Everytime (American Horror AU 5)

Chapter 10

NOTE: Contains mature content. Discretion is advised.

"Ett rött äpple." Britta held up a bright red apple, ripe and fresh from the supermarket—luckily Cordelia had bought apples, even if it were from some old Swedish love spell from days long past.

"Tre droppar blod från den tredje siffran." Clara, Amy and Cordelia had only caught the word 'blod', knowing exactly what she meant when the Swede held up her left hand with her ring finger extended, a small needle in the other hand.

"En flammande röd eld i kitteln går."

By pointing her finger and flicking her wrist lightly forward toward the potion pot belonging to Cordelia, a flame was made to dance by the century-old woman. It was far from being a normal color, literally what Britta had dictated in Swedish—a flaming red fire. Not even with hints of yellow or orange like a normal flame—it was bright crimson. The sisters looked down and jumped as soon as it blazed up into the air, and Amy fixed her intensely blue eyes on her great-grandmother as she held her hands outward.

"Kom närmare," she had commanded gently, making a come-here motion with each hand. "Denna förtrollning kommer att börja."

The sisters and their adopted mother did as directed; they did not understand a word of what she was saying, but the body language helped a lot. Britta had previously claimed that it wouldn't be proper for her to speak English performing a spell that a non-English-speaking ancestor developed. However, this concept annoyed Amy to tears, especially since she was completely oblivious to the meanings of the words. When Britta took the ripe, red apple from the table, she extended it to Clara with a sharpened, double-edged knife.

"Britta," Clara whispered, her eyes trying to look for answers in her facial expression and non-verbal cues as to what to do. Britta had taken Clara's hands and positioned the edge of the blade halfway on the skin of the apple as she guided the young witch to do as the spell called for.

"Skär i vägen för stjärnan," the century-old Swede instructed.

Even though Clara could not understand the words, the way her hands were guided by Britta indicated exactly what she was telling her to do. Setting it sideways on the table, the young, raven-haired witch sliced through it in two moves. As Clara opened it, it was exactly as her great-grandmother instructed—it was cut in the direction of the star, as a sand dollar-like star had been naturally seen in the core. Britta then extended the needle, but Clara winded slightly at the glowing, thin bit of silver-toned metal.

"Tre droppar," Britta stated.

"Where will the blood go?" Clara asked.

"Här," Britta directed, pointing right at the star within the core of the apple.

Suddenly, Clara felt the Swede take her hand and squeeze the tip of her left ring finger, puncturing the tip roughly enough for her great-granddaughter to feel it and wince through gritted teeth. Once a substantial amount of blood came to the surface, Britta made sure three drops went into the holes where seeds rested in the star before closing the apple back and extending it to Amy, who looked at the Swede strangely.

"In i elden det går," the young woman's great-grandmother whispered, gesturing what looked to be throwing.

"Can't you just speak English?" Amy questioned. "I do not understand what you're saying."

"Amy," Cordelia interrupted. "Please be quiet. I think she wants you to throw it in the fire."

"Oh, okay then," the young witch said, concentrating on the desired results of the centuries-old love spell as she tossed the bewitched apple into the fire, watching it blaze up before Britta called the other three witches by holding out her hands in such a way that it signified that she wanted them held—Clara and Cordelia held each one of her small hands, but it was Amy who completed their circle. It was Britta who began the strange, alien-sounding chant as her two great-granddaughters and their adopted mother concentrated on their ultimate goal: