But it was all relevant to her. She realized that now. She was connected to all the books in the room and the words inside them. A wider fabric of magic, as Maura had put it. She found the page, the adrenaline coursing through her body making it impossible to read logically as she kept jumping ahead by a word or a line. She took a deep breath and focused, then finally read the spell.
“Erin,” she said, a smile spreading across her face, a smile that had been so alien in the last few weeks she wasn’t sure it fit properly anymore. “You are a genius.”
“I am?” said Erin.
“Yes,” said Matilda, pushing her chair back and throwing herself onto Erin. She let a very shocked Erin go, then turned to check the time on her phone. “Okay, we need to work fast. Do you think Katrina would be up for helping? I was kind of rude to her.”
“Kind of?” laughed Erin, but she nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Excellent. Call her and get her to come and meet us at my garden room. I’ll go back and try to put this all together,” said Matilda as Erin pulled out her phone. “Oh, and does she have a car?”
“No, but I do,” said Erin.
“Perfect. You go and pick her up, then, and bring pumpkins,” said Matilda, leaning over Ivy’s book again and ignoring Erin’s puzzled face. “Lots and lots of pumpkins. Oh, Erin?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy Halloween.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
There was a tap on the glass, and Matilda jumped up from the floor and bounded to the door, trying to read the faces on the other side of the glass. How up for this were they? She opened the door and stepped back.
“Morning,” she said, hugging her arms around her shoulders. “Jeez, it’s freezing. Come in.”
“You have coffee, right? Say you have coffee,” said Erin, closing her eyes and resting her head on Katrina’s shoulder, who peered at the brambles suffocating the garden room.
Matilda shook her head. “No coffee, but I’ve got dandelion, or I could go pick some fresh mint from the greenhouse?”
Erin opened an eye. “I’ve been up all night with you, Matilda. What would I do with that? Chew on it?”
“No, sorry, I mean, I can make some tea with it. It’ll wake you up.”
Katrina squeezed through the door with Erin still resting on her. “If it’ll stop her whining, let’s give it a try.” She walked into the center of the room, looking around at the crystals and the herbs that grew beneath the windowsill, then her eyes rested on the open book on the floor surrounded by Post-its and torn notepaper. “This is your room?”
Erin held up her hand before Matilda could answer.
“Enough have-some-tea-isn’t-my-room-Instagram-worthy bullshit. Just tell us what you need us to do and where the hell we’re supposed to put all those pumpkins?” Erin looked around the room, suddenly noticing the brambles at the windows. “Also, in other news, you need to do some serious weeding, Matilda. What’s with the fairy tale shrubbery?”
Erin and Katrina watched Matilda, their eyebrows waiting high up their foreheads. Matilda looked at the brambles. Erin was right; they did make her garden room look like something from an old storybook.
“I didn’t think it was anything, but now I think it’s a message,” she said, looking at their puzzled faces.
“Huh?” Erin groaned. “I can’t cope with any more cryptic shit, Matilda.”
“I’m sorry. You deserve an explanation, especially since you’re both here to help me.” Matilda looked at Katrina. “But first, Katrina, I want to apologize to you. I’ve spent so long assuming I was the only witch at school that it made me act kind of…”
“Bitch-like?” offered Katrina.
Matilda nodded. “I shouldn’t have been so rude to you. I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay, Matilda. I get it. I just want to help.”
“Thank you, I’m so glad you’re here; I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
“Okay, let’s wrap up the mutual witch appreciation society,” said Erin, smiling at Matilda. “You were all wired and mysterious back at Maura’s. What’s the plan?”
“I think I’ve found a way to stop Oliver from using magic.”
Erin tipped her head to the grimoire. “Is that your grimoire?”
Matilda nodded. “It is, but it’s so much more than that, Erin. It’s my family’s lifeblood, our essence. To give it away would mean handing their magic over, and I can’t do that. I can’t let him take that from them. He’s not taking any more from them.”
“A hundred percent agreed,” said Erin, taking a step closer. “So, what’s the plan?”
