A Witch's Curse (27 page)

She landed on her back as someone now unconstrained, but knew that time was precious. Rose pointed the wand in the direction of her mother, and the only thing she could see in front of her was a barrier of white energy. The pews to her right fragmented, and Rose was soon sliding backwards from the force of the detonation. Getting to her feet, she pushed herself upwards with her hands, trying to avoid the fiery flares surrounding her in scorching scraps. The sheen diminished, and it was then she saw her mother scrambling around on the ground, searching for her own lost weapon.

Rose sprinted a bit closer to her, pointing the wand at her once more before seeing it fly away for the second time. Feeling bitter and hopeless, Rose watched in astonishment as her mother physically lunged at her, clawing at her skin and trying to wrap her hands around her throat.

Rose was pushed to the flooring. Lifting an arm, she brought it down on the back of Hemera’s neck, sending the woman on her side. Rose threw the hardest punch she could form, and started thrashing about and kicking.

Standing up again, she had a moment to run up the platform of the church, now out of breath. She looked down and saw that her left arm was bleeding, but there was no pain. Her body was too high on the energy required for the tasks at hand to truly wallow in soreness.

Her wand was nowhere in sight. Staring at her mother, she tried to calm herself. Seeking herself within, she tried to get to a place of calm and harmonious being, which was a difficult goal to set amidst the furious disorder.

Hemera made a leap for her, eyes glinting, even in the darkness of the cathedral.

“
I’ve forgiven you,” Rose said.

Hemera continued running closer.

“
You’re just a woman who can’t control the way she is.” Rose clung to this thought obsessively.

The roof above them shattered into innumerable pieces of wreckage, showering them in a hail of raining wood and stone. The vestiges descended upon the two, hunks of heavy debris crushing the wooden seats around them. The windows broke into pieces, landing before them in a myriad of painted shards.

Rose realized, in the midst of her attempt at a pacifistic meditation, that this was identical to the shared dream she had at the beginning of the year with her friends. This was the inside of the hotel burning.

Keeping the mercy fresh and constant in her head and heart, she decided to try her best to escape the collapsing edifice. She jumped over a chair and jogged down the aisle, stopping as a massive pillar fell in front of the path she had planned to travel down. Scaling this newfound blockade, she was almost to the door when she made the mistake of looking over her shoulder.

Hemera was now flat on her stomach, reaching out and trying to grab Rose’s ankles. Rather than resist, Rose tried to not think of her as an enemy, but as someone in need of great clemency. That was when her other, wearing a familiar expression of pure ire, evaporated into a shade of blue smoke, a smoggy cloud that soon went astray into the inferno.

Now outside in the cold nocturnal air, Rose did not stop to turn around until she was in the woods. Standing behind a tree, she looked at what used to be an angelic chapel as it crumbled apart into blistering rubble.

“
What the hell happened?”

The voice was foreign, distant. Rose turned to her right and saw a man standing on a sidewalk. He was wearing a leather jacket and smoking a pack of Virginia Slims.

“
You’re here,” she said.

He gave her an odd look. “Yeah.”

“
You’re a person? You’ve come from a place with other people?”

He laughed. “Other barflies I guess, but yeah. That‘s safe to say.”

She ran past him and out into the street. Drunk couples were walking along and laughing. The average assortment of tourists were visible again.

Rose pulled out her cell-phone, knowing that this could be the best call of her life.

A cab turned around the corner west of where Rose was standing. A part of her wanted to fall to her knees and begin crying from happiness. Things were finally back to normal; everyone was safe, celebrating, content. Cars actually worked. She flagged it down, and it pulled up directly in front of her. It was not until she was comfortably seated in the back that she learned it was the same cabbie who had driven her to school the day she met Grady.

“
What are you doing out on a freezing night like this one?”

“
It’s been a crazy time,” she said, dialing Melinda’s phone number on her.

That familiar, friendly voice came through on the other end. “Hello? Rose? What are you doing? It‘s five in the morning.”

“
I want to know if you‘re alright. Has anything strange happened?”

“
No,” Melinda said in the middle of a yawn. “I have a headache and a weird sense of vertigo. Yet that could be on how I was rudely awakened at an ungodly hour.”

“
Sorry about that. I’ll let you go. Oh, and on more thing, Melinda?”

“
What?”

“
It’s good to talk to you again.”

“
Yeah. Always. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She then dialed Ms. Harvey’s number. All that responded was an answering machine, but this was fine. It was clear that her teacher was safe.

Leave a message at the beep.

“
Alexis? I’ve forgiven her. It‘s over. “I’ve forgiven her.”

“
Your friend doesn’t sound much like a partier,“ the cabbie said, turning his body around at a red light to face her. “You, on the other hand, fit the bill. Your elbows are all scraped up; did you just come out of a mosh pit or something? Maybe a coal mine?”

She looked down and saw that he was right. Her shirt had bloodstains on it, in addition to the dust of the now destroyed building, which Rose knew she would hear about on the news soon enough.

“
Something like that,” she said.

Walking into her house after paying the cabbie, both her and broomstick, precious items she thought to be destroyed, were now on her porch. They were both set upright. After she searched her house thoroughly to ensure no one had invaded the space, she was filled with joy at seeing her father sitting in his arm chair, reading a copy of the local paper.

“
Are you okay?” Damian asked.

“
I’m fine. What are you doing up this late?”

“
Looking forward to my days off,” he said. “I can’t sleep. What are you doing up this early?”

