Wild Spirit: Huntress

by Victoria Wren

  Luke eyed her warily. “But she isn’t really dead?”

  Win smiled. “No.”

  “And the huge falcon that happens to follow you around…wouldn’t happen to be—”

  “My mother, yes.”

  Luke whistled through his teeth. “I always thought it looked at me funny.”

  “She’s like that with everyone. My dad kind of knows it’s her…but it took him a long time to accept what happened to her, and the same thing was happening to us.”

  Luke nodded, deep in thought. Finally, he looked up, holding up both hands. “Okay, sorry for all the questions, and this is a bit grim. Why was there no dead body in my attic? I mean a human body.”

  “Because when we die, we revert back to our animal form. It’s part of the curse; we are bound to the earth. There are no Hickory coffins in the Cedar Wood cemetery, only markers.”

  “So that explains the Vivienne Hickory story!” Luke slapped his knee in triumph. Win rolled her eyes, glad he was finally catching up. “She was gone, but the kestrel remained.”

  “We have a winner,” Win joked, distracted by rustling in the bushes behind her. Her spine chilled, she narrowed her eyes at the dark. There was nothing there.

  Luke was still talking. “So the lost ones you keep mentioning….”

  Win rolled her eyes. “Seriously, do you listen to a thing I say? The lost ones are members of our family that have gone missing over the years. Their souls remain trapped in their bodies. It’s hard to explain, but Grandpa seems to think it has to do with the way they died. So, for instance, my great-grandma….”

  “The White Wolf?” Luke prompted.

  “She was shot dead by a hunter. And other aunts of mine over the years…there was a red fox and a mountain lion. In Jennifer Riley’s book, they were taxidermied and put on display, which means they are out there somewhere.”

  “And they’re trapped?” he murmured. “That’s awful…but my grandma?”

  “No, she died…but kind of naturally. It’s the violence of the act that locks the spirit inside. It’s damaged, I guess. It can’t move on.”

  “I get it…I think,” Luke said, knowing she was becoming short-tempered every passing moment her sister didn’t land. Still, he stood, towering over her, attempting to ask one last thing. “So what about the actual curse? The curse of the Hickory’s?”

  Win blinked. “What about it?”

  “Is there no way to break it?” he asked. “I mean two hundred years of suffering with no end in sight? I get your ancestors were assholes but still, it’s a high price.”

  Win shivered. The thought there could be something they could do to break the curse inflicted upon them had never occurred to her. They could be free. Rowan could travel and see the mountains of Montana. She might go to New York one day and stroll central park, drink in fancy bars, and write in her crumbling brownstone apartment like she had always dreamed of. They could leave this town behind one day.

  Something thudded on the ground beyond the clearing. They waited a few moments, and Rowan emerged, pulling her vest down over her stomach. She shook out her curls.

  “Ella is parked in the woods next to Mercy,” she panted. “But it’s all clear.”

  “Then let’s go,” Win urged, keen to escape this clearing and the feeling of eyes on her back. She darted a quick look across her shoulder, missing the shadow slipping into the darkness out of sight.

  Ella was perched on the trunk of her car, clutching a flashlight under her arm when they emerged from the trees about ten minutes later. Lights of passing vehicles speeding past on the main road into town flickered through the bushes. She hopped to the ground, relieved to see them. “I didn’t think you’d ever get here.” She puffed in relief, happy to lean into Luke’s side as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “Have you got everything?” Rowan asked. Ella tapped her cloth bag, swallowing nervously.

  “You can do this, Ella.” Win squeezed her hand. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “We need to get in first.” Rowan stared through the trees, the shape of the old Mercy property looming over them like a wraith. “Luke, you’re up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He mock saluted her, and she grinned.

  Instead of heading through the trees to the main front gates, Luke led them through some dense undergrowth. Win forced prickly bushes out of her face with her arms, careful not to let it swing back toward Rowan, who was behind her. Win was reminded of the time she’d accidentally stumbled upon the gates of Mercy not long after arriving in town. This was a similar path.

