The Witches of Merribay (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 1)

by B. J. Smash

  I took several deep breaths, opened the door, and stepped out. Instantly, the rain pelted me in the face and soaked my T-shirt and shorts, making me cold. My hair was soon soaked, and the rain stung my eyes.

  I began to jog, and as I approached the boat, the wind picked up and the surf swelled over the dock, causing it to sway back and forth. Fog had rolled in and thunder clapped overhead, shaking the ground. A bright flash of lightning struck off in the distance, out over the rising waves of the ocean.

  Why did we have to have a thunderstorm on this night, the night I had to sneak into someone's houseboat? I had a feeling, though, that no matter what night I chose, it would storm.

  I was told by Izadora that if Magella hadn't left the boat, I was to pretend that I needed a reading and abort the mission.

  I stepped on the dock and immediately almost fell into the water, but I caught my balance and slowly crept toward the boat. With each step, the dock seemed to fly up to greet my foot, and it felt like I was walking on the moon or something.

  Through the fog, I could see the boat. As wavy as the sea was, the boat sat peacefully, like it was above any weather conditions. A chill ran down my spine, and not just from the cold.

  On board, I knocked on the door. No one answered. I knocked again. No answer. Before my hand reached the handle, the door slowly opened up to darkness. Stepping in, my eyes adjusted to see that one lone candle had been left burning by the kitchen sink.

  “Hello?”

  No answer.

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat.

  I would never find this rolling pin without light, and I ran my hands over the walls for a light switch. There wasn't any. I would have to use the candle. As I stepped forward, another candle lit on the counter, and another by the stove. How were the candles lighting? As bizarre as the situation was, at least I could see now. I began searching the drawers.

  After searching the kitchen completely, I moved on to the living room, where more candles on the mantle lit, all on their own accord. Creepy.

  I searched under the sofas, under the cushions, in a chest in the corner. I even looked behind books on the bookshelves for secret compartments, checking the cauldron in the fireplace as well, all to no avail. After a while, I knew it wasn't there. My eyes scanned the room and they landed on the shell curtain I had seen when Zinnia and I had first come here. A gut feeling overwhelmed me that this is where it had to be.

  I crossed the room and gently pulled back the curtain, and the shells made tinkling sounds.

  I didn't bother to bring any candles with me, for I knew that when I stepped into the room, more would light. And as it so happened, I was correct. But I was not prepared for what I saw. What I thought might be a bedroom was no bedroom at all. The room had an eerie appearance, and the soft white candlelight reflected off from luminescent blue walls that seemed to glow from within. This caused the whole room to shimmer in blue lights. Little individual specks on the walls, reminded me of stars, and they glowed and then dimmed repeatedly.

  Something lumpy moved slightly on the walls, and walking closer, I saw that there appeared to be several live starfish. Ew. It was creepy, but all the same, in a disturbing way—it was beautiful.

  Significantly colder in here, I rubbed my arms to gain warmth. My breath formed in front of my face, and my nose felt like an ice-cube.

  I could hear water dripping somewhere; like a drippy faucet. Other than that, all was silent.

  Observing the area, I noticed at the end of the room, sitting under a window that overlooked the sea, sat an impressive wooden altar. It was inlaid with jewels the size of my thumbs. I touched the white edges; they were covered in something cool and smooth. I soon realized that it was Ivory. I loved elephants—and I despised ivory owners.

  A dead puffer fish blown up to its full capacity hung in a corner, or at least I assumed he was dead.

  There was movement on the floor. Crabs?

  “How were these things alive?” I began talking out loud to myself. It was something I was fond of doing when I was alone and became extremely nervous.

  Quickly I turned to the altar; it had to be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  I began to sort through some things: vials of liquids and a huge book, each page filled with gibberish.

  “Oh my, I wonder if Izadora knows about this book.” I said to no one.

  And as I spoke, the pages turned into sentences that I could comprehend.

  I read a few lines about some spell that would glamorize a man. The ingredients all had to do with the ocean: sea cucumbers, squid legs, and porcupine fish. This was no ordinary book for an ordinary witch that you'd find at a bookstore. This was the book of a master witch, who I had no doubt could literally turn me into a frog.

  I slammed the book shut, causing a noise like a grunt to escape from its pages.

  “Oh God,” I said.

  I had to get out of there soon. I searched through things such as animal hair, bones, and teeth. I searched through things that I don't even want to describe! And soon, I came to one solitary box that was totally out of place compared to the altar. It was a simple wooden box that looked to be two hundred years old.

