Sisters

by Eliza Nolan

  “And Grace will go free, and live in this world with her sister,” Mom says.

  Inanna pauses. “Well, you see, that does pose a slight problem. I cannot grant a demon a human soul. I’m not that powerful. I could be persuaded to leave her here for a fee, but we cannot have demons simply walking this world without recourse. There’s a reason we do not come unless summoned. Your world is too delicate to allow us to run around without boundaries. Any one of us could easily destroy earth if left to our own devices.”

  Mom’s eyes fall to the ground, pondering Inanna’s words.

  “But I summoned her,” I say. “Can’t she stay here as long as I say?”

  Mom, Dad, and Inanna all gape at me sideways.

  “Why not?” I ask Mom.

  She pauses for a moment, then says. “Yes.” She turns to Inanna. “You can make that happen, right? Grace can learn to retract her horns in public. She can stay.” Mom takes a deep breath and continues. “You know that would work.”

  Inanna puts her hands on her hips and pushes her lips together in a pout. There’s a pregnant pause.

  26

  Grace

  I shiver and cower in a ball on the cold concrete floor. There’s some sort of star and a circle. And I have horns! What the hell? Where the hell am I? It’s like an empty concrete block of a building. I could be anywhere in the world, but I know I’m not because Eva is here, and Mom and Dad have found me.

  But I can’t seem to leave this cursed circle, and now this half-woman half-monster is in here with me. She’s so tall and strong and her feet are scary hooves, and she has large coiling horns. And her eyes. They are red and soulless.

  I have horns. Why do I have horns?

  My once pristine, white, soft shawl is covered in blood and all crusty, but it’s all I have to shield me from the horror that stands next to me. My head still hurts, and my skin burns. And I can’t stop crying.

  What kind of nightmare is this?

  “Can’t she stay here as long as I say?” Eva asks. They’re bargaining for me. Eva is bargaining for me. Please let it work. I can’t go with this woman, Inanna. She terrifies me.

  I wipe at my eyes to clear the tears away, but Mom and Dad regard Eva as if she’s mad.

  “Why not?” she asks.

  “Yes.” Mom looks up to Inanna. “You can make that happen, right? Grace can learn to retract her horns in public. She can stay. You know that would work.”

  I dare a glance up at the monster. Her red eyes land on me, and I scamper back to the edge of the pentagram. I screech as searing pain shoots through my arm when it brushes up against the invisible barrier of the circle.

  She bends down to me and touches a cold hand to my shoulder. I expect to recoil, but for the first time since this ordeal started, the tension eases from my shoulders and fear drains from me. I peer into Inanna’s eyes and see kindness in her face, framed by her flowing hair. Her horns, longer than the ones I feel on my own head, are beautiful, the way the bone-white contrasts with her auburn hair. My eyes lock on hers and in that moment, I feel almost whole. That’s the only way I can describe it.

  “Aramadao, answer me this—do you wish to stay here in this world with your sister, or come with me and allow me to show you the powers you possess and what you will become?”

  Somehow, I know that I am Aramadao. It’s who I’ve been all my life. And who I will be. Mom and Dad stand a ways outside the circle; tears pour down their faces. My little sister stands so tall. She’s trying her hardest to be brave for me, but her eyes are wide with fear. Eva was…no, is my best friend and my confidante. I need her in my life. Not Inanna. I duck away from the demon’s hand, and the calming effect of her touch quickly vanishes. The cloven-hoofed monster towers over me, filling me with terror. “I want to stay in this world. With my sister.”

  Inanna faces the others. “I believe we have a bargain. If you’ll both join me.” She waves a hand in the air and Mom and Dad materialize in the circle with us.

  I throw myself into my parents’ arms. They hold me so close in their warm and loving embrace. I’m not sure I know what the deal is, but I’m so thankful to be held by my true parents again I don’t care. We sob. Mom, Dad, and I in a tight circle. I’ve never felt so loved in my entire life.

  “It’s time to go,” Inanna says.

