#SpookyShowcase: Less Than Ashes by Nina Nouwens
Welcome to the 9th annual #SpookyShowcase, a Halloween artist and author showcase. A full schedule of submissions can be found here so you don’t miss a single entry for THESE DEADLY CURSES. Now, on to today’s submission!
Less Than Ashes by Nina Nouwens
Less than Ashes
It had been three weeks since they burned Eris at the stake.
Just long enough for people to stop talking about it; for my baby sister’s name to fall out of the mouths of the kingdom, the horrifying townspeople that condemned her, spit on her, came to watch her die and laugh. The gossip about the Prince’s witch wife, and her subsequent murder, had trailed off into the distance like her ashes, caught on the wind, blown to the backs of grimy pubs and the ports.
I didn’t know if it was better that way, for her to be forgotten by the masses, left out of their jokes and their crude stories; remembered fondly only by our sisters.
It was also just long enough for us to gather, rushed across the kingdom back together like yanking on a drawstring. Sisters never strayed that far, and we were gathering for the solstice in a few short weeks, anyway. Bumping our travels up to be together in our grief and our misery was a simple decision.
It was Luminita’s idea; as it always was. She leaned into the dark side of witchcraft easily, naturally, tiptoeing between the ether of the netherworld with the grace of an acrobat and the nonchalance of a cat with nine lives yet. It had been years since we had traveled together, touring as songstresses and musicians and dancers across Avaria. It took Amina all of three days to change each of us, our eyes alternating between dark and light, hair changing from blacks to reds, from blondes to blacks. Essa lost her golden ringlets and stomped about the tavern in protest for a day. It had been years since Amina had changed my features, swiping the red hair I had shared with Eris away with her hands, carding through the strands to erase any visual tie to our littlest sister. Blonde ringlets replaced the auburn, eyes tilted wider and darkened from blue to green.
It ached, burning as it worked — but so did all magic.
We left the border town as a troupe, Relia charming a stable hand to steal a carriage and a horse, stopping along Lord See’s manor first. It took only two nights for Relia to finish enchanting him properly, catching him just before he left for the palace and the Spring Festival, where we waited for him to regale the Prince with tales of our singing.
The invitation to perform at the Spring Festival came just two days after Lord See’s departure, and we hurried out of our lodgings, Relia sweet-talking the man at the desk into forgetting about payment. She had made quite the name for herself as a thief, as a siren, but Amina’s careful work made her nearly unrecognizable from her authentic form, letting us pass smoothly and quietly down to the Capital.
Lumi paged through her Book of Shadows the entire ride to the palace, stalling amongst the other entertainers and hired help, carriages of flowers and meat surrounding the performers and filling the street to swelling. Our enchanted driver, hapless and happy, called for the horse to move and laughed when it could not take another step forward.
“Nervous?”
Lumi glanced up from her book, the pages worn and yellowing under her nails, and snorted. “No.”
“We know what we’re doing, Isla,” Marin scolded, looking down her freshly hooked nose, so different from her regular button one. “We’ve done this before.”
But we hadn’t.
The spell Luminita had picked… it was different. Vast. Darker than I had ventured into, although Lumi said she’d been dabbling in our time apart.
Still. Dark acts begot dark acts.
We hadn’t cursed without our fabled seven, either. Spells always worked better in sevens.
As if reading my thoughts, Marin glanced at her lap; Eris would have been curled up across the carriage bench, her head in Marin’s lap, complaining about the stopping and starting of the carriage ride if she were here.
The idea of her, her red hair splayed across Marin’s lap, her cupid’s bow lips pursed and blue eyes rolling, sent another wave of despair through me.
I was the only one who had made it in time; the only sister close enough to come and watch her burn. She had caught my eye, near the end, as a man in black carried a torch to the base of the stake. Her blue eyes were wild, bright. Her fingers twitched at her side, trying to call up her magic.
She had the most tenuous connection of us all. We should never have left her alone.
She couldn’t call it. I saw her shoulders drop, recognizing it at the same time as she did.
She tipped her head back against the wooden post behind her, clenching her eyes shut, tears rolling down her freckled cheeks.
She burned slowly.
It was the worst thing I had ever seen.
If Marin was there… if I had the magic she did, and I could manipulate the earth, wrenching the grounds to pieces to stop it. If we hadn’t left each other at all.
If we hadn’t let her marry the Prince.
She thought it was love. She had performed in the palace just the year before, and promised us at the solstice that he was smitten. That it was perfect.
That she could keep her magic hidden.
None of that was true.
The Spring Festival opened to chaos.
