Chapter 28
28
AVA
W e are not a quiet group. Our boots crunch over frozen snow as we hike through the oldest cemetery in Mystic Hollows. Between me, Ambrose, and Stellan, we keep up a steady chatter about some inane nonsense. It helps distract from the cold.
“Why do we always have to do shit in the middle of the night?” I grumble and then squeal when I slip on an icy patch. Bram catches my arm and steadies me before I face plant into one of the tombstones.
It’s nearly two in the morning. With the windchill I would estimate the temperature to be somewhere close to negative ten, and it’s dark as fuck out. I don’t care if we have flashlights. There's barely a sliver of moon in the sky. Even that inkling of light is basically blocked out by towering evergreen trees dotted around the cemetery.
According to Piper, the planets are perfectly aligned tonight, and the spell needs to be performed as close to the new moon as possible.
“Piper, if you turn me into a zombie because you aren’t exactly following directions, I’m going to hunt you down and eat you.” Ambrose says.
“You mean eat her brains.” Odie signs.
“That’s not what I said.” Ambrose grins. Piper makes a distressed sound, and everyone else groans. Roman shoves him and he skids across the icy snow with a chuckle.
The graveyard we’re stomping around in isn’t the only one in Mystic Hollows, but it is the oldest. It’s located on the edge of the Grimwood. Ironically, there are two different coven graveyards, but the founders were buried together in this cemetery.
I’m wearing a coat that goes down to my ankles, my warmest hat, and I have a scarf wrapped around all of my face except for my eyes. There is, thankfully, only a few inches of snow on the ground, but many of the grave markers are flat, which means they’re impossible to see. I don’t even want to think about the fact that I’m stepping all over dead bodies right now because we’ve gone off the plowed path in search of Dickface Ashenvale’s grave.
Fine, that’s not his name. Piper discovered that the man’s name is David. I expected him to be a Mephestophlies or something more nefarious sounding, but I guess it goes to show, assholes are just regular Toms, Dicks, and Harrys.
“From my research, the Ashenvale family has a mausoleum.” Piper informs the group as we weave through headstones.
Of course they do. They were rich bastards. The kind of well off that even in death flouted their wealth over other people.
“At least we don’t have to clear off a thousand graves to try to find his name,” Josephine says with a shiver, her teeth chattering.
“Could we have picked a colder night?” My brother flips up the hood of his coat and pulls the strings tight until I don’t know how he can see.
“I’m sorry,” Piper murmurs. “According to the books, this is the best time for us to successfully complete the spell. We’d have to wait another six months to have an opportunity as good as this.”
“Ignore all these whiners, Piper.” Ambrose hooks his arm through hers. “They just like the sound of their own voices.”
“Well, it’s fucking cold out,” Bram grumbles.
“Welcome to the upper peninsula,” Ambrose says with a game show host voice.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Roman huffs out in exasperation.
We must look insane to anyone that happens to walk by. If someone was out for a pleasure walk at two in the morning. Thank the Crone there are no cameras in the cemetery because we definitely don’t look like we’re up to any good.
Eight people tromping through a cemetery in the dead of night holding a box of potion ingredients. Nothing suspicious here. Keep on moving.
“That looks huge.” Ambrose points to a mausoleum that could double as a church. We must be dead center in the graveyard, which tracks because people like Ashenvale always believe they’re the center of the universe. Dead or alive.
The mausoleum is white marble. I’m sure at one point it was bright as snow, but over the years, silt and dirt have built up on the exterior turning it a dirty gray color. The building reminds me of a vampire’s castle in miniature. The ornate stonework has pointed arches, spires that reach up into the trees and it even has stained glass windows. As if the dead need a pretty view.
Josephine shines a light up at the words carved over the door. Bingo. Ashenvale.
The double doors of the mausoleum are at least ten feet high. Carvings decorate the dark wood panels, and when I shine my flashlight, I’m treated to images of what looks to be witches being burned at the stake.
Is this guy a secret Puritan? Why did he want the family mausoleum carved up with one of the pains from our history? Sick fuck.
