Spellbound

by Jean Copeland

“Thank you so much for joining us today, Pastor McCoulter,” Tammi said.

  “It’s been my pleasure, indeed,” he replied in a velvety rich voice.

  “And don’t forget, Right Side listeners down there in Roanoke,” Tammi said. “Tonight is the first of several worship services hosted by the great Lucien McCoulter at his newly renovated and expanded facility, True Light Ministries Church in downtown Roanoke. Tickets are still available for tonight’s sermon, but they’re going fast.”

  Hazel and Raven got out of the Jeep. Hazel helped Sarah out of the back as Raven gathered their duffel bags. Hazel came around to Raven’s side and looked up at a huge billboard of Lucien McCoulter’s wise, welcoming face and compelling smile shining down on the world with the dates of his engagement. Hazel elbowed Raven for her attention. They stared at the billboard and exchanged looks.

  Raven nodded toward Sarah. “Now we know why you two got those weird vibes approaching Roanoke.”

  Hazel grinned as she maintained eye contact with Raven. “Hey, Aunt Sarah, feel like attending church tonight?”

  “Aye,” Sarah said with a sigh. “After such a lengthy sojourn, my soul doth need the nourishment of the Scripture.”

  Hazel gently patted Sarah’s back. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.” She forced herself not to watch Raven as she walked toward the motel manager’s office, but that confident swagger was impossible to ignore.

  She wasn’t sure what to make of her emotions over the last few days. Everything she thought she’d known revealed a different reality. She couldn’t trust what she thought when her body tingled at being close to Raven. She had an overpowering desire to be near her, to touch her, but everything felt overpowering lately. Just a few days ago, her life was simple; she was a small business owner with an ordinary family history. Now she was sharing space with not only a shadowhunter, but a time-traveling witch from three hundred years ago, who, oh by the way, was also her aunt. Her head hurt, her stomach churned, her nerves were fried, and all she wanted to do was take a long bath with a glass of chilled wine. But she needed to know what was happening to understand why she was being summoned by the Queen of the Witches. She needed her life to go back to normal. But normal didn’t include Raven Dare.

  Raven with her talk of danger, survival, and demons. She was clearly deeply entrenched in a world that Hazel wanted nothing to do with. She didn’t want to be a witch, not in this sense. She didn’t want to have to contend with what used to be abstract notions of demons or Hell. She wanted everything back the way it had been before Raven and Sarah had shown up at her door. Her life was neat, planned, and predictable. But oh so boring. She glanced over at Raven, who was walking out of the motel office, keys dangling in front of her, a triumphant look on her face.

  Hazel tried to push down the sensation of excitement upon seeing Raven smiling in her direction. She needed to keep her distance, and if she couldn’t do it physically, she needed to do it emotionally. Allowing her in is a mistake. She repeated the words in her head, hoping to engrain the mantra into her psyche.

  Raven’s warm eyes traced the outline of Hazel’s face and neck as she gathered their bags. The simple action had Hazel second-guessing everything she’d just been telling herself. Raven, it seemed, had a way of making her second-guess everything. She wasn’t sure if she loved the feeling or desperately wanted it to go away.

  Chapter Seven

  Inside the arena, Sarah clung to the arms of Hazel and Raven as they were jostled about by the clamoring crowd rushing to get to their seats for Lucien McCoulter’s sermon. Sarah felt disoriented by the lights, gaggles of people, and loud music. She tried to push through her unease and focus on the positive in the situation.

  “Never have I witnessed such a prodigious horde of worshippers. My heart is warmed that piety and faith have not lost their battle with evil through the ages.”

  “Don’t start celebrating yet,” Raven said. “Yes, religious fervor still exists, but this kind is…hmm, how do I put this delicately?”

  Hazel cut in. “Pretty much as insane as the religious fervor that got twenty-three people dead during the Salem Witch Trials.”

  “Twenty-three?” Sarah stopped short on the stairs leading to their section in the nosebleeds, causing a brief bottleneck of fans behind them.

  Raven glared at Hazel. “You gotta stop with the spoilers.”

