Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Yes?”

  “Come with me.”

  “Actually, Kennedy and I are going out.”

  As if that wasn’t already apparent in the way Nora stood on the porch, waiting for my reunion with my father to wrap up so that we could head into town.

  “Not anymore, you’re not,” Adrienne replied. “Let’s go.”

  Nora refused to budge. “Mom, I haven’t seen Ken in a year. I’ll be back this afternoon. Whatever you need can wait until then.”

  Adrienne stared down her daughter, but when Nora stood her ground with an innocuous smile, her mother stormed off, the satin robe swishing behind her as she shoulder-checked my father on her way out. He was firm and steady, swaying gently but otherwise unbothered. When she disappeared, Dad clapped me on the shoulder.

  “What are you girls up to today?”

  “Shopping,” Nora answered brightly.

  Dad looked at me. “You’re going shopping? In town?”

  “Against my will,” I answered. “Nora’s persistent.”

  Nora struck a pose on the porch. “It’s one of my many attributes.”

  “All right,” my father rumbled. “Get out of here then.”

  “Thanks, Dad. See you later.”

  As I turned on my heel to join Nora, he called after us. “Kennedy? When you get back, we need to talk.”

  Nora tugged me away from the house before I could reply, but a tight feeling of uncertainty settled in the pit of my stomach in response to my father’s words. Usually, my father welcomed me home without question. He knew from the experience of raising me that I was prone to misfortune. Whether he considered that my fault or not, he kept it buried beneath a mask of ardent love and support. The implication behind his casual statement was new to me. Had he finally grown weary of entertaining the low points in my life?

  Nora saved me from overthinking it. As we crossed the lush green lawn, she chattered away about the recent events in her life. From what I could discern, the highlights included getting a B in physics that wrecked her four-point-oh average, rejecting invitation after invitation from potential dates for the homecoming dance, and realizing that Kurt Vonnegut was her favorite author after reading Slaughterhouse Five in AP English. The normalcy of Nora’s life helped me forget about the chaos of mine. I was glad that she was doing well.

  We took Nora’s new car into town. It was sleek and shiny and so blindingly white that I actually shielded my eyes as we approached it. It even parallel parked on its own, so Nora let go of the steering wheel as it piloted itself into a space at the top of the Avenue. When we got out, I cringed inwardly. The Avenue was smack in the middle of a sophisticated shopping district, and on a Saturday morning like today, it was rife with the wealthy aristocrats of the surrounding area called Windsor Falls. Restaurants and shops lined the street, spilling out onto the sidewalk. Women sat at the outside tables of each eatery, drinking mimosas and chatting while their designer purses hung from the back of their chairs. Sharp dressed men lingered outside a cigar company, puffing away and discussing the aftertaste of their Romeo y Julietas. A group of kids around Nora’s age passed by, each sipping a latte or some other pretentious coffee drink. They huddled together, bumping shoulders companionably as they walked, and laughed at a video on one of their new smartphones. When one of the girls spotted Nora, she waved.

  “Do you know them?” I asked, stepping off the curb and into the gutter so that the majority of my outfit was hidden behind Nora’s new car.

  “They go to Windsor too.”

  Windsor Falls Prep was the high school that Nora attended. It was the best in the area. Ninety-eight percent of the student body went on to attend an Ivy League university. I remembered the school well. I lasted one semester there before getting expelled on the first day of my second, so I went down in history as a contribution to that other two percent. After Windsor, Adrienne had no choice but to enroll me in public school since I’d already terrorized every private school within distance. At first, she attempted to sign me up for reform school, but my father put his foot down before the paperwork went through. Ah, family. What favorable memories I had.

  “What are you doing?” Nora asked me.

  I realized that I was still slouching behind her car. “Hiding.”

  Nora rolled her eyes, took my hand, and led me down the Avenue. I self-consciously yanked the hem of my shorts down as we walked, trying to ignore the disapproving looks that streamed in from every direction. As Nora piloted me toward a boutique, I thought it might not be so bad to let her dress me. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so out of place.

