Cursed

by Lynn Ricci

  “Thank you, Mason. You are a very sweet.” There was a twinkle in her eyes and he sensed a slight flirtatious lilt in her voice like Catherine had used with him. I can’t fail her this time.

  “Let’s give this a try.”

  Sarah nodded and slid her hand slowly off his chest, “Where? We need to leave these candles going for hours.”

  A look of dread crossed his face but he quickly came to a resolution. “The front lobby should work. The floor is marble and there is nothing that can catch fire if a candle falls over.”

  Sarah and Mason took the bag with the boxes, canister and salt shakers with them to the front lobby. At the other end, near the front door was the large round table under the chandelier but at this end they had space. “You might be better at doing this than I would be.”

  Sarah took the salt he was offering and opened the various spouts, pouring the salt onto the floor in the shape of a pentagon. She used almost all the salt; as she finished the last line with the salt shaker remnants, she was glad she had not decided to draw a larger symbol on the floor. She had saved one small container aside for later.

  Sarah consulted the notebook where she had jotted down her notes. At each of the points, she sprinkled Melanie’s dried rosemary flakes. Mason stood by the door to the back hall, watching Sarah and feeling a sense of excitement and dread.

  Each corner of the pentagram needed a white candle, a few drops of candle wax were burned and dropped on the floor and a candle was set in the melted wax to allow it to remain standing straight up. They worked quickly together and when all five candles were in place they began to light them.

  Pointing in her notes, Sarah gave instructions. “We need to start at the top, light the candles one by one and say these lines together after each are lit.”

  Mason lit the first one and took Sarah’s hand. In unison, their voices weaving together in the moonlit lobby, they spoke the breaking spell together. “By the dark and the light – Your spell ends tonight.” When all five candles were lit, and the verse repeated after each lighting, they stood back and looked at the glowing pentagram.

  “I have chills. Wonder if she knows what we are doing.” Mason didn’t answer – he had had the same thought.

  “In one hour we need to blow these out and do it again only that time we need to let them burn all the way down and leave in place for a week.”

  He stared at the flames. “’Tis going to cause some talk when they all return from holiday.”

  “Let them talk.” Sarah looked up at him and smiled encouragingly. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “Okay, what’s next?”

  Sarah consulted her notebook. “I think we should try this reverse spell, just to make sure and to keep her away for good. We need to make it to the church but . . . I’m a little scared about going out there.”

  Their gazes both sought the front door window and the cold darkness beyond. “It’s going to be morning soon, Sarah. It’s now or never.” He looked over her shoulder at the notebook she held with the flashlight trained on the notes.

  “We need a black cauldron? Like a witches' cauldron?”

  “A black iron pot should work.”

  They got to work, gathering what was needed and then dressing for the snowy trek to St. Matthew’s at the end of the block.

  The candles had burned for their first hour and they blew each out and started anew with the top point, again reciting the required spell, their voices spiraling and echoing together.

  “I don’t feel comfortable leaving this.”

  “You said yourself it’s on marble, what harm can it do?”

  Mason closed his eyes and could see the fire again. Flames leaping across the roof of the stable, embers dropping on the dry hay, smoldering and catching fire. The crackle as it ate away at the wood and beams supporting the structure and how it sucked the air away and replaced it with the black thick smoke that had filled his lungs.

  Mason’s eyes snapped open as he tried to shake the images off. Zipping his coat, he immediately noticed how much better it fit without being hunched over.

  Sarah pulled her hat down over her ears, the dirty blond hair spilling over her black down jacket. She picked up the bag and nodded her readiness to Mason.

  For a moment they stood quietly at the front door, peering as far up the street as they could see. “The cry we heard earlier sounded like it was far away.” He reassured both of them, although he wondered if the act had actually put Selena on notice that they were fighting back.

  Slowly opening the door the freezing wind hit them in the face. They blocked the cracked opening with their bodies and quickly slid outside, more quickly than they would have liked, in fear that the wind would blow out a candle.

  On the front step, they looked back in and saw the slight glow beyond the round table, although they could not see whether all five candles had remained lit.

  Mason was carrying the black cast iron soup pot he had retrieved from storage in the attic as well as a snow shovel. He had found some extra pieces of untreated oak flooring in the basement that they has used in the house many years ago and had given it to Sarah to bring along in case the oak tree branches proved to be too damp. He had been feeling more positive about this deed until he set foot outside, and now the feeling of dread invaded him again. When he looked out to the street, he realized why.

  “Sarah, stay close.”

  Without hesitation, she grabbed on to his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  Holding the railing as they descended the snow covered stairs; Mason hurried to the end of the walkway and scanned the street. It was gone.

  “The filigree burner. It’s gone. It was right out here on the street where we threw it.” Taking one last look around now that they were standing at the end of the front walk, they then scaled the huge snow pile along the street. The sidewalks hadn't been cleared and their best hope was the street.

  Mason climbed the snow bank and juggling his pot and shovel, held out his gloved hand to help pull Sarah. She struggled in her Uggs and slipped a few times but made it up. As they stood at the top of the snow bank, they could see further up the street to the warm orange streetlights along Columbus Avenue, illuminating the side of St. Matthew’s.

