Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Did you hear?” she asked.

  The anguish in the question caused me to pause. Not even Adrienne deserved the pain of not knowing what might have happened to her child. “About Nora?”

  She nodded, her gaze fixed to a point in the trees outside.

  “Dad told me.”

  I had nothing to say. I couldn’t tell Adrienne I had a hunch that Nora was alive. She would demand proof or an explanation, neither of which I could give her. I almost put a reassuring hand on her shoulder but stopped myself. Sure, the last month hadn’t been terrible between us, but that didn’t mean Adrienne and I were friendly. I couldn’t bring myself to comfort her. A giant concrete wall stood between us, and each of us had been cementing more cinderblocks to our respective sides over the last several years. Not even Nora’s absence could tip it over, though it may have cracked the surface the tiniest bit.

  I chickened out. Most days, I felt eternally five-years-old in Adrienne’s presence. This was the woman who spanked and scorned me every day of my childhood. That was not forgiven in a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her. That was all I could give her. None of the other words in my mind seemed sufficient. I scuttled past her, no longer able to withstand the awkward vibe between us.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, watching as I took the stairs two at a time.

  “Out,” I answered. I gestured vaguely around my head. “To clear my mind, you know?”

  From the first floor, Adrienne’s solemn pose in the mezzanine made her look like a model in a fashion magazine. Her long platinum hair cascaded over her shoulders and the balustrade, and her sorrowful expression was evident even at a distance. “Come back soon,” she said, and for once, it didn’t sound like an order. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but your father worries. We can’t lose both of you.”

  “I won’t get lost,” I promised, and I slipped outside before the conversation progressed any further.

  Someone—the friendly gardener perhaps—had installed a kickstand on my rusted bike so that instead of leaning pathetically against the side of the house, it stood upright, tucked out of the way near the edge of the porch. I lifted it off the stairs, swung a leg over the seat, and coasted down the driveway. The chain had been oiled too. The gravel below the tires was bumpy, but the pedals’ rotations were smoother than ever. I was grateful. It was at least a thirty-minute ride out to Windsor Prep, and my legs were already tired from my trip with Ainsley that morning. I slipped through the wrought iron gate and trekked up the road toward the Avenue. It was a Sunday afternoon, and the kids from Windsor usually hung out in town on the weekends. If I happened to run into any of Nora’s friends, all the better.

  As the wind whipped my long hair away from my face, I reflected on the past few days. Everything had flipped on its head. Nora was missing instead of me. Adrienne was being nice. My father, usually so stoic and impassable, was falling apart and drowning his worry in whiskey. And I was the only one taking the initiative to find the missing member of our family. Granted, I also had access to information that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. The police could track footprints and run blood tests all they wanted, but unless someone on the force harbored powers similar to mine and Nora’s, I had a feeling they weren’t going to unearth anything other than dead ends.

  On the Avenue, I maneuvered my bike around slow-moving cars and leisurely pedestrians. I scanned the crowd, seeking out younger faces, but I hadn’t seen Nora’s friends often enough to recognize them from a distance. It occurred to me how bizarre it was that life outside the McGrath residence continued on as if nothing had changed. Women drank wine. Men smoked cigars. Dogs barked. Babies cried. Teenagers ran amok from shop to shop. Their individual worlds were carefree, while mine and Adrienne’s and Dad’s had all splintered into unrecognizable puzzle pieces nearly three days ago.

  I cycled away from the busy high street and onto the little country road that led up into the emerald lawns of Windsor Preparatory School. The school owned a vast majority of the surrounding land. I biked past a welcome sign well before any buildings that belonged to the school itself came into view. I spotted the dormitories first. Windsor boarded a small number of foreign students to increase the diversity of their classes. A few of them lounged outside, soaking up the last of the day’s sunshine before the weather turned too chilly to do so. I gave the brick building a wide berth. It was best if I kept my presence at the school to a minimum. Just in case. Besides, the courtyard with the fountain was between two of the main buildings on campus, not in the dorms.

