The Castle of Wind and Whispers

by Steffanie Holmes

  Maeve had barely left her mother’s side since she woke up this morning. Her eyes leaked with tears. I couldn’t even imagine what she was going through. What if it had been my Ma? What would that even be like?

  I wanted to make her feel better, but I knew she didn’t need my irreverent humor or sexy body right now. She had the other guys – Corbin loved this emotional stuff, and Rowan just wanted to hold her and never let go. I trusted them to look after her. There was something I had to do.

  I needed to create.

  Aline’s ideas about belief and magic nagged at me. Memories from our return to Crookshollow swirled around in my noggin – of the villagers crossing the street to avoid us, yelling weak insults and saying we weren’t welcome.

  Belief in witchcraft was growing, spreading through the village like a potato famine. Belief that we were somehow responsible for what happened in the church. Belief that we would do something terrible to all the god-faring people of Crookshollow.

  I could do something to fan the flames of that belief, and maybe help us to collect it and store it for later use, like a giant metal belief Tupperware container.

  I’d already bent and welded lengths of rebar together to make a skeletal frame. Now, I was using bits of the body off an old car, corrugated roofing iron, and some old boiler to give the body shape and form. I’d curled the ends of the feet up like pointed shoes, and used motorcycle chain for dangling sleeves. If I can just get this hat to stay in place while I… I dragged the frame another inch while I stretched out my fingers toward the tool chest. Nearly there—

  “Can I help?”

  I turned my head. Maeve stood in the doorway, hands shoved in her jean pockets, shoulders hunched. A shaft of sunlight shone behind her, highlighting her face like a halo.

  “I just had a fight with Kelly,” she said, lifting her head and daring a sad smile. Her red-ringed eyes told me she’d been crying. “I need a distraction so I don’t go and throttle her.”

  “In that case, be my guest.” I jabbed my nose at the tool chest. “Can you grab a box of screws for me? They’re in the third drawer down on the left.”

  Maeve grabbed the box and held it open in front of me. I pulled out a screw and inserted it and the washer into the hole, tightening it with my drill. I followed it with another three, and stood back to admire the completed skeleton, now with the hat perched on top. “What do you think?”

  “I think… er, it’s a mound of junk?”

  “Can’t you see it?” I pointed to the bicycle handle sticking out. “That’s the hooked nose.” I kicked one of the corrugated iron feet. “There’s the pointy shoes.” I grinned at the old gramophone horn I’d just flipped upside down on top. “And that’s the pointy hat. I’m just going to finish off her clothes and hair, and I’ve even nicked a bunch of fencing wire from the groundskeepers cottage I’m going to use to make a broomstick. I think I’m going to put her right down by the gate so anyone driving past will see.”

  “It’s a sculpture of a witch.” Maeve frowned. “Flynn, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “It’s a brilliant idea. One of my most brilliant, in fact. The whole village believes we’re witches. After what they saw at the church, that belief is leaping around like wildfire. It’s probably even stronger than when your mum was messing around with it.”

  Maeve sighed. “But this isn’t like last time. They’re not just mildly amused by the commune of hippies up at the old castle. They hate us, and they’ve got that mob mentality. We’ve already seen them attack Jane for her career choice, and they were willing to hurt Connor. But after all those people died at the church… we don’t want to incur their wrath.”

  “I think that’s exactly what we’ve got to do.” I patted the statue. “I think we’ve got to feed the beast, and then collect all that belief and store it in my sculptures. That way, we can collect even more power than you and Aline and Blake can hold yourselves.”

  Maeve’s eyes blazed. I thought she was going to scold me, which was kind of hot, especially when the little vein popped out in her neck.

  “And I know you said no going off and doing things by yourself,” I finished hurriedly. “But I wanted to make a statue anyway. Even if we don’t use it for collecting magic, it will at least make a fun addition to the courtyard.”

  Maeve’s mouth twisted up into a grin. She reached up and kissed me, her lips fire on my skin. “You’re right, Flynnmeister. You are a genius.”

  “Told you.” I grabbed a mangled exhaust pipe from Arthur’s last car and tossed it at her. “Now hold that for me. Our witch is going to need a wee familiar.”

  7

  CORBIN

  At least I got my library back.

  I’d come running as soon as I heard Maeve and Kelly screaming at each other. Kelly pushed past me on the way down the hall and disappeared into Jane’s room. Maeve collapsed into my arms, but left a few minutes later, as if all she needed was a moment with me to steady herself before she went off to tackle her next foe. Aline followed behind her, and I’d got to work hunting for information on belief magic.

  The grimoire of the Georgian-era Briarwood coven contained some references to belief, so that was the first book I pulled out to study. The author of this text was the magister at the time, and he also happened to be the Bishop of the local Anglican diocese. He believed the magic wielded by the coven and the power of the Holy Spirit were one and the same thing.

