Witch Myth Super Boxset Page 21

  But Dorothy and Calvin seemed content to stare obstinately in opposite directions. I heaved a sigh.

  “Seriously, people, work with me here,” I said, snapping my fingers at them impatiently. “Dorothy, what did you say about walking into the water?”

  Dorothy, her arms crossed stubbornly, cast a stern look at my father before responding. “This part of the otherworld is rather simple,” she explained. “You merely have to accept death and greet it willingly. The river is your passage through this level and into the next.”

  “So all I have to do is walk into the river?” I clarified. “Will I be able to come back? I can’t just waltz into the rest of the otherworld if there’s no way back.”

  “I’m not sure I understand the question,” Dorothy said with a puzzled expression. “Back to where?”

  “Life,” I said confidently.

  Calvin and Dorothy exchanged loaded looks with one another. I could practically hear their unspoken conversation. It seemed that, on this one subject, they agreed with each other.

  “Morgan, I’ve already told you,” my father began, his tone grim.

  I raised a hand to stop him. “I understand what you’ve told me. I’ve chosen to reject it. Moving on. I need the two of you to think outside the box. At the very least, I need to know if what Dad told me earlier is true. Can I talk to another medium who is still on earth?”

  Dorothy contemplated the question. “Well, I suppose it could be possible. After all, that is how I’ve managed to have such a profound effect on you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Dorothy twirled her fingers once more, purposely displaying the deep, royal-blue color of her witchcraft. Again, I recognized the similarities between her witchcraft and my own. “Well, Morgan, you see, I am essentially the original you.”

  Calvin scoffed at Dorothy’s theatrics. “What she means is that, when she was alive, she was also a medium and the third of four daughters. Those coincidences make the bond between the two of you stronger, much to my dismay.”

  “You were a medium?” I asked Dorothy.

  “Still am, darling.”

  “How did you watch over me?” I asked eagerly. “How did you manipulate my life or whatever? How can I do the same for Gwenlyn?”

  Dorothy’s eyes widened at my enthusiasm. “So many questions! You have to earn the right to those answers, I’m afraid.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “What kind of bullshit afterlife rule is that?”

  “One for the ages,” she responded. “I’m afraid a courtship with the otherworld doesn’t come quite so easily as you seem to hope.”

  “I don’t want to romance the otherworld,” I said, already annoyed with Dorothy’s metaphorical way of speaking. “I just want to get back to Gwenlyn and Mom and the rest of the coven.”

  “One step at a time, Ace,” my father said. “First, we have to figure out if it’s even possible to get a two-way conversation going with Gwenlyn.”

  “Indeed,” said Dorothy. “Although I do have an alternate idea should our attempt at communication fall through.”

  “What kind of alternate idea?” I asked, trying to quell the balloon of hope inside my chest. If Dorothy was thinking of other ways to help me, it meant that she was actively considering the possibility of my request to return to Yew Hollow, but I didn’t want to get too attached to any plan that might fall through. As it was, Dorothy already seemed hesitant to reveal additional information about her other idea.

  “In all likeliness, what I’m thinking of won’t work out,” she said. She glanced quickly at me before looking away. It was the jittery implication of this action that made me think she wasn’t being entirely truthful.

  “Why bring it up, then?” I questioned, peering at her through narrowed eyes. Calvin looked on curiously. My best guess was that he wasn’t familiar with whatever concept Dorothy intended to propose.

  “Morgan, you must understand,” she said, her voice low with the significance of her intention. “If we go after this… thing I have in mind, there’s no guarantee that we would even be able to use it properly, or even get it back to Yew Hollow for Gwenlyn to use. Besides, I shudder to think of what would happen if it fell into the undoubtedly inexperienced hands of your young apprentice.”

  “What is this thing you’re even talking about?” I pressed, eager for more information.

