by Marta Szemik
“It doens’t matter. Come on in,” Mrs. G answered before Xela could.
I followed my friends inside. Mrs. G’s floor-length skirt danced with her steps to the tune of a song she hummed under her breath. She placed the dagger on a table beside her magic book and moved the cup of herbal tea that had rested beside it to the mantle. The embers in the hearth spat and hissed when the mixture bubbling above them overflowed.
The fresh pepper and rosemary aroma I remembered from the siblings’ home probably filled the room, but I couldn’t smell anything; I tried. For the second time in two days, I missed being corporeal. I floated through the room, avoiding the cloths, herbs, and dried flowers that hung from the protruding roots above as if they’d bounce off my head. It just seemed wrong to float through everything in my way.
“Nice lair, Hannah,” Xela commented, pulling her fingers along the tops of the chairs, drawing the tip of her toe along the earthen floor close the hearth.
“I prefer to think of it as home,” Mrs. G replied, her tone mildly rebuking.
Xela looked at her. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”
“You’ve been here?” Xander asked.
“Decades ago.” Xela touched a bundle of herbs dangling from the ceiling. “Not much has changed.”
“No need to.” Mrs. G sat down on the wooden stool in front of the fireplace, resting her elbows on her knees while nudging the embers into flames with a poker. “I hear Miranda has fooled us both. Is that why you’re here?”
“I hoped we could work together again. Help me right what’s been wronged.”
“Last time did not turn out as planned, did it?” Xander’s mom lowered the spectacles on her nose.
“Yes, you got blamed for our share of magic, but I had no choice.” Xela’s arms remained rigid at her sides, and her jaw tightened.
“You never do, do you?”
Xela’s eyes fell to the floor. Shame covered her face. “It was a different time and a different me. Before I met Xander.” Xela took his hand and squeezed it. “He changed me.”
I imagined she understood sacrifice better than most people.
“I see.” Mrs. G inspected the couple, and I wondered if it looked odd to her that Xander held my hand, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all. “And I gather you have a plan?”
“I do.” Xela looked toward the leather book on the table, embossed with a water mark symbol set between three gems: red, white, and blue. An aura wrapped the cover like a shield, casting a glamour that made the book seem insignificant, but if magic gems had taught me anything, I knew Mrs. G’s spell book must be powerful.
Mrs. G didn’t move for a minute, typical of her habit of drawing out her actions. Then she pushed up her other sleeve, eyes on the tome of spells. “I guess it’s time the book returned to its original form.” She sighed, turned, and threw another log into the fire. The flames rose, dancing higher, as if they too understood what Mrs. G and Xela were talking about.
“It is time.” Xela moved to the wicker chair suspended from the ceiling’s roots by a weaving of ropes and settled in it, the stiffness gone from her body. “Someone will need to find the other books, so the spells can transfer freely between those worthy.”
“Yes, someone will.” Mrs. G’s face seemed to suggest she knew the perfect culprit for the job, but she changed her expression too quickly for me to deduce who it was. In that single moment, I felt her gaze rest on my ghost.
“You afraid to show yourself, Sarah?” Mrs. G looked right through me.
My ghost floated to the side before I showed myself, remembering Xander’s warning about a heart attack, although I doubted it was possible to scare Mrs. G with anything. Somehow, this powerful witch knew things before anyone else did. As far as I knew, no one has ever surprised her. “Not afraid, but someone told me to hide.”
Xander shrugged as I gave him a pointed I-told-you-so look.
“And how do you like being a ghost?” Her tone was still casual, but I detected an undercurrent of fear I hadn’t heard before.
“Takes some getting used to. I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do,” I replied.
“She does.” Mrs. G pointed to Xela. “Don’t quarrel with me now, Xander. There’s no time for that.” She raised her hand. “And don’t say you weren’t going to, either.”
Xander slouched again, retreating to a corner couch. He knew better than to argue a witch’s prediction.
Xela laughed. “Gosh, it’s so good to see a witch at her best.”
“You’re a pretty good witch as well.” Mrs. G relaxed and pushed the spectacles on her nose to their usual position.
