by A. W. Jantha
I wish I could say the same for Katie and Isabella, but there’s no sign of them.
If anything happened to Isabella, I don’t know what I’ll do.
The witches are now close by, cackling. Marching over to them, I fend off the zombies who claw at me, whacking one over the head with the book, until I’m face-to-face with Winifred and her two horrible sisters.
I’m shaking with fear and anger, full-on shaking, like I’m freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time. “You’re monsters!” I scream.
“Oh,” Winifred titters, batting a hand at me as if I’m just too much. “Thou art too kind.” She twists her wrist again, and another shock of lightning jumps from her fingertips to Travis, this time hitting him in the stomach as he emerges from the zombie mob. “Hand me the book, or I light him up like a Christmas tree!”
“Stop it!” I yell, stomping even closer toward her. “You’re horrible—”
“No, honeysop.” Winifred takes a threatening step toward me, making me falter in my own forward advance. “It’s the world that’s horrible.” She trills her Rs dramatically. “I—” She smiles coyly, regarding her sisters, who stand obediently by her side. “We just want to rule it.”
I can hear banging, and I turn to see Katie pounding on the booth’s window.
Before me, Winifred raises her hand again.
Energy crackles between her fingers like a deadly spiderweb.
“Leave them alone,” I say through clenched, chattering teeth.
Isabella’s by my side. “I’m right here, Poppy,” she says. “You got this.”
“Mmm...” Winifred pretends to consider this, playing with the ball of green-tinged electricity in her palm. “No. No, I don’t think I shall.” She snaps her fingers. “Unless...”
I feel my heart sink into my stomach. “Unless?” I ask.
“Unless you hand over my book!” she screams. “Booook!”
I feel the book come to life in my hands, and I realize that it must have fallen open as I’ve been holding it. I feel it move, like it’s being pulled by a giant magnet, and it takes all my strength to maintain my grip on it. I dig my heels into the soil. It’s pulling me toward Winifred, but I stop it in its tracks by finally managing to close it.
“As for the stone, I’ll get it one way or another, girl. Thou might as well tell me where it is now, and spare thy friends the pain of losing their—what’s the word, Mary?”
“Bowels?” Mary asks hopefully.
I give her a disgusted look, then glance at where the stone landed, where the zombies stagger around, bumping their heads against one another as they scour the ground. The witches didn’t see it land there, and the zombies apparently haven’t found it yet. What do I do now?
“Yes,” Winifred says, and a cruel smile comes over her face. “That’s it.”
Travis groans, and I turn to see him doubled over. A long bolt of electricity runs from Winifred’s hooked fingers to his stomach. He clutches at his guts, trying to shield himself from her magic without much luck. His eyes are clenched shut and he screams. I can barely look.
“Tsk tsk,” Winifred chides, closing in on Travis. “If your friends would only hand over my book and my stone, then this could all stop!”
I consider throwing the book at Winifred to make her stop, and look down for a second opinion, but Isabella’s nowhere in sight. Please be safe.
Suddenly, Katie, who’s been slamming the small windows of the booth with both of her fists, shatters a window with a bang. She stumbles through it, causing Winifred to freeze, turn toward Katie, and shoot a snake of electricity at her. The other witches turn toward Katie, too.
Travis twitches on the floor in front of a semicircle of statuesque zombie onlookers.
I’m about to throw myself at Winifred’s turned back to tackle her when Travis catches my eye. He waves weakly at me and pantomimes holding a phone in his hand.
He’s telling me to answer my phone. Why?
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and see Travis’s face grinning back at me. I answer because I trust that this is what Travis is motioning for me to do. He jabs a finger at his own mouth, miming a yell. Speaker phone.
I put my phone on speaker.
“Now where was I?” asks Winifred in her shrill voice, turning back to Travis.
Her voice is loud enough that both our mics pick her up.
Two more Winifreds echo back: “Now where was I?”
She looks around, startled, splayed hands at the ready, like she thinks someone is going to attack her. “Who said that?” she demands.
My phone and Travis’s answer: “Who said that?”
