Electric Blue

by Jamieson Wolf

  "What was that last bit she said?" Orlando asked again.

  "‘She is the kin of a fallen sister, one who lies in the ground. She will be the downfall of everyone if she is not stopped’" Chip said. "Do any of you know what that means?"

  "It's the one thing I hate about prophecies," Naomi said. "They're never very clear at all and usually vague."

  "Then it's up to us to figure out the puzzle," Chip said. "Otherwise, trouble is brewing."

  "Trouble is already brewing," Lucia said. "I think we have to figure out this prophecy from the beginning."

  "Before Cecelia arrived, she said something about. . . ." Chip thought for a moment and then quoted his wife: ‘Something will arise. That which is already destroying the other world seeks to gain more power, she will destroy the world’"

  "That sounds like the same person as this fallen sister," David put in.

  "But what does that mean?" Lucia asked.

  "It means that she is one of us," Naomi said. Everyone turned to look at her and she turned pinkish under their gaze.

  "What do you mean?" Cecelia asked.

  "I mean she is a Witch, she is one of us. Part of the Coven. Why else would Roz call her a sister? Unless she's related to one of us?"

  "No, no, Roz said she was the kin of a fallen sister, one who was in the ground," Naomi said. "That has to mean that a Witch, but related to one of us who have died?"

  "We can't know for sure," Cecelia said.

  "Then what are we going to do?" Chip said. "Roz said that this Mistress person is eating the other world. What if she means the world that Poppy and Alicia are in?"

  "We can't know for certain," Cecelia said. "But," she added at Chip’s dark look, "it doesn't mean we're going to sit idly by and do nothing. Prophecies are puzzles. All we have to do is figure this one out."

  "But we're running out of time!" David said. "We have until Halloween, that's not very long."

  "Then we best hurry," she said. "Lucia, I will need you to come with me."

  "Where are we going?"

  "To the library," Cecelia said.

  "What's in there?" Orlando asked.

  "Hopefully, the identity of our Mistress."

  * * * * *

  The library in the Coven House was a huge, sprawling room. David had never been in it before. In fact, there seemed to be a lot of the house he had never seen. The house seemed to have grown slightly since his last stay here. There seemed to be more rooms, more space. The ceilings seemed higher. He put it out of his mind and instead looked around him. The library had two floors, the second floor accessible by a ladder or by two large staircases that curled and curved. There were books of every shape, size and colour stacked in floor to ceiling bookshelves made from oak and pine. The room smelled of leather and wood.

  Several large armchairs were strewn over the floors surface, tables made of polished oak nearby. There were beanbag chairs and rocking chairs too, and a fireplace gaped like an open mouth at the north end of the room and the south end had nothing but windows adorning its walls. It was a magnificent library, and David couldn't believe that he had never seen it before.

  "The Coven library has grown over centuries," Cecelia said. "All the information on the Coven is here."

  Orlando looked around at the amount of books. "Finding anything in here will be like finding a needle in a haystack. How can we possibly find what we're looking for in here?"

  "With this." Cecelia walked towards the west wall and stopped at a shelf that held several large tombs. They had gold writing on their red spines. Cecelia pulled a book from its shelf and showed them the cover. A History of the Coven read the cover. She opened the book, but gasped as smoke poured out of it. With a scream, she dropped the book as it began to catch fire; it spluttered and spit, flames licking its edges. The other books of the Coven's history on the shelf in front of them caught fire then, too. Orlando and David grabbed the carpet under their feet and pulled the books to the floor, stomping the flames out with their feet. Soon, everyone was putting out the flames, grey and black smoke whirling around them. When the smoke finally cleared, they were all pale faced with smudges and black in their hair, on their faces.

  "Well," Cecelia said, coughing. "It seems as if someone does not want us to find out who she is."

  "Gee, you think?" Naomi said sarcastically. "What gave you that idea?" She scoffed. "Oh, how about the books setting themselves on fire, the entire history of the Coven wiped out. Yeah," she said, "I'd say someone wants their identity kept secret."

