The Complete Set

by Ainsley Shay

  “Sweet devil in heaven,” The Lord hissed as he walked deeper into what once was only my bedroom. Now, my chambers had also become a museum.

  “Child, you are a master sculptor. Why have you never told me this?”

  “No, my Lord, I’m not.”

  “Penemuel!” The guard was at the Lord’s side in a blink.

  “Yes, my Lord?”

  “Would you ever doubt me?”

  “Never, my Lord.”

  The Lord glared at me. I took several steps back. This would be the only moment I would ever have to explain to him. “My Lord, please...I do not doubt you. But, I am no sculptor.” The carving knife was in its sheath on the table. I picked it up. Penemuel stepped between the Lord and me. “Please, let me have this chance to show you.”

  With the back of his hand, the Lord pushed Penemuel to the side so he could see me. “Then show me.”

  Earlier in the day, I had gone into the woods, captured a rabbit, and brought it back to my chambers just for this occasion. I retrieved it from the cage in the corner. Setting the sweet thing on the table, I raised the knife above it. The sacrifice of it would be proof of my gift to the Lord. It took one hop before I brought down the blade. The once dark fur and warm body slowly turned to stone.

  “My Lord!” Penemuel exclaimed.

  The Lord’s gaze slid from the rabbit to me. “You child, do indeed have a gift.” He walked past me and studied the statues. “Is that?” He pointed to my second kill, the servant who had come to me without invitation.

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  “Ha! I was wondering where that bastard had gone off to.”

  “I assure you, my Lord, he got what he deserved.” I had felt pure joy as I watched his flesh turn to stone.

  “This has been the most extraordinary evening.” When he looked at me again, he seemed to really see me for what I was and what I was capable of. “I will think about sharing the gift of immortality.” My heart sank to the depths of the ocean. “But, for now, I’d like to make the room down the hall from mine a place for you to keep your...collection.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  He started to leave my chambers when he turned and whispered, “I think I shall call you, The Carving Witch.”

  When the door closed behind him, I fell to my knees. I had impressed the Lord. I knew then he would think me worthy of giving me immortal life.

  Disappointed, I closed the journal. The machines hooked up to Mr. Yves beeped and hummed. As uncomfortable as the cot was, sleep was starting to prevail. The next entry would have to wait. The entry I had just read hadn’t told me anything new, except how desperate Adelina was to become immortal. I thought about how it would be to live forever, and for some reason, the idea wasn’t very appealing to me. Besides, the world as we knew it was ending soon anyway. Fires, radical governments, zombies, floods, and asteroids: the list was long and the more I thought about it, I wasn’t convinced living for eternity was such a great thing. Maybe I’d read too many books about the apocalypse. Either way, forever was a very long time. Smiling, I thought of one benefit; if anyone ever said to me, “Don’t wish your life away,” I would respond, “Impossible.”

  My eyes were heavy and I felt the journal slide from my lap. A crash, then a scream erupted in the quiet room.

  Chandler was at Mr. Yves’ bedside. “What’s wrong?” He was shaking him.

  “Stop it!” I jumped up from the cot, went the few feet to them, and tried to push Chandler out of the way. We both stiffened when Mr. Yves began to yell in a shrill voice.

  “She’s coming! She’s coming!” His body was shaking.

  Chandler asked, “Who’s coming?”

  I tried to grab Mr. Yves’ flailing arm. His eyes were wide and haunted as he stared at something I couldn’t see. “Get the nurse!”

  The nurse was already through the door before Chandler could turn around. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know! It’s like he’s having a panic attack or a nightmare he can’t wake from!”

  Another nurse had run into the room.

  “She’s coming!” he had yelled again.

  “Who’s coming?” Chandler hollered over the chaos.

  The second nurse moved in between Mr. Yves and me. I hadn’t seen the needle in her hand until she pulled it out of his arm. Mr. Yves’ body calmed. His fluttering eyes stilled. I was worried the nurse had killed him, until he softly said, “The Carving Witch.”

  24

  The hospital released Mr. Yves. Since his outburst, they were more concerned about his senility than his physical wellbeing. The swelling around his eye was reduced and he could almost open it again. But, they said the bruise would take a couple of weeks to fully heal and he needed to take it easy with his taped rib. They wanted to send him for rehabilitation for a week at the nursing home, but he wouldn’t hear of going anywhere except home. I assured them he’d be fine in our care and they agreed. It also helped that Mr. Yves went to school with the doctor.

  Chandler, Snow, and I brought Mr. Yves home and got him settled. Against his wishes, Chandler and I stayed the night to make sure he was okay, especially after the freaky episode in the hospital.

  Snow came by on Monday after school. She and Chandler went to the store for soups, sandwich meat, milk, and other necessities Mr. Yves insisted on: vanilla wafers and cream pies. Snow and Chandler hadn’t been alone together in weeks. I was the one to blame for that. I was happy they were able to spend time alone, even if it was only to go grocery shopping. I’m sure they were going through withdrawal. The couple of times she had come to the hospital hadn’t been quality time with each other. For someone who didn’t know the meaning of the word patience, she was demonstrating it incredibly well. When I thought about it, I was still in shock Chandler had actually left me alone with Mr. Yves.

