by Kristin Cast
“Anyway.” Hunter didn’t keep the disdain from twisting her features. “What we need you guys to do is simple.”
“You’ll each go to a tree and wait for our signal and then light a candle and say a few words and do some other simple, witchy stuff.” Mercy continued Hunter’s thought in a way only her twin sister could. “Piece of cake,” she said with another clap. “Oh, this has to happen tonight. At about sunset. And you’ll need to bring a gift.”
Jax wrinkled his freckled nose. “For the tree?”
Mercy tugged on the hem of her pink T-shirt. “Kind of.”
Kirk rubbed his hand against his barely there chin fuzz. “So, you want us to pick a tree and bring it, like, some earrings or something? And that’ll keep the town safe?”
Mercy chewed her bottom lip. “Well, uh, yeah. I mean—”
Kirk shook his head. “Sorry, but you’re gonna have to be more specific.”
“Yeah, I’m not even sure what I’d buy a tree. Lights, maybe?” Jax rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.
Hunter and Mercy hadn’t thought this through. They were supposed to get Jax and Kirk to agree to participate in a spell by saying it would protect the town. Sure, that was a valid reason, but if she and Mercy had slowed down and really thought about it, they would have realized help the town and get trees presents made them sound crazy. And not witchy crazy, crazy crazy.
Hunter took a deep breath. If Mercy could get people to do almost anything, so could she. “There are five gates in Goodeville. Each is represented by a different type of super old tree that’s definitely not native to Illinois. In order to keep the town safe, we have to make sure these gates stay closed. The gift we need you to bring is just a representation of the original place the tree came from. It all stems from a lot of ancient witchy magic stuff that’s been going on for centuries.” Hunter clasped her hands behind her back to keep from picking at her fingernails.
Jax tilted his head. “Real gates or symbolic gates?” he asked.
Hunter’s fingers betrayed her, found a hangnail, and tugged. “Real gates.” She winced.
Jax shared a look with Kirk before turning back to Hunter. “To actual places?”
Mercy sucked in a breath. “Well, not—”
“Yes,” Hunter interrupted. At this point, it didn’t matter if Jax and Kirk drove through the whole town with a bullhorn yelling about Goodeville being full of weird old trees and witchy gates. Everyone would think they were crazy crazy, too.
Jax dragged his crooked teeth along his bottom lip. “Bad places?”
Hunter rolled her answer across her tongue, smoothing out the rough edges. “Just different. What’s over there doesn’t belong here, and what’s over here doesn’t belong there.”
Jax nodded. “Cool.”
“Cool?” Kirk took a step back the same way he had that night on the porch before the grief spell. But that hadn’t been in front of his precious babe, the girl he’d do anything for.
Jax hiked a shoulder. “I’m not going to pretend like I totally understand, but I know H. If she needs my help, I’m there.”
Hunter crammed her hands into her pockets. She’d lied to her best friend. Her sweet, trusting, perfect best friend. It was for a good cause. She and Mercy had decided not to tell the boys the complete truth, but Hunter hadn’t expected that to make lying so easy. She swallowed as guilt flooded her stomach with the same prickly swiftness as her first and only drink of vodka. But this guilt wasn’t for the half-truths, the lies. This guilt that lapped hot against her stomach was for its absence. Hunter hadn’t felt bad for lying. She hadn’t felt anything.
Kirk shuffled back toward the group, twitching like a fly. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I’m always there for Hunter and Mercy.”
“Whitfield!” Coach Jamison’s holler made Hunter flinch.
Kirk turned and waved an acknowledgment to the stout, balding man before turning back to Mercy. “Coach needs me, but I won’t be long. He’ll make the JV squad stay and practice, but the A Team is done.” He pressed against her like a shadow.
“You’re so sweaty.” Mercy giggled and made a show of pushing her hands against her boyfriend’s padded chest in disgust just to lean in closer.
