by K M Charron
Shrugging, Ainsley said, "Who knows how old this place is? Maybe opening the door stirred up a bunch of dust, like a weird backdraft." It hadn’t seemed like dust, but there was no other explanation. "Not sure why you fainted. Maybe you’re a delicate flower. Poisonous, but delicate."
Sydney pulled herself to her feet, still visibly wobbly. She wiped the dirt off her riding pants as if she was scouring them with a brillo pad. "First of all, I didn’t faint." She said the word as though it was an insult. Her face suddenly contorted followed by a half grunt, half sigh. She turned her back to Ainsley and proceeded to empty her stomach onto the dirt floor.
The sound of it made Ainsley's insides turn. “Oh, crap. Are you okay?" Barf was not Ainsley’s thing. Still, normally she’d rub the person’s back, or hold their hair out of the way, but this was Sydney Lockwood. She approached tentatively.
"Don’t touch me," Sydney muttered as if sensing her intention. Luckily her hair was in a low ponytail. She spat on the ground, straightened up, and kicked some loose dirt on top of the mess. "That was weird."
"Maybe you’re pregnant." Ainsley’s remark came out snarkier than she’d meant it, but it was a viable explanation.
Sydney’s head whipped around, and she met Ainsley’s eyes. "I assure you, I am not.” She wiped her chin with the back of her sleeve. “It was that fog. It smelled putrid. How are you not sick?"
Ainsley despised herself for noticing how pretty Sydney looked, despite just having hurled.
"I got a little dizzy, but that was it. When it cleared, I looked over and saw you laid out on the ground."
"Huh. Well, I’m fine now," Sydney barked. "You didn’t look inside?" She gestured toward the entrance.
"No, I was too busy making sure you weren’t dead.” She wondered what the point was to all their back-and-forth bitchiness.
"How thoughtful. We both know you’d step over my corpse to see what’s in there."
Ainsley put her hand on her hip and cocked her head. "Then why am I standing here with you? Can we stop bickering and look inside already?”
Sydney rolled her eyes. "We don’t have time. We have to leave."
"I already told you, Go. Besides, I don’t follow your commands. I’m not one of your minions." Ainsley turned on her heel and stormed toward the darkened archway. She tried to think about how her dad would approach the scene, how he’d record each detail.
The deep voice whispered again, making her stop in her tracks. "You know not what you’ve done." The voice was ominous and set a prickling feeling up Ainsley’s spine. She shivered visibly and knew Sydney witnessed it.
"Did you hear something?" Ainsley’s voice rose an octave at the end, giving her away.
She could’ve sworn Sydney’s eyes widened. "Like what exactly?” Her voice turned mocking, “You scared?"
“Yes. And so are you."
It was subtle, but it was there in Syd’s expression. Was there a reason she wanted them to leave so badly? All the more reason to go inside.
"Whatever." With three strides, Syd was beside her. "I’m not letting you go in there alone."
"It is too late." A chorus of disembodied voices said.
Ainsley’s heart beat against her ribs so hard it hurt. It felt like it was trying to claw its way out of her body. Yeah, there was no way in heaven or hell that she was going to tell Sydney that strange voices were talking to her. She’d read somewhere that hearing voices inside your head was normal, that it was your internal thoughts or conscience helping you process things. But hearing them outside of you? As if someone was talking into your ear? That was a sign of psychosis, schizophrenia even.
"Fine, let’s go,” Ainsley returned.
“Since you insist on being so bullheaded," Sydney took out her cell and turned the flashlight app on, "on the count of three."
Ainsley let Sydney lead the way. If anything was going to jump out and kill them, it could at least murder Sydney first. Give Ainsley a running start. Her legs were jelly, but she pushed on. She shivered though she wasn’t cold. Sweat beaded up on her upper lip and neck.
"My light isn’t strong enough,” Sydney announced. “Put yours on."
While she resented the command, Syd was right. All Ainsley could see were shadowy flickers. She retrieved her phone and turned on the flashlight app.
