Thorn to Die

by Lacy Andersen

  I couldn’t be sure what he was thinking after that messy case. Maybe he did suspect we were witches and was hanging around for more proof. Or, maybe he just thought he needed to keep an eye on the whole family of Brunick trouble-makers. Either way, I didn’t like it.

  “Alright, folks,” Butch called from the sidelines. He pushed himself up into a director’s chair, something he told us weeks ago he’d purchased online especially for this occasion. “One last time. Let’s get it right.”

  I sighed and shouldered the musket. This time I’d behave. Bury the witchy and ornery side of my personality. I could do it, just this once.

  Butch whistled and we swept out onto the field, rebel against soldier. The scent of gunpowder still lingered in the air. A row of rebels headed right for me, their mouths tight with concentration.

  “Light cannon!” Butch shouted.

  A match struck behind me, pretending to light the fuse. I was pretty sure the citizens of Uriville hadn’t been toting a huge cannon across the prairies of Nebraska way back in those days, but Butch wouldn’t listen. He wanted a little more firepower in his display, as if he were a version of Michael Bay or something.

  “Draw guns,” he directed. We pulled the muskets from our shoulders to our armpits.

  Magic tingled in my fingers as I held the weapon. Raven had been trying to teach me how to throw magical energy fields, but so far I couldn’t lift so much as a feather. Still, the surreal feeling of the battlefield had my witchy senses spiking and the desire to try again was more than a little tempting. I was pretty sure Butch would’ve tie me to that pyre himself if he saw me doing my magic, so I let it die to a simmer.

  “Ready!”

  I stopped and drew my gun. This was it. Last take, and then lunch time. I could already taste the rice and beans Grammy Jo was making. She made the best Mexican food.

  Bang!

  This time, it wasn’t my gun going off next to my ear. The sound had come from behind me. A round black hunk of metal sailed only feet above my head and toward the stage where Blythe was still perched with her ukulele.

  The remaining magic fizzled in my fingertips and all I could do was watch as the cannon hurdled for my cousin like some asteroid on a destructive mission.

  Chapter 2

  Blythe screeched and fled just in time before the massive hunk of metal crashed into her stool and sunk a huge hole in the wooden stage, throwing up splinters and saw dust.

  “What the…?” Butch jumped off his director’s chair and marched toward Kevin, the cannon operator. “What was that, Kevin? Was that a real cannon?”

  “You said to light it up,” he mumbled. The poor guy took off his hat and scratched his balding head.

  Butch’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and he jumped in place. “It’s supposed to make a noise. A freaking loud noise, that’s all! Not destroy my stage. What are you doing?”

  As the two of them began to argue, I spotted my mom cutting across the field. Momma Tulla was dressed in a pretty floral summer dress with big pink roses. She strolled toward me with a big smile across her glossy pink lips and freckled cheeks. Her hair had been swept up into a braided crown, a hairstyle that I could never manage to do in my own head. It warmed my heart to see her out and about today. She'd been managing to get out of the house a little bit every day now that she was seeing her new therapist.

  "How's my beautiful girl today?" she asked as she got near.

  I gave her the best smile I could muster, under the circumstances. Today must’ve been a good day for her. There was no reason to ruin it with my tired old complaints.

  “Wonderful. And how was your therapy session?”

  She threw her chin up and gazed adoringly at the sky. “Amazing. Melissa Underwood knows how to unlock my soul. I swear, that woman is breaking me down and building me back up again, stronger than ever.”

  She couldn’t have delivered any better news.

  “Perfect.” I threw my soldier’s cap on the ground, loosening my sweaty copper curls from their woolen prison. “Now, I’m starving and in desperate need for a shower. What do you say we go home and eat?”

  “I’d say that’s a very good idea,” Momma Tula began, “But there’s a young man standing just over there and I think he wants your attention.”

