by Beth Trissel
He hesitated. “She’s almost senseless now.”
“Not nearly enough for me. We can end this suffering.”
“Hold on,” Ignus directed. “Helen may be at death’s door, but we’re not putting her to sleep. I need her to hear us.” He tugged their reluctant column nearer the bed.
Avery dragged her feet. “What, exactly, are we doing?”
“Let me talk to her, and I’ll tell you.”
“She is deep within herself, but you may be able to reach her, Mr. Burke, or should I say my great-great-great grandson?” Anne flushed pink.
He smiled faintly. “I’m not easily put off, my grandmother thrice removed.”
“I can vouch for that.” Stan shook his head, likely at the craziness of the connection between the two.
“If I may proceed.” The wizard waved his cane at the white-draped figure, dark hair cascading around her wasted form. “Helen, I’ve come to help you. We all have. Look at me.”
She fluttered unnaturally bright eyes in his direction and her restlessness calmed. Either the magic he wielded had worked, or she’d heard him. Maybe both.
“Good,” he encouraged, turning on the charm. “Stay with me. Hear?”
She gave a slight nod.
“This man you mourn, what is his name?”
“Was,” Avery amended in a whisper.
“Is,” Stan emphasized quietly. “To her.”
“True.” He was present tense to Helen.
Ignus gave them a quiet down frown and returned his attention to the dying woman. “What is his Christian name?”
“Corwin,” she rasped.
Seriously? Not a first name you had heard much. Ever.
“He never returned to me.” Helen’s cracked voice rose in a wail, giving Avery the urge to speedily exit the room. But Stan clenched her arm and Anne gripped her hand.
Ignus didn’t flinch. “Corwin couldn’t return. He died.”
Venom flashed in those feverish eyes, and a red trickle trailed her chin where she’d bitten her lip. As if there wasn’t enough blood splatting around already. And germs. Avery longed for hand sanitizer and a fog of antibacterial spray.
Not that she didn’t pity the suffering soul. It was terrible to witness the tears sliding down her sunken cheeks.
With what sounded like her final breath, she gasped. “He betrayed me before a bullet took him. How dare he?”
“We cannot any of us help our hearts, or determine where we love,” Ignus insisted.
Note to self. But Avery found she didn’t mind his lack of romantic interest in her as much as she had before. Like at breakfast, which seemed centuries ago, and technically was.
More importantly, he’d cast off his besotted absorption in the enchantress. Anne had helped lift the blinders from his eyes when they most needed him. He stood firm in the face of Helen’s resistance.
“Let Corwin go with your blessing. Free yourself from this weighty burden,” he admonished her.
“And if you see a light shining in the distance, head for it, and may God take you into his care,” Stan added.
Anne exuded pleading. “Listen to Mr. Burke and the Reverend Guthrie. I believe the kind and goodly girl I once knew is still in there, dearest Helen.”
“Do you?” she whimpered, the fire in her gaze dulled.
“Yes.” Anne and Ignus answered in unison.
Avery wasn’t persuaded the blaze was quenched and doubted Stan was either. He hadn’t relaxed his rigid stance. Neither of them took their focus off the potential menace for an instant.
There! The bitterness returned, and her eyes were burning pools in her white face. Like an inferno in a blackened cave leaping against pale stone walls.
“I do not forgive so easily,” she hissed.
Ignus considered her, his head tilted to one side. “Are we speaking with Helen, or another?”
Hoarse laughter tore from her racked chest. “Both are called Helen.”
Great. The possessed and the possessor shared the same name.
“What are the odds?” Stan said in Avery’s ear.
“Given all that’s happened today…” she whispered back.
Stouthearted Anne faced Helen squarely. “I know who you are. It’s my gift to know.”
“Tell us, girl, if you are so wise,” she invited, in a voice totally unlike the whimper from before.
Mega creepfest.
A trancelike state came over Anne. She seemed to see beyond them, as if searching a great distance into the dim recesses of the past. “The first Helen goes back a millennium to an old English battlefield, and a gallant knight who did not return to his lady love.”
