“I won’t—”
Zenon grew in size, lengthening until her head was level with the tops of the trees. She spread her arms to either side, and the sky filled with storm clouds once more. I ran from the clearing as the sky opened up.
Lightning bolts landed in each one of my footsteps.
13
“You lied to me.”
An hour later, I was drenched and scorched from the storm Zenon had conjured as I’d made my way down the mountain. Now, I stood in Morgan’s living room, at risk of earning Morgan’s wrath when she saw how much mud and rain I’d dripped onto the carpet.
Pilar clutched the couch cushions with white knuckles. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I tossed Devastating Magical Choice into her lap. “I showed you the book and the missing pages. You could have saved me a whole lot of trouble if you’d told me you had the pages with you.”
Pilar’s eyes widened. “The goddess told me not to reveal her participation in this. She claimed the miracle wouldn’t hold if—”
“Zenon isn’t a goddess,” I said shortly. “She’s a witch with a goddess complex. It’s different, and it’s relatively common among us. You can go a little crazy if you don’t check your power. Give me the pages.”
Pilar settled firmly against the couch, pressing her right hip into the armrest. “I don’t have them anymore. I burned them so no one else could summon the wish demon.”
“Then why are you sitting on your back right pocket like your left butt cheek is on fire?”
Pilar leveled out her seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Just because you know brujería legends doesn’t mean you’re one of us,” I snapped. “This is what happens when mortals meddle with magic they don’t understand. You end up screwing everything up.”
“My mother—”
“Was a witch,” I said. “I know. But you aren’t. Zenon won’t call off the demon for you. If you want to keep your mayorship—and your pretty face—you have to defeat the demon yourself. I can’t help you do that until you give me the information I need.”
Though it was against Morgan’s rules to call upon our craft in front of a mortal, I did so anyway. Pilar’s jeans flashed green, and she yelped as I used a stinging spell to make her stand up. Once she’d sprang up from the couch, I used a summoning spell to lure the torn pages out of her pocket. They zoomed across the room and landed in my hand while Pilar looked on in astonishment. I unfolded the pages and read aloud from the text:
“The Wish Demon’s Revenge for an Unpaid Debt,” I began. “When Mount Vesuvius erupted in AD 79, burying Pompeii and other Roman cities, the survivors attributed the catastrophe to the will of God. However, the streghe—Italian witches of that era—feared a different reason for the destruction. Soon, word spread of a wish-granting demon that had come to Pompeii to feed. A villager took the demon up on its offer, wishing for riches and wealth. The demon granted these wishes, but three years later, when the demon came to collect, the villager was unable to provide what was promised. As retribution, the wish demon caused Mount Vesuvius to erupt. From this day forth, the elusive wish demon was known as Daemonium Vesuvio.”
I glanced up at Pilar, who was hiding behind her hands. “Do you mean to tell me you called on the same damn demon that wiped out half of Italy?”
“I didn’t know at first.”
“You had these!” I angrily brandished the pages at her. “It’s on the very first page! How could you not know?”
“I skipped straight to the how-to, all right?” Pilar shouted. “I was desperate for a solution. Can you blame me?”
If I raged any longer, smoke would shoot out of my nostrils. “You should know better than to make deals with a demon. You could have at least told me the truth.”
Pilar leveled her gaze at me. “You’re right. I should have. But I am ashamed of what I’ve done. If my mother—my birth mother—ever knew of this, she would surely have me cursed.”
The regret and contrition in Pilar’s voice softened my anger. I plopped onto the couch and summoned a fresh batch of hot chocolate. A full pot appeared on the coffee table along with two mugs. I gestured for Pilar to sit down then poured each of us a cup.
“So your mother—the one that’s here with you in Yew Hollow—she adopted you?” I asked.
