Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Thank you,” I said to the creature, its massive face now oddly distorted by its transformation. Then I took Dorothy’s hand in mine, held my father’s arm with the other, and stepped into the deep blackness of the beast’s eyeball.

  To my great relief, the passage from the beast’s realm into the next was pleasantly short and painless. The cave walls simply melted away like paint over a canvas, revealing the subsequent level of the otherworld.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, letting go of my companions to gaze around. The three of us had arrived at the food court of the largest and most exquisite shopping mall I had ever had the pleasure of visiting. Like the bar, this level was busy. People milled around from one store to the next, lugging shopping bags along behind them. Glass elevators, unsupported by any kind of shaft, transported shoppers up and down the various levels of the mall, and a massive marble fountain sprayed jets of water into the air in time to a lively tune.

  A kiosk nearby showcased a number of doodads, all with various magical purposes. As I reached out to inspect a silver pocket watch—Never lose track of time again! Plato’s Pocket Watch keeps track of your eternal life in real-world time!—my father smacked my hand away.

  “Don’t touch anything,” he ordered. “This level responds to greed for material possessions. If you want something, you can never leave.”

  “No wonder it’s so busy,” I mused. Mortals in particular couldn’t help but be influenced by materialism. They had to be entertained at all times, and the otherworld’s mall was certainly entertaining.

  Dorothy peered through the windows of an electronics store, apparently amazed by its contents. Several flat-screen televisions sat on display, showing various game shows, sports events, and soap operas.

  “You know,” said Dorothy, “I’m glad I was never alive to be wooed by the wonders of modern technology. It all seems so overwhelming to me.”

  All at once, every television in the electronics store switched to the black and white grain of static, as though the otherworld’s cable had suddenly gone out.

  “See?” Dorothy said to me and Calvin. “Faulty, to say the least. Read a book. Sheesh.”

  I ignored Dorothy’s comments, instead watching the televisions. The volume on each TV was loud enough to permeate the windows of the store, and the whooshing noise of the static steadily morphed into a recognizable voice. Then a face appeared on every screen, staring straight at me.

  “Morgan?” the face asked, its familiar green eyes squinting at me through the various television sets. “Can you hear me?”

  I took a step back in shock, short of breath. It couldn’t be.

  “Gwenlyn?”

  4

  In Which I Acquire a New Toy

  Gwenlyn’s face broke into a huge grin, then she breathed a giant sigh, and then she burst into tears. Alarmed, I reached out to plant my hands against the glass window separating me from the televisions inside the store, wishing that I could hug Gwenlyn and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

  “Gwen,” I said, my voice firm to recapture her attention. “Is that really you?”

  She nodded, her eyes still streaming with tears, and my shoulders sagged at the utter happiness that came with knowing that Gwenlyn was alive and well. Furthermore, she had found her own way of contacting the otherworld, tearing down the wall between the living and the dead. I had no idea how she had done it, but I thanked whatever gods or goddesses that might exist for Gwenlyn’s dedication. It all made sense now. Ever since I had passed into the otherworld, Gwenlyn had been trying to reach me. It was why I kept hearing her voice, why I had had strange visions as she attempted to breach the barrier between worlds.

  “I could smother you in a hug right now, kid,” I said, the words getting caught in the back of my throat.

  Gwenlyn barked out a choked laugh, then glanced nervously behind her at something I couldn’t see. “I have to be quiet,” she whispered to me. “I’m the only one in the town who isn’t under Dominic’s trance.”

  Dominic’s trance. Of course. Before I had passed into the otherworld, Dominic, in possession of the Summers coven’s original witchcraft, had managed to spell all of Yew Hollow’s inhabitants, including the witches, into submission. My own mother and sisters, along with the rest of our coven, had ignored me, turning away from the battle before them as if it were no more than a particularly dry game of golf. The fact that they were still similarly afflicted was no surprise. Dominic would not have rewarded them with free will. The witches were easier to control this way. The only reason Gwenlyn had managed to escape Dominic’s trance was because she, like Dominic and me, was also a medium. This coincidence somehow prevented Dominic’s ghostly army from controlling Gwenlyn. It was a blessing. Without a connection to the real world, there was no telling if I could’ve helped Yew Hollow at all.

