Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
I stared at the clearing ahead with my jaw hanging open like a broken garage door. "No fucking way," I muttered. The curse slipped out before I could stop it. In my world of witches, shifters, and general magical fuckery, I thought I'd seen it all. But this? This took the cake, frosted it with ‘what the hell’, and topped it with a giant cherry of ‘oh shit’.
The shadows in the clearing writhed like living creatures. They took on shapes that would make a Lovecraft fan wet themselves. That wasn't even the worst part. Standing at the edge of this twisted scene was a spectral image I recognized all too well. Hattie Silva.
Hattie began as a patient and friend of mine and became so much more. After she'd given me her Pleiades magic that saved me from dying after a Tainted witch attacked me, she became my mentor. Along with the magic, I inherited her estate and her familiar, Tarja. Tarja taught me about Hattie as the Pleiades which showed me what it meant to be the Pleiades and the most powerful Light witch in my region. But the Hattie in front of me? She looked about as friendly as a rabid wolverine with a toothache.
Her once warm face was twisted into a sneer that would've made the Grinch proud. Her eyes burned with a cold, malicious light that sent shivers down my spine. And let me tell you, when you're pregnant with triplets, shivers are not a fun experience. It sets off a rave in your uterus.
"What in the ever-loving hell?" Stella whispered beside me. Her hand tightened on her dagger. I could practically hear her knuckles screaming in protest. "Isn't she supposed to be, you know, pushing up daisies? Taking a dirt nap? Joining the choir invisible?"
"Clearly, that's not happening," I muttered back as my heart did the cha-cha in my chest. We'd buried Hattie on the property and warded her grave tighter than a nun's... well, you get the idea. It should've been Fort Knox for the dead. "Unless the afterlife has a return policy we didn't know about."
Nana stepped forward with her dark red witch fire burning in her palm like the world's angriest birthday candle. "I wasn't with you two when you cleared the last poltergeist, but I’d swear Hattie's gone full Casper the Unfriendly Ghost," she said in a low voice. "She's nothing like Evanora’s peaceful presence."
I turned to Nana, disbelief warring with my growing dread. "How the hell did Hattie come back as a—" I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing.
"Violent spirit," Nana finished for me while keeping her eyes locked on Hattie’s ghost. "And by the looks of it, Lyra had something to do with this. I'd recognize her brand of fuckery anywhere. It's got her magical stink all over it."
The weight of Nana's words sank into me like a stone. There was no denying it. Lyra, my personal pain in the ass and the most evil witch ever born, had found a way to bypass my wards. Had she tunneled under them? Was that even possible? My stomach twisted at the thought. Not just because I was carrying the world's most active triplets. With babies on the way, the idea of not being safe anywhere terrified me more than the thought of changing three diapers simultaneously.
"This is bad, Mom," Nina whispered. Our lives had truly taken a left turn. My seventeen-year-old gripped her dagger like it was the last slice of pizza at a frat party. "If Lyra's figured out how to manipulate the dead and get around our wards..."
"She's escalating," I finished. My throat was tighter than my pre-pregnancy jeans. "We need to stop her. Like, yesterday."
As we stepped closer to the clearing, the temperature dropped sharper than my ex's interest when he found a younger model. My hands flew to my stomach to protect my babies as I shivered violently. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill Maine cold. This was some next-level, supernatural bullshit. My breath came out in white puffs, and I could feel the chill seeping into my bones like it was trying to set up a winter condo there.
"Stay behind me," I said in a voice that shook more than a chihuahua in a snowstorm. "We need to figure out what she wants and why she's here."
Nana's witch fire flared brighter as we edged toward the center of the clearing. The flames danced and flickered, casting shadows that seemed to have a life of their own. Hattie's gaze locked onto me and her mouth opened slightly. For a moment, I thought she might break into a rendition of "Stayin' Alive”, but instead, she just stood there like the world's creepiest mannequin.
"Hattie?" I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's me—Phoebe. You remember me, right? We were friends. You saved my life and loved me enough to give me everything. Ring any bells?"
There was a flicker of recognition in her eyes for a split second. I clung to the spark of the sassy, loyal woman who'd chosen me. But faster than you could say "ectoplasm," it was gone. It was replaced by a wave of rage that made PMS look like a mild inconvenience.
Hattie's mouth twisted into a snarl, and she raised her hands toward us. The shadows surged forward like a tidal wave of ‘nope’. They crashed into us with enough force to knock me on my well-padded ass.
"Shit on a shingle!" Stella cursed and scrambled to her feet beside me. Her hair looked like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek that made her look like a failed coal miner. "She's not happy to see us! Talk about ungrateful dead!"
"No kidding!" I gasped as Mom helped me up. I was about as graceful as a beached whale trying to do the macarena. The Dark magic surrounding us burned against my skin like acid-laced pop rocks. "I guess she's not in the mood for a friendly reunion and some ghost cookies."
