Chapter 10
TEN
Though Morana searched the entire route that she had walked on the way to Nocturne, the book was nowhere to be found.
Stopping at the same place where she’d spoken to the crow, and leaning onto the metal fence, she’d peered along the grass around the graves.
Morana continued back the way she’d walked, up Hawthorne Boulevard and onto Derby Street, her gaze directed to the ground, searching.
She walked straight into Pennywise, the clown, one of the buskers, on his way up to Essex Street, ready for the crowds of Halloween visitors.
‘I’m so sorry, I lost something, and I didn’t see you.’
He smiled at her through a mouth full of pointed, bloodied teeth.
‘No problem, are you okay? Do you need a hand to look for it?’
Morana paused. ‘No, I’m good. Thanks for the offer though.’ She looked at him; he was terrifying yet kind.
‘I look that bad huh?’
She laughed. ‘Yeah, you do but the tourists are going to love it.’
‘I hope so, a guy’s got to eat. You sure you don’t want a hand? What is it you lost?’
‘A stupid book, it must have fallen out of my bag, although I’m so close to home I’m wondering if I even put it inside. I was a bit out of sorts this morning; I’m not having a good day.’
He reached out and patted her arm. ‘Sorry to hear that. It will get better, trust me.’
Giving her a little bow he walked away, and Morana smiled after him.
Who knew Pennywise wasn’t all bad? She walked over the crossing and down Wharf Street and back to her apartment.
She was here now. There was a little spark of hope inside of her that she had lost the book and someone had already picked it up, which technically made it their problem and not hers.
That wouldn’t be so bad, except for when the crazy lady came to the shop for her money.
Morana had a thousand dollars in her savings account for emergencies, and if she had to, she’d withdraw five hundred and pay her to leave her the fuck alone.
Scurrying into her apartment she opened the door not realising she was holding her breath.
It was so dark inside. Full of shadows despite the blinds being open and the morning sun truly shining through them.
She let out a small gasp, as there, sitting on her coffee table, was the damn book.
Sitting proud as if it belonged there, as if it had every right to be there.
Hot bile rose up Morana’s throat, and she rushed to the bathroom to throw up.
She felt clammy and the room began to sway as the darkness took over, and she passed out, falling onto the cold, tiled floor, hitting her head on the sink on the way down.
* * *
Hammering on her door woke her up. Dazed, she lay shivering, disorientated and with a pounding inside of her skull that she didn’t think a full bottle of Advil would fix.
Pulling herself to her feet, she had to hold the walls to keep herself steady as she opened the door a little.
Her downstairs neighbour was glaring at her through the crack.
‘What’s going on up here?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What’s all the banging around, some of us need to sleep.’
Morana bit her tongue. ‘Sorry, Mrs Danby, I’ll keep the noise down.’
‘Good, because it’s been going on for over an hour.
I tried to ignore it, you know, but it got too loud.
My daughter is on the waiting list for an apartment here.
It would be a shame if I had to report you again to the superintendent.
One more strike and you’re out, Morana; in fact, I don’t know why I don’t do that anyway. ’
Morana looked at her watch. She’d only been back here ten, fifteen minutes max.
‘What noise? I’ve just come back in.’
Mrs Danby crossed her arms. ‘Have you now, well there must be a ghost up there banging around if it wasn’t you. Do you need to call Ghostbusters?’ The woman barked out a loud, lonely laugh then stopped.
Morana shook her head sending a wave of dizziness straight between her eyes and she felt herself swaying. She shut the door and felt herself sliding down the back of it to the floor.
‘Rude.’ Mrs Danby’s voice echoed through the letter box. ‘I’m getting you thrown out of here and there’s nothing you can do about it, enough is enough.’
Morana closed her eyes, fighting the nausea. What had been making all the noise or who had it been? She glanced at the book on the table, its pages open.