  “Where are you?” I asked Gwenlyn, immediately concerned for her safety. I glanced behind me, where the other shoppers were oblivious to my otherworldly conversation. Calvin stood observing them, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked more like a security guard than my father, but I appreciated his instinct to protect me at all times. Dorothy, on the other hand, gaped at Gwenlyn. Clearly, despite her knowledge of the otherworld, she had never actually seen anyone make contact with the real world. The thought caused a powerful surge of confidence to pulse through me. If I could speak with Gwenlyn, then maybe my return to earth wasn’t such an absurd concept after all.

  “I’m at your loft,” Gwenlyn said, and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “It’s the only place I could think of that Dominic wouldn’t check, since you’re gone anyway.”

  “Does he know that you’re not under his trance?” I asked, leaning my forehead against the window as though I could push through it and fall through the TV into Gwenlyn’s world.

  She shook her head. “No, thank goodness. I’ve been really careful to make it look like I’m just as oblivious as everyone else. He has no idea I’ve been trying to make contact with you.”

  “How is everyone?” I said. “My mother. Malia, Karma, Laurel. Are they all right? What about the rest of the coven?”

  “Slow your roll, Morgan,” Gwen said, once again throwing an anxious glance over her shoulder as if to check for one of Dominic’s minions. “Everyone’s fine. They all just go about their regular business, almost as if they’ve forgotten about everything that’s happened. The townspeople, too. They’re complete robots. But to be honest, I have worse news.”

  A heaviness settled in my chest. What could be worse than Dominic’s hold over the entire town? Hadn’t he caused enough strife already? “What is it?” I asked, steeling myself for the news.

  “Dominic’s practically gone insane,” Gwenlyn said, leaning closer into whatever source she was using to scry the otherworld. Her face filled up the entire television screen. “His mother and sister aren’t… human exactly.”

  I hung my head. “I told him that it wouldn’t work.”

  Gwen nodded grimly. “I don’t think he realized that bringing them back would require some kind of payment in return, you know? That’s why you got sucked into the otherworld to begin with.”

  This much I had already figured out for myself. Witchcraft relied heavily on balance, and Dominic’s insane ritual to reawaken his mother and sister from the dead had taken its toll. Since I had been the only living soul around at the time, the otherworld had taken me in order to establish equality.

  “They’re awful, Morgan,” Gwenlyn said. She tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “His mother and sister. They don’t even look like ghosts. They just look like vacant shells. Their eyes don’t focus on anything. They can’t speak. It’s utterly terrifying, and Dominic is in pieces over it.”

  “I wasn’t enough,” I said, realizing at least one of the things that had gone wrong with Dominic’s ritual. “He brought back two souls and only sacrificed one in return. My death wasn’t enough to fuel both his mother’s
and his sister’s return to life. That’s probably why they’re barely there.”

  “Yeah, well, that hasn’t stopped Dominic from trying to figure out a different way to solidify their presence here,” said Gwenlyn. She rubbed absently at the back of her neck, as if to massage a knot out of the muscles there. “I thought his mother and sister were bad enough, but you wouldn’t believe what he’s done to try and fix them.”

  “What could possibly be worse than sticking me down here in this eternal hell hole?” I asked, hoping that Gwenlyn was exaggerating.

  “Zombies,” said Gwenlyn with a nonchalant shrug.

  My jaw went slack. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I don’t know if they’re zombies precisely,” she went on, “but after you got sucked into the yew tree and Dominic realized that his mom and sister were all kinds of screwed up, he started experimenting with other ways to bring back the dead.”

  “Nooooo,” I moaned, banging my forehead against the window in frustration. Dominic was even more ignorant of witchcraft than I’d originally thought.

  Gwenlyn smirked. “Be glad you’re not here, Morgan. I haven’t slept a wink since you’ve disappeared. Nightmares, you know. But the dreams are nothing compared to waking life.”

  “What has he done?” I growled.

