T*Witches: Kindred Spirits

by Reisfeld, Randi

  T*Witches:

  Kindred Spirits

  H.B. Gilmour

  & Randi Reisfeld

  © 2003, 2012 H.B. Gilmour and Randi Reisfeld

  All rights reserved.

  First published by Scholastic in 2003.

  DEDICATION

  For Fred and Harry, kindred spirits, indeed.

  —H.B.G.

  This book is for a true kindred spirit, Bethany Buck, who did not fail and did not falter, all the while enduring an entire season in backbreaking pain. She, as much as anyone, contributed to this book.

  I could say all the good ideas were hers, but hey, there’s a limit to my generosity. Fortunately, there’s no such quota on hers. Thanx, BB—be BACK soon!

  —R.R.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One: Journey to Coventry

  Chapter Two: Coming Home

  Chapter Three: A Walk in the Woods

  Chapter Four: The Beginning

  Chapter Five: A Sad Good-Bye

  Chapter Six: The Furies

  Chapter Seven: Secrets and Curses

  Chapter Eight: A Warning in the Night

  Chapter Nine: Lunasoleil

  Chapter Ten: Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

  Chapter Eleven: Double-Crossed

  Chapter Twelve: The Vow

  Chapter Thirteen: Crailmore

  Chapter Fourteen: Seven for Supper

  Chapter Fifteen: The Trap

  Chapter Sixteen: The Destiny

  Chapter Seventeen: Betrayed

  Chapter Eighteen: The Caves

  Chapter Nineteen: Survival of the Fittest

  Chapter Twenty: A Bumpy Ending

  About the Authors

  CHAPTER ONE

  JOURNEY TO COVENTRY

  Karsh, the wise warlock who’d known and protected them all their lives, was dead.

  Ileana, their guardian witch, was weak with grief.

  Miranda, the birth mother they’d met only weeks before, was dependent on their dangerous, untrustworthy uncle.

  They had no one to rely on now but each other.

  They were leaving all that was safe and familiar to travel to a tiny island of witches and warlocks, most of them strangers … and a few who wanted them dead.

  These were the facts obsessing fifteen-year-old Camryn Barnes, messing with her mind as she headed for the airport snack shop to buy mints for herself and gum for her sister, Alex.

  It was 5:45 A.M. Their flight to Wisconsin, the first leg of their journey to Coventry Island, would board in less than fifteen minutes. And aside from wanting gum — real gum, preferably bubble gum, anything but sugarless — Alex seemed content to wait at the gate, flipping through a rock ’zine she’d brought from home.

  They were twins, supposedly identical.

  Twins and witches — T’Witches — no way around it, that’s what they were.

  Cam shrieked as a pair of hands fell heavily onto her shoulders. The stinging scent of aftershave filled the air.

  “Whoa. Chill. It’s just me.” She was turned around gently to face Jason Weissman, grinning big, surprised, and stoked to see her. “You came to see me off,” he marveled.

  Jason’s four-day weekend away with the guys! Did it start today? Cam looked around and saw Mike and Rick, Jase’s buddies, on the check-in line a few gates over. She had totally forgotten. Instantly, she pulled down the sunglasses that had been perched on her head, holding back her long auburn hair, and tried to return Jason’s smile — which normally was so not hard to do.

  The star of the high school basketball team, he was a head taller than Cam, rippled and sinewy with broad shoulders, thick black hair, and dark brown eyes ringed with long black lashes that should have been illegal on boys. The only thing not dark about the seventeen-year-old high school senior was his personality. Jason was usually sunny-side-up boy. Which, today, was underscored by the bicep-baring, pec-stretched, yellow tennis shirt he was wearing.

  He was also one of the few guys Cam couldn’t completely fool. Her flirtatiousness only went so far with him. She really liked Jase. And he’d never tried to hide how much he cared about her. Their friendship had deepened over the past year. It was now, she liked to think, at the brink of the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. And she knew he wouldn’t settle for half-truths or smiley-face small talk.

  “You look shocked to see me, which translates into you forgot,” he said now, reading her perfectly and shrugging. “Okay, that’s cool. But what are you doing at the airport? What’s the matter, Cam? You look like you’re about to bolt or cry.”

