Touch of Fire (Into the Darkness Book 1)

by Jasmine B. Waters

  “What’s wrong?” Steven narrowed his eyes. “Sit down,” he added. “Do you guys want to watch a movie?”

  Andrea smiled wickedly. “No,” she said. “I was thinking that we could all just sit together and talk. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

  My legs propelled me across the room and into a rocking chair, as far away from Steven as possible. But to my dismay, he didn’t even look like he cared. He looked completely happy and at ease.

  And his gaze was completely focused on his sister.

  “So, tell me, Elizabeth,” Andrea said calmly. “You were gone for a few weeks. Steven said you were visiting a cousin. I didn’t know you had any cousins.”

  I forced a shrug—it was painful, almost like I was breaking free of bondage just to move my shoulders.

  “Yeah,” I said. “You know—I have a pretty big family.”

  Andrea nodded. “I see.” She reached for a glass of water and took a sip. “I think you’re lying.”

  “What?” I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not lying—my cousin lives in Portland, her name is, uh, Lily.”

  Andrea laughed. “Elizabeth, it’s okay—you don’t have to lie in front of me,” she said sweetly.

  Steven gave me a strange look. “You lied?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I wouldn’t lie to you, I swear.”

  Steven turned his attention back to his sister. “Andrea, how’s your leg feeling?”

  Andrea pulled a face. “It hurts,” she said softly.

  I tried to get to my feet but I couldn’t move. My body was invisibly pinned to the rocking chair. Fear and dread took over my senses—what the hell was going on? Why couldn’t I move?

  What was Andrea doing?

  Fuck. Is she smarter than we thought? Did she guess what would happen?

  “It’s funny that you wanted to come over,” Andrea said to me, her smile as wide as ever. “I didn’t think you liked me very much, Elizabeth.”

  “Of course I do,” I said quickly. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

  Andrea shrugged. “If you say so,” she said. “Steven, I’m cold,” she said. I watched in horror as Andrea got up from her chair and crossed the room. She sat down next to Steven and put her hand on his chest, smiling smugly at me.

  Steven did nothing. His eyes took on a dark, glassy look and he wrapped an arm around his sister with a mechanical gesture.

  “Elizabeth, why don’t you leave?” Andrea said. “You don’t really look like you’re having a good time.”

  My legs straightened painfully and lifted me out of the chair. I almost lost my balance as I felt myself move through the living room. It took every ounce of my strength to turn my head and look behind me. Andrea crawled onto Steven’s lap, caressing his face with both of her small hands.

  He wasn’t even looking at me.

  My eyes filled with tears as I moved closer and closer to the front door. Goddamnit. She knew. She knew! And she did this on purpose!

  As soon as I on the D’Amicos’ porch, I finally regained strength over my own body. But when I tried to turn back to the door, I found that I couldn’t even cross the welcome mat. A thick, invisible barrier kept me away from Andrea.

  Tears filled my eyes as I turned and walked home. I couldn’t decide if I felt relieved or angry. After all, Andrea had skillfully manipulated me into not harming her.

  But I hadn’t accomplished what I’d set out to do, either. And I had a sinking suspicion that more likely than not, Monica and I would face punishment at the hands of Henrik and Ligeia.

  Monica met me halfway home, on the main road of town. She no longer bothered concealing herself among the trees; instead, she slunk beside me, her eyes low with defeat.

  “I should’ve known it wouldn’t work,” Monica mumbled. “She’s too strong, Elizabeth. She’s stronger than you. She’s probably stronger than me,” she added.

  I shrugged. “We tried,” I said lamely. “She controlled me the second I walked in the door.”

  “I know. Steven, too,” Monica said. She shuddered. “What’s her gross obsession with her brother, anyway? Like what the fuck?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I kicked at a rock on the ground. “It really bothers me.”

  “Well, try not to let it,” Monica said. “Maybe we could… I don’t know. Use him to our advantage, somehow?”

