Witch Myth Super Boxset Page 24

  Pure, white light spilled from a long, tall line, almost as though someone had opened a door to a world made of solid sunshine. I surged to my feet, still singing, and dragged Calvin and Dorothy up with me. As the shaft of light widened, I tugged my companions toward it, then shoved my shoulder against what I hoped was an invisible door.

  We fell through the passageway, spilling out into the blinding light of the next level. My eyes watered and stung at the sudden change, but I sobbed with relief as the last remaining whispers cut off suddenly. Calvin and Dorothy took longer to recover, both of them spread out on a bed of soft, bright-green grass. When my eyes had adjusted, I saw that we lay on the side of a grassy knoll covered in every hue of wildflower. A bluebird flitted by, singing merrily, and bumblebees hummed amongst the petals around us. So far, it was the most pleasant welcome we had had to an otherworld level, which immediately set my teeth on edge. It was too easy, too pretty and peaceful. Something had to challenge us.

  “Indeed, it does,” said a familiar voice, responding to my unspoken worry. The colossal green beast from the forest level had reappeared, ambling over the knoll in no great haste. I was less afraid of it this time, even though I had no idea as to how it had traveled between levels with such ease. The creature obviously had deeper knowledge of the otherworld than Calvin or Dorothy, and its presence no longer alarmed me.

  “Do you have another question for me?” I asked the beast, gazing up into its giant emerald eyes.

  “I believe,” the beast rumbled, sunlight refracting off of its green scales, “that you have a question for me.”

  I leaned down to help Dorothy to her feet. Calvin had managed on his own, brushing damp grass from the knees of his corduroy pants.

  “Do I?” I asked, unsure of the beast’s intention.

  “Do you?” it responded, somehow managing to paste an inquiring expression upon its massive, scaled face.

  Bewildered, I looked to Calvin and Dorothy, wondering if they had any insight on the beast’s new game. My father shrugged with an apologetic grimace, but Dorothy stepped forward, toward the beast, one hand extended in what appeared to be a welcoming gesture.

  “I know you,” she said, reaching out and setting her hand on one of the beast’s massive paws. “I didn’t recognize you in this form. When I saw you last, you were a man.”

  The beast smiled, and despite its deadly fangs, the expression seemed genuine. “Indeed, I know all of the wanderers. I am a lord of the otherworld.”

  “Lord?” I repeated. I had no idea that the otherworld was ruled by any sort of authority, let alone a herculean, shamrock-colored monster. What had we gotten ourselves into now?

  The beast inclined its head in assent. “One of the kinder ones.”

  “Then why did you chase after us in the forest level?” my father asked.

  “To challenge your bravery,” replied the beast. It lowered itself to the grassy ground, neatly settling onto its paws like an oversized house cat, and winked lazily at me. “Needless to say, you’ve overcome several of my challenges in this world. A spectacular human, indeed.”

  Pride swelled in my chest at the beast’s compliment, despite the fact that it had more or less admitted to putting the three of us through hell. The beast gazed at me, almost as if admiring my less-than-impressive appearance. I knew I had to look like crap. My muscles ached, my hair dripped with sweat, and my eyes needed a good, long rest. If the beast wanted a question from me, I was tempted to ask for a safe place to nap, but the thought of Gwenlyn alone in Yew Hollow forced different words from my tongue.

  “We seek a weapon,” I informed the beast.

  “Ah, your question,” it said, resting its chin between its paws. “Proceed.”

  “Do you know where it is?” I asked, clenching my fists in anticipation of the beast’s response. “Or how to get it?”

  “I do.”

  It proffered no more information, much to my dismay. Beside me, my father shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and I wondered what about the beast unnerved him so. Dorothy, on the other hand, now stroked the side of the beast’s neck, looking positively romanced by the polished texture of its glassy scales.

  “Well?” I prompted the beast.

  “You only asked if I knew, not to divulge,” the beast said. “Shall I?”

  I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Please.”

