by Sara Clancy
“I didn’t do my test.”
“What?” Basheba repeated.
“My test. It was the whole reason Ava and I came here. Oh, right, Ava’s a childhood friend, we got split up when I fell into the orchestra pit. I should call her and tell her I’m all right.”
Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she found five missed calls. Two were from Ava. The rest from Ozzie.
“Ozzie left me a message,” she mumbled, fiddling with the buttons.
Basheba blinked in confusion. “Congratulations?”
“We normally text each other,” Mina explained as she pressed the phone to her ear to listen to the recording. “He only rings when something’s wrong.” Barely half of the message had played before she was on her feet. “We need to get to Black River.”
Chapter 4
Mina stifled a long string of swear words as Basheba stomped on the gas. The walls of the covered bridge zoomed past the window in a blur, somehow never making contact. A solid lurch and they were back on the main road, barreling toward the thick trunk of a witch elm tree. Basheba tugged at the wheel and yanked on the emergency brake, forcing her hatchback car into a skid. The locked wheels slipped over the layer of colorful fall leaves that covered the road; Mina braced for impact.
She cautiously opened one eye when Basheba cheerfully pointed out, “That’s the witch elm Katrina forced me into last year.”
“Glad to see the experience didn’t leave you with a lasting fear.”
Neither girl mentioned that it was the river Basheba was afraid of crossing. The drive from Roanoke to Black River, Tennessee, had taken over seven hours. As before, Basheba had steadfastly refused to fly. Not only was her car her home, with a mattress taking up the back seat and trunk, but she would never leave Buck behind. Not many people were willing to accept the large, muscled dog as an emotional support animal.
Mina hated that they had spent the night in a dive-up motel in Nashville. It was only seven hours, she had argued, a simple drive between the two of them. In their four-way conference call, Mina had suggested that she and Basheba could hire a room on the town limits and get everything prepared for the boys’ arrival, ensuring that they could leave for the caves the second they arrived. But Basheba had reminded her of just how well that plan had worked out last time. And how, even the option of staying undetected in the next town over wasn’t open to them anymore. The cult had given up all pretext and had attacked them directly. And, given that they had set a wildfire that had threated the entire town, and personally burnt the cult master’s house to ash, their presence was going to draw attention.
Since Cadwyn had still been a day’s distance from town, and Ozzie’s private jet would get him there whenever he wanted, it was decided that they would stick to the basics of the original plan—enter the town on the day of the Harvest, when, theoretically, Katrina would be too busy to pay much attention to them. Drawing in a deep breath, Mina forced herself to relax and answer a few texts from Ava.
“Is that your friend again?” Basheba asked.
“Just doing her safety check-in,” Mina said.
“Her what?”
Mina pulled a hand through her hair. “Ava and I read about a lot of serial killers when we were kids. Don’t give me that look, it wasn’t weird. I wanted to be in law enforcement, and Ava had some morbid curiosity. Whatever. The point is that we scared the hell out of ourselves. So, we came up with the check-in system. Every time you stop at a place, you take two pictures. The first will include the name of the place you’re at, like a sign or something. The second is a selfie with something green.”
“Green for go?” Basheba cut in.
“Orange means you’re a little apprehensive, and the receiver should call you immediately. Red means that something’s wrong and you need to contact our parents.”
“What if you don’t do the selfie?”
“If you don’t get one or either of the photos, you call 911,” Mina said.
“Huh?”
“The idea is that, if I were to go missing, she’d be able to supply the police with a detailed account of my movements. So far, we’ve only had to use it to get each other out of creepy dates.”
“So, she’s not mad that you ditched her?”
Mina smiled. “I let her keep the car and told her that she could crash at my place for a few weeks. She’s pretty happy.”
Her phone buzzed against her palm and she rechecked the screen. Basheba eyed her with mild curiosity but quickly refocused on the radio.
“It’s from my brother,” Mina said. The text consisted of only two sentences. I’m in Black River. I got a box.
