Strega (Strega Series)

by Karen Monahan Fernandes

  His eyes were wild as he spoke. I don't think he'd blinked for ten minutes.

  "Since that day, I have done more research on the Etruscans than I did any subject in grad school. But the information I have been looking for isn't in the textbooks. The only place it exists is with the Strega that have survived history. That is why I went to Italy for that dig, though I only spent a few days at the site. For weeks, I traveled from village to village, searching for anyone that might know something and, more importantly, might actually share it with me. I went to fortunetellers, seers, the oldest and wisest people in these villages, searching for the keepers of the Old Ways. I chased whispers, rumors, gathered scraps of a bigger picture, but in the end I left Italy with more unanswered questions."

  He leaned in toward me, and I swallowed hard, realizing then that my throat and the rest of my body was frozen stiff.

  "Strega were considered one of the greatest forces of good before the days came when they had to hide their magic. They kept private books. The book that came to me was one of them, I am sure."

  He pointed to the words written on the cover just below the symbol.

  "Libra dei Segreti. Book of Secrets. It was clearly a book of magic—an early version of a Grimoire or a Wiccan Book of Shadows. Its pages revealed a rising force of darkness that threatened to consume the world. In the remote villages of Tuscany, they still speak of this evil with terror in their eyes. It was never vanquished. And the only reason it has not destroyed us all is because something out there is fighting it. Strega are still fighting it."

  Placing his fists firmly against his desk, Mr. Whitmore locked eyes with me and leaned in as he carefully continued.

  "This book came to me for a reason, Jay. Now today, you come here with this athame. I know it's all connected. I think the Strega are surfacing again. And if I am right, then their enemies are not far behind."

  I looked at Mr. Whitmore and for a moment I truly wondered if we were both just plain crazy. He picked up the athame again and traced the three symbols with his finger.

  "These symbols..." he mumbled. "Like I said, magical tools are commonly forged with symbols that represent sacred spirits, to call upon in a moment of great need. More than anything, I wish I knew what these represent."

  He turned the book toward me and opened it to the page he'd been saving. He pointed emphatically at an illustration of a blade, and placed the athame beside it. They were identical, right down to the symbols etched upon them.

  "You asked me how I know this blade belongs to a Strega. This is how, Jay. I saw it in that book. I drew it from memory, with as much detail as I could. My greatest regret is that I cannot for the life of me remember what was written on that page."

  We both sat back in our chairs. I was nowhere near where he was in terms of understanding any of this, but if there was anyone I could talk to about all the bizarre things I'd seen and experienced, it was him. So I did. The book in the library. The tree consumed by flames. All of it.

  "Mr. Whitmore, you know that everything we've told each other...well, it's just crazy, right? What happened to you. What is happening to me. It's all impossible. It's not reality."

  "I know, Jay. It's crazy. But we are on this path for a reason. And at least now we are not alone."

  "I feel like my world is turning upside down. I don't even know what to grab onto anymore."

  "We can't run from it." He smiled, somehow knowing that was exactly what I wanted to do. "It will find us no matter where we go, as we've both experienced."

  XXII

  Through the small window in Mr. Whitmore's office, I noticed the sun sinking deeper on the horizon and the darkness of twilight creeping in. I was more than done with our conversation. I'd endured more than I thought possible, and my body and mind begged for it to stop.

  "Let me walk you to your car," he said. "You have to be careful. Whatever followed you last night is probably after the athame."

  "Whatever?" I asked, noting his strange choice of words. I waited for reassurance, but I didn't get any.

  "Jay, there's a bigger picture here that you don't see yet," he said emphatically.

  "What do you mean, whatever?" I asked again.

  "Demons, Jay," he said reluctantly.

  My mind went blank. I couldn't fathom that anything we had talked about was actually real. Especially this.

  "Demons?"

  "I know it's a lot, Jay. Please, just be careful. Go home and try to get some sleep. We will talk more in the morning," he said, resting his hand on my shoulder as he walked me to the door.

