CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The sun was on its way down, but not before it left its mark on the sky above, casting it in oranges and pinks that would let the shepherds know they could expect good weather the next day. Matilda sat on the bench outside her garden room, listening to the calls of those animals that preferred to hide in moonlight shadow, much like witches of old did.
Footsteps crunched down the path and Matilda stood up, a figure in a black cloak carrying a lantern approaching her. She brushed a leaf from the front of the long black velvet dress she was wearing, its bodice lined with black pearl buttons, the neckline and sleeves made from intricate black lace her grandmother had spent months making. She pulled the hood of her own cloak over her head and picked up the lantern from beside her, then joined her mother, Victor watching from the warmth of his cushion. Her mother looked her up and down, a small smile hidden beneath her hood.
“Ready?” she said. Matilda nodded. “Thank you for doing this, Matilda.”
“I’m doing it for Nanna May; I know it means a lot to her.”
Lottie nodded gently, then turned and headed into the trees, holding her lantern up as she stepped over the weeds and bushes. Matilda followed her, the last of the day’s light blinking over her beneath the tree branches, avoiding stinging nettles and fallen branches. They didn’t speak as they made their way deeper into the heart of the woods, and Matilda’s soul seemed to hush as it recognized the familiarity of the ancient trees.
Light flickered ahead, and Matilda knew that’s where they were heading. She stepped over a fallen tree with toadstools speckled over it, home to something watching her from deep inside its hollow, ready to witness the ceremony with its fellow spectators perched on branches and peeping out of burrows and nests.
Nanna May stood in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by a circle marked out with white pebbles. Four items on the edge of the circle represented the four directions of the earth and the four elements: a small crate with a chrysanthemum growing out of the earth inside it, a long white feather resting on the ground, a lantern with a burning candle inside, and a small cauldron half filled with water.
Her grandmother wore a long black skirt and a crocheted black shawl swept around her shoulders, pinned with a sparkling brooch. A wide tree stump level with her knees was just in front of her, something concealed on top of it under a piece of black cloth. Nanna May nodded an invite for Matilda and Lottie to enter the circle. As Matilda stepped over the pebbles, wings flapped from the high branches, sending fluffy white feathers raining down over her as she walked toward her grandmother.
The flames in the lanterns burned brighter, and Nanna May smiled at Matilda as she got closer, opening her arms and grabbing hold of Matilda’s hands. She looked up and down at her dress with moist, sparkling eyes, and Matilda smiled back, letting her enjoy the beauty of the outfit she’d made with her own hands for her granddaughter’s birthday.
Nanna May let go of Matilda and nodded at Lottie, who showed her where to stand, then moved to the left of Matilda, leaving a space in between them so they stood in a line in front of the tree trunk. Lottie looked at Nanna May and then at Matilda and lifted her arms, her palms facing outward. Nanna May did the same, her old fingers like the crooked twigs on a tree branch.
“Guardians of the quarters, elementals of earth, air, fire, and water, mothers of our mothers, and sisters of our sisters, we come here for the seventeenth birthday of your daughter and the passing of the Hollowell family grimoire,” called Lottie.
As soon as her mother began calling out to the unseen forces, Matilda felt an energy rising from where she stood in her lace-up boots, making her dress ripple and her hair crackle with static. She had spent so long as a solitary witch that she’d forgotten just how much power they had access to when it was called on collectively. Years had passed since she’d stood with her mother and grandmother in this way, conversing with their ancestors, and she was certain that if she stuck out her tongue she would be able to taste the energy in the air.
Nanna May bent over and uncovered a thick, leather-bound book and lifted it from the tree trunk. Lottie turned to her, and Nanna May placed it in her outstretched hands, nodding to her before Lottie turned to Matilda. Matilda wasn’t lying when she told her mother she was just going along with the ceremony for Nanna May, but from the moment she entered the circle with her family, the intensity of what they were doing made her hands shake. She could feel eyes on her, watching her take the next step on her journey as a witch, and the shame she felt at exploiting their ancient ways for her own gain was almost choking her.
