Witch Rising

by Paige McKenzie

  But who, then, had killed Mrs. Feathers? Hobbes? One of the Antima? A member of the Jessup family?

  Whatever the case, would Hobbes try to come after Greta again? Where was he, and what did he even look like these days? A zombie? A ghost? Or a regular old human? And how could he be both a witch and witch-hunter?

  Greta had a small heart-shaped birthmark on her chest, which apparently was a sign that she was one of Callixta’s descendants—scions, Mrs. Feathers had called them—and therefore a possessor of the special, life-extending heart-fire. Penelope had had one of those birthmarks, too. Ridley and the other witches had checked and double-checked and triple-checked, and none of them had the birthmark. Did that mean they were safe from Hobbes? Still, what about all the other descendants out there, including the mystery witch who’d posted the excerpts from Callixta’s magic manual in March 2016?

  I should talk to Aunt Viola about all this.

  Ridley’s aunt had arrived in Sorrow Point late last night after more travel mishaps, including her Los Angeles to Bellingham flight being rerouted to San Francisco because of a sick passenger, and then her rental car having engine trouble on the highway. But she was finally here and had settled into the guest bedroom and was sleeping in this morning. Ridley was looking forward to spending some time with her for, well, however long she planned to stay in town—she hadn’t said.

  A dog barked, making Ridley glance up. It was Binx, finally. She was walking across the patio, her puppy tugging excitedly on his leash.

  “Hey!” Ridley waved.

  “Hey!” Binx set her drink down on Ridley’s table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. The puppy jumped up on her lap, panting happily, as she glanced at her watch. “Blurg, it’s after nine! Sorry I’m late. Hannah One called just as I was leaving the house.”

  “Hannah One?”

  “There are two Hannahs on the Homecoming Committee.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask… why are you on that committee, exactly? It doesn’t seem very you.”

  “It’s not very me. It’s the binary opposite of very me. It was Div’s idea”—Binx peered around to confirm that they were alone on the patio—“you know, to fit in, adapt, camouflage ourselves.”

  “Got it.”

  “So how are you?”

  “Not great.”

  “I hear you.” Binx reached across the table and squeezed Ridley’s hand. “Everything really, really sucks right now, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it really, really does. It’s nice to see you, though. It’s been a while… I mean, since we’ve hung out alone without the… without everyone else.”

  “I know. Apologies. It’s been pure chaos.”

  Ridley smiled grimly. “Understatement of the year.”

  “Yeah.”

  The puppy sniffed at the top of the table, in search of crumbs. He was cleaner and fluffier and bigger than the last time Ridley had seen him, nearly a month ago. A stray, he’d been hanging out in Binx’s yard for a while. She’d tried to find his owner, but after having no success, she’d adopted him and made him her familiar.

  “What did you end up naming him?”

  “Lillipup,” Binx replied.

  Lillipup barked.

  Ridley reached over to pet him. “That’s a cute name. Is it a Pokémon character?”

  “Yup. Gen Five, Normal Type. Its face fur has radar abilities.”

  “Nice.”

  “Yeah, well, this Lillipup isn’t very good at the radar thing. If you throw a stick and tell him to fetch, he’ll run in the opposite direction.” Binx regarded her Starbucks cup, took off the lid, and inspected the contents carefully.

  “What are you doing?” Ridley asked, confused.

  “Just checking for mealworms. Long story. So, listen… I stayed up late doing research on Maximus Hobbes and also Mrs. Feathers. Lots of records and documents seem to be missing, which is weird… or maybe it’s not weird, considering. But. I did manage to hack into the police file re: her death.”

  “And?”

  “They’re still investigating, but at the moment, their working theory is quote-unquote ‘an accident.’ Like, they think she fell and hit her head.”

  “Do you think it was an accident?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I’ll ask my mom. She works at City Hall now, and she might be able to get some inside info from someone in the public-safety department.”

  Binx nodded. “Sounds good.”

  Ridley reached over to pet Lillipup. “So how’s the new coven?”

  “Um, you know. It’s fine. Div’s Div.”

