The Witch Haven

by Sasha Peyton Smith

  Nothing happens at first. The leaves catch light but flicker out just as quickly. Maxine shakes her head in frustration, ashes caught in her blond hair.

  Next to her, Finn stands with his arms crossed. “Don’t give up that easy—go again.”

  Maxine sighs, and swipes a few more leaves from the ground. She hunches over to take another look at the spell book, worrying her lip in concentration. Once again she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and mutters taisdomliad. The leaves catch light immediately, bright and hot. They flash white with a pop and a spark. Left in their wake is a plume of smoke curling up into the night sky in the shape of what might be the letter M. It’s brief and it’s terribly dark, so it could be a trick of my eyes, but I swear I see it.

  Maxine laughs; her eyebrow arches in a satisfied expression. “Looks like I’m my own true love. M for Maxine.”

  Lena rolls her eyes as she bends to gather leaves from the underbrush for herself.

  For her, the spell works right away. Again the flame sparks; swirling through the dark is a coil of smoke in the shape of an M.

  At this Maxine truly laughs in the genuine way she rarely does, deep from her chest with no hint of sarcasm. “Do you think that’s all the spell knows how to produce? Infinite Ms?”

  Lena shoots her a glare. “Or M is an extraordinarily common letter.”

  “It’s your turn.” Maxine extends the book toward me. I feel Finn’s amused glare tickle my neck.

  “I’d rather not.” I’m annoyed we’ve wasted so much time learning a spell so pointless. This is a parlor trick to be performed at carnival games or tea parties. What is the point of such a spell in as powerful a book as this—a book that could also hold the key to seeing my brother again? But Maxine’s words of practicing our magic before taking on the resurrection spell make me push myself up from where I’m sitting on the fallen log. If practice gets me closer to becoming capable of performing the only spell that matters in this book, I guess it couldn’t hurt. “All right,” I say. “Let’s test this a third time.”

  Maxine takes my spot on the log. “I hope I’m everyone’s true love.”

  I pick the leaves from the ground and settle in front of the spell book. The instructions are brief—look to the sky and recite the spell.

  It’s the imagine the feeling of being in love instruction that stumps me.

  I close my eyes.

  I look to the sky.

  At first there is a calm sense of ease as I listen to the wind hit the trees. It reminds me of a neighbor’s windchimes, hung on a fire escape, in an apartment a lifetime ago.

  What would love feel like, I wonder? I hope it feels like coming home.

  Oliver Callahan’s face pops into my head.

  At the surprise of seeing him, my eyes shoot open. I blink him away, the sharp jaw and soft eyes and the way he always looked at me like I mattered.

  I say the spell, taisdomliad. It doesn’t sound as elegant as Maxine’s nor as determined as Lena’s, but I’m eager to have it done with.

  The lantern is so hot, it takes concentration not to pull my hand back for fear of being burned as I lower the leaves. The flame pops, hisses and produces a white spark, but the plume of black smoke is so much bigger than Maxine’s or Lena’s. It doesn’t form anything resembling a letter; it just spills into the sky, furious and abundant. It stings in the back of my throat. I swallow a cough.

  Everyone is so painfully silent. Awkwardness fills the darkness as Finn studies me. He extends his hand like he means to place it on my shoulder, but he pulls away at the last second, balling his hand up into a fist at his side.

  Lena snickers. “Well, at least it’s not Maxine, then.”

  I’m surprised by how annoyed I am that the spell didn’t work. “Maybe I don’t have a true love,” I speculate aloud. It’s a better thought than the possibility of not being powerful enough to produce a letter from a stupid party trick. If I can’t do this, how will I be able to perform the resurrection spell? No. I push such a thought out of my head.

  “Besides…” Maxine clears her throat. “No one has a true love—it’s a ridiculous concept.” It isn’t as comforting as she intends. Finn’s eyes latch on to mine. There’s something bruising in the set of his stare.

  “Finn next,” Maxine prods, but he shakes his head, his gaze still caught on me.