  Apparently, her sunglasses weren’t doing the trick. She stared at him through the dark lenses, trying to think of an answer — one that was decent without being damaging.

  I’m going to an island to say good-bye to one of my oldest friends in the world, she could have said. An ancient warlock who died saving my life — mine and Alex’s — from a pair of psycho brothers who happen to be our murderously deranged cousins.

  Or how about, “Ooops, Jase, I forgot to tell you — and I hope it won’t change our relationship — but Alex and I are witches.”

  “Seriously, Cam, are you in danger again?” The rangy hottie knew she and Alex were magnets for trouble. He glanced quickly over his shoulder to signal his crew that he’d be right there. “You can trust me, Cami. What’s up?”

  Her sappy smile still in place, she came up with the totally lame, “Nothing,” fixing her gaze on the miniature orange basketball charm he wore around his neck. She’d bought him that as a good-luck charm for the league championships.

  “Then why are you acting so weirded-out to see me? I told you Rick, Mike, and I were splitting for the weekend —” Jason shoved his hands in his pockets, a sure sign he was getting uncomfortable.

  “I’m not weirded-out, I was just … preoccupied.” Cam attempted casual but came off strained.

  “You stink at lying — even behind those dark shades. Come on, Barnes, I know you too well.”

  You really don’t, she almost blurted aloud. You know only one version of me. The other, the things you don’t know and I can never explain? And if I tried? You probably wouldn’t believe it, anyway.

  “Cami,” Jason reached out to grasp her shoulder again. To his surprise, she flinched. “Wha —? Hey, I’m sorry. But you’re freaking me now.” He forced a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay. You’re not here to see me off. Where are you headed?”

  Not daring to look at him, she mumbled, “You know, uh, the Midwest.”

  He nearly laughed for real. “That’s a lot of territory. What state are you starting in?”

  A state of emotional turmoil, she felt like saying. He was still staring at her, his intelligent mahogany eyes questioning, his smile down a notch. The vein on the left side of his forehead throbbed, a clue to how wigged he really was. She cleared her throat. “This trip came up at the last minute —” Well, at least that was true. Cam scanned the waiting area, as if she would find the end of her sentence somewhere in the crowd. “It’s a family thing.”

  “Your mom and dad here, too?” Now Jason looked around.

  “No, they’re … uh … coming later. I mean … they might.”

  But they weren’t. Not Dave and Emily Barnes, the parents Jason knew about.

  Emily, Cam’s adoptive mom, believed Cam and Alex were on a hastily scheduled class trip to Washington, DC, for the weekend. She assumed that her husband had signed the consent form.

  David Barnes had driven the twins to the airport. He knew where they were going and why. He had known and been very fond of the old warlock Karsh. They’d met at a paranormal convention fifteen years ago — Karsh had
quizzed him about his work, his wife, and their wish to have a child. The very next day, Dave had recently told his adopted daughter, Karsh delivered an infant girl to them, who they named Camryn.

  No, Dave, who knew the truth, and Emily, who didn’t, were not going to Coventry. But there’d be other family waiting there — the woman who’d given birth to them, the beloved old man who’d kept them safe. The first was waiting to see them, to get to know them; the other was waiting to be buried.

  Alex Fielding had caught the tail end of the awkward encounter between Jason and Cam — the sister she’d met only a year ago and had, it felt like, lived a dozen lifetimes with since then.

  Or maybe only one: Karsh’s. He’d delivered the newborn Alex to Crow Creek, Montana, to Sara Fielding, a loving and trusted protector. After Sara died, the wise old warlock carried Alex clear across the country to Marble Bay, MA, to live with Cam, the twin she barely knew.

  Alex’s stomach twisted, as if she, not Cam, was standing outside the snack shop, put on the spot in her most vulnerable moment. She wished she could help, make up a story Jason would buy, and send it to Cam telepathically. She came up empty. Quick quips and caustic cover-ups were Alex’s stock-in-trade. Now they were way out of reach. She was too raw; her skin ached, if that were possible.

  She felt badly for Jason, too, so caring and crushed on Cam, yet so clueless right now. Alex wished she could tell him to back off.

