Cookie Dough, Snow & Wands Aglow

by Erin Johnson

  Ahead of us, Junie shuffled from one grave marker to the next, following the line of concentric circles—each one made of a stone about knee height and half buried in gleaming white snow. An enchanted quill and scroll hovered midair beside her and the quill scribbled away furiously, making scritching noises across the paper.

  Junie, perhaps suddenly aware of being watched, froze. Her eyes lifted slowly and then she jumped when she spotted us. She and I stared at each other for several long moments, the light of her lantern and the light of mine illuminating our faces in a golden glow from below. My heart fluttered irregularly in my chest and my throat grew tight so that I felt I couldn't speak. I felt on the cusp of something immensely important.

  "What are you doing?" Hank asked softly. He too must have felt the sacredness of the space and the need for quiet.

  Junie's bright blue eyes flicked to him, then back to me. She took a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. "It's no longer safe in this village. With Bridger's death and the records building being lit on fire… we at the Heritage Society fear we're being targeted. It's time for me to leave my home of the past eighty years." She glanced down at the grave in front of her. There had to be hundreds, ringed in circles in this clearing. "But we want to keep the records alive." She dipped her chin toward the graves. "Their memories alive."

  I found my voice, though it came out hoarse. "Why is this graveyard hidden? We saw the other one in the churchyard."

  Junie pressed her lips tight. "Because the history of this town is a secret."

  "Tell me." My jaw trembled, my teeth clacking together. It might have been the cold, but I knew my nerves were also getting the best of me.

  Junie looked at Hank, then back at me. "Are you sure, dear? Would you prefer to speak in private?"

  I glanced at Hank, my brows slightly drawing together.

  "He is his father's son," Junie continued. "How much though… I do not know."

  A confusion of emotions tightened my chest. What could she mean by that? And why would she trust me? "You can trust him."

  Hank's throat bobbed and he gave me a grateful nod.

  Junie nodded as well. "So be it." She took a long deep breath and my teeth chattered harder. I leaned forward, all my weight in my toes, braced to hear her words. "This is a graveyard for those who died at Monsters Rise."

  The words cut through me. I let out a little whimper.

  Junie's eyes grew glassy and shone. "This is the graveyard of your people, Imogen."

  I reeled and Hank lurched to grab my waist and steady me. I shivered from head to toe. "What?" My voice came out strangled.

  Junie walked closer, hobbling on her glowing leg. "This town is Monsters Rise—well, we survivors called it that after. Before, it was Moonstone Hollow—named for the moonstone mine. And now, of course, it's Wee Ferngroveshire."

  "Moonstone… Hollow?" My hands trembled so badly, Hank took Iggy's lantern from me. I was from… Moonstone Hollow? My brain seemed to be moving through mud, processing Junie's words at a turtle's pace.

  She nodded. "It was a bustling little town back then. A bit out of the way, as you know, but we had something special that made it worth going out of the way for."

  "What?" I lifted my brows.

  "Your mother."

  I let out a sob, tears trickling down my cheeks in freezing streaks. "My mother?"

  Junie came closer, till I could see that her own eyes welled with tears. "She was a magic mirror maker—no." She shook her head. "The magic mirror maker—the finest in all the kingdoms. She settled in Moonstone Hollow because of the quality of moonstone produced here." She tilted her head to the side. "She used it to make the portal mirrors, you see."

  I didn't see, but I nodded, numbly.

  "Imogen, are you all right?" Hank hovered at my side.

  I nodded again, my eyes never leaving Junie. "You knew my mother?"

  Junie dipped her chin while I thought of the destroyed mirror shop I'd passed.

  "The plaque? You put it there?"

  She knew what I was talking about. "We survivors do our best to keep the memories alive, in our own secret way. That's why we formed the Heritage Society. We do it with this graveyard—though precious few bodies are actually buried here. And with the memorials—the mirror shop is one of those. They're spelled so that only those with survivor blood can see them—that way descendants of survivors might be able to find information one day, if they ever come looking. That's why you can see them, and no one else can."

  "Survivors?" I gasped. "Of what?"

  Junie took my violently shaking hands. "The monster attack that decimated the town."

  My heart raced and I gulped air like a fish.

  "Breathe, dear, or you'll pass out."

