by Fine, Clara
Hattie didn’t respond. She stood in the drawing room doorway, dressed only her nightgown and swaying on her bare feet. She was morbidly pale, even blue around her lips, and her tangled brown hair hung in her face, fluttering slightly with each breath. Her jaw was clenched and she was baring her teeth as if in pain.
“Hattie?” Brent asked in concern, stepping forward and reaching out as if to catch her if she collapsed. Slowly, so slowly, she raised her eyes from the floor. Her gaze traveled across the room, passed Brent completely and fixed on Cam. Her eyes were eerily mismatched, with one pupil dilated more than the other. The gleam in them was almost animalistic.
“Hattie?” Brent called her name again. Hattie lurched forward, still staring at Cam, and every hair on Cam’s body rose. Fear filled her as she stared at Brent’s sister-in-law, realizing suddenly that Hattie’s left arm wasn’t visible, that the woman was holding something behind her back. “Hattie?”
“Brent! Get away from her!” Cam’s voice went shrill with panic and she reached for him, at the same time that Hattie lunged forward, slamming one hand into his chest with inhuman strength and shoving him backwards. Brent tumbled over an armchair as Hattie withdrew from behind her back a butcher knife, wide –bladed and wickedly sharp.
“Hattie?” Brent said in complete shock as his sister-in-law faced Cam, spinning the knife between her nearly skeletal fingers.
“It’s not Hattie,” Cam told him. “It’s Pauline.”
The girl’s dark eyes glinted, and her cracked lips parted. “Good guesssss,” she said slowly, and the voice that emerged from Hattie’s lips was ghastly. The words were hissed out like air from a corpse.
Realizing that he was up against a powerful rootworker and not his sister-in-law, Brent jumped to his feet and began to slowly edge around, trying to get in between Hattie and Cam.
“Ssstay back, nephew,” Hattie – Pauline— said in that same creepy voice.
Brent held up his hands as though to show that he wasn’t a threat, but Cam saw the way his shoulders flexed and knew that he was prepared to fight to the death.
But Cam wasn’t about to allow him to get himself killed. She reached into her pocket and fisted the powerful protective charm that had helped her before. This time it was going to help Brent.
“Ssstay back,” Pauline said again, her eyes roving from Cam to Brent and then back again.
“I’m not going to cause any trouble,” Brent said easily. “I’m tired of trouble. I’ve been fighting women all afternoon. Old women, sick women,” he eyed Cam, “stubborn women.” Pauline followed his gaze to Cam, and that was when Brent lunged. Pauline tried to dodge him, but stumbled instead. He seized her, wrapping his arms around her and shaking her until the knife dropped from her pale fingers. “Run!” He yelled to Cam as he grappled with Pauline. He wasn’t having an easy time of it. The conjure that allowed Pauline’s spirit to possess Hattie may have made her a little uncoordinated, but it had compensated by giving her great strength. It was a testament to Brent’s willpower that he was able to best her and throw her into the wall.
“Don’t hurt her too badly!” Cam told him. “You’ll hurt Hattie.”
Brent turned to stare at her in confusion, and that was when Pauline rallied, pointing to Brent with one shaking finger, a curse on her lips. Cam grabbed Brent’s hand and pulled him into the dining room, locking the door behind them.
“I had her,” Brent told Cam.
“You had Hattie too,” Cam told him grimly.
“I thought it was Pauline?” He said, raking a hand through his hair frustratedly.
“It is Pauline— in Hattie’s body. That’s what the conjure was for,” Cam said, her mind suddenly filling in the blanks. “That’s what she had planned for the black moon. Her magic was strong enough to overcome us but her body wasn’t. She was probably going to possess Hattie tonight and attack us. She’s been using conjure to weaken Hattie’s spirit for weeks. I don’t know much about this kind of conjure, but if Hattie’s spirit is weaker it’s probably easier for Pauline to slip in and take control. Did you see her faint just before Caro put in the pin? She must have escaped her body just before we killed her and fled into Hattie’s.”