Nana threw up a barrier of witch fire, blocking another surge of shadows. The flames roared like a pissed-off dragon with heartburn. "We can't reason with her," she said, her voice tighter than my bra. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she maintained the shield. "She's too far gone. Whatever Lyra did, it's twisted her more than a pretzel in a taffy puller."
"Then what the hell do we do?" Nina demanded. Her eyes were wider than dinner plates, and she was gripping her dagger so tightly I was worried she might fuse with it. "We can't just leave her like this! There has to be a way to help her!"
I gritted my teeth as my mind raced faster than a caffeinated squirrel. The situation was bad, no doubt about it. But I'd be damned if I was going to let Lyra win this round. "We need to weaken her," I said as my heart pounded like a heavy metal drummer. "Then we need to figure out how Lyra did this and undo it. There's always a way to reverse a spell, no matter how dark. Think of it like cosmic laundry. Everything comes out in the wash eventually."
Mom shook her head. “We need to regroup so you can wrap your mind around this. None of us can throw our strongest at her right now.”
Nodding in agreement, I began to retreat from the clearing with my family following me. Hattie's bone-chilling shriek followed us like the world's worst soundtrack. I reached out mentally to Tarja, my feline familiar. “ Hey, Tarja. Are you seeing this? You have any ideas how to help Hattie? Because right now, I'm fresh out. My idea well is drier than a popcorn fart.”
“ This isn't good, Phoebe. This isn't like the last time. The energy here... it's all wrong. It's like someone took the laws of magic, put them in a blender, and hit puree.” Tarja's voice echoed in my mind and was tinged with the kind of concern usually reserved for watching a toddler approach a hot stove.
“Any chance we could use that potion we whipped up for the last poltergeist? You know, the one that smelled like wet dog and gym socks had a baby in a dumpster fire?” I asked her.
There was a pause before Tarja responded. I could almost picture her whiskers twitching in thought. “ I'm afraid not. Hattie isn't a naturally occurring poltergeist. Her spirit was forced into this state by Dark magic. We need to find another way to deal with her. This is... something else entirely. It's like comparing a water pistol to a fire hose connected to a volcano.” Tarja told me as we regrouped in the safety of our house.
Being inside did little to ease the tension that clung to us like wet clothes after falling into a cesspool. When Nana snorted, I realized Tarja had spoken to all of us and not just me. "Dark magic, you say? Gee, I wonder who could be behind that. It's not like we know any psychotic witches with a penchant for nasty experiments and a grudge against us. Oh, wait..."
Stella smirked, though the humor in her eyes was about as genuine as a three-dollar bill. "Nana, your sarcasm is showing."
"Good," Nana retorted as her eyes flashed like a neon sign. "At least something's working around here. Because our wards sure as hell aren't. They're about as useful as a screen door on a submarine right now."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. A headache was building behind my eyes, feeling like a tiny goblin was trying to excavate my brain with a pickaxe. The familiar surroundings of our living room did little to ease the tension that clung to us like wet clothes after falling into a cesspool of dark magic.
"What do we have?" I asked, looking around at my family. "We know Lyra's behind this. But how? And more importantly, how do we undo it? Because I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on having a homicidal ghost as a new lawn ornament. Our HOA is bitchy enough as it is."
" We can’t be sure it’s Lyra. All I can say for sure is that it was Dark magic," Tarja retorted. “ Powerful, ancient, and definitely not easy to counter. It's like... imagine the darkest, most forbidden spell you can think of. Now multiply that by a thousand and add a dash of pure evil. That's what we're dealing with.”
“Basically, what you're saying is that it's the magical equivalent of goth kids discovering heavy metal for the first time,” I confirmed.
"Well, that narrows it down to about every evil spell in existence," Mom muttered.
I snorted and looked for my familiar as we moved through the house. "Thanks for the specifics, Tarja. That's really helpful. Next time, why don't you just tell us it's 'bad juju' and save us all some time?"
“I could,” Tarja's voice purred in our minds, “ but then I'd miss out on the delightful expressions of confusion on your faces. It's quite entertaining, you know.” She trotted into the kitchen and jumped onto the island.
Nana's eyes narrowed on the tabby staring at her. "I'll never get used to that. It's like having a furry Yoda in my head, minus the grammar issues."
“I resent that comparison,” Tarja replied. Her mental voice somehow managed to sound both amused and offended. “ I'm far more charming than Yoda. And my advice is actually useful.”
"Debatable," Nina quipped with a hint of a smile on her face.
I shook my head, trying to refocus. "Okay, so we've established it's bad. Really bad. Like, a dumpster fire filled with cursed artifacts and the souls of the damned bad. But what does that mean for us? How do we fight it?"
“It means,” Tarja began, “ that you're dealing with something far beyond your usual magical mishaps. This isn't just Lyra being her usual psychotic self. She's tapped into something... older. More primal.”
"Which means Lyra's leveled up her crazy," Nana said with a nod. "Why have a normal case to deal with when we can have a 'my archenemy is raising the dead' extravaganza? I swear, that woman needs a hobby that doesn't involve trying to kill us all. Maybe she should take up knitting. She could make evil sweaters instead of evil spirits."
