by Beth Trissel
“H.’s niece, also named H., is fully under the influence of Ancient H.,” Stan said quietly. “Not confusing you, am I?”
“Heck no. Perfectly understandable.”
“Maybe the name repetition actually simplifies things,” he suggested.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She tugged at his arm and he bent his head nearer so she could whisper in his ear. “It’s up to us to rid this household of that demon, or die trying.”
“Better yet, rid the whole world of her,” he breathed back.
“Right. That’s all.”
“By midnight,” he added, nodding at the room. “In here.”
Unlikely spot for the ultimate showdown with a demonic power. The full-sized tree draped in silver tinsel and hung with colored glass balls, many of which had survived to twenty seventeen, was the image of nostalgic loveliness. There were no electric lights yet to string, but it shone brilliantly. At its base, were inviting wrapped gifts for Christmas morning.
Holly and lengths of greenery lined the mantel and the infamous portrait above it, where Helen’s spirit must be sent. A stabbing reminder in the midst of the festive decorations. More garlands wound the top of the cabinet housing china and porcelain figurines—she loved the collection of dogs—and covered the large glass front bookcase. The stunning leaded glass lamp in hues of coppery gold, blue, and rose was familiar, as was the small brass reading model with a white shade. Some furniture had been relocated in the modern-day version of the house, but she recognized much of it.
Spice wafted from oranges stuck full of cloves nestled among the greenery. The homemade pomander balls were an ongoing tradition. Knitted stockings hung above the cheery crackle of a log fire. The smoky fragrance mingled with other scents, including beeswax candles flickering from various surfaces, and the floral notes of ladies’ perfume.
Reminders of the recently concluded war were in evidence. Soldiers had not yet returned, including Edward Burke, whose portrait hung on the wall, and they’d learned about a fallen cousin. The framed photograph of the young man in uniform had a place of honor beside Edward’s. Both were still there in modern-day.
Everyone, besides the lady in red, wore somber tones out of respect for the men who would never come home. The possessed woman seemed in her own world, smoking a cigarette in the long silver holder fashionable in this era. She must’ve spiked the eggnog from a flask concealed in her beaded purse, her intoxication apparent in the unsteady way she swayed to the music. The family wouldn’t add alcohol to the beverage the children were also enjoying with the plate of gingerbread men.
Helen didn’t pause in her gyrations or glance around at the newcomers’ entrance. It might be better if she didn’t immediately acknowledge them, allowing the three more opportunity to strategize. But Avery doubted the sinister being residing within her remained unaware of their presence, or intrusion as Ancient H. surely viewed their coming. Her anger with Ignus for imprisoning her here was blistering.
He hadn’t meant to inflict an evil presence on the household as he had, merely contain her until their arrival. Why hadn’t the power of Anne and David been enough to overcome her, and what might the combined strength of all five of them accomplish? Helen had seemingly recharged her flagging energy after the tumultuous clash in the place between times, and no one had plumbed the full depth of her power. They’d come near enough for Avery, though she suspected more lay ahead.
She swept her gaze over Ignus’ great-great-great grandfather, David, a less bearish version of his deceased father, Horace. Weird, the gruff man not being here. They’d conversed with him only a short while ago, or so it seemed.
Anne explained he’d been gone for two decades, and had caught the newcomers up while they wolfed down a hasty supper in the kitchen. She’d given the staff the evening off in anticipation of events, so the Burke family had eaten earlier in the formal dining room. David stuck his head into the kitchen to greet them and apologize for their hurried meal in humble surroundings. Knowledge shadowed his lined brown eyes. He knew they hadn’t come merely to dine and join in the holiday festivities, and where they were really from. This quick meal was a pit stop before urgent business.
Anne and David’s daughter-in-law, Marjorie, had also stepped back with her children to welcome them before returning to the parlor. She was acquainted with the reason for their visit and glanced up from where she sat on the couch in a sophisticated forest green ensemble, blond hair arranged on her head. She smiled nervously, her blue eyes and fair coloring reminding Avery of Mrs. Butler, whom she was informed had also passed away some years ago. The little boy and even smaller girl on either side of Marjorie were reminiscent of Able and Althea, long married now with families of their own. And Able had gone to war.