“Indeed,” she croaked, and spat into her stained handkerchief. “The traitor chose another maiden and broke faith with me, before he fell in battle.”
“This spawned your rage,” the seer continued, either unfazed by conversing with a demonic woman or shielded from alarm in her peculiar state. “An insatiable appetite for revenge and power over men became your all. You feed off the grief of women, fueling yourself with their anger and pain, roaming from victim to victim.”
She paused, struggle showing in her face as she strove to uncover the inner secret. Her eyes fixed on Helen. “You are a powerful witch from an ancient order. The last of your kind.”
“And one who has met her match.” Grim lines at his eyes and lips, Ignus thrust his walking stick at the prostrate figure with newfound purpose.
A charge of energy went out from him in streaming white light. “Release Helen Burke. Allow her peace at her death. Be gone from her, Ancient Helen. You do not belong in this dying soul. Her spirit shall ascend to heaven, while yours withers below.”
A wicked smile curved her lips. “I will leave her to die soon enough, as you demand, but you and my withering soul are not yet finished. Anne has the truth of it. I’m a floater. I travel where I wish in time, going from woman to woman. Their rage and grief empower me. You cannot escape. My specter haunts your home as long as I will it.”
Illumination intensified his expression, and triumph hinted. “How about forever? You erred in possessing a girl whose portrait hangs in the home of a wizard with power over images. You can’t leave this house until I free you.”
“Might get a little samey for one used to hopping on the flow and popping off wherever you like.” Stan’s casual stance belied the tension he emanated.
Helen cackled herself into a coughing fit and hacked into the hankie. Again. Avery was totally grossed out at this point, but the conflict wasn’t over. She’d bet the witch had a surprise or two in reserve.
The demonic woman lowered the bloody cloth, a sneer twisting her once lovely face. “After these many centuries to be trapped in an American dwelling. Not even a great English castle with countless rooms to roam. The bitter irony. But I have my revenge, Ignus Burke. Yes, I know your name, and I hold your father, Jude Burke, prisoner in this very house. Men are weak tools, easily led. As were you.”
Bristling like an incensed dog, he bent toward her. Only Anne’s unyielding grip, and “Don’t break the circle” plea kept him from springing at her in snarling fury. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”
Laughter punctuated with coughing was her only reply.
“You robbed my mother! Me. For all these years.” He stabbed his cane at her. Blazing light-filled energy crackled in her direction.
He’d never displayed such anger, the walking stick acting as a conduit for his pent-up rage. Would he incinerate the creature on the receiving end, housed in poor grieving Helen?
The invalid/demonic lifted a bony hand to block his sizzling flow. The volatile stream blasted back and forth between them, molten white at his end, inky green at hers. A sulphurous scent charged the air.
“You vile hag! This stench lingered the night my father disappeared,” he hurled at her along with white-hot fire.
The fumes were choking. Avery blinked stinging eyes and waited breathlessly as the two warred. He
’d said Helen had met her equal, perhaps her superior. He deflected the punishing voltage and returned it magnified ten times. If he didn’t have to maintain his hold on Anne, she expected he’d close in and ram his cane down the witch’s throat. But he mustn’t.
“Young Helen’s still in there,” she reminded him. “Trapped in a ravaged body undergoing this bombardment.”
Ancient Helen was in there, too, and weakening. She’d lose in her current form. Avery prayed she didn’t assume the gigantic shape from before, with eyes the size of windows. But there were more of them to combat her this time, if she did.
Too soon for those thoughts. She wasn’t finished yet.
Pushing up on an elbow, she opened her crimson mouth wide. Blood-flecked venom spewed forth in a germ-filled tide. Never mind if their inoculations worked, Anne hadn’t even received one. If she sickened and died, she’d never marry, and Ignus wouldn’t eventually be born to her descendants.