  She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on her twin and the would-be boyfriend. Shifting uncomfortably on a stiff waiting-area chair, she had been trying to lose herself in a magazine. It just hadn’t worked. Her hand kept drifting to her necklace, the hammered half-moon dangling from a gold chain around her neck. And her thoughts kept drifting to Karsh, who’d given the necklace and so much more to her. And never would again.

  Against her wishes, the awful scene in Salem Woods battered Alex’s brain. She could still hear the sickening sounds of the hurled rock smashing against Karsh’s head, of the beloved warlock falling hard to the ground. Rage at his killers boiled up in her once again. She could see them, her idiot cousins, Tsuris and Vey, lurching out of the forest. Smirking, seething with misguided rage, they’d come to harm Ileana, turned their wrath on the twins, and stayed to kill Karsh.

  And the ancient warlock who’d loved and protected them always had known what would happen. He’d known that entering those woods was dangerous to him, that this time, helping Cam and Alex, as he had done all their lives, would mean sacrificing his own.

  This Ileana had told them afterward, after Tsuris and Vey mindlessly hurled their stones, brought down the beloved old warlock, and set the wheels of fate in motion for this terrible trip.

  Their flight was being called.

  Alex opened her eyes, relieved to be distracted from the painful memories of that day. Her gaze drifted to Jason. He’d given them a lift to Salem Woods that fateful day. He’d seen them at home hours later, bruised and bloodied. No wonder he was worried about Cam now.

  Jason was sweet and smart, an all-around good guy — if tall, athletic, Banana-garbed preppy was your type. (It wasn’t Alex’s.) He wore his President-of-the-Cam-Fan-Club status like some badge of honor. Now he was keeping his voice steady, but inside, b-ball boy was freaking out.

  With her full-tilt witchy hearing and mind-reading skill, Alex was aware of Jason’s heart thudding. He knew Cam was holding back, nervous, afraid, suffering. He knew there was something she wanted to tell him but couldn’t. He’d racked his brain trying to figure out what was going on — and had suddenly and stupidly decided that she might be breaking up with him.

  Yo, it is so not about you, Alex wanted to holler. Her sister was a mess. Right now Cam’s feelings for Jason were beyond beside-the-point. P.S.: There was nothing he could do to ease her pain.

  Which didn’t mean Jason would stop trying. Alex heard him say, “This is something big, isn’t it? And it’s something bad. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Cam’s eyes. Right. Her extraordinary, future-seeing, flame-throwing, gorgeous gray eyes could see things that not even her talented identical twin could. But at the moment? The girl with the see-through sight was blind to the level of Jason’s feelings for her.

  Should I send her a telepathic message? Alex pondered. Would that make it better or worse?

  Worse! Way worse, Cam immediately responded to Alex’s silent question. Any more input and I’ll lose it. My head will explode!

  Now Cam, too, heard their flight being called. Boston to Green Bay. Boarding now.

  True to her words, unspoken though they were, Cam finally did lose it. In the middle of the airport, between gates 20 and 21A, she clutched her stomach and broke into wracking sobs, a full-out composure collapse.

  Before Jason could react, Alex raced over and embraced her sister. “Hey, Jase-face,” she said gently, knowing that he’d blame himself for making her cry. “She’ll be okay. She’s just dealing with some pretty heavy stuff.”

  The look on his face, a combination of dread and panic, was what made Alex add, “We both are. We’re going to a funeral.”

  She had probably made Jason feel even worse, Alex thought, hurrying with Cam to the boarding line. But it had forced him to back off, kept him from asking more questions. And it had the added bonus of being true.

  Before stepping into the plane’s entry tunnel, Alex turned to give the confused boy a reassuring smile. But he was already gone…. Mike and Rick were looking perplexed. Alex followed their gaze and caught a glimpse of Jason, dashing out of the boarding area back toward the ticket counters.

  CHAPTER TWO

  COMING HOME

  Green. Vibrant and clean, wonderfully fresh and alive. Her senses heightened, her heart sang. Here, she’d been born. Here, her family had lived. Here, she belonged. Alex Fielding and Coventry Island: love at first sight. It happened that fast.

  Cam’s reaction was lightning quick, too. And opposite.

