Pawsitively Swindled

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  “From what I’ve gleaned over the years,” Zelda said, “the Penhallow problem had gotten out of hand. Since the clan was spread across the globe, it was even harder to control them. The more power they siphoned, the hungrier they became. The council, it seems, was at its wit’s end and needed to find a solution—I suspect they also worried the clan would eventually come after the council and stage a coup. Back then, witches accepted the rule of the council just as non-witches accept the rule of presidents and royal families. But this choice to strip an entire clan of their powers destroyed whatever faith witches had in the council. The result of their actions was so devastating the council disbanded shortly after. Witches haven’t had a ruling body since the curse began.”

  “So when they converged on the ley line intersection, what happened, exactly?” Amber asked.

  “They more or less short-circuited the entire magical grid of the planet. It was like tripping a breaker,” Zelda said. “My mother lived through it. She said magic was just … gone for almost a full minute. No one knew what had happened—communication options were limited for witches back then too—and my mother said everyone around her was sure the world had just ended. It took years for witches to understand what truly had happened.

  “There are two schools of thought on what occurred when the power came back on, so to speak. A lot of witches believe that magic itself was angry with the council for choosing to do this. It’s a cardinal sin to take powers from a witch—it was why the council was cracking down on the Penhallows in the first place—but the council’s solution had been an eye for an eye, and they used all of magic to do it. So when the power returned, there were flare-ups in the system. Whether that was a natural reaction because the magic needed somewhere to go and the ley lines couldn’t hold it all, or if it was magic’s anger manifesting, no one can be sure. Either way, it created splinters in the ley lines. Imagine tributaries branching off a river, or arteries off a—”

  “Vein,” Edgar said. “Dang.”

  “Yep,” said Zelda, nodding. “The blast of power into the ley line system caused veins of energy to break off from the main system in six places in the world. Edgehill is one of them.”

  “So that neighborhood—the place where you grew up—exists on top of … what … like an oil spill of energy from the ley lines?” Amber asked.

  “Yes,” Zelda said. “Edgehill proper—where you live now—was a witch town in 1910. The curse event happened twenty-five years later. When the power snapped back on, an additional side effect was that energy burst out of the ground like an invisible, noxious gas. In those days, nearly all witch towns were positioned on or near ley lines. So when this blast came through, it affected every witch on the planet—it being worst in those six places. Even though the original spell stripped the powers from all the Penhallows, it caused problems for everyone. Magical energy erupted out of the earth with all the force of a volcano. Witches got sick left and right. Some dropped dead. Others went mad. Too much magic can override a witch’s system—it’s like a blood disease. Eats you from the inside out.”

  Amber stared at Zelda a moment, unsure of what to say. Had Amber’s mother known all this? Had she, as Simon suggested, chosen Edgehill because of this history? Had the council done such a good job of hiding what actually happened, that even Annabelle Blackwood hadn’t known?

  Edgar asked, “How long did it take before witches were no longer getting sick?”

  “It took years for the energy to settle back into the earth. Those witches who survived the blast moved to cities and towns that were farther from ley lines, worried about something like this happening again,” Zelda said. “Witches eventually returned to their old neighborhoods, cities, and towns. They tried to rebuild what their ancestors had started: little pockets of safe witch communities.

  “But by the time witches returned to Edgehill, non-witches had taken over the main part of town, so we settled in the outskirts. Little did we know then that the area had a concentration of veins below the surface. So in 1971, the year I hid that cache, we met a rude awakening when the earth rumbled below us. There were enough witches who had lived through the first event—like my mother—that when it started, they knew it was happening again. So we fled. The whole population just up and left, as did the populations in those five other towns. The flare-ups only happened in those six places on the planet where the ley lines splintered.”

  “How old were you?” Amber asked.

  “Fourteen. Today is the closest I’ve been to Edgehill since that day,” Zelda said, shivering a little. “That day is my most vivid memory.”

  “It must have been terrifying for your mother to live through it twice,” Amber said.

  “Oh yes,” Zelda said. “After the first occurrence—when the curse started—there had been some comfort in switching her fear from the Penhallow Problem to the possibility of a natural disaster. The Penhallows had stopped terrorizing witches, you see. There were little power flare-ups, like aftershocks of an earthquake, but the Penhallows had been neutralized overnight. That didn’t last long, of course, because when the magic fog on the world settled after a few years, the Penhallows had been stripped of power, at least for the moment, but their desire for it—their souls’ connection to a need for magic—was not only still there, but had heightened in the absence of their own magic. So, eventually, when they went out siphoning magic from others to replenish what had been taken from them, their thirst for it was unquenchable.”

  Amber knew that part too well, as she’d had to travel into Kieran Penhallow’s mind to sever that blind hunger for more power—removing that was how to stop the curse. The only problem was that severing that connection also severed the witch’s ability to use magic at all.

  She wondered if the convoluted way Penhallows were “supposed” to rid themselves of the curse had been fabricated by the council, too. Edgar had told her that the only way to break the curse was for two Penhallows to meet and fall in love, and as a couple they had to denounce their insatiable urges for magic, and then create offspring who were “pure of character.” Those Penhallows were said to be the beginning of a reborn clan.