  Still holding her hand, Mason looked down the steep wall of snow created from the side of a large snowplow blade. He gingerly made his way down the steep bank onto the snowy pavement and delivered them both safely to the ground. Walking along the middle of the snowy valley, he glanced at the sleepy brownstones lining the street that seemed to exude an almost surreal sense of calm. People were inside sleeping; the few children who lived on the street were most likely waiting for Santa’s arrival with the proverbial sugar plums dancing in their heads and the stockings hung. And he and Sarah were heading to the church to perform a spell breaking ritual to send a half witch, half demon creature back into the darkness from which she came. He looked down at Sarah as they walked and could tell she was having similar thoughts. Or was she? How would he feel if he realized he had a past life? A life that brought him back to the same place to finish what had started?

  The screech came from nowhere, yet it echoed all around them. Mason looked to the sky as Sarah screamed and grabbed his arm tightly. He didn’t see the large dark creature coming in fast from high above and behind them until it was nearly on top of Sarah. Wings spread wide, he wasn’t sure what it was until he saw the face. An owl.

  As soon as he saw it, it was already digging its talons into Sarah’s jacket, trying to pull her up and away. Mason dropped the pot and used the shovel like a baseball bat, smacking the owl. The creature felt it, but did not fall to the ground. Instead it flew back off from where it came.

  “Run!” Mason screamed, grabbing for the cauldron and chasing Sarah up the street. They were boxed in by the high walls of snow. The cold air cut at their lungs and icy, compacted snow beneath their feet made running treacherous. They heard a cry of anger and frustration again like they had earlier, o
nly this time it was much closer. And angrier.

  Sliding to a stop at the end of the street, Mason quickly looked around. They were under a streetlight and could be easily seen at a distance. Columbus Avenue was ghostly quiet at this hour in the morning and even the plow truck drivers had finished and gone home by now. Not a sound in the air except the gusts and howling winds.

  “They must have shoveled an opening on Columbus for the mass goers.” He grabbed her free hand and pulled her out onto Columbus Avenue and around to the front of the small but richly ornate Catholic church. As predicted, there was an opening cut deep in the snow and they dove in, safely planting their feet on church grounds.

  “We didn’t pick up any branches on the way.”

  “Let’s hope the oak flooring works.” Mason started to make his way around to the back of the church. Some of the snow holding his weight, and then breaking through unexpectedly, plunging his foot down deep into the pure white covering. Sarah followed clumsily, trying to move as quickly as the snow would allow and not drop the contents of the bag. By the time she reached Mason, her breath coming out in haggard smoky puffs, he was shoveling away the snow to reach the frozen ground. Sarah took out the last of the salt and spread it in a circle around them and spread the remainder on the ground, dropping the oak on top of it.

  Once the fire was started they lit the candle to anchor it to the bottom and filled the cast iron soup pot with snow which quickly melted to the water they needed. Sarah was reading through the spell, dropping the hair clippings and nail clippings from Mason as well as the clippings Mason had gathered from Selena’s room in 1881 and preparing the mistletoe they had taken from the lobby decorations. The fire was burning nicely and was warming them at the same time. She looked up as Mason, momentarily happy until she heard him mutter, “It can’t be.”

  Sarah followed his gaze and saw a tall dark figure, striding up the street towards the church . . . and them. The high-heeled black boots and long flared cape-like coat was all they needed to know Selena was coming for them.

  Selena threw back her head and laughed as she drew closer. She was fifty yards away but the malevolence traveled on the cold, still air and turned the laugh into a blood-curdling sound. She did not change her pace; instead she slowly sauntered, like a cat stalking its prey.

  Under her breath, Sarah quickly asked if it was boiling yet. Mason shook his head to indicate it had not. Sarah moved slightly behind Mason to get a better look at the pot while Mason kept his eyes on Selena. From the light of the black candle in the middle of the water, she could see bubbles were just starting to play around the sides of the bowl.

  Selena mounted the snow bank at the corner of the street with the surefooted ease of a feline. Placing her hands on her hips, she let the wind take the open coat making it dance behind her. In her position, she was higher than them and the street light put her face in shadow, but Mason knew all too well the evil smile that must be playing on those blood red lips.

  “Well, well, well . . . I see my two little jailbirds have crept out for a dangerous stroll.”

  At the same moment, Mason and Sarah spoke the name they each knew her by and in response they received that dreadful laugh.

  The water began boiling and Sarah discreetly released the mistletoe from her hand. A light had turned on inside the rectory but none of them could turn back now.

  “Just what do you think you are doing? Do either of you really think you can handle casting a spell? How droll.”

  “What do you want from us, Selena? Haven’t you spread your evil enough with us?”

  “Refusing me, Aiden, was your biggest mistake. You think you have suffered enough?” She let the question hang in the frigid air for only a moment before she spat, “You haven’t even begun to come close! You and that silly girl who knew nothing of life . . . and here she is again. The one woman who ever got in the way of a man I set my sights on.”

  "Leave Sarah out of this. She has done nothing to you!" Mason felt himself tense with the flood of adrenaline running through his veins. Clenching his fists he took a step closer.

