Chapter 15

By the time Tilda and I got home after the coven meeting, my head was pounding. From the look on Tilda's face, I was pretty sure she had a matching headache. The meeting itself had been pretty quick. Information had been given and requests had been made. The majority of the evening had come after the witches had been asked to turn over any information they had on curses. It seems that despite what I had thought was a universal love for their coven leader, the realization that helping may open them up to serious sanctions had hit home. Some in the coven were desperate to help. Unfortunately, those were the least likely to have any of the self-incriminating information that we needed.

"Do you need anything before we turn in?" asked Tilda as she dropped her keys on the table.

I leaned back against a wall and closed my eyes. "The last couple of hours of my life back would be good."

A bark of laughter came from Tilda. "Yeah, that was fun to watch. I always thought our coven would come together in a crisis. Guess I was wrong."

"You never know, someone might come through."

Tilda slumped in a chair. "I always knew there was a possibility of contraband grimoires being out there, I mean, the rules on what kind of magic we can do are pretty harsh. It's like Prohibition. After years of drinking, trying to ban people from alcohol was always going to be a losing proposition. That's the same with witchcraft. For all of history, witches have been able to explore magic and try new things. They've written these spells down and passed them through the generations. Then, a few hundred years ago, they're told to stop and magic needs to be regulated because it's too dangerous. The original idea was good, it was to make us less of a visible target for witch hunters. I knew there'd have to be some who hid the not so squeaky-clean family grimoires, but it seemed harmless." She looked up at me. "It doesn't seem quite so harmless anymore.

Tilda looked back down and I saw a couple of tears drop into her lap. "I want Flora back. I want it to go back to what it was before there were curses and brutal murders. I want to still believe that our coven will always be there to protect each other, regardless of the personal cost."

I hurried over and put my arms around her. Her head rested on my shoulder and she started sobbing.

I muttered nonsensical words, assuring her that everything would be alright, even though I had a sick feeling it wouldn't be.

After a few minutes, Tilda slowly pulled herself together. She gave a short laugh as she wiped the tears away from her face. "And here I was worried about being around you when you had a meltdown."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's still in my future."

She leaned back against the couch. "Do you think you'll speak to Flora tonight?"

"I have no idea. I don't know how she managed to pull me into whatever nightmare she's living in last night, and I don't know how she would go about doing it again, or even if she still has the strength."

"If she does, could you tell her we miss her and to keep fighting. We want her back."

"I'll make sure I tell her," I said, quietly.

When I finally got to bed it didn't take long for me to realize that Tilda's question had been answered. I was back in the dungeon, and this time Flora was standing beneath the window, looking up at the moonlight that was streaming through.

"Where are we?" I asked. The moon I could see here was a full one, but back in Walker Bay we were just past the new moon.

Flora shrugged, the stiffness of the movement seemed to show pain. "I have no idea. Every night has been a full moon. Maybe it's part of the curse."

"Why?"

Flora gave a small smile. "Because a witch is always strongest at the full moon. Maybe whoever did this is mocking me with the knowledge that even when I should be at my strongest, I am too weak to defend myself, let alone my coven."

Considering how unimpressed I was with her coven at the moment, I didn't think that was any great loss.

"But you're back which has to mean something," she frowned. "Unless you're a figment of my imagination sent to torment me."

I hadn't heard those words since my mom used them during my teenage years.

"I'm going to hope that you're not."

"I'm here," I assured her. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, but I'm here and you need to know we are doing everything we can to help you. I have a message from Tilda. She wanted me to tell you to keep fighting. She's missing you terribly."

Flora smiled and I could see the moisture in her eyes. "She's a lovely girl. I always thought that if I had a daughter, I would have wanted her to be just like Tilda." She drew in her breath and seemed to refocus. "Did you speak to Helen Napier?"

I hated to destroy the hope I could see in Flora's eyes. "We found her. She's been murdered."

"What?"

"Tilda and I went to see Helen Napier this morning. She had been killed and symbols were written all over the floor and ceiling in her blood."

"What symbols?" Flora said, a desperate urgency in her voice.

I stared at her for a moment. Once again I was reminded why I was the worst person possible for her to communicate with. "I don't know. We had a coven meeting and asked everyone, but nobody knew what the symbols were."

"Can you remember what any of them look like?" she said urgently.

I thought for a moment. I had spent a good portion of the day staring at those symbols as I fixed up the images for the meeting. If I had a pen and paper, I could possibly provide a passable facsimile. However, I had been pulled into a dungeon where those facilities were not available. I looked up at the moonlight streaming through the barred window and found the spot where it hit the ground. The dungeon floor was covered in dirt, so I dropped to my knees and scraped some of the dirt together.

"What are you doing?" asked Flora, a perplexed tone in her voice.

"I'm trying to show you what we saw," I said as I scrubbed out my first attempt at drawing a symbol in the dirt.

Flora watched silently as I made several more attempts.

Finally, when I was satisfied that what I was drawing vaguely resembled what I had seen, I pointed to it. "Have you ever seen these?"

Flora studied them and shook her head. "No, I've never seen them before."

Great. I used my fist to scrub them out and tried a new set of symbols. It was only when I finished the third in this set that I heard Flora gasp.

My hand stilled. "What?"

Flora squatted down next to me. "I've seen those symbols before."

I could tell I wasn't going to like what she said next.

Flora pointed to two of the symbols I had drawn. "When written above and around a body these symbols dissipate the soul."

That did not sound good. Against my better judgment I asked the question. "What does that mean?"

"When a person dies, their soul comes free from the body, and they then have various options. Most move on to the other place."

"The other place?" I interrupted.

Flora waved her hand in the air. "Don't start. I don't know what your beliefs are, and we don't have the time for a debate on where a soul goes after death. All I know is that if someone dies a peaceful death and has no unfinished business they move on to the next place, waiting to be born again, and their existence continues through the ages." Flora took in a deep breath. "Or, the soul can stay behind on this realm."

"Like a ghost?"

"Yes. Ghosts usually occur when the person has died suddenly or violently. Some witches have the ability to communicate with these ghosts and help them find peace or justice and move on."

"And dissipating a soul?"

"Whoever did this not only killed Helen Napier's body, they also destroyed her soul. She can't move on, she can't find peace or justice for this life, and she can't find redemption in the next life. She is completely and utterly gone."

This just went up a whole new level of horrifying.

I sat down on the floor, my back against the wall. I'd stopped caring about the dirt and the damp. All I could see was the moment when Flora lost hope. "What do we do next?" I asked.

Flora looked over at me. "I have no idea."