  “So what do we do now?" Lucia asked.

  "It's all good," Naomi said. "I have an idea. Meet me outside of Roz's bedroom in twenty minutes."

  "What's your idea?" Chip asked.

  "That's for me to know and you to find out," she said with a smile.

  * * * * *

  They all met Naomi in the attic twenty minutes later. When they entered the room, Lucia let out a gasp. In the centre of the attic, where Poppy's art had been, Roz sat. She was tied to a chair, her legs and arms bound with the soft silk rope that normally bound her to her bed. An Ouija board was at her feet. David recognized it as the one that he, Roz and Poppy had used to contact the house’s spirit before, when Anna had been in the house. Its surface glinted black in the overhead light.

  "What are you doing with that?" David asked.

  "I found it in the basement."

  "Yes, but what are you doing with it?" David eyed it with caution.

  "I figured if she couldn't tell us what was happening, the house can."

  "But how are we going to talk to the house? It’s a spirit, isn't it?" Lucia asked.

  "Yes, it is, that's why we're going to talk to the house through Roz. Using that." She pointed at the Ouija board.

  "I don't know if that's such a good idea," David said.

  "Why not?" Naomi asked. "It'll give us a direct link to the house.”

  "That's what I'm afraid of," he said. "I don't want to wake anything that's best left sleeping."

  "This will be fine," Naomi insisted. "The house will speak through the Ouija board."

  "But then why is Roz here?" Orlando asked. "If it's talking to us through the Ouija board, you don't need her."

  "Well, that's where things get a little tricky," Naomi said.

  "I thought there was a catch to this," Chip said. "What is it? Spill."

  All eyes turned to Naomi and stared at her expectantly. After a few moments, she spoke. "Well, Roz is incapable of speaking on her own at the moment, what with the demon during the day and the prophecies at night."

  "We know that." Chip said. "What are you planning to do with my wife?"

  "We have to let the house talk through her," Naomi said. "Through her mouth. It's the only way we can hear from the house itself whether or not it is in trouble, or how Poppy and Alicia are."

  "There has to be another way," Orlando said.

  "I've tried to think of one and can't. This is the only way we can talk to the house and hear what it has to say. It won't be able to express itself through an Ouija board."

  "How do we know that the house will pick Roz to speak through?" Cecelia asked.

  "She is already able to sense Poppy and Alicia, as she is having prophetic dreams, visions. She is already sensitive and open to spirits; the house knows her already, knows all of us.” Naomi looked around at everyone. "Please. I've tried to See what's going on, but the spirits are showing me nothing. I've tried everything I can think of; candle magic, divination, spell work, nada, nothing. I can't get anything. We need to do it this way."

  "I wish there was something else we could do," Chip said.

  "As do I," Naomi said. "But there isn't. Do I have your permission to do this?"

  "What?" Chip said.

  "Well, I can't ask her permission. So I'm asking yours. Can we do this? She is your wife and our friend, but whatever you decide, we will understand."

  Chip looked at all of them and only hesitated for a moment. "Let's do it," he said.r />
  Naomi smiled at him and got to work. She turned out the lights in the attic after everyone had sat down in a circle around Roz. She was sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling with her breathing. Naomi lit several white candles and a black candle. David looked at the black candle with an odd look. "It's for protection from evil," she said.

  "Are we likely to encounter evil?" Lucia asked.

  "Anything is possible," Naomi replied.

  "That's not the answer I was hoping for," Chip said.

  Naomi lit more candles that had been scattered around the attic. Cecelia was chanting quietly to herself, perhaps to ward off evil-doers. Everyone else remained quiet and waited. Naomi sat back down on the ground and held the Ouija board pointer in her hands. She concentrated, thinking of positive thoughts and placed the pointer on the board at the word Hello. "You are welcome here," she said. "Use our friend as a vessel, so that we may hear what you have to say." The candles in the room began to flicker and dance, casting shadows on the attic walls. Wind began to pick up inside the attic, a soft breeze. "Please," Naomi said, "We mean you no harm. We only want to know who wishes to harm our friends. They are on a quest inside of you, in the Otherworld."

