The Witch Haven

by Sasha Peyton Smith

  The cavernous marble foyer of Haxahaven is deadly silent. The only light is a beam of moonlight streaming in through the window above the door. It cuts a silvery line across Finn’s sharp face, turning one of his hazel eyes golden.

  I look at him, horrified, like I’m seeing him clearly for the first time. “No.” It’s guttural, primal, and afraid.

  His eyes go wide. And he knows. I don’t know if it’s the connection of the spell or the ordinary magic of how well we understand each other, but all at once he knows I know the truth.

  It was Finn who killed my brother.

  Blood drains from his face. “I need you to understand… what I did, I did for us,” he says quickly, as if he could possibly justify this.

  “What did you do, Finn?” I ask in a voice very small, considering the storm raging within me. I want him to say it. I need to hear his admission.

  “He didn’t love you.” He puts his hand over his heart. “Not like I do.”

  “You killed him.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re true.

  “I saw how he treated you.”

  Every part of me grows colder, numb. “Saw how he treated me?”

  Finn nods—he’s eager to tell his twisted side of the story. “He came home drunk and left running the entire household to you. He didn’t appreciate you.”

  “We were bickering like brother and sister… so you killed him.”

  “I’ve always known we were fated to be together. Your mother was a witch. You appeared in my dreams. All I needed was to awaken your magic, make you see. William dying was supposed to help you. He wasn’t even magical, Frances. Your life, our life together is worth one thousand of him.”

  For someone who has spent half my life imagining the worst-case scenario, I didn’t see this coming. “You were his friend. He helped you. Jesus Finn, he trusted you. We both did.”

  Two Hallowells made the same mistake twice in trusting Finn. We let the same vampire in from the cold. And we both paid for it.

  Something shifts in his face. What is meant to be beseeching only looks unhinged. “Yes, but you mattered more.”

  I can almost see it through his eyes. I am the girl he saw for so long in his dreams. He thought he knew me before we’d even spoken. In his entitlement to me, to my life, he took everything from me.

  He continues, “I’m sorry I did it, if it helps at all. But don’t you see, Frances”—his voice rises—“the things I would do for you? I’d do anything.”

  “I need to hear you say it.” I cut him off. “Tell me what you did to my brother.” The words taste like poison.

  Finn sighs. “No you don’t, love.”

  “If you are truly sorry, you will tell me.”

  He steps toward me; I step back. “If that’s what you’d like.” He shuffles feet and swallows, hard. “A brick to the head. It knocked him out cold. He sank quickly. He didn’t suffer. I’m not a monster.”

  A brick to the head.

  There it is, then. The confession.

  Our definitions of monster are different.

  And Finn might not understand why William’s death didn’t awaken my magic, but I do. Magic is the expansion of one’s soul, and mine died the night he killed my brother. For four months I stumbled through a fog, going through the motions of my life. Killing Mr. Hues demanded I be present for the first time since my brother’s death. There is no beauty in trauma, but there is urgency in it.

  “You planted the book in Maxine’s dreams, didn’t you?” I interrupt him. You wanted us to find you, to need you. You weren’t afraid of the Resurrection because you knew he didn’t see you. Was it all a plan to bind my magic to you?”

  Finn shrugs. “I needed it more than you did.”

  The boy I thought I loved is a monster.

  I ruin everything I ever touch.

  A crash rings out from the dining room, then screaming. I run in the direction of the chaos, leaving Finn and my shattered heart behind me.

  Maxine stands on the dining table.

  Maria sniffling, but standing tall, holds her fists raised.

  Lena shields a group of girls, her arms stretched wide, sending objects flying in front of them in figure eights like a shield.

  The fighting is bloody and loud. I can’t tell who is winning and who is losing. I can think only in short clips.

  Stop.

  Breathe.

  Run.

  Fix this.

  Save them.

  The sound of a wall sconce shattering draws my attention. Maxine stands with a fistful of dinner forks, ready to send another careening at the tall man stalking toward Maria.