  The beast flipped over onto its back, nearly knocking Dorothy over with a benign swipe of its front paw, and observed me upside down. “It should delight you to know that I am, in fact, in possession of said weapon. Would you like it?”

  “Is it that easy?” I asked warily.

  “No, of course not.”

  My father let out an audible groan, throwing his hands into the air. Unlike Dorothy, he did not seem to possess the patience to deal with the quixotic creature before us. I was just grateful that the beast had not exercised the use of its fangs in our presence yet.

  “What do you want for it?” I asked the beast.

  “Only one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  Its great eyes flickered toward my father, who still stood as far away from the beast as possible. “You must leave with me that which you will miss most. Then the weapon is yours.”

  “What I’ll miss most?” I questioned. I hadn’t come into the otherworld with any of my own possessions and so had nothing to offer the so-called lord in front of me.

  “It means me,” my father said suddenly, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing the beast grumpily. “You resented me for never being a good father to you, Morgan. Here, we have a second chance at a relationship, and the beast means to strip that from you.”

  I faced the beast, glaring up into its large face. “Is that true?”

  The beast gave a monstrous equivalent of a shrug, once again disturbing Dorothy at its side. I stepped forward to pull Dorothy away from the beast, just in case it forgot how massive it was. “It does not seem so disastrous a price to pay,” said the beast. “I would treat him well. No harm would befall him. He would remain on this level, which, as you may have noticed, is quite serene.”

  I couldn’t argue with the beast on that detail. This level was no more than a pleasant meadow during the height of springtime. The soft grass carried on for miles, and in the distance, I could even see the sparkle of a large, beautiful lake. I glanced at my father, considering my options.

  A knowing look emerged on Calvin’s face, and he finally uncrossed his arms to approach me and grasp me by the shoulders. “Morgan,” he said. “You have grown into an incredible young woman. I would expect nothing less of a Summers witch. I’m so proud of you.”

  I couldn’t stop tears from springing to my eyes. I already knew what my father was preparing to do.

  “You need that weapon,” he said, sweeping me into a hug. “I’ll be fine here. We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”

  I wiped my eyes, pulling away to look my father in the face. “I’m going back,” I told him, unable to let him go without saying so. “Dorothy and Gwenlyn are going to figure out a way to get me back to Yew Hollow.”

  He smiled, the warmth of his expression stretching to his eyes. “Of course you’re going back. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

  And with that, my father gave my shoulder one last comforting squeeze before facing the beast. “All right, you gargantuan gecko,” said Calvin, spreading his arms wide. “Here I am. I agree to stay with you. Now, give my daughter the weapon.”

  The beast rolled over again, arched its neck, and gagged.

  “Ugh,” said Dorothy, looking repulsed by the beast for the first time since it had presented itself to us. She backed away from the great green creature as it retched again, a gurgle brewing from beyond its long tongue.

  With one last convulsion, the beast coughed a small, shiny object into the grass at my feet. Dorothy, Calvin, and I all leaned forward to examine it.

  “A pistol?” I asked, crouching down to collect the matte
-black handgun from its place amongst the wildflowers. “You expect me to defeat an army of the undead with one little pistol?”

  5

  In Which I Am Reborn

  The pistol felt comically light in my hand. There was no denying that it was a beautiful weapon. Its smooth, black exterior was stealthy and handsome, but it seemed far too modern an object to consider it lethal to ghosts. It looked more like the standard piece the cops back in Yew Hollow would carry on their hips, not an ancient, all-powerful destroyer of souls.

  I straightened up out of my crouch and brandished the small weapon at the beast. “Really, though? I was hoping for a grenade launcher or something, I don’t know, a little bit more substantial.”

  The beast chuckled, a low hum in the back of its throat. “Do not underestimate what you do not know, Morgan Summers,” it said. “That weapon has known several shapes over an interminable period of time. I believe you humans once knew it as the sword in the stone.”

