The Hungry Ghosts

by Miguel Flores

  Cilla nodded into the witch’s shirt.

  “Cilla, do you want to head upstairs while I talk to your sister?”

  Cilla nodded again, wiped her face across the witch’s garments, and then climbed up the ladder.

  The witch didn’t seem to notice the snot now on her clothes. Instead, she simply stood and studied Milly for a long moment.

  Milly stood and watched too, unsure what to do. The witch was much younger than she’d expected, barely even ten years older than Milly.

  The witch gave a deep sigh and gestured toward a stool. “Would you like to sit down?”

  Milly crossed her arms to distract herself from her throbbing palm. “I’d like to stand.”

  The witch scrunched up her nose. Milly couldn’t tell if she was angry or amused. “If that’s what you prefer.” She leaned on the table opposite Milly and studied the blade on the floor. After she breathed deeply for a few moments, her face softened.

  “Did Hightop send you here?” the witch asked, her voice much gentler.

  Milly didn’t respond. She studied the witch, waiting for her to try to cast a curse or something. The witch didn’t seem to be bothered. In fact, by the sad resignation in her voice, it sounded like she was used to being treated this way.

  “It’s okay,” the witch said. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Although if you try to hurt my broombranches or their mother again, I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave.” She fidgeted with her sleeves, revealing markings along her wrists that disappeared down her forearms. “I won’t hurt you, but you should know that these woods are important to me. I can’t let you do anything to wreck them.”

  Milly didn’t know what to say, but she did feel a little bad. “I’m . . . sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t know the broombranches were alive until one of them talked to me.”

  The witch nodded. “His name is Ash. I’m sure he’ll forgive you if you ask. But please don’t do that again. Many of the young broombranches have never been ridden before.”

  Milly gulped. “I’m also sorry for ruining your garden.”

  “Apology accepted.” The witch dipped her head. “Thank you.”

  Milly started to relax her tight shoulders, though she didn’t let her guard down. Why was she apologizing so much? Even when she thought she was doing good, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Cilla said your name is Edaline?”

  Edaline smiled. “Yes. And you are Milly?”

  Milly nodded.

  “It is very nice to meet you. Cilla talks a lot about you. She said you’re a witch.”

  At that, Milly’s muscles tightened again. She felt her hand burn and clenched it tight.

  “Cilla also told me you don’t really want to be a witch.” Edaline frowned. “Which makes sense. I guess you haven’t been given reason to want to be.”

  Milly still wasn’t entirely sure what to say, but it felt wrong to stay silent. “Witches destroyed my home. Witches brought the shadows.”

  Edaline’s voice sounded hurt. “Is that how the stories go?”

  A dozen thoughts raced through Milly’s mind. Why am I still talking to the witch? Hightop told me not to. I should just get Cilla and leave. “Can you tell me none of it is true?”

  “Would you believe me if I could?”

  Of course not! But what if she has answers? What if everything I learned about witches is wrong? What if it’s possible for me to be a good witch? Milly faltered, not sure if it was safe to keep asking those kinds of questions. “I don’t know.”

  Edaline sighed and glanced down at the floor. “Witches have taken the blame for most of this world’s problems because there aren’t enough of us left to say otherwise.”

  She doesn’t seem evil. She seems . . . hurt. Sad. “It was a witch that took my sister.”

  The witch took a long breath. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t expect to change your mind about us.”

  I don’t want to feel pity! I want to be angry! Milly stared for a moment, then nodded. “What about Cilla?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She needs to come back to St. George’s, but she wants to stay here with you and be a . . . witch.”

  “She’s safe here, if that’s what concerns you. I know you care about your sister, but I also can’t, in good conscience, let you take Cilla out of these woods if she doesn’t want to leave.”

  Milly’s panic returned in full force, and she reached for the blade.

  Edaline put her hands up. “Sorry, I won’t stop you if you want to leave. But I just think you should talk to Cilla first and figure out what it is that she really wants. Anyways, it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave immediately if she’s still being hunted, even with that charm you’re holding.”

  How did she know?! Milly tightened her fist around the braided-wind token. “How did you know?”

  “I’d know her work anywhere. I used to dabble in charms too, but Emm’s always been better at them. Would have made a fine enchantress if they’d let her.” Edaline smiled. “That one’s quite effective. I didn’t catch a whiff of you when you snuck into my house. I bet it worked on Hightop too.”

  “You know Emm?”

  Edaline’s smile remained, though her eyes dimmed. “Yes, she’s—well. I guess there’s no point in hiding it. Emm’s my sister.”

  Guilt settled in Milly’s stomach like molasses. What was she supposed to say now? Maybe Cilla was almost right. Maybe not all witches meant to be bad. Maybe witches were cursed to be bad no matter how hard they tried to be good. Could someone be born bad? It certainly felt like she was.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, how was she doing when you saw her?”

  “I think . . . I think you should talk to Horace,” Milly said.

  “Oh, is he here?” Edaline’s eyes lit up. “I haven’t seen that boy since he was practically a pebble. He probably won’t remember me.”

