My sister reaches into the bag and pulls out a gold ring adorned with a giant emerald. “As my mother promised.”
“A ring from the Witch World,” the small woman whispers in wonder. Her small fingers take the jewelry from my sister and she lifts it to her head to wear as a crown. “Payment received.”
“Hurry,” my sister’s voice whispers, but the words do not flow from her lips. They sound as though they are behind me.
I turn about to see me and Ágota running through the trees.
I gasp, startled by the apparitions.
“Ágota, we must go back,” I hear my voice say.
Again I turn about and see us disappearing once more into the mist.
The clearing is suddenly filled with many duplicates of Ágota and me rushing into the forest. It is strange and upsetting to see my frightened, tear-stained face multiplied so many times. When I look to where the fairy had been standing, she is gone.
“They are the fairies in disguise,” Ágota explains. “Mama made an agreement with the fairy folk. They shall keep the devil distracted while we escape.”
“The mist,” I say, pointing.
“It is mama’s last spell. To hide us,” Ágota replies.
I hear the terrible brokenness in her voice.
I feel broken, too.
“Where are we going, Ágota?”
“I cannot speak of it here. Not until we are safe.” Ágota kneels before me. Her eyes are red from weeping and her lips tremble. “We need to fly, Erjy. Fly fast, and far. I have the power to do it now.”
“Mama’s power.”
“Yes. Mama’s power is now mine.” Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a cloak. She fastens it about my throat and kisses my cheek. “It will be cold, so hide your face in my shoulder. We have to go very far tonight and I cannot stop. Understand?”
I nod, sniffling.
Ágota lifts me into her arms, and I cling to her waist with my legs. I sense the power just below her skin warming me. I can almost imagine she is my mother holding me.
As our many duplicates rush through the Black Forest, Ágota’s feet lift from the ground.
Together, we fly to an unknown and frightening future that will doom us both.
Chapter 5
The fetid smell of burned and rotting flesh assails me upon awakening. My arms are leaden, so I turn my head to bury my face in the ruffles adorning the sleeve of my dress to quell the smell. How many nights has it been since Vlad left me to endure this stench? My mind is hazy, my thoughts lingering on the edge of another time. It is as though I have not existed in this mausoleum for some time, but in the realm of memory.
Why must I remember the night my mother perished?
Why must I remember the devil’s loathsome face?
This must be a curse cast upon me by the dark magicks that Vlad wields for I would never revisit the night of my mother’s death by choice. It must Vlad’s doing! Only he would know how to rend open these wounds upon my soul. What other reason exists to explain why I am inexorably drawn into the past during my waking hours and forced to suffer through the most tumultuous moments of my long life.
Will he ever cease in his torment?
Damn Vlad!
Though an aspect of my soul is comforted when I remember the love that filled those early years, it is torn afresh by the potency of the memories. It is both heavenly and hellish to recall the life I shared with my mother and Ágota, and its destruction at the hands of Lucifer the devil. How I despise the mere thought of his angelic face! Worse yet, it would not be the only time he devastated my life and stole away someone I loved. As a child, I could never have imagined what ruin he would bring to my life.
Miserable, I stare into the darkness enshrouding my tomb and listen to the patter of rain against the marble roof. Freezing water seeps through the cracked stone around the iron stake and drips onto my broken body. Yet another bane to heap upon me.