Witch Myth Super Boxset

by Alexandria Clarke

  The night wore on as Bridget, Toby, and I shared stories from the past fifteen years and reminisced on our short time together at Windsor. I was glad for their modest company in Nora’s absence. Through the window into the ballroom, I saw my little sister stealthily snatch a bottle of champagne to share with her friends. She caught my eye and froze, but I grinned and pointedly looked away. A little teenage debauchery would do her good, and I wasn’t about to be the type of older sister to scold her for having harmless fun.

  At some point, I realized I was actually having a good time. Toby and Bridget convinced me to join them on the dance floor for a few songs. I normally would’ve refused, but an impeccably dressed waiter kept refilling my champagne glass and the bubbles had gone to my head. We twirled and laughed under the fairy lights, all three of us too woozy to pay full attention to where the downbeat landed. The best part of the evening was that I only saw Adrienne once. She nodded curtly to me and continued on her way to meet my father at the top of the runway, where the pair gave a short speech to address their guests before allowing the festivities to continue.

  As the evening came to a close and the guests began to meander home tipsier than before, I said goodbye to Toby and Bridget and retreated to my bedroom upstairs. Nora was either still out with her friends or had retired to the comfort of her own room because I had the queen bed all to myself for once. I wiggled out of the silvery gown, rooted through my elaborate hairstyle to extract the multitude of bobby pins, and scrubbed my face clean in the bathroom sink. Then, as the conversation and rumble of expensive car engines faded into the night, I fell into bed and went to sleep.

  “Kennedy. Kennedy?”

  I woke to Adrienne’s face looming over mine and backed against the headboard to increase the distance between us. I groaned, massaging my temples. My head felt heavier than a bowling ball and my mouth was dry and tacky. The champagne from the night before packed a punch, which was probably why I didn’t immediately question Adrienne’s wake-up call. Something was wrong. She never set foot in my room, and she watched me with a worried look on her face that I wasn’t accustomed to. To make things even more confusing, she offered me a glass of water as I propped myself up in bed. I accepted it.

  “What is it?” I asked her warily after a few big gulps. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Have you seen Nora?”

  Behind Adrienne, my father lingered in the hallway outside my bedroom. He, too, wore an expression of concern. “Not since last night. Why?”

  Adrienne’s face fell.

  “She’s gone,” she told me. “Nora’s missing.”

  7

  I sat dumbfounded against the pillows. The covers felt uncomfortably hot all of a sudden. I kicked them off, desperate to free myself, jostling Adrienne off the foot of the bed. “Did you call her friends? She was with them all last night.”

  “I called every parent,” Adrienne told me. “They all told me the same thing. Nora didn’t leave the grounds last night.”

  “So then she has to be around,” I said rationally. “Maybe she fell asleep somewhere else. In the home theater. Did you check the theater?”

  Adrienne paced from one end of my bedroom to the other. “We combed the entire house three times, Kennedy. She’s not here.”

  “Did you ask—?”

  “The maid, the gardener, the waiters from last night,” she interrupted. “We’ve been awake for hours phoning the entire guest list. No one’s seen her since last night. Not in town. Not on the Avenue. Nowhere. Oh, God.” She clapped a hand to her mouth as her voice grew more and more troubled, as though she could suppress such divergent emotions and keep them trapped inside her body. When she regained her composure, she steadied herself and said to me, “I know she’s been sleeping in here lately. Did she come to bed last night?”

  I shook my head. “No. Not that I know of. She wasn’t here when I came in, and I went straight to sleep.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  I wracked my memories from the night before. They were fuzzy and distant, and I silently scolded myself for how much I drank, but a specific image swam to the forefront of my mind: it was Nora, swiping the bottle of champagne from the banquet table. It was her easy laugh, silent through the window but familiar all the same, as I intentionally excused her caper. It was her darting away through the backdoor of the ballroom as she giggled with her friends.

  “She was—” I trailed off, staring at the pattern in the duvet cover in shock.

  “She what?” Adrienne prompted.

