Witches of Ash and Ruin

by E. Latimer

  “That’s the woman who wrote that article about Christian magic, isn’t it?” She darted a look at Morgan, who arched her brows haughtily.

  “I heard about that. She’s probably a witch or something. You shouldn’t be talking to her.”

  “Shut up,” Sam said to Morgan, who only gave him an overly sweet smile.

  Sam’s phone buzzed, and he snatched it up, disappointed to see it was a message from his mother.

  “Still waiting on Dayna, Romeo?” Darius grinned.

  “You know, Samuel,” Morgan said, “you should probably let that girl do her own thing. I heard her mam is back from camp. Did she mention that?”

  Sam shrugged, suddenly irritated. “She didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t press her.”

  “I’ll add her and Dayna to the prayer list. Hopefully the reverend brings her to church.”

  “Dayna doesn’t want to go to church.” Darius made a show of examining his nails. “Because Sam turned her gay.”

  Sam shot him a scowl, and Morgan said plaintively, “Darius, don’t.”

  Before Sam could reply, Amanda nudged him and pointed at the TV. He glanced up, startled to see Breaking News in huge block letters.

  Morgan was the one who asked Mrs. O’Neal to turn it up, since Sam was too busy staring at the box on the right-hand side of the screen, which showed a picture of a huge, castle-like building beside a lake, with the caption Serial Killer Resurfaces?

  “…Katherine O’Brien, a professional poet and mother of two, was found outside popular tourist spot Kylemore Abbey. More startling still, the symbol at the scene is one associated with the killer that England once dubbed the Butcher of Manchester. This is the second murder in as many days, and according to our sources, the symbol has been found at both sites. The question all of us are asking is, is the Butcher back? And if so, why haven’t we heard from the gardai on the matter?”

  “Oh my god.” Sam could feel the blood draining out of his face.

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Morgan said automatically, but she, too, was staring at the TV, eyes wide.

  “Mrs. O’Brien.” Caleb’s voice trembled slightly. “My ma is friends with her. I mean…was.”

  “The Butcher.” Amanda’s face was pale. “Sam, is that true? Did they find that at the scene?”

  Sam shrugged, feeling his stomach sink as his friends turned to look at him. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know there was a second murder.”

  That, more than anything, was what filled him with dread. Not just that there was a second murder, but that it was too soon. It shouldn’t have happened yet.

  The Butcher had an MO. Sam knew it inside and out, and this wasn’t right. There was supposed to be at least two weeks between each victim.

  “I can’t believe the Butcher is here in Nowheresville,” Darius said. “Aren’t there better places for his reign of terror?”

  “Don’t sound so casual about it, you freak,” Jillian said.

  “Easy for him.” Amanda’s gaze was fixed on the TV still, even though the reporter was now talking about crops dying. “The Butcher only kills women.”

  Sam glanced around the table, at his friends’ pale faces and wide eyes. Nerves gnawed at his stomach. There was something off about this. Something that made cold dread ripple through his insides.

  Why was the Butcher escalating?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MEINER

  It had been one of those unnerving, feverish nights, where she wasn’t certain if she’d slept or not. It brought back memories of other nights, her insides buzzing with that awful, pent-up energy. Meiner had taken her pill before bed, which always dulled the anxiety enough to sleep, so it wasn’t that. It was simply her mind spinning in circles.

  After she’d dropped Dayna off she’d ended up lying awake, her brain flicking from one image to the next. Cora’s blank expression during the ritual. The Callighans, their heads bent together. The look in Grandma King’s eye as she moved toward her.

  Memories of the dark corners of her childhood home.

  Her temper kept flaring. It felt like her blood was boiling in her veins, until she was literally sweating from the heat of it. Several times during the night she gave in, tearing off her sheets, pacing the length of the room. She wanted to destroy something. Snatch up the lamp from the bedside table and dash it to the floor, lash out at her reflection in the vanity mirror and watch it fracture under her fists.

