Unholy Nights: A Twisted Christmas Anthology (37 page)

“Music therapy,” I tell her, habitually cringing—waiting for the blank stares, or incredulous laughs.

Instead I witness a combination of lifted eyebrows and pleased smiles from my new family. Molly’s smile is especially wide as she winks at Gabe. “My dear, you are definitely a perfect match for us.”

I blush and look down at my plate. This whole experience has been almost too good to be true and I fear what might come next, the moment I wake up in my house to hear whimpers in my bathroom, and realize last night and today were just a wonderful dream.

After, we clear the table and help with washing and drying the larger pots and pans and more delicate tableware. I spend the next hour reading a book about the coven’s heritage, while Pixie sleeps on my lap. Later, Gabe pulls me aside to give me a kiss. I bury my nose in his camel sweater and breathe in his scent.

“Let’s go pick up your duffle bag. Get a few things from your house before we get too sleepy from the food.”

“Agreed,” I say and grab his hand.

But I stop at the threshold of his house. How could I have forgotten that I am still a mental case, unable to step outside on my own?

Gabe takes my elbow gently. “I have you. Close your eyes if you want to.”

I take a deep breath. I try to step forward, but I feel dizzy. I close my eyes. “Okay.”

He leads me to my house. Once within it, I realize how much I don’t belong here.

Even Gabe shudders as he enters the living room. “Well and good to say goodbye to this place.”

I shrug. “It’s just a house now, Gabe; a place with too many antlers and big stones. I felt my father’s spirit leave.”

Instead of being relieved, Gabe shook his head. “No. There is still darkness.”

He reaches for my hairbrush on the coffee table and steps onto the carpet. Something makes a crunch under his shoe. “Oops.”

Chuckling, I shake my head as he steps back. “Not your fault.” I lift the carpet’s corner. “I got lazy. An ornament broke.” More like shattered all over the place.

Something catches my eye and I pull the carpet up more. There are chalk markings on my hardwood floor. To my side, Gabe shifts from foot to foot.

“Did you make these?” I ask him.

“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “When you were sleeping the other night. I saw what was upstairs, Kathryn. I know you would never leave such a mess.”

“Rats,” I say weakly.

“And you know that’s not true.”

“Then my father’s poltergeist, which I said is gone now.” I was actually proud that I had sent him on.

“I palmed a piece of chalk from your art set and drew protection symbols near where you sleep.”

I feel strange, like I am withdrawing. I don't know why I am pulling away from him. I did not want to face why he felt that need to draw symbols. But then I remembered the scratches that appeared on my body after my dream.

“Why?”

“I was protecting you from Mercy,” he admitted.

Again this accusation. Was there some kind of war between covens, or something? It’s true I had never even known that Mercy was a witch, but then again she didn’t have any obligation to disclose this to me, especially when my father was so religious.

“You’re wrong about her,” I insist.

“And as long as you believe that, you will never be able to go anywhere on your own.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” I don’t like his prediction. I’ve seen his abilities. He scares me because I’m afraid he must be right.

“She fastened you to this house like a fly to sticky paper. For selfish purposes. And she leaves you here, never bothering to free you of it. In fact she left her dark magic in this house to torment you. I smell it. Her magic stinks like a skunk.”

I remain silent, watching him. I don’t know what to say. I’ve known Mercy nearly all of my life.

Gabe sighs in exasperation. “Fine. Believe what you like. Or ask her. Oh, that’s right. You’re afraid of the phone, too. Yet, Mercy’s never called you since leaving. Ever wonder why?” He stalks to our little Christmas tree that has lost all its bulbs, and lifts it by the trunk. “But she gave you this thing as a memento. Again, a mystery.”

I think back on Mercy’s words. “As long as it thrives, our friendship will survive.” It does sound a bit like a spell. I shake my head.

Undaunted, Gabe takes out his phone. “I just happen to have found her new number on our contract. Let’s settle this once and for all.” He hands the phone to me. “It’s dialing.”

A sliver of dread cuts through my abdomen. I break out in a sweat as the phone rings and rings. “It’s just ringing,” I tell him miserably.

“Wait,” he orders.

Someone picks up.

“Hello?”

It’s Mercy. I swallow down the lump in my throat formed by hearing her voice again. I feel like crying. I miss her so much. “Hi, Mercy. It’s me. Katie.”

