What the Hex
by
Constance Barker
Copyright 2019 Constance Barker
All rights reserved.
Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Sign up for Constance Barker’s New Releases Newsletter
I will never spam or sell your email address
Follow me on my Facebook Page
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Thanks for Reading
Catalog of Books
Chapter 1
SIXTEEN YEAR OLD LILITH Blackward locked herself in her bedroom. Outside, all through-out the house she heard the Summer Solstice Festivities playing out. The smell of fresh baked breads and smoked unicorn meat slipped through the crack under her door and made her mouth water. But she could not join them. Not yet.
“All right Lil, one more time. You got this.” In front of Lilith was the Blackward family grimoire. Written by her great-great grandfather Arthur Blackward, it contained the accumulated knowledge of every generation of her family.
Fascinated by her own family’s vast and sometimes rather dark history, Lilith tried to find one of the more obscure and, which she now regretted, difficult spells to perform before dinner. Well she found what she was looking for.
Red Wolf’s Folly was a incantation not originated by the Blackward’s, but absorbed into their grimoire by the first to come to America from Essex, Marcus Blackward. It’s namesake was a Native American shaman who figured out how to go back in time ten seconds, five really when you factored in how long it took to perform it. Now five seconds may not seem like a lot of time to find out anything of importance, but it would be enough to cause confusion. But when you're sixteen curiosity kills the cat every time.
“You got this,” repeated Lilith out loud as her bright green eyes scanned the specifics of the spell. “Nope you don’t.” She panicked and stepped away from the book.
Lilith’s future rode on her ability to successfully cast Red Wolf’s Folly. Sure, she wanted to impress her family but more than that was at stake. Her years of homeschooling from her parents and brother all led to her judgement by one of their coven’s leaders. In her case, a legend, Deacon Thorne.
A hollow wooden echo filled her bedroom and Lilith nervously paced back and forth. She tried everything she could to psych herself up including mumbling incoherently and slapping her own face. Ouch! None of it worked.
On the verge of having a panic attack, Lilith ran into her bathroom. With a wave of her slender but strong hands she lit the gas lamps lighting the privy. Immediately she turned one of the knobs on the sink and let the water run until it went from cold to lukewarm. She cupped her hands under the running stream and splashed what didn’t leak between her fingers onto her face.
Hands gripping the porcelain edges of her bathroom sink, Lilith looked up into the mirror. Her skin was clammy and cold, black eyeliner now running down her cheeks. She sniffled. Both of her eyes, as intense as emeralds on fire stared at her with disbelief at how stupid she was for choosing such an impossible spell. She tied her black hair back, long on the top, cut really short on the sides.
Someone knocked on Lilith’s bedroom door. “Honey!? You ready!? Deacon Thorne will be here any minute now!?” It was Lilith’s mother, Alizia Blackward checking up on her through a slight Congolese accent.
“Not even close,” quietly replied Lilith. She pounded on the sink then left the bathroom. “Yes mom! Gimme a minute!” Lilith yelled back.
Emit fo sdnas eht ni kcab spets owt. Emit fo sdnas eht ni kcab spets owt. Lilith stood back in front of the Blackward Grimoire. In her head she repeated the incantation over-and-over again. Just reciting the in the backwards tongue was not enough though. Magic like everything else in the world, supernatural and natural, required payment. To gain time she’d have to give time.
“ Hsurb a ekil regnif,” recited Lilith. She extended her left finger and pointed. As if the nail polish from the other side leaked through the slender digit, black ink bubbled out from the pores and filled her fingerprints.
Lilith painted a rune with the ink on her finger tip on one of the few open spaces on the grimoire. Then she took a deep breath. It would be the first time she tried Red Wolf’s Folly. Hopefully it wouldn’t be the last thing she ever did.
“Emit fo sdnas eht ni kcab spets owt,” Lilith spoke the words and closed her eyes, for just a moment. She winced, afraid of the very real possibility that things could go horribly wrong. Who knows what would happen if they did since it’s been centuries since anyone even tried to perform that particular spell.
There was a loud booming sound, like the world's largest drum, along with the screech of a thousand raccoons. Lilith didn’t know it, few did, it was the sound of a hole being ripped in time and space. She didn’t know why but it terrified her.
Uh oh. This isn’t right. This can’t be right. I thought it was just supposed to reverse time like rewinding a video or something.
“In this world and the next there are some things, some forces Lil that should never be touched. Never played with. Never bargained with. Never trifled with. Do you understand? You’re gifted, of that there is no doubt. As my daughter that comes as no surprise but make sure not to let your talents doom you. Or the rest of us.” Lilith’s father’s words replayed in her head as she stared at the rift...the tear in space and time.
“Holy guacomole! It actually worked.” Lilith stood dumbfounded at the tear.
The best thing Lilith could compare the tear in time and space to was looking at a reflection in a pond. Ripples distorted and everything appeared in reverse. About the size of a closet door it was big enough to step through.
You’re the worst. And this is a terrible idea. Lilith slowly approached the rift. The closer she got, the clearer the image on the other side became. It was her bedroom only, different.
