by G S Fortis
I stiffen. “Is that the program where you pawned my demonic emissions?”
Fiona ignores my snide remark. “I learned a lot from her. My practice goes back a long way, as you know, but there was much I didn’t know about magic from the Americas. It was informative.”
“Did she talk about Santa Muerte at all?” Paige asks.
“No,” Fiona says. “I don’t see why she would. Witches are known for sharing with other witches. Magic is something we want to see develop and grow. But we keep our best spells to ourselves.”
“Is there any other way to find her?” I ask.
Fiona shakes her head. We continue driving in silence until we near Fiona’s house, and she finally speaks up. “Darcy, maybe it’s best you don’t stay with me tonight.”
I have been expecting this. After the incident at the Mancery, I figured my days of staying at Fiona’s home were numbered. And apparently, that number was one—I got one whole night there.
“Why?” Paige asks.
Pretending not to hear, Fiona continues. “I’ve booked a suite for you at the W. It’s a two-room suite, so you and Paige should be quite comfortable there. My treat, of course. Until this whole thing blows over.”
* * *
When Fiona pulls into her driveway, the sun has set in the west and the sky has completed its transformation into night. The city lights bounce off the clouds above, making this night a much brighter one than usual.
“I’ll have Eva Jean send over a car to take you to the hotel,” Fiona says as we walk from her Land Rover to her house.
“Thanks,” I say.
Fiona’s home is a welcome retreat after a long and taxing day. She heads straight to her sanctuary in the kitchen. As Paige and I head to the bedroom to pack, Fiona calls, “Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen? I’ll fix you some supper before you go.”
Paige and I exchange a look. Our silent communication echoes the same question—why the sudden change of tone? One second, we can’t stay. The next, she’s offering us dinner.
Still, I’m never one to turn down a good meal, so I drag Paige with me into the kitchen. We sit at the counter as Fiona begins pulling out ingredients and placing them on the counter. She delicately lays out a selection of herbs and spices.
She then moves to her range top and turns on all six flames for her burners. “I have always found cooking to be a great way to prepare for any situation.” Fiona continues to lay out the ingredients for her dish.
It’s been a long day, and with dinner on the horizon, I decide to take some Klonopin as an aperitif. As soon as I pull the bottle out, Fiona clamps her hand over mine and pushes it down. “A good meal is the recipe for whatever trials and tribulations we must confront.”
I let go of my pills, and she releases my hand. She pulls open a canister of seeds and spills them across the counter in front of us. Her hands wave over the seeds. When I look down, I can see they’ve reorganized themselves into letters to spell out a simple phrase: We are not alone.
Looking at the seed letters, Paige grabs my arm. I meet Fiona’s eyes.
“Everything I need to face today day can be found in the kitchen.” Fiona pops open several silver canisters one by one.
Only now do I notice the other ingredients she’s laid out. Salt, crystals, gold coins, copper wire… they’re not ingredients. They’re spell components.
“And I always have the perfect recipe for any guest that comes into my home.”
Without hesitation, I dive on top of Paige and take her to the floor. It’s not a moment too soon as a dozen of tiny darts fly across the air.
Ting-ting-ting-ting-ting! Fiona catches them all in the lid of a stainless-steel pan, shielding herself like an Amazon warrior. She lowers the lid to inspect the projectiles. They’re not darts at all. They’re actually small silver feathers.
The skeletal figure of Santa Muerte hovers above the ground in Fiona’s kitchen. Her blue-and-red robes flow like gossamer caught in a tide of invisible water. Her skull-like face scowls directly at me. There is no trace of Elizabeth in this body. It’s as if she’s completely consumed by this entity.
Standing beside Santa Muerte is a spindly old woman wrapped in a cloak of silvery gray feathers. When she moves, they catch the light as if made of metal. Her wiry white hair flows across her head like a mane. Soulless eyes stare at me through cloudy wide pupils. Her nose is sharp and hooked, resembling a beak.
Paige and I scramble to our feet.
“Hello, Melchora,” Fiona says.
