“Calvin,” she greeted him, smiling cordially.
“Dorothy.”
“Wait a second,” I said, stepping between the opposite sides of my genealogy. “The two of you know each other?”
“Lamentably,” my father said as he eyed Dorothy’s serene expression. He reached out and pulled me closer to his side, as though he expected Dorothy to inexplicably combust and shower me with burning sparks.
“Now, Calvin,” Dorothy said, her palms turned upward in a gesture of innocence. “I thought we’d put all of our disagreements behind us.”
“Disagreements?” I echoed. I detached myself from my father, unwilling to align with either party until I understood the specifics of their argument. “What kind of disagreements?”
My father’s chin lifted upward, though his eyes remained locked on Dorothy. “Don’t,” he warned her.
Dorothy’s tranquility was unaffected by my father’s command. “Oh, Calvin,” she said. “She’ll find out eventually.”
“Find what out?” I demanded, my glare bouncing between the two of them.
Dorothy sighed, as if resigning herself to answer my question. “Morgan, my dear—”
Dorothy, I swear…” Calvin cut in.
“Hush, you,” Dorothy commanded, pointing a finger at my father.
His voice cut off immediately, silenced by whatever spell Dorothy had so neatly employed. He gestured angrily at her, mouthing unintelligible commands. A surge of relief coursed through me as I realized that witchcraft was still viable in the otherworld. It would undoubtedly come in handy what with all of the supposed monsters down here. I mentally reviewed the process for creating a protection ward. Generally, I preferred offense over defense, but I wasn’t about to risk strutting about the otherworld without a basic level of security. For now, though, secrets were at hand.
“Tell me,” I urged Dorothy before my father could protest further.
“It’s nothing, really,” she said with a breezy wave of her hand. “We’ve simply toiled in shaping the curvature of your life.”
“Shaping the… what?”
“As your father mentioned earlier—pardon my eavesdropping, by the way. I’m afraid it’s a habit I never was able to kick—we in the otherworld are often able to observe our earthly equivalents,” she said, her fingers twirling sparkles of deep blue witchcraft, similarly colored to my own, through the still air.
I peered around Dorothy to look at my father. “Does she always speak like this? All vague and such?”
He rolled his eyes. I took that as a yes.
“I see that you take after your father verbally,” said Dorothy drily. “How unfortunate. Anyway, my point is that we have the tiniest bit of effect on the way your life plays out. Your father and I are the most active members of your team, despite our numerous, er, disputes.”
“Back up a second,” I ordered. “Did you just say that you were controlling my life?”
Calvin, at the end of his rope, reached down to tug at one of Dorothy’s earlobes as if she were a child in need of disciplinary action. Momentarily abandoning her balletic appearance, Dorothy shot a small attack spell at my father’s fingers. He yelped silently and retreated, shaking out his injured hand. As he glared at her, Dorothy conceded and returned his voice to him.
“We weren’t controlling you, Morgan,” Calvin said, massaging his throat.
“Funny. That’s what Dorothy seems to have just implied.”
“It’s not like that,” my father said. He attempted to place a consoling arm around my shoulder. “We only have the ability to prod you in the right direction. Think of us more as guardian angels than puppet masters.”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job!” I said, shaking off his embrace. “What are these disputes about anyway? Are you fighting over me?”
Dorothy lifted a hand to examine her nails, unconcerned with the conversation at hand. “Your father seems to think he has superior knowledge when it comes to you. Never mind the fact that I’ve been lazing about in the otherworld for a greater number of eons. Anyone rational would accept my guidance without question.”
“Your guidance is what got her in this mess in the first place,” my father argued back. At his great height, he should have lorded over Dorothy, but she seemed to possess an ability to micrify anyone who challenged her.
“If I recall correctly, Calvin,” she said, “she wasn’t exactly thriving when you sent her to that infernal hellhole you call New York.”
