The Incantation Page #3

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Naturally.

This castle, for example.

House Brandy,

it has a very dark past.

All right, let's go see it.

I guess what

I was saying earlier

is that these people just have

no social skills, you know?

Like simple conversations,

and, oh, my God,

door knocking.

They say that these houses

built a fortune

over the misfortune of others

during the Valais Witch Trials

or the persecution

of the Sortilegia.

I just keep seeing

this little girl.

-What?

-What did you say?

Come here.

Can you describe this girl?

What was that word--

Sorti-- Sort--

Sortilegia.

Where did you find this book?

In that damn castle.

You found it?

It was just lying around?

This was no accident.

Okay, come on,

you're not gonna get me

with one of your bullshit

stories this time.

Look, Lucy,

don't you find it strange

that all this wealth and power

is historically rooted

in what is essentially

a bunch of farmland?

I guess so.

Here? In the middle of nowhere?

Countess Bathory's

got nothing on them.

These people

literally flourished

off the backs

of people like me--

gravediggers, farmers,

peasants.

And by "these people"

you mean people like me.

Lucy, I didn't mean--

No, tell me first,

that word.

Sortilegia.

Those who practice

black magic.

Sorcerers, witches.

Look, Lucy, the more power,

the more greed.

This wealth paid for

in blood sacrifice.

If you were a count or a dame

back then,

you tortured people for fun.

That's what they did.

It's no secret.

Look it up.

But you don't actually

believe in this stuff, right?

It doesn't matter

if I believe it or not.

Look around.

We're surrounded by it.

Castle Borley, House Brandy,

Dauphine, all of it.

The legends are older

than the buildings.

Don't you see that once

they got a taste,

they couldn't get enough?

Innocent souls in exchange

for wealth,

power, and everlasting life.

Look, I cannot make up

for the sins of my fathers,

but I could but you a drink.

I could definitely use one.

-But the girl--

-I never actually saw her.

Now I need a drink.

You know, in all the excitement,

I forgot.

I should at least try

and call my mom.

It's okay. Your card

can help you with that.

But first a truce.

A drink?

A drink.

"In Hell

I'll Be In Good Company

by The Dead South playing

Don't mind them.

Witch's Brew.

Why not? I want

to give you a taste.

Uh, just a local beer, please.

You gotta be kidding me.

Is this for real?

Thanks.

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

So, you never told me

about the girl.

Yeah, it's weird.

It's like I can feel her.

Does she wear a white dress?

So you do know her.

A shot, please.

My life's a bit more colder

Dead wife is what I...

It's just an urban legend.

That's what people

cling to down here.

It's probably just some kid

messing with you.

Yeah, but usually folklore

is at least based on something.

It's not just legends.

It's true.

One whisky, one shot, one beer.

I see my redhead,

messed bed, tears shed...

Ahh!

Was a couple of hundred

years ago

that clergyman

shagged the head mistress,

a nun.

They had a girl child,

so they yanked her out.

Triple cardinal sins.

So they found them,

chopped them up,

and set them on fire,

just like they did

that little girl child.

Witches!

The whole lot of them.

Dead love couldn't

go no further

Proud of

and disgusted by her

Push, shove,

a little bruised and battered

Oh, Lord, I ain't

comin' home with you

Like I said, urban legend.

-Is it true?

-Ignore him.

My life's a bit more colder

Dead wife

is what I told her

Whisky, Irish.

Brass knife

sinks into my shoulder

Oh, babe, don't know

what I'm gonna do

-Not all of it.

-None of this bothers you?

Not in the least bit?

Witches, immortal priests,

black-eyed little girl ghosts?

Who said anything

about black-eyed ghosts?

Now who's making up stories?

Look, Lucy,

people are bored here.

Yes, this place

has a sordid past,

but they just need

their entertainment.

Don't take it too seriously.

-Jean-Pierre.

-What?

Uh, there has been

an accident,

one of my relative.

I should really go.

Of course.

Will you be able

to make your way back?

Yeah. I'll be fine.

Another round for her.

I-- I can handle it.

Sorry. I--

I don't speak French.

Oh.

Ah!

One beer, please.

Thank God, an American.

Yeah, I'm just here

for the Battle

of Belleau Wood Memorial.

Rumor has it there's

a Devil Dog fountain of youth.

Uh, excuse me, sir.

Can I-- Can I ask you--

Sorry, Miss America.

Semper Fi.

Proud of

and disgusted by her

Push, shove,

a little bruised and battered

Oh, Lord,

I ain't comin' home with you

My life's

a little bit more colder

Dead wife

is what I told her

Brass knife

sinks into my shoulder

Oh, babe,

don't know what I'm gonna do

Sh*t!

Hello?

Is anybody home?

Hello?

Hello?

Excuse me.

Sorry to disturb.

Come in, child.

Oh, my God.

Sorry.

Um, I'm...

I'm a little lost.

And drunk, mostly.

Um, sorry.

Drink.

I-- I was wondering,

actually,

if you could tell me how to get

to Castle Borley from here?

Mmm, Castle Borley.

Mmm!

The Borley curse

and it's so great.

Many centuries' wrath

it does spate.

A sign has been

half-imposed

upon our wee bloody Bellerose.

What did you just say?

From death and lust

that ne'er was born

from an unpure womb

she had been torn.

A sinner father

through time will last

till death become him

hard and fast.

I'm gonna be sick.

The demon trilogy

you must find.

Only sharpened skills

doth the curse unbind.

The Devil himself

partakes the feast.

The squinter, the youth,

and the diabolic priest.

Mademoiselle?

Good morning, Madame.

What?

Madame, your sheets.

Oh, my God.

I-- I already--

It's okay. I'll take those.

Um...

Okay. Thanks.

Can I have a moment, please?

Of course.

It's fine.

I'm not hungry, Mom.

Just come and sit here.

I'm sorry

about Uncle Ricky, Mom.

'Twas a terrible tragedy,

but what can we do?

Three funerals

in as many weeks.

I'm beginning to think

this place is cursed.

Jean-Pierre, please.

Don't.

I'm sorry.

I met a girl.

Oh, really? Tell me more.

-An American.

-Now, that is interesting.

Where did you meet her?

Castle Borley.

What?

You know about it, right?

Of course, son.

Just another place is all.

How so?

Don't know much about it really,

other than my mother

was scared to go there.

Just kid stuff.

Tell me more

about this girl.

Beautiful, headstrong,

different.

Sounds American.

I think I like her.

Sounds like you.

-Tsch!

-Jean-Pierre!

I'm sorry, Mom.

I just realized I left her alone

in a bar full

of strange men last night.

I really should get going.

Oh, off with you.

I'll phone Serrano.

Forgive me, Mom.

And, again, I'm

at a loss about Uncle Ricky.

I'll help with

the arrangements when, uh...

It's okay, son.

Life is for the living,

so go and live it.

There'll never been another

like you, Mom.

Ew, gross. What is that?

And what is he

still doing here?

Mary and the Vicar were kind

enough to offer me repose.

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