Witch Myth Super Boxset

by Alexandria Clarke

  “You didn’t discover anything,” Karma reminded her hotly. “You were too busy spewing nonsense and recruiting followers to help the rest of us.”

  “Easy, sister,” Camryn warned with a wink. “I’ve seen what happens when you lose control of your temper. Let’s avoid another tragic mistake, shall we?”

  As Karma’s face turned bright red, Nora whispered in my ear. “What is she talking about?”

  I watched through the gaps in the banister as Morgan rested a hand on Karma’s shoulder, steadying her sister. “An incident that’s no longer relevant. It happened when Karma was a teenager, but Camryn will try anything to defame the sisters’ reputations.”

  As Camryn smirked, Morgan snapped her fingers to regain the coven’s focus. “Here is my concern, ladies. This curse is one of a dark nature. It’s black magic. Our goal is obviously to reverse it. However, the curse itself is a paradox.”

  “Oh, good,” Camryn quipped, reclining with her arms behind her head. “You have some kind of excuse as to why you threw our best shot at surviving out the window.”

  “Shut up, Camryn,” Malia growled.

  “All bark, Malia.”

  “Pay attention,” Morgan snapped, her teeth clicking together like an angry wolf’s. “As I was saying, curses like this one are particularly dangerous. The hex weakens a witch or a coven until they have no choice but to kill the catalyst, but an act of murder is an act of dark magic. Therein lies the problem. Covens lesser than ours have suffered the consequences of committing such a sin, and I will not see the Summerses following the same bleak path.”

  “And how do you plan to save us instead?” Camryn asked.

  Morgan hesitated. She didn’t have a plan. I knew that much. As much as I hated to admit it, this curse was the perfect way to take out the Summerses coven. Morgan was opposed to any sort of dark magic. Killing Kennedy was a last resort option.

  “Further research,” Morgan finally said. “With Nora’s help, we can hold off this illness for a little while longer. I plan on discovering a better alternative to ending this—”

  The legs of Camryn’s chair scraped against the weathered floorboards as she stood up. “Enough already. This is bull. You’ve been telling us the same thing for months, Morgan. ‘Stay calm. Wait it out. We’ll find a way.’ We want action and real results. My gut is screaming. I say we kill the catalyst, dark implications be damned. Who is Kennedy McGrath to us anyway? Ever since she arrived in Yew Hollow, things have only gotten worse.”

  Nora’s grip on me tightened until I winced. I loosened her fingers from my knee and slipped my hand into hers, but she squeezed so hard that my knuckles turned white.

  “Despite your intuitive ability,” Morgan said, “you do not make the final decision for this coven. I do.”

  Camryn’s full red lips tweaked upwards in a humorless smile. “I think you’ll find that might change very shortly.”

  “This again, Camryn?” Morgan demanded. “Do you remember your first attempt at a coup? It didn’t go so well for you. If this coven’s opinion was more evenly split, I might consider the possibility of accepting your suggestion, but it appears that you only mean to use our unfortunate circumstance as a ploy to boost your own selfish agenda. You have no pull.”

  Acid rose in the back of my throat. Weeks ago, Morgan’s words might have been true. Camryn had only managed to convince a fourth of the witches to support her bid for leadership. Since then, the situation had changed. The curse continued to impair the coven, and from a distance, I could see how it might appear that Morgan had not made confident strides in finding a counter spell. About half of the witches in the room—most of whom were on the outer edges of the immediate bloodline—traded knowing glances with each other. One of them looked up at Camryn and nodded firmly.

  “Oh no,” I muttered.

  “What?” Nora whispered. “Gwenlyn?”

  I didn’t have to answer. All at once, Camryn’s supporters stood up from the table. Their number had certainly increased. Camryn had grown her following from eight witches to roughly twenty. Contrary to Morgan’s previous statement, the coven had divided. The opposing witches were calm and quiet, standing with their hands clasped loosely behind their backs to indicate that they meant no harm. This was merely a demonstration. Camryn was playing a smarter game this time around.