Pilar nodded and blew across the surface of her beverage. “In a manner of speaking. She wasn’t able to have a child of her own, though she wanted one terribly. My biological mother left me on her doorstep.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
Pilar lifted her shoulders. “It didn’t affect me at first. I grew up with two parents who loved me. I had no idea I was adopted until my mother told me out of necessity. It turned out I wasn’t American at all. If anyone found out, I would go to jail. I didn’t want to risk any of that, especially with my mother’s health at stake.”
“How did you figure out your biological mother was a witch?” I asked.
“I met her once,” Pilar said. “I didn’t know who she was at the time, but I felt an immediate connection between us. I think she wanted to check that I was okay. From then on, I could sense when a bruja was around. Over the years, I learned how to find them based on whatever instinct I carried with me. I suppose it worked. I ended up here, didn’t I? Yew Hollow has the largest collection of brujas I’ve ever seen.”
“We’re unusual like that.” I added marshmallows to my drink and stirred until they melted into questionable, stringy fibers. “But our numbers won’t help you. You have to defeat the demon on your own. I might be able to help, but—”
Pilar clutched my forearm. “Oh, please? I never meant anyone in Yew Hollow harm. All I wanted was to find a place I could call home.”
“I’ll help,” I promised her. “I kinda have to. But before we go hunt down a demon, I have to pay a visit to someone.”
Without Alberta’s help, it was almost impossible to find the wishing well on my own. I remembered the path, but no matter how many curtains of moss I pushed aside, the wishing well remained hidden. Thankfully, I’d made a pit stop at Alberta’s cabin after meeting with Pilar. Alberta wasn’t there, but after a complicated conversation with the unwelcome mat, I wormed my way inside and found a vial full of what appeared to be swamp water on a shelf in Alberta’s bathroom. It was labeled “WW.”
When I popped off the cork, the same mildewy smell emanated from the bottle. Unsure what to do with the potion, I dipped the tip of my finger into the vial and placed a dot of the contents in the middle of my forehead, right where my third eye would be. My perception sharpened, as did my vision and hearing. Suddenly, I had the keen eyes of a hunting hawk. I could see each vein in the leaves, sense the mice in the bushes, and hone in on every gnat that buzzed through the vicinity.
With my newly-polished senses, the woods became a different place. Before, I couldn’t hear the whisper of rippling water nearby. Now, I trotted toward it, slipped through yet another curtain of moss, and found myself at the wishing well.
At night, the wishing well reflected the silver light of the moon. During the day, its impenetrable surface glowed with the golden beams of the sun. This time, I carefully shed my clothes, folded them, and placed the pile far enough from the well so that I could retrieve them later. Then, I dipped my toe into the golden water.
I waded in up to my waist, trailing my fingers across the surface of the strange pond. If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t ready for what I was about to do. My fingers trembled with the mere thought of submerging myself in these waters again. Without Alberta at my side, would Eudora respect my presence here? But it was Alberta herself who encouraged me over and over again to do things on my own, so with a deep breath, I dove beneath the surface.
Like before, the unseen current took control of my movements. I let it sweep me to deeper and darker water, where the surface was no longer visible. This time, some of the creatures who lived in the wishing well made th
emselves known, no doubt reacting to the potion I’d daubed on my forehead beforehand. Some of them were cute, like the porpoise-like animal with two sets of inquisitive eyes. Some were threatening, like the fish that appeared to be made of glassy spines. Worst of all, some were downright terrifying. When I glanced into the darkness of an underwater cave, I wished I hadn’t. Staring back at me was a pale human face with red eyes. It did not blink. I looked away, chills running down my spine.
In the murkiest part of the well, I questioned my choice to return here. I took three strokes toward the surface—or at least in an upward direction—but cold fingers closed around my ankle and yanked me down. Pale, clammy hands encircled my calves and thighs. I screamed, kicking viciously, but the creatures of the well would not let go.
Golden light exploded through the darkness. It blasted the creatures away from my body and through the water. They floated passively, as if the light had stunned them, then shook themselves awake and swam away. I caught a glimpse of their back legs: half-feet, half-fin. If they had been human once, they certainly weren’t anymore.