  “I know,” she said, bowing her head. “I keep forgetting.”

  “Pray, how may I stop all of the murders?” Her eyes flitted between theirs, searching for hope. “Couldst thou accompany me back to Salem Village with your sorcery, so that we may spare those innocent souls?”

  “Not an option,” Raven said, practically dragging Sarah to their row. “That’s way beyond our area of expertise.”

  “Um, I’m still not sure what my area of expertise is,” Hazel said.

  “Perhaps Miss le Fay could be of assistance?” Sarah said.

  “I’m sure she can…” Raven spread her reproachful glance between them. “If we can ever get there.”

  “Don’t look at us like that,” Hazel said. “Obviously, your great-granny Virginia had something to do with us getting drawn off the highway, too.”

  “Fair point,” Raven said.

  Hazel smiled and bumped Raven’s shoulder. “Then let’s make the best of it.”

  Raven put her feet up on the chair in front of her and put her hands behind her head. “Sure. Let’s just sit back and revel in the heavenly glow of Reverend Slimeball’s celebrated return to Roanoke. Maybe we can figure out why we ended up here in his glorious presence.”

  “Goody Raven.” Sarah placed a hand on her arm. “I fear the evil that dwelleth around us. ’Tis a familiar feeling of foreboding.”

  “That’s good. You should fear it.” Raven appeared stern but reassuring. “It’s complacency that killed most of you over the centuries, and it’s what threatens you still. But that’s why we’re all together.”

  “We are to stop the evil?”

  “That’s the plan I’ve gleaned from Morgan.”

  Hazel leaned forward to look at Raven. “The three of us?”

  Raven nodded. “Unless Morgan plans to slap together an army to back us up.”

  Sarah covered her ears at the noise in the stadium, but it continued vibrating through her chest. This world that Ayotunde’s incantation had sent her to as an escape was beginning to feel more like a punishment. Her head swirled in bewilderment at this strange new world. Technology, Hazel called it, the result of man’s endless quest to improve upon God’s ideas. If Puritan leaders thought using herbs and roots for healing means was the work of the devil, what would they make of these handheld sorcery devices that all seemed to possess? And her body felt different as well. All the talk of witches and evil had wrought troubling sensations upon her. In a matter of days, she’d been catapulted from her humble life as a farmer’s wife who’d endeavored each day to be a good Christian and avoid displeasing God into what seemed like the precise realm of supernatural forces she’d been taught to fear her entire life.

  Further compounding the confusion was the paradox of finding Ayotunde, the one whose presence had brought her life its greatest joy, at the most ominous hour of their lives. Would she ever see her again? Her eyes teared at the thought that they had again been ripped apart after so brief an interlude and that Ayotunde might yet be destined for the hangman’s noose along with the others.

  She watched Hazel and Raven huddled closely, laughing. In their younger years, she and Ayotunde would sneak off to the fields and wood for play such as theirs. Her heart yet ached for those days. And for Ayotunde.

  Hazel leaned across Raven’s lap. “Sarah, are you okay?”

  “I’m sure she’s not used to this decibel level,” Raven said.

  “’Tis unnerving this commotion,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty loud,” said Raven. “And it’s going to get even louder once the main attraction hits the stage.”

&nbs
p; “I mean not only the sound,” Sarah said. “The commotion that also dwells within me.”

  “You’re not alone there,” Hazel said.

  Raven consulted her watch. “The show’s about to start.”

  * * *

  The screams of adoration were deafening. Raven had never witnessed such unabashed, almost orgiastic worship in her entire life. How have I never heard of this guy? From the moment he stepped on the stage, his hatred was so evident, so tangible, she thought she might be able to chew on it.

