The ritual frightens me, but I can’t back down now; my future is in my hands. The day before the ritual I drive to the station to pick up Herne. The worst-case scenario is going through my head. There isn't any other way around it; I don't know how I am going to take the pain, but I’ve agreed to it now and the only person that I will let down if I don't go ahead with it is myself.
After a short greeting, we drive back in silence. It’s hard to even think about the time that I was stabbed almost a year ago. The pain was unbearable and the time in hospital after was so unpleasant too. By the time we get home it is dark. I offer Herne my bed but she refuses and tells me that she is happy with the sofa. I make her a cup of tea, and we sit down to discuss the next twenty-four hours.
‘Everything is ready on my part. Have you decided where we will complete the ritual?’
‘It’s around half an hour's drive away; Oxwich Bay. It will be empty and I know the perfect spot,’ I say.
‘It's an old ritual but very simple; you need to repeat exactly what I say. I brought the knife and the first aid box,’ Herne says, looking excited but anxious.
She takes something from her backpack; the knife. It shines in the light and looks very sharp, finished with a wooden handle. I look at it for a while, wondering whether I will be able to hurt myself. This seems so crazy and dangerous. Herne seems to notice my sudden anxious expression, and she asks:
‘What's the matter?’
‘Nothing, I’m just thinking if this is really going to work. I mean, has anyone else ever done this before?’
‘I am not sure; the book was passed to me from my great-great-grandmother,’ she explains.
‘And did she try it?’
‘Once, years ago. But the woman didn't have any ability; she was rich and desired to experience an extraordinary power.’
I swallow the giant lump in my throat and my body tenses. The swooping sensation flows through my stomach.
I am going to be sick. I turn around and rush to the bathroom, quickly vomiting my dinner. All of this is so nerve-racking and stressful. I stare at my face in the mirror for a long moment; my breathing gets heavier more laboured. I come back to the living room shaking staring at Herne.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn't have told you that, but you have to know that you are risking your life; this isn't a joke, it's black magic,’ she says and her shiny forehead was gleaming with sweat.
‘I know that but I want to do it. I can't live like this,’ I say, sitting on the floor. ‘Let's go over this again. We wake up at 4am, and we have to leave the house as soon as possible to get there by quarter to 5.’
‘Yes. When we get there, I will prepare everything; the ground and the knife, and you just have to repeat after me. Then when I give you the sign, use the knife,’ she explains.
‘What do I have to say?’
‘Just a few formulas in Latin, I have a good feeling about this.’
‘Well I don’t,’ I shrug wiping the sweat of my face.
The plan sounds simple and straightforward, but at the same time any person with common sense would try to talk me out of it. Before we go to bed, Herne once again runs through what will happen tomorrow morning when the sun appears, and the longest day of the year will begin. At 10 o'clock, I leave Herne on the sofa and I go to bed, hoping that I‘ll get a good night’s sleep and this time tomorrow everything will be over. I fall asleep pretty quickly as my body is tired and overwhelmed with emotions.
Despite the exhaustion, I wake up at 2am with a headache and I can't get back to sleep. That is the end of my rest and it may be the end of my life. After tossing and turning for another half an hour, I walk downstairs to make a cup of tea and realise that Herne is up as well. We end up leaving the house just before 4, which is earlier than planned, but I am too nervous to even think about sitting in one place for more than five minutes.
The cold sweat starts blazing through my body, my heart starts thumping faster. It is still dark and the streets are deserted and unnaturally silent. Herne doesn't say anything while I am driving. Various thoughts are going through my head, making me more agitated. I can barely concentrate on the road. My head hurts and my mind is blank. Despite being the end of June, it is only fifteen degrees outside. I can't imagine myself jumping into freezing water with a slashed stomach. I bite my lip and force myself to follow Herne’s plan, focusing on the last positive thought that I have about Gabriel. We walk for about twenty minutes following the same path that I used when I was here with him a few months back.
We stop in complete darkness close to the sea between the rocks. The tide is coming in and I can hear the waves splashing on the sand. The light breeze ruffles my hair and I inhale the fresh seaside smell. I pull my jacket tightly around me, wondering how much time we have before the ritual must start.
Herne lights a few candles that she had placed around me forming the circle. Soon the sun is going to appear on the horizon. My body feels numb and I wonder if this is really what I want. I still have time to change my mind. Herne places herself back on the ground and then starts murmuring quickly, probably in her language, while spreading a circle with the white powder. Every so often she stops and roars loudly but my mind is blank so I don’t pay attention to her words.
I look at the watch, checking how much time I have until what may be my final moment on this earth. My heart is pounding faster and I wipe the sweat off my upper lip. I count the second trying to distract myself from what’s coming. A minute, two, five, then ten minutes drag on.