It was strangely like being with the assembly they’d recently parted from—recent to the travelers, anyway—yet different. Even the toys the children held, a doll dressed in finery, a horse that rolled on wheels, and picture books were much the same. But Ida no longer lived in the house, and hadn’t returned for Christmas. If Marjorie didn’t reside here, she might not have come, either. She appeared ready to bolt.
Stan nudged Avery. “Jude’s over there in an armchair, partly hidden by the tree.”
She’d bet he and Helen were the reasons Ida had stayed away. Too much weird stuff going on. But she would’ve liked to see Ida again, and hoped she was happy in her widowed life, filled with music and travel. At least, it was before the war.
“Jude has Ignus stamped all over him,” Stan whispered.
This was their first up-close study of his father. The middle-aged man rose from his seat in a well-tailored charcoal suit, nodding happily to the music. He approached them and offered a polite bow. “Welcome all. I only joined this merry gathering a short while ago myself.”
As in seven long years, but his vacant expression revealed no memory of the lengthening months, or recognition of his own son. His only child. The attractive man bore a marked resemblance to his sole offspring, his lean figure about the same height as Ignus’. Gray silvered his brown hair at the temples, probably since his arrival. The eyes were different from his son’s, though. Jude’s were brown while Ignus had his mother’s striking hazel hue. His father still resembled the professor he’d been in his former life, but he might as well be an affable patient in a mental ward now. He seemed utterly lost in the dark magic overtaking him.
Ignus’ entreating gaze glistening in the firelight revealed his pain. But apart from shaking his enchanted parent and yelling at him to wake up, Avery didn’t know what to do. There must be a way to break the spell. Likely it lay in defeating Helen. Still, they had to try.
Stan extended his hand to the amiable, hopelessly unaware individual. “Hello, sir. I’m Reverend Stan Guthrie, and this is my fiancée, Miss Dunham.”
The smile creasing Jude’s face was so like his son’s. He clasped the fingers reaching to him like a lifeline. “Good to meet you, Reverend. I’m a Burke cousin of the family.” He paused as if searching for more. “I sense I could use some spiritual counsel.”
More than he knew. He’d forgotten his own name.
Stan patted his hand. “As can we all, sir.”
“Indeed.” The temporary trouble passed from the man’s gaze. He relaxed his furrowed brow and smiled at Avery. “Greetings, Miss Dunham. What a lovely lady you are betrothed to, Reverend. You are most fortunate to find such a pearl.”
“I agree. Though the finding is not recent. We have been friends since childhood.”
A pensiveness came over Jude, perhaps the tug of the past. “Childhood sweethearts often make the very best companions and mates. Like swans pairing for life.”
She wondered if somewhere inside him he recalled his forgotten wife, like a distant fragrance.
Ignus shot Stan one of his increasingly familiar annoyed glances. “These two practically finish each other’s sentences, but I didn’t realize they were—”
“In love?” his father su
ggested.
“Yeah. That.”
Were they, really? Avery nearly reeled backward. Stan steadied her by the elbow and she eyed him uncertainly. Did he truly feel that way about her? Had he always, or had the emotion grown slowly over the years?
He’d never said. Or had he, in his own way, and she hadn’t heard him?
He met her eyes steadily. “I’ve been in love with Miss Avery Dunham since I was five years old.”
A shimmer rippled through her, and she thought back. He had been there as long as she could remember, the one friend she could rely on and share everything with, who understood and accepted her as she was, flaws and all.
For years, she’d fixated on Ignus. She gazed at him now. Still gorgeous and intriguing. But Stan drew her in a way he hadn’t before, a way she hadn’t realized she wanted, or needed. For a long moment, she swiveled her head between the two, settling on Stan. How had she not seen he was the perfect half to her circle, the full completion that made her whole?