Matilda looked into her mother’s eyes, practically a mirror image of her own, struggling to remember the last time they had stood so close together. Lottie nodded, and Matilda held out her shaking hands as her mother placed the family book into her palms. The three women watched the edges of the circle respond; a petal fell from the chrysanthemum, a snowy owl swooped from the shadows and circled them three times, the candle burned so hard it cracked the glass in the lantern, and the cauldron tipped onto its side, spilling its contents into a puddle.
Matilda held the book to her chest, feeling its warmth and familiarity as though she had fallen asleep with it in her bed every night, this precious book that someone with such a dark heart was trying to snatch from her family. Her mother gestured for her to put the book back down where it had started and Matilda did so, bending down and gently placing it on the tree stump. Nanna May opened her arms, and Matilda stepped into her embrace, squeezing her tightly and resting her cheek on the old lady’s hunched shoulder. Matilda smiled into the darkness they felt so comfortable in, a lost piece of a puzzle finally filling her heart.
A small sob escaped her smiling face and a tear trailed down her cheek. Nanna May stroked her hair and Lottie stepped closer to them, one hand over her mouth and the other on her chest as she watched her mother and daughter bond after a precious rite. Her eyes glistened with tears as she turned to leave, but Matilda reached out and grabbed her hand. She pulled her closer and squeezed her hand as hard as she could in the hope that Lottie would understand all the things she wanted to say but could never find the words for.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
One day until Halloween
The atmosphere in the cafeteria was charged with the buzz of chocolate consumption and excitement for Halloween parties and hookups, but none of it touched Matilda. Her macaroni and cheese had sat so long on the tray that it had grown a rubbery skin. She stopped poking it and dropped her fork on the table. If she wasn’t surrounded by people, she would have slid the tray onto the floor and slumped over the table, burying her head in her crossed arms. As it was, she kept upright, watching Oliver at the table on the other side of the hall as everyone leaned toward him and threw their heads back and laughed at whatever story he was spinning.
The girl sitting next to Oliver touched his shoulder with one hand and put her other hand on her chest as she beamed at him, then turned away to get something out of her bag. Oliver reached out and upended the contents of a tiny bottle into her drink, quicker than a card dealer at a blackjack table, then looked up at Matilda and winked.
Heat slapped Matilda’s cheeks and before she realized what was happening, she was marching over to the table. Oliver sat back and folded his arms, his eyebrows high on his forehead, and one by one his groupies turned to look at their visitor, protesting as she lifted her hand and whacked the girl’s drink across the table.
“Hey!” The girl jumped up and looked at her sodden jeans, then glared at Matilda. “What the hell?!”
“What’s your problem, loser?” spat another girl.
Matilda’s face was like a beacon for the rest of the table’s insults, but she stood where she was, her eyes fixed on Oliver as a smile twitched on his lips. He pushed his chair out and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Come on, let’s find you some paper towels.”
The girl uncurled her lip and smiled at him. “Thanks,
Oliver. What’s her problem, right?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, leading her away from the table. He looked over his shoulder at Matilda. “Probably just jealous.”
Matilda backed away from the laughter and turned to escape the cafeteria but slammed into someone.
“Sorry … oh, sorry,” she mumbled, blinking at Sean.
“Why’d you do that?” he asked, a harsh line between his eyebrows.
“Sorry, I turned and I didn’t see you.”
“Not that,” he said, then grabbed her wrist. “The drink. Why did you knock her drink over?”
“What? I…,” she said, looking at her wrist.
“Did he put something in her drink?” asked Sean, squeezing her. “Did you see something? Was he trying to do something to her?”
“Sean, you’re hurting my arm.”
“Did he do something to Ashley? Did he use something to hurt her?”