  Morgan’s jaw clenched at the sight of her own family letting her down, but I could tell that beneath her anger, she struggled with profound sadness. For ten years, Morgan had protected and loved every member of her coven, and half of them repaid the favor by turning their backs on her.

  “So this is how it’s going to be,” she said softly.

  Camryn lifted her chin. “I’m afraid so.”

  Morgan’s eyes flickered toward the staircase, where Nora sat half-hidden behind me, before she spoke to Camryn again. “Then I acknowledge your proposal. Here’s my counter offer. Should the curse progress to the point of no survival, I will order the death of Kennedy McGrath.”

  Nora ripped her fingers from mine, tearing down the steps and out through the front door. The coven, in the midst of their division, barely noticed, but Morgan caught my eye. I understood her unspoken order. Nora was my charge now. As Kennedy’s sister, she would not be safe from Camryn’s influence. As I slipped off the stairs and into a winter coat, Morgan continued to speak to the witches.

  “Until then,” she said, “Kennedy and her sister remain under my protection. I am still the leader of this coven, and unless an official challenge is made, what I say goes.”

  The discussion continued, but the voices faded from my awareness as I let myself outside. To my surprise, the drizzling raindrops had turned into a light flurry of snowflakes. They melted mid-air—it was too early in the season for a heavy snowstorm—but there was something soothing about the snowfall anyway.

  I left the hood of my coat down, enjoying the frigid flakes against my warm cheeks. Nora was out of sight already. She and Kennedy had been staying in the renovated barn in the woods behind the house, and it was likely that she had returned there. I tucked my hands into my pockets, tipped my head up toward the night sky, and headed out. Soon, the warm glow of candlelight greeted me through the dark trees, and I knocked politely on the barn door.

  Nora appeared teary eyed and sniffling, inching the door open just enough to get a look at her visitor. “Oh, it’s you. Come in, I guess.”

  The cozy interior of the barn smelled like cinnamon and cloves. I shook off my coat as Nora drifted off to the kitchen to check on whatever was baking in the oven.

  “Morgan had to say that about Kennedy,” I told her. “She doesn’t mean it. Believe me, if there’s another way to end this curse, we’ll find it.”

  Nora stared through the window of the oven. “What if there isn’t?”

  “There’s gotta be.” I tossed my coat over the back of an armchair and knelt next to Nora. A batch of cupcakes rose under the heat of the burners. “Do they bake faster if you stare at them?”

  Nora rewarded me with the faintest hint of a smile. “Coffee?”

  “Any chamomile tea? It’s been a long day.”

  “Coming up.”

  As Nora bustled with the teapot, I remembered our similarities. Neither one of us had grown up knowing that about our heritage. It showed in everyday simplicities, like the fact that Nora set the kettle on the stove to boil rather than using witchcraft to do it.

  “Why did you stay?” I asked her. “With the coven, I mean. You were the first one to realize Kennedy’s connection to all of this. You could’ve warned her, but instead you told Morgan straight away. I never expected you to pick our side.”

  “It’s not about sides,” Nora replied. She flicked off her oven mitts. “I love Kennedy with all of my heart, and I would do anything to protect her. This was the only way I could think to do that.”

  “You knew Morgan wouldn’t immediately kill her.”

  “I was counting on it.” She sighed, wiping her forehea
d with her hand. “Kennedy doesn’t get it. Her only goal is to keep me safe. If she had it her way, she would march me out of Yew Hollow and never look back.”

  “And you?”

  Nora looked up at me. “I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t leave you all to die. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel a connection to the Summerses, like I’m meant to be here.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “But it doesn’t mean I’m not worried about Kennedy,” Nora went on, pacing from the oven to the sink and back again. “You don’t know her, Gwen. She doesn’t do well on her own. I’m concerned she might do something stupid out there.”

  “We’ll check on her frequently,” I promised. “Believe me, I’ve seen your sister in action. She doesn’t break easily—ow!”

  A flash of pain radiated up the back of my left leg, beginning at the arch of my foot and traveling all the way to the middle of my thigh. My leg buckled beneath my weight, and I grabbed the kitchen counter to prevent myself from falling over.