  "Would you mind if I kept this tonight? I'd like to crack these symbols if I can. I haven't made much progress with them, but now with more than just a rough sketch to go on, I hope to. These symbols might be the key to understanding all of this."

  "Sure," I said, relieved to hand it over to him.

  "Don't worry," he added. "I will lock it in my safe before I leave tonight."

  I wasn't worried. Part of me hoped that he'd lose it and I'd never have to see it again.

  "Thank you, Jay. You have validated all of my experiences and all of my research. This is a critical piece of a much bigger picture, which I promise I will do my best to uncover."

  As I opened the door, he offered one last time to walk me to my car.

  "I'll be fine. I parked right out front."

  "Please, Jay, take care of yourself," he said sternly. "I will see you in the morning. Nine o'clock?"

  I nodded. "See you then."

  I got in the elevator and pulled out my phone.

  D-e-m-o-n. I typed the letters into the search window.

  In religion and folklore, a demon is an evil supernatural being or spirit. Many demons in literature were once fallen angels, however some are said to have been born in darkness, forged in the fires of Hell itself.

  My car was parked as close to the building as possible. I scanned my surroundings and descended the steps, feeling confident that I could walk the forty-foot stretch to my car, get in, and drive home without incident.

  When my foot hit the last step, I hesitated. A gentle breeze swept past me, carrying with it something that made my heart flutter. A familiar scent, musky and earthy. One I could never forget. It hadn't filled my senses since the night I met Vince. I turned around, wishing to see him standing behind me. But I was alone.

  Months later, even in his absence Vince had the power to intoxicate me. It didn't matter how hard I tried to forget him. Something wouldn't let me. I lingered on that last step, clinging to this bittersweet, intangible reminder before it disappeared.

  As I approached my car, the lights overhead suddenly went out.

  Really?

  The row of bushes beyond my car seemed harmless in daylight, but in the dark formed a wall of terror. Staring at them seemed to bring them to life. They quivered to the beat of my nerves.

  When I heard the bushes rustle, I froze. My heart was thumping full-force when the rustling suddenly stopped. I hurried to my car with the key in my hand, and hit the unlock button. I kept my eyes fixed on the bushes as I pulled the door open, but before I could slip inside, my body slammed against the door. From behind, someone bigger than me, stronger than me, pinned me to the car, and his forceful hands wrapped around my neck.

  "Did you really think you could hide from us forever?" his deep voice slithered into my ear. His face pressed against mine and his grip around my throat tightened. As I was pinned beneath him, I felt his body strengthen and expand until he towered over me. His breaths grew deeper and warmer. Panting like an animal, his mouth opened and globs of saliva ran down my face and neck. His long, sharp teeth pressed against my skin, about to sink in. He was not human.

  "Where is it?" he growled in a deep, terrifying voice.

  He wanted the athame. With each second, I grew more lightheaded until I was sure I was going to pass out. I needed air. I couldn't speak, but even if I could, I never would have told him where it was. His body pushed harder against mine, cru
shing me. He pinned my legs so I couldn't kick free. My vision began to blur. All I could do was hold onto consciousness and hope that someone would help me. Just then, I heard a soft and steady swish behind us, and it was moving in our direction.

  The weight of his unusually massive body continued to crush me as his head turned toward the sound. Just then, a sharp crack cut through the air like a bullet. I fell backward, pulled violently by my neck until finally he lost his grip on me. I landed on top of him and he didn't try to regain control over me. He was out cold I assumed as I pushed myself up off his limp body. The sharp sound, I suddenly realized, was his jaw cracking behind someone's fist.

  I couldn't look back. I reached for my car door and hurled myself into the driver's seat. I slammed the door behind me and fumbled to lock it. Then I threw my car into reverse, hit the gas, and peeled out of the parking lot.

  I gripped the steering wheel with both hands. My back didn't touch the seat the whole way home. I rifled through my bag for Mr. Whitmore's business card. At the first stop light, I dialed his number and waited for him to answer.