Across the line there is a sharp intake of breath followed by a short pause. “Katie! You’re calling me? Oh Katie. Well Merry Christmas, my dear. This is a great present!”

“Ask her!” Gabe barks.

I turn away from him and hunch over the phone. “Say Mercy, why didn’t you let me know you weren’t coming back?”

“Katie, I didn’t want to worry you. I’ve...well, I’ve been sick. I can’t take the winter any more.”

“Oh, Mercy. I am sorry to hear that.”

I glance at Gabe. He looks beyond irritated.

“Uhmm Mercy, some strange things have been happening since you left.”

“Really?” she asks. “Burglaries?”

“Not exactly,” I breathe in deeply. “More like, oh I don’t know, furniture moving on its own and glass breaking for no reason.”

Mercy chuckles softly, in fact incredulously. I feel like an idiot for asking but Gabe is giving me little choice.

“You wouldn’t know about any of that would you?”

“Me?” she laughs again. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Did she answer the question?”

I nod. Gabe’s gaze pins me in place as pine needles fall from the little evergreen bonsai. “With a yes or no?” he presses.

I frown. No she didn’t actually answer the question.

“Ask about the tree.”

At the mention of the tree, something happens. Before my eyes, just for a split second, I see a darkness expand from the trunk, like if the tree might have an aura. It just appeared as a black shimmer. It’s thickest where Gabe’s hand touches it. Suddenly I’m afraid for him.

“Set down the tree,” I say in a harsh whisper.

“So you do sense it,” he counters. “Ask her.”

I clear my throat. “Mercy, why haven't you asked how our friendship tree is surviving?”

“Oh yes!” Mercy’s voice subtly trembles. “Sorry. I’d forgotten about that scruffy shrub.”

My fingers tighten on the phone. “Answer me, Mercy. Why haven’t you asked?”

“I’m sorry. I told you I had forgotten all about it.”

“Tell her who you are now and demand respect by it,” Gabe instructs me.

I use the coven’s knowledge I learned today. “By my right as the North Witch of Gabriel St. Jude’s coven of Dionysian lineage, I demand you tell me: Have you placed spells upon me and my house? Have you placed a spell or curse on this tree which you presented as a gift?”

A heavy silence follows from the other end, broken only by Mercy’s inhalation and exhalation.

“...Oh, Katie. I’m sorry.” Mercy starts to cry and I feel a heavy sense of doom sink deeply into my bones.

I look at Gabe, my eyes widening, but my question is for my old friend. “What did you do?”

“I...I was so lonely. Especially after Jerome left me. I never meant to do anything harmful or wrong.”

I repeat my question to her, this time fear making it less than a whisper.

“I just needed something and when...when you miscarried, I looked at that little baby and I just couldn't...couldn't.”

“Mercy?” I feel panic building in me.

“You said bury it in the backyard under a tree.  And I did...I did. But...”

“Get away from the tree,” I tell Gabe, my voice choking because my heart is in my throat. He looks at me blankly. Can’t he hear me?!

“But I stayed up at night, thinking about her...in the dark...all alone. I couldn’t leave her there,” Mercy sobs. “So I...I went back for her.”

“Oh, my God—”

“It’s not what you think,” Mercy interrupted emphatically. “It was never a curse. She just... wanted...her mama...”

I drop the phone. “For God’s sake, Gabe. It’s the tree!”

Gabe lifts the tree up higher, by its thin trunk and the bottom pot falls to the floor. Soil falls upon my spotless rug. Slowly the roots emerge from the black dirt, and beneath them, intertwined with them...

Bile surges up my throat as I see a tiny white skeleton wrapped in thick twisting roots that coil around and inside the skull’s tiny eye sockets. As I stare, the infant skeleton’s jaw loosens and swings open.

I scream, loud and long, like I’ve never screamed before—in the purest terror imaginable. But my scream is joined by a tiny wail that grows into a thick growl. A dark shadow lifts up from the very floor and moves through the house, absorbing light as it passes into the second floor. I follow it with my eyes. I do not see the roots uncoiling. I’m not able to warn Gabe.

I hear a loud grunt come from him. I whirl around and cover my mouth in horror. The roots have untangled and stiffened, piercing Gabe's side.

“Gabe!”

He bends at the waist, wincing. “Find a mirror, Kathryn,” he says calmly. “It’s the only way...to trap this corruption. Please hurry.”

