“Thank you.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
Now my face was a blazing inferno. But I kept smiling.
“The meal,” I blurted out, promptly redirecting the attention. “We should go. The others will be wondering where we are.”
“Right,” said Oscar, blinking. “Right. The meal.” He stood up. “Let me escort you.” He held out his hand in what I considered to be a chivalrous gesture.
I quickly threw on a pair of black ballerina flats and took his hand.
As I closed the door to my bedroom, I had a sinking feeling that I wouldn’t be opening it again.
Here we go.
Dark Secrets
MARY SWITCHED OFF THE DINING room lights and struck a match, igniting the candles on top of the birthday cake. When seventeen tiny flames flickered to life, she brought the cake to the dining table and set it down in front of me.
“Happy Birthday to you…” she sang.
“Happy Birthday to you…” Roger joined in and they had themselves a little barbershop duet.
Only the three Valeros abstained from the singalong. They looked between one another as though it were the most absurd tradition they had ever witnessed. Singing! Whatever next?
My aunt and uncle finished the final note and then erupted into a round of applause.
“Make a wish!” Mary cheered, nudging the cake closer to me.
I instinctively recoiled from the festive, amber flames. Even dancing above a bed of white icing, they still seemed threatening. I glanced at Oscar. In his eyes the pyramids of fire returned to me—reflecting off the irises, yes, but also imprisoned inside. Tiny blazing bonfires trapped beneath the surface.
I turned back to the cake and let out a huge puff of air. I wished for everything that I might never have again—in other words, everything that I had right then.
The flames were extinguished in one breath, and the room plunged into utter darkness. In cliché horror-movie fashion, a loud eruption of thunder rumbled outside. I guessed it was voicing its disapproval of the nature of my wish.
“Ooh, spooky,” Mary chortled, simulating a series of ghostly moans.
The faint aroma of candle smoke wafted to my nose. Opposite me, Roger’s chair scraped the floor as he stood up to switch the lights back on.
I heard the click of the switch, followed by Roger’s disgruntled voice. “The power’s out.”
“Oh, you’re not serious?” Mary wailed.
The switch clicked again.
“I’m afraid so,” Roger confirmed.
In one beat, the darkness had gone from spooky fun to chilling defencelessness.
“What about the party?” Mary gasped. “What time are the guests arriving?”
The boys were silent.
“Don’t worry,” Marco pacified them in a creamy voice. “This will not be a problem.”
“Does anyone have a torch?” Caicus asked.
Roger fumbled clumsily around the dining room. “Somewhere around here…” he muttered, rummaging through drawers and cabinets.
“Darling,” Mary called to her husband, “I don’t think we should leave the kids tonight. Not during a power cut.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Roger agreed. “We won’t leave tonight.”
I figured that wouldn’t go down well with the Valeros. And I was right. I didn’t know if it was possible to literally feel tension, but right then, it was so glaring that it made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“No, you must go,” Caicus intervened. “It’ll be fine.”
“No, I don’t think so, dear,” Mary let him down gently. “Not tonight.”
Huh? I’d never known Mary to decline Caicus before. And then it occurred to me.
Of course! Caicus’s power source lies in his eyes. In the dark, he’s pretty much redundant.
I heard him swear under his breath. “Have you found that torch yet, Roger?” he persisted.
“I can’t think where I would have put it…” Roger mumbled to himself.
“Not to worry, Rose,” Mary continued, as though she suspected I’d need to be placated. “Roger and I will keep out of the way tonight. We’ll stay upstairs.”
Caicus huffed in irritation. I heard him stand up and march across the room. A moment later he struck a match and held it at nose level.
“Mary,” he said, obdurately, “you must stay at the hotel this evening.” His eyes were so bright that they eclipsed the match’s flame.
I squinted to see her reaction, but she was lost in an abyss of darkness.
“Yes, dear,” she murmured back.
“Thank you,” Caicus beamed. His smile was wicked, hauntingly enhanced by the eerie match light. “Roger, are you in accord?”
“Uh. Yes.”
The match burnt down to Caicus’s fingers. He carelessly dropped it to the floor and stomped out the dwindling flame.
Throwing fire on the floor! Is he trying to give me a heart-attack?
“Got the torch!” Roger suddenly announced.
A yellow spotlight hit the table and travelled along the surface until it landed on the cake.
We weren’t the sort of family that let a power cut stop us from eating cake, so it was more-or-less a given that the meal would go on, albeit messily.
Mary groped for the china plates and I lifted the kitchen knife. It was heavy and cold to the touch. Guided by the light of the torch, I plunged the knife into the cake. But when I happened to glimpse down, I saw two crow-like eyes reflecting off the silver blade.
I gasped and let go of the knife. It clattered onto the table and slid off the edge, heading tip-first for my leg.
With miraculously sharp reflexes, Oscar stretched out his arm and caught the knife before it hit me.
A bated hush fell over the dining room.
And then came Mary’s fretful voice, “Are you hurt, Rose?”
I stared at the glinting blade in Oscar’s hand. “No. I’m okay.”