  “You okay?” Nora asked. Her fingertips glowed with her healing craft, but I waved her away.

  “Yeah, yeah. Can I borrow your bathroom?”

  “Sure.”

  Carefully, I slipped past Nora and into the tiny bathroom opposite the kitchen. Once inside, I rolled up the leg of my pants above my knee, twisted around, and checked the damage. A pure black Lichtenberg figure snaked up my calf. It was a witch’s mark, the leftover power of a casted curse. It wasn’t new. I had acquired it the same day the Summers coven fell ill. The coincidence wasn’t lost on me. Whoever had hexed Yew Hollow wanted me out of commission too. At first, it seemed manageable, contained to the lower half of my leg, but I was horrified to see that it had spread up the back of my thigh. Not a good sign.

  The door to the bathroom swung open.

  “Hey, Gwenlyn—whoa.”

  I hastily yanked my pants back into place, but not before Nora got an eyeful of the ominous black pattern across my skin. “Do you mind?”

  “What is that thing?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, taking her by the shoulders and attempting to pilot her out of the bathroom. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She stood firm, one eyebrow raised. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “Listen, Nora.” I ducked down to look her in the eye. “You can’t tell Morgan about this. She has enough on her plate already without having to worry about me. I can take care of it myself.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Please.”

  For a long moment, I didn’t think she would agree, but she finally nodded. In the kitchen, the kettle whistled on the stove and the oven timer went off all at once. As Nora turned to tend to her cupcakes, my shoulders sagged in relief. I followed after her, doing my best to ignore the dull ache inching up the back of my thigh.

  3

  Kennedy

  My first thought was that Nora was being selfish. It was a thought brought on by anger, resentment, and years of being second best to my younger sister. It lasted only a moment before I remembered how many times I had left Nora behind. She was dealt the bad hand in our relationship. I wasn’t an easy person to be around, let alone defend, yet Nora had done so to the best of her abilities for as long as I could remember. She was the opposite of selfish, and I tried to remind myself of that. She would never agree to warding me out of Yew Hollow without good reason, but that didn’t make the ache in my chest go away.

  I didn’t trust Morgan Summers. Her main goal was to protect those in her own coven. Nora and I were not included in that number. How could I have faith in someone who had abducted my little sister from her own home? In her mind, the decision as to whether I lived or died was in her hands, but I would not go so easily. I owed the Summers coven nothing. Yes, Gwenlyn and some of the other witches had begun to teach me how to control my witchcraft, but I viewed my magical education as a trade-off for Nora’s healing services. If only I could rescue Nora from inside the ward, we could leave the shambles of Yew Hollow behind and start our own coven, just the two of us. Unfortunately, Nora’s moral compass, unlike mine, pointed true north. Her selflessness was both a gift and a curse. She would never leave the witches to their own devices if she though that she could help, which meant I didn’t have a lot of options to consider on my side of the ward. All of my contingency plans required access to Yew Hollow.

  I spent the rest of the daylight walking the perimeter of the ward, circling the entire town to search for cracks or weak spots. The problem was that I didn’t know how to spot a flaw in the shield. Every part of it shimmered evenly with the Summerses’ witchcraft, the same color as a glittering ocean beneath the sun. I wondered if mortals could see it. The incandescent dome was far from inconspicuous, rising high above the skyline, but I also knew that Morgan was powerful enough to cast an illusion that would hide it from prying eyes.

  When I returned to the spot where the Summerses had evicted me, I kicked a stone on the ground out of frustration. The rock, regrettably, was fixed to the dirt beneath it. An exasperated huff made its way out of me as my toes suffered from the blow through my boots. When I bent over to assess the damage, fuming, the fractured bones in my ribcage screamed for attention. I went down with a pitiful yelp, coming to rest on the cold dirt. Every breath felt like a sharp knife in my lungs. I took shallow sips of air to avoid further upset and gingerly probed my side for the injured ribs.

