“Finally,” said Oliver, rolling his eyes. He walked to the well and picked up a backpack. “I knew you’d come around.”
Matilda willed her heart to slow down as Oliver pulled out a gray blanket and walked past her. He stopped in front of the flames and dropped it over the fire so there was a gap in the flames surrounding Checkers.
“Checkers, come,” he said. The horse whinnied and trotted over the blanket. Matilda held her breath until Checkers was clear of the flames, and she ran over and put her hand on her side. The heat from the horse’s coat burned Matilda’s palm, but she didn’t pull it away. She stroked Checkers’s side and hushed into her ear, tears falling for the terror the horse had been dragged into.
“Good girl.” Oliver smiled. “You and the witch.”
Matilda looked at Oliver, wishing that she had her full quota of magic at her fingertips so she could punish him for what he’d done. Now that she was close to Checkers, she put her hand inside the pouch in her pocket and grabbed a fistful of the powder hiding inside.
She would settle for some of her grandmother’s magic instead.
“So sentimental for animals, aren’t you?” said Oliver. “Maybe your little goat could help me next time.”
Anger flashed in Matilda’s eyes as she glared at Oliver.
“Don’t you ever touch a witch’s familiar,” she said, her jaw tight. She pulled her hand from her pocket and opened her palm, blowing the dust into Checkers’s face. “Let this powder be your shield.”
Oliver lurched forward and smacked her hand away, his cheeks flushed with anger, but he was too late.
“Checkers, step into the fire!” he shouted.
The horse swished her tail but didn’t move. Matilda’s heart soared as Checkers blinked and looked at Matilda.
“Run home, Checkers,” she shouted, stumbling back as the horse reared up and galloped into the safety of the trees. Matilda turned to Oliver.
“You didn’t think I’d come here without a protection spell, did you?” she said, braver now that Checkers had escaped.
Oliver’s nostrils flared, and he ran at Matilda, grabbing her arms and swinging her around.
“But if you used it to protect the horse,” he said, his lips pressing into her hair, “what’s going to protect you?”
Matilda panicked as the woods whooshed by, her tears and Oliver’s madness making everything blurry. She struggled against him but tripped over her feet and stumbled back until she could feel the stone well against the backs of her thighs.
Oliver grabbed the front of her coat and pushed her back until she was hanging over the well. Her eyes bulged and she shook her head, her voice lost in disbelief. She clawed at his hands as he bit his bottom lip, looking over her shoulder into the dark abyss of the well. A smile tickled the edge of his mouth and he loosened his hands, pinning her against the edge of the well with his legs.
“Just once in case you don’t make it out.”
Matilda winced as Oliver pressed his lips against hers, then let go of her. Her arms flailed as she tried to grip the stone, her eyes widening when he stepped back and kicked her feet from under her, his smile getting farther away as she tumbled down into the darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A groan echoed through the darkness, and it took Matilda a few seconds to realize that it was coming from her. Ragged breaths clawed out of her mouth as she opened her eyes and searched her pockets, her throbbing head adding to the disorientation of being submerged in the shadows.
“Hey, phew. You’re alive,” called Oliver. “If you’re looking for your phone, I’ve got it here.”
Matilda looked up at the rectangular light waving around high above her, then felt her way around the slick stone of the well, her ankles sloshing through the shallow water as she stumbled around.
“I’ll leave this up here for when you get out, not that you have anyone to call. You can have this, though. Heads up.”
Matilda felt something drop by her shoulder and into the water with a splash. She crouched down and felt around, her fingers freezing as they disturbed the coins resting in the well, until she felt a large handle. She picked up the flashlight and flicked it on, aiming the beam upward. Oliver squinted and put his hand out to block the light.
“Right. I’ll leave you to have a little think about things,” he said, then pulled away.
“O-Oliver!” shouted Matilda, her eyes locked on the tiny sliver of moonlight above her. She held her breath and listened for movement. “Oliver?”
Matilda waved the flashlight with a shaking hand, her ragged breaths the only sound in the well. It was bigger than she expected, too wide to touch either side at the same time. She shuffled around the edge, peering at the stone and looking for holes or steps or maybe a secret trapdoor, but there was nothing.
She trained the flashlight just above her head and turned as she followed the beam of light, stopping when she spotted a lone piece of stone protruding from the rest about halfway up the well. Farther up was another stone, then a hole, then the top of the well.
Hope surged through Matilda’s veins, and she rushed to the side under the protruding stone, then pointed the flashlight down at her feet. Beneath the water were dozens, maybe hundreds, of grubby coins resting on top of the witch who’d been cast into the shadows of the well.
Ivy.
Matilda peered at the old coins, then bent down and ran her fingers over them, wondering whether any of the wishes had come true. How far down did it all go? Matilda shuddered. How far down was Ivy?
She shoved the handle of the flashlight into the coins so it pointed upward and shook out her limbs, ignoring the buzzing creeping around her head.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, trying to steady her breathing. “You can do this.”
With her eyes firmly on the protruding stone, she bent her knees and sprang up, her hands stretching high above her head. She fell back down into the water, but pulled herself up and jumped again, splaying her fingers out as if she were trying to touch the moon, but she fell against the other side of the well.
