The Witch Haven

by Sasha Peyton Smith

  “Nothing is more important than power,” Therese retorts, and turns to me. “Tell your sisters how it happened.”

  I sigh. Maxine already knows about Mr. Hues, and Lena might as well. “My boss attacked me after hours in the shop where I worked. My scissors flew across the room and stabbed him. He died at my feet. Maxine picked me up the following morning.” It’s a little cathartic, telling the story like this to people who understand.

  “And you?” Therese gestures to Lena, unfazed by the murder I described.

  Lena takes a big, deep breath and closes her eyes. Her jaw clenches, and I can feel the hesitation brewing within her, the pain of recounting whatever happened. I almost think she’s not going to say a word. Keep the truth buried within her forever until she says, cool and steady, “I suppose there’s no point in keeping it a secret.” Lena’s eyes shift quickly to mine and Maxine’s before meeting the witch’s across from us. “I was once a student at a place called the Thomas School. We were beaten and screamed at. We were stripped of our names and our clothing. We weren’t allowed to write our parents. In the winters, when students would die, but the ground was too frozen to dig graves, they’d stack the bodies in the attic. I had to share a cot with another girl, and at night she would cry so violently, she’d be sick. I was fifteen when they locked me in a shed for mouthing off to a teacher.” Lena’s voice hitches, but only slightly. “The nuns said to pray the devil out of me. But I didn’t see the devil. I saw myself at Haxahaven. Maxine and Helen arrived three days later to test every pupil of the Thomas Indian School for tuberculosis. They only took me. Now”—she lifts her chin up toward Therese—“are you quite satisfied?”

  Maxine’s eyes are big and teary. She reaches out and grabs Lena’s hand. They’re sharing a memory I’ll never understand.

  A question escapes my lips: “Why? Why would they put you in a place like that?”

  She shakes her head sadly. “How do you kill an entire people? You take away their children; you take away their language and their stories and their culture. But I am Onondaga. That’s something they couldn’t kill.”

  I take her other hand in mine. I thought coming here would help Maxine get out of her rut, but instead I’ve made Lena dig up painful things for my own purposes. She’s reluctant to let us in emotionally, and now I understand why.

  Therese smiles, but her eyes are glistening a little too. “See, you don’t know each other much at all.”

  “I know I love them, doesn’t that matter?” Maxine asks.

  I didn’t know she loved us.

  “Can you love someone if you don’t let them know you?” Therese replies. “Tell them your story.”

  “No.”

  Lena and I turn to Maxine at the same time.

  “Why dwell on the past?” Maxine shakes her hand out of Lena’s and purses her lips.

  “You want a sorrowful tale from me? You won’t get it,” she snaps, and marches away from the table, cape fluttering behind her.

  Lena and I run after her. The women at their booths around the market have quieted. Like a murder of crows, their eyes follow us.

  Maxine darts across the market to a stand overflowing with crystals. She dumps her necklace on the table and begins to fill a velvet pouch with onyx, amber, and smoky quartz almost the exact shade of her eyes. She grabs a red candle next, then a black one. The woman at the stall watches her in bemused silence and tucks the sapphire necklace into the pocket of her overcoat.

  “Do you have any spell books?” Maxine asks the woman. “I’m awfully bored. The more forbidden the better.”

  The woman laughs. “Does Ana Vykotsky know what a troublemaker she has in you? No, dear, no books, but help yourself to what you can see.”

  Maxine rolls her eyes but grabs a bundle of dried lavender for good measure.

  “Stop, Maxine. Good lord, what is wrong with you?” I run up behind her and place a hand on her shoulder. She shrugs me off immediately. I’ve never seen her so rattled.

  Maxine turns to us. “We don’t need her. The nosy old bat.”

  “We do,” I say. “She has the mirror.”

  “You said we were coming here for a bit of fun. I’m having fun now.” Her grin is exaggerated, awful and false.

  Lena and I shared our stories; I’m at a loss for why Maxine won’t do the same. It feels like a betrayal, sharp and baffling. But I know I can’t force Maxine to do anything she doesn’t want to do. I’ll sneak out and come here again, or I’ll use a bowl of grape juice and pray for the best. I want to see William and to stop the other murders more than anything, but I know when I’ve lost a battle.

