Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie She's Dead (Toad Witch Series, Book One) (30 page)

Finally the General Store was in sight. She paused to knot her long, black hair up into a bun. She should have worn her bonnet, but she had been so happy to get out of the house for a bit, and away from the demanding screams of that wretched, pint-sized tyrant, that she let her haste get the better of her.

As she kept walking, a wave of unease hit her. She stopped and sniffed the air, trying to orient where this feeling of distress was coming from. Suddenly, she felt a small hand on her arm.

She looked down into the frightened, dirty face of ten-year-old Bobby Wheeler. His cheeks reddened and his breath stammered out in short gasps.

“You have to come with me, Lady,” he wheezed, “It’s me mum. She’s not feeling well.”

“What’s wrong with her, Bobby?”

His eyes shifted away, fixing on the dusty tips of his booted feet. “Her tummy aches and she’s afraid maybe the baby’s coming.”

Could that be the cause of the distress? Lisette let Bobby pull her away, but the unease grew stronger, demanding her attention.

As she cast about for what this disturbance in the web might be, she felt a pain so intense, her blood chilled in her veins and her legs nearly gave way under her. A tidal wave of fear and anger washed over her, taking her breath away.

Every fiber of her being was pulling her back towards the woods, back towards her cottage.

She looked down at Bobby. His image was blurry, as if he wasn’t really there. She blinked and tried to focus. The rate of his breathing, the direction of his glance, the sweat on his brow, the redness of his cheeks, all these were signs.

“Your eyes are full of falsehoods, little boy. Why are you trying to waylay me? Tell me true.”

He swallowed and stammered his innocence, but she could smell the guilt on him the way a snake smells fear on its supper.

She drew herself up to her full height. “I’ve cured you, your mother, your sister, of ailments that would have killed you. I’ve treated you as if you were my own family. And you repay me with deception? Tell me true,” her eyes glittered dangerously, “or do you think your youth will stay my hand?”

Terrified, his legs shaking, Bobby still managed to stand his ground before her. “I don’t know what you… Me mum’s not feeling well… I don’t mean to…”

The pupils in Lisette’s eyes elongated into slits, her body gently swayed and her voice changed, the sound carrying a subtle, hissing undercurrent. “Stay your lies, they do not please me.”

She took Bobby’s hand in hers, stroking the back of his palm as though beckoning the words from him. “Speak your secrets to me, little one. Whisper to me what you dare not say out loud… Upon your soul, upon Heaven and Hell, unstop your mouth and let loose your words.”

Bobby burst into tears. “He told me to delay you on your journey, Lady. I do not know why.”

“Who is this “he” you speak of?”

Bobby sniffled and whispered the name so low, she had to put her ear next to his mouth to hear him. “He said his name was Matthew. Matthew Gilardi.”

Lisette took an involuntary step back, the name ringing in her head, the fear so strong and thick in her throat, she almost choked on it. It couldn’t be. Not him.

“This Matthew Gilardi, did he wear boots befitting a pirate? Did he sport thick, long, silver hair and a soft, inviting beard? A face almost too perfect to belong to a man? Not a blemish or mark upon him?”

Bobby looked at her, lost. Lisette placed her hands on his head and pushed an image into his mind. “Is this who you saw, Bobby?”

“Yes,” he whispered, confused. And then…”How did you… ?”

But she turned on her heel and ran back into the woods, dropping her basket of herbs in her haste. She prayed that she’d make it back to the cottage in time.

She ran and ran as if her heart would burst. She paid no attention to the branches clawing at her face or the burrs and thorned plants catching on her legs and skirts. She leapt over roots and rocks. She stumbled on a patch of small, wet pebbles, barely catching herself against an old roughened oak. She didn’t register the bloody scrapes on her palms. All she could think about was reaching the cottage. As she breached the clearing, she could hear the baby screaming.

“Lucien!!!!” She ran into the cottage and was overwhelmed by noise.