  “I don’t think that would work, either,” I said, balling my hands at my sides as frustration sank lower and lower into my brain. “He’s too easy manipulated. You said it yourself. He’s like a blank slate.”

  “Let’s get my books and go into the woods,” Monica said. “We won’t be able to find the coven, but maybe we can find a spell or something.”

  “A spell? You use actual spells?”

  Monica flushed. “They’re more like… recipes,” she said. She wrinkled her nose. “And I’m not very good at them. But I think it’s the best chance we have.”

  I made awkward small talk with Jamie and Brian while I waited for Monica to gather her books. As soon as she appeared on the stairwell holding three or four ancient-looking, leather-bound volumes, I followed her into the woods behind her house.

  “It’s because she stole my athame,” Monica groused as she flipped through the pages of the books. I shuddered—the pages were yellow and powdery, stained with the oil of numerous fingertips.

  “You need it back,” I said.

  “No shit,” Monica said. “Look, this might work.” She shoved the book at me and I frowned—the illustration was of a beautiful woman with her eyes closed. Her gold-leaf hair spread over her shoulders as she levitated peacefully above the ground.

  “She looks like she’s sleeping,” I said.

  Monica laughed humorlessly. “She’s dead,” she said. “It’s a killing spell.” She shivered. “But the repercussions of that…” she trailed off.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. I kept quiet as Monica flipped through the next few pages, looking at the ingredients.

  “Turnip sap? What the hell is that,” Monica grumbled under her breath. “I’ve never even heard of this stuff. What’s Chickweed, anyway?”

  “Maybe it’s archaic,” I suggested. “Maybe it’s names for stuff we still have.”

  Monica shook her head. “Not all of it,” she said darkly. “Look—the venom from three young adders?” She laughed. There was no trace of mirth in her voice. “We couldn’t get this stuff, Elizabeth.”

  She sighed and slammed the book closed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “There has to be another way,” I said gently. “We have to catch her off guard—we have to make her think that she’s in control.”

  “Yeah, until she’s not,” Monica said darkly. “I don’t know.” She bit her lip as she paged through the book. “Honestly, even the easier stuff… I don’t think I’m strong enough. Someone like Henrik would have to help me, and he’s refused.”

  “Can you ask him if he has any other ideas?”

  “I don’t want to give up yet,” Monica said. She sighed and closed her eyes, blowing her blonde bangs high into the air. “I can’t believe our fucking plan didn’t work!”

  “I’m kind of relieved,” I said quietly. “I mean, at least this way, we don’t have to kill anyone.”

  “Yet,” Monica said. She shook her head. “I’m leaving,” she announced. “You keep these books. Or take them back to Jamie and Brian, I don’t care.”

  “What? No,” I said. I scrambled to my feet, brushing the leaves and dirt off my jeans. “Let me come with you,” I said. “Please?”

  “No,” Monica said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  She got to her feet and stretched until her spine made an audible crack. “I’ll see you,” she said. “Bye, Elizabeth.”

  Before I could beg her to stay, she was gone. And then I was alone in the woods, with the chilly air swirling around me and a pile of useless books at my feet.

  ---
/>   Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. I didn’t go out much—most of the time, I stayed at home and read. I still hadn’t forgiven Aidan for turning me in, and my parents were so spacy and distant that it felt like living with a pair of ghosts.

  I knew Monica was with the coven. Part of me was angry with her for not taking me. I mean, I wanted to help. And the coven had initiated me—so why hadn’t Monica let me in?

  It was two and a half weeks before Monica came back. As soon as there was a knock at the front door, I knew it was her. I flew downstairs and yanked the door open.

  “Let me in,” Monica said. She grinned triumphantly. “I figured it out. Well, not just me,” she added modestly.

  I nodded and stepped back to allow her inside. Monica bounded up the staircase and I followed her, carefully closing and locking my bedroom door as soon as we were inside.

  “So?” I flopped on my bed. “What do we have to do?”

