Chapter Twenty-Five – Ryder

 

“The townspeople were right about Winifred O’Bannon,” Esther said as she pulled down a bottle of brandy from the shelf. She turned and set it next to the bottle of scotch she’d already gotten for both me and Stephanie, before leaning down to grab some glasses, a wince evident on her face. Despite the bandages covering where Stephanie had peppered her right arm with rock salt, she still moved with that same otherworldly grace she had the first time I’d met her. “She was definitely a witch. But, she wasn’t a bad woman, just a fool who trusted the wrong man.”

We’d taken a moment to collect ourselves before the little powwow. The glass in my back had dislodged during the fight with Esther, so there was no real evidence to dispose of. Surprisingly, it hadn’t bled much, and the wound quickly closed. With all the blood on my side from the reopened wound, I’d just played off my back and hand as having been from that.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Stephanie said. “I’ve heard the stories all my life, but I want to know what really went on. All they know for sure is that Arthur Selsby accused her of witchcraft, and everything spiraled from there.”

“Wait, who’s Arthur Selsby?” I asked. “Is he the mine owner you mentioned?”

“Exactly,” Esther said. “Winifred had been a greeting card saleswoman for the first Valentine’s card company in the United States, and made a good living traveling to all the out-of-the-way small towns in Pennsylvania. She’d met Arthur her first time through town, and had an affair. His business with the mine took him to Philadelphia frequently, and while he was there, his tryst with Winifred bloomed into something bigger. She knew it was wrong, and he knew it was wrong, but they continued anyways until she was pregnant.”

I leaned forward. “What happened? Did he not want to claim the child, or something?”

Esther got a distant look on her face. “Not exactly. You see, Arthur’s wife couldn’t get pregnant. They’d tried and tried to conceive, but never had any children. When Arthur found out about Winifred conceiving, he decided he wanted to divorce his wife and marry Winifred, to ensure his name would continue. Without telling her, he moved to Indianapolis, since Indiana was one of the only states where you could get a divorce at the time. He was forced to stay there for nearly a year.”

“So, who accused her of witchcraft, then?” Stephanie asked.

“Oh, Arthur did, of course. When he had obtained the decree, he came back to surprise Winifred, to take her hand in marriage. To make an honest woman out of her. He was waiting for her when she came back into town to take orders for the card company.”

“All right,” I said, slightly confused. “But, if they were going to get married, why’d he accuse her of witchcraft?”

“That’s the thing,” Esther said, with a little smile. “Back then, laws for women were different. If a woman married, she actually lost rights, rather than gaining them. All of her property, all of her income, even her children—all of that would have gone to Arthur Selsby. And she’d just seen how he treated the women in his life, with the way he’d divorced his wife without warning.”

I cleared my throat. “I take it she said no, then?”

“I think that’s the polite way of putting it. More accurately, she laughed in his face. Jilted, he ran back to his wife, begged for her to take him back. He knew about Winifred’s interest in the occult, and blamed it all on her casting a charm on him. His own wife forced him to bring it to court to prove his love, and that the spell was broken, and everything spiraled from there.”

“How’d you find all this out?” I asked, turning the half-full glass of scotch in my hand. “Family legend, or something?”

“No. My mother was kind enough to leave her journals to me in her will.”

“Wait a minute,” Stephanie said, leaning forward on one of the remaining bar stools. “You’re Winifred’s daughter? That makes you like, what, a hundred and fifty years old?”

“A couple years higher, if you want to be accurate,” Esther replied as she twisted off the brandy’s cap and began to pour herself a dram. “But, yes, you’re in the right neighborhood.”

“Well, you look pretty good for your age,” Stephanie said.

“Clean living, my dear. And magic, of course. Magic never hurts things.”

“Tabitha, our witch, told us Winifred had two daughters,” I said.

“Twins, actually.” She picked up the glass and brought the edge to her lips. As she did, her eyes seemed to cloud over, like she was looking off into the far past at a particularly dark moment in history. “Myself, and my sister Marguerite, both unacknowledged daughters of Arthur Selsby and Winifred O’Bannon. She’s the one doing this. She’s the party responsible.”

“What about all that stuff in your lab?” I asked, my hand closing around the glass of scotch in front of me. I desperately wanted to drown myself in its contents, but I knew that wouldn’t do anyone any good. Instead, I pushed it a little bit away from me, fighting the urge to use it to numb the pain in my side.

“All that? Most of it’s for little ailments, small things. Keeping the glamour on this hotel, for one, and the misdirection spells so I can continue to live here safe and sound. When you barged in, I was trying to find a cure for my sister’s little spell, though. Mainly for you, Ryder.”

“For me?”

“Think I couldn’t feel the transference of power when you took the ticket from its owner?”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Here,” Esther said, her hand outstretched across the bar, “hand it over.”

“Hand over what?” I asked. I could feel Stephanie’s eyes boring into the side of my face as I refused.

“The ticket,” Esther said, her eyes intent on mine. “It’s already got a hold on you, hasn’t it?”

