Lost Magic

by Alexandria Clarke

  “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know—”

  My voice cut off with another flash of pain. The town square disappeared around me. Instead, I caught sight of the wishing well and the clearing. Something was happening in my actual reality. Something that was not good.

  “Thelma, stop!”

  Morgan aimed a spell through the moss curtains, but it was deflected by a defensive shield. The sisters stood in a rough circle, protecting something at their backs. As they revolved, looking for the threat, I caught a glimpse of what they defended. It was my body, unconscious but violently seizing.

  “You won’t be able to complete the banishing spell!” Morgan roared into the woods. “Not without my permission!”

  A flash of magenta magic ripped through the clearing. The sisters dove to avoid it, leaving my body unguarded.

  “Where’s Alberta?” Karma demanded as they scrambled to get back into position. “Nice time for her to disappear!”

  Back at the yew tree, Laurel breached Morgan’s defense bubble. “What’s going on?” she asked, staring down at me with wide eyes. “What’s wrong with her? Dominic’s getting away!”

  “Well, go catch him!” Morgan yelled, though she was too preoccupied with me to notice the look of shock on Laurel’s face. Morgan had never spoken to any of her sisters so brusquely before. “If he gets away, Gwen will die.”

  Laurel jetted off without another word. Morgan pulled my head into her lap and stroked my hair, slick with sweat, away from my face.

  “Stay with me,” she murmured. “I can’t lose you, Gwen.”

  My vision flickered again.

  The Summers sisters linked arms as their aura met to form a dome of protection around my thrashing body. A jet of magenta magic soared out of the trees and bounced off the shield.

  Morgan’s lips twisted into a grimace. She nudged Karma. “Go find her. She can’t be far off, and if we can’t see her, we can’t attack her. Be quiet. See if you can sneak up on her.”

  As Karma detached herself from the circle of sisters, so did her magic. The protection shield wavered, and another spell flew into the clearing. It slipped into the space between Morgan and Malia’s magic and dropped onto my body like rain. Another violent convulsion ripped through me.

  A moment later, a flurry of lilac and magenta magic sparked beyond the clearing. Then Karma emerged from the moss with a gash across her cheek. Panting, she rejoined the circle.

  “She’s too strong,” Karma said. “I can’t do anything to her unless I use my ability, and we all know how that turns out.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Malia muttered. “Thelma is alone, but there are four of us—”

  “Five, if Alberta got off her butt to help,” Karma added.

  “Still,” Malia said. “Thelma shouldn’t be able to match our combined power.”

  “Unless,” Morgan growled. “She laid the black salt for us too.”

  “That witch.”

  I returned to the battlefield. Each breath felt harder to pull into my lungs. Morgan’s eyes were wet, but she refused to let her tears drop. She wasn’t the type to give up this easily.

  Laurel burst back into the bubble. “Morgan, Dominic’s gone. There’s no sign of him here, at the cemetery, or anywhere in Yew Hollow. It’s like he vanished.”

  “No!” Morgan slammed her fist against the wet dirt. “He can’t be gone! We have to kill him. Gwen has to kill him!”

  I slipped into the other reality.

  “We can’t let her get away with this,” Malia snapped, eyeing the clearing’s edge. “If she banishes all of us, she’ll become the new coven leader. We’ll be outcasts.”

  Thelma, at last, emerged from the trees. She laughed as she watched the sisters struggle to keep the shield around my body intact. She also had erected a force field to keep herself safe, but it was less transparent than the one around me. The more opaque a shield, the stronger it was.

  “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Thelma clapped her hands gleefully. “All the Summers sisters together with your weird, adopted offspring. You wished to be a family? I’m giving that to you.”

  “How did you do it?” Morgan growled. “How did you make black salt without my permission?”

  “Once again, you forgot our traditional rules.”

  “I know the rules,” Morgan said. “If Gwenlyn fails her last task, the coven may choose to banish her. What you’re doing—banishing all of us because you don’t agree with the way I run the coven—is traitorous.”

