by Ruby Loren
I took a moment to digest what she was saying and realised I could see the logic behind the conclusions she’d drawn. Magic always came with a catch. The Grand Coven had thought that by turning the Council into slime, they would never be able to achieve any transformative goal that the magic would have been tied to, because what could slime really do or achieve? However, it was entirely possible that someone who knew about the slime would be able to remove the spell put on the Council by the Grand Coven. And whoever they were, if I was understanding the laws of magic correctly, they would be packing a pretty powerful magical punch to be able to undo the combined magic of the Grand Coven on their own.
“Do you have any suspects?” I asked, figuring it surely couldn’t be too hard to narrow down on that basis alone.
“It could be more than one magic user acting together,” my aunt reminded me. Combined, witches and magicians were stronger. That was why they formed covens. Societies - in the case of magicians.
“It’s not even certain that someone has betrayed us. It’s just unfortunate that this happened,” my aunt said, repeating that word again in the truly British fashion of understating nearly everything. “There could be any number of alternative explanations, but…”
“…until you find out more, trust no one,” I finished for her, familiar with how that worked. It was a rule that seemed to apply more and more to Wormwood. “So… it’s just you and me?”
“We’re the best hope that Linda has,” Minerva confirmed.
I looked at my aunt and tried to imagine her doing something that didn’t comply with rules and regulations. And then I looked at myself and tried to imagine how being able to summon random weapons out of nothing and possibly open up inter-dimensional tears was going to help get Aunt Linda out. I supposed I could send her to a different world. Technically, she’d no longer be in the detention centre, but I doubted anyone - not least Aunt Linda - would consider the mission successful if she was thrown into a world full of demons. All in all, I didn’t have high hopes.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go,” I said, deciding once and for all that it didn’t matter that the odds were hopelessly stacked against us, or that we might be caught by the Council any second.
My two aunts were the only family I had now that my mother was gone. They’d turned up out of the blue when I’d moved back to Wormwood to deal with my mother’s affairs and take over the shop she’d bequeathed to me. They hadn’t known whether or not I would ever be a true witch, but they’d stuck by me, and I truly believed they’d have stayed - even if I’d been the Salem family’s biggest disappointment.
Come to think of it, I thought I still might be their biggest disappointment.
Who needed enemies when you had a family to shun you the way mine did?
“It’s not as simple as riding in on a white horse, cannons blazing,” Minerva began to say. I frowned at the mixing of expressions. “It’s not Linda’s first time in the Witch Council detention centre. She’s broken out of another one before. But this time it’s different.”
“Different how?” I said, as I was surely supposed to.
“She’s in the maximum security centre. It’s shrouded by enchantments designed to keep normal people away and put any magic user off attacking it.”
“Kind of like Hogwarts,” I said, eliciting a sigh from my aunt.
“Yes. But in this instance, we’re the bad guys breaking in to attack a school full of children. There. Do you see what happens when you start trying to apply pop culture to everything you do? It makes you into the bad guy.”
“Ha! She told you,” Hemlock commented from wherever he was lurking today. I was actually surprised he hadn’t contributed anything snarky earlier in the conversation. He was definitely slacking.
I waved a hand through the air, hoping to cut through the strange discussion we were suddenly having and get to an actual plan. If the Witch Council were somehow listening to this conversation, they’d probably dismiss us as completely crackers. “What are we actually going to do?” I said, hoping for an answer.
Aunt Minerva opened her mouth and then shut it again. “Well…” she started to say.
But with timing that could have come straight out of the dodgy sitcom my life had become, the shop door was flung open and a group of people, dressed like the Addams family, burst into the shop. They did it with such flourish, I half expected them to break into song.
“Oh no,” Minerva muttered as I was attempting to make a decision as to whether I needed to stand and fight or try to sell them tea.
“My dear Hazel. It has been too long! You have truly blossomed into something magnificent,” the man at the head of the strange posse announced, striding towards me and trying to get his hands on my hand - apparently with the intention of kissing it. I slithered out of his grip.
Minerva’s left eye twitched, which I thought was her way of winking at me.
“Who are you?” I asked, when no one made a move to introduce themselves.
The strange gothic horror gang exchanged meaningful looks with one another, before the man who’d been eager to slobber on my hand spoke. “Isn’t it obvious, dear niece? We’re your family.”
With hindsight, the exchanging of looks should have been all the hint I needed.
That and the fact that they were complete and utter weirdos.
I looked at them and then, strangely, I looked down at myself, to check that I hadn’t suddenly transformed into one of them when I hadn’t been looking.
Hemlock jumped down onto the shop counter and stared at the new arrivals. They stared back at him.
“Yikes. You should be more grateful to your mum for ditching these losers. Otherwise, you’d probably have three ears…” Hemlock commented, making reference to the ‘family approved’ choices of partner that the Salems practiced in order to keep their magic strong and pure. Seriously gross.
