Garden of Dreams and Desires

by Kristen Painter

  “We went to her for information. She thinks the witches are planning a chaos spell,” Harlow mumbled around a mouthful of brownie.

  Dulcinea’s jaw went slack. “A chaos spell?”

  Augustine nodded. “You know about that?”

  Her chest rose and fell with a long breath. “I do. Some. Enough to know that it’s not something you mess around with. That kind of magic goes wrong and there’s no recovering from it. Because you’re dead.”

  Augustine snagged one of the brownies. “Fenton told us that’s what Vivianna Vincent—”

  Dulcinea held her hand up. “Giselle and Zara’s mother, right?”

  “Yes. That’s actually what killed her. She didn’t commit suicide, she died trying to cast a chaos spell.”

  “And now her daughters are trying to re-create it. I guess stupid is hereditary.” Dulcinea’s jaw worked. “You know how I feel about Giselle, but Zara always seemed so… decent.”

  Harlow wiped her mouth. “Yeah, well, so much for that. They’re in this together. Plus there’s some guy helping them out. He’s all inked up and wears eyeliner and dresses in black leather. Ian, maybe.”

  “Ian Dufrene?” Dulcinea scratched her ear. “Lots of silver jewelry. Longish hair. Rides a motorcycle?”

  “Yes on the hair, but I don’t know his last name or what he drives.” Harlow reached for a third brownie. “The silver jewelry part is right on, too. I think his nails might have been painted black also. My memories of when Ava Mae was in charge are a little hazy. It was kind of like looking out through rainy glass.”

  Augustine snapped his fingers. “That guy was at Evander’s funeral ceremony. He was one of the coven members in the circle with Giselle and Zara. He seemed pretty friendly with both of them.”

  Dulcinea nodded. “I know this guy. Ian owns the House of Pain tattoo shop.” She sat back. “So that’s their third, huh? Strong spells are best cast by three. Even better if the three are linked somehow. Giselle and Zara share blood, obviously, but if I had to guess I’d say they’ve both probably slept with Ian in order to bond with him.”

  “Gross.” Harlow got up and grabbed milk from the fridge, then poured herself a big glass. She held the jug up toward Augustine. “You want some?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  She poured a glass for him, then put the jug away. “So we know what kind of spell they’re going to cast, who they’re casting it with, what the spell might do to them—”

  “What the spell might do to us.” Augustine pulled the glass of milk toward him but didn’t drink it. “If that spell is really capable of rendering all fae magic useless, we will be as defenseless as humans against the witches.”

  “Jewelia thought it could take away the voodooers’ power, too,” Harlow added.

  He slowly tapped his finger on the tabletop in time with his words. “We must find out when this spell is going to happen.”

  “Agreed,” Dulcinea said. “I can shift into one of my animal forms and stake the place out.”

  Harlow washed down the last of the brownie with the milk. “Just be careful the witches don’t know what you’re up to. That’s kind of what Cy was doing and look what happened to him.” Poor Cy. “You think he’s doing okay stuck in that pit? I hope he knows we’re working on a way to get him out.”

  “He knows. And I’m sure he’s doing fine. Probably bored, but fine. I’m more worried about the senator’s son.” Augustine lifted a hand. “Hang on, I’ve got a call coming in. Answer.”

  While he talked, Harlow contemplated another brownie. Dulcinea seemed to be thinking the same thing as they reached for the same one. Harlow laughed. “I should probably stop at three.”

  Dulcinea shrugged. “If the witches have their way, we’ll all be dead soon, so I say eat as many damn brownies as you want.”

  “That’s not exactly a happy thought, but it does put this thing in perspective.” Harlow took the brownie.

  Dulcinea took a different one, tipping her head toward Augustine. “You’re good for him, you know. But if you break his heart—”

  “You’ll kill me?” Harlow bit into the brownie.

  Dulcinea laughed. “No, I was going to say I’d understand. He can be a real pain sometimes.”

  Harlow smiled, lips closed to keep from sharing the crumbs in her teeth. “He’s all right.”