  “There’s a weapon,” she said. She spoke barely above a whisper as if frightened some other soul in the empty wasteland of the river’s beach would overhear our conversation. My father and I leaned in to catch her faint words. “A very old, very powerful weapon,” she continued. “It’s housed in the depths of the otherworld, in a place that will challenge the very nature of your sanity.”

  “What else is new?” I muttered darkly.

  “If we were to procure it,” Dorothy continued, her pupils dilating with the mere thought, “it would certainly be of use against your problematic boyfriend and his ghostly sycophants in Yew Hollow.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend!” I said hotly. “And how do you even know about Dominic? Or his ghosts?”

  “You forget I take great interest in your well-being, Morgan,” Dorothy said. “I know all about the goings-on in that blasted small town.”

  “Right, of course. It’s all just some hilarious reality show to you guys,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Tell me more about this weapon.”

  “Well, if you manage to find a way to get it back to Yew Hollow,” Dorothy began, “whomever wields it would be able to put down Dominic’s ghosts. It would send them to the otherworld for good.”

  “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” my father said. There were wrinkles of worry at the corners of his eyes. “Morgan, you have no idea the trouble a weapon like that could cause.”

  “Dad, to be honest, I’m more worried about my family surviving Yew Hollow’s apocalypse than anything else right now,” I said, looking up into my father’s face. There was an infinite amount of warmth and a genuine worry for my fate there. I wasn’t quite used to having a father figure to care for me, but I couldn’t let emotions get in the way of saving the coven. Dad was going to have to deal with my course of action whether he liked it or not. After all, he couldn’t save me. Plus, according to Dad and Dorothy, I was already dead.

  I faced Dorothy again. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”

  “Whoa, there, little one,” Dorothy said, taking me by the shoulders. “This is no minute adventure we would be embarking on here. I’d be risking my eternal fate for you. That’s not something a woman like me can take lightly.”

  “What’s your point?”

  She fixed me with a penetrating stare. “If I help you do this, if we succeed in appropriating this weapon, I’m going to need something in return.”

  I dropped out of her grasp, stepping away from her. “Of course you do. I should’ve known.”

  “My dear, my intentions here are nothing but honorable.”

  “Spit it out, then,” I said, unable to keep the note of disappointment out of my tone. “What do you want?”

  She seemed to grow taller as she considered the weight of her impending request. “I want you to ensure the destruction of the yew tree in the town square.”

  My ability to verbally express a reaction to this condition fell short. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, waiting for my brain to catch up.

  “Are you crazy?” I finally said. “That tree is one of the only lines of defense that we have in Yew Hollow. It’s saved us countless times.”

  “That may be so,” Dorothy said, her expression stern. “But the coven must also protect the yew tree, and as of late, your dedication to this task has been less than ideal.”

  “Whose damn fault is that?” I asked, annoyed by the fact that Dorothy seemed to be blaming me for Yew Hollow’s recent problems. If anyone was at fault for the disaster at home, it was Dominic freaking Dobbes.

  My father gently took my elbow, hoping to
calm me down. “Dorothy,” he said, “I think Morgan and I would both like to know why you want the yew tree destroyed.”

  “Yeah,” I said unhelpfully.

  “The tree, as you know, housed the root of our power,” said Dorothy. “When we first arrived in Yew Hollow, we poured everything we had into that tree. That’s why you felt so at home around it, Morgan.”

  I sifted through the memories of my childhood, remembering just how much I had loved the yew tree. Even when my odd family made me feel like a complete outcast, I had always relied on the yew tree for a little love and protection. The rough bark of its trunk, the shadow of its twisting branches and leaves, and the strange and wonderful aura that pulsed through the tree itself were comforting to me at any time of day or night. Suddenly, I felt guilty for not providing the yew tree with the same kind of love. The tree had been taken advantage of, and I had done nothing to try and stop it.

  “In any case,” Dorothy continued, snapping her fingers in front of my face to recapture my wandering attention. “It’s quite clear you’ve shirked your treely duties—”

  “I don’t think ‘treely’ is a word.”

  “—and the only way to spare Yew Hollow any more strife is by destroying the yew tree entirely,” she finished, ignoring my interruption.