  “Perhaps it is.” Thelma peered into the wishing well, shuddered, and looked away. “Or perhaps I’m looking out for the good of the many. There are more people in this coven than just you and your sisters, Morgan. For too many years, we’ve been fighting to be seen and heard.”

  “I have an open door policy,” Morgan barked. “Anyone with an issue can come talk to me. Clearly, you want power. That’s why you did all of this in the first place.”

  Thelma shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, but the rest of the Summers won’t ever figure that out when you’re gone.”

  “Banish me, and I’ll haunt you and Yew Hollow for the rest of my life,” Morgan threatened. Blue beads of sweat decorated her forehead. She was expending a lot of energy to keep the protective shield active against Thelma’s passive attacks. “You will never have peace.”

  “I can live with that.”

  As Thelma smirked, her magenta aura grew more solid. The sisters’ knees buckled as they were sapped of their power.

  “The circle of black salt isn’t quite complete,” Thelma announced. “I wanted you all to admit your mistakes before you could no longer return to this land. Come on, now. Each of you must have something to tell me.”

  “Screw you,” Morgan spat.

  Thelma sat on a fallen tree log and made herself comfortable. “All right, then. I was going to give Gwenlyn a nice, quick death, but I suppose I can draw it out for your sake.”

  Morgan lunged, and her aura broke free of the protective shield. Thelma only smiled as Morgan bounced off the magenta force field around her.

  “It’s amazing what you can do with a little help from your friends,” Thelma said. “I borrowed energy from some other witches.”

  “Borrowed or stole?” Karma said.

  “Semantics.” Thelma watched Morgan crawl away on her hands and knees. She pointed at my body through the protection spell. “How about some incentive?”

  Thelma’s attack broke through the sisters’ shield and hit my body like a truck.

  I screamed bloody murder, clawing at my chest and head. It felt like every nerve ending was exposed. Morgan’s tears finally fell, dampening my face and shirt. I clutched Morgan closer and pulled her ear to my lips.

  “I c-can’t do it,” I breathed. “I can’t stand the pain. P-please. Make it stop.”

  “I don’t know how!” Morgan cried. “I’m so sorry, Gwen. I’m trying every healing spell I know, but nothing’s working.”

  “The g-gun.”

  Morgan’s breath hitched. “What?”

  I fumbled in the grass until my fingers connected with the gun’s cold metal barrel. I dragged it into Morgan’s lap. “Use the gun.”

  Morgan stared dumbfounded at me until I raised a single finger and tapped my temple. Her expression turned to horror. “I’m not going to shoot you!”

  “It’s the only way.” Another wave of pain rocked my body. My yell echoed louder than the noise of the battle. “Please, Morgan. You can do it.”

  She shuddered as I put the gun between her hands. “Gwenlyn, no—”

  “P-please.” I steadied my gaze long enough to meet her eyes. “This is my biggest fear. This is what the soul realm wants me to face. I’m scared of losing you, but the thing I’m most afraid of is leaving you on earth without me.”

  Morgan closed her eyes and shook her head, cradling the gun to her chest as she muttered under her breath. “I can’t do it. I can’t do it. There has to be ano
ther way.”

  “Morgan.” I tugged the gun from her and placed it against my forehead. I wasn’t scared. I was just ready for the pain to end. “Pull the trigger.”

  “No.”

  “Do it.”

  “No.”

  I stared into her eyes. They were the same neon-blue as her tattoos. “I’m dying, Morgan. If I’m right about this, you can save me.”

  Morgan sniffed. “By killing you?”

  “Yes. This isn’t my reality.”

  Morgan’s throat bobbed as she looked down at me. “No.”

  “Morgan—”

  “Not your way,” she interrupted. “My way.”

  She turned the gun on herself, placed it under her chin, and pulled the trigger.

  I jerked awake, ripped myself from the ground, and whirled around. “Morgan? Morgan!”

  Morgan spun away from Thelma, ran through the protection shield, and tackled me with a hug. “Gwen, you’re back! You’re alive!”

  “You’re alive.” I laughed with relief and squeezed Morgan tighter to make sure she was actually there. “Thank goodness.”

