All of breakfast went by like this.
Edaline didn’t seem in any hurry to talk, and Milly—much as she hated to admit it—enjoyed having a normal day where she could do nothing at all. But the uneasiness quietly ate away at her. Who was Edaline? Who was she? Was this how Doris felt? Like there were missing pieces in her brain, just waiting to be put back in the right places? Every time she worked herself up to ask about the memory, she put it off. Every time she wanted to say she was sorry, the words inside her fell apart.
Milly still wasn’t sure what to believe, but she knew whatever she’d believed before was very, very wrong.
Instead, after breakfast, she wandered about the house. Apparently, Horace and Cilla had gone outside to tend to the garden, so she was able to explore the entire place by herself. In one room, she found a small indoor herb garden full of clay pots hanging from the ceiling. In another, she found a little water pump and a bucket. Edaline had left a new towel and bar of soap next to it, along with a fresh set of clothes a couple sizes too big. Milly spent the rest of her morning scrubbing every inch of her skin and untangling her mess of a hair-helmet.
Once she was back downstairs, Edaline broke the silence and asked Milly if she wanted to help her make lunch for the others.
She nodded her head.
Jasper joined them while they were slicing tomatoes and meowed loudly. “Anything for me?”
Edaline looked up. “Oh, hello, Jasper. Are you hungry?”
“Very!”
“You can understand him?” Milly asked.
“It took a while to find the right spell, but we managed,” Edaline said. She poured milk into a shallow platter and put it on top of the table. “We had a very good conversation about his life as a wind.”
“Thanks, E.” The cat jumped up, sat down, and lapped it up gladly.
Milly transitioned to cutting cucumbers, taking as long to slice them in even pieces as she possibly could. She kept hoping Edaline would say something first, but she never did.
After some time, the cat sat up and meowed.
Edaline gave him more milk and he shut up again. It was the quietest he’d been since Milly met the creature.
But that didn’t last long.
Halfway through his second saucer, the cat walked up to Milly and sat next to her while Edaline went over to do the dishes. He whispered, “So, you guys talk things out yet?”
Milly shook her head.
His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
Milly glanced over at Edaline and silently mouthed, “I don’t know what to say.”
“Never stopped you before.”
“It’s different this time,” she murmured.
“Did something happen?”
Milly shrugged.
“Well, you’ll have to do something. She’s obviously waiting for you to say something first. She’s very nice, by the way. Good at boundaries.”
Milly raised an amused eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Is that your opinion?”
“Better than you.” The cat snickered.
“Why are you even still around? We found Cilla. You can go now.” Milly made a waving motion with her hand.
Jasper stared intensely.
Milly made a face. “What?”
“Your exact words were, oh—what was it again? ‘Bring Cilla home.’ Does this look like home to you?”
Realizing how insensitive she’d been, Milly reached a hand out. “Oh, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine. At least E feeds me.” The cat jumped off the table and returned to his milk.
Filled with a renewed pang of guilt, Milly watched the witch wash the dishes. Now she could see the resemblance between Edaline and Emm. They shared the same hands, the same noses. But she also saw the differences. Edaline was thinner; her shoulders drooped. A couple stray strands of gray had even infiltrated her long black hair.
Milly took in a deep breath, then asked Edaline the question which felt both the safest and the worst.
“Why doesn’t your sister remember you?”
The witch turned off the tap and put down the wooden bowl in her hands. Her wall of silence had lost its last stone. “I’m guessing you found your lost memory.”
“Yes,” Milly said—carefully. “Did you take Emm’s, too?”
“I understand you have many questions, but . . .” Edaline nervously met Milly’s eyes. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
* * *
The two left lunch on the table for the others and walked among the trees. They followed the river and, when they were within sight of the forest’s edge, Edaline turned and walked parallel to it along some invisible line that she refused to cross.
Milly walked beside her, wondering why they had to walk or if they were going anywhere in particular. Jasper had said he was going to keep watch over the house, but Milly figured he was just too lazy to come.*
Their path brought them to a clearing in the trees where there were nothing but stumps. These were nothing like the bamboo shoots. These stumps had once been large, broad trees. Time had carved many rings into their centers, and scorched broombranch leaves lay scattered on the ground. Scorched and white. Like Elma.
“Why are we here?” Milly asked.
Edaline rested her hand on one of the stumps and traced the rings with her fingers.
“People didn’t used to be able to fly.” Edaline looked up at the sky. “No amount of magicks could change that. There used to be a time when only the winds and the birds and the broombranches were familiar with that feeling. For a time, for a long time, we were okay with that.”
Milly stood next to the witch and clutched one of her arms close to her body. What did any of this have to do with Emm?
“The very first witch on Arrett was a miracle. Or an accident. Many, many years ago, there was a mother whose child was very, very sick. She prayed for help. The East Wind heard her prayer and carried it to the heart of Arrett, who had such compassion for the child that they did something unheard of. They gave the child magicks and, with it, the ability to commune with all other magicks. A miracle child, the first witch. So old I don’t even know her name. She taught others how to speak magicks. How to befriend a fire and dance with a tree. She used her magicks to bring together the stone and the grass. Arrett was happy, and the winds amused. At least, that’s how the legend goes.
