Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery

by Alexandria Clarke

  Morgan stood up from her seat at the table, in full coven leader mode. “What is it, Yvette?”

  “The whole town is gone.”

  Morgan assigned her sisters to check on the rest of the coven while she inspected the square. Though Winnie begged me to stay behind and rest, I chugged the rest of my tea, donned my raincoat, and followed Morgan and Yvette into town. Morgan didn’t argue. Over the years, an unspoken agreement was forged between us. In any given situation, I went where she went. The coven was as much my responsibility as it was hers, and we worked better as a team than as individuals. As we hurried down the road after Yvette, she linked her arm in mine. Whether it was for her own peace of mind or to help me stay upright, I didn’t know. Laurel’s tea usually worked within minutes to heal any plight, but recovering from a heavy voltage shock was a different type of injury. I wobbled along, willing my legs to work properly, but I had yet to regain full feeling in all of my extremities.

  The storm left utter destruction in its wake. The power line outside the Summers house wasn’t the only victim. Others hung like limp laundry lines from askew telephone poles. Thankfully, none of them were live. The power was out to the entire town. Debris littered the ground. The wind had ripped shingles from roofs, uprooted entire trees from the ground, and scattered trash everywhere. Clouds lingered overhead. They weren’t normal storm clouds, but rather an unbroken sheet of solid gray. In the distance, a distinct curved line separated the gloom from an exquisite blue sky, a sign that the weather outside Yew Hollow was as fine as it should’ve been on a day like this. The ominous acidity of the air had not dissipated either. The wind tasted bitter and smelled faintly of vinegar.

  When we reached the town square, Yvette’s words became reality. Not one of the locals had ventured out to assess the damage. There was no one left to do so. The streets were empty except for evidence of the disaster. Cars lay abandoned in the middle of the road. Doors to houses and businesses were left wide open. The police station was quiet, despite the fact that the chief should’ve arranged a clean-up party to help the residents by now. There were no residents to help. Yew Hollow was deserted.

  “What the hell is going on?” I muttered, gazing around at the empty town.

  Morgan dropped my arm to check the police station. She disappeared inside for a minute or so before emerging again. “It’s empty,” she reported. “Chief Torres is gone. The place is a wreck, like everyone panicked and left as quickly as possible.”

  “So what do we do?” I asked.

  Once, Morgan had worked as a paranormal detective for Yew Hollow’s police force. She planted her feet, spreading her shoulders as she transferred into command mode. “Spread out. Check the nearby houses and businesses for anyone who might’ve stayed behind. Meet me at the yew tree.”

  Yvette and I hustled to obey. I took the lefthand side of the square, sweeping through the daycare, Dover’s Fresh Market, and Ms. Winning’s Antique store. Every building was hauntingly desolate and showed signs of hurried evacuation. Winnie floated along as I stumbled through a row of vacated houses, looking on in concern every time I paused to catch my breath or stomp feeling into my toes again. I was grateful for her presence, however ironic it was that I found a ghost’s companionship less eerie than our desolate township.

  As I checked under the bed of a child’s room in one of the houses near the yew tree, Winnie scoped the closet. I jumped when a pair of glowing eyes peered back at me from beneath the bed, but it was just a gray tabby cat. It tore out of the room, its paws windmilling to find purchase on the smooth wood floor and down the stairs before I could react. I glanced out of the window in time to see the cat shoot across the square toward the woods.

  “Even the animals are spooked,” I murmured as Winnie joined me at the window. “Have you noticed they’re all gone too? No birds, no squirrels. I haven’t seen so much as a housefly this morning.”

  “Have you ever witnessed something like this before?” Winnie asked, her eyebrows knitting together worriedly.

  I shook my head. “No, but this isn’t worst thing we’ve been through. Morgan will figure it out.”

  Winnie peered at me sideways. “What was the worst thing?”

  I unconsciously scratched the blue scar on my forearm. “When I first got to Yew Hollow, a warlock commanded an army of demons to rise from the dead. That was bad. This is just weird.”

