Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery

by Alexandria Clarke

  17

  There was more to the story of Yew Hollow than I could have ever imagined. As Gwenlyn guided me through town, she detailed the events that led up to present day. Some of it I already knew, though I’d gathered that information before fully accepting that witches existed. The Summers coven had moved here from Salem and cast a protection spell over the town. What I didn’t know was that they had sacrificed a witch hunter to do it, a descendant of whom decided to punish Morgan and her family for a series of choices the previous Summerses had made long before any of the current witches were born. Soon after, Morgan’s abilities were tested again, when another imposter raised the dead and threatened to wipe out the entire Summers coven.

  “At the time, Morgan’s mother, Cassandra, was the head of the coven,” Gwenlyn explained as we passed the police station and the church on our way to the town square. “She sacrificed herself to become one with the yew tree in order to save the rest of the family, which is why the tree burned down in the first place.”

  But Gwenlyn saved the real kicker for last. Morgan was no stranger to death, and it wasn’t just because her ability allowed her to talk to ghosts.

  “She died,” Gwenlyn said matter-of-factly. “She got yanked into the otherworld and had to fight her way out. I helped get her back.”

  She rolled up the sleeve of her sweater to show me her forearm. There, amongst a myriad of faded crisscrossed blemishes that I recognized as souvenirs from self-harm, a long jagged scar stretched from Gwenlyn’s wrist to the inside of her elbow. It glowed electric blue.

  I raised an eyebrow at the strange color. “Do I want to know?”

  Gwenlyn shook her sleeve down. “Probably not.”

  The yew tree came into view, and although it was barren of leaves, it projected an energy that reminded me of Morgan herself. This, I assumed, was leftover from her mother’s effect. Gwenlyn stepped over one of the stone benches and pressed her cheek to the trunk of the tree, humming contently. I looked away, unsure if I was invading a private moment or not.

  I cleared my throat. “So what then? Why the big mystery around Yew Hollow?”

  Gwenlyn hoisted herself up to sit in the fork of the tree, gazing fondly up at the sad, droopy branches. “As you can imagine, Morgan gained a bit of notoriety when she got back from the dead. No one’s ever done that before, not without serious repercussions. Naturally, it attracted attention, the kind of attention that we prefer to avoid. Other people sought out Yew Hollow. Weaker witches, petty dark magic users, occultists who fancied themselves intelligent, et cetera. The townspeople were beside themselves, and Morgan ran around like a chicken trying to keep everything under control.”

  “Hang on,” I interrupted. “The townspeople knew? Humans, regular humans, knew they were living in a town full of witches, and they just accepted it?”

  “They used to,” Gwenlyn replied. “They didn’t have much of a choice. Yew Hollow has and always will belong to the Summers coven, but after the yew tree was reborn, Morgan decided it was better to keep things quiet. She cast an enchantment over the townspeople to make them forget anything magical had ever happened in the area. Our myth returned to exactly that: a myth. The locals thought us eccentric and charming but didn’t remember anything other than the legends, so Yew Hollow kept its history and let the truth slip through the cracks.”

  I kicked a pebble down the barren street. “That seems kind of sad.”

  “You do what you have to. Most things calmed down after that. The only time we had trouble was if other covens showed up to challenge Morgan.”

  “Did that happen often?”

  “Often enough to create the alliance,” Gwenlyn answered. “Yet another reason Morgan is so well-known. No one had ever banded so many witches together before. It’s not everyone, of course, but most of the larger covens are with us. You and Nora are plenty of proof that we don’t know about a lot of the smaller ones. Morgan banded the ones that she could, but some wouldn’t agree to band together. You get the gist.”

  “Not really.”

  “It’s witchcraft history,” Gwenlyn explained. “Morgan made history in more ways than one, so I highly suggest that you don’t test her.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “Good, because she’d annihilate you in a second.”

  I planted my hands on my hips as I peered up at her. “As you like to keep reminding me. Can I ask why you’re so hostile toward me? I assume you like Nora, right? You couldn’t not like her. We come from the same family, so what’s with the chip on your shoulder every time you talk to me?”