  When Maxine is thoroughly laden down with magical objects, we make our way to leave. The market isn’t crowded, but the quiet voices of a few dozen women have the atrium buzzing like a beehive.

  It’s loud enough that I don’t hear Therese until she’s right behind us, tiny, hunched, and holding the mirror in her hands. She’s breathing heavily, like she just ran the length of the room to reach us. She barely comes up to my chest, but her sudden appearance makes me jump.

  “If you want it, it’s yours. Go in peace.” She doesn’t acknowledge Maxine or me. It takes me a minute to realize what’s happening. She presses the mirror into Lena’s chest. Lena looks as baffled as I feel, holding it slightly away from her body like she’s scared of it.

  “I can’t pay you,” Lena replies.

  “I don’t ask for payment. Just come see me again, child.”

  Lena tilts her head. “Why?”

  The old woman reaches up and pats her cheek. “I like the look of you. Perhaps we knew each other in another life.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  The scowl that crosses her face makes me regret saying anything. “I’m not giving it to you. Better run along home before you’re punished with something worse than detention.”

  Lena clutches the mirror against her chest all the way to the ambulance. It’s awkward and silent between the three of us nearly the whole way home.

  The drive feels long, but no one steps out of the ambulance upon arriving in the driveway. The three of us sit in the pitch dark, listening to the groaning of the engine as it winds down.

  The evening is dark and cold. What few leaves remain are turned blue by the light of the moon. No noises come from the park over the wall. The edge of the mirror glints golden against the black of Lena’s cape.

  Finally Lena speaks. “I have one request.” I raise my eyebrows, a useless expression in the dark. “Frances, the mirror is yours, but I’d like something in return.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want to start including the other girls in all this. It feels selfish to keep the lessons with Finn all to ourselves. It doesn’t seem fair we’re the only ones who should know more about”—she looks down at the mirror—“about this, about everything.”

  She’s right, as Lena usually is. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Maxine marches past us straight through the double doors and right up the stairs, silent and steely. She never tells us her story.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Gossip burns through the halls of Haxahaven like a spark on a fuse. It isn’t difficult to find girls as hungry for more magic as we are.

  Finn agrees to Lena’s request as readily as I do. Sitting in the dream meadow, I ask him to teach more of us.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it myself,” he says. “Of course, I’ll teach whoever wishes to learn.”

  I get the impression he wants to put the Commodore Club behind us, to return to the simplicity of our lessons in the woods. I’m excited to resume our lessons as well. I’m looking forward to seeing him because I love to learn, and not at all because of the way his hair curls under his ears or the way my name rolls off his lips.

  It takes Maxine less than half a day to get over whatever it is she needs to get over. By lunch the next day she’s chatting next to us, talking animatedly with the fork in her hand like nothing was ever wrong at all. />
  She’s delighted by the new plan including the others in our lessons. “Maria is going to love this.” She smiles between bites of galette.

  Lena and I don’t push her.

  When night comes, we throw our black capes over our nightdresses and scurry through Haxahaven’s eerie halls.

  I swear sometimes I can hear something scratching at the walls when I can’t sleep, and tonight, as I climb down the stairs with Lena by my side, my unease is the same. I tamp it down, tell myself I’m not a coward.

  Everyone in our cohort except Ruby and Rebecca are waiting for us at the kitchen doors, as silent as ghosts.

  The kitchen is empty, no Florence or Ann. I wonder if Maxine has their permission or if she just believes she can count on them not to tell on us if we get caught.

  “Where’s Rebecca?” I whisper to no one in particular.

  “It’s after sundown on Friday. She doesn’t practice magic on the Sabbath,” Cora whispers back.

  It’s a better reason than Ruby gave, which was that she wasn’t interested in belonging to a club she wasn’t the president of.

  In single file, just like we were going to class after breakfast, we walk out of Haxahaven, through the gate, and into Forest Park.