  Augustine stood. “We need to go now.”

  Harlow stared at him. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “Fenton said two more people have gone missing.”

  “The witches think the well is full then.” Harlow dropped her brownie and got to her feet.

  Augustine pointed at Dulcinea. “What’s the most powerful time for a spell like this to be cast?”

  She tilted her head in thought. “Witches favor dawn, twilight or midnight.”

  Augustine nodded. “If it’s midnight or dawn, we have a long stakeout ahead of us.” He glanced at the window. “If it’s twilight, we’re almost out of time.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Giselle watched as Zara lit the last of the fire bowls nestled into the points of the pentagram she and Ian had drawn around the pond, then Zara walked toward them. She stopped in front of where the paper rendering of the sigil lay on the ground and lifted her hands. “Let us charge the sigil.”

  Giselle held out her hands to Zara and Ian. Excitement coursed through her. They were finally casting the spell that would change everything. They formed a tight circle around the sigil Ian had drawn beautifully. The blood had dried to a brownish red, the intricate lines so perfect the sigil looked like it had been created on a computer.

  Bodies cleansed and dressed in their ceremonial robes, they now had to prepare their spirits. Heads down, eyes focused, they all stared at the sigil as they filled their minds with their desires for the spell they were about to cast.

  The lines wavered in Giselle’s vision, blurring and dancing on the page. She held her gaze. She needed to stay in this state where the sigil ceased being lines drawn on paper and became a living tool of magic, alive with the power necessary to animate the chaos spell. Being here felt effortless, perhaps because of the help of the lightning tree.

  To indicate she’d reached the desired state of being and further charge the sigil, Giselle began to softly chant the first line of the chaos spell. “With this sigil, we summon chaos.”

  Over and over, the words slipped from her mouth until the phrase blurred into a sound of power. Ian joined her next, blending his voice with hers. Then Zara finally. Together they chanted the line three more times, then stopped.

  Silence pervaded the garden. They lifted their heads. They’d decided early on that as the green witch among them, Zara should be the one to lead the spell. Giselle bristled at this now, the leaves at her breast burning her skin with their urgings. She should be the one to lead.

  At that moment, Ian softly squeezed her hand and smiled at her. She found herself again. No, Zara had to be the one to do it. Zara was the most tuned in to the earth. Giselle took a breath and wondered if she should give the leaves to her sister.

  No.

  It echoed through her like a shout. One leaf, perhaps.

  No.

  Giselle held still, happy to keep the leaves to herself as Zara picked up the sigil to continue the casting.

  Zara lifted the sigil skyward, holding it high above her head. The sleeves of her ceremonial robe slipped down to her elbows. “Let this seal of power guide our spell. Let this sigil focus our work and bind our intent.”

  Giselle and Ian repeated the phrases, then with Zara in the lead the three of them walked to the pond. Zara stood in the middle. She gently eased the sigil onto the water’s surface, careful to keep it afloat. With a slight breath, she propelled it toward the center.

  Giselle and Ian left her to position themselves equidistantly away, bringing the new circle into being.

  Zara raised her hands again and continued the casting. Thin lines of power, green and purple and orange, darted
out from Zara and connected her to Giselle and Ian. Giselle felt them as they wound through her, tremulous and buzzing like bees. The leaves against her breast joined in, humming with power.

  Zara began. “Oh, goddess of all that is earth and life and perfection, I ask that you stand aside this hour so that our casting may be unhindered. Oh, spirits of all that is broken and dying and chaotic, come to us now.” She lowered her hands to point to the pond. “Read this sigil. Feast upon these souls. Grant us our desire.”

  New lines of power leaped from Zara and traveled the circle, ropey strands of angry red that dug into Giselle’s skin and made her bones ache. Ripples spilled across the pond, churning the surface.

  Zara continued. “Now I call my circle back to me.”

  Giselle and Ian returned to Zara’s side. The lines of power crackled and thickened until a halo of light surrounded each of them.