Curiosity was always a strong motivator for Lilith. Even when she was a child she sought answers to questions both asked and not. Her ambition after passing her evaluation by Deacon Thorne, if she passed that is, was to become a Private Witch Investigator (PWI). Like her father before her.
“Am I really going to do this?” Lilith looked wide-eyed at the rip.
Cautious, Lilith stuck her fingers first into the tear. Electric pins and needles ran down her arm. They were mild but uncomfortable. She pulled her hand back and examined it. No real damage and her arm was back to normal.
“Well, here goes nothin',” said Lilith. Famous last words. If I end up a toad I'll be honkin PO'd.
Lilith hopped sideways through the tear in time and space. Her army boot clad feet landed on the carpet of her bedroom on the other side. A sigh of relief that she didn’t explode or grow amphibious feet was immediately replaced with the sight of her own breath.
It was cold in Lilith’s other bedroom, through the tear. Really cold. Unusually cold. Temperatures in Devil End, Southern California rarely went below sixty degrees farenheight. Even in the winter.
Everything was covered in dust. Through Lilith’s eyes it looked as if no one had cleaned in years. That struck her as strange but not as odd as the windows.
Lilith walked over to her bedroom window that
overlooked Blackward Manor’s backyard. Frost covered the edges of the segmented glass. She could see something she hadn’t seen since she was a kid. Snow fell in Dead End, the first day of summer.
“What in the world?” Lilith reached her window. She wiped condensation off the glass to get a better look outside. Snow covered everything as far as she could see. Mother’s orange tree garden was dead and encased in ice. “Look at that. I guess hell can freeze over.”
The sun was dying....literally. Lilith didn’t know that while she looked at the pale red glow behind grey blizzard producing clouds. To her it was eerily beautiful not the herald for doom it surely was.
Black shapes came into view breaking up the seeming-less endless white plains of snowfall. It was a funeral procession. Something fell heavy in her gut. She had to know whose funeral it was.
“Esuom a sa teiuq noelemahc a ekil.” Lilith felt the need to be stealthy. With this spell she would blend into her environment and make nary a sound.
Lilith left her room. Gone was that oh so wonderful smell of baking breads and smoking meats. They were replaced with the stench of alcohol and stale air. She couldn’t hear the clanging of dishes or silverware, only sobbing and whispering.
When she was a child, Lilith wanted to sleep in the attic. Her mother, always the wise one, insisted that she leave the house poltergeists be. Instead she got the highest bedroom in all of Blackward Manor.
Lilith’s bedroom was down a long hall with an ornate carpet with depictions of the birth of magic and the first witches/ warlocks. The hallway had no windows but instead periodic gas lamps meant to provide light. None of them were lit. Pictures of Blackward past covered every open space, the top third floor not excluded.
A sense of dread built in Lilith. She couldn’t put her finger on why until she remembered that she just stepped through a portal to who knows where or when, there’s a funeral procession at her home so one of her family members has died and then there was the sobbing. Part of her said not to go any further. But she had the same weakness of the curious cat.
Each hallway of Blackward Manor was connected by a wide loose spiral staircase. Above it on the ceiling was a mural painted to look like a night sky, dense with stars. The floor beneath was a shiny black and the wooden stairs themselves made from Rosewood.
Lilith slowly descended down from the third to the ground floor. From the cavernous open foyer she could see into multiple rooms. One such room was the study where she found the source of the sobbing.
Alone, Alizia Blackward, Lilith’s mother sat on the blood red couch, head in her hands, tears dripping on the carpet under her. A strong woman, to see her mother cry worried and upset Lilith. Who died? Who reduced this great woman to such a grief stricken state?
Alizia was talking to someone but in a hushed whisper. Lilith couldn’t make out what she was saying. There was no one else there, at least none that she could see. The hairs on her daughter’s arms stood on end.
For a second Alizia looked up and looked around as if she heard a sound. Lilith froze. They stared at each other without the former knowing for sure the latter was there. Slowly Lilith backed out of the study.
Lilith moved on to the kitchen where her familiar or guardian, Sir Kain, silently put together small platters of finger food for attendees of the funeral to eat afterwards. There was a forlorn look plastered across his face as he solemnly worked. For a second she thought she saw tears briefly form in his red eyes. If they were there they failed to find their way out of his lids and down his skin made of impossible living stone. Sir Kain was more than a guardian, he was a living statue so to speak....and he was Lilith's protector. Her mother had seen to that.
Twenty years? An endless calendar hung on the wall near the kitchen’s exit. Everyday Sir Kain put an “X” through dates passed. According to it, it was the same day, Summer Solstice, but twenty years in the future.
Holy frack! Maybe they’re alright. Maybe I am crazy because this, this isn’t possible. Lilith flickered in and out of view as her composure was shook, so was the strength of her spell. She now realized what happened. Just as she feared her incantation went wrong. Instead of blowing up though, she somehow time traveled.
