Act XXIV

"Charisma please-don't say that." Hariot fell to the floor, her heart pounding hard in her chest with fear.

A jolt of chilling terror spread up her body as if she had been frozen solid like an iceberg.

"Charisma."

Bringing Charisma back to life, she could now sense the true feelings in her friend's body. Even though she had just gone out her way to kill this girl, now it seemed worthless returning the favour. It was obvious she really did care about Charisma, and now she was genuinely horrified at what her friend could do now.

Charisma's hair was ink jet black, her mouth began to bleed at the meeting points of her two plump lips, now only sugar paper thin. Two streams of blood spread down each side of her chin like a vampire on heat. Her blond hair was streaked red in rage.

"Please, Oh my god Charisma, please." Hariot wailed, her tears coming in strong throbs. It seemed to Charisma her tears were coming as quick as her heart rate. Any older and this girl would surely have a stroke.

Her foot stepped forward ever so slightly; Hariot covered her face in horror.

Catching the final glimpse of her friends white, ghastly face, she made a blood curdling scream, and then suddenly the door pounded three times.

Three times Three-let it be.

Charisma squinted, this really wasn't the time for visitors, she wanted the truth from Hariot, and it was obvious with visitors-she would never get the truth.

Hariot, now standing trusting her friend that little bit more, knowing now if Charisma wanted her dead-she could have done it a minute ago. With a wave of her hand, like her foremothers probably had. She walked along beside the wall, leaning there like a frozen statue, her skin ice to the touch.

The door slammed open, much like when Hariot had came in.

"Oh honey-im home!"

Charisma crushed behind the door, the glass shattering in her face as her body hauled up against the wall like a squashed bug. Her legs spread outwards on the moment of impact; she made a slight gurgling sound as her body slipped down the wall slightly unconscious.

With a smile, Eugene, Hariot's grandmother walked into the room. Her hair up in a bun she offered a grim smile to Hariot, who stepped back cautiously.

Eugene's rolling smiles were sharply reduced to straight vicious lines when she noticed a groaning Charisma on the floor.

"Why is that dirt still alive Hariot?" Her voice commanding an answer.

"I couldn't do-do it granny I'm sorry." She looked at her grandma's angry face. Her sky blue dress blowing in the prevailing wind from outside, her large eyes emphasised by the bottle glasses she wore.

The grandma's eyes opened wide in shock. Her own flesh and blood had betrayed her-for a witch?

"You will be." She delivered an uppercut to Hariot's jaw, and nothing but blinding pain sent her high into the air, and face first to the floor. Rolling over at the foot of the stairs she collapsed, almost dead.

Her attention shifted back to the main target.

Kicking the door closed, the grandma just stared at Charisma's body.

The powerful witch looked across at her friend. Her body heaving up off the ground, her feet hovering above the ground. Hariot just still.

The grandma seemed completely unfazed by her terrifying actions.

But Charisma wasn't going to let her get away with her authority-this was her house-and her rules stood.

"Oh honey-this is my home!" With a flash the grandma had hit the opposite wall, the wooden panels beginning to loosen on the wall, peeling a musty smell of plaster off.

The granny Eugene shot a piercing glare, almost like the ends of tacks shooting into Charisma's hazel eyes, "Really?" She delivered a punch to Charisma's gut, which she simply absorbed." You-should have-locks on your doors" Her voice faded into nothingness as she pulled her hand quickly from her gut, and looked in shock to Charisma.

"That," Delivering a high kick to her distorted creepy face set the granny staggering backwards in distress. "Was for hitting my friend." She snatched at her face in pain.

"This is from me." Another spinning kick, and the granny hit the floor, spiralling around like a bally dancer, her feet ablaze.

"And this honey is from my dead mother, and my dead father."

Her feet rose from the ground, her pink dress shooting dark crimson red, her voice reverberating in the small hallway as if it were some seaside cave, hitting the lowest chord possible, a low G-tenor.

Her lips bleed heavily now, the streams of blood, dripping to her dress and slipping into them like some sort of kitchen towel. Her feet shot straight to the floor, she opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was the wildest Latin.

Charisma was confused, she hadn't even taken Latin at school-and now she was pronouncing the syllables exact from that leather bound book upstairs. Her foremother Alauna's first spell. The most powerful in the world as anyone knew it.

She grinned. "Bye mother fucker."

The book in her room-danced open-the lock twisting in itself-and liberating the power. The pages shifted through one another, the words illuminating as she spoke there words with exact pronunciation. Her voice, low, absolute power. The abyss sucking her in like a vortex as the portal sucked her in to itself.

The pages dancing, they began to shift faster and quicker and more rapidly past. Soon the book reached the middle, then it was three quarters through-then it was on the last page-and the whole book shut flat.

Reciting the words stopped as though Charisma's foreign tongue had been ripped out.