“It’s too soon,” Mina gasped.
“What?”
“I need to get to the family barbeque,” Mina said. “Now.”
Keeping all further questions to herself, Basheba stomped down on the gas. She weaved the old car along the winding road, sped past the endless fields plump with the autumn harvest, and into the city proper. They had reached the Witch’s Brew in a third of the time it would normally have taken. Basheba jumped the curb and slammed on the breaks just before they crashed into a lamp post. The charred remains of the cafe looked raw in the morning light.
At first glance, it looked like Isaac Bell hadn’t even attempted to salvage anything in the months that had passed since Basheba had set it on fire. Mina hadn’t been surprised that Basheba had followed through on her threat to do it. Although, it was a bit of a shock that she hadn’t made the spindly man watch it burn.
Blow up, her brain corrected her as she fought to strip off her seatbelt. Basheba had tampered with the gas line. The passing theory was that, since only the river separated the business from the wildfire, people would think that the wind had just carried some embers. The truth was that the police of Black River had learned to turn a blind eye to the families’ activities centuries ago. While they’d never admit it, their policy was that the supernatural wasn’t under their jurisdiction. They documented the deaths, buried the bodies, and left everything else alone. Something Basheba exploited ruthlessly.
She told herself that the details didn’t matter right now. Not that it would stop her brain from dwelling. Isaac would know. Whatever the cover story, it was arson. All anyone needed was to spend three minutes with Basheba to know that it was the tiny blonde’s favorite pastime. What if he tells Dad? While she wasn’t bothered by the idea of being punished, she was terrified that her father would keep her from Jeremiah. He needs to know. He’s not ready. With a frustrated scream, she finally worked the seatbelt latch and freed herself.
“Hey, careful. I like my car,” Basheba said.
“Sorry,” Mina dismissed.
Basheba reached into the back seat, grabbed a small, tattered duffle bag, and dumped it onto Mina’s lap.
“What?”
“Call it a Christmas present,” Basheba said.
Mina’s hands trembled as she hurriedly worked the zipper. There was no hiding the surprise on her face.
“It’s a witch hunter starter pack.” There was real warmth in Basheba’s smile as she continued. “Your brother’s going to be fine. Yeah, the Bell line is a joke and the Cranes are pretentious, but the Winthrops and Sewalls have some competent people amongst them. It’s not a lost cause.”
Suddenly, she was more interested in working her necklace free of her shirt. Basheba thumbed through the collection of family wedding rings as she continued.
“Besides, we’ll be working to kill Katrina at the same time. That’s got to work in his favor.”
Mina stared at her, awed by the attempt to comfort her. “Thank you.”
Basheba shrugged the gratitude off. “Well, hurry up.”
“I can’t leave you alone,” Mina said. She continued when Basheba threw her a disbelieving look. “Should I list the ways we’ve ticked off Whitney and the cult?”
“It’s been months, and I haven’t had any retaliation. I can last five minutes on a curb by myself.”
�
��I’m not saying I know how the cult functions, but it’s clear they depend pretty heavily upon Katrina.”
“Calling her by name now, huh?”
Refusing to be distracted, Mina continued. “They wouldn’t leave her protection to come after us. Now, we’re in their backyard. Just last night you were telling me that we need to be careful.”
“Full disclosure? I just wanted to stop at that burger place we had dinner at last night. They have the best onion rings.”
“Even if you don’t see a physical threat, Isaac might have persuaded my father to interfere. You’re not that good at handling the politics of the family dynamics on your own.”
“Which family?” Basheba asked.
“All of them.”
Basheba shrugged, “You have me there.”
The fear that her father might actively, openly start supporting Isaac had left Mina sick for months. Logically, Isaac would try to build support within the four families. Her father had admitted to her a certain degree of agreement with his ideology. He had even suggested other elders felt the same. That kind of corruption weaving its way through the families terrified her. I can’t leave Jeremiah to face that alone.
