“He killed Holden.”

  She said nothing, but her eyes were still on me and knowingly.

  “Is it a coincidence that this little guy’s name is Archie?”

  “Vivica named that litter. We don’t always know the whys at the time, but they always reveal themselves eventually. She told me to take Archie with me when I went out to paint this morning. Then… well, we knew he needed to come with me. I have a strong belief that there are very few coincidences in life.”

  I blew out a breath.

  “Now, please eat something. I take it you haven’t had a chance to do that today and you’ll need your strength.”

  “What happens when I lure him to the tree?” I asked, chewing my lip.

  She shrugged. “We’ll have to see. It’s anyone’s guess what the fallout will be when that happens. It’s never an exact science, but it is often worse than your worst fears. Are you prepared to face that?”

  I nodded. “I am.”

  “Are you sure, Isabella? I want you to know what you’re getting into here. This might not be the version of Holden you love that you come across.”

  “I have to. I love him. I promised him only this morning that he was worth my enduring that first night over and over again if I had to, in order to get to our happy ending. I meant it.”

  She gasped.

  “What?”

  “You might have written your own fate with those words.”

  My heart dropped.

  “No telling if that’s how it’ll go, but Isabella, that’s how it might go. Our words have a lot of power. People don’t realize it, but your tongue can be a sword. It can be a healer. You can also write the next chapters in your life story through the words you speak.”

  “He didn’t really hurt me that night. Not really. Not when I consider what I got out of it.”

  “No, but you had the benefit of my spell where we used his horse as a conduit to be able to protect you. I don’t know if my sisters will be able to use Archie that same way. For one, he’s in this realm, and not supernatural. The horse was supernatural. Archie might only give us the power to see what’s happening, that’s it.”

  ***

  I had zero appetite, but I made myself choke down a bit of leftover Irish stew and homemade rolls I’d made for dinner the night before as well as two glasses of water. Erica had some stew with me while we waited to hear back from her sisters.

  I was glad she didn’t try to make small talk. She didn’t ask inane questions to try to get my mind off my troubles. Nothing would get my mind off the troubles, short of waking up from a bad dream in my warm bed against the warmth of the man I loved.

  True to her word about some sort of diversion, the police had left without another word to us, and things had been quiet until five thirty, when Erica’s phone rang and she stepped outside to take the call, taking the sleepy and purring black kitty cat with her.

  She stopped at her van and fetched a large black overnight bag and disappeared under the oak tree with it. She walked to the other side of the fat tree trunk where I couldn’t see her. I sighed.

  I cleared up our dishes and went to our bedroom and sat down on the bed. I put his pillow to my nose and inhaled the smell of the man I loved.

  My heart was broken. Absolutely broken.

  “Protect our son, Isabella. From me, if you must.”

  I put my hand to my belly and spoke aloud. “Don’t worry, Holden. I will do whatever I need to do to protect our son.”

  I put the pillow down and went to find Erica to ask for one more favor. I wanted to ask her to put our son wherever they’d kept him safe for the past almost two years. I found her putting her bag back into her van, Archie in her arms. She told me she’d already bargained for that. And then I sat beside her in the grass by the creek and she put both hands to my belly and closed her eyes. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment or two and then I was doubled over, cramps ripping through my stomach, as I cried out.

  I felt wet saturating the crotch of my jeans. Blood.

  “He’s fine. He’s safe, Isabella. Don’t worry.”

  I nodded, holding my stomach, tears streaming down my face.

  “What if I don’t get back out. What if…”

  “Shh. Think positive, Isabella.”

  “He deserves to live. He hasn’t done anything wrong. The pregnancy website says he’s only the size of a little sweet pea.”

  “He will live. Whether through you or through someone else, he will. He’s yours. Yours and Holden’s through a deep connection, but he’ll find his way here. Don’t worry. He’s very strong. I know this already.”

  I flattened my hand against my heart.

  “I’m so sorry little sweet pea, that you have to wait. I’m so, so sorry. I want you. I want to meet you and love you and know you. I’m so very sorry for all the wrong things I’ve done.”

  Erica had tears in her eyes. “You’re a good person, Isabella. I want you to know that I am honored to help you and Holden through this. If you don’t make it back, I’ll give birth to him and raise him. It would be my honor.”

  I hugged her. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. Even if it doesn’t go right… thank you. And I’m so sorry you’re having to face consequences for what I…”

  “Stop blaming yourself. Like I always say, sometimes things are just meant to be. Sometimes we try and things just happen because they’re meant to happen. Fighting fate is a fool’s errand.”

  I sighed.

  “Go, get changed. Take some Tylenol. I’ve got one more conference call to make for the final word on some things and then we’ll go.”

  ***

  I cleaned up, put in a tampon, changed my underwear and jeans, and tried to ignore the gaping emptiness inside of me. Missing my husband, who was who knew where and hurting who knew who. Missing our unborn baby who was once again yanked from my womb to be protected until his parents could get their fucking act together. I prayed I’d find a way, somehow, some way. With Holden. Without him. Most likely without him, sadly. If we stopped him, maybe he could turn himself in. Perhaps we could use an insanity plea so that he could be somewhere safe. If I had to live my life knowing he was behind bars, it would be awful, but I would deal. We’d visit him, he’d write us letters maybe, and we’d find a way to move forward.

