“Really?”
“Really. I’ll do whatever you say. You can be my teacher.”
Matilda narrowed her eyes.
“You really don’t think it was me?” she asked, folding her arms.
“How could it have been?”
“And you’re not worried that people are turning up dead with my name written on them?”
“There’s definitely something going on, but I don’t think you’re behind it, Matilda.”
“Okay then.”
“Okay then,” said Oliver, smiling.
Even though she felt like she was standing in the middle of a nightmare, Matilda couldn’t help but smile back at him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Twelve days until Halloween
“Has anyone ever told you that you mumble?”
Oliver pressed a hand to his chest and slumped back in his chair.
“Ouch. That hurt. Next time you attack my personal character, a warning would be nice.”
“You wanted to help, and you can’t help if you can’t say the spell clearly. Say it clear, say it true. That’s what my grandmother used to say. Before she stopped speaking.”
Oliver sat forward and folded his arms on the table. They’d nestled themselves in a corner at Grounds, their mugs of coffee warming their autumn-chilled fingers and noses. What looked like an old textbook to anyone who didn’t know better sat on the table between them, but on closer inspection the swirly handwriting and intricate drawings scratched in the margin gave it away as one of Nanna May’s spell books.
“How can she do magic if she doesn’t talk?” asked Oliver.
Matilda rested her chin on her hand and shrugged.
“Because she’s lineage and super old? I don’t know, when you’re seriously ancient maybe you don’t need to speak the words out loud. When you’re a magic newbie, though, you definitely have to. I’ve never done a spell that didn’t involve some kind of incantation.”
“How is that even possible? Has anyone at school heard you saying your spells out loud?”
“Oh yeah, all the time.”
“What do you do?”
“I cast another spell so they forget what they’ve heard. There are enough gaps in their memories to make fishing nets out of their brains.” Matilda tapped the book in front of them. “Anyway, you don’t have to say it loud; you just have to say it clear.”
“And true.”
Matilda smiled. “That’s right.”
Oliver picked up a long piece of black twine from a tangled pile on the table, then peered inside a paper bag.
“And tell me again what we’re making with these?” he said, pulling a hazelnut from the bag. He held it up to his eye and looked through a hole running through the middle of it.
“Witch’s ladder,” said Matilda, taking the twine and the hazelnut from Oliver. “Or ladders, plural.”
“I’ve read about those. Aren’t they used for dark magic?”
“They can be, like all magic.” Matilda glanced up at Oliver as she started threading the hazelnut onto the twine behind the cover of a menu standing on the table, motioning for him to watch. “Witches used to tie feathers or bones into the twine with the intent to curse or even kill someone. That’s obviously not what we’re doing.”
“Obviously,” said Oliver, watching Matilda’s fingers.
“We’ll tie a hazelnut onto the twine for each person who was at the party so they forget what happened.”
“Including the police?”
“Especially the police.” Matilda stifled a yawn. It was three o’clock in the morning by the time the detective had finished with them and they were allowed to leave the party. “I’ll take half and you take half, tying them all on and spacing them apart, just like this. Then you hang them above the candles in the bag; one ladder above one candle.”
“Then I say the spell, clear and true, and let the candle burn the ladder?” Matilda nodded, and concern flashed in Oliver’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Will we, you know, get each of their names if we’re doing this spell?”
Matilda shook her head. “No.” She paused. “We shouldn’t. Memory spells are like love spells in that way, kind of a gray area. I’ve never gotten a name from doing one.”
“Okay,” said Oliver, letting out a sigh. “Good.”
“So, start the spell at sunset and stay with the candles until each ladder burns enough to break. The bag of candles is for you; there are five in there, and I’ll do the rest. Make sure you’re in a well-ventilated room because they’ll be really smoky and stinky because of the fat.”
Oliver frowned.
“You mean wax,” he said.
“No, I mean fat.”
“Do I want to know what kind of fat?”
“Probably not.” Matilda smiled as Oliver curled his lip.
“Anyway, take all this stuff with you, find somewhere private, with ventilation, then at sunset you say this.” Matilda pushed the book toward Oliver, and he leaned over it, peering at the words she was pointing at. “You don’t have to memorize it; you can borrow the book.”
Oliver’s shoulders relaxed.
“Thanks.”
Matilda slurped the last of her coffee and pushed her chair back.
“Let’s go.”
She packed the book in the canvas bag and started wrapping herself up to venture back out into the crisp wind while Oliver looked inside the bag, turning his nose up as he lifted it over his shoulder.
“Gross.”
“You need to get used to the gross.”
“I don’t think I…”
Oliver’s voice trailed into nothing, and Matilda turned to see what he was looking at. Her stomach plummeted to the floor as they watched the lone figure trudge from the door straight past them. Sean stopped at the counter and stared at the menu, the bags under his eyes and shaking hands making him look more like someone drifting in for a scrap to eat than one of their classmates. Oliver glanced at Matilda and raised his eyebrows. Matilda shrugged, and Oliver walked up and leaned on the counter next to Sean.
