Spells Trouble

by Kristin Cast

  “Holy crap!” Jax’s awed voice sparked through the phone. “The feather! It just lifted way, way up with the wind and then disappeared—only there isn’t any wind!”

  Mercy smiled. “Good. That’s really good, Jax.” She didn’t wait for a sign from Hunter. She knew her sister’s offering would be different—dangerous. The offerings at the other trees set the stage for Hunter’s, heightening her power—and Mercy fervently hoped it would be enough. She drew another deep breath and continued.

  “Okay, here we go. Face your trees. Ready?”

  “Ready!” they chorused.

  “Imagine that beneath your feet is a thick stream of power,” Mercy said. “Something that runs deep and fast within the earth. Xena, what color is yours?”

  Xena responded immediately. “It is the yellow of cat eyes. Rich with power.”

  “Jax, what color is yours?”

  Jax’s voice was filled with excitement. “Mine is red! Mercy! My eyes are closed, but I see it! I really see it!”

  “Emily, what color is yours?”

  Emily gasped and shouted, “It’s pink! Just like springtime cherry blossoms! Oh, Mag, it’s beautiful!”

  Mercy smiled. “And mine is green, like new apples.” She waited for a moment, hoping Hunter could see her sapphire blue ley line—but she had to keep going. “Think about your ley line while you take out your athames.” Mercy heard the rustling as her three coven members did as she told them. “Prick your palms, just below your thumb.”

  Mercy didn’t hesitate. She pulled the athame from the pocket of her embroidered jeans and pressed the razor-sharp blade against her flesh. It hurt less than she thought it would—mostly it just stung—and then she squeezed the meaty part of her palm until her blood welled in fat drops. “Now, pull your ley line up through your body and push it from the center of your forehead, like a blazing star, to shine against the gate hidden within your tree.” Mercy concentrated, pulling her stream of emerald power up, up, up through her body. It wasn’t quite as sluggish as it had been that terrible night when Abigail had died, but it didn’t fill her body with the glowing energy that always blazed from their mom during Ritual.

  Mercy fisted her hands and concentrated harder. It felt like running a marathon. Sweat beaded on her face as she forced the slim stream of power up and out her third eye so that it washed the hidden gate within the tree with a pale light the color of unripe apples.

  She stared at the gate, expecting it to be powerful and whole, just as it was every time their mother had shown them this ritual. It was there. It was standing. But instead of a bright, glowing gate, it had turned black, like charcoal. Mercy swallowed bile. “Are any of your gates open?”

  “Yes! Mine is! It’s kinda hard to see ’cause there isn’t a lot of light, but it’s pink, like the ley line. It looks terrible—all crumbly—and it smells bad!” Emily panted, like she’d just climbed a wall of stairs.

  “Mine looks weird! Like it’s made of old blood, and it reeks!” Jax, too, gasped with effort.

  Xena’s hiss was followed by a low, deep yowl that lifted the hair on the back of Mercy’s neck.

  “Xena! What’s happening?” she shouted into the phone.

  “Oh! That must be your Egyptian friend,” Xena said. “I can see him beyond the gate. Oh, my. He does have the face of—”

  “Xena, is the gate open or closed?” Mercy interrupted.

  “Closed, but not well. It—it was once golden.” The cat person panted. “But now it flakes like cheap jewelry and the smell is truly vile.”

  “All three of you—focus on your ley line! Make it shine as bright as possible from your forehead directly onto the spot where your blood dripped on your tree. The ley line power mixed with your blood will close the gate—believe it, know it, make it happen now! And then repeat after me: By blood and offering—”

  “By blood and offering—” they repeated.

  Mercy continued as she channeled her ley line into the tree. “Through the power of olde—”

  “Through the power of olde—”

  Mercy’s voice rose, amplified by the energy passing through her and the generations of Goode witches that filled her DNA with magic. “Bind this spell with our intent, set well and block this hell, block this hell—BLOCK THIS HELL!”

  The three followed her, shouting the conclusion of the spell. The power sizzled, sputtered, and finally faded as Mercy’s black gate disappeared. “Now, lift your candle, ground yourselves again, thank your tree, and blow out the candle as you say, ‘So I have spoken; so mote it be.’”

