“While this is not an ideal situation,” Morgan went on, “it does give us the freedom to tend to matters without alerting the townspeople to our true nature again.”
“What matters are those exactly?” someone voiced from the back of the room.
“Don’t you sense it?” Morgan questioned, gazing at each witch in turn. “The uncertainty in the air? The scent on the wind? Something has shifted, ladies, and that shift bears all the signs of dark magic.”
Anxious conversation swelled, drowning out the rest of Morgan’s words. I resisted the urge to stick my fingers in my ears. The low drone of worrying buzzed like an annoying kitchen timer in my brain. I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing my headache to subside. My head pounded with each beat of my heart. It was time for another round of healing spells, but the coven was otherwise occupied.
“Quiet!” Morgan boomed. She was a small woman, but her voice echoed throughout the house, bouncing off the walls until she had the coven’s attention again. “What did I say ten minutes ago? This is not the time to panic. If you cannot control yourselves, I must ask you to leave. Anyone?”
No one moved. Everyone knew that this was the first big challenge the coven was to face in recent years. All of the witches needed to be informed.
“Good,” Morgan said. “First things first—”
“Can you blame them?”
I leaned forward to see who had interrupted Morgan. Camryn Summers stood up at the opposite end of the table. She was one of Morgan’s distant cousins, a few members removed from the central bloodline. Subtle differences separated her from the rest of the coven. Her golden hair was curled in perfectly messy ringlets, and she had hazel eyes instead of gray or green ones. Her curvaceous figure was the envy of the coven, many of whom were too thin to be considered sensual. Camryn was known to use her appeal to get what she wanted. Morgan told me stories from when they were kids in the coven together, and I’d seen enough of Camryn’s antics to know that her interjection meant trouble. My hackles rose as soon as she spoke up. To interrupt the coven leader was to declare an immediate sign of disrespect.
Morgan made no indication to give Camryn the floor. She remained standing, cocked one eyebrow in her cousin’s direction, and waited for the bomb to drop.
“Our coven is frightened,” Camryn said. Her voice grated on me. It was low and raspy like a chain smoker’s. “You cannot dismiss the severity of this situation. We won’t stand for it. The town has fallen, Morgan, and you have done nothing to prevent it from happening.”
I tensed in my seat at Camryn’s accusation, but a throb in my calf reminded me that I was in no condition to defend Morgan’s honor at the moment. It was a good thing Morgan’s patience was not so limited as mine. She merely appeared bored.
“Yew Hollow is far from ‘fallen,’” Morgan said, “but by all means, continue your diatribe.”
Camryn took the bait. “Ten years ago, you promised us protection under any and all circumstances. We had no choice but to accept your word as true and to go along with your harebrained schemes. When the time came to elect a new coven leader, you robbed us of that opportunity too.”
“It wasn’t your decision,” I snapped at Camryn. “Cassandra—”
“Yes, baby Morgan,” Camryn interrupted. Anger coursed through my veins, but a look from Morgan prevented me from retaliating prematurely. “It is indeed tradition for the current leader to select her successor, but it is also tradition for her to request the opinions of her coven. Do I need to remind you that Morgan abandoned this coven at eighteen and did not return for a decade?”
Malia spoke up from her seat across from me. “Are we really arguing about a leadership switch that occurred over ten years ago when there is a more trying situation at hand? Camryn, sit down—”
“Doesn’t it bother you, Malia?” Camryn asked, honing in on the eldest Summers sister. “If I recall correctly, you were being groomed as the next coven leader before the prodigal daughter fell back on her family. Did it sting when your mother decided that you were no longer her favorite for the position?”
“Morgan was better suited for the role,” Malia replied calmly. I admired her composure. If Camryn had said something like that to me, I would’ve hit her with the first curse that came to mind. “In case you’ve forgotten, Camryn, Yew Hollow has been at peace. We have not faced a challenge like this since Morgan’s inception, and you would do well to thank her for that rather than berate her leadership skills.”
