Witch {Book One} [UNEDITED]

XIII: Mrs. Schade

Glitch and Thomason exchanged equally confused looks. 

"How do you know Gabriel?" Glitch asked hesitantly. His voice was full of something similar to fear. I couldn't tell what it was. It was an emotion that lay somewhere between fear and empathy on the spectrum of feelings. 

Before I could answer, Thomason spoke up; "And why did he tell you that he's in Hell and not us?"

Everyones eyes fell on me. I clenched my jaw, suddenly unsure of what to do or say. The silence wrapped around me first warmly like a blanket and then it started constricting me such as a boa would do to it's prey. I felt helpless, like a mouse knowing that the boa constrictor was about to devour it. 

"He . . ." I hesitated. I could do this. I'm fearless. Death worships me. Fear is my servant. I wore constricting snakes as scarves as I knew that they couldn't kill me. "He talked to me. Told me to talk to Atticus. Atticus told me to find you two. I don't even know who Gabrie--" I cut myself off. I did know who Gabriel was. "Wait. Is Gabriel the archangel from the Bible? Did a fucking angel talk to me in my goddamned head telling me to free his ass from Hell?!" 

That evil silence returned once more. 

"So we know you ain't crazy," Thomason muttered. "At least no more than we are. Yeah. Gabriel is the Biblical archangel. So if he's in Hell somethin' really bad is going to happen soon. We gotta get 'im out . . ." 

Before anyone else could say anything an abrupt length of maniacal laughter erupts from behind us. The color from Glitch's and Thomason's faces drained as I turned to see who it was. 

"I'm actually amused at this," the Ringmaster from earlier smirked. "It's rather pathetic, don't you think? You're really sinking low, Bandit. I mean, really, really, really sinking low. Helping these two freaks? For what? Saving some bitchy little archangel from Hell? Sweetheart, if he's in Hell, he. Fucking. Deserves. It." The Ringmaster unraveled his whip from his wrist, examining the leather of it. A muscle in my jaw twitched at his tone. 

And yet he continued. "But why should I care? I'm not in your little baby cult. I don't have any personal ties with Gabey Wabey. I could care less about the transgender and his knight in shining armor. Wait. Waaaaait. Ah-ha! It's you that I'm concerned about, Bandit Lee. I know. Gasp, right? Someone actually cares about the bullshit you do. I think you're forgetting about the big picture here." 

I narrowed my eyes. "The big picture? And what would that be?"

"Oh, I think you know." He smirked, twirling his whip over his gloved fingers. "Three letters. Kinda bitchy. Dead. Product of hate and destruction. Kinda had a really shitty life. More shitty than your shit-filled life. And then you know, she died. Brutally, actually . . ." He trailed off but I didn't need him to continue. I already knew who he was talking about. 

Ada.

 >>>

I always knew her as the Sad Lady. She had a real name but I didn't know it. Nor did I really care. She lived in a house not far from an abandoned site--people said it was haunted and was built hundreds of years ago. Like I cared--and kept to herself. She was old. Widowed. Her husband died in World War Two. He inhaled toxic chemicals when his gas mask sprung a leak. Gruesome way to go down. It took weeks before they identified his body. 

On Halloween when I was eight I went to her house on a dare. I knocked on the door and when she opened it I nearly screamed. At the time I couldn't tell if she was in a costume or not. I now know that she wasn't. She had wild white hair that almost looked like she was electrocuted and eyes so grey I didn't know if she was blind or if her eyes were simply missing. Her skin was as white as a sheet and she had enough wrinkles that she looked like crumpled up paper. She wore a vintage dress that hung a little too low on her saggy body. She looked, well, sad. She handed me a small ziplock bag and shut the door in my face without any context. 

When I got home around midnight I went up to my room and opened the bag that the Sad Lady gave me. Inside was a small ring. It was old--World War Two era at least. It was a simple silver band with engravings of lotus flowers on it and a pearl skull on the center. As it was too big for my little eight year old fingers I put it on a chain and wore it every day. 