“You did, Winnie,” says Mary, and two Marys repeat her statement, too.
I see Katie painstakingly dig her phone out of her pocket, and a second later my phone starts to vibrate again. I merge her into the call with a covert swipe.
Winifred is too busy searching the treetops to notice.
“I summoned your past and future selves, Winifred Sanderson,” announces Isabella from somewhere in the bushes. She’s too far away for our microphones to pick her up, but all of us can hear her loud and clear. “And the paradox of time travel says that if you meet one of your other selves, your world collapses.”
“That’s not true!” says Winifred, turning again.
Now three voices echo shrilly back to her.
She covers her eyes with both hands.
“Winnie, I’m scared,” says Mary, scurrying over.
I race past them to Travis and help him to his feet. “Are you okay?” I ask him, careful to keep my voice low.
“Yeah,” he breathes. He regards the spell book in my hand. “Pops, where’s the stone?” he whispers.
“I don’t know!” I glance at the zombie mob. None of them seems to be proudly waving it.
“What?!” he whispers. “That’s not good.”
“Well, the witches don’t know, either,” I say. “Let’s count our blessings.”
“Go away!” shouts Winifred. Our phones are close enough now that they echo and echo in a repeated loop. “Make them go away!” The louder she yells, the louder the phones yell back. All three sisters are cowering now, covering their eyes to avoid seeing their other selves.
Isabella runs through the clearing again, cackling with laughter this time. It reverberates through our phones, sharpening with static as it loops and loops and loops.
Mary wails and buries her face in one of Winifred’s sleeves.
I shove Travis in the direction of the car and sprint to Katie, the spell book still clamped firmly under my arm.With Winifred and her sisters looking away, and with the zombies now on their hands and knees crawling through the grass as they comb it for the moonstone, there’s no one there to stop me as I help Katie up. She’s shivering when I shove her toward the gate, too. Luckily, she seems okay.
Travis is already waiting at the car, which is barely visible once again in the sea of zombies, but Katie’s the one with the keys. When she unlocks it, the beep echoes through our phones, too.
I freeze just as Winifred looks up, suspicious.
Her lips purse as her mind works out the situation.
“Step on it!” I shriek, racing with Katie for the gate. My own command mocks me as I elbow past a few dazed sophomores.
“They tricked us!” says Winifred, incredulous. She shoves her sisters away and hustles after me.
I’m over the gate and making my way through the assembly of zombies toward the car.
Who cares that we don’t have the moonstone? We can worry about it later.
All that matters is we’re all in one piece. For now.
Katie climbs into the driver’s seat, and the car roars to life. Travis climbs in, too, and I race in after him, followed by Isabella. Katie reverses with dirt flying, then pulls forward.
“Drive!” I scream.
A bolt of green lightning hits the windshield and the glass shatters.
“No!” I cry out.
The car swerves and hits a tree. The hood smokes silently.
“Ugh!” Travis groans.
“Is everyone okay?” asks Isabella.
Another bolt of electricity pries the backseat door clean off the car.
I look out at Winifred and her sisters, arm in arm and strutting toward me. With another flourish of her hand, Winifred sends her electric-green lightning right at me. It slams me between the shoulders. I feel like I’m flying for a moment, and then I feel like a puddle of pain. My body falls out of the car and lands flat on the ground, and no one part of me hurts less than any other part. The spell book is a foot away, faceup in the grass, and I crawl forward and grab it.
I hear the car door creak open behind me and Travis stumbles out.
I’m not sure where Katie and Isabella are, but I hope they’re unharmed.
“Travis, run,” I gasp with whatever air is left inside my lungs.
“Hell no,” he grunts, lifting me up, but the next shock of electricity hits us both.
By the time Winifred stalks over to us, I’m a mess of limbs and pain.
I want to push her away, but my brain seems to have lost coordination with my muscles. I’m helpless as she leans over us, smiling ever so sweetly, and yanks the book from my hands.