  “Have you guys… I mean, have you made any progress on the Libertas front? And how’s your friend ShadowKnight?”

  Binx’s eyes lit up. “Didn’t I tell you? Ohmigosh, I didn’t tell you! I’m finally going to meet him IRL later today… and some Libertas members, too.”

  “Wow! Where?”

  “At the WitchWorldCon in Seattle.”

  “That’s like a big annual convention for the Witchworld fandom, right?”

  “Right. I’ve had a ticket to go since like forever, and it turns out he and some other Libertas people will be there, too, so….” Binx scrunched up her face. “Div is insisting on coming with me, though. I think she thinks I need babysitting or bodyguarding or hand-holding or whatever. I told her I’d be fine, but she never takes no for an answer, so…”

  Ridley tried to picture Div at a video game convention. “Huh. Good luck with that.”

  “Yeah, I may need it,” Binx said, chuckling.

  Ridley had more she wanted to say. Like: Can you please leave Div and Aysha and Mira and come back to us? Also: Be careful when you meet up with ShadowKnight in Seattle. She’d never said as much to Binx, but she was kind of with Greta on this one. How could Binx trust someone that she’d met on the Internet? He knew she was a witch, and he knew about the existence of their two covens. Wasn’t Binx putting them all at risk? What if he turned out to be an undercover cop or Antima or both?

  But Ridley wasn’t sure how to say these things without alienating or angering Binx. Things were fragile enough between them, now that they were in different covens. Besides, it sounded like Div was a little more skeptical about ShadowKnight than she’d originally let on? Ridley hoped she would keep Binx safe at WitchWorldCon.

  Binx was saying something to her.

  “How’s the old crew? How’s my replacement?”

  “He’s nice, and he seems to have some serious skills,” Ridley replied. “He’s not you, though. Plus, I might be imagining it, but there seems to be some sort of weird unspoken love-triangle vibe happening between him and Greta and Iris.”

  Binx’s jaw dropped. “What? Spill the tea immediately! Who likes who?”

  “I’m not sure. I think Iris likes Greta, and Greta likes Torrence? But I could be misinterpreting.”

  “Verrrry interesting. And who are you liking these days?”

  Ridley stared at her.

  Binx clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh. Dumb. Sorry! That was the dumbest thing to say, ever. You like… liked… Penelope. Gah, sorry, I am an idiot!”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I deserve to drink mealworms with my mocha Frappuccino.”

  Ridley snort-laughed. “I still don’t know what that means.”

  “One word: Aysha. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Understood. Hey, speaking of Aysha… I need a favor.”

  “Sure, anything.”

  Ridley told her about the Kai Rain Forest field trip on Friday and the strange mansion she’d seen there.

  “Aysha told us about that field trip,” Binx said, nodding. “She said the history sub dude was wearing an Antima pin, which is, well, disgusting.”

  “Aysha didn’t see the mansion. Only I saw it, I think. But I asked her to take pictures of that spot with her phone.”

  “I’m confused. Why didn’t you just take the pictures?”

  “Not i
mportant. The bottom line is, nothing showed up in the photos—nothing obvious, anyway—but I thought you might be able to do your cybermagic on them and look for clues? Also, Greta was thinking it would be great to research old historical deeds and find out if there ever was a real house there.”

  “Of course! Text me those photos and give me the GPS coordinates on the house. Or just tell me, like, where the house was—is—in the forest, like, ballpark.”

  “I will. Thanks. And this isn’t a rush, since we have other priorities, obviously.”

  “No worries. I’m happy to help. Under one condition, though.”

  “What?”

  “The Homecoming Dance. I know this is completely random, but… can you go with me? Unless you already have plans, that is.”

  “I don’t… and sure!”

  “Great! I have to be there for committee reasons, and I need someone not Div and not Mira and not Aysha to hang with. Although they’re preferable to any of the other committee members… not to mention most of the Sorrow Point High population….” Binx sighed. “Honestly, I am so sick of humans.”

