Bewitched (4 page)

Something bumped against my hand and I looked down.

It was a dead fish.

It floated among the glowing green water; its eye stared up at me accusing.
You killed me.

I turned away, not wanting to see the hideous sight.

But there were others. Dead fish floated all around me.

Was this the kind of power that I bargained to get?

I screamed, gooseflesh rising all over my bare arms. I started to run, trying to lift my legs in the heavy, trapping water. The clothes I wore were saturated and only slowed me down. Something tangled in the folds of my skirt and I shuddered, thinking it was another dead fish.

I pulled at the wet fabric until whatever was caught floated free. It wasn’t a fish.

It was worse.

A hand.

A hand without skin.  

The long bones of a skeleton hand seemed to reach out to me, its fingers pointing. This was someone’s hand, someone who was dead.

Oh. My. God. Had I killed this person? Had the storm I created somehow drowned an innocent swimmer? Had the water boiled away the skin and left nothing but bone?

I whimpered, trying to get it away, trying to move it without touching it. I closed my eyes to the sight, but another horrible thought caused my eyes to spring back open.

Where was the rest of the body?

I gave a terrified scream and pushed through the water and up onto the shore, where I fell. I lay there shaking, crying and freaking out. For once, my outfit didn’t matter. All I could picture were the bones.

I wasn’t sure how long I lay there. Time seemed to stand still. Eventually, the air turned cold and I began to shiver. Then feet appeared in my line of vision. Delicate-looking feet in a pair of killer red pumps. I felt something being draped around me, something made of the softest velvet and the color of moss.

“You took too much,” Hecate said from above me.

“I wanted my power.”

“And now you have it.”

I thought again about the dead fish and the bones. I shivered. If that was my power, I didn’t want it. Briefly I thought of Heven. This didn’t seem like something she would want either. Yet she must have made some kind of deal with Hecate. After all, her face was flawless.

“Come now,” Hecate said, helping me to my feet. “Let’s get you in the house.”

“I don’t want to go in there,” I said. It was empty… and lonely.

“I’ll stay with you,” Hecate said as we walked. “You aren’t alone anymore. I’ll tell you about your powers.”

I went with her. It was better than being alone.

*   *   *

Working out was for jocks. Homework was for nerds, and I wasn’t a jock or a nerd. Yet, here I was, sweating through my favorite Victoria Secret yoga pants and tank with a headache the size of Macy’s. Learning about my powers was hard work. I thought it would come naturally. My brain was hurting from concentrating and my muscles were actually sore from effort. I thought longingly of the potion in the green bottle that Hecate had given me—a little sip would make it that much easier to use my powers, but she took it away. Apparently, I had all the power she wanted me to have. It kind of pissed me off.

In fact, I was feeling pretty disgruntled all around.

I was hot, I was sweaty, my head hurt and my hair was frizzy. Not to mention I’d been wearing sneakers far too long. Thank goodness Hecate was gone. I actually had been glad not to be alone after the “bone incident,” but now I was ready for some alone time. I felt stronger.

Feeling strong plus feeling disgruntled equaled somebody was gonna get hurt.

I was standing in my yard near the lake and I glanced up at the moon before heading inside. It was low and swollen tonight—a haunting moon. It sent a shiver up my spine. I thought briefly about going to Heven’s and treating her to a little of what she deserved. I even looked toward the driveway as I walked, but I wasn’t going anywhere looking like this.

I went into the house and began climbing the stairs. Halfway up, I heard a noise in the kitchen and I paused. My parents were still out of town. It wasn’t the maid’s day to be here… unless she came early. Another thud in the kitchen had me spinning on the stairs to see what it was.

“Mary?” I called out. “Is that you?” Maybe she switched her schedule around and I didn’t know about it. Maybe I could get her to make me a latté.

No one answered, and the noises in the kitchen fell silent. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and listened, wondering if I had heard anything at all. “Hello?” I called again, this time more unsure. This time a fine chill raced up my back.

Suddenly, being alone in this big house was scary.

