Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery

Home > Horror > Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery > Page 63
Witch Myth Super Boxset: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery Page 63

by Alexandria Clarke

“I agree,” Nora said. “But what else are they supposed to do?”

  I kept quiet. I’d rather be dead than resigned to a life in bed, but that wasn’t the kind of information Nora needed to hear.

  “I can’t do much else for her.” She patted Alana’s hand as she placed it back on the bedspread. Unlike the other witches that Nora had helped, Alana showed no sign of improvement.

  “That’s it?” I asked in disbelief. “She doesn’t respond at all to you? How do you know if you’re actually helping or not?”

  Nora’s face fell at my phrasing and answered, “I guess I don’t. I just hope that I am. Would you wait with her for a minute? I have to ask Yvette about her progress.”

  She went before I could protest about being left alone with a woman that appeared to be on her way out of the world. Alana’s hair splayed out in stark contrast against the white pillow. I wondered what genetic factors had separated her so cleanly from the rest of the Summers’ clan. As far as I’d noticed, none of the other witches sported ginger roots. We were a rare bunch, and in the waning population of Yew Hollow, I hadn’t expected to meet someone else with my hue of hair. Perhaps it was this insignificant coincidence that urged me to place my hand in Alana’s, or maybe it was because I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I shared the small room with a hollow void rather than an actual person. I needed definite proof of Alana’s spiritual existence because her body wasn’t giving me any hints.

  As soon as my fingers touched hers, I knew something was wrong. The world disappeared around me in a hot rush of orange and red. I yelled out, sure that I’d been sucked into the same vacant space that Alana’s spirit occupied, but my voice was lost in the roar of the inferno. It was just the two of us, trapped in a swirling fiery vortex. She sat bolt upright and her eyes flew open. Her irises burned white-hot. I tried to yank my hand out of her grip, but she held on fast. Each of her fingers felt like a fire poker, searing my skin. She jerked me forward until there were mere inches between us. Horrified, I stared into her burning eyes.

  “You,” she gasped. Her voice was a low, terrifying rasp. “You are the catalyst.”

  “I’m—what?”

  She clawed at my shoulders, drawing me closer. “Kennedy.”

  I backpedaled, but there was no escape from the flames that boxed us in. “How do you know my name? What happened to you?”

  “You are the catalyst.”

  All at once, the fire extinguished itself, and I rocketed back to the real world. I slumped against the edge of Alana’s bed, drenched in sweat. Her fingers tore violently from mine as she convulsed beneath the sheets. Nora, Yvette, and Yvonne rushed into the bedroom. I tried to get out of the way, but my legs wouldn’t support my weight, so I crawled to the corner of the room. Nora pinned down Alana’s limbs, shouting directions at the other two witches. Even in my state of panic, it was strange to see her in a position of leadership. Yvette and Yvonne followed her instructions without question.

  “She’s tachycardic,” Nora reported, pressing her palms to Alana’s chest.

  Yvonne whipped around to glare at me. “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing!” I insisted.

  Nora hushed us. Her aura pulsed as she worked to restore Alana’s normal heart rate. “Enough! Yvonne, I need you here. Kennedy, are you all right?”

  I couldn’t answer honestly. I hadn’t even managed to control my rapid breathing. I pinched my nose and closed my eyes, focusing on the pressure in my head rather than the chaotic scene of the bedroom. Then I stumbled up from the floor, knocking over a framed photograph as I steadied myself on the window sill. It fell to the floor and shattered, but I didn’t stop to pick up the broken glass. I had to get out. I left Nora and her assistants, weaving like a drunken sailor down the hallway and into the sunroom. Once outside, I heaved for air. The other witches, sensing a commotion, emerged from their houses and surrounded me. I waved them away as they pelted me for information.

  “I can’t breathe,” I declared as their auras wrapped around me in a confusing whirl of colors. “I can’t breathe.”