  Gwenlyn looked down her nose at me but didn’t reply.

  I took a wild guess. “Is it because you have to train me?

  She scoffed. “That responsibility would’ve fallen to me anyway, considering the rest of the coven can hardly see straight, let alone educate a newbie.”

  “Then what’s the issue?”

  “Like I said. Dark vibes.”

  I threw up my hands in defeat. “I have no idea what that means.”

  “It means that I don’t trust you,” she declared, standing in the tree so that she towered over me. “Even if Morgan’s letting you stay here. Even if I have to train you. Even if Nora’s your sister and she’s the best thing to happen to the coven in a month. I don’t trust you, Kennedy McGrath, because you give me bad vibes.”

  I squinted up at her. “Is that a witch thing?”

  She leapt down from the tree and landed catlike at my feet. “It’s an instinct thing,” she replied curtly. “Check yourself. Constantly.”

  She stalked off down the road that led out of Yew Hollow, toward the point where I’d left Nora’s car. She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Well?” she demanded. “Are you coming or not?”

  “Oh, was I meant to follow you?” I asked innocently. “Perhaps you should ask nicely.”

  In the moment following my smartass remark, I learned my first lesson from Gwenlyn: to never test her. A look of pure snark came over her as her witchcraft wafted out and solidified into a smoky green dragon. Before I could react, the mythical creature crossed the square, growing all the while, and opened its massive mouth. I fell over, crawling away from it, but its maw advanced until all I could see were saber teeth and a forked tongue. My pulse burst as it swallowed me. I closed my eyes at the incoming darkness. Gwenlyn’s laugh rang out, but the dead air of Yew Hollow quickly absorbed the sound. Gingerly, I lifted one eyelid. The monster had vanished, leaving no hint that it had ever existed in the first place.

  “That’s what we call a mirage,” Gwenlyn explained, chuckling. “They’re frightening enough but ultimately harmless. We mostly use them as distractions.”

  I pressed a hand to my aching chest. “What does a heart attack feel like?”

  She rolled her eyes and strolled away. “Get up, McGrath. We have work to do.”

  I pushed myself out of the dirt and broke into a jog to catch up with the younger woman. “Can you teach me how to do that? The mirage thing?”

  “If you play your cards right,” she replied, looking me up and down. “I don’t really know what I’m working with here. It would be a whole lot easier if you filled me in on what you’ve already figured out on your own.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair, combing out sweaty knots. “Not much, I don’t think. It’s always caused me trouble, so I tried to push it down. Nora helped a lot, but we mostly worked on controlling the impulse to set things on fire all the time.”

  “Good,” Gwenlyn said. “That’s the first step. You learn the extent of your power first, then apply it to other aspects of witchcraft.”

  “How does that work anyway?” I asked her, brimming with curiosity. Now that I knew why my life had been so tumultuous before, I wanted to learn everything I could about my abilities. “You’re a medium, right? But you can do more than communicate with ghosts.”

  Gwenlyn nodded. “Every witch has the capability to do all sorts of spells: general, healing, of
fensive, defensive, et cetera. You’re best at whatever comes along with your specific ability. For instance, we can all whip up a healing salve for a small bruise or even set broken bones, but Nora can fix larger injuries without extra ingredients and in less time. You, I imagine, would be particularly skilled at offensive spells. Between the fire ability and your attitude, that should be a piece of cake.”

  I brushed off the comment about my attitude. “But what do you use it for? It’s not like I’ll be fighting off enemy combatants with my fire power anytime soon.”

  Gwenlyn smirked. “I used to think that too, but I’ve learned that Yew Hollow is always a good place to pick a fight.” She looked to the nonexistent horizon. The dusty road blended in with the fog and the clouds. “A storm is coming.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I can feel it. Let’s hurry up.”

