“I was on my way to do just that. I’m heading down to Mother’s private library now.”
“It’s your library now, lady. Don’t forget that.”
“Thank you, Jacob. I’ll be there if you need me.”
Gothel had taken one of her books into the dense part of the woods near the city of the dead, just as she used to with her sisters in the days before she killed their mother. She wanted to be somewhere quiet away from the main house and the sound of the renovations. Her sisters were napping, but she had made sure to leave them their favorite pastries and fruit to try to tempt them to eat if they woke before she got back to the house.
She was lying on one of the empty graves, her back against a tombstone. The sun cast a pattern of light on the pages of her book through the dead weeping willow branches. She watched the patterns dance and change as the breeze swayed the branches, distracting her from her reading. She made it her custom to lie only on the graves of those who were at the house doing work. Now that she’d met many of her minions, it somehow felt disrespectful to disturb them while they were sleeping.
She was reading a book written by her mother on various remedies and counter spells. She was desperately worried about her sisters’ health and hoped she could find something in one of the many books her mother had left behind. She had thought in the beginning they were just traumatized and exhausted by the entire ordeal with their mother, and to some extent she still thought that might be the case, but it had been several months and they weren’t better. She had to admit there might be something terribly wrong with them, and she was determined to find out what it was.
Gothel had always been a quick study, but she knew she would never have the knowledge of her ancestors—not after the confrontation she’d had with her mother—so she figured she’d better read as many of her mother’s books as she could. She had been to the vault where her mother’s blood was kept only to get the gold coins Jacob needed for supplies. Now, with everything going on with her sisters, she wondered if she should just share the blood with them to save their lives. But she couldn’t help thinking about the things her mother had said, about having to hide parts of herself from her sisters. If she gave them the blood, they would know her completely. Lately her sisters were always sleeping, and Gothel was pretty much left to herself to do as she wished. She had to admit she enjoyed having that freedom.
No, that doesn’t mean you wish them dead, Gothel.
She daily had to will herself from thinking like her mother. She loved her sisters more than anything. She was sitting in the woods now poring over her mother’s book, trying to find a cure for them, wasn’t she? Though something told her the cure was likely in her mother’s blood. But she couldn’t shut out her mother’s words warning her not to share it with her sisters. Warning her they would not like her if they could read her thoughts. She remembered her mother’s prediction that Gothel was meant to be alone. But how could that be? She would always have Jacob. She would always have the minions. And if she could help it, she would always have her sisters. Mother is the queen of lies. She and her sisters were meant to be together.
Sisters. Together. Forever. That was their vow. If I have to share Mother’s blood, then so be it!
Gothel slammed down her book, frustrated she had wasted the day trying to find a cure when she knew full well she would have to use her mother’s blood. She didn’t know how she knew; she just knew.
“You know because your mother’s blood flows through you like a current.”
Gothel looked up, startled. She quickly got to her feet and backed away from the three young women standing before her in the shadows of the dead weeping willows. They were wearing black dresses with elaborate brocade bodices stitched in silver. Their full skirts hit just below their knees and were trimmed with many layers of tiered lace, accenting their black-and-white striped stockings and shiny black pointed boots.
“Who in Hades are you and how did you get into my woods?” asked Gothel sternly.
“I am Lucinda, and these are my sisters Ruby and Martha. I’m sorry we frightened you,” one of them said with a sweet smile.
Gothel took in the odd young women. They were about the same age as Gothel and her sisters, maybe a year or two older, surely not in their twenties yet. They were identical in every way, including the way they were dressed. They all had long thick black hair that hung in soft waves to their shoulders. Their skin was pale and was beautifully contrasted by their dark eyes and red lips. There was something about the girls that seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Of course we are familiar to you. We are all witches together,” said the girl who called herself Lucinda.
Mind readers! thought Gothel, feeling panicked.
“Yes, we can read your thoughts. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. But I promise we don’t mean you any harm. We’re here to help you, actually. We felt your magic in the world when you destroyed the queen of the dead, and we felt your distress. It reached well beyond the many kingdoms to our lands, and we couldn’t help coming to your aid. We want to help you heal your sisters.”
“Heal my sisters? How did you know?” asked Gothel. “Why would you want to do that for someone you don’t know?” She was not at all convinced the strange sisters were there to help.
“So many questions,” said Ruby, laughing.
“We are all witches together. We need to watch out for each other. Help each other,” said Lucinda.
“And what would you want in return?” asked Gothel, eyeing the sisters.
“We would like access to your mother’s books. We specifically would like to learn the arts of necromancy and the secrets of your ancestors’ long lives,” said Lucinda, smiling.
“You’re asking for quite a bit,” said Gothel.
“I’d say any price was worth saving your sisters,” said Martha, though it might have been any one of them saying it. Their voices were all the same.
Martha walked over to Gothel, offering her hand. “I promise you we are here to help. If you don’t want to share your mother’s books, we will still help you. It’s no matter to us. You asked what we would like, and that is what we would like. But it’s not a requirement. We will help you nevertheless.”