  “You really want to know?”

  No, I didn’t want to know. Unfortunately, it was my job to know. I nodded.

  Gwenlyn swept her long hair away from her face and swirled it up into a knot at the top of her head. “He’s been messing with the bodies in the cemetery,” she said. “Possessing them or something. They dig themselves out of the ground, and let me tell you, it isn’t pretty.”

  Yew Hollow really had become something out of a tacky horror film. Dominic had crossed the one line that, as a witch, you were never meant to cross. Necromancy, the art of raising the dead, was dark magic. When you played with it, it consumed your soul, and Dominic’s had surely blackened already.

  “And the smell,” continued Gwenlyn. Her throat bobbed at the distasteful thought. “You can only imagine. Rotting flesh isn’t my preferred scent of air freshener—I’m quite partial to clean linens—but the whole damn town smells like death and decay.”

  “That dumb bastard,” I muttered, wanting nothing more than to wring Dominic’s neck between my fingers.

  “Yeah, he’s a real d-bag,” said Gwen. She looked around once more, and when she spoke again, it was in a nearly silent whisper. “Listen, Morgan. I have an idea to get you back, but it might be completely insane.”

  I exchanged a glance with Dorothy, then looked over my shoulder to make sure Calvin was still out of earshot. “What kind of insane idea?” I asked.

  “Okay, you know how you were sacrificed to get Dominic’s family back? I’ve found a ritual in Mary Summers’s diary, and all I need to reverse Dominic’s plan are two strands of hair. One from his mother, and one from his sister.”

  I looked at Dorothy. “Is this the same plan you were thinking of?” I asked her, raising an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me that Mary had written it in her diary?”

  “I hadn’t the faintest idea that she had,” Dorothy said.

  “Who are you talking to?” asked Gwenlyn, peering at me through the television screen.

  I dragged Dorothy closer to me. “Dorothy, Gwen. Gwen, Dorothy,” I said by way of introduction. “Dorothy is one of the original witches of Yew Hollow, and also one of Mary’s daughters.”

  Gwenlyn’s eyes widened as she took the pair of us in. “No way! The two of you look exactly alike. Except for the eyes. Wow!”

  “Focus, Gwen,” I ordered, shoving Dorothy away so that Gwenlyn wouldn’t be distracted by our similarities. “Do you think you could get the strands of hair safely?”

  “I’d have to sneak into Dominic’s place,” she admitted. “He’s living in the mayor’s house now, with his mother and his sister, but he’s hardly ever there. He spends most of the time in the graveyard with the ghosts and his creepy corpses, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find his mother and sister during the daytime.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t get caught,” I warned. “I can’t lose you, Gwen. If it turns out to be too dangerous, just forget about it. We’ll find another way.”

  Gwenlyn nodded, a confident smirk playing about her mouth. “Don’t worry, Morgan. I’m an expert at sneaking around.”

  “Good,” I said. “You work on that. Meanwhile, we’re looking for a weapon down here that could get rid of Dominic’s ghosts, and zombies, I hope, for good. Is there a way for me to contact you again once we find it?”

  “I think I have to contact you,” said Gwenlyn, “but I’ve pretty much got the hang of it now, so it shouldn’t be a problem to find you in the future. I’ll keep you posted. What’s this about a weapon?”

  “Don’t worry about it right now. You just focus on getting me back to earth.”

  She raised two fingers to her temple in a little salute, then she whipped around so quickly that her wild hair escaped from its topknot. “I have to go,” she whispered. “Someone’s coming. I’ll find you again when I can.”

  And just like that, Gwenlyn disappeared from the television screens, leaving only static in her place. Worry clouded my mind at the thought of Dominic discovering Gwen, but I had to have faith in her ability to take care of things on her end. I allowed myself a few more seconds to gather my thoughts then turned to Dorothy and Calvin.

  “Everyone ready?” I asked.

  “For what precisely?” my father asked.

  “This.”

