Clearwater Witches Boxset

by Madeline Freeman

  I expect Bridget’s reaction to be much the same as Crystal’s, but one she has the herb in her hand, her face goes thoughtful. She curls her fingers loosely around the root before closing her eyes. After a moment, she shivers, and the sensation thrums through the cord that binds us all together. “I can feel it,” she says, fixing her gaze on Anya. The corners of her mouth quirk up in a smile. “I mean, I think I can. There’s a certain… glow to it.”

  Felix catches my eye, his brow wrinkling, but I’m more interested in Anya’s reaction.

  “That’s good,” she murmurs. “It’s possible you have a talent for spell writing. Have you ever tried before?”

  Bridget shakes her head. “No. I probably wouldn’t be any good at that. You should’ve seen how long it took me to figure out how to do just basic spells.”

  “Learning to use magic and being able to combine elements to make magic are two different things,” Anya says.

  Bridget shakes her head again, but when she gives the Althea to Lexie, she can’t quite hide a smile.

  Once we’ve all had a chance to hold the herb, Anya directs us in how to perform a dowsing spell. It’s similar in many ways to the locater spell I helped the witches perform in my old reality when they were searching for the whereabouts of the crystal containing Seth—although we didn’t know that at the time. I try to catch Crystal’s eye as Anya flattens a map of the town on the coffee table in the center of the room, but she doesn’t notice. Maybe the memory isn’t etched as clearly for her as it is for me—after all, she and the witches tried multiple times to find that stone before I came along. I stretch my psychic abilities out and brush against her consciousness but pull back immediately. Her mind is a swirling, jumbled mix. I can tell without delving into what she’s thinking. Embarrassment floods me. Like it’s not bad enough she’s linked with Tucker, here I am trying to invade her mind just to see if she’s thinking the same thing I am. Of course she’s got a lot going on in her head—how could she not?

  Anya leads us all in the dowsing spell, and I’m once again surprised by her understanding of magic. She’s a psychic, but it seems she has more than a general knowledge of witchcraft.

  I link my energy with Owen’s and Fox’s as the circle begins whispering the incantation Anya leads us in. I do my best to recall the energy of the herb, relying heavily on the strong impression pushed forward by Bridget. It’s clear she noticed many more nuances and subtleties than I did.

  In a flash, the map before us bursts into flames, leaving behind only a small scrap. Bria squeals and Griffin and West both snort with laughter before catching each other’s eyes and shifting uncomfortably. Dad is at the coffee table in an instant, inspecting the scrap.

  “I know where this is—it’s a patch of woods off Old Orr Road. We should get going.”

  “What? Now?” Tucker sounds positively alarmed. I can’t say I blame him. Dread flutters in my stomach. What if the herb is ready? Does that mean we’ll be casting this vessel spell tonight? Making a move on Seth before the day is over? It’s too soon—we’re not prepared.

  “We don’t all have to go, Ben,” Anya says, her fingers brushing his forearm. “If it’s ready, we can call and have them meet us, and if it’s not, I should be able to get a sense of how much longer it’ll be.”

  “If it’s not ready, we should also set up some protective spells around the area,” Dad adds.

  “I’d like to come,” Bridget says, standing. When eyes flicker toward her, she presses her lips together. “If that’s okay.”

  Anya smiles warmly, nodding. “I think that’s a good idea. You might pick up on something I can’t.”

  Bridget flushes with pleasure as she crosses to Anya’s side.

  Dad surveys the room as the rest of us stand. “I suppose everyone else can head home. Krissa.” He beckons me.

  I rankle at being summoned like a dog. “I’d rather stay here.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I hold up the wrist with the protective charm. “Remember?”

  He purses his lips. His earlier hesitation about whether I trust him is gone, replaced by irritation that I won’t comply with his requests. I can’t summon an ounce of regret for my actions. If he doesn’t want me to be alone, he should stay here. Why does he have to go with Anya? Can’t she read a map? He opens his mouth to mount an argument, but Lexie cuts him off.