  Winnie looked astonished at my nonchalance. “Warlocks? Demons? What is this place, the setting of a Charmed reboot?”

  “Dibs on Piper,” I quipped. Outside, Morgan stepped out from a house down the street and headed to the next. “Let’s get moving. Morgan will be finished soon. Didn’t your coven ever have to deal with an uprising?”

  Winnie glided out of the bedroom and followed me out to the front porch. “We lived in a tiny town in New Mexico. My coven included me, my mother, my aunt, and my dad, if you count mortal men as honorary members.”

  “We don’t,” I replied shortly.

  “I’ve never seen anything like the Summerses before,” Winnie said. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen a place like Yew Hollow before. An entire town run by witches?”

  “It’s more common than you think. Ever been to New Orleans?” I tripped off the curb. Without thinking, I reached out to Winnie to steady myself. My hand sank through hers with a wintry chill, and I sprawled across the grass. Groaning, I picked asphalt out of my palms.

  Winnie grimaced in solidarity. “I still think you should’ve stayed at the house. You shouldn’t take electrocution so lightly.”

  My head swam as I pushed myself to my feet. “I told you. I won’t lie around while the coven might be in trouble. We pull our weight here. We don’t have a choice. This isn’t New Mexico.”

  When Winnie pursed her lips and looked away, I realized that the statement had come across with a bitter tone behind it.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I added hurriedly. “You said it yourself. You’ve never seen a coven like this, and it’s true. We’re one of the biggest in the nation. Your family flew under the radar because of how small you are, but the Summerses are allied with a lot of the larger covens throughout the country. We operate differently. That’s all I meant.”

  “I get it, Gwen.”

  She drifted off, leaving me to meet with Morgan and Yvette under the yew tree alone. I sighed, watching Winnie as she scouted the square. We would never find out why she was lingering on earth if my pride kept getting in the way.

  I beat the other witches to the tree, settling on one of the white stone benches that bordered the area with a relieved moan. It was good to sit. The sole of my right foot prickled uncomfortably. I kicked off my tennis shoe to dig my thumbs into the arch but froze at the sight of my skin. A black Lichtenberg figure snaked up my ankle and the back of my calf. I rolled up the leg of my jeans for a better look. The marks didn’t extend past my knee, but I worried all the same. It wasn’t the tree-like pattern that concerned me though. If I were mortal, that kind of scar would be a common after-effect of a lightning strike, but the color should’ve been pink or red, not jet black.

  “That is an aura.”

  Yvette’s voice caused me to jump. She was what we called a wind warrior, able to manipulate the air around her. As a result, she was stealthier than a falcon. I hadn’t heard her approach. “How could it be?”

  She knelt down to examine the scar. Now that she mentioned it, I noticed it sparkled just like a witch’s aura. She traced the peculiar pattern with her finger. “It’s a witch’s mark. Dark magic. They’re unintentional, but if a witch casts a curse too big to handle, it leaves leftovers.”

  “I’ve never met a witch with a black aura,” I said.

  “That’s because they don’t exist,” Yvette replied. “If a witch consistently uses dark magic, her aura darkens over time. Whoever created this storm is too far gone to save.”

  “On the upside, at least this means that no one in the coven betrayed us.” I rolled my pant leg dow
n to cover the marking. “None of the Summerses have black auras.”

  “You need to tell Morgan,” Yvette said.

  Before I could reply, Morgan herself appeared from the opposite side of the yew tree, one hand perched on her hip.

  “Tell me what?”

  5

  “That’s a witch’s mark, all right,” Morgan declared, examining my calf. The mark flared beneath her touch and turned bright blue, the same color as the scar on my arm. “Whoa. Never seen that happen before though.”

  “How many times have you seen this?” I asked. Morgan, like myself, had a haunted past, but I knew she had never used dark magic herself.

  Her lips tightened in a grim expression. “This would be the third.”

  “So what does it mean?” My leg tingled as the mark faded back to black. “Did someone intentionally target me?”

