All the Pretty Witches

by Lauren Quick

  Honora flew to eye level with the metallic bird that held a new card in its beak. The bird was on the other side of the bars. She had no idea how it had gotten inside or how it was going to get out. Luckily for her, the branch was close to the bars, so Honora pressed herself against them and reached her arm through, trying to get the card. The bird shifted away from her. “Oh, come on. Help a witch out, will you?”

  Honora stretched out her arm and fingers as far as they could go. Her entire face pressed against the cage. Sweat beaded on her brow. Though she held her position in the air, it was getting harder by the second. The bird shifted again and them warbled loudly. Did it just laugh at her? She needed to make the bird come to her. Barnaby always responded to some seed. But this bird wasn’t real. Then she remembered the card. What did it say? “Birds of a feather flock together,” she said, but the bird stared at her with its red glowing eyes. Of course. She wasn’t a bird, so she rephrased the sentence to speak about the club, hoping to entice it closer to her. “Witches of a Feather flock together.” The bird inched toward her on the branch. With relief in her aching arm, she gingerly took the card from its beak and read the next message.

  Go to where the earth is far beneath the surface and the air is filled with salt. There resides a hag with a heart of wood. In her depths you will find your next task.

  Honora considered the clue and shuddered. She wasn’t a fan of deep water and the clue clearly referenced it. Honora couldn’t think of a better place where the earth was far beneath the surface than the bottom of the sea and the closest place was the harbor. She flipped up the collar of her jacket, ducked out of the sanctuary, and took to the sky. Now she had to figure out what a hag with a heart of wood meant. The salty cool air washed over her face and body as she coasted over the gray waters. The wind was crisp, the sky clear. Once she saw the ships, she realized the hag with a heart of wood had to be a boat, but which one? The harbor was lined with slips filled with boats.

  She kept circling with no hope. She recalled the reading at the bookshop café and the pirates. That led her to thinking of old wooden ships with wooden maidens attached to the bow and began her search for just such a ship.

  After about an hour flying around the harbor, Honora found it—the Sea Witch, a relic of a wooden ship left as a monument in the harbor. There was a wooden witch statue mounted on the bow with long curling hair and a mermaid tail. It had to be the one. The paint was chipped, rubbed off by the salty waves, no doubt. Honora circled above the ship numerous times. She knew she had to land on the deck. Problem was, she hated the water. It was an elemental thing. She was an air witch. The deep dark sea scared her. It was a rush to fly above the icy water, but the last place she wanted to land was on the rocking bow of a boat. She gritted her teeth and dropped down, wanting to get it over with and get her next clue. It was a test after all.

  When Honora landed, she wasn’t surprised to find the ship was abandoned. She did a quick search above deck and reluctantly ventured below. The smell of crusted salt and mildewed seaweed overwhelmed her. The passageways were narrow. The wooden stairs were decayed and weather-beaten. Each step she took was light as a feather. She had an irrational fear that her foot would fall through a broken board and she would be sucked into the sea. She breathed and calmed her racing imagination. She heard a clicking sound. Listening closer, she heard screeching. Relieved, she followed the sound of metallic wings.

  She glanced into the staterooms. Portholes lined one wall. Honora jerked back as the faces of three witches with long curly hair, peered in at her as the witches flew past the tiny windows. Their laughter rose all around her. Loose tendrils whipped around their faces, making them look like wicked sirens. The boat groaned and rocked wildly from side to side, throwing her off balance. Fear shot through her. Sparks of magic flickered outside. Honora raced to a porthole and saw one of the witches waving her wand and casting a spell. The ship tilted wildly to one side and then the other. The witches were rocking the boat.

  Honora had to find the clue. She remembered the line: in her depths you will find your next task. She grabbed onto the wall and steadied herself before lifting up and flying down the narrow stairwell, descending as far as she could go into the darkness. Her stomach rolled over. The tight quarters and rotten fishy smell were getting to her. At the far side of the cabin, she saw the metal bird perched on a coil of rope on top of a wooden barrel.

  Her stomach lurched and she launched herself at the metal hawk, the next clue clutched in its talon. She didn’t know how much more she could take of the rocking. She grabbed the clue and the rope uncoiled and lashed out at her like a snake, lashing around her limbs. Her wand slipped from her grasp and dangled from the chain out of reach. Heart racing, Honora yelled a cutting spell, but it fell flat. The rope wrapped around both her legs up to her waist. She dropped to the ground and groped for her wand, reaching it with outstretched fingers and repeating the spell, this time amplifying it. The rope erupted into a confetti of sheared pieces. She lay on the floor panting. When she looked up after a moment, the golden bird was gone. Once free of the ship, she flew skyward and breathed in the fresh sea air. The three witches were gone.

  Honora flipped over the card and read the next clue.

  Go to the Black Square. Deep down is where you’ll find the crown. Hope you aren’t afraid of being buried underground.

