Witchling (Chronicles of Witchood) (18 page)

“
Ensure that you remain safe,” said the copycat.

“Aiden and Ethan will be looking out for me.”

“Yes, along with my master. You will remain here until it is time to leave. Do not fear me, Amelia, I will not bring you any harm.”

“Says the one that tied me up to the bed,” I muttered.

“I apologize again,” said the copycat. The tone and manner in which he said it convinced me for a moment that he was Aiden pretending to be a copycat, but I knew the truth. The real Aiden wouldn’t keep me as his prisoner like this. “But that is to ensure that you do not attempt to escape,” he continued. “All I require you to do is trust me, as you would the real version of me.” The Copycat stood up and left. I heard him chain up the doors and then walked away.

I closed my eyes and could not believe the luck I had. I didn’t understand, in fact, I couldn’t understand, especially with my limited knowledge of this
newfound strange supernatural world. But at least my parents were safe, though the same could not be said for Luke. He did hit the shelves rather hard and with all those books falling on him, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of responsibility and worry.

“Five more days until this is all over,” I told myself
and inhaled deeply. There was no use in crying. Tears would only make the situation worse. I would not allow the Copycat or the Master the satisfaction of seeing my fear. I wondered where the real Aiden and Ethan are, and why they haven’t found me yet. Perhaps they’re on their way, the thought was based on mere trust and hope that they would come and rescue me soon. I didn’t like the feeling of being hopeless all the time but it could not be helped. A certain supernatural force needed me dead on a certain date and time to break whatever curse that kept him locked away. I felt cheated to be chosen as the sacrifice but there was nothing I could do that would change the enemy’s mind.

“Five more days,” I reminded myself. “Just five more days.”

~

The countdown towards my death day became more gruelling with each minute that passed. The day dragged on and I remained at the rotting house undiscovered. I didn’t know what sort of magic the Copycat pulled off, but it seemed to work.

I attempted several times to free myself from the knot he trapped me in but
it was no use.

My arms were sore from being
held up against the posts and my back ached. I couldn’t feel my fingers and my arm felt like a pair of logs. It woke me up several times in the night and during one of those moments, I caught the Copycat pouring something white along the windows. I didn’t know what time it was, except that it must be very late in the night as the moon was at its apex in the sky outside.

“What is that?” I asked, my eyes gleamed in the dark.

“Pure salt,” he answered, “it should keep you from being trackable for another day or two. Try to rest.”

“I still don’t understand why you are doing this.”

The copycat refused to look at me. Outside, the moon was almost at its fullest and the pale light managed to break into the room through the sheet of dust and grime on the window pane.

“You need to be protected.”

I paused as I tried to understand him. The Copycat was very much like Aiden, except he was more willing to talk when asked the right question, I sensed that much.

“This sacrifice, the Master said it was to unleash his master,” I started, “who is he talking about?”

“A dark entity that should have been destroyed,” the copycat answered, “but I was too weak to put an end to it.”

“You?”

“My real self.” The copycat stood up straight, with the can of salt still in his hand. He looked outside and the moonbeam lit one side of his face. I thought I saw a glint of a tear in the corner of his eyes. “I apologize. Sometimes I forget exactly what I am – another copy. But you, Amelia, you’re flesh and soul, though not for long. Two more nights and it will be all over for two of us.”

“Not for long? What is that supposed to mean?
And two? You and who?”

“
The blood moon is approaching,” said the Copycat. “I know that I am not your Aiden, but I require that you trust me. I am his copy, so my actions are, in a way, also his. I have his voice, his face and his memories.”

“That doesn’t make you him. Besides, you’re too talkative to be the Aiden I know.”

The copycat paused. He lowered his face to the floor and smiled. “Perhaps there is a little bit of Ethan in me as well. Sometimes the memories switch perspective. Nevertheless, I will do what was not done last time.”

The phrasing of his words confused me momentarily.
“What happened last time?” I dared asked.

The
Copycat shook his head. “That is for you to discover. For now, you should get some rest. I will return in the morning with breakfast.”

The copycat left and I was alone once again. Sleep refused to take over as the discomfort in my body reminded me that I was still alive. A part
of my soul wished that it would just end but knew that it was not going to be that easy. The copycat had his own plans and I felt that I would be playing my part in it soon, on the night of the blood moon.

Chapter 18

The
Copycat tiptoed into the room just before the break of dawn, I was convinced that it was Aiden who had come to rescue me. But it wasn’t and my relief and happiness was short lived. He untied my wrists and presented me with a brown paper bag. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes as the copycat went and turned on the lights.

The dusty bulb hummed with electricity and flickered as it came to life. The
Copycat came back and sat beside me on the bed. I could have run but there was no point. There was a high chance that I would trip over the things on the floor or slip on one of the newspapers. Besides, it wouldn’t take much effort of the Copycat to catch me.

“It is for you,” said the
Copycat and indicated to the brown paper bag. I didn’t know what was inside and when I opened it, I found a hamburger and my grimoire. I took it out and stared at Copycat.

“How did you get this?”

“It was lying on the bed in the cell you were temporary kept.”