I couldn't help but chuckle, despite the gravity of the situation. Leave it to Nana to find humor in the face of certain doom. It was like her superpower. It was right up there with her ability to guilt-trip faster than the speed of light. "Maybe we should send her a craft kit. One titled, '101 Things to Do That Don't Involve Dark Magic and Murder’. We could even include some safety scissors so she doesn't hurt herself while cutting out paper dolls instead of our throats."
Stella snorted. The sound was somewhere between amusement and despair. "Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well. 'Dear Lyra, please stop with the assassination attempts. Have you considered scrapbooking instead? XoXo, The Witches You're Trying to Kill’."
Nina giggled, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders like a deflating balloon. "Or we could suggest interpretive dance. She could express her homicidal tendencies through the art of movement."
“Oh, please no,” Tarja's mental voice groaned loud enough to make us all wince. “ The last thing we need is Lyra pirouetting around the neighborhood, leaving a trail of corpses in her wake. Although... it might be amusing to watch.”
I shook my head as a smile tugged at my lips despite everything. It was like trying not to laugh at a funeral. It was inappropriate, but sometimes necessary for sanity. "As much as I'd love to brainstorm new hobbies for our resident psychopath, we've got a lot to do. Looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Time to hit the books – and by books, I mean every grimoire, cursed journal, and magical tome we can get our hands on. We're going to figure out what Lyra did, and then we're going to undo it faster than a shifter ditches their pants.”
Stella flopped onto one of the barstools with all the grace of a sack of drunk potatoes. "Research? Can't we just, I don't know, throw holy water at her and call it a day? Or maybe sage the crap out of her grave? I hear that works for regular ghosts. Maybe we could supercharge it for our turbocharged specter?"
I shot her a look and raised an eyebrow high enough to achieve orbit. "Sure, and while we're at it, why don't we invite Lyra over for tea and crumpets? Maybe she'll be so impressed by our hospitality that she'll decide to give up evil and take up gardening instead. 'Oh, look at my lovely azaleas! Much nicer than killing people and ruining lives, don't you think?'"
"Ooh, can we poison the crumpets?" Nina chimed in with a grin, her eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief usually reserved for cats eyeing an unattended fish tank.
“Now that's an idea I can get behind,” Tarja purred in our minds. “ I know some undetectable poisons.”
Laughter bubbled up from deep in my chest like a witch's brew reaching its boiling point. Even in the face of spectral danger and dark magic, my family's ability to find humor was our greatest strength. It was like a light in the darkness, pushing back against the fear and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm us. Or maybe we were all just losing our minds. It was a toss-up at this point.
I clapped my hands together like a deranged camp counselor. "Less joking, more researching. We've got a ghost to un-ghost and a witch to un-witch. Let's get to work before Hattie decides to redecorate the living room with our entrails. I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on being part of a supernatural DIY project."
As we dispersed to gather our research materials, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Lyra had upped her game. We needed to be ready for whatever she threw at us next.
I waddled over to the books left on the small desk in the kitchen. My pregnant belly made the simple task feel like an Olympic event. As I reached for a particularly ancient-looking tome, Tarja's voice echoed in our minds again. “ There's something else you should all know about the magic Lyra used,” she said, her mental voice losing its usual sarcastic edge. “ It's not just powerful. It's corrupting. The longer Hattie remains in this state, the harder it will be to bring her back. If we don't act soon, we might lose her forever to the dark side. And trust me, they don't have cookies good enough to make that worth it.”
A chill ran down my spine, and I saw similar reactions from the others. It had nothing to do with the lingering cold from our encounter in the clearing. It was more like what you get when you realize you left the oven on. If that oven was capable of unleashing hell on earth.
"How long do we have?" Stella voiced the question on everyone's mind.
“I'm not sure,” Tarja admitted, and I could feel her frustration mirroring our own. “ But I'd say no more than a few days. After that...”
"After that, we're dealing with a permanent poltergeist with a grudge," I finished grimly. "No pressure or anything. It's not like we're racing against time to save a friend's soul while pregnant with triplets and fending off a psychotic witch. Oh wait, that's exactly what we're doing. Just another day in our crazy lives."
I grabbed the book and waddled back to the others, my mind racing faster than my bladder filled these days. "Okay, team," I said, drawing their attention. "You heard Tarja. We've got a new wrinkle. The spell Lyra used isn't just powerful. It's corrupting our beloved Hattie. We've got a limited window to save her before she goes full Dark Side on us. And trust me, the Dark Side's dental plan is not worth it."
Nana's eyes narrowed. "That's not a lot of time."
"No, it's not," I agreed, dropping the book on the table with a thud that probably echoed in the underworld. "After that, we might be looking at a permanent haunting situation. And let me tell you, I am not okay with having a homicidal ghost as a roommate. The utilities alone would be a nightmare."
“Not to mention the ectoplasm stains,” Tarja added helpfully. “ Those are a pain to get out of the carpet.”