  I wrinkled my brow in confusion and turned to look where she was pointing. It took me a full minute to understand what I was looking at. A young man stood about thirty feet away. He wore dark jeans, a plain gray t-shirt, and brown hiking boots that laced up. A shadow of a beard darkened his strong chin and the hint of a dark tattoo played peek-a-boo at the collar of his shirt. The last time I’d seen him, his wavy brown hair had fallen past his ears, but now it was cut much shorter and styled with some sort of product.

  “Drake?” My voice broke and I had to clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”

  He stared at me, his solemn expression giving way to an awkward shyness. Drake had never been shy toward me. He’d been the one to march straight up to me at a bar and ask for my number. It had been because of him that we went out for nearly a year and I began to think I was falling in love. And it had been because of him that we’d broken up, once I found to the courage to tell him I was a witch.

  “Seriously, “I said, old anger resurfacing. “What are you doing here? And how did you find me?”

  “I bribed someone in the admissions office of your old school,” he mumbled, glancing nervously at Momma Tula. With a few tentative steps, he walked closer. “They had your family’s old address. It cost me my favorite fender Stratocaster. You know? The one with the flames?”

  I nodded. He’d played that guitar for me a few times when we were together. I knew I should feel awed that he’d give up such a treasure for me, but it only fanned the flames of anger. “And what? Is that supposed to make me happy? You broke up with me, remember? You told me that you never wanted to see me again.”

  “Oooh…” Momma Tula moaned next to me. “That’s him?”

  I nodded, never taking my eyes off of him. “Yep, the jerk that dumped me when I tried to get real with him.”

  “Didn’t we set a hex on him?” she asked, thumbing her chin. “Male pattern baldness?”

  Drake chuckled nervously and rubbed a hand on the back of his head. “Uh…really?”

  “I guess I need a little more practice,” Momma Tula said, walking around him and running her eyes over his hair. “Must’ve missed my mark. No problem, Hazel. We can try again. Or, I have this idea for a new impotence hex. I’ve been itching to test it on someone.”

  She clicked her fingernails together gleefully and I couldn’t help but laugh at the look of horror that crossed Drake’s face. He was surely regretting his trip to Uriville. A minute more, and we’d have him running for the hills with his tail tucked between his legs. But then, I’d never get to learn why he’d shown up out of the blue.

  “Momma, would you give us a minute?” I asked.

  She nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll just be over there” – she pointed to the nearly erected bar – “let me know if you need me.”

  As she swayed across the field, Momma Tula looked over her shoulder and gave me a giant wink. I couldn’t help but let a small smile crack across my face.

  “She wasn’t being serious, was she?” Drake asked, coming in closer. I could smell the spicy deodorant he always used to wear when we were together. My senses perked up, even as I tried to call them down.

  “We’ll have to see.” I crossed my arms over my chest and did my best imitation of Grammy Jo’s disappointed scowl. “Depends on why you’re here.”

  “I needed to see you,” he replied. His dark blue eyes were doing a great impression of a puppy in trouble. “After our fight, I needed some time to think. When I was finally ready to see you again, you’d already left your apartment, your school, everything. Even your phone was disconnected. I didn’t think you ever wanted to see me again.”

  “No, that’s what you told me,”
I snapped. “Just as you were walking out my door. I remember it, vividly.”

  “I was confused.” He stepped even closer and this time, our arms touched. Even through my layers of wool, I could still get a sense of his rock-hard biceps. “Scared, even. When you told me your…” – he looked around and quieted down – “…your secret. All I could hear was my Catholic Aunty screaming in my ear about witches being the spawn of Satan. I had to clear my head. But then, you ran.”

  I groaned. Now, I was beginning to sound like some kind of loser. Drake hadn’t been the reason I’d skipped town. My mom had called me up the next day with her problems in Arizona. Poor timing, but I couldn’t complain.

  And then, after clearing up that situation, we’d ditched our phones, most of our possessions, and come back to Uriville. The idea that Drake was trying to find me hadn’t even crossed my mind. He’d completely freaked. It didn’t take a genius to figure out our relationship was over.