  In silence, we crunch down the dirt path to the forest. No whooping hollers like the Blockula, not even a nervous laugh or two. Whatever unease ripples through the air tonight, the other girls feel too.

  The night sighs as we step off the path and into the dark cover of trees. We shuffle through the underbrush a few dozen feet before the clearing appears.

  “Why aren’t we at the Blockula?” Mabel asks. A bitterly cold wind rips through the trees. We shuffle closer together for warmth.

  “This is creepy,” Sara agrees.

  “Why did you bring us here, Maxine?” Maria piles on.

  Maxine stops and sets her lantern on the wet leaves of the ground. “My sisters”—she greets us, committed as always to the bit—“tonight we’re gathered to exercise our magic without apology. We give thanks to the woods for the gift it has given us.”

  “Allow me to translate Maxine’s dramatics,” I say. “A friend of my late brother’s has been helping us in the woods after hours. The magic he knows is different from the magic at school. He’s offered to help teach all of you, as well.”

  “Help us how?” Cora asks.

  “Does it have to be here? I’m freezing,” Alicia whines.

  “You’ve already been training with him, and you waited until now to include us?” Cora snipes.

  This isn’t going at all how I planned; it’s nothing like The Blockula.

  Maxine sidles up to me and hisses through gritted teeth “Where is Finn?”

  I tense my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. “He said he’d be here—maybe we’re just early.”

  “You know we can’t be out for long.” Her delicate hands curl into fists at her side.

  “I know, Maxine,” I whisper. The longer it takes for him to appear, the more anxious I get.

  “It’s cold. If we were a real coven, we’d have a bonfire,” Sara whines. She tugs her cape around her. Cora clings to her from behind, huddling together to keep from shivering.

  “Well, when you find a real coven that stupid, I’m sure they’d love to have you join them. You’ll fit right in.” Maxine smiles, viciously.

  “Can we please do something, anything at all, I beg you.” Maria speaks up, she’s putting on a brave face, most of them are, but I can see my own anxiety reflected in their eyes.

  “We can’t wait for him forever,” Maxine adds so quietly, only I can hear. I nod in worried agreement.

  With a frustrated huff, she pulls The Elemental from her satchel and opens it to a page I recognize.

  “Gather round, gather round,” she calls to our classmates. They seem grateful for something to do other than shuffling around the underbrush freezing to death.

  Illuminated in the lantern light is the spell we did during our first lesson with Finn, the one with the leaves and the flame that’s supposed to show you the first initial of your true love.

  There’s a twinge of bitter frustration at the memory of the spell failing for me, but the shouts of exuberance from my classmates nearly make me forget.

  Maxine demonstrates first, to a chorus of awed exclamations. She gathers the leaves from the ground, says the spell, and sets them alight. Just like last time, an M curls from the smoke, visible in the flickering firelight against the dark sky.

  If I’m not mistaken, both May and Maria smile to themselves.

  There are squeals of delight, and off my classmates set, bending down to gather handfuls of dried leaves for themselves.

  It’s extraordinary how quickly their moods change. It warms my heart to see my friends happy, but it doesn’t stop anxiety from gnawing at me. I can’t help but worry about Finn. What if the person who killed my brother and the other boys got to him? The thought of Finn’s lifeless body washed up on the beach pops into my head. I blink, clearing the horrible image, and swallow down the bile in my throat. He’s fine, I tell myself. He has to be fine.

  Maxine shepherds the girls into a single-file line, each clutching their leaves, anticipation in their eyes. Cora goes first, an A spiraling into the sky. Then Aurelia: her hands tremble as she lowers them to the flame. She lets out a relieved sigh as an L appears. A smile bright as day spreads across her face. I smile too at the sight of her joy. In line the girls chat about their predictions. Alicia is sure hers will be a B for Bernard, her childhood sweetheart. Sara hopes it’s an E for Edwin, a boy she knew when she worked at the factory.

  I stand back and watch them, a feeling of contentment washing over me, until Lena’s hand is on mine. It’s ice cold, and she’s gripping on to me like her life depends on it.

  “We shouldn’t be here. They know. They’re coming.” She’s shaking.