  “Crystal and I can stay here. I mean, we’re Bridget’s ride. Her mom would probably think it was weird if we weren’t the ones to drop her off.”

  Dad’s eyes flick to Lexie. For a second I’m sure he’s going to come up with some reason why her suggestion won’t work, but then he blows a breath out his nostrils. “Sure. That sounds good.”

  Crystal sucks her teeth, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’d rather go home. I still have that history homework to finish and who knows how long this is going to take.”

  Lexie arches an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about history homework?”

  Dad’s face goes stern. “Krissa, if your friends aren’t going to stay—”

  “I’ve got the history book up in my room.” Not that I intend to work on the assignment—I was just too lazy to put it back in my locker after school. “Crystal can do it here.”

  Lexie claps her hands. “Great. It’s settled. Crystal, why don’t you get set up in the dining room. Krissa and I will go get the book.” Without waiting for a response, she tugs on my arm as she starts for the stairs.

  I allow her to tow me along, even though her behavior strikes me as strange. Although we were good friends in my reality, in this timeline, she and I aren’t exactly close. Still, it’s clear she wants to get me alone for some reason, and I’m curious what it might be. I could exploit our connection through the binding spell, but I don’t want to. If she has something to confide, it’ll mean more if she has to say it out loud.

  Lexie doesn’t speak until we’re safely in my bedroom. Voices downstairs fade and the front door thumps dully as it closes. We’re alone in the house now but for Crystal.

  “Can I ask you something?” she finally says, following as I cross to my desk. I threw my backpack beneath it when I got home.

  “I figured you were going to.” I unzip the pack and shove a couple folders and a notebook out of the way to reveal the history book.

  Lexie shifts her weight from foot to foot as I pull out the text and turn to face her. “Does Crystal seem… off to you?”

  Warning bells sound in my head. Has Lexie noticed the differences in Crystal since she and I got dropped into this timeline? In our reality, she and Crystal weren’t close, despite the fact they’re cousins. Here they’ve been part of the same circle for years. While the two versions of Crystal don’t seem too dissimilar to me, maybe Lexie has noticed things I haven’t. “Off? Since when?”

  “Since the binding spell.”

  I release a relieved breath. This I can deal with. “I haven’t really noticed, but, if I’m honest, things have been a little intense for me—you know, Dad being back, being linked to Fox, Jodi leaving.”

  She nods understandingly. “It’s just… I don’t know. She’s really distant. And it’s not just with me—Bridget sees it too. I’m worried about her.”

  What I told Lexie is true—I’ve had too much going on to give much thought to how everyone else is adjusting to the binding spell and everything with Seth. But now that she mentions it, Crystal probably is having a hard time with it all. Not only is she linked to Tucker, who she publicly dumped, the reason she broke up with him was because she had a crush on someone else. Seth. Who turned out to be a bad guy who tried to kill her. So, yeah, I can see how it might take her some time to process. “How can I help?”

  She bites her lower lip. “Do you think you could, like, read her or something? With your psychic side? I mean, I know you’re not linked to her, but I already asked Tucker and he was no help and I fi
gured since you’ve got more experience with your abilities…”

  I’m surprised. She must be worried if she reached out to Tucker. Still, I just avoided reading Crystal, determined not to intrude on however she’s dealing with things. But the concern radiating off Lexie, the unease etched on her face, is enough to make me reconsider my stance. I won’t be scanning Crystal for a silly personal reason, I’ll be checking on her mental state at the request of her cousin. It feels like a more legitimate use of my abilities, and I’m more comfortable with the idea. “Sure. Let’s get down there and I’ll see if I pick up on anything.”

  Relief spreads across Lexie’s features. “Thanks.”

  When we make it back downstairs, Crystal grumbles a thanks for the book before starting on the assignment. As she reads over the questions, I push forward with my abilities. Crystal’s not psychic, so I don’t bother being subtle. Her mind is full of the usual clutter—thoughts about the work at hand, mild irritation at not getting her way about going home, curiosity about how long it’ll be before Bridget returns. Below the surface, things are harder to decipher, but everything still feels like Crystal.