  Monica grinned smugly. “For one, good news—we don’t have to kill her,” she said in a hushed voice. It creeped me out—the way she smiled, combined with the sentence chilled me to the core.

  “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “We just have to trap her soul,” Monica said. “We just have to somehow trap her, and get her soul out of her body.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Won’t this… I don’t know, kill her anyway?”

  Monica frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really care.”

  “Monica!” I stared at her. “What’s wrong with you? This isn’t a game—this is a real person’s life!”

  Monica tossed her blonde hair. “Well, yeah, but Elizabeth—think of how many people Prudence has killed over the years, will you? I mean, she’s one person. But she’s murdered hundreds!” Monica walked over to the window and yanked the blinds up. “And look outside,” Monica added. “Our town is going fucking nuts, all because of Prudence.”

  I sighed. “I still don’t like it,” I said.

  Monica frowned. “I thought you’d be happy,” she said. “I mean, isn’t this better than cutting her heart out?”

  My stomach churned and hot bile rushed up my throat. I nodded, swallowing the acrid liquid. Wincing, I reached for a glass of water and took a sip.

  “We have to think of a plan,” Monica said. “We need to get her in a trance, right?”

  I sighed. “I guess.”

  “So…” Monica chewed on her lip. “You have to make her think that you’re really sorry.”

  “About what?” I narrowed my eyes. “I haven’t done anything.”

  Monica rolled her eyes. “Well, for one, you fucked her brother,” she said. “I mean, come on.”

  I blushed hotly. “I’m not confessing to that,” I said.

  “Well, think of something else.” Monica tapped her chin with her fingers. “Like, okay, how about this? How about you go over and pretend you’re confessing on behalf of me, that I’m so bad that you’re feeling like you’re damned just from being friends with me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you really think she’d go for that? Wouldn’t she see right through me?”

  Monica shrugged. “No,” she said. “I don’t think so. Those Christian types… they’re rabid for guilt, aren’t they?”

  “I guess.”

  “So, you call her and tell her you want to confess. Then go over there and make shit up. I’ll put her in a trance. We can take her body to Henrik and Ligeia. They’ll know what to do.”

  “I can’t find the coven on my own,” I said, frowning deeply. “Ligeia told me I couldn’t until I’m strong enough.”

  “I think putting Andrea in a trance would make you strong enough,” Monica said. She raised her eyebrows at me. “Besides, I can always find it—you can just follow behind.”

  I bit my lip, hard. Blood seeped into my mouth and I swallowed. Somehow, it didn’t exactly help with my nausea.

  “Okay,” I said. “I mean, I guess I have to. When do you want to do it?”

  Monica checked her watch. “It’s only two,” she said. “Call her now and tell her you want to come over this afternoon. Don’t mention Steven at all,” she said warily. “And if she asks, just pretend like you’ve lost interest.”

  My stomach churned. “To be honest, that wouldn’t be much of a lie,” I said. “His weird behavior and that whole scene last time… ugh.”

  Monica nodded. “Good,” she said. “Just think about that whenever she asks. Your disgust is pretty clear.”

  I reached for my phone and dialed the D’Amicos’ house, my heart flickering in my chest.

  “Hello?”

  I cleared my throat. “Hi, is this Mrs. D’Amico?”

  “Yes.” She sounded suspicious. “Who is this?”

  I blushed crimson red. “It’s Elizabeth Hartsell,” I said. “May I please speak to Andrea?”

  There was a pause. “May I ask why?”

  Inwardly, I groaned.

  “Sure,” I said. “I want to confess to her.” I made my voice sugary sweet. “I want to make sure she understands how sorry I am.”

  “Andrea!” Mrs. D’Amico called. “Elizabeth is on the phone for you!”

  God, how insufferable, I thought as I chewed my lip, waiting to hear the high-pitched sound of Andrea’s voice.

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” Andrea said. “My mother said you wanted to speak with me.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, yes. But can I come over? This would probably be better in person,” I added. “I want to confess. I’ve been feeling so horrible and guilty about everything, and I just wanted you to know how deeply I mean it.”