  “They think they’re as good as you; they think they’re one of you; they think they deserve what you and your families have worked so hard to create.” McCoulter’s words were annunciated by pictures of gay couples on a one-hundred-foot screen. The next image appeared, and Raven felt her stomach roll. Pictures of people of color dressed in gang clothing, holding guns, and standing with their foot on a white man. “The craft of the Gibeonites. Joshua maketh a league with them. For their craft they are condemned to perpetual slavery.” McCoulter let the cheering settle before he continued. “You see, it’s right there in the Bible. These people intentionally deceived the Israelites. They came to Joshua pretending to be in need, and when Joshua agreed to help, they destroyed the Israelites.” He pointed up at the screen. “That’s what they want. They want you to feel sorry for them. They want you to help them just so they can take us all down.”

  Raven’s hands trembled. This man was despicable. She leaned over and talked against Hazel’s ear. “He’s insane.”

  Hazel’s face was flushed, and Raven wasn’t sure if it was from their shared anger or something else. “I’ve studied the Bible at length, and I don’t remember this at all,” Hazel said.

  Sarah’s brows furrowed. “Aye, it ’tis indeed in the Bible. The Book of Joshua.”

  Hazel put her hand on Sarah’s arm. “Which Bible, Sarah?”

  Sarah looked frazzled. “The only Bible.” She looked up toward the large screen and turned her head slightly. “That man, he is familiar. Our paths have once crossed. I know it.”

  Hazel grasped Raven’s knee. “We don’t recognize it because the wording is from a much older version of the Bible. The Geneva Bible, it was used by the Puritans.” Hazel loosened her grip, and her eyes looked worried. “What if Sarah wasn’t the only person to come through? What if there were others?”

  Raven wished she could tell her that such a thing would be impossible, but she couldn’t. “Can you focus your energy at all? Can you sense him? I’m not close enough.”

  Hazel closed her eyes for a moment and then shook her head. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  Sarah stood abruptly and pawed the air for Hazel’s arm. “I know who he is now. That is Samuel Cranwell. He once roamed the village an aimless drunkard until my husband hired him as a hand and preached the word of God in him. He hath since been appointed marshal in Salem and takes great pleasure in arresting the women. He means to see them hang!”

  Raven sprang to her feet. She put herself between McCoulter and the witches. She knew it was a pointless act, especially from this distance, but it was something she needed to do. She leaned down between them. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

  Raven led them to the stairs, putting Hazel in the front and Sarah in the middle. She didn’t like being several feet from Hazel in case something happened, but the likelihood of Sarah getting lost was too great a risk. She reached into her waistband and pulled the seraph from its sheath. This was the only weapon she’d been able to get past the metal detectors since it was cloaked in white magic.

  They hurried down the expansive hallway toward the exit. Raven felt demons approaching from different sides. Her skin burned with the recognition of their presence, and they were getting closer by the second. She needed to get outside where the large walls wouldn’t restrain her ability to maneuver between the entities. Her lungs started to burn as the darkness closed in. Finally, Hazel reached the large door and shoved it open, the cold night air swallowing them as they spilled out into the parking lot.

  “Hey! Stop!” the largest of the four demons yelled. He was well over six foot and at least three hundred pounds. Like most demons she’d encountered, this one had taken on a human form, an especially formidable one. As he stalked toward them, Raven noticed the other three approaching from different sides.

  Raven held Hazel by the shoulders when the demons were only about two hundred feet away. She reached into her pocket and threw Hazel her keys. “Take Sarah and get back to the hotel. There’s an amulet in my bag; put it around your neck. It will keep you cloaked from the demons. At least, for the moment.”

  One hundred and fifty feet.

  Hazel shook her head. “No. I’m not leaving you here.”

  One hundred feet.

  Raven turned them in the direction of the car. “I’ll be fine. You have to listen to me. Go. Now!”

  Fifty feet.

  Hazel pulled Sarah close to her. “Raven, there are four of them and only one of you.”

  Twenty-five feet.

  Raven flipped the knife in her hand and changed her weight to the balls of her feet, readying herself for the fight. “Hazel, please.”

  They were out of time. Raven threw the seraph at the closest demon. It struck him in the chest, and she yanked it out before his body finished dissolving into ash. Another charged her while the other two made their way toward Hazel and Sarah. She ran toward the witches when she felt a sharp pain in her back that spread across her shoulders like paint splashed onto a canvas. She winced and willed herself not to fall forward as the demon’s footsteps grew louder behind her. She stepped to the side and turned, pushing the seraph into his neck. The smell of sulfur once again filled the air.