“Hey, man.” Sean’s eyes were transfixed on the menu until Oliver bent down and caught his gaze. “Sean, it’s Oliver, from soccer. You in there, man?”
Sean blinked and shook his head.
“Sorry, was just … hey.”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about Ashley. It’s just unbelievable. I’m so sorry.
Sean bit his lip and nodded, then frowned at Oliver.
“Wait, you found her, didn’t you? Did you see anything?” said Sean, his bloodshot eyes blinking rapidly.
“No, we didn’t see anything. We’ve already told the police.”
Sean grabbed Oliver’s arm.
“But you might have forgotten something because of the shock. Think again. Was there anyone there? Anybody that might…”
“I’m sorry. There wasn’t anyone.” Matilda watched as something flickered across Oliver’s face, and he glanced at her before looking back at Sean. “Do you think coffee is a good idea? You look like you haven’t slept. Shouldn’t you be at home?”
Sean’s head looked like it was too heavy for him as he shook it.
“I don’t know. I don’t know where to go. We used to come here but…”
“Do you want me to drive you home?”
“I just want to be on my own.” Sean shook his head again, his red eyes desperate for peace, and he turned away from Oliver, then stared at Matilda. “You.”
Matilda flushed and looked around.
“Me?”
“Your name. It was your name all over her. Matilda.” Sean’s eyes flashed, and he charged toward Matilda but tripped into a chair. “Why was it your name? What did you do to her?”
“Nothing, I … it wasn’t me,” said Matilda, backing up to the wall.
“Matilda was with me, Sean. It wasn’t her. I think you need to get home,” said Oliver.
Sean looked at them both, bli
nking like he was trying to wake from a nightmare. His head drooped, and he frowned at his feet as he walked out of the door. They watched him walk past the window, his open jacket flapping in the wind, then turned to each other.
“That was horrendous,” said Oliver, putting his hands on either side of his head. “I had no idea what to say to the poor guy. He shouldn’t be out and about after last night. Could we use magic to help him get over what’s happened?”
Matilda frowned.
“All over her.”
“What?” said Oliver.
“All over her. That’s what he just said, right? We only saw my name on her face but was it everywhere? How does he know that?”
“I doubt there’s been an investigation yet. Maybe Ashley’s parents told him what the police already know.”
All over her. Matilda was freaked out when the police first told her about the dead cows, but what happened to Ashley was another level of horrific, and now Sean was painting an even worse picture. She felt like she was being pulled into death’s shadows at every turn, and she had nothing to fight back with.
“I need to see her.”
“Wait, what?” said Oliver, shaking his head.
“I need to see her body. I mean, I just need to know what happened to her, Oliver. I need to know that it wasn’t…”
“It wasn’t you, Matilda.”
“Okay, but I need to know if it was magic, if it was a witch.”
Oliver glanced at the man tidying up behind the counter, then leaned into Matilda.
“Do you think there are other witches here?”
“Could be. I didn’t know about you until you told me,” said Matilda.
“I don’t know how I forgot about this, but remember that girl, the one who was staring at us when we were here the first time? I remembered just now when Sean asked if we saw anyone else.”
“Erin?” said Matilda, her forehead screwing up as she tried to put her and Ashley together in any kind of scenario where Ashley ended up dead. “She was acting weird, I guess, but really? You think it could be her? You think she’s a witch?”
“No idea, but it’s a bit of a coincidence that she was sneaking around a few minutes before we found Ashley,” said Oliver. Matilda frowned and looked out the window. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking Ashley will be at the morgue still, won’t she?” said Matilda, swallowing at the thought. “They won’t have moved her to the funeral home yet or the coroner’s office, not until Monday. I need to see her. I need to get a closer look at my … at the marks on her, Oliver.”
“Is the morgue in Gravewick?”
“No, it’s at the hospital in Oakwell.”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll drive you if that’s what you really want, but I can’t be sneaking around looking at dead bodies. I’m sorry, but no.”
“That’s fine; that’s all I need.”
Oliver put his hand on Matilda’s shoulder and guided her toward the door of Grounds.
“Yeah, you’re really low maintenance.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Do you know where the morgue is? How are you even going to get in there?” Oliver ducked down to look at the entrance of the hospital as people holding balloons and magazines marched through the automatic doors. “There isn’t going to be a door marked ‘dead bodies’ waiting for you, you know.”
Matilda rolled her eyes.
“You really are a newbie witch, aren’t you?” She pulled a small spray bottle out of her bag and shook it in front of Oliver’s eyes, the pink liquid shimmering as it splashed back and forth. “A couple of sprays of this and the staff will take me exactly where I need to go. They’ll even stay and hold my hand if I want them to.”
“What is that? A potion?” said Oliver, taking the bottle and peering at it.
“Technically, it’s poison.” Matilda took it back. “But if it makes you feel better we can call it a potion.”
“Okay, I better go find somewhere to park.” Oliver looked over his shoulder, then back at Matilda. “Matilda? Did you hear what I said?”
Matilda stared out of the window, her hand frozen on the handle as Oliver’s words faded into the traffic.
