Chapter 20

Fiona pressed her face to Bailey’s shoulder and struggled to contain her sobs. This was her fault. If she had never opened the cave, never freed Albert, Uncle Van would not be dead.

She was grateful Bailey did not try to soothe or reassure her. He just held her and let her cry.

Behind her, she heard more voices and cries of sorrow. The rest of the family was arriving, and she had to face them.

“They’ll never forgive me,” she said, drawing away from Bailey.

He framed her face with his hands, thumbs gently stroking away tears from her cheeks. “From what you’ve said, this was all set in motion long before you were born.”

She took a deep breath. “We have to end this torture.”

Turning, she saw a large group of relatives, neighbors, and sheriff’s personnel gathered. Ryan, whose family’s farm was nearby, was in the crowd, along with the entire coven. Doris and Frances supported each other. Van had been their brother’s only child. Diane, Estelle, and Delia clustered together. Van was their cousin but as close to them as a brother and called uncle by all their children. Van’s daughter, Maggie, clutched Lauren while Brenna and Eva Grace looked on, white-faced. Sarah stood alone, grim and silent.

Fiona feared her grandmother’s reaction most. Sarah surprised her by opening her arms, and Fiona stepped in.

“I’m so sorry,” Fiona said. “I’ve never been so sorry.”

“Hush now.” Sarah brushed her hand over Fiona’s hair and hugged her close. “This loss is part of our curse.”

“We have to end it,” Fiona repeated. “We have paid enough.”

“Yes, we have.” Sarah turned to the family, her arm still around Fiona. “Can someone tell me exactly what happened?”

Maggie’s brother, Sully, who ran the farm along with his father, nodded. Broad-shouldered, red-haired, and green-eyed, Sully looked calm despite the blood on his T-shirt and jeans. “We were coming back from mowing in the south pastures when we saw the cattle were down. They were…gutted. You can see the blood.”

He pointed toward the barn. “I ran into the field. Dad drove in…” The muscles in his throat worked, and glassy-eyed horror replaced his composure.

Aunt Erin, Van’s wife and Sully’s mother, took up the story. “I was in the garden near the house. I turned just in time to see the tractor flip. Like a big hand just turned it upside down.” She pressed a hand to her mouth, but nothing could muffle her gut-wrenching sobs as her son took her in his arms.

“Black magic,” Sarah said. “I can smell it.”

The field indeed reeked of sulfur, like rotten eggs with the underlying coppery odor of blood. A hot, dry wind blew the smell over them, and an uneasy murmur ran through the group.

Jake stepped forward. “Can we clear this area, please?”

A movement above them took Fiona’s attention. A single vulture flew overhead, its bright red head almost glowing in the light. Within seconds, the bird landed on a tree limb in a familiar hunched pose. When Fiona looked up again, another vulture circled and settled on another branch.

“Sarah,” Fiona said, grasping her grandmother’s shoulder. “Look up.”

Everyone raised their gazes and stood, transfixed, as a huge flock of the large predators circled just above the area where Sully’s body lay.

Jake yelled at the paramedics. “Get moving.” He turned to Brenna. “Get the family inside.”

Two paramedics and a couple of deputies got Van’s body on a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. When the doors closed, the birds dove and sat like a theater audience on the edge of the land near where the cattle lay bloody and still. They perched in trees, on power lines, the fence, and on the overturned tractor. The black birds were fearsome in their eagerness and silent in their patience.

As the ambulance rolled through the gate and down the drive, Bailey came up beside Fiona and touched her arm. He eyed the birds with alarm. “We should get out of here.”

Rodric was beside Eva Grace, urging her forward, as well. Fiona saw her cousin Brian, a sheriff’s deputy, help Brenna hurry the elder aunts through the gate. Marcus and Sarah were beside them, darting anxious gazes over their shoulders. Her mother and father and the rest of the coven scattered like insects on a disturbed anthill.

Fiona resisted Bailey’s efforts to move her. She was mesmerized by how the birds held their red and black heads low between their shoulders. They sat in an eerie, unmoving mass as though waiting for a cue.

Jake jogged backward, shouting at Bailey and Fiona. “Come to the house. Now!”

Bailey tugged Fiona’s arm. “Let’s go.”

She stumbled, her eyes still on the birds as the first vulture again rose and circled, its red head standing out against the bright blue of the sky. When the bird settled onto the first cow’s body, the others rose en masse, then dove.

And the feast began.

“Dear God in heaven,” Bailey said. He took Fiona’s hand and pulled her after him. “Let’s get out of here.” This time, she followed.

