by Lia Davis
She was a witch.
Taking a cleansing breath, she glanced around the room and noted Ben wasn’t there. Hadn’t the old man followed them up? She didn’t have time to look for him. He’d always been a little odd and he knew where the ritual would be. He’d join them in time. The witches placed the four elements on the edge of the circle and lit the candles.
“Are you ready, Ophelia?”
She met Martha’s stare and nodded. “Yes.” And she was. Her heart felt strong and she sensed Gramma near—whether imagined or real, it made her feel like she could do anything.
Instead of lining the edge of the circle with salt, the witches formed their own ring of protection by standing on the line etched in the floor. They held hands and together spoke the words to close the circle.
Ophelia closed her eyes and grounded herself while thinking of Anatoli. When she opened them, she spoke the incantation to bring her ghostly love to life. Just as she’d done the first time. However, this time the words carried through the attic. They had meaning. The witches repeated the chant over and over, each time their voices growing louder and the room becoming more electrified.
Anatoli blinked in like bad TV reception. Ophelia’s heart pounded. Please work.
She spoke the words louder, putting her heart into it. Believing in every word. She needed his help and wanted to feel his arms around her. For the rest of her life. She needed him.
Then with a powerful flash that knocked her on her ass, Anatoli appeared. In the flesh. He smiled down at her and held out his hands. He was alive.
Scrambling to her feet, she flew into his arms. He circled them around her and love filled her heart. She didn’t care that it was unreal to feel so connected to a stranger, who a few moments ago was a ghost.
Anatoli was there with her, holding her. Exactly as she’d imagined. The witches stopped chanting and turned their backs to the couple, not breaking the circle. They hummed a low chant Ophelia couldn’t make out. It didn’t matter. Right now, she needed to be with Anatoli. Feel him. Touch him.
He buried his nose into her neck sending chills down her spine. “Ben is not who he was. Francois has taken his body,” he whispered. “We’re in danger.”
The words were so soft she almost didn’t hear them. Lifting her head to stare into Anatoli’s blue eyes, she frowned. “Are you sure? How is that possible?”
Anatoli shook his head. “How is it possible for him to capture souls in bottles?”
Right. Evil warlock, demon.
“Then let’s find Ben. I’m ready for this to be over and done. No more curses, fires, or revenge plots.”
11
Anatoli was alive. Solid again. Human.
So many emotions swirled inside him as he patted himself down, feeling his clothes and skin. Freedom. He breathed in the air, relishing in the all the different fragrances around him. The herbs on the shelf. The individual scents of each of the witches. The sharp odor of the flickering candle flames. He took it all in, in a quick breath.
Alive!
But he didn’t have time to think about any of it or celebrate his freedom. Not yet. Francois was there in the form of Ben and he had to be stopped before he hurt more people.
His love was going to confront the demonic warlock and he feared for her. Francois was evil and powerful. Plus, he did not fight fair.
Anatoli called for her, “Ophelia.”
It was no use, she was already downstairs.
“Where is she going?” the witch Ophelia called Martha asked. “We aren’t done. She broke the circle, but we’ve cleared it. No evil will fill it.”
“She’s gone to find Ben.” Meeting her gaze, Anatoli frowned. Why didn’t they sense the evil in the old man? To Anatoli, the transference was clear—the demon warlock lived inside the old man. “Ben is no longer the Ben you knew, the good warlock that helped everyone. Francois has killed him and taken over his body. I feel the dark energy. Can’t you feel it, too?”
The witches gasped and many shook their heads. Martha’s eyes filled with tears. “Not Ben. We’d know.”
Obviously not. There was no time to convince them. Anatoli had to reach Ophelia before the warlock harmed her. They couldn’t lose now. “Disbelieve if you want, but it’s true. He is after Ophelia. He is the one that put Betty in the coma, and he will kill or capture Ophelia if we don’t stop him now.”
Anatoli rushed passed the witches and down the stairs. His new legs and the heaviness of his human weight felt strange, but he would not allow it to slow him.