  Honora’s stomach twisted. She flew higher and higher into the air, leaving the ground and sea behind her, and she realized the connection between the clues. The tests had nothing to do with flying like she had expected. She thought they would test her skills—speed, daring, accuracy—but no. Each clue led her to another one of a flyer’s worst fears. The first was a cage, the second was the tight quarters of a boat on the water, and now she was being led underground. The clues had to do with being captured or restrained, of being unable to easily fly away.

  The Black Square was located in the Halo district—a seedy part of town known for its dark magical dealings. She remembered Sasha’s warning about the group. If they dealt in dark magic, this would be the place to do it. The square was a block of shops that magically shifted, rotating at different times of the day, so no one could ever locate them easily. Or more importantly, remember them easily. The shops dealt in dark magic—some darker than others. The clue didn’t say where in the square, but it suggested she’d be underground. Honora touched down and walked the length of the street and then the next. She turned down an alley and took another turn until she was inside the inner square where the creepiest shops lined the streets.

  The air grew colder. She strode down the street, her boot heels clipping along. She dug her hands in her pockets as she passed a dark potions shop with black glass bottles with skulls painted on the front. There was a dark charm shop and numerous pawnshops selling all sorts of magical gear. There was even a black magic bookshop. She passed a fortune-telling shop and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw someone she knew inside—Scarlet Card.

  Rumor had it Scarlet had been involved in the darker side of magic when she was a rebellious teen, but it was just rumor. She and Scarlet used to be best friends when they were younger and had only recently made amends, mostly thanks to Vivi. Honora darted into the shop and grabbed Scarlet’s arm. “What are you doing here?”

  “Shopping. Buying tarot cards.” She fanned out a set of cards with devious drawings on the surface.

  Honora’s eyes widened. “What are you into now?”

  Scarlet smiled. “They’re just cards. There’s no black magic involved. I like the illustrations. They’re cool and sexy. When did you become such a goody-goody? You used to be much cooler.”

  “Sorry. I’m on edge is all.”

  “What are you doing here? This isn’t your part of town.” Scarlet propped her hand on her slim hip.

  “I’m looking for someone. No, I’m looking for a place. Do you k
now a shop or somewhere around here that’s underground?”

  “You mean The Burning Pit?” Her brow raised in surprise. “Why do you want to go there?”

  “I’m meeting a new client,” she hedged.

  “It’s a tough bar. I’ve only been there once with a guy I was dating and it was filled with a rough crowd. It’s a little seedy. You realize that, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “I was just asking. I know how much you hate being underground. Plus, it has a pit theme with fire and coffins. It’s super creepy. What kind of client are you meeting?”

  “The secret kind. Can you show me where it is?”

  The wizard at the counter wrapped up Scarlet’s new set of tarot cards and the two witches strolled out of the shop. Honora followed her friend around the corner to a dark red door, which pushed opened easily and led down a steep narrow stairwell, lit with dim illuma lights. The bottom of the stairs opened up to a series of rooms with bars filled with tables and chairs and glowing fire pits. The place was practically deserted. Honora glanced around for the metal bird, hoping to grab her clue and get out.

  “I should be fine from here,” Honora said. She didn’t want to get Scarlet involved anymore than she already had.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks. You’ve been a huge help. I would never have found this place without you.” Honora squeezed Scarlet’s arm affectionately.

  Scarlet’s face softened. “No problem. We should go out sometime, now that we’re both single.”

  “Absolutely.” Honora had heard that Scarlet and her boyfriend had broken up not long ago.

  “Single witches need to stick together,” she said. “I’ll write to you and we can plan a girls’ night. Just not here.” She glanced around.

  “Sounds great.” Honora watched as Scarlet hurried back up the stairs.

  She strode around the bar, trying to find the metal bird. She walked into a room filled with high top tables and chairs. Chandeliers dripped black crystals above her head. At the far end of the room, the bird perched on a coffin. Honora rolled her eyes. Really? She squared her shoulders and made a beeline for her next clue. She grabbed the card out of the golden bird’s beak and spun around to get out of there before something jumped out of the coffin at her.

  Unfortunately, four wizards hovered in the air, appearing out of nowhere, blocking her path. The bearded wizard who’d given her the feather was there. They were imposing, all sharply dressed in black with hard expressions on their faces.

  “Gentlemen,” Honora said, lifting off the ground, which was difficult in a room with a low ceiling. “Are you going to just hover there or are you going to introduce yourselves?”

  One of the wizards with a square jaw and dimple in his chin spoke. “I’m Magnus Blackbury and we’re here as part of your test. Ophelia wants to see you get out of a tight situation.” He pulled a wand from his belt loop and muttered a spell. Suddenly the wand glowed fiery red and elongated into a long thin whip. He snapped the whip at his side over and over.

  A wand whip! Talk about turning a wand into a weapon. Now that would leave a mark like the one around Constance’s neck. Honora tensed, gritting her teeth. Her senses heightened. She braced for a fight.

  Honora understood the need for flyers to test each other, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. “Out of my way,” she barked. This wasn’t the first time she’d been backed into a corner.

  “Make us,” Magnus said, snapping the whip at her.