  A bell above the door jingled merrily as we walked into the store. Nora made for a rack of pretty sweaters, picking out a handful of items in my size, while I beelined toward an impressive array of denim near the back of the store. I marveled at the high-quality fabric and tailored cuts, unfolding a pair of dark wash jeans that looked long enough to reach my ankles and stretchy enough to suit my sturdy thighs. Then I checked the price tag and nearly had a coronary.

  Nora dumped a collection of tops and sweaters over my forearm. “Why are you making that face?”

  I showed her the price tag. “Three hundred dollars? For a pair of jeans?”

  “Do you like them?

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Go try them on.”

  She shoved me into a dressing room at the rear of the store, although it wasn’t so much of a room than a tiny alcove with a privacy curtain. I knew better than to keep Nora waiting, so I shed my shabby T-shirt and parsed through the variety of tops she picked out for me. Nora knew better than to collect flimsy blouses or frilly skirts for me to try on. Everything she’d chosen sported subtle neutral colors with clean lines and crew necks. I tugged on a black long-sleeved shirt first. It hugged my frame tightly but not obscenely. When I spun to check out the back, I was pleased to see that fabric accentuated the lines of my shoulders. I shook off my running shorts and pulled on the jeans, suppressing a groan of delight as they slid over my thighs and settled on my hips without a hitch.

  “Kennedy?” Nora called from the other side of the curtain. “Anything fit?”

  I swept the curtain aside so that she could judge my new outfit. “What do you think?”

  “You look great,” she said. “But those shoes have got to go. I’ll go find you another pair. Try on the rest.”

  By the time Nora was through with me, I looked like any other woman shopping on the Avenue. Nora paid with her credit card—I pointedly looked away from the total—and clipped the tags for me. I wore my new clothes out of the store, reveling in the relief of blending in with the rest of society even if I was dressed in an outfit that cost more than a month of rent.

  “I’m starving,” I declared, propping a new pair of sunglasses on my forehead so that I could survey the Avenue for brunch options. “Where are we eating?”

  Nora pointed to a restaurant down the block where yellow and white umbrellas shaded patrons from the sun. “Briar Patch is my favorite. They have the best Belgian waffles.”

  “Lead the way—”

  “Kennedy?”

  I didn’t recognize the voice, but I turned to face it anyway. It belonged to a tall, good-looking guy about my age wearing pressed slacks and a navy-blue sweater. His brown eyes and straight nose looked vaguely familiar, as though I’d passed him in the grocery store one or twice but never got his name.

  “Hi?” I said.

  “It’s Toby!” he said, grinning. “Toby O’Toole. From Windsor Prep?”

  Gradually, one facial feature at a time, I realized who he was. The Toby I’d known was skinny and gawky with feet too big for his body. We had been in the same grade during high school. He was a scholarship kid, and the rest of the student population loved to remind him of it. Between the two of us, we were the least popular kids at school, but for the duration of my short Windsor enrollment, Toby had been my only ally.

  “Oh!” I said. “Wow, you look great. Nora, this is Toby. We went
to high school together.”

  Nora bounced on her toes, eager to get to the brunch restaurant. “Hi, Toby.”

  Toby waved, and I noticed that a shopping bag from the same boutique that Nora and I had just exited hung from his wrist. I pointed to it. “Retail therapy?”

  He laughed. “No, it’s for my wife. I can’t believe it’s been so long. What have you been up to?”

  “This and that,” I answered dismissively. “What about you?”

  “The usual,” Toby answered. “I finished my graduate degree a while ago. I work for a company nearby that focuses on using biotechnology to reduce harmful effects on the environment—”

  He cut himself off abruptly. At first, I thought it might have been because Nora’s expression had glazed over as soon as he’d launched into his life story, but then I realized he was gazing worriedly at my eyes.

  “Are you all right?” Toby asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Why?”

