Page 71 of A Lullaby for Witches

We reach the rocky promontory. The trees are not so thick here as they used to be, and lights from the town spill in through the twisting branches. “Here,” I tell him.

In the dark, I can almost pretend that he is Jack. He is not quite so tall, nor lean, but the warmth from his body close to mine is exhilarating. Soon I’ll be able to say all the things I was never able to say to him, do the things that should have been done the first time.

Rain is starting to fall, as Leo watches me form a circle of quartz on the ground. He’s uneasy, shifting his weight and pacing about. But he is quiet as I make the necessary preparations.

When I am finished, I hold my hand out to him, smiling. “Come. We’ll stand in the circle and I will channel Augusta for you. You may ask her anything you please, and you shall see that I was right.”

He hesitates, but then he places his hand into mine. A jolt passes between us, some remnant of his regard for Augusta, no doubt.

“Hold this,” I tell him, as I place the little tin box in one of his palms, the bones in the other. He opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him, closing his fingers around them. “Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you for one minute.”

I shrug. It doesn’t matter if he does or not, so long as he keeps still and does as I instruct him. Shivers run up my spine as I realize how close I am to seeing Jack again. Even if it is just for a moment, it will be enough.

The wind works itself into a frenzy, whipping and tugging at my hair. With Leo in place and Jack’s token, it is time for the book. Clouds race, and the pale light of the moon is just enough to illuminate the words of generations of women before me. Even in my first life I never attempted such a feat of magic, but I feel more powerful now than I ever have before, with the damp earth beneath my feet, the storm in the air, and my new body ready and willing. Leo is saying something, but I am already incanting the words that will bring my errant lover back to me.

Augusta

Rain came down in heavy sheets as Margaret read from the book and Leo stood in the circle, looking more and more apprehensive. Although Augusta didn’t know what was going through Margaret’s mind, she knew well enough that Leo was in mortal danger. Margaret was holding a knife—where had she gotten a knife?—and with sickening clarity, Margaret’s plan all came into focus. She was going to bring Jack back. She was going to somehow bring him back using the bones and Leo’s body.

But why would she want to bring back the man who had betrayed her? Another woman might have forgiven Jack, but Augusta had seen the world through Margaret’s eyes, felt her anger. She was not one to forgive. She craved revenge.

No!The realization of what Margaret meant to do came too late as she finished her incantation, her head thrown back as the rain drenched her. Lightning flashed, and Augusta saw Leo’s eyes glaze over as he sagged to his knees. For a terrible moment she thought that he had been struck by lightning. He was just lying there, a dark, helpless form in the night. But then he was struggling to his feet, blinking and looking around the rocky clearing as if he couldn’t remember what he was doing there.

Margaret held her breath, her hands clutched so hard around the knife that her knuckles were white.

“Where am I?” His voice came out cracked, uncertain. “I... Who are you?”

Margaret let out a long, slow breath of relief, and stepped forward, cupping her hand on Leo’s jaw. “Jack,” she said in a whisper. “Do you not recognize your true love?”

“You’re not Margaret. I’m not...” He looked down at his hands. “I was sleeping. I was sleeping somewhere beautiful.”

“Ah, my love. Of course you were. But I called you back. We have unfinished business. Do you really not recognize me?”

At this, she drew his face the rest of the way toward her and pressed her lips to his. Augusta could see him hesitate, but then he returned her kiss, first soft and questioning, and then with ardor equal to her own.

“Margaret? Is that you?” It was Leo’s voice, but there was something foreign and unrecognizable in his tenor. “You forgive me, then?”

“I’ve thought about you these one hundred and fifty years,” she murmured. “I thought of what we shared, what we had.” Her words took on a hard edge. “I thought of how I gave you everything, and how you took it all.”

Leo—Jack—didn’t notice the tip of the knife nudged up against his wet shirt. He had his chin tucked over her head, his eyes closed, murmuring something indistinguishable over the driving rain.

Margaret was going to kill him. Augusta was going to kill him. She had seen inside the book, seen all the spells and drawings, but it had only been for a few minutes when she’d found the books. Which spell was responsible for bringing Jack back? Even if she remembered, how could she reverse it, trapped as she was in her own body? If she could have screamed, if she could have cried and called for help, she would have. But all she could do was watch helplessly as Margaret tightened her grip on the knife, pulling Leo down to her by his neck for a final kiss.

And then something strange began to happen. It started as a tingling, as if Augusta’s entire body had been asleep and was awakening, starting from her toes all the way to her scalp. Anger built in her, a gathering torrent that threatened to erupt through every tiny crack. It wasn’t just the danger Leo was in, but every pent-up emotion that she had buried over the years. Every time she’d bowed her head, every time Chris had made her feel small. Every time she’d taken the easy way out to avoid confrontation. It built and built and built until she was nothing more than a trembling leaf, ready to be torn from the branch and borne on a hurricane of her own making.

Margaret must have felt the shift deep within her, because she jerked backward, the knife loosening in her hands. Maybe it was because Margaret was distracted, or because her energy was weak from bringing Jack back. Whatever the reason, there was a window and Augusta could not risk it slamming shut before she’d climbed through.

Augusta had heard stories about divers who got the bends coming back to the surface too quickly. She was coming back into her body, but every muscle screamed as if she’d run a marathon, and every nerve ending was raw and alive. And all the while Margaret was fighting back, doing everything in her power to stay.

She could feel the knife now, could feel the metal warm and slick in her hand. It trembled, Margaret struggling to thrust it forward, and Augusta fighting just as hard to keep it back.

It felt like an eternity, but it must have only been a matter of seconds. Jack had been running his fingers through her hair, his eyes closed, but now his gaze snapped back to Augusta. “Margaret?” he whispered as he finally noticed the knife in her hand. “What is this? What’s happening?”

“Undo the spell, Margaret,” Augusta managed to say aloud. “Bring Leo back.”

There was no answer, but she could feel Margaret now, their beings dovetailed together in one body. To an outsider, she must have looked like a broken marionette, fighting with herself, jerking and swaying back and forth.

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