  Honora didn’t hesitate, slid her wand down her sleeve, slashed it through the air, and evoked a silent spell Slader called the slammer. It was a powerful casting that threw the wizards back, slamming them against the wall. Honora took the second of surprise to kick her legs back and fly like an arrow for the door, into the hallway, and up the narrow stairwell. Slader had taught the spell to both Honora and Harper in case they were ever caught in just that kind of situation. He coached them to strike fast and flee.

  She heard loud noises behind her and the crack of the whip. Suddenly a searing heat wrapped around her ankle before she got to the top of the stairs. The glowing wand whip had snaked around her boot and was burning the leather, yanking her downward. Flying hard against the pull of the whip, she flipped over on her back, hovering in the air and saw Magnus sneering at her, whip in his hand. She raised her wand and cast a series of stunning spells that stopped him cold, but the wand remained tightly wound. She hit the whip with a freezing spell, turning the glowing leather to an icicle and then she kicked, shattering the end attached to her leg.

  Honora flew up the stairs, not hesitating, and didn’t look back. She stumbled out onto the street, glanced at the card as she lifted off the ground, and soared high into the sky. From what she could tell the wizards hadn’t followed her. Her poor boot had taken the brunt of the attack. Magnus was going to pay for that in gold. She read the card.

  This is your final clue. You’ve been to this posh place before. Return for a breath of fresh air.

  Soar. Finally this little test was coming to an end. Honora flew to the top of the building, only this time when she entered the plush nightclub, it wasn’t empty; it was filled with the groups of witches she’d encountered that day—the witch and wizard she’d seen outside of the sanctuary, the three witches she’d seen at the Sea Witch, and the four wizards she’d seen in the Black Square. Sitting at the center of the group on a high stool was an icy witch with long limbs and even longer blonde hair that draped over her shoulders in shimmering waves. Wearing an amused expression, the witch clapped.

  Honora arched her brow with an unamused glare.

  “Welcome,” she said. “I’m Ophelia Lockwood, the founder of Witches of a Feather.”

  Honora stepped forward and removed her goggles. “Have I passed your little test? I have to admit it wasn’t really that difficult.” She swallowed. A little bravado went a long way in negotiating.

  Ophelia smirked. Her lipstick was so pale pink it almost looked like frost. “That wasn’t a test. It was a game to see if you would follow the clues no matter where they led you, and you did.” She motioned to a sofa near the group. “Please, come and sit down. Join us. Rex, get Honora a drink. You must be parched.”

  Rex was sitting with the witch Honora had seen at the bird sanctuary. He was tall and thin with olive skin and black hair. Ophelia saw her scrutinizing them and said, “Where are my manners? Introductions are in order. The two you met at the sanctuary are brother and sister, Rex and Rachel Marrow. And over on the sofa are the Nix sisters, who toyed with you at the ship.” Each witch had a different color of long flowing hair—blonde, brunette, and scarlet red.

  Ophelia continued, “And the brooding wizards you took down in spectacular fashion over there are the Blackbury wizards.”

  Magnus, the wizard with the wand whip and dimpled chin, spoke, “Sorry if we scared you. I was kidding about you making us move. Really. It was a joke to break the ice.” His brow was furrowed and Honora could tell from his sad expression he was genuinely sorry.

  “You owe me a new pair of boots, size eight. And I have expensive tastes.”

  He glanced at the damage. “Not a problem.”

  “Don’t do it again. Or next time I’ll really lay you out,” Honora said. “Wand whip or not.”

  “The boys are truly sorry. They’re cousins and devilishly handsome, but not very bright. They won’t make the mistake of showing off with my wand again. Will you, Magnus?”

  “No, Ophelia. I promise not to borrow your wand again without permission.” He smirked, his dimple bobbing.

  “No problem. I don’t hold grudges,” Honora said. So the wand whip was really Ophelia’s. That changed her perspective. Had she found the murder weapon? What kind of witch was Ophelia to own such a dangerous wand? Probably not a nice one.


  Ophelia shifted on her seat. “We make up the club Witches of a Feather and luckily for you we have an opening.”

  Honora sat on the end of a sofa across from the club. “Nice to finally meet all of you. It’s my pleasure. And luckily for you, I happen to be looking for a new flying club to join.” She crossed her legs and grinned. She needed to hold her ground with this group; groveling or overexcitement at landing the club wouldn’t be cool.

  Ophelia threw her head back and laughed a throaty cackle. “Well, aren’t we lucky? I’ve heard a lot about you. Everyone in Stargazer City has.”

  “I’ve heard little to nothing about you and your club. It’s just the kind of quiet and exclusive club I’m looking for.”

  “We are a very private club. Our business is kept between the members. We aren’t registered and don’t intend to be. We protect each other. We support each other and put the club first. Is that going to be a problem for you?” Ophelia asked.

  “No. Why would it?” Honora asked.

  Ophelia shifted her long legs on her stool. “You’re a private investigator and you work with the police on occasion. We need to know that all our dirty little secrets are safe,” she said with a big toothy smile. She was charming, but Honora could tell from her sharp gaze that the witch was serious.