  Finally, the undergrowth opened up, and Luke was kicking at a small rusty gate. It groaned and gave way underfoot, settling back into thick bushes. “We’re in,” he called back to them. They followed, and at last, they were in the ornamental back garden, surrounded by manicured paths and tall topiary. The topiary hare caught Rowan’s eye, and she glanced at Win briefly, who returned her grim smile. It had grown out of shape due to the lack of care the garden had received lately. Win wondered how long it would be before Iris’s monument would be overgrown, erased forever. The new owners wouldn’t keep it.

  “This way.” Luke hopped down some steps, following a low brick wall. There was a small door hidden there. It had been partially boarded over, nailed back in place, probably after Spencer had stopped using it. “The servant’s entrance,” he announced. The old rattly door was surrounded by thick stone; Ella shone her flashlight over it, momentarily lighting up the crumbly paintwork.

  Luke was prising his fingers around the nailed wood. “Anyone want to give me a hand?”

  “Let me.” Rowan gently pushed past him. “Stand back.”

  Rowan pulled her knee up to her chest and kicked at the worn, chipped door under the boards. She hit it with such a force; it splintered inward, flying off its hinges. She ducked and crawled under the nailed planks of timber, beckoning them all to do the same.

  “I could have done that. Just didn’t want to ruin the door,” Luke muttered as he bent low to crawl beneath the boards.

  Rowan laughed shortly. “Sure, but we don’t have all night.”

  Ella and Win followed behind, finding themselves in the eerie, dark servant’s quarters of Mercy. Luke took the flashlight and went ahead. “I’ve never liked it down here.”

  It was cold, despite the balmy evening. Win’s arms prickled, feeling Ella’s fingers entwine with her own. Luke’s feet slapped up some stone stairs, there was another long creek of a door opening, and they were in the empty hallway. “I hate this, Win,” Ella whimpered, huddling closer. The house felt oddly empty, even though it was still fully furnished. All the expensive, antique furniture had been covered with sheeting, ghost shapes looming up at them around corners. At the front door, there was a stack of old paintings, labeled and ready to be shipped off to Lincoln Museum.

  “This place is like a tomb,” Rowan muttered, throwing her flashlight around, illuminating every cobweb. Win could hear the fear in her voice; it gave her a small bit of comfort even she was creeped out. “Let’s get to the attic before I change my mind.”

  Luke was first up the stairs, his shoes squeaking on the polished wood floor. Ella was breathing hard and fast, so close to Win’s ear she had to give her a gentle squeeze of her hand. “Sorry,” Ella mumbled. They reached the first floor, and the silence lingered in the air like a heavy blanket. Ella’s pulse was rocketing up her palms, beating against Win’s skin.

  Moonlight shone through the long hallway window, wide like a giant yawning, light puddling on the ornately patterned carpet. Luke headed stealthily past his old room, finding the slim, concealed door leading to the attic. Win sensed cold again. Death. Grief long since forgotten. As he cracked the door open, dust filaments floated out to greet them.

  “Up we go.” He was trying to sound brave, but even his voice cracked. Rowan went first, holding her flashlight up to guide her. Silently they followed her like a grim par
ade. The attic was icy; Win shivered, automatically rubbing her arms. Ella inched closer to her. “You are always so warm,” she said, linking her arm in hers. Win gave her a small smile. In the dark, they cleared a space, choking on dust as they pulled back boxes and old furniture, making enough room so all four of them could comfortably sit in a circle. Ella rifled in her cloth bag and dug out a pack of small candles, tearing the box open. She gave them to Luke.

  “Can you put these in a circle and get them lit?” she asked, and he nodded. She pulled out a pack of matches and shoved them in his hands.

  “We need to sit in the circle.” Her voice was shaking, and Win became jittery. We are really going to do this. Her insides clenched. She sat down in between the flickering candles, careful not to disturb the tiny flame as she crossed her legs. Opposite Rowan mirrored her position. Ella was the last to sit down in the circle. She pulled out a small glass and filled it with water she had from a bottle.