  “She took a bottle of champagne and ran off with her friends,” I reported. “I didn’t see her after that.”

  Adrienne halted her pacing to cross her arms over her chest and fix me with a penetrating stare. “Do you mean to tell me that you saw this happen and you didn’t bother to stop it?”

  “It was one bottle,” I said, rubbing my forehead to soothe the ache. “They’re teenagers, Adrienne. It’s a rite of passage to drink underage.”

  “Your sister is missing!”

  “I know!” I said strongly and winced as the words rang through my head. I leveled my voice. It was not the time to start an argument with my stepmother. “Let’s try not to jump to conclusions. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  The sound of the intercom buzzing rang through the room. My father rushed away to answer the door. I listened to his slippered feet thunder down the staircase and ignored Adrienne’s calculating gaze.

  “Adrienne?” My father’s voice echoed over the intercom. “The police are here. Will you please come downstairs?”

  Adrienne swept out of my room. As soon as she was out of sight, a sob took me by surprise. I buried my face in my hands as my breath tripped over itself. How could I let something like this happen? I should’ve never let Nora out of my sight. I’d grown complacent in the last month, convinced my string of bad luck had finally fizzled out. Now Nora was gone, and I had done nothing to prevent it from happening. In fact, my lack of common sense had most likely escalated the situation. What was I thinking letting Nora sneak off on her own with a bottle of alcohol? Where had she and her friends gone? Did she have too much to drink? Where was she now?

  I wiped my runny nose on the corner of the duvet and got out of bed. In the bathroom, I popped a couple of pain relievers then got dressed in a pair of designer joggers and a comfortable T-shirt. As I tugged on the pants, my heart hammered against my rib cage. Like the rest of my wardrobe, I’d picked out the joggers with Nora on the Avenue. I’d stared longingly at them in the store, unable to justify owning such an expensive pair of sweatpants, but Nora had noticed my infatuation and added them to our other purchases. This was how I repaid her for her kindness, by letting her disappear in the middle of the night. What kind of sister was I?

  In the entryway, Dad and Adrienne spoke with two police officers. The first was a man with a jaw that jutted out like a bulldog’s. He looked perpetually upset as he questioned my parents about Nora’s whereabouts. The second was a woman whose uniform swallowed her. She was rather petite for a police officer and highly aware of it. She stood as tall as possible, shoulders back, leaning slightly forward on her toes. As she took notes on a mini legal pad, I lingered on the mezzanine, listening to the discussion at the bottom of the stairs.

  “And you said she’d been drinking?” the first officer asked.

  “Yes,” Adrienne answered. “I didn’t know. There were so many people here last night. Normally, she’s so well-behaved. I can’t imagine—”

  “Kids drink, Mrs. McGrath.”

  Hearing the cop deliver the same excuse as my own did nothing to alleviate the blame or worry I was feeling. Adrienne did not accept this the second time around either.

  “I understand that kids drink, Officer Bradley,” she said. “But Nora doesn’t get drunk and leave the house. She comes home. She always comes home.”

  “Did Nora have any boyfriends?” the petite officer asked. “Anyone she might’ve snuck off to see?
”

  “No,” Dad replied. “She won’t even take a date to the homecoming dance. Says all the boys are immature.”

  The small woman scribbled in her notebook. “And who was the last person to see Nora? Do you know?”

  Adrienne’s gaze snapped up to where I stood on the mezzanine. My pulse fluttered. I hadn’t realized she knew I was listening in. “Kennedy,” she said, pointing upward. “Her older sister.”

  “Would you mind joining us, Kennedy?”

  I took the stairs without argument. As I neared the group in the entryway, the name embroidered on the jacket of the petite officer’s vest came into focus.

  “Officer Martinez,” I greeted her, shaking her hand. “Officer Bradley.”

  Both cops looked me over from head to toe, probably thinking the same thing. I knew I looked rough. My hair was rumpled and tangled, stiff from last night’s hairspray, the imprint of the duvet pattern was etched into my cheek, and my breath probably smelled great considering I’d forgotten to brush my teeth. At a glance, I was the least reliable person to ask about Nora’s recent whereabouts.