  Mr. Yves was on the couch. His unlit pipe was settled between his lips and he wore his usual dark beret, but he looked worn and unlike the man that I’d known my entire life. His eyes were closed. An overwhelming sadness came over me. He had lost his wife because of me. Now, he had been attacked. I wasn’t worth all the pain and suffering I caused. If I ran away, could I save the rest of the ones I loved? Would they be free of the madness that followed me? The enticing idea was only a tease; I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. The kettle started to whistle and I rushed to take it off the burner. Filling the two mugs, I brought one to Mr. Yves and set it on the side table.

  He opened his eyes and took the pipe out of his mouth. “You are an angel.”

  That was the last thing I felt like. I sat on the floor next to the couch. “How are you feeling?”

  Mr. Yves reached for my hand. “Oh, my dear, Iris, older than I have in a long time.”

  Sorrow scratched at my heart. I picked up one of the mugs and handed it to him. “Do you remember anything about what happened, or who attacked you?”

  He shook his head. “No, and it’s very frustrating.”

  I thought maybe if I could jar his memory by what he had said in the hospital he would remember who had attacked him. “When you were in the hospital, you woke, but it was like you were in a trance. You kept repeating, “She’s coming! Do you remember that?”

  Closing he eyes, he waited a minute before answering, “No.”

  Mr. Yves played a part in this. Yes, they were using him as their pawn to get to me, but they weren’t playing fair. I was stupid for thinking Adelina might take mercy. “When we asked you who’s coming, you said ‘the Carving Witch’.”

  He looked at me. The muscles around his eyes tightened as if he was trying to concentrate to remember. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

  I nodded and reached for the stone on my necklace. Heat rose to my face and tears welled in the corner of my eyes.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s amazing how one person can have so much power over another...” I couldn’t take the pressure of him not knowing what happened to him, and why. I sat up and faced him.
He was looking at me so intensely, I thought I might cower and retreat from telling him what he had a right to know. He needed to have the choice of whether he still wanted me to be a part of his life. The tears fell. My head wanted him to tell me to leave and never come back—then, he’d be safe. My heart would lie dying if he did. Before I changed my mind, I blurted it out. “This is all my fault.” I took his hand in mine. It was a plea for him not to be angry or worse, abandon me.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Adelina called me last week...” I paused to wipe away a tear rolling down my face. “I don’t know how Adelina found out we had the medallion, but she wants it back.” Anxiety sparked more tears as I prepared to tell him why he was a victim. “But, Chandler wouldn’t give it to her; even after she warned me she would go after the people I love.” I choked on the sob and could barely get the words out—“And, she started with you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I chanted as I covered my face with my hands.

  Mr. Yves started to say something, but I cut him off. “So, see, what happened to you, my dad, my mom, Miss Rosy, Justin, Blacwin, all of them—it’s all my fault.” The confession lifted a small weight off me; which expelled only a minuscule amount of the immense guilt I still had coiled inside.

  “That’s impossible.”

  I was shaking my head like I was at a heavy metal concert. “No. It’s true. Ever since I was born I have hurt people. I’m not safe to care for or love. Those who do, either get hurt or killed, or both.”

  “Iris, you listen to me.” He winced when he squeezed my hand. “First, you haven’t hurt anyone. Second, and lastly, there is no amount of threats, beatings, or pain that will keep me from loving you, or doing everything in my power to keep you safe.” I wanted him to stop talking, to stop putting his life before mine. “Tell me you understand that I am never going to give up on you.”

  “If I fight her, she will kill everyone I love. Then what reason will I have to live?”

  His voice was sterner than I had ever heard. Its deep tone resonated throughout the entire room. I was on the verge of being scared and had to remind myself it was Mr. Yves. “If you think that I’m going to give up on someone who has persevered through loss, pain, and death over, and over, only to be re-born again, and again, to pursue some unknown fate, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m willing to do whatever it takes, even if that means sacrificing myself, to make sure you’re able to conquer and win this war.” His eyes were wild and fierce. “Tell me you understand!”

  I nodded, and prayed it wouldn’t come to that. His grip loosened on my hand.

  We sat in silence for a long time. The energy he had spent trying to convince me I was wrong had caught up to him. He set his pipe on the table and closed his eyes. I started to get up when he asked, “Have you given up on Blacwin?”

  The question caught me off guard and I sat back down. I’d tried not to let my head go into the dark and unpleasant crevices, so I’d kept thoughts of Blacwin at bay; only allowing myself to think of the times we had shared together. My voice had lost all emotion. I wouldn’t allow myself to cry again today. “I don’t know.”

  He turned his head toward me and slowly opened his eyes. “You’d be unwise to let that happen.”

  I sat there for a few minutes. My tea had gone cold when I took a sip. The front door opened. Snow and Chandler came in carrying bags.

  Snow dropped her bags and her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! Did Mr. Yves die?”

  “What?” Shocked, I looked at him and saw his chest rising and falling. “No! Jeez, don’t do that to me.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just you look so sad and he looks—”

  “Don’t say it,” I warned.

