“My mother certainly doesn’t think so,” said Matilda, folding her arms.
“So, what is the spell anyway? I’d love to hide mine.”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you; it’s a family secret, and I would be betraying my bloodline.”
“Fair enough,” he said, checking the rearview mirror as he put his turn signal on. “It’s a day of secrets and surprises, then. And speaking of surprises, we’re nearly there, and I’ve got you another little surprise. It’s just in there.”
Oliver kept his eyes on the road and waved his hand in the general direction of Matilda’s knees. Her heart fluttered as she looked around to see what he was pointing at, then, guessing he must mean the glove compartment, she reached forward and opened it up.
“In here?” she said, opening it up.
“No, the side pocket in your door, next to your seat,” he said, driving the car over into a small pull off on the side of the road.
Matilda nodded and went to close the glove compartment, but noticed something inside among the sunglasses and car manuals. She reached in and pulled it out.
“Did you make this?” she said, holding up a small doll made from thin pieces of rope tied onto one another to make arms, legs, and a body. A large knot at the top formed the head and frayed knots at the ends of the arms and legs made little splayed hands and feet. “It was in your glove compartment.”
“Um, no,” said Oliver, frowning at the object as Matilda turned it over in her hand. “What the hell is that? And what the hell’s it doing in my car?”
“A poppet,” said Matilda. “It’s not yours?”
“No, it’s not mine,” said Oliver, recoiling from it as Matilda held it up to him. “It looks like one of those voodoo dolls.” Matilda looked at Oliver, then slowly put the poppet back into the glove compartment. “No! What are you doing? Don’t put it back! It is a voodoo doll, isn’t it?”
“Similar, although they’re not always used to hurt people. They can be used for healing, too. You sure it’s not yours?”
“I think I would remember putting that in my glove compartment, don’t you?” said Oliver, his eyes blinking wide. “Do you think someone put that thing in my car?”
Matilda’s eyes searched his face and nodded gently. Oliver sucked air in through his nose and gripped the steering wheel.
“Have you been feeling okay?”
“What? Why?” said Oliver, almost hyperventilating.
Matilda shook her head. “It’s probably not even real, Oliver. It’s nearly Halloween and the Witching Well Festival is soon. Maybe it was one of your friends? Have you had anyone else your car?”
Oliver stared at Matilda, then bobbed his head up and down. “Yeah. Guys from soccer, all the time.”
“There you go, then,” said Matilda, then a thought flashed in her head faster than she could hide it from Oliver.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Matilda bit her lip. “Remember when we saw Erin in the field? Maybe she put it in your car?”
Oliver swallowed. “You think it was her? You really think she’s messing around with magic? Why me, though?”
Matilda looked at the little figure tucked inside the glove compartment. Why would Erin target Oliver, and how did she even know about poppets and that sort of magic, Matilda wondered. They’d been friends since elementary school, and Erin had never spoken about magic or witches. She took a deep breath and slammed the glove compartment closed.
“Look, honestly? I don’t think it was her,” said Matilda. “But…”
“But?”
“Just in case, you need to submerge that thing in moving water, then bury it in your garden before sunset tonight, okay?”
Oliver kept his eyes on the closed compartment and nodded. Matilda’s stomach was bubbling with anger. She still felt like Oliver wanting to spend time with her was some kind of fluke, and a dead body at the party and a possibly cursed poppet hidden inside his car were surely going to snap him out of whatever act of goodwill his interest in her was.
“So,” said Matilda, watching Oliver, who was still staring at the glove compartment and its sinister contents. “Do you want to just take me home?”
“What?” he said, his eyes finally resting on her face. “No! Unless, do you want to go?”
“No,” said Matilda, “not if you don’t.”
“Good,” said Oliver, a small smile warming his face. “Because I don’t.”