My father opened his mouth to form a retort, but I stepped between them to halt their argument.
“Whoa, hold up!” I said. “What do you mean, you sent me to New York?”
“I didn’t send you there,” said Calvin. He seemed exasperated by the knowledge barriers between him and me. “I simply wanted to get you out of Yew Hollow, which I did. It was upon Dorothy’s request that we send you back.”
“Because the coven’s welfare was at stake,” Dorothy interjected.
“Yes, because God forbid the coven’s welfare be challenged,” my father bit back. “She would’ve been safer in New York.”
“And the Summers coven would have perished without her,” snapped Dorothy. “Do you care not for your wife or other daughters?”
That shut my father up. As for me, the fact that two dead people had been puppeteering certain aspects of my life didn’t seem as bizarre as it should have been. In fact, it almost made more sense this way. At the very least, I wasn’t entirely accountable for all of the terrible crap that had happened in Yew Hollow since my return there.
“Can we just, I don’t know, relax?” I requested. I was beginning to think that we really were in purgatory, and the bickering match between my father and great-to-whatever-degree grandmother was the boulder to my Sisyphus. “Because if we’re going to be any help to the coven at all, I’m going to need the two of you to draw up a peace treaty.”
But Dorothy and Calvin seemed content to stare obstinately in opposite directions. I heaved a sigh.
“Seriously, people, work with me here,” I said, snapping my fingers at them impatiently. “Dorothy, what did you say about walking into the water?”
Dorothy, her arms crossed stubbornly, cast a stern look at my father before responding. “This part of the otherworld is rather simple,” she explained. “You merely have to accept death and greet it willingly. The river is your passage through this level and into the next.”
“So all I have to do is walk into the river?” I clarified. “Will I be able to come back? I can’t just waltz into the rest of the otherworld if there’s no way back.”
“I’m not sure I understand the question,” Dorothy said with a puzzled expression. “Back to where?”
“Life,” I said confidently.
Calvin and Dorothy exchanged loaded looks with one another. I could practically hear their unspoken conversation. It seemed that, on this one subject, they agreed with each other.
“Morgan, I’ve already told you,” my father began, his tone grim.
I raised a hand to stop him. “I understand what you’ve told me. I’ve chosen to reject it. Moving on. I need the two of you to think outside the box. At the very least, I need to know if what Dad told me earlier is true. Can I talk to another medium who is still on earth?”
Dorothy contemplated the question. “Well, I suppose it could be possible. After all, that is how I’ve managed to have such a profound effect on you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dorothy twirled her fingers once more, purposely displaying the deep, royal-blue color of her witchcraft. Again, I recognized the similarities between her witchcraft and my own. “Well, Morgan, you see, I am essentially the original you.”
Calvin scoffed at Dorothy’s theatrics. “What she means is that, when she was alive, she was also a medium and the third of four daughters. Those coincidences make the bond between the two of you stronger, much to my dismay.”
“You were a medium?” I asked Dorothy.<
br />
“Still am, darling.”
“How did you watch over me?” I asked eagerly. “How did you manipulate my life or whatever? How can I do the same for Gwenlyn?”
Dorothy’s eyes widened at my enthusiasm. “So many questions! You have to earn the right to those answers, I’m afraid.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What kind of bullshit afterlife rule is that?”
“One for the ages,” she responded. “I’m afraid a courtship with the otherworld doesn’t come quite so easily as you seem to hope.”
“I don’t want to romance the otherworld,” I said, already annoyed with Dorothy’s metaphorical way of speaking. “I just want to get back to Gwenlyn and Mom and the rest of the coven.”
“One step at a time, Ace,” my father said. “First, we have to figure out if it’s even possible to get a two-way conversation going with Gwenlyn.”
“Indeed,” said Dorothy. “Although I do have an alternate idea should our attempt at communication fall through.”