  I had never cast a healing spell on my own before. To my limited knowledge, most witches were able to do so if the injury in question was manageable. Multiple witches could join their energies to treat more severe afflictions. Nora was special. Her ability allowed her to do what other witches could not, like bring people and animals back from near death. I, on the other hand, didn’t even know how to whip up the healing salve that the coven often used to speed along recovery. Gwenlyn taught me the very basics, but in our limited time, we hadn’t had a plethora of opportunities to practice. Nevertheless, I had to try.

  It was something of a process to call on my inner fire. For years, I had an ineradicable sense of doom whenever that well of power threatened to unleash itself. It was difficult to banish the idea that something terrible would happen every time I used my witchcraft. According to Morgan, it was just the opposite. I would find more trouble in dampening my fiery orange aura, as my craft would eventually back up on itself and overflow.

  Cautiously, I opened the mental valve that allowed me access to my craft. It was always there, smoldering like hot coals in the pit of my stomach. I recalled one of my lessons with the coven. Witches channeled spells through their own ability, which meant that I somehow had to find a way to turn fire into a healing tool. I took a few meditating breaths and closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind of the complications that awaited me on the other side of the ward. Then, with careful deliberation, I called warmth to my fingertips and willed the heat into my damaged bones. At first, nothing happened other than a change in temperature, so I whispered a few words in Latin that I remembered from Gwenlyn’s teachings.

  The incantation did the trick. The muscles around my rib cage relaxed and the witchcraft filled in the fractures. I wasn’t strong or experienced enough to completely fix the problem. The soreness would stick around for a few more days, and though the harsh purple bruise on my torso faded slightly, it didn’t disappear. Experimentally, I twisted to either side, testing my range of motion. The injury twinged, but it was no worse than a nuisance. I could run or fight if I needed to.

  Dusk transitioned quickly into night, and the temperature dropped to a worrying low. Morgan had been so kind as to drop my duffel bag off with me, but an extra sweater or two wasn’t going to save me from the chill. With a satisfied grin, I realized an easy solution. My inner fire was pretty useful for a thing or two. I collected a pile of kindling at the base of tree, sat down, and focused on lighting it. The kindling sparked and smoked, but no fire appeared despite my best efforts. The healing spell had burned me out. I did
n’t have enough energy left to keep myself warm.

  “Crap,” I muttered, scattering the kindling across the ground. I’d have to find another way to make it through the night without hypothermia setting in. As if to mock me, snow began to fall, alighting on my hair and nose. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I began to pull loose branches from the surrounding trees to build a makeshift shelter with, but as pine needles and snowflakes rained down on my head, I realized that my efforts were unnecessary. Just through the woods, I could make out the long road that led out of Yew Hollow toward the interstate. I jogged toward it, the condensation of my breath huffing out behind me. As I broke through the trees, I grinned.

  Nora’s car sat right where I had left it upon my arrival. It wouldn’t turn on so close to the ward, but the keys were in my duffel bag and the cozy leather interior would be a far better place to sleep than the cold, hard ground. At least I’d have shelter from the snow and the wind.

  The expensive sedan chirped weakly as I unlocked it. I layered the backseat with spare clothing then closed the door tightly and hunkered down in my nest, buttoning my coat all the way up to my chin and pulling the hood over my head. I curled up, tucking my knees into my chest, and closed my eyes. There was nothing else to do but sleep out the snowfall. I would try to break through the ward tomorrow. Gradually, I dozed off.

  A sharp rap to the window startled me out of my slumber, and I vaulted upward, banging my head against the roof of the car. With no streetlights and the moon obscured by clouds, the night was blacker than the void. Two silhouettes stood outside the sedan. Were it not for the familiar golden-green and rosy pink glows of Gwenlyn and Nora’s auras, I would’ve thought I was being mugged. I kicked open the door. Before I could even stand up, Nora launched herself into my arms.

  “What are you doing out here?” I demanded, wrapping my baby sister in a hug. To my relief, she was warm in a borrowed winter coat that I assumed belonged to Gwenlyn, if the way it swamped Nora’s small frame was any indication. “How did you get through the ward?”