  I could practically hear Andrea smiling through the phone. “Sure, Elizabeth,” she said sweetly. “Why not come over right now?”

  Shit.

  “How about in a few hours?” I asked timidly. “I have to help my mother with a few things first.”

  “Oh, okay. That’s so nice of you, Elizabeth. We should always help our families.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”

  We hung up and I threw the phone into my pillows.

  “What?” Monica frowned. “That sounded like it went well.”

  “Her parents are home,” I hissed. “How the hell are we supposed to pull this off if they’re around?”

  Monica looked troubled. “I don’t know,” she said. “But we have to try. I can handle them if necessary.”

  I stared. “You’re kidding.”

  “I don’t mean hurt them or anything,” Monica said quickly. She looked guilty. “You know. Just, uh, make sure they stay out of it.”

  I frowned. “This isn’t going to work,” I groaned. I buried my face in my hands. “We’re totally screwed.”

  Monica sighed heavily. “We’ve got to try,” she said softly. “Elizabeth, that’s all we can do.”

  “I know,” I said grimly. “I’m just not looking forward to it. Not at all.”

  Chapter Five

  When I got to the D’Amicos, I felt the same sense of dread and unease that I’d felt before. The only thing that made me feel better was the absence of cars in the driveway… including Steven’s.

  Andrea smiled brightly at me when she opened the door. I noticed that she was still limping faintly, and I immediately wondered whether it was a ruse.

  “Hi, Elizabeth,” Andrea chirped. “It’s so nice to see you. I asked everyone to give us some privacy.” She leaned in close and I resisted the urge to jump back. “I mean, I assume you’re going to tell me some really private things.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks for not minding.”

  “It wasn’t a problem,” Andrea said. “Come with me.”

  It felt weird being inside the D’Amicos’ house without Steven. The last time I’d hung out there with just Andrea and Monica, it had been years ago—before that whole séance fiasco. Thinking about that was almost
painful… it made me wonder if we’d ever been normal little girls.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I sighed. “Honestly, I was thinking about all of the times when Monica and I would come over here to play.”

  Andrea’s smile faded. “Monica is evil,” she said flatly. “I never should have ever entertained the idea of being her friend.”

  “It was a long time ago,” I said quickly. “I know things are different now.”

  That reply seemed to satisfy Andrea. She smiled and led me into the living room. There were two cushions on the floor and I leaned down to pick them up.

  “Oh, no,” Andrea said. She smiled at me. “We’re going to kneel together and pray. And then, you may confess.” Her voice was benevolent, yet condescending.

  “Ah,” I said. “Okay. That sounds good.” It didn’t sound good—warning bells erupted in my head. What if she tries to put ME in a trance, I wondered as I kneeled, wincing as I settled on the thin pillow. The pillow wasn’t thick enough to shield my knees from the wooden floor and I was almost instantly in pain.

  Andrea settled down next to me, looking as smug and comfortable as a queen on her throne.

  “Holy Father,” Andrea began, closing her eyes and bowing her head. I immediately copied her gesture. “We’re here today to speak to Elizabeth Hartsell, a fallen woman who has come to confess her sins.”

  I rolled my eyes. Fallen woman? What the hell does that even mean?

  Andrea nudged me with her elbow. “Pray,” she said. “It’s your time to speak to the Holy Father and tell him why you’re here.”

  “Um, okay.” I shifted nervously on the pillow, trying to find a comfortable spot for my knees. “Holy Father, please forgive me. I’ve sinned, and I greatly regret my past actions. The guilt is so upsetting to me.”

  Andrea turned to me. “You can be specific,” she said sweetly. “Holy Father prefers total openness.”

  “I haven’t always been a good daughter,” I said, fumbling for the words Monica and I’d rehearsed just hours ago. “And I haven’t been a godly friend.”

  “That’s good,” Andrea praised. “Keep going, Elizabeth.”