“Oh yes! We will help you no matter! I could never imagine what it would be like to lose my sisters. I promise we will do all we can to help you, Gothel,” said Lucinda.
“Yes! We promise!” said Ruby.
Gothel’s head spun as she listened to the sisters talk in succession. She didn’t know what to make of the girls. She had never met other witches before, aside from her own family, and she found it a bit overwhelming to meet so many at once. She realized then how very isolated she had been, living in her own world with no one but her family and minions.
“Wait! How did you get through the thicket?” asked Gothel, wondering how they had broken through her mother’s enchantment.
The odd sisters looked at each other. “We have our ways.”
Gothel was envious of the witches. They were clearly in possession of more magic than she could imagine or possibly wield.
“Do you think you could teach me how to use my magic?” Gothel asked.
The odd sisters laughed. “Of course we will, little witch. It would be our pleasure.” That filled Gothel’s heart with joy. She had finally found witches who could help her learn magic. Witches who promised to help her heal her sisters.
Gothel took Martha’s hand and then took Lucinda’s and Ruby’s, grasping them together in hers. “Would you like to join us for the longest night, and for the solstice? We are having a festival of lights.”
“The festival of lights in the dead woods? I don’t think that has ever happened in anyone’s lifetime. I wouldn’t want to miss that,” said Ruby.
“Of course we will join you for the solstice! It would be our honor!” said Lucinda.
“Shall I show you to the house, then? Sir Jacob will be there, getting everyt
hing ready for this evening. I can show you to your guest room, where you can refresh yourselves before the festival.”
“Thank you,” said the mysterious beauties with one voice, like a choir of sirens.
“Ah, and I should mention something about Sir Jacob. Well, you see, he—”
“We know all about Sir Jacob. Don’t worry,” said Lucinda, interrupting Gothel.
“How do you know about him?” asked Gothel.
“We saw him in your mind when you mentioned his name. We saw the image you hold of him in your mind,” said Martha, smiling.
“I see.”
“Of course we expected necromantic servants in the dead woods,” Lucinda said.
“Yes. Of course you did.”
Gothel felt out of her depth with the witches. She was interested in seeing what Hazel made of them, whether she would be able to tell if they had good intentions.
“Come this way,” she said as they walked the long path that led them to the new courtyard, which was now filled with beautiful statues surrounding a large fountain. In the center of the fountain was the massive statue of a striking Gorgon. She had a wide evil grin with sharp teeth and wild curling snakes for hair. Her large stone eyes somehow sparked with life. She looked pleased, the stone Gorgon, as if she had just turned the frolicking dancers that surrounded her into stone, and it seemed to Gothel that during the Gorgon’s height of glee, she perhaps caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the water, turning herself into stone as well. Gothel wondered what her sisters made of the new fountain. She wondered if they found it beautiful, like she did. She talked with her sisters very little those days; she was so busy trying to make the house beautiful for them that she somehow managed to neglect them.
“And don’t forget your magic. You’ve been studying your mother’s magic, trying to find a cure to help them,” said Lucinda, reading Gothel’s mind.
“Yes. That’s true.” Gothel wasn’t sure she liked having mind readers about. Now she understood why the thought of mind reading unnerved Primrose.
“We look forward to meeting your sisters,” said Lucinda as they reached the vestibule, which was still under construction. Sir Jacob was there, directing the minions like a great general at war.
“Sir Jacob, I would like to introduce Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha. They will be our guests for the longest night and the solstice.”
Jacob stood for a moment saying nothing. Gothel didn’t know if it was from the shock of seeing strangers in the dead wood, or if it was something else. Whatever his reasons, he looked unsettled.
“Welcome, ladies. Please let Lady Gothel know if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable,” he said, eyeing the sisters, his face strained but not from the twisted smile Gothel had grown so fond of.
“Thank you, Sir Jacob,” said the girls in unison. It was almost like a song the way they said it. Gothel wondered if this was the way she and her sisters would be if they were identical, and if her mother would have been happier if these had been her daughters rather than Gothel and her sisters. Would she have tried to kill them if they had been identical, like these girls? Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.
Indistinguishable witch daughters are a blessing from the gods.
Had her mother ever said anything kind to them? Gothel couldn’t recall any encouragement from her mother—not until the days preceding her death. But now she was almost sure everything her mother had said in those days was a lie. She felt foolish for believing that her mother would be anything but traitorous.
“Don’t discount everything your mother said to you in those final days, Gothel. Not all of it was lies.”
Gothel looked at Lucinda with a blank face. She needed to remember those girls could hear all her thoughts.
“We can teach you how to block people from hearing your thoughts,” said Ruby.
“No offense, but I think I would like that very much.” Gothel realized she had been rude to poor Jacob, who had been standing there the entire time, almost mesmerized by the sisters. Almost afraid. Maybe that wasn’t the right word: afraid. But clearly there was something about the sisters that bothered him. She would have to talk with him later when the sisters were occupied in their rooms.
“Thank you, Jacob. I won’t keep you from your work. I will come see you later before we start the longest night.”