It smelled like rot, mold, and mildew inside. Their lights illuminated etchings and carvings around the room that Ainsley did not understand in the least.
"What is this place?" she heard the unease in her own voice.
When Sydney didn’t answer, Ainsley turned her attention to what Syd was focusing her beam on. It was a square with wavy lines in the middle and four different knotted shapes in each corner.
Ainsley inspected each of the four walls. Her anxiety grew by the second. Beads of sweat slipped down her neck and temples.
"These symbols are everywhere. Have you ever seen anything like this before?"
Sydney stayed silent. Ainsley wondered what the hell was wrong with her? Maybe Queen Bitch wasn’t so tough after all. She’d seen similar symbols on jewelry before—they were just Celtic knots, although these appeared far more complicated.
Ainsley swept her beam toward a carving on the far wall. There was a strange script written below it. She pulled back the light, illuminating the floor and gasped, jumping backward.
"What?" Sydney’s flashlight swung directly on Ainsley, her voice on edge.
Blocking her eyes with her hand, Ainsley yelled, "Lower that, you moron."
When she complied, Ainsley continued, "The floor… There are bones."
"Bones?" Sydney lowered the beam to the ground. "Fucking hell."
Ainsley fought to focus, but her mind raced. Maybe she hadn’t been that far off when she’d suspected a crazed serial killer or cult. This could be his liar or a place to perform sacrifices. Her brain wanted her to look away, but her eyes didn’t budge. "There’s an inscription in the floor beneath them. It looks like another pentagram, but I can’t make out the script or the smaller symbols around it."
“It’s Gaelic, but it’s too worn to read.”
Ainsley looked up at Sydney in shock. Perhaps there was more to her nemesis than a pretty face and unrelenting viciousness.
Ainsley turned her camera's flash on and began snapping photos of the walls, ceiling, and floor. She had no idea if the creator of this sick tomb was coming back, but she needed evidence, something to show the police. This could have something to do with why her dad had come to Danvers. If it was connected to the missing girls, these bones could belong to anyone of them.
Sydney
Chapter 22
"What are you doing?" Sydney demanded. Ainsley couldn’t have evidence of any of this. It was clearly magic-related.
"What does it look like? I’m going to figure out what this all means."
Syd let out a tense laugh. She needed to convince Ainsley that the symbols and the room were nothing more than ancient relics and that it was ridiculous even to be interested. It was time to deny her very existence.
"Easy there, Sherlock,” she laughed. “There’s nothing here except the bones of some old animal. This is Old Salem Village, remember? There were tons of crazy people hundreds of years ago who believed they were witches and had little hideaway places. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s all this is."
A voice sounded in the distance calling out for both Ainsley and Sydney. Their riding coach must’ve come looking for them. A few additional voices joined in seconds later.
Sydney and Ainsley raced out of the room and back into the open space of the hole. The voices were getting closer. Sydney needed to shout back to let them know they were okay otherwise there’d be a serious search party, and she couldn’t have anyone else stumbling on this place. It was full of magical wardings.
"We’re down here. In a hole in the ground!" She tried to determine if the entrance would be visible from above. No one could see this. She had to keep it a secret until she could figure
out what she was dealing with. Dragging Ainsley to the end of the earthen box farthest from the door, she aimed a shrouding spell behind her back and hoped it met its mark. Everything was happening so fast.
There wasn’t time to wipe Ainsley’s memory. But she couldn’t have a middling knowing about this place. What if she came back and brought Harper with her, or told one of the professors? Her sour stomach fizzled even more. Would Ainsley call the police? If she thinks an actual serial killer is responsible, she would.
Syd’s brain was overloading with ideas about what to do when Ainsley swatted her on the arm.
"No one knows about this but us. Let’s keep this place secret, okay?”
A dam of relief burst inside her. Syd tried to look nonchalant. "Fine. Whatever." Why would Ainsley want to keep it secret? If only she could read her. She gritted her teeth at her helplessness. It didn’t matter right now. She’d take the miracle. Maybe her ancestors were watching out for her after all. But how could she trust that Ainsley was telling the truth? She’d have to get Ainsley alone so she could wipe all of this from her memory for good.
