Avoiding Alpha Page 11

  “Yes. You.” She moved aside. “Come.” She motioned to the floor. “But watch the salt.”

  A line of salt covered the threshold. The line continued across the porch and around the corners on both sides, sealing the house in a circle. For protection?

  From who? Luciana?

  Stepping over the salt, I walked into the house. The floorboards creaked under my weight. The place smelled old and musty, but there was a warmth to the space. The incense that burned somewhere in the house blotted out most of the musk, leaving it smelling like a church.

  I sneezed. And sneezed. And again. I pulled my shirt over my face, but I couldn’t stop.

  “Tess?” Dastien said. I felt his hand on my arm, but I couldn’t stop sneezing.

  “That’s what I thought. Lead her into the living room,” Rosa said.

  I couldn’t see. I was sneezing so fast my eyes were glued shut. I could barely get enough air to breathe. I knew I was breathing—sneezing took air—but this was out of control.

  I reached out blindly, until I grasped Dastien. “Out.” Sneeze. “Now.” Sneeze. “Now.” Leaving this house was the only answer. It was the incense. I had to go. Right then.

  Dastien lifted me, but Rosa started speaking in rapid Spanish. I was sneezing so much, I couldn’t focus on the words, but Dastien understood her. He said something and then put me back down on the couch. “She’s going to help.”

  “Incense.” Sneeze. “Out.”

  “It’s not the incense, cherie. Luciana cursed you when you went onto the coven’s land. Which was why I didn’t want you to go in the first place.” The last bit was very growly.

  Shit. This wasn’t good. I kept sneezing. My abs were getting a hell of a workout.

  Something slimy rubbed under my nose and the smell of eucalyptus and mint filled my senses. The sneezing slowed. I could finally open my eyes in between the wracking breaths.

  The walls of the house were covered with religious icons. The aged paintings of saints’ faces stared down at me. There wasn’t a bit of empty space anywhere. Even the curtains had writing on them, and I’d bet everything I had that the words were Bible verses.

  If I weren’t related to Rosa, I’d say this was the home of a crazy person. After all, I didn’t really know the lady. She probably was insane.

  She stood in front of me, close enough that I could smell the rose and faint garlic on her skin above everything else. She held a white egg in one hand as she leaned over me. The shell was ice cold as she rubbed it over my head. She ran it in a circular motion down my body from head to foot as she said the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish. As she moved the egg, the sneezing trickled to a stop.

  What the hell was going on?

  When she was done, she reached for a glass on the coffee table. We were all silent as we waited for something to happen, but I wasn’t sure what.

  The sound of Rosa cracking the egg against the edge of the glass startled me. She dumped the innards into the glass, but something was wrong with it. The yolk was black and the white had turned a cloudy gray.

  “Holy shit,” Axel said.

  “Watch your language,” Rosa said.

  I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the couch to get a closer look. “What the hell is that?”

  “You, too.” She held the glass up to the light so I could get a good look at it before handing it to me. “That is a curse.”

  “What!” I nearly dropped it.

  Rosa took the cup from my shaking hand. “Did Luciana touch you while you were there?”

  I thought back, replaying the scene in my mind. “No.”

  “Did she say anything odd? Make any motions with her hands?”

  I was suddenly cold. “Yes. Yes, she did. She said something, but I couldn’t make it out and she waved her hand. It felt like she slapped me, but there was no way for her to have physically done that. She couldn’t actually have reached me.”

  “And how did you feel after?”

  How had I felt? I’d nearly changed. My wolf tried to claw its way out. But I’d been pissed. It was normal to be easily angered, especially around the full moon. Right? “I…my wolf was upset.” Oh shit. She’d wanted me to feel out of control. Luciana had made the point to tell me she could make me feel better, but when I hadn’t agreed, she’d made sure I’d start feeling worse. She was banking on the fact that if I lost control of my wolf, then maybe I’d go to her.

  She was trying to trap me.