  But even with everything else, Dayna’s freckled face kept popping up. The whole thing was confusing. Dayna had been so irritating, and the thought of her ascending still made her skin feel prickly, even now. But in spite of all that, she’d been dangerously close to kissing her last night.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  Out in the kitchen, she dropped onto one of the chairs at the long table. The surface was crowded with empty bowls stained with batter and dirty wooden spoons. Reagan was at the stove, nodding along with the rock music blasting from the radio above the fridge. She looked up when Meiner came in.

  “Bronagh brought charm necklaces for us this morning. Yours and Dayna’s are there.”

  Meiner glanced down, surprised. Resting on the lid of the butter dish was a pair of bone charms on leather cords. She picked one up, running her fingers over the smooth surface of the shield knot etched onto the coin-sized disk. “Protection charm?”

  “Aye, for the joint reading this afternoon.” Reagan plucked hers from beneath her shirt collar, letting it dangle between her finger and thumb. “Doesn’t exactly go with the rest of my accessories.” She fingered the black stone in her choker and grinned when she noticed Meiner looking. “It’s supposed to be from the Willamette meteorite, which would make it a couple billion years old. It’s probably fake, but I thought it was pretty.”

  “It looks cool, even if it’s not a billion years old.” Meiner dropped the necklace beneath her shirt, feeling the cold surface of the charm settle onto her chest and slowly begin to warm.

  On the counter, Reagan’s phone chimed, and she scooped it up. “Cora and your gran are out getting supplies for the reading, and Dayna’s heading over now.”

  She blinked, momentarily distracted at the mention of Dayna, as Reagan brandished a finger at the cupboard and muttered something under her breath. Two of the clay mugs floated down, wobbling slightly as they descended. As they reached eye level, she plucked them out of the air and set them on the table. “My magic’s been overflowing since the ascension.”

  Meiner cleared her throat, trying not to let the jealousy show on her face. “Well, doesn’t sound like a bad problem to have.”

  They both paused as Yemi drifted past the kitchen doorway, waving a thick bundle of smoldering sage, leaving trails of smoke and the sound of gentle humming in her wake.

  Reagan’s dark brows knit together. “She said cleansing is normal before a joint reading, but I swear she’s been through the house, like, five times now.”

  “You can hardly blame her after what happened.” Meiner picked up one of the knives from the counter and began toying with it, spreading her hand on the table and running the tip between the lines of her fingers.

  “Abeg, have a care, Stabby Spice.” Reagan thrust her wooden spoon at Meiner. “Just because you’ve an appetite for destruction doesn’t mean I’ll let you bleed to death all over the floor. Ma just cleaned it.”

  “Sorry.” Meiner laid the knife down.

  The front door slammed, and Reagan straightened up. “Perfect timing.” As Dayna walked into the kitchen—wearing a very flattering gray sweater, Meiner noticed—Reagan slung one of her oven mitts at her. “You’re on pancake duty.”

  Dayna caught the mitt, grinning. “Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

  Reagan yanked her jacket off the hook by the door. “I’ve got to collect the eggs before the chickens go all cannibal on them. Make the rest of the batch since the Callighans are going to descend on us in the next hour.” She
added over her shoulder to Meiner, “Bronagh can eat her weight in pancakes.”

  Dayna turned to the stove, placing the oven mitt back on the counter as Reagan slammed the door behind her. “It’s true. Last time she ate five, I counted.” She spotted the teapot and reached for it. “Oh god, I need coffee, but this will have to do.”

  Meiner forced herself to smile. “How are you feeling?”

  Dayna didn’t look up as she poured the tea into a squat clay mug. “My head is pounding. Where’s Cora and Grandma King?”

  Meiner frowned, letting her hand drift to the knife again. “Out,” she said shortly.

  Narrowing her eyes, Dayna came to sit on the opposite side of the table, setting her mug down. “Out with it.” When Meiner only stared, Dayna shook a finger at her. “Don’t pretend I didn’t tell you the most embarrassing shit ever last night. We’re a little past shyness, aren’t we?”

  Meiner glanced in the direction of the hallway. They still weren’t back yet; probably they’d be a while. Meiner grimaced.

