The Uprising (Moonlight Wolves Book 3)

by Jasmine B. Waters

  Ligeia touched the knife to my chest, right above my heart. She pressed the blade against my skin until I began to bleed. Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all – but I felt a strange, swirling energy inside my body. It was an odd feeling, almost like a storm was raging within my bones.

  When it was over, Ligeia cut the cords from my wrists. Rubbing them with my fingers, I climbed shakily to my feet.

  “Now, child, you want to see Monica, yes?”

  “Yes.” My mouth was dry and I licked my lips. “Please, I mean.”

  Ligeia nodded. “I am pleased with you,” she said. “You have done well, Elizabeth.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. If she had any idea how I was really feeling,…well, I didn’t even want to think about that.

  I followed Ligeia out of the woods and back into the clearing. Monica was sitting there, with her head cocked to the side. When she saw me, she looked confused.

  “Ligeia, mistress, I have one favor to ask from you,” I said, bowing my head to show respect. “Please, allow me to leave one last time – so that I can say goodbye to my fiancé, Steven.”

  Ligeia frowned. “You have broken with him, have you not?”

  “Yes, because I knew I was coming back here,” I said softly. “But I want to say goodbye.”

  Monica narrowed her eyebrows. “Ligeia,” she said quickly. “You have to let Elizabeth go, or else my spell still holds on Steven. He won’t ever get over it, or have a normal life, without her. She has to see him once more to break the enchantment.”

  Ligeia’s blue eyes were two turbulent storms as she stared at Monica, then at me.

  “Child,” she said quietly. “You deceived me.”

  Fear struck my heart and I shook my head quickly from side to side. “I didn’t,” I said quickly.

  “Elizabeth didn’t mean to,” Monica said. “She didn’t know about the spell I’d cast, Ligeia.”

  Ligeia gave me a long, hard look. “Your soul is bound to that of Prudence Arrowsmith now,” she said. “If you do not return of your own free will, I will be forced to come and take you. That will not be pleasant,” she said, staring coldly. “You understand, yes?”

  “I know,” I said quickly. Inside, I was panicking. But something about Monica’s calm expression made me feel better – was it true, what she’d said about the spell?

  It didn’t matter, as long as I had one last chance to break free.

  “Besides, I should take Monica back,” I added softly. “She’s been away for years. She’ll need to acclimate.”

  Ligeia scoffed. “I do not wish to hear any more,” she said. I could tell she was seething with anger. “Go, then, if you must,” she said. “But when you return, know that from that point on, you belong to me. The coven will be your permanent home. You will never be allowed to leave.”

  I didn’t say anything – I was too afraid that somehow agreeing with her would just make things worse. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Monica grabbed my wrist and pulled me away. We walked through the clearing together, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “What are you doing,” I hissed.

  Monica looked at me, clearly frightened. “Shh,” she said. “Not yet, it’s not safe.”

  We walked on in silence. The blood pounding against my eardrums was deafening, and it took a full minute to realize that we were actually running. As the woods grew denser and less full of Ligeia’s powerful magic, I felt an equal sense of relief and terror shooting through my body.

  We didn’t stop running until we were almost out of the woods. When I could see the treeline and the houses of Jaffrey, I took a deep breath and stopped, leaning over to rub my legs.

  “Monica…” I trailed off, reaching for my friend’s shoulder. She stopped and turned, giving me a frightened look.

  “What?”

  I swallowed nervously. “People…everyone thinks your dead,” I said softly. “They had a memorial service and everything.”

  Monica gave me a strange look. “I’m not surprised,” she said, shaking her head. “It was probably easier for Henrik to do that than worry about wiping everyone’s minds.”

  I bit my lip. A cold chill came over me and I shuddered. My palms were still bleeding from the deep cuts of Ligeia’s athame.

  “Why did you do that,” Monica asked softly. “Why would you risk coming back like this, Elizabeth?”

  “I had to,” I said. “I…Something’s not right,” I added.

