The Book of Spells

by Kate Brian

  Harrison’s smile fell away. He dropped her hand and turned his back on her. It was the longest moment of Eliza’s life.

  “I care for Theresa. I do,” Harrison said passionately, facing her again. “We’ve known each other all our lives, and I don’t wish to hurt her.”

  Eliza’s heart panged miserably in her chest. Perhaps she should have waited just a few minutes longer to ask the question. Perhaps she should have allowed herself just a couple of moments to bask in the bliss of Harrison’s attention before causing it all to crumble away.

  “But you should know, Eliza, our engagement . . . it’s not real,” Harrison said. He stepped forward again, and this time he took both her hands in both of his.

  “It’s not?” she asked, confused but hopeful.

  “I have to admit, last summer when it became clear to everyone that Theresa Billings had turned her attentions to me . . . I was very flattered,” Harrison said. “All the fellows coveted her. They were all jealous. Of me.”

  Eliza swallowed hard.

  “I got swept up in it,” he said, lifting his shoulders. “Suddenly everyone was asking me when we’d be engaged, where we’d make our home together, where we’d honeymoon, and it just seemed like . . . that was what I was supposed to do. If Theresa Billings loves you . . . you love her back.”

  Eliza looked at the ground. Tears blurred her vision.

  “But Eliza . . .” Slowly he drew her fingers up. Her breath caught as he tentatively, sweetly, brought them to his lips. “Eliza,” he said again. “I don’t love her. I realize that now. I could never feel about her the way I feel about you.”

  “And how is that?” Eliza said, feeling weightless.

  Harrison swallowed hard, his eyes searching Eliza’s. “I feel . . . I feel . . .”

  With his right hand he gently cupped the back of Eliza’s neck. He was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes. As his lips edged closer to hers, she realized that all she wanted in the world was for him to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her head back, aching for the feel of his lips against hers.

  And then they heard a shout. Harrison backed away, his eyes scanning the dark trees around them.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  There was another shout, and this time, Eliza recognized Catherine’s voice. A gust of wind whirled through the trees, drowning out the next words, but Eliza could have sworn she heard Theresa respond. Her heart flew into her throat as a flash of lightning was followed quickly by a clap of thunder.

  “Someone’s out there,” Harrison said, reaching for her protectively. “Come. I’ll take you back to Crenshaw.”

  “No,” Eliza replied. Harrison looked at her, his face creased with confusion. “I mean . . . no, thank you, Harrison. I can find my own way back. If you’re caught on the Billings campus—”

  “What is that to me when your safety is on the line?” Harrison said, placing his arm around her waist.

  Eliza glanced over her shoulder as another shout was whisked away by the wind. Theresa and Catherine were out there right now, arguing, and she knew it most likely had something to do with her. She had to go to them. She had to stop this.

  I’m sorry about this, Harrison, she thought. Then she placed her hand flat behind him, palm facing his back.

  “Domicilus,” she whispered.

  Instantly, Harrison released her and walked off, his eyes unfocused as if he was in a daze. He was headed for his own dorm on the Easton campus, just as the spell intended. Eliza bit her lip as his foot slipped on some wet leaves, but he righted himself and kept walking. She only hoped he would get there safely and not encounter anyone along the way.

  “Stop it, Theresa!” Catherine’s voice shouted, closer than ever this time. “Let’s go back! Just come back with me!”

  “Leave me alone!” Theresa responded. “You’re no friend to me, Catherine!”

  Once again, the rain picked up, this time breaching the protective canopy of the trees and soaking Eliza through. She blinked the water off her lashes, hitched up her skirt, and ran toward the arguing voices, only hoping there was something she could do to help.

  Broken

  “I know they’re out here somewhere, and I know that you helped them!” Theresa screamed as Eliza emerged from the tree line into a small clearing.

  Catherine and Theresa stood on the far side of a ravine that cut right through the trees. Theresa’s dress was soaked, the heavy fabric clinging to her skin. She whirled on Catherine, her dark hair matted to her face and neck. Eliza blinked, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, but the memory was gone as quickly as it had come.