“Yes, Lady Gothel.” And he went on his way, directing the minions to finish putting up the decorations and setting up the candles around the house.
The strange sisters laughed. Gothel liked the sound of their laughter. It wasn’t teasing or nasty; it was musical and happy. She missed laughing with her sisters that way. She missed spending time with them.
“We’ll do what we can to help your sisters. We promise,” said Martha.
“Thank you,” said Gothel. “Let me show you to your rooms.”
“We prefer to stay in the same room if it’s all the same,” said Lucinda.
“Yes, of course. We’ll put you in the dragon room, then. It has the largest bed—that is, if you don’t mind sharing,” Gothel said, directing them up the stairs.
“We don’t mind,” said the smiling sisters, looking around the mansion, their little boots clicking on the stone floors. Click click click. The sound was starting to annoy Gothel, making her head slightly spin. She laughed to herself. At least I will always know when they’re coming.
The sisters joined in Gothel’s laughter. Gothel didn’t bother responding. She pretended they didn’t hear her thoughts as they made their way up the stairs and past the skeleton creatures that were placing candles on every surface. There were candles everywhere, on every available space.
“Your room is this way,” said Gothel, pointing to a large stone archway. The dragon room was in the oldest part of the house, and it was one of their grandest rooms. Gothel always wondered why her mother had never stayed in that room herself. It was the best of all the bedrooms, with its stone carvings of dragons stretching across its walls, and the giant fireplace flanked with the winged beasts.
“She didn’t want to live in the room where her mother died,” said Lucinda.
Gothel was startled. The words were like a knife in her stomach, and she knew there must be truth to them. It hurt her to think the girls knew something about her mother that she did not.
“How do you know this?” asked Gothel, eyeing Lucinda.
“The many queens of the dead are legendary. Their histories are written in the volumes of time, which we have read voraciously.”
“You probably know more about my history than I do,” said Gothel, distracted, as she watched a couple of skeleton minions opening the curtains and starting a fire. Never in the time of her mother had there been so many servants roaming the house. At least not that she and her sisters witnessed. She smiled, realizing she had become her own queen after all. She was doing things her own way.
“I hope you will enjoy your stay with us. You’re welcome to stay as long as you wish. I will have someone bring up a number of dresses and everything else you might need. You look to be the same size as my sister Hazel, and we just got a delivery containing more dresses and nightclothes than she could possibly wear in her lifetime.”
“Thank you, Gothel. Or should we call you Queen?”
Gothel laughed. “I’m certainly not your queen. Gothel is fine. Thank you.” She motioned to the stone desk, which held a large blotter, a bottle of ink, and a feather quill. “There is paper in the drawer if you need to write your family to let them know you’re staying. And if there is anything you need, please let one of my creatures know. They can arrange a bath, bring you something to eat, anything you require. None of them speak, of course, other than Jacob, but they can hear and understand you.”
“Thank you, Gothel,” said the sisters, seemingly awestruck as they looked around the room. Gothel suddenly saw it through their eyes, that room she had taken for granted until that moment, its massive feather bed nestled on the large carved-st
one bed frame with its four posts, the tops of which were fashioned in the shapes of dragon heads. The red canopy and bed drapes were new additions to the room since her mother’s passing, as were the crimson tapestries and rugs. It was a striking room, and she wondered why she hadn’t taken it for herself.
“Well, you should! After we leave, of course!” said Martha, laughing.
“Oh yes, before I forget…” said Gothel. “Someone will come get you before nightfall and bring you to the morning room for the celebration. Jacob will ring the dressing bell two hours before the festivities. In the meantime, please be sure to ring the bell if you need anything at all. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to go check in on my sisters.”
“Of course,” said the witches.
Gothel left the room, closing the door behind her. She could hear the witches laughing as she walked down the hall toward her sisters’ rooms.
What peculiar, odd sisters.
All six of the witches stood silently in the courtyard, waiting for Sir Jacob to come down from the house. Gothel had thought they would all be meeting in the morning room, but it seemed Sir Jacob had other plans.
Hazel, Gothel, and Primrose were wearing lovely dresses Gothel had recently picked out for them for the solstice. They were black, in keeping with their mother’s tradition, but they were speckled with a cascade of embroidered silver stars that swirled down from their right shoulders, twisting around the bodice and then becoming more spread out, like the night sky, when the stars reached their voluminous skirts. All three of the girls had decorated their hair with glittering stars.
Lucinda, Ruby, and Martha had elected to wear the dresses they had arrived in. When Gothel looked more closely, she realized the silver embroidery on their bodices was in little star patterns. Though they hadn’t changed their dresses, the odd sisters had arranged their hair in elaborate buns worn high on their heads, with long ringlets that hung on both sides of their faces. Their buns were adorned with silver stars that matched their earrings and the magnificent necklaces Gothel had sent up to their rooms as solstice gifts. All six of them were bundled in white fur wraps and muffs to protect them from the cold.
Mother Knows Best: A Tale of the Old Witch Page 8