  To my relief, Morgan shook her head. “Haven’t you seen the clouds? They stop at the county line. If that storm was any indication, whoever cast this enchantment included all of Yew Hollow. That can only mean one thing.”

  “They’re targeting the coven,” Yvette supplied. She paced back and forth in front of the yew tree. “Gwen, you just happened to get caught in the crossfire. If you weren’t pumped full of ancient magic, that attack would’ve killed you.”

  One look at Morgan’s troubled face told me that Yvette was right.

  “Yvette, I need you to go back to the house,” she ordered. “Send a message to the heads of the covens in the alliance. Tell them to check for dark magic users in and around their areas. We need to kill this thing off before it gets out of hand.”

  “Will do.”

  Yvette hurried off. Halfway across the square, her wispy gray aura carried her away into the wind. Within seconds, she was out of sight.

  Morgan made to stand, but I caught her wrists and pulled her toward me. “Morgan, be honest with me. How bad is this?”

  She tucked the burnt ends of my hair behind my ear. “It’s not good,” she admitted. “Let’s put it this way. If the yew tree couldn’t protect us from this attack, then nothing could have. Whoever did this means business. The sooner we catch the culprit, the better. Can you stand?”

  I held on to Morgan’s forearms as she helped me to my feet. My marked leg felt heavier than the other, but I wasn’t sure if that was a product of my paranoid imagination. “What do we do?”

  “You don’t do anything,” Morgan answered. “I need you to rest. Get your strength back up, Gwen. Talk to your sister. Maybe the two of you can work out why she’s stuck here while you’re recovering.”

  I rotated my leg to get another glimpse of the witch’s mark. “And what about this?”

  Morgan frowned. “I don’t want to alarm you, but Yvette wasn’t exaggerating. It would’ve killed you. I imagine it will take several rounds of healing spells to get rid of it.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  She swallowed hard. “Let’s not think about that yet. We need to get home. I have work to do.”

  She looped my arm around her neck, but before I could protest that I didn’t need her help, a curious movement at the base of the yew tree caught my eye. “Wait! Look, Morgan.”

  I pointed to the grass below the tree. Yesterday, it had been bright green, lush and full from the summer rainstorms. Today, it was dry and dead, as though winter had come early. Then, right before our eyes, another inch of grass withered and died right before our eyes.

  “What the—?” Morgan muttered.

  I inched forward to get a closer look, but Morgan tugged me away. The destruction spread further, increasing in power every time it claimed a bit of the earth as its own. Flowers wilted, shedding petals like tears, and the leaves on the trees bypassed orange and red and went straight to brown. They dried and shriveled, shaking and sad.

  Morgan took my hand. “We need to go. Now.”

  Yew Hollow died faster than we could return to the Summers house. By the time we arrived home, the world was slate-gray from the ground to the sky. Not a single blade of grass remained untouched by the pernicious spell. Thankfully, its effects did not seem to extend to humans. I half-expected the deadening gray to crawl up my legs and consume me, dragging me into the ashy ground.

  A number of witches were already gathered at the house, awaiting Morgan’s instructions. I took in their worried expressions. Some of them remembered the last time Yew Hollow had been the target of a dark magic attack. None of us wanted to go through that again. We were bombarded with a flurry of questions as Morgan helped me up the porch steps and into the house.

  “What’s going on, Morgan?”

  “Is it Dominic? I thought he was dead!”

  “Why isn’t the yew tree protecting the town?”

  “Listen up!” Morgan bellowed over the clamor. Immediately, the modest crowd in the living room fell quiet. Morgan lowered her voice. “This is not the time to panic. It will do us no good. That being said, stay vigilant. We cannot take this lightly. I want everyone here in ten minutes so that we can come up with a plan. Where’s Yvette?”

  Yvette’s hand rose over the heads of the witches. “Here.”

  “Did you make contact with the other coven heads?”

  “No one in the greater New England area has reported any dark magic activity,” Yvette replied. “I’m waiting to hear from those farther out.”