“
Video games. Hey, I’m looking forward to hanging out with you this weekend.”

He paused, not sure of what to say to this odd statement. “Thanks, sweetie. Me too.”

November 13th

Dear Diary,

It is strange to think that only a few short years ago, the word magic never crossed my mind. Of course my mother used to wield it all the time, but even after seeing her do impossible things, I grew up to believe that either she was crazy or I had been. A child’s mind could never comprehend such a unusual truism like the reality of the supernatural arts. Now I know it to be a very pertinent part of life. It is difficult to manage, despite how it is also a gift.

For a while there, I thought I had lost all of my friends because of a miscast spell. I was humbled by it. I am also willing to believe that Hemera could have brought the town with her on purpose, and she simply wanted to make me feel like a criminal, so she placed the blame on me. This is what Ms. Harvey says, and who am I to disagree with her? My mother is a bringer of anguish to countless people. I cannot list the ways she has been capable of ruining men and women physically, spiritually, and mentally. I am glad she is exiled at least from Lake Pines.

I told Alexis yesterday that I forgave my mother. How it was possible for me to find mercy in my heart for her that night alone- but what about the rest of my life? I could never forgive her permanently. This is a woman who once locked me in a fireplace for days on end without food or care of any kind when I was only six years old. It is difficult to let a grudge for an act like that go.

Harvey gave me a blank look, like she always does when she knows I am about to be in trouble. She did not answer me.

I would like to believe Karen will wander the desert forever along with her followers, always hoping to discover a new town and realizing that it is impossible. I hope they are lost in that terrain for the rest of their lives.

Yet any spell that we can think of, she can equal. And any enchantment we have used against her is one she can break with her own abilities.

Something tells me Hemera will be back. I don’t know when or how, but I know she will see me again.

25

The following morning she hugged James and Melinda in the locker room as if they were long lost siblings. They were the closest thing she had to a brother and sister, and she told them as much.

“
There’s something you should know,” James said. “Please don’t feel like you owe us anything for the fight at Blume Park. Alexis was the one who did most all of it. You could have died if it weren’t for her.”

“
I respect you two for everything you are,” Rose said. “You don’t have to save my life yourselves in order to earn my high opinion. Maybe you’re both cool because of who you are.”

“
What’s gotten into you?” James asked.

“
Maybe she almost died the other night because she was attacked by a horde of evil witches,” Melinda said. “It would change the way I look at the world. You?”

“
I guess,” he said.

“
Okay,” Rose said. “I need to tell you two something. You’re close enough now to deserve to know everything that happens.”

“
What’s happened?” Melinda asked.

“
Something to you two. Can I explain it to you over lunch? Let’s just say you’ve had the bad luck of meeting someone I wish I never knew. You just don’t remember it. Neither does anyone else, for that matter.”

“
We definitely need to know what really happened here,” James said, looking perplexed.

“
Let’s talk it out over a round of coffee, okay? It will all make sense by the time I’ve explained it. Plus, if you two choose to not know me anymore, I’ll understand.”

“
You’re not making any sense today,” Melinda said.

“
What I mean is, knowing me has become dangerous.”

“
You’re stuck with us.” Melinda grinned sheepishly. “You might as well like it.”

Later that evening, Rose was sitting in her living room with her father. They were both staring at the television, in spite of how it was on mute.

“
So you swear he’s a good boy?”

“
I promise,” Rose said. “You’ll really like him. He’s not as into reading as me, but he’s very polite. And brave.”

“
He better not be too brave, especially with me around my daughter.”

Rose hoped the night would not drop into further tension. As soon as the worry increased, a knocking on the door began.

Her father was out of his seat before she could even know where the noise was coming from.

Grady stood there on the veranda, light snowfall showering near the back of him. He shook hands with Damian.

“
Nice to meet you, Mr. Whelan.”

“
You too, Mr. Bell. Feel free to come in. Rose is baking cookies and cakes. Most of ‘em are already done. It’s amazing how quickly she bakes them. I don’t know what her secret is.”

“
Me either,” Grady lied, stepping into the warm cabin.

Rose had worked extra hard that afternoon to make sure that everything was perfectly clean. The golden wood counters, stainless steel fridge and stove were now shimmering enough to see her own reflection in, which was the only acceptable form of cleanliness to her. By the look on his face, she assumed that her sanitary skills were adequate. He was used to seeing everything she owned - her binder, backpack and notebooks - in a completely disorganized mess.

The dinner went well.

At one point, he offered Grady the chance to see the motorcycle he had been building for years now. He accepted, and they moved out into the garage.

When they came back, they sat down and continued eating and talking. Damian even drank a Guinness beer, which astounded Rose due to how she had rarely seen him consume anything with alcohol her entire life.

Her father treated Grady with respect, especially after learning that he was from one of the wealthiest families in all of Lake Pines. This was a fact Rose had to inform him of discreetly over a tray of frosted chocolate raspberry pie earlier in the day.

After the festivity was over, Grady stood in the threshold of the door. She could tell that he wanted to lean in for a kiss goodbye, but he knew the consequences of such an action in front of her father.

“
It was my pleasure joining you this evening, Mr. Whelan.”

“
Mine too,” he said, before stating the last thing that Rose thought he would ever be able to say: “Perhaps we can do it again sometime. Only the next time it’ll be at a restaurant where we won’t have to worry about slipping into a diabetic coma. In other words, anywhere my daughter isn’t the cook.”

Grady laughed. “Sounds good.”

Later that night, after curfew, she thanked her father for the pleasant evening.