“What kind of alternate idea?” I asked, trying to quell the balloon of hope inside my chest. If Dorothy was thinking of other ways to help me, it meant that she was actively considering the possibility of my request to return to Yew Hollow, but I didn’t want to get too attached to any plan that might fall through. As it was, Dorothy already seemed hesitant to reveal additional information about her other idea.
“In all likeliness, what I’m thinking of won’t work out,” she said. She glanced quickly at me before looking away. It was the jittery implication of this action that made me think she wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“Why bring it up, then?” I questioned, peering at her through narrowed eyes. Calvin looked on curiously. My best guess was that he wasn’t familiar with whatever concept Dorothy intended to propose.
“Morgan, you must understand,” she said, her voice low with the significance of her intention. “If we go after this… thing I have in mind, there’s no guarantee that we would even be able to use it properly, or even get it back to Yew Hollow for Gwenlyn to use. Besides, I shudder to think of what would happen if it fell into the undoubtedly inexperienced hands of your young apprentice.”
“What is this thing you’re even talking about?” I pressed, eager for more information.
“There’s a weapon,” she said. She spoke barely above a whisper as if frightened some other soul in the empty wasteland of the river’s beach would overhear our conversation. My father and I leaned in to catch her faint words. “A very old, very powerful weapon,” she continued. “It’s housed in the depths of the otherworld, in a place that will challenge the very nature of your sanity.”
“What else is new?” I muttered darkly.
“If we were to procure it,” Dorothy continued, her pupils dilating with the mere thought, “it would certainly be of use against your problematic boyfriend and his ghostly sycophants in Yew Hollow.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” I said hotly. “And how do you even know about Dominic? Or his ghosts?”
“You forget I take great interest in your well-being, Morgan,” Dorothy said. “I know all about the goings-on in that blasted small town.”
“Right, of course. It’s all just some hilarious reality show to you guys,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Tell me more about this weapon.”
“Well, if you manage to find a way to get it back to Yew Hollow,” Dorothy began, “whomever wields it would be able to put down Dominic’s ghosts. It would send them to the otherworld for good.”
“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” my father said. There were wrinkles of worry at the corners of his eyes. “Morgan, you have no idea the trouble a weapon like that could cause.”
“Dad, to be honest, I’m more worried about my family surviving Yew Hollow’s apocalypse than anything else right now,” I said, looking up into my father’s face. There was an infinite amount of warmth and a genuine worry for my fate there. I wasn’t quite used to having a father figure to care for me, but I couldn’t let emotions get in the way of saving the coven. Dad was going to have to deal with my course of action whether he liked it or not. After all, he couldn’t save me. Plus, according to Dad and Dorothy, I was already dead.
I faced Dorothy again. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”
“Whoa, there, little one,” Dorothy said, taking me by the shoulders. “This is no minute adventure we would be embarking on here. I’d be risking my eternal fate for you. That’s not something a woman like me can take lightly.”
“What’s your point?”
She fixed me with a penetrating stare. “If I help you do this, if we succeed in appropriating this weapon, I’m going to need something in return.”
I dropped out of her grasp, stepping away from her. “Of course you do. I should’ve known.”
“My dear, my intentions here are nothing but honorable.”
“Spit it out, then,” I said, unable to keep the note of disappointment out of my tone. “What do you want?”
She seemed to grow taller as she considered the weight of her impending request. “I want you to ensure the destruction of the yew tree in the town square.”
My ability to verbally express a reaction to this condition fell short. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, waiting for my brain to catch up.
“Are you crazy?” I finally said. “That tree is one of the only lines of defense that we have in Yew Hollow. It’s saved us countless times.”
“That may be so,” Dorothy said, her expression stern. “But the coven must also protect the yew tree, and as of late, your dedication to this task has been less than ideal.”
“Whose damn fault is that?” I asked, annoyed by the fact that Dorothy seemed to be blaming me for Yew Hollow’s recent problems. If anyone was at fault for the disaster at home, it was Dominic freaking Dobbes.