  “No shit,” Monica said darkly. “They lied to us the whole time. I just wish I could’ve told you before you signed yourself over like that.”

  “What?” I frowned. “What do you mean, lied?”

  “About everything,” Monica said. “Come on, this way.”

  She led me around the back of her house and into the yard. When we were just a short distance away from the woods, Monica turned to me with tears glistening in her brown eyes.

  “They lied about everything,” she said, sniffling. “About Andrea, about Prudence – about the real reason why they wanted her.”

  My heart sank. “So I was right,” I said slowly. “I had a feeling…that something wasn’t right.”

  “It’s worse than you could have imagined,” Monica said. She swallowed hard. “They didn’t want to protect the world from Prudence. They wanted her soul for themselves – they wanted her power, and they told me they were sick of living in hiding.” She wrapped her thin arms around her thin torso and hugged herself tightly. “And now, they have her soul. They can do it, Elizabeth. They can unleash hell on the whole world.”

  For a moment, I thought I was going to pass out.

  “Why? Why would they do this? And then lie – why would they lie to us?”

  Monica looked miserable. “Because they’re powerful witches,” she said, shaking her head. “And we only have one chance at defeating them.”

  I shook my head. “There’s no way we’d be able to do that,” I said softly. “There’s no way we’re strong enough.”

  Monica smiled. “You’re forgetting something,” she said. “Before I left…well, I have a surprise for you.”

  I frowned. “This isn’t a time to joke around,” I said, shaking my head. “This is really fucked up, Monica! This is serious shit!”

  “I know,” Monica said. “Look, I’m not trying to make light of the situation. But I swear, this is important.”

  “What, then?”

  Monica pointed toward the woods. When I saw Andrea walking towards us, in a ghostly trance, I shrieked with fear.

  “Shhh, Elizabeth!” Monica grabbed my hand and squeezed. “This is a good thing, she’s going to help us!”

  “You’re kidding,” I said warily. “You hate each other.”

  “Prudence’s soul is asleep,” Monica said, shaking her head. “But we don’t have much time.”

  Andrea came closer and closer. She was floating just above the ground, the tips of her feet brushing against the wet grass. Her eyes were closed and I could sense that she was barely alive, that she was on the very edge of death.

  “Andrea,” Monica said, snapping her fingers. “Wake up.”

  Andrea’s eyelids flew open. “Hello, Elizabeth,” she said softly. “It’s been a long time.”

  I stared right back at her. “Yes,” I replied. “Yes, it has.”

  Chapter Eight

  Andrea

  When I was a little girl, my mother used to hold me in her arms and tell me that I was the most special child in the world. For a long time, I never really thought anything of it.

  But as I got older, I realized how different my life was from the other children I knew.

  We were always a very close-knit family. I was close to my mother, my aunts and uncles, and my brother, Steven. Mother prided herself on being the strength of the family, the backbone that kept the rest of us going. She was so strong that it scared me sometimes – I could hardly watch her without wondering if I’d ever learn to be as tough.

  When I was four
years old, something happened that would change the rest of my life. I remember the day really well – it was bright and sunny and humid, one of those summer days that makes you tired just from the heat. My older brother, Steven, and I were at church, in the basement: it was Vacation Bible School week, and I’d just gotten my very first bible. I was so proud and happy, I couldn’t stop running around and showing it off.

  One of the other children pulled me aside and gave me a mean look.

  “Do you believe in Hell,” she asked, plucking the bible from my hands and flipping through the thin pages. “Because I think we’re all going there.”

  I can’t remember what I said back to her, but it really upset me. I couldn’t stop crying, and I wouldn’t tell my mother – or anyone else – what was bothering me so much. I was suddenly terrified of dying and going to Hell. For months and months, it was all I thought about. I barely slept. At night, I’d pull the covers over my head and pray for hours, too keyed up to drift off.

  I thought it was real, you see – I felt it was real, with every cell in my body.