  The women bombarded me with questions, demanding to know what had happened. I rotated around in search of an escape route, but they boxed me in. I let out a yell of frustration, unintentionally creating a ward. It exploded like a firework and expanded to surround me, effectively sending every witch within a five-foot diameter soaring out of my personal space. Once I was free and clear, I broke into a heavy sprint toward the barn, leaving everyone else to sort out the disaster behind me.

  Within the privacy of my provisional home, I broke down. My mind had overloaded. I couldn’t process anything more. I didn’t make it up the stairs to the loft. I sank to my knees beside the couch, gasping for breath, then lowered myself to lay across the floor. With my cheek pressed to the soothing wood planks, I let myself run through the gamut of my emotions until I had nothing left.

  The purple light of dusk stained the inside of the barn when I awoke. As I came to, I let out a groan. Sleeping on the floor was a mistake. My shoulder and neck were both sore and stiff. I sat up, stretched my arms over my head, and caught sight of Nora, who watched me from the overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room.

  “You look awful,” I told her.

  Nora’s usually vibrant eyes were dull, and her lips were dry and cracked. “You don’t look so great yourself.”

  I tilted my head from one side the other, hoping to loosen up the muscles. “What happened after I left? Is Alana okay?”

  “We got her heart rate under control,” Nora said. “And I gave her an extra dose of energy to keep her going.”

  I studied her sunken cheeks. “Which it looks like you couldn’t afford.”

  “It was either me or her, and I can heal myself.”

  The intensity of my own cowardly guilt grew in the face of her resolve. “I’m sorry I ran off,” I told her, bowing my head. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I should’ve stayed to help.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  She looked sad, even though Alana had pulled through. Her lip trembled as she spoke. “Listen, Ken. Morgan wants us to meet her at the house for dinner. We’re going to talk over what else you can do to help the coven.”

  I almost checked my watch before I remembered that the hands didn’t turn within the parameters of Yew Hollow. “Right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  I heaved myself to my feet with a moan. “Fine. I hope they’re serving something hot and delicious. Are you ready?” As Nora stood, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. She was still hot, as though her internal temperature was steadily rising. “You should take tomorrow off, kiddo.”

  “Okay.”

  I frowned. The Nora I knew didn’t fold so easily. Every time I suggested she rest, she promised never to work beyond her capabilities, but she never agreed to take an entire day off. “Everything all right?”

  She nodded. I let it go. Maybe Nora had finally worn herself out to the point of absolute exhaustion. If that was the case, it would be good for her to completely recuperate. I opened the door of the barn for her, and together we set off into the woods. Silence enveloped us. Nora wasn’t particularly chatty, and I didn’t want to tire her further with forced conversation, so I settled for guiding her through the dark forest so that she wouldn’t trip. The lights of the main house appeared through the branches of the trees. The moon had risen, casting luminescent silvery beams through the blanket of clouds. I missed the stars. Nighttime wasn’t the same without them.

  “Ken?”

  I looked down at Nora as we approached the edge of the woods. “Yes?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m really sorry.”

  “For what?”

  Before she could reply, the witches descended. As Nora detached herself from my side, auras shot out from every direction. They wrapped around me, binding my arms to my torso and gluing my legs together from inner thigh to ankle. I topp
led over like a stiff board, unable to catch myself as I plunged toward the ground. Luckily, a sky blue aura flipped me over at the last second to save me from a broken nose. My back met the dirt with a loud smack, forcing my breath out of my lungs, and I got a look at my attackers. All four of the Summers sisters plus Gwenlyn looked down at me.

  “What the hell, Morgan?” I growled. Though the rest of my body was immobile, my mouth still worked.

  Morgan snapped her fingers. Her blue craft swelled around us, and the forest vanished, sucked out of existence. In the next instant, the world rebuilt itself, except now we were at the edge of Yew Hollow. I didn’t have time to catch my breath or consider the wonder of magical teleportation. Gwenlyn hefted me from underneath my shoulders and began to drag me toward the borderline.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, struggling to free myself. I bucked my hips, but Morgan’s spell kept me tightly bound.