“I haven’t practiced in decades. That’s why I need your help.”
“I take it there’s a reason you’re in Sarah’s body?” Mrs. G asked.
Xela nodded. “It’s the only way to trick Miranda, make sure she stays where she’s sent this time.” She paused for a beat. “We need three witches.”
“Don’t really know a third witch who could handle the task.”
Mrs. G and Xela communicated in a secret language I could neither hear nor understand. It was as if they could read each other’s thoughts, and plan without planning. Perhaps they communicated the same way I did with Eric and the twins.
“She’ll be after Sarah’s essence, thinking she’s dead,” Xela said. “She’s seen her ghost and imprisoned her mother’s. She and Aseret have plans to kidnap the children. ”
“I think I know someone strong with a witch’s blood.” Mrs. G focused on the cut on her hand before adding, “We should assume Miranda knows where you are, Xela. If she has Sarah’s mother, they could extract the information from her.”
I cringed, imagining Aseret and the witch Miranda using Egyptian utensils on my mother’s ghost, the way the ancient embalmers removed the brain through the nose, though a witch’s tool would probably involve magic lights probing through my mother’s soul.
“Information, Sarah, information,” Mrs. G answered before I got a chance to ask.
“You’re right. I guess I’ve been out of touch too long,” Xela agreed. “She’ll expect us to plan her demise.”
Xander stared at his mother and Xela, turning his head from one to the other as they spoke. I think he was still stunned they weren’t ripping each other’s throat out.
“And the twins are ready?” Mrs. G asked.
“Yes, but I need to refresh the spells, if I may.” Xela looked at the magic book.
“It will take you weeks to read that thing,” Xander pointed out.
Curiosity pulled me toward the table where I’d seen Mrs. G, even Eric, flip through the pages many times. The thickness of the book never translated itself, for me at least, to the amount of information it held. I wouldn’t know what to do, but then, I wasn’t a witch. The book was eerily similar to the one I’d seen in Miranda’s lair in the underworld.
Mrs. G strolled over to the table. Xela followed, eyes sparkling. Side by side, the witches concentrated, breathing in and out at the same time.
“Ma, I know I trust her, but you . . . I thought black witches were your worst enemies,” Xander interrupted.
“They are, but not this black witch. I’ve already seen her future. If she knows what’s good for her,” she eyed Xander, “she’ll do the right thing.”
Mrs. G and Xela held each other’s gaze, drew a deep breath, then exhaling, each put her left hand on the book of spells. They closed their eyes, chanting a spell that unified into a hum as the foreign words flowed in streams of light toward the spelled papers. The leather binding glowed, transferring another beam of light toward their chests, that continued for another three of their deep breaths. The witches’ bodies rocked back and forth, heads swaying in circles on their necks. The chant rhymed every thirteen syllables, reminding me of a poem. Though I didn’t understand it, I sensed the mantra was meant to unify.
When the humming stopped, the room was silent; even the fire didn’t make a sound nor
the simmering liquid above it. Then, the leaves outside rustled, and sound returned to the hill.
“Ah . . .” Xela exhaled. “That’s better.” She lifted her hand, eyes sparkling with her newfound knowledge. The hairs on her arms stood straight out as her body—my body—adjusted to the magic it had absorbed.
“You’re sure you can contain it, after so many years?” Mrs. G said as she motioned Xela back to the wicker chair.
Xela took Xander’s arm, leaning on him instead. “I feel as if it never left me.” She twirled her finger, and an arrangement of red roses in bloom hugged the rim of the magic book. Their heady aroma flowed toward everyone’s noses in the form of pink mist. “Thank you.”
Mrs. G nodded. She suppressed a smile, but her eyes and the vibrant pulse under her skin belied her composed face. “You have everything you need?”
“I do.”
“You hurt my son again, and you will deal with me, Xela.” Mrs. G’s spectacles slid lower on her nose.
“I will never hurt him again. I promise.”
“Ma, I can take care of myself,” Xander protested.