“There, there, kitten,” she says to me. “Now was that so hard?” She gazes lovingly at the book in her talons. “My darling,” Winifred croons. “I knew you would find your way back to me.” The green eye on its cover blinks sleepily, making Winifred titter at it even more fondly. “Oh, I’ve missed you so!” she simpers. “Yes, I have!” She tickles the book like it’s a cute newborn.
From the corner of my eye, I see Isabella emerge from the car. In her mouth, she’s got the blood moonstone. She drops it at her feet. “Leave my friends alone. It’s me you want!” she yells.
“What, mutt?” shouts Winifred. She holds up the spell book triumphantly. “Every dog has its day!” She starts to cackle and throws a bolt of lightning in the direction of her several-times-removed great-grandniece’s barking.
Isabella picks the moonstone back up in her mouth and starts to take off. Go, go, go!
Winifred grins. “And a zip, and a zap, and a zilch!”
The lightning hits Isabella, and she collapses, dropping the stone instantly.
No.
All at once, the commotion around us fades away.
Winifred continues to cackle, but everything that isn’t Isabella becomes background noise. My heart jumps into my throat. I can’t tell if she’s breathing. Please be okay.
“You yap, I zap!” Winifred cackles. “Sisters, grab the stone!” she commands.
Her sisters try to make themselves useful. They stoop to grab it at the same time, knocking heads against each other, then attempt it once more with the same result.
Winifred strolls over to them and swats them aside, then plucks up the stone and smiles. She looks up from the book and the stone and shouts, “My—our—time has finally come. We shall bring Mother and Master back from beyond the veil, the exchange spell shall be complete when the sun rises, and we shall live forever!” Her lips curl over her teeth. “Now, seize the brats!”
Her sisters move into action, reaching for a limp Isabella, who surprises them by righting herself and dashing off into the ferns. She’s alive. Thank god.
Mary and Sarah don’t bother entertaining the idea of chasing her down. Instead, they drag a motionless Katie from the car and an unconscious Travis from the ground into the clearing of quiet, watchful zombies, where I lie, unable to do more than wiggle my toes.
“Minions, leave us!” commands Winifred.
The cell phone zombies disperse and head home in a daze.
We failed. The witches won. I let my family down. I hope Travis and Katie are okay. At least Isabella got away. A pair of rough hands seizes me, and I know this is the end for all of us.
With a disorienting lurch, we leap into the sky.
My wrists are tied behind my back with bits of cloth that Winifred made a bereft Sarah rip from her dress, and as we float over Salem I let my head loll back to avoid looking at the ground.
Talk about a broom with a view. I see Winifred’s wild hair arching past a backdrop of stars and wispy clouds. They have the spell book and the blood moonstone. We failed my family...and let so many others down. I catch a glimpse of Travis hanging from Sarah’s Roomba and Katie clinging to Mary’s Swiffer. They’re both awake enough to hold on for dear life, though I notice Travis’s hands are bound with the scarf he was wearing earlier and there’s a good amount of dried blood caked on Katie’s temple, most likely from the car crash.
I think of Isabella, who vanished into the woods, and feel a stab of hope. Has she gone to find Elizabeth, Binx, and Emily to ask for help? What a scrappy rescue party they would make: three ghosts and a Boston terrier dragging a wagon full of graveyard dirt. But it could be the only chance we’ve got before the witches bring back “Mother” and “Master” and god knows who else, in exchange for more innocent people. And what’ll become of my friends? My family? Me?
I just hope Isabella is okay, wherever she is.
The sky seems lighter than an hour ago, and I wonder how far off dawn is. I try not to think about Mom and Dad and Aunt Dani, but I do, of course, and then I start to feel tears again, cooling on my cheeks as we soar through the frigid night air warmed by the moon’s light.
“Don’t get salt on my dress,” mutters Winifred, shoving me with her shoulder.
I gasp, feeling like I’m going to fall, and the fear keeps me silent the rest of the way.
The witches navigate through the dark mass of trees around the Sanderson house, land unsteadily, and walk us up the rickety steps to the open door. My knees feel weak, but I’ve never been so glad to be back on solid ground. Winifred prods a sharp finger into my back and I shout out, then follow Mary, Katie, Sarah, and Travis into the dim, dirty hovel.