  Hello, you have reached David Whitmore. Please leave your name and number, as well as the reason for your call, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.

  Beep.

  "Mr. Whitmore. It's Jay," I managed to say, helplessly out of breath. "I was just attacked. On campus. In the parking lot. You were right. Whatever is after me...he is not human. He wants the athame. If he knows you have it, he will come after you, too. Please just get away from it. Lock it up until we figure out what to do. And be careful tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

  XXIII

  Rena had been calling and texting me all day. Twenty-one calls to be exact, and at least as many texts. I pulled into Ruth's driveway and parked next to Max's car. They were both inside, surely waiting for me and expecting an explanation. More than ever, I needed Rena's support. It went against everything in me to keep the truth from her. But I had to.

  "Where the hell have you been all day?" Rena demanded as I walked through the door. She threw her arms around me, relieved that I was all right. Max made his way toward us with his casted arm in a sling. I pulled my hair forward to conceal my neck and any obvious sign that it had just been violently wrung. A fierce ache was settling in all over.

  "Hey you!" he said as he threw his good arm around me and gave me half a bear hug. "We've been waiting for you!"

  "Yeah, I just got caught up at work...my boss called with a last minute assignment this morning," I lied. Rena seemed skeptical, but nodded in acceptance. She had her eyes on the clock. Max had to be at Code Red at eight. I had fifteen minutes to get ready.

  I didn't want to go, but I didn't want to stay home alone either. I was in danger and staying in a public place was probably my best defense. Rena was excited to go out together and hoped it would take my mind off things. She encouraged me to come upstairs with her so she could pick out something fun for me to wear. On our way, she grabbed a fancy dress that was draped over the arm of the sofa and a glittery box of shoes beside it.

  "For tonight?" I asked with confusion, hoping I wasn't going to look like a loser in my leather boots. There was no way I was wearing heels.

  "Yes. I'm hoping to win best dressed," she said sarcastically, assuming that I was joking. When she saw in my face that my ignorance was not an act, she finally elaborated. "Margot's wedding...on Saturday? I asked Max to bring my stuff over since I'll be getting ready here."

  Ugh. Margot's wedding.

  The event at Code Red that night was not the only thing Max was doing to win favor at work. That weekend, he was flying to Las Vegas. Weeks ago, his boss asked him to come along to a big syndicated radio event there. Knowing it would be great exposure for him, and hoping it would help him get his promotion, Rena encouraged him to say yes. But as soon as he did, she called me in a panic. She'd already sent her reply card to her cousin Margot's wedding with Max as her guest.

  "Please! Please! Please! Come with me," she'd begged. "I really, really, REALLY don't want to go by myself! You know how awful my cousins are! I cannot show up alone!"

  "Rena, I don't even really know her. And she didn't even invite me!" I said, refusing to go at first.

  "Listen," she said in a slow, controlled voice. "If I have to go alone, then I'm not going. That's two heads paid for that will go to waste. You'd be doing my aunt and uncle a favor by coming!"

  After fifteen minutes listening to her desperate pleas, I finally caved. If I'd been aware of the tailspin my life was about to take, I definitely would have stuck with my original answer.

  I washed my face and put on some blush while Rena buzzed around me with a curling iron. I threw on a clean pair of jeans and my favorite white top, and I was ready to go with five minutes to spare. Max made his way out of the kitchen with the last few bites of a sandwich and yelled up the stairs.

  "Hey Jay, is Shaun back yet?"

  "No," I shouted down to him. "He's gone for a couple more days."

  "Huh. Weird," he grumbled. He already knew Shaun had left with his uncle the night before. I overheard Rena telling him earlier.

  "Why? What's up?" I asked curiously as Rena and I came downstairs.

  "Oh nothing. I swore I saw his boat docked at the marina this afternoon." His face contorted as he tried to reconcile the whole thing in his mind.

  "Yeah, he's gone," I reiterated as I grabbed my keys and my phone on our way out the door.