  Mercy completed the spell with the others.

  “So mote it be!” chorused through the phone.

  “Mag! The smell is gone!” Emily’s voice trilled through the phone.

  “Mine doesn’t stink anymore, either!” said Jax.

  “The vile odor is gone from my tree as well,” said Xena. “Oh, kitten, it must have worked!”

  Emily and Jax cheered and Xena’s musical laughter lifted with the wind.

  Mercy didn’t feel triumphant. Not yet. She needed to reach Hunter. She closed her eyes and, wearily, found her ley line so that she could connect with her sister. She focused on her sister, seeking … seeking …

  But found nothing.

  Mercy tried again.

  Nothing. No sapphire orb—no swirling stars and moons—not even the strange, psychic tickle she had always been able to feel, always been able to find.

  “Emily!” she shouted into the phone. “Pick up Xena and get back here for me! Jax, meet us at the olive tree.” Her voice faltered. “Hunter’s gone!”

  Thirty-one

  Hunter’s hands shook. She balled them into fists and stuffed them into her lap. She had a plan, had worked it out on the way to Emily’s and finalized it in the stiff and bloated silence that now filled the inside of Sheriff Dearborn’s car. All she had to do was ground and protect herself, forsake her god, and get Polyphemus before he got her. No biggie.

  She blew out a puff of air. First things first. She planted her feet in the car’s footwell. Grounding herself while on the move wasn’t difficult. Hunter wasn’t one for holding still. Unless she was writing, too much stillness meant too much thought, too much opportunity for her demons to catch up with her, and she preferred to keep them chasing.

  Hunter closed her eyes and reached up, up, up, until she was nowhere. Until she was nothing. Just black and cold and stardust. Grounding didn’t always mean reaching down into the soul of the earth. For Hunter, it meant grasping the heart of the cosmos.

  “Can’t fall asleep on me now, Hunter,” he said. “I need those bright eyes of yours to lead me to this … what did you say it was again?”

  Hunter flinched and her eyelids fluttered open. “By the olive tree. There’s, uh…” She blinked through the haze clouding her vision. She’d let him pull her back too soon. She wasn’t yet grounded or protected. She floated somewhere between the earth and the heavens, sinking through quicksand to get back to her body. “Burn mark. Of a person. Weird stuff. You have to see it to believe it.”

  He turned down the unpaved road that led to the tree and the gate and Hunter’s future. He adjusted the sheriff’s sunglasses and said, “I’ve seen some pretty weird things.” His meaty paw clamped onto her thigh. “Maybe I’ll tell you about them before the night is over.” Moist heat seeped from his fingers and drowned every pore of her bare thigh.

  “It—it’s just up ahead.” Hunter cursed her voice for trembling.

  “I know.” Polyphemus released her leg and Hunter fought the urge to wipe the ghost of his grip from her skin. His knuckles popped on the steering wheel as he guided Dearborn’s cruiser onto the shoulder.

  She unbuckled the seat belt and threw open her door before he’d put the car in park. “It’s off the road, here,” she said, tapping her phone to activate the flashlight.

  His hand was back on her thigh. “Leave your phone in the car.” He squeezed her flesh and a wave of nausea rippled through her
stomach. “Wouldn’t want to drain your battery.” He let go and pulled a Maglite from his belt. “Plus, I’ve got this covered.” He clicked it on, then off, then on again.

  Hunter’s throat went dry as she placed her phone on the dashboard and stepped out of the cruiser. Gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she backed away from the car, from him.

  Polyphemus shined the cone of light across Hunter. “Where exactly is the weirdness you’ve been going on about?”

  Hunter blinked the spots of light from her eyes and pointed at the stake the sheriff’s department had left behind. He cast the light onto the field and stopped when the beam flashed on the stake and the strip of yellow caution tape fluttering in the breeze.

  “You wanted to show me that they left behind some trash?”

  Hunter charged into the tall grass. Polyphemus was right behind her. The flashlight’s glow spilled across her left side and a half shadow stretched along the grass. Hunter looked at the sky and the sliver of moon that peeked out from behind the clouds. Mother Moon would always be with her. She couldn’t say the same about Tyr. Her fingers found the pendant hanging from her neck.