Hunter rolled her eyes in her best friend’s direction. She’d expected Jax to return the exacerbated expression. Instead, his temples pulsed and his gaze narrowed at Kirk. The last time she’d seen him like that, he’d reached across the cafeteria table and punched Spencer Burke in the face for calling her a dykey poon bag. Jax had gotten detention and, to this day, neither he nor Hunter knew exactly what a poon bag was.
“Don’t leave yet. I’ll be done in a few,” Kirk mumbled against the top of Mercy’s head before backing away and jogging toward the field.
Mercy let out a tiny squeal as she took Hunter’s hand in hers and swung it back and forth. “I told you he’d be cool with the spell. He really is awesome, right?” She sighed and watched Kirk wave at the group before he turned his attention to Coach Jamison.
Jax crossed his arms over his chest. “He really is a dick.”
Hunter hiccupped back a laugh as Mercy sucked in a breath and halted her excited arm swinging.
Jax’s mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish’s.
“You’re a dick!” Mercy fired back.
Hunter squeezed Mercy’s hand and bit her cheeks to stifle another chuckle.
Mercy dropped Hunter’s hand and clamped her own to her waist. “Your friend is being an asshole because Kirk called him out about dropping those balls in practice.”
With a huff, Jax threw up his hands. “It was one ball. And that’s not why your boyfriend is a—”
“You’re just jealous,” Mercy spat.
“I wouldn’t be jealous of Kirk Whitfield if he got drafted to the Bears.”
Hunter’s hand flew to her pendant. This was it. Whatever Jax had heard about Mercy had something to do with Kirk. It had to. Jax would give almost anything to play for the Bears and would be salty for years if one of his friends got to live out his dream.
Mercy leaned forward. Her hair slipped from her shoulders. “Then what is it, Jax? What’s your problem with my boyfriend?”
Jax sucked in his bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobbed just above the padded collar of his practice jersey.
“Jax.” Hunter bit the tip of her fingernail. “You can’t clam up now.”
“He told everyone, Mercy.” Jax clasped his hands together. Color drained from his knuckles with each passing second. “The whole team. He told them everything.”
Now Hunter was the fish. Her mouth bobbed open and closed as she struggled to put the pieces together.
Mercy took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shook her hair away from her face and dug her teeth into her bottom lip.
Jax’s gaze fell to his feet. “The blowjob and the…” He brushed the pegs of his cleats against the gravel. “Other stuff.” His dark eyes lifted. “Everyone knows, Mercy.”
Mercy wrapped her arms around her core. She squeezed her stomach as if she could keep it all in, keep herself together, if she only applied enough pressure. “No,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry.” Jax reached out. His hand hung in the air for a moment before dropping to his side.
Mercy cleared her throat. “If he told, there had to be a reason.”
Jax shook his head. “He was bragging, Mag. I swear. Big, detailed, douchebag bragging.”
“You don’t know him. Neither of you. Not the way I do.” Mercy straightened, stiffened, and held her fists down by her sides. “I’ll be at the car. Come when you’re finished with…” She narrowed her eyes and waved a hand in front of Jax. “This.” And stormed off.
Hunter started to go after her but Jax caught her hand. “I didn’t want to tell her. Not like this.”
“You did the right thing. We all know Kirk is terrible. Now she does, too.”
Jax squeezed her hand before he let go and bent to p
ick up his helmet.
“Mercy!” Hunter called as she jogged into the parking lot after her sister. “Wait!”
Mercy whirled around, her black hair cutting the air like a scythe. “For what, Hunter? So you can tell me more lies about my boyfriend?”
“Jax wasn’t lying.”
Mercy slumped against the nearest car, Coach Jamison’s puke green El Camino. “Kirk wouldn’t do that. Not the Kirk that I know.”
Hunter couldn’t stop picking at her fingernails. “But the Kirk you know is the same Kirk Jax knows.”
“He’s just gone through so much with his mom leaving and his dad being such an awful misogynist.” Mercy pressed her palm against her chest. “He thinks that the only way people will like him is if he pretends to be mister jock.”
“Or maybe he is mister jock and he thinks the only way you will like him is if he pretends to be someone he’s not.”