I shielded my eyes from the golden light until it subsided to a regulated glow and Eudora emerged from its center.
“Moon child,” she said, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “I thought I left instructions for you to proceed to the self task on your own.”
“You did,” I said. “I started the self task. The mayor of Yew Hollow made a deal with a wish demon three years ago. If I don’t help her defeat it, Yew Hollow might end up covered in lava and ash.”
Eudora rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Foolish mortals. Wives’ tales aren’t all fun and games, you know. You’d think they’d have learned their lesson by now.”
“Pilar was desperate,” I replied. “She did it because she was scared.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
Eudora regarded me with a keen, golden eyes. “Why have you done all the things that led you to this moment?”
I forgot to brace myself against the invisible tide. It washed over me and yanked me away from Eurdora’s light. She beckoned me toward her, and the tide changed its mind to fit her whim. I rushed toward Eudora at lightning speed and halted right in front of her. At this distance, her eyes weren’t pretty, just creepy.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said, trembling.
Eudora waved her hand through the water and crafted a living painting in hues of gold. The painting featured flash frames of me throughout the years: my birth, my first steps, a loose tooth, et cetera. As I grew into a teenager, I became surly. Every frame featured crossed arms and a scowl to match.
“Not a happy kid, were you?” Eudora asked gently.
The painting showed me red-faced and screaming as a team of doctors and nurses shoved my arms into a straightjacket. There were claw marks all down my face. I looked away.
“What happened to you?” Eudora whispered.
“I tried scratching my eyes out,” I told her. “Because dead people kept asking me to save them, and none of the adults in my life believed me. My foster parents had me committed after that.”
The painting changed. Two unconscious bodies on the floor. The last set of foster parents I’d ever had before I made a run from the state.
Eudora examined the painting. “Did you kill them?”
“No,” I replied sharply. “I hit one and knocked the other out with a spell. I didn’t know I was a witch at the time.”
“Did you hate them that much?”
“They hurt me,” I said. “They had eight foster kids and treated every one of them like crap. I don’t regret what I did. It brought the abuse to the state’s attention and those kids were rehomed.”
“What about yourself?”
I squeezed my eyes shut as the underwater painting showed me vaulting over a white picket fence in a suburban neighborhood covered in blood. “I ran. I was homeless for a while. Then I found out about Morgan and headed to Yew Hollow. It was the first time I dared myself to hope. Please get rid of that thing.”
Eudora swept her hand across the moving painting, but it didn’t disappear. It showed a modern version of myself, laughing and smiling with Morgan and her sisters on the back porch of the Summers house while a witch party raged on in the background.
“You’ve come here looking for help on your self task,” Eudora said, “but I’m afraid you won’t progress until you grasp the point of this challenge. It is not about the wish demon, or Pilar Mendez, or the fate of Yew Hollow. It is, indeed, about you.”
“You won’t help me?”
“I am helping you,” Eudora claimed. Once more, she changed the painting. It showed a middle-aged version of myself, sitting among the elderly Summers sisters. A complete family. “This is the future you want, no? A place among the sisters?”
“Yes. More than anything.”
Eudora made the painting vanish and took my face between her golden palms. Strength and warmth flowed through me. “Then you go out there and fight for it, moon child.”
Unlike last time, I was able to swim out of the wishing well before I passed out. I kept my eyes on the space above me, forcing the creatures out to my periphery. Once or twice, something reached out to touch me, a curious poke as if to see what I was made of. I ignored the shivers radiating up and down the spine and kept swimming. Eventually, the sun sparkled on the surface, and I burst through the golden water with a gasping breath.
I waded to shore, used a spell to dry myself off, and put my clothes back on. When I checked my watch, only twenty minutes had passed. Eudora had given me what I needed and sent me on my way. The problem was that I wasn’t quite sure what she had given me. I called Morgan.