Brent stared at her for a moment, and then his shoulders slumped. “Damn,” he said. “I didn’t realize— I thought that Pauline had enchanted herself somehow to look like Hattie— I didn’t realize it was actually Hattie’s body.”
“It’s alright,” Cam said. She faced him, reaching up to touch his face. He leaned into her caress for a moment, although he was still watching the locked door behind them warily. Cam took advantage of his distraction to slip her most powerful charm into Brent’s pocket. This fight wasn’t about him. He and his family were innocents caught in the crossfire of a blood feud, and if it cost Cam her last breath, Brent wasn’t going to get hurt.
“We need Caro and Grandma,” she told him. “I can’t take her on alone. This is black conjure, and her magic is drawing on the power of the black moon.”
Brent nodded. “Go,” he told her quickly. “Take a horse from the stable and get them. I’ll manage here.” If he hadn’t had her charm, Cam would have absolutely refused. But now he was the protected one and she was vulnerable. She didn’t know much about the kind of conjure Pauline had used. She needed Caro and her grandmother to devise a way to lift Pauline’s spirit from Hattie’s body without harming Brent’s sister in law.
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Be careful,” she told him.
He nodded and leaned down to capture her lips in an all-consuming kiss that was as fiery as it was brief. “Go,” he said again. “I want you away from her. The sooner the better.”
They both glanced at the door to the drawing room, and Cam was a little alarmed by the silence on the other side. “What’s she doing?” She asked, a terrible foreboding creeping into her veins.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll distract her. Take the servants’ hall to the back door, and then run for the stables. Go!” Brent said, and this time Cam obeyed.
She ran down the dark servants’ hall, her pulse pounding in her ears. From the other side of the house she could hear Brent shouting to Pauline, yelling all manner of threats and insults. Alarmingly enough, Pauline didn’t seem to be responding.
Cam could see the back hall just ahead of her, and if she could only get out of the house she stood a decent chance of making it to the stables. But as Cam exploded from the servants’ hall and into the back foyer she caught sight of Hattie’s ghostly figure turning the corner. Cam gasped and threw herself past the backdoor and into the ballroom instead. Thankfully Brent and his brother obviously weren’t planning any balls in the near future; they were storing old furniture in the ballroom. Cam leaped behind a sofa that was still draped in a white sheet and crouched as low as she could. She just hoped that Pauline had missed seeing her when she turned the corner.
But the sound of Pauline’s shuffling footsteps moving in the direction of the ballroom didn’t bode well. Cam patted her gown frantically, searching for any charms that she might have forgotten. But no, when Grandma had given her the powerful one she’d taken off the rest.
Damn, damn, damn.
There was a scraping sound as Pauline crossed the ballroom threshold, and Cam bit her lip. Her hand curled into a fist, and she wondered what the chances were that Pauline wouldn’t look behind the sofa.
Please….
No such luck. Pauline was making a beeline for it, and Cam refused to be discovered cowering there like a child playing hide-and-seek. She inhaled deeply and jumped up before Pauline could get any closer.
A savage gleam lit Hattie’s eyes when the evil woman caught sight of her. “Brat.”
“Bitch.”
“I’m going to ssssstop your heart.”
“Good luck. Honestly, you may have been Kat’s mentor, but the pupil certainly exceeded her master. I mean it only took her one try with my mother, and this is what, your third try at killing me?”
/> “Third timessss the-”
“Cam?” Loud footsteps sounded as Brent came running.
Pauline heaved a sigh. “Not him again.” She waved a hand carelessly, and the ballroom doors were flung shut. “Ssssstopping a heart is sssssuch a perssssonal thing. I think we sssshould have our privacy.”
“Cam!” Brent’s shouting grew louder as he hammered on the door with his fists.
For all her brave words, Cam could feel fear constricting her chest as she faced the woman alone and without the aid of any defensive magic. The pressure grew more and more intense, until Cam felt herself struggling to breathe. She had to fight to stay standing as her vision grew increasingly cloudy with each labored beat of her heart.