  I charged toward the nearest kiosk and pushed it over. Merchandise spilled in every direction across the floor of the mall, shattering. I aimed for the next kiosk and sent it flying. For good measure, I picked up a few items that hadn’t broken on their own and hurled them into the giant water fountain, watching them crack and splinter against the marble.

  “Next level, here we come,” I muttered, marching into the electronics store. With all of my strength, I directed a mighty kick through the nearest television, feeling an intense satisfaction when it fell into the next one and started a chain reaction of falling electronics like dominos. Behind me, Dorothy and Calvin had joined in on the fun, rampaging through the mall to cause any kind of destruction they could. With a mad grin, I swept expensive speakers from shelves, ripped wiring from the walls, and smashed giant computer screens on the floor. When the noise of the demolition roared through my ears, taking over my senses, everything faded to black.

  And stayed that way. No matter what direction I looked, darkness pressed in.

  “Dorothy?” I whispered, frightened of what might be lurking in the shadows. “Dad?”

  “Right here,” said my father’s voice to my left. I reached out, surprised to find his arm just inches from my own. I couldn’t even make out the whites of his eyeballs.

  “Me, too,” said Dorothy, from my right. I felt her fingers search for mine, so I took her hand and drew the pair of them in closer.

  My father’s voice was just as shadowy as the rest of this level, tinged with anxiety. “This is my least favorite level,” he said, his arm tightening around my shoulder.

  “Mine, as well,” added Dorothy.

  “I can’t see why,” I said dryly. “See what I did there?”

  “It’s not the absence of light,” Calvin said. “It’s the voices.”

  “I thought you two said you didn’t hear voices down here,” I griped.

  “Not on the other levels,” said Dorothy.

  We waited in silence for a few moments. I listened so hard that the quiet around us pressed on my eardrums, but as soon as I opened my mouth to scold Dorothy and Calvin for scaring me, I heard the first whisper.

  Look at me. Look at me.

  But there was nowhere to look, no creature to claim the disembodied voice. Or was it lurking in the darkness, waiting for the opportune moment to attack us?

  Liar! Coward! Fool!

  Anoth
er voice joined the first, a cool, slippery whisper. Then another, a low, hair-raising rasp. And another, a deceivingly dulcet hum. The voices built and built, infiltrating the space in between my ears. To either side of me, I could hear Calvin’s and Dorothy’s moans of distress through the cacophony. I focused on their pain, shoving the other voices away.

  You’ll never return home. Rot here! Rot!

  It’s all your fault, another voice said in my mind. You’re worthless.

  Worthless.

  “SHUT UP!” I shouted into the void, determined to block the voices out. I listened harder, trying to pick out Calvin’s ragged breathing and Dorothy’s defeated whimpers. Dorothy’s hand slipped from my grasp and slid down the length of my leg, as if she had dropped to her knees. They hadn’t been exaggerating before. This level affected them more than it affected me. I sank down to Dorothy’s level, pulling my father down with me.

  They don’t want you. You can’t help them.

  I ignored the voices, wrapping my arms around Dorothy and Calvin and pulling them as close to me as possible.

  “I’m here,” I said loudly, hoping to break through Calvin and Dorothy’s auditory hallucinations, if that’s what the voices even were. “I’m here. We’re going to be okay. Don’t listen to them.”

  Listen! Listen!

  “Think of sunshine,” I told them, conjuring my own pleasant image in my head. I imagined Yew Hollow in the fall, my favorite time of year, when the sun streamed through the red and orange leaves, illuminating the entire town with a dusty, golden glow.

  There is only darkness here!

  I hugged Dorothy and my father even tighter. “Think of the way sunlight filters through the leaves of the trees,” I continued. “Birds flying by, singing, the whisper of a cool breeze through the trees. Think of fireflies and bonfires and festivals.”

  The voices had quieted in my own mind, forced out by my positive thoughts. I hoped that Dorothy and Calvin were holding their own. Their breathing had slowed, at the very least, and Dorothy wasn’t trembling anymore. Furthermore, wherever we were had lightened up a little bit. I could now see the outline of my father’s hand clasped over mine. Without thinking, I began to hum the first tune that came to mind. “Que Sera, Sera.”