  XXIV

  My relationship with Shaun never would have started if Rena hadn't meddled.

  She and I were having lunch downtown one afternoon. It was early summer—school had just gotten out. I wanted to run to the bookstore to pick up a copy of Wuthering Heights from Mrs. Bayless's summer reading list.

  "I'll come with you," Rena said. "And then we can go to Basha's for Tuesday half-price pedicures!"

  We walked down to the marina in our flip-flops while our toenails dried. I saw Shaun standing on a stunning black, silver-trimmed boat docked in the marina. I recognized him right away from The Waterside. To my chagrin he recognized me, too. As soon as he saw me, he waved with an expressiveness that surprised me. He was usually so quiet and kept to himself, only peering at other patrons from under his brow when he thought nobody was watching him.

  "Waterside, right?" I said, smiling as I approached him. "You're the guy who never drinks your coffee."

  "Yes," he said chuckling. "And you are the lovely young lady who always checks on me anyway."

  "That's me," I said awkwardly.

  If not for Rena, I would have wrapped it up then. I'd already given myself the orders. Say goodbye, turn around, and make your way back up the wooden planks. But Rena placed her hand on my back and forcefully guided me toward him.

  "What do we have here?" she mumbled into my ear playfully while pinching the back of my arm. Like most girls, she was smitten with Shaun after taking one look at him. She initiated a conversation with him, which she did with anyone no matter where she was or who she was with. But that day, her determination was in high gear. She was in no rush to leave and, to my annoyance, she lingered far too long, finding new questions to ask him. Through her endless interrogation, I learned more about boating than I ever wanted to know.

  The boat was Shaun's. Technically, it still belonged to his uncle, but when Shaun turned eighteen the following summer, it would be his. His uncle was retiring. Shaun planned to take over his business of running a sailing charter during the summer months when tourists were willing to pay any price to get out on the water.

  Shaun was very charming, answering all of Rena's questions with patience and grace—something I never would have noticed about him if Rena hadn't prodded. Though he was more than happy to humor her, his demeanor was infused with a subtle but consistent reserve. He seemed more mature than most boys I knew, and my natural instinct to run waned. His reticence provoked my interest.

  Rena gave me a wink and a hard elbow each time Shaun looked away
to point to some part of the boat she was asking about. "Cuuute!" she loudly whispered into my ear as she scrunched her face up and pushed me toward him. After many of Rena's non-subtle hints to see the inside of his boat, Shaun offered to take us for a tour. I didn't want to impose, but before I could decline, Rena grabbed my hand and pulled me onward.

  We stepped inside the spacious living room, adorned with so many modern luxuries that it was easy to forget we were on the water. A long, white leather sofa ran along the far wall, and a white Persian carpet with rich brown accents was centered on the dark hardwood floor that stretched from end to end in the lavish space. On the wall behind us, a giant flat screen TV descended from the ceiling with the click of a button, and a propane-fueled gas stove with a stone hearth lie in wait for a cool late-summer night. We walked past the kitchen, where the sunlight poured in and shimmered upon the granite countertops. We continued on to the full bathroom, complete with a marble-tiled floor, jetted bathtub, and Swiss shower.

  Shaun gestured to his uncle's bedroom. The door was closed, but Rena boldly asked if he was inside. Finally reaching my threshold of annoyance, I leaned in and pinched the back of her arm. She let out an unrestrained "Ou-CHHH!"

  "He's a quiet guy," Shaun volunteered. "Sort of likes to keep to himself."

  Shaun directed us to the other end of the boat to his own room, which was just as beautiful as the rest of the space and decorated with a rich palette of ivories, browns, and grays. A giant bed topped with fluffy white down covers and gray throw pillows sat upon a square, light shag rug contrasting the chestnut brown hardwoods beneath it. An ecru leather chair and a small glass table sat in the far right corner, and a dark mahogany desk and chair in the opposite corner. A bureau and dresser of the same beautiful, dark wood stood at either side of the doorway.