  I crested a grassy knoll. The rest of Windsor Prep loomed ahead like a mammoth stone dragon slumbering in the afternoon sun. It looked exactly as it had during my brief attendance fifteen years ago, with its towering spires, dark windows, and glowering gargoyles. Yes, there were gargoyles. They flanked the large arch that welcomed students and faculty into the campus. I zoomed past them, unable to shake the feeling that their eyes trailed after me as I emerged into the deserted schoolyard. A shiver rode up my spine. There was nothing friendly about Windsor Prep. For me, at least. All that remained here were some of my most painful adolescent memories.

  I remembered the campus like the back of my hand. When I was a student here, I’d become familiar with the layout. I knew the best escape routes and hiding places. I knew where the students bottlenecked during passing period, pressed against each other and plodding along to their next classes like cattle. I knew that if I made a right at the library and a left at the main office, the imposing buildings would open up to expose the courtyard with the fountain. Sure enough, a trickle of water confirmed my internal map, and the bike’s tires bounced over the cobblestones as I steered into the quad.

  The fountain was a work of art and the only thing I ever liked about Windsor Prep. It was a free-standing sculpture with a massive stone arch that stretched from one side of the pool to the other. In a feat of physics that to this day I did not understand, water spilled from the top of the arch downward, creating a blurry curtain between one side of the courtyard and the other. The pool around it swirled and shifted with the movement of the water. It was lined with gold filigree that danced and shimmered when the light caught it at the right angle. While I was at Windsor, it was tradition for each senior class to sneak out to the fountain on the last night of the school year to run beneath the arch through the curtain of water. The trick was getting everyone across the fountain before campus security completed their rounds. I wondered if the tradition had died off or if the students of Windsor still considered it an accomplishment to emerge soaking wet on the other side of the courtyard in such a simple rite of passage.

  I hopped off the bike and circled the fountain on foot. The stone offered no hints. I assumed this was where the police found Nora’s dress, but there were no signs of bloodstains on the ground. I tried to recall the short vision from earlier in the day, but the image slipped away from me like waking from a pleasant dream. I drew the earring from my pocket, clenching the pearl tightly between my two fingers, and squeezed my eyes shut. I imagined that Nora was there beside me, the soft and soothing effect of her energy warming me like a sunset in summer.

  “Oh, you’re good.”

  My eyes flew open. Nora lounged on the lip of the fountain’s pool, kicking her delicate feet in and out of the water so that it splashed merrily in the dying sunshine. She giggled at the look of shock on my face. She was there, but not. She glowed with a hazy pink hue that ebbed and flowed like a river. The effect was strange and ethereal, and more than anything else, it made me question my deepest fear.

  “Are you dead?” I asked her, noticing that when I spoke, her pink force field grew stronger.

  “Do I look dead to you?”

  “No, but—what are you?” I blurted out. “Where are you? Because you’re not here. If I—” I tried to touch her cheek, but my hand passed right through her as though she was a ghost. “That’s what I thought. Nora, what’s going on?”

  “Y
ou’re asking me questions I can’t answer,” she replied in a bubbly tone. “At least, not yet. Ask me something else.”

  “Okay. Um, is this your energy? Are you doing this?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  A pattern was appearing, one that I didn’t like. “Is there anything that you can answer?” I demanded, already frustrated.

  Nora tipped her head back to look at me and smiled. “Did you ever walk through this fountain?” she asked. “You wouldn’t have, right? You never made it to your senior year of high school.”

  “No,” I told her. “After my epic failure at Windsor, I decided high school wasn’t for me. I got my GED.”

  She hummed sympathetically. “That’s a shame. You missed out on all the fun.”

  “Honestly, I’m not too torn up about it,” I said, shielding my eyes against the sun to look up at the tall arch. “It was a way for everyone to say goodbye, to leave the past behind, but those kids all knew each other since elementary school. I was an outsider. They never would’ve invited me anyway.”

  Nora paddled her bare feet in the water. “Something tells me that you always wanted to do it though. That it would finally make you feel like you were a part of something.”