  “You’re Nora’s sister?” Officer Bradley asked.

  “Half-sister,” Adrienne confirmed, as she was prone to do.

  “All right. Kennedy, what time did you see your sister last?”

  “Around eleven, I’d guess.”

  “And where was she?”

  “She left the gala with her friends through the backdoor of the ballroom,” I told him. “It leads out into the side yard. I figured they were just going to go hang out by the lake or something.”

  “And you didn’t see Nora for the remainder of the evening?” Officer Martinez questioned.

  “No. I was on the patio in the backyard for most of the night.”

  “Are you close with your sister? Would she confide in you if she decided to go somewhere without telling your parents?”

  I side-eyed my father and Adrienne, unsure of how to answer. “I’d say we’re close, but I’ve only been home for a little over a month. I’m not entirely sure if Nora would tell me something like that or not, but I’d like to think that she would.”

  Officer Martinez made another note then tucked the legal pad in her back pocket. “All right, folks. We’re going to have a walk around the property. That okay with you?”

  My father and Adrienne nodded, and the officers left through the front door to conduct their search. The sweet scent of fresh cranberry scones floated into the entryway from the kitchen, but Adrienne drifted upstairs, apparently unable to eat. My father watched her go, sighing, then turned in the direction of his study.

  My lower lip trembled. “Dad?”

  He paused to look at me, taking in my disgruntled appearance and the moisture in my eyes, then opened his arms. I rushed into the embrace, pressing my face into his shoulder.

  “It’s not your fault, Ken,” he said gently, stroking my matted hair. “Don’t you worry. We’ll find her.”

  “Where would she go?”

  My father’s arms tightened around me. “That’s the thing, Kennedy. She wouldn’t go anywhere unless someone else forced her to.”

  I spent most of the day with Dad, phoning the rest of the locals in the hopes that someone had seen Nora, but I had a dinner shift at the French restaurant that I couldn’t get out of. I was distracted the entire time, leading guests to the wrong table or calling the incorrect name from the waiting list every time I caught sight of any blonde girl that remotely resembled Nora. Eventually, the manager scolded me and told me to go home. I complied without argument, not caring that I’d forfeited my portion of the tip-outs for the night.

  When I arrived home, I half-expected Nora to come bounding down the driveway to meet me, but the gravel pathway remained heartbreakingly empty as I plodded up to the house. I let myself in, warmed a plate of leftover chicken pot pie in the microwave, and poked my head into my father’s study. He looked up from one of his many novels.

  “No luck?” I asked.

  He shook his head sadly and returned to his book. I withdrew from the room and carried my meal up to my bedroom. Adrienne would kill me if she knew I’d been eating outside the kitchen or dining room, but at this point I needed comfort food in a comfortable place. I collapsed on the bed and took a bite of pot pie. It scalded my tongue.

  That was about all I could take. Tears welled up as I pushed the plate away. I flipped over and cried into a pillow, hoping no one could hear the muffled sounds. Nora had been missing for almost a whole day. If she had the option to do so, she would’ve returned home by now, which meant my father was right. Something had happened to her. Either someone took Nora away or she was hurt so badly that she was unable to call for help. The thought made me sick to my stomach, and there was nothing I could do but wait around for the cops to figure out where she’d gone.

  Once I’d cried myself dry, I ate my dinner, which was now cold. My bedroom was empty without Nora. For the first time in my life, I wished for a television or a radio, anything to fill the silence. All I had were four blank walls, the abandoned gown in a heap on the floor from last night, and my duffel bag, unzipped and open. It was the second day in a row I’d postponed my move to the new apartment. Nora’s absence had derailed my entire day. All I needed was to lose my deposit because I hadn’t shown up to move in. I didn’t even have a cell phone for the new complex to contact me. The property manager was probably wondering what kind of flake he’d approved to live in the studio unit.