  Zara pointed her hands toward the pond. “By the power of all that is dark and broken, by the strength of three, and by the desires set before us in the sigil, I call forth chaos!” She bent her head and thrust her hands forward. New power burst off her fingers and shot into the water as the lines of energy drained off Giselle and Ian and into Zara.

  The pond frothed and boiled as though something might erupt from it. “Something’s wrong.” Zara twitched like she was being shocked. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” She moaned and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Something’s wrong.”

  “What? Tell us,” Ian said.

  Giselle knew she should have led the casting.

  Zara shook her head and spoke with obvious effort. “There is a hole in the spell. There aren’t twelve souls. I can feel one is missing. The spell is trying to pull me in. Trying to use me to replace it. Grab hold of me.”

  Ian took her right arm as Giselle took her left. The drag of the spell became immediate. Giselle dug her feet in. Ian braced one foot against the low rock wall bordering their side of the pond.

  Zara leaned back. “It’s not working. It’s going to take me.” She grimaced and turned to look at Giselle, her eyes filled with grief and regret. “I’m so sorry. I love you, Sister, but there’s no other way.” She wrenched free of Ian, clasped Giselle’s arms with surprising strength and thrust her into the water.

  Giselle’s scream rent the night, covering the gasps of the two women flanking Augustine. Even he hadn’t seen that coming. Zara had actually just shoved her sister into the well of souls. There was no denying it. From their vantage point on the roof of Zara’s house, he, Harlow and Dulcinea had front-row seats to the madness below.

  “Whoa,” Dulcinea whispered. “So much for Zara being the nice one.”

  Harlow nodded, her hands gripping the roof so hard her knuckles were white. “You can say that again.”

  Augustine responded, his voice just as quiet. “One less witch is one less witch.”

  “Do you think the spell will work now? With Giselle as the twelfth soul?” Harlow asked.

  He hoped not. “I don’t—”

  Water spewed up from the pond like a geyser.

  “It’s like Vegas,” Dulcinea muttered.

  It was, kind of. The water glowed, making the gushing explosion look very much like a casino fountain.

  “There’s nothing Vegas about that.” Harlow inched closer to Augustine.

  If he hadn’t been using both hands to secure his position on the roof, he would have crossed himself. A figure rose up from the center of the water.

  He cursed.

  Harlow nodded. “It’s Giselle. Or what’s left of her.”

  The figure was indeed the sacrificed witch. As she appeared, the water smoothed but continued to hold her aloft. Her hair floated around her, borne on an invisible current.

  Harlow’s gloved hand grabbed his arm and squeezed tight. “Her eyes… look at her eyes.”

  Giselle’s eyes were solid black.

  Harlow dug her fingers into his arm. Her pulse kicked up, beating in his ears like a warning drum. “Ava Mae had those same eyes. Do you think—”

  “How dare you, Zara,” Giselle bellowed. Her voice sounded not altogether hers. “I am not a pawn to be sacrificed, I am your sister.” Her robes drifted around her when they should have been wet and clinging. “I am your high priestess.”

  Zara held her ground even though her voice wavered with fear and unshed tears made her eyes luminous. “And I am a green witch. The one most capable of carrying out this spell. I did what had to be done for the good of our people, not because I wanted to. Isn’t that what you would have done?”

  Giselle smiled, confirming what Harlow had just hinted at. Giselle’s mouth held rows of sharply chiseled teeth. The same as Ava Mae’s had when she’d been angry.

  “No,” Harlow whispered. “It can’t be. How did this happen?”

  Giselle walked across the surface of the pond. Bodies floated up in her wake.

  Augustine cursed a second time as Cy came into view. He looked so peaceful, eyes closed, body relaxed, mouth slightly open as if he might be about to smile. Dulcinea muffled a sob and tensed like she might do something. He grabbed hold of her. “Not yet, Dulce. Not yet.”

  Her nod was slight but enough that it registered. From the hard set of her mouth and the mournful depth of her eyes, he knew she was in a dark place. They all were.

