Mark of the Wicked

by Georgia Bowers

  Once she reached the boundary of the property, she knelt down next to a fallen tree and set the bowl of crystals on the ground. She dug a hole with her hands and put a crystal inside, then covered it and closed her eyes.

  “Keep that which is wicked from my heart and from my house,” she whispered.

  She would need to bury the rest of the crystals around the property, but if Oliver was capable of murder, the basic protection spell should keep everyone within the boundary of the crystals safe, even with her magic as shaky as it was.

  There was a rustling from above, and a magpie swooped down and landed at the end of the tree Matilda was sitting on. She held her breath, hoping for another one to join it, but the sorrowful bird was just as alone as she was.

  * * *

  She’d retreated back to the garden room after she’d completed the spell and settled herself into a day of hiding out. She listened to music that made her feel worse and watched TV shows that were just mind-numbing enough to make her feel bored instead of devastated, if only briefly. Nanna May brought her some lunch, but Matilda let Victor eat it—the sick feeling twisting in her stomach had stolen her appetite.

  There was a tap on the window, and she looked up, frowning, as she gestured for Lottie to come in. She sat up straight on her beanbag and pulled out her earphones, bracing herself for her mother to berate her about something.

  Lottie undid her duffle coat and loosened her scarf, looking around the room as she stood in the doorway and adjusted her oversize sweater. Matilda frowned as she waited for her to say something, but Lottie looked as though she’d just walked in from the street and was surprised to find herself alone with Matilda.

  Matilda sighed. She was still exhausted from her early morning and was in no mood to talk, especially to her mother. “What do you want?”

  Lottie blinked, suddenly remembering that Matilda was there. “Oh, um. Well, I needed to talk to you about something.”

  “I don’t feel well,” said Matilda, folding her arms as she watched her mother’s eyebrows draw together. “Not that you care.”

  “Please, don’t start with me.” She looked at the bed, then back at Matilda. “Can we sit, please?”

  “I’m fine here.”

  Lottie nodded. “Of course you are. Why would I think you’d want to make this easy?”

  Matilda frowned and leaned forward. “Make what easy?”

  Lottie stared at her, her chest moving up and down as she breathed in steadying air, then looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting and fiddling with her jewelry. Suddenly, fear for her mother twisted in Matilda’s stomach as she watched Lottie’s eyebrows pull together.

  “Mom? What’s going—”

  “I’m pregnant,” Lottie blurted, her cheeks flushing as blood rushed to her face.

  Matilda stared, the words she’d just heard not making a connection with the person who’d just said them. The fear that Oliver had done something to Lottie or Nanna May was elbowed aside so confusion and something else could slosh around in her stomach instead, but Matilda wasn’t sure what the something else was yet. She looked around the room for a camera crew, but they were the only two people there. Her and her mother.

  Her apparently pregnant mother.

  “What? How much? I mean, how pregnant are you?” Matilda paused, shook her head to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep, then frowned at Lottie. “I mean, what?”

  “Four months,” said Lottie, putting her hand on the bump that was just noticeable under the camouflage of her baggy sweater.

  Matilda swallowed, trying to moisten her dry mouth. “Is this some weird joke that I totally don’t get?”

  Her mother shook her head. “No. It’s true.”

  “So then, what the actual fuck?”

  “Don’t swear at me, Matilda,” said Lottie, putting her hand on her hip.

  “I think it’s warranted on this occasion, Mother. I mean, you’ve just come into my room and announced you’re pregnant. I literally have no other words.”

  Matilda stared at her mother and realized the other feeling in her stomach was anger.

  Lottie put both hands up. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight, and fighting isn’t going to do anything to change this. I just … the baby’s father and I—”

  “Stop, please stop,” said Matilda, putting her hands over her ears. Lottie folded her arms, and Matilda dropped her hands to her sides. “I don’t want to know who the poor bastard is or what twisted magic this is all about.”

  “This has nothing to do with magic, Matilda.”

  “Oh, so you can do things without involving your precious coven, then.”

  “It’s nothing to do with my coven, either.”

  “Are you sure?! They’re responsible for all the other shit that ruins this family!”

  “Matilda,” sighed Lottie, shaking her head gently.

  “What?” shouted Matilda, a tear falling down her cheek as Victor bleated, then ran out of the door at the sound of her voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Do you want me to lie and say I’m happy there’ll be another reason you keep me pushed out of that house, hidden down here so you don’t even have to look at me?”

  Lottie blinked and sucked her breath in.

  “Tilly,” she said, shaking her head and stepping toward Matilda. “Why on earth would you…”

  Matilda pulled herself up in the most dignified way a person could when they’re sitting on a beanbag. She wiped the tears from her face and pointed a finger at Lottie, her hand shaking as she glared at her mother.

  “Don’t call me that. Don’t you even dare drop this life-altering shitstorm and then talk to me like I’m a child. You can’t come into my room, tell me you’re pregnant, and expect me to be all okay about it. What did you think I was going to say? Does Nanna May know?” Her mother nodded, and Matilda bit her bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. “I can’t … Why? Why would you do this?”