He turned the engine off, and they sat in the sudden quiet, smiling at each other, until Oliver leaned forward. Matilda held her breath, sure that he could hear her heart beating against her rib cage as he got so close she could smell his shower gel, until she realized he was gesturing for her to retrieve the box from the side compartment.
In all the poppet excitement she’d forgotten what she’d originally been looking for. She turned and made a big fuss of fishing out the item so Oliver couldn’t see her red cheeks, then turned back with the small black box in her hand.
“Happy birthday, birthday girl,” he said. “Open it up, then.”
Matilda looked at the small box in her hands. Her fingers shook as she gently pulled the lid off, conscious that Oliver was watching her. Inside was a bracelet made of perfectly round gemstones that shimmered when she lifted it out of the box and closer to her eyes.
“It’s nothing much,” said Oliver, the nervous anticipation of a gift giver clear in his voice. “I just wanted to get you something to open. Although, should I have waited until that new moon thing?”
Matilda bit her lip. “No, it’s fine. I mean … thank you; you didn’t have to get me a present.”
“You know what it is?”
Matilda held it up to the window and turned it over in her hand, the black surface revealing peacock greens and blues as it glistened, like water mixing with oil.
“It’s labradorite,” she said, smiling. “Helps to aid tranquility and peace of mind.”
“Thought you could use some of that in your life right now. We both could,” said Oliver, taking the bracelet from Matilda and fastening it around her wrist. She felt tiny volts of electricity shooting from where the tips of his fingers kept brushing her skin and was almost relieved when he let go. “Oh, and it’s good for your digestion, too.”
“Well, that’s always a good thing,” she said, turning her wrist over to admire the bracelet, then dropping her hands back into her lap. “It’s perfect, Oliver. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But the birthday fun doesn’t end here, so out you hop and onto surprise number two. Or if you count the little guy in there,” said Oliver, “surprise number three.”
As Oliver got out of the car and stretched his long limbs, Matilda said a little prayer to the goddess that the poppet in the glove compartment was just one of Oliver’s friends joking around and not someone putting the only guy she’d ever felt truly comfortable with in danger.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The autumn wind kept flicking Matilda’s hair around until she tied it in a loose side braid as they walked along, bouncing questions about magic and school and family back and forth like a game of pro table tennis. The morning sky reflected Matilda’s mood, bright and promising, and the hedgerows they passed offered a warm hug against the cool wind, accompanied by a soundtrack from the birds, the distant smell of fires warming households, and, as Matilda had noticed for the last few minutes, the sound of rushing water.
“Nearly there, birthday girl,” said Oliver, beaming at Matilda as he kindly took shorter steps so she could keep up. If he was still worried about the poppet, he was doing a good job of hiding it. “You didn’t eat before you came, did you?”
Matilda frowned. “I had breakfast.”
“How long ago?”
Matilda looked at her phone. “About three hours. Why?”
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “You’ll see.”
They came to the end of a path, and Oliver put his hands on Matilda’s shoulders to steer her to the le
ft, leaving two throbbing patches of heat where his palms had been. The muddy path opened up to a narrow road sloping upward, and Matilda took a long, cooling breath as she walked alongside Oliver, her legs starting to feel the pinch from all the walking and now trudging uphill.
“So, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and, correct me if I’m wrong, but the last week has been pretty tough on you, right? With what happened at the party and the blackouts and those sheep? Oh, and the zombie rabbits.” Matilda nodded, reluctant to let those thoughts muscle in on such a beautiful morning and mute the fact that Oliver just said he’d been thinking about her. “The other thing I thought was that, and I hope you’re not offended by this, you’re one hell of a control freak.”
“Hey,” said Matilda, jabbing an elbow into Oliver’s side, “you hardly know me.”
“Oh, I’m getting there, though, and this adorable personality trait just radiates from you, like, all the time. The witchy part of you loves to keep things in control, am I right?”
“Maybe…,” said Matilda, biting the inside of her cheek.
“And you never switch it off. I see you watching everything around you all the time, wanting to jump in and take control. So, we’re going to give you a little distraction from all that.”