A horrific realization. Avery tried to block Helen from reading her mind, as she had earlier, while tugging Anne to the floor. Stan must’ve had the same thought and ducked down with them. Both attempted to shield the girl while maintaining their hold on each other. Avery met his eyes. He knew what she did. They couldn’t ward off disease in their huddle, but had to try.
Ignus remained standing, clasping Anne’s upstretched fingers. With a wave of his stick, he created a clear bubble around them. Another whirl erased every droplet inside it.
“Be well.” With those words he sent cleansing light into his ancestor-to-be until she glowed like an angel.
“You think to defeat me, hag? I’ll see you in Hell!”
Whew. What a frenzied gnashing of teeth.
Then the crazed witch blasted the dome with her version of biological warfare and green rays. Like trying to penetrate a force field upheld by Ignus. The concentration needed to withstand the impact showed in the subdued winces crossing his face. A hideous grimace contorted Helen’s as she rained punishment. The four inside the protected circle jerked under the onslaught, but nothing she flung at them made it through.
Panting hard, she slumped back, her lurid light dimming. If he upped his attack he’d win. But he risked destroying what was left of the innocent woman they’d come to aid. She had the right to a peaceful end, not this torture.
Psycho Helen needed a new victim. Maybe she realized occupying this one was preserving her. For now.
“Be clean.” Ignus sent a vapor of pearly light through the bubble into each shadowy corner of the room. The cleansing sheen decontaminated the germ-infested space and eliminated every trace of the scarlet spray.
The demonic had failed, or so it seemed. Undeniably, contagion remained in her. But Avery sensed she had a different ploy.
A taunting smile at her lips, she fixed glittering eyes on Ignus. “You want your father, boy? Only I know where he is. Shall I show you?”
One swirl of his cane and the dome disappeared. “Yes! And then I’m tearing you apart.”
God, no. He’d just invited Ancient Helen to act, leaving them at the mercy of this pitiless being.
Avery’s thoughts scattered like leaves in a gale. She wasn’t as focused as she should be to summon the wind but must act. Now. While the witch’s focus was on Ignus. Maybe if she pushed her back long enough, she’d buy him time to close the door he’d unwittingly opened.
Putting the whistle to her lips, she blew a pure note.
The crone swiveled her head at Avery, malice in her burning stare. “You called, wind talker?”
“Hold on tight.” At Stan’s unexpected directive, she found herself transported to the front hall at the speed of light. No doors opening and closing. No rushing down the stairs. Nothing.
One moment she was in the bedroom threatened by a sorceress from the dark ages, and the next, she was crouched before the front door gaping at him. And not only her. The four of them were still joined. He’d zipped them out of harm’s way in a twinkling, even brought the carpet bag.
She stared into his stunned eyes. He looked as if he’d seen an army of ghosts. “What the holy heck?”
His chest rose and fell as he straightened, drawing her up with him. “Think I’ve figured out my gift. It swept over me when you blew the whistle and Helen turned on you. In that moment, I knew what to do.”
Ignus clapped his palm on his forehead. “Stan the Man’s a teleporter. Who had a clue?”
The answer was obvious. “Your mom. She told me you weren’t the only one who’d summoned us to your inner circle.”
“Really? She’s far more powerful than I realized. As are you. Thanks bro. I kind of lost it back there.” He clasped Stan on the shoulder, regarding him with heightened respect.
So did Avery, and she already admired his wit, courage, kindness…and good looks, come to think of it. Was he taller?
Come on, she reasoned. He hadn’t grown in the last few hours. Ignus wasn’t changed, and she hadn’t gained height, but there was something different about their emerging star.
Was she overawed by his newly discovered magic?
Yes and no. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time. Even with the dyed chestnut hair, his Scottish heritage was evident in his lightly freckled complexion and blue gaze. She was already aware of that, though, and always a bit jealous because of her English ancestry. Scots were cool.
How about the manly quality lurking beneath the geekiness he cultivated? He had a lean mean build from biking everywhere he went. What about before bikes? What might he be like then?