Nowadays I wear it on my left middle finger. I never saw the Sad Lady again. Rather, I never dared to visit her house again. 

>>>

"Who are you?" I demanded, looking the Ringmaster dead in the eyes. He looked familiar. His eyes were dark blue like my own but they weren't nearly the same eyes I had. His hair was blonde but I could tell that when he was younger it was darker. He smirked. 

"Why, I thought you'd never ask. My name's William Gavel. I am pleased to say, Miss Bandit Lee, that I am the first ghost you have ever met. I'll tell my mother that you're afraid of her. And Bandit? Tell my father he can go perish in Heaven. Hell's been too nice on him." With that, William Gavel disappears into thin air, his whip falling to the ground.

My voice was taken with him. 

"Was that . . .?" We turned to face Alice who was suddenly struck with fear. 

"I think that that was the ghost of one of Ada's devil-spawn," I whispered. "Gavel . . ." My face went pale and I shook my head, suddenly more afraid than I think I have ever been. 

"Bandit, what's wrong?" Sammy asked gently, taking my shaking hand. 

"Gavel . . . Samantha, my name is Adelaide Gavel Lee." I clenched my jaw, my hair falling into my face. 

"Schade," Lucy said quickly. "Sammy dearest, we need to get her to Mrs. Schade." I was near hysteric at that point. This wasn't right. My middle name was the last name of the infamous Ada Gavel. I just spoke to an actual ghost of one of the children Ada slaughtered during her equally infamous massacre during the twenties. An archangel spoke to me in my mind, telling me that I need to save him from Hell. I collapsed against Sammy, tears burning my eyes like acid. I blinked them away but more came to take their place.

"Do any of you even know what's going on?!" I couldn't tell who spoke next. "She's going into hysteria! She's having a panic attack! Screw this Mrs. Schade character, we have to get her to a psychiatric hospital!"

I blacked out before I could hear the plan on where I was going. I would have preferred seeing the suspicious character named Mrs. Schade or even taking Gabriel's place in Hell over going back to the Crazy House. They would know that I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be doing. Keeping out of trouble. 

What's a schizophrenic to do?

"Bandit, dear," the voice of an ancient woman filled my head. "Bandit, sweetie, it's time to wake up. You've been sleeping for far too long." I jolted up, my vision completely blurry from the sudden sitting up. Everything behind the fuzz was bright. My first thought was that they dragged me to the Crazy House but nobody there ever called me Bandit. It was either Adelaide or Miss Lee. 

"Wh-where am . . . holy shit, I'm dead aren't I?" I whispered in a panicked tone. 

"Not dead," the old voice said. "You were just unconscious. But I fixed you up. My name is Bonnie Schade. You know me as the Sad Lady."

I blinked a few times, instinctively grabbing the ring on my finger. "Is Sammy here? And Lucy and Alice and Flynn and Glitch and Atticus?" I asked, my voice quiet. 

"Samantha is still here. The others left a few hours ago, around eleven. PM if you were wondering." Once my vision came into focus I instantly recognized Mrs. Schade as the Sad Lady. "You've been out for some time, my dear. How are you feeling?" 

Before I could say anything else Samantha burst into the room. "Bandit?!" She exclaimed. "Oh thank the goddesses above you're okay!" I gave her a weak smile. "I was so worried . . . I thought you were going to die . . . You had a panic attack and went into hysteria. We brought you to Mrs. Schade because she knew how to help."

"Old time witch," Mrs. Schade explained. "I know my way around witchcraft. Simple healing spell and you were doing just fine." 

I lay back down, my head spinning. I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it. I closed my eyes once more, trying to shut out the voices arguing in my mind. 

"Ada," I whispered. "We have to get rid of Ada. She's going to drive me m--" My voice faded as I drifted to sleep once more. I couldn't tell if I was conscious or not but I didn't care. I was asleep and I was safe. So I thought.