Even the doorknob is fancy. A heavy cast-iron affair with an ornate “A” on the front.
“Why do I feel like that sucker is going to burn a brand into my hand if I touch it?” My brother frowns down at the handle.
“Because you’ve watched Home Alone too many times.” I shove him out of the way and reach to grab the doorknob. Bram snatches me around the waist and spins me until I’m behind him. He takes hold of the door before I get out a protest and turns the knob without the slightest hiss of pain.
“So booby traps are just for the movies, then. Got it.” Stellan yawns and then shrugs.
“I highly doubt the kind of booby traps that a four-hundred-year-old mausoleum would have is a burning door knob, but there might be other things inside.” Like bugs and crawling things. I shudder.
“Don’t say that,” Josephine moans.
If Roman says, don’t worry, I’ll protect you, I might throw up. Thankfully, he has the good sense to show his support with a silent arm around Josephine’s shoulders.
“Why does it feel like none of you are taking this seriously?” Bram snarls as he leads the way into the mausoleum and the rest of us trail in behind him.
“Because we’re a bunch of unserious people.” Ambrose offers.
“Speak for yourself.” Roman and Josephine shine their flashlight and inspect the inside of the building.
Despite the door opening without resistance, the air is stale inside the mausoleum as if the doors hadn’t been opened in centuries. For some reason, I assumed this was the Ashenvale family's tomb, but once we’re inside, there’s only one stone marker present. In the middle of the miniature gothic structure is a sarcophagus with a heavy stone lid on top. The stone has been carved with ornate swirls and overlapping triangles and circles. There are no other crypts or coffins anywhere in sight.
Odie and Ambrose set the lanterns they’re holding on the floor, providing enough light to illuminate the space. Even though we’re out of the wind, it almost feels colder inside. More damp and dank. Piper places her box of ingredients on top of the sarcophagus and begins taking them out one by one. I shiver and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or the bad vibes the place gives off.
“The book said it was best if we combined all the ingredients at the site,” she explains, as if any of us were questioning why she didn’t have a prefab potion ready to go.
“Do your thing, Piper.” I stand at her side offering support even though I’m not going to touch any of the ingredients. I am not good at potion making.
Piper sets a hand-hammered copper bowl on top of a carving on the sarcophagus, its something with horns. She lists the ingredients as she drops them one at a time into the basin. “Frankincense, water steeped under a full moon, crushed beetles, henbane, salt. Table salt is fine,” she explains as if anyone asked.
“Dust from the grave.” She stoops down and swipes up a handful of dirt from the ground. I hide my grimace. What if there are bone ashes or some shit in there. Piper sprinkles it in the bowl without a peep.
“Stir thirteen times counterclockwise and twenty-four times clockwise.” Piper counts softly under her breath, the picture of concentration as she mixes her concoction with a wooden spoon. Even Ambrose is quiet while she works. With a little nod, Piper knocks the spoon against the top of the bowl and sets it back in her box when she’s done. I peer down into the bowl. I don’t know if I was expecting a change in color or some smoke to waft off the surface, but it’s just water with some herbs floating in it.
Sometimes magic is boring.
“Now we need to take the lid off the sarcophagus.” Piper sounds apologetic. We all knew what we came here for, so I don’t know why anyone would be surprised. That doesn’t mean I’m not slightly grossed out.
Piper lifts her copper bowl off the coffin and steps to the side, holding it protectively against her stomach. Ambrose moves her box of ingredients to the floor and the rest of us step up to the coffin.
“Everybody use those muscles.” Stellan cracks his knuckles.
“Light as a feather, stiff as a board,” Ambrose chants as he works his fingers under the lip of the lid.
“Shut up.” Bram rolls his eyes.
I dig my fingers into the crack and try not to think of creepy crawly things being in there. Never mind a dead body. With a shake of my head, I roll my shoulders back and shove all the disturbing thoughts away.
“On three,” Roman says and then counts us off.
“Holy fuck,” I grunt as the lid barely shifts. It’s heavy as, well, a giant slab of stone.