  Ridley frowned. Where had that come from? “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not planning on starting a hate group against humans. But that’s just my point. They’re the ones who don’t want to coexist with us. They’re bigoted and stupid and dangerous. Why should we waste our time and energy and powers hiding from them and defending ourselves against them, when we could be using said time and said energy and said powers doing useful stuff… cool stuff… productive stuff? Like reversing climate change? Or achieving world peace?”

  “Umm…”

  Ridley couldn’t argue with any of that.

  Still, she’d never heard Binx say these things before. Could this be Div’s influence? Or ShadowKnight’s? Or both?

  As Ridley walked home, she thought over her conversation with Binx. She was glad they’d met up. Things were so off-kilter and broken in Sorrow Point, in the world, that rekindling her friendship with Binx was like a small flame of hope, even if she wasn’t part of Greta’s coven anymore. Maybe Ridley and Binx could maintain their best-friendship while being in rival camps. And then Ridley remembered Div’s phone call on Friday. Maybe the two covens didn’t have to be rivals. Maybe they could find a way to work together, not because they had to but because they wanted to? Because now more than ever, witches had to put their differences aside and stick together against their enemies.

  Although, Binx’s weird comment about humans troubled her. Witches and non-witches alike deserved equal rights under the law and in society’s eyes. Neither group was better than the other.

  Her phone buzzed with an incoming call as she neared her house. She checked the screen. Speak of the devil….

  Ridley hit talk. “Hey, Binx!”

  “Hey! This will be quick. Div’s picking me up in like ten minutes to drive us to the con, and Her Highness does not like to be kept waiting. Anyway… I ran Aysha’s pix through this special program I have on my phone. I enhanced them like a thousand times, and I found something interesting.”

  “That was fast. What did you find?

  “So I think it’s a lamassu.”

  “A… what?”

  “A magical sculpture from ancient Mesopotamia. This one had a bluish glow, like it was glazed, or like maybe it was made of molybdenum bronze, which is a bluish metal. Although did they have molybdenum bronze two, three thousand years ago? Hmm, I’ll have to look into that.”

  “This thing is two or three thousand years old?”

  “Maybe? Anyway, I literally didn’t see anything else in the photo, which means that if there was a house there, some sort of superpowerful invisibility enchantment must have been in effect. I’m not sure why the lamassu itself was visible, though. Might be because it was activated when Aysha took that photo? Because that’s what a lamassu does… protect someone’s property, and maybe it perceived the photo taking as a threat.”

  “Who on earth would own a magical sculpture from ancient Mesopotamia?”

  “A museum? Or a rich witch who collects stuff? Anyway, I’ll do more research, plus I still have to hack into the county deeds office to find a deed for that property. I’ll get back to you ASAP on that.”

  As she hung up, Ridley wondered how—and why—history seemed to be folding in on itself, conflating, creating a bizarre kaleidoscope of time periods. The 1870s… the Civil War… the Mesopotamian civilization… and the here and now in Washington.

  She had a bad feeling about all of this.

  History was catching up to them.

  12

  UNFAMILIARS

  Trust is an asset, but only if one is committed to the myth of honesty.

  (FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)

  “Lolli, no! Bad mouse! That is not food; that’s for the magical talisman!”

  Iris leaned over her desk, picked up her familiar, and tucked her into the pocket of her flannel shirt. Lolli McScuffle Pants had been nibbling on the pile of rosemary, clove, and other herbs that Iris had gathered for her special project: a kick-butt, turbocharged talisman of protection for Greta. The “recipe” was a combination of something from Callixta’s manual and an item belonging to Jadora, one of Iris’s favorite NPCs—nonplayer characters—in Witchworld. Or maybe even in all of gamedom. Jadora was Iris’s role model—a smart, brave, powerful witch who said funny, clever things while dispensing with her enemies… things like: Surrender now, or I shall turn you into cat litter! and Is that the best you can do? My wand is falling asleep from boredom! Iris planned to combine the herbs and a few other ingredients, including obsidian chips—obsidian had strong protective properties, being an elemental combination of fire, earth, and water—and put them in a pretty little potpourri bag that Greta could keep under her pillow or wherever.