The rest of the group was in the house, huddled at windows, watching the carnage outside.

“Get the children away from the windows,” Sarah ordered. Sully and his wife swooped up their four-year-old daughter and toddler son and went down the basement stairs. The boy screamed, while the little girl, already showing a Connelly witch’s curiosity, tried to come back into the kitchen.

Brenna closed the door behind them. Sarah and the elders drew Maggie and Aunt Erin deeper into the house. The rest of them remained at the kitchen and dining room windows.

“What in the hell kind of birds are those?” Bailey asked.

“Vultures,” Fiona murmured. “But I’ve never seen them act this way.”

Ryan stepped to her side. “Not long ago a flock picked a woman’s body clean in less than an hour. They’re attracted by the freshly dead cattle.”

“This isn’t normal,” one of the other neighbors said. “I’ve lived here my whole life and never saw so many vultures at once.”

“It’s like Thanksgiving at my Nana’s house,” Ryan said. “They eat a while, and then they fight a while.” He lifted his camera and headed back to the door. “I have to record this.”

Despite cries of warning, Bailey and Fiona went out onto the back porch behind Ryan. The three of them stopped short of stepping into the yard.

Near the closest dead cow, just beyond the open gate, black birds sat in a tight circle with their wings hunched against their bodies as they tore into the fresh meat. A couple of birds broke away, tussled, and then returned to the meal. The scene repeated across the field.

After nearly thirty minutes, all the vultures rose as if ordered by a commander. They climbed to the sky and flew away.

Fiona tentatively pushed open the porch’s screened door and waited. All she heard was silence. No dogs barking or cattle lowing or bees buzzing over Aunt Erin’s yellow, orange, and pink zinnias. The busy farm, usually full of life, was as quiet as the cursed land had been just days ago.

“Are you getting all this, Ryan?” Bailey whispered.

“Sure,” the younger man said.

Fiona returned her gaze to the field and took a deep breath. “Too bad you guys can’t see everything.”

“What do you mean?” Bailey asked.

“You’re talking to a medium,” Ryan reminded him.

Fiona could not even count the number of spirits walking around the field. “I’ve never seen so many dead people in one place before.”

When she headed toward the gate, Bailey grabbed her arm again. “What are you doing?”

She pushed his hand away and smiled in reassurance. “I need to talk to them. Maybe they need guidance to pass over or maybe they have messages.”

Fiona approached the first spirit, a young woman who wore an embroidered tunic and faded bell-bottom jeans. Her silver necklace with its bright red, yellow, and blue glass circles reminded Fiona of old jewelry Sarah had allowed her to play with as a child.

“Can you see me?” the girl asked.

“Yes. Can I help you?” Fiona said.

“I’m not sure why we’re here.” The girl kept looking around, her spirit fading in and out. “I was at my house for such a long time. I liked it there, but they said I had to come.”

“Who are they?” Fiona asked.

“The dark ones.” The spirit winked out, then glowed again. “I never wanted to leave the house where my mother lives. It’s such a happy place. I told Mother I would be ready to go when she was.” She waved her arms as if in time to some unheard music, then her arms dropped and she became more transparent. “Something is making me so tired, so tired. I don’t think I can make it home.”

When the spirit faded, Fiona moved to a man in weathered overalls and an old work shirt. He looked at her with weary eyes, and she recognized one of her family’s oldest neighbors, a sweet man who had died just weeks ago. “Mr. Llewellyn, aren’t you ready to pass over?”

“I was waiting for my wife.”

Fiona remembered that his elderly spouse was very ill. “Then why are you here?”

“I don’t know, little lady.”

Fiona smiled at his familiar endearment. “Can you tell me how you got here?”

“Something black brought us.” He turned to look over his shoulder, as if startled, but Fiona could not see what distracted him. “They’re trying to take us. We have to hide. Bad time’s coming, little lady.”

The old man disappeared. Fiona looked around. She searched in vain for her Aunt Celia. The spirit that was supposed to be her guide was not here. Neither was Bailey’s sister. The remaining spirits vanished as quickly as Mr. Llewellyn did.

Fiona went back to where Ryan and Bailey waited.

Bailey took her hand. “You look like you’re about to fall over. What happened?”

“It’s bad.” A sudden, stabbing headache made Fiona rub her temples. “I think the demon and Albert are stealing the strength of our town’s spirits.”

“Shit,” Ryan said.

“Exactly.” Fiona started to sway on her feet, her own energy flagging as quickly as the ghosts’ had. “Would either of you happen to have a candy bar handy?”