As expected, I awoke with a pounding headache and a churning in my stomach that didn’t bode well. On top of that was the memory of last night and the embarrassment that came with it. I groaned softly and pressed both hands to my temples, covering my eyes against the bright sunlight coming in through the open curtains.
I burst upright as I remembered the spell that needed to be cast and then stopped as the room spun and my stomach churned all the more. I sucked in a deep breath and waited a moment for the nausea to fade, before I pushed aside the covers and spun around on the bed so that I was seated before the desk, my bare legs hanging over the side.
The book of curses lay where it had been left by Becca when we’d returned home and I pulled it to me and opened it. Being hungover was not the best state to be in when it came to translating handwritten ancient Gaelic, into English in my head. It was hard going and not helped by the thumping beat behind my eyes and the need to squint just enough that everything stopped being blurred.
As I leafed through the pages, Becca stirred behind me. I looked back and caught a glimpse of a shapely leg as she pulled the covers in her sleep. Memories of the kiss stirred and I swallowed back the disappointment that it hadn’t gone further.
I turned back to the book, forcing my focus on the thing that mattered. If I wanted to cast the spell in the increasingly small window of opportunity before Mikey was likely to drop the pendant off in the college office, then it needed to be soon.
The problem, I found, was that the majority of the curses in the book required ingredients of one sort or another. Of the few that didn’t, almost all of them were wildly unsuitable. The one that might, possibly, work, was a long shot at best.
A Curse of Madness, the book proclaimed. A hex designed to drive the one afflicted insane over an extended period of time. The book indicated weeks, but I was pretty sure I could tweak the spell enough to get that down to days.
The issue with the curse, though, was that it was fairly non-specific. Madness could mean any number of things, though the description written in a shaky hand by some witch named Dolag Allanach, seemed to describe what we in the modern world would call Schizophrenia.
Auditory and visual hallucinations, along with delusions, changes in hygiene and grooming and disorganised thinking. All of this would lead to a psychotic rage, which Ms Allanach seemed to find quite a wonderful way to torment an enemy, ending the curse after his madness brought him to the murder of his clan.
Sounded good to me. All I needed to do was focus that paranoia and delusion onto me. Make me the focus for the psychotic rage and then have the poor bastard attack me somewhere incredibly public, thus providing both confirmation that he was the killer of Jen to Becca, and a suitable punishment when he was inevitably arrested for attacking me.
Another glance back to see that Becca was still asleep and I reached for the scissors that Jen had left half-buried beneath several fashion magazines. With a slight wince, I cut my little finger and squeezed the end until blood welled and dripped to form a small pool on the desk.
I used the tip of the scissors as a crude pen nib and dipped it into the blood before scrawling a rough copy of the sigil I had inscribed on the back of the pendant. I sucked in a deep breath and took one final look at Becca to make sure she was still asleep, and once I was sure, I began.
With a hand at either side of the sigil I had drawn in my blood, palms down and all fingers extended, I drew on my magic. It was weak and ethereal, difficult to grasp as I had used too much on the healing of Jen’s body, but it was there. In my mind, I always saw it as a lake of liquid silver, but it was low now, the silver growing dull and weak.
I drew back the middle two fingers on each hand, leaving only the forefinger and little finger extended.
“By the shadowed wings that cloak the night,
I call upon Morrigan’s ancient might.
In whispers woven, in chants entwined,
Let madness flow, the shattered mind.”
I pulled back the little finger of my left hand and extended the index finger of my right, the muscles aching with the unfamiliar gestures as my hands trembled.
“With raven’s caw and crow’s dark flight,
Twist the boy’s vision in this plight.
Morrigan, goddess fierce and wild,
In his eyes, Jen, a foe reviled.”
There was an ache in my stomach as acid burned the back of my throat. I pulled back the forefinger of my right hand and turned that hand ninety degrees to the right. With my left, I tucked my thumb and drew a circle in the air with the extended forefinger.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Through misted veils and realms unseen,
Seed thoughts that mar what once had been.
By your power, by your decree,
Twist his thoughts, so mote it be!”
Pain burst inside my skull, lighting stabs running down my spine and out to my limbs as I clamped shut my mouth to keep from crying out. The copper taste of blood filled my mouth as I bit near through my tongue and my body stiffened, arms and legs spasming and twisting almost to breaking as the magic forced itself through me.
Then it was done, and I fell to the bed, sucking down gasps of air, afraid to move and find out that bones had been broken by the crushing force that had assaulted me. It had required far more power than I envisaged, more power than I had, and it had made up the difference with this body's own energies, leaving me exhausted and spent.
But it had worked. The spell was cast with me the focus for the madness that would assail the bearer of my pendant. Even if Mikey handed it over to someone else, as soon as he touched it, the curse would take hold.
I wanted to laugh and to cry, but most of all to just lay there and let my body recover. That ache in my stomach was a hunger that grew with each passing minute as this body began to devour its stored reserves to burn as energy.
With a soft groan, I pushed myself up, arms trembling and swallowed the mouthful of blood, which did little to settle my stomach. Becca was still asleep, thanks no doubt to the large amount of vodka she had consumed last night.