  I couldn’t let myself dwell on the what if’s until the time came, so I got socks and running shoes on and then shrugged on a jacket, the same jacket I’d worn the night I first met him, only this time I had layers and jeans, so I’d be warm. I’d hopefully lure him and hopefully stop him from hurting anyone long enough for them to find a way to get my husband’s sanity and humanity back.

  8 – Now: The Chase

  It should have felt ominous, sitting on that stump on Halloween night, under a full moon, no less, but all I could think of while sitting there, watching Archie chase after a moth, catch it between two paws and then let it go, only to chase after it and catch it again, was that I hoped Holden would come. I hoped that whatever in him made him do the things he did today would draw him here, to the place he’d always been when he was like this before.

  He had a head on his shoulders, no one was losing their mind over a headless mass murderer this afternoon in town, but what was in that head – I had no idea. Murderous rage? Robotic actions?

  Erica was a distance away in her van, doing magic with her sisters in a virtual circle because they weren’t all able to be in the same place today. She assured me that their link was strong enough to do the magical things they needed to do. She also told me that she’d have one opportunity to speak to me at the site of the tulip tree part-way through the night, when the moon was at a specific point, and that I’d hear her voice and have a fast moment to converse with her.

  Plans had been somewhat tweaked, and if things went a certain way, Holden and I might both be trapped until a solution could be found.

  “It’s fine,” I shook it off.

  “It could be a long time,” she said. “And I don’t know what this will all look like.” She gestured to the space around us. “Will you be thrust back to hundreds of years ago when the spell first cast him here and locked him in? Will you have access to your home, your things? I don’t know any of these things yet.”

  I waved my hand. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever the price, whatever I have to do. I just don’t want him to hurt anyone else. I just want to get to him before the police shoot him and hurt him. If I can calm him down, maybe we can surrender, and…”

  “Isabella, it isn’t likely to go down that way. The bigger likelihood is that you two will be trapped until we’ve all managed to pay our penance and buy his sanity back. And if we’re all able to do that, then you’ll have an opportunity to come back.”

  I frowned. She sighed.

  “If he lays a hand on you in violence, we’ll know it’s the worst-case scenario. If he doesn’t, we’ll converse and figure out what might help.”

  I tilted my head, considering what she was saying.

  “My coven has the unique distinction of being spell-writers. Some witches follow the spells of olde, from spells written by older witches. We can do that, but we can also write them, particularly me as it’s my gift. It’s all very calculated based on looking at all potential variables. Imagine a big flow chart. These are crafted when we write the spells. When things go awry, we follow the flowchart and we look at outcomes and potential resolutions. And further options sometimes by drawing a new chart. We’ve worked on this all day long and with the help of an elder who has come out of retirement to assist us with this. Where we’re at, you need to know you could be in there indefinitely. You could come to harm. You could need to wait until the stars and moon align and I’m able to bargain your way out.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. I hold responsibility for some of what’s happening right now because of things I revealed and because of sacrifices I’m willing to make.”

  “To save our baby?”

  “Yes. And other things. I wronged some people. If I find a way to right those wrongs, I could have some additional negotiating power.”

  “Oh.”

  “We’re all judged on our hearts and our actions on an ongoing basis and it’ll have an impact on our magic. I’m in a unique situation. I was forgiven by my elders in a trial, but it could buy me extra goodwill if I right the wrongs. Let’s just say I jumped the gun on something when I was too young to weigh out the potential consequences. These flowcharts, if you miss a step, either the spell won’t work or it’ll go way wrong. I’ve been told my whole life that spell-writing is my gift, and I got cocky. Anyway. Enough about all that. It’s out of scope here. If he doesn’t harm you, it’s not too far gone. If he does, you’ll hopefully survive and see my face again on this day in some other year, when the stars are aligned according to the original spell and… when I’ve righted the wrongs and you’ve both paid some tolls. When my greatest enemy forgives me, and I’ve then got the negotiating power to put Holden’s mind back together.”

  “If he doesn’t harm me, you won’t have to fix those things?”

  “What goes around comes around. I’ll want to fix it eventually.” She shrugged. “Even if you get out of here tonight with him, I’ll be fixing it as soon as possible. It’s gone on too long. But you might not get out of here tonight. One more time, are you prepared for that?”

  ***

  Here I was. Halloween night, sitting on the stump of an old tree that had magical roots, the moon up high and full. A full moon on Halloween – oh, the irony.

  The darkness seemed to seep in slowly around me, taking forever, as I sat and let my mind flip through the pages of my story with Holden --- just the parts that started one year ago, when he came to me in the apartment above the dry cleaners.

  I couldn’t count how many times I’d wake in the morning with his eyes on me as he gazed at me lovingly. He loved to watch me sleep and we only ever talked about it once.

  “You like to watch me sleep?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Sometimes, when you’re dreaming? Your face is as expressive as when you read. Have a good dream last night, did you?”