  Hank rubbed my back as I gasped air, fighting the panic attack that threatened to overwhelm me. When my breathing got close to normal, Junie continued.

  "They came in the middle of the night, monsters of all shapes and sizes. We had no warning. They killed… just about everyone."

  The tears poured down my face and dropped soundlessly into the snow. My face stung with cold, but I hardly noticed. I trembled so violently I could hardly speak. "Is my mother's grave here?"

  Junie nodded, her face studiously impassive. "Yes. Your father's, too."

  "Where?" I croaked.

  Junie pointed the hand with the missing, glowing fingers down the row of graves. With Hank's help I shuffled over to it, eager and dreading it, all at the same time. It made it so much more real, so much more final, to see their gravestone. Soon, I'd know my mother’s and my father's names. I gasped in trembling, wheezing breaths.

  "Imogen are you sure you want to see this right now?"

  I didn't answer Hank, I just lurched forward the last few steps and stood alone, directly in front of the rounded stone. Hank held Iggy aloft so I could read. It took my brain a few moments to process the engraved letters.

  I read, in a trembling, quiet voice.

  "Here lies Thomas—" My voice broke in a sob. My dad's name was Thomas. "Thomas and—" I whimpered and sniffed. "Thomas and Penny Merriweather." My eyes filled too full with tears to see the next lines. I blinked and my vision cleared. My name, my real name, was Imogen Merriweather. Merriweather. I let the name roll around in my head for a moment. I liked the sound of it. I spoke again. "May they rest in the loving embrace of the earth, loving parents to—" Here my stomach tightened in a painful knot. "Loving parents to Imogen and—" I froze. And? Loving parents to Imogen and? I looked to the next line and my voice strangled in my throat. I dropped hard to my knees and fell forward, my hands sinking into the soft snow. I think Hank rushed up and dropped down beside me. I heard muffled noises, but I was only barely aware of anything. My world had shrunk down to that one word and though I couldn't speak, my teeth chattered too badly with nerves, it seemed to be screaming inside my brain.

  HORACE.

  27

  Family History

  Tears streamed down my face as I hyperventilated in the snow. Hank crouched by my side, rubbing my back. I knew the moment he read the name that had sent me over the edge. His hand stilled, just for a moment, and I held my breath. In that one moment, a streak of fear shot through me. Would Hank still love me, knowing that my brother was a terrorist, a murderer, and his enemy? Hank's hand moved again, in slow circles around my back, and I breathed again—granted, in short, panicky gasps.

  Junie's legs, one glowing blue under her long skirt, came into view on my other side. She groaned as she bent over and squeezed my shoulder.

  "I knew Horace, your brother, before he became what he is now."

  I stopped sniffling to listen. Then the cold seeped through the knees of my pants and I realized how ridiculous it was to be nearly facedown in the snow, making Hank join me, and Junie, an old woman, bend over to comfort me. I sat back on my heels and roughly rubbed my nose and cheeks with the sleeve of my coat.

  Hank's eyes were wide with concern and even Iggy seemed unusually grav
e. "You okay?" my flame asked.

  I pressed my lips tight together and willed the tears away. "I will be." I turned to Junie. "I want to hear what you have to say, more than anything. But I don't want us all to freeze out here. Should we go back to the inn? Or your shop?"

  Junie shook her head. "It's not safe, truly. And besides"—she jerked her head toward the enchanted scroll and quill, still floating along the line of graves, jotting down names, I assumed—"the fire destroyed our records and I want to make new ones before it's too late."

  I nodded, feeling shaken and weak. Hank cast a warming spell over all of us and Junie assured us her magical leg never tired, so she was fine on her feet. Honestly, I was glad to stay. I'd never been so close to my birth family before, and I wasn't ready to leave my parents' grave. So we stood right in front of it, including the grave and my parents in our little circle. And Junie told her story.

  "Horace was about, oh, ten I'd say, when you were born. You were a happy accident." She winked at me and the corner of my mouth twisted into a bittersweet smile. Junie sighed. "He carried you everywhere and talked to you constantly. He'd explain everything to you, how the world worked. Brought you into my shop once—it was a bit different than it is now, an entirely different building and on the other side of the square. That was all destroyed. But he pointed out all the charms and what they were for." She smiled lost in reverie. "He was exceptionally bright, any idiot could see that. Your mum had been teaching him, apprenticing him, for years before the attack that killed her. Horace was already shaping up to be as good, if not better, at mirror making as your mother." She took a deep breath. "In all my many years, I've never seen a more doting big brother."