  “I’m afraid not. I’ve really got to be going.”

  “Are you afraid?” Maxine cocks her head at him.

  Finn snickers and pushes his hand through his messy locks. “Maybe I already know who my true love is. Maybe I’ve got a train to catch. Who’s to say?”

  Maxine, smiling, with starlight tangled in her hair, glances up at the moon. “We’ve already been out too long. It’s probably time we return as well.”

  The annoyance I had at wasting time trying the love spell returns. “But what about the Resurrection?” We can’t lose sight of the reason we’re out here. There’s an edge of desperation in my voice; I can’t hide how badly I want this.

  “Magic is a muscle, Frances. You have to be strong enough,” Finn protests. “We’ll practice for a wee bit. Then we’ll try whatever it is you wish to try.”

  “We just have to hope I’m strong enough now, because the only spell I’m interested in trying is the one that will allow me to speak to my brother,” I snap.

  Finn, Lena, and Maxine share an uncomfortable glance between them.

  “Frances.” It’s Lena who whispers my name under her breath like I’m a spooked horse who needs calming down.

  “If you won’t help me, I can do it myself.”

  “Fine,” Finn concedes. “Next week we will discuss the Resurrection. You’ll return?”

  “Fine,” I say back. It’s the best I can hope for. I should feel guilty for souring our happy evening. Maybe I will in the morning. But right now I just feel angry.

  “I can hardly let Frances traipse into the woods alone. If you wish to teach magic, I wish to learn it,” Maxine adds.

  Lena doesn’t say anything at all.

  “Well then, I’ll see you again in a week. Same time, same place,” Finn declares.

  I don’t know if we’ll be able to sneak out again, but Maxine doesn’t protest, so neither do I.

  Finn takes two steps toward me and in a hoarse whisper says, “I want to speak to William again. God, I want it more than anything. But I want to make sure you’re prepared, that we’re prepared for the kind of magic that takes. When we do it, we’ve got to do it right.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, Maxine grabs Lena and me by the hands and drags us toward the path leading back to school. “Good night, mysterious woodsman,” she calls to Finn.

  “Good night, terrifying sorceresses.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Two nights after our first lesson with Finn, I fall asleep too late after getting caught up in a never-ending game of gin rummy with Lena.

  Finn is waiting for me in the hazy dream space.

  I find him in a gold-spun forest, magic palpable in the glow that envelops us.

  “I was wondering when you’d arrive.” He greets me with a grin.

  “An after-dinner card game got a little contentious.” I take a breath; the air is thick and sweet like molasses.

  “Did you win?”

  “Lena had me in the last hand.”

  “Ah, you’ll get her next time.”

  I’m in a white high-necked tea gown. Finn is wearing the same clothes I last saw him in, rough spun trousers and a crisp white shirt.

  “Why are you here?” I ask after a beat.

  “Is it foolish if I say I wanted to see you.”

  I fight the smile pulling at my mouth. “Why would you want to see me?”

  We’re suddenly closer together, though I didn’t take any steps.

  Finn looks down. “I meant I just wanted to see how the magic was coming. If you’d gotten a chance to practice.”

  “Only a little,” I reply. “Unfortunately, Hax
ahaven-approved lessons come first, though I’m sure you’ll be delighted to hear my magical bread-kneading skills are developing quite nicely.”

  He laughs, and it sounds like the pealing of church bells, holy and familiar. “Ah yes, delighted.”

  Another pause stretches between us.

  “Will you tell me more about my brother?” I’m desperate to see him through someone else’s eyes. I can’t stand the thought of William only existing in my own head.

  Finn chews his lip, thinking, then smiles. “There was a member of the Sons of Saint Druon, Horace Kipling. He ran a necktie factory. No magic, but family money, which can be just as valuable where power is concerned. Anyway, Horace didn’t much care for the Irish. Went out of his way to make my life miserable, especially when I first arrived. One night he spit in my dinner in front of everyone. A real bastard. William saw all this and didn’t take kindly to it. Your brother didn’t much care for bullies.”