  Because Greta had to stay safe from Maximus Hobbes. Just thinking about the group visions from last night’s double coven meeting, followed by the discovery of Mrs. Feathers’s very dead body, made Iris’s skin crawl with cold, invisible spiders. Greta had been a target of Hobbes’s sights before; he would no doubt try to come after her again. Iris had to do everything in her power to protect her friend. Her more-than-a-friend.

  Although… Iris’s more-than-a-friend seemed to be treating their new coven member as her more-than-a-friend. For a brief, dark moment, Iris wondered if she should cook up a potion to make Torrence turn ugly. Or mean. Or at least smelly.

  Stop it, she told herself. The thought was intriguing, though.

  Lolli poked her tiny pink nose out of Iris’s shirt pocket and sniffed at the air. Iris stroked her delicate little whiskers. “I know, I know. As soon as I’m finished with the magical talisman, I’ll go down and get you a banana for your breakfast, okay?”

  Blueberries, Lolli seemed to answer.

  “Okay, fine, blueberries. I’ll have to see if we have enough, though, because they’re Nyala’s favorite, and if I don’t leave her some, she might put shaving-cream slime in my backpack again and—”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Iris spun around. Argh. It was Nyala, peering through the doorway.

  “Hey! Hi! I was just talking to Lolli,” Iris explained casually.

  “Ms. Traitor Mouse, you mean.”

  Lolli used to be Nyala’s pet. But she’d kept running away from Nyala’s room to Iris’s, and eventually, Iris had realized that Lolli was meant to be her familiar. To compensate Nyala, Iris had bought her a young Snakeskin Blue Moon crayfish along with a tank for him to live in. This meant their family had four pets now, including Lolli and the two cats, Oliver P. and Maxina. Nyala had named the crayfish Captain Notorious Blade Edge, or Blade for short.

  “How’s Blade?”

  “He’s good. I want to get him a friend, but I’m worried he’ll eat it.”

  “Yeah, that might be a problem.”

  Nyala’s gaze swiveled to the pile on Iris’s desk. “Whatcha making?�
��

  “What?” Iris shifted her body slightly to block the view. “Oh, it’s just… it’s just this homework thingama-whosit I have to do for biology,” she improvised.

  “I heard you call it a ‘magical talisman.’”

  Eavesdropping little sisters! Iris had to be more careful.

  “No, what I said was, uh, macro telomerase. We’re studying, uh, really, really big enzymes. Giganto ones.”

  “Whatever.” Nyala walked into the room and perched on the edge of Iris’s bed. “What do you think of Xandri?”

  “What’s Xandri?”

  “It’s a who, dummy. They’re a Witchtuber.”

  “A… what?”

  “They have a YouTube channel. They play that game you like—Witchworld—and do commentary and stuff. They have over a million subscribers. They’re nonbinary; isn’t that cool? Cameron at my school’s nonbinary. So are Saffie and Tyler.”

  “Cool.” Iris wondered why she’d never heard of this Xandri person. She reminded herself to look them up ASAP.

  “Can you maybe teach me?” Nyala asked.

  “Teach you what?”

  “How to play Witchworld. I think magic’s cool.”

  Iris blinked. Nyala never asked her for help or advice about anything, ever.

  And she thought magic was cool? This made Iris really happy, and at the same time really worried.

  “Sure, I can teach you.”

  “You’re going to that convention today, right? WitchWorldCon?”

  “Uh-huh. I thought about skipping it because there’s a lot of other stuff going on. But then I changed my mind because, well, it’s Witchworld.”

  “I asked Mom if I could go with you, but she said no because I have to babysit Ephrem while she finishes the yard work. Is that dumb or what? I mean, who cares about yard work?”

  “Sorry. If you want, I could bring you back a souvenir?”

  Nyala’s face lit up. “Yessss! Xandri tweeted that they might be there. If they are, can you get me an autograph?”

  “I can try.”

  “Noice!” Nyala glanced at her phone. “Oh, Reagan’s texting me, so bye.”