I held it in my hands and saw that part of the spine had been frayed. Did the Master
succeed in breaking the book’s power? Or was it this Copycat that did it?

“You shouldn’t have left it in the Master’s hands,” said the
Copycat. “When you experienced that headache, it was because he was trying to break the spell that kept its secrets. But luckily, it didn’t work.”

“What are you saying? I’m psychically linked to the book?” I didn’t know what I was saying or how I managed to come to that conclusion. The answer surprised me even more.

“Yes. I didn’t realise it at first but the book did put up a good fight.”

“How does that work?
It’s just a book.” I wanted to take back my words as soon as I said them. Deep down, I knew that it wasn’t just a book but a special magical artefact.

“That is for you to discover after the events of the blood moon has passed.”

“The blood moon,” I whispered, “of course, that’s tonight.”

“You should eat. It will be a long day ahead and no one will find you until is it over.”

“What are you talking about? And how did you get the grimoire into the bag?” I remembered when Ethan burnt his fingers and how the Master avoided touching it. I rubbed the corner of the book and saw that someone had attempted to burn it but failed.

“I wore gloves.”

“Of course,” I replied, feeling slightly stupid for asking the question. “So you just walked in there and grabbed it out of the cell?”

“Yes.”

I thought it seemed rather too easily. If the Copycat is truly keeping me safe, it would meant that he’s betrayed the Master. He shouldn’t have been able to do what he claimed he did. After a moment of silence, the Copycat stood up. “I will return in an hour. I hope you enjoy the meal.”

The copycat left without tying me up again. Not only that, he allowed me to keep the grimoire. I was confused by his actions but it quickly became clear that I could not leave. The windows were stuck and the door locked with
chains on the other side. Perhaps it was a trick. After half an hour, I gave in as my stomach grumbled. I tried to reason with myself. He could have poisoned the burger, though I don’t see any benefit in doing that and if I was truly destined to die when the blood moon rises, it would not kill me, and if he wanted me dead, the Copycat would have done it on the day he kidnapped me or any other time he wanted. Instead, he treated me kindly, or as kindly as he could possibly muster. A part of my brain warned me against this assumption.

“He tied you up in this
rotten place,” I told myself, “don’t you start thinking nice thoughts about him, just because he looks like Aiden, it doesn’t mean he is Aiden.”

I resigned to eating the burger.
I didn’t know how I managed to summon up an appetite for the thing, especially in the room. I wished the Copycat would remove the dead carcass in the fireplace. While I was used to the smell by now, it still wasn’t a pleasant sight.

I turned my face away and tried not to think about the creature.
The grimoire sat on the bed next to me. I opened its cover with one hand while the other held the burger. The pages were empty. I contemplated drawing the pentagram but went against it. This could be part of the Master’s plan – to have the Copycat gain my trust. I closed the cover but a freakish wind opened it up again. I stared at the blank pages.

“Seriously?” I found myself saying. “Now you want to help me?”

The grimoire’s empty pages stared at me. After a brief moment of hesitation and several attempts to close the book, I gave in and traced out the image of the pentagram with my finger. I expected the ink to appear but nothing happened. I picked up the grimoire and turned it over. The cover looked normal. I closed the book and it did not attempt to open itself again.

~

I woke up in a little grey room with no windows and a metal door. I didn’t know how it happened or when it happened, except that it did and what I saw around me was real and not another dream. Or was being kidnapped by the Copycat and kept in that horrid moldy house the dream? With my sense of reality slipping, I felt I was losing my mind.

The metal door scraped open and I sat up. Ethan stood amongst them, his face covered in a satisfied grin
. It took me a few moments to realise that it was the Master. My brain felt unusually slow and my ability to sense emotions vanished. It felt as if a big dark hole had suddenly formed and everything that felt human disappeared.

“Good afternoon, Miss Ryans,” he said.

I didn’t reply and merely stared at him, uncertain what he did to me. There was no other explanation. It had to be him. There was no one else capable making feel so strange, as if this was not my body. The Master walked towards me and glanced at my shoulder. The stitching had dried up and the skin puckered.

“A pity that you will not live long enough to see it scar,” he said.

“Are you here to mock me?” I said finally. My voice sounded foreign to ears. It was lower than usual and felt different.

The Master stood in front of my and lifted up my chin. I tore away from his fingers.
It only made his grin bigger.

“I am not here to mock you my dear, I am simply here to ensure that you will be ready for the sacrifice tonight.
It is good that you are finally awake.”

I bi
t the inside of my bottom lip and remembered that I was destined to die. I snorted involuntarily. The Master turned his head slightly to the side and questioned me with his electric green eyes. I shook my head and found the entire arrangement amusing. A part of me wondered if this is what losing your sanity felt like. A little voice inside my head confirmed it.