Slowly, Melchora’s foggy eyes turn to Fiona. Her lips stretch into a sinister smile. “It’s good to see you, old friend,” she hisses. “I wish you had not become involved.”
“Me, too, dear.”
Bam! An explosion behind me makes me flinch. Melchora’s body bounces back, forcing her to stagger for balance.
All eyes turn to Paige. She stands with two hands on her smoking gun, which is pointed right at Melchora. The witch hisses at Paige, not at all affected by the bullets.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Fiona says. “Now you’ve made her angry.”
With that, Fiona extends an outstretched hand toward the kitchen range. In an instant, the blue flames leap from the burners to her fist. She grabs the fire like a whip then flings the flames at Melchora.
With inhuman speed, Melchora sidesteps the fiery attack as it crashes onto the floor. She blows air into her fists then thrusts forward her open palms. A powerful wind blasts out of her hands and knocks Fiona back, scattering all the ingredients in her kitchen and extinguishing the flames behind her.
Without taking her eyes from Fiona, Melchora extends her bony finger toward me. She says one word to the spirit beside her. “Matar.”
Santa Muerte’s skeletal face contorts into a grotesque smile.
“Stay behind me,” I tell Paige.
She takes a step to stand beside me, ready to fight. Santa Muerte floats toward us, looking to strike. Her figure sways from side to side like a serpent as she approaches. Paige and I back away.
She strikes, her bony claw rushing toward my chest, and I grab her by the wrist, stopping her. Paige shoulder-checks Santa Muerte, catches her arm, and pulls it away from my heart. I hold Santa Muerte’s arms tightly and feel skin sliding over bone. With Paige’s strength, I’m able to keep the entity from plunging her fingers into my sternum.
Santa Muerte attacks again, this time trying to bite at me with her jagged teeth. Unable to release my grip on her still-extended arms, I twist away and try to keep our arms between us as a defense. Clack, clack, clack! The jaws chomp with such force that bits of teeth break off and fly into my face.
The alarm on my watch starts beeping. My heart rate is accelerating. Blood warms in my body. The power starts to surge, and I test my strength, pushing back the claw. It works. Dudley’s power is starting to build.
Santa Muerte stops, and our eyes lock. This is the creature who holds the key to my salvation. If I could grab the veil, I could restrain her and get the name.
My eyes remain on Santa Muerte, but I can hear the chaos around me. Crashing metal and flashes of light hint at the epic battle between the two witches. With Paige gripping one arm, I try to hold the entity with one hand and reach with the other to grab the veil from my pocket. Santa Muerte pushes back, and I need all my strength to keep her at bay.
The ebb and flow of our struggle spins us around. Somewhere in the room, I hear the flapping of wings. Gray feathers fly in my peripheral vision.
Santa Muerte releases me and floats backward. Her black eyes shift to Paige.
Shit.
She lunges, extending her bony claws toward Paige’s chest. Now Paige is pushing, and I’m pulling Santa Muerte off her. We rotate our momentum into a circle, slamming ourselves into the kitchen counter.
I try to protect Paige by keeping myself between her and Santa Muerte. Out of the corner of my eye, I see lightning bolts scatter acr
oss the ceiling. Fiona’s body sails through the air and lands with a thud against a nearby wall.
Momentarily distracted, Santa Muerte reaches around me and grabs Paige by the arm. My defense shifts, and the entity takes the opportunity to bite down onto my neck. She doesn’t just take one bite but tears repeatedly into my skin like a wild animal. Flesh is ripped from my body, and I scream in agony. Warm blood flows easily from my wound, soaking into the collar of my shirt. Sweat drips from my brow as I struggle, and I suddenly become aware of how hot I am.
I know now why Fiona didn’t want me taking any Klonopin. She was counting on Dudley’s help. I clutch at the specter’s hair and yank her back to pull her jaws away from me.
“Get the veil now!” I shout. Paige struggles to reach into my coat pocket.
My mind races to think of something calming, but all I can think about is the wild creature attacking me. I know that this really is Elizabeth, but all I can see is something as demonic as I am. All I see is Santa Muerte.
