“It’s been too long, Sasha. I’ve been counting the moments until I could take you in my arms.”
“Yes. I’ve been waiting, too.”
The man took a step backward, reaching into his pants pocket as he spoke. “I have a question to ask you. I’ve been wanting to ask you for the longest time. It can’t wait anymore.”
Sasha eyed him, the smile and the cigarette both wilting. “Yes?”
“I’d like to know, I mean, I’d be honored if— “His hands kept rummaging through his pockets.
“If what? Be direct.”
“Sasha, will you…?”
Larinda was startled by a loud ringing in her ears. She leapt away from the globe, watching the image dissolve before her.
“Is someone here?” Sasha’s voice called from downstairs, the heavy front door closing behind her.
Larinda knew the large house well. She had grown up in it, sharing a bedroom with Sasha. She also knew that her cousin was rigid in routine, and would do a thorough investigation of the main level before proceeding upstairs. She slipped halfway down the stairwell and held her breath, listening until her cousin entered the parlor. Then she dashed through the living area and into the kitchen, leaving out the back door.
Four
“Yes, I suppose I am a bit unhappy,” Sasha said, her hands laced behind her back as she strolled with Larinda through the barren garden. The wind howled, scattering dead leaves across the ground, while the iron gate creaked on its hinges. Soon, the sounds of wind and gate mingled, becoming one voice, a restless banshee roaming the twilight sky.
“Tell me your troubles, cousin,” Larinda pressed.
Sasha stopped, looking past the black iron bars and into the endless forest that surrounded the property. “A dress I had specially made has been stolen from the shop in Linsburg! During the theft, the old dressmaker fell over, hitting her head, and doesn’t remember a thing. Luckily, her sister came to lock up the shop and found her there. But the dress - my dress - was gone. Larinda, I have no idea what the world is coming to. But I do suppose things could be worse.”
Larinda nodded, hoping her eyes did not reveal her victory. “I’m sorry for your loss, cousin. Is there anything I can do? I do hate to see you unhappy.”
“Oh, I know just how much my distress affects you,” Sasha said, her voice surprisingly light. “But if you do want to be helpful, there is something.”
“I see,” Larinda said, realizing she had fallen into another trap. “And what is it you desire? If it is within my limited abilities, then I shall do it.”
“I knew I could count on you! Now, how shall I phrase this…?”
Larinda circled her cousin, one finger extended. “You want darker, richer hair? I can do that.” She snapped her fingers and Sasha’s soft brown hair became a deep ebony. She snapped her fingers again and her normal hair color returned. “Or bluer eyes?” Snap. Unsnap. “Perhaps a bit more cleavage?”
“Please, no!” Sasha laughed, brushing an errant tendril from her face. “It’s a far less interesting request I have, but much more important. Larinda, I need you to place signs along the roads, with arrows pointing towards Sister House. I’ll be busy preparing for my guests, but I’m worried they won’t find their way here, with all the fog. Will you be a dear?”
“And who are these guests, again?” Larinda asked, still feeling the sting of not being invited to her own cousin’s party.
“Just friends, as I’ve said before. Some have traveled very far.”
“And how long will they stay?” Larinda asked.
“As long as they are allowed, I should think.”
Just friends. Some have traveled very far.
Sasha’s words replayed in Larinda’s mind as she and her driver trundled along the roads outside of Dark Root. The woods whispered and moaned while the driver complained about the pain in his knees and knuckles. The horses continued their steady clop-clop, no more eager to hurry than they’d been on the previous day. Larinda sat in the carriage, surrounded by a dozen signs on pointed sticks.
A frown pulled at the dark witch’s lips. Why should she be surprised? This was no different from any other day. Sasha had always been popular with both men and with women. In fact, she had been getting all of the attention since they were young children. “Oh, look at Sasha. She is so smart. So clever. So sassy.” And that from Larinda’s own mother!
To make matters worse, Sasha rarely included Larinda in any of her escapades. When she went away overseas, she hadn’t even said goodbye. She had just left a note on the magick mirror, which Larinda had to decipher by reading it backwards by candlelight.
“Seems to me she doesn’t appreciate you,” the old driver called back, coughing into his fist as he spurred the horses onward.
“It seems to me you don’t know how to mind your own business,” Larinda responded.
The man laughed, and the laugh turned into a labored cough. “Gladys, I’m just saying that if Berta wants to borrow eggs all the time, the least she can do is pitch in with the chicken feed.”
Larinda rolled her eyes. The man was once again lost in his old delusions, this time without the help of her magick. Still, his comment on not being appreciated settled into her gut. Even in his madness, he was right. She didn’t feel appreciated. In fact, she had never felt appreciated by Sasha.
“Stop!” Larinda ordered the old man. He pulled on the reins and the horses halted in their muddy tracks. She took several signs and exited the carriage. One by one, she jammed them into the ground on both sides of the road, with the arrows pointing in all directions. For added measure, she cast a quick confusion spell.
Signs mix, signs mangle
Point them wrong at every angle
Lose the man who’s come to find
The love he thought he’d left behind.