She pictured him in a kilt striding up a craggy hillside banked in purple heather. It worked, especially if he ditched the glasses. Even if David Tennant was his favorite Doctor Who and had worn a similar pair on the TV show, it was time to let them go. She envisioned herself in a long plaid skirt walking beside Stan, the Scottish warrior and his badass woman.
Man, this day was getting weirder by the minute. Now, she was imagining him as a Highlander?
Cut it out. Friends do not fantasize about friends. Unless…you wished they were more.
Cheeks burning, she jerked from her insane imaginings. “Okay. So wow, Stan,” she stammered. “You’re kind of amazing.”
His smile radiated through her to parts he’d never heated before. “Thanks. ‘Kind of’ works for me. I’ll take it.”
Lively voices carried from the parlor, the others in the household enjoying their gifts. “Let’s not spoil Christmas Eve for them,” he said.
Anne had straightened and shot an anxious glance over her shoulder. “No, we mustn’t, and you should go before bad Helen traps you somewhere in this house, or between places.”
Disturbing images rose. “An alarming thought.”
Stan shrugged. “I can’t transport us to other eras, only different parts of the house. Ignus, you’d better act fast.”
He motioned for them to help. “Quick. I need an image.”
“What year?” Avery asked.
“Nineteen Eighteen. My gut still tells me that’s when we must visit.”
She scrambled for an idea. “We have no pictures.” They should carry a slim album with them, despite the risk of incriminating their future selves. He usually had something.
“Will this do?” Anne slipped one of the skin soothing bottles from her pocket and held it out. “Your mother gifted this elixir to me through Miss Dunham. It bears that date and is from this house. She may have meant for you to find it.”
He pecked a kiss on her blushing cheek. “Yes. Likely she did. Farewell, my dear grandmother to be. Make our goodbyes for us, and see poor Helen through to the end.”
“When I return upstairs, I expect to find she has peacefully passed away, freed from the witch’s vile clutches.” The knowing in her expression conveyed more than a guess.
“Good. Part of our quest is accomplished. Keep a hold on the bottle while I tap it and never toss it out. This glass is our bond.” He glanced around at them. “Join hands, guys.”
Avery tucked the whistle in her purse and took each of their hands. As before, she was in the center. The heart of the group, Mrs. Burke had called her. “Farewell, Anne.”
She raised her free hand, her other extending the bottle. “Godspeed, dear friend. And you, Reverend Guthrie.”
“God keep you,” Stan replied, fondness and sincerity in his tone. His pastoral role had meant something to him.
Not that Avery expected him to enter the ministry upon their return to the future, assuming they survived to make it back. But playing this part had struck a chord in his caring spirit. An odd combination with teleporter…
Ignus tapped the date on the back of the glass with his cane, drawing her focus. “Take us to Christmas Eve, nineteen eighteen in this house, in this spot, at this very hour and moment. Remember, keep quiet everyone. See you soon, Grandma.”
“Soon for you. Not me.” Her voice trailed after them as they whirled into the passage between times.
Would the vindictive menace wage another assault, or was the wizard in control this trip?
I hear you, girl. I see you.
Helen! Speaking in her head. Would she act or was it a warning?
I’ll be waiting.
Chapter Nine
Crunch. Glass grinding beneath a heeled shoe reached Avery in the whirling tunnel between times. The despised laughter and whiff of black magic fouled the rushing air.
Helen! If she’d destroyed the tiny bottle linking the three of them with Anne and the year, nineteen eighteen, how would they reconnect? What if she zapped them somewhere else?
Could Ignus oppose her in this no man’s land? What about Stan? Avery had battled her here before. The problem was, no one appeared in the hazy passage for any of them to fight.
Hurry up! Hurry up! They must reach their destination before Helen did worse. What if she’d trapped them in this place? They’d be lost in space—
Wait. What was happening?
A foul-smelling gust slammed them nor’easter style and sent the trio rolling head-over-heels. But no one let go.