  The Summers sisters stood in a straight line, their hands poised at the ready. Behind them, Nora looked on tearfully. Her aura shimmered too, but it brightened and faded like she was attempting to control a knee-jerk reaction.

  “Nora!” I cried out. “Nora, please!”

  Nora did nothing as Gwenlyn hauled me over the line. This time, the feeling of passing through water was absent. There was a break in the ward, a doorway that allowed Gwenlyn to carry me through it. As soon as my feet cleared, Gwenlyn dropped me and rushed back to the other side of the welcome sign to join the other witches.

  “Now!” Morgan ordered.

  Immediately, five different auras exploded from the women, arcing upward in great bolts of lightning. The color spread across the dome that housed the town, reinforcing the ward. Witchcraft lit up the night sky. My knees unstuck from one another, and I scrambled to my feet. The magic settled, but though the auras ebbed away, a layer of twinkling blue lights coated the entire dome like a dusting of stars.

  “I’m so sorry, Kennedy,” Nora said again. Her pale skin looked eerily blue through the filter of the shield, as did the faces of the Summers sisters.

  I raised a hand to touch the incandescent ward. “Nora, what is this?”

  “Don’t!”

  The warning came too late. As soon as I made contact with the shimmering lights, the ward blasted me away from Nora’s side of the line. I flew backward, slammed into the grill of Nora’s car, and sank to the ground. Groaning, I clutched my side. If the sharp stabbing pain in my upper torso was any indication, I’d fractured a rib.

  “Careful,” Morgan warned. “The defense mechanism grows stronger every time you touch it. Unlike the previous ward, this one was manufactured to specifically prevent you from returning to Yew Hollow.”

  “You can’t cast me out,” I growled at her. “We had a deal.”

  Morgan’s tone was cool and collected. “I declared our deal null and void. It has come to my attention that you are the root of our coven’s problems. Your interaction with Alana is proof enough of this. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  “No, I don’t!” I winced as pain radiated up my side. “Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The Summers coven has been cursed,” Morgan declared. “This much we already knew. The signs all pointed to the same conclusion. What we didn’t know was who had cursed us.”

  “And you think it was me?” I demanded. “I don’t even know how to light a match properly. How could I hex an entire coven?”

  Gwenlyn stepped forward. “We know it wasn’t you,” she began, “but you’re the catalyst.”

  The words doused me like an icy bath. Alana had told me the same thing mere hours ago. I shook my head. “I don’t understand what that means.”

  Gwenlyn opened her mouth, but it was Nora who replied.

  “It means someone used you to get to the coven,” she said in a timid voice. “You may not have set the curse, but something you did activated it.”

  Morgan drew invisible lines in the asphalt with the toe of her shoe. “Ever since you arrived in town, the health of my coven has increasingly worsened. At first, I thought to give you the benefit of coincidence, though I should’ve learned by now that coincidences don’t exist.”

  “Morgan, I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  “I believe you,” she replied calmly. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the circumstance. Believe it or not, I’m doing this for your own protection.”

  I scoffed, and my ribs throbbed again. “Really? How do you figure?”

  “Because there’s only one way to break a curse like this,” Morgan replied.

  I didn’t think it was possible for Nora’s expression to grow even more forlorn, but as her mouth twisted into a worried line, a shiver wracked my spine. “How’s that?”

  A beat of loaded silence passed, then Nora’s voice cracked as she answered the question in Morgan’s stead.

  “It’s simple,” she said. “Kill the catalyst.”

  Many thanks to everyone who read my story!

  Writing is the best way I know to express myself, and I’m so glad that you all have rewarded me with the opportunity to share my imagination with you. As an author, I learn and evolve from the input of others, so if you have a spare moment and you enjoyed the story, please leave a short, spoiler-free review of the book. As readers, your personal opinions are often the best references for a writer. Your commentary allows me to further provide you all with fun, engaging material.

  I would love if you could leave a review: Click Here to Review!

  Again, thank you all for diving into mine and Morgan’s world. May we meet again!