Paige’s hand digs furiously into the pockets of my coat. “Pants pocket!” I yell. She switches gears, searching in every wrong pocket of my jeans. Finally, she gets the right pocket, but when I raise my thigh to kick against Santa Muerte, Paige’s hand gets stuck.
Melchora slams against the ceiling, crushing a lamp. Sparks rain down. She remains pinned to the lighting fixture by some invisible force.
Then Paige screams. I look back and see that Santa Muerte’s bony claws have torn at Paige’s sleeve, leaving four bloody marks. She hurt my friend.
The secondary alarm sounds on my watch. My heart rate is at one hundred ninety beats per minute. Screw flight—I’m in fight mode. A monstrous roar bellows from within.
Santa Muerte’s eyes turn to me. I can sense her fear.
I charge forward with all my strength—with Dudley’s intensifying strength—and lift her above my head then slam her against a glass table. The table shatters as we crash to the floor.
“Darcy!” Fiona shouts. “Control it!” The sound is muffled.
My hands are wrapped around the throat of Santa Muerte as I lean over her. Melchora falls to the floor beside us. She reaches out to me to stop. Her face is filled with panic. She looks suddenly vulnerable, but it doesn’t matter. It’s too late.
Blood drips from the wound in my neck onto the spirit. Santa Muerte flickers, and for a moment, Elizabeth’s eyes appear, begging me to stop. I can’t. Dudley won’t let me.
Fiona pulls Paige back, dragging her away. I can see she’s shouting something, but I can’t hear what it is. I can’t hear anything. Everything is moving in slow motion.
Melchora approaches. From her robes, she pulls a feather. Its shaft shimmers like metal.
Shards of glass from the broken table rise around me. Melchora shields her face with her forearms. Everything goes black.
Chapter 31
____◊____
HELL. MY EYES REMAIN closed, but I know that’s where I am. Intense heat envelops me and scorches my skin. A flickering glow penetrates my closed lids and burns my eyes. I’m facedown on the hard ground. This must be brimstone.
I’m afraid to open my eyes and see my final destination. The temperature increases, and I cannot remain still any longer. My eyes open.
An inferno consumes my vision. Fire licks at my skin, my face, and my clothes. The flames are everywhere. This is all I will ever see or ever feel, I think. This is my eternity.
Then a stream of water splashes my head. The flames die down as the torrent continues to wash over me. As the fire dies, the light dims. It’s dark, and my eyes can’t focus. The water continues to blast me. I raise my hand to stop it. Eventually, the torrent ceases.
When I can finally focus, I see Paige standing before me, holding a hose. Her lips move as she shouts. I hear nothing at first, then a muffled noise. Sounds slowly return.
“Darcy, get up!”
I turn back to the fiery hell. It’s not hell. It’s Fiona’s house.
Too tired to stand, I crawl away from the flames. I was close, too close. Smoke rises from my clothes as fabric sears my skin. The tweed coat, though damaged, has resisted the fire quite well. The pendulum dangles from a chain, still wrapped around my neck.
On my wrist is a melted glop of black rubber—remnants of my watchband. The device itself is gone. I try to wipe it away with my other hand and only succeed in spreading the smudge everywhere.
When I’m farther away from the house, Paige tries to lift me. Her hands recoil. I’m too hot to touch.
I rise to my feet and trudge away. The partially melted soles of my boots stick to the ground with every step. My skin is covered in soot, ash, and melted plastic. I turn around to find Fiona’s house fully ablaze. Rafters collapse, and smoke and embers rise into the night sky.
Paige takes a tentative position a few feet beside me. She has a scared look in her eyes. “Darcy?” she says, looking ready to run.
She’s never seen it happen before firsthand. We’ve known each other for three years and lived together for two. I’ve done everything in my power to make sure she’s never seen the evil inside me. Tonight, she finally met Dudley.
“It’s me,” I say, taking a step toward her. She takes a step back, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
It breaks my heart that I’ve frightened her. My best friend in the world. My only true friend. What if she never trusts me again? What if she will always be afraid of me?