“What’s up, Gwen?” Morgan’s voice was muffled when she answered, like she had her smartphone pressed between her face and shoulder to keep her hands free. “We’re kind of in a rush here.”
“I saw Eudora again. She showed me—”
“You went back to the wishing well? Did you find Alberta?”
“No, I went alone—”
Morgan let out a gasp. “By yourself? Gwen, what did I tell you? Those wells are dangerous.”
“I’m fine. Can I please speak?”
She clicked her tongue. “Okay. What do you need?”
I recounted the conversation between me and Eudora for Morgan. “She said Pilar and the wish demon don’t matter. Does that mean I’m not supposed to help Pilar?”
“No,” Morgan said. “It means the exact opposite. You misunderstood the kelpie.”
I flipped my damp hair out of my face and left the wishing well through the moss curtains. The perception potion had worn off, and the woods were less easily traversed now. “I’m getting tired of all this riddle talk.”
“You have to help Pilar,” Morgan explained. “The two of you are connected for a reason. Something about Pilar is a reflection of something about you. Figure out what it is. I gotta go, kiddo. Karma has to pee, and we’re miles from town.”
The phone clicked as Morgan hung up.
When I arrived at the Summers house, Pilar was not in the living room. I checked the kitchen, dining room, and even Morgan’s office, but there was no sign of her. My heart rate kicked into high gear.
“Pilar?” I called. “It’s Gwen. Are you here?”
“Coming!”
My pulse slowed at the sound of her voice and the footsteps on the creaky stairs. She emerged from the second floor of the house, her head bowed in guilt.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I couldn’t help but look around while everyone was out. I’ve never been in a witch’s house before. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch anything.”
“That’s for the best,” I told her. “The sisters keep some interesting objects in their rooms.”
Pilar widened her eyes, as if she knew exactly what I was talking about but feared to mention the “interesting” items in question. “Is everything okay? Did you visit your sorceress friend?”
�
��She’s definitely not a sorceress,” I said, “but she did give me some advice that I needed to hear. Would you like something to eat? I’m starving.”
With the help of a couple quick spells, I pulled together a grilled chicken salad with homemade dressing and a fresh loaf of crusty bread. We ate on the back porch, which I’d checked to make sure was included in the Summers sanctuary spell before letting Pilar outside. The breeze ruffled the napkins as we enjoyed the salads and the weather.
“This is beautiful,” Pilar sighed, gazing across the fields of wildflowers. “I can understand why your family has stayed here for so long. It must have been lovely to grow up here. Was it?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I tossed a grape tomato toward the bushes. A sprite flew out of the shrubs, caught the grape, and disappeared. Pilar missed it. “I didn’t grow up here.”
“Oh, you aren’t—”
“Related to the Summers? Nope.” I filled Pilar in on the story of how I’d come to Yew Hollow, though I left out the unsavory details of what had happened to my foster parents. “Basically, Morgan adopted me, but the coven doesn’t see it that way.”
“But you saved them all,” Pilar argued. “They owe you.”
“According to witch tradition, they don’t owe me anything,” I told her. “Blood is everything to the Summers. If you aren’t a descendant of an original, you’re not as important. That’s just how it is here.”
Pilar blew air through her lips like a horse. “I don’t believe that. I believe you should be able to choose your family, regardless of whether or not you share genetics. I love my mother more than anything in the world. If she didn’t raise me, I have no idea what kind of woman I would be.”
“You never feel like you belong with your bio mother?” I asked. “Like your connection to the craft alienates you from normal people?”
“I am a normal person,” Pilar answered. “I’m mortal, not a bruja. Several years ago, I wasn’t okay with that, but I am now. My bio mother gave me up because tradition told her to be ashamed of me. My mother loved me in spite of my strange connection to witchcraft. Do you understand the distinction?”
Lost Magic Page 17