  That was when I became truly religious. Our whole family was very pious, even Steven, before he got into high school. Mother would pray with us nightly, holding our hands and instructing us to stay close as a family. It was hugely important to me. And I have to admit, I enjoyed the special attention that I got from Mother now that I was learning to have a personal relationship with God.

  But when I started school, everything changed. In kindergarten, I wasn’t very happy. Eventually, after a couple of months, the teachers tested me and decided that I should be placed in first grade. They thought that would help, but at first, it just made things worse. I felt so much smaller and younger than the rest of the children in my class, even though they were just one year older than myself. It was a strange and scary experience, and the only thing that got me through it was knowing that at the end of each day, I’d go home and Mother would be waiting with a snack in the kitchen.

  My brother, Steven, took naturally to school. He was smart and athletic, and his older friends would always hang around the house, eating all of our food and making a mess in the kitchen. Mother didn’t mind, even when I sulk about it – she was happy that her children were doing well and making friends.

  “Andrea, you’ve got to be friendly,” she’d say when I complained about not having any friends. “You’ve got to make those older kids realize that you deserve to be with them, don’t you understand?”

  I understood, but I was so naturally shy that it was hard.

  Then one day, everything changed. I was crying in the bathroom and two girls in my class – Elizabeth Hartsell and Monica Boer – walked into the bathroom. I’d never talked to them before. Elizabeth seemed nice enough: she was quiet, like me. But Monica was a troublemaker. She was loud and brash and she’d made half of the boys in our class cry.

  I was afraid of her.

  “Why are you crying?” Monica asked, walking over and putting her hands on her hips. She was short and slim, but somehow she seemed as intimidating as an adult. “There’s no reason to be upset,” she added. “You’re fine.”

  “Monica…” Elizabeth looked at her friend and trailed off. “Andrea, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid,” I said softly.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Monica said. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

  “But I might die,” I replied. Tears filled my eyes and my chin began to tremble and shake. “I might die and go to Hell.”

  Elizabeth and Monica exchanged a weird look.

  “You’re not going to die, don’t be stupid,” Monica said. She spoke with the arrogant air of our teacher. “Stop crying. We should go back to class.”

  But Elizabeth had been kinder. She’d taken my hand and told me that everything was going to be okay, that I just had to take a few deep breaths until I calmed down. To my shock, she was right.

  After that, we sort of became friends. I wasn’t particularly close to either of the girls, but my mother was just happy that I had a few acquaintances for playdates. And Monica was oddly fascinated with our house – she loved coming over and poking around, sticking her nose in all of Mother’s religious books.

  “Little girls shouldn’t be reading that,” Mother said once, flushing as she plucked a book about natural contraception from Monica’s hands. “It’s inappropriate.”

  Monica stuck her tongue out. “Jamie and Brian let me read whatever I want,” she said, tossing her fair hair. “I don’t think it’s fair.”

  My mother didn’t care for Monica after that – she said she was disrespectful – but I couldn’t help it. I was suddenly in awe of her. She was so cool. She never cared what anyone thought about her, and she could come up with insults quicker than I could snap my fingers. Most of all, her parents let her wear whatever she wanted…and she called them by their first names! She was like a character from a show: cool and wild and more than a little scary.

  I didn’t understand why she and Elizabeth were such good friends.

  As we got older, I lost a little of the awestruck feelings I had towards Monica. We butted heads more than a few times, and when my beloved aunt died, Monica made fun of me for crying in the middle of school.

  “You miss your aunt, don’t you,” Monica said after class, bumping her hip into mine with more force than necessary. For someone so small, she was actually quite strong.

  “Yes.” I sniffled. “She was my best friend.”

  “Well, we’re in ninth grade now,” Monica said, raking a hand through her pale blonde hair. “I mean, my grandparents both died last year. We’re getting older, people are starting to die off.”

