But I would not cower from this, and maybe I was more Bratva than anyone realized. Dimitri, by contrast, held no judgement in his gaze.
Within twenty minutes Stacey brought the lock of hair. I didn’t think any of us had a doubt that she would deliver. Of course, Dimitri ordered Stepen to retrieve it, refusing to allow any of us near Stacey.
I hadn’t realized it at the time, but the conservatory that stood as an additional room to the house also served as the perfect place to conduct Magick and cast spells, and as we all sat huddled around the large circular wrought iron table, I began considering moving my spellwork from my bathroom to this area.
An old sconce sat on the wall, illuminating the conservatory with its soft glow. Dimitri, Ravi, and Stepen chose to stand back, allowing us to work. By the way Dimitri’s lips were pressed in a hard line, I knew that he didn’t approve of this - felt that the curse I had cast against Lauren, even if she was with child, was deserved.
But I still needed to be able to live with myself - with my decisions, and somewhere over the last ten hours, I realized that while I was completely comfortable killing Lauren, I wasn’t quite as content with that idea when it came to her baby. It was an odd thing to draw the line in the sand on, but it seemed that my line had been drawn, and the line I would not cross was cursing an unborn child to death.
Is this what Dimitri felt? Did he have to grapple with his morality in the same way? Did he choose who he was comfortable killing and who he wasn’t? Or did everyone simply fall into the category of threat, and that was how he based his decisions?
Zoey pulled out a purple, velvet bag that was held closed with a drawstring.
She withdrew a small doll, the material looked similar to that of a hessian sack.
Brenna sucked in her breath audibly, while Marie seemed entirely unfazed, but it was Zoey's shaking fingers that I was the most concerned about.
"That's a Summer Camp blast." Brenna muttered under her breath, and I knew that the quip was to cover her own nerves. Brenna didn't like to be unruffled.
Many of us had tampered with Voodoo dolls beyond our practical exercises at Summer Camp, and I knew that Zoey had made a concerted effort to avoid them fully - a difficult feat when your family excelled at making them.
Zoey handed me the item as if simply by holding it she might be infected with the dark Magick the doll represented.
My fingers brushed against hers as she passed the doll towards me, and I willed calmness into her through contact alone.
"What will you do with the doll, Zoey?" Marie's voice was half curiosity, half challenge.
"I'm not doing anything with it. This is Corinne's spell, I am simply here to instruct."
"Oui. I see, so you will instruct Corinne what to do with the Voodoo doll, no?"
"It's a poppy not a Voodoo doll." Zoey snapped, her usually calm exterior frayed at the edges.
"Calling it by a different name doesn't change the nature of what it is." Marie's voice was melodic, refusing to meet Zoey's aggression with more aggression.
"What is the difference between a poppy and a Voodoo doll?" I kept my voice even, hoping to dispel the tension that was building.
"A poppy uses a lighter form of Magick." Zoey's answer was curt and precise, but before any of us felt a true reprieve from the conversation, Marie countered her.
"Aren't we going to fill the doll up with a piece of her hair, some pins, wax, and blood Magick?" She didn't wait for any of us to answer as she pushed on. "I think that might be the literal definition of darkMagick."
"I like her." The hushed words floated from behind me, sounding like Ravi, but they were soon followed by an oof that made me think Dimitri had elbowed him into silence.
"Put her hair into the doll." Zoey ignored Marie entirely, dictating each step of the spell.
Dimitri stepped forward and pressed his palm against my shoulder as he slid a small plastic ziplock bag containing a lock of Lauren's hair. And just as quickly as he was there, so he retreated, leaving nothing but the whisper of a promise on my spine.
My long, bony fingers made quick work of the task, sliding the hair into the small opening that Zoey had left for me. In another life, I may have been a pianist, but in this life, Emily Rand had pushed more towards those ivory keyed lessons, and I had failed dismally.
Wordlessly, Zoey shifted a box of pins in my direction, motioning for me to hurry. But the heaviness of it all made it difficult to move quickly, the burden of my binding sat stiff and unmoving, and even as I went through the motions, a large part of me whispered that this wouldn't work. I had well and truly damned Lauren.
A shiver of revulsion slithered down my spine as I pierced the fabric with the pin, allowing the small metal intrusion to hold the opening together. I did this motion three times, and I knew that such a number wasn't a coincidence.
Brenna gasped audibly at the same time I felt Isis' presence, but I did not look up from the task before me, for fear that I would lose my nerve. Shuffling could be heard from behind us, and for a flicker of a moment, I wondered what Ravi and Stepen thought of this turn of events - wondered what the rest of the Bratva might say about it.
Silently, I plucked the remaining pins up one by one, sliding them into the doll, piercing the fabric and soft inner body, until finally, there were no more pins left to spear.
A collective exhale sounded through the room, but this was only the beginning.