  Dorothy nodded knowingly, as if she had already been privy to this bit of information. My father, on the other hand, looked as though he was trying very hard not to seem impressed.

  “This was one of King Arthur’s swords?” I repeated doubtfully, turning over the gun in my hand. It was hard to believe that something with such an ordinary appearance had also graced the palms of such legendary heroes. The thought made me want to drop the gun back on the ground, run off over the rolling hills, and dive headfirst into the distant lake, never to surface again. Instead, I tightened my grip on the weapon, resting my index finger on the trigger. I held it up, aiming off into the distance, and peered over the sight.

  The matte-black exterior of the gun was interrupted by the sudden appearance of bright blue lettering. It swirled around the barrel of the gun and down the grip until it flowed right over the skin of my hands like a tattoo the color of a neon sign. As the ancient words snaked their way up my arms, I examined my now-glowing skin in awe.

  “It has marked you as a worthy bearer,” said the beast with a nod of approval.

  “Is this witchcraft?” I asked. There was no denying that the power of the weapon had somehow seeped its way into my own being. I could feel it, pulsing beneath the surface of my skin.

  “It manifests as witchcraft because you are a great witch,” the beast explained.

  I pushed the sleeves of my shirt up to see that the lettering had extended up and over my shoulders. For good measure, I checked down the front of my shirt, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of an un-tattooed torso. “Will this go away?” I said, brandishing the new decorations on both arms.

  “Perhaps,” the beast said. “It may fade over time. It may remain. I suppose that depends on the clarity of your intention.”

  “The clarity—more riddles? I can’t go back to Yew Hollow looking like a glow stick, man,” I said to the beast. “It’s not exactly conducive to stealth missions, you know.”

  The beast bowed low to the ground—Calvin jumped aside to allow the massive creature more room—and blew a cool, breezy breath toward me. I felt it wash over me, rustling my hair and raising goose bumps on my skin. The bright tattoos faded a little, still visible but less conspicuous with the beast’s magical effect.

  “That’s better, I guess,” I grumbled, pulling down my shirt sleeves to cover as much of the markings as I could.

  “Your graciousness humbles me,” the beast said, an air of sarcasm embedded in the words.

  There was no telling what the ancient lettering said, and if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t care to know. Once Dominic was gone, I didn’t plan on embarking on any other harebrained adventures with an invincible weapon. In my book, that kind of thing only led to more trouble. With any luck, the handgun would get the job done, and then I could chuck it right back into the otherworld where it belonged.

  “What about ammo?” I ejected the magazine from the gun, examining the rounds inside. The bullets seemed normal enough, but like the pistol and now my own skin, they too glowed with neon-blue witchcraft.

  “You’ll find it never needs reloading,” said the beast.

  I clicked the magazine back into place. “Convenient.”

  “Indeed,” agreed the beast. It prodded my father with one large paw, claiming Calvin for its own. “Be on your way now, if you don’t mind. I’m afraid all of this mortal excitement has quite drained my energy, and I find myself in need of a lengthy nap.”

  “Wait!” I called as the beast encouraged my father over the first hill. “Won’t you help send me back to the real world?”

  The beast paused, turning over its shoulder to behold Dorothy and me once more. “It is not in my nature to return lost souls to their bodies.”

  “What was the point of giving her the gun then?” my father asked, halting his ascent over the hill. “If she can’t return home, she won’t be able to use the weapon. That’s a sorry deal.”

  The beast sighed, understanding that Calvin wouldn’t proceed any farther until I was satisfied with the beast’s side of our agreement. The beast turned to me and said, “I cannot send you back to your home, but I can help you and your delightful escort here”—a polite inclination of its massive head toward Dorothy—“pass through to the last level of the otherworld. It’s closely attached to your mortal world, as your escort is aware, and so it will be easier for you to return to the place you consider your true home.”