  “Is that Evian?” Luke joked, his laugh catching as she handed him the glass.

  “No, it's water from the stream running between the two houses,” Ella answered seriously. “And this is from your backyard…I hope you don’t mind.” She handed Rowan a large, smooth rock with a slightly pearlized edge. She reached into the bag once again and pulled out a black candle in a glass holder and a long white feather.

  “This is for you.” She handed the candle to Win, who managed to light it on one of the tiny flames dancing at her side. Ella put the burning flame in front of her. “And I’ll keep the feather.”

  “What is the feather for?” Rowan asked. “I mean, I get everything else, earth, fire, and water.”

  “It represents Air,” Ella was struggling to breathe calmly. Her brow was beaded with sweat despite the coolness of the attic. “It was all I could think of…I don’t know if it’ll work.”

  “It’s good,” Rowan assured her. “Now, I guess you need these?” Rowan reached inside her denim jacket, pulling out a bundle wrapped in white cloth. Win gritted her teeth as her sister placed the bundle in the middle of the circle, uncovering the bones delicately. They were so tiny and fragile. Ella took out the last thing from her bag, the spirit stick she had shown Win in the car. She laid it down next to the bones. She sat back. “Now what?” Rowan asked.

  Ella withdrew a piece of paper and unfolded it onto her lap so she could easily read it. “I’m going to whisper the chant. I’m going to try the translated version a couple of times, but if nothing happens, I may try the native version, though I’m not sure what I’m doing. I hope I can pull it off.”

  “Well, we have no idea what we’re doing,” Luke jibed. “What do we do?”

  “You guys stay quiet and concentrate, and if you don’t mind holding hands?”

  “And what’s going to happen?” Luke drained as if he was having the same realization Win had a few moments earlier. This was becoming more and more terrifying. “Will she appear? Speak to us?”

  “I don’t know,” Ella answered, her voice clouded with nerves. “She should lead us to what we seek…the answers.”

  “Let’s do this,” Rowan said, clearing her throat.

  Ella’s lips trembled; she reached out and took a hand from Win and Rowan. They all linked hands, their combined energy flowing in a strong circle as if tiny bolts of lightning prickled under their palms. Win dared a glance at Luke, wondering if he’d felt it too. There was a rush of cold air, like icy breath on the back of the neck, as though someone had opened a window. Someone gasped in fright, and every single one of the candles flickered and then, went out. The room plunged into darkness.

  Twenty

  “DON’T PANIC,” ROWAN cried, climbing onto her knees and hurriedly lighting all the candles again. Luke was sweating; he took off his glasses and mopped his brow.

  “Jesus, what the hell was that?” he moaned, rubbing his eyes.

  Win shook her head, her throat tight. “Maybe best we don’t think about it too much,” she gulped.

  “Most likely a gust of air from downstairs,” Rowan reassured them. She linked hands with Ella again. “When you’re ready, Ella.”

  Quaking, Ella nodded meekly. She took up the piece of paper and put it back on her lap. Once again, they all linked hands. Luke’s were clammy; he wiped them on his jeans before taking Win’s.

  Win stared down at the black candle flicking in its little holder, watching as the wax bubbled and cascaded down the long tapered sides. She tried to quiet the noise in her head, concentrating on nothing except the soft rise and fall of her breath. Ella spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “In this circle, we are all equal. No one is in front of you. No one is behind you. No one is above you, and no one is below…when in the circle, we are unified and safe. We call you Iris Hickory to speak with us and show us what we need. To show us the path, by fire, by water, by the earth, and by air.”

  Rowan lifted her eyes to look up at Win. They held each other's gaze for a long time.

  “Nassau, son of the west wind, brother of the sun, we ask you to bring across Iris, your sister, so she may speak with us.” Ella’s voice was thick, rising up an octave. “Nassau, grandson of Lokomis, allow Iris to cross….”

  Silence vibrated around the room. Win clenched her jaw, repeating the prayer in her head.