  Gwenlyn picked up her pace, and I set my own to match it, the two of us strolling along until we reached the welcome sign. Nora’s car sat untouched right over the border line of the town. I could see the ramp to the interstate. Above us, a straight line divided Yew Hollow’s permanent overcast from the rest of Massachusetts’s sunny autumn day. Gwenlyn stopped short of it, peering upward.

  “Man, I miss the sun,” she said dreamily. She was so close, yet the warm rays of light could not breach the invisible barrier to reach her skin. “I could use a tan.”

  “Why don’t you leave?” I asked her. “You’re not technically part of the coven, right? You’re free to go whenever you want.”

  Gwenlyn glanced sideways at me. “You act like this is a life sentence. Sure, I could go, but those women back there are my family. What kind of piece of crap person would I be if I left them all to suffer?”

  “I didn’t think of it that way,” I admitted.

  “Clearly.”

  “Look, I don’t have family like that,” I told Gwenlyn. “Nora matters the most.”

  “If that’s true, you’ll stay in Yew Hollow too,” Gwenlyn said. She gestured toward Nora’s car. “Off you go.”

  I looked between her and the welcome sign. “Didn’t you literally just tell me to stay?”

  Gwenlyn rolled her eyes. “Walk through the ward, clueless. I want to see this for myself. And don’t get any ideas about running off.”

  “As if,” I grumbled. I examined the invisible line between Yew Hollow and the rest of the world. The so-called ward that everyone kept talking about was nowhere in sight. “I guess this ward doesn’t manifest visibly?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what exactly?”

  Gwenlyn stooped down and picked up a rock. Then she cocked her arm back and threw it toward Nora’s car with all of her might. I opened my mouth to scold her, sure that the rock’s trajectory would guarantee a nice crack in the windshield, but midway through its arc, the rock hit a force field with an earsplitting crack. When it ricocheted off the ward, veins of what looked like blue lightning spread along a dome-like pattern, marking the parameters of the witches’ protective spell. The rock landed at my feet, glowing red and black.

  “Whoa,” I said, bending to examine the ballistic. Tendrils of smoke curled up around it as if coming in contact with the ward had the same effect as the heat of a volcano. “The witches created this?”

  “Before they got too sick,” Gwenlyn confirmed. “I helped too. It’s the strongest ward we’ve ever built. Nothing in, nothing out. Except you.”

  I ignored the implication. “What happens if someone tries to pass through it?”

  “Ask your sister. She broke her nose the first night she was here in an attempt to escape.”

  I rounded on Gwenlyn. “She what?”

  She raised her hand in warning. “Relax. She fixed it in five seconds flat. Set it herself and everything, which was downright nauseating to watch by the way.”

  “How did you get her through it then?” I demanded. “When you brought her in three nights ago?”

  “We built it,” Gwenlyn replied simply, as if I was a little slow not to know this answer to begin with. “We can open a doorway if we need to.”

  I decided not to ask whether or not a witch who hadn’t been involved with the creation of the ward would be able to open her own escape hatch into the real world. I might be able to pass freely through the ward—for reasons unknown—but Nora couldn’t. If I found a way to chip a weak spot in it, I could get Nora out of the witches’ grasp. It made me uneasy that I didn’t know what the coven had planned for her. Her safety was more important to me than controlling my energy. My best bet would be to play along in Yew Hollow for a few days, learn the ins and outs of witchcraft, and get Nora home as soon as possible. The two of us could work from there. After all, it wasn’t our responsibility to cure the Summers coven, and we weren’t part of any alliance to hold us accountable.

  “What are you waiting for?” Gwenlyn asked. “Cross the ward.”

  The rock smoldered on the asphalt. I stared at it apprehensively. “What if the first time I got through was a fluke? How do I know I won’t be incinerated as soon as I come in contact with it?”

  “You don’t,” Gwenlyn replied. “And there’s only one way to find out.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t make me do this, McGrath.”

  “Do what—?”