“Come on!” she shouted, panic making her voice shake. “Try and be a bit athletic for once in your life!”
Matilda put her foot against the wall and tried to jump up, but her toes slipped and she fell to her side, the coins and the rainwater not offering the slightest of graceful landings. She pulled herself up and looked upward. She could feel panic rising in her chest, poised to take control of her the moment she gave up. Matilda shook her head, trying not to acknowledge that death was probably leaning over the well, waiting for her, just like it had for Ivy.
“Hello?! A little help, please!” Matilda looked down at her feet. “Ivy, if you’re really down here, now would be a good time to prove it.”
The sound of tree branches cracking against each other in the wind was joined by the distant roll of thunder, and Matilda could smell the rain before she felt wet drops on her upturned face.
“No,” she whispered, her mouth turned down in a grimace. “No, rain is definitely not going to help! Please! Someone help me!”
A fork of lightning illuminated the sky and rain plummeted down the well, fat drops drenching Matilda’s hair in seconds and soaking her coat and jeans. She bit her lip and looked down at her already soaked feet sloshing around in the shallow water.
Shallow for now.
Matilda kicked at the coins with the toe of her boot, trying to create some drainage so the water could escape. Another furious crack of lightning lit up the pit of the well. Matilda could see that her efforts had achieved nothing, and the water level was already creeping up.
The rain soaked through to her socks, but Matilda ignored the ice in her toes and jumped up again, her fingers miles from reaching the stone. Her heart leaped as she remembered she was wearing a scarf. She pulled it from her neck, then, holding one end of it, threw it up at the stone.
After the fifth time her scarf landed over her eyes, Matilda tore it from her face and t
hrew it into the water. Her eyes darted up and down, zigzagging the slick walls as she turned on the spot, biting down the tears that were more than halfway to making an appearance. The air felt as though it was getting thicker, and Matilda’s breaths rasped in and out as she tried to pull enough oxygen into her lungs.
Lightning flashed again, bedazzling the bottom of the well. The water was past her ankles now and she dropped to her knees, plunging her numb hands into the water over and over, furiously shifting coins deep under the water, until her hand caught something sharp.
Matilda clenched her teeth and peered at the long red line on her palm. The rain washed away the blood that sprang from the cut, cleansing it with each drop as if there were nothing there at all. Thunder roared and rain crashed down as Matilda was hit with a realization like the bolts of lightning in the sky. She thrust her hands into the water again as she searched around the bottom of the well, feeling for what she needed.
She felt a scratch again, but instead of withdrawing her hand, her fingers carefully felt out the shape. Her nose almost touched the surface of the water as she clasped her fingers around what was the true piece of treasure in the well, camouflaged by the coins and the cover of history.
Ivy’s athame, rusty and old, but sturdy and ready for action.
Rainwater trickled down her face as she pulled at the knife handle, grabbing handfuls of coins and chucking them over her shoulder as she fought to break it free.
“Ivy, if you’re listening, please don’t be holding this in your hand,” she whispered, and sat on her backside, her feet pressed against the sides as she clenched her teeth and strained.
The knife shifted, and Matilda relaxed for a few seconds and caught her breath before she pulled again. She could feel it straining in her hands, but it felt like something was holding it down. Matilda clenched her teeth and yanked it with everything she had left, and it came free as she fell back against the wall.
Matilda laughed a little, the alien sound echoing up the slick walls. She rested her head on the brick and looked up.
“Ha,” she panted, then looked at her hands and gasped when she saw what had anchored the knife down so well.
Wrapped around the knife was the thickest and oldest looking vine of ivy Matilda had ever seen. She slumped against the wall and looked at the vine trailing from around the knife in her hands back into the water, then up a long, thick crack in the wall, a crack that snaked up past the protruding stone Matilda was trying to reach. She’d managed to pull the vine free of its camouflage when she’d freed the knife it was wrapped around.
Matilda stared at the athame, overwhelmed by the closeness she felt to her history sitting at the bottom of the well, her long-dead ancestor helping her to survive. She felt as though the metal was melting into her skin, seeping through to her blood and giving her soul a charge of electricity that sparked with magic. The hole that had been tearing wider and wider since she started having the blackouts seemed to pull back together inside her chest, just a little, gleaming golden strands crisscrossing the shadow and tightening gently.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the energy from her bloodline bubbling in her veins as she pulled herself up.
Something in the now knee-deep water twinkled and winked at her as she stood. Matilda put the knife in her pocket and bent down to fish the item out. Her breath caught in her chest as it became visible beneath the surface of the water. She lifted it out and held it up to her eyes.
A misshapen stone dangled from a thick silver chain. As it twisted and spun, Matilda could see tiny flashes of blue hidden beneath its white surface. Finally, she let out her breath.
It was Ivy’s moonstone.
Matilda put it around her neck, then waded over to the vine of ivy, tugging at it gently as she looked up. She curled her fingers tight around the vine and closed her eyes.
“Please hold, please,” she whispered. “I just need to get to that stone.”