“Minerva, it has been too long. You were supposed to report back to us when her magic showed signs of developing. We were beginning to think she was a no hoper after all,” the man said, smoothing his greased black hair down against his skull.
“Constantine. We are still discovering the extent of her magic. I thought it would be prudent to wait until we understood more before involving the family,” Minerva replied stiffly.
I was amazed to find that I recognised the lie… and that my aunt was truly afraid of the people who’d invaded my shop. More afraid than she’d even been when the Witch Council had taken her sister away.
“I heard about her power on the magical grapevine. You didn’t really think we’d let a daughter of Salem and her daughter run away from the family without keeping a close eye on what they were up to?” He smiled warmly at Minerva and me, his cheekbones jutting out like a skull’s.
I read between the lines. He had a spy in Wormwood. It was just one more reason to not trust anyone around here. I made a silent note to find out exactly who was responsible for whispering back to my ‘family’.
“What did you hear about my magic?” I asked as casually as I could. With a bit of luck, it would help me narrow down the list of suspects. I didn’t think there were many people in town who’d seen me perform my unusual brand of magic… and even those who had, I wasn’t sure understood it.
Heck, I didn’t understand it myself.
“We need to have a long discussion about your talents, my dear niece. But first, I must convene with your guardian about her recent behaviour.” He made a tutting sound. “We entrusted Minerva and Linda to look after you and guide you. Instead, one of them has been imprisoned by the Council for acts against all witches, and the other should have been, too.” Constantine’s lips curved up into a cruel smile. “I doubt very much that Linda acted alone. The only reason the Council kept your other aunt free was surely for your benefit, Hazel. But I’m sure that can be rectified now that we’re having a family reunion.”
I felt a chill of ice run up my spine. I didn’t like to make snap judgments when I m
et people for the first time, but my initial impression of my ‘family’ was… not great.
“They look like the sort to chop you up whilst you’re sleeping and feed you to their pet crocodiles,” Hemlock commented. Even he was lacking his usual sense of humour. I knew why. This room suddenly felt like a place where humour and happiness went to die.
“I’m happy here with Aunt Minerva. There’s no need for anyone to intervene,” I said, and to my surprise, I felt my magic flare up - the way it had done before I’d realised how to use it. For some reason, my instincts were warning me to act against the Salems. I used witch sight, but couldn’t see any signs of magic being used against me. And yet, the terrible feeling of oppression within the room persisted…
I looked sideways at Minerva, but the only sign that she knew I was watching her was the slight thinning of her lips. Now was not the time for explanations. Far from it, I had the strangest sense that now was the time for war.
“I can see you’re uncertain,” Constantine said, cutting into my thoughts. “It’s only fair, given that we have been unfortunately absent for so long, due to circumstances beyond our control. It was what your mother wanted, and we respected her wishes.”
“I thought you excommunicated her for daring to run off with someone who you didn’t approve of?” I said, feeling the strange sensation of cutting through a spell I couldn’t actually see again. Minerva made a small sound of alarm.
Constantine’s face was a picture of perfect surprise for a moment, before he laughed, covering it up. “We’ve known you would be special from the start. I’m sorry that you’ve been told this story. But, let’s let bygones be bygones and start fresh. I’m Constantine Salem, your great-uncle. I’m sure the rest of the family will introduce themselves in good time, but for now… the only people you should be meeting are our other young prodigies. Gabriel and Bella, step forwards.”
Two pale people who looked like they had stepped out of a black and white film made a move towards the front. For just a second, I thought the man managed to drag some of the colour back into his face, before it faded away again.
Just what was going on here?
“The family’s brightest rising stars… and you’ve more than earned your place among them. Welcome to the family, Hazel Salem.” Constantine stretched his arms out wide.
I stayed exactly where I was, fighting the urge to summon whatever weapon wanted to materialise and start dispatching family members. Was I really related to this collection of gothic horrors?
When I didn’t reply, Constantine redirected his attention to my aunt.
“Minerva, your services are no longer required here. We will be appointing a replacement guardian to live with Hazel.”
I felt the same strange desire to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth that I’d felt before, and I fought against it.
“No,” I said quietly. And then I said it again, louder.
Constantine Salem’s face displayed the same surprise it had shown before.
“Aunt Minerva is the only family member I will have living with me,” I elaborated for the benefit of all those listening.
Constantine smiled, a predatory smile. “Surely your aunts explained when they arrived… this business that you’re running is a Salem family business.”
“They did mention it. And I spent some time investigating that claim when they arrived. It turns out the deed to the property was passed down to my mother and my aunts from their grandmother. My mother settled it with Linda and Minerva that she would keep the business. She eventually bought them out of the property. It’s mine now. And I’m the one who gets to decide who lives here.” I’d been all too ready to kick my aunts out when they’d arrived. I’d only stopped when they’d demonstrated that they were useful to have around and genuinely interested in my well being. So far, this interloper had done neither.