My love needs me.
“Ben.” Ophelia called out when she reached the bottom of the steps. The old man had to be there. Somewhere. Especially if he was Francois in disguise, as Anatoli said.
A sob lodged in her throat. Poor, poor Ben.
“What is it, Ophelia?” The older man stepped out from the kitchen. His voice was much clearer than before. Magic rippled through the irises of his eyes, dark and eerie.
“I was wondering why you didn’t join us for the ritual.” No use in letting him know she suspected anything. At least not yet. “We brought Anatoli back. We were successful.”
A creepy smile formed on his face and he stood straighter. His cane dropped to the floor with a thud. “You know why, my dear. Don’t play games with me. You will lose.”
She swallowed and took a step back, bumping into Anatoli. A chorus of gasps sounded farther behind them. The witches had followed Anatoli from the attic. “I guess your little secret is out.”
He chuckled and lowered the veil, or spell, or whatever made him look like Ben. Red wavy hair fell over his shoulders. His green eyes held her gaze and his dark magick snaked through the air toward her. She didn’t want to look at him but couldn’t break the eye contact.
Her heart lodged in her throat and she realized how frightened she really was. It would take a lot of strong magick to take out Francois.
Finally, he spoke and she was able to avert her gaze. “I have many secrets, my dear Ophelia. So does your grandmother. Has she told you why I seek your soul? Why I want to claim it so badly?”
Fear burned like a wildfire in her gut, then spread throughout her. “You need a soul to stay alive so you steal other people’s life-force. It’s your sick way of achieving immortality.”
He’s stalling. Why? She didn’t dare glance behind her out of fear he’d take the opportunity and turn it to his advantage.
“You are so naïve.” Francois chuckled. “Your grandmother should have told you the truth. All of it. Maybe you would have had more of a chance of defeating me. Maybe not.”
“Why don’t you enlighten us,” Anatoli said from behind her. His hands falling to her hips. Tingles of his magick sparked her own from deep inside. “What’s your great secret that you obviously can’t wait to tell us?”
That’s it. Together they could stop the warlock. If only she knew how. Think. There had to be a way.
“You see, Betty and I used to be a hot item.”
Umm, Ophelia didn’t want to hear about her gramma’s sex life. Real or false. “Why would she give you the time of day? You stand for everything she is against. You’re evil. Gramma is pure and good.”
Movement behind Francois caught Ophelia’s attention. The witches were forming a circle around them. Francois noticed too. He pursed his lips and scanned the room, glaring at each witch. “You think you can trap me.”
Martha nodded toward me. “Tell her why you want her soul. The real reason you seek revenge on Betty.”
He whirled around and snarled at Martha. “Stay out this, bitch.”
Ophelia turned her head to whisper in Anatoli’s ear. “What are they doing?”
“They are forming a circle.”
I could see that. “Why?”
“To trap him inside.”
Confused, she fixed her gaze on Francois’s back. Martha was keeping his attention fixed on her. Thank you, Martha. “I thought you had to be in the ritual circle upstairs.”
Anato
li shook his head. “For a single witch, it is stronger. But with thirteen, you can form a circle anywhere.”
Oh. There was so much she had to learn. Martha and the other were trapping him and Ophelia in a circle. If only she could trap the psycho in the bottle like he’d done Anatoli…That was it! The way to take Francois down—use his own methods. “The dueling pistols,” she whispered to Anatoli.
He kissed her cheek. “Brilliant. I’ll get them and the bottle. Be right back.”
With her heart pounding, Ophelia tried to calm the emotions battling inside her.
Suddenly Francois erupted in shoots of sparks and flame and whirled around to face Ophelia. “After our affair, Betty had a child. Your mother.” He pointed at Ophelia, his lips curled in a snarl. “My daughter!”
A gasped escaped Ophelia and she stepped back. No. There was no way she was related to the monster that stood before her. Why hadn’t Gramma said anything?
