Chapter Forty-Four

 

Eric sat alone on the ground, his back against the foundation of the barn, looking out at the open fields and the clear, blue sky. It was approaching noon now and he could still smell smoke in the air, but the fires were all out.

Delphinium and the rest of the coven were saying goodbye to their sister. An impromptu funeral. A loving grave in a quiet grove at the far end of the north field.

A proper service wasn’t possible. Too many questions. Reporting it could do nothing but bring them all more suffering. No one else could understand what had happened here.

Pain. Heartache. Death. Sacrifice. The warnings they’d read in their spells had turned out to be true after all, though none of them could possibly have guessed what it really meant.

He still couldn’t believe it. It never had anything to do with the mystery organization and their nameless agents. This time, the enemy had come from within. Poor, sweet Sylvia. Damaged even more than anyone could ever have known.

He sighed and lowered his head.

Norval and the rest of the Dirty Bunny gang were cleaning things up around the farm, trying their best to hide the stranger evidence of their battle with Sissy and her army of monsters. Things like claw marks and the drywall damage done by Siena’s overly-powerful thrust.

It wouldn’t take much to explain it all away, though. The news on the radio was reporting freak storms. Tornadoes had reportedly touched down in multiple locations. And lightning was thought to have started a number of wildfires in the area. As far as anyone else would ever know, that’s all that had happened here. And now that the blanket was back up, no one would come snooping around until everyone was long gone. It would be like they were never here.

It was surprisingly convenient, Eric thought. Almost eerily so. But he had no intention of complaining. He didn’t want to think about it. He was ready for this long night to be over.

His cell phone rang. It was Karen.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

“Isabelle told me what happened. I’m so sorry.”

He closed his eyes. “I just don’t know why it had to be me.”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know, either.

“One part of her was so dark. All those things she did… Those poor girls… All those monsters she made… But the other part of her… God! I saw her eyes. She was so afraid. And I couldn’t…”

“Don’t,” she urged. “You’re torturing yourself. You couldn’t help her. She was sick.”

But Eric shook his head. “Not all of her. There were two different people in there. I saw them both. I could feel them both…”

“Stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Think of all the people you saved. They all would’ve died if it wasn’t for you.”

Eric didn’t speak.

“You know, that picture you sent me was terrifying. ‘Wrapping things up here?’ Really?”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Forgot about that.”

“My husband, the smooth-talking action hero.”

He actually chuckled a little at that. “I make a pretty pathetic action hero, I think.”

“I disagree.”

“Thanks.”

“So anyway,” said Karen, changing the subject. “By my calculation, you should be home just in time to help me finish packing.”

He smiled again. “Damn it.”

“Oh, quit complaining.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Be a good boy and maybe I’ll pack a little something extra to wear for you.”

This raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Maybe. We’ll see how good you can be until you get home.”

“You saying I’m a screw-up?”

“Sometimes.”

“True… I’ll have to be on my best behavior.”

“Besides,” she added. “Isabelle says you owe me one amazing anniversary getaway.”

This time, Eric actually laughed. “That’s right. I did tell her to hold me to it.”

“Oh and she will.”

Eric smiled. “Good.”

“I love you so much.”

He looked out over the fields to the north. He didn’t like being this far from her. It felt lonely. “I love you just as much.”

“Come home soon.”

“I will.”

“And don’t screw up again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Karen hung up and he lowered the phone and gazed out at the blue sky again. He was happy that she wasn’t mad at him anymore, but he couldn’t quite get Sylvia’s frightened eyes out of his head.

The phone rang again. This time, it was Isabelle.

“She was wrong, you know.”

Eric frowned. “What?”

“Sissy. She said there was no magic. But she was wrong.”

“She was?”

“The things they do, the spells, the thrusts, all of it, they really are psychic in nature. They manipulate their surroundings. They move things. They see things before they happen. They sense things that others can’t. Sissy could create complex projections, move things with her mind to such an extent that she could manipulate the wind into a raging storm and even cause spontaneous combustion. But there’s something else. It’s all tied together with that strange energy I’ve been feeling all night.”

Eric sat up. He’d forgotten about that energy. She said it was distinctly not psychic or spiritual.

“I think Desmond Weizner really did know how to use magic. And I think he used it to augment the coven’s preexisting psychic powers and even to transfer new powers to them, like teaching Alicia to see in the dark.”

“Wow. You can do that?”

“I guess so. It’s only a theory. I could be wrong. But…”

“You usually aren’t.”

“Well… I don’t want to sound full of myself.”

Eric leaned back against the barn wall again. “So the real magic is still out there somewhere?”

“I’m sure of it. In fact, it might be right there in Grandpa’s spell book.”

“Huh.” He’d forgotten about the book. Now that Sylvia was dead, the rest of the coven could open it. Or at least, that was what Sissy had claimed. He couldn’t help but wonder what fantastic secrets might be hidden in those mysterious pages.

“I agree with Karen, by the way.”

“That I’m a screw-up?”

“No. Well, sometimes, maybe.”

“Oh.”

“That you’re a pretty kickass action hero.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

He hung up the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket, then he gazed out over the field again. He didn’t feel very kickass. He felt tired. He felt sore. Most of all, he felt sad. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sylvia’s terrified tears. Or the poor girl who burned to death in the motel room. Or Marissa’s battered face.

So much sadness and fear.

Every one of these women had a story. Every one of those stories was tragic. Loveless childhoods in an endless parade of foster homes. Terrible abuse. Neglect. Starving on the streets.

He stared up at the warm, blue sky. It was such a bright day. It was hard to imagine that there was so much darkness in the world.

Jude appeared around the corner of the building. “We can go when you’re ready,” he reported.

Eric looked up at him. “Are you okay to drive? You’ve made the trip twice already since your last night’s sleep.”

He shrugged. “Magic, dude. I can keep myself awake for days if I need to. No problem.”

Eric nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t press the matter any further. By now, he was fully prepared to believe that these people could do anything.

“Besides,” he added. “I got a little sleep in last night while you were out rescuing my sisters.”

“That’s good.”

“We checked the water again, by the way.”

Eric looked up at him, curious.

“The magic man’s totally gone. We’re all safe, thanks to you.”

He looked out at the fields again. Thanks to him? Thanks to him, Sylvia was dead. He couldn’t help but think that there must’ve been a better way. Couldn’t they have banished Sissy without harming poor Sylvia?

But it was too late now.

“Mom wants to say goodbye. Then just come and get me when you’re ready to go.”

“Sure.”

Jude turned and walked away. Eric remained there another moment, alone with his thoughts.