  Amber had believed Edgar’s explanation then, but she wondered if the damage done by the council was even worse than anyone thought. Because the only way to cure the Penhallows of the curse was to essentially make them fully human—to strip away the entire clan’s ability to ever use magic again.

  No wonder they wanted a spell to rewrite time.

  “Would it be possible to reverse the curse the same way it started?” Amber suddenly asked. “Do a reversal spell to the one the council did, converge on a ley line intersection, and give the Penhallows their magic back?”

  Zelda’s brows shot up so high, they temporarily vanished into her hat. “Why … you wouldn’t … they’re so …”

  Amber put her hands up in innocence. “I’m not planning anything, I promise. I’m just wondering if my mom’s time-travel spell is really their only option.”

  Edgar cursed under his breath.

  Zelda cocked her head like a curious bird again and Amber realized too late that she more or less just admitted to this virtual stranger that Amber had found the infamous Henbane grimoire with the even more infamous spell tucked away in its pages.

  Amber and Edgar needed to hide that thing, stat.

  Zelda still looked concerned. “Could I show you? I know you somehow touched the ley lines and were largely no worse for wear, but …” She lightly shook her head. “This isn’t the type of magic to play around with. Another blast to the system could … I … I can’t imagine.” The woman held out a hand, palm up. “When I say it’s remarkable that you touched the magic there and didn’t short-circuit yourself, I mean it.”

  Amber wanted to assure her that it had been an idle thought, nothing more—a thought borne more out of desperately seeking ways to make her mother’s grimoire sound less appealing to the Penhallows. If Amber could give them a safer choice—a choice that could
help the clan but also not threaten the entire population, witch and non-witch alike—it would be a win for everyone.

  She eyed Edgar, for reassurance maybe, or a sign that she shouldn’t do this. But the expression on his face said he was jealous of her memory magic in that moment, because he wanted to see what Zelda had to show her. Curiosity overrode Amber’s mind screaming at her to keep her hands to herself. She clasped her palm over Zelda’s.

  Amber’s magic zinged under her skin at the contact, hungry for the crisp images Zelda was clearly pulling to the forefront of her mind.

  “Ready when you are,” Zelda said.

  Closing her eyes, Amber instructed her magic to show her Zelda’s memory from 1971, when the ley lines erupted.

  A bright burst of white tore through Amber’s vision.

  Chapter 15

  When the light faded, Amber found herself standing on a stretch of sidewalk that ringed a play area full of kids. Happy laughter and squeals surrounded her as children swung on swings, hung from jungle gyms, and slid down slides. A gaggle of ten-year-old girls played hopscotch, a pair of boys went past on their bikes, and a few adults sat on benches closer to the younger kids, though they were paying more attention to each other than their children.

  Perhaps that was because amongst the children were dozens of cats. They sat perched on fence railings, scampered after kids running around the park, and lounged in patches of warm sunlight. Amber had the odd sense, though, that the cats were alert and keeping an eye on things.

  The cars parked behind her just beyond the park and the outfits worn by adults and kids alike were enough to tell Amber that she was no longer in her time. Once the shock of being some-when else had faded, Amber scanned the faces of the children around her, searching for Zelda.

  Amber soon found her and a few friends playing on the swings. Zelda and another girl were in a race to see who could swing the highest. They pumped their legs harder and harder, sailing so high in the air that sometimes their butts left the black rubber swings for a moment before gravity pulled them back down.

  A second pair of girls stood behind the swing set, cheering Zelda and her friend on.

  Zelda went too high on one of the swings and the metal ropes gave a jolt. Zelda shrieked as she lost control and pitched backward. A nearby parent heard the commotion and was on his feet in an instant and sent a gust of air toward Zelda, catching her before she hit the ground below. He righted her, placing her on her feet.

  Letting out a bewildered laugh, Zelda dramatically collapsed to the ground. “Thanks, Mr. Comfrey!”

  The man smiled and shook his head, returning to the bench where he’d been sitting with another father.

  A squawk above Amber’s head drew her attention up. A flock of black birds flew overhead. Then the small, happily chirping songbirds in a nearby tree took off at once, heading in the same direction as the black birds. Dogs howled.

  Zelda’s friends didn’t seem to notice any of this and were now crowded around her. They chatted and laughed and mocked Zelda’s screams from when she’d careened toward the ground.

  Then the cats perched on fences and lying in the grass started to move. Some yowled, some pinned their ears to the sides of their heads. And then they bolted, hissing and spitting as they went. They, too, traveled in the same direction as had the retreating birds.

  The adults were on their feet at this, most calling their cats back. The cats didn’t listen.

  Zelda and her friend had been busy threatening a rematch, but a deep, thunderous rumble frightened the girls into immediate silence.

  The cacophony of the busy playground quieted in an instant. Eyes went wide, bike wheels rolled to a stop, and children froze at the base of slides instead of running around to climb the ladder to take another trip.

  And then the rumble happened again. It stretched on for five long seconds. It sounded like the guttural growl of a monster. Zelda and one of her friends clapped their hands over their ears.

  The adults were agitated now, muttering to one another.