‘OK darling, come into the circle.’ she says, but her own voice is crisp and unnatural. My body stopped responding. She is afraid as well; she can’t hide it.
She looks at me for a long time, frowning. ‘Are you OK?’
Is she seriously asking me if I am OK?
‘I am not feeling well, but let's get on with it,’ I say in business-like tone. It is getting lighter and I can feel the sunrise in my blood.
‘OK, you have to repeat after me: Coèuntes, sagittent inimicum meam. Sagitta Magica, Series/Convergentia.’
There isn't time to even think about what that means. I repeat, ‘Coèuntes, sagittent inimicum meam. Sagitta Magica, Series/Convergentia.’
'Three times,' she shouts. 'Repeat it three times.'
‘Coèuntes, sagittent inimicum meam. Sagitta Magica, Series/Convergentia.’
I repeat everything three times as she asks me to, word for word, but it doesn't mean anything to me. I can feel the fear passing through my body, flowing deep into my skin. I am looking upon death and darkness, nothing more is left now. My soul deserted my body preparing for the final moment. My breaths are shallow but I will see Gabriel face soon. He is going to be close again.
I stare at the sharp knife. In a few seconds, it will be inside me, sliding in me, ripping apart my body. There will be pain and suffering.
‘Now, do it now!’ roars Herne,
I look at the knife one more time, I lift it.
‘No! I can’t,’ I say, falling on the ground unable to complete the task, burring my face in the sand. I can't stab myself for a man who doesn't love me; I am just a coward not a hero. This whole ritual was a huge mistake. I just wasted the only chance that I had to ever see him again, and I ruined it because I can’t suffer. I’m not going to die for Gabriel; for a man who was too scared to say how he really felt. I start crying, unable to control my body. I lift my eyes and look at Herne, but I feel someone's breath on my neck.
‘You only have a minute to make a decision; the sun is rising now!’ she shouts, in the darkness her eyes go wider as she starts pointing at the space behind me.
The odour of gunpowder and alcohol hits me unexpectedly. Dirty trembling hands grab me from behind covering my mouth like a red hot wire. My heart is in my throat.
It's a man; his hands are tied up around mine. I try to inhale the air through my nose, but I am suffocating. My body convulses with fear. Then the sun starts blazing the light through the horizon. The man moves h
is hands to my throat. His breaths are heavy and rasped like he has been running for a long while.
‘She is a coward. She can't even save herself!’ roars the man down to my ear and the hair on my neck shot straight. He grabs my knife; he releases his tight grip and pushes me away. I fall, hitting the large rock jutting from the sand. Several seconds pass; when I look up, the piercing pain shoots through my knee. I am bleeding but the man is no longer near me.
‘You have nowhere to escape!’ roars the man running towards Herne who is now white as chalk, she is still standing glancing at me.
‘Run!’ I roar with pain.
It’s too late before Herne realises what is going on, she drops her old ritual book and stumbles backwards. She is too slow and the man grabs her from behind, forcing her down to the ground. I can’t move; my leg is probably broken. Then I recognise the man before the petrifying screams course through the sandy cove.
‘Shut up, witch!’ roars Richard, slapping her across the face.
The blood drains from my face as I stare at him, not believing what I am seeing. I hardly recognise the man that I know. He is wearing a black long coat; his face is almost black, covered in some kind of smudges and dirt. His eyes are wary, unpredictable and wild as if there is no more life in them. I stand up closing my eyes but I fall; my legs refuse to hold my body up. The pain forces me to stay down, unable to move. I start screaming.
‘Richard what the hell are you doing!’
‘Finishing what you started!’
Herne is trying to crawl away from him but he grabs her by the throat with one hand, holding the ritual knife in the other. She is jerking, punching him, but he slides the small knife through her throat. She drops on the sand and the blood covers her face and neck spreading on the sand. She stops moving after a few seconds.
I close my eyes, trying not to look, not register what just happened. She can’t be dead, but she is so still now and there is so much hot and wet blood on the sand. He moves to look at me and then I get it. I have to move otherwise he is going to get me as well. I take a few deep breaths, then I lift myself up but my mind starts to spin.
Richard approaches me slowly. He stands in front of me for a long moment staring at the calm sea. I crawl away but he just laughs then he lifts me. I moan as the pain blinds me for a moment. I inhale the same odour of gunpowder, whiskey and my own fear hearing the squeak of seagulls above me. When I lift my heavy lids he is licking his tongue across his upper lips.
‘Richard, it's me. Ania!’ I cry out. He laughs again dragging me towards the sea.
‘I completed what she asked me to do,’ says Richard; his voice is so rough, unrecognisable.