  “I thought it was normal to feel on edge so close to the full moon,” I said to Dastien.

  “To an extent, but you’ve been on the verge of shifting all day. The only time you weren’t was when you were recovering your power after dealing with Meredith.”

  I looked back at Rosa. “I thought breaking a curse was hard. Dangerous.”

  “I’m old enough to know what’s dangerous. This,” she held out the nasty black-egg-filled glass again, “is an easy one to break. Child’s play. No real harm done, and it would’ve worn off in a day on its own. I only sped things up.”

  That made me feel only moderately better.

  “So, mijita, what can I do for you?”

  I pulled the list out of my back pocket. “I’m trying to make a potion, and it calls for these.” I handed her the paper.

  She pulled on her glasses. When she was done reading, she met my gaze. “This is quite a list.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what are you going to do with these things?”

  I explained about Meredith and the curse. About how sick she was. And finally our plan to help her.

  When I was done, Rosa sat down next to me. “I’m going to help you, but I want you to know that this is dangerous. All magic is to some extent, but what Luciana does…it’s dark. Black.” She leaned back. “I couldn’t stay around so much blackness without risking my soul.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Is it really that bad?”

  “Not always. You must understand that your intent matters so much more than the words in the spell. The words may be gibberish or a beautiful poem, but it’s what you intend to do with those words that matters. A little bit of your heart goes into each work you do. If you’re a dark person, like Luciana, you do dark things. If you’re light, you do light things. And when you’re a part of a coven, a little bit of what is done there rubs off on each person.”

  Chills ran down my arms. I was suddenly so glad Mom kept me away all those years.

  Rosa patted my cheek as she gazed into my soul. “You will do light things.”

  The only thing I could do was nod. I was completely mesmerized by her gaze.

  “Good.” She held up the list. “I will get you these ingredients, but with them you must do only light. Only light.” She poked my sternum. “You put a light heart in with the potion and words. You put your love into what you say and the magic will not harm you. But if you stray into the dark in your thoughts with these ingredients…the magic will be tainted and it will darken your soul. You must think only of the light.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  Rosa’s knees cracked as she stood back up, and Dastien gave her a hand. “Thank you, honey.” She patted his cheek and slowly waddled into the next room.

  “What’s on the list?” Axel whispered.

  “Saints’ ashes, oil from a weeping icon, feathers and blood from a black chicken…you know, the usual,” I said.

  Axel laughed. “Nice.”

  Rosa held a brown paper bag when she came back. She rolled the top of it down a few times before handing it to me. “One more thing, before you go.” She looked at my feet. “Shoes off.”

  I wasn’t one to obey a command, and I didn’t think twice about it. I pulled off my socks and shoes.

  She had a tiny vial of liquid. Dipping in a Q-tip, she moved toward me. She traced a cross over the center of my forehead as she said a prayer. She did the same to my cheeks and chin before motioning for me to hold out my hands. She dipped the Q-tip back into the liquid,
and did the same to the tops of my hands, then palms.

  “Feet.”

  I lifted them into the air, and she did the same to the tops of my feet.

  She finished by putting her hand on the top of my head and saying a final prayer. Her words were soft and so fast that I couldn’t make them out. The little bits and pieces I could hear were sort of Catholic, but different.

  The top of my head grew hot as she prayed, and by the time she finished, I felt much lighter—as if a weight had been lifted. It might’ve sounded crazy to say that I was touched by a higher power, but that’s what it felt like.

  “There. I’ve given you a blessing. I hope it keeps you safe. I’m going to light some lámparas for you tonight.”

  “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “I thought witchcraft and Christianity were separate.”

  She laughed as she capped the little bottle. “Oh, they can be. Very much so. But when the Catholics came to this land they combined their religion with our old ways. In Peru, you’ll see the Virgin as the Pacha Mama. It might not seem very Catholic, but it made for an easy blending of our peoples.”