Shadows came over them and then Sydney saw Coach Crichton, Jax’s sister Vanessa, and a middling guy named Jin. Vanessa was a White witch, and as far as Syd knew, none of her proficiencies allowed her to decipher when something was magically shrouded. At least she hoped.
Coach Crichton dismounted before stepping forward and peering down. "Phoenix came back to the stables without Ainsley, and then you and Willow didn’t turn up. Luckily, we heard Willow whinnying like mad and found her tied to a tree. How in the world did the two of you wind up down there?" He scratched the side of his head, which was a nice change from his paunch. His West Virginian accent had always irked Sydney. He sounded like a hillbilly.
She gave him a believable version of events, and Ainsley’s silence said she was going along with it. Hopefully, she’d keep her word and keep her mouth shut. Otherwise, Sydney would be forced to deal with her in a way Ainsley wouldn’t enjoy.
By the time they’d returned to campus, it was almost dinner. Word had spread about their ordeal. Syd had gotten a dozen texts from Langston and a few from Justin and Ava. While she basked in their attention, the pain that her mother hadn’t reached out was palpable.
Maybe the school hadn’t notified her. Or she’d been too busy to check her messages.
She went straight to her dorm room. She should be starving after everything that had happened, but she was too nervous to eat. The symbols from the underground room wouldn’t budge from her mind. How could they? That place was creeping with ancient magic. She’d never seen most of the symbols in any of her classes or texts. She recognized bits and pieces, but not enough to know what they meant.
The fact that Ainsley had seemed so interested and taken pictures made her head throb. Being down there with her had confirmed Syd’s suspicions that there was something very, very weird about Ainsley. Did it have any connection to her inability to be spelled so far? They’d stood in front of the doorway together, and when that fog had swept over them, Syd had passed out and gotten sick, but Ainsley had been virtually unaffected. It didn’t make sense. Unless it only impacted witches. Maybe it had been warded to protect its secrets in case an enemy witch found it.
Her mind raced as she rushed up the stairs, too wound up to wait for the elevator.
She remembered the voices—the whispering she’d heard inside the hole. They were the same as inside Ashcroft—the voices of their ancestors that only witches were supposed to be able to hear. Ainsley clearly had heard something though. But, if she were magical, wouldn’t the fog have bothered her too? And Sydney should be able to sense it, even without her intuitive abilities. All witches could identify their own kind. Her friends, Headmistress Chambers, the professors who were part of the Wildes, and of them would’ve said something if they’d interpreted anything mystical off of her.
Furthermore, although the coven Nest and tunnels spanned a vast portion of the Ashcroft grounds, they didn’t go that far into the forest, so how could the whisperings? Sydney had grown up in the Nest. She’d traipsed through the whole place end to end. That area wasn’t a part of it.
The baby hairs on her arms rose as she opened the door to the third floor, walking its length to where her room was. The lights flickered as she moved down the corridor, her energy interfering with their electrical conduction.
"You failed. The girl knows too much. Failed.”
A wave of panic swept over her at the whisperings. "Shut up!" Sydney shouted to the voices that floated around her. "There was nothing I could do."
Someone cleared their throat. Syd turned, fingers ready to cast a defensive spell. She let out a small gasp, her Black magic tutor—Summer Morrow—stood nearby, arms crossed.
"Did I hear something about you failing? What are they talking about?"
"Summer, I mean, Lord Morrow. What a surprise. What are you doing here… outside my dorm room?" Her smile faltered as she took in Summer’s narrowed stare and thin lips. She’d love to catch Sydney in something that she could run to Andrea Lockwood about.
"I heard about the testing you…” she paused, thinking better of finishing and said, “I thought you might want to add in a few more practice sessions." She barely blinked as her eyes burrowed into Sydney. "Seems even the ancestors have heard about your," she cleared her throat, "performance."
