Deux

She wore a jacket with a plain blue shirt and pants now. But Lamia didn’t focus on that. She was concerned.

“You have bags under your eyes.”

She wasn’t wrong. Lamia had pulled an all-nighter. That could only mean one thing for Jackie.

“I told you not to do it.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“Oh mon Dieu, Lamia! You could’ve gotten yourself hurt!”

“Better me than him, Jackie,” Lamia retorted. The reply seemed to linger on Jackie as she fell down to the chair in front of Lamia. The patrons of the café didn’t bother intervening. It sounded serious enough they didn’t want to barge in.

Lamia had just suggested she’d be better off hurt… or cursed for that matter. Jackie was bewildered. She was too mentally exhausted to argue.

“Listen, Lamia,” Jackie began, softer this time. “I know you want to help. And believe me I do. But we’re talking about human lives here. Who knows what would happen—”

“I have a lead.”

Jackie blinked once. Then she blinked twice. She had tried to scold Lamia but her friend just gave a crucial piece of information.

“Pardon?”

Lamia turned her laptop for Jackie to see the screen. She had digitally annotated the man next to JB. The note was propped up in another window. Lamia herself translated it to French. She understood the script herself, but specifically wanted to show Jackie.

“Do you know this man?”

Jackie’s eyes widened. Slowly. The pause was unbearable to normal people. But for Lamia, it was all she needed. She slowly raised her right hand to her mouth as she gasped.

“I… I don’t understand,” Jackie whispered, her hands still clasping onto her mouth as she stared at the photo in disbelief.

“Why?”

“That’s… my brother-in-law. Érik.”

Lamia nodded. “Ok, because I need to find him right now. He could be the one wh—”

“No.”

Lamia stopped in her tracks.

“No…?”

“Lamia, that’s impossible. He cherished JB his entire life. JB introduced me to his family; there’s no way he’d hurt JB like this…”

“Then there’s more reason to believe it’s him.”

Lamia caught herself before she said any further. Her friend was shaking. She didn’t want to twist the knife of fate violently stabbing through her any longer.

Also, she didn’t have time anymore.

“I’m sorry, Jackie.”

A second time, Lamia thought. Two strikes. No more. She didn’t want to see people suffer. Especially her own best friend.

Before Lamia could walk away with her belongings, she felt a tug on herself. It wasn’t a hard pull, yet it clung desperately onto her garment like it’s the only lifeline left.

“Wait…”

Jackie gripped onto her friend’s clothes. She was still shaken, and Lamia grew worried.

“Let me come with you.”

Lamia was concerned.

“Quoi? No, Jackie, it’s too dangerous—”

“I don’t care!”

Tears fell from Jackie after the exclamation. She pulled her hand away from Lamia’s garment and tried to dry the tears welling up and falling freely from her face.

“You expect me to nearly lose my husband, read all of that, wait for some goddamn miracle, and pretend everything is fine while you risk your life to save him?!”

Lamia was left bewildered. Jackie grabbed her hands.

“I watched my husband on the brink of death. I can’t lose you too, Lamia…”

Lamia couldn’t think. She was shocked by her friend. She was willing to openly cry and plead for her to stop running into danger.

Same ol’ Jackie.

Lamia softly smiled. Perhaps that smile could ease her worries a little, Lamia thought.

“Tonight. 6:00pm. Rue Croix, down the old Maison Romano. Meet me there.”

Jackie nodded.

Lamia recalled her time in university. When she was Camille. Before the inscriptions. Before the séances. Before occult forensics.

Before Lamia.

She knew Jackie then. She knew her now. Still as caring as she was then.

Lamia walked on the edge of the abyss. No one knows how deep the trench went. But she was so certIn that she could find what she was looking for, even if she had to fall over and over again.

And she was walking there once more: concretely, down the Rue Croix-Baragnon.

She had extensively prepared countless recipes in case something happened. Hours dedicated to figure out how to break the curse.

She wore her beige trench coat to defend herself against the French cold weather.

And then, she saw someone clad in a puffy white coat. She smirked. It was unmistakable.

Jackie.

“Bonsoir,” Lamia greeted her.

“Bonsoir, Lamia.”

They both knew they didn't have enough time to exchange pleasantries. Only about seven hours left to save JB. It was now or never.

They walked down the old road. Neither spoke with one another. Tension denied them a chance to speak, but tension allowed them a chance to connect. Locking hands, Lamia thought that if she could cling onto Jackie she would be able to protect her.

Jackie had the same idea. Neither knew what the other was thinking. Yet both knew within themselves that they needed to be quick.

But they didn’t expect what they saw.

Amongst the haze, Jackie spotted something. A faint silhouette of a man. But Lamia knew something was off.

“What the…”

The silhouette came into full view. The two women suddenly felt the world around them stop for a moment.

“Érik…?”

Jackie posited the question. She was still in utter disbelief about everything Lamia was about to do.

And now, down the street, she saw her brother-in-law.

Limping. In pain. Desperate.

Jackie gasped. Lamia’s mouth opened.

He was the one they’ve been looking for. To question. To unravel. To find why he would do something so heinous. To have him explain—

Blood. The absolute stench of blood.

It seeped from areas where it did not need to seep from. Jackie sat stunned.

Weakly, Érik reached out his hand, itself streaking with lines of crimson while he himself was shaking with violent tremors. His arm was not properly joined, as Lamia could infer from her periphery.

It was all wrong.

