The requirements for the spell were held at another location, which made sense. Not the kind of things you just want lying around your house. As a result, Abigail bundled us into her Range Rover and climbed into the drivers seat.
Becca stared coldly out of the window as Abigail drove us out of the city and I took advantage of the quiet to read and re-read the spell that needed to be cast. Each time I read through the list of ingredients for the spell, I blanched.
There were many things I would do for money but even I had limits and the requirements for this particular spell were pushing those limits.
As the landscape changed from the built-up urban area to the glorious green of the English countryside, I reached out and gently squeezed Becca’s hand. She pulled away from me and didn’t look my way.
I knew what she must be thinking and it was plainly obvious that she was contemplating ordering me not to do the spell but was holding off, barely, because she was starting to grasp the danger of our situation.
It was pretty much a certainty that I wouldn’t be hearing the end of this either.
So, I continued to study the spell, speaking each word slowly and carefully as I practised pitch and intonation. A difficult task at the best of times but when casting a spell in a different language, it was all the more so.
If the inflection was off, even on just one syllable, then it would destroy the whole spell and if I was lucky, I would only need to restart. Though, considering there were ‘ingredients’ to this spell, it would pretty much mean needing to gather them all again.
Which meant I had to get it right the first time.
No pressure there then.
Abigail turned into a long tree-lined driveway, the gravel crunching beneath the tyres as a metal gate closed behind us. At the end of the driveway sat a cluster of buildings and outbuildings. Barns and storage sheds.
There was nothing around the property for some distance and its seclusion made it ideal for what I was about to have to do.
The car rolled to a stop and Abigail brusquely ordered us out of the car. Two men were waiting to meet us, both around six feet in height and either one twice as wide as me or Becca. Hard men, with harder stares and faces that gave nothing away.
Considering what was needed, I guessed that they were well and truly loyal to Abigail. Which kind of sucked, because that made it all the harder to ensure I survived the experience.
“Ms Caulfield,” the first of the men said, his voice even and respectful. “Everything is prepared.”
“Thank you, Barney.” She glanced at the other man. “Paul, please take this young lady into the house and prepare some tea.”
Becca looked up in alarm as Abigail gestured to her and she turned her frightened gaze onto me. I shook my head, urging her to go quietly and with one final look of fear, she allowed herself to be led away by the lackey.
“I suspect that I am right in assuming this will go easier with her kept out of the way.”
“Agreed,” I said, though it only made things easier if I did what she wanted. “I think you will transfer the money now.”
Abigail’s mouth twitched but her tone betrayed no trace of amusement as she lifted an eyebrow in query.
“Is that so.”
“Unless you don’t intend to pay me,” I said, eyeing her. “Since you have, effectively, taken a hostage to my good behaviour, it isn’t like I will be leaving until the job is done.”
“Your friend is no hostage.”
I snorted and rested a hand on my hip as I ran a hand through my hair. The day was getting warm and I could feel the sweat beading on my skin most unpleasantly.
“Oh, very well.” She pulled out her phone and tapped on the display. “Account details?”
Jen had a banking app on her phone that only required a thumbprint to open, and since I was the one using Jen’s thumbs, I opened the app and turned the phone to Abigail so she could read the details.
Her phone buzzed and she gestured lazily. “Done.”
I took a moment to refresh the app and smiled as the account balance changed from zero to five thousand.
“Good.”
“You know that I could still kill you anyway,” Abigail said, musingly. “What does it matter that you receive a payment if you aren’t able to spend it?”
I offered up a lopsided grin and said, “Just my little fuck you, to a greedy bitch who would hate losing the money.”
Abigail’s tight-lipped smile was cold and I knew I had done myself no favours, but it had amused me. Even when I was at the centre of the potential danger, the chaos of it all excited me and I just had to push.
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We crossed the dry dirt yard to one of the larger barns and Barney hurried ahead to pull open the wide door just enough for us to slip through. Inside was well-lit, which surprised me. Heavy lamps hung from chains attached to the rafters, their bright light illuminating the area well.
Various tools and bits of machinery had been pushed to the side of the barn to clear a space in the centre of the floor. There, a tin of white paint and an assortment of brushes had been left along with a cardboard box which contained the majority of what I would need.
“The final ingredient?” I asked.
“When it is time.”
I rolled my eyes but hefted the book in my hands and crossed the floor to where the paint waited. I stopped and looked about, forehead creasing.
“What is it?”
“I need a table or something,” I said, looking around the barn for something suitable.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to just put this book on the ground.”
“How very conscientious,” Abigail murmured as she lifted a hand. “Barney, fetch an end table from inside the house.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
That bought me a few more minutes. I hummed softly to myself as I considered my options. Whether Abigail denied it or not, Becca was a hostage to my good behaviour. If, and it was a big ‘if,’ Abigail intended to let us leave once the spell was cast, I would need to complete the ritual fully.
