None of the coven suffered any lasting injuries, including Karma. Though Dominic had managed to inflict some serious damage with the baseball bat—she had a serious concussion and an even more serious brain bleed—the coven had pooled their abilities once more to revive her. She’d spent the majority of the last week in bed, recuperating, but that morning, she’d joined the rest of us for coffee and breakfast with an exhausted smile.
Gwenlyn had become the coven’s golden child. The witches doted on her any chance they got, often fighting over whose turn it was to spend time with her. At first, Gwenlyn had reveled in the glory, but her introversion soon got the best of her. The few children in the coven had taken to reenacting the last moments of the battle, and when they pleaded with Gwenlyn to watch, yet again, as they theatrically mimicked Dominic’s final gasping breaths, Gwenlyn cast a spell that rooted the children in place and silently walked away. I couldn’t help but laugh as the children pleaded with her to free them, and in return, Gwenlyn also relieved them of their voices for the afternoon. Since then, I often found Gwenlyn sitting alone, either out on the swing set or in my old bedroom on the third floor of the main house, staring absently out of the bay window. I understood Gwenlyn’s taciturn attitude and need for solitude. After all, she had killed someone, and even if that someone was the scum of the earth, snuffing out another human’s life took a toll on your conscience.
I had spent the week explaining away the wreckage in the town square to the mortals of Yew Hollow. They had been under Dominic’s trance for so long that nearly everyone I spoke to had a lingering sense of exhaustion about them. I came up with the easiest excuse possible for the disaster area: that a monster of a nor’easter had raged through town and a bolt of lightning made quick work of the yew tree. Thankfully, Dominic’s trance had left the townspeople rather pliable, and no one questioned my patchy story.
The yew tree itself was a sorrowful sight. All that remained of it was a blackened trunk, splintered and warped, protruding from the earth like an old headstone. I had only been to the town square once since the battle to help the coven tidy up as much of the mess as we could, but I had kept my eyes averted from the yew tree. Yew Hollow felt vacant and unbalanced without the presence of the tree’s aura, and since its destruction was essentially my fault, the burnt remains were an awful reminder of all that had changed.
Now that the dust had settled, the only order of business left was for the coven to officially instate me as the head of the Summerses. It was more of a formality than anything else. After all, the power of the previous leaders had already been transferred to me during the yew tree’s sacrifice. Though I had protested, the coven insisted on carrying out the ceremony. Admittedly, I didn’t put up much of a fight. If the witches needed a silly tradition in order to feel normal again, I was more than happy to oblige. I’d never been to a leader ceremony—my own mother had gained control of the coven before I was born—but I’d heard that they were meant to be beautiful parties, a celebration of our powers, and from the preparations, I could tell that the coven had gone all out.
“Laurel!” I batted away another sneak attack of the flower wreath.
“Come on, Morgan,” she whined, brandishing the crown.
Gwenlyn bounced down the stairs and into the dining room, her own head adorned with a similar ring of white roses. “For Pete’s sake, Morgan, just wear the damn crown.”
“Ha!” said Laurel and plunked the crown on my head.
I harrumphed, reaching up to adjust my new headwear, but finally conceded. I glanced at Gwenlyn, who wore a cream-colored dress that flowed all the way down to the floor. “You look nice,” I said. I’d never seen Gwenlyn in anything but jeans and ratty, hand-me-down T-shirts, so it was almost jarring to see her hair done up in an intricate braid and a hint of makeup on her face.
She shrugged, picking at the skirt of the dress. “Karma dressed me. I see she got to you too.”
This was true. Karma had unearthed a dress for me as well, though mine was the pale hue of periwinkles. Malia had done my hair, then disappeared to assist the coven with setting up the ceremony.
“It’s almost time,” said Laurel. She reached out, tucking a wisp of my hair behind my ear. “Let’s go outside.”
Together, the three of us headed out to the backyard. The sun was on its way down, and the sky was a collage of pink, orange, and blue. Despite my initial reluctance at taking part in the ceremony, I couldn’t help but take in a little gasp when I saw what the witches had been working on all day. The coven had constructed a beautiful trellis out of pale wood and decorated it with a collection of different-colored roses. The witches themselves had gathered in a loose circle around the trellis, awaiting my approach, all dressed in various shades of springtime.
“Here we go,” I muttered, more to myself than to Gwenlyn or Laurel. I stepped off the porch, holding my chin level as I made my way to the trellis.
The ceremony itself was blissfully short. I stood alone beneath the trellis while the coven joined hands and sang in Latin. At some point, the aura of each witch reached out to embrace me, and I closed my eyes as I was swept away into a disembodied state of mind. When all was said and done, the witches erupted into cheers, and despite myself, I couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across my face.
A firelit feast followed the ceremony. Several aunts of mine had spent the day cooking. We all sat down to dinner in the backyard at one long picnic table that another one of the witches had conjured. I sipped sparkling wine, enjoying the smiles of the coven. After so much strife, they deserved a little bit of happiness together. It wasn’t long after dessert, though, that Gwenlyn sought me out. She beckoned me away from the coven, and after a hesitant glance down the table to make sure the rest of the witches were still occupied with each other, I sidled out of my seat and joined Gwenlyn.
We followed the fireflies into town in silence, the breeze ruffling the fabric of our dresses. Yew Hollow was quiet. All of its mortal inhabitants had returned home for the evening. I inhaled deeply, savoring the fresh scent of the air. Thankfully, after a few spring showers, the smell of rot had finally been evacuated from the town. I didn’t think I’d ever be so grateful to inhale a breath full of pollen.
As we neared the stump of the yew tree, a sense of familiarity washed over me. I took a deep breath.
“Do you feel that?” Gwenlyn asked, stopping short of the stump.
I nodded. My mother’s aura was still present, housed in what was left of the yew tree. I hadn’t lost her entirely after all. Approaching the stump, I lifted the pink roses from the crown of my head and placed them on the burned remains of the yew tree. When I stepped back, Gwenlyn leaned her head on my shoulder.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just… going to take some getting used to.”
“You’ll figure it out,” said Gwenlyn. “You have your sisters to help you. And me.”
I sighed. I knew that Gwenlyn was probably right. Eventually, being the leader of the Summers coven would feel normal, but the important thing was that my family was in Yew Hollow to support me. Even my mother, in whatever form, was still around.
“Look at that.” Gwenlyn pointed toward the opposite side of the stump.
“What?”
“There.”
I detached myself from Gwenlyn, circling the stump to see what she was pointing at. There, nestled between the blackened roots, was the tiniest bud of bright green. It had pushed its way through the ash and dust, reaching up toward the sun, and around it pulsed a rainbow of witchcraft. I smiled and lightly touched the new bud in recognition of its meaning.
The yew tree would go on, and so would the Summers coven.
Many thanks to everyone who read my story!
Writing is the best way I know to express myself, and I’m so glad that you all have rewarded me with the opportunity to share my imagination with you. As an author, I learn and evolve from the input of others, so if you have a spare moment
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Again, thank you all for diving into mine and Morgan’s world. May we meet again!
All the best,
Alexandria Clarke
Witch Myth Omnibus: A Yew Hollow Cozy Mystery Page 22