  “Your eyes—”

  Suddenly, Nora grabbed the sleeve of my new sweater and dragged me away from Toby, but we didn’t head in the direction of the restaurant like I thought. Instead, she piloted me up the street toward her car.

  “Sorry, Toby!” she called over her shoulder. “I just remembered that I have a giant essay to write for my literature class. See you later!”

  “What the hell are you doing?” I grumbled as she pushed me along from behind. Her car beeped as she unlocked it, and she shoved me into the passenger seat. Then she rounded the hood, hopped in on her side, and angled the rearview mirror so that it reflected my own image back to me.

  “Look,” she instructed.

  I looked, and it became painfully obvious what had startled Toby mid-conversation. My irises were no longer blue. They were bright orange.

  I blinked furiously, waiting for my eyes to fade to a more acceptable color, but they continued to flicker like candle flames. The original blue was nowhere in sight. I tilted my head this way and that, studying the hue from every angle. I didn’t feel any different. There was no accompanying headache or other side effects. With Nora around, my energetic fire lay dormant—I felt better than I had in a year—so why were my eyes the same color as a traffic cone?

  I grabbed Nora’s wrist. “Do the thing.”

  “What?”

  “Do the healing thing or whatever it is!”

  When Nora’s familiar peace pulsed from her hands to mine, it did nothing to lessen the effect of my ocular issue. On the contrary, it made it worse. My eyes flared, and Nora squinted, shielding her own eyes from the intense light. I tore my hand away from hers.

  “What the hell is happening?”

  “I was wondering the exact same thing,” Nora said. She examined my irises as they dimmed again. “Do you have something you want to share with the class, Kennedy?”

  I rested my new sunglasses on the bridge of my nose, subduing the glow as Nora reset the rearview mirror, put the car in drive, and pulled out of the space. “I have to tell you something.”

  5

  At the house, I waited for Nora as she pilfered enough food for a picnic lunch from the kitchen, hiding in the side yard in case my dad or Adrienne spotted me through a window. Then we saddled Ainsley and another horse to ride out to the meadow beyond the lake. As the wind coaxed my hair from its ponytail, I imagined what it would’ve been like to grow up in this house under different circumstances. Nora and I experienced similar upbringings, though she had two parents that adored her rather than just one. We both had riding lessons, etiquette training, and a top-tier education. Though my experiences were disjointed and riddled with trouble, I retained the information nonetheless. I galloped alongside Nora, savoring the illusion of freedom and adventure that naturally arose whilst riding a horse. After all, I wasn’t sure how long this would last.

  We laid out a blanket on a bed of daisies. As the horses grazed nearby, Nora snacked on fresh apples from a local orchard, some kind of expensive cheese that was meant to be paired with fine wine, and imported prosciutto that cost more per pound than an entire menu of fast food combo meals. I tried to eat, but I was no longer accustomed to such rich, savory flavors. Not to mention, Nora wouldn’t stop staring at me, which reminded me that my eyes had yet to transition back to blue.

  “Stop it,” I told her, tossing a cheese rind at her.

  “I can’t help it. Has this happened to you before?”

  “Not like this.”

  “Then like what?”

  I looked across the meadow. In the distance, the lake gleamed in the sunlight. “I did something yesterday,” I admitted. “Like what you do, but completely different.”

  “You used your magic?”

  “Don’t call it that. People are going to think we’re insane.”

  “Fine,” Nora conceded, standing up to feed an apple slice to Ainsley. “Power. Energy. Force. Whatever you want to call it. You actually used it?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “On the guy who lived across the hall from me.”

  As Ainsley munched messily on her fruit, Nora knelt next to me. “This is great, Ken! What was wrong with him? How did you help? Did you—?”

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “It’s not what you think.” Even though the day was cool and breezy, the sun warmed my skin to an uncomfortable temperature. Either that, or my inner fire wasn’t as subdued as I thought. Nora watched me expectantly, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. “Nora, I didn’t heal Chad. I knocked him out.”

