Wicked Hunt

Chapter Eleven, Part IV

Victoria: Rosemary, Thyme, and Wolfenite 

"It's quiet," Gemma observed while Victoria closed the door. They were cast in complete darkness. Victoria scampered over to where she'd sat the candle earlier, her fingers fumbling on the dark. Panic was creeping up her throat, its fingers already squeezing her heart. "Quickly," came her mother's voice. Finally, a small light bloomed from the wick.

Victoria's shoulder's sagged as she brought the candle to her mother. Gemma gestured for it to be placed on the table. The pieces of flora were positioned in a circle on the coarse wood. Victoria sat the candle in the middle and moved to her dresser. Two more wicks were produced, and she lit them before placing them within the circle of flowers.

"The Rosemary first," she said out loud, trying to impress Gemma. She'd performed banishing rituals many times, but under her mother's milky glower felt clumsy and inadequate.

"Say the words with me," Gemma told her in a raspy voice. Victoria held the candle up and slowly ran a Rosemary flower through the flickering flame. Their voices rose up, an eerie chorus in the stillness.

"Back through shadows, down the wall

Send this spirit from this hall

Take our Rosemary, burning true,

With stem of green and flower blue."

The sweet scent given off by the burning flower calmed Victoria's nerves. She thought she felt warmth creeping back into the room. Her eyes flicked to the mirror, but it was still a swirling grey.

"The Thyme," Gemma ordered as her fingers groped around on the table. Victoria sat the blackened Rosemary onto the table, outside of the circle. Each incantation would have to be repeated three times, one for each individual flower they had gathered. She snatched the first Thyme piece and held it up to the candle. The thin stalk was ran through the flame.

"Together," Victoria whispered, sweat leaking down her forehead. Gemma's bottom lip quivered as they spoke the incantation.

"Through the cracks where darkness lies

Stunt this evil, halt its cries

Use the Thyme to shield the room

Banish that which seeks our doom."

The temperature was definitely rising. Sweat now poured down Victoria's back as she retrieved the final flower of the first incantation: the Wolfenite. Her fingers closed around the clumpy flower, but a sharp pain shot through her hand. It seared an angry red mark across her flesh. She gasped in surprised and jerked her fingers back.

"What is it?" Gemma asked, her hands feeling around on the table again. "Have you cut yourself?"

"It's the Wolfenite," Victoria said as she rubbed the inside of her palm. "It hurts to hold it."

Gemma swallowed. "He is here." Her voice was as grim as a lone tombstone covered in lichen and abandoned in a graveyard. "Night Bringer does not want us to burn the Wolfenite. It is a powerful flower that will greatly harm him."

"How will we do it?"

"Give me the candle." Gemma held her wrinkled hand out.

"Mother..." Victoria pulled it closer to her chest.

"Give me the damn candle!"

Flinching at Gemma's sharp tone, Victoria thrust the candle into her mother's outstretched palm. Taking a deep breath, Gemma felt around among the circle of flowers until her fingers found the Wolfenite. A hoarse cry erupted from her mother's lips, but she clenched her jaw as her hand wrapped around the Wolfenite. She brought the candle up and thrust the flower through the flame.

"Offer no mercy to the wicked

Spare no solid, nor no liquid

Ban this spirt with the light

Take this emblem, our Wolfenite."

Gemma staggered backward, dropping the flower to the floor where it crumpled up into a black form before turning to ash. A sharp crinkling noise broke through the quiet. A jagged crack raced down the mirror housing the grey swirling mist. Victoria rushed to Gemma and pressed her mother into her body, shielding her as the glass in the mirror shattered. A cascade of jagged pieces flew from the frame, embedding into Victoria's back and flying about the room to get stuck in the sheets of her bed and the wooden furniture.

What little warmth that had seeped into the room evaporated. Ice frosted on the tall armoire, its frigid fingers darting down the frost of the wood and splintering the drawers. Icicles formed on the ceiling, pointed edges hanging low. The air thinned, making it hard to breathe. Victoria let out a shallow breath and watched it fog around her face like a white cloud. She stepped back from her mother, her shoes crunching the broken glass.

Gemma coughed. "He has grown too powerful." She shivered before her daughter.

"We didn't even perform the entire ritual."

"Night Bringer is here," Gemma whispered, "and he's not leaving." Another cough shook her bent frame.

"Come on." Victoria led her mother to the door and grabbed the frozen handle. She jerked it around, breaking the ice that had formed. She shoved the door open. Thickly, it slid across the floor. Gemma was pushed out into the hall. After giving her frozen room one more once over, Victoria followed. She forced it shut and faced Gemma.

"We need more powerful magic," Gemma mused. "Fetch Jillian." She turned and began walking in the opposite direction, her fingers feeling on the wall since her walking stick had been left behind in Victoria's room.

"Should we wait for the Coven Meeting?" Victoria followed her mother quickly, her skirts whisking about her legs. "They'll be here in a fortnight."

There were three witch covens in Verlic, each one belonging to a different western family: the Streamling family, the Denizen family, and the Drake family. Meetings were held every month, where they took place rotated by each family. They had to hold their meetings in secret and barely spoke of them. If Clive found out, they would all be killed.

"Surely, they can help us with this?" Victoria hated the way her voice sounded: like shrill child's whine. "How can the Stag be so powerful? Is the Wolf dead?" She rang her hands.

"He is not dead." Gemma pursed her dry lips. "He has grown weak, with few believers. The Stag is capitalizing on that weakness."

"We've been neglecting our rituals for the Wolf. All this time we've been negligent, and now the Black Stag is too powerful!"

"We need to take care of this now," Gemma said sternly, drawing her daughter back from the depths of flailing panic. Victoria swallowed, guilt forming a tight ball in her throat.

"Are you grabbing the book?"

"Yes, I'm getting the Drake Grimoire." Gemma turned around, leaving her daughter alone in the hall.