  “It wasn’t exactly planned, but I love him. This feels different; it feels right.”

  “You mean different from Dad?”

  Lottie folded her arms. “That’s not what I meant, and there’s absolutely no reason to bring him into this.”

  “There’s every reason to bring him into it because he’s your husband and you’re having a baby with someone else!” Lottie folded her arms and looked through the window. Matilda’s breath caught in her throat. “What? What was that look?”

  “Your father and I have been in touch.”

  “No,” said Matilda, putting her hands up to her hair. “No, you never speak to him.”

  “We’ve agreed to get a divorce.”

  Matilda’s chest grew tight, and she wanted to scream and cry all at the same time, but all she could do was try to breathe.

  “You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met,” she said, her voice shaking. “How could you do that to me? To Dad?”

  Lottie shook her head and looked at the floor. “I knew there was no point in trying to talk to you like an adult about this.”

  Matilda gaped at Lottie.

  “Are you serious? What part of this conversation could have gone any other way than it has?” Matilda watched her mother look everywhere but at her, then she crossed her arms. “Who is he anyway?”

  “You don’t need to know right now.”

  It hit Matilda square in the eyes. “That man I saw you with at the festival. It’s him, isn’t it? That farmer? And that’s why you were at the hospital. That’s why you lied.” Her mother stared at Matilda, her eyes full of confusion as Matilda pieced everything together. “Well, thank you so much for introducing me to the man you’ve decided to procreate with. I’ve literally never felt closer to you.”

  Matilda looked away from her mother and rubbed her hands over her eyes as if she were trying to wake up from a bad dream. There wasn’t any space left inside her to process what her mother was saying, and she felt like she was going to scream. She ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the ro
ots so she could feel something other than anger for just a split second.

  “I just don’t think it’s the right time. I know there’s something going on with you and…”

  “Wait, what were you doing the other night out there in the woods?” said Matilda, remembering Lottie creeping around the trees the night of the party. “Was that about this, too? You had something in your hands, a knife or a…”

  “It was a mirror,” said Lottie, looking at her feet again. “The moonlight and the mirror predicted the sex. Do you want to know—”

  “Of course I don’t want to know!” shouted Matilda, her eyes wide in disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you!”

  “I’m sorry, Matilda, this isn’t exactly…” Lottie’s voice trailed off as she looked around the room for the end of a sentence.

  “What? Isn’t exactly what?” said Matilda, raising her eyebrow as she looked her mother up and down. “You can leave now.”

  Matilda dropped back onto the beanbag and watched Lottie turn and walk through the door, slamming it behind her without looking back. Matilda’s stomach did flip-flops as she tried to ignore the fact that her first reaction was to call Oliver. Victor trotted back in and rested his head on her leg. Matilda lay back in the beanbag and threw her arm over her eyes, wishing she could escape for just a minute from the emotions that were choking her. There was a tap on the glass, and Matilda sat bolt upright, glaring at the door.

  “What now? Is it twins?” she spat.

  Her mouth dropped open as she looked up, and she tensed her legs, pushing herself into the beanbag as she stared at the door. She swallowed a lump in her throat and frowned at the person outside, just a weathered door and a thin pane of glass between them. She put her hands on either side of her and braced herself for whatever was about to happen.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she called.

  The person on the other side of the glass, who was the last person she expected to see beneath the naked cherry trees, tapped on the window again, then squeezed her arms around her body.

  “Please, let me in. I know this is, like, so weird, but it’s frigging freezing out here,” said Erin, her breath fogging the cracked panes of glass.

  Matilda pulled herself up and approached the door side-on, Victor hiding behind her legs. She didn’t take her eyes off Erin as she stopped in front of the door and glanced down the gravel path.

  “Did you just see my mother?”

  Erin nodded. “Yeah,” she said, looking over her shoulder.

  Matilda rushed forward and grabbed the doorknob, the end of her nose tickling the glass. “What did you do to her?!”

  “Nothing.” Erin’s eyebrows drew together. “I’d never hurt Lottie. Why would you say that?”

  “Maybe because you have a tendency to slap people or shower them with broken glass.”

  Erin’s shoulders sagged. “Look, that’s why I’m here, Matilda. Please, you have to let me in. I just want to talk, I promise.”

  “You can talk out there.”

  Erin sighed and folded her arms. “Fine. Look, I totally get why you’re being shitty with me, after the slapping and the hockey thing and the following you everywhere, but—”

  “I knew it! You have been following me!”

  Erin bit her lip. “Like, I said, the slapping, the hockey, the following. But it’s not my fault.”

  “Not your fault? How could this be not your fault?”

  “Just shup up and let me finish, okay? This is so hard because I’ve literally hated you for days, like deep, death-plotting hatred.”

  “Oh, in that case, please, wipe your feet before you come in and murder me,” said Matilda, her hands shaking with anger and, she hated to admit, fear.

  “That’s what I mean, though, I don’t feel like that now. It’s like a fog cleared or something, and I realized what was happening.” Erin smiled hopefully. “And I don’t want to slap you anymore.”

  “Well then, my day is just getting better and better,” said Matilda.

  Erin took a deep breath.