  “That’s not very nice,” I said, swallowing hard. A weird feeling was starting to bloom in my chest and I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  “Well, yeah, I just mean, I’m sorry it happened,” Monica said. “It still hurt when my grandfather died, even though he had cancer. Like, we all saw it coming…but it still sucked.”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “It hurts a lot.”

  Monica’s eyes flashed mischievously. “I know a way you can talk to her,” she said, smiling. “Wanna come over?”

  “What?” My heart skipped a beat in my chest. “What are you talking about?”

  Monica smiled – a secret, cool little smile. “Just come to my house after school,” she said. “It’s fun, you’ll like it.”

  I frowned. “I don’t know,” I said. “I should probably get home – I got extra homework in biology to make up for that test.”

  Monica waved her hand through the air. “Forget biology, it’s easy,” she said. “Look, I’ll even help you with your work, okay?”

  “What about Elizabeth?”

  Monica laughed. “If your brother has soccer practice after school, Elizabeth won’t budge,” she said. “She’s got a huge crush on him.”

  “Really?” I squinted. “On Steven?”

  “Yeah,” Monica replied. She laughed. “Don’t tell her, she’ll kill me,” she said. “Or fine, tell her and watch her flip out. She’s so sensitive about it, it’s like the first time she’s ever liked a guy.”

  I swallowed. “Steven’s not allowed to date yet,” I said. “Mother wouldn’t let him.”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Monica said. She laughed again. “Elizabeth doesn’t care about that – she’s terrified of guys,” she said, snickering. “The one time Steven spoke to her, she turned bright red. So, come on, over to my place,” she added, jerking her head to the side. “And then we can talk to your aunt.”

  I had a bad feeling about whatever it was that Monica was about to do, but I couldn’t deny that I was curious, too. I called Mother and told her I’d be a little bit late, and then followed Monica across town and into her parents’ rambling farmhouse.

  “This is it,” Monica said triumphantly, pulling out a rectangular box and dumping it on my lap. “Come on, open it!”

  I frowned. The box had a picture of a board with let
ters, numbers, and a sun and moon on it. “Oh-eye-ja? What is that?”

  “Ouija,” Monica said. She shrugged. “I don’t know, I found it in the attic. But it works, look.” She plucked the box back from my hands and opened it on her bed. Pulling out a small plastic triangle, she held it in the air. “We put our fingers on this,” she said, demonstrating. “And close our eyes and then we can talk to spirits.”

  “This doesn’t seem right,” I said slowly. “I…I don’t know, Monica. I don’t know that I want to do this.”

  By now, I was so frightened that my curiosity had almost completely ebbed away.

  “Come on, it’s totally harmless,” Monica said. “We’ll go up to the attic, Jamie and Brian won’t bother us there.”

  So, I did what Monica wanted. I followed her into the attic, sat down, and put my hands on that horrible thing.

  And after that, my life was never the same.

  ---

  At first, after the séance, I was sure that the problem was with me. I couldn’t even remember what happened – the last thing I remembered was climbing up the rickety attic stairs behind Monica’s slim figure. And Monica wouldn’t talk to me – not that I wanted her to. I’d apparently run out of her house, screaming and crying and hysterical. And then my parents had called her parents, and Mother told me that I was forbidden to see Monica from that point forward.

  That’s when the dreams started. Strange, scary, foreign dreams – dreams of a far-away place and people with funny clothes and even stranger accents. In my dreams, I was a young girl, in the time of the Puritans. And everyone called me Prudence.

  “That’s not my name,” I remember saying once in a dream. “My name is Andrea.”

  A strange, beautiful woman with black hair and bright blue eyes seemed to hate me. She followed me around from place to place, threatening me whenever I tried to do something good.

  I expected the dreams to stop, but they never did. And a year later, things started happening around town. Monica went missing, then Elizabeth. I couldn’t explain it: during the day, I felt awake. But at night I’d wake up in bed and shake and shiver, unable to believe the things I’d said and done. I felt myself transforming completely into another girl, a monster, who pushed others around and used my religious beliefs for evil.