  She grinned, and if possible, the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “Spirituality is very personal. And what a person pulls from their magic, that’s personal, too. It’s why I said the words don’t matter so much. I use my faith in God to back the little things I can do. It helps me to use His words. Others find their faith and will in other things. Does that make sense?”

  I thought for a second. It kind of really did. “Yes. I think so.” And I liked it. Mom had always raised us going to church. I liked that if I did do this whole bruja thing, I didn’t have to give up my childhood beliefs. I’d already given up enough of my old life.

  I put my socks and shoes back on. “Thank you for everything.”

  “De nada, mijita. If Luciana gives you trouble again, you come back. Don’t try to fight what you don’t yet understand.”

  I nodded. “I think I’ll do that.”

  She opened up her arms, and I hugged her. “Follow your heart. It’s good.” She pulled back. “And keep that one around.” She winked at Dastien. “He’s nice to look at, no?”

  I laughed at the uncomfortable look on Dastien’s face. “He sure is.”

  Axel hugged Rosa. “Thank you.”

  “Come back this weekend, mijito. I’ve something to show you. And you can tell me how your sister does.”

  “Sure thing, Tía.” He kissed her cheek.

  Chapter Eleven

  We dropped Axel back at his dorm, and sped back to campus. I felt lighter. Like I knew what I was doing, and everything seemed a little more in control. That lightness that Rosa talked about was nearly tangible.

  Traffic was thick, so it took us forever to get back. Dastien tried to keep my mind off of everything, switching music, talking about DJs coming to town, but with each passing moment, the bag of ingredients weighed heavier in my lap. I needed to focus on what I was going to do tonight.

  By the time we finally pulled through St. Ailbe’s gates, I’d convinced myself that I could do this. The ingredients were all here. Everything was lining up, and even if it wasn’t easy, I hadn’t hit that many road bumps.

  Okay, so the curse was not cool at all, but I was going to let that one go. Focusing on Meredith was key, and I’d gotten everything I needed for the spell.

  Even counting the curse, everything still seemed a little easy. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Usually, it meant that the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan, but maybe I was finally on the right path and this was how things were meant to go.

  Dastien left to go check on something, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I waved him off and jogged to the metaphysics classroom. As soon as I stepped into the stairwell, I could smell the stench coming from the labs. It was horrendous. I shoved my nose under my T-shirt, but it didn’t help. The closer I got, the worse it smelled.

  I plugged my nose and opened the door. “What are you two yahoos up to?”

  They were huddled over some beakers on a table by the window. When they turned to look at me, I laughed. They had clothespins on their noses.

  “Do a girl a favor and toss one my way. This stuff is rank.” I caught the pin that Chris tossed, and quickly clamped my nose. It hurt like a bitch, but it was better than the stench. Now I could actually walk into the classroom.

  Two cookie sheets rested on a lab table covered in what looked like a solid layer of hard candy on them. A mixture was boiling in a beaker over a Bunsen burner.

  I started to say something but Adrian held up a finger.

  As I watched, the mixture in the beaker turned from a bubbling brownish-yellow sludge to bright blue. Chris grabbed it off of the fire with a pair of tongs and placed it in an ice bath. I leaned down to look at the little balls of black floating in the blue. The urge to touch it was strong, but I ignored it.

  “What is that?” My voice sounded funny with the clothespin on my nose.

  “That’s the part of the second potion.” Adrian pointed to one of the cookie trays. “We’ve got to pulverize that into a fine powder for the first component, and it’s got a couple more steps.” He pointed to the other cookie sheet with white and gray speckled stuff on it. “That’s the third. We still have one more step for that one.”

  “Okay. What can I do to help?”

  “You got the rest?” Chris said.

  I held out my booty. “I sure do.”

  “Nice work. Let’s see it.”

  I emptied the contents of the bag onto the lab table.

  One small jar of ashes.

  Two black feathers.

  A small bottle of brownish congealed liquid. Blood. Yuck.

  A thimble-sized bottle with a cotton ball soaked in a light yellow oil.