  Foreign. Remote and disconnected, thick with dark, tangled trees, ringed by a rocky beach, deserted but for a few seagulls and shells. Lots of shells. Camryn Barnes set foot on her birthplace feeling as out of place as she’d ever been anywhere.

  Suddenly and unexpectedly, she was grateful she and Alex had been wrenched from here, pulled apart, sent to grow up separately. This place, a haven for witches and warlocks, had not been safe for them back then. It felt the same way now. She wished she were anywhere but here.

  Coventry was hard to get to. The island could only be accessed by ferry, but few from the mainland ever made the trip. It was nearly impossible to see beyond the forest or to expect there was anything of interest to see. Just one of dozens of small, heavily wooded islands off the coast of Wisconsin. It seemed uninhabitable.

  Which was just the way the people of Coventry wanted it. Better if no one knew a complex, bustling community thrived there. Long-lived, learned, peaceful, and proudly self-sufficient, the island had been settled long before most of today’s mainlanders were even born.

  There was only one man, an old-timer named Burton “Bump” Rodgers, who knew how to get there and could be persuaded to ferry people to Coventry’s shore.

  “Witch Island?” Bump had laughed at Cam and Alex. “You girls sure that’s where you want to go? No electricity, telephones, TVs. No cars allowed — guess they get around on broomsticks.” His beady eyes narrowed. “It’s told some folks never come back …”

  Then he’d smirked at Alex, taking in her obviously dyed, pink-tipped jet-black spikes and frayed denim jacket. “ ’Course some folks belong there: witches, warlocks, and them. Which witch are you?” His big potbelly shook as he guffawed at his own pathetic joke.

  “Careful,” Alex had playfully warned him, narrowing her startling gray eyes at Bump. “We may have to cast a spell on you.”

  “We’re just visiting.” Cam elbowed her twin. That was the truth, wasn’t it?

  “Don’t worry, Apolla, no one is going to force you to stay.”

  The voice calli
ng Cam by her birth name jarred her. It seemed to float from the forest. Familiar but soft, it was completely absent of its normal snappishness.

  “Ileana?” Cam called out timidly, “Is that you?”

  “Who were you expecting, Glinda? Sabrina? The Wicked Witch of the West?” Again, the intended sarcasm fell flat.

  Cam heaved a sigh of relief, hurrying toward the forest now. Ileana, at least, was safe and familiar.

  The day of their birth, their father, Aron, had been slain; their grief-stricken mother, Miranda, had vanished. Ileana had been appointed guardian of the newborns though she herself was only a teenager. She’d done her best to keep the twins safe from those who would harm them, especially the powerful Lord Thantos DuBaer, their uncle who, until recently, was believed to be their father’s killer.

  Alex smiled at the sound of Ileana’s voice. But her smile froze the minute she spotted her.

  Cam gasped.

  Was this a mirage? Were they seeing Ileana through a fun-house mirror? Impossible that this gaunt, disheveled woman was their fiery, haughty, staggeringly beautiful, and vain witch guardian. She, who wore only the up-trendiest designer labels, and jetted around the world on the arm of a famous movie star, was gone. In her place stood a frail replica, her eyes dull, her once lustrous hair brittle, uncared for.

  Saddest and most shocking of all was the cloak hanging limply from her shoulders. Midnight-blue silk, it was soiled, stained. With what Alex wasn’t sure, but Cam identified it immediately. Blood.

  Ileana had worn it the day Karsh died. Had she not taken it off since?

  She seems so … helpless, Alex telegraphed to Cam.

  “Helpless, am I?” Normally, Ileana would have railed at the affront, cast a spell, turned them into some little groveling two-headed creature. Now all she could manage was, “If I’m so helpless, you won’t be needing me. I’ll show you where you’re staying and be on my way.”

  “Sorry, we didn’t mean it that way,” Cam apologized.

  “Don’t insult me further by lying,” Ileana replied wearily. “Just follow me.” They trailed her into the woods. Alex hoisted a beat-up duffel over her shoulder and easily kept pace with their strangely sluggish guardian. Cam, whose suitcase-on-wheels bumped clumsily over rocks and jutting roots, hurried to keep up.