I race through the house as the disembodied moan follows me. Without pause it shatters the rest of the dining room armoire’s glass windows. Other windows burst as I passed through the rooms. I steal myself, pushing down my terror as I force my legs to climb the stairs. When I reach the landing, the window at the end of the hallway shatters and branches shoot through it toward me like grasping gnarled fingers.

Cowering, I step back but force myself through to my room. My mirror is on the floor, broken. I go to the upstairs bathroom. The same. My father’s room? No mirrors!

I scramble down the stairs to Gabe. The redness of his blood has soaked his shirt and now drips on the hardwood floor. A sob breaks from my throat.

“Use anything...” Gabe says hoarsely. “Anything reflective. A knife can be broken.”

I stumble to the kitchen. All the cabinets have swung open. The plates are vibrating against each other. Several take flight, like saucers flying toward me. I duck and they smash against the wall. The drawers begin to bounce and rotate, emptying on the floor with percussive bangs. I escape the room, closing the door just as utensils hit against it.

“It’s no use,” Gabe says. “You have to go to my house.”

“Wait,” I say. I pick up Gabe’s phone off the floor and dial “Home.” Suddenly the phone becomes red hot and stings my palm. The heat is unbearable and I’m forced to drop it.

“Listen to me,” Gabe gasps. “This isn’t just some poltergeist, Kathryn. It’s been corrupted... Please, get Molly.”

“Okay.” I kiss his forehead and turn from him.

I run to the door, hoping to build momentum that will sail me through to the street before I lose my nerve, but I stop dead at the threshold. I hear the branches scraping against each other. The howl of the wind. The distance between me and Gabe’s door stretches near to infinity.

“Please...”

“I’m sorry, Gabe.” I cry openly. I look to the street and his door far away. I try to calm my panic. This is a spell. Everything I feel is a lie. Every fear is an exaggeration.

I take a step beyond the doorway. Vertigo hits me. I’ve been holding my breath. I’m lightheaded. I bite my lip angrily and stomp down my paralyzing delusions.

At the top of my lungs, I yell back at my worries, “Well then! I’ll just look like a festive drunk on my way!”

I launch down the stairs, blocking out all my horrifying thoughts, all the nervous worries and senseless chatter. I don’t stop to knock but burst open the door.

“Katie!” Sandy cries in happy surprise.

“Gabe’s hurt!”

Gathered in the living room, the women rise as one from the couch and chairs.

“What happened?” Raven demands.

“We need... We need a mirror,” I pant out.

“Sandy, get the mirror from your nightstand,” Molly orders calmly though her face has paled considerably. “Raven, your tin.” Molly walks to me and holds me. My legs wobble. My whole body shakes uncontrollably. “Stay with me,” she says as the girls race from the room. “Deep breaths.”

The four of us rush out the front door. This time, the cold gusts of air freeze me to the bone. I can barely breathe in. Molly pulls me forward by my elbow. Before I know it I am in my house again.

With a cry Sandy goes to Gabe and touches his bloodstained shirt. She peels back the fabric to reveal the branches imbedded in his flesh. As we look, a root twists deeper into him and he bites back a moan.

“Molly,” Sandy cries. “Your healing hands. Now!”

In response, a loud moan shudders through the room and grows stronger bursting into deep distorted laughter that rattles the broken window pieces as it lifts and moves. The hideous cackling becomes muffled as it passes upward to somewhere on the second floor, just like the dark shadow had done before Gabe was attacked.

Raven’s teeth press the blood out of her lips as she kneels on the floor and opens her tin box. She hands each of us a bundle of sage and flicks open her lighter. We pass our sage over the flame until embers of orange appear on the dried leaves.

“Sandy and I will take the downstairs,” Molly says. She motions to Raven. “Go with Katie to the second floor.” Molly strides to the front door and outlines its frame in gray smoke. “By the power of Light I seal this way. Let no dark entities pass within or without.” For the first time, impatience darkens her features. “Go!” she yells at me and Raven.

Raven grasps my wrist and pulls me up the steps. “Repeat what Molly said,” she instructs. “If your sage goes out, get my lighter.”

We scramble up the stairs and head for the end of the hall where the broken window lets in the trees’ dark branches and crystalized snow.

Raven takes one look at the window and snarls, “Back!” The branches immediately recede. She nods toward the window before entering my craft room, at the end of the hall.