  “Something got in that circle, and that doesn’t happen unless someone’s opening a doorway. You heard the conversation after the ascension. She used to do black magic.”

  “And you’re worried she still does.” Dayna shuddered, wrapping her slender fingers around her mug.

  “I’m pretty sure your Callighans are suspicious.” Meiner shifted, a little uncomfortable. “But they haven’t confronted her.”

  Dayna rolled her eyes. “The Callighans won’t interfere with another coven, even if they suspect something’s going on. They’ll wait until shit hits the fan and then tell everyone they told them so. Classic Callighan move.”

  There was a moment of silence while Meiner digested this. Dayna got up to pour batter into the pan, and then turned to lean against the stove. “And what do you think your gran is up to?”

  Meiner sighed. “If you’re wondering if I know something, the answer is no. But I think she’s hiding something.”

  The thought had kept her awake last night. She couldn’t shake it. The easiest thing would be to go through Gran’s room. Black magic left evidence, things Meiner didn’t like to think about.

  Dayna turned to place the pancakes in the oven, and Meiner shifted uneasily on the stool, wondering what she was thinking. When Dayna straightened, her face was serious. “If you think there’s something going on that might put us in danger…it makes sense to figure out what it is, right?”

  Meiner nodded. It felt weirdly gratifying to be on the same page as Dayna. “Um, your protection charm is here, by the way. Reagan said Bronagh made them for us.”

  Dayna scooped the charm off the butter dish and held it between two fingers, examining it carefully before looping the cord around her neck. When she attempted to move the bone charm to the front, she ended up tugging at the cord in irritation. “Shit, it’s caught in my hair.”

  Meiner stood up. “Uh, want help?”

  “Thanks, I have no idea what’s going on back there.”

  Meiner bit her lip, carefully pushing Dayna’s hair to one side, very aware of her fingertips grazing the back of Dayna’s neck as she untangled the leather knot. Dayna’s hair was smooth and clean under her hands, and she got a whiff of vanilla before she stepped back.

  “Thanks.” Dayna turned back to face her, and she nodded. For a moment neither of them said anything, and then the fractured sounds from the TV in the living room dropped into the silence between them.

  “…another of the strange symbols found at the scene…”

  Dayna frowned, moving into the next room to turn it up, with Meiner following right behind her.

  “Katherine O’Brien, professional poet and mother of two, was found outside popular tourist spot Kylemore Abbey. Keep in mind, the details of this story may be disturbing to our listeners. More at ten.”

  “Shit!” Dayna sank down onto the couch. “This was why we did the ascension. We were supposed to find a way to stop this before he killed again.”

  Meiner was frowning at the TV. “That was fast. Don’t most serial killers have…I dunno, time in between?”

  “A cool-off period, that’s what it’s called. We were supposed to have weeks.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Samuel was wrong. This happened too soon.”

  Another murder. Another symbol at the scene, and, Meiner was willing to bet, another missing body part. Dayna exchanged a look with her, and she could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

  They needed to do the group reading now—before another day passed, and another body was found.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DAYNA

  Dayna was in the living room helping the Callighans set up when Grandma King walked in, trailed by Meiner carrying a stack of cardboard boxes. “The general store had enough lights to stock Santa’s whole damn village,” she said.

  Reagan rubbed her hands together. “Good, let’s do this up right. It will make a great Instagram picture.”

  Faye groaned, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “This isn’t a photo op, Reagan. This is serious.”

  “Auntie, you know my whole life is a photo op.” Reagan flicked her hair over one shoulder and stuck a hip out.

  Dayna grinned and mimed taking a photo. “Yes, so fierce. Now give me sultry.”

  Reagan stuck her hands under her chin and fluttered her lashes outrageously, and Faye clucked her tongue. “Honestly, you two are incorrigible.”

  “Reagan, did you hear that? We’re incorrigible.”

  “That does sound like us.”

