Hernández jumped up so fast, if I’d blinked, I’d have missed it.Grumbling, Osso looked under the bench.
Kaknu nodded.“I wondered why I felt darkness.”
“I don’t see anything,” Osso said.
Hernández moved to the railing, staring appalled at the bench that had apparently betrayed her.When I stood, Kaknu and Osso did too, moving to stand beside Hernández.
“That’s because I hid it behind a spell.I didn’t want my raccoon friends to find it.”I flicked my fingers, revealing the plastic bag.
The shifters all lifted a hand to block their noses.I told them where I’d found the curse last night.I could feel Declan glaring.Yes, I’d found a curse outside our home and continued walking alone to the gallery.He needed to remember that I was stronger than Swans.
I glanced around at their looks of horror or disgust.“Listen, why don’t you guys go sit at the other end of the deck.The air will be fresher while I see if I can get any information from the seagull.”
“Will you touching it set off the curse?”Declan demanded.
I walked back to him and patted his chest.“I need you to relax.This isn’t my first day at wicche academy.”
Hernández whispered to Osso, “Is there a wicche academy?”
I shook my head at her and said to Declan, “This isn’t new for me.I know what I’m doing.”And I realized in that moment that I’d been so off balance and weepy lately because I had no idea what I was doing, pregnant and living with a man.The dream had settled a fear that had been consuming me.
“Go on.”I shooed them away.“I got this.”
The other three moved closer to the construction side of the gallery while Declan stayed with me, ready to grab me if I went down.I was wearing the pearl, but to be safe, held my hand over the edge of the railing, caught a shot of water, and sat.With the fingers of my left hand on the pearl, I placed the horror-filled plastic bag in my lap with my right one and touched a finger to the dead bird’s entrails.
The bird caws loudly, its beak snapping at the young man’s hands, its talons grabbing for his fingers.The seagull is strapped to a board at its neck and under its wings.The man picks up a sharp athame with a black handle.
I try to pull back from the animal torture.I can almost feel the pearl.I concentrate on the round, smooth pearl between my fingers as I try to move away from what’s happening.The room opens.It looks like a basement dug out of the ground, with a hard-packed dirt floor.A freezer hums in the corner.An extension cord hangs through a hole in the ceiling, powering the freezer.One wall is lined with shelves holding books and jars, bones and feathers, black candles, a plastic baggie containing a snarl of hair, another baggie of nail clippings, photos, random articles of clothing.I recognize a brown plaid that matches the arm we found in the woods.
On a worktable is an open grimoire, a ceremonial bowl with blood, feathers, a fetish, jars and vials.A woman stands beside the man and puts her hand over his as they plunge the ceremonial blade into the writhing bird.
Feeling sick, I avert my gaze.There are wooden stairs going up.Rolling the pearl in my fingers, I try to find the distance my father spoke about.I force myself toward the stairs.It’s like walking through molasses in weighted shoes, but it works.
Doing my best to block out the spell chanting and piercing squawks, I go up the stairs to a bolted door.Physical walls mean nothing in this state, I remind myself.Nothing.Fingers still clutching the pearl, I force my consciousness through the wooden door.
Bright light blinds me after the darkness below.I’m on a porch, in what looks like a gardening area.This side of the door is a wooden bookshelf filled with pots, bags of potting soil, mulch, fertilizer, stakes, trowels, a small roll of chicken wire.
A car backs out of the driveway next door, and a man in a suit leaves for work.It’s a neighborhood.A normal neighborhood with two people doing black magic underground.
I blinked my eyes open and stared down at the horrible mess in the bag.Holding my hand over the bird, I lifted my face to the clear, bright sunlight and called on the Goddess, asking her to take pity on one of her creatures who had been cruelly abused.When I looked down, the bird was gone.All that was left in the bag was a black candle.I touched it.
“We need a stronger spell, Gran.I couldn’t break her wards.”
Catherine’s face darkens.“I was sure the wards would fray with Mary’s death.”Her jaw clenches as she looks between her twin grandchildren.“Maybe that freak Bracken is stronger than I thought.”She shook her head.“Otherwise, I don’t know how they’re doing it.”
“Calliope had a demon.Maybe the artist does too,” Milena suggests.
Catherine drums her fingers on the kitchen table.Glancing at her grandson, she says, “Eat.You lost weight in jail.”
He takes another bite of his sandwich and Catherine stares over his head, deep in thought.
“I thought Sybil’s girl was weak,” she muses.“Why else would they have hidden her all her life?Margaret said she thought the kid was brain damaged or something.She has some kind of physical deformity.She didn’t tell me what, but she looked disgusted saying it.”Her fingers continue to drum.“Maybe it wasn’t her at all.Bracken showed up a minute later.He could have been covering for her lack of magic.Still, why was she so smug?There was no fear when I talked to her.”
“That would mean Bracken’s stronger than we thought,” Milena said.
“Brilliant observation,” Catherine murmured, rolling her eyes at her granddaughter.“And one I just made.Milo, dear, I got you a slice of that cake you like when I was at the store.You can have that when you finish your sandwich.”
Milena looked both chastened and hopeful.