“So I’m definitely going to die?” I asked after the fit of laughter lost its power and tears filled my eyes. It stained my cheeks as a mixture of emotions came over me. I didn’t deserve this. I hadn’t done anything wrong and yet here I was, in a little grey cell as if waiting for death row.
I knew death was on its way and yet I never imagined that the day would finally come. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m afraid it is true,” said the Master.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I was informed that you were awake. How was the dream?” The Master bent down and attempted to look into my eyes, to see into my mind and search my soul. It was obvious that he suspected foul play and I didn’t need my powers of empathy to figure that part out. I snapped my eyes closed. There was no point in looking away, he would find my face again and peer in to unveil whatever secret I had, not that there was anything left for him to find out. I wasn’t told anything at Ethan and Aiden’s house and Luke held his tongue on what he knew and heard.

“Smart girl,” said the Master after some time while my eyes remained closed. It was the only thing I could think of doing, the only defence I could muster up and while it felt rather pathetic and childish, it worked.

The Master left.
The metal door scraped against the floor and the lock clicked into place. I opened my eyes again and screamed. It was a trick. The Master stood several inches from my face. I didn’t know how I couldn’t feel him but he was there, his eyes locked onto mine as my hands shot out in front of me and pushed him away. But the Master stood like a concrete statue. He grabbed my head and held it still. My eyes tingled as he stepped into my mind and walked through its imaginary corridors searching for whatever secret he thought I hid. The Master knew something was not right and he wanted to check. I felt him inside my head, combing through every strand of memory I had, but he found nothing significant.

I gasped as he released my head. He placed me down on the bed, my head on the lumpy pillow.

“Rest my dear Amelia,” he said gently, as if nothing had happened. “I will return for you when the clock is almost midnight.”

~

I couldn’t make time disappear by sleeping it away. I curled into a ball and remained like so until my back ached and my legs became numb. After some time, I sat up and wiped the tears from my face.

I wondered where Aiden and Ethan are, and if they are alright. My mind wondered to Luke and my parents. I wished I could see them again and pretend that none of this
sacrificial madness didn’t happen. I thought about my friends, school, homework and all the things that marked me as a human. I wanted to laugh but whatever sense of sanity that remained forced me to hold on to whatever life I had.

“I’ll survive this,”
I told myself but it was not very convincing.

The new copycat Aiden
had lied about keeping me alive. I chided myself for allowing half an inch of my heart to believe him. The shattered hope made me feel stupid and betrayed.

“No,” I said. The sound of my own voice gave me the illusion that I was not alone. Ethan and Aiden would come and rescue me soon, but it has been how many days since the
Copycat kidnapped me from the house? I feared the worse for the two brothers and my own. I wondered if things would have been different if I had somehow died before the blood moon, not that her majesties Fate and Destiny would allow it. The anger inside me grew as I felt more and more like a damsel in distress.

I never thought that I would be one, especially in Angels Fall, where nothing ever happens, or maybe things did happen, except, I just didn’t remember them. Ethan did mess with Karen and Lydia’s memories, what would stop him from doing
the same to everyone in town? In fact, he probably already did it, with all those Hunters and Double Walkers about.

“No,” I repeated. “I will live past the blood moon, without or without Aiden and Ethan’s help.”

I walked around my cell and tried to think of ways escape from the sacrifice. I thought about the grimoire, the spell that protected it and the pentacles that marked every page like a lock against all things evil.

“That’s it,” I whispered to myself
and realised how stupid I was. The grimoire was trying to help me all along but I just never saw what it was trying to say. There was also a pentacle in Luke’s room when the Hunters and Double Walkers attacked. The magical symbol had kept us safe. I didn’t know if there was a spell to go with making the pentagram work, or that I simply needed to draw one to keep the monsters outside from entering.

As the thoughts ran through my head, another part of my brain reminded me that I had no pen, no ink, nothing to draw the penta
cle with. I sat back down on the bed and looked around. There was nothing for me to use, unless I someone carved the symbol into the walls. The bed creaked.

“Stupid me,” I said and wanted to slap myself. I stood up again and turned the thin mattress. The metal frame moved as I shoved the mattress onto the floor.
I ran my eyes along the joins and found the screws. I sat down on the floor and started my mission. My finger nails were just long and strong enough to act as a makeshift screw driver. My heart jumped as the screw, slowly but surely, came undone and fell into my awaiting hand. I held it in my fingers as if it was a precious object.

I quickly got to work and attempted to scratch out pentagrams in the concrete, but it was not as easy as I hoped it would be. The tip of the screw quickly blunted and making marks on the concrete was as good as trying to carve a statue with a spoon.

“This is stupid,” I told myself. My fingers were half raw from gripping the tiny screw. Things would have been easier if I had some sort of pen or marker. Then another thought occurred to me. I can always use my own blood.

Desperate times called for desperate actions and acts of
self harm was harder to inflict with a blunt screw. I already had enough scars on my body and one more didn’t seem to matter, except, my natural instincts didn’t want to cooperate. I bit my tongue as I attempted to stab my unfortunate finger with the blunt object. Eventually, my skin gave way and broke. I squeezed at the wound for more blood and started to draw the pentagram.

“This better work,” I said to myself.

I sat at the back of the prison cell surrounded by own blood. And as I waited, I thought it was fitting that my cell is part of an insane asylum. I could have laughed like a maniac but too much was already going on. I didn’t know how I managed to keep my sense of sanity but I did.