  Theresa went on, “How could you do this to me? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”

  “I am your best friend, Theresa,” Catherine replied, holding both hands above her eyes, shielding them from the rain. A flash of yellow peeked out between her fingers—the sulfur stick.

  Neither of the girls had noticed her yet, and Eliza found herself frozen with uncertainty. Should she say something? Do something? Or should she simply slink back into the woods as if she’d never been here? Suddenly her locket felt warm against her skin. She could have sworn it was actually pulsating, as if it was somehow reflecting the tenor of Theresa and Catherine’s argument.

  But how could that be?

  “But you don’t love Harrison,” Catherine continued. “We both know you don’t.”

  “I’m not talking about Harrison right now,” Theresa replied, bending at the waist. “I’m talking about Eliza Williams! You like her better than me, don’t you? That’s why you’re helping her sneak around with my fiancé!”

  A bolt of lightning lit the night, and Catherine’s eyes suddenly flicked to Eliza. Theresa turned around and instantly, Eliza began to sway on her feet, improvising a plan. She unfocused her eyes and looked from Theresa to Catherine and back again.

  “Catherine? Theresa? Is that you?” Eliza said weakly.

  Theresa whirled around and her jaw dropped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where am I? Is this the way to Crenshaw?” Eliza squeaked.

  Theresa’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, so you’re lost, are you?” she demanded, stalking to the very edge of the ravine that separated her from Eliza. “What happened? Did Harrison desert you? Or did he never arrive? Perhaps he suddenly remembered that he was engaged to be married!”

  Eliza gulped, her face burning even as it was pelted by cold rain. Part of her wanted to keep up the charade, out of both pride and self-preservation, but as she looked at Catherine, standing there with her shoulders slumped as if exhausted, she decided enough was enough. She stood up straight, rounded her shoulders, and tried to ignore the sick, nervous feeling in her gut.

  “How did you find out?” Eliza asked.

  “I found his little love note!” Theresa said, whipping the paper from her pocket and holding it out. “Here’s some advice, Eliza Williams. If you’re going to try to steal someone’s beau, take better care of your correspondence.”

  Eliza’s face stung at the sight of the cherished note clasped in Theresa’s fingers, turning to pulp in the rain.

  “That’s one thing I can say for your sister,” Theresa said, tearing the note up into tiny bits. “When she stole George Thackery away from me, she was much more covert about it.”

  The wet scraps of paper fluttered down around her feet. Eliza felt as if she could scream, but instead, she took a deep breath.

  “Harrison didn’t desert me,” she said loudly, clearly. “He was there, but I sent him back with a spell when I heard you two fighting.”

  Theresa paled. “So you admit it! You admit carrying on an affair with my future husband.”

  “Theresa,” Catherine said impatiently.

  “We’ve done nothing improper,” Eliza replied firmly.

  “Nothing but plan a secret midnight rendezvous,” Theresa shot back. She took a step forward, and the unstable edge of the ravine crumbled beneath her toes. Eliza’s heart swooped.
The gash in the ground was at least ten feet deep.

  “Be careful,” Eliza warned her.

  “Oh, you’re the one who should be careful,” Theresa replied, her eyes narrowed. “Do you even realize what I could do to you?” Eliza’s heart turned cold, remembering the spell Theresa had cast so cavalierly on Miss Almay. Her gaze flicked to Theresa’s raised hand. Was the girl about to use some new spell she had up her sleeve?

  Suddenly it all came back to her in a rush. The dream—the awful dream about Catherine’s death. They had been in the woods, in front of a hole just like this one. Eliza’s throat seized with fear. “Theresa, please!” she croaked. “Step away from the ravine.”

  “You think you’ve won? You think you’ve stolen my Harrison?” Theresa continued. “Well, from this moment on, you’re going to want to watch your back, Eliza Williams.”

  “Theresa!” Catherine shouted. “Stop it!”

  “And you, Catherine White!” Theresa spat, whirling on her. “You are no longer my friend! Both of you stay far, far away from me from now on!” Theresa started to stalk past Catherine, but Catherine reached for her as she went by.