Amina entertained a crowd of newcomers at the palace steps, singing for everyone who entered; Relia swung from a silk attached to the ceiling of the open atrium, wrapped up in the cord and nearly levitating. Marin was cooing alongside a harp in the back garden, her voice lilting on the breeze through the open doors towards where Luminita and I were singing a duet in front of a grand piano.
As Lumi played, she tipped her head towards the door; just enough for me to notice, stood at her shoulder.
The Prince had entered, his blonde hair pinned back by his crown. Flanked on either side were bodyguards, dark and imposing figures of shadow against Prince Carsten’s sunny grin as he cast his gaze over the room. He was cloaked in white and gold, glinting like his crown, and my veins burned with the desire to light him on fire.
To burn that damned smile off of his face.
Not missing a bit, Lumi tipped her head towards the guard on the right. In my periphery, I caught her sign.
I lilted two notes higher than I should have. Yes. Him.
Luminita grinned around her next line, taking our signal back.
When the song ended, and the guards broke off for the table, she curtsied her way out of our little crowd of attendees and went to grab a drink.
I started a new song, an Avarian folk tune that made the courtiers grin, as Luminita wrapped her hand around the guard’s bicep, grinning and batting her dark eyelashes around grey-blue eyes.
By the time I finished the folk song, Luminita and the guard were nowhere to be found. She didn’t return until late into the night, waltzing into our shared room with a smile and empty hands.
It worked.
We all squealed, and I fell asleep with my heart lighter than it had been in weeks; no longer an anvil in my chest.
I woke to the sound of rustling and squeaking near my face. The stiff linen moved, pulled to my chin, and I blinked in the darkness. The hearth burned down when the sound came again.
Under my sheets, and crawling ever higher along my neck, was a mouse. Soft fur tickled my neck, and then there was a bite.
I screamed, throwing myself out of bed and away; the girls across from me rose, Amina jolting straight out of her bed and Luminita reaching for her book of shadows out of instinct. I clasped my hand to my neck; the wound bleeding and burning.
The brown mouse on my bed was small, but I could swear it was grinning at me, tiny muzzle coated in blood. His tail wrapped around his body, twitching against the sheets as we all faced it, and Lumi sighed.
“Damn it.”
Relia stalked to the side of my bed, crouching to stare the creature down. The mouse didn’t move, staring her back and squeaking. Defiant.
Essa crept closer, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got it.”
She snapped her fingers, and the mouse stiffened. Heart stopped in an instant. It toppled over sideways, the defiant stance collapsing, and she plucked it by the tail with her thumb and forefinger, launching it into the fire.
Amina helped me wash my neck, and we all slowly tucked back into bed — the early morning’s performance wouldn’t allow us to stay awake too late.
It took hours more for me to fall asleep, imaging the rustling of sheets, the grasp of tiny, vengeful teeth.
Day two of the Spring Festival opened with a missing guard and a full day of activities. Luminita said nothing as gossip filled the room about a guard going missing, smirking into her hand as Amina laughed.
The other guards grumbled about the extra duty, about how Felix must have slacked off and disappeared for the festivities, caught up in some girl’s bed and refusing to leave. The Prince swanned about with one less bodyguard than normal, although he didn’t look concerned at all; strange for someone who was supposedly grieving.
I choked on my words and ended up with a sharp hit to the back from Amina as my hands flew up to cover my mouth. The anger burned like scalding water in my veins, climbing from my feet and scorching all the way up. I wanted to march across the marble floors, to fling my hands around the prince’s neck, to strangle him within an inch of his life and make him apologize.
To make him beg.
Across the room, Luminita caught my eye and shook her head.
I straightened up, bobbing into a curtsy and running for the refreshments, wrapping both hands around a glass of water and sighing to relieve the burning in my throat.
“The rabble is bringing in the vermin,” a guard sighed to my left, draped against the refreshment table, with his arms crossed tightly. “Three days of this nonsense and I’ll have to sleep for a week.”
The guard beside him scoffed. “As if we’ll get time off for that.”
“The work is never done,” the first guard sighed, glancing my way and rolling his eyes. “Can I help you?”
I stepped back from the table, glass still cradled in my hands. I wanted to throw it at them, to scream.
I wanted Eris.
“No, thank you,” I said instead, curtsying and hurrying back to Amina. She had taken up another folk song, soft, and I stepped into the harmony as easily as sliding into an old pair of slippers. She smiled my way, her enchanted-green eyes a question, and I dropped a few notes.
Don’t ask.
She turned back to the crowd, a trilling high note raising through the air and causing the audience to burst into applause. She was always better than me, and I loved her for it. I was happy to play second, with my choking anger and my even worse grief.