Brazenly, Oscar flipped the knife and caught it by the handle. “I’ll do the honours.”
“Oscar, you seem so very at ease with a knife in your hand,” Marco joked inappropriately.
Oscar laughed it off. “You’d be wise to remember that, Marco.” He sliced the cake into several pieces, at a speed that would be gawped at by even the most experienced of dicers. And I could guarantee, if I’d taken out a ruler, every piece would have been meticulously equal.
Oscar shared out the slices and we ate in silence. It felt very much like the final meal of condemned men. And I supposed that was exactly what it was.
After we’d finished, Mary stood up and patted her mouth with a napkin. “There we are, then,” she said. “A lovely birthday meal. Roger, did you bring the overnight bag downstairs?”
“Yes, it’s in the hallway.”
“Wonderful. I’ll get Zack ready and we’ll set off.” She took the torch from Roger and shuffled out into the hallway.
We were reduced to blindness until she returned.
“Shall we?” she gestured to my uncle, shining the torch on us.
He heaved himself up and followed Mary into the hallway. I went with him. I didn’t want them to leave without saying a proper goodbye to them. To my surprise, Caicus came, too. Probably to give them that final push out the door.
Standing in the porch, I hugged Mary and Roger. Baby Zack was snuggled in his carry cot, almost swallowed beneath a heap of blankets. I kissed him on the cheek. When I stepped away, I noticed Caicus was huddled to my aunt and uncle, bidding his farewell with sincere affection. And I realised that maybe Caicus and I had something in common after all. We both loved Mary and Roger.
“Mary,” Caicus said quietly, “I want to thank you for your kindness. You’ve been superb company these past few weeks, and…” he hesitated, “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you’re an excellent mother.” When his eyes weren’t so icy white, they were a tranquil shade of ocean blue.
Mary was visibly choked by the se
ntiment. “Caicus, it has been an absolute pleasure having you here, and you are welcome to stay for as long as you choose.”
He smiled sadly.
“Rose, dear,” she said to me, “enjoy yourself tonight. Make sure it’s the night of your life.”
Roger handed me the torch and I lit the path to his Volvo. Rain poured down like a waterfall in the spot of light. The little family rushed to the car and bundled in.
Caicus and I remained in the open doorway until the car disappeared out of sight. We hovered a little while longer, not really knowing what to say to each other, but sort of feeling as though we should say something.
“You were fond of Mary,” I said.
“Yes,” he agreed, wistfully. “And I liked who I was when I was with her.”
“Who were you?” I asked.
He smiled sadly. “Whoever I wanted to be.”
Perhaps that comment threw me, because I was totally caught off guard when Marco appeared behind us.
Noiseless footsteps and unlit corridors are a bad combination, I thought. Well, unless you’re the one with the noiseless footsteps.
“The ritual will take place in the dining room,” he asserted sharply. “I will prepare the brew.”
“What’s the brew?” I asked.
They ignored me and stalked away.
I closed the front door. My hand lingered on the handle for a little longer than necessary.
Right, this was my chance, I realised. If I was going to run, now was the time to do it.
I pondered it. My family was safe, out of the house. I was alone. I could do it. I wanted to do it. So why wasn’t I doing it?
I guessed it was the same reason that had stopped me from running any of the other times. With all the frightening things I’d discovered over the past few days, I should have run, but didn’t. And it all boiled down to this: I was in over my head with Oscar Valero. And I would never run. Never.
Then I felt a breath on the back of my neck.
“Oscar,” I whispered.
“Go,” he whispered back.
I spun around. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”
He was close to me. Closer than I had anticipated. I relished the sensation of it, listening to the rasps in his breathing and feeling the rise and fall of his chest against mine.
“Go,” he urged again. “Remember your visions. Remember what Oliver told you.”
“He told me to go back,” I recounted slowly.
“Yes. To run.”
“No,” I shook my head, “he didn’t tell me to run. He told me to go back.” It was as though I was suddenly able to see things from a different perspective. “To go back… to the start.”
Oscar kicked at the floor. “He was telling you to run. Just like I am.”
“No,” I was resolute on this, “he was trying to help me. He wanted me to go back.” I paused. “The spell.”
“The Retracing spell?” said Oscar huskily. “I’ve already told you, I can’t do that.”
“But what if it holds a clue to defeating Lathiaus? If I could go back to my origins, I might be able to understand why I’m connected to him.”
Oscar groaned. “What does it matter? It won’t change anything.”
“Can I at least see the spell?” I pleaded.
Oscar glanced to the staircase, twitching with nerves. “It’s in the book.”
I envisioned a giant phone book, an A to Z of spells. How very handy for the modern-day witch.
“Do you have the book here with you?” I pressed.
“Upstairs.”
“So…? Can I see it?”
Oscar’s eyes darted anxiously around the dim corridor. “No one is allowed to see the book. It’s sacred to Valero witches.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s an unreasonable rule.”
He smiled roguishly. “All rules are unreasonable.”
“Please?”
He grumbled unintelligibly. Nevertheless, he caught my hand and towed me swiftly up the staircase.