  “You… what?”

  I heaved a sigh. “He pissed me off, okay? He was a thief and a con artist, and he tried to steal something from me. So I went into his apartment and got it back. It didn’t go quite according to plan.”

  Nora’s forehead crinkled as she studied me. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I told her, peeling a piece of prosciutto from the wrapper to eat. “One second, I had him pinned to his chair, and the next, this giant burst of energy radiated through the room. He passed out in less than a second.”

  “And you’re sure it was you?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Nora chewed thoughtfully on a wedge of cheese. “Did you do it on purpose?”

  “No.”

  “I figured. You’re always so weird about using your energy.”

  “That’s because this energy has caused me nothing but trouble since the day I was born,” I retorted. “I’ve told you a million times, Nora. You help people. I don’t.”

  “Maybe there are different types.” She plucked a dandelion from the ground and held it up at eye level. “Let’s try something,” she said, twirling the weed between her fingers so that it spun like a top. “Light this dandelion on fire.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  I blew at the fluffy seeds of the dandelion. They floated into Nora’s face, and she batted them away like pesky mosquitos.

  “It’s a bad idea,” I told her.

  “You won’t even try?”

  “No! Nora, what if I light you on fire instead?”

  “Good thing I’m indestructible.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Come on,” she wheedled, tossing aside the stem and picking another dandelion for me to kill. “Just try it. Give it a little gas. A tiny bit. Miniscule. Hardly tap the pedal.”

  “This isn’t a car. I don’t have an emergency brake.”

  She bopped me on the nose with the dandelion. “I’ll be your emergency brake.”

  “Nope.”

  Nora rolled her eyes and lay back on the blanket, interlacing her fingers behind her head. “Kennedy, consider this. What if the reason you have so many problems with your energy is because you’ve never bothered to practice with it? As soon as I was old enough to understand what was happening to me, I started playing around with my abilities. You never did that. You were too busy burying it so deep, it probably started to fester.”

  “Thanks, Nora. You’re really selling me on th
is.”

  She threw an apple slice at me. It pelted me in the forehead with a wet smack. “Do it.”

  “Ow! No.”

  Another apple slice took to the air. I dodged to avoid it.

  “Do it, Kennedy.”

  “Stop throwing food, Nora. It’s wasteful.”

  “Try the dandelion, and I’ll stop.”

  I threw the fallen apples to the other horse, who rooted through the grass to snuffle them up. “I’ve always thought you were mature for your age, but I’m currently questioning that judgement.”

  She smacked a slice of prosciutto to my cheek.

  “Nora!”

  “Why don’t you just admit that you’re scared, huh?” she demanded as I peeled the deli meat off my skin like an unusual spa treatment. “You’re not a healer, Ken. Fine. That doesn’t mean you can’t be something else good, but you’re so damn caught up in your own self-righteous pity—which by the way has been stewing for thirty years—that you won’t even try. Guess what, Kennedy? You can’t sit around and bitch about how terrible your life is and then do nothing in order to change it.”

  A stunned silence followed her short diatribe. The breeze whistled through the grass. The horses grazed peacefully. Nora glared at me with a look that reminded me explicitly of her mother.

  “I have never heard you swear before,” I told her.

  “Not the point, Ken.”

  I pinned a piece of trash to the blanket before the wind could whisk it away. “Am I really self-righteous?”

  “No, but you’re so worried about keeping your energy under control that you don’t think about anything else,” Nora said. The words weren’t pleasant to hear, but she delivered them as gently as possible. “Doesn’t that get tiring? Consider the possibilities. If you learned to use your abilities safely, you wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally blowing up your apartment or tranquilizing your neighbors.”

  “Fine. Give me the dandelion.”

  She punched the air in triumph and rolled over to pluck another flower. “Here.”

  “Stay over there,” I ordered, pinching the stem between my fingers. “Just in case.”