  Finn runs into the room after me and with a booming voice shouts, “Stop!”

  His men obey him and turn expectantly to their leader.

  Finn trains his gaze on me. “I made a mistake with William, Frances. But you will have a whole lifetime to find forgiveness. Just leave here with me and your friends will be safe. I promise.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then my men will kill them all, and you will still leave with me. The choice is yours.”

  I have no magic left. The witches of Haxahaven would fight, but we are poorly trained and we would lose. He leaves me with no choice.

  My classmates and friends all look to me. From the corner, someone moans as they float in and out of consciousness. I do not know if it is a witch or a Son, but I know that it is my fault. The moment I stepped into the halls of this school, I damned them all. If I have to leave with the person who killed my brother to save them, then that’s what I’ll do. It’s my punishment, and it’s one I deserve. If the prison I was always going to end up in is a life tethered to Finn, then so be it.

  I look up at him with empty eyes. “Give me a moment to say goodbye?”

  Finn closes his eyes in relief and smiles, dimples cracking his perfect face. He nods. “I’m not heartless. But no more than fifteen minutes. Go to the kitchen and help those that are wounded. Hurry.”

  Aurelia and May carry a girl into the kitchen. I catch Lena’s eye and gesture for her and the other girls to follow them.

  Like a miserable, silent parade, the Haxahaven witches shuffle into the vast room. How I wish I could go back to the days of Florence teaching me to sweep the floors.

  With heavy footfalls, Finn’s men come to stand guard outside the door.

  “I’m not going with them,” Mabel says the minute we’re out of earshot.

  “Me either,” Maria echoes. Sara and Cora nod in agreement.

  “I’d never ask you to do that,” I whisper. “Just… give me a moment.”

  I dart to Maxine and Lena huddled in the corner.

  My apology comes out in a single exhale. I’m tripping over my words, desperate to make them understand. “I’m sorry. He tricked me, I’m stupid, I’m so stupid, you were right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  They throw their arms around me. Maxine’s hair smells of gunpowder and Lena is shaking and it’s all my fault.

  “He killed my brother. He stole my magic. I’m such a fool.” My voice trembles.

  Lena pulls back, horror-struck.

  Maxine sighs heavily. “I didn’t want to be right.”

  There isn’t time to say all the things I want to say, so I settle on, “Thank you for being my friends. I believe you two are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I never deserved you.”

  Maxine pushes me away. “Enough of this. We don’t have time to waste.” Maxine—always the fighter. “How did he steal your magic?”

  “He bound us together”—the words come quickly—“using a spell from The Elemental.” I glance at the clock. I don’t have long before Finn comes looking for me, and I have so much I need to tell them. “I’ll do whatever I can to stop him, but I couldn’t leave without letting you know how sorry I am, and how dearly I love you.”

  Maxine puts a hand to her temple. “Jesus, Frances, stop trying to say goodbye. I’m thinking.”

  “If t
he spell worked once…” Lena trails off.

  “Then it will work again.” Maxine finishes her thought.

  It takes me a moment to catch up. “You can’t possibly be thinking of giving me your power,” I say. I’m shocked they’d consider it. “I’d refuse it. I don’t deserve it.”

  “You’re the only one close enough to him to stop him,” Lena explains. “You can’t disagree that it’s a practical decision.”

  I shake my head. “I won’t take it from you. I refuse.”

  Maxine looks around the kitchen. She’s counting each girl, mouthing the numbers. Then she quirks a smile. “But what about a drop from all of us?”

  “They wouldn’t.” After everything I put them through, how could they?

  Lena rests her soft hand on mine, looks me straight in the eye. “They would.”

  And she’s right.

  I explain the spell to Maxine and Lena. They explain the spell to the girls huddled in the kitchen, and each and every single one of them agrees to help me. Their yeses echo through the room. Some are friends, like Mabel and Maria. Some I barely know, like Rachel, and a tiny redhead I’ve never said a word to. Even Sara and Cora agree to help.

