The Hex Breaker's Eyes (19 page)

The other women
turn around to look at Marlene and I, and neither of them have
similar glowing eyes. I assume that because Sydney’s mother is the
only one with the bright eyes, she must have the most power.

The two nearest
women climb to their feet and run at us, screaming as they come.
The first one, who has short, spiky red hair, grabs me by the
shoulder with one hand, while her other hand grabs at my face, her
fingernails digging into my forehead. I scream back, and swing my
elbow at her face, clipping her jaw. The woman is knocked a little
back, her hand releasing my face, and I lean my weight into her,
shoving her into the doorframe. The other witch, who has long grey
hair but a relatively youthful face, actually hisses at Marlene
when she runs at us. Marlene is completely shocked by all of this,
paralyzed by that shock, and the woman punches little Marlie in the
belly before grabbing her by the hair. I shove past the redhead and
toward the little round table. It’s only a few steps away, but
Sydney’s mother is there to protect it. She grabs at me, and pulls
a hair or two out of my head. She speaks in Latin so fast it sounds
like one long word, while her hand is spooling my hair around
something in her hand. Before I even reach the little table,
Sydney’s mother stops talking and waves her hand at me in a wild
theatrical gesture. It would seem laughable, like a mime playing a
witch, except for the effect she has. As soon as she swings that
hand up, my feet leave the floor and I can’t move toward the table.
I’m floating a foot off the ground while Sydney’s mother calmly
watches me, eyes flashing with crimson fire.

I turn to see
that the redhead and the grey-haired woman are both holding Marlene
now, each holding one of her arms and a handful of hair. The
redhead tugs a few hairs from Marlene’s head and hands them to
Sydney’s mother, who begins to spool them around another tiny
little talisman she produces from her pocket. Marlene screams for
help, but Sydney’s mother whispers another hex and Marlene’s voice
cracks and sputters, and soon she’s only mouthing words but making
no sounds. I see the hex flow from Sydney’s mother, a little red
stream of light, which ties itself around Marlene’s neck like a
collar. The connection to Sydney’s mom fades to a dull line, but I
can still see it, thanks to the lingering effect of the potion.
There’s probably another hex on me, making me fly, but since there
are no mirrors around, I can’t see it.

“What do we do
with them, Helen?” the redhead asks.

Sydney’s mother
looks at us both and curls her upper lip into a nasty smile. “Put
them in the pot with the other one.”

“Both of them?”
the redhead asks.

“We could lock
them in the basement, keep up the ritual for a day or two. Drain
them until there’s nothing left.”

“That’ll take
too long. People will come looking for them.”

“Just one then.
The one with power.” Sydney’s mother, Helen, walks over and looks
me in the eyes. Her own eyes are so bright I can’t see the whites
anymore; they just glow solid red as if I was peeking through the
vents on a furnace. “Is it you, fat girl? Are you the one who
sees?”

I nod, looking
into those evil eyes. Helen grunts and looks to Marlene. She
whispers in Latin and the collar fades to a lighter colour. “Is
that true, little girl?”

“No, it’s me!”
Marlene shouts. “I’m the seer.” The stupid girl doesn’t realize
what she’s doing. Once they figure out that I’m the seer they’re
going to do to me what they’re doing to Tam. They’re going to drain
my life into that clay pot. Marlene’s trying to protect me, but
she’s only putting herself at risk.

“She’s lying.
I’m the one you want,” I say. “I can see the glow behind your eyes,
you evil bitch.”

“And I can see
the little blue lights you’re draining from our friend that lead
into your Urn of Durofa,” Marlene says. “I’m the one you want. Let
my friends go.”

“Oh, you
recognize it?” Helen says. “I made it myself. You have no idea how
hard it is to source the blood of an albino child. Took me a couple
months. But it was necessary because of you two.”

“Torturing and
killing a teenage girl was necessary?” I ask. “Screw you.”

“That girl gave
my daughter a black eye and one of you two stole something precious
to me. When you smashed it, I felt the pain in my very soul.”

“What are you
talking about, lady?”

