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When I look up, I see the five now surround me as the other witches pour salt counterclockwise in a circle.
“Good girl,” Jackson murmurs and kisses my forehead. “Now, for the grand finale.”
“Not quite yet,” Lucien says grimly as we retake our places. More salt is poured. Candles carved with ritual symbols are set out. Once in place, Lucien lights them all. “First, we have to summon more of an army. He won’t go gently into this not-so-quiet night.”
“The animals are gone,” I say in surprise.
“You were a little busy with other things,” Millie says with a wink. “The moon is waxing now. It’s time to call on the deities and summon the spirits.”
I don’t know these spells by heart, but I open myself and raise my hands with the others, watching as the sky opens above us. It’s like something out of a movie.
Jackson’s parents are suddenly there, along with our grandmother. People we must have known in previous lives.
Even men in uniform, Jack’s fellow soldiers that he lost in battle, they are all with us.
But if we’re able to summon, so is Horace.
And he has.
The ground trembles, the earth shifts and lifts, and suddenly swallows the house whole, right before our very eyes.
More shadows than I’ve ever seen before pour out of what must be the gates of hell, the place the house once stood, crawling like spiders and slithering like snakes.
Our families surround us now, all of them standing close by. Oliver and Miss Annabelle stand behind Jackson. Gwyneth and Aiden with Lucien. We have Miss Sophia and our coven family right here with us, too.
Mama’s sweating, but she’s still in her trance, her scrying mirror clutched firmly in her hands.
And when the moon is full and bright once more, she begins to shout.
“The door is open!” she cries. “It’s time!”
The six of us join hands, and as chaos reigns around us, as the spirits we’ve summoned fight the demons, we step through the doorway that Mama unlocked and begin our final spell.
“Lords of the watchtowers of the east,
Lords of air,
We do summon, call and stir you up
To witness our rites and guard our circle!
Lords of the watchtowers of the south,
Lords of fire,
We do summon, call and stir you up
To witness our rites and guard our circle!
Lords of the watchtowers of the west,
Lords of water,
We do summon, call and stir you up
To witness our rites and guard our circle!
Lords of the watchtowers of the north,
Lords of earth,
We do summon, call and stir you up
To witness our rites and guard our circle!
Mother Earth, we call on you!
Father Sky, we call on you!”
Horace appears before us, pacing and shaking his head.
“It won’t work,” he says, his voice taunting. “You can’t be rid of me, girls. No matter what you try or where you go, I’ll always be here. Ready to punish you. Ready to remind you of who you are and everything you can be. Why are you making this so hard?”
While he throws his tantrum, the six of us check in with each other, through our minds.
Are we ready?
Yes.
Absolutely.
Without a doubt.
We will end him.
“It could have been beautiful,” he continues and then turns a charming smile on the three of us. Zeroing in on me. “Daphne. You’re so sweet. So loving. I know that you don’t want to do this.”
Play along, I tell the others.
“I think I have to.” I make my voice shaky. “My sisters told me that I have to.”
“They’re wrong,” he says and clucks his tongue. “You don’t have to listen to them, Daphne. We can make them see what we do. That we’re better together. That the four of us can be together and it’ll be so beautiful. So perfect. You see it, don’t you?”
“Well, I guess.” I purse my lips as if I’m torn. “I guess I do.”
“Of course, you do. You know that everything I did was for you and your sisters. That it was to show you how much I love you. You believe that, right, Daphne?”
Anger. So much rage fuels me now, but I can’t let it blind me from what we have to do.
“Here,” Horace says and waves his hand. Suddenly, there’s a movie screen above his head, and he’s showing us little snippets of time. Starting from when we were children.
“Look how lovely all three of you are, helping me in the garden.” His face is calm and happy as he watches three girls skipping around the yard. The images change. “And here you are, outside reading your books by the trees. Spending time with me.”
We were not. We were reading, and when we noticed he was nearby, we fled inside.
Because Horace was always creepy.
“And here.” His face changes now into sinister lines as the image morphs to his lair in the bayou. So many women, tortured and terrorized. “Look at how I ended it for you. Look at the skill it took for me to make every single one of them so special. All of that blood, all of the tokens of love I saved for you.”
