7.
November 1, 2013. Laindier’s Tea Shoppe. Wooster, Ohio.
Not even Aisha had known it was coming. When the car slammed into the front facade of the tea shoppe, all three of the women jumped from their chairs.
“What the Hell!” Jaclyn shouted. The cutesy pumpkin window displays lay smashed and speared through with glass; shelving and fallen boxes of tea surrounded the car. A scowl forming on her face, she started toward the mess.
Kate put a hand on her shoulder, looking stricken. “I...don’t think this one’s ours.”
“Maybe not yet,” Jaclyn replied. She shrugged off Kate’s hand and marched forward. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her voice, trying to sound sympathetic instead of angry. “Who’s there? You in the car? Are you all right?”
No answer came.
“Jaclyn, let me check the book, okay?” Aisha called to her, her voice tense and nervous.
Jaclyn ignored her. She paced up the the car and pushed a pile of tea boxes and wood away from the door. “Are you all right in there?” She asked again. Somewhere, she heard Butterscotch hissing low. She could see the cat’s back arched and tail fluffed in her mind’s eye.
She knew Butterscotch was trying to warn her, but she couldn’t stop herself. She threw the car door open and leveled a glare at the driver. The dark haired man was slumped, seemingly unconscious over the steering wheel. He was breathing, but blood trickled from his forehead in a slow, pulsing fashion.
A second later, the resemblance struck her. “Henry?” She asked, staring at the prone body. “Henry Danvers?”
Behind her, Aisha chuckled. “Looks like a car crash after all...”
“No...” Jaclyn said, uncertain. “What are you doing here, Henry?”
The next voice also came from behind her, only this time it was closer. “Revenge.”
Jaclyn spun to see a the prim looking woman who had coming into the shop earlier that day. The cold she had felt radiating off her had changed completely. Now she emitted heat like the forced air vents at Jaclyn’s old house. “You?”
“Me?” She replied with a smirk. “Yes. I’ve finally thought of a way you could help me.”
“I think I have bigger things to worry about right now.” Jaclyn gestured toward Henry. “For example, Henry may not be my number one fan, but...he might appreciate me more if I call 911.”
The prim woman waved her hand like she saw a fly that needed swatting. “Oh, Henry will be fine. He wouldn’t have agreed to do this for me if he thought he might not be. Got quite the survivalist gene that one.”
Jaclyn frowned and glanced back toward the beaded curtain separating her from Aisha and Kate. Neither of them appeared to be there anymore. “So much for friends,” she muttered.
“What’s that?” The prim woman asked.
“Who are you and what the hell do you want?”
“You certainly say hell a lot. That have anything to do with your new vocation?”
“Shut up. Who are you?”
“Oh...I’ve had plenty of names.”
Jaclyn rolled her eyes. “What is it with you people and your plenty of names nonsense? Just pick one name and stick with it.”
“Oh, you mean like Queen of the Shades. How cute is that?” She laughed holding out her hand. “These days I’m calling myself Aine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
There was something off about her. Jaclyn knew it. She could feel it, more than just heat, a wrongness flowed from her. She did not take her hand. “And what do you want, Aine?”
Arms clamped around Jaclyn’s waist, lifting her from the ground. “To make you pay,” said Henry.
Jaclyn kicked back as hard as she could. She felt her heels make contact with Henry’s knees. He dropped her in almost the same instant. “How dare you touch me!” She roared at them both. “I am Death. I am the Queen of the Shades!”
Aine laughed. “You are a little girl playing at things you couldn’t possibly understand.”
She reached for Jaclyn who swatted her away. “Don’t you even try to touch me again. Either of you.”
“You’re going to make this harder on yourself then?”
Something cold brushed against Jaclyn’s cheek. She felt her body freeze. The heat billowing around Aine no longer touched her. She wanted to speak, but her voice would not obey.
“Uh oh,” Aine said with a laugh. “Looks like your weakness is widely publicized.” She began pacing. Jaclyn found it hard to watch her. “You know it shouldn’t work on you. It should be nothing to you. You’re essentially a shade yourself, which of course occurs to none of them. None of those damned little Harvest witches have any idea what’s happening. They all blame you. When I bring them your head, they’ll thank me.”
Though it hurt, Jaclyn managed to force out one word. “Idiot.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you are. To think we wouldn’t come prepared....”
Her muscles ached like she had just been thrown into an icy pond. The iron was far colder than she imagined it would be. She could see her breath. In her head, Butterscotch growled. Then the image of her dream swam forward: a pomegranate. Of all things...a pomegranate.
“Let her go,” said a voice Jaclyn didn’t recognize. A woman’s voice. With an Italian accent.
Aine turned, but Henry did not move the iron. “What now?” She asked.
“Inverno,” the voice answered.
A blast of visibly icy wind hit the three of them and knocking Jaclyn away from Henry. She scrambled to her feet, desperate to get as far from the iron as possible. In the hole created by Henry’s car, Jaclyn could see the form of a woman, black hair trailing out behind her. The light cast down on her through stained glass making her look...green. A memory of a half forgotten story popped into Jaclyn’s mind.
“Grizelda?”
“No time for introductions,” the woman replied. “Get yourself back to the Underland. The war has long since begun...and we’ve got bigger things on our hands.”
Jaclyn had more questions than she knew what to do with, but she did as Grizelda asked. She clutched her Underland pendant, closed her eyes, and envisioned the river. Within moments, she would be home.