  I hugged myself, weary and heavy-feeling, now that the shock was wearing off. "He knows." I looked at Hank. "That's why he came for me. He was trying to tell me, all along, that he was my brother." I turned back to Junie. "That's why he diverted us here. He wanted me to know." I stared at the snow for a bit and listened to the low wail of the wind blowing through the trees. "How did he become… what he is now? Why didn't I grow up with him?"

  Junie nodded and folded her hands. She took a long breath before she spoke. "I was up that night, in the fields foraging for night mushrooms." The lines around her lips grew deeper. "The monster appeared, as if—as if out of nowhere, right in the center of town. It—it seemed to me to burst right out of your home, Imogen. Your family lived above the mirror shop," she added.

  "From there, the monster wreaked havoc on the town." Her eyes had grown glassy and far away. "The bell rang in alarm. It woke people up, but too late. And only until the monster ripped the bell from the tower and crushed it in its claws like a paper cup. It rampaged and trampled and burned. And then another came, and another. It was like a nightmare."

  I shuddered, imagining it, how terrifying it must have been.

  "I dropped my basket of mushrooms and ran to help, but by then, the people were running toward me, trying to escape across the fields to the cover of the forest." Junie spoke faster now, in short bursts with her breath. "It was winter then, too, and the light from the town being on fire lit up the snow. I have never been more terrified. I saw your brother, blood across his wee face, running with you in his arms."

  My lip began to tremble and I reached for Hank, who caught my hand and squeezed it.

  "A monster." Junie looked like she might be sick. "A monster came screaming up over the hill… eating people. The noises it made, I—" Junie shook her head. "It grabbed the man next to me, running with his family. He was the butcher and it popped him into its mouth, whole. I thought surely I was next, but I think its tail must have swiped me and knocked me unconscious. I don't know why I was spared." She looked down and to the side, her lips pressed into a small, tight line.

  I reached forward with my other hand and took hers. She licked her lips and a few tears trickled down her face. "I'm all right, dear. It was a long time ago."

  "That doesn't make it any easier," Hank said quietly.

  Junie nodded once. She licked her lips and began again. "Perhaps the falling snow covered me up and the monster didn't sense me. I awoke sometime later. Morning light was just starting to dawn, illuminating a scene of absolute horror. I came to, barely able to see, my fingers and toes not working." She kicked out her false leg. "Frostbite. It's how I lost my leg and fingers."

  My stomach clenched in sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Junie." What inadequate words.

  "All was quiet, then. Too quiet. No birds, no noises but the wind, which had died down. Only the smell of smoke and death." Junie sighed. "I rolled over onto my side, and then heard the most miraculous noise in the world to me. A baby's cry. Quiet, warbling. But a cry, all the same. It took me a long, long time, but I crawled and limped towards the cries. And I found a tiny girl babe with flaming red hair— you, Imogen."

  My eyes welled up. "You found me?"

  She squeezed my hand tighter. "You were wrapped in a blanket, with your brother's little jacket over it. I remember thinking how cold Horace must be, but as he was nowhere nearby, it didn't trouble me much, as a dead little boy doesn't feel the cold, and I assumed dead he must be. He'd hidden you well, in a little hollow under a log, with dry leaves piled all over. Maybe too well. If not for me, no one would have found you."

  Fresh tears poured down my face. I'd had a brother—I still did, I supposed. And he'd loved me. Did he still? Was that why he'd found me? I blinked through the wet at Junie. "So you?" I squeezed her hand. "You saved me?"

  She nodded. "Me, and Horace before I found you. Once I did, I kept you with me. I had a dead foot, due to the frostbite, and a several bad fingers. Later, of course, they had to take the whole leg, but at the time, I thought it just my foot."

  My chest tightened. I couldn't even begin to understand the misery this woman had endured.

  "The town wasn't safe to return to. The monsters were still on the loose. And besides them, raiders had swarmed in, stealing anything salvageable… including people."

  I lifted my brows in question.