  The yawning pit in my heart feels momentarily filled with light as golden as the forest we’re standing in. “No, he didn’t.”

  “So what did our William do?” Finn continues. “He could have dressed Horace down in front of everyone, but that wouldn’t have done much good, and he knew it. So he went over to Horace’s necktie factory and talked to every single one of his employees. The next Monday Horace had a line out his office door with folks turning in their notices. William found every one of those workers a better-paying job, or a job closer to home, or in a factory with better hours. He snatched all of Horace’s employees out from under him and made sure word got around that Horace Kipling was a man worth avoiding. Horace’s rich father was so disappointed in him, he sent him to Pittsburgh to look after the family’s steel ventures.” Finn slaps his knee in laughter. “Pittsburgh! Can you imagine a fate worse than Pittsburgh? Old Horace couldn’t. Threw the biggest fit I’ve ever seen a grown man throw.”

  I can’t hold back my smile. “My brother really did all that?”

  Finn’s grin matches mine. “It was brilliant. He was brilliant. He didn’t even let me thank him properly. Just laughed and said something about old Horace having it coming.”

  Despite my smile, tears spring to my eyes. “There was no one else like him.”

  Aye,” Finn replies. “We’ll make William proud, you know.”

  My chest is tight. Riotous, glowing butterflies flutter from a bush dripping with flowers. “I’m trying. It’s all I can do without him.”

  * * *

  Lena doesn’t mention Finn for the rest of the week. Not while we play cards or walk to class or eat meals. Maxine is even harder to pin down, always flitting between groups of friends or out with Helen. It’s almost easy to pretend our meeting in the park had been a dream. That is, if it weren’t for the actual dreams I am having.

  In Practical Applications on Wednesday, Lena barely looks at me over the vase of flowers we’re failing to arrange. Neither of us has any eye for symmetry, and only half of Lena’s rose is blooming on command. Mrs. Roberts clucks at the poor job we’re doing and chalks it up to our less refined backgrounds. “An eye for beauty is not something everyone is blessed with, dears. It’s rare for girls from your circumstances to recognize it. Please do your best, but know I don’t expect much.”

  Her tone is warm, like she thinks she’s doing us a favor, but Lena and I dissolve into laughter the minute she walks away from our table, and the spell of awkwardness is broken between us. “How will I find a husband now?” Lena quips.

  “You’ll have to settle for a second son, to be certain.”

  While I still have her attention, I scrawl a note on a blank page in my open notebook. Will you come tomorrow? I pause for one moment and add Please.

  She stares at the note briefly, purses her lips, and nods reluctantly. A flood of relief washes through me.

  Thank you, I mouth.

  She laughs again, the most I’ve seen Lena laugh, perhaps ever. “Have you considered I’m not doing it for you?”

  * * *

  Our second meeting with Finn takes place on a chilly late-October night. He arrives with a bag slung over his shoulder, pulls out three small packages wrapped in brown paper and twine, and hands one to each of us.

  I unwrap mine with numb fingers to find a pair of knotty-knit blue mittens inside.

  “I wasn’t sure of the colors you’d like, so you’re free to trade,” he says.

  I glance around the circle and see Lena and Maxine holding their purple and red pairs.

  “I call red,” Maxine exclaims.

  “I’m quite satisfied with blue,” I say.

  “It’s hard to practice magic with shaking hands, and I had some free hours this week,” Finn replies.

  “You made these?” I ask.

  “Aye. Grew up on a sheep farm. Not much to do in the evenings to keep your hands busy and plenty of wool to spin. Play your cards right, and next time I’ll bring you a sweater.”

  I slip the mittens on, and Finn smiles. “They suit you. Fewer holes than the ones you were wearing the night we first met.”

  I suppress a grin. “I’m surprised you remember.” I don’t recall the last time someone gave me a present.

  But there’s something hidden behind Finn’s gifts and smiles. Even in the low light of the lanterns, it’s clear his shoulders are slumped and his eyes are rimmed with red.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask him under my breath. Lena and Maxine are already off thumbing through the book, discussing what spell to try tonight.