“What the hell?” she said to herself, frowning as her eyes followed someone walking through the automatic doors. She turned to Oliver. “That’s my mom.”
Oliver leaned over Matilda, and despite the bizarreness of seeing her mom hurry through the entrance of the hospital, she took a moment to enjoy the kaleidoscope of butterflies that flapped their wings the moment he was close to her.
“Maybe she’s visiting someone?”
“Maybe.” Before her dad left, Lottie would have told Matilda if a friend or a member of the coven was in the hospital, but she didn’t think she would now.
Oliver turned the car’s fan up to try and clear the fog that had formed on the inside of the windows, then he put his hand on Matilda’s arm.
“Are you worried there’s something wrong with her?” asked Oliver. Matilda looked at her hands in her lap, then up at Oliver. “What’s up?”
Matilda swallowed.
“What if she’s here for the same reason we are?”
“Same reason you are, not we. We are not going looking for a dead body. You are … oh. You think your mom is looking for Ashley? Does she even know about what happened?”
“Everyone knows what happened to Ashley. They either picked someone up from the party, or they’ve read about it online.”
“But why would she come here looking for her?”
Matilda looked out of the window again, staring at the spot where her mom had looked over her shoulder and then hurried through the doors just a few minutes ago.
“I don’t know,” said Matilda, thinking back to the police visiting her house a few days ago. “She was pretty shaken up when the police told us about the cows at that farm, more shaken up than I thought she’d be. Isn’t it a bit weird that she just happens to be at the same hospital where Ashley’s body is?”
Oliver blinked, letting Matilda’s words sink in.
“You think your mom killed Ashley? How did you get there? You’re joking, right?” Matilda glanced at Oliver, then looked out the window again.
“I don’t know. She just seems so angry all the time. She lectures the hell out of me about using magic to hide my scars, but I’m sure she’s got way more than she admits. I mean, she doesn’t even have a job. How does she pay for everything?”
“But that doesn’t make her a murderer.”
Matilda wrung her hands together as she stared at the hospital doors. “I saw her, Oliver, the night of the party. She was creeping around the cottage all shifty.” Matilda paused. They’d drifted apart since her dad left, but had Lottie really drifted that far, to such a dark place? “She had something with her; she tried to hide it when she saw me. I think it was a knife.”
“A knife?” repeated Oliver. Matilda nodded. “And now she’s here.”
Matilda looked back at Oliver. “And now she’s here.”
“You really think she…?” said Oliver, letting the unfinished question hover between them.
“I don’t know. All I’m saying is, there’s a hell of a lot of weird shit happening in this town, and maybe she’s gotten caught up in something really dark. Maybe she’s getting herself really lost. Maybe there’s more to what went on between her and my dad than I thought. Slaughtering a whole herd of cows? That’s a big sacrifice. And a human? We don’t even contemplate that kind of magic.”
“But why your name? Why would she incriminate you?”
“I don’t know.” Matilda looked out the window again, then turned to Oliver. “Look, can we just go? This doesn’t feel like a good idea anymore.”
Oliver nodded and turned the key in the ignition, then waited for a space to pull out. He turned on the radio and tapped his hand on the steering wheel as he drove, but it didn’t drown out the question that was rattling around inside Matilda’s head.
Wha
t if she’s finally had enough of me?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
All the late nights had finally caught up with her, so after Oliver dropped Matilda off, she crawled into bed for an afternoon nap. Her tired body fought against the endless questions that were going off in her head and eventually won—she finally fell into a deep, blissful sleep.
Matilda groaned as she slowly woke up, keeping her eyes closed to trick herself into going back to dreamland, but one side of her face was numb and she had pins and needles in her fingers from sleeping at a funny angle. She reached across the bed in search of a blanket but gasped as the unexpected sound of rustling leaves made her eyes flick open.
She was on the ground, her face resting in the mud. She jerked her head up and blinked at the tree trunks surrounding her. Her breaths became shorter and faster, not pulling enough oxygen into her tightening lungs as she looked around, unable to place where she was as she sat up. She looked down at her hand that had felt so tingly and almost wept with relief as Victor looked up from nibbling her fingers. Matilda pulled him into her, covering him in kisses.
“You’re freezing, Vic,” she said, her throat tight. “How long have we been out here?”
Matilda could tell from the gray light through the treetops and the birds singing their final song that twilight was on its way, so a few hours had passed since she’d gotten into her bed. She looked down and pressed her hands against the legs of her joggers, her chest tightening when there was no sign of her phone. She stood up, her hand on Victor as she looked around trying to get her bearings, a small ball of panic bouncing harder and harder in her stomach.
There was a familiarity to the emptiness she could feel inside, like there was another hole in the part of her that connected her with her bloodline, just like the other times she’d blacked out. The blackouts were frightening enough, but there was something sinister about expecting to wake up in the warm folds of her bed and instead finding herself facedown in the muddy, fallen leaves. It was like whoever was behind it wanted her to know she wasn’t the one in control of her body.
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