Sean’s eyes were bloodshot with sleepless nights, and the shadows of unanswered questions pulled his face down. His usual fade was hidden beneath a forgotten visit to the barber and his creased clothes hung off his shoulders. Guilt coursed through Matilda, but she pulled away and rubbed the throbbing spot where he’d gripped her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just…”
“Liar!” shouted Sean.
Matilda shrank back, and he blinked at her for a moment, then rubbed his eyes with a shaking hand, turned, and barged past a couple of his friends who’d come to check what was going on. Matilda retrieved her bag from the table and hurried out of the cafeteria before anyone else could shout at her. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Sean wasn’t following and, for the second time, slammed into someone.
“Watch yourself, speedy. Oh, hey, Matilda,” said Erin as she closed a door with a DO NOT ENTER sign on it, along with the nose-ring girl whom Matilda recognized from when Erin had slapped her. Matilda frowned and tried to get past them, but Erin held out her hand. “Glad to see you’re alive and skulking.”
“What?” asked Matilda.
“You didn’t answer a single one of my texts,” said Erin. “Has Oliver done something else to you?”
Matilda shot a sideways look at Erin’s companion.
“It’s cool; she knows everything,” said Erin.
“What?! Why does she know everything? You don’t even know everything.” Matilda turned to the girl. “Who are you?”
“Uh, I’m Katrina, Erin’s girlfriend.”
“Well, Katrina, this is none of your business,” said Matilda.
Erin put her arm around Katrina’s waist. “Actually, it became her business when she got a little confused when I started ignoring her and obsessing over a guy, if that’s okay with you. And, also yes, because she’s a witch, too, I thought maybe she might be able to help. That’s right, you don’t have the monopoly on being a witch, Matilda,” said Erin, her eyes wide. “Oh, and you’re welcome for calling the police and rescuing you by the way, a simple—”
“Erin…”
“It’s fine, Katrina. She thinks she’s the only one affected by his behavior, but—”
“Erin,” said Katrina, nodding at Matilda, who was looking at the floor, wringing her hands.
Erin sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry. It’s just, you clearly need help, but you won’t let me help you.”
“I don’t … I just … seeing him is…”
Katrina took a step closer to Matilda and ducked her head down. “You look like you need quiet. Here.” She took a step to the side and nodded at the door. “You can use the music room. There’s nobody in there.”
Matilda frowned. “Music room?”
Erin pulled the door wide open. “Technically, it’s the space under the stage where they store all the music equipment and the stuff for school plays. We use it all the time when we want some … privacy.” Matilda rolled her eyes. Erin folded her arms. “Fine, don’t go in then. Stay out here and piss off everyone you bump into.”
“Erin,” said Katrina, “go easy.”
“Sorry.” Erin shook her head and her features softened. “You obviously don’t want to talk, so just let us do this for you.”
Matilda looked at them both, leaning against each other, shouldered up like they could take on the world. She nodded.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now don’t go thinking it’s an open invitation, though. Like I said, it’s our private place.”
“I think she gets it, Erin.”
Katrina smiled at Matilda, then put her arm through Erin’s, and they walked down the corridor, disappearing around the corner and leaving Matilda in the hallway to get jostled by passers-by. A couple of girls from the table Oliver had been sitting at walked past and looked her up and down.
“Loser,” they said. They carried on glaring at her until they disappeared into the bathroom. Excitement rattled the halls, and Matilda turned to see where the whooping and shouting was coming from, just as a basketball bounced off the wall and hit her in the ear. A group of boys bounded past her, one of them offering a casual apology while his friends laughed like hyenas.
Matilda sighed, stepped through the music-room door, and slammed it behind her. She trod down the wooden steps and paused at the bottom, closing her eyes and breathing in the dusty isolation of the junk-filled room.
“And … quiet,” she whispered to herself, opening her eyes.
The tiny rectangular windows were so caked in dust that they hardly let any light through, so Matilda reached up and flicked on the lamp that was tied to one of the low wooden beams above her. Erin and Katrina weren’t wrong about the room. Anything Matilda had ever seen on the stage was crammed into the space ready for recycling for the next school play.