Clink, clink, clink.

Okay, I wasn’t hearing things. Someone was there.

I stepped off the stairs and walked through the foyer in the direction of the kitchen. I heard the cat hiss and I paused again. Clover was too lazy to hiss at a mouse. Something in my stomach turned cold and hard.

I looked over my shoulder at the massive front doors to the alarm keypad and the distress button.

But it was too late for pressing buttons.

Clover burst around the corner with a horrifying screech and barreled into me, hitting me in the knees and causing me to stumble. The cat didn’t even stop. I could hear his claws scraping frantically across the tiles. “What the…” I began as I straightened, but then something lurched around the corner after the cat.

It was hideous.

It stood about a foot taller than me with wide shoulders that were uneven looking—one was lower than the other—and a wild mane of bushy orange hair that seemed to create a cloud around its pasty, white face. Its lips were black and it had a nasty row of teeth that had seen a lot of decay. It had large purple circles around its eyes, which seemed to have no color at all.

It looked like a psychotic clown.

I screamed and took a step backward, and the thing grinned. I went running, but it lunged and caught me around the wrist, pulling me back. I struggled, kicking out, but it was no use; his grip was too strong.

Without any warning, it reached up and snatched my silver pendant right off my neck. “Hey!” I screamed as it shoved me away. I fell onto my butt and stared up at the glittering silver heart as it dangled from the nasty clown’s hands.

Cole had given that to me. It was the last gift he had given me before we broke up.

Anger surged into my chest, making me hot. “Give that back.”

Freaky Clown gave me another frightening grin and ran back into the kitchen, disappearing from sight. I ran after it, running into a solid wall of… offensiveness.

Yet another one of these things (What were they anyway? Were these things the demons Hecate was telling me about?) filled the doorway to the kitchen. It had green skin, black eyes and red lips. It only had one ear and its nose was missing. It wasn’t wearing a shirt and I wanted to gag at the black hair that seemed to cover half its body.

He grabbed me and began squeezing my arms. He lowered his head, his face coming closer and closer…

He was going to kill me.

No, he was going to kiss me.

I would rather die.

“No!” I shouted, and just like that, he was blasted away. His body lifted through the air and past the kitchen island like he was a feather.

He slammed into the french doors that led to the deck and crashed right through them, glass shattering and wood splintering. I looked around to see Freaky Clown standing near the breakfast nook, dangling the necklace—taunting me.

I turned to face him, squared my shoulders and concentrated. The vase of flowers on the table behind him lifted into the air and I sent it crashing over his head.

He jerked as water and glass rained over his helmet of hair, but otherwise, he gave no reaction. Crunching glass to my right had me looking to see that Franken-nasty was coming back inside, his green skin practically glowing in the darkness.

He rushed me and I flung out my hands, satisfied when a strong wind gusted from my palms and blew the freak back. The best way to never get hurt was to never let anyone touch you. I guess all that concentrating on how to fling things around was worth it.

But the bad thing about pushing people—things—demons back that wanted to hurt you was they just kept coming. I didn’t have time for this. With a flick of my hands, one of the kitchen drawers opened and a large knife floated out. I sent the knife sailing forward to bury itself in the chest of Franken-nasty. This time he fell down, but his body was still twitching.

“Enough!” I screamed and he fell, unmoving.

I turned back to Freaky Clown that held my necklace hostage. He lifted it above his mouth and opened wide. “Platinum is not a snack, weirdo,” I told him before settling my eyes on his throat.

I watched in sick fascination as he began to choke. I knew that his throat was closing, becoming smaller and smaller, the last of the breath in his nasty lungs was being used. He dropped the necklace and it clattered to the floor. Both his hands went around his neck as he stared at me with bulging eyes. I took a step toward him. And another. I concentrated so hard I knew when his windpipe collapsed. Foam began to form at the corners of his disgusting mouth.

“You don’t steal from me,” I told it and it tried to nod. It tried to beg me to stop.

I wasn’t about to stop. I had a say in whether this thing lived or died. I was the one in power.

