On a cold, October day, two young girls with clasped hands warily eyed a three story Victorian house.
An ominous breeze blew, scattering dead leaves around them, and the brunette shivered in agitation. "I don't like it," She whispered.
The blonde girl squeezed her hand. "It's okay, Belle," She winked at her sister. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
Belle squinted her eyes shut, trying to imagine home. Before here, they'd lived on a warm beach, the sun shining every day. She visualized her family laughing on the beach, splashing each other with salty water, her mother's face bright and happy.
"I miss mommy," She whimpered. "And daddy. Emma, can't we go home?"
"This is our home now," Emma said confidently. "It'll be all right. I promise. We'll always be together. That's what sisters are for."
"Half-sisters," Belle said glumly, eyeing Emma's pretty golden curls enviously. She'd always wished she was as beautiful and strong as Emma.
Emma frowned. "Sisters," She insisted. "We're blood, no matter what. Don't talk like that, Belly-button."
The doors of the Victorian house opened and two older women fluttered out, clucking sympathetically. The first wore a green sparkling dress that brought to mind a shiny beetle—she looked a bit like Emma with her blonde hair and blue-gray eyes, though there was more mischief in her gaze.
The second wore darker clothes. She was also blonde, but her beautiful face was sharply angled and she spoke in honeyed tones.
"Poor little dears," She crooned, gathering an uncomfortable Emma and Belle into her arms. "In this house," Her voice was stern. "We have chocolate cake for breakfast."
Emma let out a surprised shriek of a giggle and the aunts looked pleased.
"Poor motherless darlings," The lady in green sighed, hugging them to her chest. "You just call me Tink, all right? And if there's anything you need—"
"Her real name," The one in black confided. "Is Theodora."
Aunt Tink scowled. "As I was saying you can call for Tink or your Aunt Malinda."
Aunt Malinda made a hideous face. "Please. Girls, just call me Aunt Mal."
Belle felt something soft rub up against her bare legs and gasped to see a purring kitten, the color of coal, at her feet. She reached down to pick him up, burying her face in his fur.
"That's Cheshire," Aunt Mal introduced. "And Scorcher and Unicorn are around here somewhere too. You'll find, my darlings, that we are the stereotype of 'crazy old cat ladies'."
Emma giggled again but Belle still felt unsure. She had never met these aunts before, though their mother had talked of them often. She hid behind Emma, cuddling the kitten close to her heart.
"Now why don't you come inside?" Aunt Mal's eyes gleamed and Aunt Tink clapped her hands in excitement. "I'm sure I know what we can do to occupy ourselves."
XXXX
It was hard not to feel peculiar in this new place—but it seemed that peculiarity was something the old house was accustomed to. Belle was not quite sure about Aunt Tink, who was flighty and eager to please or Aunt Mal, who was stern about her lightheartedness, and almost intimidating. But she liked having her own room, space to run, curious places to play with Emma, and the spare time to explore the house's vast rooms and corridors.
One sunny afternoon, while investigating the various scents of the garden, Emma noticed a few of the neighborhood children eyeing them through the fence. She skipped over, beaming.
"Hi, want to play?" She invited, hand on the gate to let them in. Belle swallowed, a cold feeling prickling her skin.
"Witch!"
Belle gasped when the stone hit Emma directly in the forehead. Suddenly, everything blurred together, the children's taunts, laughter, and she bent over her older sister, touching the blood gently.
"Out!" Aunt Mal suddenly appeared, bellowing at the children frightfully. "Out, before I turn you all into Yaoguai!" The children scattered and without a word, Aunt Mal scooped Emma up and strode towards the greenhouse, where the table was laid out. Aunt Tink watched with a baleful gaze as Aunt Mal gently set Emma down, dabbing something on her cut.
"I didn't do anything," Emma rubbed her eyes to keep from crying. Emma always hated tears, wouldn't even let herself sob during their mother's funeral.
"Shhh," Aunt Tink poured her a cup of tea, kissing her hair. "I know you didn't, pet." She glanced at Aunt Mal, who nodded back at her.
"You'll find, my dears…that this island is not particularly friendly towards our family," Aunt Mal said hesitantly, taking a seat at the head of the table.
"Why not?" Belle burst out. "What did we do?"
"Nothing, darling," Aunt Tink placed two large brownies in front of the girls, with plentiful dollops of ice cream.
"Tink is absolutely right," Aunt Mal said firmly. "For more than two hundred years, we Owens women have been blamed for everything that has ever gone wrong in this town."
"Is that why people hate us?" Emma wanted to know, digging into her brownie. She'd already forgotten the cut above her eye but Belle couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from it.
"They don't hate us, sweetheart," Aunt Tink said gently. "We just—we make them a little nervous."
"Let's face it, Tink," Aunt Mal snorted. "We Owens women have always created a stir. My darlings, it's time you knew something about your heritage. Our ancestor, Maria Owens—she was a witch. The first in our family. And you, my darlings, are the most recent in a long and distinguished line." She smiled and Belle got goosebumps. Emma's eyes widened.
It wasn't to say the news was shocking—Belle had always known in her young heart that there was something different about her family. She remembered her honest surprise when she found out that not everyone's mothers celebrated Yuletide rather than Christmas, or called Halloween Samhain. Not everyone kept a cauldron under their sink or a carefully concealed china cabinet which housed a bell, book, and candle. And certainly not everyone could make things happen or have visions and dreams. But it was almost a relief to know that it wasn't just her odd immediate family—it was her whole family.
"I remember Mommy talking about Maria," Emma spoke up. "They tried to hang her. Because she was a witch?"
"Well," Aunt Mal smirked. "The fact that our Aunt Maria was a bit of a heartbreaker didn't help. Nor did it help that most of her lovers had wives on the hanging committee." She winked cheekily at Emma who giggled at such irreverence.