She’d never felt quite as exposed as she did right now, not knowing what Oliver had in store for her but also because he saw things in her that she tried to ignore in herself. Oliver nodded at something ahead of them, and Matilda realized they’d been walking toward a stone bridge.
The bridge was just wide enough for two cars to drive across at the same time, although they hadn’t seen a single vehicle during their walk. As they reached it, Matilda noted the beautiful red ivy growing along the old stone and took some comfort knowing that her ancestor’s presence made it all the way to the outskirts of Gravewick. A shallow river babbled beneath the bridge, its grassy banks home to a flock of ducks waddling around, then diving into the water, bobbing under the surface in search of midmorning snacks.
There was movement on the bridge, and a woman wearing a red cap with a black ponytail poking out the back pushed herself off the waist-high wall and waved to them. A red van with yellow writing emblazoned down the side was parked on the other side of the bridge opposite, and someone wearing the same red cap was leaning against the driver’s door. Matilda’s mouth went dry as she read the word ADRENALINE on the van, and she realized why Oliver had asked if she’d eaten before they came.
“Oliver?” said the woman, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Yeah,” said Oliver, stretching his hand out to the woman. “Rebekah?”
Rebekah grabbed his hand and smiled brightly as she shook it.
“I wasn’t sure whether we could park up here, so my car’s back there. I hope that’s okay?” said Oliver, pointing over his shoulder.
“That’s fine, we’d rather not have too many vehicles on the bridge so that works for us.”
“I figured that,” said Oliver, then he looked at Matilda. “Plus, I kind of wanted to build up some birthday excitement for Matilda.”
Rebekah turned to Matilda, her eyes crinkling as she smiled ever wider.
“So, you’re the birthday girl, then?” Matilda nodded and looked at the man by the van. “That’s my buddy Pete, he’ll be giving me a hand today. Matilda, you ready to have some fun?”
Rebekah grabbed Matilda’s limp hand and pumped it up and down as Matilda looked at some scaffolding that was attached to middle of the wall. She swallowed as she craned her neck to see the metal poles and joints fastened together holding a mesh platform that stuck out of the side of the bridge.
“Um … yes?” Matilda managed, her voice already retreating.
“Has Oliver told you what we’re doing today?” Matilda shook her head and swallowed, eyeing the platform on the bridge. “A surprise—even better! So, what we’ve got set up for you is a bridge swing. You know what that is?”
“I think I can guess,” said Matilda, already struggling to get her words out, as her mouth had dried up.
“Okay, well, I’m here to make sure you enjoy yourself and keep you safe at the same time. Pete and I will grab you a harness and get you all strapped up, talk about safety, and then we can get you out onto the platform there, ready to jump.” Rebekah put a hand on Matilda’s elbow and smiled. “You still up for it?”
Rebekah had such a warm smile and open face that Matilda didn’t feel that she could tell her that no, she absolutely did not want to do anything that involved the words bridge or swinging and why would anyone put them together and think it was a good idea? Instead she nodded and concentrated on trying not to hyperventilate and the fact that Oliver had organized the activity for her.
“Great,” said Rebekah, clapping her hands together. “Let me get the gear, and we can get started.”
“Cool, huh?” said Oliver, smiling as he put his hands on the wall and leaned over. “I did bridge swinging on vacation when I was a kid, and it was awesome.”
“They let children do this?!”
Oliver laughed, his mouth so wide Matilda could see his back teeth. “Yes, it’s perfectly safe, and I’ve checked Rebekah’s company out: total professionals. And hey, we’re not that high up, maybe only like seventy feet?”
“That’s way higher than we need to be,” said Matilda. Her heart pounded as she tried to work out how she would even get onto the platform, and she backed away shaking her head at the thought of climbing over the wall. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can do this, Oliver, no way in the world. It was a nice thought, but I’m not going anywhere near that thing—let alone jumping off it. This isn’t what bridges were invented for. This is the opposite of what bridges were invented for.”