Fiona’s Land Rover pulls up beside us and screeches to a halt. The driver’s-side window rolls down. “I wasn’t here,” Fiona says.
“What?” I’m still trying to catch up on what just happened.
“Listen! I wasn’t here. I let you stay while I was away on business to Vancouver. Say it!”
I shake the cobwebs from my head. “You were on a trip.”
Fiona takes a last look at the fire. Her eyes well up. Then she looks at me. “You’ve destroyed me.”
The SUV starts to pull away when I shout, “How do I stop her?”
Fiona, fortunately, hits the brakes.
I plead with her. “How do I stop Melchora?” Her eyes stay focused on the road out of here. I can tell she’s tempted to drive away. “Please,” I say.
“You can’t,” she answers. Then she turns to look at me. “Maybe it can.”
“There must be some other way,” I say. I’m not willing to leverage Dudley if I don’t have to.
Fiona shakes her head. “Only magic can defeat her, Darcy Caine. If you’re lucky, maybe the power you possess can destroy her… if it doesn’t destroy you first.”
She hits the gas, and the Land Rover peels away. It smashes through the gates—she is not even bothering to wait for them to open right away. The red taillights disappear on Mulholland.
I turn to Paige. She’s looking at me, still afraid. “If you run, too, I’ll understand.” I don’t know what she just witnessed, but judging by the destruction beside me, it was awful. I add, “Maybe it’s better if you did.”
She takes a few hesitant steps toward me then changes to a run. She throws her arms around me and holds me tightly. “Don’t you get it, Darcy?” she says, her arms gripping me tighter and tighter. “You’re all I have in this world. We’re the only family we have. I would walk through fire for you. And if anything were to happen to you if…”
She struggles to get the thought out, but I know what she means. If I were to die and go to hell.
“If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t let you go there alone. I would be right by your side. Forever.”
My knees give, but she holds me up. My arms hold on to her as I collapse. The tears pour out. Sirens wail in the distance.
* * *
Paige and I decide not to wait for the fire department—there are too many questions we’re not prepared to answer. With only one road in to Fiona’s house, we have to hurry along a walking trail that leads down to the next property on the hill side. We sneak past
the house that sits below Fiona’s and finally arrive at another street.
“Should we call for a ride?” I ask.
Paige pulls out her cell phone. “I’ve got no reception out here. What about you?”
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my phone. The screen is shattered, and the phone case has melted around the device. It’s a horrible thing to admit, but I’m devastated to think that my phone is ruined.
Then I realize that Paige lost her computer, and guilt settles on me. Her laptop is everything—her work, her life—Christ, even her investigation into her mother. She tries to tell me not to worry about it, that she had backups to the cloud, but I still worry that she might have lost something that couldn’t be replaced.
We take inventory of what we have left. Paige still has her wallet, her cell phone, and the gun Fiona gave her tucked into the back of her jeans. I still have the pendulum around my neck, and Paige still has the veil in her pocket.
We continue our walk back to civilization along the dark, quiet road. Paige tells me what happened tonight. Once Dudley had taken over my body, Melchora attacked me. It distracted the demon and prevented my killing Santa Muerte—whose death might have resulted in Elizabeth’s death as well. Then I—or Dudley—went on a rampage in the house. Melchora’s magic was nearly useless on me. Everything she tried—fire, wind, electricity—I deflected, and the spells wound up hitting the walls, the furniture, and the curtains. Within moments, the house was ablaze.
With no hope of winning this fight, Melchora retreated out of the house. She used her feathered cape to literally fly out of a window, breaking through the glass, and disappeared into the night. Once she was out, Santa Muerte was magically pulled out of the window by the invisible force. Just like at the library. Just like at Carmen’s.
As we continue down the dark road, two fire trucks with sirens blaring screech around a narrow corner. Paige and I squeeze ourselves against an embankment as they zip by, no doubt to fight the fire from below.
Paige continues her story. When the fire was too overwhelming, Fiona grabbed Paige and pulled her out of the house—while I was still inside. She tried to protest, but Fiona must have used some magic, because Paige claims Fiona carried her out like a rag doll.