Everywhere I looked, I caught red hair. There was a moment, a jolt, like I expected Eris to come running into the room — always running, never walking — streaming her skirts and locks behind her like a tiny sprite. I watched for her everywhere, and broke my heart each time, the pieces sharp and jagged behind my ribcage.
I thought of the curse, and of Luminita’s test. I thought of the words I had overheard from the guards, and I squared my shoulders. We will make them pay.
Relia took over for another show of acrobatics, the singers being dismissed with a wave of the Prince’s hand; I caught Lumi and Marin disappearing with a guard out an exit, into the gardens, and grinned.
Looks like I wasn’t the only one impatient for vengeance.
That night, a guard uniform burned in the stable hearth. We crowded around it, hiding the evidence with our skirts and pretending that we needed the extra warmth until the clothes were ashes, the buttons carefully plucked and placed into Amina’s pockets.
Marin and Luminita burst into fits of gleeful laughter late into the night, like they couldn’t contain the relief at the vengeance.
In the dark, I stared at the barn ceiling and waited for my turn.
No mice visited us, although I spent all night dreaming of their tiny bodies, of a crowd of thousands crawling over my body. I dreamed of a million small teeth, cutting, slicing, the soft brush of fur against the sharp ache of bite. The sound of an entire chorus of mice, the squeaking turning into human screams, burying me. They writhed over my body, moving as one unit, unrelenting like a river; when I opened my mouth to scream, the mice filled it. A handful buried into my hair, squirming underneath my head; still more crawled against my ears, tiny feet scraping the skin at my scalp as they climbed, climbed, climbed.
I woke to the taste of fur on my tongue, like dirt and sweat, so palpable I wasn’t sure it was a dream, after all.
The third and final day of the Spring Festival, and the last day of Prince Carsten’s life, opened to rain.
It ruined any outdoor plans for the morning, causing the hordes to flood the palace hallways and ballrooms. They instructed all performers to be as cheerful as possible, bright and unwavering in the face of the disappointed guests who had been looking forward to games throughout the palace’s sprawling gardens.
I shot Amina a grateful smile as thunder cracked. They scheduled us to sing on the raised platform in the square outside of the palace; the same spot that hosted our sister’s last moments on earth. The palace was quick to remove the association of that, piling performers onto the platform, and I couldn’t refuse. Amina came to the rescue as only she could.
The storm was a neat trick, and I was grateful Amina had come from the furthest corners of the Kingdom and her work by the sea to be with us.
She caught my wrist as she passed, heading for her own alcove to entertain the guests. A group of women shoved past, whining about being locked in the stone walls with the commoners and the mice. Amina grinned and squeezed once, twice, and then disappeared off into the hall.
See you soon.
My feet and voice ached by the end of the day, but the adrenaline in my veins sang hot and high, urging me onwards. Night drew to a close, pulling all of us sisters in across the sprawling palace, weaving amongst the partygoers to find each other in the corner of the grand ballroom.
Most had drunk themselves into a stupor, men laying across their tables and women giggling in corners like children. A few guards nodded drowsily at the head table, and when Prince Carsten clapped his hands for the music to stop and to send the guests back to bed for the evening, very few people complained.
Prince Carsten stood at his throne, watching as the crowd slowly dispersed, men slinging their friend’s arms over shoulders to drag them out of the ballroom. They scooped one or two women up bridal style, laughter twinkling like fireflies in their wake as the men carried them off.
Amongst it all, Amina strode confidently onwards, leaning onto her tiptoes to speak to the guard at the prince’s side. He scoffed at whatever she whispered in his ear, clearly surprised, and then turned a questioning gaze to the prince.
Prince Carsten looked like he was about to object, and then Relia stepped in front of him, her dress pulled low, her fingers trailing over his shirt sleeve.
It was just enough to enchant him, and Prince Carsten blinked sleepily before waving his guard off with an affable shrug.
I followed Luminita and Marin out of the ballroom and into the hallway, where we had agreed to meet up. In an alcove behind a stand of armor, Relia and Prince Carsten cuddled up, her head pressed into his neck and his tipped back against the stone wall.
“Come with me,” Relia whispered, pulling back. The Prince’s eyes never left hers, the enchantment thick, and he followed her blindly, unaware that the five of us were a few steps behind.
Relia’s hand stayed tight on his wrist as she led us down, down into the depths of the palace. Luminita had walked the course with her the night before, and her steps were sure on the stone floor, echoing in the quiet of the night.