  I glanced at her, wondering how she could’ve guessed something so personal when I’d never mentioned it to her before, but she only smiled.

  “Now’s your chance, Ken,” she said. “Take the plunge.”

  And she vanished. Gone was my little sister and her pink halo of light. I stood alone at the fountain’s edge, clutching the earring, as if I’d never moved from that spot at all.

  “Damn you and your horse,” I muttered through gritted teeth as I glared up at the wall of water. It was sure to be cold on the cool autumn day. “Why are you both so determined to have me catch pneumonia?”

  But Nora’s vague hint was all I had to go on, so I stripped my shoes off for the second time that day. The thought of riding my bike through town and back to the house in soaked clothing made me shiver. I glanced around the courtyard. There was no sign of anyone, not even a security patrol, so I slid out of my jeans and shirt and left them folded neatly on the cobblestones. Then I eased myself over the stone border and into the pool, stifling a shudder when my feet hit the water. It was cold, all right. I waded to the center of the fountain, where the spray from the arch dusted my skin with crisp dew drops.

  “This better be worth it, Nora,” I mumbled.

  I took a deep breath and plunged through the water. I emerged on the other side completely drenched, sputtering and shivering. The sun did nothing to alleviate the frigid effect of the fountain and my teeth chattered as rivulets streamed from my wet hair and down my back. I crossed my arms over my chest in a feeble attempt to keep warm and waited. Something had to happen, right? I’d done what Nora had asked. What was the next step in this weird, otherworldly investigation? But the courtyard had no intention of revealing further secrets.

  “Nora?” I called out, trembling as I squeezed excess water out of my hair. “Come on, little sister. I walked through the fountain, just like you asked.”

  There was no reply, magical or otherwise. I stamped my feet in the pool, hoping to restore some feeling in my numb toes, and tried again.

  “Nora! Seriously, kid. Give me a hint.”

  No luck. Whatever energy allowed Nora to appear by the fountain had faded, leaving me to figure out her cryptic message for myself.

  “Are you kidding me?” I muttered darkly. I stared up at the stone arch, wondering if I should duck through the curtain of water once more in case I’d missed something on my first pass. I grimaced at the thought. Once was bad enough. Twice was asking for bronchitis. Nevertheless, it was the only thing I had to go on, so I braced myself for a second dip. However, just as the tip of my nose reached the water, something green flashed in the corner of my eye. I jerked my head up in that direction, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the color remained. It looked like sea glass, sparkling from the far end of the arch. I slogged through the pool and stepped up to the stone border to get a closer look. Something was tucked into the underside of the arch, hidden from most angles by the flow of water. I stood on my tiptoes, one arm wrapped around the arch to prevent myself from falling into the pool, and groped for whatever rested above. My fingers found something smooth and cool. I closed my hand around it and pulled it from the water.

  It was a champagne bottle, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was the same one that I’d seen Nora cop from the banquet table to share with her friends during the gala. The label had worn off from hours beneath the water, but I recognized what was left of it. It was identical to the expensive brand Adrienne favored. I clasped the bottle tightly to my chest, praying not to drop it, and eased myself off the ledge of the fountain.

  Shivering, I sat on the cobblestones with my back to the fountain. The stone, warmed by the sun, soothed my tremors. With the bottle in hand, I opened the cap to my internal energy and drew it upward. This time, it took less than a second for light to burst from my fingertips, as if with steady practice, it was easier to reach that part of me. The orange flare stained the green bottle a strange shade, and just like before, my vision blinked to black.

  There was Nora, walking alongside a tall, broad-shouldered feminine figure in the woods behind the house. Were it not for her dark chin-length hair, I would’ve mistaken the other person for myself. The scene changed. Nora, in the passenger seat of an unfamiliar vehicle, dressed in a stranger’s clothes as she gazed starry-eyed out of the window. The car drove by a small sign with peeling paint: Welcome to Yew Hollow. Nora, strolling up a hill of dry, dead grass. Nora, approaching a large, unfamiliar house. Nora, stepping up to the porch of the old house as though she knew exactly where she was. The door opened. Nora waved. Everything disappeared.

