I thought that would be the end. I thought… no, I’d hoped to wake up and be reunited with my mother.
But the Roma Witch’s curse had only begun.
When I opened my eyes, I was propelled by a magnetic force. A sense to move toward something I didn’t understand.
Time could not be measured down here in my watery grave. It could have been days, weeks, months, years. The marine life had made a biological system out of my body. I was a skeleton with half-eaten flesh, small crabs crawling in and out of what was left of my skin.
There it was. That pull again. That drive to move. To do something.
Move. Move. Move.
The stiffness in my legs dissipated. The reeds that held me captive scattered, the current driving me forward. Strength returned to my arms. The numbness that had plagued me for so long had dissolved in a heartbeat. And yet my heart remained an un-beating drum in my chest.
Move. Move. Move.
The sensation marshalled me out from my watery tomb.
I crawled through the coral, across the flat abyssal plains, over the rocks and gigantic sand beds. Eventually the waves latched on to me. They tossed me in a multitude of directions, a helpless spinning I couldn’t fight. I washed up onto the beach, a corpse battered by the sea, pollution tossed away and disregarded by the ocean. And yet I still had that urge to move.
No air filled my lungs. I was animated by something else. Something extraordinary and powerful. My fingers bit into the sand like the taloned claws of a monster. I inched my way up the beach, that drive urging me forward.
Move. Move. Move.
My body had no control. My legs clicked back into place, my sockets popping, limbs reunited. My long bridal gown, wet, dripping, and mouldy, flowed around my body. I must have resembled a dead queen from the sea, or a goddess returning with a vengeance. Was I even walking? Or was it that strange force that impelled me up the sand, through the hazy fog that settled over Ashvall’s cemetery, and into the Hauteville Woods?
Moonlight guided my way. I made no sound, the ground undisturbed. No leaves crunched beneath my feet. Fog blanketed the foliage, slipping in and around the trees like lost, wandering souls. An owl hooted on a branch. Its big eyes stared at me with surprise, and then, seeming to think better of it, it flew away into the black night. The chill of the evening didn’t affect my mangled body. I had the power of a storm inside me, building silently and fast. Who would be the victim of my wrath?
The trees ahead thinned, giving me a glimpse of my destination.
Wolvercraft Manor.
Why on earth did that force bring me here? Hadn’t I been punished enough?
The manor loomed large against the dark sky, a white-stone monstrosity surrounded by a sea of endless fog. White was meant to symbolise innocence. Purity. But what lived behind that façade was nothing but evil. Except for the occasional flickering light, all the windows were dark.
My feet dragged horribly against the wet grass, the force thrusting me closer. When I’d first arrived at Wolvercraft Manor, everything about the house had been new, fresh, and exciting. Now, water stains had accumulated over some of the bricks. The flying buttresses and balustrades were stained with mildew. Even one of the gargoyle figures had its face flattened down by age, the fangs in its gaping jaws broken.
How long had I been in the sea?
I crossed the smooth stretch of grass, but the mystery strength that propelled me onward led me past the entry and around to the side of the house. My bedroom window, high above on the second floor, stared down at me like a dead eye.
My entry.
The thought was alien in my head. Not my own.
Automatically, my hands latched on to the brickwork, pulling me up. I climbed, my fingernails sinking into the mortar. It sounded like the scraping of dead tree branches. At the window, the glass reflected empty space, my face nonexistent. I pushed it, expecting it to remain closed, but it swung gently forward. My body toppled inside, sagging on the carpet.
Move. Move. Move.
The foreign thought in my head compelled me out of the room. The passages and halls were vast and dark. The interior hadn’t changed since I’d last wandered the halls. Marble-tiled floors, high arched ceilings, cathedral-like windows built to impress. Memories of a happier, innocent time filled me, driving something hot and angry through my mind.
This is my house.
They stole my fortune, my inheritance, my life, to pay for Wolvercraft Manor.
It’s mine.
Mine.
The strange presence inside my body drove me forward. I climbed the heavily varnished staircase that led to the third floor and found the main bedroom where I knew the master and lady of the manor slept.