  We speak of the powers of good and evil, of angels and demons. Godly men believe that the Lord’s grace channels through them – they have no choice but to perform His will. Because witches wield magic of their own will and volition, they are believed corrupted by demons. They are in violation of Scripture, for all miracles must come from God. In truth, there is only one kind of magic – the power of belief. Can not we—

  Noises outside pulled me from the text. I leaned back in my wingback chair, staring out the window at the gardens below. Flynn’s workshop door was open, and judging by the bangs, crashes, and curses coming from within, he was working on some new project. Maeve headed out the kitchen door and stopped to speak to Rowan before heading along the path toward Flynn’s workshop. Aline and Rowan moved between the vegetable and herb gardens in the walled courtyard behind the kitchen, talking and laughing with each other as they filled up wooden baskets with produce and sprigs. Rowan raised his gaze to the library window. I almost leapt back, feeling guilty for looking, but then I remembered that we were a thing now. I waved at him. His whole face broke into a smile.

  Fuck, he has a gorgeous smile.

  Rowan and me – I didn’t know what to make of it. I’d never considered that I might be… that I might want to be involved with a guy. Of course, there was the group thing we all had with Maeve, but that was all about her – pleasing her, worshipping her, loving her the way she deserved to be loved.

  Maeve’s presence at Briarwood had thrown so much into chaos. From that chaos had risen this uncertainty about everything. This battle with the fae could go to a dark place. We could all die any day now. The future was a big black hole. Every time I looked into the black hole and tried to figure out what would happen, I got scared.

  I don’t do uncertainty.

  There were only two things that made that fear seem worthwhile. There was Maeve, and there was Rowan.

  Rowan deserved happiness and love and a future. Of all of us, he’d had the worst start in life. From the moment I found him in that shitty abandoned building, I’d wanted to give him everything. If that meant my heart too, than I was glad to do it.

  Rowan turned back to the garden, and I went to return to my book, but something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A figure in a bright blue dress walked quickly across the grass. Maeve? I’d seen her head out toward Flynn’s workshops a few minutes ago. The figure was heading the wrong way.

  Kelly.

  Maeve still hadn’t explained everything, and I guessed from Kelly’s yelling before that she’d been hidin
g in the library while we spoke to Aline. Maeve thought Kelly was acting odd, and I agreed. This unstable, religious girl seemed at odds with the flirtatious, vivacious sister Maeve described and I’d observed in Arizona. I wondered why she was still here – if I’d been Kelly I would’ve left the castle, convinced Jane to go back to her cottage, but then I remembered how Dora had threatened Jane at her cottage. With the villagers on the warpath, Jane probably didn’t want to go back there with Connor. At least here, they had Briarwood to protect them.

  Sighing, I turned away and pulled our own grimoire across the desk, spreading it open on top of the other book and flicking to the page about pouring magic into objects. I’d always interpreted the spell as using magic to manipulate objects, which was not something we’d ever needed to do. But now that Maeve and Flynn had figured out the truth, I could see how I needed to rethink my translation.

  I picked up my pen to start work on the text, but all I could think about was Maeve’s sister running across the lawn. Maeve wasn’t the best at dealing with Kelly’s religious beliefs. Maybe it could help smooth things over if someone a bit less… scientific spoke to Kelly first.

  I dropped my pen and raced downstairs via the secret staircase. I went out the kitchen door, waving to Rowan as I cut across the kitchen garden. I followed Kelly’s path down toward the rear of the property. The gate to the orchard was slightly ajar. I swung it open, scanning the trees for any sign of Kelly.

  “Hey, Kelly, it’s Corbin. Are you in here?”

  No answer except the twittering of birds in the trees.

  My heart pounded against my chest. I didn’t like going in the orchard. This was where I’d found Keegan hanging from a bent old oak on the lower boundary, just beyond the gate where the orchard met the woods. Dad cut the oak down before they left Briarwood, but the ghost of that tree still loomed over the orchard.

  An image flashed in front of my eyes – a figure hanging from a gnarled branch, her face all blotchy, her eyes glass. Blonde hair trailing over the rope. Kelly following where Keegan had led.

  I shook the image away as I ducked down the next row, calling Kelly’s name. You’re just scaring yourself. Surely Kelly wouldn’t…

  But she’d attempted suicide only a week ago. There were no coincidences in magic, and Briarwood was the most magical place there was. I picked up my pace, crossing into the next row and peering between the towering plum and citrus trees.

  “Kelly!”

  “Over here.”

  The voice was so faint I wasn’t sure I’d heard it or it was just my imagination. But at least it was a voice. I jogged down the next row of apple trees. Kelly came into view, starfished on the ground in front of an enormous plum tree, her mouth stained red from the fruit. A trail of pips led across the grass. She pulled herself up and rubbed her eyes.

  “Hey,” I slid in beside her. “What you doing out here?”

  “It’s pretty,” Kelly said. She pulled a wide-brimmed yellow hat lower across her face and sighed.

  I waited. I knew that if you waited long enough, usually a person would start talking. That was how I always smoked Rowan out.

  It didn’t take Kelly long. One thing I knew about her was that she loved to talk. “Maeve hates me.”

  I wanted to say she didn’t, but Maeve had said those exact words to me, and I wasn’t going to lie. “You may not realize it now, but her hating you is actually a good thing.”

  “How could it possibly be a good thing?” Kelly sniffed.