  The last two demons were on either side of Sarah and Hazel, circling like sharks. They skulked about them but made no real movement to advance.

  “Come with us, and you won’t get hurt,” said the one closest to Sarah.

  Raven closed in, hoping to subdue the demon before it was too late. That would draw the other demon’s attention, and she’d be able to save Hazel as well. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was all she had.

  She ignored the throbbing coming from her shoulder and moved closer. The air seemed to shift. Everything grew still. A blast of light erupted from Sarah as her arm rose slowly above her head. Raven felt euphoric for a flash as the smell of the deep woods and wildflowers filled her nose. Hazel’s movements echoed Sarah’s and intensified the pressure building in the air, a stark and startling contrast from what was just transpiring. Sarah seemed to draw the demons closer together, and in a gust of wind out of nowhere, they fell over backward. As they struggled to get to their feet, Raven was able to reach one and slide her blade into his heart as the other ran off. She wanted to go after him, but Hazel appeared next to her, keeping her from moving.

  Hazel ran her hand over Raven’s back. “Oh my Goddess. There’s a tiny arrow sticking in your back.”

  Raven turned to look, but the motion made her dizzy. “It’s laced with something. Can you pull it out?”

  Hazel looked concerned. “I don’t know if I should. We need to get you to a hospital.”

  Raven scoffed. “And say what exactly? ‘Hey, Doc, a demon shot a magic arrow into my back. Can you do me a solid and get it out?’” She put her hand down to prevent her from falling over. “They’ll throw me in the psych ward.”

  Sarah worked the arrow out, dug a bandana out of Raven’s backpack, and applied pressure. “’Tis a mild wound. I have witnessed much worse on the farm when my Thomas first took a sickle to the crops. I’ll remedy it with some goldenrod. Where is the nearest forest?”

  “See?” Raven motioned to Hazel and felt as if she was going to throw up. “We just need to get out of here and back to the motel. That demon will be back, and he won’t be alone.” Hazel looked as if she was about to object. “Don’t worry. I heal faster than most people. It’s part of the curse.”
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  Raven pushed up into the kneeling position, and Sarah and Hazel lifted her from either side, helping her stand.

  “Perhaps we should bring the carriage to her,” Sarah said.

  “I’ll be good as new in a few hours.” Raven began to walk forward. “But don’t think I didn’t notice that witchy thing you two did back there. We need to talk about that.”

  Hazel’s grip around her waist tightened, and Raven let herself enjoy the slight nod to their connection. “We can talk. But only when you feel better. I’m not really sure what’s going on. I have no idea how I did any of that.”

  Raven hoped her silence was interpreted as her agreement. She let the two of them lead her back to the car, and she flopped in the back seat. Already the discomfort from her wound was abating, but she hoped the whole arrow had come out when Sarah removed it. She still had the tip of a knife in her from an altercation that happened almost two years ago.

  She watched Hazel from the darkened protection of the back seat. Her skin was flushed from using magic, and the redness on her cheeks made her look younger. She chewed on her finger, a habit Raven found adorable on her when she would’ve found it disgusting on anyone else. Strands of dark hair had fallen from her ponytail, and she used her long, elegant fingers to move them out of the way.

  Raven closed her eyes, realizing the attraction she felt toward her had nothing to do with Hazel’s supernatural powers and everything to do with her. Perfect. Just what I need.

  Chapter Eight

  Despite Raven’s assurances that she’d be all right, Hazel couldn’t get back to the motel fast enough. She wanted to pull her inside and get a good look at the open wound on her back. The thought of Raven suffering in any way made her nauseous and angry. She should probably feel much more overwhelmed by the four demons that chased them down, the apparent magic she and Sarah had invoked, or the fact that a Puritan preacher on par with Jonathan Edwards had followed Sarah into the twenty-first century with his own dubious agenda. Yes, all of that was terrifying and important, but not more important than Raven’s well-being.