Mercy’s hand fell to her side. “There’s no way you could ever understand. You’ve never even dated anyone. You’re jealous! You and Jax and Em. You’re jealous that someone loves me and no one loves you.”
Hunter’s heart squeezed. Didn’t Mercy love her? Didn’t that count for something?
“I’m right! Kirk is sweet and loving and kind and respectful.” Mercy’s left brow lifted, and she sprang away from the car. “And I know a way to prove it,” she shouted and stormed back to the practice field.
Twenty-six
Mercy had to get her anger under control. Spellwork could be volatile—unpredictable—if the witch doing it wasn’t calm and focused, so she forced her steps to slow and shifted her concentration from how pissed off she was to how much she loved the way the fringe that hung around the hem of her short jeans skirt felt brushing against her thighs. She shook back her hair and her lips actually lifted in a small half smile as the beads on her hoop earrings jingled musically with her movements. Mercy drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was still pissed, but her mind had calmed enough to work through the angry haze that colored her thoughts.
Jax was full of shit.
But her sister’s best friend’s words haunted her. The blowjob and the … other stuff. Her cheeks went hot. Okay, so, Kirk had said something to them—or at least to Jax. But it couldn’t have been like Jax was making it out to be. It couldn’t have been bad.
Kirk’s voice seeped seductively from her memory, overpowering Jax’s stupid words. You are a goddess. My goddess. I love you. Kirk had probably just wanted to tell Jax about the amazing thing that had happened between them—had been trying to be actual, real friends with him—and Jax was making a big deal out of it. Sure, Kirk could’ve sounded kinda douchey. No big surprise. It’s not like he had any kind of a decent role model at home to show him how to treat a girlfriend. That’s why Mercy had to practically teach him how to be a boyfriend—not that she minded. When they were alone Kirk was the sweetest guy ever. He just didn’t know how to make that guy public.
Well, she sure as hell did. And he’d thank her later, after everyone saw the real Kirk Whitfield. The Kirk she knew and loved so much.
Mercy slowed as she approached the spot at the very end of the practice field where the varsity cheerleaders had set up a big table that held a giant cooler full of sports drinks and ice. It was tradition that the cheer squad practiced along with the football team, breaking at about the same time so that everyone could share the cold drinks before the boys jogged into their locker room and the cheerleaders flitted off to theirs. Mercy tended to agree with Hunter’s ongoing assessment that the whole thing was a misogynistic ritual that needed to end, but the football and cheer coaches thought it was good for morale.
Giggles mixed with deep voices drifted to her on the breeze. Mercy thought what almost everyone else did—that the morale it built by the cheerleaders basically playing the role of glorified water boys caused more touchdowns in the backseat of cars than on the football field, but whatever. Today the archaic ritual was perfect for what she wanted to, needed to do.
She saw Hunter walking slowly to Jax, who—along with the rest of the varsity team, minus their quarterback—was downing a bottle of something that looked like it had way too much red food coloring in it to be healthy. Hunter glanced at her and Mercy motioned sharply for Hunter to join the group. Even from that distance she could see that Hunter’s shoulders were bowed and her face looked pale and drawn. Mercy’s stomach tightened. She hated to see Hunter upset. For years she’d been messing up anyone who hurt her sister.
And look how she paid me back today—by siding with Jax against me. She was a bitch last night when I tried to reason with her about Tyr, and she’s still pissed. That’s all it is.
Mercy lifted her chin. She’d show Hunter. She’d show all of them.
The fence that ringed that end of the field and the track surrounding it was lined with Thuja trees that grew side by side in pyramids of concealing evergreens, easily ten feet tall. Several yards beyond the trees and the fence the cheerleaders clustered with the football team—and her sister, who was standing beside Jax, silent and uncomfortable.
Mercy approached the wall of trees. From where she stood she could hear the sounds of voices, but was too far away and too shielded by the living wall to make out actual words.
Kirk would think anything he said to her would be private. In the shadowy protection of the evergreen hedge they couldn’t even be seen, let alone heard.