  My mouth goes dry. “Who is coming, Lena?”

  The lantern in my hand shatters with a pop. Glass shards fly at my legs, stinging as they pierce the fabric of my skirt to meet skin. There is a moment of shock, then the pain sets in.

  The flame jumps to the ground, where it sets a pile of dry leaves alight in an instant. Maria jumps into action and stomps them out. I’m too shocked, my ears too full of screaming to do much of anything.

  The forest smells of smoke and mistakes.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lena whimpers. She doesn’t sound anything like herself. “I should have seen—I didn’t see until now.”

  I push her long hair back and cup her face in my hands. “Didn’t see what, Lena?” I try to remain calm for her, but I’m panicking too.

  “How will we get back?” Cora whines.

  “Shh,” I hiss. I think I hear the sound of leaves rustling. Something in these woods is deeply wrong.

  There is a flickering of light between the aspens. Relief washes through me.

  “Finn!” I call. I say a silent prayer that this is all a misunderstanding, that Finn will burst through the trees, a grin on his face, and make this all right.

  “Frances, wait—” Maxine hisses. But it’s too late.

  The footsteps grow closer; the lantern bobs toward us.

  “Who’s there?” Maxine calls.

  Lantern in hand, Helen crosses into the clearing. “I’m disappointed in you, Maxine.

  The ten of us stare at Helen with identical wide-eyed faces and the knowledge that we are ruined.

  I really might vomit.

  Maxine mutters a curse word under her breath. Whatever Maria says is in Spanish, but by her tone I assume it’s a curse as well. Cora and Sara immediately burst into tears. Mabel wraps her arms around them and allows them to sob into her tiny shoulders. Lena and I react the same, standing as still as statues, as if we can rewind time by refusing to acknowledge the present.

  Helen looks over all of us like a disappointed mother. It is with relief that I see she hasn’t spotted The Elemental. Maxine’s eyes t
oo flit to her bag, where the book lies open, but partially hidden.

  Helen walks to the perimeter of the clearing, but the ten of us stay put until she clicks her tongue and chirps, “Come along then, girls. Mrs. Vykotsky is waiting for you.”

  The mention of Mrs. Vykotsky sends true fear through me. I have a sinking feeling this punishment will be worse than kitchen duty.

  The wounds on my legs are superficial, but they sting terribly against the cold night air.

  We follow Helen’s bobbing yellow lantern through the trees and back to school. The only sounds are the snapping of twigs and hitched breathing.

  A sliver of light escapes from underneath Mrs. Vykotsky’s office door. It cuts across the marble entryway like a knife.

  Helen knocks twice, and Mrs. Vykotsky’s icy voice replies, “Come in. All of you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  We shuffle in, eyes on the floor. Cora and Sara are still sniffling a little. Maxine takes the sunken chair closest to Mrs. Vykotsky, and Maria sits next to her. Lena, Sara, Cora, Mabel, and the others I don’t know well stand behind them.

  Helen takes up her post by the door, as if any of us are foolish enough to try to run.

  Lena reaches over to stop Sara’s hand from shaking.

  Blood trickles down my shins.

  The headmistress is dressed exactly how she dresses in daylight, right down to her flawless pompadour and unwrinkled black dress. I wonder if she ever sleeps or if she’s like a vampire, sitting forever in this chair waiting for pupils to scold.

  She clicks her tongue as she casts a leveling gaze over us. “I am disappointed, but I cannot say I am surprised.” She looks at Maxine, who recoils like she’s waiting for a blow to land. “You, of all people, Miss DuPre, should know better.”

  Mrs. Vykotsky looks up at Lena next. “And you, Miss Jamison, this seems uncharacteristically foolish. You have so much to lose.”

  “How did you find us?” Maxine asks.

  “There is nothing that goes on under this roof I don’t know about. And you are hardly the first group of girls at Haxahaven to be curious about the… darker aspects of magic. But we couldn’t let this go on any longer. The lanterns in the woods were becoming a fire hazard, and poor Helen was so sick of trekking through that awful park—and the gasoline you were using in the ambulance was simply wasteful. And of course, Frances complicates things.”