Page 314 of Castings & Curses

I rush to the kitchen but find it in even worse condition than the rest. Burnt down, a gaping hole in the wall where the window used to be, cinders and ashes flying in the breeze from the still smoldering pantry.

Tears flood my cheeks as I run back to the entrance corridor. My chest burns, heaves, hurts. I choke, fear taking hold of my mind in a squeezing vise.

I claw at the hidden door, kick it, hit it with my fists.

“BELLA!”

I lean against the unbudging wall, my whole body heaving with painful sobs and panicked screams. My despair is even stronger than that first night when I was pounding at the door.

“Bella…”

A click stops my cries short. I step away from the panel as it opens with a sigh. The house may be dying, but it still has some fight in it. And it wants me to fight for it. I waste no time and climb up the staircase two by two, narrowly avoiding breaking my legs on crumpling stairs. I have no time for that. I need to find her, and I know now where she is.

I go straight to her room, jumping over holes in the floor and passing by open-sky ruins of former bedrooms. Her door is gaping. I push it open, only to find the silver mirror on the saggy, moth-eaten bed. I snatch the contraption at once.

“Show me Bella! Where is she? Please, show her to me!”

The reflectionless glass shines bright. When the light subdues, I recognize the place it shows me. My heart races as my breath hitches. I should have known. I should have gone there first.

I return downstairs as fast as the terminal state of the manor will let me, into the great hall and up the marble staircase. The cat is waiting for me on the balcony.

“Couldn’t you pick me up earlier, silly kitty?”

He looks unfazed by my remark, as if time wasn’t of the essence right now.

“Dude! Take me to her, now!”

Tomkitty cocks his head and yawns. Stupid me; I know the way, don’t I?

I scamper down the aisle and rush to my former room. Bella lies on the bed, face buried in the pillows, just as the mirror showed.

“Bella?”

I can’t see if she’s still breathing. Her hair is matted, lackluster. The paleness of her skin emphasizes the bones sticking out, and the bruises. Fucking massive bruises. She’s been bleeding internally.

“Bella…” My voice quivers. I’m too late. Way too late. She’s been dead for days.

Her body is cold and stiff under my fingers as I gently turn her over. I dread to see her face in its deathly mask, but I must. I’m not letting her here. I need to take her away, give her a proper burial. Something. I need to do something. Other than weep uncontrollably and wet my beloved’s hair and temples.

The cat chooses this instant to jump on the bed and knock his head against my hand. My ringed hand. He hits my hand again, purring like the engine of the Porsche we fled in.

The ring.

I take it off and put it on Bella’s finger. It protected us at her request, so maybe now…

I lean forward to whisper to it, the way she did back then.

“Please, bring her back.”

I kiss the ring and her stone-cold finger, hoping my lack of witchiness won’t stand in the way of Bella’s magic. Holding her hand, I caress the hair away from her face, uncovering the gaunt features and sunken eyelids. She still makes for a beautiful ghost, though. The tears flow like a torrent on my cheeks again.

I bury my face in the bed against her lifeless chest, her hand firmly clasped in mine, and I sob.

Then I feel it. The tingling sensation in my hand, followed by warmth. I lift my head to witness the miracle as life insufflates itself through Bella’s body. Her skin plumps up, her cheeks redden, her breasts heave again. She takes a deep breath as she opens her eyes and fixes their cerulean beauty on me.

“You came back,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, her tone grateful.

“Of course, I did. I should never have left.”

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