We made it all the way into the dungeons, the air thick with moisture and rot, when the Prince blinked. Amina pulled the door shut behind us. “What are we doing down here?”
His voice was buttery, dream-like, and Relia grinned, relaxing her grip slightly. “We have something to show you.”
Prince Carsten glanced up at that, finally, and grinned. His voice dripped slow and soft like honey. “Oh, hello, ladies.”
Luminita bared her teeth, more snarl than smile. “Relia, drop his hand.”
She dropped it, and the Prince blinked slowly, eyebrows knitting together across his forehead as he came back into awareness. He glanced up at the stone ceiling of the dungeons, and then back at our group, crowding him into the wall.
His mouth worked, looking for a question, and Relia stepped forward again.
“Leave him,” Lumi snapped, and Marin wrapped her hand around Relia’s wrist to pin her in place. “It’s so much more fun when they’re aware.”
The Prince’s grey eyes flickered between all of us, weary. His right hand twitched at his side; his sword was gone.
Relia held it up, grinning as he stepped back further into the stone wall.
“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice tried to be hard, demanding, and dropped several tones short. His words trembled, like he was seconds away from starting to scream.
“You’ve done something wrong,” Amina snarled, voice like flint, sparking in all of us. My hands burned. “Do you know what that means?”
“You need to be punished,” Marin nodded solemnly.
The Prince scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
I could see it in his eyes, the grey depths confused, as if he had never done a single thing wrong in his life. Amina’s grip on Relia’s hand tightened, but no one was there to stop me as I marched closer, nose nearly at the Prince’s chest. “Eris.”
Her name drew a collective breath from all of us girls, the name aching, aching, aching.
The Prince froze, pale face paler.
Luminita sighed. “Isla, you ruin all the fun rushing into things. We’re supposed to torture him first.”
“We still can,” Amina noted, wiggling the fingers of her free hand; the Prince blanched further, scrunching into the wall. Coward.
“Don’t scream,” Marin cut him off as his mouth opened. “No one will hear you down here; we’ve tested it.”
“Are you going to start it, Lumi?” Relia asked, stepping in closer, the six of us — always missing one, a space beside Amina and Marin that would not be filled — and the Prince gulped. I tracked the movement of his throat, a delicious lick of excitement trailing up the back of my throat, making the fire in my veins burn higher.
“I call upon the magic of the night,” Luminita started, her voice carrying in the stone room.
“And all the demons that be,” Amina followed.
The Prince screamed, calling for help, ignoring the warning that no one would hear him. Eris didn’t scream, I thought, sneering as he cowered into the wall further. She didn’t scream once.
“For this threat upon our ancient house,” Marin repeated, stepping in closer to the Prince, grabbing his hands as he flailed. The magic jumped in strength, holding him in place, and he screamed louder, the sound ringing in my ears.
“We set you free from this mortal plane,” I said, magic working through my veins like heat pouring down my limbs.
“And with our magic,” Essa said.
Relia stepped forth for the last bit, jostling me out of the way to glare the Prince into his eyes, her charmed green ones burning through his. “We turn you into a mouse.”
The prince screamed as the magic lashed through the air, the combination of six — not seven, not perfect, but still strong — acting quickly. The Prince’s eyes bulged, struggling against Amina’s grip.
The transformation was slow, agonizing. He shrunk in pieces, spine cracking, limbs breaking and re-twisting. His face scrunched, dark grey fur bursting forth from under his skin. His nose elongated, turning and tearing, his screams increasing in pitch until he was nearly ultra-sonic.
Amina loosened her grip after a moment, and we stepped back as the prince fell to the ground, writhing on the floor as his new form tried to crawl out of his skin.
When it ended, there was only a pile of clothes, dirty and torn and bloody, and a single grey mouse.
The mouse shrieked, still, and tried to run.
Luminita dropped her book of shadows directly on his head, the weight crushing the mouse.
We all stared for a moment, at the limp tail trailing away from the book, the heavy tome silent and still.
Luminita scooped the book up, pocketing it back into her dress. Essa scooped up the clothes, pulling off the buttons one by one and passing them to Amina for Luminita to curse later.
We left the mouse where it lay, crushed and broken, less dignified than even a pile of ashes.
About the Author
Nina Nouwens is an author represented by Cathie Armstrong at The Purcell Agency. Nina finished her Masters in Library and Information Science last year, and is currently working on a handful of projects, including a Beetlejuice meets All Girls’ Boarding School crossover, a NA romcom, and a YA witch book! When she’s not writing, you can find Nina in her garden, or chasing around her dog.
Twitter: @Nina_Nouwens