Page 87 of Soul of a Witch

What a reassuring thought.

Still, after several days of consistent meditation, I was getting better at it. Simply breathing still didn’t settle my anxious thoughts, but it could help me keep steady until they passed. My grandmother suggested a metronome to help me focus, and some mornings I would lay on my bedroom floor, losing myself in the slow and steady tick.

It started to feel as if I was more in control. As if, maybe, my mind was finally safe.

At least…it felt safe when I was awake.

My nightmares had returned.

It helped that Callum was usually there when I fell asleep. He would sit on the bed with me, or close by. He didn’t sleep himself and was often too restless to lie down. But he would hum softly, or rub my back as old records played at a low volume on the gramophone.

Perhaps it gave me a false sense of security.

A storm moved in one night, bringing with it lightning and crashing thunder. Rain pounded the windows. Callum had put on one of his favorite records for me to sleep to, the gentle crooning of The Ink Spots filling the room as I drifted off.

When I awoke, hours later, the rain was still pouring. The record had stuck, the same two words scratching as they played again and again, “I don’t — I don’t — I don’t —”

I stumbled out of bed and across the room, switching the gramophone off. In the silence that followed, as I blearily rubbed my eyes, I could still hear music playing. But it was far away and so faint. Like it was deep in some other part of the house.

Callum was no longer in the room. For some reason, his absence gave me a strangely queasy feeling.

I should have gotten back in bed. But now that I was up, that uncomfortable feeling led me inexplicably toward the door. Opening it, I poked my head out into the dark hallway, looking up and down. Lightning flashed, illuminating the empty hall.

“Callum?”

There was indeed music playing, and strangely, it sounded like the exact same record that was currently sitting in my room. I stepped out into the hall, leaving the door ajar behind me.

“Callum?” I raised my voice a little louder. The demon had sharp hearing; there was no doubt that if he was in the house, he would hear me.

Why wasn’t he answering?

The floorboards creaked beneath my bare feet as I made my way down the hall toward the stairway. The music wasn’t coming from above but from below. On the same floor as the library.

A strange certainty that I needed to be quiet settled over me as I descended the stairs. Thunder rumbled as I reached the next floor, accompanied by another flash of light. In the sudden illumination, I spotted a figure walking ahead of me down the hall.

A chill ran over my skin as I stopped walking. Without any light, I could no longer see the stranger ahead of me in the dark. Her back had been to me, her hair long and pale blonde.

“Mama?” I whispered her name into the dark. With another flash of lightning, I caught a glimpse, right as she turned and entered the library, the door quietly clicking shut behind her.

The music was closer now.

The library door creaked as I pushed it open. The wind and rain made it sound as if there were imperceptible sounds all around me, emanating from the shadows. Following the music, I made my way to the upper level.

The vault was open.

Only a few flickering candles were lit within. The air was so still. Something told me I wasn’t supposed to be in here, at least not alone. I needed someone with me, but…

But I wasn’t alone. Mama was here.

Taking one of the candles from the desk, I held it up to illuminate the way as I crept toward the back of the vault. Its flame fell upon the hatch leading down to Sybil’s laboratory, but someone was barely holding it open, staring at me with wide eyes through the gap.

The moment my light fell on her milky white eyes, Mama vanished, down into the dark.

I had to follow her. Ihadto.

There was an odd sensation at the back of my skull. Like fingernails scratching. Like roaches crawling under my skin.

Holding my light in one hand, I pulled open the hatch. A dusty, floral smell rushed out, like dry roses left in an old graveyard. Leaning over the edge, I listened. The music was coming from down there. But faintly, over the sound of the music, was something else. Straining to hear, I leaned closer.

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