  She reached the stake and froze. The scorched earth was gone, vanished. “It was here.” She crouched next to the grass, unstained but still crushed in the shape of Earl Thompson’s body.

  With a snort, Polyphemus shined the light onto the ground.

  “It was right here,” Hunter repeated. “I had my tarot.” She mimed shuffling her deck. “I took out the cards.” She drew three invisible cards and set them in the grass. “I asked each card a question and they each gave an answer. One of them burned the earth. Here.” She passed her hand over Earl Thompson’s imprint. “And—” Her voice caught as she turned to where the footsteps had been burned into the earth. Now, Polyphemus filled that space in the grass, the sheriff’s large boots the same size as the vanished scorch marks. Hunter brushed her hands on her shorts and stood. This didn’t derail her plan, it just changed it a bit.

  Polyphemus stepped closer. The toe of his boot touched hers. His coppery breath warmed her face. “I’d almost lost hope, but then I found you, Bright Eyes.” His palm melted against her cheek. “I’ve searched for you for centuries.” His thumb grazed her bottom lashes, slid down the slope of her nose and pressed against her lips.

  Hunter parted her lips. “I’m here now,” she whispered and let her mouth graze his thumb. She watched her reflection in Sheriff Dearborn’s sunglasses as she bit into his flesh.

  Her teeth sunk into skin. Blood hit her tongue as Polyphemus howled. He yanked his hand free. Pain fireworked against Hunter’s cheek. She hadn’t heard the slap or seen it coming, but the shape of his hand now burned against her face.

  Hunter scrambled backward and tripped over the flashlight he’d dropped. She caught herself as the light settled across the forest of grass. She moved backward, closer to the tree as Polyphemus stalked toward her. But this wasn’t a retreat. This was a preparation.

  “I am a Goode witch!” she shouted. Mangled roots jutted from the ground as Hunter neared the ancient olive. “My blood carries magic. So does yours, Polyphemus. I can feel it prick my throat like shards of glass.” She spit Polyphemus’s blood into her hand. “Your blood!” She pulled the athame from her pocket and sliced her blood-splattered palm. “My blood!” Scarlet gushed from the wound and swirled across Polyphemus’s blood like a whirlpool against her skin. “I draw down the power of the moon and the heat of the stars!” She thrust her red palm to the sky and, for a moment, the heavens flickered.

  Polyphemus roared. Hunter’s pulse surged through her ears as she widened her stance and let him shorten the distance between them. With the demi-god only steps away, Hunter rushed forward. A scream scraped against the back of her throat as their bodies collided. Polyphemus grabbed her ponytail and snapped her head back.

  Her hands found his shoulders, his neck, his ears. She yanked off his sunglasses and clapped her bloody palm against his good eye. “Release!” she commanded the cosmic energy she’d stored in the crimson pool that swirled against her palm. Heat shot from Hunter’s palm.

  With a screech, Polyphemus wrenched away. He slapped his hands over his eye and folded as he tripped backward.

  Hunter ran to the base of the tree. Her hand trembled as she grabbed Tyr’s pendant and yanked. The rope cord resisted. It burned the back of her neck as she pulled harder—then it snapped. Her eyes filled with tears, turning Polyphemus into a writhing blur of dark colors. She held the symbol of Tyr to her lips and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  She threw the pendant to the ground and swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Amphitrite!” The tree’s wide trunk pressed against Hunter’s back as she called on a new deity—a goddess to set things right. “Wife of Poseidon and goddess of the sea, I come bearing a gift!”

  Polyphemus’s screams turned to growls and he charged Hunter, arms blindly thrashing the air. The flesh around his once good eye was raw, the edges charred. Hunter had blinded him, but she hadn’t stopped him.

  Her throat turned to barbed wire and she choked on the fear caught in the back of her mouth. “Amphitrite,” she barked, her voice nearly drowned out by her thundering pulse. “I offer you Polyphemus, proof of your husband’s adultery! Take him back to Tartarus and I’ll submit my will to yours!”

  The air cooled and the hairs along Hunter’s arms bristled. Light poured from the tree, from the gate, the same cerulean as a blue giant. Polyphemus’s boots beat the ground as he sped toward the brilliant glow.

