I don’t like this feeling. Fear makes my heart beat faster than it ever has. Worry only fuels the fear.
My love left to be with her grandmother when the medics took Betty to the hospital, as expected. What I hadn’t expected was I couldn’t go with her. It seems I’m bound to the bottle, unable to go far from it. Where I am not confined to the inside, I can’t leave it behind. Nor could I carry it with me.
I told Ophelia to go with her gramma and gave her a gentle push toward the door. She seemed to understand, or maybe she heard me.
Now, I pace the floors of the house, anxiously waiting her safe return. What if Francois planned all along to get her alone and strike? No. I mustn’t think like that. She will return safely.
If my heart still beat, I’m sure it would leap out of my chest. I glance at the clock and grow more anxious. Almost midnight. The witches will be here soon. My Ophelia will need her rest.
The lock on the door clicks and I rush to it. Ophelia enters with sorrow in her eyes. When she shuts the door and locks it, I pull her into a hug. It still amazes me how I’m able to touch her and she responds like I’m a real man. Not the ghost she’s unable to see.
“I’m here, love.”
Ophelia broke down. Tears poured down her cheeks and her body shook from sobs. Gramma wasn’t going to make it. She was weak and unresponsive. Ophelia didn’t want to leave the hospital, but she had to. She had to bring Anatoli back to the living and stop Francois.
Gramma would want her to finish this. Her last wishes.
Plus, the coven would show up at any time.
She released a heavy sigh as Anatoli pulled her into a hug. Oh, how she wished he was there in body. “She’s not doing well.”
“She would not want you to give up.”
Ophelia lifted her head from his shoulder, surprised. She could feel him and now hear him. And he felt more solid than before. What was going on? “I hear you.”
“Because you are believing.” He pressed his lips to her forehead.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” And I’m talking to a ghost. But he was her ghost. Her Anatoli.
“The coven will help you. I will help you.”
His voice was stronger, no longer sounded like it was in her head. Hope bloomed within. “Can we stop the evil warlock?”
Before he answered, the doorbell rang. Stepping away from Anatoli, she answered the door. Several witches stood on her doorstep. Ophelia recognized a few from growing up. They were all friends with Gramma—the older ladies, at least. Now Ophelia knew they were much more than that.
Coven members had arrived.
The woman standing directly in front of Ophelia smiled and took her hands. Short and thin, the woman’s face lit up into a grin, showing beautiful straight teeth. Her hair, silver and shiny, was wound into a bun at the base of her neck. Ophelia searched her mind for the woman’s name. After several long moments, she remembered. She was one of Gramma’s closest friends. “Good to see you, Martha.”
Martha’s smile widened and she tugged Ophelia into a hug. “I wish our visit was on better terms.”
Yes, so did Ophelia. “Please, everyone, come in.” She stepped aside to let them in.
A dozen witches filled the living room. Gramma should be there. But the dark fog, whatever it was, took her. Ophelia was starting to believe Francois was the all-powerful evil warlock and had something to do with it. Take Gramma out of the picture and Ophelia wouldn’t be strong enough to defeat him.
And I’m not. Her vision blurred as she turned to close the door. A startled squeak escaped her when she saw Ben standing in the doorway. It was as if the old man appeared out of nowhere. With hand over her heart, she blew out a breath. “Ben, you scared me. Come in.”
He gave her a small nod and entered the house. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She waved him off and shut door, locking it behind her out of habit. Facing the room full of witches, she sighed and moved forward. “Thank you for coming. Gramma would be so happy.”
Anatoli moved close to her, his hand taking hers. Her heart filled and her energy renewed. His support meant so much to her. She could do this. And she wasn’t alone.
Ophelia told the coven of Anatoli, starting with finding the bottle at Ben’s shop. Then she moved to the events that had happened since. “I tried to bring Anatoli to the living, but failed. I’m not strong enough. Now, Gramma is in a coma—”
“My son and his wife are sitting with Betty. Both are powerful witches and will watch over her until you return to her.” Martha patted Ophelia’s hand. “Don’t feel guilty for not being there. We have to prepare for Francois. But first let’s bring your Anatoli back to the living.”
As if Martha’s words were the law, everyone turned to the hall that led to the attic stairs. They knew the way from years of meetings in the dusty attic with their books and candles. Ophelia couldn’t help but smile. It almost felt like Gramma was with them.
She moved to the front to lead them. As she passed Ben, he smiled at her and nodded. A dark, cold shiver skittered up her spine. Odd. Ignoring it, she entered the attic and stopped, unsure. She’d only done one ritual and it failed. Now she had an audience. Gramma said they would help, but it didn’t ease her nerves completely. Failure this time could mean death.
Pushing her anxiety and insecurities aside, she cleaned the alter and replaced the candles with new ones. When she was finished, she grabbed the broom.
Martha motioned her inside the circle. “You sweep inside and we’ll sweep the edge at the same time. It’s faster and will make the ritual stronger. There’s always power in numbers.”
Ophelia nodded and got to work.
They swept like she’d done the day before, only as a group. East to west, then north to south. Each of their movements in sync like a dance. They moved as one as they cleaned the circle of negativity. Ophelia actually felt…magick. A positive, radiant energy filled the room, empowering her and renewing her faith. The hairs on her neck stood and a shiver went down her spine.
She was a witch.
Taking a cleansing breath, she glanced around the room and noted Ben wasn’t there. Hadn’t the old man followed them up? She didn’t have time to look for him. He’d always been a little odd and he knew where the ritual would be. He’d join them in time. The witches placed the four elements on the edge of the circle and lit the candles.
“Are you ready, Ophelia?”
She met Martha’s stare and nodded. “Yes.” And she was. Her heart felt strong and she sensed Gramma near—whether imagined or real, it made her feel like she could do anything.
Instead of lining the edge of the circle with salt, the witches formed their own ring of protection by standing on the line etched in the floor. They held hands and together spoke the words to close the circle.
Ophelia closed her eyes and grounded herself while thinking of Anatoli. When she opened them, she spoke the incantation to bring her ghostly love to life. Just as she’d done the first time. However, this time the words carried through the attic. They had meaning. The witches repeated the chant over and over, each time their voices growing louder and the room becoming more electrified.
Anatoli blinked in like bad TV reception. Ophelia’s heart pounded. Please work.
She spoke the words louder, putting her heart into it. Believing in every word. She needed his help and wanted to feel his arms around her. For the rest of her life. She needed him.
Then with a powerful flash that knocked her on her ass, Anatoli appeared. In the flesh. He smiled down at her and held out his hands. He was alive.
Scrambling to her feet, she flew into his arms. He circled them around her and love filled her heart. She didn’t care that it was unreal to feel so connected to a stranger, who a few moments ago was a ghost.
Anatoli was there with her, holding her. Exactly as she’d imagined. The witches stopped chanting and turned their backs to the couple, not breaking the circle. They hummed a low chant Ophelia couldn’t make out. It didn’t matter. Right now, she needed to be with Anatoli. Feel him. Touch him.
He buried his nose into her neck sending chills down her spine. “Ben is not who he was. Francois has taken his body,” he whispered. “We’re in danger.”
The words were so soft she almost didn’t hear them. Lifting her head to stare into Anatoli’s blue eyes, she frowned. “Are you sure? How is that possible?”
Anatoli shook his head. “How is it possible for him to capture souls in bottles?”
Right. Evil warlock, demon.
“Then let’s find Ben. I’m ready for this to be over and done. No more curses, fires, or revenge plots.”