Crawling towards it she saw the neat, faded cursive writing on the page and read the title of the spell:
Stop thy neighbour coveting what is yours
Well, Mrs Danby was doing just that. She wanted her apartment for her equally awful daughter.
Would it hurt to do a little spell to stop her?
As she took hold of the book, she felt tiny sparks of electricity shoot out of the ends of her fingers as they seemed to merge as one with the soft vellum page.
She didn’t know if she believed enough in this stuff that it would work, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
Mrs Danby knocked on her door at least once a day for something stupid and she’d reported her to the superintendent, but they had ignored it, telling her that Mrs Danby had been living there a long time, longer than Morana and never missed her rent.
It wasn’t a long spell, it wasn’t even a complete spell. It looked as if the last couple of lines were missing from it. She remembered what was written on the first page, first you must finish the spells and stories.
Could she do that, write the endings herself? She could try. It didn’t look that hard.
Squinting to read the ingredients she’d need, she realised that she had none in her kitchen cupboards: a black candle and some red string, herbs, oils – she could get these things from the witchy shop across the street.
If she did this, though, it could change everything or it could change nothing.
She wasn’t a witch, but had an interest in witchcraft.
One thing was for certain though: the book was calling her, soothing her and she felt calmer than she had done in a very long time.
Sitting on the floor, her back against the sofa, her legs bent at the knees, she closed her eyes. What harm could it do? Besides it was probably nothing. Someone who had lots of spare time and not a lot to fill it with probably made this for their own entertainment.
Morana put the book down, pulled herself up and let herself out of her apartment, glad that Mrs Danby wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Hurrying across the street, she went into the shop and was immediately comforted by the warm scents of incense, the herbs, crystals and candles all making it feel as if she was home.
Morana didn’t know where to start and stared at the baskets of tumbled and raw crystals.
‘Do you need any help?’
The guy behind the counter was smiling at her.
She nodded. ‘I do. I’m just starting out and want to try a simple spell.’
‘What kind of spell?’
‘A banishing one.’
‘Pesky ex bothering you, huh? There are a few ways of dealing with that, but have you called the cops on them first?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I wanted to try a spell.’
‘Your choice.’
‘I need black candles, red string.’
He picked up those things and put them on the counter.
‘I also need some rowan and yarrow too.’
The guy stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her.
‘No, you don’t. If you’re just starting out, you want to take it easy.
Writing the person’s name on a piece of paper and burning it is effective, so is putting it in a jar filled with water or Ziploc bag and freezing it.
You really don’t need to start with those kinds of herbs – they’re like hard-core magic herbs. ’
Morana nodded. ‘Thanks, I’ll try that, but can I get some of those in case it doesn’t work and I need to use them?’
He smiled at her. ‘Sorry, of course you can. I’m not telling you what to do, it’s your practice, whatever works best for you.’ He began grabbing the herbs she’d asked for and began to ring it up.
‘Be careful, banishing is a little more complicated than you’d think. We have some great books out back in the library.’
‘I already have quite a few, thanks. I found my grandma’s old grimoire, and I want to try her stuff first.’
His head was nodding, and his smile was so wide she thought he might split his lips open.
‘I get that, cool, that’s so cool. You’re a bloodline witch, following in Grandma’s footsteps.
I totally dig that, sorry for telling you what to do.
I should know better than to meddle when I don’t know the circumstances. ’
‘Don’t be sorry, I’m grateful for the advice.’
She tapped her phone against the card reader, and he passed a small purple bag across, all her ingredients carefully wrapped in green tissue paper.
‘Hey, let me know how it goes.’
‘I will.’
Morana hurried out, having to squeeze past a group of six women on the way in, who were laughing loudly and all wearing black felt witch hats.
She went back to her apartment clutching the paper bag as if it was full of illegal drugs.
Mrs Danby was still nowhere to be seen which suited Morana just fine.
Hopefully, once she’d cast the spell, the woman would keep well away from her and leave her be.