  There was a loud creak from the house. The breeze got stronger. They could hear a voice in the wind. "I. . .know. . .this," it said.

  "Please,” Naomi said again. "We want to prevent anyone else from coming to harm. We want to protect you."

  There was a loud clap and all the candles went out. In the pitch black, there was only silence, no one dared speak. Then, slowly at first, the candles relit themselves. One by one, they lit, their flames adding their light to the room so that the shadows had to run to hide. Then they heard it. A soft sound; a child, giggling. It reminded Naomi of water running over rocks. They all turned to face Roz. Her eyes were open, but there was no white. Instead, her eyes were blacker than night. She looked at them with a happy expression on her face. "What is it you wish to know?" Roz said. But it was not Roz. It was the house. It was speaking through her. In the voice of a little girl.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  The House Speaks

  "Who is it we are speaking to now?" Naomi asked. Chip had gone pale when he heard the girl’s voice come out of Roz's mouth. No one else dared say anything. The only sound was the creaking of the house and the sound of soft breathing.

  "You are speaking to the embodiment of the house." When the house spoke, they heard a soft wind, a tinkling of music like wind chimes. A breeze rippled through the air.

  "Are you a little girl?" Naomi asked.

  "I am the house. I am whatever I want to be. I am the embodiment of the house."

  "Do you have a name?"

  "Whatever you want to call me. . .I have never had a name. No one has thought to give one to me. I am merely the embodiment, a guide to the Sisters who enter me, someone to show them the way of their quest. I have never had a name."

  "Does the other world have a name?" Naomi asked.

  "Only what the Witch gives it. Poppy has called her other world Ashling."

  "Is there more than one other world?"

  The house laughed. "Yes, there are hundreds of thousands of other worlds. It all depends on what the Witch envisions. Surely you know this?"

  Naomi nodded. "Yes, but we didn't know how many there were. . .we are looking for a specific one."

  "Yes, I know," the house replied. "You wish to know if your friends are alright?"

  "Yes," Cecelia said. "They mean a great deal to us."

  "As it should be. There is too little friendship in the world today." The house sounded almost dreamy, as if it were thinking back over time. "There is a lot of evil in this house."

  "What do you mean?" Naomi asked.

  "There is evil here. It is coming, just like Roz said it would."

  "You can hear what she says?"

  "I am the House, I can hear everything that goes on in my walls. She speaks the truth. Your friends are being hunted."

  "Do you know who hunts them?"

  "Yes. . .she is using magic from the other world to keep herself alive. She calls herself the Mistress. I remember her when she was under my walls."

  "What was she like?" Cecelia asked.

  "Evil." The House said. "It is her evil here. She is destroying the other world with every breath she takes. Soon, the cancer that is her spirit will eat it all and there will be no more. Even now, it kills Ashling, greyness that eats it like clouds and sky."

  "You say she was here? She was part of the Coven?"

  "Yes. I recognize her scent, I can smell her. She has been skulking around, looking for a way into Ashling, into the inside of the house, to the world that exists inside me. I can feel her probing my walls with her magic."

  "Do you know who she is?"

  "I only know what she calls herself. Names have power in the other world and she only calls herself the Mistress. I am trying to remember what she called herself when she was here, but many hundreds of thousands of Witches have been under my roof. It is almost impossible to pick who she might have been."

  "How do we stop her from hunting Poppy and Alicia?" David asked.

  "You cannot. It is one of Poppy's quests."

  "Quests? Do you mean she has more than one?" Cecelia asked.

  "Yes. Her first is to find her father. Her second will be to learn what is causing the Darkness in Ashling and then her third will be to stop it."