The bedchamber was large and richly furnished, all decorated with golds and reds that matched the mahogany furniture. Fire crackled in the hearth, its golden glow spreading across the four-poster bed. The bed was empty, but there in the corner of the room, soaking and relaxed in a tin bathtub, was Margaret. I drew closer. Her red hair was wet and neatly washed. A small, satisfied smile stretched across her face as she lathered herself in the soapy water. I wondered how many servants it had taken to carry the heated water from the kitchens, how many maids it took to pour the steaming water over their flawless mistress.
Margaret settled back in the tub and closed her eyes.
I studied her. Rage filled my essence. This woman had taken everything from me. And just like that, I knew what the mystery force wanted me to do. Destroy her. Throw her life into the eternal dark. She couldn’t see me. She didn’t know I was there. It would be easy.
I crept closer, reaching out, the tips of my fingers so close to her face. The hot, vapoury steam of the water touched my skin. It flowed right through me, and yet my hands seemed solid enough to perform my task. I latched on to her head, my fingers twisting into her wet hair, and plunged her into the water. I’d always hated the idea of drowning kittens simply to remove an inconvenience, but now I found it to be a practical solution. Margaret hadn’t even had the time to scream. She kicked and thrashed in the water. Her long legs lifted up to the surface, the bubbles around her like a piranha feeding frenzy. She was much stronger than I’d anticipated, and I had to press more strength into my arms to keep her under. That didn’t matter. It had taken me three days to die. I wanted her to feel every panicked second it took for her to reach the end.
She went limp, her eyes open and glassy when her body rose, her mouth open in a permanent circle of surprise.
Just like my mother had died.
I wished that Margaret remained there forever in that tub, stuck in the water to slowly decompose, but a maid would find her soon. She would be given the proper burial, the proper rites read, but this witch would not be going to heaven.
Goodbye, sweet Margaret.
My task over, I must admit I was rather lost. I paced the length of the halls, gazing into the pitch-black shadows of the house, wondering if I was just as terrifying as the darkness. Somewhere, a grandfather clock ticked, booming the early morning hour. I wandered past a door, nothing out of the ordinary, but a nagging sensation compelled me to go inside.
It was a child’s bedroom. A boy slept in a bed far too big for his small size. He had to be at least five. I sat down next to him, staring at his white skin which was spotted with small freckles. His strawberry blonde hair shone in the moonlight that trailed through his bedroom window.
I knelt down, listening to the tiny sounds of his breathing.
Margaret’s child.
Frederick’s son.
The heir to Wolvercraft Manor.
I didn’t know what his name was. I didn’t care. I reached forward to gently cover his nose and mouth. That same maddening rage took hold again, my blood fizzing inside me, fuelling my resentment. I wanted to do it. I wanted to rip the life away from this small child, the spawn of evil.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Not until he was grown up. Not until he felt love, and love was returned.
I’d wait. I’d wait till he was married. Wait till he was happy. Wait till he had his own child. Then I’d return to tear his family apart.
Love was a curse. Loneliness was a curse.
This boy would grow up to realise both.
* * *
I spent my time trapped between my watery tomb and Wolvercraft Manor. Sometimes I’d wake, sentenced to wander the great halls alone, shadows skittering over the walls as the evenings closed over the sun, bathing the manor in darkness. Other times I was a prisoner in the sea, caught in the long strands of coral, with no company but the fishes. It was a lonely, painful existence. Many times I wished it to end. Nonexistence would be better than this miserable presence, but the Roma Witch’s curse hung tight, refusing to release me from this nightmare.
I remembered dying. I remembered praying to God to avenge me. To make the Wolvercraft family suffer. Perhaps it was not God who answered but the devil. Maybe this was not the work of Margaret’s spell but a curse I had settled on myself, for when that urge to return to Wolvercraft Manor came, it did so with murderous intent. I drowned Margaret, but that wasn’t enough. Over the years, I’d slit women’s throats, hanged them from trees, driven them to suicide through possessions. It wasn’t just women, though. I took men’s lives too. Anyone who loved a Wolvercraft, and whose love was returned, was greeted with death.
I had said the Wolvercraft family would pay.
And I’d meant it.
Generation after generation.
Through the decades.
Until that moment I saw Elaine Wolvercraft.
She was a beautiful woman. Intelligent, confident, strong. Married to one of the most influential media tycoons in the world. She reminded me of my own mother, and her daughter, little Saige Wolvercraft, reminded me of myself. I watched the pair from a distance when they played in the rose gardens. I watched Saige sleep at night, knowing that soon she would lose her mother to my curse. It never pained me to think about Elaine’s fate, but this little girl, who was so much like me, would suffer just as I had. The sentiment never lasted long. The person I had been when I was alive had died, leaving a monster in her place. A monster that cared for nothing but revenge.