  I got up, stuffed the rest of my clothes into the duffel bag, and zipped it shut. I longed to escape this bedroom, this house, where everything reminded me of Nora. It was late though, and if I left now, I’d be sleeping on the doormat of my new apartment instead of inside it. I settled for dropping the duffel bag near the door of the bedroom. First thing in the morning, I was getting out of here.

  I woke as the sun peeked over the horizon, staining the sky pink and orange. The colors reminded me of Nora. I drew the curtains shut, but as morning beckoned, the light filtered in through the diaphanous fabric. As quickly as possible, I dressed in a pair of stretch jeans and a comfortable sweater. I had to ride my bike to the new complex, and I wanted to have decent mobility. Then I scooped up my duffel bag from the doorway and went downstairs.

  Dad and Adrienne were already up. They sat at opposite ends of the dining room table. Dad held a newspaper alongside an untouched plate of French toast, his glasses poised at the tip of his nose. His eyes didn’t move along the text. He stared blankly, lost in his own thoughts. Adrienne curled up like a cat in her own chair, her legs tucked underneath her as she absentmindedly stirred a cup of black coffee with an escargot fork. I reached across her for a platter of English muffins. The movement stirred the somber air, and Adrienne glanced at the duffel bag over my shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  I buttered the muffin and added jam. “Getting breakfast.”

  “No, with your bag.”

  “Oh. I was meant to move into my new apartment a couple days ago. I’m going now.”

  Her fork clattered to the table, and a spot of coffee spread across the white tablecloth. “You’re leaving?”

  I paused, confused by the question. “Yes?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  My father finally looked up from his newspaper. “Where are you going?”

  “I just said—” I began, but he was bewildered and tired. “My new apartment. It’s near Nora’s school.”

  “Now?”

  With Nora gone, the family had collectively unhinged, but the weirdest thing was that both Dad and Adrienne looked at me as if this conversation wasn’t brought about by their own decisions. “I thought it might be for the best,” I told them. “I’ll be around. I have to work later anyway. Do you want me to come by for dinner?”

  “You can’t go,” Adrienne said.

  The English muffin sucked the moisture out of my mouth. I coughed, spraying crumbs across the floor, an
d wiped butter from my lips. “I’m getting mixed signals here. First, you couldn’t wait to get rid of me, and now you want me to stay?”

  “Why would you leave now?” Adrienne asked, untucking her feet to sit a little straighter in her chair. “Honestly, Kennedy. It’s just like you. You always bail as soon as things get tough.”

  “And on that note, see you later.”

  “Kennedy, wait.” Her chair scraped across the floor as she pushed herself away from the table and stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m stressed. I didn’t mean it.”

  I stared at her. “Did you get hit over the head or something? You’ve never apologized to me for anything.”

  Dad cleared his throat, as if reminding me to be civil. I wasn’t trying to make trouble. It was just a statement of fact. I wasn’t used to Adrienne acting human. She swirled her long hair around and pinned it at the top of her head in an elegant bun.

  “Please,” she said. “We’re all under a lot of stress right now. We should be together. As a family.” She took my duffel bag off my shoulder and passed it off to Helen. “Will you put Kennedy’s bag back in her room, Helen?” I watched, bewildered, as she retrieved the cordless house phone from the table behind her and handed it to me. “Call the apartment complex. Tell them you won’t be needing the unit.”

  I leaned to the side to look past Adrienne, where Dad observed our interaction with a mixture of shock and acceptance. When he caught my eye, he nodded emphatically, so I accepted the phone from Adrienne and said, “Um, sure. I’ll just—”

  I wandered away from the dining room and into the entryway, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Adrienne was actually being… nice? Did Nora’s disappearance have that much of an effect on her? If anything, I expected her to hate me even more, especially since she considered me partially to blame for not keeping a better eye on my sister. This was unreal. My entire world had shifted, like I’d suddenly woken up in an alternate universe where Adrienne accepted both her biological daughter and the one she’d reluctantly inherited through marriage.