sure feels like we’re being punished,” Candy said, and I nodded. My thoughts exactly, and exactly why we needed to get on the right track with our own plans, not Ridge’s or Phillip Lockwood’s, or even Alvarado’s.

  “Okay, so it’s settled. Beltane Bash is happening. Pauline, you’re on board?” I needed her to spearhead this thing like she always did. I needed her to focus on making it awesome.

  “For Frances,” Pauline said.

  “For Frances,” we all replied in unison.

  And the witches of Widow’s Bay had a plan, or at least the start of one.

  Ridge Schutte was going to rue the day he messed with us.

  We were ready to call it a night and start fresh tomorrow to make sense of all that had happened.

  I was about to leave with Brule when Georgianne stopped me.

  “The curse, should I, uh, well, I think it might be good to have in our back pocket. Things are getting ugly around here.” Georgianne was researching how to curse someone.

  “You know, it can’t hurt to know, even if we don’t use it.”

  “Right, on it.” Georgianne and I parted, and Brule returned.

  It was time to head home.

  Chapter 10

  We drove in silence back to my place. I was a strange mixture of numb and fired up at the same time.

  “I just can’t believe all that’s happened,” I said, and Brule listened.

  “It is a sad sad day when one of your coven departs.”

  “She was over one-hundred and looked seventy. It is so easy to forget that.” I was also thinking of Dorothy.

  “She was well over one-hundred, yes, and so is your Aunt, but they are strong. Frances had grown weaker, you know this. Her heart gave out, that is what I could sense.”

  “You’re a coroner now?” I snapped. I shouldn’t have, but there it was.

  “I know exactly how blood works, and something had stopped hers. That is the heart.” Brule was hard to argue with on that point.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just tired.”

  He parked my Jeep for me and came around to help me out.

  He walked me up to the house and we lingered on the porch.

  Brule leaned down and I leaned up. He placed a gentle kiss on my lips and then drew me in for a comforting hug. And it did comfort me. I knew in his life he’d seen so many people go, hundreds of years of people, and he knew how I felt, times a million.

  It helped.

  I stepped back.

  “Thank you for—”

  My gratitude was interrupted by the screen door flinging open and hitting the side of the house.

  “Who the heck are you?” It was Sam out the door first with Joe right behind him.

  “Get your hands off our mom!” Joe followed up with an order.

  In the craziness of the day, I had forgotten the potential craziness of the to which house I’d returned.

  Though it was night, I also noticed a stealthy Agnes sauntering out to the porch drama.

  I wouldn’t miss this one for the world.

  “Boys, this is my, uh, my friend Stephen Brule,” I said, using Etienne’s modern Americanized first name. I would bet the name Etienne Brule wouldn’t ring bells for them, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I was ninety-percent sure one or both had done a diorama about the first European explorer to see Michigan, with the explorer Etienne Brule represented by a Power Ranger action figure.

  I didn’t need to explain it all in one day, did I?

  “Friend, maybe you should step back,” Sam said as though he was a bouncer not my son.

  “Okay, that’ll do.” I decided to be as honest as I could.

  “I am pleased to meet you both. Your mother is an amazing woman and I am honored to make your acquaintance. I am certain she has raised excellent young men.”

  “You better not be trying anything, mister,” Joe said it like he was a 1920s librarian instead of a twenty-year-old kid.

  “Oh brother. Listen, boys, Brule is my, ugh, this sounds so ridiculous out loud, we’re dating.”

  “First Dad, now this. Will it ever end?” Sam said to Joe and they both shook their heads like I was the kid and they were the parents.

  “Excuse me? I was the victim of that particular scenario. It’s been a year; I’ll kindly ask you to take your judgment somewhere else.” I was not a fan of being judged or told what to do, especially by my own two sons.

  “At least he’s not our age,” Joe said to Sam, which let me know just what flavor of dating their father was up to.

  “Marzenna, perhaps it is best if I let you spend some time with your sons,” Brule said, and I was grateful.

  “Yes, that would be good.”

  “Gentleman, one word of warning. There is danger afoot for your mother and her circle. Please be aware and on guard. I can see you are up to the task of looking out for her. You are both fine young men.” He executed a courtly bow to my sons who, for a moment, were quiet and taken aback by the entire sentence, if not the entire idea of their mother dating. And danger. And the courtly bow.

  “Adieu, Marzenna, contact me quickly, for anything.” He kissed my hand.

  I rolled my eyes and jerked back my hand.

  “Later.” I shooed away my vampire and went in to face the music with the two beasts that were currently draining the life out me, my twins.

  I barely had a foot in the door and was bombarded.

  “Who was that guy?”

  “What is he, like, one-hundred?”

  “Is he trying to get a Green Card?”

  “You better not be playing around on Tinder because it’s all creeps.”

  I put my hands up, walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and sat at the table and sipped while the boys continued to hit me with their concerns.

  “Are you always out this late?”

  “Does he know you live alone?”

  “Was that a fur collar?”

  “Why in the heck are you smiling? Mom, this is serious.”

  I took a sip of my water and tried to answer, in order, all the questions.

  “That was, as I told you, Stephen Brule, but he’s actually got a more famous name. He’s not one hundred, more like five hundred, give or take a hundred. He’s American as they come, you might say more American than anyone on the planet, and also, he’s French. He does not need a Green Card. I have no idea what Tinder is. Oh, and I was late because I was working and because I’m dealing with some heavy stuff. Yes, I’m out late a lot, yes, he knows I live alone, yes that is a fur collar. It’s vintage though so totally PC.”

  I took another sip and continued.

  “Now, if you two will sit down. I have a lot to bring you up to speed on. Some of what I’m going to say you probably not believe. Some of what I am going to say you will definitely not believe but it is the truth. You ready?”

  The boys
were used to me giving them chapter and verse on a lot of things. They were also used to me taking charge. They were raised by a strong mother, and it was time I talked straight to them, and not for the first time.

  They sat down at the table with me. They looked ready to listen. I was about to shock the heck out of them. There was no good way to do this, that I knew of anyway.

  I took another sip of my water, looked them both in the eyes, and laid it all out on the table.

  “I’m a witch, Brule is a vampire, and this town is crawling with shifters, trolls, travelers, and, tourists.”

  I gave it to ‘em straight, both barrels, no holds barred.

  They both took it in.

  You forgot to tell them that I can talk and am a stylist. Agnes had pranced into the kitchen; she wore haughty like it was a silk scarf.

  Both boys nearly fell out of their chairs.

  “I—did you just? Agnes?” Sam looked at the cat and she purred.

  “Wait, you heard that too?” Joe looked at the cat.

  Ha! Agnes with the assist. She’d shown them in a hot second that things were magical here in Widow’s Bay. It had done more than any speech I could deliver.

  “You just gave that long list of information and didn’t include the fact that uh, Agnes can…”

  Talk, I could always talk, darling boys. It’s just here, in Widow’s Bay, you can finally hear me.

  “I realize there is a lot to take in, not least of which is that I’m a witch.”

  “Uh, mom, that somehow seems the least shocking.” Sam punched Joe and the two of them exchanged a laugh.

  “Haha. Well, now I have a wand, a broom, and a coven. It’s no joke.”

  “I told you I saw something funny running in the woods next to the car when we drove in.” I could see Joe piecing together the universe with this huge new component that didn’t fit into any engineering equation he’d ever had to do.

  “Yeah, I thought it was a deer or coyote, but it coulda been what now? A shifter?” Sam said and they were on the fence of believing me. Agnes helped push them over again.

  You two do what your mother says now. She’s learned very quickly how to handle Yooper Naturals. Bubba?