“Morgan instated laws that changed the very core of our existence,” Camryn countered. She began to stroll leisurely around the room, trailing her fingers across the shoulders of the witches sitting at the table. “Hiding from the mortals, playing games with covens weaker than our own—”
“Cooperation is not a game,” Morgan said. “No one coven is omnipotent. It is essential for us to work together if we intend to keep our kind from dying out.”
“And what have those covens ever done for us?” Camryn challenged. I sneered as she brushed by me, but she didn’t dare to touch me. “The alliance was supposedly built on a foundation of sisterhood, but where are they now? Where’s the help that was promised to us in times like these?”
“I have already sent word to the other covens,” Morgan replied. Camryn made to stroll past her, but Morgan stepped in her path. “Any other questions?”
Camryn’s answering smile was wily at best. “My question is how you’ll decide to solve our newest problem, Morgan.”
Morgan leveled a stare at Camryn. “If you sit down,” she said in a calm, collected voice, “I would be happy to address that as I planned to do five minutes ago.”
The witches glared at each other, their noses only inches apart. Finally, Camryn blinked. She gave Morgan one more knowing smile before sauntering back to her seat. Subtly, so that only I could see it, Morgan rolled her eyes.
“As I was saying,” Morgan continued. “This spell has already affected the majority of Yew Hollow. We cannot allow it to permeate any further. Since the townspeople are gone, there’s no reason for us to forego a good defense. I want to build a ward large enough to encompass the entire town. Who will volunteer their efforts to do so?”
A number of hands went up, including mine. Morgan counted heads, assigning tasks to each witch. When she reached me, she paused.
“Not you, Gwen.”
“Why not?” I challenged. “I’m fine, Morgan. I swear.”
“You’re not fine,” Morgan replied. “And until I figure out whose mark that is on your calf, you won’t do anything other than rest. Understood?”
There was no room to argue. Morgan’s mind was made up.
“Fine,” I grumbled.
Morgan addressed the room again. “That’s it then. Those of you who are working on the ward, let’s get started right away. The rest of you should research the nature of yesterday’s storm.”
The witches surged to their feet, but Camryn wasn’t through with causing trouble for the day. “And what about Alana?” she questioned, raising her voice to be heard over the bustle.
“What about her?” Morgan asked wearily.
“Are we supposed to believe that her collapse was pure coincidence?” Camryn asked. The witches paused to hear her out. “A storm comes through Yew Hollow, and all of a sudden one of our own kind falls ill without explanation. Who’s to say this ailment won’t spread?”
Morgan snapped her fingers. In an instant, time slowed. The coven was frozen in place, unaware of the sudden change. Only Morgan, Camryn, and I remained in full possession of our faculties. The spell to expand and slow time was not a simple or easy one. Morgan rarely employed it, and I had a feeling that she only did it now to remind Camryn of her power.
“Do you mean to incite a riot?” Morgan asked the other witch. “Is that what you want? To instill fear and mistrust in this coven? Because I can assure you that it will not further your agenda, whatever that may be. It will only make this situation all the more dangerous.”
Camryn gazed around the room at her frozen sisters, but she looked more amused than impressed. “You haven’t changed, Morgan. You can pretend all you like, but I remember what you were like back then.”
“You mean when we were children,” Morgan retorted. “I never understood the competition between us, Cam. You made it what it was.”
“You were handed opportunities that most of us could never dream of, and you squandered them,” Camryn replied. “Then, after years of neglecting us, you picked up right where you left off. You do things your way, Morgan, with no regard to what the rest of the coven needs.”
“My way has kept this coven safe for ten years,” Morgan declared. She checked her watch, the hands of which had slowed too. It was not safe to slow time for longer than a minute or so. “And no one else has complained thus far.”
“Why would they when you so obviously have already picked your favorites?” Camryn pointed at me. “Exhibit A. Why include Gwenlyn in this conversation? She isn’t even a true Summers witch, yet you make a point to shove her presence in everyone’s faces. You favor an outsider over your own family.”
