26. A Crossed Lover

Chapter 26

A Crossed Lover

T he grandfather clock chimed three times. Dong. Dong. Dong. 3 a.m. The witching hour. The house was silent. The wails of agony had long since stopped. There was no movement. It was silent, except for the constant ticking of the grandfather clock.

Alice laid on the hardwood floor using her arm as a pillow. She had lost track of how long she laid there. She couldn’t remember if she fell asleep. Her arm, however, fell asleep ages ago. She didn’t care. The numbing pain relieved the pain in her heart—her soul. She focused on the instrument of her torment—the wooden spike. Her face remained devoid of any expression.

Her eyes never wavered from the point of the wooden stake, the instrument of death. Hugo’s contorted, agonized face was still fresh in her mind. She wanted to remember the good times—his smiling face, a passionate kiss, anything. She could only remember his final moments.

She breathed in and out, each breath slow and shallow as if she questioned why she took her next breath. Every inhale a moment of solace. Yet, every exhale carried a lingering sense of melancholy as she questioned if she could go on with the burden of the world.

Her life was gone. Everything she knew had crumbled before her. All at the hands of Sylvia Savino in her pursuit of becoming queen of a new empire. Her wine cellar was smashed to pieces. Her friends, the Raskins, lived in fear for their lives. Her lover, her best friend, and soulmate was dead. There was nothing left for her. Sylvia won.

All because of a stupid spell. A spell her family had given her as a burden. There was one who begged her, pleaded with her to make the spell. They wanted to use it to their advantage. Alice’s mind slipped back to the event that set all of this into motion.

“What are you looking at?” Sam’s voice jolted Alice.

A shiver ran down her back.

“Did I scare you, the great Alice Primrose?”

Alice laughed. “You didn’t scare me. I was just concentrating. Startled, more like it.”

Sam draped her arm around Alice’s shoulder, hugging her close as if she was preventing her from running away.

Alice wanted to run away.

“So, what are you concentrating on?”

Alice rolled up the scroll and stuffed it back into its wooden box. “It’s nothing,” she responded. She picked it up, stuffed it back into its hidden hole, and pushed the stone shut. “It’s just a spell. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, it must be something if you’re doing your best to keep it hidden. What is it?” Sam asked.

“It’s nothing.”

Sam leaned in and whispered into Alice’s ear. “What is it?”

Sam’s breath over her ears tantalized Alice’s soul. Sam knew every button Alice loved to have pushed. Every tease excited her mind, body, and spirit. A longing within craved a deeper connection with her girlfriend.

“I can’t tell you. You shouldn’t have seen it,” Alice said.

“Ms. Primrose, are you keeping secrets from me?”

“Nooooooo. It’s something special, and I don’t like people knowing about it.”

Sam freed Alice from the binding of her arm. She leaned back against Alice’s workstation and crossed her arms to push up on her chest. She pouted her lips and batted her eyes. This was Sam’s seductively, manipulative way to get what she wanted, and it worked every time. Alice’s heart fluttered.

“If you tell me, I’ll let you do that thing you like.” Sam batted her eyes again.

Alice bit her lip and smiled. She hid her face, lost in thought about their nightly exploits. She loved Sam and their little playful back-and-forth teases. It was fun, exciting. It was ambrosia for her soul.

“It’s a love spell,” Alice relented.

“A love spell?” Sam asked, standing up. She placed a hand on Alice’s shoulder and tilted her head. “Ms. Primrose, have you been putting a love spell on me?”

Her touch sent a wildfire through her body. Each passing moment was glorious torture as her body craved Sam.

“It’s not like that,” Alice responded.

Sam placed her other hand on Alice’s other shoulder. She turned her slightly, so they were face to face. Sam tilted her head forward. The smoldering expression on her face caused Alice’s heart to melt.

“So, what’s it like?” Sam asked.

She leaned in. Their bodies pressed against each other. The magnetic pull between their two souls drew them closer.

She continued in a low whisper, “Tell me.”

Alice wanted to tell her. She wanted to tell her everything, but she couldn’t. For all of Sam’s teasing and flirting, Alice’ s intuition beckoned her to not reveal the truth. The less Sam knew, the better, so its true secret remained hidden.

“It’s a spell to strengthen the bonds between two lovers. That’s all.”

Sam pulled back, still holding onto Alice’s shoulders. “Then let’s make it.”

“We can’t,” Alice said.

The pouty, flirty expression on Sam’s face was replaced with a discerning look “Why not?”

“Because I promised my grandmother I wouldn’t make it.”

“Forget your grandmother. Let’s make it and see what it does.”

“I’m not going to do it.”

Sam let go of Alice. She slumped her shoulders and smacked her hips out of frustration. She turned away from Alice. “Why not?”

“Because it’s a stupid spell,” Alice said. She thought of an excuse, a lie to tell Sam to get her to stop asking. “I think it only works once, and both people have to be in love.”

Sam asked, “Are you not in love with me?”