“Ambrose, if you’re purposefully pushing down, I will shove my foot up your ass,” Stellan groans as the stone moves a little bit more.
“As tempting as that sounds, I promise I’m actually trying to lift this slab.” Ambrose puffs out a halting response.
I shift my hands to get underneath with a better hold and we finally get a good enough grasp to move the damn thing. There’s a pop and a gust of dust explodes in our faces.
“Fucking Crone,” Bram swears, and his shadows lash out, hooking the lid and throwing it away from us. It slams into the wall and bursts apart, chunks flying around the room.
I duck, hands over my head, while I try not to breathe deep. The others are coughing and when I stand back up Josephine is waving her hands in the air. Bram is…gagging.
“What’s wrong?” I reach out, but when he makes a puking sound, I freeze. Then slowly pat his arm.
“Oh god, that smell.” He gulps and looks up at the ceiling.
It’s dusty and gross to think about the particles of a decomposed witch floating in the air, but the smell is musty and slightly off more than anything.
“Fuck, and the body.” Bram retches, and I turn to stare at him.
“Are you…squeamish?”
“This is disgusting.”
I stand on my tiptoes and look down into the sarcophagus. It’s much deeper than I imagined. Not that I’ve had a lot of thoughts about this situation in any way, but in the ten minutes I’ve been inside this mausoleum, I didn’t expect the stone structure to go below ground level.
“It’s not even meaty or anything.” I shudder when I look at the skeleton. The skull is full-blown Halloween style, and there are a few scraps of fabric that were clothing at one point in time. Granted, it’s a dead body, but it could easily be a prop at a haunted house.
“I don’t care.” Bram is breathing heavily through his nose and blowing out through his mouth.
“Poor baby. Don’t like dead bodies.” I rub his arm again and he glares at me.
“Does anyone like dead bodies?”
“Funeral directors?” Ambrose proposes.
I turn away so Bram doesn’t see my grin, only to see Stellan’s narrowed eyes on Bram’s arm, where my hand is still lingering. I snatch it away, and my brother cocks his head and gives me a look, telling me I’m not fooling him.
“Let’s get this show started before Bram adds some unwanted ingredients to the potion.” Ambrose rubs his hands together.
“Eat shit,” Bram grumbles, but his hand lands low on my back as if he needs steadying. I don’t hate it.
“Okay, we need to circle around the coffin.” Piper steps up to the head of the grave and the rest of us find an open space. Bram is swallowing thickly beside me, but he doesn’t say another word.
“Repeat after me.” Piper dips her fingers into the bowl and flicks the potion over the body. “Bones in slumber, soul at rest, we call you forth to answer our request.” Piper pauses, and we all repeat her words.
My magic hums in my chest, a warm ball of light glowing brighter with each word spoken. Bram’s hand finds mine, and he laces our fingers together. My magic throbs and burns brighter, almost making me giddy.
Piper continues flicking the bones with water and then she shouts, “David Ashenvale, we summon you. You have been called upon to answer for your past.”
She dumps the remainder of the concoction into the sarcophagus. As if she dumped a bucket full of water on a sleeping teenager, the skeleton lurches upright and roars. An involuntary scream of surprise escapes my throat.
Bram surges forward and punches the skeleton. It flies backward, breaking into pieces in the sarcophagus. Seconds later it clatters back together in a stop-motion animation way that will give me nightmares for the rest of my life.
“Who dares disrupt my sleep,” a disembodied voice says. It’s much higher than I expected. The skeleton’s mouth moves but the sound doesn’t appear to really be coming from anywhere specific. Not surprisingly, because this thing has no vocal cords or even a throat. It looks like a cartoon, and I can’t help but giggle. Ambrose shares a look with Stellan, and they both snort and chuckle.
Sleep? More like who’s dragged him from hell, because we all know this man isn’t having a peaceful afterlife. Not if there is any fairness in the universe.
The skeleton turns its attention to me, its head snapping around with a crack of bone. Fuck, that’s creepy. I shrink away from the thing.