She took a steadying breath. “I’ve been in love with Reverend Guthrie since before I knew.” It took going back in time and battling a witch to realize.
Jude patted her arm. “That’s as it should be, my dear.”
Wisdom from the crazy enchanted man? Could this day, now late evening, get any stranger? She didn’t dare ask.
The tender light in Stan’s eyes made it all worthwhile.
Ignus gave a short nod. “I see. Well…good for you both,” he said graciously, despite the crimped edges at his mouth. He held out his hand to his father. “Hello. I’m also a Burke.”
Without a hint of recognition, he closed his fingers around his son’s. “Indeed? I’m glad to meet you, young man.”
“And you, sir.” Huskiness edged Ignus’ voice.
Spidey-senses kicked in. Motion across the room made Avery aware of Helen. Stan and Ignus also turned toward her.
Like an uncoiling serpent, she lowered her cigarette, set her drink on an end table, and faced the newcomers. The gleam in her eyes and the smile curving her rose red lips was unsettling, to say the least.
“Good evening,” she crooned. “Reverend Guthrie, Miss Dunham, and Mr. William Burke, wasn’t it? I also bid you welcome, though I think you have been here before.”
Ignus released his father and leveled the full force of his gaze at her. “As have you. In fact, you never left. Why is that, I wonder? Are you so fond of this house?”
He just had to taunt her, didn’t he?
Not that Avery blamed him, and judging by Stan’s narrow expression, neither did he. However, posing as a minister prevented him from joining in the fray. Control was called for in his case, while electricity crackled between Ignus and the witch. Barely repressed energy charged the air. A storm was brewing, as anyone could tell.
Marjorie gathered her children and their toys. “Bedtime, my darlings. The sooner you’re asleep, the sooner Santa will come. I’ll stay with you,” she added, with a significant glance at Anne.
“Good idea. Night, night, dearies,” their grandmother called. David waved them off, his eyes haunted.
“Goodnight Grandma, Grandpa, Cousin Burke. Miss Helen. And everybody,” they piped.
Jude gazed after them fondly. He must’ve seen the kids every day for years, but this seemed his first encounter. “What good children.”
“Very.” They left without the anticipated fuss. However, the backward glance from the little boy revealed a hint of inner knowledge. Unfolding events weren’t lost on him. Here was a future magical person, the next in line, and Ignus’ great-great grandfather Samuel. The girl was named Ida for her aunt.
Marjorie and the kids must’ve been warned that their sudden departure from the room might be required this evening. Besides, it was late for such small people to still be up, even on Christmas Eve. Avery prayed everything would be right for the family by morning and angels would surround them.
David Burke cranked the gramophone and the waltz flowed once more. Odd choice for a battle tune, but all they had. She didn’t even recall the name of the song, only that the waltz beckoned to her.
The dignified older gentleman offered a bow to the lady of the house and held out his hand. Lamp and candlelight cast a glow over his silvery head and trim figure in the immaculate brown suit. “Might I have this dance, my dear?”
Anne took his outstretched fingers, her eyes strained behind the forced gladness. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Shall we?” Stan said to Avery.
She nodded, and he twirled her into his arms. Delightful shivers darted through her as he led her in the steps from long ago they hadn’t mastered then. But now…wow. Oh, wow. The grace they’d lacked in childhood, and she still often did, fell away. The dance came together, and they circled the room in fluid oneness. Maybe the magic of the evening swept over them, especially her. Whatever accounted for their sublime movements, they could have placed in any competition tonight.
Exhilarating. Despite everything. His heat flowed through her, and she tingled to her toes. When he bent his head and softly covered her lips with his, she dissolved against him. In that sweetest of all possible moments, any remaining doubt about their togetherness faded like mist in the sun. Their joint path was clear, if they survived to walk it.
Spiraling in Stan’s close embrace, returning his tender kiss, she was only vaguely aware of Ignus marching over to Helen. What on earth was he doing?