  “I didn’t run away because of you, you dolt.” My hands flew in the air and I was powerless to stop them. “And this is crazy. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “But I wanted to tell you I’ve been doing some soul searching.” He grabbed my hand and held it between his palms. I wanted to tear it away, but found myself paralyzed. “I did some research about magic and witchcraft and all of those things. And I’m okay with it. I really am.”

  It wasn’t the confession I’d expected. If anything, I thought my guitar playing, weight lifting ex-boyfriend would be more likely to try and throw me into the loony bin. Maybe working at a Witch Trial Reenactment Park was getting to me, but pitchforks and bonfires seemed more likely than this.

  My eyebrows raised as I peered at him. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” He dug a hand into his jean pocket and pulled something out. “I even found this magic shop in New Orleans when my band played a gig there. It had crazy stuff. A shrunken head, magical instruments, herbs that make you grow taller. Although, I’m pretty sure that was just oregano. But an old lady sold me this. She said it would help me accomplish my goals. I guess it’s some sort of good luck charm.”

  His fist curled opened to reveal a dull gray disk, with a large hole in the middle, and red feather tied with a leather strap to a small piece of bone. My eyes popped open wide at the sight. Grammy Jo had warned us about such pieces of magic. It was blood magic – the darkest kind.

  She’d always told us to steer clear of such things. Nothing good could come out of witches that gambled with their very souls to create evil objects. I snatched it off his palm and closed my fingers tight around it. A shimmer of power went through me, stinging like a shock to the spinal cord.

  “Where’d you get this?” I hissed. “You should’ve have it. You don’t know what it could do.”

  “I told you,” he said with a hurt expression crossing his handsome face. “I got it in New Orleans. It helped me find you. I wanted to prove to you that I’m okay with magic. I’m okay with all of this junk.”

  It was my turn to look hurt. “This junk?”

  This junk just happened to be my past and my future.

  “No, not junk,” he waved his hands, back peddling. “With what you are. A witch, I mean. I’m cool with it. And I’ve missed you.”

  That last line threw me off guard. In all the mess of the last few months, I hadn’t given myself the chance to even think about missing Drake. But now, it all came flooding back. The nights we spent on my couch, watching scary movies. Me cheering him on at his musical gigs. Him, posing for the occasional art project. Our relationship had been comfortable and smooth, like a glass of pinot noir before bedtime. Conversation was easy. There had definitely been attraction there. But I wasn’t so sure anymore. About anything.

  “I don’t know…” I mumbled, my fist crushing the feather.

  “Let me make it up to you,” Drake said, grabbing my hand again. “I’ll prove to you that I’ve changed. Just give me a chance.”

  My head was becoming all fuzzy. It could’ve been the heat or the hunger, but my brain had officially turned to mush inside my skull. My lips pressed together. I couldn’t trust what would come out of them. So I stared at him, waiting for inspiration to strike. He stared back, blinking his long dark eyelashes and working his jaw.

  “I take it, you’re joining us for lunch?” Momma Tula had rejoined us and was smiling at me with that annoying twinkle in her eye. “Grammy Jo is making Mexican.”

  “No…” I started, finally forcing my throat to make noise. The last thing I needed was my ex-boyfriend surrounded by my aunts and cousins. They’d have the naked baby pictures out before I could say TMI.

  “I’d love too,” Drake said over me, a little too enthusiastically.

  “Wonderful.” Momma Tula draped her arm through Drake’s elbow and pulled him away from me. “And on the way, you can tell me a little more about yourself.”

  I gaped at them as they left me behind, still holding the blood magic charm tight in my fist. This couldn’t be good. No man ever lasted long at the Brunick Manor. Drake would soon be barging out the front door as if his pants were on fire.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter 3

  As soon as we walked in the door, I knew I was in trouble. Magic hung thick in the air, enough that even a mere mortal like Drake could pick up on the vibe. The Brunick Manor ebbed with the kind of supernatural life. Furniture scraped across the floor, unguided by any human hand. From deep within the house, the sound of cackling witches called to us.