The screaming, furious, snotting tears of an infant…

Muffled scuffling sounds…

The ringing of metal against metal…

The dying wail of a man meeting a violent end…

“Lucien!”

It all seemed to come from the bowels of the cottage, from the hidden temple room. She tried to spring the mechanism, but the shelving that concealed the door wouldn’t budge more than an inch.

She threw herself against the shelves with her full weight, forcing them to swing open, their great bulk finally sweeping aside the debris that had barred their way.

The room, her temple and work area, where she could work her craft and worship her Gods in peace, looked like a cyclone had spun through it. Broken glass, scattered herbs and candles were strewn over the floor.

Next to the altar, a tear-streaked, red-faced, screaming child was safely imprisoned behind the bars of her crib.

As Lisette looked around, dazed, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eyes. There, on the floor, behind the stone altar. She took her dagger out of its sheath, prepared to do battle with the Devil himself, when the figure struggled up to his knees. It was Lucien, blood gushing out of his midsection.

“Lucien!” Lisette rushed over to him, just as his strength failed and he fell backwards.

She sunk to the ground with him, gently cradling his head on her lap. His breathing was slow and shallow. Blood seemed to be everywhere, bubbling out of his nose and mouth, out of the terrifying gash in his abdomen. A palette of gore.

“No!” She gently cradled his head on her lap. “Don’t you leave me! Don’t you leave me!” Lisette sobbed, her soul racked with grief and fear. “Don’t leave me, Lucien! I can heal you. I know I can!”

But it was too late. He was beyond human intervention.

“No!!!!” Lisette screamed. A scream that echoed through the woods and into the village. A scream that alerted the soul of the cottage to the danger at hand. A deep, primal scream from the depths of Hell itself.

Lisette turned her face up to the heavens and did the only thing she knew how to do — she reached out and summoned the Gods she held dear and channeled their power through her body and soul.

“I call upon the power of the Ancestors. I call upon the power of the Horned One and his dread Queen. I call upon the power of Hell itself. Rise up. Rise up and turn the blood in my veins to fire. Rise up and give me my birthright. By my blood and by my bone, I command you! Rise up and give me your power!”

The room crackled with electricity. Lisette’s hair flowed on an unseen wind. Her eyes darkened, filled with magic and passion, the whites turning black.

Outside the cottage, day became night. Storm clouds gathered overhead, their interiors highlighted by flashes of lightning. In the village, people saw the commotion over the witch’s cottage and ran for shelter, praying to their own Gods for protection.

Deep in the cottage, the temple room glowed with an unnatural light. A swirling vortex opened up at Lucien’s feet as his spirit tried to separate from his lifeless body. With a gesture, Lisette slammed shut the otherworldly portal.

“Death will be denied, the gate to Heaven or Hell barred. This man’s soul is mine. I claim him. I own him. He is blooded to me.”

She smeared his blood on her face, on her breasts, between her thighs. Taking a piece of broken glass off the floor, she cut her palm and squeezed her blood into his mouth. “Come to me, my love. For you will live again.”

She positioned her mouth slightly above his and began to breathe in and out, heavier and heavier, sucking his soul into her lungs. “You. Will. Live!”

With a final breath, she pulled his soul into her. Clutching her throat, she staggered over to the human skull atop the stone altar. It grinned at her, the white bone enfleshed with wax drippings from the candle affixed to its crown.

Blood running down her face, Lisette held onto the skull with one hand and waved the other over the candle. “Light of the Old Ones. Light of Lucifer. Light of the Black Sun. Open the gateway of the ancestors. My will be done.”

A flame came to life and danced on the end of the candle wick. She wiped her bloody face and hands across the skull’s face. “Feed and live again.”

She leaned forward and breathed into the skull, exhaling from the depths of her being. A vortex opened up on the face of the skull. Lisette screamed as Lucien’s soul was slowly sucked out of her and pulled into the blood-smeared skull.