Stan withdrew his heated mouth, and they halted, staring. Anne and David paused in their revolutions and looked on. His clueless father seemed unaffected as Ignus held out one hand, his cane clutched in the other. “Shall we join in the merriment, Miss Burke?”
He’d hurled the gauntlet. Her answering smile held an invitation to war. How long until one of them flung the other onto the ceiling? And then what?
Stan groaned. “Brace yourself, sweetheart.”
“You brace for us both. I’m getting the whistle.” Any minute now, she’d need to blow that witch back. But how were they getting her into the painting?
Chapter Eleven
“Battle stations.” Stan’s directive to Avery fitted the bizarre scene unfolding in the parlor.
She leaned into him as they backed against a wall. “I hope they don’t ruin this room. Bad enough, we left a mess behind us in twenty seventeen.”
“Worse, whatever havoc our resident evil may wreak now. This very evening. To us all.”
“No argument.” While she clutched her whistle, and he gripped her other elbow, Ignus and his demonic partner danced around the parlor alone.
Stan thumped his chest, over his heart. “Gets you right here, doesn’t it? They make a darling pair, apart from the ‘I’ll kill you now’ glare and blue flames crackling between them.”
“And the smoke encircling their heads, though not like the wreath in The Night Before Christmas,” she added.
“What I was gonna say. Tough call, but this is possibly the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She surveyed the odd couple. “I’d better believe a zombie apocalypse. And we’ve seen a lot of weird stuff today.”
“Prepare for weirder.”
Eyes intent, Anne and David hung back, arms wrapping each other. Jude cocked his head at the strange pair, as if trying to place them in his Swiss cheese memory bank. Even in his lost in space state, he seemed to sense something was wrong.
Avery nodded at him. “He kind of reminds me of the movie, Hook, when grownup Peter forgets he’s Pan.”
“Yeah. This Jude dude even forgot the whole wizard thing. Wonder what his gift is?” Stan gave a low whistle. “Whoa. Listen to the trash talk on the dance floor.”
Ignus twirled the infamous woman in red. “Are we seeing who outlasts who? I can dance all night. That young thing you’re residing in needs an early bedtime.”
“I haven’t worn out this body yet,” she sneered.
“She isn’t yours to exhaust.”
Hoarse laughter ripped from his un
likely partner. “She won’t last long on her own. Refuses to eat. Endless tears. Drinks like a fish. I’m putting her to good use.”
“How?” Ignus demanded, turning her faster.
“Tormenting your family, you, while she provides me with a beautiful form. Women are usually half dead when I find them. Or completely gone.” She waved deep rose fingernails at their surroundings. “I tire of haunting these rooms and halls as a vaporous spirit. This body will do for a while.”
He revolved with her in dizzying circles—they would be to Avery, anyway. “Release the girl and my father, and I’ll free you from this house. But it must be both.”
She gave him a scathing glance. “Why bother with that buffoon?”
Ignus jerked her to a stop in mid-spiral, and she stood panting despite her protests to the contrary. Eyes slitted, he closed in nose-to-nose. “Because he’s my father. Free Jude Burke from this enchantment you’ve trapped him in, and let the girl go. Final warning.”
“Is it, indeed? You don’t tell me what to do. I can send the old man out the door into the path of a cart, or one of those new contraptions they call a horseless carriage.”
Crap. A car.
If she thought to ruffle Ignus, she was disappointed. “No. You can’t,” he said with steely calm. “Or you already would have. Anne and David have enough power to prevent that. And the rest of us are here now.”
Her eyes smoldered like burning coals. “I can kill this body I possess, and you won’t get your precious cousin back, or whatever she is to you. And your dear father will never know who or what he is.”
“Dad hasn’t known for years, and seems to be faring okay,” Ignus countered with feigned nonchalance, his demeanor that of tightly coiled wire. “If you kill the girl, you’re back to floating in the attic. Boring, being mist, isn’t it? Slime and fog are your true domain.”
He and the primal force housed in the unfortunate young woman circled each other like territorial lions, only he wasn’t conceding any ground.