  “Is that true, Dorothy?” I asked. Even though the beast had provided me with the weapon that I needed to defeat Dominic, I was still wary of its intentions. It seemed to consider humans to be mere playthings, and I wasn’t quite willing to offer myself up as a life-sized Barbie doll.

  Dorothy nodded. “Yes, and we could certainly use the help to get there. It would exhaust me to get both of us to the last level. Not to mention, it would be even easier for Gwenlyn to contact us once we were there.”

  “Alrighty, then,” I said, stepping up the hill toward the beast and motioning for Dorothy to follow me. “Send us through to the last level, oh lord of the otherworld. Through your eyeball again, is it?”

  “Through the lake,” the beast replied.

  Without explanation, our party had suddenly shifted to stand at the edge of the placid body of water. I leaned over and gazed into its rippling depths. Unlike the river on the first level of the otherworld, the water of the lake was a clear, welcoming blue. Sunlight blinked off of the lake’s surface, and I had to squint upward to see the beast properly now.

  “What do—?” I began, but before I could get the entire question out, the beast pushed Dorothy and me into the lake with one gentle nudge of its nose. I felt its cool scales press against my back, saw the water rush up to meet my face, and then splashed down into the depths of the lake. It was almost refreshing, no different than diving into a pool on a hot summer’s day, but I knew that this submersion meant the loss of something else.

  Before the next level could claim me, I spun myself around, opening my eyes beneath the water. The image of the great green lord rippled above me, but it was my father that I focused on. Though he was obscured by the movement of the lake, I tried to fix his features in my mind. I would not see him again for a long time. Then I exhaled, watching my breath bubble to the surface, and let the lake take me.

  I awoke in a comfortable, queen-sized bed, swathed in a downy duvet. The sheets were cool against my skin, and as I stretched to the far corners of the mattress, I forgot for a moment where I was. I felt clean and rejuvenated, as if I had finally had the chance to take a hot bath and sleep a full, uninterrupted eight hours.

  “Up you get, my dear,” said Dorothy.

  Reluctantly, I opened one eye to see Dorothy leaning over me. “Five more minutes, Mom,” I joked, but I propped myself up on my elbows to take in our new surroundings.

  The final level of the otherworld was even more pleasant than the previous one. Dorothy and I now inhabited a spacious but cozy cabin, decorated simply and tastefully with my favorite autumn hues.
The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted into the bedroom loft, as though someone was busy in the kitchen downstairs. As I kicked the covers off of my legs and walked over to one large window, I marveled at the level of detail in the otherworld. Outside, lazy snowflakes drifted down and settled among the branches of the trees. It was picture perfect, and were it not for the fact that Yew Hollow needed saving, I would’ve been content to spend my eternal life within the otherworld’s last level.

  “Wow,” I said, my breath fogging the window.

  “Don’t get too excited,” said Dorothy, joining me at the window. She draped a wool blanket across my shoulders, hugging me to her side. Then she rapped on the glass before us.

  In an instant, the image outside shifted. The snowy trees vanished, replaced by the familiar sight of Yew Hollow’s town square. As the yew tree came into view, I rested my forehead against the window. I never thought that I would miss Yew Hollow, having had such a turbulent relationship with it, but I longed to stroll through the square again. Though, admittedly, I hoped my next jaunt through town would be free of the undead.

  “This is how we keep an eye on the people that we love,” explained Dorothy. She swiped a palm across the window, and we were suddenly watching my mother, looking down at her from above. Cassandra busied herself at the stove in the kitchen of our house in Yew Hollow, in the process of adding potatoes to a large pot of stew. To my relief, she appeared unharmed except for the strange, vacant gaze of her gray eyes.

  Dorothy swiped again. This time, the window showed my sister Karma, curled up in a nest of blankets in her bedroom and reading a book. Swipe. My youngest sister, Laurel, was outside in the backyard, gazing up at the stars. Swipe. Malia, the eldest of the Summers sisters, sat at the dining room table, mixing herbs for a spell.

  “And the people we don’t love,” Dorothy added.

  Swipe.