“The first wizard was the result of a choice. He too asked for help, but Arrett, seeing the selfishness in his heart, would not grant it to him. So he stopped praying. He decided there were other ways to find magicks, ways much more easily . . . controlled. It was a wizard that tamed the first little wind, interrupted this wind in its duties and broke Arrett’s heart and stole magicks for his own.”
“What did he ask for?”
“No one knows. Whatever it was, whatever the case, wizards and witches have been at odds ever since. Arrett’s heart grew quiet. Wizardry became popular among the people of Arrett, once they realized that they could have control of magicks without asking—which is all that prayer is. They wanted to take with nothing to give in return. And they became very good at it. Many witches became wizards out of convenience. They developed spells and schools for taming many things. The winds became too dangerous, too angry, and so they turned their attention to other things.” Edaline stopped and gestured toward the clearing.
“Charles—sorry, Hightop— never really cared about the witches. Most wizards don’t care about the witches. Not like they used to. They only cared because there were powers in this world they couldn’t control and there were people stubborn enough to prevent them from doing that. And it was easy for them to villainize us. People fear what they can’t control. These broombranches were the last straw. When the wizards said they wanted to clear out the whole forest, the witches couldn’t stand it anymore, so we put up a fight. We were doing well until they
found East Ernost—home of the witches, where the East Wind brought magicks to the first child. No one knows how, but they made it disappear. They made us disappear.”
Now she sat down on the stump and pulled her knees up to her chest. It was a strange reminder to Milly that Edaline used to be a kid, too. Maybe, in some ways, she still was.
“Where I come from, a faraway land called Tahena, we learned how to bottle our own memories in order to understand and process our emotions better. It was a way my people dealt with things like anger or grief. It was how I dealt with leaving my home. We never used it as a way to forget. And we never used it on other people. Never.
“When I took Charles’s memory, I broke something. Deep magicks that had been asleep for many years. The gripes and gobblers—the shadows—noticed. Hungered for it. A witch is never supposed to use their power to dominate another person. And I did. It took a while, but eventually Charles discovered how I took his memories. And he twisted those magicks into a weapon. I thought I was using those magicks to protect, but he started using them to hide his mistakes.
“Maybe I could have stopped him. I don’t know. I didn’t even try. I was too scared. With his help, the wizards cut through the woods. I bound myself to the very last tree to keep the forest alive, but by then most of the broombranch trees had already been lost. By the time they were done, I was stuck here. Amidst all this ‘wasted wood,’ as they called it. They’ve turned this forest into a place of rejects. Broken broombranches are sent here when they’re done with, and I take them in.
“Charles took my sister’s memory from her, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I thought that would be enough to keep her safe. Eventually, I was the only known witch left. I thought that’d be okay. Maybe I thought so long as he never found you again, it’d be okay. I was wrong.”
Now she looked at Milly, face tortured. “I thought that maybe, in spite of all my mistakes, I could at least protect you and Cilla. That even if all the rest of us had to hide away, they wouldn’t be able to find you. That was why I took away your memories. I thought if you didn’t know who you were, you’d be able to keep your magicks a secret. That they would believe there were no more witches. But I only made things worse for you. I’m sorry.”
Milly didn’t respond for a long time. The older witch stared out into the woods while Milly sat next to her on the stump and traced the rings in the tree with her finger.
“Does that mean . . .” Milly stammered. “Did the shadows get worse because of me? Because I’m a witch?”
“No.” Edaline shook her head. Fiercely. “Gripes and gobblers are as old as Arrett itself. They don’t hunt witches. They feed off guilt and shame. They come every time a member of the council remembers what he’s done. Every time Hightop feels regret for his actions. They’ve been watching me for years. No one really knows what happens if they catch you. They’ve never been aggressive, until now. Something must have changed.” Edaline put her hand on Milly’s shoulder. “None of this is your fault. Okay?”
“Okay,” Milly said, though she didn’t completely believe it. How could Edaline possibly know how much Milly hated herself? Not just for being a witch. For hating the idea of being a witch for so long. For hating what she was born to be. For being so, so stupid. So scared. “Hightop is looking for me, isn’t he? Because I’m from East Ernost.”
“Yes.”
“But why did he mistake me for Cilla?”
Edaline jumped off the stump and paced back and forth. “It must be that book from the orphanage. I thought I burned them all.” Edaline shook her head. “I’m sorry, Milly. I didn’t know Hightop would ever notice West Ernost again. Or Lilith. I didn’t even know Lilith was still alive. Maybe Lilith thought she could protect Cilla from Hightop. But that doesn’t make any sense—why she would steal her?”
“Hightop won’t stop until he’s found her.” Milly balled her fingers into tight fists. “But he doesn’t need her. He wants me. He wants me and he can’t even see me.”