  “See, I’m not really sure I understand why that is,” I said.

  Dorothy sighed. Obviously, I had missed a few crucial lessons about the history of the yew tree.

  “The yew tree represents everything that the coven is,” Dorothy explained. “Even if it doesn’t currently house our coven’s magic, it is still symbolically the vessel for our craft. If the tree is destroyed, the original power will be distributed amongst the members of the existing coven and only those members.”

  Dorothy’s intent was slowly clarifying itself. “So if we destroy the tree, we destroy Dominic,” I said. “He won’t have access to the original power anymore?”

  “Not one lick of it.”

  “What’s the catch?” I asked, wary of this plan. On one hand, it sounded like the perfect way to get rid of Dominic, but perfect plans never came without a price.

  Dorothy side-eyed Calvin, as if reluctant to reveal further information in front of him. My father, human as he was, wasn’t privy to certain conversations. This he understood, so with a groan of acceptance, he turned his back to us and trotted away toward the water line. Once Dorothy was satisfied with the distance between my father and me, she grasped my hands in hers.

  “There is a chance, my dear,” she said, keeping her voice low so that my father had no hope of overhearing, “that I can return you to your home.”

  My heart, or whatever was left of it in this forsaken bit of the world, felt as though it stumbled through its next few beats.

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “Or are you just trying to get what you want?”

  “Morgan, the coven must go on,” Dorothy said, her fingers tightening around my wrists. “You may not accept this, but you were always destined for more than your sisters. You are the savior of the Summers, but to be our savior, you have to go back.”

  “Look, I’m not some kind of chosen one,” I argued, blanching as the word “savior” echoed through my head.

  “Perhaps not,” agreed Dorothy to my surprise. “Yet you are the only Summers witch with the wherewithal to do what is necessary for the coven. Your love, your devotion, your pigheadedness—”

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “—will help you to fight for what is right,” she finished. “The survival of the coven depends on your return to earth, and so I shall do my damnedest to make that happen.”

  “You still haven’t told me the catch,” I pointed out. It all sounded too easy so far. An all-powerful weapon, a way to defeat Dominic, and the return of my soul to my body were the only things I needed. It seemed impossible that Dorothy could offer me all three.

  “The catch, my dear, is that you must become the head of the Summers coven.”

  In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been jarred by this fact. My mother, Cassandra, was the current head of the coven, and she had already told me that she felt I was the best candidate to take over. I, on the other hand, didn’t want any of the responsibility. It was trouble enough to be a witch in the first place, but to govern an entire coven? Forget about it. I could barely handle myself. I figured I had years to talk my mother into choosing another one of my sisters to replace her, but as always, nothing ever seemed to go as I expected it to.

  “If I agree to this,” I said, “you have to swear to watch over Yew Hollow for the rest of your eternal life. I’m going to need a whole hell of a lot of help to manage the coven.”

  Dorothy held up a pinky finger. “I promise.”

  I closed my eyes, composing myself. This pact wasn’t one that I could make lightly. Everything would change from here on out. I wrapped my pinky finger around Dorothy’s, a childish gesture that still seemed to hold some kind of steadfast validity.

  “Deal,” I said.

  Dorothy nodded, a look of triumph in her gray eyes. “Let’s get you across the river,” she said, using our linked fingers to guide me toward the dark water. “We can’t accomplish anything from this worthless stretch of no man’s land.”

  “Wait,” I said, planting my feet. “Why don’t you want my father to know about this?”

  Calvin still waited near the river, tossing pebbles into its murky depth. He was the picture of blissful ignorance, a man who had left his life behind too soon but still managed to make the most of all that remained.

  “Your father, with all of his mortal shortcomings, will have a hard time accepting your return to earth,” Dorothy explained, watching as Calvin cast another handful of stones into the river. “He may agree to help us find the weapon, but I imagine he believes your soul will be compromised should you find your way back to Yew Hollow.”

