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Another bang. Emily shot a look at Joe, and he took a step toward the door, but halted in his tracks as a third bang rang out, sending a reverberation through the entire house. A final bang sent the black-and-red door bursting open with such vehemence it broke free from its frame. It spun through the air, just missing Joe’s head as it flew over him. He fell to the floor as it passed, scurrying over to Emily on his hands and knees. When he rose to stand, he positioned himself strategically behind her, letting her shield him.
“Next time you’ll open the damn door when Jilo knock.” Jilo crossed the threshold into the entranceway, her walking stick still held high. As she stood framed in the door opening, several bolts of angry lightening ripped across the sky, backlighting this fury in a purple turban, lilac floral-print housecoat, and crocheted slippers.
“You are as hard to end as the cockroach,” Emily said, crossing the room to face Jilo.
“That right, Jilo a cockroach.” Jilo lowered her cane to the floor and leaned her weight into it as she bent toward Emily. “And she be here long after you dead and gone.”
Emily raised her hand in the air, a ball of red light forming at her fingertips. She screamed in anger, hurling the ball at Jilo, who dropped her cane and opened her arms wide the instant before the power hit her. Her anguished face showed that it hurt like hell, but in a moment, her expression changed from one of pain to one of victory. She clapped her hands together, and as the energy danced on her fingertips, it transformed in color from red to royal blue. She pulled her hands apart and shot the ball right back at Emily. It hit her dead on. The smell of singed hair rose up around her, but she remained standing.
“You gonna have to do better than that if you want to take out Jilo.” The old woman cackled. Her laughter caused Emily’s face to twist with rage. “Jilo been borrowing power all her life, and now she ready to learn you a thing or two for messing with her girl.” She motioned toward the ground, and her cane popped up into the air. She grasped the stick between both hands as a delighted gleam lit up her eyes. “Come on, batter up, bitch. Let Jilo see what you got.”
Emily howled with fury and drew both hands into claws. Another ball of fire formed at her fingertips.
“Stop it,” Iris’s voice commanded as she entered the room. “Stop it.”
The fire at Emily’s fingers dissipated. Iris crossed the room, doing her best to take it all in. Oliver followed on her heels.
Iris stepped up to Emily, reaching out a hand to touch her face. In spite of the violence that had stained the room, her gesture was one of love. “We thought you were dead,” she said and tried to draw Emily into her embrace.
“Do not touch me,” she said, nearly hissing out the words.
“Emmy,” Oliver said stepping out from behind Iris. “What has happened to you? Why are you doing this?” He looked around, obviously struggling to comprehend what exactly “this” was.
“Oh, little brother, I have been liberated. Freed from the tyranny of the line. That is what has happened to me.” She reached out and tousled his hair. “Wouldn’t you like to taste that freedom? Move past any sense of guilt or regret? You too have suffered under the line’s yoke. You too have been exiled.” Her fingers traced down his temple to his jaw. “We two are so alike, so much more so than you and those two drab creatures. You’re not afraid of a little fire. You like having your own way. Join with me. Join with us.” She reached up with both hands, her long red-lacquered fingernails tracing down both sides of his face. She tossed her hair back and looked up into Oliver’s face, blinking her green eyes at him like an affectionate feline. She smiled and chanted, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Oli on over.”
Oliver’s hands grabbed hers and pushed them away. “It’s true. I am one selfish peacock of a bastard. I know that, but I am nothing like you. There’s something inhuman about you now . . . maybe there always has been.”
Emily laughed. “Inhuman? Oliver, if only you knew. You’ll have to trust me that the irony is delicious.”
“It isn’t too late, Emily,” Iris said. “It isn’t too late for you to stop traveling down this path. Let us help you.”
“Isn’t it too late?” she asked, her question addressed to me rather than Iris. “I’ve allied myself with the rebel families. I have sworn to help them destroy your precious line.” She nodded in the middle sister’s direction. “I’ve tortured your dear Ellen, and I enjoyed every second of it, I might add. Did I mention that Josef and I were the ones who killed her worthless Tucker?”
“You said he was helping you.” Ellen looked up at me as if my words would be the straw that broke her.
Emily laughed. “Oh my dear, I lied. I have some of the most powerful witches in the world supporting me. Why on earth would I need anything from Tucker Perry?” Her eyes narrowed, hardened. “I’m not a desperate lush.” She tossed a glance in Ellen’s direction, and I knew she was looking to see if her barb had hit home. She smiled, satisfied when Ellen winced. She turned back to me. “He was a pawn. I burned his heart out just to keep you off balance.”
“And to take him away from me,” Ellen said from the floor at Peter’s side. Her physical energy had been exhausted. She pressed against the floor with both hands, barely strong enough to keep her upper body from collapsing to the parquet.
“Oh, yes,” Emily said, nodding as she looked down at Ellen, “there was that too.” She paused. “What about what I’ve done to you, Mercy? I’ve toyed with your delicate feelings. I stabbed your fiancé, oh, and speaking of your fiancé, I got you to cheat on him.” She raised her chin, looking down the bridge of her nose at Peter. “Do you hear that, Peter? It’s true. She surrendered herself to that creature. Maybe not physically, but he inserted himself inside her all the same. My whore of a daughter loved it.”
“Shut up,” Peter said, trying to sit up, but still too weak.
“That’s no way to talk to your future mother-in-law,” she said, and then again addressed me. “Tell me, darling, is it too late?”
I looked up at her and felt the power of her toxicity. So much anger, revulsion, and hate filled me, but then I stopped and dug deep into myself. In spite of everything, I wanted to find a way to end this. To reach out and rescue her from the darkness. “No, it isn’t,” I said. “Let us help you.”
She snorted. “Living up to the charming name that Ellen hung on you, huh?” Her eyes flashed wide, and her mouth pulled up at one corner into a sneer of disgust. “If I could have named you, it would have been different. I would have called you ‘Abomination,’ for that is what you truly are.” She looked away from me and back to Iris. “I don’t need help. I need you to get out of the way. It’s time for the line to fall. Our old friends have waited long enough,” she said, and then added in a plaintive voice, “and they are so, so hungry.”
“Then I’m sorry, dear one,” Iris said, her voice breaking. “You can no longer hold the power in your possession.” She paused and lifted her head high. “Emily Rose Taylor, I bind you. May the power reject you. May it not claim you as its own.”
“Emily Rose Taylor, I bind you,” Uncle Oliver joined in as Iris repeated the words.
“May the power reject you.” Ellen added her weary voice to the chorus. “May it not claim you as its own.”
“Emily Rose Taylor, Mama,” I said, the word ripping the outer layer from my heart. “I bind you. May the power reject you. May it not claim you as its own.”