“Mina, I’m right behind you and I have Buck with me. Go find your brother.”
Mina clenched her jaw but kicked the door open and ran out, the duffle and her own backpack grasped tight.
“Hey!” Basheba yelled after her. “My car!”
Music and laughter drifted from behind the elaborate pile of ash and stonework that had been the Witch’s Brew. Enough of the brick walls remained that it was impossible to see the yearly party from the street. The barbeque was designed to be a morale booster for the doomed and the survivors alike. Everyone’s last chance to make a pleasant memory together. It didn’t seem as if a whole year had passed since she had been forced to admit that the Witch was far more than superstition and mass hysteria. All of the confusion and fear were still heavy in her chest. Now Jeremiah has to face it. Her jaw clenched painfully. He won’t face it alone.
She reached the back of the building and saw the party. Streamers of bright colors flapped in the morning breeze. Already, the scattered barbeques were filled with grilling meat, and the tables were stacked with snacks and drinks. Children raced around the massive bonfire and chatting adults, some of whom were already showing signs of hitting the beer a little too hard. While the crowd had spread out far enough to reach the stony banks of the Black River, no one entered the water.
Her eyes instinctively went to the far bank. Sheer, pale stones jutted out of the liquid onyx stream. She had to fight to find any sign of the wildfire that had ravaged the woods. New growth and the vibrant autumn colors concealed the few blackened tree trunks and patches of scorched earth that remained.
We failed. Panicked tears threatening to fall down Mina’s cheeks. The forest’s recovery rate quashed any doubts she might have harbored. It was all for nothing. Katrina is still out there, still just as powerful as she was, and she’s going to kill Jeremiah. Tightening her grip on the bags until her arms trembled, she corrected herself. Try. She’ll try. She won’t succeed.
Scanning the crowd, she spotted dozens of her relatives. Luckily, they all seemed too preoccupied to notice her. Entering the Witch Woods had irrevocably altered her relationship with just about everyone in her life. Exile had tested what remained. It was an alien sensation to be separated from them, physically and emotionally. It hurt. With time, she knew she could forgive her parents for keeping her willfully ignorant, for backing up Isaac in whatever deal he had forged with the Witch’s cult, and even for cutting her off when she refused to obey him.
Logically, she understood why they had done it. Generations of fear and sacrifice had taught them silent compliance was integral for their survival. By going against that, by challenging Katrina, she was putting the entire family at risk. She understood, but she didn’t agree, and she couldn’t back down. And now that she knew just how easily they could put her aside, choose the status quo over even listening to their options, she’d never be able to trust them the way she had before. Or even look at them the same, she thought as she moved. Everyone has to learn that their family isn’t perfect sometime.
Ducking her head to avoid being spotted by one of her uncles, she worked her way through the crowd. Surrounded by the festivities, she realized what aspect of the whole nightmare hurt the most. Dad has never been selected. Nor had he ever gone into the woods to collect the bodies afterward. Very few Cranes had done that. Still, he wouldn’t listen to me. Looking around now, it occurred to her that none of the families actually listened to those who survived. War stories about the brave and the valiant they would listen to on end. But no one wanted to hear about the scars left behind.
After her first time in the woods, she had been treated like a returning hero. Everyone had bragged about how she had faced the Bell Witch and returned with barely more than a scratch. For a while, she was seen as more than daddy’s little angel. It didn’t matter how often she insisted that she hadn’t earned the praise, that she wouldn’t have survived a day without the others.
Dad had been so proud, Mina recalled, drowning in her conflicting emotions. Right up until the moment I started telling everyone the brutal truth.
Mina’s thought stuttered into silence when she spotted her brother. “Jeremiah!”