  Adrian picked up the last bottle. “Whoa. I can’t believe you found all this stuff.”

  “Honestly, me neither. But apparently I have a great aunt Rosa who has everything.”

  “Sweet. I need this for the blue potion,” Chris said, picking up the tiny bottle of oily cotton balls. “Where’s Dastien?”

  “Checking on stuff.” I motioned to the potions. “So, what now?”

  “We saved some steps for you to do. Since you’re the one who has to cast the spell, your energy has to go into it.” Adrian handed me some papers and a hammer.

  I glanced down at the papers. They were photocopies of the spell book. When I looked up at him sharply, he said, “Just for now. We can destroy them after if you want. But we each needed to know what the steps are.”

  That was reasonable. “Fine.”

  “Okay, so we’re here.” He pointed at the sheet. “The next step is to break that one up,” he pointed to the brownish-yellow stuff on the cookie sheet. “When it’s in smaller pieces, you can use the mortar and pestle to grind it.” He pointed to the large black stone on the table. “It’s a pain, but you have more control over the powder with it, and if we use a blender, the friction causes heat which would mess the whole thing up. Once that’s done, we add the blood and minced feather.”

  “Gross.” I took the cookie sheet to the next table over and started pounding at the sheet of solid potion. Whatever it was, the stuff was as hard as granite. A few more whacks and a jagged crack formed. After that, a couple more whacks and it shattered into manageable chunks. I read through the steps in the spell. It needed to be as fine as powdered sugar.

  This was going to take a while.

  Working in circular motion to break the pieces faster, I separated out sections in the mortar and did a little at a time. It was boring as hell, but we had to get this right.

  By the time the consistency was powdered sugar-like, I was sweating. I found a knife in the supply closet, and started mincing the feathers. The spell said that they had to be finely diced, but not grain-like. I got to chopping. I rocked the knife back and forth on the table and found the motion to be surprisingly soothing. When the little bits seemed small enough, I added the
m in.

  The book said it needed three stirs, counter-clockwise.

  That done, I moved onto the next step. The blood.

  I stared at the jar. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  I carefully unscrewed the lid and looked down at the paper again. “Christ. We need an eighth of a cup of this stuff?”

  Chris paused from the green thing that he was breaking up to check his copy. “Yup. You got something to measure it?”

  “Yeah.” I took a breath and focused on happy thoughts, even if the blood made me a little queasy. I carefully measured it—not wanting to spill any on myself—and poured it into a glass pyrex, stirring to mix the elements together until it formed a thick paste, and then stopped stirring. Over-stirring would nullify the mixture. “This looks really foul.”

  “Good thing you don’t have to eat it,” Chris said.

  I made a gagging sound and the guys cracked up.

  “Cool. I’ll take care of the last step on this one. I think this other step needs you to give it some of your juju.”

  Sounded awesome. I didn’t want to be around this sludge more than I had to be.

  Adrian brought over two beakers. One had little green pieces that looked like bits of dried leaves. The other was the diced up stuff that had been on the other cookie sheet—it was now tiny little bits of black and white that looked like pencil shavings. “Mix these two with the ashes.” He handed me another beaker. “Put it in here, teaspoon by teaspoon. First, a spoonful of the green stuff. Then, a teaspoon of ash. After that, white and black shavings. Then, shavings, ash, green. Green, ash, shavings. Got it?”

  Maybe not, but I had it on my copies. “We’re at this part?” I pointed to the step.

  Adrian nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Got it.” I started the process, measuring everything out. Each time I measured and mixed, I tried to think of a happy memory with Meredith. Her teaching me moves in Martial Arts. Laughing at night before bed. Having a Buffy marathon in her room.

  The beaker was nearly full when Dastien arrived. He wore his usual dark jeans, but his T-shirt made me laugh. It had a large Above and Beyond Group Therapy logo across the front. I’d gotten it for him last week. “Cool shirt,” I said.