  “Theresa, stop! Please!” Catherine said, throwing her arm out.

  The moment she did, the sulfur stick suddenly let out a huge spark. Theresa shouted and jumped back in surprise as the spark hit a thick tree limb directly above Catherine’s head. Instantly, the branch severed, the cracking noise so loud, it drowned out the wind and rain. Eliza looked up as the branch began to fall. Her heart flew into her mouth.

  “Catherine! Watch out!”

  Catherine looked up, her eyes wide with fright. Theresa grabbed for her, but it was too late. The limb came crashing down. Catherine’s body crumbled like a rag doll’s, and she tumbled backward into the chasm.

  Dead

  “No!” Eliza shouted.

  She collapsed at the edge of the ravine; Theresa did the same on the other side, like a mirror image. They stared wordlessly into the chasm.

  Catherine lay at the bottom, rain pelting her broken body. Her gray dress was so soaked, it looked black. Her dark hair fanned out around her head in wet clumps. Her ice blue eyes were wide, her mouth frozen open. It was almost as if she was trying to call out to her friends, but the unnatural bend in her neck meant she would never speak again.

  “Theresa! There you are!” Alice came tromping up behind Eliza, her light blue dress clinging to her body. “I sent everyone home like you asked me to. Did you find Catherine?” She stopped next to Eliza. “What are you doing here, Eliza? Why are you staring down into that—” Alice looked over the edge of the ravine and screamed. “Catherine! Oh my . . . Is she . . . ?”

  “She’s dead,” Eliza said. She could barely choke out the words. Her mouth felt as if it was full of cotton. Her dream, at least part of it, had just come true before her eyes. The locket weighed heavy around her neck, cold as a stone in winter.

  “She can’t be dead!” Alice wailed. “She simply can’t be!” She turned around and got on her hands and knees, backing herself toward the edge of the ravine. Eliza stared at her for a moment in catatonic wonder. Demure, girly Alice on her hands and knees in the mud. But then she realized what her friend was doing, and she sprang to her feet.

  “Alice! No!”

  But it was too late. Alice was already lowering herself down into the chasm. She clung for a moment to a tree root that stuck out of the dirt wall, then let herself fall the last couple of feet. As soon as she recovered herself at the bottom, she got up, wiped off her hands, and began trying to remove the tree limb from across Catherine’s chest.

  “It’s too heavy! I need help!” Alice called up to them. “Theresa! Eliza! Come help me!”

  Eliza’s and Theresa’s eyes met across the ravine, and suddenly it was as if the life had been breathed back into the both of them. Eliza slid forward and lowered herself exactly as Alice had. A branch caught her ankle and left a deep scratch in her skin, but she barely even noticed. She slid the last few feet, her fingers clinging to the dirt wall to slow her descent, and fell to her knees at the bottom of the ravine. Theresa alit on the other side, and all three girls grasped the branch, with Alice at the center.

  “On the count of three,” Theresa instructed. “One, two, three.”

  Eliza braced her feet against the slick, muddy ground and dug in, pulling with all her might. Theresa let out a grunt as the branch finally freed itself. The three girls stumbled backward and dropped the limb at Catherine’s feet. Eliza climbed over the branches and twigs and leaves and fell to her knees once again, this time at her friend’s side. The back of Catherine’s head lay atop a jagged rock. It was covered in blood and matted hair. Next to her on the ground was the bright yellow sulfur stick, its tip singed to a dingy black. She looked into Catherine’s wide-open, lifeless eyes, and finally the tears came.

  “What happened?” Alice cried, taking up Catherine’s lifeless hand. “What happened to her?”

  Eliza looked up at Theresa, her vision blurred.

  “She fell,” Theresa said, her voice high and breathless. “She was trying a spell and it went wrong and the branch snapped. She fell. She fell, and there was nothing we could do.”

  “Poor Catherine,” Alice said, kneading the girl’s hand within her own as tears sluiced down her cheeks. “Poor Catherine.”

  “We have to fix this,” Eliza said, wiping the back of her grimy hand across her nose. She looked at Theresa. “We have to fix this.”

