Vree wanted this to end. Now. But how? Margga was strong and controlled the elements of her magic well.
“Think, girly-o. Think,” her subconscious said. “You can do this.”
Three of Margga’s fiery transference spells ricocheted off Vree’s protection spell and caught one of the tents and the roof of the Lybrook home on fire behind Vree. She knew she had to rescue her grandparents’ house from burning to the ground. But the power she had found inside her that night was waning while she tried to think of a way to defeat Margga. She had to stay strong and concentrate. But doing both was impossible. If Margga was going to defeat her, it would be soon.
Vree took a step back. Margga attacked and pressed on. Vree took another step back. And another. A plan formed in her mind. Her voice thundered. “You want me, Margga? Come and get me.” She took another step back. She felt her magic weaken more as Margga attacked and pressed on.
Vree backpedaled across the brook as Margga flung her flaming spells and charged.
The ghost witch flew at Vree and was almost on her when her eyes widened with a terrible realization.
She had crossed the line of her imprisonment.
Vree fell on her backside on the other side of the brook and turned away from the clenched fists and blackening body that exploded in a cloud of green and black flies that ignited in yellow flames. The burning flies fell on Vree and the ground around her like a thousand sparks from a thunderous Fourth of July firework.
Vree stood, slapped away the flaming flies, soot and ash on her, and used the last of her energy to put out the fires inside and outside her grandparents’ home. She did the same to the tent, though most of its canvas roof was gone.
With her energy low and almost depleted, she fell to her knees and welcomed Lenny with a tired embrace when he rushed to her side and held her.
The rest of her family, who had watched from the backyard during her fight with Margga, approached slowly, awestruck and fearful.
Vree’s stomach knotted when she saw their fear.
She was more of a freak than ever—still different from them.
She heard a great din in her mind—the buzzing of a thousand bees as thirty or more Roualens entered the backyard. They stayed several yards away, milling behind her family and saying nothing, only observing.
She closed her eyes and tightened her embrace around Lenny until he let go of her and stood, helping her up. She stood and felt the world spin, but kept her balance and wondered what to do. She was the center of attraction. She felt victorious but knew no victory party awaited her.
Then, Charles’s spirit came to her in a flash of white light that sent her family stepping back. Charles took her in his arms and embraced her.
“These powers,” she said, falling against him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders; “I don’t want them. I’m not like the heroes in my books and movies. This is real. People have died because of me.”
She pressed her face against his chest and wept.
Charles tightened his embrace. “And by the goodness in you, you have saved many lives,” he said. “More than you know.” He pulled from her, looked out at the others and told them not to be afraid.
“You see me because of Vree,” he said to his family. “I’m a simple spirit heading to a higher place, who’s been given a chance to see you one more time.”
Karrie hesitated, and then ran to him. She embraced him and sandwiched Vree between them.
Sometime during Karrie’s explosion of tears, Amy was first to join her in the embrace. Dave quickly followed.
Warm childhood memories engulfed Vree, putting visions in her head of weekend mornings when younger versions of her and her siblings took to their parents’ bed and snuggled.
“I have to go,” Charles said, ending the group hug and stirring a lament from Karrie. “I love you always and forever,” he said before he vanished.
Vree wept to see him leave again. A cold loneliness enveloped her until Karrie rushed her, took her in her arms and said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Vree asked.
“For bringing him back to us one last time.”
Vree tightened her embrace around her mother and held her for a long time.
Chapter Nineteen
VREE REMOVED HER forehead from its spot against the Roualen ship. She had moved the last engine to its proper place. This time, she felt stronger, not as drained. She stepped back several feet in the cave that no longer glowed green, and watched through the ship’s dim yellow glow as Onlin opened a hatch door at the top of the ship.
Onlin peered inside. Then the Roualen waved. A cheer rose from the Roualens thronged around Vree. Despite her request that they not, many of the Roualens filled Vree’s mind with thanks. Although she had learned during the past seven days how to better control her psychic abilities, including not killing Roualens when she looked at them, she still had problems filtering her thoughts from the thoughts of others, whether Earthlings or Roualens.
She reached through the crowd and found one of Lenny’s hands. Their touch induced a mild shine of white light from their bodies clad in nondescript T-shirts, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. Lenny, too, had inside him what Margga had called magic, though not as strong as Vree’s. His was hereditary, passed down from his grandmother and great-grandmother, and only active when he and Vree were in close proximity.
