Innocent Blood

One

Holly

    “Candles, dagger, apple blossoms, salt,” Holly London touched each item. She brought an apple blossom to her nose and inhaled—it smelled divine. Fresh. A lucky find online. Perhaps the flower would be the key to breaking the bond. The thing she’d missed the many other times she’d tried.

    She grabbed the container of salt from the kitchen cupboard and shook it, careful not to spill any. There was more than enough left to make a protection circle. “That’s it until the moon rises. I’ve got a good feeling about it this time, Finch,” she said. The tan and white cat stopped grooming himself from atop the refrigerator and hissed. He stood, flicked his tail once, and walked through the cupboards out of view.

    He hadn’t been himself since his resurrection. To be fair, most anybody would be after being partially risen from the dead and bound to their murderer for all eternity.

    The kitchen light caught the scars on her wrist. She cringed and pulled her shirtsleeve down over the thick, raking scars. They had faded from angry red to opalescent streaks over the past seven years, but were still mistaken as evidence of self-harm. While Holly didn’t draw a blade against her skin, she’d bear the mark of her selfishness as long as she lived.

    She flopped down on her couch, tossing beaded throw-pillows to the other end. From the coffee table she grabbed a spiral bound notebook. Only a few pages remained between the tattered covers.

    This has to work. He’s getting worse and worse after every try. Tracing each line with her fingertip, she poured over every line, memorizing each detail of the spell.

    Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Holly didn’t bother to check it; whoever it was would have to wait.

    Finch stared at her from her bookshelf, silent and ever-present. “I’m going to fix this, buddy. I promise.”

    Two orbs, one chartreuse and one sapphire, glowed in the dark. He scratched his paw against his collar. The tiny bell on his collar pealed.

    “Fine,” she said.

    He perched on the arm of the couch. Holly unclipped the bell from his collar and braced for impact.

    “You lost the right to call me ‘buddy’ that night. Just get it right so I can move on.” His voice boomed through the small apartment.

    Even now, the contrast between his cat form and his deep, commanding voice startled her.

    “Do you have anything helpful to add or did you just want to complain?” Holly moved to re-clip the bell on his collar. He bounced out of her reach.

    “If you don’t let me concentrate, this isn’t going to work. Please just be quiet.”

    Finch jumped back to the bookshelf. Once there, his mismatched eyes never left Holly’s face.

    She steadied her breaths. Her intention must be clear. Any confusion would ruin the effect of the spell.

    She twisted her blond locks into a braid and drew a chalk outline of a pentagram on the wooded floor. She poured a ring of salt around the outside of that circle, muttering a simple prayer for protection as she did so. Inside the circle, on the points of the star she placed white candles. In the center space, she set a red candle. She lit the red candle with a match then shook it to extinguish the flame. With the lit candle in her hand, she shared the flame with the white candles, lighting the corners in the same order as she drew the pentagram.

    Deep breaths. Focus. She replaced the candle and steadied her hand then grabbed her dagger.  It was light in her hand, even with the rainbow of crystals that adorned the hilt.

    She pushed the tip of the dagger into her finger as she began the incantation, “Hecate, please accept this offering—” The curtains fluttered as a chill wind whipped around the small space and blew her braid into her cheeks. Beads of blood formed from the puncture in her finger. She squeezed a drop onto one of the apple blossoms and brought the delicate flower toward the flame of the red candle.

    A tinkling of a bell from the shop downstairs and the security system’s warning beeps interrupted her. The wind stopped and the air grew still once again. “s**t,” she cursed. The beeps of the buttons echoed through the building as the code was punched in. “s**t, s**t, s**t,” Holly scrambled to blow out the candles and sweep the salt and chalk out of view. She opened the nearest window a crack to let the smoke out. A loud rapping on her door startled her as she dug through her bathroom drawer in search of a band-aid.

    “Holly, are you still awake?” Amara’s sweet voice was muffled through the door. Giving up on the band-aid, she shoved her hand into the pocket of her cardigan and opened the door. Amara towered over Holly’s five-foot three frame. She was all lean muscle, a true beauty. Pangs of jealousy flitted in Holly’s gut as she looked at her friend. She was everything that Holly was not: her ivory skin paled in comparison to Amara’s rich russet and she wished she could have even an ounce of Amara’s grace.

    “Hey, Mara. How’s it going?”

    “You didn’t text me back, so I thought I’d stop by on my way to the meet.” Even though she owned this building and allowed Holly to stay rent-free, Amara waited until Holly gestured for her to enter before coming inside. Holly closed the door behind her.

    “What meet?”

    Amara chuckled. “If you’d read my texts, you’d know all about it”

    Holly blushed, “Okay then. Tell me now.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

    “Well, we’ve got quite an opportunity to celebrate the Harvest Moon outside. It didn’t rain like it was supposed to. I thought I’d get the Coven together and say our thanks.”

    Amara scanned the apartment as she spoke, and her eyes fell upon the candles on the floor. Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. “Oh, good, you’ve got your candles out. You can bring them. Want to head over together? I can drive if you want.” Holly saw the hilt of her dagger poking out from under the couch where she’d shoved it. The look Amara gave Holly made her suspicious that she knew what she was up to. Melted wax pooled at the bases of the wicks in tell-tale rims.

     Holly’s heart thrummed in her chest as she looked in the direction that Amara was looking and prayed that she’d hidden enough of the evidence. Holly looked back at Amara’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

    “So, do you want me to drive?” Amara asked.

    It wasn’t like Amara gave her much of a choice, and Holly didn’t exactly know how to tell her no either, so she picked up her candles and put them into her messenger bag. The candles dripped a bit of wax inside the bag. “Great. Let’s go.” Putting her shoes on, Holly grabbed her bag and opened the door for Amara. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take long. She needed to get her out of her space as fast as possible, get the ceremony over with, and come back before the peak casting time was over.

    She looked back over her shoulder at Finch as she closed the door. The tan and white cat looked silently on, still on the bookshelf. Holly could all but feel his disapproval from where he sat. “I’ll be back really soon,” she whispered half to herself and half to Finch. She could have sworn that he rolled his eyes in response.