The question sent Alice into a tailspin of emotions. What was holding her back from telling her the truth? Why not make it? Did she love Sam? The question repeated over and over in her mind. She didn’t know the answer.

“I am,” Alice said.

Sam crossed her arms and glared at Alice. “You are what?”

“I’m in love with you,” Alice said.

“Are you sure?”

Alice hesitated, her gaze sweeping around the room, stalling, trying to find the right words. Any words to defuse and end this conversation. All she could muster was the word, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Sam said. “Just yeah?”

“What about you? Do you love me?” Alice turned the tables on Sam.

Sam shrugged her shoulders. “Of course.”

“Just ‘of course’?” Alice asked .

“I mean, of course I love you.”

“What do you love about me?”

Sam paused; her eyes wandered around the wine cellar. “I love that you make wine. I love that it allows us to do things we couldn’t do on a simple bartending salary.”

Alice narrowed her eyes. “Is that all you love me for? Making wine?”

“No,” Sam replied. “But I like that you love it.”

Alice stood in silence, staring at Sam.

Sam shifted in her stance, turning away from Alice. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I did something wrong.”

“Do you only love me because I make wine?”

“Well, I mean, it’s great. You do it well. And we can use it to get out of here, to some place better.”

Alice crossed her arms. Her whole body shook with a raging fury. She could barely contain herself from lashing out. Was Sam only interested in her as a means to an end, using her as a manipulative pawn? Was this entire relationship a front? Was her suspicion correct? Did her infatuation blind her from seeing the truth?

“What about me do you love?” Alice asked. “Me. Not the wine.”

Sam ran her hands through her golden blonde hair. Her eyes searched around the wine cellar as well. She was stalling, searching for an answer because she didn’t have one. And Alice knew it.

“I love your purple hair.”

“My hair?” Alice shouted. “I asked you what you loved about me, and you said my hair?”

“Yeah. I think it’s hot. It’s sexy. You’re sexy,” Sam responded. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me what you love about me.”

“I did!” Sam shouted. Their voices had escalated to a shouting match. “What about me? What do you love about me?”

Alice dropped her arms to her sides. “I love your personality. I love how you make me feel excited to see you. I love how my stomach is filled with butterflies, and my heart flutters when you’re near me. I hate how much it hurts when we’re apart.”

Sam took a step back. She placed a hand on her hip, bowed her head, and tussled with her hair. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you only love me because of the wine?”

“I love that you can help us get out of here where we could have a better life. Don’t you want that?”

“I would do this if I wasn’t paid. Would you still be with me if I stopped making wine?” Alice said.

Sam threw her hands up into the air. “This conversation is ridiculous. I don’t have to answer. You know how I feel. I’m leaving.” She stormed off toward the cellar door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to give you time to cool off from this mind-numbingly, ridiculous conversation.”

Alice stood there, alone, in the cold, damp wine cellar.

Knocks on the basement door brought Alice back to the present. Alice didn’t know if those knocks were new or if she had blocked them out the entire time she laid on the floor. The room and all her prized objects came back into view. She sat up, rotating her arm to restore feeling. She snapped her fingers, and the basement door flung open.

Guinevere flew into the living room. The end of its broom handle was cracked and hung limp by a small bit of still connected wood from where Hugo had snapped it over his knee.

“What did he do to you?” Alice asked.

Not Hugo. It was Sylvia. She did it. Not Hugo.

Guinevere hung in the air. It focused on Alice and then on the wooden stake on the ground. It lingered there as if it was examining the instrument and piecing together what happened. It focused back on Alice. Guinevere moved toward her and nestled against her chest and side of her head, leaning in as if to give her a hug.

Alice wrapped her arms around the wounded broomstick. A tear fell down her face. “Thank you. It’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

They held their embrace for a moment.

Alice continued, “Let me heal you.”

The broomstick pulled back so Alice had a clear view of the damage. She moved the cracked piece back into position. She cupped her hands around the broom handle, squeezing tightly. She leaned in, breathing into her hands. She called forth the power of her magick with the language of the arcane.

She let go.

Guinevere pulled back, with the handle now straight. A scar remained where the cracks had once carved through the ash handle.

“Sorry, I can’t do anything about the scars. But in full honesty, it makes you look like a badass. A badass, vampire killing broomstick.”

Guinevere leaned into Alice once more before pulling back.

Alice stood. Her eyes caught the black broomcorn with streaks of purple and red sitting on top of her memory shelf. She moved over to the book case, blindly searching around behind the broomcorn until it made contact with the object. A black, velvet box. She pulled it down.

Her eyes lingered on the diminutive box she held in her hands. She flipped it over and over, examining every inch. She knew what was inside, yet she hesitated, knowing it would be the last gift Hugo gave her.

Her hands trembled as she moved her thumbs to the seams. She took a deep breath and gently slid her thumb up. The soft creaking of the hinge added to the suspense in the air. As the lid lifted, Alice’s eyes twinkled at the illustrious item held within the box. A slight smile, once thought to be lost forever, returned to her face.