“I am not an outsider,” I said indignantly.
Morgan silenced me with a quick look. “Gwenlyn is an essential member of this coven,” she said to Camryn. “She saved my life and yours by extension. I suggest you treat her with the utmost respect.” She checked her watch again. This conversation was nearing a dangerous length. “Camryn, I have one last thing to say to you before we wrap this us.”
“What’s that?” Camryn snapped.
In a flash, Morgan disappeared from my end of the table and reappeared near Camryn. Camryn stumbled backward, tripping over her chair. For the first time since she had stood up to challenge Morgan, she looked unsure of her decision to do so. Morgan loomed over her, her eyes and expression dark with the severity of her next sentence.
“Do not interfere,” Morgan began, her voice quiet but authoritative, “with any aspect of today’s work. If I hear so much as a whisper that you’re stirring up trouble, I will mix the batch of black salt myself. Understood?”
I contained a wicked grin. Black salt was a mixture of sea salt and yew ash. The combination was meant to ward off those who were unwelcome. If a witch betrayed her coven, black salt was used to banish the perpetrator from returning to her sisters. It was a depressing and lonely fate. I doubted Morgan would ever go through with the threat, but the shocked look on Camryn’s face satisfied me to no end.
“Understood,” Camryn replied through clenched teeth.
“Good.”
Morgan snapped again. Time resumed at its normal pace. The coven looked between the feuding witches, awaiting Morgan’s answer to Camryn’s question.
“We are not yet aware if Alana’s illness is linked to the storm or not,” Morgan announced. “Her collapse might simply be a reaction to the stressful scenario at hand. We’ll monitor her closely and keep you updated. In the meantime, I expect your full attention to be trained on defending Yew Hollow. That goes for everyone in this room.”
6
On Morgan’s orders, I spent the rest of the day in my room with Winnie. For the first hour of my prescribed relaxation time, I stared out of the window at the gray town, watching the witches gather the necessary items for the massive defensive spell Morgan had asked them to build. It was the biggest ward the coven had ever attempted, and if my calculations were correct, it would take approximately three days to complete it. Afterward, no one would be able to enter or exit Yew Hollow. The thought didn’t sit well with me. Yes, Yew Hollow was home, but in the event of an emergency, the ward would not allow us a ready escape route. Unfortunately, it was our best option to defend against whatever enchantment had been cast over the town.
I flopped down on my bed. The coven was so wrapped up in their preparations that no one was free to help me perform a healing spell. I needed it badly. It felt as though someone had tightened a rubber band around my head. The pressure built up behind my eyes until I couldn’t keep them open anymore, while my calf grew more and more agitated. I’d made the mistake of inspecting the witch’s mark again and discovered that it had grown. The lightning-like patterns inched toward the back of my knee. Instinct told me it would continue to spread if we didn’t find some way to contain it, but I was too exhausted to bother with dark magic research.
A drop in temperature near my feet indicated that Winnie had sat at the foot of the bed. She stared blankly at the floor. Without me around, there was nothing for her to do, and I was down for the count. Temporarily, anyway.
“Hey,” I mumbled.
Winnie glanced up. “Yeah?”
I propped myself against the pillows, doing my best to give Winnie my full attention. “This has all been incredibly inconvenient. I swear I’m not as callous as I seem. I want to get to know you. I really do. I want to help you move on.”
Winnie sighed and stretched out across the duvet. “I don’t think you’re callous.”
“I’ve pretty much been ignoring you since the moment you got here,” I admitted. “That’s my fault. I don’t expect you to understand, but it takes a lot for me to open up to someone new, even my own twin.”
“I thought it was just me.”
“It’s definitely not you.” I tucked my feet under the bedspread, snuggling against the pillows. I may have fought against Morgan’s orders to stay in bed for the day, but sleep was overtaking me quickly. “I’m so tired though. I’m desperate for a nap.”
Winnie smiled, and I didn’t think I was ever going to get used to watching someone else’s expressions on my own face.