He was lying. He had to be. It was all a trick to catch her off guard. The witches began a low hum, holding hands. Their circle was complete.
Something cool and hard touched her back. She reached behind her and felt the pistol press into her palm. She gripped the handle just as Anatoli stepped into the circle behind Francois.
Please don’t shoot me. That was the first thought that formed because she didn’t want to be trapped in the bottle, which Anatoli set on the floor in front of him.
Just then the witches began to chant in Latin. They swayed side to side, their voices growing louder and louder.
Francois’s face turned red. His brows dipped and he fisted his hands. “Stop it! I command you!”
The witches continued, and white magick charged the air. But unlike upstairs during the ritual to bring Anatoli back, this energy was stronger.
Taking a deep breath, Ophelia drew on the energy. Then exhaled while saying, “Give me the strength and the will.”
She pulled the pistol out from behind her and aimed it at Francois. When he saw it, he stilled. Ophelia smiled. “I see you recognize this.”
“Have you fired a pistol before?”
She darted her gaze to Anatoli, uncertainty rising. No. That’s what Francois wants. She had fired a gun before. One of her rare boyfriends took her out shooting. It was an odd first date and the one of the reasons he was an ex. In that moment, Ophelia was grateful for the experience.
Steeling her back, she tightened her grip on the pistol, aimed, and then fired. “Good-bye, Francois.”
The magickal bullet hit him at the same time she spoke. His eyes grew round as black smoke rose from the floor, swirling around him. He screamed and cursed them all as his soul was sucked into the glass bottle.
Anatoli quickly placed the cork in the top of the bottle and picked it up. “We’ve got him.”
The witches spoke a few words of Latin and the circle opened. Martha stepped next to Anatoli and he handed her the bottle. “What will you do with it? How will you keep it safe?”
Martha tapped the glass as if to taunt the spirit inside. “We’ll lock him up in the coven’s vault until we figure out how to dispose of his soul forever. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure he’s never able to threaten or hurt anyone ever again. Francois’s days are over. His selfish desire to outlive everyone has backfired, as I imagine he will be spending many days pondering his fate while he waits in the bottle.”
Anatoli shivered. “It’s truly a dark prison. I would only wish it on my worst enemy.”
“He deserves it.” Ophelia clasped her hands together. “He’s caused my family so much pain.”
“No longer.” Martha smiled.
The other witches chatted and relaxed in the post-magick afterglow. They had done what they came for, and Ophelia wished she could hug each one of them and show her gratitude. But she was exhausted.
Anatoli crossed the living room and wrapped his arms around Ophelia. She sagged into him and buried her nose into his neck. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I’m happy it is finally over.” He hugged her tightly, rubbing her back. Then he kissed her cheek. “You must go to your grandmother now. She will be able to pass through the veil peacefully now, knowing Francois is gone.”
Ophelia nodded, then looked at Martha. “Will you be here when I get back?”
“No, dear, don’t worry about us. We have other things to do this Halloween. You take your time and be with Betty. Call us when you are ready to start training.”
Ophelia filled with love. She hugged the other woman briefly. “Thank you, all of you.”
12
Anatoli was quiet on the drive to the hospital. Ophelia wasn’t sure what to say to him. However, it was a comfortable silence. So, she didn’t fill it with babbling. They were strangers but it seemed they’d known each other for a lifetime.
Glancing at him for a brief moment, she noted how he watched the buildings and cars go by. Everything was new to him. After all, he’d been trapped inside a glass bottle for almost two hundred years. “Are you okay?”
He glanced at her and from the corner of her eye, Ophelia saw his frown. “It is I who should ask you that.”
With a sigh, Ophelia took his hand and squeezed. “No matter how much I tried to prepare myself for this day, I still can’t believe Gramma is dying. I don’t know what I’ll do without her. She’s always been there for me, guiding me, teaching me, and catching me when I fall.”
Anatoli bought their joined hands to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “We are not meant to live one life, but many. Betty is just leaving this life to plan her next adventure.”