  Hunter pulled the athame from her pocket as the demi-god tripped on the olive tree’s roots and slammed into her. Air shot out of her lungs and she lost her grip on the knife. It fell to the ground, its sharp point glinting in the blue light. Bark tore into Hunter’s back as Polyphemus’s weight crushed her to the ground. He roared. Spittle flew from his lips and sprayed Hunter’s forehead. His hands clawed up her chest and snaked around her neck. She pawed the earth for the blade as Polyphemus squeezed her throat. The tips of her fingers brushed something cool, something metal. She gripped the hilt, raised the blade, and drove the point into his temple.

  Spit showered Hunter’s face as Polyphemus howled and his grip tightened on her throat.

  Hunter swiped her wounded hand through the blood that leaked from his head. “We are all stardust.” The words barely passed from her lips as she focused the last of her energy through her blood and into his.

  Polyphemus’s blood, charged with her power, sizzled against his skin. It bubbled and popped and ate through to bone. He yanked one hand from Hunter’s neck and pawed at the flesh on his face that burned away into nothing.

  Bursts of light flashed across Hunter’s vision as Polyphemus pressed his weight against the hand still clutching her throat. The blue air coated Hunter’s skin as she clawed his thick wrist. A chill tickled her spine and a woman’s laughter slipped through Hunter’s ears like the tongue of a snake.

  Merry meet, Hunter Goode. Amphitrite’s voice was like smoke, everywhere and nowhere. I accept your offering, my child.

  Ice speared Hunter’s chest. She looked down at the blue light shining through her. Amphitrite’s slender arm reached out from Hunter’s sternum like a spear. The goddess’s laughter was a shrieking train as she grabbed Polyphemus. She sank her pointed nails into his forearm. The same blue light that shone from her skin and coated the air seeped up Polyphemus’s arm. He ceased his screams and blindly blinked at Hunter. His skull, slick with blood and melted flesh, glowed as the blue light spread from one side of his body to the other.

  Tartarus hath no fury like a goddess scorned. Amphitrite yanked Polyphemus’s arm, and he passed through Hunter’s chest as the goddess ripped him from Goodeville and cast him back into the Greek Underworld.

  They vanished. Hunter fell to her knees in a fit of coughs. She sucked in air as the blue light receded back into the gate.

  You are mine, now, Hunter Goode. Amphitrite’s voice faded as the warm dark night re
took the field.

  Soft blades poked Hunter’s sliced palm as she crawled through the trampled grass toward the flashlight. Her chest quaked with the memory of the otherworldly magic that had cut through her. She fumbled with the heavy flashlight and forced her legs underneath her. Her hand shook and the beam of light wavered as she guided it down the street until it landed on Sheriff Dearborn’s car. She stumbled into a run. The dome lights clicked on as she opened the passenger door. Amber light poured onto her, dirt-streaked and blood-crusted, as she swiped her phone off the dash.

  With trembling hands, she dialed her sister’s number. Hunter barely heard Mercy’s voice over the echo of Amphitrite’s words.

  You are mine, now, Hunter Goode.

  Epilogue

  Hunter sat in the cool shadows that the palm fronds cast onto the grass. When they’d all decided to spend the afternoon at the park, she’d silently cheered. Writing outside was so much better than writing inside. But in the rush to get out of the house, she’d forgotten her journal. The worst part was that she knew exactly where it was. She closed her eyes and glided through her front door, past the living room, and into the kitchen. There it was. On top of the forgotten cooler full of seltzer and the pee-yellow tea Mag brewed and insisted tasted just like green gummy bears.

  Jax’s foot bumped Hunter’s as he maneuvered out of the tree’s shadows and back into the sun. Beside her, he closed his eyes, his lashes nearly dusting his round cheeks, and resumed tossing the football from one hand to the other while Emily and Mercy shook with girlish giggles. From now on, every day would be like this. Every day would be simple.

  With an eruption of laughter, Emily threw her head back. She nearly toppled over onto the red-and-white-checkered blanket she had brought from home. She fanned her face and insisted Mercy, “Stop playing.”