Stacks of dusty chairs, cracked painted scenery, giant plastic mushrooms, and disassembled drum kits lined the walls. Metal shelving stuffed with leather cases, dented musical instruments, and mix and match costumes divided the room in two. A memory of watching Ashley in the school production of Grease swirled up from a pink jacket hanging on a nail. Ashley couldn’t sing, but she’d made up for it in confidence and had been an amazing Sandy. Matilda shook the image away and ventured farther into the room.
A pile of beanbags was fluffed up in the corner in front of some wooden shelves, lovingly created as a little haven from the outside halls. Matilda walked over and dropped onto them, the beanbags sighing as she let them mold to her tired body. A trail of wires and bulbs curled around rusty nails sticking out of the wood, and she flicked the switch on the plastic box and multicolored fairy lights blinked awake.
She leaned back and closed her eyes, her muscles relaxing as she sank into the solitude of the room. After a minute of slow, calm breathing, Oliver flashed in her mind: him kissing her, then at the lake, then the look on his face before he pushed her down the well. Matilda pulled herself up and sighed. It still didn’t feel real, the time they spent together before he revealed his true self or that the whole thing was an illusion to get her back for something she did in a fog of spite a few years ago. She closed her eyes again, wondering how long she could hide among the props and scenery.
Her eyes flew open as a clacking sound floated from the other side of the shelves. She held her breath and listened, her heart jumping up her throat as it came again.
Clack, clack, clack.
With any shred of calm now completely dissolved, Matilda scrambled up and charged across the floor, then flew up the wooden steps. She reached for the door handle with a shuddering hand, but her mouth went dry when there was nothing to grab hold of. She checked the other side of the door but there was nothing, not a handle, a doorknob, not even a hole to shout through for help.
Matilda crept down the steps and tried to ignore the dead eyes of theater masks and the crooked puppet of an old man, his head at an angle like he’d just been pulled from a noose. The sound carried on, over and over, clacking along with her heartbeat as it sped up an
d pumped blood through her body at double speed. She hovered at the end of the shelves and glanced at the window straight in front of her, a stack of wooden chairs the perfect ladder directly beneath it.
“Get through the window; don’t look around. Get through the window; don’t look around,” she whispered.
Sweat glistened on her forehead as she tripped over her feet to get to the chairs, reaching out and catching herself on them as the sound seemed to echo inside her head as well as in the room. The window was just above her, but as she looked up, she sensed movement in the corner of her eye. Curiosity overwhelmed her fear, and she turned to the source of the sound.
A girl sat hunched on the floor. She looked up, her dirty-blond hair parting like a curtain on a nightmare, and grinned at Matilda as she clacked her teeth together.
Matilda fell to the ground, her eyes wide in terror as her breath felt as though it was trying to choke her. The skin on the girl’s face hung off her skull like melted wax, her eye sockets hanging down to her cheekbones revealing muscles beneath her unblinking eyes. Her jawbone was completely free of skin, and Matilda could clearly see where the sound came from each time she clicked her decaying teeth together.
Clack, clack, clack.
Matilda shuddered. It wasn’t the ripped plaid skirt or the scuffed metallic ballet shoes on the girl’s bony feet that made her instantly recognizable; it was Matilda’s name carved on her face.
Ashley, dead and decomposing, sat with one leg stretched in front of her, the other knee lifted up as if she was just relaxing on the school field on a sunny day. One hand rested on her knee, her red manicure chipped and grubby, her other hand absent of any nail polish, as well as any skin or muscle. Matilda couldn’t move, frozen by the horror in front of her until Ashley stopped making the hellish sound and tucked her matted hair behind her ear with a skeletal finger.
“Do my hair for me, Matilda,” said Ashley, the words clawing out of her rickety jaws as she combed a hand through her lank hair, clumps of it pulling away.
Mark of the Wicked Page 23