Over the years, more of the Wolvercraft family had left the island, broadening their horizons overseas, learning their education at different universities or colleges, earning money from respectable jobs. Little Saige Wolvercraft had all of that in front of her. She would inherit everything that should have been mine.
Will she even come back to the island?
She’d fall in love when she was older. My curse would never reach her if she didn’t return to the manor.
That morning in the rose garden, I set out on my plan. I floated into Elaine’s body, taking full possession of her mind. The poor woman didn’t know what was happening. Saige knew immediately something was wrong, but she was too young to understand. I dropped the doll, some hideous smiling thing, its face smashing the moment it hit a rock, and wove through the hedges to the woods. Saige hurried behind me. She kept calling out, “Mummy,” which only served to infuriate me. Her fingers clutched at mine, but before I could clasp on to her tiny hand, she pulled away. She must have sensed the cold, dead presence in her mother’s skin.
Good.
The sun had dipped behind the treetops, shrouding the woods in heavy shadow. Decayed leaves crumbled under my feet. Branches scratched at my arms, the wild call of animals echoing in the distance. Even the wind sounded like a ghostly whisper, urging me to take Elaine’s life.
I sensed Saige behind me. If I closed my eyes and forced out every other sound from my mind, I fancied I could hear the erratic pulse of her heart, the panic fluttering through her veins.
Yes!
We came out onto the Cliffs of Eden. The wind blew strong in Elaine’s hair, flowing around her face, causing a hindrance to my own vision. Storm clouds dotted the horizon ahead, the rain whipping into eddies around me. I stepped out to the edge. The sea was a vicious swirl of waves below. They battered against the line of the cliffs, smashing onto the rocks with terrifying force.
“Mum? Please, what are you doing?”
I smiled. Saige’s frightened voice was a precious melody to my soul.
I turned around to face her.
She gasped and stepped back.
It hadn’t been my intention for Saige to see her mother like this, eyes colourless, skin pale as death, lips tinged blue, but I enjoyed the horror that took over the little girl’s face.
Mother and daughter, parted for ever.
It was the cruellest punishment.
And the most satisfying.
I flung myself off the cliff, my soul extracted from Elaine’s body as she dropped through the open air, gravity spinning her in spirals. The waves reached up like an open mouth to swallow her. She slammed onto the dark rocks below, her legs twisted at odd angles. Water washed over her marred body. For a moment, I was afraid the waves would rip her off the rocks into the sea. I didn’t want that. Derrick Wolvercraft had to find his dead wife. Her death had to destroy him and his family.
I had watched all this from the cliff. A cry broke through the tense air behind me. I turned, alarmed to discover Saige screaming… at me. Frightened tears ran down her cheeks. She shook her head in disbelief. She knew I had killed her mother—she’d witnessed it. Horror had paralysed her small body, her breathing rapid and uneven.
She can see me?
Margaret’s magic may have skipped generations, but I sensed it in Saige now like a beacon lit at night. Elaine, too, had descended from a family of witches. The two magical bloodlines flowing through Saige’s veins made her a powerful medium. A powerful witch.
I had spent nearly two centuries alone, either rotting in the sea or walking the halls of Wolvercraft Manor. I could not face another two. My mother had told me about lifelong possessions. Ghosts who lingered in a medium’s body. Most mediums were strong and powerful enough to block the spirit, but this little girl had no clue about her talent or her heritage. She would be easy to possess.
Why did I have to remain in this miserable existence when there was an escape right here?
I descended upon Saige. My veil swirled around us, securing us in our own little world on the cliff. She was so terrified, so disoriented, she couldn’t move. I touched her cheek, felt how alive her skin was, and desperately wished for my own life in return.
Yes. I would escape Wolvercraft Manor. I’d escape the island.
If only for a little while.
Because I knew one day, Saige would have to return.
My curse would claim her loved one.
It had to.
I shut my eyes, feeling my essence break into a thick, rolling fog, and sank into Saige’s flesh.
We were one. Two souls sharing the same body.
And I would never let her go.
Not until the time was right.