“That’s an evil thing you’re doin’, Gladys. Evil, evil thing.” The man crossed his fingers before him and shuddered. “I knew you were a witch. That Linsburg Parish man told me you were the day we married, but I didn’t listen. Now, we’re both going to hell.”
Larinda opened the carriage door and settled back in. “Be quiet, old man, or I’ll turn you into a horse.”
“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Could you, Gladys?”
She arched a thin eyebrow and sat back in her seat. “How do you think I got the other two?”
Five
Once again, Larinda snuck into Sasha’s bedroom when she was certain her cousin was out. It was a large, lovely room with a window overlooking the woods and a canopied bed fit for a princess. Larinda had always wanted a bed like that, but her mother thought it extravagant and impractical.
This time, she cast no spell as she grabbed the globe. She instantly tuned in, flipping past the newspaper headlines and stopping right at the ballroom scene. Surely, the image would change this time. In fact, Larinda expected nothing short of chaos after her placement of the signs.
The room was still adorned with spider webs and ghosts, but except for the music softly playing on the Brunswick phonograph, it was eerily quiet. Neither Sasha nor any of her dancing guests were anywhere to be seen.
Had Larinda stopped the party?
She looked at the image of the grandfather clock. It was a few minutes after nine. There should be guests here, but the scene was as dark and lifeless as a crypt. Maybe she had done it? Maybe she really had changed Sasha’s fate!
“You should have invited me,” she said.
Before she could release her grip, the globe quaked in her hands, shaking so terribly that Larinda worried it would rock right onto the floor. “Keep still,” she whispered again and again, as if calming a frightened pet during a thunderstorm. Eventually, the ball calmed and the scene reset, merging Larinda with the vision.
The grandfather clock struck midnight.
Every window in the ballroom suddenly flung open, some so violently their shutters were ripped from their hinges. The heavy front door slammed open into the wall. Wind s
wept through the room, rattling the chandeliers and shooting the phonograph needle across the record, halting the music with a horrific screech.
A dozen or more pale-faced party guests pushed their way inside, chattering gaily, some dressed in full costume, others only in colorful cloaks and stylish hats. Sasha was among them, wearing a tight red dress that fishtailed at the ankles. Her hair was soft, done up in loose finger waves. A slim cigarette hung from her hand.
“Thank you, my friends, for braving the night and celebrating Samhain with me!” Sasha circulated around the room as she relit candles blown out by the wind. “Now, I promise you the party of the season!”
The guests cheered and the phonograph started up again, skipping at every turn where the record was scratched, though no one seemed to mind.
The man in uniform once again appeared, wrapping his arms around Sasha’s narrow waist from behind and nuzzling into her neck. “You smell good,” he whispered. “Join me for a cigar and I’ll change that.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He escorted Sasha towards the parlor, shutting the door behind them.
You made it,” she said, leaning onto the bookshelf.
“Did you doubt me?”
“Not even for a minute.”
He grabbed her hard by the shoulders, shaking one of her curls loose. “I love you, Sasha. Do you hear me? I would go through anything to be with. I’d cross the border of death itself to be with you.”
“And climb the highest tower, and sail the largest sea! Oh, and perhaps buy me the sun and send me to the moon. I’ve heard it all before.” She brushed his hands off and walked away, her fishtail swishing behind her. She lit a cigarette and looked at him over her shoulder. “You look exactly as I remember. It’s hard to believe we’re together again, after all this time.”
“It’s been too long. I’ve done nothing but count the hours. But I’m here with you now.”
“It’s so hard. The distance is too great.”
“It won’t be long now.”
“It’s just not fair that your leave is for only one night!”
“The war is nearly over. We have much to do.”
She nodded and the man wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I have a question to ask you. I’ve been wanting to ask you for the longest time, but I can’t wait any longer.”
Sasha turned slowly, facing him. “Yes?”
“I know you said you’d never change your name, but if you can find it in your heart…” He stepped forward and kissed her lips. “Let me ask you properly. Sasha Benbridge, will you--?”
“Well, what do we have here?” Sasha demanded, her voice coming from outside the globe.
Larinda turned quickly around, looking directly into her cousin’s sharp blue eyes. Sasha’s arms were crossed. Larinda knew she had been caught.
“Would you like to tell me what you’re doing?” Sasha continued. “Or shall I concoct a truth spell?”
Larinda did not want a truth spell. “My apologies, cousin. I stared into your divining device. I wanted to know my future.”
“And what did you find out?” Sasha asked.
“That I am going to be alone.”
“Some prophecies are self-made.”
Six
Larinda, like all young witches, had read the fairytales. In those stories there was one universal truth: true love always found a way.
If the man in the globe was really Sasha’s true love, he would find a way to her, no matter what obstacles Larinda threw in their way.
Why do I care? Larinda asked herself, as she sat at her vanity and ran a comb through her tangled hair. It might be a blessing if the man took Sasha away forever. Then, she would never have to be compared to Sasha again. But the thought of Sasha being happy somewhere out in the world, with her one true love, made her even more jealous.