  Before I could finish my sentence, Gwenlyn shoved me across the line. I braced myself for impact, but just like the night before, I felt a slight shudder, like wading through shallow pool water, before emerging unharmed in the bright sunshine on the other side of the welcome sign unharmed. A breeze ruffled my hair, chilling me through my damp long-sleeved shirt. Sound returned too. Birds whistled and tweeted, a squirrel tossed acorns from a nearby tree, and engines rumbled from the cars passing by on the distant interstate. Gwenlyn, in the shadow of Yew Hollow’s eternal clouds, gaped at me.

  “Are you happy now?” I asked her, spreading my arms and whirling around to indicate my freedom. The jealous curl of her upper lip shouldn’t have pleased me so much. “You’re lucky. If I’d gone up in smoke, I would’ve haunted your ass from here to eternity.”

  “Like you’re special enough to be the first,” she spat back. “Get over here.”

  I wasn’t through pushing Gwenlyn’s buttons yet. I wandered over to Nora’s car and reclined on the hood, tipping my face up to soak in the sun’s warm light. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said casually. “I quite like it on this side. It’s nice. Lively.” I glanced at the glowering woman across the line and winked.

  “If you don’t—”

  “What are you going to do?” I challenged her with a grin. “You won’t cross.”

  “And you won’t leave,” she retorted. “Not while your sister’s here.”

  I lifted my shoulders. I could feel Gwenlyn’s annoyance like a bitter burn to my skin that had nothing to do with the sun. “That’s true, but it won’t stop me from sitting right here and reveling in the fact that you’ve been tasked with the sheer pleasure of babysitting me.”

  “Ten seconds,” she warned.

  “To what?”

  “To get back over the line,” she clarified. “Otherwise, I show you how much I learned from the greatest coven leader of all time. Just because I can’t cross the line doesn’t mean my craft can’t bridge the distance.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Try me.”

  I considered it, but Gwenlyn’s easy stance made me nervous. The more relaxed she appeared, the more trouble I usually found myself in. She rubbed her fingertips together as though she was thinking of the most wicked spell in her arsenal to coerce me back to her side. As her craft sparkled to life, I hurriedly slid off the hood of Nora’s car.

  “All right, all right,” I said, crossing the line and internally cursing the dry, stale air. “Don’t get all hot and bothered. I don’t suppose there’s a way we can push Nora’s car across the line, is there? My stepmother will kill me if someone nicks it.”

 
Gwenlyn’s answer was to seize my elbow and march me toward the town square. The experience reminded me of my youth, when I was hauled into the principal’s or headmaster’s office every other day, but I’d never pissed off a temperamental witch before now, so maybe it wasn’t quite the same.

  “You like deals, right?” Gwenlyn asked as we passed the yew tree and continued up the hill toward the house.

  “I’m hopeless at gambling actually.”

  “Whatever,” she replied. “You cut a deal with Morgan, so I’ll cut one with you. I’ll teach you whatever you want. Mirages, protective wards, attack spells, whatever. And in return, you shut up and do what I say. At the end of all this, we can go our separate ways and pretend like we never knew each other.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “McGrath,” she growled, her fingers tightening on my arm.

  “Fine,” I conceded. “Tell me your theories then.”

  “What theories?”

  “About why I can pass through the ward.” I held out my arms to show off the fact that the witches’ boundary had no effect on me. “There’s got to be a reason for it, right? And you said earlier I had a ward around myself as well. What’s that about?”

  “Witches can create personal wards,” Gwenlyn explained. She was reluctant to instruct me after my show of immaturity at the welcome sign, but if this deal was going to work, it had to go both ways. “But we do it for battle or if we specifically know that something means us harm. You, on the contrary, appear to always have a shield up. For example, when we fought earlier, you held your ground for as long as you did because my offensive spells were dulled by your defense.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  “Not exactly,” she answered. “It just shouldn’t be possible. Protective wards take up a lot of energy, so it’s difficult to sustain them for long periods of time. Anyway, that’s my main guess. Technically, your ward shouldn’t cancel out ours, even if it’s of the same defensive nature, so you should understand why you’re such a quandary to us.”