It was only when Cam’s pulse began to slow that she realized that what was she was feeling wasn’t fear. Pauline was already working her conjure. Sure enough, when Cam stared up at the woman through eyes that were fighting to stay open, she could see an expression of fierce triumph on Pauline’s face as she pointed a single bony finger at Cam’s chest.
“Cam!” Brent had resorted to body slamming the door, but it refused to open.
“L-l-look in your pocket.” Cam called, through a throat that felt as if it was constricting.
“What?” Brent sounded wild with fury and fear.
“T-there’s a charm. Press…. It…. Against the door and…. Wait.” Cam managed to get out.
There was a moment of silence, and then she heard Brent mutter “damn it Cam, you should have this, not me.”
As she fell to the floor, collapsing like a flower with a broken stem, Cam could only hope that he was following her instructions. The world spun above her, and the pain her chest grew so intense that if she could have screamed she would have.
Then there was a bang. From where she lay on the floor, Cam could see Hattie’s bare feet move as Pauline jumped back, hissing a curse. The sound of boots pounding across the ballroom told Cam that Brent was running to her side.
“Cam? Cam?”
The pressure on Cam’s chest eased as Pauline was distracted, and Cam greedily sucked in one breath after another. She pressed her fingers to the wrist of her other hand, and was relieved to feel that her pulse was coming back, even if it was a little weak.
“Cam?” Brent tried to help her up, but Cam was still too weak to stand. She tried to smile at him, but couldn’t quite manage it when she saw the knife in his hand. He must have retrieved it from where Pauline had dropped it in the drawing room. “What are you going to do with that?” Cam asked, panic coloring her tone.
“What do you think?” Brent asked. He left her where she lay and instead stood over her, facing Pauline. He held the knife in one hand and in the other wielded the charm like a weapon.
“You can’t! You’ll kill Pauline, but you’ll kill Hattie too!”
“If I don’t she’ll kill you!”
“Brent, you can’t!” Even if he was willing to do it now to save Cam’s life, she knew that he would be tormented by it for the rest of his life. Yet there he was, with the blade in his hand and his face set like stone.
“Tell me another way that you’ll get out of this alive, Cam,” he said urgently, still wielding the blade with his knuckles practically white. “Tell me how to stop this bitch without killing Hattie and I’ll do it.”
“It’ll take conjure,” Cam said frantically, “you need to kill Pauline’s spirit without killing Hattie’s— or damaging Hattie’s body.”
“Well, that’s your specialty, darlin’, not mine.” He squared his shoulders, and the blade flashed in the light.
Cam had never thought that she’d regret not learning black rootwork, but she did now. With her defensive magic rendered powerless by the combined power of the coming black moon and the sheer force of Pauline’s evil, she was all but helpless.
If Brent killed Hattie, he’d destroy himself.
But if he didn’t, Cam would die as surely as her mother had.
I need something dark, Cam thought. I need something as black and as evil as Pauline.
A poppet would require a strand of Hattie’s hair, and it would destroy Hattie just as swiftly as Pauline. Cam needed something powerful enough to rip away Pauline’s spirit and leave Hattie untouched. Not the protective magic of holy water and candles, but the wild and ruthless magic of floods and flames.
Flames
Cam frowned as some memory stirred at the back of her mind. Next to her, Brent was standing his ground. “We’re running out of time, sweetheart,” he told her, and his face was as emotionless as a mask.
Flames
Cam’s heart all but stopped.
I have it. I have everything I need. And it was true. Because in a vial in her pocket was all that remained of some of the darkest conjure that could be done. Bad magic; Black moon magic. It was unpredictable and all-consuming. The only limit on it was the will of the one who harnessed it. Its old mistress had been dead for fourteen years. All that was required was a new mistress to wake and unleash it.
It took all of her energy to reach into her pocket, but she forced herself to move. And when she reached into her gown, the cold glass of the vial met her fingers immediately.
Warm. Warm up for me. Burn like you did fourteen years ago.
The glass remained stubbornly cold as Pauline took another step forward. “Ssso, nephew, can you do it? Do you have the ssssstomach?”