What if I run into myself here? Will one of us cease to exist or break the space time continuum or...? Movie based science scenarios ran through Lilith’s head. It was the first rule in any science fiction time travel movie, never make contact with your future or past self. Unless you want to deal with the ominous consequences. Likely too late now.
“Are you really using Back to The Future logic?” Lilith asked herself out loud. She shook off her doubts and continued on, towards the back of the manor and the grounds that lay beyond. One way or another she had to find out whose funeral it was.
Lilith stood at the tall back double doors of Blackward Manor. Through the glass panes she saw the funeral and its attendees in the distance through the falling snow at the family graveyard. She grabbed the knob shaped like the ring in a bull’s nose and was about to pull them open when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumped.
“Hold it right there my little monkey,” it was Alizia’s, her mother's voice. Lilith turned to her mother who was smiling as she sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Well that answers that, she can definitely see me. “I...umm...who died?” asked Lilith. Though deep in her mind, she knew the answer.
Alizia placed a hand on both of Lilith’s cheeks. Green eyes locked with deep brown and they held each other’s gaze for a minute before the elder Blackward spoke again to her daughter.
“It was called Red Wolf’s Folly for a reason daughter,” explained Alizia, smile still on her face.
“What happened here? What happens to me?”
Alizia didn’t answer. “Somehow I forgot just how beautiful you are Lil. Good thing you take after me more than your father.”
“Glad to see you haven’t aged even twenty years, jeez twenty years, in the future. Sorry, still can’t believe I time traveled. But you didn’t ans-”
“And I can’t. Back to the Future Rules and everything dear. Your passing, what happened here? Those are mysteries you need to solve yourself. No one else can do so for you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have some help.”
Both of Alizia’s eyes glowed a bright pale blue. She held out one of her hands in the opposite direction of Lilith. “Gnoleb uoy erehw emoh kcab dna swodahs eht fo tuo”.
Lilith saw a woman emerge from the shadows of the somber Blackward Manor. The woman had long black hair and was a few inches taller than herself. Through her, Lilith could see the foyer. Her skin was grey, bereft of life. They shared the same face, though aged a bit.
The older spectral version of Lilith passed through Alizia. Few sensations felt as uncanny as being possessed by one’s own ghost.
Don’t be stubborn. Stop fighting. Lilith heard her own voice only a little deeper, more stern, in her own head. It was a tug-of-war in her head for control of her very being.
“Emit fo sdnas eht ni kcab spets owt,” Lilith found herself reciting the incantation once more. The boom and the raccoons followed. But Lilith didn’t want to go. She had so many questions for the future version of her mother and what led to this most grim future.
“I love you,” said Alizia a tear rolling down her cheek. “Now it’s time for you to go home. Make sure none of this comes to pass.”
“I dunno if I can.”
“Of course you can. You’re my daughter and maddeningly stubborn. Now...Moor eht ssorca dna teef ruoy ffo.” With that spell Lilith was lifted off her feet by an unseen force and flung through the open tear in time and space which closed quickly after her.
Hard heeled footsteps approached from behind Alizia who’s eyes returned to their native warm brown. Two masculine arms wrapped around her waist squeezing just hard enough to announce their presence and feel safe, loving.
“Was that her?” asked Deacon Thorne.
�
��Yes my love,” answered Alizia.
“Good. I know that must have been hard.”
“Hard? Oh no my dear that was easy. Because that was not my daughter,” Alizia turned around still in Deacon Thorne’s arms and faced him. “My daughter is dead.”
Chapter 2
UGH, EVERY SINGLE ONE. Lilith sat in her beat up almost two decade old sedan. The car, shabby and probably not safe, sat at a light on Devils End’s Main street. It’s like they wait for me to turn red.
Lilith was never known to be especially patient. On that December morning her impatience was at a near all time high. It wasn’t just that she wanted to get back to her office/home. She really needed to take a shower. Covered in glittery pink goo, she was eager to not only wash it all off but completely forget this job all together.
“Good morning Devils End, this is The Morning Skillet and I’m your host Jonah Jacobs. Looks like it’s gonna be a wet one on this Christmas Eve. Rain all day and night folks and a chilly SoCal fifty five degrees.
“As promised we start off today’s show with some Holiday Hits. I caught momma doing what? Kissing Santa Claus that’s what! Let’s get this started with that Christmas classic.” Lilith didn’t even remember she turned on the radio. At that point she was so exhausted, mentally and physically, that she couldn’t even be bothered to turn it off.
In a small cat crate on Lilith’s passenger seat were some squeaks and obscenities yelled in a very high pitched foreign language. Inside said crate was one extremely angry fairy.
“Shut up,” ordered Lilith halfheartedly. She slapped the side of the crate. The fairy screamed more expletives. “I don’t even know what that means. If you and your pals didn’t raid a maternity ward I wouldn’t of had to deal with them. And you wouldn’t be there in that crate.”
The crate rocked back-and-forth as the incensed fairy threw itself against the walls in an attempt to get out and get at Lilith. Its miniscule arm stretched out between the plastic bars and a tiny middle finger flipped up.
What the Hex Page 1