I step over my mom’s red vintage coat and my aunt’s Halloween wig and remember my camera, lost among the melee of the witches’ first arrival. Hobbies. Photography seems like a trivial thing now that I’m in survivor mode.
I snap back to attention when every candle in the room catches fire with a hungry whoosh, and Winifred tosses me on the ground like dirty laundry. She slams the door shut with a swipe of lightning. A feeling of cold dread tells me that the door won’t be opening anytime soon.
I’m just recovering when my whole body freezes up, my veins burning. Next thing I know, I’ve crashed into one of the big skeleton cages that’s on the floor. Winifred throws another careless bolt of green lightning in my direction, and the door to the cage slams shut and locks me inside with an electric hiss. Next to me, the other cage lies useless on its side against the wall: it was bent beyond repair in the windstorm fiasco that brought the witches here in the first place.
I feel the side of the cage and find a lock. Too bad I never learned how to pick one.
Now I know what Principal Taylor and his friend Ernie must have felt like. Trapped like poor, helpless rats.
Across the room, Sarah is tickling Travis and giggling as he thrashes and kicks at her.
Mary pushes Katie into a straight-backed chair and ties her wrists to its wooden arms. “You smell like roses,” Mary says, nose wrinkling.
“It’s called soap,” Katie says through gritted teeth. “I can tell you’ve never heard of it.”
“Soap?” says Mary. “I love soap! Tomato soap. Bat and barley soap. Oh, and children noodle soap.”
Katie strains away from Mary’s face, groaning.
Winifred clutches her spell book to her chest like a favorite child. “My book, oh, how I’ve missed you so, my darling.” She looks up and yells, “Mary! Right that table for me!”
“Yes, Winnie, as you say, Winnie.” Mary hurries over to lift the spell book’s podium.
Sarah gives up on her tickle-torture of Travis when he realizes it’s most helpful to lie as still as a corpse.
“Rest up,” she says, stroking his hair. “I’ll keep you as a pet until we have to eat you.” Then she tightens the knots that bind his wrists behind his back and leaves him sitting on the floor near Katie, who struggles against her own ties, which shackle her to the cursed, ancient chair.
Winifred places the book reverentially on top of the podium Mary sets before her. Then she flips it open, pulls the blood moonstone out of her pocket, and sets it on the page. She turns with a clap and a beaming smile. She summons water into the cauldron. “Mary!” she calls shrilly. “Find me dried peppermint and powdered angelica root to strengthen thy spell.”
As Mary heads toward Winifred, Katie sticks her foot out to trip her. It’s sneaky and savage and I kind of love it. The witch catches herself, but just barely. She gives Katie a dark look, and Sarah joins her sister’s side to glare, but Katie just stares back with equal venom.
I should’ve known that if the Sanderson sisters had one match in Salem, they’d find it in Katie Taylor.
Travis leans against Katie’s chair, his head resting on the arm. He looks at me and at first his face is so hopeless and forlorn I feel like my heart is going to break, if it hasn’t already.
He quirks an eyebrow at me the way he did in AP US History when I told him I’d be okay at the front of the room.
I give a sob of a laugh. How is it possible that was just this morning? It’s been the longest day of my life, and if I can’t save Isabella and my parents and Aunt Dani and all of Salem—and the world?—it’s going to become one permanent nightmare.
My thoughts are slowly starting to piece themselves back together, and as they do my body finds the wherewithal to respond to my brain. The end hasn’t come, not yet. There’s still time to do something. But what? I sit up a little, leaning against the metal bars of my cage. I have my phone in my pocket. What good could that do? And the key ring with the two rusty keys. I manage to fish them out of my pocket, but Sarah pries them out of my hands and waves them.
“Winnie, she had these!” she exclaims.
Winifred dismisses her with a wave, and Sarah tucks the keys in the loft for safekeeping.
Even if those keys didn’t fit this lock, I’m all out of fresh ideas.
