Page 14

As we prepared ourselves, I was even jumpier than usual, starting at every little bump and scuffle.

In the days since we had miraculously found the lock of Luc's hair, we still hadn't been attacked, but I was sure that was bound to change.

It felt like there was a timer ticking down, counting the seconds until we were finally ripped to shreds.

Polly was calmer, but not by much. Her hands trembled slightly as she took the candles I handed her from my bag, and I saw her struggling to arrange them into formation on my living room floor.

After she had completed the circle, she paused. "How many candles do we need again? There's—" she mouthed the numbers as she quickly counted "—fifteen. Is that okay? Is that enough?" She sounded almost frantic. "What does the book say?"

Seeing her agitation made my own anxiety spike sharply.

Before it had seemed like a small, pointless detail, but suddenly I was terrified that the wrong number of candles could ruin the whole spell.

I dug into my bag, sifting through the contents, searching for the spellbook.

My fingers wrapped around a book's spine, and thinking I had found it, I began to pull it out... Until I realized it wasn't the spellbook, but one of Lillian's diaries.

I quickly shoved it back inside. Polly still didn't know I had even taken them; in the aftermath of finding Luc's hair, I had completely forgotten about it, and now was not the time to broach the topic.

"Well?" Polly snapped, sounding impatient and even more on edge. "Don't tell me you forgot the damn book!"

"No, no, it's definitely here," I said, but now that she mentioned it, another shot of fear gripped me. What if I had forgotten it? I pushed Lillian's diaries aside and dug deeper. But the fears were baseless because it was just resting at the very bottom of the bag. I pulled it out, triumphant.

Polly gave a big, relieved sigh. "Christ, you scared me there for a second."

I handed it to her and returned to my bag for the other items.

I laid out the red ribbon, two long pins, and our doll — which had been crudely fashioned, as neither of us had ever been much for sewing.

But it served its purpose, ugly or not.

The bay leaves, salt, and the tell-tale black wavy lock had been secured inside, just like the spell required.

I doubted whichever power we were asking favours of tonight cared whether or not the doll was nice looking.

"Ha!" Polly barked, reading over the spell. "It doesn't even mention a specific number of candles..."

I shook my head at the irony of it. We were getting ourselves way too worked up. Even though we had carefully prepared everything, actually starting the ceremony seemed daunting. We were both scared of what would happen if it didn't work.

Would the Beast know? Would it show up?

We fussed over the set up for a bit longer, but we could only escape what needed to be done for so long. The hands of the clock were creeping towards midnight, and then it would be too late. It needed to be done before the new day began.

No more avoiding it. It was time.

"So," I said shakily. "Shall we?"

"I guess so," Polly replied.

We stared at each other. I realized that I was expecting Polly to start, and she was expecting me to do the same.

"Rachel, we both know you're the one who needs to do this."

I whined in weak protest, but she was right. It had to be me; I was the main target after all. I was the one who started this... Even if I didn't exactly know how.

Accepting the duty, I knelt in front of the circle Polly had formed with the candles. She took a seat across from me, on the other side, then handed the book back to me.

I creased the open page's spine to hold it open and pulled the other necessary materials towards me, keeping them within arm's reach.

.

.

but froze when I realized I didn't know where to start. We had gone over this procedure a million times, but now that I was actually doing it, it seemed like an entirely different task.

"What's the first step?" Polly encouraged.

"Umm." My hands trembled as I placed a finger on the open page and ran it down the lines, trying to locate my starting point. "To... light the candles..."

Polly leaned across the circle and handed me her lighter. I took it, and with a quick flick, it lit. One by one, I held its flame to the wicks of the candles. It took longer than it should have with my hands shaking so badly; I had to hold my wrist to steady my hand.

The minutes ticked by, and my heart picked up pace as panic slowly spreading through me. Our deadline neared.

After the candles were finally lit, and Polly had turned off the rest of the lights, I picked up the doll, ribbon, and one of the pins. Glancing back and forth between the book and my work, I began.

I held the ribbon in place on the doll's chest and pinned it there.

The moment the pin pierced the ribbon and doll, joining the two of them together, I felt a shift in the air.

It was like it was filled with electricity, surging through me.

I looked at Polly, to see if she felt it too.

The look on her face told me she did.

Her eyes swung side to side, scanning the room, her shoulders hunched up around her neck and she trembled ever so slightly.

I gulped, then inhaled deeply through my nose in an attempt to calm myself, telling myself that this was in my head. There was a low buzzing, a rumbling in my ears... I hoped it was just nerves. My entire body began shaking now, but I forced myself forward.

Skimming the book again, I regained my place and continued. I began mumbling the incantation as I wove the ribbon tightly around the doll's deformed shape.

I was so focused on the act of winding the ribbon around the doll and repeating the chant that I didn't notice the volume of the rumbling was rising. The floor and walls of the room began to shudder around us. In the back of my mind, a distant voice wondered if this was the magic in action.

Soon it was done, the entirety of ribbon forming a thick band around the misshapen doll, and I poised the last pin over the end of it, ready to fasten it in place.

Almost finished. I plunged it in, and the buzzing changed pitch.

I heard Polly before I heard it.

"Rachel!" Polly screamed.

My head snapped up, broken from my trance, to meet Polly's eyes. They had widened in fear. I realized suddenly that the rumbling had changed into growling, but it was too late. Polly rose from her spot on the floor, seemingly floating through the air. She hung there, like a grotesque imitation of the doll in my hand before being flung into the wall behind her with a crunch.

I could only scream in reply.

It's here with us! It knew! The spell didn't work!

I glanced back at the book desperately, hoping to find a solution before I, too, was brutalized, and saw a final step: Place the doll in the centre of the circle and blow out all the candles.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as my head swung back to the circle of flickering candles.

I threw the doll into the centre just as I felt my own body depart from the ground.

It became a blur as I was tossed around the room like a chew toy.

I tried to discern my location from what my body hit: the cold door of my fridge and the rattle of the contents inside; the smooth surface of my coffee table as it buckled beneath me; the prickly stucco on the ceiling and the dust that fell as my back crushed the little points.

I was sure I was screaming, crying, wailing in pain, in fear... but part of me was departed from the entire scene. I could hear the creature's shrieks, I understood I was going to die.

Would Polly suffer the same fate?

I felt the sting of guilt, but maybe she'd get to be with her sister again...

Finally, it released me, and I crumpled to the floor.

My body ached, and I felt blood drip over my skin.

It required great effort, but I raised my head, trying to see if Polly had fared any better.

She hadn't; in the far corner of the room, blood poured from a deep gash in her head and oozed from her mouth. She wasn't moving.

Groaning, I tried to crawl towards her, but I felt a crushing sensation on my hand.

A wavering shape pinned my arm to the floor, and as I glanced up, my eyes met the horrible quartet that belonged to my tormentor.

Its indiscernible shape shimmered over me, its growling almost a purr of satisfaction.

It was finally going to get what it wanted.

I wished I could fight, but my strength dwindled with every passing second, seeping away with my blood as it flowed out of my many wounds.

My consciousness felt like it was sinking down, submerging into a dark ocean.

I sighed, my body giving way.

.

.

and then—as if from a distance—I heard the door open.

I felt a gust of wind brush across my face, chilling my skin where it was wet with blood.

The growl of the Beast changed, once again rising into a battle cry.

I heard someone say something in a commanding voice.

The wind blew again.

My arm was released.

The candles were snuffed out, and everything went black.

??