AN: Hey dolls, I could really use your help. I've entered OFAC into the Watty's this year! So, if you'd like to see this story win, please please please share this story on Twitter with the hashtag #MyWattysChoice! <3
* * * * * * * *
Chapter 23
Sweat drips down the length of my spine, soaking into the back of my undershirt.
Beck and I had to strip off layer after layer due to the magic-induced heat penetrating our casting circle. Olivian had warned us that this spell would be pulling from a deeper realm than the remembrance or protection spell, and that it wasn't uncommon for elements of both dimensions to mesh while we perform the spell. Since we're pulling from the deepest Veil—the one that fuels Infernum—it makes sense that our hotel room has turned into our own personal sauna.
Beck and I are sitting side to side in a circle of witch-hazel, with chicory candles placed at each cardinal direction. Our perspiring skin is touching from shoulder to elbow.
Part of me loathes touching him. If we didn't have to do a spell, I'd like to burn my fingers against his skin as a reminder of all the trouble he's started. But really, no rational human would do that.
I wouldn't even be in this mess if I were rational, or human. I sigh, looking down at the pamphlet in my lap. Pete grabbed it on his way back after he snuck into the hotel lobby to steal another room key. This way we can use the town map in the back of the pamphlet during the spell.
Olivian sits across the room next to Pete, calling out phrases in Latin that we're supposed to repeat. The way she's gripping onto to her family's Grimoire is as if it's the only thing keeping her composed.
I feel Beck's skin stick harder to mine. I realize he's leaning towards me. "Before we start, I just want to say—"
"Ready when you are, Olivian!"
He lets out an aggravated growl and the noise vibrates through me until his bare arm peels away from mine. He grumbles, "I hate magic."
I exhale, examining the small vile of Olivian's blood in my hand. I wish I could say that pissing him off is satisfactory, but if anything, I only feel worse. I feel used, broken, and in a way I've only ever experienced once—the day I learned my own blood was rotten.
"Shell, you need to pay attention. You can't mispronounce any of the words or it won't work," Olivian calls out. "I'll repeat the verses again, and when you're ready, begin."
Olivian reads a Latin passage from the Grimoire slowly, giving me time to soak up each word in hopes of not screwing this up.
"Now, go," she whispers once the air falls silent again.
I close my eyes, beginning to recite the words carefully, first in Latin, and then repeating in English. I wait to feel some sort of energy fill the room.
Olivian is frowning at us when I open my eyes. Her hands wildly brush back her hair in frustration.
"Wait, did we miss something? Nothing happened." I ask. There is no darkness, no surge of electric energy. Everything just feels...flat.
"I don't..." she trails off, scouring over the ancient pages in search of an answer. "I don't understand. We have all the elements represented, the proper botany, Beck as an anchor...it should have worked! Were you concentrating on the goal? Seriously, if anything else is taking priority in your head, the spell is useless."
"Just let me try again!" I snap. Olivian and her mood swings are beginning to drive me mad. If Cruxley is the same way, then she and Beck are practically made for each other.
I take another deep breath, trying to clear out every emotion and irritation currently plaguing my brain. I need to be a blank slate, a vessel for the Veil or whatever Olivian had said when we went over the instructions earlier.
I repeat the passage in the same order; Latin first, then English.
Hecate, to you, this spell we speak
Lead us to the one we seek
Unearth her soul, our sister lost
Through water, air, and fire crossed
I can feel the tang of that familiar, sweet venom on my tongue as the Umbra energy gathers around us. Olivian also warned that if the magic got too intense, that I needed to pull out immediately. If for some reason I couldn't, that's when Beck would come in. That's why we needed an anchor: as a failsafe in case I'm not strong enough.
I have to resist. But god, I can taste it. My bones scream for it. My blood craves it. It's as if the darkness belongs to me. Something that I never knew was missing because it's been hidden from me for so long.
I raise my voice, as if commanding the energy to seep into my skin.
Hecate, to you, this cry we plead
Guide us to the one we need
The buzz from the venom quickly evaporates as the muggy air begins to swirl, the candle flames flickering rapidly until the fire stretches toward the ceiling, ceasing at eye-level. The witch-hazel is trembling, gyrating off the ground in a chaotic back-and-forth motion instead of an idle float.
The liquid in my hand bleeds out of the vile, traveling through the air as if there is no gravity, falling slowly down until it pools in the crease of the map.
Reveal her heart, our brethren gone
Through metal, earth, and air cast on
On the last syllable, small droplets of blood shoot in opposite directions, bouncing across the maps in frenzy. I keep focus on the energy, in constant suspension of it finally seeking out my own, but it never comes. All I get is that little taste, as if someone is attempting to pour water down my throat, but retracts the second one drop hits my lips.
"What's happening?" Pete leans in, as if that'll help him get a better view from across the room.
The frown is ever-present on Olivian's brow. Her face is crossed somewhere between fury and grief. "Why can't it find her?"
The blood continues to cycle in the same circles, never finding a place to land, never allowing me to get that charge.