  “Look, I know what you are, and I know you can help me.”

  Matilda folded her arms. “What do you mean?”

  “I know you’re a witch, Matilda, same as I know that Oliver’s a witch, too, and he’s put me under some sick love spell and that’s why I was so consumed with jealousy that I wanted to kill you,” said Erin.

  “Oliver?” Matilda put a hand on the doorframe to steady herself. “How do you know he put you under a love spell?”

  Erin rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Because I’ve had a poster of Katy Perry above my bed for the last five years, and it’s not because I like her music.”

  “What?”

  “Oh for … I’m gay, you moron. The only way I’d ever have a crush on a guy is if he used magic on me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. Now please open the door.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “It’s open,” said Matilda over her shoulder as she walked back to her bed.

  Erin opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Since when did you live out here?” said Erin, her eyes flitting around the room as she wiped her feet and closed the door.

  “If you’re looking for a broomstick, it’s not in here.”

  Erin raised an eyebrow. “So, I’m right, then? You are a witch?”

  Matilda sank onto her bed and barely nodded her head.

  Erin smacked her hands together. “I knew it! How could you not tell me? We were friends all that time. I always wondered about Nanna May, though, how she was always talking to the bees and giving me little crystals to take home.”

  To keep you safe, thought Matilda. She sat up. “How, exactly? How do you know? Who else knows?”

  “I mean, I’ve heard rumors, but most people at that school are as self-absorbed as you are,” said Erin, rolling her eyes as Matilda frowned. “Oh, come on, don’t be so sensitive. Oh shit.” Erin froze as her eyes rested on Victor. “What is that?”

  “My goat.”

  “Is it for a … are you going to kill it?”

  “It’s my goat; why the hell would I kill it?” Matilda looked up at the ceiling and held her breath. “I don’t use that kind of magic. You still haven’t told me how you know I’m a witch.”

  Erin walked around the room, peering at bottles and sniffing candles. “Like I said, I had my suspicions about Nanna May.” Erin put down the crystal she’d picked up and looked at Matilda. “And, I still notice what you’re doing at school. We were friends so long I can’t help it. You have these phases of being alone, then, bam! You’re best friends with someone you have nothing in common with, or you’re seeing a guy who’s never looked at you twice, then it always ends suddenly and you’re all anonymous again like it never happened. You’ve had all these friends, hung out with the popular crowd, and dated some of the best-looking boys in our school, you know, if you like that sort of thing, but you’ve never fit right, with any of them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you, Matilda. You get nervous talking to someone new, and you’d rather hide away in the library than be around people.”

  “That was ages ago,” said Matilda, folding her arms.

  Erin mirrored her and raised her eyebrows.

  “So, you’re telling me that when you got together with Oliver, you marched right up to him and said hey, I like you, and there was no, like, magic potion or something involved?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” said Matilda, her stomach bubbling at the mention of Oliver.

  “See? I knew it. There had to be a reason why people would become so obsessed with you. No way were they just drawn to you all of a sudden, especially the guys.”

  “Thanks a lot. Are you always this pleasant?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re obviously pretty, but not the normal Insta-hot type those kinds of boys parade around like a new pair of sneakers.” Erin shrugged. “I’m just te
lling you how I came to my conclusions.”

  “Fine,” said Matilda, irritated by Erin’s perception of her. “But how did you get to witches and magic from that? How do you know it’s all real?

  “Duh, hello?” said Erin, dropping onto the end of the bed and leaning back on her hands. “We live in Gravewick, home of the one and only Ivy-down-the-witching-well and the best Halloween festival for miles. Everyone knows there were witches around here. And, my girlfriend just happens to be a witch, too. We were brought together by a mutual admiration of all things witchy.”

  “You have a girlfriend?”

  “Yes, although it was pretty touch and go when I kept ditching her to follow you two around. Luckily, I was acting so weird she realized it must be magic”

  Matilda sighed. “Fine. Now what the hell do you want?”

  “I told you. I want out of this spell.”

  “Get your girlfriend to help you, then.”

  Erin leaned forward on the bed, glancing at the bookshelf before she looked at Matilda.

  “She’s tried, but she says she hasn’t been doing it long enough.”

  “Great,” said Matilda, “another learned witch in town.”

  “A what?” said Erin, but Matilda had turned away from her. “Look, I figured he’s your boyfriend so…”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” said Matilda, the words tasting like poison.

  “Oh,” said Erin, grimacing. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t know you’d broken up.”

  “We didn’t. I mean, we were never really…”

  Erin cocked her head and looked to the side like she was listening for something. “Hey, do you think that’s why I’ve stopped wanting to strangle you? Because you’re not together anymore? Bonus!” She paused again, her curls bobbing around as she shook her head. “Now, if I could just stop thinking about him all the time, that would be great.”

  Matilda frowned, a thought tapping her on the shoulder.

  “Why would he use a love spell on you, though?”

  Erin shrugged. “Because of the patriarchy? Because I’m awesome? Because he’s insane? All of the above?” She shuffled onto her knees closer to Matilda. Matilda crossed her arms. “So, will you help me? I don’t like not being in control and what Oli—”