  Milly slowly nodded. “He’s outside.”

  Edaline stood up from the table and extended her hand. “Is it okay with you if we head up?”

  Milly paused, then walked forward without taking the witch’s hand.

  Edaline pulled her hand back. “Oh, before we go, may I ask you to please put that awful thing away? I don’t want the broombranches to be scared.”

  Milly looked back at the metal blade. It shimmered on the ground, stained in a myriad of colors. She picked up the cloth and wrapped the blade. The weight of it felt like death in her hands. She stuffed it back into her bag; she deeply hoped she’d never have to use it again. She glanced back at the heart. “Did I— Will it be okay?”

  Edaline ran her hand over the heart. It glowed softly against her fingers. She answered without turning toward Milly. “I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”

  Milly had no idea what to believe anymore.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  a good witch is nothing without regrets

  Milly sat on the upper half of the bunk bed she was sharing with Cilla. Cilla hadn’t talked to her all day. Talking to Edaline had given Milly a lot to think about, but it didn’t do anything to change her mind about Cilla. She needed to take the younger girl home. Doris would be worried sick about them.

  On the opposite side of the room, Horace sprawled across the floor. (There hadn’t been a bed big enough to fit him.) Once he’d told Edaline about the shadows attacking her sister, Horace had been quiet, too. The only one who continued talking to Milly was Jasper, which felt oddly comforting and lonesome all at once.

  For the past hour, Milly had been staring at the ceiling made of moving broomsticks, fiddling with the bottle she’d taken from downstairs. She knew she probably shouldn’t try to open it, especially if the memory didn’t belong to her, but she didn’t know who was telling the truth anymore. She didn’t even know if she was telling the truth to herself.

 
Maybe, just maybe, the answer lay in this bottled memory.

  Milly had been wrestling with what she should do ever since the others went to bed. Every conclusion she came to felt wrong.

  But her curiosity burned stronger than ever.*

  The bottle smelled of deep, old magicks. For the first time in her life, Milly felt like she could actually understand what it was she was smelling.

  But that didn’t mean she should open it, did it?

  She groaned into her pillow. She wished she could ask someone for help. Anyone.

  She lifted her head from the pillows and looked at the bottle again. Its dark liquid appeared even blacker now. Almost like ink.

  Milly sat up and looked around the room. Horace snored loudly from the floor. When she peeked over the edge of her bed, she saw Cilla curled into a ball. Over by the open window, Jasper stared out into the woods without a word. The wind rustled against his fur.

  Milly withdrew beneath her sheets and popped off the cork. It didn’t smell as horrible as she thought it would. It was like an overripened banana, on the cusp of becoming rotten but not quite. Perfect for making banana bread.

  Here goes nothing.

  She tilted the whole thing into her mouth and swallowed before she could regret it.

  The memory tasted as sweet and brisk as an ocean of apples stirred by warm summer winds. It sent a happy chill down Milly’s throat, cool and warm all at once. But then, halfway through, it turned bitter. As if the apples had been picked too late, as if the winds had been bitten by an autumn chill. By the time the memory settled in her gut, it sunk like a cold stone.

  She dropped the empty bottle onto her mattress.

  * * *

  Scenery faded in like watercolors spilling shapes onto a blank canvas. First a woman’s crying. Then the smell of old bread. A ceiling with painted moons and stars. A window. A crib. A cold breeze.

  “Milly, come here, please,” said a voice.

  Milly felt the head she was peering out of turn toward the voice. She saw a woman with brown skin and curly hair and eyes just like hers. She realized this wasn’t Edaline’s memory.

  It was hers.

  The woman motioned with her hand. “We have to go.”

  Milly turned back toward the crib. A baby reached up with tiny, wandering fingers.

  “Can I hold her?” Milly said.

  “Okay, but be careful. She’s still very little.”

  This past version of Milly reached down to pick up a baby Cilla. Clutching the child to her chest, Milly followed the woman toward the door.

  “Where are we going?” Milly said.

  “Across the border.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not safe here anymore.”

  Milly felt the woman’s hand on her shoulder. She heard a woman crying from behind, but the memory wouldn’t turn to see who it was. Milly’s mother opened the door. A howling wind, the source of the cold, rushed in, and a bright light flooded her vision.

  When she could see again, she was standing in a different time at the opening of St. George’s. Her mother’s hand was no longer on her shoulder, and she was holding Cilla in a thick blanket.

  Her legs ached. She felt a thick weight pressing down on her shoulders. Before her stood a young Doris with hair the color of a dull fire.

  “Who are you?” Doris said.

  “Milly.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “I . . . don’t know.”

  “Are you from East Ernost?”

  Milly nodded.

  Doris held out her hand. “Come in. Quickly.”

  Milly shuffled toward the house. As she did, she saw three heads peek out from over Doris’s shoulder. Edaline, Emm, and . . . Hightop?

  This time the rushing wind pulled her in. As soon as she passed through the doorway, the memory shifted again. Now she sat cross-legged in St. George’s library with a teenage Edaline. The two of them huddled over something in Edaline’s hand.