Ophelia smiled. Gramma said something similar when her parents died.
After parking the car at the hospital, she stared at the building. Why was letting go so hard?
“We should hurry.”
Ophelia glanced at Anatoli, wondering if he could sense something she couldn’t. Of course, he probably could. He believed in his magick. Even after everything that happened that night, she still wasn’t sure about a lot of things. Would it come in time? Maybe she was blocking her own power with her fear of the unknown. “You’re right.”
They existed the car and with quickened steps made their way up to her gramma’s room. She’s awake. Ophelia’s heart danced while sorrow threaten to unleash her tears.
There was a young couple inside talking with her. Ophelia nodded at them as she moved closer and extended her hand. “You must be Martha’s son and daughter-in-law. Thank you for staying with her.”
The woman took her hand, then pulled her into a hug. Her large brown eyes twinkled when she pulled out of the brief embrace. “Thank you for ridding the world of that evil…man. We sensed when he was captured.”
“I had a lot of help.” Ophelia glanced at her gramma and her chest tightened. Gramma was so pale and fragile.
This is it. My final good-bye. Her vision blurred.
Martha’s son directed his wife to the door. “Call if you need anything. My mother will know how to get in touch with us.”
Ophelia nodded, unable to look at them because she didn’t want to break down in front of strangers. Anatoli’s deep “Thank you” made her grateful he was there.
Focusing on Gramma, she took her frail hand in hers and sat in the chair next to the bed. “Francois is gone. Well, he’s locked inside the glass bottle Anatoli was in.”
“I know. I sensed it. I knew you could do it.” Gramma glanced at Anatoli. A weak smile lifted her lips. “You’re more handsome in this form, Anatoli. Take good care of my granddaughter. I know you will.”
Ophelia’s heart hammered while her mind whirled with questions. Did she dare question her dying gramma? But there was one that kept bothering her. She had to know the truth. “Francois said…he said I was his granddaughter.”
Gramma sighed and cupped Ophelia’s cheek. “It is true. I only wished to spare you from that evil man. I thought if you didn’t know, he couldn’t use it against you. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“
So he wasn’t lying.”
Gramma shook her head, regret filling her eyes.
“It’s okay, Gramma. I’m not mad. I can understand why you never told me. He didn’t have any compassion. Pure evil. You were right to call him a demon.” Ophelia was rambling, delaying the dreaded good-bye. “Please don’t second-guess your decision not to tell me. I’m glad I know the truth now. He will never threaten me or our family again.”
Anatoli moved closer, placing his hands on her shoulders, gently messaging. She relaxed a little. He gave her strength with every gesture and touch. Amazing.
“You two were fated to be together. I feel it. Soul mates who found one another. And now you mustn’t be separated.” Gramma reached for the pendant around her neck—the amethyst point she’d worn for as long as Ophelia could remember. Gramma pressed it into Ophelia’s palm and squeezed. Then her eyes shimmered as if alive with magick.
Confusion clouded Ophelia’s mind, only clearing when Gramma spoke.
“As I take my last breaths,
I make one last request.
As my mother passed onto me,
I gift to my Ophelia, my heart and power.”
* * *
The stone warmed in Ophelia’s hand, then burned. She tried to jerk her hand away, but Gramma wouldn’t let go. Where she got the strength, Ophelia didn’t know.
Tingles of pinpricks crawled up her arm while an invisible...something wound around it, traveling up to her shoulder then spreading to her heart. Power, energy, and magick exploded within her. She gasped. Magick was real. It was alive, inside her.
She was a witch.
No more doubts, not a one. She knew her path and what she had to do going forward.
Gramma’s grip eased, then fell away. Her eyes drifted closed. The heart monitor flat lined with a sorrowful tone. Tears streamed down Ophelia’s cheeks. Then Gramma’s spirit rose from her body and hovered. Ophelia reached out.
Gramma shook her head. “You will carry on the family power. The coven will help you learn. You and Anatoli take care of each other.”