“He’s coming here, tonight. He thinks I’m going to give it to him.” Matilda paused, adrenaline making her hands shake. “But I’m giving him something else.”
Erin chewed the inside of her cheek as her eyes ran across Matilda’s face. She shared a look with Katrina, then finally she spoke.
“Is this dangerous? I mean, we’re not summoning the devil or some shit like that, are we?”
Matilda shook her head. “No, it’s not dangerous. Not for you, anyway. I don’t know how it’ll turn out for me, but if it works, Oliver won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.”
Katrina knelt down and picked up a piece of paper covered in scribbles and drawings. Her eyebrows drew together as she read what was on the page.
“This is how you’re going to stop him?” she asked. Matilda nodded. “I’m no expert, but this doesn’t look like you’ll get your magic back.”
“I don’t care. I need to stop him. We need to stop him.”
There was a tap on the glass, and they all looked around. Matilda smiled and nodded at the person standing in the doorway.
Erin frowned. “What are you doing here?”
Sean stepped through the doorway and put his hands in his pockets.
“I guess I’m part of the we.”
* * *
Matilda watched Sean smear a quarter of the pot of jam onto a piece of warm bread, then stuff the entire slice into his mouth. He rolled his eyes back as he chewed, then turned to Matilda.
“What?” he said, spraying her with crumbs. “It’s incredible!”
Matilda raised her eyebrows. “Hey, I brought it in to be eaten. You guys have been here for ages, the least I can do is feed you.”
She looked at Erin and Katrina lying on their stomachs on her bed, their feet entwined as they carved pumpkins and tested each other on what Matilda had given them to learn. She couldn’t work out if they kissed each other each time they got it right or when they got it wrong. Either way, they kissed each other a lot.
There were more papers and Post-it notes spread across the floor, along with crumb-covered plates and teacups (they’d all agreed that dandelion tea wasn’t that bad), and at one point Erin had filled the room with her snoring because she couldn’t fight the hours she’d been awake any longer. Victor sat at Matilda’s side, and she tickled his ears as she watched Sean lean over her notes, his eyes wide as they flew across the handwritten words.
“Sean?”
“Yeah?” he said, not looking up from the book.
“Why did you agree to all of this? I mean, you seemed to take the whole thing pretty well.”
Sean sat up and rubbed the back of his head. “For Ashley.”
Matilda nodded. “I figured that. But you seemed to accept the witch stuff like it wasn’t a big shock.”
Sean shrugged. “It’s not. I mean, my grandma is into it all.”
Matilda leaned forward. “Really?”
“Really,” Sean said, a smile dancing around his lips. “When I was born, she buried a witch bottle at the front door of our house. Said it would protect the most beautiful baby in town from love spells and curses.”
“A witch bottle?”
“Yeah, you’ve heard of those, right?”
Matilda smiled. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them.”
Sean went back to looking at Matilda’s notes, and Matilda smiled and s
hook her head at her own stupidity. No wonder none of her spells had worked on Sean. She glanced at Katrina and realized how naive she’d been to think she was the only one at school with a connection to magic.
“Hey, Elphaba?”
“Don’t call me that, Erin.”
“Why not? You’re Elphaba from Wicked, all misunderstood and vulnerable, and we’re Willow and Tara, just completely adorable,” she said, giving Katrina a peck on the cheek. “Who do you want to be, Sean?”
“I’ll just be Sean.”
“Fine, don’t play the game, then,” said Erin, pulling a face at Sean. “Matilda, I’m confused about something. How will you do your thing if you’re helping us with our thing?”
Matilda jumped up and walked to her bedside table, stepping over the pumpkins waiting to be carved. “I’m not going to be helping you.”
Erin peered at the book in front of her, then looked at Matilda.
“But it says there should be four of us?”
Matilda nodded. “That’s right: four for the elements, the seasons, and the directions. I’ll take care of the fourth, don’t worry,” she said, rummaging through the drawer, then glancing at the clock. “Are you okay to start setting things up out there?”
“But the bread?” said Katrina, gazing at the half-eaten loaf sitting next to Sean.