Another thought occurred to her. What if he wasn’t Sasha’s true love, but rather, some ordinary, run-of-the-mill love who would woo her with sweet words and break her heart? Larinda smiled. But the warming notion that he was not Sasha’s one true love faded as quickly as it arose. She had seen the way they looked at one another. She had seen the way they had rearranged time, again and again, to be together. This was one of those deep, enduring loves that people dreamed about but rarely found. Whoever this man was, he was coming for Sasha, and he was coming tonight.
And his love would change her life.
Larinda removed a package from her wardrobe and carefully unwrapped the red sequined dress. The man was coming for Sasha. And he would find her, not in the ballroom at Sister House, but rather on the road to town. He would take her away from Dark Root and unleash his love on her. They’d live out their days happily.
And the real Sasha would be none the wiser.
Of course, maintaining that level of glamour would require more energy than Larinda had at her disposal. But, if she had Sasha’s wand – a regenerative wand- she might be able to manage, if she rationed it well.
Curses!
Larinda would not have time to meet the stranger on the road if she needed to get the wand first. But she could still beat him to the party, and meet him before Sasha did. Then, with the wand in hand, they would go far, far away.
True love always finds a way.
“Quiet,” she said, pulling on her cloak. “I’ll write my own damned fairytale.”
At dusk, Larinda headed for Sister House, wearing the stolen red dress and her natural face. She would wait to disguise herself as Sasha, for every hour holding a spell drained her.
She lingered on the edge of Sasha’s property until the moon was full. A baneful wail sounded through the air, whispering secrets. An owl hooted, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She pulled the cloak taut around her and shivered. All Hallows Eve. Sane people were locked safely away on this night, awaiting the time when the spirits and imps crossed back to the other side of the veil.
“But I’m a witch,” she reminded herself. Spirits and imps should fear her!
When the moon was at its highest, a stream of lantern-lit buggies and carriages appeared, crowding onto the property. Dozens of people emerged, as elaborately dressed and dramatic as the characters in her visions. A heavy wind swept out of the forest, pushing the crowd towards Sister House. The shutters flew open, and so did the door.
Larinda waited before following, to ensure that the real Sasha was not among them. She lowered her head and waded through the crowd as the guests chatted quietly amongst themselves. Everything was dark and solemn until the phonograph began playing a jazzy, upbeat tune. The fireplace blazed to life as the ornate chandeliers lit up, one candle at a time. Jack-o-lanterns on sheeted sticks glowed around the edge of the room. Everyone clapped. There was real magick on this night. Two young women with dimpled cheeks and dimpled knees began dancing around two handsome men. The party began.
The grandfather clock chimed twelve times and the handsome soldier appeared, standing rosy-cheeked and battle-weary in the doorway. He loosened the top button of his coat as he looked around the room. Larinda stopped herself from interceding right away. Patience was truly a virtue. She slipped into the corner shadows, watching as his darting eyes betrayed his easy manner.
A pretty woman with long eyelashes approached him. “May I have this dance?”
He ignored the woman, pushing politely by, seemingly undistracted by the revelry. He moved through the throng, ducking streamers and weaving around partygoers, his eyes forever searching.
Larinda removed her mirror from her cloak pocket and checked her reflection. This might be the last time she saw her true self for a long time. She said a quick goodbye and imagined Sasha’s face superimposed on her own, adding a layer of flesh to her bosom as well. Soon, her hair lightened to Sasha’s dull brown, her lip color faded from a rose-red to a sickly tulip-pink, and her milky eyes shifted to an unremarkable blue.
“Boring,” she whispered to her reflection. “But if that’s what Prince Charming wants… that�
��s what Prince Charming gets.”
The phonograph changed, playing something alluring yet sorrowful, calling to the revelers like a shipwreck in a rocky cove. The chandeliers dimmed and the sconces along the stairwell lit up one after the next.
Sasha was about to make her entrance.
The soldier made his way to the stairs and Larinda knew this was her only chance. She dashed out of her hiding spot, waiting for him in the crowd. She’d intercept him and dance him towards the parlor. Then, she’d put a sleep spell on him while she searched for the wand.
“Hello, there,” she called to him from across the room, mimicking Sasha’s voice and fluttering lashes.
He smiled and quickened his step, his eyes so old for a face so young. She had heard about the look soldiers took on - like they had lived too many lives in too few years. It occurred to her that she didn’t even know his name. It didn’t matter. That was what tomorrows were for.
He marched towards her, arms outstretched. She reached for him.
And he passed right through.
Larinda spun around, confused.
He continued, reaching for the real Sasha, who appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She wore a floaty red dress with indecent straps. Diamonds draped her neck and wrists, and a cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth, unlit.
The man folded Sasha into his arms and kissed her deeply, not waiting for the privacy of the parlor. After the kiss, Sasha lit her cigarette and blew three small smoke rings into his face. “Hello, soldier. Fancy meeting you here, after all this time.”
“I made it,” he said.
“And not a minute too soon.”
“Did you miss me?”
“Miss you? I’m far too busy with my own life to think about yours.”
“I don’t believe you.” He kissed her forehead, working his way down her cheek, until his lips covered hers. Larinda could smell him, even from a distance. He smelled like iron and earth.
DR0. The Witching Hour Page 2