But Kirk didn’t actually know anything about her witchy powers, so he had zero clue what she could coax the trees to do. Well, Hunter had just decided—all on her own and against what Xena had said—to spill a bunch of stuff about them and the gates.
Now it was Mercy’s turn.
She knew the perfect spell. It was simple—one of the first Green Witch spells her mom had taught her before she was even a teenager and had first shown an affinity for plants and trees and the earth. Abigail had taken her to the huge grandmother oak in their backyard and explained to her that each tree was a living being, and because of that the right witch, using the right kind of power, could ask trees for aid.
It had been a super easy spell for her to learn. She’d already been able to feel the big oak’s inhalations and exhalations against her hands, and she’d been listening to the sweet whispers of the crops that surrounded their home for as long as she could remember. So, when Abigail had shown her how to focus, how to pull energy from the ley lines and be the conduit that sent that energy into the oak so that she could beseech the tree for the help she needed—it felt as natural as breathing to young Mercy.
She looked up at the wall of evergreens. They loomed above her and made her feel safe, strong, powerful even. Mercy smiled and lifted her hands, stroking the spiky, sticky upside-down Vs that were the Thuja’s leaves. It was then that her mother’s voice tickled across her memory. Well done, Mag! Abigail had said when Mercy had executed the spell so easily. But remember, sweetheart, never use your powers for vanity or any self-serving reason. Always keep in mind the words we live by: An ye harm none, do what ye will.
Mercy ignored the spark of intuition that all of a sudden made her palms sweaty and her stomach sick. I’m not harming anyone. I’m showing everyone they’re wrong about Kirk. I’m doing a good thing!
She wiped her damp palms against her jeans skirt, closed her eyes, and centered herself—and found that her anger worked for her as she easily found the potent ley line that bisected the football field and ran directly under where she stood. Mercy reached down and tapped into that vein of power as she pressed her hands against the trees—ignoring the fact that their sticky leaves scratched her palms.
“I greet you, gentle giants,” she murmured to them.
Instantly she felt their combined inhale and exhalation against her hands.
“I ask a favor of you, and for that favor I will draw the power beneath you up into your roots, your branches, your beautiful, lime green leaves. You will swell with health and grow taller, ever taller. Will you grant me a f
avor?”
From the trees rushed excitement that teased her palms and made her smile.
“Good. Here is what I ask of you…” Mercy bowed her head and pressed her forehead against the Thuja as she whispered her request to the line of trees.
Again, her palms tingled with excitement that was so real it reminded her of wriggling puppies. She didn’t speak her thanks. Instead, she pulled the pulsing power up through the earth. The heat of it rushed into her body and through her hands to cascade into the wall of trees. They swayed as they accepted her offering like ballerinas tethered to the earth.
She stroked the thick, leafy Thuja branches and murmured, “Thank you, my friends,” exactly as Abigail had trained her to do. The wall of trees swayed once more in response.
Satisfied the spell was set, Mercy rubbed her hands on her jeans skirt and headed to the break in the fence and tree line, just in time to see Kirk jogging away from the coach and the JV team, as he headed for the refreshment stand. Mercy lifted a hand and waved at him.
As soon as he saw her he grinned and changed direction, running straight to her.
“Babe! You stayed! Damn, you look good.” He bent to kiss her, but she pushed against his chest with both hands—this time actually keeping him from getting close to her.
“We need to talk,” she said firmly.
Jarod Frazier, the Mustangs’ senior linebacker, leered at them as he crushed a Gatorade bottle in his meaty hand. “Oooh, damn! Trouble in paradise? You need some help handling her, bro?”
Mercy didn’t wait for Kirk to respond. She spun on her heels and marched back through the break in the fence, leaving Kirk to jog after her—much to the jeering delight of the rest of the team.
Mercy turned to face Kirk when she reached the exact spot she’d stood earlier, hidden by the wall of trees from the view of anyone on the football field.
“Mercy, what’s—”
She lifted her hand, stopping his words.
“You told Jax about what we did yesterday!”
