Jamie stared at the image in front of her. That handwriting—there was no way. It couldn't have been—yet, there it was, clear as day.
'Ainbheartach.'
"It couldn't have been me, Jamie. You and I know that, it's our little secret of what happened to poor, poor Ainbheartach," the ghost of her sister whispered as she hovered beside her.
"At times like these, I wish I wasn't gifted in the spirited realm," Jamie hissed. "Leave me be, Ain. I don't need your bullshit."
"Rory doesn't love you," Ain said, flitting to the side, her form as childish as it'd been the day of her death. She looked up at Jamie with hollow eyes. "She's using you."
"No she's not!" Jamie cried, flinging her black magic across the room and shattering the vase on the kitchen table.
Ain giggled and circled around the destruction. "Such violence little Jamie can do. Such a bad girl little Jamie is."
Chills radiated up Jamie's spine, she tried to block the blurry images from her head of what happened the day her sister died. She hadn't been herself, she had been possessed.
"Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night, but you'll always know the truth." Ain floated over to her, the nightdress she wore billowing behind her. "Little Jamie," she sung. "So desperate and scared. Little Jamie with teeth barred. Drowned her sister in a fit of rage, Little Jamie is not the same."
"Stop it." Jamie covered her ears. "Stop it!"
"Maybe it's you who cursed Toby." Ain cackled evilly, dragging a single-limbed doll that she'd carried over to the other side. "Don't forget Jamie, you don't remember when you do bad things. You can't even fully remember killing me. You're a bad fae, you've always been a bad fae."
"No." Jamie shook her head as she cleaned up the shattered glass with a dust pan and hand broom. "I was making potions. Yes. I was making potions."
"That didn't happen until today," Ain stated, craning her neck to the side. "What happened before today, Little Jamie?"
Running a hand over the darkened flesh of her left arm, Jamie could feel the power of the ancestors recently used. But it couldn't have been her. She would never.
Ain skipped around the table, her pigtails going back and forth. "When are you going to tell your wife about the curse? When are you going to tell her why daddy wanted you to die that day?"
"She doesn't need to know." Jamie dumped the glass in the trash can and sat down on one of the stools at the island in the middle of the large kitchen. "She wouldn't understand, I don't want to worry her."
The screen door rattled almost making Jamie fall of her stool. Rory never came through that door.
Grabbing her knife, she twisted it in her hand and went towards the side door. Ain followed closely behind, humming the tune of the little fae that wandered too far. The little fae that got a scar, that brought about death and misery to all.
Jamie knew it was about her. It was a childhood song about a curse, a warning to all fae about lines they shouldn't cross, a cautionary tale. How she wished she had listened.
Opening the door, she found a note lodged in the crack. The scent of a foreign wolf lingered behind. Cautiously grabbing it, Jamie opened it. The words sliced straight to her heart, causing it to race in terror.
"We know you're the cursed one. We're coming for you."
YOU ARE READING
Till Death
ParanormalHappy wife means happy life, but if only it were that simple. Rory and Jamie have been secretly married for years. The romance was electric and their love for each other unyielding. A feud that goes back generations threatens to tear them apart as J...