  “Lexie, how about we get those herbs you wanted from the greenhouse?”

  She gives me a blank stare, but before she can ask what I’m talking about, I glance at the back of Crystal’s head.

  “Yes,” Crystal says dryly. “Please go anywhere but here. You two are creeping me out.” She turns, pointing the eraser end of her pencil as she surveys us with narrowed eyes. “And don’t think for a second I’m letting either of you copy.”

  As Crystal turns back to the table, I lead Lexie down the hall to the greenhouse. Once she closes the door behind us, I shrug. “She seems fine. She’s probably just overwhelmed by everything that’s happening.”

  Lexie’s eyebrows draw together. “Are you sure?”

  I walk further into the room, toward the long wooden table Jodi uses when she bundles herbs and mixes teas. I grab two green plastic watering cans and take them to the sink in the corner of the room. “It’s not an exact science or anything. But she feels like herself.” I turn on the faucet and fill one can. As I move the second under the flow to replace it, I hold the first out to her. “Here, make yourself useful. Jodi’ll be pissed if all her plants are dead when she gets back.”

  At first I’m sure Lexie will tell me off, but after a beat she takes it and begins watering a nearby line of hanging baskets. Once my can is filled, I join her.

  Some of the herbs are starting to get overgrown, so after I’ve emptied my container, instead of refilling it, I grab the pruning shears and start trimming. I set handfuls of stalks in clumps on the work table as I go. It’s comforting working out here, like I’m close to Jodi despite her absence.

  I’m so intent on my work I almost don’t notice when Lexie leaves the room. I continue trimming and grouping herbs until things look manageable again. I need to hang these to dry otherwise my work will have been for nothing. There’s usually a ball of twine on the table, but it’s not there now. It’s not in any of the boxes underneath so I search between planters. When that search turns up nothing, I open the large plastic chest in the far corner of the room. A fresh roll of twine sits atop a stack of dusty cardboard boxes. I grab it, but instead of closing the lid on the chest, I hesitate. Something in here makes my skin tingle and the hairs on my arms stand on end. I’m digging through the boxes before I’ve even made the conscious decision to search. The first two turn up nothing but empty planters, gardening gloves, and trowels, but I know I’ve found what I’m looking for when I open the third: Inside the box is a book bound in brown leather that’s cracked with age. It’s heavy in my hands. I open it carefully, knowing before I do what I’ll find: This book is too similar to the one Crystal possesses to not be the same thing. It’s the Barnette family grimoire—a collection of spells and musings from the witches in my ancestry. I turn toward the back of the book and am not disappointed: Jodi’s handwriting adorns these pages—mostly recipes for teas and explanations of their uses, but occasionally there are anecdotes about customers at the shop. I’m just settling down against the wall to read through Jodi’s entries when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.

  The text is from my dad. Monday.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Instead of hitting snooze two or three times when my alarm goes off Friday morning, I wake and dress quickly before settling at my desk to read the grimoire.

  I stayed up until after one in the morning reading it. At first, I just read Jodi’s entries. Some date back to when she first started practicing magic with her circle in high school. She recounts successes and failures—mostly failures—the group had while attempting spells from Crystal Taylor’s family’s grimoire. She reflects on her conflicted thoughts on the matter of sharing this book with the others, her main fear being Crystal would insist she be the one to look after it. It’s strange seeing Jodi’s thoughts from when she was my age, but it’s also comforting, like part of her is still here with me.

  After reading through her entries several times, I ventured back to earlier pages. Some are so faded and worn I can barely make them out, and others are stained by spills of dark-colored liquids or illegible due to the spidery handwriting, but still others are clear. Before I finally went to bed—only because Mom called up to say my light was keeping her awake—I found spells for everything from “inviting the affections of a gentleman (or lady)” to ones involving flatulence—relieving it and causing it in others.