  She held her hands up in defense. Chandler asked, “So, what is going on?”

  “I had to put our girl back in line,” Mr. Yves said. Startled, we all looked at him

  “Now I feel really stupid,” said Snow. Chandler and I chortled.

  Chandler picked up the bags Snow had dropped and put them on the kitchen counter. “Well, I hope you had better luck with that than I have.”

  “Hey! I’m right here, you know?” I said.

  “We know,” the three of them said in unison.

  I helped put the groceries away and asked Mr. Yves if he wanted anything to eat.

  “Maybe later. Right now, I’m going to rest.”

  I kissed his good cheek. “Okay.” In the kitchen, Chandler was holding Snow in his arms. His forehead rested against hers. Her eyes were closed and she looked so content. As jealous as I was, happiness tugged at my heart for both of them.

  We stayed while Mr. Yves rested. I wasn’t ready to leave him yet. I made him some soup when he woke a couple hours later. He insisted we leave when I insisted we stay the night. Chandler swore he’d be fine. I saw Mr. Yves give my brother a wink with his good eye. Exhausted, I backed down. It was almost seven when we left. Snow went home and Chandler and I headed back to the apartment. I was tired, but I couldn’t erase what Mr. Yves had said about Blacwin.

  Chandler had his headphones in and was exercising on the floor: sit-ups, push-ups...all the things I hated. I yelled his name.

  He sat up, breathing heavily, and pulled out one of his ear buds. “What?”

  “Have you heard from Blacwin?”

  “No.”

  I nodded and lied back on my bed. So badly, I wanted to believe Mr. Yves that I would be unwise to give up on him. But it became more difficult as the days passed without any word from him. I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep.

  Not sure what time it was when I woke from a dream that made me cry with happiness. I got up to get some water and wash my face. Chandler had fallen asleep on the floor. His ear buds were still in and I heard music blaring from the tiny speakers. I bent and pressed the pause button. He stirred but didn’t wake.

  The last few days had been so focused on taking care of Mr. Yves, I had forgotten about the journal. I took it out of my bag and went back to bed.

  9 March 1568 ~

  My kills have become my living art.

  What I thought was death, was only a spell. Today I found a way to reverse the stone curse.

  It was by complete accident that I came upon this finding. I was in the garden where I had several statues of small animals and one child. It was a little girl who was probably three years old. She had once belonged to a servant woman. The woman had become sick and died. No other servant had wanted to care for her. So being the good witch I am, told them I would l take care of her. No one questioned, or even cared for that matter.

  I took the child to the garden. She had asked for her mother and I told her she would be with her soon. Then, I lowered the blade into her back. I hadn’t had a chance to position her. Her mouth had been frozen into an unappealing frown. The sky was turning dark and I rushed to carve her mouth into what would be somewhat of a smile. My carving knife slipped and cut my hand. Before I could stop it, the knife slid from my hand. The blood-covered tip hit a large toad statue I had sitting next to the birdbath. The white hue of the bumpy stone slowly turned into its original shade of dark green. It sat for a moment, then bellowed and hopped away.

  “My God.” I looked at the blood on my hand and on the knife. “Impossible,” I whispered.

  Ignoring the child statue, I turned my attention to a bird I had positioned on the stone birdbath edge near the pink rose bushes. I squeezed my fist. Blood dripped from the crease and fell onto the bird. A moment went by and nothing happened. I looked at the tip of the knife. It was still lying on the ground slick with my blood. And, as I turned the bird into stone, I stabbed the tip of the blade into its stone feathers. I started to doubt what had just happened with the toad. Then slowly the bird’s alabaster color brightened into a rich red, matching the color of my blood. Its wings softened and shifted. Amazed, I bent to touch it. Its head cocked for a second before stretching its wings and taking to the sky.

  I wiped the blade of the
knife on my apron. The stone on the hilt glowed faintly. I was connected to the knife with life and blood. We were as one when we took life, and when we gave it back.

  25

  Forgetting Chandler was on the floor, I almost tripped, but caught myself on the wall. I opened the small closet door, reached inside the box and felt for the medallion. Pangs of desperation sifted through me when I felt nothing and remembered what Chandler told me, it wouldn’t be there when I went looking for it. The jerk had hidden it from me.

  Crawling on my knees, I went to him. “Wake up, Chandler!”

  “What time is it?”

  I shook his shoulders and pounded on his chest. “Where’s the medallion? What did you do with it?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Where is it?” I yelled. My chest heaved and every nerve trembled with desperation and excitement.

  “What’s the difference? I’m not going to let you give it back to Adelina.”

  Flabbergasted, I tried to smack him in the face, but he caught my arm. Holding it tight, he sat up. “Calm down, and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “I can’t. Not until we bring her back.”

  “Bring who back?”

  “My mom.”

  He released my hand. “Iris, it was just a dream.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep with that happy thought and wake me up when the sun rises.”

  I raced to the bed, picked up the journal and hurled it at his head as if I was in the World Series. He ducked, but managed to catch it. “Fuck! Are you trying to decapitate me?”

  “If that’s what it takes for you listen!”