The vortex closed and the skull shimmered with an image of Lucien’s face, the tribal tattoos across his chin, cheek and forehead in sharp contrast to the white bone, his dark eyes full of panic and confusion.

She knelt and tenderly kissed him, trying not to feel how cold the bone was under her lips. “All we need is to find a body for you, my love, and we will be joined again.”

Clapping sounded from the shadows. Lisette whirled around. Matthew Gilardi stepped out of the shadows, his fancy, flowing white shirt and breeches soaked in Lucien’s blood.

“Lovely, my dear. Quite impressive. I wondered how far along you had come in your powers.” He drew a sword out of the leather scabbard that hung off his belt.

Lisette stood up, furious. “Why did you have to kill him? He wasn’t one of us. He made no difference to you.”

“Just a witch’s play toy? Pity.” Matthew nudged Lucien’s corpse with his sword, cutting through the fabric of his clothing, exposing the tender flesh underneath. “What a sad life for such a magnificent man.”

“Damn your soul to Hell, Matthew Gilardi. You and your entire line. May the Queen of Fate destroy you…”

As she weaved her curse around him, he raised his arm, swung the sword and decapitated her in mid-sentence. Her head rolled towards him and he picked it up by the hair. A look of rage and surprise was frozen on her face.

“Consider this justice. Long overdue. I should have killed you when you were a child,” he said, calmly wiping the blade of his sword on her long, black tresses.

As he put the sword away, the baby began to wail, her lungs expanding to amazing capacities. Matthew walked over and gingerly took her out of the crib with one hand, while holding onto Lisette’s head with the other. “And just what am I going to do with you?”

The baby reached out for Matthew’s bloody trophy, grabbing hold of Lisette’s face, the familiar feel quieting her down as Matthew considered his options.

I slowly returned to my timeline. As I regained consciousness, I sensed darkness… Utter darkness all around me. My camping lantern must have burnt out.

Then I felt small feet with sharp nails climbing across my bare ankles. Mice. It had to be mice.

I woke with a start, gasping, cold and disoriented. As I moved my feet, the mice scattered. Was it my imagination, or was the altar glowing green? The room started to spin. I shivered uncontrollably. My skin was clammy and covered in sweat. As I got to my knees, my stomach lurched and I retched all over the stone floor.

I closed my eyes and tried to stop the whirling in my head. When I re-opened them, the room was dark, but no longer moving. I looked down at my Indiglo watch. 3:00. But was it a.m. Or p.m.? How long had I been down here for? My stomach flopped and I retched again.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

When I got back upstairs, it was dark out, so it must have been 3 a.m. I settled Grundleshanks back on his table and escaped to the kitchen, before Aunt Tillie noticed I was about and started reprimanding me from her vase.

I rinsed my mouth out with a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and water, trying to spit out as much of the toad residue as I could. Then I poured a big glass of milk and opened a box of Saltine crackers. I needed to cushion my stomach. And as soon I could hold down the milk, I desperately needed to get some sleep. Once morning hit, I had unfinished business in that temple room.

I slept until noon the next day. After a quick shower, I hurried back down to the temple room and cleaned up the mess from the night before. At least the smell had dissipated somewhat. To mask the remaining residue, I sprayed a mixture of orange essential oil, vinegar and water on the area that I had been sick on.

Afterwards, I searched the room and I found the nook that Gilardi must have hidden in, waiting for Lisette. What I didn’t find was any supplies, or the skull, or anything other than the stone altar.

The altar that had been glowing green.

I checked out the altar. The top was a stone slab, placed upon a wide, stone column. I pushed against the top and I felt it shift, just a tiny amount. I pushed harder and one half of the slab separated from the other half. The inside of the stone column was hollow. I shone the light in the column. There was something hidden in there, under a thick layer of spider webs.

But the thought of reaching through a handful of spider goo made me cringe. Even the thought of a feather duster full of cobwebs was
ewww
inspiring.