However, if she never intended for us to survive, then I needn’t go through with the casting of the spell, which would be preferable, but that also meant that I had very little time to come up with a plan of action that wouldn’t get the both of us killed.
Not that I even knew why I cared. Becca was a moralistic weight around my bloody neck and without her around it would be a great deal easier to do what I needed to do. But, for some reason, I couldn’t quite fathom, I was happy to keep her around.
Which meant either going through with the ritual and hoping that Abigail would let us walk away, or not going through with the ritual and trying to get away without costing us our lives.
Not much of a choice either way.
“Bollocks,” I muttered softly to the air.
Barney returned, breathing a little heavily as he carried a teak end table with intricate carving and set it down beside me. I nodded my thanks and set the book down on its polished surface before opening it to the page I needed.
Opening the tin of paint, I grabbed a brush and dipped it into the matt white paint. For the next twenty minutes, I painted the diagram shown in the book.
There were two circles, each overlapping the other like some weird Venn diagram. Around the outer edge of the two circles would be drawn the runes and sigils that served to create an area of binding and protection.
Inside each of the circles, I painted four sigils, one at each of the compass points. Then, in the overlapping centre, there was just one symbol to be painted, though it was intricate enough that I had to double-check the diagram twice to ensure I got it right.
Once finished, I stepped back and planted my hands on my hips as I compared the diagram to what I had drawn. The runes and symbols were made of straight and curved lines, each one seeming to move of its own volition though I knew that to not be the case. Merely a trick of the mind.
Next, I reached for the cardboard box and opened it to reveal the contents. The candles, eight in total, were placed in the centre of each of those sigils set at the compass points. The ceramic bowl, I filled with the assorted herbs and set that in the overlapping area, as close to the southernmost lines as I could get it.
I sprinkled a drop of oil from a glass vial onto the herbs and muttered a few words before dripping some more, still chanting. A thin trail of green smoke rose from the bowl, and I dropped in the crow's skull.
Immediately the acrid stench of the smoke turned to that of rotting meat and I gagged. Foul ingredients for a foul curse. I coughed and picked up the stuffed toy, a pink rabbit, and placed it in the centre of the four sigils in the left circle.
I took the last item out of the box and crossed to stand in the centre of the four sigils of the right circle and spoke a word of power. The candles burst to flame and I bowed my head, whispering a prayer to the Divines, before looking over at the far door where Abigail waited, her expression closed.
There was nothing in her face or her stance that gave anything away. She could have well been planning on killing me as soon as the spell was cast and I wouldn’t know it from the calm, almost bored, manner she exuded.
I licked dry lips and raised my voice. “Perhaps you should leave.”
“No.” Her tone brooked no argument. “I should have no effect on your spell from where I stand.”
“As you wish.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sucked in a deep breath of too-warm air. The taste of the smoke made my stomach churn and I resisted the urge to spit. Instead, I turned to Barney and nodded slowly.
“Bring me the final ingredient.”
It seemed easier when I called it that. For a moment at least.
I watched Barney leave and then recited the spell in my head, repeating it again and again as I practised it. I still couldn’t decide what I should do, and the sweat that had beaded my skin had begun to roll across it, dampening my hair and causing it to stick unpleasantly to my skin.
A door opened and the sound of footsteps came to me. I kept my head bowed, not wanting to watch his return. They grew louder the closer he came and my legs trembled as I tried to focus all of my mental energy on reciting the words of the spell.
I swallowed hard as he stepped into my vision and I had to force myself not to look away as he carefully lifted the little girl over the painted lines and laid her carefully in the overlapped section of the two circles.
Blonde curls spread out on the dirty ground, framing an angelic face as she stared sightlessly up at me, her eyes glazed from the drugs they had fed her. She wore nothing but a white gown that covered her from neck to ankle and she moved her limbs pliantly as Barney arranged her.
The knife in my hand felt heavy and my mouth was dry. I would have given anything for a drink right then, something to just moisten my throat.
Barney finished arranging the girl and stepped back, just outside of the circles. He crossed large arms across a barrel-like chest and stared implacably at me. There was no emotion in his eyes, no anger or hate, no excitement or shame. They were just empty as if the whole thing meant nothing to him.
“Begin,” Abigail called in a bored tone. “The drugs will not last long and I have no desire to hear the brat squalling.”
It would be easy, I told myself, to complete the spell while the child was unaware of what was happening. Better for her too, to not know what her fate was. There was no fear or despair in that cherubim face, just a dreamlike look of one without a care.
I began to speak slowly, the words tasting like acid in my mouth as I curled my fingers. I closed my eyes and took one final deep breath knowing that I could well be making a huge mistake but knowing that I had to do it.
With the final word spoken, my fingers tightened around the energy sphere and I lashed it at Barney. It connected with a flash of white light and he howled as he was thrown backwards to land on the ground, the hole in his wide chest smoking softly.
I spun on my heel, my other hand rising and falling as I threw the blade as hard as I could at Abigail but she ducked to the side and was out through the door before it reached her.
With a curse, I began to run.