  No lock. I opened it to find one single, lonely picture. A picture of four children sitting on a little hill under a tall tree, with rolling fields spread out as far as the eye could see. It had to be taken somewhere such as Ireland or Scotland.

  None of the children had smiles; in fact, they frowned. I had to wonder what their problem was. The clothing was simple. The girls wore dresses, and the boys breeches with plain shirts.

  If this were a childhood picture—although I couldn't imagine Magella as a child—then the other girl must be Izadora. And one of the boys was Izaill. But who was the fourth child? I shivered to think who this could be, knowing what I knew about the other three. Maybe he was dead?

  I lay the picture back into the box, and as I moved forward to set it back down, a floorboard creaked. I looked around to see nothing, averting my eyes away from the creatures on the walls. I stepped again, and the floorboard creaked. I did this a few times, and realized it shouldn’t take a detective to realize that: There was something below the floorboard.

  I grabbed a gold knife from the altar; it looked more like a thick letter opener. Placing the edge between the floorboards, I pried the board loose.

  Breathing deeply, I tried not to pass out. There in front of me, wrapped around what I believed to be the rolling pin, was a black snake. I was sure it had to be the rolling pin, although it looked different than I thought it would. It was a really old version of a one…a solid piece of wood, about a foot long, and the handles were carved out of the same piece of wood.

  I whimpered aloud.

  Being scared of snakes, I froze. How would I get the rolling pin from this snake? I had to think of a way. If I picked him up, what would he do? I didn't even know if he was the poisonous kind, and right then I decided that I would return to Izadora empty-handed. I moved to lay the floorboard down.

  And then I stopped and pulled the floorboard back up. I would not leave without the rolling pin. He couldn't be more than two feet long, and he looked like he could be dead anyway.

  I held my breath, reached down, and grabbed the snake by the back of the head and pulled. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to find out that—he was not dead. His eyes opened, and his tongue flailed out of his mouth, hissing. He wriggled his body with such force that I threw him to the other side of the room. As I tried to back up and exit the room, I heard a pop, pop, pop. He raised himself up, growing five to six feet, and his head grew three times the size as it had been before. Fangs popped out his mouth, and his eyes blazed orange-red. He was no ordinary snake; and he was about to kill me.

  My screams echoed throughout the room.

  I turned to run but he was way too fast. He had me in his grasp before I could take in my next breath. His body coiled around the full length of my body, including my neck, and he began to s
queeze the life from me.

  Thoughts of my failure filled my mind. What would happen to Father now? I would never see him again. I should have been more prepared for something like this to happen. So much for Izadora's blood potion.

  But there came a point when the snake could squeeze no more, and I could barely breathe. In all rights, I should have been dead by now. But something inside me wouldn't let the snake squeeze any tighter. Or…he had planned a slow death.

  We lay there for some time on the floor. I could see the crabs scurrying around, maybe ten or so. Soon enough, my eyes began to feel heavy, and I thought I might be dying after all. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard, “Caesar. Release the girl.” My eyes popped back open. I hadn't heard anyone enter the boat.

  The snake uncoiled itself from my body, went to the corner of the room, and rolled up into a ball.

  When my arms were free, I grabbed my chest, as my lungs had begun to burn. I took in full mouthfuls of air; breathing had never felt so good.

  I focused my eyes to see the old woman, Magella. A frown spanned her face, and her long wet, scraggly grey hair clung to her pale face. Droplets of water dripped to the floor, and her skin appeared wrinkled and somewhat water-logged. She squinted her eyes at me, and said, “Well, look who has decided to grace us with a visit. No doubt my sister sent you. For the rolling pin, of course.”

  She bent down and picked the rolling pin up from the floor.

  “Come,” she said.

  Standing, my legs felt shaky, but I managed to make it to a chair she pointed to in the dining area. She then proceeded to tie my hands to the chair. Feeling too weak to fight her, and knowing that I couldn't beat her, I let her do it.

  “What does she want with the rolling pin? Did she tell you?” asked Magella.

  “She said the rolling pin is hers and she needs it.”

  “Ah, of course she did.” She paced the floor back and forth and then stood in front of me. “The rolling pin is mine.” Her beady eyes focused in on mine, and this caused me to gulp…twice. The old witch freaked me out. Still…I couldn’t be a chicken.

  “But it is hers, she said so.” My hands tingled from the ropes being too tight. “And you possess it unrightfully.”

  The old woman paced the floor, and seemed to be in deep thought for a moment. Then turning to me, she cackled and said, “She must need it to break the spell. And guess what, my little friend? She cannot have it.”

  “What spell?” I asked.