  "Why does she have three quests?" Naomi asked.

  "Because she is the Shifter."

  "But all Witches only have one quest!" Cecelia protested.

  The House shrugged. "That is the way. I cannot deter the path already laid out for Poppy. Her father will tell her of her Mistress. Then it is up to her to stop it."

  "Why didn't you tell her this in the beginning?" Naomi asked. "Why let her go into this blind? She could be killed!"

  The House shrugged. "Because it is the way. Poppy must learn for herself what troubles she must face. She must learn about herself along the way too. Even now, she heads towards the Darkness, even as it eats more of Ashling. Only the Shifter can stop the Darkness."

  "But what can we do in the meantime?" David asked. "We can't just sit here and do nothing."

  "This is true. I sense that you are all noble. You must protect this house. There is a war coming; I can sense it. Protect this house and those inside."

  "Will you help us?" Cecelia asked. "We will need more help than we have here. We aren't very many. If there is a war coming, we have to be prepared."

  "The war comes after All Hallows’ Eve. But you are right, you must be prepared," The House said.

  "Then what are we to do?" Cecelia asked. "I have never fought a magical war."

  "Neither have I, but we can at least try, can we not?" The House said, making Roz's face smile. "It is time I left this body. It grows restless, and Roz needs her space."

  "But," Naomi began, but she never finished.

  Roz closed her eyes and there was another loud clap of noise, the breeze intensified inside the attic. It built up speed until the wind started whipping candles around the room, books and bric-a-brac; everyone had to hold on to each other so as not to be blown along with the wind. A small whirlwind, a funnel of air, formed in the centre of the circle. As quickly as it started, it stopped. Everything that had been in the air fell to the floor with a clatter. Naomi raised her head from the floor and narrowly avoided being hit by a candlestick. What she saw made her gasp. Standing in front of them was a little girl. No, not a girl, but a young woman. She had long brown hair that fell to the floor in masses around her. Curls of hair tickled the girl's feet and she giggled a soft, lovely sound. "You may call me House," she said.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  They Come Together

  Mistress looked up when LaWanda entered the room. "You're late," she said.

  "Keep your panties on," LaWanda replied. "I'm here ain't I?" She sat down across from Mistress, her solid oak desk pro
viding the only barrier.

  "Yes," Mistress said coolly. "You certainly are."

  "Look," LaWanda said. "Can we lose the bitch attitude here? I'm helping you out, how about you remember that?"

  Mistress looked momentarily shocked. No one had dared ever to speak to her in such a way. She lashed out with her right hand and sunk her long red nails into the skin around LaWanda's chin. "Let's see how you like a little pain," she said. She cut through the skin, her nails sharp as razors. She felt LaWanda trying to pull away from her, but she just dug her nails in harder, deeper. Blood was now running down her hand and wrist. Smiling at LaWanda, Mistress leaned forward and ran her tongue along her wrist, licking the blood off of her skin. "You are delicious," she said.

  LaWanda looked at her. For the first time, she was afraid in Mistress' presence. She now knew that the woman was mad. She could see it in Mistress' eyes, they were dark and they seemed to go on forever. LaWanda said nothing however; her thirst for revenge was too powerful to be brushed aside by common sense. Mistress withdrew her nails from LaWanda's skin. The five holes created by Mistress' fingernails bled furiously and LaWanda put her hand up to stop them from bleeding.

  "Don't do that," Mistress spat.

  "But I'm bleeding!"

  "And whose fault is that?" Mistress said with a smirk.

  "Yours," LaWanda said defiantly.

  Mistress slapped LaWanda hard across the face with the back of her hand. The slap increased the bleeding of the cuts and also split her lip. Mistress leaned forward and slowly raked her tongue along LaWanda's lips. "Don't screw with me," she whispered in a voice so soft that LaWanda wasn't even sure she heard it. "Don't you EVER screw with me, or you will regret it a hundred times over. Do you know what I did to the last person that pissed me off?"