Blythe Smith was strolling home from the restaurant where she and her husband James had celebrated his birthday. The evening had gone off without a hitch: a bustling crowd of family, colleagues and a few faces shed only just met because James had thought it polite to invite everyone.
Blythe wasnt one to argue with James; she preferred to keep the peace rather than prove a point.
Blythe, have you seen the keys? Could you grab them for me?
She rummaged through her handbag, only to feel a sharp sting that made her drop the bag onto the floor.
What on earth? James asked.
Just a little scratch.
Your bag could swallow you whole, so dont be surprised.
She didnt argue. Blythe lifted the bag, fished out the keys and they slipped into their flat. The sting faded into the background; her legs ached from standing all night, and all she could think about was a hot shower and a soft bed.
The next morning her hand throbbed fiercely; a red, swollen finger reminded her of the previous nights mishap. Curious, she dug through the bag and, at the very bottom, uncovered a rusty, oversized needle.
What in the world? she muttered, tossing the metal relic into the bin. She fetched a firstaid kit, cleaned the wound and headed off to work, but by lunchtime a fever began to climb.
She rang James:
Love, Im not sure whats happening. I think I caught something nasty yesterday. Ive got a fever, a pounding head and my whole body aches. Imaginefound a rusted needle in my bag and I think thats what nicked me.
Maybe you should see a doctorcould be tetanus or an infection.
Dont dramatise, dear. Ive bandaged it, Ill be fine.
Nevertheless, her condition worsened hour by hour. She barely made it through the workday, flagged a cab and hobbled home, exhaustingly preferring a taxi to the bus. Collapsing onto the sofa, she fell asleep.
In her dream, Grandma Ivywho had died when Blythe was a childappeared. Blythe didnt know how she recognised her, but the old, stooped figure seemed intent on helping. Ivy led her across a field, pointing out herbs to gather for a brew that would cleanse her body. Theres someone out there who wishes you harm, the spirit warned. You must survive to fight them. Time was short.
Blythe awoke drenched in sweat. It felt like shed slept for ages, yet a glance at the clock proved only minutes had passed. The front door slammedJames had returned. She slipped off the sofa and padded to the hallway. Seeing her, he gasped:
Whats happened? Look at yourself in the mirror.
She peered at the glass. Yesterday shed seen a radiant, smiling face; now her hair hung in clumps, dark circles rimmed her eyes, her skin was ashen and her stare empty.
What is this?
Remembering the dream, she told James:
I saw Grandma Ivy last night. She told me what to do
Get dressed, were going to the hospital.
I wont, she snapped. Grandma said doctors wont help me.
An argument erupted. James called her mad, accusing her of feverinduced fantasies. For the first time they truly fought. When James tried to yank her out of the flat, she slipped, crashed into a wardrobe corner, and James, furious, snatched his bag, slammed the door and stormed out. Blythe managed only a quick email to her boss, noting she was ill and needed a few days off.
James returned well after midnight, apologising, but Blythes reply was blunt:
Take me to the village where Grandma lived tomorrow.
The next morning Blythe looked more like a walking corpse than a healthy woman. James pleaded:
Come on, Blythe, dont be silly. Lets get you to a doctor. I cant lose you.
Instead they drove to the tiny village that hadnt seen a family visitor since the Smiths sold Grandma Ivys cottage after her death. Blythe slept through most of the journey, waking only as the car neared the outskirts.
This is it, she announced.
She leapt from the car, collapsed onto the grass, and, as if guided by Ivys spectral hand, gathered the herbs shed been shown. Back home, James brewed the concoction exactly as she instructed. She sipped it gingerly, feeling a gradual lift.
When she rose to use the bathroom, she stared at the toilet and saw black water. Rather than panic, the sight echoed Ivys words:
Darkness will pass
That night Ivy visited again, smiling before she spoke:
The rusty needle was a curse. My brew will give you strength, but only briefly. You must find who placed it and return the evil. I cant see the culprit, but its linked to your husband. Had you not thrown the needle away, I could have told you more.
Buy a pack of needles, and on the largest whisper: Spirits of the night, hear me! Reveal the truth, help me find my enemy. Slip that needle into your husbands bag. Whoever cast the spell will prick themselves on it, and well learn their name.
Grandma Ivy faded like mist.
Blythe lingered in bed, still weak but convinced shed recover. She knew Ivy would watch over her.
James decided to stay home and look after her. When Blythe suggested a solo trip to the shop, he balked:
Blythe, youre barely standing. Ill come with you.
James, make me some soupIve got a massive appetite after this illness.
She followed Ivys advice, and that evening the cursed needle lay hidden in Jamess bag. Before turning in, he asked:
Are you sure youll manage alone? Should I stay close?
Ive got this.
By the third day the brew acted like an antidote, weakening the lingering malevolence. Blythe waited impatiently for Jamess return from work, greeting him at the door.
How was your day?
Fine, why ask?
She thought her plan had failed, but James added:
Imagine this: Iwona from the next department tried to help me today, reached for my office keys, and stabbed herself on a needle. How did a needle end up in my bag? She glared at me like she wanted to kill me with a stare.
Whats this Iwona?
Blythe, youre the only one who matters to me. I love only you.
Was she at your birthday dinner?
Yes, just a friendly colleague.
Everything clicked for Blythe. She finally understood how the ancient needle had sneaked into her bag. James disappeared to the kitchen where dinner waited. Later that night Ivy showed Blythe how to turn the evil back onto Iwona, explaining that Iwona wanted to oust Blythe and take her place beside James, and if her first attempt failed shed resort to magic again.
Blythe did exactly as Ivy instructed. Soon James reported that Iwona was on sick leave, claiming she was gravely ill and doctors were helpless.
Blythe asked James to drive her back to the village for a weekend visit to the cemetery where shed never been since her grandmothers funeral. She bought a bunch of flowers, gloves and, after a bit of searching, found Grandma Ivys grave. She placed a photo shed never seen before on the tombstone, set the flowers in a waterfilled bottle, and sat on the bench, speaking aloud:
Grandma, Im sorry I didnt come sooner. I thought a yearly visit was enough. I was wrong. Ill be back more often. If it werent for you, I might not be here now.
She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulders, as if Ivys hand rested there, then turnednothing but a soft breeze.