I closed the book and wiped away the sigil I had drawn in blood, before standing and heading out into the hall. I was only wearing knickers and the oversized T-shirt that Jen wore to bed, but the thought of dressing was enough to make my eyes droop and my stomach rumble, so I headed downstairs as I was.
Jen’s father was asleep in the living room again, his snore loud and obnoxious as his breath filled the room with its foulness. I had no desire to wake him, so walked quietly through the room and into the kitchen beyond.
There was little food in the house, and much of what was in the fridge was of dubious quality. The few vegetables were shrivelled and brown, while a pack of open bacon didn’t come close to passing the ‘sniff’ test.
Judging by the expiration date on the carton of eggs, I decided against using those and instead opted for an open packet of soft biscuits that should have been thrown out days ago. It wasn’t nearly enough to soothe the ache in my gut.
I padded back through the living room and up the stairs, back to the bedroom where I picked up Jen’s phone. Much as expected, there was a food delivery app installed and I opened it with a touch. There were a number of places that delivered breakfast foods and I found one that seemed close and ordered a large selection of different foods, adding in some cans of pop for good measure.
With that ordered, and Jen’s bank balance slightly lower than it had been 5 minutes ago, I curled up on the bed and tried to ignore the pain as I waited for the food to arrive. Which took far too long in my book, even though it was barely thirty minutes.
I was downstairs and pulling open the door before the delivery driver had finished parking and he goggled at my half-naked form as he walked up the short driveway.
“Morning, miss.” He said, trying hard not to look at my bare legs and t-shirt that barely covered my ass. “Ah, your food.”
There was colour on his cheeks as I flashed him a warm smile and took the large bag of food containers from him. I gave him a quick wink before I closed the door and laughed softly at his stammered farewell.
Were all boys such fools around pretty girls? I wondered. Had I been like that?
Probably.
With a shake of my head at the ludicrousness of it all, I carried the food upstairs and dropped it on the bed before I landed on the mattress beside it with a thump.
“What the hell?” Becca groaned as she opened her eyes, nose wrinkling at the aroma of the food that was rapidly filling the small room. “Time is it?”
“Almost eighty-thirty,” I said around a mouthful of a bacon sandwich. I chewed noisily and fast, swallowing far too soon and coughing as I tried to avoid choking. I took another large bite. “Eat up.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Trust me, you’ll feel better after eating.” Or she would throw up, which would make her feel better anyway. “Lot of choice here.”
Becca cocked a brow and shook her head. “It’s too early for this.”
“You need to get up.”
“Why?” One baleful eye flicked open as she glared at me. “We don’t have college today.”
“Got a train to catch.”
“What?” Both eyes were open now and staring at me, aghast. “That’s today?”
“Tonight,” I confirmed. “We’ll need to get there early so we can find a hotel for the night.”
“Why do we need a hotel?”
I swallowed the last of the bacon sandwich and reached into the bag for the sausage and egg. Becca pulled a face as the corners of her mouth turned green at the smell of the egg and I grinned, even though my stomach churned slightly at it.
“God! Why did I drink so much?”
“You got me,” I said with very little pity in my voice. “At least you didn’t do anything stupid.”
Her eye widened as the memory hit her and she sat straight upright, her mouth working as she sought the right words. I smiled and held up a hand, gesturing away the awkward moment.
“We were drunk and it was a stupid thing to do. I’m sorry.”
Becca swallowed back what she was about to say and her cheeks heated as she looked away. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I was missing Jen and it almost felt like I was close to her again. You know?”
“I get it,” I said, not unkindly, though that might have been lost as I sprayed crumbs across the bedsheets with every word. “Too much to drink and heavy emotions never mix well. We stopped it before it went any further than a kiss.”
“You stopped it,” she said, blushing harder. “Oh god! I want to die.”
“Okay, it was embarrassing for us both, but it’s past now and we can move on. Friends?”
Her smile, even as strained as it was, created a feeling of… something… inside of me that I didn’t really want to look too deeply into right then. If all went well, by the end of the week I would be in my own body and then I could consider what that might mean.
For the moment though, I needed her to focus and to help me. The Divines knew it would be awkward enough for me tonight, without her, I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it.
“So,” I said, returning the smile warmly. “You need to go home and pack an overnight bag. I’ll do the same and then we’ll head out.”
“You’re sure we’ll have to stay overnight?”
I took a bite of my third sandwich, a BLT with a bit too much tomato for my liking and bacon that wasn’t near crispy enough. I chewed through it dutifully though. I’d need all the energy I could get.
“It’s a two-hour train ride to Manchester,” I reminded her. “And the party won’t really start until ten. If we’re lucky, we’ll be out before midnight but it could be later and I don’t fancy returning at that time.”
She pulled a face and sighed. “Fine.”
“Now,” I said, reaching into the bag. “You sure you don’t want a sandwich?”
Becca slapped a hand over her mouth as she gulped and shot off the bed as she ran for the bathroom. I watched her go for a moment and then shrugged.
“Fine, more for me.”