Sydney would say anything right now to get rid of her. "That is so generous of you. I really appreciate it. How about I text you and we’ll set something up?"
"We could go over a few incantations now before coven classes start.”
Why wasn’t Summer backing down? Did she sense Syd’s desperation to get rid of her? "I was just about to go in early. I promised to meet Ava and Khourtney to practice a few divination techniques. Sorry.”
Summer shifted her weight. Her eyebrows relaxed. "Well, good then. Text me, and we’ll set something up." Turning as if to leave, she stopped short. "Don’t forget. These are your mother’s orders."
"I wouldn’t dream of it."
She unlocked the door, peeking her head in. "Ava, you here?"
The silence was welcome since she had zero energy left to field more questions. She had no answers because she still had no clue what she’d just walked into the middle of.
Was it possible she’d just uncovered something that no Wilde witch knew? That her mother, the great High Priestess, didn’t even know about? If that was the case, she needed to make sure Ainsley forgot its existence and never went back.
Tossing her bag on the chair, she threw her riding jacket on top of it. She wanted a long, hot shower and to brush her teeth. Not necessarily in that order.
She was still woozy and wondered if Ainsley was feeling anything at all.
She flopped down on her bed, unsure of what to do first. How could she find out about the hidden underground room, the skeleton, and most importantly, all those ancient magical symbols? Warmth spread through her. It could be the way to prove herself once and for all. She had to keep this a secret until she knew what it all meant and how she could use it to her advantage.
Every witch in the Wildes was either loyal to or terrified of her mother. If they thought they could gain favor with Andrea, they’d backstab Sydney in a heartbeat. Headmistress Chambers was number one on the do-not-trust list. But she needed someone to help her interpret the symbols and discover who those bones belonged to. Someone had been locked in there and died, and judging from the condition of the bones and lack of recognizable clothing, they’d been dead a very long time.
A witch had been responsible. There was no doubt in her mind.
Confiding in her friends wasn’t an option, at least not until she knew more.
If she hurried, she could poke around the library a bit and see if she could dig anything up to help explain what the symbols meant. She wished she’d taken a picture of the front door, but she’d been too frazzled. She’d have to get back there.
Sydney ma
de her way to the rear entrance, the one behind the admin building where the professors’ offices were. Lifting the iron door, she climbed down the first few stairs and then reached back up to close it. The familiar candlelight greeted her, and Simon came scampering over, sensing her presence.
A few members were inside, conducting the usual coven business, not that she knew many details of what that entailed. Apprentices weren’t privy to most official coven business until they graduated and fulfilled the Lord ceremony.
Sydney walked through the Main Hall and headed to the library. Her muscles tightened, bunching beneath her skin as she neared the room. Her mother spent a great deal of time there, even setting up one corner of it as her office. She said the room calmed her, centering her with all the stress she was under. But Syd knew it was just her mother demonstrating her dominance and control. Her frosty and intimidating demeanor managed to keep most everyone out of there and away from a hefty collection of the coven’s magical resources. Andrea Lockwood was determined to remain the strongest witch in the coven and keeping her fellow witches from studying from the ancient tomes was one way she did just that.
Her hand rested on the doorknob, the metal cool against her palm. Silencing her mind, Syd attempted to tune into the space behind the door—to get a reading on whether her mother was behind it.
The vibrations bounced back. The room was empty. Sydney exhaled, her shoulders dropped, and the storm in her stomach settled. She turned the handle and entered, careful not to slam the door and draw attention. She didn’t want any witches hoping to score brownie points inquiring about her activities and tattling to her mother.
With a flick of her wrist, she lit the sconces, and the dark room flickered with candlelight. Countless volumes detailing every kind of magic she could want lined with walls from floor to ceiling. It was impossible to know where to start.
Sydney pictured the symbols on the door—knot and pentagram. Knots were usually indicative of binding magic, so the bookcase at the wall opposite her was her best bet. It held all the coven's books having to do with White magic. That’s what most binding spells fell under, though some Black magic spells focused on binding too. Which proficiency did this symbol belong to?