  “Will it?” I asked.

  “That, my dear, is entirely up to you.”

  I had already decided to take my chances. My family was at risk, and if the deterioration of my soul was the price I had to pay for saving the coven, so be it. I nodded to Dorothy, and together, we joined my father at the river’s edge.

  “So?” Calvin prompted, taking my hand in his.

  Dorothy held my other hand. The thought of my father and Dorothy flanking me as I passed into the next level of the otherworld was mildly comforting. At least I didn’t have to go it alone.

  “We’re in agreement,” Dorothy said. “My help locating the weapon for the purity of the original coven’s magic.”

  Calvin looked down at me. “Morgan?”

  I glanced up at my father, squaring my shoulders off. He was asking for more than just my consent to Dorothy’s plan. He was ensuring that Dorothy, for whatever reason, wasn’t taking advantage of me.

  “We’re in agreement,” I echoed.

  “All right, then,” my father said, accepting my decision without argument or clarification.

  The declaration of our unified goal had a slight lifting effect on the weighty feeling in my chest. I gazed out across the river, wondering how I could possibly cross its eternal breadth. And if I did, would I ever be able to return? I took a deep breath. How many souls had remained on this side of the river, never able to face death or return to life? The thought stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard. There was only one way forward, and it was through the dark water before me. If I had any shot at helping the coven, it lay ahead of me. Not behind me.

  “You’ll be waiting for me on the other side, right?” I asked Calvin and Dorothy, squeezing their hands even tighter.

  “Absolutely,” said Dorothy, reaching across to hold onto my arm with her free hand.

  My father’s warm, calloused fingers seemed to lend their heat to my own pale, frigid ones. “You know it, Ace,” he said with a reassuring smile.

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath in. “Here we go, then.”

  Together, the three of us stepped forward,
wading into the shallows of death.

  3

  In Which My Sanity Wavers

  As soon as my shoes disappeared beneath the river, the water seeping in between my toes like icy tentacles, the air clouded with a misty fog. It closed around us slowly, thick and menacing, squashing any ability to see what might lay in front of us. When I glanced to either side, my father and Dorothy were all but invisible, their faces obscured by the unrelenting fog. At first, I still felt the pull of their hands in mine, so I calmed my mind and focused on sloshing through the river. The water rose to my shins, then to my knees, and before I knew it, I was submerged up to my hips. The current had strengthened too, and I leaned forward to push against it. It was only when my feet lifted from the pebbled river floor and I began to swim that I realized Dorothy and Calvin had disappeared.

  Panic pulsed through me, and I spun myself around, splashing water in every direction in an attempt to locate Dorothy and Calvin. The fog was no help. I could barely see past the length of my own arm. Then my vision blacked out entirely.

  I stopped moving, floating in the water, and gave in to the current. It seemed to be washing me in one direction, so I simply allowed myself to flow along with it. I closed my eyes, embracing the darkness and trusting the otherworld to guide me across the river to the next level.

  “Morgan?”

  My eyes flew open at the familiar sound of that voice, because it wasn’t Calvin’s or Dorothy’s as I had expected. It was Gwenlyn’s.

  All was dark around me. The pitch blackness seemed to press at the space between my eyes. I shook my head, hoping to dispel the pressure building there, but to no avail.

  “Gwenlyn?” I called out, hoping against hope that Gwenlyn hadn’t somehow ended up in the endless river of the otherworld.

  Gwenlyn’s voice sounded again, but this time it was disjointed and hoarse. “Morgan, come back,” she sobbed. “Please come back.”

  The sound of Gwenlyn’s crying tugged at the corners of my soul. As the river rushed me further into the otherworld, Gwenlyn’s voice seemed to follow me, echoing from all directions. I plugged my ears with my fingers, but it was to no avail. Her voice was clearer than ever. All I could do was listen to Gwenlyn’s disembodied pleas and drift aimlessly along, praying that I’d come out at the other end of the river physically unscathed. Emotionally, I was already screwed.