“I know you can, but this time, I’d like to protect you as well. I’ve seen you without Xela.” Mrs. G sat back down by the fireplace. “And you’re much better with her at your side.”
“Thank you, Ma.” Xander bent to embrace his mother. He reminded me of a little kid who’d just received a new toy. I understood that Mrs. G’s acceptance validated Xander’s past choices and justified the pain he’d suffered. Now, his heart thumped as if reborn.
“I gather you have a plan to return Sarah’s body to her,” Mrs. G said, throwing a fistful of herbs into the concoction above the fire. The simmering eased, and the liquid devoured the new ingredient, then began to boil again.
“Yes, but the plan is not foolproof.” Xela stepped closer to peek into the mixture.
I leaned in, waiting for the steam to spill over and reveal the prediction Mrs. G sought.
“No plan is, is it?” Mrs. G laughed.
Their conversation didn’t seem funny to me. I wanted my body returned. And whatever Xela’s plan was, it’d better work, especially since Miranda had no host body to go back to. My ghost vibrated. The way they spoke in riddles baffled and frustrated me, and instead of chills climbing up my spine, waves of energy passed through my spirit like an unseen nuclear toxin.
“What do I do?” Xander asked.
“What you always do: be a shapeshifter. Your part of the prophecy is done. It’s time for us witches to step in. You need to follow your instinct now.” Xela touched his chest.
He took a deep breath, as if all his questions had been cleared.
“Allow me to read before you leave.” Although Mrs. G phrased it as a request, I knew no one would refuse.
“Of course.” Xela bowed her head. I’d never thought of Mrs. G’s readings as an honor.
Xela plucked a hair from her head—my head—and gave it to Mrs. G, who let it fall into the pot of liquid. Xander eagerly scooted to the hearth. Mrs. G squatted and threw a fistful of dirt into the steaming cauldron. The pot’s bubbles surged, hungry for more. Mrs. G reached above the mantle. Xela passed her a jar containing dried ingredients that looked like frog legs. The next jar held moth’s wings. Mrs. G crumbled the pieces in her palms above the cauldron, letting the dust fall into the mixture, then adding a pinch of ash from a can.
Leaning forward, the witches blew the rising steam over the rim. Mrs. G held her hand above the pot and squeezed her palm, breaking open the freshly slit palm. Drops of blood joined the now furiously boiling brew. More steam escaped, then the mixture calmed.
“Hmm . . . ” Mrs. G hummed.
“What is it?” I floated closer to see the surface of the cauldron. The liquid swished back and forth in waves. The concoction didn’t reveal anything to me, other than being a broth. Xela stepped forward as well.
“Your journey home is safe, but . . .”
“What’s the matter, Ma?” Xander edged in behind Xela. “What do you see?”
“The children are there, but I cannot see them.”
“Why not?” Xela examined the pot.
“William . . . he’s gone as well.”
“Gone where?” I asked.
“He will not return home for a while.” She looked at me. “The children are there, but they’re not,” she repeated.
Xela locked her gaze with Mrs. G. “They’re only there in their body, not in spirit.”
“Where are they?” I asked, knowing they could leave their bodies anytime, whether to visit the keepers, or Eric. The twins usually told me of their whereabouts ahead of time, but I guessed that would be difficult now. My ghost vibrated. “Where would William go?”
“They’ve embraced their destiny.” Xela turned toward me. “They’re ready.”
“What does it mean?” My gaze flew from Mrs. G to Xela and then back again, waiting for an answer.
“It means we have to hurry,” Xela replied.
Mrs. G frowned up at me. “Your fate is still unknown. Aseret and Miranda will not be the ones to decide it.”
“I will decide my fate.” I lifted my chin, but my ghostly form trembled. “Something is wrong.” My voice shook.
Xela’s and Mrs. G’s eyes darted to the door. Xander growled, then shifted from one animal to another within seconds before settling on his own form. His face took on a green cast.
A tremor shook the hill as something banged against the earth covering Mrs. G’s home. The wind howled as if a tornado had touched down on top of us. A loud cackle vibrated around the walls. Dirt crumbled to the floor.