  And the beam of an LED flashlight swept across the courtyard.

  10

  It felt like seconds, but by the time Nora’s energy released me, dusk had fallen on Windsor Preparatory School, and the night watch was making his rounds. I ducked down, huddling behind the fountain, as the beam of his flashlight swept right over my head. I clenched my teeth. My clothes were on the opposite side of the courtyard. I’d have to outmaneuver the night guard or wait for him to leave in order to get to them. Thankfully, I’d thought to park my bicycle in the shadows of the nearest building, and the night guard wasn’t thorough enough in his search to notice it leaning against the stone. His boots rasped against the cobblestones as he walked the perimeter of the fountain, closer and closer to my position. I swore silently and, hunched over, shuffled quietly along in order to keep the large pool between me and him. I moved at his pace as quietly as possible, the champagne bottle cold against my skin. We edged around until I reached the spot where I’d left my jeans. The flashlight made one last sweep across the courtyard before the guard turned away. I breathed a sigh of relief, unintentionally releasing the champagne bottle from my grasp. It clinked to the ground and clattered across the cobblestones.

  “Who’s there?” the guard called out.

  He was coming back into the courtyard. I snatched up the bottle before the flashlight found it, grabbed my clothes, and sprinted to the cover of the nearby building where my bike was. My heart pounded as I pressed myself to the wall, stifling my heavy breathing, as the guard walked the courtyard again. I couldn’t ride my bike off quite yet. The sound of the gears clicking would no doubt alert the guard to my presence. I nearly choked when I noticed the trail of water leading from the fountain to my hiding spot. While my skin had dried, my hair had not, and the steady drip provided a perfect path for the guard to track me down. He hadn’t seen it yet, still roaming the far side of the courtyard. An idea struck me.

  “Please let this work,” I mouthed, and I summoned my energy, fighting to keep the orange glow from appearing at my fingertips. I focused on the water droplets staining the cobblestones. “Come on. Come on.”

  Just as the security guard rounde
d the fountain and I thought it was too late, the droplets sizzled and evaporated, leaving no trace of my escape in their wake. I slumped against the wall in relief. The guard’s flashlight breezed over the spot where they had been. Then, apparently convinced that he was hearing things, he shook his head and exited the courtyard to continue the rest of his rounds.

  I yanked my jeans and shirt on over damp underwear, straddled my bike, and rode out into the darkness, navigating the gloomy campus by instinct rather than sight. I kept an eye out for rogue night guards, and when I cleared the gargoyles lurking at the entrance, I pedaled all out, flying down the hill at a breakneck pace. The champagne bottle was tucked between my shirt and my stomach, resting safely on my hips as I made my getaway. I had no idea how Nora had managed to imbue objects with her energy. From recent experience, it appeared that she was capable of a whole lot more than healing broken wrists and first-degree burns.

  By the time I reached the main road, night had fallen completely. If there was one thing that I loved about this part of town, it was the lack of light pollution. The stars stretched out for miles, bright and radiant against the black sky. It was one of the few places that I could easily pick out the constellations. There was Orion and Ursa Major and Draco. And right above me, guiding me back toward the Avenue, was Gemini. The twins. Nora and I were nowhere close to being twins, but the connection between us felt the same. We were bound by something other than my father’s genetics. Maybe that was why I was the only one able to make progress on her disappearance.

  The activity on the Avenue had died down. Most everyone had gone home to get ready for school or work the next day. A few stragglers remained, finishing up their shopping or eating dessert. The French restaurant had already closed its doors, and with a jolt, I remembered that I was meant to work a shift that evening. Hopefully, my boss would excuse my absence considering the recent family emergency, but I doubted it. I coasted the rest of the way down the street. Near the end of the Avenue, a group of teenagers exited a burger restaurant, clamoring excitedly. I smiled at them, steering carefully so that I wouldn’t knock anyone’s milkshakes out of their hands. One of the girls paused, peering at me with a keen eye.