  Selena pulled something from her pocket and held it up. Mason heard Sarah whisper what's that? . . . but he already knew, recognizing it, but couldn't stop to explain.

  "My insurance policy, Aiden. The one thing I took from my room before I had to leave that night." The green glass jar was held under the streetlight and although it was a distance and he could not see, he was sure there was a small paper tag with his initials scrawled on it.

  He heard Sarah mutter something behind him but his focus was Selena. "If you realized your curse was self imposed . . . that the pity you felt from others was manifesting itself as ugliness on that once beautiful body that would just in turn escalate the pity and turn you into a hermit, locked away for hundreds of years where no other woman would go near you . . . then I had to have a back up plan – didn't I?" She laughed, rejoicing at the irony of the curse she had set upon him. "And this is it; the contents of this jar. I still have a curse or two of my own I can use and no loving or compassionate look will take the spell away."

  As Selena was bellowing, Sarah had whispered into Mason’s ear. “Repeat after me three times.”

  Selena’s attention had turned towards Sarah and her cobalt blue eyes narrowed into slits. “I wasn’t sure at first, but there was something about you . . . I dug deeper and had to put up with your foolish friends and your prudish ways. But when I gave you the Christmas present – I knew. I don’t forget the surge of someone’s life force . . . and everyone is different. You, my sweet, had a very strong force – I had felt it once a long time ago as you reached for help out the stable window and then again at your office when your wrist touched my back. I knew then for sure and that my gift would have been my gateway back in. If you had just used it instead of tossing it aside this would all be so much easier.”

  Sarah had been partially hidden behind Mason and although Sarah’s wide, petrified eyes were visible above his shoulder, Selena did not see Sarah murmuring the spell to Mason or Mason’s lips moving as he repeated: This spell on me, I return to thee. To thee who has ill-wished me. So mote it be.

  By the third time, they were saying it in unison, but that was when Selena caught on.

  “How DARE you try to turn a spell back on ME!” She screamed into the night. Her anguish bounced off the brownstones and echoed along the still street. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. Mason knew those sirens and smiled at the thought of who was rescuing them. The priest called in the fire brigade.

  As the wailing sirens grew louder, Selena tried to get them to leave the church grounds. “Are you afraid to come out here and talk to me Aiden? Are you still not a man?” She taunted but the sirens kept coming and they stayed within their salt circle on consecrated soil. More lights came on inside the church and all eyes were momentarily distracted.

  “Sarah, come on over here with me. I truly want to keep you as a friend. I haven’t had a friend in so long, and it was nice, wasn’t it?” Selena tried cajoling Sarah off the church land, extending her hand. “Leave him and we will find you a new apartment, away from all those troubling memories. Put it all behind you.” The first fire truck pulled up on Columbus.

  The wind shifted and smoke crossed between them. A fireman with a thick Boston accent addressed Selena. “Hey lady, what are you doing up there? Did you set this fire?”

  Mason turned to Sarah, knowing it was their one chance before the wind changed direction again and the firemen could see over the snow pile. He pointed to the back fence and they both made their way quickly.

  Mason pushed Sarah unceremoniously up over the fence and into the back yard of a brownstone. He threw his shovel over and jumped the fence. The red alternating lights flashing off the nearby brownstones and in the soft glow of morning skies felt strangely reassuring but then he heard the roar of Selena yelling at the police officers taking her into custody.

  Risking a quick look over the fence, M
ason was just in time to see the hose extinguishing the fire on church property and completely obliterating their tracks around it with the force of the water. The breath he had been holding escaped his chest and he felt a glimmer of hope that they would survive this night.

  “We need to get back quickly. We are like sitting ducks until we get back home. Who knows if she will talk her way, or drain her way, out of this.” Sarah nodded, too winded and exhausted to say anything in return.

  Plodding through the snow, Sarah tried to keep up as well as she could but was falling behind. Mason pulled her along, nervous about her but needing to get them out to the front yard where they could make better time home trudging along where the sidewalk would be. It was slow going and Mason spent half the time looking behind him to see if there was a dark figure trailing them or an owl ready to attack.

  The sky was starting to turn a pale yellow as they reached the house and climbed the front stairs. Mason unlocked the door and they both slipped in quickly, locking the heavy mahogany door firmly behind them.

  As soon as they were inside Sarah collapsed, sinking to the floor. Mason squatted next to Sarah and took her in his arms watching her lips tremble before she began to sob.

  "She's going to come back for us, Mason. She knows now." Sarah violently shook in fear and exhaustion. Resting his head on hers he could see all five candles still burning at the far end of the lobby. He closed his eyes and held her until the shaking stopped.

  “It’s over, it’s over,” he whispered repeatedly like he was casting his own spell.

  Chapter 23

  The Jetta was finally packed and Sarah sat behind the driver’s seat waiting for Mason. It was one of those beautiful late winter days with a hint of spring that you can sometimes get in February. The temperature had turned a mild fifty degrees and the skies were blue and although snow was forecasted for later in the week, Sarah thought this burst of renewal was a good sign for bringing Mason home to meet her family.