Oliver put his hands on her shoulders, the heat from his touch not doing anything to settle the butterflies already flapping their wings inside her stomach.
“Come on, you’re a badass witch, remember? You can do this, and I promise once you come up, you’ll want to do it again.”
Matilda shook her head, craning her neck to look at the ducks who were very safely waddling around on the bank.
“Yes, but I do the scaring; I don’t go around looking to scare myself, thank you.” She shook her head as she looked at Oliver. “I can’t, Oliver. I’m really sorry, but I can’t.”
“Fair enough,” he said, disappointment rippling across his forehead. “I’ll tell Rebekah before she hauls out the equipment.”
“You can still do it? I’d love to watch.”
Oliver shook his head, offering Matilda a small smile. “It’s okay, we can go and find something else to do.”
The disappointment in Oliver’s eyes was unbearable. Matilda bit her lip as she looked out at the platform, then back at Rebekah, who was unpacking the equipment from the van. Matilda clenched her shaking fists and turned to Oliver, clearing her throat as if she were about to recite an incantation.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll do it.”
“Matilda, it’s okay,” said Oliver, brushing his hair up from his forehead. “This was a stupid idea.”
“No, it wasn’t, and you’re right, I do need to let go. I need to not think about what’s been happening with everything, and if dangling from a bridge is the way to do it, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Matilda…”
“I’m ready,” said Matilda as Rebekah walked over with a black harness covered in buckles and loops hanging over her shoulder and a small metal scale in her hand.
“Great,” said Rebekah, holding the harness out in front of her. “Let’s get you nice and tight in here, and I’ll go through the safety instructions.”
Matilda nodded as she cooperated with Rebekah, stepping on and off the scale, then focusing on her every word as she went through exactly what was going to happen and what Matilda needed to do. Every now and then, Matilda would glance at Oliver, whose eyebrows were drawn together in deep concentration. Matilda made Rebekah go through it all one more t
ime, just to make sure.
“You ready?” asked Rebekah.
“What do you think, birthday girl? Still up for it?” said Oliver.
“Yes,” said Matilda, taking a long calming breath. “I’m ready.”
Rebekah led Matilda to the side of the bridge and connected her harness to the end of a rope that was curled up in a loop on the platform. She turned Matilda around a couple of times and checked her harness, giving Matilda a good shake and a pull from all directions, then helped her climb over the wall.
Matilda planted her feet onto the mesh platform as her senses suddenly tripled in awareness and she could hear the sound of rushing water much louder than from the safety of the bridge. She took another breath, the normally cleansing smell of the elements below her doing very little to calm her wobbling legs, but she gripped the rope and closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer out into the open.
Sisters forgotten, keep me safe. Mothers beyond, keep me safe.
“Matilda? You ready?” called Rebekah.
Matilda tried to swallow, but her mouth was as dry as sand. She turned her head a fraction, hardly daring to move in case she lost her balance, and called over her shoulder.
“Yes…,” she croaked, “yes, I’m ready.”
“Okay, girl! Now it’s all on you,” shouted Rebekah, each of her words swollen with belief in Matilda. “Do you want me to count you in?”
“Y-yes!” called Matilda, squeezing her eyes shut as her heart pounded through her eardrums.
“On one, okay? Here we go … three…”
Matilda opened her eyes, the river below suddenly seeming much farther away than it had a few seconds before. The wind whipped at her legs, and she felt sure it was strong enough to tip her over the edge before she was ready.
“… two…”
She shuffled forward, gasping as the platform shook under her movement. Her body was doing everything it could to keep steady against her shaking limbs, but standing still had become the most alien thing in the world. She held her breath, knowing what was coming next, and she looked ahead at the horizon, the branches of the trees in the distance holding their limbs up as if they were cheering her on.
Mark of the Wicked Page 12