  Eva cries out from across the room. “Mom! Dad! No!”

  I don’t understand what’s happening.

  “We love you, Eva. We love you, Grace. Don’t ever forget that,” Mom says.

  “We love you, both. Look after each other,” Dad says. “Promise.”

  “I promise,” Eva cries.

  “Hold onto that book and keep it safe. You may need it.” Mom points at the book in Eva’s hands. “And don’t you ever try to come after us,” Mom adds.

  There’s a snap, and I’m sucked out of my parents’ arms and thrown down, knocking into someone and tumbling to the ground on top of them.

  “Grace?” Eva says.

  I push myself up to find I’ve knocked over Eva.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She whimpers.

  I dust my little sister off. Her eyes are red and puffy and she’s shaking. She looks exhausted and broken—exactly how I feel. I pull her into a hug and survey the room. There’s some sort of demonic star with symbols in a circle surrounded by candles that have melted down to the cement floor. Eva and I sit half in and half out of another circle, which we must have smeared as we fell to the ground. Light flickers from two candles next to us, and Fiona sits nearby, cowering underneath a winter coat.

  What the hell happened here?

  27

  Eva

  I let myself cry in Grace’s arms. Eyes closed, my head rests against her shoulder. I pretend I never played around with a spirit board, I never found that book. I try to convince myself that my sister isn’t a demon, and that Mom and Dad haven’t bartered their souls away to save us.

  For a few moments it works. I fool myself into believing none of that happened, and that my big sister is just hugging me. And it feels almost good.

  And then I pull away and see Grace in her true form. Her blood-encrusted, gnarly hair is matted around the horns that spike out of her head. Her eyes are still black, wet with tears.

  “Where are Mom and Dad?” She searches the shadows.

  She must be in so much shock that she doesn’t understand what happened. I’m not even sure I fully understand.

  “I think they had to leave with Inanna because they made a deal with her a long time ago, and she came to collect.”

  “Why are the two of you here? And what are all these markings for?” Grace asks.

  I shrink back, realizing how much of this is my fault. I glance over to Fiona. “We were playing with that spirit board, and then we found this summoning book in the attic. We thought it was one of Dad’s props. We didn’t know it was real. We didn’t know it would work. If we had, we never would have done this.”

  Fiona clears her throat. “Eva, I don’t think we can take the blame for this. I recognized that woman, Inanna. She’s the one who sold me the spirit board at the second-hand shop. She planted it with me so I would bring it to you. She planned all of this.”

  “You purchased a spirit board from a woman with horns and cloven hooves?” Grace barks. “Do you have a death wish?”

  “No,” Fiona says. “Inanna looked like a normal middle-aged woman when I saw her in the store. She even wore a frumpy dress. But my point is, she planted it on purpose, and maybe we didn’t have a choice but to play these things out the way she wanted. Or maybe, if I’d decided not to purchase the spirit board, she’d have found another way for us to stumble across the book. I don’t think we can take all the blame. Besides, you heard your parents. They made a deal with Inanna, one that she was going to collect on. My bet is that she would’ve collected eventually whether we summoned Grace or not.”

  “You summoned me?” Grace shoves me on the shoulder, and I slide back
wards a little, massaging my neck. Is she stronger now, or did I imagine that?

  “I didn’t know it was you. We summoned Aramadao, who was supposed to be good luck or something.”

  “I’m supposed to be lucky? I don’t feel lucky.” She reaches up and touches her horns once more then sighs. “And what am I supposed to do with these?”

  I scoot closer to her.

  “Can I touch one?”

  She blows out a breath. “I suppose.” Her shoulders sink.

  I draw my hand over one of the coiled spikes. They’re a few inches long, and not only fixed to her head, but a part of her. I push on one of them and her whole head moves. She swats my hand away.

  I bend my knees to pull my legs in closer and accidentally kick over the small clay pot of sage that’s been burning inside our circle of protection. The embers kick out one last push of cleansing smoke.

