Chapter Eighteen : Not Curses Are Made Equal
Corinne
With the way Dimitri’s gaze had darkened in desire, I had expected him to follow me into the house, our desire dripping from our clothes onto the cool polished floors. But Dimitri did not do that, instead, he pulled his rippled body out of the water, thanked the photography team cordially, and then ushered them off our lawn and presumably out of our house.
I waited for his return, but he never came back, and so I allowed myself to float in the water. The now transparent peach dress billowed around me as the water itself seemed to twirl and dance beneath me, rejoicing in a way that I had rarely felt.
I understood why he had done what he had - even if I didn’t necessarily want to understand. Every inch of me was visible through the soaked material that clung to my body in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I still liked to think that his actions stemmed from some old notion of chivalry, but I knew that the truth was far simpler: he did not want others gazing upon what was his.
I kicked my way towards the edge, lifting myself out of the pool as the water playfully tugged at my feet, willing me to stay. My time spent deep in her waters had soothed something inside of me, and when I finally emerged, I felt more settled - more at peace with the weighty decisions I had made. The sky dimmed above me, darkening quickly as night galloped in at a speed that stole the breath from my lungs.
I grounded myself with every squish of my bare feet against the prickly grass beneath, and when I unintentionally stepped on the small mound that the crystal grid was buried beneath, I shivered as a wave of pins and needles shot up my calve, reminding me how minuscule I truly was - just energy with the semblance of a soul.
It made the concept of manipulating the energies around us for a specific outcome an easier pill to swallow. Still, I walked slowly towards the house in the quiet of the descending darkness. I had the absurd thought of throwing my head back and howling at the crescent moon above, and while I enjoyed both day and night in equal measure, there was something about the cool night air pressing against my wet flesh that had me shivering in anticipation. If the moon had ever beckoned me to partake in the act of Magick and spell casting, then this was it.
I knew that Dimitri was hard - unmalleable - and simply didn’t know how to compromise, but in his own way, I supposed he was trying. And in the end, I couldn’t deny that I did belong to him, much in the same way that he belonged to me.
And now that he was awake - safe - and on the loose, I couldn’t deny that a transgression had been made. Because they had tried to take him from me, and something like that couldn’t go unanswered.
I made a beeline for our room, ignoring Henla entirely, and by the time I stepped beneath the warm spray of the shower, I only half realized that someone had scraped all the wax from the bathroom floor. I doubted I was Henla’s favourite person, but possibly even less so now. I didn’t allow those feelings of guilt to bloom because the truth was that she needed to get used to it - Magick would be as much a part of our lives as the basic necessities.
The water from the shower offered me warmth and solitude, whereas the pool had provided a safe space to allow myself to feel the waves of joy that should have accompanied this day. But now that I was left with the solitude of my own thoughts, I could do nothing to quell the rising anger that seemed to grow with each arch of my neck and brush of my fingers as I systematically scrubbed myself clean.
They tried to take Dimitri from me - tried to snuff him out from the world, and no matter what their gripe was with Charl - the Club - Dimitri was mine. He did not dabble in the world of Magick - neither dark nor light. His darkness came from the material world made up of guns and silo grains and fucking product.
Did that Voodoo bitch know that she had overstepped her bounds? Know that I would retaliate?
If she didn’t, she was a fucking moron.
I was easy to pass off as a non-threat - a Society girl that was offered a place in the Club because of her connections. But today I would put those notions to rest.
Let the world know that if they fucked with Dimitri, they would not only receive his wrath, but mine as well. And mine was not something you could run from or protect yourself against.
By the time I emerged from the shower, I was invigorated with purpose - the burning desire for revenge nearly crippling me. I wasn’t sure where Dimitri was, and in truth it was probably a blessing that he wasn’t here, because I was about to kill a Voodoo Priestess, and I needed the utmost focus to ensure that I got this just right.
One thing I learnt in my years of Summer camp was that not all curses were created equal. While a lot of its power lay within its purpose and intent, as well as that of the caster, it also depended on how deeply one was prepared to draw from the darkness - how much one was willing to give up - to offer - in return for their preferred outcome. Curses were dark, gritty, malevolent things, and it was a good thing that the Voodoo Priestess resembled these things too, because darkness welcomed darkness.
As the curse settled in my mind’s eye, I marched towards Dimitri’s office, knowing full well that he wasn’t there. I printed the image that Zoey had sent me weeks ago - the one of Lauren dancing in the streets of New Orleans. If I had to guess, I would have said it was taken during Mardi Gras, but I did not allow myself to dwell on who she was outside of what she had done to me and mine. Her mocha skin looked smooth, her head thrown back in a stance that seemed to lull one into the joy of the movement. I stared at the picture printed before me and allowed the cold licks of my anger to fuel my movements. Storming back towards our room - towards our en-suite.
I knew that I felt most comfortable casting spells in the bathroom because that was where I pulled my greatest source of water as I soaked in the tub daily, or allowed the soft droplets from her breath to trickle down my back beneath the shower. And while she was the element I identified the most with - had the strongest affinity for - she wasn’t wholly mine, she belonged to everyone. But that didn’t mean that her relationship with everyone was the same, and that was what I took comfort in.
I dug through my personal stash of candles from that blush pink briefcase I stored beneath the bathroom vanity. As my gaze swept the sink, I realized that somewhere along the line I had become less and less particular about putting my things away - of hiding them, and without really meaning to, I had created a make-shift altar next to the sink.
It was something to ponder at a later date.
The black candle seemed to find my palm the instant my fingers wrapped around its circular base.
The Three Nights In Hell curse was surprisingly simple for such a powerful spell. It would allow Lauren to experience unimaginable pain and torment over the next three days, coming to a screeching halt by the third night. She would suffer psychological distress and physical ailments. But I didn’t want her to solely suffer from lack of sleep, hallucinations, and blisters. I wanted her to die. I wanted to eliminate anyone who so much as thought about touching Dimitri - or anyone that fell under my protection for that matter.
I carved the sigils of rage and destruction, of instability and madness, deep into the black candle, along with Lauren’s initials. I wanted her mad in her pursuit of vengeance - filled with the kind of crazy energy that would see her own people turn on her. Because a coven could not function with an unstable leader - Charl had taught us that.
And then I carved in the sigil of death, because only after she had spiralled into the depths of insanity for three days, I wanted her death. Let her suffer as her own community pulled away from her one by one. Death would seem a blessing by the time the curse had run its course.
This time when I felt the icy tap of Solomon on the base of my spine, I welcomed him. Let the Demon summoner of eons past watch - let the darkness of his soul add to the curse itself.
I didn’t bother with intention oils, instead, I dug a thin, neat line across my palm as I filled those sigils with the blood of The Empress. And only once I was satisfied that enough of my blood - enough of my essence - covered the candle, did I light the thing. I waited for the small amount of dark wax to pool on the surface before I tipped the candle on its side, allowing that darkness to drip across Lauren’s photo, marring her pretty flesh and arched shoulders, dousing her joy in the very blackness of the curse itself.
A second before I began chanting, I felt Isis’ presence settle over me, pressing against my skin as she willed me to exact the vengeance that was owed. It was a heady feeling as the candle dripped with my blood before me whilst I in turn dribbled the thick, ribbony wax across Lauren, Isis and Solomon taking a front row seat to the darkness that I was about to draw out.