He stops for a moment, looking around with hesitation; his eyes are gazing around as though he is waiting for someone. The near-black blood is dripping from the knife. I shake his coat trying to tell him to leave me alone but he grabs my arm.
‘The completion!’
My stomach clenches with fear, subconsciously knowing what he is going to do next. I scream as the knife enters my stomach and keep screaming until nothing else comes out of my lungs. The pain spreads through my veins, reaching my heart. I want to pass out and not feel anything else. My face touches the cold sand for a moment, then he lifts and carries me, but I can no longer feel anything but agony. Every inch of my flesh is burning. I try to open my eyes and I gasp for air as the water hits me. The pain increases, penetrating my whole stomach. The sea the sea surrounds my body and chokes me and I know this is the end of me. The last part of my miserable life.
At least I will die in the sea; there is no feeling in my limbs and I am sinking deeper into the cold water that is flooding my lungs. I am drowning. My mind is not accepting this, but death is near me, close, too close. Slowly, all my memories begin to run through my mind; my whole life, my childhood, my mother. Gabriel is with me and he is a human. We are walking through the coastline, enjoying the sun… Everything is perfectly still.
A second... I suffer
A minute… the pain
An hour… the agony
A day… time stopped
A week… the year is passing through
A year… The century without him. Birth and death; we all move between these two unknowns.
19
I want to open my eyes but the darkness fall over me like a thick curtain. The agony, the suffering and the pain was supposed to end but this is unbearable. I can't it take anymore. I can still hear the waves nearby and the cold air that caresses my face. I hear the birds.
‘Ania, please, can you hear me?’ says a familiar voice. I lift my heavy lids and I think that God heard my prayers, because Gabriel is looking at me; I am in heaven with him.
‘Gabriel,’ I moan.
‘I know, darling. Be strong,’ he says.
I want to speak, but I can't override the pain. Gabriel is dripping with water; he looks like he has been swimming. He is stunning in the sunlight. If I am in heaven then why won’t this pain end? The cold wind blows Gabriel's dump hair.
There is another movement near us. Gabriel looks around, disoriented, his blue eyes widen and panic flashes through his handsome face. Someone is coming towards us.
‘Gabriel.’
It is a woman’s voice, soft and too high.
‘Rose. You have to help her, please, you are my only hope. Otherwise she will die,’ pleads Gabriel with desperation in his voice.
Rose is here with us. Maybe she will help me die as I can no longer take this suffering. Can someone please end this?
‘She can see you? Gabriel, you will be in danger! Everyone will know.’
‘I don't care – just help her. She is dying!’
‘I can't!’ she screams, ‘I can’t touch her, it’s too late. We still have chance to leave.’
‘No!’ he roars, ‘I am not leaving her. Heal her!’
‘Please, end this, please!’ I scream with the last strength that I have in me. I hear her coming towards me; he kneels and places her hands on my wound. She locks her olive eyes, after several seconds I pass out again.
When I open my eyes, I am still lying on the grass. The pain has deserted my body. I blink rapidly; my clothes are damp and heavy. I get up and look around. We must be on the top of the cliff as there is a brisk wind coming off the sea, cool and briny. I run my hand across the stomach; there are holes in my t-shirt and stains of dry blood. I am healed.
Gabriel is staring at me with Rose by his side. She wipes her streaming eyes gazing at me with shock and anger. My heart particularly stops when I look at her frozen face and horror-filled eyes. Gabriel leans in and wraps his arms around me, breathing into my hair. He smells of sea and blood. It's so good to feel him beside me.
‘Thank you, Rose,’ says Gabriel, breaking the awkward silence.
‘You risked your life for this human?’ she asks, pointing at me with an appalled look.
‘I love her,’ he whispers.
‘You don't love her – you want her humanity. You are pathetic!’
My mind is trying to understand what he just said. All these time I was waiting for this moment, but I never imagined that I’d hear him say it in front of Rose.
‘What just happened?’ I ask.
The atmosphere is thicker than cold bitter night in the summer. I part my lips but I unable to say anything.
‘I saved your life and now Gabriel is going to die,’ she responds in high-pitched tone.
I turn to face Gabriel, who's staring at me with sadness in his blue eyes like he is never going to see me again.
‘Gabriel, what's happened? It was Richard; he killed Herne and then...’
‘He stabbed you and threw you into the sea,’ he pauses ‘The ritual somehow worked and then he left as soon as you were underwater. I couldn't let you die, so I rescued you.’
This should feel so different. I am alive but something is wrong; Gabriel just risked his life for me, his fiancée just saved me, but no one is relieved.
The Whispers of the Sprite (The Whispers Series #1) Page 21