  Grace coughs and gags, waving a hand in front of her face.

  “What in the hell is that nasty smell? Are you burning rotten eggs?” She gags again, then kicks the bowl away from her. The bowl tumbles a few feet then breaks into several pieces.

  Fiona, who was cowering in a corner, crawls over to examine the ashes, then takes a big inhalation of the smoke. She closes her eyes and smiles.

  “It’s sage,” Fiona explains. “It’s supposed to have cleansing properties, and also help to exorcise demons.” Her eyes open again, wider as she stares at Grace.

  I startle as I see why she’s so shocked.

  “Grace, your eyes!”

  “What?” She covers her eyes in a panic. “What are they doing?”

  “They’re returning to normal. And the horns are gone!”

  She feels the top of her head and smiles, releasing a massive, shaky sigh. “Oh, thank God.”

  I put an arm around Grace again. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m exhausted, and I want Mom. And Dad.”

  “Me too,” I say. “Should we get out of here?” I ask, surveying the chalk and wax mess on the floor.

  Grace nods.

  Fiona moves to the corner where we’ve stashed our things and shoulders her bag.

  I pull off my hoodie and hand it to Grace. She shakes her head and pushes it away. “I’m not cold.”

  “Really?” I shiver and toss the hoodie at her then scramble into my coat. “I still think you should wear that. I mean, look at your shawl. And you can’t see your hair, but...”

  Seeing the blood-covered mess that was her shawl, she accepts my hoodie, wrapping it over her shoulders like a blanket.

  I pull on my hat and slip Mom’s book, my book, back into my bag, extinguish the last of the candles, and follow Fiona to the door.

  The snow has stopped falling. A thick blanket of white coats everything—the ground, the trees across the empty lot. The few cars parked on the road are completely covered and look like huge snow drifts. Ice-cold air hits us as we crawl back down the loading dock, but the world around seems silent, as if asleep.

  Does anyone else know what happened here tonight, or did the world really sleep through the whole thing?

  28

  Grace

  Mom and Dad’s car is down the street. Eva spots Mom’s purse in the snow where she must have dropped it in her hurry to get to us. She fishes out the keys, and then we trudge through the snow back to the car and pile in. Somehow Eva ends up in the driver’s seat, even though she only has a learner’s permit. But I’m too tired and upset to care.

  We drop off Fiona with instructions to tell her parents that I came for them at the coffee house they were supposedly studying at and asked Eva to come home due to a “family emergency.”

  I text Jenna to make sure she got home okay and let her know that everything is fine. So basically, I lie to my best friend.

  Jenna: Your parents gave me $ for a cab. I’m home. You sure you’re okay?

  Me: Sure. I just need some rest. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.

  I’m nearly positive that’s a lie as well. I’m covered in my own crusty blood and my parents are gone, so school isn’t high on my list right now.

  Eva and I head back to our house to figure out what to do next.

  ∞∞∞

  The high-pressure shower in Mom and Dad’s bath shoots water down on me. It’s hot, almost scalding as it pounds my head and drips down my face. Mom’s salon shampoo is forty dollars a bottle, but who cares? I squeeze the last of the bottle directly onto my head and step out of the stream of water to massage the suds into my hair and scrub my scalp with my nails. If it’s possible to wash the demon out of me, I’ll be doing that tonight. This is my third lather, rinse, repeat.

  The horns are gone for now, but they could sprout back up at any time. I feel them, like an itch underneath my skin, waiting for their time to return.

  I don’t want this.

  I’ve finally stopped crying, not because I have nothing to cry about, but because I feel nothing. I’ve gone numb. Maybe that’s for the best. I left Eva in the fetal position on Mom and Dad’s bed crying. I’m sure I’ll join her when I’m done here. Or when I run out of soap.

  I hold out my hand, examining the ring Mom gave me. It’s a copper band, with symbols etched all the way around. Crescents, dots and triangles, with lines crossing through them. I don’t know what they mean, but Mom told me not to take it off, so I don’t dare.

