Britta had kept her promise to Amy—she had not left her side and even helped her down the stairs with Charles, Nora's husband. As soon as they came all the way down, Nora and Vivien appeared to set up a comfortable area from Amy to lie back on and give birth. The petite, century-old Swede sat down by her side and held her hand, immune to her deadly touch. Vivien went to the other side of her, looking down at her with concern as she remembered Charles helping her when she had Michael and his stillborn twin brother.
"You'll be okay," Vivien said, "just breathe and relax."
"It hurts…ow, it hurts!" Amy whined.
"It's a woman's curse," Charles said, getting on his mask and sanitary hat before walking over with several instruments to facilitate the birthing process.
"Does she need ether?" Nora asked.
"I don't think there's time," Charles said, bringing a chair and a bucket over to Amy as he parted her legs, adjusting his gloves and removing any clothing from the waist down. The young woman screamed in pain as she felt the agonizing contractions rip through her body.
"Ah, it hurts!" she screamed. "Ah! It's ripping me apart!"
"Min älskling, listen," Britta whispered, kissing the side of her great-granddaughter's forehead. "You must keep calm. I know this hurts, but you must get through it."
"You're having contractions," Charles explained. "You'll be alright."
"I feel…ow!" the young woman screamed.
"There's another," Vivien said. "Push and breathe. Remember your breathing."
Struggling to keep calm was a struggle; so much that Amy just kept crying as the pain ripped through her body. Having Britta by her side had been a relief, but was also grateful for the help of Nora and Vivien just before Violet appeared to them. Charles was encouraging her to push with each contraction, but he noticed that she was bleeding profusely. As she had memories of the births of her five children during the mid-20th century, Britta lent all of her encouragement to the young woman even as she showed the will to give up entirely.
"I can't! I can't, Britta!" the pale blonde cried.
"You can," she sighed. "I believe in you. Push."
"Squeeze my hand," Vivien said. "Push. Breathe."
"I can see its head," Charles said, holding out his gloved hands to gather the crowning baby as it made its way out if its mother.
"Oh, herregud," Britta muttered. "One more. It will come out."
"Breathe, breathe," Vivien said softly. "Squeeze my hand."
As Charles collected the head and body of the slimy infant, he saw that it was covered in a thick layer of blood, seeing that Amy was bleeding profusely into the bucket set on the floor below as she pushed relentlessly to get her child out of her. As she made her final push, Dr. Montgomery heard the newborn squealing in a raspy manner, barely making any movements. Britta looked at Amy, seeing her face becoming paler by the minute before looking to Charles, who seemed to be looking down at the crying baby.
"I need to cut the cord," he muttered.
"What is the child?" the Swede asked. "May I give her to the mother?"
"Not just yet," the doctor said, snipping the cord before Britta gathered up a flat blanket and held it out to gather the slippery infant. She snuck a look down at the area between its legs to see what it was.
"A baby girl," she whispered to Amy. She seemed catatonic, staring off into space as Charles worked to stop the intense bleeding, but it was to no avail.
"She's hemorrhaging," he revealed, making Violet worry as she sat in the room at Amy's side. "I can't stop it."
"What?" Britta asked worriedly
"She's losing too much blood," the doctor said worriedly. "I…I can't stop it!"
He tried to put more gauze to catch the blood and stop the profuse oozing of sanguine fluid as Britta saw that Vivien and Nora disappeared from the basement, but Charles and Violet remained in their places. While all this was happening, Amy felt her form becoming colder and weaker, faintly looking over at Britta and into her peridot green eyes to find a worried look intricately painted in them.
"Min älskling," the woman whispered sadly. "Please stay with me?"
"I…Britta…I d-don't know…" Amy replied, her breathing labored and heavy, also unusually deep.
"We can be happy," the Swede whispered softly, noticing Violet crouching to the other side of the makeshift bed Amy had given birth on.
"It's okay," the girl's ghost said sadly. "If you're in pain, let go."
"I…h-have n-no choice," Amy said weakly, her voice sounding groggy. "I…feel weak."
"D-Do not die, min älskling," Britta pleaded, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "W-We can go to Sweden…bring your new daughter with us…start life anew…together…we can be happy. Your baby needs you…y-you cannot go now."
"I…died twice…" Amy said, her voice broken by deep breathing. "This…is my last. I can…feel the essence of death…surrounding me…"
"Amy," Violet sighed sadly, feeling tears in her eyes.
"Violet," she said. "T-Thank you…for everything…my friend…" Her gaze then turned to Britta. "I want…to see my…baby…p-please show her to me?"
Britta, complying with Amy's dying wishes, wrapped the baby girl in the blanket so that she was loosely swaddled, hearing a whine coming from its little body. Amy looked to see hints of gold in the wisps of hair on her head, and her eyes were a light shade of gray with dark-colored coronas around the irises. Her lips were small, pink and full, and her cheeks were round and, if she could, she would have showered her with kisses. In Amy's last breath, she said her dying words.
"Beata…es," she crooned weakly before her eyes closed for good.