  Drake paused hesitantly at the door. I wanted to tell him that he could turn back now. That all would be forgiven and forgotten if he only turned around and never spoke of this again. But Momma Tula was too quick. She pressed against his back, shoving him into the hallway before either of us could get a word out. The door slammed behind us and we were firmly entrenched in the magic. I heard Drake swallow hard. Apparently I wasn't the only one having second thoughts.

  "Relax," I whispered to him as we followed the noises. I wasn't sure why it was trying to reassure him. It wasn't my fault he was here. "It's just my aunts. They're rehearsing for their big act at the event this weekend. It's not always like this."

  We walked into the kitchen and that's where we found my Aunt Piper and Aunt Viv prancing around in black gowns and pointed brimmed hats. They had purchased cheap black plastic fingernails from the local dollar store and filed them into wicked points at the end of their fingers. Aunt Piper had grabbed the old wooden broom and was hopping around with it between her legs.

  My cousins, Blythe and Raven, had perched themselves on the countertop to watch the show. Grammy Jo sat at the dining room table, porcelain teacup in hand. The cackling noise was coming from her. She slapped her knee and bent over, giggling at the sight of her daughters full on witch regalia.

  "Do you think that's a little bit much?" I asked, sensing Drake pause behind me. "I don't think our ancestors dressed like that. You look like you just got done shopping at a Halloween shop."

  "That's exactly where they got it," Grammy Jo said, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "Can you imagine? Walking around in pointy hats with our broomsticks?"

  "If only the world knew, we save those for special occasions," Momma Tula added, picking the seat next to her mother. "And that with the help of a little magic potion, we no longer have to walk around with crooked noses and giant warts."

  "Oh, but it's much more fun to dress up," Aunt Piper said with a gleeful laugh. "No one expects a witch to actually look like a witch anymore."

  Aunt Viv stopped waltzing and stared at us with wide eyes. Her mouth pulled down into a frightened grimace. "It's the normal looking ones who get picked off, now."

  If my favorite ballet flats and skinny jeans were going to get me caught, they could take me away now. There was no way I'd give them up.

  It was then that Aunt Piper caught sight of Drake, yanked the hat off her head and tried to fluff her already fluffy perm. "Tell me, who's the cutie?"r />
  Momma Tula stuffed a tea cookie in her mouth and shrugged. "Hazel's boyfriend."

  “Ex-boyfriend,” I inserted.

  Everyone shrieked and pushed past me, as if I didn’t exist, and crowded around him. Even with his broad shoulders and six feet of height, my family seemed to swallow him up. Everyone began asking him questions at once. What was his name? How old was he? How much could he lift? I even saw Blythe feel up his bicep. The only one to stand back was Raven. She leaned on the kitchen table with a smirk on her face and watched Drake get woman-handled.

  “Enough!” I stood on my tippy toes and waved my arms. “Give the man some space.”

  Reluctantly, they backed away, but not before Blythe could squeeze in another bicep-feel. And they wondered why I never brought boyfriends home.

  “He wants to learn about magic,” Momma Tula announced, stuffing another cookie in her mouth. “He came here to prove to Hazel he was alright with her being a witch.”

  My aunts oohed again, making me want to shove their witch’s hats in their pie-holes.

  “I can teach him some magic,” Blythe practically sang. A grin stretched on her face from ear to ear. She flipped her blonde hair and bumped him with her shoulder. “I know all sorts of things I could teach you.”

  My lips pressed into a scowl that reached my voice. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Who did she think she was? Drake might have been my ex-boyfriend, but that didn’t mean he was free territory. Wasn’t there some kind of rule book about dating your cousin’s exes? It just shouldn’t happen.

  “If anyone is going to teach the boy magic,” Grammy Jo announced as the others quieted down. “It’ll be me. Come on, boy, I’ve got a potion brewing. I’ll show you how we take care of those pesky garden gnomes. They’re not all little smiling ceramic collectables, you know? The real ones are as nasty as the nail fungus I’ve got on my right big toe.”