  “What is it?” Milly asked.

  “A memory,” Edaline said.

  “Where’d it come from?”

  Edaline laughed. “My head.”

  “Why did you take it out of your head?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s still in there.” Edaline tapped her temple. “I just pulled a copy out because I needed to process it better.”

  Milly scratched her head. “I’m confused.”

  “It’s something the witches in my old home taught me. To help us deal with sad feelings.”

  Milly watched the liquid swirl. “Can you show me?”

  A loud creak came from the door, and the two of them turned toward the sound. No one was there.

  Edaline tucked the bottle away in one of her sleeves. “Maybe I’ll show you when you’re older. I know Doris doesn’t mind, but we should probably not talk about witch-related things here.”

  “I thought the wizards and witches were friends.”

  “I did too . . .” Edaline put her hand out. A small tattoo adorned her wrist. “Come on, I promised Doris I’d help her with dinner tonight.”

  Milly took Edaline’s hand and followed her out the door.

  The memory turned red.

  Milly found herself in the living room. Everyone around her was frozen still. She saw an older Hightop standing above her with hands reached out and locked in time. A couple years must have passed since the last memory. He glared down at her, dark green flames at the tips of his unmoving fingers.

  Milly looked down at her own hands stretched out in self-defense. She was shaking. She looked around the room and saw Doris in a corner with Cilla in her arms. A young Nishi and Ikki. A toddler, probably Abby.

  Milly realized she was the only one able to move.

  Did she cast this spell?

  Edaline burst through the door and ran toward Milly.

  “Are you okay?” Edaline gasped.

  Milly felt herself wanting to talk, but this past version of her could only tremble.

  Edaline looked around the room and then at Hightop. “I trusted you!” Edaline shouted at him. “How dare you come after Milly!”

  The frozen wizard couldn’t reply, but his gray eyes darkened.

  Edaline stood in front of Milly and raised her hand against the wizard’s temple. “You will forget this,” she said. “In all your days of searching, you will not know Milly. Even if she stands beneath your very nose, you will not remember her! But, for as long as I live, you will remember me. My name will forever fill you with guilt and shame and regret.” Edaline pulled her hand back. “Now sleep.”

  A white tendril spilled from Hightop’s forehead into Edaline’s cupped hand, and everyone in the room fell to the ground.

  Edaline tightened her fist and the memory in her hand dissipated into nothing. When she turned back around, Milly hugged her legs and shivered.

  “What if he remembers?” Milly said.

  “He won’t.” Edaline knelt and put her arms around Milly. “I promise.”

  “What now?”

  “I have to leave. It’s not safe for me here anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “Can I come?”

  Edaline smiled, but tears were slipping down her cheeks. “I wish you could.”

  Milly trembled. “Please don’t.”

  Edaline stood up and gently put Milly’s arms back down to her sides. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Milly buried her face against Edaline’s clothes.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be like I never left.” Edaline put the palm of her hand against Milly’s forehead.

  The memory started to fade, disappearing back into an empty canvas.

  The last words Milly heard were: “Makisuyo* forgive me.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  the loud so
und of silence

  Milly woke in a dark room, tangled in an unfinished wrestling match against a blanket. The blanket was winning. She twisted to shake it off and sat up to find herself completely alone in the room. Almost.

  Edaline sat cross-legged by the wall of leaves next to Jasper, looking out through a thin opening which let a single shaft of light into the far side of the room. Jasper was curled up next to her, his black fur absorbing the sun.

  Milly jumped down from the bed, wrapped the blanket around her body, and approached the two. When she got close, she saw that the witch was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and loose pajama pants. Her headscarf was loose too, barely covering her long black hair. Steam rose from the cup she held between her two hands.

  Milly shivered, not sure what to say, but Edaline looked up and smiled, then shifted over to make room.

  Jasper didn’t even stir.

  Milly sat down next to the witch, and together they watched the world wake from its slumber.

  The sun’s slow path up the sky began to melt away the mist. Every so often a tree would rustle. A wind would blow. A bird would sing. But that was it. It was if the entirety of the woods had decided together that today was a day for sleeping in. For being quiet.

  The aftertaste of the memory was thick and murky. It left behind a sulfur-like residue. Her mind felt worn out. Her throat felt dry. It tasted like she’d just drunk something forgotten in the back of a cupboard for many years. Worst of all, the flavor was stuck on her tongue like a thin layer of lint. It sat in Milly’s mind as she filled with anger. And hurt. And guilt.

  Not at Edaline, though. At Hightop. At the loss of her home.

  At herself.

  After the mists had almost fully dissipated and the tea in Edaline’s cup had run dry, the witch gestured at the door and the two of them stood up. They shifted past Jasper, who only dug his head deeper into his body, and walked down to the kitchen.

  In continued gentle silence, the two made breakfast.

  They cracked eggs into a cast iron skillet, boiled a pot of rice, diced garlic, plucked basil leaves, picked green tomatoes, and prepared themselves a fine meal. Which they also ate in silence.