Helen’s eyes
flare red. “Little ball of metal and glass. Exquisitely intricate.
You stole it and shattered it. Ring a bell?” She’s talking about
the little brooch that was attached to Sydney’s talisman, that we
shattered when we saved Dina. It had been extra, something the hex
didn’t actually need, and we had assumed Sydney was using it to
boost her hex’s power. “That little ball of glass was three
centuries old, and contained the souls of many warriors. It was
among the most powerful artifacts on this continent, and you
smashed it like it was nothing. You cost me a lot of power, and now
I’m taking that power back.”

“What are you
going to do to us?” I ask.

“One of you
will join your friend, drained into my urn so that your souls will
replace the ones you cost me. I don’t have time to drain both of
you, so the one with no power…” Helen looks to her accomplices,
“...will drown in the sink. Maybe we’ll jar up the body parts that
might be useful in the future. Are you both virgins?”

I can’t believe
how casually she says it all. As if killing us is just a chore that
must be done, like dusting or taking out the recycling. “So which
one of you has the sight?” She walks to the back of the room, and
opens a narrow closet door. She reaches inside and I hear the
jingling of chains, and Helen pulls Sydney out into the room.
Sydney isn’t gagged or hexed, but she says nothing, simply walking
as her mother drags her over to us, offering no resistance.

“Sydney’s being
punished for snooping in mommy’s things. She should not have gotten
into my spellbooks, and she certainly should not have stolen my
Soul Lantern. She should be going into that urn, just like your
friend Tamara, but I love my little girl too much, so she gets to
live. As long as she doesn’t get in any more trouble, right
Sydney?”

“Yes, mother,”
Sydney says quietly, looking at the floor.

“Now tell me,”
Helen says, grabbing her daughter by the point of her chin. “Which
of these girls has the sight?” Sydney stares at the floor. I can
tell she’s terrified of her mother, and knows that by pointing me
out, she’ll condemn me to eternity inside that clay pot, and
Marlene to a miserable death in the kitchen sink. “Don’t make me
angry, Sydney.”

“This one,”
Sydney says, pointing at me. “Mindee. She’s the one who can see
hexes.”

Helen smiles
and looks me up and down, as if she’s trying to look right through
me. “Kill the little one,” she says. Marlene screams and Helen
turns up the hex and silences her screams again with a mere
whisper. One of the other witches yanks on Marlene’s hair, and
Marlene screams silently, her face wet with tears.

“Don’t let this
happen” I say, looking at Sydney. “We go to school together. We’re
just kids. Don’t let this happen.”

“Shut up,”
Helen says. I ignore her.

“You were only
trying to get back at Dina. You didn’t know that little brooch
would lead to all this. Three people are going to die tonight. You
don’t have to listen to her!”

Helen whispers
in Latin, and I feel my mouth go dry. My throat burns, and my voice
falters. I stare at Sydney, my eyes pleading. The grey-haired woman
leaves Marlene’s side to open a bathroom door in the hallway, and
starts to run the water. Marlene, held by only one captor now,
fights and pulls against the redhead, but the older woman is too
strong and Marlene falls to her knees, silently crying in anguish.
Sydney’s eyes well with tears, and she lets out a cry, the sound of
it almost shocking in the relative silence. Sydney shoves her
mother toward me, and Helen bumps into me, but the spell holds me
fixed in place, so she almost bounces right off me. I grab at her
hair with my left hand, and throw a punch with my right. The first
two knuckles of my hand crush Helen’s nose, and I immediately feel
hot blood on my fingers. Her hand opens when she reaches for her
nose, and the tiny little talismans she was holding tumble to the
ground, where they shatter like glass Christmas ornaments.

I drop, and my
feet hitting the floor is a surprise, so I almost fall over. As
soon as Marlene realizes that she has a voice, she screams as loud
as I’ve ever heard. “Hellllllllp!”

The other witch
runs from the bathroom to grab Marlene and Helen clutches at my
jacket like she’s going to throw me to the ground. I jerk back on
her hair and pull her to the side, so that I can step toward the
small table and pick up the clay pot. Blue light is still flowing
into it, so Tam is still suffering somewhere. I raise the pot above
my head, feeling a strange heat from within the hard, bumpy
clay.