"Stop! It's not working!" She slams the Grimoire shut. "That's it. That was our last resort."
I can feel Beck's essence leave the circle before his body officially breaks anchor. The moment he shifts out of position, the witch-hazel and dead candles clatter to the floor, sucking the energy out of me in one swift gush.
Beck stomps into the entryway and growls, "Damn it!"
We all jump at the noise of wood splintering. When I crane my neck, I can see how his fist has disappeared into a fresh hole, from fingertips to wrist.
"Beck, we can't afford to pay for that!" Olivian gets up, cursing at him for being an idiot.
I can only roll my eyes, and turn my focus back to the blood-soaked map.
The twigs act as a barrier between me and Pete when moves to sit beside me.
"What're you thinking, Shell?"
"I don't understand why it didn't work. I did everything right." I toss the map on the floor where Beck had been sitting. "I could feel the magic, but something wasn't connecting properly. Like I was a repellant instead of a magnet."
His brows crinkle. "I don't mean this negatively or anything, but maybe you're just not strong enough yet? I mean, you literally just learned that you could channel this stuff tonight. Don't be too hard on yourself."
"I don't know."
"Besides, you've had one heck of a day."
"Yeah, a day full of murder," I sigh.
Pete ignores my quip. "Maybe we can try again when circumstances are more forgiving?"
I shake my head. "But the thing is, I feel like I can do it. The magic was there. It was willing, but it felt...blocked. It felt like I could almost reach it, but the rope I was tied down with was too short."
"I can do it," I say after being slammed with a revelation.
Without hesitation, I shift into the middle of the circle, reaching around to reposition all of the candles upright and into their original positions.
"That's a bad idea—"
"Trust me," I give him a nod to reassure him, but the skepticism never leaves his face. I position the map on the floor between my legs and the witch-hazel fence and take a large breath to refocus. I can hear the others arguing behind me for a brief moment, until I'm able to force them out of my head.
I stretch out my palms, aiming them at the candles, and whisper, "Incaendo."
After a hesitant second, all four candles surge to life, the flames licking high until they reach my eye-level again.
Pete jumps back. "Um, Olivian?"
I light the remaining two candles.
"Not now Pete," she pushes out between the long strings of curses expelled at Beck. It's less than a second later that she shrieks, "What are you doing!"
Ignore her. You've got this. The energy surges back as my surroundings rise.
Hecate, to you, this spell we speak
Lead us to the one we seek
The room immediately begins to swelter and the humid air sticks to my skin, saturating my body in sweat. I breathe out. Breathe in. Focus.
Unearth her soul, our sister lost
Through water, air, and fire crossed
The blood on the map begins to lift from the pages, forming into boundless blobs above the pamphlet, waiting to be guided.
Hecate, to you, this cry we plead
Guide us to the one we need
Olivian tries to penetrate the circle, but we're locked together, contained and barricaded by an invisible force. Finally, I can feel the Umbra magic snaking along my skin, soothing me in a familiar embrace.
Reveal her heart, our brethren gone
Through metal, earth, and air cast on
I recite the passage again, my eyes still closed, allowing the magic to slither all over until I'm coated in it. It zings and hums against my clammy skin, slowly leaking into my blood stream by the pores.
Something scurries past the circle; little taps, like toenails, patter against the frozen ground until they come to a halt right behind me.
"Shhhelland..." A voice—ambiguous, yet familiar—whispers, and then a cold gust of air strikes against the exposed skin of my neck. "Welcome back."
I refuse to open my eyes, trying to keep focus on my goal. "Hecate, to you, this spell I speak—"
"We can help you."
"Lead us to the one we seek."
"She's here."
My eyes snap open and I'm met with the transparent, lavender barrier encasing me in a circle of light. The walls of the hotel room have fallen away to darkness and there is no one, not Pete or Olivian or Beck, outside this murky barricade.
Curiously, I reach out to touch the strange wall as it waves and gleams, almost like the sun reflecting off of the rippling ocean. This substance is neither crisp nor clear, though. It's filmy, as if milk had been poured into the water to dilute it.
Just as my fingers are about to breach the film, a sharp moan—almost like a vocal creak—fills the room in a shroud of darkness. The pattering picks up again, and the black silhouette of a dog-like creature flashes in front of me.
My arm flings backward as the being presses itself into the wall, trying to stretch through the thick shroud and scrape at me with its taloned paw. But the film remains intact.
Is this what Olivian was talking about? The Veil that separates Infernum from the Gaia?
"Don't be afraid," a new, far more soothing voice calls out. It's softer, almost feminine compared to the harsh tones from the moaning creatures.
The claws disappear from the barricade and it snaps back into place.
"I won't let them hurt you."
"Who are you?" I wince, immediately regretting that I engaged. I look to the floor in front of me, attempting to refocus on the map and finding Olivian's sister, but it's nowhere to be found. The candles, the witch-hazel, and the map have all disappeared, leaving me the sole object inside this cage.
A cloud of white smoke blooms from the other side of the Veil.
"Where am I?"
"Where you belong," the cloud answers.