  “Keep me posted,” Morgan requested. “Everyone else—”

  A shriek interrupted Morgan’s instructions, and a commotion erupted amongst the witches near the fireplace. Voices broke out again, this time in panicked confusion.

  “Quiet!” Morgan barked. “Everyone quiet! What’s going on over there?”

  “It’s Alana,” someone replied. “She’s seizing.”

  Morgan shoved through the throng. “Move. I said move!”

  I followed behind Morgan as the crowd parted. The witches nearest Alana knelt on the floor next to her, keeping her convulsions contained as she writhed uncontrollably. I averted my gaze as bile rose in my throat. Alana’s blue eyes had dilated; her pupils were so large that her irises looked black. The strands of her bright red hair tangled together as her body contorted itself into inhuman shapes.

  Morgan dove to her knees at Alana’s side. “I need a healer!”

  At once, two witches pushed forward, both of whom possessed healing abilities of separate varieties. They joined Morgan on the floor, clasping hands with the coven leader. The familiar buzz of witchcraft grew. Morgan’s bright blue aura combined with the healers’ cobalt and violet colors. As the hues wrapped around Alana, swathing her in a cocoon of whirling lights, her tremors lessened in intensity. The room calmed, the craft faded, and Alana lay still before the fireplace.

  “Is she… dead?” Yvette ventured in a small voice.

  Morgan pressed two fingers to Alana’s neck. “No,” she announced to the great relief of the witnesses. “Just unconscious. Yvette? Yvonne? Take her home.”

  Morgan surreptitiously wiped tears from her cheeks as Yvette and her sister levitated Alana from the floor and out of the living room. When she approached me, I slipped my hand into hers.

  “Coincidence?”

  “No, indeed,” she muttered, squeezing my fingers. She raised her voice to address the remaining witches. “Everyone else, please come into the dining room. We need to discuss a course of action.”

  The women sprang into action to obey Morgan’s request, shuffling into the dining room, which once again expanded to accommodate the growing number of bodies. More of the coven arrived in groups, responding to the unspoken call of their sisters, aunts, and cousins. Morgan stood at the head of the table. Some witches took a seat while others paced or fidgeted, unable to contain their nerves long enough to stay still. Usually, I would have been one of them, but the mark crawling up my calf felt as though as it had taken hold of my muscles. My leg cramped, and I drew out a chair just in time to catch myself before my injured limb betrayed me.

  Winnie cast a c
hill over my shoulder. In the recent events, I forgot that Yew Hollow’s sudden devastation wasn’t the only thing on my plate. Winnie deserved attention too, and I had never been good at prioritizing.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her. If it were possible, I would’ve held her hand. “What I said earlier was out of line. I didn’t mean to insinuate that your coven was any less than ours.”

  “I appreciate the apology, but it’s not necessary,” Winnie replied. “If anything, I owe you one. I was insensitive earlier. I automatically assumed that our lives would reflect each other’s. That wasn’t realistic.”

  I could see how Winnie and I might have interacted with each other throughout the course of our lives if hers hadn’t been cut short. We were opposite in interests and personality, but we both possessed immense respect for those around us. I sensed that we would disagree during a lot of our discussions, but the important thing was that we could talk everything out.

  “How about we agree to not make assumptions about each other?” I suggested. “Deal?”

  “Deal.” Winnie smiled softly. “Now tell me what happened to your leg, because my assumptions are actually kind of worrying me.”

  Morgan clapped her hands together, commanding the room’s attention.

  “Later,” I murmured to Winnie.

  “Everyone here?” Morgan asked the room. There was a general mumble of consent, and Morgan nodded. “All right then. Settle down. Here’s what we know.”

  The witches fell quiet. All eyes were on Morgan, including mine. It was times like these I remembered why she had become coven leader. There was something about Morgan that the other witches didn’t have, a type of unwavering determination that could not be derailed by a bump—or a gaping canyon—in the road.

  “Yesterday’s storm was not one of natural development,” Morgan announced. “If that was not obvious already, it appears that the entire population of Yew Hollow has fled the area.”