Freaky Clown fell to the floor, sprawling on his back, still gagging and choking. Then he stopped moving. His face was whiter than ever and his limp, lifeless body lay among white and peach roses.

I bent down, scooped up my necklace and fastened it around my neck. “They make conditioner for hair like that,” I spat then turned away.

I surveyed the damage in the kitchen. The broken vase had left flowers and water everywhere. The broken glass littered the floor and water pooled on the tiles, creating puddles under my feet. The busted French doors left shattered glass inside and out. Ripped curtains billowed in the breeze and wood lay in broken pieces and hung from the ruined frame.

Not to mention the two dead bodies.

Something told me the maid wouldn’t be willing to clean this up. Even if I offered her a raise.

A cloaked figure stepped through the ruined doorway and I flung power outward to push them back. A hand lifted and flung the power back at me and I was sent flying across the room, slamming into a wall. The picture hanging on it fell, narrowly missing my head. The frame cracked and glass shattered.

“Never use your power against me,” Hecate said, pushing her hood away from her face to stare at me with flashing eyes. She made a formidable and frightening sight standing there in the doorway, with the glowing moon at her back and that violent look in her eye.

“I didn’t know it was you.”

Hecate ignored me and looked around at the aftermath.

“These things broke into the house. That one tried to take my necklace,” I said, pointing to the freaky clown.

“You used your powers to stop them.”

“I wasn’t about to let them take what was mine.”

“You’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Italy.”

“This is going to happen in Italy?” I asked dubiously, fear creeping into my chest.

“It might, but now you know you can protect yourself. You can protect the paper I seek.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Heven doesn’t want me to have my paper back. Her boyfriend is the spawn of hell. She may use his connections to stop you from taking back what is mine.”

“So these things are from hell?”

“Yes. Demons are from hell.” I swear I heard fondness in her voice.

I stood up, shaking. What had I gotten myself into?

“Allow me to take care of this mess. It’s the least I can do.” With a wave of her hand, the kitchen was returned exactly as it had been before. Even the flowers were replaced. The demons were gone.

“See you in Italy,” Hecate said; then she disappeared.

I stood there in the empty room for a long time.

*   *   *

In Italy after Hecate and I took back the scroll…

It was dark here like the sun didn’t exist. As I was falling through the long hole I jumped into (can’t believe I really did that—but really, the look on Heven’s face was so hurt that I actually preferred a dark unknown hole to looking at her), I told myself that there would be light at the end… Yeah, there wasn’t.

At least with my new powers, I didn’t break a heel when I hit the ground. I was able to land lightly and gracefully. I glanced around, seeing nothing. Annoyed, I held up my hands, rubbed them together, then opened my palms and blew gently in the center. A small flame ignited. It wasn’t hot, but it did provide much-needed light.

I was in a tunnel.

Well, that explained the no-sun thing. Something jostled me from behind and I spun to face another one of those nasty demons. This one, thankfully, didn’t look like an evil clown or Frankenstein. But it was still horribly gross with no teeth, a huge forehead and only one arm. Without another thought, I flung it backward, and it hit the wall with a thud. I prepared to choke it like I did Freaky Clown, but Hecate’s voice stopped me.

“Come, the demons will not harm you here.”

I turned, the light in my palms extinguishing a bit and I gave it a blow to make it brighter. Hecate stood at the end of the tunnel in her regular black robe and a red belt. The red was a nice addition. “Come,” she said and turned to disappear around the corner.

I hurried after her and around the corner. My hands fell to my sides as I completely forgot about the light I was creating. I didn’t need it here anyway. The tunnel opened up into a room of epic proportions, a mansion. The ceiling had to be at least twenty feet tall with gold chandeliers draping the massive beams that went from wall to wall. The walls were draped in fabric—a deep green color with a black scroll design in velvet. The furniture was black velvet and the tables looked like they were made from solid gold. There were black roses in clear vases sitting around the room and candle holders made from the finest crystal holding candles that burned throughout the space.