(I should have killed you in that car!)

"This what you're looking for honey ?" The woman mocked, holding the leather bound book-the front simply a gold foil pentacle. She stood in the middle of the staircase, and Charisma figured she must have ran up stairs- sensing the approaching danger-to collect the hazard.

"No-I guess not." Her hands shot out forwards, Hariot stirring on the floor-seeing the blue bolts, crawled up-and flung herself before her grandmother.

With a discharge of power-the bolts shot low into the wood, and they sizzled into life. The tree outside blew more wildly now. Then suddenly it stopped-the leaves calming to a tranquil silence in the midst of hell. There was a still-as the eye of the storm blew over the township of Vale.

"I'm sorry Charisma. You mean everything to me-but I cannot let you hurt my own flesh and blood-even after what she has done." She panted, a deep bruise forming on her neck, as the veins shuddered in and out of position, as her mouth vomited blood on tap. She chocked a little while- then a silence.

Assessing the unforeseen situation, Charisma thought pensively. What should she do now-she couldn't kill her best friend just for the legions of her foremothers. But letting any of the clans daughters to live now-and Charisma in the future (if she lived) would allow Hariot to kill her daughter-and she was afraid she couldn't let that happen.

"This is for your own good dearest."

Picking up the storm shot cinders through the air of Vale, the sky shooting red once more. A scarlet bloody red, as the lightning shot down the buildings in the village, the worst storm in the towns entire hundred and fifty year weather history.

A bolt-shot through Hariot blowing her torso high into the staircase. Splinters of wood skipped into the air, until a final-deathly sharp piece shot straight into her chest.

With a groan, and a tear from Charisma, Hariot screamed for mercy, like Charisma's foremothers.

Charisma drove it in quick, to dull the pain a little.

Hariot's eyes closed.

Watching the scene, the grandmother's eyes burst into flame.

"You witch."

Charisma darted out the way as she ran forward, picking the knife as she came, and drove it into the wall. Sticking it rang a distinctive TWANGGGGGGGGGGGG in the air. The particles brushing her face, rebounding on and off her face, the echo in the room well established.

"You're quick on the ball."

The book she carried was tossed into the lounge fire, as Eugene gasped into it, almost out of breath and it landed with a burst of flames.

There was a sudden rush of power as the magick was condensed to a thick black choking smell.

The sixteenth century book flickered into life. The edges of the yellowed paper turning a crisp brown. The leather burning solid like flaming torches into ashes. There was a smell of deep must and rosemary.

Withdrawing it through her nostrils-her head spiralling with chasm and supremacy. Her bust lips broke a grin that sent shivers into the pits of Eugene's gut.

Looking at the knife in the wall, Charisma broke it off with a sudden rush of power-the glass in the hallway shattered outwards, the front door slammed shut solid-the chain fusing into place so that there would be no more disturbances. The blades end fell back to the floor, the clang echoing once more in the small room.

"Honey you don't know what you're messing with." The grandmother gassed.

"Beg to differ."

Charisma began to chant again-all the words now deeply imprinted into her mind. The ashes on the fire extinguished the flame with a huge crackling noise. Not crackling but cackling-a dark coven's cackling.

Now came the last few lines, and her eyes were shooting silver.

"Becometh the glory-deep in the past-becomes the glory now in the present."

"By the simple Wiccan Rede, I banish thee."

She clapped her hands with an eerie simplicity.

Eugene's eyes rolled back into her head, her face slipped into a wild shade of blue, as a lightning bolt-shot down through the roof with an enormous vigour. The floor shaking, Hariot's body slumped to the lower step- and crashed into the hidden basement below.

Back in the lounge, a fire ripped through her heart as it sped in its beating.

"Feel the wrath." Charisma commanded, her feet a whole foot of the ground. "I summon ye, come and join in this ritual."

The bolt broke thirty three tiles, each sounding a china plate, and it shot through Charisma's room, through her laptop; where it burst into flames.

The computer dazzled and embedded into a fury of blue sparks, the sire connecting into the wall, began to burn. Sizzling soon it was burning her bedroom.

Striking the floor. Coming through the wood, the deep must danced around the room, like a sea mist. Only this time it was pleasure-not sorrow.

With an almightily flash, it struck its intended target.

Surrounding Eugene's dead floating stood nine figures, each seemingly materialising out of thin air.

"Come and pray with me tonight." She smiled.

Her real mother appeared by her side, holding something special.

The lightning bolt shot out the light in the room, the only flames on the top floor-soon to come downstairs and engulph the rest of the clang, and finally engulph Charisma Paisley and her mother.

The house was shrouded into darkness.

"Let they're be no darkness, only light."

With the coven's thoughts, Alauna's, her mother's and Charisma's and the six others-the green conbineharvester nightlight shimmered into life.

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