“Try me.” Brent’s voice was as cold as the glass in Cam’s hand. The magic was denying her. It slumbered on and refused to acknowledge her.
I am your mistress. I was the child who gathered you, and now I am the woman who calls upon you.
“Hattie’ssss in here, you know.”
“I know,” Brent said, and there was just the slightest catch in his voice.
If he killed Hattie he would lose his sister-in-law, his brother and himself in one swift second. Hattie’s death would destroy Brent’s family just as surely as Solange’s death had destroyed Cam’s.
It won’t happen! Rage filled Cam, fueling her and igniting her wrath. If I have to rend Pauline’s spirit with my bare hands, she won’t do to Brent what Kat did to us. She clenched her hands so tightly that she nearly broke the bottle, which was warm under her fingers. Warm? Cam resisted the urge to glance down. She didn’t want to draw Pauline’s attention to the conjure until Cam was ready to use it. But even without looking, Cam knew that her fury had awoken the conjure.
Of course. It was rage that wove the magic in the first place.
Brent was still speaking to Pauline, threatening her, as Cam surreptitiously opened the vial. The conjured seethed and whirled inside, eager to burn, to engulf and consume. No, Cam told it, harnessing it with the force of all of the resentment and anger that she ever stifled. No burning. Consume the darker spirit. Rip her essence away and destroy it. Touch no one else.
“This is your last chance,” Brent told Pauline, his voice ice-cold.
“No, nephew, thisssss isssss your lasssst chance.”
At that moment, Cam sat up. “Brent, stand back!” She shook some ash into her palm, feeling the heat and power of it seep into her skin. For a moment, she could hear the crackling of the flames that had destroyed Solange. The terror of it all rose in Cam’s gut and threatened to consume her, but Cam blocked it from her mind. She drew the raw fury of the conjure about her like a blanket, and kept her mind free from fear or distraction. She saw and heard nothing beyond the power that rushed through her veins as she leaned forward and blew.
The ashes rushed forward, carried by her breath and her will. The silver flakes danced and seemed to multiply, pulsing with power as they hurtled toward Pauline. For a moment time seemed to freeze. Cam could see Hattie’s mouth open in a round O of horror as Pauline watched her own demise sweep toward her. Then the moment fractured and shattered. A great wind tore through the house, bringing darkness as though it had blown out the sun. The force of the conjure pressed around them until Cam couldn’t stand the pressure and sh
e clapped her hands over her ears, crying out in pain. Someone reached for her in the darkness, and Cam recognized Brent’s large hands. He grabbed her, cradled her against him as the conjure raged around them. It was so intense that Cam would likely have been blown away, but he maintained his footing and kept her there with him. For a few terrifying moments Cam felt as though her magic had thrown a shroud of darkness over the entire world.
Then the conjure dissipated and the sunlight returned. Before her eyes had readjusted to the light, Cam could sense emptiness in the house, a great absence of malice.
“Are you alright?” Brent asked, readjusting his hold on her so that he could see her face.
Cam nodded. She didn’t quite have words for what she felt.
“What was that?” Brent looked almost in awe of her.
“Conjure. Black moon magic. Very old black moon magic.” Cam felt something dripping from the corner of her mouth, and tasted it experimentally with her tongue. Blood. She must have bitten herself sometime during the battle with Pauline.
A moan sounded from across the room. “Hattie!” Cam said, suddenly remembering Brent’s sister in law.
The young woman lay spread-eagle on the shining ballroom floor, her pale arms spread like the petals of a lily. Cam grabbed Brent’s hand, and together they approached John’s wife.
“Hattie?” Cam asked gently, kneeling over the woman. It occurred to her that while she had never actually seen the woman lucid, she felt as if she knew her.
“How do you feel?” Brent asked.
The woman’s body was completely still, but her eyelids twitched once and then opened.
“John?” Hattie called blearily, her still-dilated eyes searching for her husband. “Brent?” She asked in confusion when she recognized her brother-in-law. “Where’s John?”
Brent looked down at Cam and grinned. “He’s coming,” he told Hattie.