“Please,” he pleaded, his voice staggering through the words. Gasping for air. “You have… to help… me…”

“…!”

Jackie let go of Lamia’s hand as she sprinted toward Érik, only stopping as his condition became clearer when she was in full view.

“Jackie, wait…!”

Lamia watched, shockingly stared, as Jackie panicked, fearful.

She gradually stepped toward Érik, the tremors of both persons asynchronous yet slowly becoming more and more violent in their shaking. They both tried to reach for each other, grasping for something. Anything.

“Oh… oh mon Dieu… Érik…”

All Lamia could do was watch.

Until the breeze.

It swept through Érik, throwing him slightly off-balance. It moved to Jackie who was too panicked to react.

And from Lamia’s retina, it became vivid.

That was not the wind’s breeze.

As it moved toward Lamia, it only scraped by her.

Swiftly.

A line of blood slowly grazed, forming through her pale cheek. She held the fresh cut with her hand.

It stung.

Something was wrong.

Dark, writhing shapes encircled the cutting breezes behind Érik. Lamia’s eyes widened as something, beyond her naked retina, saw a crown of serpents.

Waiting.

Lamia’s pupils dilated.

“Jackie, get back!”

Confused, Jackie turned to her friend. Her eyes grew as she saw Lamia running and tackling her from the side.

Lamia had no time to pull back and assess. She had just saved Jackie from the serpents.

But as she turned to save Érik, his head burst. Not shattered. Burst.

Like a hydraulic press. Visceral gallons, not oozes, of blood sprayed across the Rue. Across Jackie’s coat. Across Lamia’s face.

Jackie screamed.

Terror. Fear. All of the panic coalesced into one bellowing sound that tore down the near-deafening silence of the street.

The two women could only watch as Érik’s lifeless corpse tumbled forward. Lamia pulled Jackie to herself, shielding her from whatever may come.

The body twitched as pounds and pounds of blood freely flowed down the cobblestones. Jackie’s wet face through tears was accentuated by the oncoming rain.

Lamia looked over yonder, past where what was once Érik stood.

The serpents vanished. They dissipated through the raindrops.

“We have to go.”

Jackie turned weakly. Her face had become a complete mess. Lamia’s wasn’t well either. But she knew she had to act for the two of them.

Or they would meet the same fate.

“Jackie, let’s run…”

She could only follow her friend. She was in no condition to argue. And Lamia wanted to forget about what had happened.

They staggered. They stumbled. For a stretch from the opposite end of the Rue, they kept going. Even if it was painful. Even if they were running out of fear. They kept running.

They never looked back.

Jackie’s eyes were sealed shut. Lamia held her arm.

Eventually, they reached Lamia’s apartment. It still smelt weird, given the aftermath of her investigation. As she set Jackie down on her couch, Lamia whispered something and rotated her middle and index fingers around the doorknob.

A protective seal. The physical locks were simply not enough.

She sighed.

Still kneeling in front of the door, she stared into nothing. Lamia’s head went down and gazed onto the cleanly waxed floorboard. She looked at one panel that seemed to glance back.

It was not a perfect reflection, but she still could make out how frizzy her hair was, how much soot she is covered with, and how the serpents grazed her cheek.

She had suspected Érik.

He’s dead.

She was wrong.

She stood up and carried her heavy self toward the fridge to get some water.

As she did, she glanced at her wall. 7:00 in the evening. She didn’t have much time. Only four hours remain.

She poured some water for herself and Jackie and set them on the desk. She sat beside the trembling Jackie, still crying after what she had seen.

“Lamia… what… what was…?”

She couldn’t form the words. Every time she tried, the memory resurfaced. Each time it did, the memory of her husband collapsing came into view.

Lamia slowly pulled her into an embrace. She was not good at this; Jackie usually did these for her. But she couldn’t bear to see Jackie like this.

She still didn’t know why the serpents came about. But all she could think about doing now is comfort Jackie.

“I… I should’ve… I should’ve known… you know…?”

“What do you mean?”

Jackie, whose face was still wet, cleared her throat to make her statement firm.

“There was a girl I knew at work. Kris. She was at the party. Marseillean. Very jolly, but…”

“But what?”

Jackie turned to Lamia. “She reminded me of you.”

Lamia gasped.

Another… witch?

“When you told me that,” Jackie paused to breathe, still slightly shaking.

“That you practiced the ‘mystic arts’, I was so frightened. But at least knowing you, I thought she would be the same. Understanding, kind, a bit weird…” she laughed, only softly.

Lamia nodded. “And what happened?”

Jackie looked down. Her wistful expression caught Lamia’s attention.

“We fell for the same person.”

Lamia turned her eyes to stare down at the floor but she was looking at nothing. She was processing. This motivation was too simple. But it makes sense.

If a witch experiences heartbreak then…

Jackie stood up.

“I… I have to go.”

Lamia broke from her thought-laced trance. “Wait what?”

“I… I have to apologize… I’m sorry, Lamia.”

“No, Jackie,” Lamia tried to reach for her, but she pulled back. “It’s too dangerous. Let me help—”

“Listen, Lamia…”

Jackie’s words had more elevated weight to them. Lamia backed away.

“You’ve done so much to help me. For that I am very grateful. But I have to do this on my own now. Even if,” she sighed, trying to mask her fear. “Even if it could hurt me. I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Lamia…”

“Jackie—”

Jackie turned around and unlocked the door of her friend’s apartment and left.

Lamia could only stand watching.

“Jackie…”