“No!” Helen
cries. “That urn contains half of your friend’s soul. Break it and
you’ll kill her.”

I look to
Marlene, hoping to ask if that’s true but both of the other women
have their hands over her mouth to stifle her screams. Marlene
can’t give me any advice. “Let her go,” I tell the witches. “Let
her leave the house or I’ll shatter it.”

There’s a
moment where nobody dares to move, but Marlene pulls her arm away
from the redhead until she lets go. The other woman follows suit,
and Marlene runs to the door, and out into the night. Marlene’s a
smart girl. She’ll head for a neighbour’s house and send the cops.
But that could mean as long as fifteen minutes until somebody comes
along to rescue
me
. All three of the witches are standing
around me, but none dares to attack for fear that I’ll smash the
urn.

“You broke in
and attacked us. You forced us into self-defense. Nobody will
believe your friend’s story about magic and following a trail of
light here. The police won’t do a thing.” Helen is trying to
intimidate me, and it’s working. “We’ll tell them you were insane.
High on drugs. I bet they find hallucinogens in your system. We’ll
tell them that I had no choice but to kill you. To save my daughter
from you.” She sneers at me. “And everyone knows, insanity runs in
your family.”

Helen pulls out
a pocket knife and opens the blade. “Set the urn down and you live.
Break it and the first thing I’ll do is bury this blade in your
heart.”

I know she
means it. I know she’ll try to kill me, but that doesn’t mean she’s
guaranteed to succeed. But if I leave her alone with this clay pot
intact, it is guaranteed that Tam will die. I have to take my
chances.

I throw the urn
at the floor as hard as I can. Helen screams and rushes at me, but
she doesn’t reach me.

The urn
shatters, and explodes. The force that comes out of it is enough to
throw the other four women backward across the room, and Helen, who
dove toward me, is flipped through the air, tossed backward and
upward so hard she hits the ceiling. The force of the energy
exploding saves me from their attacks, but I’m the closest to it.
The clay explodes and unleashes not just Tam’s energy but also
whatever power the clay itself contained, and that power throws
shard of clay into my shins, kicks my feet out from under me, and
tosses me backward into a wall so hard that my head punches through
the drywall. I slump to the floor, see the other women scattered
around the room. They’re hurt and confused, but conscious and
talking. They’ll get up again in mere moments.

My eyelids are
so heavy... It’s so hard to

...have to
get...

I try to stand
up but instead I tip sideways and hit my head against the
floor.

The world is
black and silent and so comfortably cold.

I open my eyes,
but at first I see nothing. Wherever I am, it’s dark and cold and
miserable. There are leather straps around my wrists, and those
straps tie onto heavy metal chains. I realize I’m lying on a cold
cement floor. I grab one of the chains and follow it, crawling to a
wall where the chains end, attaching to thick steel loops that are
screwed tightly into the wall. I know that I’m in some kind of
basement. It takes about ten minutes for my eyes to adjust enough
to see that I’m locked inside a small room, maybe six by eight
feet. I think most people would use a room like this as a fruit
cellar, but obviously Sydney’s mom has other things to store. Like
prisoners.

There’s one
door, and the small crack beneath that door is the only source of
light in the entire room. I scream. I’m glad that I still have a
voice; it echoes off the walls, bouncing back at me, sounding
terrified and hoarse, but it’s there. They haven’t hexed it away. I
scream until my throat gives out, but there is no reply. I wonder
if I’m completely alone in the house. I wonder how long I was out
for. I wonder if I’ll ever get out of here again.

There is
nothing else in the room. I have the clothes I wore into Sydney’s
house, but my coat and boots are gone. The chains that bind my
wrists to the wall are about two feet long, giving me enough room
that I can set my hands on the floor, but not nearly enough room to
reach the door at the far end of the room. Since the chains connect
to the wall so close to the floor, I can’t even stand up
properly.

I lay flat on
my back, and squirm toward the door. I make it as far as I can,
going until the chains are taut between my wrists and the wall, and
lying this way gets me far enough that my feet reach the door. I
begin kicking and banging at the door with my heels, pounding away
at the heavy wood and screaming for help. Nobody comes.