  “Me?” Morgan said. “What are you talking about?”

  “You shot yourself to save me,” I told her. “In the other dimension.”

  “To give you the power of the yew tree,” she said. “Yes, that would have worked. Let me see your arm.”

  I held it out. Morgan presented hers next to mine. Our matching scars flashed with neon-blue magic. I pumped my fist and high-fived Morgan.

  “Yes! We’re back, baby!”

  “I wouldn’t quite put it that way,” Thelma drawled.

  As in my vision, she lounged on the fallen log, one leg crossed daintily over the other. She looked ready to have tea, not to fight against all of the Summers sisters.

  Morgan planted herself between me and Thelma. Though I was alive, I was weak. It would take a few days to recover from my trip to the soul realm.

  “Give it up, Thelma,” Morgan said as Malia, Karma, and Laurel joined her to form a wall in front of me. “Gwenlyn passed the coming of age ritual. She’s officially one of us.”

  Thelma sucked on her teeth. “Yes, I suppose that make things a little more difficult for me, though not impossible. Did you forget that I’ve already laid the black salt? One snap of my fingers and the five of you will be banished from Yew Hollow until the end of time.”

  I stepped into line with the sisters, directly between the four of them. “If you banish us, you forfeit all of the ancient power you wanted from the yew tree. It lives in me and Morgan.”

  “The rest of the coven bears the ancient power too,” Thelma countered.

  “Not as much as we do.” I grasped Morgan’s wrist, and the neon-blue tattoos that had been dormant for almost a decade lit up to their full effect. I raised my arm to show Thelma my glowing scar. “We are the true bearers of the Summers’ magic. If you want it from us, you’re gonna have to fight us for it.”

  Thelma’s lips twisted into a sneer. “That can be arranged.”

  Without lifting herself from the log, she snapped her fingers. The magenta cloud left her unprotected as she sent all of her magic toward me, Morgan, and the sisters. The five of us lifted our hands and called on our auras, countering the attack with our own magic. Thelma’s stolen power thrashed wildly against our shield, causing cracks in the armor.

  “We can’t just defend,” Malia grunted. “We have to attack her.”

  “That’s a little hard considering she’s already sapped us of our strength,” Karma said.

  Morgan buckled beneath the weight of Thelma’s spell. “What do you think, Gwen? We could use a little ancient magic miracle right now.”

  “I’m tapped,” I admitted.

  “Then why did we challenge her?” Laurel mourned.

  Thelma chuckled and clapped her hands again, as if applauding our noble effort to hold off her spell. She leaned back on the log, the ends of her hair almost dipping into the silver water. “This is even more amusing that I thought possible. Say, Morgan, what do you think Cassandra would do if she saw this pitiful display of magic? I hardly believe you’re her daughter.”

  “Don’t talk about my mother,” Morgan and Karma snarled at once.

  “Ooh, I’ve hit a nerve,” Thelma said. “I suppose it’s only natural for witches to have mommy issues. I think you all deserve a second chance to talk to her. Shall I bring her about for a late discussion?”

  “If you raise her,” Morgan said, “I will kill you.”

  Thelma paused, then the glint of fear in her eyes washed away. “I’d like to see you try.”

  She lifted her hand and pressed her middle finger to her thumb, a second away from snapping the spell into place, but something exploded from the wishing well behind Thelma’s log.

  It was Alberta, who had been submerged underwater this entire time. She flew from the well, water pouring off of her, and wrapped her arms around Thelma’s neck and shoulders. Thelma’s eyes widened with shock as, with one giant yank, Alberta pulled her off the log and into the wishing well. The water bubbled as they sank beneath the surface. Then it was quiet.

  Thelma’s attack spell vanished. Tentatively, the four of us let our defensive spells go. I separated myself from the sisters and neared the water’s edge.

  “Be careful,” Morgan warned.

  Carefully, I looked into the water. My own reflection stared back, pale and sweating, with a few scrapes and bruises from my time in the soul realm. The image dissolved as Alberta surfaced right in front of me. I leapt away from the well’s edge.