  “But will it work?” I ask.

  Maxine shrugs. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Faster than I can believe, the group of us spread out in a circle on the brick floor of the kitchen. I lean against the oven. It’s still warm.

  “We need fabric to bind our hands,” I explain. I’m racking my panicked brain to remember as much of the spell as possible.

  Maxine flings open a drawer and produces a paring knife. One by one, it’s passed around the circle. Each girl rips the hem of her Haxahaven cape, producing a ribbon of black fabric.

  Maxine and Lena sit on either side of me. They tie our hands first, but the gesture ripples through the circle like a wave. Soon we are all bound.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I tell them. “I don’t know what will happen.” Guilt mingles with panic. Am I just as bad as Finn for agreeing to this? Or is this friendship, accepting love even when you don’t feel you deserve it?

  “Come on, Frances. We don’t have time,” Maxine prods.

  “We’re not afraid. Get on with it,” Sara insists.

  I take a deep breath. I can already feel the power of my friends. It buzzes like an electric light. It’s rare and it’s holy and it belongs to them.

  For as long as I live, which might not be much longer, I’ll work to deserve them giving even the tiniest drop of themselves to me.

  “Together, we’ll say the vow, and then the spell,” I explain. My voice is shaking. Thirteen pairs of eyes stare at me. My hands are hot, as if the current is already connecting us.

  They nod in understanding. I go first, even though I know I have nothing to give them.

  If magic has taught me one thing, it’s that words are powerful, so I make one change. I no longer use the words “yours” and “you” but “ours” and “us.”

  “I, Frances Victoria Hallowell, give myself to you. All that I am and will be is ours, from this life onto the next. My soul, and all that is within it, belongs to us. Déantar éh.”

  The kitchen is dark but crackles with static.

  A chorus of voices echo in response to mine.

  “All that I am and will be is ours, from this life onto the next. My soul, and all that is within it, belongs to us. Déantar é,” they recite. My loyal sisters. My brilliant, brave friends.

  Heat starts in my hands, blooming up my arms. With each of their words, a light unfurls in my chest growing, growing, and then, like a snap, the spell is done, and I can breathe again.

  “Did it work?” Sara asks.

  They watch in silence as I reach out with my magic and levitate the paring knife discarded in the middle of the circle.

  Relief floods through me. I feel at home in my body once more. “Thank you. Thank you.” It comes out in tears. Lena squeezes my hand. Maxine lays her head on my shoulder.

  I think perhaps this is how we survive in the world. Passing little bits of our magic back and forth to each other when the world takes it from us. It’s survival. It’s love. It’s family.

  “I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” I tell them.

  The spell between us is broken as the kitchen doors swing open and Finn appears once more.

  He leans against the doorframe and sucks on his teeth. “It’s time to go, love.”

  Maxine, Lena, and I share a glance that speaks of death.

  I follow Finn and leave my heart behind me.

  * * *

  The November air has turned the dew to frost so cold it rivals the splintering ice in my veins. Indifferent stars hang above our heads, and I pray to the deep nothingness for strength. The deep nothingness answers with the voice of my brother.

  Be brave.

  If I cannot be brave for myself, I will be brave for my classmates who were so brave for me.

  Finn takes me by the hand, and I need every last bit of strength I have not to recoil at his touch.

  “Let’s go home, love. Lots to do in the morning.”

  “You swear you’ll leave Haxahaven be?”

  “As long as you cooperate,” he says with a sickening smile. “I think they’ll be more use to us like this, eh? And it will be a comfort to you to know they’re up here, tucked away from the big bad world.”

  But he’s right. I will cooperate. I will leave this place hand in hand with my brother’s murderer if it means the girls at Haxahaven will survive. Let Finn think I’m a girl who needs protecting from the evils of the world and her own tender heart.

  Just then Oliver’s voice cuts through the darkness like a knife. “Stop!” he shouts from the porch. “I won’t let you take her with you!”