  "There were gangs living in the wilds at that time, in the no man’s lands between kingdoms, and they took slaves. So we stayed hidden, you and I, from the monsters and the raiders, until we made it, by the grace of the earth, to the nearest safe town. Turned out to be in human lands. I found a shelter that took us in. They treated us with their mildly effective medicine, and I used my own magic to heal us quite a bit, too. And once we were strong enough, it was time to be on our way." Her thin brows lifted in the middle and the corners of her mouth drooped. "Despite everything I'd been through, the hardest part came next. I wasn't young at the time, fifty, and had never had children. Didn't know what to do with a little babe and no money and no food. I had a distant cousin I knew of, that I thought of joining, but couldn't expect a little baby to make that journey on foot, dangerous as it was." She lifted her grief-stricken eyes to me. "I didn't want to let you go." Junie whimpered, and Hank handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes. "Cute as a button you were. But I knew it was best. And then come in this young American couple, human, and I could read their hearts."

  She nodded and gulped. "The Bankses were good people and they were looking at the shelter to adopt a child, and so I offered you up. I cast a spell to make sure they called you Imogen. It would have been better to raise you among magic folk, but again—this was the dead of winter and all over, the countryside was decimated with monster attacks and raiders. Times were lean as they were, and I was not optimistic about finding a magical family to take on an extra mouth to feed. So, I gave you to them, and figured if you ever came looking for your history, at least you'd know the name your momma and poppa gave you. And that might help. I sold you to them—just to have enough money for food, mind you, as I made my way to my cousin." Her eyes and brows were pinched, but she managed a smile. "I didn't think I'd ever see ya again though."

  I lurched forward and wrapped my arms tight around Junie, burying the short old woman against my shoulder.
She squeezed me back and we stayed like that for some time, crying into each other's hair. She might not be blood, but it didn't matter. She'd loved me like it and was as close to a grandma as I'd ever get. "Thank you," I murmured, over and over. "Thank you." Rhonda's vision from last night floated into my head. Something about finding something I hadn't known I was missing. I'd never known I had a brother and a guardian angel grandmother—and now I'd found them both.

  After a time, Junie stepped back and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "So, where've you been? Were the Bankses—were they good to you?"

  I swallowed and sniffed. "They were always kind and loving. But I could feel that I was different somehow. They didn't tell me I was magical."

  Junie nodded. "I advised them not to. That may have been a mistake, of course. I hope you'll forgive me if it was."

  I reached forward and squeezed her hand. "Of course." Knowing what she'd done for me, I could forgive Junie anything. Which made me realize I should forgive my adopted mom, too. I think I already had in my heart, but I needed to say it to her.

  "They're good people. And I've just found out I’m a witch. I'm living in Bijou Mer now—working at the bakery in the palace."

  "Good." Junie smiled, kindness making her eyes glitter. "Good. I'm so glad to see you, Imogen, and doing so well."

  "And you?" I lifted my brows. "How are you? What happened to you after you adopted me out?"

  "I went looking for that cousin and stayed with her a few months. The monster attacks got worse and worse—seemed like every day some new town had been rampaged and massacred. Then, finally, the treaty was struck and the kingdoms worked together to banish the monsters."

  She took a long breath and her lips quirked to the side. Her tone grew wry. "And the Earth Kingdom, in all its wisdom, secretly offered people in the prisons and those down on their luck, incentives to resettle the destroyed towns. The incentives were offering up our homes and land to anyone who'd settle! Well, I planned to come back and just live in my same old place, but I found they'd given it to someone else by then. I went to the records office in London to file a petition. But the man in front of me in line was doing the same thing. As soon as they figured out he was a survivor, they said they had to relocate him to a new village, clear across the kingdom. When he refused, they said it was policy and guards took him away. I was shocked, and scared. So I left that day, without speaking to anyone, and racked my brain as to why that would be. I came back here to what was now being called Wee Ferngroveshire, and took the miserable plot of land they offered me, and watched Millie Forsythe take over my beautiful home with the fertile little garden in back. I found a few other survivors and we banded together. We kept quiet about our real identities too, for fear of being shipped off or arrested, like that man I'd seen in London. We formed the Heritage Society. Seemed like everyone was forming clubs, eager to put on a show of being good citizens, all upright and righteous." She gave a hard laugh.