He smiled proudly at her as he gently squeezed her hand. They stood together and watched the Roualens walk single file up a staircase carved in the cave wall near the ship. When they reached a spot above the ship, they climbed down a rope ladder that led to the hatch Onlin had entered.
Fifty-seven Roualens were leaving Earth, the planet they had been born on; they would soon be flying their saucer-shaped ship up the sinkhole and out of the atmosphere, heading to the galaxy and planet that their forbearers had come from.
Vree said a final goodbye to Sarlic, whose body had been taken aboard earlier. Then, “Time to go,” she said to Lenny when the last Roualen stepped away from the cave floor and ascended the stairs. She looked around. Someone had removed the equipment, including the net she and Lenny had landed on earlier. Even the fallen stones and rubble had been removed from the cave, as though someone had meticulously swept the floor.
She scanned the cave for Enit Huw, hoping the white crow would be there.
She didn’t see him. The magical bird had vanished the night she defeated Margga. It was a vanishing as mysterious as his appearances had been. All that remained was one of his tail feathers inside the book of magic spells on her dresser.
“Hold on tight,” she said to Lenny as they started through the tunnel that would lead them from the cave. “The journey ahead is a bit dangerous.”
“As long as we stay together,” he said, “I’m sure everything will be okay.”
And as he squeezed her hand in his, Vree was certain he was right.
###
About the Author
Steven L. Campbell pens contemporary, paranormal fantasy in his undisclosed lair in northwest Pennsylvania. He has a bachelor's degree in studio art and graphic design, and graduated magna cum laude from college. He has been a wildlife artist for 30+ years and an avid reader of all genres of fiction since the age of 5. His passion for writing developed during high school, but it took a backseat after college while he painted art for a living. Now, passionate again about writing, his books feature characters living in Ridgewood, a fictional Pennsylvania town based on his own hometown where his relatives fueled his imagination with their ghost stories and urban lore, prompting him to write his own fantasy tales for everyone in love with the genre and young at heart to enjoy.
Acknowledgements
Margga’s Curse began as a story idea in 1971 when I was 14 and wrote a short story called “Ghost Dogs.” Thirty years later, I rewrote “Ghost Dogs” and published it as a short story called “Night of the Hell Hounds” at my website. Twelve years after that, I rewrote “Night of the Hell Hounds” an
d published it as an e-book short story for Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The latter story featured teen characters Lenny Stevens and Vree Erickson who played different roles than the ones presented in this novel.
Margga’s Curse would not have been written without the encouragement of my readers, friends and family.
Of my few persistent acquaintances through the World Wide Web, huge thanks go to Lola Gentry-Dey. Lola is a young female SoCal writer, poet, artist, musician, and photographer whom I met at an online writing group in 1999. We liked each other’s writing, so we sometimes bounced story ideas off each other, usually via emails that went “Hey, I wrote some paragraphs of a story that has no direction, so go ahead and add whatever you think works and get back to me.” She helped me write the ending of the first short story version of “Night of the Hell Hounds” at my website. Now, fifteen years later, she freely and with an overly generous heart has allowed me to feature some of her story ideas in this book, as well as include some of the wonderful poetry she wrote. Plus, she has been a valuable beta reader, finding errors and challenging my ideas (she proofread the final draft of this book and, yes, challenged several of my ideas). Thank you, Lola, for your benignity: tis greatly appreciated.
Many thanks go to four other beta readers: Tova Lelandes, Kim Logan, Tina L. Tanner, and Maggie Winans; their meticulous attention to detail was invaluable proofing this book.
Thanks also to April Helmuth and Bruce Pratt, two friends, co-workers, and ebook authors who let me share story ideas with them in the break room, and who always want to know when I’m publishing my next book. Your curiosity, insight, and comments are invaluable.
Biggest thanks go to my wife, Jennie, who allows me to devote time to the stories that fill my head. I love you, always and forever.
And finally, thanks to my loyal readers. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it. And I hope I raised some excitement and at least a few goose pimples during our fantastic ride together.
Connect with Steven L. Campbell
Thank you for reading my book! Here are a few of my social media hangouts where you can connect with me:
Friend me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/stevenleocampbell
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https://twitter.com/stevenlcampbell
Subscribe to my blog:
https://stevenleocampbell.wordpress.com
Other Books by Steve
Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Steven L. Campbell:
Old Bones: A Collection of Short Stories
Kismet: A Ridgewood Tale
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