There was a moment of silence before Constantine forced a bark of laughter between his strangely full lips. “You’re definitely Freya’s daughter,” he said, using my mother’s name. His black eyes glittered as he reevaluated what he saw in front of him. “You do want to know what we’ve found out about your magic, don’t you?” He dangled the knowledge like a carrot. I was dealing with a man who knew when to change tactics to get what he wanted.
“I’m doing a fine job working it out for myself,” I said, before immediately feeling that I’d somehow walked into a trap.
“Really? In that case, we will be on our way,” Constantine said with a brief bob of his head. He turned to sweep out of the shop with his entourage but hesitated in the doorway. “I hope you don’t end up like the last witch who was gifted with a similar set of powers to yours. It’s just terrible what happened to her…” Those fish lips curved up again, before he gestured to the crowd with a flick of his wrist and they all filed past him.
“If you do change your mind and want to find out more about your family, here’s my card.” He snapped his fingers and a small dark business card seemed to emerge from nowhere in a flare of fire, before it floated down to rest on the shop counter, still gently smouldering.
When I looked back at the shop door, the Salems were gone.
I turned to my aunt. “Am I really related to them?”
“Yes,” she said, mournfully.
“Probably a little too closely related,” Hemlock sniped from the counter. I decided to ignore him as usual.
“Right,” I said, and then I said it a few more times as I tried to absorb the strange events that had just taken place. When I’d collected my thoughts, I was able to alight on the one thing that was really bugging me. “Why does our family look like they’re rendered in grayscale?”
Minerva gifted me a look that told me it was the wrong question, but she answered anyway. “There is power in uniformity. The Salems are known for more than just their magic.”
I blinked. “Their fashion sense is part of their reputation?”
“I’m so on trend,” Hemlock commented, washing a paw.
“And there was me thinking there was some kind of weird mind control going on,” I said as innocently as possible.
Right on cue, Aunt Minerva flinched.
I waited for the explanation.
With thin lips, she complied. “Constantine does possess an unusual set of talents of his own. That is why he is the leader of the Salem family. For now, at least.”
I decided to ignore the interesting way she’d finished that sentence in favour of getting answers to the questions I should have asked before the fashion-related one. “Do you think he really knows something about my magic?”
“He may do. He’s certainly expecting you to contact him before he contacts you,” she said, still looking pained.
“He’ll be waiting a long, long time.” I’d decided that much already. Constantine Salem could hold the answers to life, the universe, and everything, and I’d still refuse to follow whatever instructions for contacting him he’d left on that creepy business card.
On the surface, Aunt Minerva appeared to be her usual calm and collected self, but I noticed the way her eyes kept straying to the shop window, where the Salem posse had so recently disappeared. Silver-tongued Constantine had tried to spin enough lies to make me abandon my fallen-from-grace aunts and join the family fold. I wasn’t quite sure how I’d been able to resist (probably in the same way vampire glamours didn’t seem to work on me) but I was eternally grateful for that immunity. The idea of being controlled by someone else was abhorrent, but I retained the most disdain for any person who would use their abilities to control someone else. Free will was something that should never be taken away.
Speaking of freedom…
“You were going to tell me about the plan to rescue…” I started to say, trying to return to the earlier conversation I’d been having with my aunt.
“Shhh!” she said, cutting me off with an urgent hiss. Her eyes darted back to the shop window again. Although she didn’t say anything more on the topic o
f the Salems or her missing sister, I got the message loud and clear. We wouldn’t be talking about Aunt Linda again until the heat died down. I only hoped that Aunt Linda was giving as good as she was getting at whatever punishment centre they had her locked up in.
Knowing Aunt Linda, she was probably close to annoying her way to freedom.
7
Coven Catastrophe
It was like a scene from a twisted dream - the kind where you’re somewhere you recognise, but the details are wrong. That was how it felt when Jesse Heathen and Sean Admiral walked into the apothecary together the next morning, laughing and joking like they were best buddies.
“Morning, Hazel!” Sean called, raising a cheery hand in greeting. “We caught the letter writer redhanded delivering one of her letters. Once she’s told us what happened to Helen Regal and Sarah May, the case will be closed.” There was a definite note of ‘and you didn’t need to interfere’ in his voice.
“Congratulations,” I said, still looking from one man to the other in disbelief.
“I happened to meet Detective Admiral on my morning walk. We were discussing the finer details of our individual investigations into the recent disappearances when we spotted suspicious activity,” Jesse said, filling in the gaps for me.
He meant they’d been arguing when, by pure chance, they’d noticed a letter being delivered.
“Are you sure that this culprit was responsible for writing the letters? She could have been delivering them for someone else.”
“Her house is being searched as we speak. We’ll see what turns up, but put it this way, she didn’t look innocent when I arrested her,” Sean said.
Finally, I gave in. “Who is it?”
“I’m not at liberty…” Sean began, but Jesse beat him to the punch.
“Emma Kirkus. She’s in your coven, isn’t she?” he said before shrugging at the detective. “What? Half the town saw you make the arrest. It’s not exactly a secret.”