"But no…" Aunt Mal continued thoughtfully, tapping a long finger against her chin. "I don't think it was either of those reasons. They feared her because she had a gift. A power that has been past on to you girls. She had the gift of magic. And it was that very same gift that saved her life."
Emma's eyes widened. "That's right! She jumped from the platform, broke her own noose and walked away!"
"Yes," Aunt Mal's eyes were sad. "And she was banished to this very island, with her unborn child growing in her belly. She waited for her lover to come rescue her…but he never came." Belle's eyes filled with tears. Somehow, it made her think of her mother.
"In a moment of despair, she cast a spell upon herself that she would never again feel the agony of love," Aunt Mal's tone darkened and Belle shivered at the strange, almost ancient look in her gaze. "But as her bitterness grew, the spell became a curse. A curse on any man who dared love an Owens woman."
"Now, really," Aunt Tink started to huff.
"And that's why our daddies died," Emma said flatly. "Because of the curse."
"Yes, my darling," Aunt Mal said softly. "Your mother knew Emma's father's time was limited. She heard the beetle ticking for David's death all day long. She knew that when you hear the sound of the death watch beetle, the man you love is doomed to die."
"But what about my father?" Belle spoke up as Emma's brow furrowed. "He married our mommy. Did the curse get him too?"
The aunts glanced at each other. "Sometimes," Aunt Tink said quietly. "Sometimes when our heart is breaking we throw ourselves into someone else's embrace—because it's easier than being alone."
"And sometimes," Aunt Mal put in wryly. "We feel guilt for things that are out of our control."
There was a long pause while the two girls ruminated on their words. Belle felt somewhat hollow. She remembered her father as a heavyset man, constantly complaining of the messiness of their house, a man who was warm to her, but rather cold to Emma. Their mother used to stare at him with listless eyes. Emma talked of her own father being handsome and charming, and Belle occasionally wished he'd been her father. That way, she might've had a chance at inheriting Emma's golden curls.
"Hey, my little witches," Aunt Tink broke both girls out of their reveries. "Let's go inside and cast some spells." Both girls squealed with excitement, nightmares of love and broken hearts escaping their thoughts.
XXXX
"Belle! Belle!"
Belle woke up groggily to Emma shaking her awake. "Mm…what?"
"Wake up, Belly-button!" Emma whispered urgently. "Someone's here. The aunts are casting!"
Belle yawned. "So? We cast just a few hours ago. Emma, I'm sleepy…" She turned her head into her pillow, ready to float back into her dreams. They'd lit candles with their breath and Aunt Mal had walked them through a simple invocation in their book of shadows.
'Not like this," Emma's eyes were bright. "They're casting a love spell."
Belle's blood ran cold. Something about the way she said it made her hair stand on end.
"I don't want to see that," She whispered urgently, burying her head under the blankets.
"Oh, don't be a scaredy-cat," Emma pulled the blankets off of her. "Don't you want to see what it's like? What love magic looks like?"
The only thing Belle wanted to do was hide under her bed. But her older sister wouldn't stand for that. Reluctantly, she took Emma's hand and crept out of their room, slowly gliding down the steps, stopping short of the kitchen.
There was no light in the kitchen, save a few silver candlesticks. Aunt Mal and Aunt Tink stood with a young woman who held a picture clasped to her chest. Aunt Mal was cooing at something in her hands, soothing it…Belle exhaled slowly, realizing a morning dove fluttered in her aunt's fingers.
"I want him to want me so much that he can't stand it," The woman hissed taking the crystal tipped needle from Aunt Tink's fingers. Belle couldn't resist a gasp, hiding her face in Emma's knees when the woman stabbed the dove through the heart.
"Be careful what you wish for," Aunt Tink murmured and a dark smile spread across Aunt Mal's face. Belle shivered in her sister's arms.
XXXX
"I thought you were sleepy," Emma remarked wryly. "You should be in bed, Belly-button."
Belle paid no heed, gathering materials in the small tower greenery. "This is important," She insisted. "This will keep me safe."
"Safe from what?" Emma wanted to know, folding her arms in front of her chest.
"Safe from love," Belle said firmly. "So no curse will ever kill me like it killed Mommy."
Emma blinked. Her expression softened and she went to Belle, hugging her. "Nothing's going to kill you, silly girl. You just have to be strong. Mommy was beautiful and kind, but she wasn't strong. You can wall it out. You can let nothing touch you."
"It will get you," Belle insisted. "You heard the aunts. I have to protect myself, so I'm making a spell." She went towards the balcony inhaling the scent of roses. She selected the reddest blooms, carefully clipping them and placing them into a small, slightly chipped teacup.
"He'll hear my call from a mile away," Belle's young voice became dreamlike, as if she were singing. "He'll drink my favorite kind of tea. He'll come from a distant land, his words will be shaped from there. He'll carry a silver-tipped cane—"
"Isn't that Amas Veritas?" Emma interrupted. "That's a true love summoning spell, Belly-button."
"I know," Belle said absently. She walked and gently plucked a spring of lilacs.
"He'll be layered," She murmured. "Just like love. He'll love his family more than anything else. He'll be marvelously kind but fearsome to his enemies—and his eyes will be the color of coffee. He won't—he won't fear my magic. His heart will be true. And he'll…he'll be able to spin!"
Emma suppressed a smile at the queer spell. "I thought you didn't want to fall in love."
"I don't," Belle said quietly, looking almost wistful. "The man I dreamed doesn't exist. And if he doesn't exist, I'll be safe. I won't die of a broken heart."
Emma's gaze was sweetly sympathetic. They went to the balcony together, listening to the crickets sing and the night wind play with their nightgowns. Belle raised her chipped teacup and the wind carried the petals and blossoms away.