I swallowed hard as the reality of her words dawned on me. She was right. The ticket. I reached into my pocket, closing my fingers around the stiff paper, and drew it out. Holding it in both hands, I looked down at the piece of miniature art, with its beautiful typesetting and the silhouette of the gorgeous woman on the front. I wanted to hand it to Esther, to let her hold it, too, but something inside me just wouldn’t allow it to happen.

“See?” Esther asked after a second or two.

“See what?”

“You’ve been staring at that thing for nearly a minute. Just holding it and staring at it.”

“No I have—”

“Yes, Ryder,” Stephanie interjected. “You have. Now, let Esther borrow it for just a moment, okay? She just wants to look at it.”

I swallowed hard as I rubbed my thumb over the unmarred surface. Even though I’d folded it up, the construction was so wonderful, a crease hadn’t even formed.

“Yes,” Esther said, hand still beckoning. “Come on, it’ll be okay.”

Reluctantly, I passed it over into her hands.

“When you paid for it,” she said, holding it up in front of her, “you took ownership of it. Before the spell had begun its work, it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but now that the ritual is in motion, it doesn’t want to be let go. You’re its Smeagol, now, you understand.” Eyes slightly narrowed, she brought up her other hand between us, snapped her fingers.

A little crackle of power surged through the small hotel bar, sending all the liquor bottles on the wall trembling like a minor earthquake had just struck. And, less than a second later, the ticket burst into flames.

“No!” I said, lunging forward. This was worse than if the Charger had been totaled.

Esther was too fast, though, and was already backing away from my searching hands. A look of intense concentration covered her face, alongside something else.

Pity?

“No!” I wailed, nearly going over the bar at her.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Esther said, shaking the ticket till the flames disappeared, and nothing but smoke filled the air. “Nothing can harm this little thing. Not yet, at least.” She tossed the perfectly fine ticket on the bar between us.

Immediately, I snatched it up, my eyes searching for any damage to it. Thank God, it was okay. Thank God, it was fine.

Beside me, Stephanie nearly gasped at how perfect and intact the ticket still was. “How did nothing happen to it?”

“Magic,” Esther said, her voice distant, almost as if she were in the other room, or another building, or another world. “Marguerite spent an awful lot of time and effort on their creation.”

I squeezed my treasure more tightly.

“Now, do you see this part down at the bottom there?” she asked.

My eyes traveled down the ticket, to a bit of lettering I hadn’t noticed before. Strange runes and glyphs, tightly fitted and snug against one another, lined the bottom in white. How had I not seen those before, when I first got the ticket from Chad? Had the fire stripped some of the ink away from it, allowed another fraction of the mystery to reveal itself to me? I ran my finger over the smooth surface, underlining the symbols with a blunt nail.

“I can’t read them,” I said.

“Neither can I,” Stephanie said, still leaning in close to me. “What do they say?”

“Rough translation? She gets your soul if you pay money for this ticket.”

Beside me, Stephanie barked out a laugh, and Esther gave her a look. “Does it look like I’m joking? What part of the way Ryder is acting makes you think this is a joke? Does he strike you as such a fan of Maneki Neko that he’d be stroking his ticket?” The witch turned back to me. “Ryder, dear? Why don’t you put that away for safekeeping? Something might happen to it if you leave it out.”

I nodded, tucking it away in the back pocket of my jeans. “Good idea.” I blinked my eyes as the card left my hands, looked around at the world with fresh eyes.

Things seemed crisper, clearer, like my eyes had been half-lidded and full of sleep for a moment, or my head stuffed with packing popcorn.

“Better?” Esther asked, patting my hand.

“Jesus, that thing’s strong,” I breathed. This time I did grab the scotch and take a long drink, the burn hitting the back of my throat and somehow bringing with it a little clarity.

That little ticket was powerful, outrageously so. And I knew that, no matter what we did, something inside me would fight to protect it, to keep it in hand.

Beside me, Stephanie cleared her throat. “How do we undo this…this curse? Or whatever it is?”

“Well, you could buy it from him, the same way I assume he received it.”

“But that just means I get it.”

“That’s not happening,” I said, putting my arm around Stephanie’s shoulders, pulling her to my side. She relaxed into me, reached up, and covered my hand with her own. “Even if we managed to save that guy, it’s still my burden. What are our other options?”

Esther smiled a little, almost knowingly. “At the moment? Not many. You understand, magic is about connection, and sometimes about consent. The owners of those tickets have given power over themselves to my sister, and she’s using that connection to power something else. A powerful piece of ritual magic. We need to break that connection, and the hold she has over them with the tickets. And a simple salt circle won’t be enough.”

“What kind of ritual?” I asked. “We know about the townspeople disappearing, and all that. But isn’t this all a little elaborate for just that, when a bullet would work just as well? Or just putting the cats on them? Seems like she’s going a little out of her way with all this.”

Esther nodded as I spoke, her hazel eyes boring into mine. “It’s about more than just taking revenge. There’s one important question neither of you has asked.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “What’s that?”

The witch smiled. “Why am I in Camelot of all places?”