Violet vanished from the scene, sobbing and crying to mourn Amy's third and final death. Britta and the newborn baby girl were the only ones left, and as she sobbed, she held the baby up to her shoulder, feeling the girl rest her head against it. Britta also cried at the fact that the baby had watched her mother take her last breaths and die right before her eyes. As she heard the cooing coming from the new life welcomed to the world so painfully, she took the baby down from her shoulder and looked down into its exquisite, beautiful face. As it blinked, her full, black eyelashes batted gracefully, inspiring Britta to sing, in her unearthly soprano, a lullaby she had sung to her own children as babies:
"Sove lulla, lilla vän,
Din välgång alla gläda.
När du vaknar, sku vi sen
dig klippa häst och släda;
sen små hus av kort - lull lull -
sku vi bygga, blåsa kull
och små visor kväda…"
The baby cooed, but didn't smile. Her gray eyes looked up at her ancestor from five generations before as she continued the lullaby.
"Mamma har åt barnet här
små gullskor och gullkappa,
och om hon beskedlig är,
så kommer rättnu pappa,
lilla barnet namnam ger...
Sove lulla, ligg nu ner,
och din kudde klappa…"
A quick glance down at the baby, and Britta was speaking full-on Swedish to her, just like if it were her own children having just been born. The last note projected by her angelic voice was held and resonated a haunting echo through the hallowed basement.
"Oh, what should I name you? You're such a beautiful baby," she cooed, "in need of a perfect name."
She paused for a brief moment, hearing the baby cooing to her ancestor as she held her.
"Maybe Agneta? Ellinor? Lilja?" she suggested, totally aware of the baby not having the mental capacity to acquire any sense of what she was saying. "Margareta? Or…Linnea?"
The baby cooed, but Britta gasped at the idea—she had given her youngest child, Elina, that name for her middle name, and it was a beautiful name.
"Linnea," she whispered. "Linnea…Christina. Linnea Christina. Oh, such a beautiful name for a beautiful baby."
Baby Linnea, as Britta named her, cooed and whined softly as her ancestor held her close to her, sighing contently as the swaddling baby rested in her arms. She looked around, finally setting her eyes on the pallid, stationary corpse of Amy, still resting on the makeshift bed and among the bloody gauzes and towels before looking down at the baby.
"There is danger here," she whispered in her mother tongue. "Death. We must go. Leave this place. You, my dear, will be taken with me, to a place you will never be harmed by anything this wicked world has done."
Before this could take place, Britta knew she had unfinished business to take care of; it was one of a spiritual nature.
Her objective—rid the house of the spirits once and for all for the benefit of the future residents.
She had her hands tied up with taking care of baby Linnea, but by the coming of the next waning gibbous, she was ready to cast a powerful banishment spell so that each spirit could go to the afterlife they deserved. The ritual was entirely improvised, but included the drawing of a protective pentacle on the floor in white chalk, as well as the lighting of a circle of candles the surround the perimeter of the small, intricate space she was standing within. Holding up her hands, she recited a chant three times that would make all of the spirits appear before her, but not within the protective pentacle on which she was standing.
When she opened her eyes, she saw all of the ghosts of the people who died in the house—they were of all ages and wearing clothing from different time periods, which fascinated her the most. The first to appear were Charles and Nora Montgomery, then a striking young woman with black hair and blue eyes named Elizabeth Short; the corners of her mouth had been cut open to form a Chelsea grin, but bright red lipstick was still expertly applied to her full lips. William and Loraine Baxter, having never met the three witches while they lived in the house, also had been present and died in their own destructive ways—William was poisoned by his wife for having an affair with her best friend, and after dismembering him, Loraine shut her head in the oven and suffocated from the heat.
Then Britta noticed two red-haired twin boys, Troy and Bryan, with deep gashes on their faces and one even had their throat ripped open to the point that their windpipe was exposed and severed. Next were Moira, both the same person but two ghosts displaying the youth in which she died and the elderly woman disguise she used around them so often. Hugo, Constance's husband, appeared next with three bullet holes in his chest. Then she saw the distinctive, deformed face of Beauregard Langdon, his innocent eyes radiating his soul for the world to see, and next to him was his sister Addie, the girl with Down syndrome who expressed her insecurities about not being a "pretty girl". Tate had appeared, but was wearing his hair slicked back, skeleton makeup, and a long coat. Chad Warwick and his boyfriend, Patrick, also appeared to her, and then the Harmon family faded into view. Last but not least came Clara and Amy. The ghost of the black-haired witch had pressure marks on her neck, while Amy looked normal; as though nothing, not even the complications she encountered during childbirth, had happened to her. She even had her exquisite beauty back, her sapphire eyes radiating a feisty, independent soul as she was summoned forth.
"Why were we called down here?" Nora asked.
"I am freeing you from this house," Britta explained.
"Are you…serious?" Moira asked, coming forward.
"Ja. You are all going to the afterlife," the Swede said. "You will not be trapped anymore."
"But what about my baby?" Nora asked.
"He will be sent to wherever you will be sent," Britta said. "And it is you who I will start with."