  Theresa stared back, her jaw working, and Eliza knew that she understood. This was no accident. This was their fault. Catherine never would have been out in these woods on this night if it hadn’t been for their own selfishness, their stupid feud.

  “She’s right,” Theresa said, shoving her soaking wet hair behind her ears.

  “Fix it?” Alice wailed throatily. “Catherine’s dead, Eliza! There’s no fixing this! She’s dead!”

  “All right, Alice, that’s enough,” Theresa snapped.

  Alice’s mouth hung agape as she gasped over and over again, struggling for breath through her surprise and grief. “That’s enough? Theresa, she’s dead!”

  “I understand that she’s dead,” Theresa said, hovering over all of them. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  Eliza’s head whipped around as she looked up at Theresa. Suddenly an image flitted through her mind: a drawing of a skull with roses growing out of its empty eye sockets. The Life Out of Death Spell. The page that had so frightened Eliza that night in the temple.

  “What are you talking about? There’s nothing you can do about death!” Alice cried, scrambling to her feet. The light blue skirt of her dress was covered in mud and muck, with evergreen needles and bits of rotted leaves clinging to the wet fabric. “The Lord has chosen to take her and—”

  “The Lord didn’t choose anything!” Eliza shouted vehemently, rising to her feet. She grabbed the sulfur stick and shoved it into the pocket of her skirt. “He would never have taken her. She was too good, too kind, too . . . loyal. She—”

  “Eliza’s right, Alice,” Theresa interrupted. “She was only sixteen years old. This was not her time. If there’s something we can do about it, I say we do it.”

  “We have to move her. We need to get her back to the temple,” Eliza said, needing to have a task to focus on. To have a plan. To have something to think about other than Catherine’s gaping eyes, the unnatural twist of her neck.

  “No. We need to go for help,” Alice said, shaking her head as tears streamed down her face.

  “I’ll get under her arms, you get her feet,” Theresa instructed Eliza.

  Alice tripped backward a few steps to get out of Theresa’s way. “No. You can’t do this. No.”

  “Alice. You’re either helping us, or you’re not,” Eliza said tersely. Alice just continued to sob, covering her face with her dirty hands. Eliza’s heart was suddenly hardened against the girl. How dare she try to stop Eliza from saving her best friend?
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  “We’ll lift again on three?” Eliza said. Theresa nodded determinedly.

  Alice let out a wail as Catherine’s body rose off the ground. Eliza started backing toward the sloping portion of the ravine, the way down which Theresa had come.

  “No! Wait!” Alice shouted.

  Automatically, almost against her will, Eliza stopped. Alice stepped forward and, her hand shaking violently, reached out and placed her thumb and forefinger over Catherine’s eyelids. Turning her face away, her own visage screwed up in grief, Alice drew Catherine’s lids down over her eyes.

  “God bless you, Catherine,” she whispered. Then she took a deep breath and looked at Eliza, her chin lifted, her eyes shining. “Now go.”

  Creativity

  Eliza tried not to think about the gruesome load she was carrying as she and Theresa struggled down the dark, winding stairs to the temple, the wooden steps groaning ominously beneath their weight. She tried not to think about where Catherine’s soul might be right then, whether her friend was watching them. Tried not to think about how things had gotten to this horrible point. How, if Eliza hadn’t been so selfish, they would both be asleep in their room right now.

  Instead, she thought about the next day, when Catherine would be back with them. When their power had brought her back. The power they never would have realized they had, if not for Catherine.

  “We’ll lay her in the center of the circle,” Theresa said. Perspiration covered her face, but she hadn’t complained once, nor had she asked to stop.

  “Wait!” Alice cried.

  She gathered a few of the softer scarves and tapestries and laid them out reverently on the floor. Arm muscles straining, Eliza waited until Alice was satisfied with the bed she had fashioned. Then she and Theresa moved forward and laid their friend’s body down carefully, her blood-matted hair coming to rest on Alice’s mink jacket, which she’d folded for that purpose. Eliza felt a pang of gratitude.