“David Ashenvale, we have questions for you.” Roman takes control. Thank the Maiden one of us has a small fraction of sense.
“Impure witches.” The bag of bones hisses in his high voice and lurches for me. Bram’s shadows snap out and slam the skeleton against the wall of the mausoleum, holding him there like a cheap decoration. The bones clatter and jangle before he finally gives up and stays still.
My heart is in my throat, but I feign nonchalance. He might sound like a chipmunk, but reanimated bones are scary as hell. “Sure, whatever. What do you know about the Briar Witch’s curse,” I huff out.
It was already clear to me that David wasn’t some upstanding, progressive witch. He was a piece of shit that killed a man so his son could marry someone with power.
“Bitch.”
“Skank, cunt, whore, fatass, idiot. I’ve heard them all. Let’s just get on with it. I’m with Bram, this place is starting to stink.” I glare at the skeleton. He doesn’t have eyes, so can he even see me?
The shadows tighten, and there’s a creak of bones. David yowls and shouts. Apparently, even dead beings can feel pain. “Fine. Fine. Ask your foolish questions.”
Even without eyes, the skeleton’s sockets are menacing. He’s giving us a dirty look, as improbable as that is.
“Tell us about the Briar Witch’s curse.” I repeat my question from earlier.
“She was impudent, and far too independent. She was meant to marry my son. Their line would have been strong.”
“So you murdered her fated bond.” Josephine sneers. We all saw what happened to the Briar Witch when Ambrose’s illusion magic brought her grimoires to life.
“Power is more important than fate.”
“Right, how did that work out for you?” Stellan says. Odie signs something and my brother nods, but I don’t want to take my eyes off David.
“And now you’re all broken, weak imitations of a witch.” David cackles, the sound vibrating his bones. I’m impressed by how quickly I hate this thing.
“What is the ritual?” Bram asks, ignoring David’s taunt.
“What ritual?”
How I’m able to discern that this bastard is lying even when he doesn’t have any facial expressions is a mystery, but I hear the lie. David doesn’t have an aura, so I can’t read him that way either, but I know he’s full of shit.
Piper steps forward. Her jaw is clenched, and she is angrier than I’ve ever seen her.
“Lies.” She lifts her hand and closes her fingers one by one. “I raised you and I can keep your soul here indefinitely. I’ll trap you back in your tomb with only the bugs and worms to keep you company. I’ll make sure they make a nice home in all your sockets. Then on Halloween every year I’ll bring out your bones and dress you up like a fool and parade you around town while we mock your name.”
“Well, shit. Anyone else getting hard?” Ambrose whistles, and then grunts when Odie slaps his shoulder. Piper falters for a moment, then her chin goes up.
“Right now, the Ashenvale name isn’t even a memory in this town. I will ensure your name is on everyone’s lips as the weakest, most pathetic witch who ever stepped foot in Mystic Hollows.”
“Harlot,” the bones hiss.
“Speak the truth, and I vow to never say your name again. We’ll put your bones back as we found them and let you sink back into your sleep of oblivion.”
The tomb is silent, with the only sound Piper’s heavy breathing.
“Fine. Ask your damn questions.”
For one moment, I stare at the skeleton and marvel at the fact that this is my life. How fucking weird.
Bram’s still holding David’s bones with his shadows. He steps forward, repeating his question. “What is the ritual? And what does it have to do with the curses on this town’s people?”
David laughs again, this time louder until the shadows squeeze, and he stops. “It passes on the curse.”
“Having children passes on the curse,” Stellan says. He looks like he might take a swing at the skeleton too.
“Fools.” The bones rattle with laughter that makes all the hair on my arms stand up. “All of you. Just like her. She thought she was so clever, cursing us. But we were smarter. We were better witches.”
“What do you mean?” Bram’s voice is low, menacing.
“We found a way around her spell. We bested her and got rid of our curses.”
“How?” I snarl.
The shadows squeeze and David yells out his answer, “By cursing our children.”
“Isn’t that just part of the Briar Witch’s curse?” Ambrose asks.
“No. No, we found a loophole.”