  Giselle spoke again. “We should thank you, Zara. By throwing me into that pond, you did me a great favor.” Seeing her standing there on the water’s surface only added to her overall creepiness. “You brought us new power.” She lifted her arms toward the sky. The five flames surrounding the pond flared to double their size, spilling flickering shadows over the entire garden. “We have been reborn!”

  “We?” Zara shook her head and backed away. Ian did the same. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, Giselle, but if you try to interfere with this spell—”

  “Interfere? You think the spell is still viable?” Giselle waved her hands toward the water. “The souls are gone. Used up.” She tapped her chest. “We are all that remains.”

  “What? No.” Zara’s chest rose and fell like she was panicking. “The chaos spell—we were so close to completion.”

  “And then you threw me in.” Giselle spread her arms. “These souls might be used up, but one of them…” She ran her hands down her body. “One of them is very much still alive inside me.”

  “Ava Mae,” Harlow whispered.

  Ian shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s not possible,” Zara spat.

  “Oh, but it is, Sister dear.” Giselle reached inside her robe and extracted a handful of black leaves.

  Augustine narrowed his eyes. Sick to his stomach, he leaned toward Harlow. “Are those what I think they are?”

  “I think so.”

  Dulcinea shot him a questioning look. He shook his head. This wasn’t the time or place to tell her about the lightning tree.

  “You see?” Giselle held the leaves up. “Leaves from the tree you desired to control. Leaves that drew the soul of Harlow’s sister to me. A soul that is now as bound to me as she is to the lightning tree. I am Giselle. But I am also Ava Mae. We have become one.”

  Dulcinea’s brows lifted and this time, the look she gave Augustine said he would be explaining. So much for keeping the cat in the bag.

  Giselle stepped off the water and stalked toward Zara. “And you… you are no longer necessary for our plans.”

  Ian moved into her path. “What are you doing, Giselle?”

  “Ian.” She caressed his face. “Sweet, pliable Ian. You are still necessary for our plans.” She laughed and grabbed him, kissing him roughly. When she released him, his mouth was bloody. “Now be a good boy and stay out of our way.”

  He stood his ground. “I can’t let you hurt Zara.”

  She tipped her head and smiled at him. “Sweetheart, you can and you will if you want to reign beside us. The power you have now pales in comparison to what we can give you. Y
ou will be our right hand. In all things. Or… we will remove you, too.”

  A moment passed. Indecision swirled around him like a cloud of mosquitoes. He stepped out of Giselle’s way.

  “Ian!” Zara screamed. She jerked like she was going to turn and run.

  Giselle pointed a finger at her. “Hold still, Sister.”

  Zara froze from the waist down. She grabbed her leg, tried to move it and failed.

  Giselle walked to her, shaking her head in obvious disappointment. “All this time, we were thinking what a burden you’d taken upon yourself. How dear you were to shoulder the weight of prepping for this spell. All the while, you were ready to serve us up if that’s what it took.”

  “No.” Zara shook her head frantically. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I never planned for this to happen. If I hadn’t given your soul to the pond, we all would have died.”

  “You’re only saying you’re sorry because you think it’s what we want to hear.” Giselle wound her hand into Zara’s hair, pulling her head back. “Too little, too late. You’ve proved you’re of no use to us. And since we can’t trust your disloyal ways, you must be dealt with.” Her black eyes gleamed. “We hate traitorous sisters.”

  A low keening poured from Zara’s lips. Branches swayed toward the pair. “Don’t do this, Giselle. Forgive me. Let me live. I’ll never go against you again. I promise to serve you and do whatever you want.”

  “You had already promised those things when you said you’d support us as high priestess, and look how that turned out.” Giselle sighed. “No, I’m sorry. You are a traitor, just like father was. He had to die and now, so do you.”

  Perhaps fear gave Zara courage because she seemed to stiffen with defiance. “Did you kill him, too, Giselle? Did you drown him in his own pool?”

  Giselle smiled that horrible, toothy grin. “We helped him in that direction, yes.”

  Zara said something Augustine didn’t understand, a spell in Latin maybe. Vines burst out of the ground around Giselle’s feet. They crawled up her body, binding her.