  There’s a weak tap at the bathroom door.

  “Yeah?” I say.

  The door cracks open.

  “How much longer do you think the hot water will last?” Eva asks through the door.

  I stop massaging the shampoo in my hair for a moment as it occurs to me that she’s right. We have a limited supply of hot water and I still need to condition.

  “I’ll finish up,” I holler, and dunk my head under the pounding water to rinse the last round of suds out.

  When I’m finished in the shower, Eva’s no longer in our parents’ bedroom. I slip on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt and wander the house in search of her. I find her downstairs, curled up underneath a throw on the sofa. She’s plugged in the tree lights and stares sadly at them.

  “I thought you hated Christmas lights,” I say and slide down next to her.

  “I do,” she says, still staring. “I’m punishing myself.”

  “For what?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.” She leans her head against my shoulder. “I found this on Mom’s dresser.” She produces an envelope from underneath her blanket. On the front in Mom’s handwriting it says, “Grace.”

  I carefully tear it open, hoping for a note. Some instructions telling me what to do, or at least an explanation, a goodbye. But the only thing inside is a necklace. Dangling from a black leather chord is a copper teardrop. It matches the odd ring Mom thrust on my finger at the concert hall. Why copper? It’s definitely not my style, but she thought enough to put it in an envelope with my name on it. If Mom thinks it will help, that’s good enough for me. I slip the chord over my head.

  “There was one for me, too,” Eva says. “It’s a silly black rock pendant with a silver pentagram.” She pulls it out from under her shirt. The flip side of the pentagram medallion has the same symbol that’s etched into the ring Mom gave me. I hold the ring up and we compare them silently for a moment.

  “Any idea what it means?” I ask.

  “It’s gotta be some sort of protection, right?”

  “Protection from what?”

  Eva shrugs, her eyes still on the Christmas tree. She must be in shock. I probably am, too.

  29

  Eva

  Grace pushes up off the sofa and wanders off to the kitchen, returning a moment later cradling a huge tub of her Christmas cookies in her arms.

  She plops back down next to me and peels open the lid, then she takes one and offers the tub to me. I take a wreath and bite off the bow. The sweet frosting melts on my tongue. I lean against her again. “Sorry I stole your cookies the other day,” I say.

 
; “It’s okay. I’m glad you like them.”

  I swallow. “They’re better with frosting.” I wipe a tear from my cheek. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Grace sighs. “We have to stay together. I won’t pretend to understand what happened tonight, but Mom said something about how I only get to stay here because of you. It’s because you’re the one who summoned me, right?”

  I nod.

  “So we have to stay together.”

  “Do you think we can hide the fact that Mom and Dad are gone?” I ask. But I know we can’t. Both our parents are due for work tomorrow. They teach classes on Monday mornings.

  “Not for long,” she says. She pulls another cookie out of the tub on her lap. “Maybe Uncle Owen will adopt us.” We both chuckle half-heartedly. That isn’t just a long shot—it’s a ridiculous thought. Uncle Owen is Mom’s estranged brother. He lives like a hermit in a trailer, somewhere in Arizona. He’s also our only living relative. “Or maybe we’ll be placed in a foster home together.”

  We sit on the couch in silence for a while, staring across the room at the blinking tree. My mind is so overwhelmed, it’s in a fog. The barrage of possible horrors that could come next is so hard to imagine. If only Mom and Dad had told us earlier, maybe we’d know what to do, or what could be done.

  I chew the last bit of cookie and swallow and then it hits me. Adrenaline races through me and I sit up, casting aside my blanket.

  “We have to go after them.”

  “Who? Mom and Dad?” Grace’s forehead wrinkles. “Didn’t Mom tell us not to do that? It was the last thing she said. We can’t go after them. Not if they told us not to.”

  “But Grace, don’t you get it? The fact that she said we shouldn’t go looking for them means she thinks there’s a chance that we could find them. What if we could bring them back?”