16. Sixteen #2
“I know things.” Margie’s dry sniff was full of disdain. “That’s what happens when you join a coven and pool your resources. You grow smarter as a group.”
“Ah.” I wrinkled my nose. “Good to know, I guess.” I motioned toward the metal railing that Jack and Charlie leaned against. “I’m going to go over there to watch the show.”
“You do that.” Margie made a face at me, then turned angelic for Knox’s benefit. “Would you like a good spot for the viewing?”
I had to hand it to Knox. He managed to look baffled but still charming. It was quite the sight to behold. Then he said the unthinkable. “I’m with her.” He pointed at me.
My heart plummeted to my stomach, and I glared at him as he practically skipped — yes, skipped — in my direction. “What the hell?” I muttered.
“I don’t care what your past is with that chick,” he replied, matching my tone. “She’s trying to use me to irritate you. I figured I’d level the playing field.”
“How is this leveling the playing field? Now she’s going to treat it like a competition.”
He shrugged. “That’s your problem, not mine.”
“Oh, geez,” I muttered. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a complete and total pain in the ass?”
“I believe you just did.” His smile was impish, almost like a young boy flirting for the first time. I refused to give him a pass.
“This is going to suck.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged as he leaned against the railing and folded his arms. “It might be fun.” He nodded at Charlie and Jack, a second silent hello.
“This won’t be fun.” The words were barely out of my mouth when the coven witches joined hands. A spark rippled through their circle of seven. Was it truly a séance? It felt more performative.
The witches chanted in Latin. Most of the spells of old — at least for standard witches — were written in Latin.
The majority of us knew enough Latin to get by.
The voodoo queens worked in Haitian Creole.
My father knew at least three dead languages, and he hadn’t even been alive when they were in use. He liked to flex.
The magic in the conjure circle picked up with each repeated chant until the seven witches became one entity. They called for their specific ghost — the Axeman — and waited in heavily charged silence after several seconds of building magic.
I thought they’d failed. I wasn’t going to gloat or anything, even though part of me wanted to, when the witches were thrown back several feet by a ricocheting spell.
They managed to keep hold of one another’s hands, the only thing that saved them from being slammed into benches, railings, and watchers.
“Something is here,” Margie intoned, her chin raising to the sky. “The beast is here.”
My eye roll was almost enough to knock me over. Knox choked on a laugh — whether at Margie or me, I couldn’t say — and then caught himself. I was about to whisper to him that the séance was a dud. I wasn’t expecting it to solve all of our problems, but I felt a bit let down. Then I heard it.
A great, booming voice rocketed over the riverwalk.
“You are not in control here,” the voice said. It was decidedly male. “You do not control me.”
Margie, so happy she practically danced, managed to keep hold of the witches on either side of her. If they broke the link connecting their hands, the spell would break.
As for the speaker, I had no idea. There was no face to go with the voice.
It was possible someone was putting on a show.
Under all the witchy magic, however, there was a low hum of another sort.
I couldn’t say if it was witchy or demonic, or maybe even ghostly.
But it wasn’t controlled by the witches.
“Stay out of my way,” the voice intoned. “You’ll die if you try to stop me.”
“That’s a very cartoon bad guy,” I said to Knox. “He needs a better writer.”
Knox was no longer smiling. He was too busy looking around for the source of the voice. He was wasting his time.
“My return has been foretold for a century,” the voice said. “You don’t have the strength to ward me off.”
“We want to help you,” Margie insisted. “We’ll help you rest. Tell us what you need. No one else has to die.”
“Oh, little girl,” the voice said. “You don’t have enough power to interest me.”
“Then why talk to us at all?” Margie asked defiantly.
“Who said I was talking to you?” White streaks began appearing in the night air above our heads, and they coalesced into a large hand. Yes, a hand. That hand extended one shaky finger, as if it had only so much magic and was risking burning all of it with each passing second … and pointed at me.
My breath clogged in my throat.
“Stay out of my way, girl,” the voice hissed. “If you don’t, you won’t be the only one in your family to disappear.”
With that, the hand dissipated, and the magic I’d felt under the current of the coven’s spell went with it.
“Did it leave?” one of the witches asked.
“Where did it go?” another said.
Margie, fury turning her cheeks red, slowly swiveled to face me.
She didn’t say anything, but I could tell what she was feeling.
She didn’t like what had happened one little bit.
She saw it as me stealing her thunder, even though I hadn’t asked for a place in this evening’s events.
I didn’t want to be the center of attention. Not ever.
“She doesn’t look happy,” Knox noted.
I shook my head. No, she really did not.