Nestled in the black, velvety cushion was a ring of absolute perfection. It was a thin, onyx band with a purple amethyst crystal in the shape of a heart. It glimmered and glistened with an ethereal elegance as if it was carved by the powers of the arcane. With a gentle tug, she freed the delicate ring from the soft bed inside the box, then placed the black box onto the memory shelf.

Alice held the ring in her hand, twisting and turning to examine every bit of the surface. She raised her left hand and hovered it over her ring finger. She paused. Her heart beat against her chest. She breathed deeply to soothe her nerves.

“I’ll marry you, Hugo Dodds,” Alice whispered as if to a ghost standing in front of her.

She placed the ring on her finger with tender care. She twisted the ring around a few times—mimicking the gesture Hugo had done following his loss—before placing it in an upright position. She tapped the amethyst crystal with the tip of her finger.

Alice focused on the memory shelf. The black box of her engagement ring rested next to the wooden box holding Hugo’s wedding ring. Her eyes drifted to the various other mementos from her family’s past. The pictures of long-gone family members.

The cracked picture of her great-great grandparents—the cowboy and the witch. No doubt the spell was in the picture, hidden and safe within her witch’s hat. Her relatives, acting out of a sense of duty, did what was necessary to safeguard the spell.

She recalled the vivid details passed down from her grandmother about how her great-great grandparents valiantly protected a small western town from an ominous shadow wizard in search of the spell. They were successful in their duties, fulfilling their charge with unwavering determination.

Alice's eyes landed on the photo of herself in a loving embrace with her grandmother, Bee. She was the next to shoulder the burden. Her grandmother fulfilled her duty, ensuring the spell remained hidden without a trace. And now, the burden was placed on Alice.

There was no escape from her destiny. The days of hiding were over. In order to fulfil her duty and honor her family legacy, she must rid the world of the vampire menace known as Sylvia Savino.

She breathed in, releasing the tension held deep within her soul. Alice lifted her head with a renewed sense of purpose. She squinted; her eyes narrowed in concentration on the hickory broomstick resting on top of the bookcase.

Her smile vanished, replaced by a resolute expression conveying her unwavering determination. A brilliant idea flickered into existence in her mind, like a flame dancing in the darkness. Galahad, her horse-dog, left her with one last parting gift.

“I know what I must do. Please. Please be with me. Protect me,” she whispered. “Especially you, Hugo.”

She turned and marched across the living room, past the fireplace, and through the entryway. Alice charged up the stairs. Her boots slammed into the wood with every step. She arrived at the top and went to open the spare bedroom door.

She paused, giving thought to the other occupant of the house. Alice needed to have a discussion with herself first.

Alice passed through the bedroom and into the bathroom. She flicked on the switch. “We need to talk,” Alice said.

“I already know,” Alice’s reflection said. Her head hung low. “I’m sorry.”

Alice nodded. “Thank you, and I’m sorry for you too.”

Alice’s reflection lifted her head and nodded with a slight smile. “So, what are you going to do?”

“What I must,” Alice replied. She hung her head low, not wanting to look her reflection in the face. “You do know what that could mean, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” her reflection said. “Promise me one thing. Promise me no matter what happens, you’ll stab that bitch in the heart.”

Alice locked eyes with her reflection. “I promise you this ends before sunrise, one way or another.” Alice turned to leave.

“Wait, let me see it,” Alice’s reflection said.

Alice lifted her ring in front of the mirror.

Her reflection smiled. “I love it. He showed it to us a few weeks ago. I gave him my approval.” She lifted her hand to reveal her ring .

Alice smiled. “You’ve been keeping this from me the whole time?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know. Somehow, I inherited him as a client for his own personal therapy sessions too. He wanted to make sure it was perfect. I told him anything he did would have been perfect, but this . . . this is special.” She glanced at her ring. “Now, go get her.”

“Thanks,” Alice said. She pointed to the light switch. “On or off?”

“Leave it on,” her reflection said. “In case you don’t come back.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Telling it like it is.”

Alice left the bathroom and went back into the hallway. She entered the spare bedroom with its various boxes of hers and Hugo’s stuff. She made her way to the closet and opened the door. She removed a few boxes and took out the hat box her grandmother gave her years ago.

She opened the lid and removed the black witch’s hat. She plunged her hand inside, finding the hidden pocket. She removed The Lovers’ Kiss scroll and laid it next to her. She packed up the hat and returned it to its rightful place in the closet. She picked up the scroll and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Alice jogged down the stairs and back into the living room. Guinevere floated in the same place. Alice picked up the wooden stake off the floor and added it to her budding collection of items in her hand. She strode over to the memory shelf and grasped Galahad resting on top. She removed it from the display stand.

“Gally, I need one final favor from you. For Hugo. I need more stakes. I hope you’ll forgive me,” Alice said to the inert broomstick.

She pulled on the string holding the broomcorn together. The red, purple, and mostly black bristles rained down to the floor, leaving only the brown hickory handle. Alice took all her gathered items and left the living room, heading for the basement.