  “You don’t think …”

  “It couldn’t be …”

  A great hiss sounded ahead of Amber and her attention snapped toward the jungle gym just as something shot out of the ground. Amber couldn’t see what it was, but it had caused a manhole-sized circle of bark in the play area to shoot into the air and then rain down on the heads of several confused children. Some screamed, some shrunk into their shoulders, while others took off running.

  The rumble came again and a girl nearby collapsed to her hands and knees, coughing. Her hand shot up to clasp her throat.

  “Run!” one of the adults called out. “Run home now!”

  Zelda, who had still been on the ground, hurriedly got to her feet, wringing her hands.

  Bark erupted out of the play area again, but this time, Amber could see what had caused it: a gray mist. It wasn’t the dark, swirling black magic that the Penhallows now had—the magic Kieran had used to nearly choke Amber to death—but it looked tainted, nonetheless. The magic erupting from the ground here was sick and was poisoning the witches around it. Another pair of children fell to their knees, coughing and wiping at their eyes.

  Doors to houses across the street from the park were thrown wide. Windows were pushed open. The message from every adult was the same: Run. Get home. Don’t look back.

  Zelda, crying now, pulled her friends into a tight group hug, and then they all scattered in different directions. Zelda ran for a purple bike leaned against a tree, threw a leg over, and took off, pedaling so hard she wasn’t sitting on the seat. Somehow Amber kept up with her as if she were on a bike herself.

  All around her, people were shouting for their children and calling for their cats. People cried out. Bodies collapsed to the ground. Zelda screamed when another rumble came from below her bike’s tires. It rattled Amber’s brain; she felt it in her teeth. Barreling down the sidewalk now, Amber looked behind her, as if she were sitting behind Zelda on her bike seat. Several feet away, in the spaces between sidewalk squares, bursts of sickly gray magic shot out at intervals. Blast, blast, blast. They were getting closer to Zelda. Amber couldn’t be sure that Zelda knew that these little explosions were happening behind her, but she grew more frantic in her pedaling with each one. Blast, blast, blast.

  Another rumble and then—blast. A burst of magic knocked Zelda clean off her bike. She yelled and managed to tuck herself into a ball to prevent herself from hitting her head on the sidewalk, but she still slammed into the ground hard, rolling several times before coming to an abrupt halt when she crashed into a shrub.

  Get up! Amber wanted to scream at her. You have to keep moving!

  But another teeth-rattling rumble got the job done for Amber and Zelda scrambled to her feet. Amber knew from personal experience what it felt like to be hit by a surge from one of the veins. One look at her bike clearly told Zelda that the thing was ruined, so with a whimper and a sniffle, she took off running as best she could.

  She went through the courtyard with the massive fountain, down a long hiking trail, and into the neighborhood Amber had seen days ago. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that the house Zelda ran to was the blue one with the tower-like front room, but Amber still gasped when Zelda ran up the porch steps where the intact chair and the table adorned with a plant covered in pink flowers stood. Zelda got the front door open, frantically calling for her mom, but stumbled back out in the wake of a woman rushing out of the house. The woman was no doubt Zelda’s mother.

  “Get into the car, Zelda,” the woman said, dragging several pieces of luggage behind her.

  “Mama!” Zelda said, jumping out of the woman’s way. “What’s happening?”

  “The ley lines are erupting again,” her mother said, opening the trunk of the silver Volvo in the driveway and tossing the bags inside. “We have to go—now. Help me with Grams. She’s got magic sickness. Your brother is already in the car.”

  Zelda’s face paled at that and the two r
an inside, only to come out what seemed like moments later, helping a much older woman out of the house, down the two porch steps, and into the front seat. Zelda’s mother ran for the front door again, but a blast of magic shook the earth below them and she came up short. One of the beams of the porch cracked, the roof sagging forward a few inches.

  Zelda’s mother made an about-face and bolted toward the car. Zelda stood beside the closed front passenger door, wringing her hands as she looked at her grandma in the front seat, her little brother strapped into a car seat in the back, and then at the house she’d likely been in all her life.

  “Into the car, Z!” her mother called over the roof of the car.

  Zelda snapped back into herself then and said, “What about Muffin!”

  “We have to leave him behind, baby,” her mother said. “All the animals took off a few minutes before this started. We can’t stick around to wait for him. Grams won’t survive it.”

  On cue, Grams let out a hacking cough from the passenger seat. Zelda choked out a sob and got into the backseat. The second everyone was closed inside, Zelda’s mother floored the gas and zipped down the driveway. Car after car barreled down the road. Amber wondered how many turned right toward what would eventually become the Sippin’ Siamese, or left, toward Belhaven.

  Amber stood on the corner of the street that Zelda and so many other witches had called home, until every last car had left. The ground still rumbled and sickly magic still blasted from the earth, but all the witches had gotten out. They’d just had to leave everything behind.

  A white light tore through Amber’s vision again and she was back in Sorrel Garden beside a much older Zelda Rockrose. Amber pulled her hand from Zelda’s and scrambled to her feet. Her heart raced.

  Edgar was in front of Amber a moment later, scowling at her in concern. “You all right? Feeling dizzy?”