My father gently took my elbow, hoping to calm me down. “Dorothy,” he said, “I think Morgan and I would both like to know why you want the yew tree destroyed.”
“Yeah,” I said unhelpfully.
“The tree, as you know, housed the root of our power,” said Dorothy. “When we first arrived in Yew Hollow, we poured everything we had into that tree. That’s why you felt so at home around it, Morgan.”
I sifted through the memories of my childhood, remembering just how much I had loved the yew tree. Even when my odd family made me feel like a complete outcast, I had always relied on the yew tree for a little love and protection. The rough bark of its trunk, the shadow of its twisting branches and leaves, and the strange and wonderful aura that pulsed through the tree itself were comforting to me at any time of day or night. Suddenly, I felt guilty for not providing the yew tree with the same kind of love. The tree had been taken advantage of, and I had done nothing to try and stop it.
“In any case,” Dorothy continued, snapping her fingers in front of my face to recapture my wandering attention. “It’s quite clear you’ve shirked your treely duties—”
“I don’t think ‘treely’ is a word.”
“—and the only way to spare Yew Hollow any more strife is by destroying the yew tree entirely,” she finished, ignoring my interruption.
“See, I’m not really sure I understand why that is,” I said.
Dorothy sighed. Obviously, I had missed a few crucial lessons about the history of the yew tree.
“The yew tree represents everything that the coven is,” Dorothy explained. “Even if it doesn’t currently house our coven’s magic, it is still symbolically the vessel for our craft. If the tree is destroyed, the original power will be distributed amongst the members of the existing coven and only those members.”
Dorothy’s intent was slowly clarifying itself. “So if we destroy the tree, we destroy Dominic,” I said. “He won’t have access to the original power anymore?”
“Not one lick of it.”
“What’s the catch?” I asked, wary of this plan. On one hand, it sounded like the perfect way to get rid of Domi
nic, but perfect plans never came without a price.
Dorothy side-eyed Calvin, as if reluctant to reveal further information in front of him. My father, human as he was, wasn’t privy to certain conversations. This he understood, so with a groan of acceptance, he turned his back to us and trotted away toward the water line. Once Dorothy was satisfied with the distance between my father and me, she grasped my hands in hers.
“There is a chance, my dear,” she said, keeping her voice low so that my father had no hope of overhearing, “that I can return you to your home.”
My heart, or whatever was left of it in this forsaken bit of the world, felt as though it stumbled through its next few beats.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “Or are you just trying to get what you want?”
“Morgan, the coven must go on,” Dorothy said, her fingers tightening around my wrists. “You may not accept this, but you were always destined for more than your sisters. You are the savior of the Summers, but to be our savior, you have to go back.”
“Look, I’m not some kind of chosen one,” I argued, blanching as the word “savior” echoed through my head.
“Perhaps not,” agreed Dorothy to my surprise. “Yet you are the only Summers witch with the wherewithal to do what is necessary for the coven. Your love, your devotion, your pigheadedness—”
“Wow, thanks.”
“—will help you to fight for what is right,” she finished. “The survival of the coven depends on your return to earth, and so I shall do my damnedest to make that happen.”
“You still haven’t told me the catch,” I pointed out. It all sounded too easy so far. An all-powerful weapon, a way to defeat Dominic, and the return of my soul to my body were the only things I needed. It seemed impossible that Dorothy could offer me all three.
“The catch, my dear, is that you must become the head of the Summers coven.”
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been jarred by this fact. My mother, Cassandra, was the current head of the coven, and she had already told me that she felt I was the best candidate to take over. I, on the other hand, didn’t want any of the responsibility. It was trouble enough to be a witch in the first place, but to govern an entire coven? Forget about it. I could barely handle myself. I figured I had years to talk my mother into choosing another one of my sisters to replace her, but as always, nothing ever seemed to go as I expected it to.
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