Not even a full two years separated Mina from her older brother but, when he turned to the sound of his name, he looked ancient. Haggard and worn, clutching the intricate music box between his hands like it was welded to his body. I guess some traditions do change. Last year, when she had been selected, her father had taken the box from her almost instantly. Was that just for me? For girls in general? Had Dad changed his mind? Not knowing why such a drastic shift had happened within her own family came with a sharp ache.
Her brother glanced up, his eyes widening when he spotted her. Releasing a broken sob, Mina sprinted the distance separating them and flung her arms around his neck. The bags thumped against her back, but she didn’t protest being drawn into a tight hug.
“What the fuchsia are you doing here?” he whispered harshly.
Mina pulled back and forced a smile. “Do you think we’ll ever outgrow using colors as swear words?”
Jeremiah’s face darkened. Clearly, he wasn’t going to abide by any attempt to break the tension. Instead, he glanced rapidly around the yard, checking to see if they had drawn attention.
“You texted me, Jer,” she said. “What did you think? That I’d just ignore it?”
“No. But—”
“But nothing.”
He wet his dry lips and skittishly looked around again. Hurriedly, he hunched his shoulders and coaxed her to do the same. They pushed close together to try to get a small measure of privacy within the center of the crowd.
“Mom and Dad are going to freak out if they see you here,” he whispered.
“I’m a Crane by blood. You’re my brother. This is where I belong.”
“Yeah, well, they say that you don’t want to be a Crane anymore.”
“They exiled me,” Mina protested, trying to fight down the cocktail of emotions that had become crushingly familiar. “Apparently, when they said ‘family is forever,’ they were exaggerating.”
Jeremiah shifted uncomfortably, “You did go against the family.”
“Everything I have done has been for the family,” she corrected. “It’ll always be for the family.”
“Then you might have to do some things you don’t want to do.”
She bit back her response and smiled again. “Look, none of that matters right now. You matter. How are you holding up?”
“You know,” Jeremiah pushed his dark brown hair from his face and attempted a nonchalant shrug. “It is what it is.”
Mina caught her brother’s gaze.
He almost choked on his confession. “Actually, I’m terrified, Mina. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” she
soothed. “I know you can.”
“You told me what’s in there. Why would you do that? How am I supposed to walk into those woods knowing what’s waiting for me? This is why Dad never told us. You get that now, right? This is why.” Each rambled word chipped away at his righteous indignation to expose the raw dread that lay underneath.
Fine tremors shook his body as Mina pulled him into another tight hug, the cursed music box crushed between them. Jeremiah melted against her with another broken sob.
“I just wanted you to be better prepared than I was,” Mina whispered. “Ignorance won’t help you. It’ll only leave you vulnerable.”
Her brother released the box with one hand and looped the arm around her shoulders. “Maybe I’d prefer not knowing.”
“The prepared survive, Jer. You’re a survivor.” Pulling back, she forced a smile. “I brought gifts.”
The abrupt shift left him silent; he watched her pull items from her purse with a furrowed brow. Mina first held up two Ziplock bags, one full of sugar packets, the other containing the dark powder of potassium permanganate.
“Mix these two together in equal measure, and they’ll self-ignite.”
“Okay,” Jeremiah said slowly. “They teach you that at Pennsylvania State?”
She gave his attempt at a joke a smirk. “Strangely enough, my criminal justice program doesn’t really cover how to create chemical fires.”
“I’d think that would fall under arson.”
“Well, that’s probably why I learned it from Basheba,” Mina replied. She produced an extra pair of thick socks.
“You know I’m going into the woods, not the snow.”
“The fog,” she reminded, adding ski gloves to the pile in his arms.
“It’s really that cold? You weren’t exaggerating?”
“Katrina’s goal is to make you hypothermic—” She cut herself off when she saw him violently flinch. “What is it?”
Jeremiah stooped down slightly and whispered, “You just called her by name.”
Licking her lips, she nodded once and straightened her spine. “I decided that I would no longer feed into her propaganda. It’s a fear tactic, Jeremiah. To make her seem like this unstoppable force of pure evil.”