Matilda bit her lip as she heaved herself up, grabbing the ivy above and climbing steadily, glancing up at the protruding stone that got closer and closer and closer until she was level with it.
Thunder crashed its applause as she scrambled onto the ledge and looked up at the next one. The ivy had run out, so Matilda pulled the knife from her pocket and swung it over her head, aiming for a crack in the brickwork. She clasped her other hand around the handle and tried to pull herself up, her feet slipping against the stone. She wobbled but managed to throw her weight against the brick and stop herself from falling, her arms stretched out to either side and her fingers clinging to the cracks.
The bottom of the well was farther down than she’d thought. She swallowed and looked upward, squinting at the next stone and then the hole above it. Matilda looked from the hole to the top of the well, wondering how on earth she would make the final part of the climb.
“We’ll work that out when we get there, hey, Ivy?” she panted, and held on to the knife as she found her footing and braced herself to climb.
Light that wasn’t coming from the moon suddenly waved over the top of the well, accompanied by a sound that wasn’t thunder.
“Hello?”
“Hello?!” shouted Matilda, almost choking on the word as she blinked at the opening of the well.
The light grew brighter until it shone down the well.
“Jesus, it’s her. She’s here,” said a male voice, getting louder. “Hold on! We’re getting you out of there!”
The figure disappeared, his voice joined by another as they murmured back and forth, then a figure leaned over just above her. It kept leaning until Matilda realized they were actually being lowered into the well by whoever was holding on to them.
“Reach up to me!” she called, and Matilda recognized Officer Powell’s voice. “Reach up!”
Matilda put the knife in her pocket and reached up with her other hand, holding her breath until she felt fingers around her wrist.
“Hold on!” she shouted as Matilda grabbed ahold of her wrist. “I’ve got her; pull us up.”
Matilda held her breath as she was pulled upward, all three of them in the human chain grunting as she was hauled to the top of the well, where another hand appeared above her head.
“We’ve got you. We’ve got you,” said Officer Powell, helping her out of the well. Matilda looked up at the moon, both officers rushing to her side as she stumbled backward on shaking legs.
“I’m calling in an ambulance,” said Officer Seymour, gripping his radio.
“No,” panted Matilda. “No, please. I just want to go home.”
The officer shook his head. “We need to get you checked out. Your lips are blue.”
“Please,” said Matilda, her lip wobbling. “I’m just cold, and I want to go home. I’m not injured.”
The two officers looked at each other, communication rippling across their eyebrows. Finally, Officer Powell spoke.
“Let’s just get you to the car for now. We’ve got blankets in there.”
Officer Seymour unzipped his coat and put it around Matilda’s shaking shoulders. He crouched down and picked up a flashlight, then the three of them began walking away from the well.
“H-how did you find me?” asked Matilda through quivering lips.
“Your friend came to the station and told us she was worried for your safety,” said Officer Powell.
“Who?”
“She’s waiting in the car.”
The rain was still pounding down as if it wanted to drown the night, and Matilda was glad for the rumbling thunder because it meant nobody had to say anything. The cold had numbed her bones, but she felt something else inside her, something that roared in her stomach and singed the edge of her soul.
Something that felt like family.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Erin’s wide, earnest eyes were visible through the back-seat window as Matilda trudged through the rain to the police car waiting on the side of the road. Officer Powell opened the other back door, and Matilda
ducked inside and collapsed against the dry seat, gratefully pulling a blanket up to her chin. She closed her eyes as the door slammed shut and was certain the sound of the rain and the engine running would send her off to sleep immediately.
“Um, hello?” said Erin from her side. Matilda opened her eyes, silently waving any rest goodbye. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
Matilda leaned back and rolled her head the other way, looking at the rain battering the window.
“Why are you so wet?” tried Erin again. She put her hand on the driver’s seat and tried a different audience. “Where did you find her? Who was she with?”
Officer Powell looked in the rearview mirror.
“I’m sure Matilda will tell you what happened when she’s ready, Erin,” she said over her shoulder. “Oh, we found this, by the way. I’m guessing it’s yours.”
Matilda took the phone from Officer Powell, then watched the officers look at each other, nodding and grunting in some secret police language. Finally, Officer Seymour shifted around in his seat.
“You’re sure you don’t want us to speak to anyone about how you got down that well?”
Matilda stuck out her chin. “I fell down.”
“Right, yeah, that’s what you said before; you just fell down,” said Officer Seymour, glancing at his coworker.
Officer Powell leaned over and whispered something. Officer Seymour looked at Matilda, then turned back in his seat, shook his head, and sighed.
“Oh, it’s one of those calls is it?” he said, folding his arms. Officer Powell glanced at him. “Fine. Drop me off at home, then; my shift finished ages ago.”
Matilda frowned at Erin, but Erin shrugged in response. They drove on in silence for another few minutes until Officer Powell pulled over and Officer Seymour got out.
“Hey, Seymour?” called Officer Powell.
Officer Seymour bent down and ducked his head back in the car. “Don’t tell me; you want me to update dispatch and close the call? Say we didn’t find anything?”
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