  “Yes. I did. I dreamt of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you took me to breakfast, and we had white chocolate chip pancakes.”

  “Dreams can come true, Mrs. Holloway. Get dressed.”

  He kissed me.

  The simple day-to-day with him was filled with little things that were just so beautiful. He always lit up when I entered a room. He made love to me with every bit of his heart and soul each and every time. The passion was astounding. I’d never known it before, but couldn’t imagine it was this good for everyone out there. If love was this beautiful for everyone, no one would ever divorce. I was so lucky to have felt a love like that, to have had it for a year.

  And I hoped and prayed it wasn’t all over now, but even if it was… I got to have it for a while. And it was perfect.

  I felt something against my ankle. I looked down. Archie was there, against my ankle and his back was perfectly arched, his hair standing on end. I noticed that he was hissing at fog that was rolling in toward us. I touched his head.

  “It’s all right, Archie.”

  He jumped sideways away from me, afraid of the misty fog.

  My husband was near. That’s what this fog meant. It had to be. This is how it started two Halloweens ago.

  I looked up to the top of the hill where I’d first seen him sitting on a horse, the missing head obscured by that hooded cloak. Tonight was a harvest moon and the hilltop was illuminated well, as if a spotlight pointed at the empty place on that hilltop. And then, as more fog moved in, I saw a form move into the center of that perfect view up there. Relief swept through me. Holden. Thank God he was here. He could be contained. No one else would be harmed.

  I blinked and stared in his direction, waiting. He wasn’t on a horse. He just stood there.

  I felt hot tears trail down my cheeks. The misty fog moved in some more and I looked down to see how it wrapped around my ankles and then climbed like vines up my legs, then moved from me to shoot toward Holden who was now directly in front of me suddenly, though his face was shielded by a shadow.

  “Holden,” I looked up at him.

  He moved in another step and I caught full view of his face. And his face was wrong. It was stone-cold.

  “Honey?” I called, my voice betraying my pain.

  He reached for me with one hand. His palm cupped my jaw. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch.

  His thumb skated across my lower lip.

  “Isabella.”

  “Your leg. Mr. Hood shot you? Are you okay?”

  There was a hole in his jeans at the thigh.

  He didn’t answer. I looked back up to his face.

  “It’s gonna be okay, babe. Honest. We’re gonna figure it out,” I said.

  “It’s not.”

  “It will be. We’ll find a way.”

  “It won’t,” his words and demeanor were stone cold.

  “Holden, we have to be positive. We have help. We---”

  His hand suddenly gripped my hair and yanked, wrenching my head back and he hissed in my face, “It will never be okay again.” And then his hand went away, and I watched as, in slow motion, he clenched his right hand into a fist, lifted it over his left shoulder and then swung it, backhanding me across the mouth.

  I went flying backwards off the stump with the force of it and landed on my ass on the ground.

  A sob tore out of my mouth as I processed that he’d inflicted actual harm on me.

  The worst-case scenario. That’s what this was.

  My entire face throbbed. My lips were swelling. My jaw ached.

  “Run,” he told me, through gritted teeth, standing in the same spot.

  “Wh-what?”

  “I’m gonna need to chase you, catch you, and then I’ll need to fuck you before I kill you. Run!”

  I stared at him. “No. You’re not.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think so?”

  I shook my head and pushed my hair out of my eyes.

  “Fucking run!” he hollered at me, the immense force of his voice blowing my hair back, the velocity of his rage making the space around me feel like the atmosphere was rippling.

  “Why?” I mouthed.

  “So I can hunt you down before I have my way, then kill you.” He said those words calmly. Too calmly.

  Where was Archie? I looked around me. I didn’t see him at first, but then spotted his eyes in a low bush, hiding. His eyes were big and on us.

  I swallowed. “Holden? Please. Just sit down and let’s talk about this.”

  “Talk? Talking sure helped this morning, didn’t it?”

  The pain pierced my heart.

  He moved around the stump and strode the two paces to me and then I saw his foot come at me. He kicked me in the gut. I grunted and rolled away, curling into a ball.

  It knocked the wind right out of me for a second. When I finally found my voice again, I looked up at him.

  “They’ve got our baby safe. You didn’t hurt him just now. We’ll have him back when we get through this. They’re going to work to find a way to---”

  He was on me, flipping me so my back was against the ground and then he was pinning me.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does. Of course it does, Holden.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing does. Nothing, except getting what I need.”

  “What do you need, Holden?”

  “To kill,” he said plainly.

  I closed my eyes.

  “You won’t kill me.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  “Isabella!” I heard Erica’s voice. It sounded hollow and tinny, but loud.

  Holden bristled and his eyes darted around.

  “Erica?” I called out. She wasn’t here but her voice came from the bush as if from a megaphone. Was she projecting it from Archie?

  “I can lift the boundary for you right now, but it means both of you can get out.”

  “You can?”

  “Yes, but Isabella, it’d mean we either have to destroy him or he’d be free to continue his rampage until he gets put down by the police. We don’t think he’ll stop.”

 

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