  I glance at the time on my phone before carefully easing open the book. I still have at least half an hour before breakfast. I flip through a few pages I read last night until I find a new one: “A Spell for the Confinement of a Living Thing.” Like many of the other entries, this one is accompanied by a brief description of what led to the creation of the spell. Apparently this particular ancestor had a goat that kept wandering off and getting into mischief. She had tried every nonmagical means she could think of to contain the goat, but it always managed to get free. Finally, she adapted a spell from one a man named Thatcher Harrison taught her. Her modification would allow certain living things—herself, her chickens, her husband and children—to pass, but that would keep the goat contained. I read through the spell, which seems straightforward enough. When this is all over and things are back to normal, maybe I can finally convince my parents to let me get a dog. I always wanted one when I was younger, but they both had childhood sob stories about their own dogs running away never to be seen again. If I could master this spell, though, that argument would be a moot point.

  I smile at the idea, starting to weigh the pros and cons of different breeds, but before I can follow the line of thinking too far, something in the air changes. The mood of the house shifts from peaceful to heavy and filled with dread in the span of a second.

  Something’s wrong.

  I open the desk drawer and tuck the grimoire inside before descending the stairs. Is it Seth? Has he done something—found a way inside Clearwater? Or maybe he’s using Sasha and Elliot to stir up trouble.

  It’s not until I’m nearly to the first floor that I hear hushed voices—Mom’s and Dad’s.

  “I thought you said outside Clearwater was the safest place for them to be?” Mom’s voice is sharp and it’s coming from the living room. I hold my breath as I tiptoe closer.

  “And I still think it is,” Dad says, his tone soothing. “For all we know, this was a legitimate accident.”

  Mom snorts. “She doesn’t seem to think so. And neither do I.” She sighs. “You’re holding me at arm’s length here, and I’m trying to be understanding, but this is your sister we’re talking about.”

  Jodi. Forgetting my initial plan to eavesdrop, I round the corner. Mom and Dad are both still in their pajamas, and Mom’s phone is clutched in her hand. “What about Jodi?”

  Two sets of eyes clasp on me. Dad’s jaw clenches, but Mom’s face softens. She reaches for me and I cross to her. “I got a text this morning.�
�

  “From Jodi?”

  She nods. “Well, she didn’t come out and say it, but it’s clear. She’s not using her old phone for obvious reasons. This is the first time your dad or I have heard from her since she left, and I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

  Panic flares. “Is she okay?”

  “Yes,” Mom says firmly. “But it looks like her friend David Cole was in an accident a couple days ago. A serious one. Now, he’ll live, apparently, but it was touch-and-go for a while.”

  I allow her words to sink in. “And you think it was Seth? The Devoted?”

  Mom presses her lips into a tight line. She’s fighting whether or not to tell me more. The overwhelming sense I get from my dad is that he wants her to keep it to herself, but he knows better than to say that in front of me. After a beat, she releases a breath. “That’s what she’s worried about.”

  Dad lets out an exasperated sigh. “For all we know, it was just an accident. Jodi and her friends already cast protective spells around themselves, but I suggested they do a cloaking spell, too—just as a precaution. And change locations often, of course.”

  “What? That’s it?” It doesn’t seem like nearly enough. If the Devoted know where Jodi is, she’s in danger. Maybe Seth’s getting impatient and he wants to get into town. Maybe he’s getting antsy because the full moon’s less than a week away and he knows what the elder council’s plan is. If he wants it badly enough, all he has to do is kill Jodi and her circle and the spell they cast will be broken. “You should tell her to come home. If she’s here, we can protect her.”

  “She can take care of herself,” Dad insists softly, like he’s trying to believe it too. “In any case, you can’t waste all your time worrying—not when we’ve got so many things going on here. Anya and Bridget agree the root will be ready on Monday. This will all be over soon, and then Jodi will come back and everything will be all right.” He places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “You’ll see.”