  “In this circle, we are all equal. No one is in front of you. No one is behind you. No one is above you, and no one is below…when in the circle, we are unified and safe. We call to you, Iris Hickory, to speak with us and show us what we need!” Ella spoke again, this time her voice urgent, needy. “Brother Nassau, son of the west wind, let Iris Hickory cross so she may guide us to what we seek.”

  Briefly, Ella opened her eyes to find the three others staring at her. Rowan smiled encouragement, bobbing her head. Ella puffed out air and carried on.

  “In this circle, we are all equal. No one is in front of you. No one is behind you. No one is above you, and no one is below…when in the circle, we are unified and safe. We call to you, Iris Hickory, to speak with us and show us what we need,” Rowan said along with her, adding her solitary voice to the chant. Win nudged Luke. He shot her a look but joined in the chant.

  “In this circle, we are all equal. No one is in front of you. No one is behind you. No one is above you, and no one is below…when in the circle, we are unified and safe. We call to you, Iris Hickory, to speak with us and show us what we need.”

  All four of their voices bled together, the different tones mingling as one. Win’s eyes shot open, feeling the scratchy sensation on the palms of her hands. Blue sparks shot like tiny volts of current around the circle.

  “Keep going,” Rowan breathed. The bones were moving. It was such a gentle moment it might have easily been missed. They vibrated.

  “I’m going to try the native version,” Ella gasped, her eyes widening at the blue electricity sparking out between her and Win’s linked fingers. “You keep going.”

  “In this circle, we are all equal. No one is in front of you. No one is behind you. No one is above you, and no one is below you. When in the circle, we are unified and safe. We call to you, Iris Hickory, to speak with us and show us what we need.”

  Ella bowed her head, shutting her eyes tightly, and softly chanted in a language Win didn’t understand. But she recognized it; it was similar to what Evan had been chanting over her the day she’d lost her temper, the words designed to soothe and calm her. Win hoped Ella knew what she was doing. The bones were moving. Too late to go back now.

  “In this circle, we are all equal,” they said together. Win opened her eyes. Luke was staring, gaping at the bones. They were floating.

  “No one is in front of you. No one is behind you.”

  Rowan was shining with perspiration. She looked terrified. The bones gently moved, guided by blue light; they were starting to take formation.

  “No one is above you, and no one is below you.”

  In a macabre dance, the
bones drifted together as if piecing together an ancient puzzle. A small, tiny skeleton formed, glowing with brilliant blue light. Ella couldn’t look; she was so focused on her native chant, she didn’t dare open her eyes. Win willed encouragement across the circle as Ella’s lips moved and a different language floated out of her mouth, the words archaic, ancient but strangely, powerful.

  “When in the circle, we are unified and safe.”

  We are safe. We are safe. Win kept saying over and over. Oh god, what have we done? The small skeleton shone like a beacon, the bones melting together, fusing, producing the small, long-eared hare.

  “We call to you, Iris Hickory, to speak with us and show us what we need.”

  The hare was fully formed. It darted around the circle, sniffing the air and scratching at its ears. It looked distressed, peering over the top of their shoulders, looking beyond the circle. It was made entirely of blue light, hollow in the middle like a neon decoration. Win gripped Ella’s hand, who had only managed to open her eyes. Luke was panting. “This is crazy,” he said. The hare leapt around the circle. It was looking for a way out. Without warning, it sprang free of the barrier of their linked hands.

  Win gasped. “Where is it going?”

  The hare darted around the room, sniffing and scratching in corners. It was desperate, terrified. It leapt at the porthole over and over, hopping onto furniture. Win blinked. She’s trapped, she thought sadly. We brought her back right where she died… in her prison.

  “Iris Hickory,” Win called to her. “Iris, can you hear me?”

  They all got to their feet, brushing off dust. Moonlight flooded through the porthole window. The hare leapt frantically at the window, trying to scratch its way out with sharp, tiny claws.

  “Iris, it’s me, Winifred.” Win tried taking a step closer. “We’re your family. Luke, here is your grandson!”