“Impossible.” Mrs. G tilted her head back. “She cannot enter here.”
Yet she did. Miranda’s laughing ghost floated above our heads, near the ceiling.
Mrs. G remained calm. Her eyes turned black, as if the eyeballs were filled with tar. Xela took Mrs. G’s hand, and her eyes filled with blackness as well.
Miranda focused on me, mouthing words I couldn’t understand, but the words didn’t matter. Bright light crushed into my spirit. I’d been cursed.
Xander pushed the front door open. He screamed at me. Though I couldn’t hear him over the howling and Miranda’s laughter, I obeyed his frantic gestures and rushed through the doorway and into the forest without looking back. The greens of passing branches and underbrush blended into a blur as I thought about our cabin in the Amazon and departed.
* * *
The front door was ajar, and I flew through the hall into the solarium. The blinds were shut, shading the cabin, though light filtered between a few broken slats. The children sat cross-legged on the floor beside Eric, all three juggling blue spheres of light in their palms. The darkness helped their concentration when they worked with the globes of cold fire.
They’re here. I heaved and exhaled an invisible breath, more out of habit than practical relief.
Of course they’re here. What’s the matter? Eric shut his palm, extinguishing the sphere hovering above it.
Everybody else out? I asked.
Yes, orchid harvest.
I showed my ghost and knelt beside the kids. “You’re all right?”
“Yes, Mama,” Crystal said as she and Ayer balanced the spheres in their hands.
“I’d been told you’re not here.”
They laughed. Crystal blew on the spheres, shattering them into dust motes, and placed her palm on my ghostly shoulder. I could almost sense her touch on my ghostly skin. Warmth flowed from her hand to me, calming my trembling. “Don’t believe everything you hear and see, Mama.” The lisp had vanished from Crystal’s voice. She spoke like a young teen.
“Mama, you need not worry about us. For us, the realms are connected. We travel between them at will.” Ayer smiled.
My concern faded, as if he’d placed his own magic spell upon me.
“You’ve been cursed,” he said, closing his eyes.
I nodded and lowered my ghosts form closer to the ground.
“Who?” The spikes around Eric’s neck extended. They vibrated like they were the tongues of a cobra tasting the air.
“Miranda. She also has my mother, knows about Xela, and entered Mrs. G’s home.” I tried to squeeze as much as I could into one breath.
“The witch is intruding.” He stood.
“Of course she is! She’s a witch! Didn’t you expect that?”
Eric’s hands flew up into the air. “Sarah, even witches have to abide by some rules.”
Crystal and Ayer seemed oblivious to our discussion, staring into each other’s eyes like they were having their own conversation.
“Since when?” I threw my hands up. “Every time we deal with the sphere-marked ones, they don’t follow any rules.”
Eric lowered his head. “Did you follow the rules when you decided to give up your body?”
“I had no choice.” I didn’t look at my children, who were responsible for my decision. Did they know something Eric didn’t? If there was anyone I’d ever trusted, my children were at the top of the list.
Eric’s head swung toward the door. “They’re coming back. You should—”
My spirit disappeared before Eric finished, my ghostly form slouching in a chair. The cushioned seating felt oddly comfortable and my silhouette didn’t fall through as it usually would.
William stepped through the door, a woven basket strapped across his back. I imagined the aroma flowing from the fresh orchids, a sweet blend that used to intoxicate me when I inhaled. The worry for my husband faded when I saw him. There was nothing more I wanted than to rush into his arms and confess the mess we were in.
Mrs. G’s prediction resonated in my mind: William’s gone too. Yet he was here, in the flesh.
The children ran to him, shouting, “Hello, Father!” They flattened themselves against his legs, as if they sensed he’d be leaving.
“Father?” He looked down at them. “Your mother’s right. You guys are growing up too quickly.” My husband tousled their hair before placing his harvest on the marble floor. The basket’s straps left red marks imprinted on his shoulders on either side of his tank top. William unlocked the glass door to the lab as Ekim and Atram carried their harvests into the room.