“Take it with you, and your jars and candles. Oh, and do you have a compass on your phone?”
“Yes.” Erin rolled off the bed and pulled Katrina up, then picked up three candles and three green jars, handing one of each to Katrina and Sean. “Are you okay?”
Matilda nodded, picking up the business card from her drawer and reaching for her phone. She watched them traipse toward the door, candles in one hand and slices of bread in the other. Her mouth went dry as a sharp pain clawed at her heart.
“Guys.” They all turned around. “Thanks.”
One by one they nodded, then left Matilda alone. She looked at the business card and typed the number into her phone, praying that the person on the other end would answer.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Halloween witching hour
The sun had long abandoned the day, and night spun its soundtrack. Matilda sat cross-legged in the center of her room, focusing her mind on the sounds around her. Owls hooted from deep within the woods and foxes cried out to one another, calling out to come and play; the humans had retreated from the darkness so the night belonged to the creatures and spirits.
It was hard to believe that less than forty-eight hours ago she had been on the cusp of handing Oliver the grimoire and losing her magic entirely. It was frightening, how close she’d gotten, how easily she could have been like any other seventeen-year-old girl, without a spark of magic inside her. How would that feel? Would it have been like the void Oliver had left inside her after siphoning her magic? The missing part made her feel like she was broken, like she couldn’t connect the dots to perform even a basic magic spell successfully. Matilda shook the thought away. Not for much longer, she thought, not for tonight.
Oliver would arrive soon, and she left the warmth of her garden room to check the dozens of pumpkins she’d arranged on either side of the path up to her door, lighting the way for spirits who wanted to visit during the witching hour. Their flames beckoned inside the hollowed flesh, lighting a path in the darkness of midnight. Matilda closed her eyes; the Halloween night crackled with magic and mischief, and she could feel the witching hour beckoning, inviting her into its midnight embrace.
She circled the building and gave thanks to the sounds on the wind, holding on to the brambles to keep herself upright. The wind carried the smell of Nanna May’s butternut squash soup, freshly baked bread rolls, and honey-glazed ham, just a fraction of the Halloween feast she’d spent all day preparing, but Matilda could only manage a few mouthfuls before she hurried back to her room.
Victor jumped up as she walked back inside. Matilda bent down and kissed his forehead.
“Not tonight, Vic. You go to the house. I’m sure Nanna May will let you snuggle up next to the fire.”
He blinked at her, then turned and trotted through the door. She watched him go, her eyes widening as Oliver rounded the corner and bent down to stroke the goat. Victor kicked out his back legs and galloped down the gravel path.
“Here I am, before the stroke of midnight, as requested. You witches are obsessed with nighttime. But whatever, as long as I get what I’m here for, I don’t mind staying up past my bedtime, just this once,” said Oliver. He watched Victor trot out of sight, then turned back to Matilda. “You know, I don’t think that goat of yours likes me very much.”
Matilda stood at her doorway and folded her arms. “He knows what you did to Genie.”
“Genie?” said Oliver, frowning.
“My grandmother’s robin.”
“Oh yeah,” said Oliver, smiling as he swaggered between the row of glowing pumpkins leading up to her doorway. “You should have seen it. Was still flapping its wings and hopping around even after I’d stuck its head in the melted wax. Melted wax from the candles you gave me, by the way. Thanks for that.”
“You’re an asshole,” said Matilda, fighting to contain her rage.
“Brought you to your senses, though, didn’t it?” said Oliver.
Matilda nodded. “That and your witch’s ladders.”
Oliver smiled. “You found those, huh? Thanks for sharing that book with me. Those witch’s ladders actually made it a lot easier to siphon your magic.” Oliver kicked one of the pumpkins. “What’s with all the empty pumpkins? Don’t they need scary faces to keep away the spirits?”
Matilda shook her head, watching Oliver as he peered inside one of the pumpkins.
“Not tonight,” she said, “tonight, we guide them.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Sabrina.” He stopped in front of her and looked over her shoulder. “So? Where is it?” he asked.
Matilda stepped back. “In here.”
