Page 8 of When Bones Whisper
“What does that mean?” she asked when the memory of seeing Alice’s ghosts, the semi-translucent skin of her lips knitted together. “Did you do something to them?”
No, but my energy is stronger than theirs. Only I can talk to you.
She wasn’t entirely convinced, but a niggling feeling told her not to question the ghost further. “What do you want? Why have you been waiting for me?”
Her ancestor’s voice, a deep, raspy tone, carved through her skull in a splitting pain.
You are in danger. The Avery witches are coming for you.
“Who?”
They are a powerful family and an enemy of ours. They want you dead before the vampires discover our bloodline has not died out. Before the vampires discover the Avery family have been lying to them.
“Vampires?” Charlotte stated, eyes widening. She’d read snippets about them in the grimoires, how they were cursed by witches, but they seemed more myth than anything real. “Why does anyone want me dead?”
Only a witch from our bloodline can break the curse of vampirism and you are the last in ours.
Shock coursed through her, along with a hundred questions. “I know my great-grandmother was born in secret, and she took another name. You Lysanmore witches refused to acknowledge us.
For good reason! Your identity remained hidden for generations. Your mother, grandmother—they were never on any official family tree. However, the Avery family discovered our secret some months ago.
“This is insanity. I have lost my mind,” Charlotte said, looking around at the barely visible ghosts standing amongst the graves. “It’s the grief.”
This is all real and soon, if you do not follow our instructions, you will die and your fate will be sealed with ours. We created the curse of vampirism and only one born of our blood can break it, but the vampires do not know this. They were fed a lie by the Avery witches and told they needed to eradicate our bloodline to become mortal again, so they would kill all of us who could help them.
The night was darker, the last wisps of mist dissolving into the cold air. Suddenly, she was aware how vulnerable and alone she was. “Why could we not tell the vampires the truth?”
They will not believe you. Those creatures do not use reason. They kill without mercy or listening to reason, which is why we are all dead. I made a mistake in cursing the first of them.
Charlotte’s heartbeat thumped in her ears. Her jaw dropped as she tried to comprehend what the spirit was telling her. There was so many questions that she struggled to grasp the most important, but eventually landed on, “Why would the Avery witches condemn their own to die? What do they care about the vampires?”
They use our power, siphoning our energy from this graveyard that we are trapped in.
“Then… my family are being siphoned too,” Charlotte said, wild-eyed, slowly backing away as her ancestor became more tangible.
Yes. Centuries ago, as punishment, the elder of the family, Gertrude Avery, placed a curse on our bloodline so we would be bound to this graveyard,she said into Charlotte’s mind, whose eyes swept the expanse of the graveyard. Her ancestor continued, the rush of her voice aiding in the building headache forming in her skull.She used the first vampire, Nathaniel Sallow, as an anchor for her spell on the graveyard so it could become a well of power, to imprison us. As he is immortal, the magic holding us here never faded. That is why we cannot move on. We are forced to remain here, at the mercy of the other witches who siphon our energy, to feel the pain of every victim killed by our creation.
Her lips parted as she struggled to find the words in response to the revelation. Most witches practiced what they called folk magic, the power they were born with that was taken from the Earth and could not be used to harm other, but some enhanced that with sacrifices and the dead so they could break that rule. When a soul passed over, its energy was so strong it could be harnessed and used for the darkest of spells. Normally, it was fleeting, but if her entire bloodline was in fact trapped in one graveyard, that made it the perfect source of energy that could be consistently channeled.
Charlotte watched the spirit float over the ground, eyes darkening.
“How can I free my sister and mother from this purgatory of a fate?” she asked, recalling Alice’s spirit the morning of her burial. It was not some hallucination. It was real.
You must sacrifice yourself in a blood ritual,her ancestor instructed.
She slowly walked backward until her heel hit the cold metal of a streetlamp. The realization washed through her, chilling her from the inside out. “You want me to die?”
Yes, your days are numbered. You have already been marked for death but commit yourself to this ritual before another ends your life, and you can free your family and yourself from this horrendous destiny.
“There has to be another way.”
There is not. This is the only way. You can decide what your death will mean.
A strange, hollow feeling dipped her stomach as the first patters of rain landed on her shoulders. A familiar voice broke through the long pause, breaking her heart.
Don’t listen to her. Run, Lottie. Run now!
Charlotte’s lips parted, fresh tears blurring her eyes. Only one person ever called her that.