“You should rest,” she said. “But before you do, could you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Do you mind turning on the TV?”
I chuckled and reached for the remote. Winnie lay next to me, leaving enough space between us to offset her chilly presence. I flicked through the channel list. “Any requests?”
“A cooking show.”
I found a rerun of a bizarre food truck competition show and left Winnie to it. I curled up beneath the sheets, trying to ignore the all-over ache in my muscles and my pounding head. Unintentionally, I rested my forehead near Winnie’s arm. She acted like an ice pack, soothing my nagging headache. In such close quarters, I swore I could sense her aura. It was impossible, but the thought of it helped me forget about the raw mark on my calf. Whether it was in my imagination or not, Winnie’s anesthetic effect relaxed my tender muscles and lulled me to sleep.
Later that night, after several hours of on-and-off napping and binge watching cooking shows with Winnie, I hobbled downstairs in search of relief for my leg. I limped along to keep the weight off my foot, but with every step, the witch’s mark burned and throbbed.
The house was quiet. Everyone had gone to bed after a long day of preparing the ward. I staggered into the kitchen, balancing on one leg as I hopped around and gathered the ingredients for a healing salve. While I was at it, I scoured the fridge for leftovers. I hadn’t eaten all day, so while a bowl of soup warmed in the microwave, I mixed turmeric, olive oil, and star anise. However, when I tried to infuse the ingredients with the spell that would turn ordinary spices into a healing salve, my aura fizzled and faded. I was burned out. Frustrated, I threw the mixture across the room, where the ceramic bowl clanged loudly against the aluminum sink and shattered. Yellow paste spattered the kitchen floor.
Morgan ambled in from the dining room, dressed in flannel pajamas and a satin robe. She blearily rubbed her eyes. “Gwenlyn? What are you doing up? It’s late.”
The soup bubbled over in the microwave. I wrenched the appliance open as it beeped feebly. “I was hungry. Go back to sleep, Morgan. It’s been a long day. I’m fine.”
Morgan’s gaze wandered to the shattered ceramic and the wasted turmeric paste. Then she noticed my one-footed flamingo stance. She summoned a chair from the dining room. “You’re not fine. Sit down, Gwen.”
I collapsed grat
efully, cradling the steaming bowl of soup in my lap. Morgan knelt down and took my leg between her hands, examining the dark mark on my calf with a worried look.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was getting worse?” she asked.
The soup was too hot to eat. The broth rippled as I blew across the surface to cool it. “You have enough things on your plate already.”
“One of those things is you,” she reminded me. She picked up a shard of ceramic. “What happened with the healing salve?”
“I couldn’t complete it.”
“Oh, honey.”
Morgan’s aura glowed as she swept a hand lazily across the kitchen. The broken shards collected themselves from the floor and landed in the trash can. Then Morgan took up the ingredients I had abandoned, mixing a new salve and effortlessly infusing it with her craft. She sat on the floor next to my chair, propped my leg up, and smeared a thick coat of paste from my ankle to the back of my knee. Immediately, the healing spelled dulled the burning ache of the witch’s mark, and I sighed into my soup.
“Better?” Morgan asked.
“Much.”
“It’s spreading,” she noted matter-of-factly. “We’ll have to figure out a way to contain it.”
“And if we don’t?”
Morgan finished painting my calf and wiped the excess salve off of her fingers. She patted my knee. “Don’t worry. We will. In the meantime, I have a favor to ask of you if you’re up for it.”
I straightened in my chair, setting the bowl of broth on the counter. “Always.”
“Camryn is vying for coven leader.”
A sneer tilted my lips. “Officially?”
“Yup.” Morgan stood to rinse the leftover paste from the bowl. “She officially announced it this afternoon, claiming that I’m ‘no longer fit’ to lead.”
“On what grounds?”
“You heard her earlier,” Morgan said. The dish clanged in the sink. “I abandoned the coven when I was young, I was never meant to be the head, her intuition makes her a better choice. Blah, blah, blah.”
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