Oliver pushed past her and raised his eyebrows at the dozens of pumpkins that were placed in a circle in the middle of the room.
“Jeez, you really do love your pumpkins, don’t you?” he said, shaking his head.
Matilda pulled her shoulders back and walked past him, then crouched down at the side of her bed.
“Shit, that’s where you keep your grimoire? Under the bed? Anyone could have found that, Matilda.”
Matilda glared at him. “You didn’t.”
Matilda crouched down and pulled the trunk out. She could feel Oliver hovering behind her, right in the center of the room. Her heart beat like a car’s bass in her chest, shaking her stomach and making her sick, but she kept her breaths steady and tried to focus.
“You know, I’m going to miss you, Matilda.”
“Yeah?” she said as her fingers fiddled with the lock.
“Yeah. I mean I know you think I’m, like, some kind of monster, but this is just what’s owed to me. You took my life from me, and now I’m taking yours. Magic is all about balance, right? With the shit I’m going be able to pull now, I won’t have to worry about any more names showing up on my skin. And who knows what sort of magic there is in this old book of yours. It’s going to be sick.”
Matilda unlocked the trunk and put her hands on the lid, glancing through the gaps in the thick brambles that crisscrossed her windows. She just needed to keep him talking and the shadows would do the rest.
“But I enjoyed hanging out with you, for the most part. It was an education, and I really got to see what I was capable of. Siphoning your magic was a necessity, but I am sorry I had to scare you as much as I did.”
Matilda turned and looked up at Oliver, a serpentlike smile creeping across her face to match his.
“Oh, you weren’t scaring me, Oliver,” she said, opening the trunk. “You were provoking me.”
Oliver looked down, his mask slipping as his eyes searched each corner of the trunk.
“Where’s the book?” he sai
d, his jaw tightening as he looked around the room.
Matilda took the jar of orange liquid from inside the trunk and stood up, her hands shaking and her wide eyes blinking rapidly.
“The book is safe. But you’re not.” Matilda threw the jar’s contents on Oliver’s chest and stepped back from him. “Now!”
Matilda looked through the windows of the garden room as four green flames illuminated from each cardinal direction, flickering behind the cracks in the brambles that covered the windows. She turned to Oliver, who was too busy looking at his wet coat to notice the activity from outside or to hear the steady hum of the incantation that the candle bearers were reciting.
He looked up, fury making his eyes bulge. “Bitch. This is my favorite coat.”
Matilda smiled and folded her arms as Oliver reached out to grab her. He blinked, his neck muscles straining.
“What have you done to me?” he said, his jaw clenched together. “I can’t move.”
Matilda smiled and put her hand on her chest. “Not what I’ve done to you, Oliver. What we’ve done to you. My coven out there is holding you still so we can have a little chat about your behavior.”
The flames flickered and moved closer to the glass, close enough that Matilda could see four sets of eyes locked on Oliver, a string of magical words floating through the glass like a lullaby.
“Nanna May saw you coming a mile off, Oliver. Wicked Tilly. It’s the only thing she’s ever said after my dad took her voice, and I always thought she was talking about me. But it’s not me who’s going to a dark place; I know that now.” Matilda nodded at the brambles covering the windows. “I thought all that was just some random weed growing outside my room, but Nanna May knew it was more than that. That it was a sign, a warning from Ivy and our ancestors that something was coming for me. That you were coming for me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” said Oliver through gritted teeth, his eyes wide as he tried to move. “What does your stupid grandmother, or Ivy, have to do with this?”
“You show some respect, Oliver, or you’ll be even more sorry,” said Matilda, pointing a warning finger. Oliver kept his mouth shut, and she went on. “It turns out that Nanna May really does have the gift of sight, because not only was she trying to warn me about you, but that brew she’s been stirring on the fireplace for the last few months was exactly what my new coven needed to keep you still. I recognized the ingredients in an old book. You may have taken my magic, but you can’t contemplate being as powerful a witch as my grandmother or those who came before her. You made a big mistake killing her bird, Oliver. A big mistake.”
Mark of the Wicked Page 27