We snuck into his bedroom and closed the door with a click. It was pitch black, apart from the circular torch light. Oscar ushered me to the space on the floor between the two beds. He reached under one of the beds and hauled out a hefty trunk. I slanted the light while he fiddled with the combination lock, and then rummaged inside for his oh-so-precious book.
When he eventually raised it from the trunk, even I had to admit that I was reverently surprised. It was, without doubt, the most extraordinary book I’d ever seen. The leather-bound cover was engraved in gold with intricate patterns. And, judging by the texture of the aged pages, it had been around for centuries. I gazed at it, awestruck.
Midway through the tome, a piece of string bookmarked a page. But Oscar disregarded it and opened towards the front. He began hurriedly flipping through the pages.
I shone the torch onto the paper, peeking over his shoulder.
It was incredible; all of the passages were handwritten, mostly in old-fashioned script. I scanned the words as Oscar turned the coarse pages—though I could tell he was uncomfortable with my scrutiny.
Banishing Thy Enemy…
The page turned.
Potions, Poisons and Antidotes…
The page turned.
Drawing the Blood of a…
The page turned, thank God. I wasn’t too keen on finding out the end to that one.
Retracing.
“This is it,” he spoke sombrely.
“What does it say?” I huddled on the floor beside him.
Outside, a flash of lightning illuminated the night sky.
Oscar read from the page. “Retracing. For he who wishes to visit the start, another must bestow his blood…”
Blood?
He carried on, skimming the text. “The root of a yellow flower, placed on the heart, and the blood of a witch on the lips…”
I cringed. “Blood of a witch?”
“And a yellow flower,” Oscar pointed out.
“Yellow flower? Like a buttercup?”
“Yeah, anything. Buttercup, daffodil, sunflower…” He returned to the page. “There’s an incantation, too.”
“Is that the spell part?”
“Yes. It’s a verse. I’d have to say it.”
My heart rate quickened. “So, we can do it?”
Oscar thrust the book into my lap. “No.”
“Why not?” I demanded.
“Because we don’t have a yellow flower, for one thing. And do you really want to drink my blood?”
I pulled a face.
“Didn’t think so,” he smiled wryly. “Besides, there’s no time. The others are downstairs waiting for us.”
I stared longingly at the yellowed page. Oscar was probably right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this spell held answers. Answers we needed.
As Oscar rose to his feet, focused on listening intently to the sounds beyond the closed door, I flipped to the string-marked page in the book.
THE PROPHECY OF LATHIAUS
Oh my God. My breath caught in my throat. This is it. This is my prophecy. I read on…
It is foretold, on the day of his end,
so doth life begin
At the stroke of the eleventh hour,
he shall awaken
All will bow before him
All will perish at his mercy
Only one can end the blood spill
She, the girl with the heart of a witch—
I gasped as Oscar reached over my shoulder and slammed the book shut.
“That’s my prophecy,” I stuttered.
“Don’t read it,” he snapped.
I shone the torch at him. “Why not?”
He pursed his lips. “Come on,” he said. “Marco will be getting suspicious. He’ll probably come looking for us.”
Before Oscar could take the book from me, I opened it towards the front and flipped through until I found the Retracing spell. In one quick motion, I tore it from the spine. A fine layer of dust
sprinkled down from the split paper.
Oscar sucked in his breath and yelped.
I glanced up at him. “We might need it,” I justified.
He pressed his knuckle to his mouth. “Rose, you just desecrated a worshipped, sacred book.”
“Sorry,” I said. “It was an accident.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Oscar laughed.
Well, he kind of laughed. He made a noise, anyway.
I folded the page and slipped it into my shoe—my chic dress didn’t provide many inconspicuous hiding places. How did those Bond girls do it?
Oscar returned the book to the trunk and rammed the chest under the bed. With our hands linked, we snuck out of the guest room and back downstairs.
Caicus and Marco were in the kitchen. I could hear them chanting in velvety, hushed voices.
“What are they doing?” I whispered, lingering in the shadows of the hallway.
“Summoning Lathiaus,” Oscar replied.
I cowered back. “Why? Surely that’s what we don’t want to do, right?”
Oscar’s eyes were trained on his brothers’ backs. “This is war,” he said darkly. “It’s happening whether we want it to or not. They’re just letting Lathiaus know we’re ready for him.”
I watched Marco sprinkle some sort of herb into a black clay pot. The contents steamed and fizzed like a wayward chemistry experiment.
“What’s that?” I shrank back further.
“The brew.”
“What is ‘the brew’?”
“It’s a potion.”
“For what?”
“You’ll drink it.”
Yes, he was answering my questions, but not in the form I’d intended. I was beginning to think his responses were tactical. After all, he was too clever to miss my point so entirely.
“What will it do to me?” I articulated myself as concisely as possible.
“It’s for the ritual.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “Oscar…”
He half-heartedly relented. “There’s a ritual to stop Lathiaus. Part of the ritual will involve the brew.”
Okay. That was the most I was getting out of him. It would have to suffice.
An abrupt reverberating noise made me jump out of my skin. The hollow chime of the grandfather clock. Ten thirty.