  “Just a hard day—no matter, it’s a blessing to see your faces.”

  “What happened?” The night is cold, and the forest is dark. Finn avoids my question by busying himself lighting a lantern to hang off a tree branch. It throws shadows like outstretched fingers across the clearing. I pull my coat a little tighter.

  Finn turns back around. “I’m glad you like the mittens.”

  I wiggle my fingers. “They’re quite impressive—you’re not a terrible knitter.”

  “I know I’m not.” Despite the haunted look on his face, he smiles a little.

  Maxine glances at us from where she stands with Lena. “Hello, sad boy,” she calls. “Are you going to tell us what’s wrong or not?”

  Finn drops his head and plays with the loose string of his jacket, and when he speaks, his voice doesn’t have the same ringing of light. “The brother of a close friend went missing a few days ago. Poor kid left for work and never came home. Factory foreman said he never showed up. I didn’t know the lad well, but every time we met, he was kind. His brother is torn up.”

  The stress he’s carrying is evident in every part of him. It breaks my heart. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Finn.” I tamp down my own memories of the first few days after my brother went missing. I remember a lot of crying on the kitchen floor. I think at one point I may have screamed at a policeman to try harder. Finn lost William too, I remind myself. The memories must still sting for him; they have to.

  “Thank you, I’ll be fine. Still praying it will all be some misunderstanding and he’ll show up in a few days. Maybe he eloped or joined the circus.”

  “Let’s all pray for the circus,” Maxine says.

  I extend my hand to place on his shoulder but snatch it away at the last minute. It doesn’t feel right to touch him.

  Finn gives a solemn nod. He takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to shove his emotions back inside. “Indeed. All right, no more of my troubles, let us begin.” Finn opens The Elemental to a page near the back.

  There are no hand diagrams on this page, just a block of text written in such cramped handwriting, I can hardly make out the individual letters.

  Finn looks like something out of a gothic novel tonight. His curls blow in the fall wind, and the purple circles under his eyes are as dark as ever. The collar of his black wool coat stands starched around his neck.

  “There’s something I’d like to try tonight,” he says, peering at the page, then at me.

  “I want
to try the Resurrection,” I retort. “We don’t know how much time we have left.”

  “Practicing this kind of magic will make big spells like the Resurrection easier, I promise.”

  “How?” I prod.

  “Don’t you trust me? Frances, I’d like you to see if you can move my hand.”

  “Your hand?” I’m confused. “Why—”

  “We’ve been told that controlling another person is dangerous, forbidden, even.” Maxine interrupts me, her eyes determined and steely.

  “Your school sure loves its rules, doesn’t it?” Finn shakes his head. “But that’s not what we are doing. Plus, I’ve never found a human soul that abides by any law. So let’s try anyway, shall we?”

  “Is there a spell?” Lena asks.

  “No, just concentration. Focus on your soul reaching out beyond the bounds of your corporeal form.”

  I’m not entirely sure what that means. I stare at his elegant hand until my eyes hurt, memorizing the white crescents of his fingernails. Nothing happens. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  He leaves the book on the log where it’s balanced and closes the distance between us, until his nose hovers a breath from mine.

  Lena and Maxine watch us from across the clearing with narrowed eyes.

  In a whisper only for me he says, “Move my hand.”

  “I can’t,” I whisper back. It’s an aggressively pointless exercise. It does nothing to help William.

  Agonizing and slow, he lifts his hand to brush an errant lock of hair off my forehead. The lightest touch is like embers being raked down my spine.

  He leaves his thumb at my temple. “Move my hand,” he whispers once more.

  I shake my head. I can’t form thoughts around the hammering of my heart, coupled with the embarrassment of Lena and Maxine staring.

  He draws his hand away from my temple and to my mouth. I tremble, summoning the courage it takes to look from the ground back to him. He flicks his thumb against my lower lip.

  His hazel eyes narrow, and something shifts.