“He won’t find you here, if that’s what you’re worried about. You and Cilla are safe in these woods.”
“No, I want—I have to be found.”
“Milly.” Edaline’s eyes widened. “You can’t.”
“You thought you could protect everyone by keeping them hidden away. But now no one is safe. As long as I’m still hiding, other people will be put in danger. I can’t just stay here and do nothing.”
“It’s too dangerous.” Edaline put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes.
“Cilla needs to go home. And the only way she can do that is to make sure Hightop never has reason to hunt her down ever again.” Milly put her hand on the witch’s arm. “Please. I don’t want to run anymore. I’m not good at it.”
“I don’t agree, but . . .” Edaline looked up. When she spoke again, her voice sounded broken. “How do you want me to help you?”
Milly swallowed, suddenly afraid of her next words. She looked around at the clearing of lost trees and wasted woods.
She turned back toward Edaline, sure of what she wanted.
“Teach me how to be a witch.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
it’s a bird! it’s a plane! it’s . . .
When Milly said those words, her hand lit up in orange-green flames. It felt like something had been taken from her, like someone ripping buried secrets out of her chest and dashing them against the floor. It felt like shattered clay and broken plates. It felt like getting old and growing up.
She didn’t like it.
When the flames disappeared, her hand continued to throb. A new mark lay there. That of a white waning crescent moon.
Edaline glanced around the clearing. Shadows lurked between the trees, their fingers long as branches, toes like squared-off stubs.
“They’re here,” she whispered.
Milly grabbed the older witch’s trembling hand and ran.
The shadows continued to watch them, not bothering to chase them down. But Milly didn’t stop for anything.
Just ahead, more gripes appeared in the trees. Milly pulled Edaline with her to cut around them, but with every turn, she saw more fingers and more toes reaching for them. If they got close enough, Milly swore she could even see the flash of a gobbler’s crooked teeth.
It felt like running through a maze with walls made of shadows. Forcing Milly and Edaline into narrower passages. Forcing them into a trap.
The deeper into the woods they ran, the worse Milly’s hand throbbed.
And the darker the forest grew.
A loud rustling approached from above, and Edaline dug her heels in to bring the two to a jarring stop.
“Milly, wait.”
Milly glanced to the side; the gripes were so close she could hear them breathing.
“Edaline,” she gasped, “we need to—”
The rustling stopped.
A shower of leaves exploded above them as two broombranches shot down and plucked the two witches right off their feet. Together, the four of them shot back out of the hole the branches had made in the shadows and flew above the tree line.
Milly hugged her entire body against the branch as wind whipped by her cheeks. To its credit, the branch flew a mostly straight line over the trees despite the novice rider it carried.
Green blurred with blue, and Milly shut her eyes.
“You don’t have to hold so tight if you lock your ankles.”
Milly repositioned her legs around the branch. “Who said that?” she said, keeping her eyes closed.
“The branch you’re choking.”
“Oh!” Milly peeked open her eyes and loosened her grip a little. “It’s you!”
The branch shook itself like a wet dog and continued to fly onward. “Hello again.”
Milly sat up a bit and saw Edaline flying just ahead. When she did, she noticed that the broombran
ch she was riding had been splintered at its end. H.C. PROPERTY had been etched into its surface.
“I’m not . . . hurting you, am I?” Milly asked the broombranch.
“I am fine. So long as you don’t try anything stupid this time.”
“I’m sorry. I really am.”
“I believe you.” The branch leveled out and slowed to a glide.
Milly’s breathing started to return to normal. She glanced back and saw that the shadows were shrinking into the distance. When she turned around, she loosened her grip and locked her ankles into a more comfortable position. “What’s your name?”
“I am—” the broombranch made a sound halfway between a walnut cracking and a cricket’s wings clapping.
Milly stared blankly.
“You can just call me Ash.”
“Thank you, Ash.”
“Thanks for not trying to drive.”
* * *
The sun had already begun its descent by the time Milly and Edaline flew into the roof of the house. As soon as they landed, the broombranches returned to their perches and Edaline ran down the stairs.
“What’s happening?” Jasper asked from a nearby chair.
“The shadows are here!”
Our two bewildered friends followed Edaline downstairs.
They ran past Cilla and Horace, who were eating berries in the kitchen. The two glanced at each other, then joined the growing train of people.
Edaline led them deeper still, down the hall, through the tunnel, all the way back to the room with the tree’s heart. She dashed to the center of the room. And stopped. She brushed her fingers over the tree’s heart where Milly had left the large gash.
The heart’s light was dim. Black cracks had appeared along its surface. It was clear the tree was dying.
Milly’s stomach twisted into knot after knot after knot.
Was Edaline angry? Would she give Milly over to the shadows? To Hightop?
She imagined the weight of that cursed metal in her hands. She remembered how cold it felt against her skin. How lifeless.
The Hungry Ghosts Page 13