  Poor, sweet, brave Oliver. How is it possible that he still thinks I’m someone worth running after?

  Lena and Maxine sprint out behind him. “Stop!” Maxine says.

  Oliver ignores her and climbs down the porch steps onto the gravel drive. “Frances, please.”

  “Take care of this, will you, boys?” Finn says with a jerk of his chin.

  A roil of pure terror goes through me. “Stop, stop!”

  My cries are swallowed by the sound of a gun firing into the body of Oliver Callahan.

  He doesn’t scream when the bullet hits him. Rather, he looks at his bleeding stomach with a furrowed brow.

  My body knows what it’s doing before my mind does. I run for him, screaming so loud it echoes off the nothingness of the night.

  Oliver falls to the ground.

  There are so many of Finn’s men and so few of us.

  Maxine is fierce and beautiful. She manipulates gun after gun, magicking them right out of the Sons’ hands, but she cannot manipulate bodies, and she is no match for the fist that connects with her cheekbone and knocks her to the ground.

  Lena makes it the farthest. She sprints at Finn with a knife in her hand.

  I take hold of the first man who lunges at her and bring him down, but I don’t see the second until he crashes into her.

  By the sound of his screams, she’s able to land one solid blow with the knife, but the man is enormous on top of her, and she has no more knives.

  “Please!” I scream at Finn again and again, but still he does nothing. Maxine screams; men close in on Lena. Oliver’s body is a dark splotch on the lawn, sickeningly still. Memories of our childhood together flash before my mind. Of William, of the three of us. He was all I had to hold on to from the past, and now… Suddenly the rest of the witches spill out the front doors. I see Finn’s men ready to fight. Panic and anger and fear burst through me, and just then, like a dam breaking on a raging river, my very soul pours out of my body, and I am everywhere. I am everyone. It is so strange, this new magic that is both mine and not mine.

  I feel Maxine’s vibrant love and exquisite pain. I see flashes of the faces of the girls she loves. Their kisses in dark corners and t
he way they tangle together in empty bedrooms just as dawn is breaking. I feel her sense of duty and her desire for adventure locked in battle with each other.

  I see Lena’s grandmother’s lined face and the way her parents looked the last time she saw them so many years ago. I know her heart-wrenching homesickness and feeling of isolation. I feel her fierce pride and unrelenting ambition, the deep well of kindness that is her heart.

  I know Oliver’s overwhelming goodness, his self-doubt. I see myself through his eyes. The way he looks at me like I’m the most magical thing he’s ever seen, even though he’s seen real magic. I feel now how desperately he misses William. How he talks to him when no one else is around.

  But it’s Finn I feel the most. The bottomless pit of his want. His willingness to do anything to create the world he thinks is just. The strange warm spot he has in his cunning heart just for me.

  All this information floods into my mind in the space of half a heartbeat.

  Pain rips through my head. My vision tunnels.

  My soul cannot contain this much; my body cannot take it. My grip on the magic is slipping. My soul has stretched so far from my body, it could slide right out and never return. I could join William, wherever he is. The torment of this life would be over. It would be so easy to give in. The relief of death begs me to accept it; like waves of the ocean, it laps at my feet. Death is warm and soft, and living is so, so hard.

  The air here is particularly heavy. On it floats William’s voice, as clear as I’ve ever heard it. Hold on, he says.

  I will not leave this world a half-done, unrealized thing.

  For the first time in a very long time, I want desperately to live.

  Hold on. And then a burst of energy, of stars and light and emotions hazy with power.

  With a gasp, I come to, lying on my back on Haxahaven’s lawn, gazing up at the cold stars, everything just as it was, except the lawn is silent and almost empty and the air here is warm. I stand and find only Finn across from me.

  He looks terribly broken.

  “This is a dream, then?” I ask him.

  He pushes himself up off the ground and brushes the dirt from his trousers. “I suppose so. You screamed like a bloody banshee, then collapsed. The next thing I knew, we were both here.”