  All the best,

  Alexandria Clarke

  Witch Myth Wildfire: Book 2

  1

  Kennedy

  Betrayal was a poison dart. It hit you out of the blue. No warning. No restless anticipation. One moment, everything was fine, and the next, your whole world was falling to pieces. That’s how I felt, my knees buckling underneath me. I was on the wrong side of everything: life, love, and sisterhood. No matter how much effort I put forth, some minuscule detail would come along and ruin my progress. My whole life was a battle, and I couldn’t fight for much longer, especially when my own sister delivered my death sentence.

  The ground was cold. It seeped through the knees of my jeans and crept up my legs like a slow plague. My fingers spread out in the dirt, bracing myself, but a gleam of radiant blue light flashed, and I yanked my hand away. The witch’s ward was complete, a massive dome that separated Yew Hollow from the rest of the world like some kind of post-apocalyptic bunker. But the Summers coven wasn’t warding off the end of the world. They were protecting themselves from me.

  Six witches watched me from the opposite side of the ward. I had no ties to five of them. Morgan Summers and her eclectic team of sisters and adopted daughter were not women I’d ever expected to meet, but in the time since, I thought we had developed a reluctant respect for each other. Even so, their decision did not affect me as much as the sight of the sixth witch standing with them in solidarity.

  “Nora.”

  My sixteen-year-old sister’s brilliant green eyes watered. The ward cast a blue tint on her pale face and blonde hair. Her aura, usually a prominent rosy pink, was absent, as though the stress of the situation drove her witchcraft from her very being.

  “I’m sorry, Kennedy,” she whispered.

  “You tricked me.” The statement tasted bitter on my tongue. Nora was the epitome of good will. We had relied on each other for her entire life, even if I was absent from hers for long chunks at a time. Never in a million years would I have expected her to be dishonest with me, which was exactly what the Summers sisters had counted on.

  “It’s to keep you safe,” Nora said, her lip trembling. “Please, Ken—”

  I waved her excuses away. “No. You should’ve told me.”

  Morgan Summers stepped closer to the ward. She was everything and nothing that I expected one of the most powerful witches in
the nation to be. On one hand, her mere presence exuded strength and wisdom. Even outdoors, she filled the space with her energy. On the other, she was a pretty, petite woman wearing a threadbare Travis T-shirt, jeans, untied leather boots, and a bulky overcoat. She didn’t look like the leader of the largest coven of witches in New England.

  “Don’t blame your sister for this,” she said, tucking her hands into her pockets. “It was my decision.”

  I realized that I was practically kneeling before her, something that made me feel small and insignificant. I pushed myself out of the dirt, rising to my full height. I soared a good six inches over the shorter woman, but somehow she managed to dwarf me, not in size but in attitude.

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” I demanded, my voice rough with emotion. “This whole time I’ve been trying to help you—”

  “Cut the crap, Kennedy,” Morgan interrupted. “We all know the only reason you ever wanted to help this coven was to get Nora back.”

  “You kidnapped her.”

  “And she chose to remain here of her own free will,” Morgan shot back.

  Fire flared in my fists. Automatically, as if they were of one body and mind, the other witches stepped forward. Morgan’s sisters—Malia, Karma, and Laurel—all glowed with the trademark blue hues of the Summers coven. Gwenlyn Bennett, the odd woman out, shone green and gold. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, but Morgan stayed their advance with a dismissive gesture.

  “Fall back,” she ordered the other women. “She can’t harm me through the ward. In fact, I need the four of you to return to the house. The other witches could use your help now that we’ve finished with the ward.”

  Gwenlyn was the first to protest. “But Morgan—”

  “Go.”

  Before she obeyed Morgan’s command, Gwenlyn threw me one last unreadable look. Then she glanced at Nora, whose cheeks were now stained with tears. As she passed my sister, she squeezed Nora’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. My throat tightened at the sight. It should have been me reassuring Nora, not the woman that Morgan had assigned to babysit me for the past month and a half.

 

‹ Prev