I stand up, but maintain my position in the middle of the circle, making sure not to touch the threshold.
As if it can sense my hesitation, the cloud rises into the shadows, slowly expanding until it floods the room with light. Despite the illumination, I still can't make out any objects outside of the Veil. Everything is hazy and brilliant.
The first time I dreamt of a place like this, I ran toward the light, expecting it to lead me to safety. Fortunately for dream-me, it had. But this time, going into the light feels wrong. There's a strange sense of malice hiding behind the light that sets my teeth on edge.
I glance around; scanning for any indication of an exit, but it's as if the cloud knows what I'm doing. It follows me as I pivot, refusing to break its invisible gaze on me.
"If you let me in, I can help you," it says, and briefly, it almost sounds genuine. "Listen to your instincts. What do they tell you?"
I frown. "That I probably shouldn't trust an ambiguous talking cloud."
Just as I finish my sentence, a ghostlike silhouette pushes through the fog toward me. With each closer step, it materializes into a solid figure. It then stops, just inches from the Veil, and I slide back. The speaker, now in the shape cadaverous girl, mirrors my own body in every way but one: it remains faceless.
"See, you're safe with me." The emotion in her voice is earnest, almost childlike, but I can't shake the sinister undertone crawling up my spine like a spider.
I turn my back to her and raise my palms out, attempting to touch the lavender shield. "How do I get out of here?"
In a flash, the girl is standing in front of me, her featureless face peering through the murky waves.
"I can show you, but only if you can break down this—" her fingers graze along the threshold, streaks of light trailing behind her fingertips "—wall."
"Who are you?"
Though the face has no features, I can feel the smile radiating from her like a ray of heat through glass.
"I am...you. You are me. We are kindred." She says each word slowly as if in deep thought.
Shivers bloom along my limbs. I move around the circle, still praying that some sort of sign will light up, or that the darkness will just fade back into the hotel room if I wish hard enough.
"Let me in, Shelland. Trust me." The figure tilts her neck to the side like a curious child. "I can teach you to control your fear, your power."
An orange light illuminates the room, flickering in the corner of my eye. It's not until I face her again that I see the source of the light. She has her palm raised toward the ceiling, her blackened fingers immersed in a raging orb of fire.
She flicks her wrist and the fire bobs up into the air, swirling in the patterns that she conducts with a single finger. And just as I feel myself falling for the allure, she waves her wrist and the fire snuffs out into oblivion.
"How did you—"
"You don't have to be afraid of yourself. You don't have to ingest poison to stay safe, or worry about killing the innocent...I can show you how to be strong. All you have to do is ask." She moves forward again, until she's just a few inches from the edge. This time, I don't step back.
"I think...I think I killed three people today."
The faceless girl emanates a heated smile again. "No, darling. They were close to death, but I would not let it take them."
"Y-you? You were there?" Another batch of light ripples through the barrier, but when it dissipates, somehow it seems thinner. I can catch the features of the girl more clearly, though still not enough to see her real face.
"I'm always there. Each time you connect to The Hollow, I am summoned, and for you alone. You're a special creature, Shelland."
Like tension lessening on a tight cord, I can feel my doubt subsiding. That sinister undercurrent begins to fade, and I start to wonder if she's actually telling the truth.
Maybe I can trust her? She could show me how to contain this—whatever this is. I wouldn't have to avoid my parents or worry about my friends every time I get angry. I could go back to living a normal life. An almost human life.
The shield ripples a third time, thinning out enough that it's barely thicker than a fingernail. The figure places her hand against it again, and this time there's no light that surges toward her unearthly skin.
I reach up to match my palm to hers. Our hands are exactly the same, down to the random dark freckle on our stubby index fingers.
You can really make me feel normal again? I want to ask, but I don't. After everything—the Ironide, Dad lying about being a werewolf, Beck blindsiding me—I don't know if I have enough energy, or hope, left to put so much trust into someone, especially a faceless doppelganger.
I exhale. "I'm sorry, I can't."
I begin to retract from hand from the Veil, ready to get the hell out of dodge, when mirror-me's hand bursts through the barrier like a bullet through a window. Through the shattered hole, she grasps hold of my forearm and tugs me forward. The jagged edges slice up my arm as she tries to pull my own through. The force is so wicked that I'm slammed into the remaining wall. I hear the crack of my head hitting the barrier before the pain barrels through my skull.
My vision blurs and ears start ringing, but I can still hear chunks of glass explode from where the Veil and I collided. The faceless girl begins to snarl, still using her impeccable strength to try to rip me from the shattered circle.
I cry out. Her charred nails penetrate my skin in deep crescents, fresh blood oozing to my elbow.
Fire burns inside my body, swift and scorching as it barrels from my soul and down my free limb. Without hesitation, I aim my free hand at the girl and scream as the fire surges out of me.
The force blasts me back into the circle, but it's as if the floor has dissolved into a black abyss. My stomach churns as I fall fast and hard down this endless pit, bracing for an impact that never seems to come.
I keep falling and swirling and flying—until, suddenly, it's over.