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“You did more than that, baby sister. You invited them in.”
I let the flames from the fire warm my back and take a deep breath. He’s right, but he’s also wrong. The portal to hell is opened.
His great-grandmother, who I had no fucking idea was a witch, spoke to him? But if my suspicions are correct, the curse on Castle Pointe goes way beyond his great-grandmother.
The curse is decades old. There’s a lot more vile suffering that’s happened in Castle Pointe that has yet to be discovered.
And to fix whatever gate we just opened, we’re going to have to figure out what the real hell of Castle Pointe consists of.
My eyes slide open, and it’s as if a slideshow of images flit through my memory of the night before. I pull my comforter over my face, wanting them to disappear, but they don’t. If anything, they become more vivid, the flames such a bright orange they are burnt into my memory. I still smell like ash and gasoline, the sheen of smoke from the night before covering my skin and making me feel like an infinite shower would never rid me of this feeling.
My thighs rub together under the covers, and I want to embed myself into the mattress so I never have to deal with the horror of last night. It’s weighing on my chest. A heavy stone that refuses to be removed. It’s shackled to my ribs, and with every new worry, the weight becomes heavier, until I feel like I can’t intake a full breath of air.
It’s so damn stifling.
I rip the covers off my head, gasping, tears springing to my eyes. No one saw what I saw. No one felt what I felt.
What’s to come is so bad. I don’t know if we’ll survive it.
We stood outside last night, frozen in place as the screams tore through the night. Eventually, Felix grabbed me and threw me in his car, bringing me home. I don’t even know how he knew where I lived, and I never questioned it, my mind too jumbled, my thoughts in a dark, shrouded place. I went inside without a word, bypassing both my grandmother and mother, who were both sound asleep in their rooms, then quickly changed into shorts and a tank top before flopping onto my bed. Sleep didn’t come easily, though. It was a night filled with tossing and turning, as if my mind refused to forgive me for what I did.
This is only the beginning of my penance, and I don’t know how much more I can take.
Today, everything feels different.
The murky, orange color of the sky outside my window, the way the air tastes a bit bitter, it all feels different.
It’s…heavy.
It’s the air of death that always surrounds this town, only now it’s amplified, as if every breath is filled with the dead themselves.
Though I wish I could stay right here in my room for the rest of my life and wait for the world to either right itself or come crashing down around me, I know I can’t. My friends won’t let me, and neither will my family. And if I were to be honest, I’m not one to curl up in a ball and hide. That’s not me, and it’s never been me. I’ve always been one to fight whatever is coming with fists clenched and teeth bared, a wild animal ready to attack.
Which either tells me I’m growing soft, or what happened last night is a whole other level of psychotic.
But I can’t. I can’t let my friends fend for themselves. I know Vera. She will want to fight this thing just like she tried to fight for Malik, putting her life at risk time and time again. I can’t let them pick up the pieces by themselves. I need to be beside them, with my fingers knuckle-deep in glass shards while I clean the mess we made. Piece Castle Pointe and our lives back together once again.
With a heavy sigh, I shove the covers aside, straightening my sleep shorts and walking to my door. My feet slide and catch against our worn, unstained wood floors. Our home is an old rambler in the middle of the woods. It’s not like Vera’s house, but it’s quaint and homey, and my mom and grandma have put their lives into making this house our own. I love it. With the bright colors, and green plants, and many crystals and herbs that line the shelves at every turn, it’sus.
The home of the Ares women.
I pause once I get to the door, instantly hearing the hum of my mother and grandmother from down the hall.
My eyes settle closed, feeling their spell all the way from here.
A protection spell.
They know.
I grip the door handle until the sweat from my palm makes it slip off. Taking a deep breath, I grab the handle again and pull it open, the scent of incense and fresh bread wafting down the hallway.
Stepping away from my room, I head down the hall and toward the kitchen. Our round kitchen table has been transformed into their spot, covered by their crystals and herbs, liquid bottles with ingredients they’ve made from scratch. Everything is in its rightful place, though I notice they have more than usual.
I swallow down the unease working its way up my nervous throat, watching as they hold hands and tilt their heads toward the ceiling and hum, calling for things I don’t always understand, but know they work.
You give anyone the right ingredients and enough will power, and anyone—anyone—can make anything happen. Both light, and dark.
I take another step, my foot pressing against a particularly squeaky floorboard, and their connection breaks, their hands separating as they both turn toward me.