The Montgomery family, including their baby Thaddeus in his non-monstrous form, was sent to a pleasant afterlife where all of their material desires could be fulfilled.
Elizabeth Short was sent to another pleasant afterlife in which every night was a performance—in life, she had goals of being a famous star of stage and film.
William and Loraine Baxter were sent to their own afterlives, considering William had an affair with his wife's best friend.
Troy and Bryan were sent to a mediocre afterlife because of their mischief done while alive, but it still was better than being stuck in limbo in a house.
Moira was sent to a pleasant afterlife, as were Addie and Beauregard, the two innocent souls who were Tate's siblings.
Hugo was sent to a mediocre one as well, just like the twins' but fit for an adult.
Chad and Patrick were sent to a positive afterlife in which they were legally married in a same-sex union and adopted two children together.
The Harmons were sent to a heaven-like place, a realm of clouds and blue skies.
However, the ghosts of Tate, Clara and Amy were the only ones left—both witches' ghosts looked angrily at him, not even freaked out the slightest bit by his frightening makeup and intimidating appearance. Britta was told by Amy who Clara's killer was, so she glared at him with the same intensity as her dead great-granddaughters had.
"You killed my sister," Amy sneered.
"W-Why would I do that?" Tate asked, looking at the ghost of the blonde, beautiful witch.
"You wanted me to resurrect you, and when I chose not to and told you why I couldn't, that's when you choked me to death," Clara's ghost explained. "See these?" She pointed to the marks on her neck. "You did choke me!"
"Hm, so that's why?" Amy asked with a cynically pensive tone, stroking her chin. "You wouldn't take no for an answer, just like your pathetic son. Hm…what was his name? Oh! Michael?!"
"What did you do to him?" the ghost asked.
"Why do you care, fuckface?" Amy scowled, her eyes widened and her teeth visibly gritting. "You were never a father to him anyways! But I can't imagine how much worse he would have turned out had YOU raised him!"
Tate just grunted over and over to himself as he gripped the sides of his hair, hearing the light accent of the Swede as she spoke.
"You have brought death to this place," she said. "For that, you must pay."
"I'm dead, you old hag," Tate said emotionlessly. "What are you going to do?"
"We are, too," Clara said, putting an arm around her younger sister, "and we will punish you."
"Älsklingar," the youthful century-old said, holding her hands out to gesture them. "Get behind me within this circle."
The two ghosts of the dead witches complied with the words of their great-grandmother, taking up the remaining amount of space within the chalk circle as a white, protective light seemed to project from the floor. Tate tried to get into the circle to retaliate, but failed when the three worked to telekinetically force him to the floor. Britta initiated a chant in her own language, while Amy and Clara worked their magick in Latin. The overwhelming sounds of the voices, the fear they were instilling into him, all made him tear up and cry out for help as Amy made the final call.
"Ad infernum vades," she said with force, seeing a spectral fire consuming him.
As it immolated Tate's ghost, the three witches concentrated on the desired goal—sending him to a hellish place that was terrible beyond all compare. He had killed many innocent people including Clara, and it was only right to right the wrongs inflicted. The three were administering justice, watching Tate be consumed by the fire summoned to send him to a hellish afterlife. When he vanished to the sound of his own screams, the three looked at each other and stepped out of the circle, Britta taking each of their hands and smiling proudly at them.
"Min älsklingar," she whispered. "I believe there is one thing left I must do."
"But what about my baby?" Amy asked.
"I will care for her, and protect her," Britta promised. "She is asleep upstairs."
"You have to leave this place," Clara encouraged. "Pronto."
"I plan to leave as soon as possible," Britta said. "I will take her home with me, and she will be safe. As for you both, you are on your way to the Other Side."
"F-For real?" Amy asked. "No darkness?"
"Nei," the Swede smiled. "Everyone who came before us is there. They are waiting."
"I wish I didn't have to go," Clara sighed, looking into her great-grandmother's peridot green eyes. "You…saved us…and you helped us."
"We are family," the woman with golden hair answered. "That is our code."
"Thank you so much…for everything," Amy said sincerely, her ghostly hands gripping the one she had been holding. "Will we ever see each other again?"
"Oh, perhaps if my soul ever decides to leave my body, ja," Britta chuckled. "You both will be happy there."
The two ghosts of the dead witches hurried toward Britta and they all shared a group hug, the Swede's lithe arms squeezing each young woman as tears ran down her face. The hug seemed to last forever, but it didn't, much to the dismay of Amy, Clara and Britta—once the golden-haired Swede opened her eyes, she saw that the two had vanished from her arms.
Now, the two sisters seemed to be a long-lost, distant memory. Yet they were free; they were all free.
A/N:
Well, we have come to the end of the story. This is the last official chapter of the series…but WAIT! There's more!
NOTE: The translation for Amy's dying words, "beata es", come from the Latin meaning "you are blessed". While banishing Tate to a hellish world, Amy basically expresses "Go to Hell" with the words "ad infernum vades".
Stay tuned for the Epilogue!
Thank you everyone! :3