  “Hate is just the other side of love. If Maeve didn’t love you, she’d be indifferent. Instead, everything you said cut her deep because it came from you. And so she said some things that cut you, because they came from her.”

  “Gee, you’re soooo good at this cheering up thing.” Kelly stared at the sky – a brilliant blue cloudless day, one of those rare English summer days that we should’ve been spending at the beach or on the footy field, not solving existential crises in the middle of a pile of ripened plums. “I guess I messed up real bad, huh?”

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  “I never should have said what I said. I’m not… my head’s all messed up right now. But she was lying to me again. I wanted her to see that she could trust me with her secrets. That’s why I snuck into the library when I heard you all moving around this morning. I just wanted her to see that I could deal with all the witchcraft stuff.”

  “So you know everything now.”

  She laughed. “I already knew, Corbin. I saw that cult ritual thing you guys were all involved in at Avebury. And there’s the little fact that last night you carried in a woman who looked an awful lot like Maeve, which makes no sense since Maeve’s an orphan with no family.”

  “She does have family. She has you.”

  “It’s not the same to her,” Kelly sniffed again. “Maeve never belonged with us. She never tried to belong.”

  I understand now. Kelly’s in mourning, just like Maeve. She’s clinging to her faith because it’s from her parents. It’s something of them she can keep alive. She’s dealing with her pain the only way she knows how, which is all the rest of us have ever managed to do.

  “You can’t force a person to believe in something. Better for her to be the way she is than for her to pretend to be a Christian when in her heart she doesn’t believe.”

  “She took everything for granted that our parents gave her.” Kelly picked up a plum and tossed it hard, so it splattered open against the grass. “And they just kept on giving and giving and giving. She got everything, and because I was the real child and the good Christian, I got nothing.”

  Right, then. We’d hit on the crux of the issue – good old fashioned sibling rivalry. To Maeve, Kelly would always be the treasured one because she shared something with her parents Maeve never could – their blood, and their faith. But to Kelly, Maeve was the special one because she was the miracle baby with the super smarts. She was the one who was going to escape their small town and have an amazing life. And now, she was the one with the magical powers and the castle in her name, and the parent who’d come back from the dead.

  I understood. Bloody hell how I understood. Keegan got all my parents’ attention, between the doctors and the specialists and fancy tutors. And then, when he died, all his sins were forgotten. He became the perfect son because he was the one who lost his chance to redeem himself. It was just this belief thing again – they believed he’d turn into the perfect son, and so he became the perfect son. I missed Keegan, and I loved him and I hated him all at once.

  I thought about saying all that, but this wasn’t about me. It was about Kelly.

  “You’re eighteen soon,” I tried, instead. “You’re practically an adult. You don’t have to define yourself by your parents’ standards, or Maeve’s standards. You get to decide what you believe and how you want your life to turn out. I think you know that already – that’s why you came here with the world’s most insane backpack.”

  Kelly laughed.

  “I know what the Bible says about witchcraft. Revelations was pretty specific with ‘the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters, and all people who talk at the cinema will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur.’ But I figured if you’re still here after everything you heard today, you’re choosing to make a more liberal interpretation.”

  Kelly tossed another plum. “I’m freaked out. I mean, witches. The Bible is full of people like Saul who died because he consulted mediums instead of trusting the Lord. Messing with the occult is a bad idea. Demons are real, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.” I picked up a plum and tossed it, loving the satisfying splat as it exploded across the grass. “I’m a witch, too.”

  “But you’re a guy.”

  “Magic isn’t a gendered trait. All of us at Briarwood are witches. Does that make you feel any different about us?”

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “Even Arthur?”r />
  I nodded. “He’s a fire witch. You should see him toast marshmallows.”

  Kelly snorted.

  “What are you thinking right now?”

  She didn’t look at me. “I’m thinking that none of you guys seem like evil witches from story books. I’m thinking that this is scary as hell. I’m thinking that God has sent me here to test me. I just wish I knew what the test was, because I’m seriously afraid I failed. I’m thinking that if Arthur’s a fire witch, then he might have had something to do with my uncle’s house burning down. And I guess I’m thinking… that Maeve’s my sister, and I love her no matter what, even if she is cavorting with the devil.”

  “You’re an amazing woman, Kelly Crawford.” I patted her shoulder. She looked up at me then, and her lopsided smile told me she still wasn’t sure. “I think if your parents were alive, they’d say exactly the same thing. Maeve says they fought about religion a lot, but they always supported her. She’s not perfect. She should have given you more credit and she should’ve respected your beliefs more. But she’s Maeve and she doesn’t think like that.” I laughed. “You should’ve seen how skeptical she was when she first saw us wield magic and we told her what she was. I think it would be easier to convince her the earth was flat.”

  “That’s saying something. You should hear her rant about Flat-Earthers,” Kelly laughed. “You love her, don’t you?”

  Her question came as a shock. I knew what Maeve would want me to say. But as Kelly’s eyes bore into mine I knew that she’d see through the lie anyway. I sighed. “I love her very much.”

  “But she’s with Arthur, and he’s your friend.”

  I nodded. Both of those statements were technically true. “Love doesn’t always obey the rules. That’s why so many people believe the rules are bullshit.”