  “Oh, get that stick out of your bum, love.” Brenna swatted at her daughter, who scowled back at her. “Hand me one of the crystals, would you, Dayna? We’ll do a triangle setup, I think. That should work for all of us.”

  Dayna picked up the heavy crystal orb with its stand, moving over to where Brenna was arranging the table in the center of the room. She set it down carefully and watched Brenna fuss with the alignment. She could sense right away that Brenna had something to say, and sure enough after a moment she cleared her throat.

  “Listen, love, have you been sleeping?”

  Dayna blinked at her. Not for the first time she wondered if the Callighans could secretly read minds. “Not really.” She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t ever sleep well, but…yeah, it’s been worse than usual.”

  “That’s what I thought. I recognize the symptoms. Faye used to have a terrible time getting to sleep when she was in medical school.” Brenna dipped into the pocket of her sweater and brought out a satchel with silver ties, which she pressed into Dayna’s hands. “Sleep tea,” she said. When Dayna looked at it cautiously, she laughed. “It’s only herbs, no magic or drugs, I promise. I made the satchel up myself. It will help you fall asleep. Just drink one cup before bed and don’t let it steep longer than three minutes or it will have some bite.”

  “Thanks.” Dayna slipped it into her pocket.

  It took the next hour to set everything up. Reagan and Dayna helped string the lights, with the occasional assistance from Meiner if they couldn’t reach something. Reagan insisted on bringing the light-up model of the solar system from her bedroom to join the show.

  To Dayna’s delight, Reagan spent several minutes cross-legged on the fireplace hearth, making the tiny crystal planets spin through the air around them. Then Faye muttered about “show-offs” and Reagan made the planet Mars bump into the back of her left knee until she retreated to the kitchen.

  Eventually Dayna found herself sitting cross-legged in front of the table, between Meiner and Reagan. The living room had been completely redecorated. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling like glittering ropes, and crisscrossed down the walls, and Faye had set up white pillar candles on every surface. The light danced and jumped on the crystals, sending shadows skittering this way and that, bright spheres flickering across the surface.

  “No Cora?” Meiner directed this question at Grandma King, and the old woman shook her head.

  “Said she feels ill. Doe
sn’t matter anyway, you two are not ascended, so we technically don’t need you to make this work.”

  Dayna could tell by the way Meiner stiffened beside her that she was close to jumping up and storming off, but after a moment she took a breath and stayed where she was, scowling at the crystals in the center.

  Dayna could hardly blame Cora for wanting to sit this one out.

  “Join hands,” Bronagh instructed. They obeyed. Meiner’s palm was cool and slightly callused, and her grip was firm. Dayna could feel the pressure of the rings she wore between her fingers, and the mere thought that she was sitting here holding Meiner’s hand made her face burn. She prayed to Danu it wasn’t obvious in the darkened room.

  “Now, I would have liked a little more time to prepare, but as we all know, a second victim was found today.” Bronagh looked around the circle, her face grim. “Which means we’ll have to do this thing quicker than I would have liked.” She glanced over at Brenna, who nodded, then continued.

  “Scry with the crystal nearest to you only. With us connected, the crystals will be, too, so it doesn’t matter which one you’ve got. And keep in mind our question—we need to know how the Butcher is choosing his victims. If we know who’s next, we may be able to stop him.”

  Dayna let her gaze drift over the crystals. They were all roughly the same size, but the nearest one was clouded, and the one on the right side of the table had a faint pink tinge to it. The one Grandma King had brought was the clearest one, and it was set in an old-fashioned bronze base. She shifted her attention back to the clouded crystal, letting her gaze relax as Bronagh continued.

  “Whatever happens, don’t let go of the person next to you.”

  Dayna exchanged a glance with Reagan. Her palms felt suddenly sweaty, and she had to resist the urge to pull away.

  Instead she focused on the crystal. She’d scried before, but not with so many people. It was distracting. Even the lights and candles made her want to look around the room. The candlelight reflected in the surface of the ball kept catching her eye, and finally her gaze relaxed. Spots of reflected lights danced across the crystal, bent and refracted by the curved surface.