  Alberta swam to shore and clambered out of the well. Her orange aura, which had been glowing around her, faded with each step on land. She shook water out of her hair and noticed us staring at her.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Where’s Thelma?” I asked.

  “Eudora needed help with a new quest,” Alberta said. “I thought Thelma might be the perfect volunteer. She won’t trouble the coven any longer.”

  I looked at Morgan. Her face said it all. Whatever Eudora’s “quest” was, Thelma would not return from it.

  “You saved me?” I said to Alberta.

  “No,” she claimed. “I told you. I was fulfilling Eudora’s wishes.”

  Without thinking, I hugged Alberta. “Whatever you say.”

  She didn’t hug me back. “I’m uncomfortable with physical affection, Guinevere. Might you get off?”

  As I let her go, Morgan cleared her throat. “Let’s get the black salt out of the woods. No reason to leave that crap lying around for someone else to mess with. Partner up. Gwen, you’re with me.”

  The witches separated to clear the area. Morgan draped her arm around my shoulders as we took our own path.

  “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she muttered. “Or I will shoot you.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “You remember?”

  “Like a weird nightmare. It was horrible.”

  I leaned my head against her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anyway. But I do have one favor to ask of you.”

  “I guess, since it’s your birthday, I can’t object.”

  A magical adoption ceremony wasn’t quite as easy as a mortal one. There were no papers to sign or lawyers to deal with. Instead, the entire coven—including the reclusive witches—was required to be present, and several things had to line up for the ceremony to go well.

  “This is unorthodox,” said Laurel as she wrapped wildflowers into my hair. “Covens don’t usually adopt fully-grown witches.”

  “I know.” I fiddled with a daisy before handing it to Laurel. “But this is important to me.”

  Laurel finished braiding my dark hair and kissed my cheek. “I don’t mind. I’m already happy to call you my sister, but it’s fun to make it official. You ready to head downstairs?”

  “Can you give me a minute? I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  “Sure thing.”

  As Laurel l
eft, I shook out my jitters and looked around the attic, also known as Morgan’s bedroom. Her presence was all over the place. I could feel her craft everywhere: between the pages of her books, in the jars of mysterious potion ingredients, and even in the hamper of dirty laundry in the corner. I loved everything about it. Maybe Morgan would let me take this room one day.

  I peeked through the window. The field’s high grasses had been trimmed for the occasion. The coven gathered in crooked lines, leaving an aisle up the middle. An altar of Laurel’s creation—all vines, braided branches, and colorful blooms—had been erected at the front of everyone’s eyeline. Beneath it, Morgan waited for me. As if she sensed my gaze, she looked up at the attic window and smiled.

  When I emerged from the house, the coven cheered. If any of them had qualms about me joining the Summers as an official member, they kept quiet. I couldn’t contain a grin as I walked up the aisle toward Morgan. Fairies and sprites sang a happy tune as I made my way along, and the witches joined in with their own voices. As I passed the front row of witches, each of the main Summers sisters waited to greet me. Malia squeezed my hand, Laurel hugged me tightly, and Karma winked and stuck out her tongue.

  When I approached Morgan, the songs and cheers faded. A serious silence fell over the field. The sun sank beneath the horizon, casting perfect purple and pink shadows across the congregation.

  Morgan held out her hand to me. “It’s time. Are you ready?”

  I took her offered palm and stepped up to the altar. “I’m ready.”

  Morgan grinned and addressed the coven. “We are here today at dusk to welcome a new member into our family. Of course, you already know Gwenlyn as one of our own, but today we make it official!”

  Another cheer went up, scaring birds and bugs out of the trees. I smiled as bats and sparrows landed on Laurel’s shoulders and tangled themselves in her hair.

  Morgan turned to face me. She held a small knife in one hand. “Not scared, are you?”

  “Why would I be? We’ve already done this once.”

  I presented my arm to Morgan. She made a delicate slice, no longer than a centimeter, at the top of the scar on my wrist. Then, she pulled up her sleeve and made the same incision on her own skin.