  “A spell my dear brother, Izaill, has cast upon her. He indeed is a genius. He has always been her equal, but this time, he has outdone her. She'll never be freed!” She laughed loudly then; in a mad scientist sort of way.

  All I could think of was, Drumm and Izadora were going to have to be more vocal with their information. I should have already known what Magella was telling me. Izaill was behind a curse that he had cast upon Izadora, and that's why she needed this rolling pin. It was somehow a magical rolling pin.

  Before she could answer, the front door flew open. In walked a person that I had not expected to see any time soon. “Zinnia?”

  “You're back, then. Good girl. Look who we have here…” said Magella.

  My sister seemed to squirm, and her face turned the color of Gran's prize red roses. She stepped forward and leaned on the kitchen counter.

  “I'm sorry, Ivy. You should have stayed away from here.”

  “Why?” said Magella. “We can mark her, too.” She turned and went into the parlor and through the shell curtain.

  Zinnia rubbed the inside of her lower right arm; I noticed then a mark the size of an apple. It was an upside-down triangle. “The element symbol for water,” Zinnia said.

  “For water?” I said, confused.

  Magella returned, holding a needle in one hand and an inkwell in the other.

  I tried to move but my hands were tied too tight. I kicked her in the shin instead, making her grit her teeth and snarl. Spit flew out of her mouth and landed on my forehead.

  I cringed inside.

  “Be still,” she commanded. And I could move my legs no more.

  She held the needle above my arm and let go, causing it to hang midair. Then she dumped the ink out of the small jar, and it floated as if it were a soap bubble.

  “Ink so black, work your magic, for tonight, power is mine.” The needled dipped itself into the ink, swirled around, and positioned itself over my right arm. But although it tried like heck, it could not pierce my skin; it was like trying to write on metal. A slight glow emanated from my skin, and the needle bent.

  “No!” she yelled. “She has already claimed you.” She paced back and forth. “You have drank her blood.” She said the word blood with such distaste that I caught myself sinking lower in my chair. But no…I wouldn’t let her see me cower. In fact…I think maybe I had the upper hand now.

  I nodded my head, and I did so proudly. Hey, if Izadora's blood spared me from an unwanted tattooing, who was I to complain?

  My sister looked relieved. “Let's just let her go. There is no harm in it. She won't have the rolling pin. Can't we just let her go?”

  “No. Make the tea. I will cleanse her of the blood. But she must be willing to do so, or it shall not work,” Magella said.

  Zinnia walked about the kitchen, disappearing once through the seashell curtains and then back out. She put water on the stove to boil. Magella paced back and forth, over and over.

  I thought it was time they answered some questions.

  “Zinnia,” I said, “Why are you here? What are you doing with this old hag?” I may be tied up and my legs frozen in place, but I decided that I felt like being cocky.

  “Hag? You call me a hag?” Magella asked. “Izadora is the old hag. She has never played fair.” She walked to the stove and nudged Zinnia out of the way.

  “We don't have time to waste. She needs to drink this right away,” Magella said, and she blew into the pot of water. After about fifteen seconds, it began to boil, and she added some type of dark leaf to the pot.

  “Izadora could have had that water boiling in an instant. She wouldn't take that long at all.” I couldn't stop myself; I wanted to get a rise out of her. Even if it meant she would harm me.

  “Shut your little tramp mouth. Or I'll feed you to the sharks.” The muscles in her face flexed as she ground her teeth together. “My sister may have more power during the day, but she does not have any…at night.” She snorted a laugh.

  Zinnia stood staring at me. Her face was filled with sorrow and concern. “I never meant for any of this to happen, Ivy. Things just took a turn and got out of hand. I—”

  “You put something in my mint tea that caused me to pass out!” I emphasized that point as well as I could.

  “I had to…I had to leave. And you were wide awake from all the sugar you'd had.” She sighed.

  “Where have you been going? Ian says you've been traipsing the woods. He told me you couldn't be trusted. I should have listened to him. And yet you called him Mr. Holier Than Thou.” I wriggled in my chair, causing the ropes to tighten.

  “Stop talking,” Magella said. “Get me the strainer and a cup.”

  Zinnia did so.

  “Zinnia, it is probably not too late, whatever you have done. Maybe Izadora can help you,” I suggested.

  That comment seemed to push Magella over the edge. It was like waving a dried-up stick at fire, and I was the stick.

  “You are the one who will change sides…right now!” Her face had grown angry, and her lips pursed together tightly as she brought the cup to me. “Drink this.”

  Of course, I refused.

  But she forced it up to my lips, and the steam from the cup burned them. Trying to buy some time, I said, “It's too hot.”

  “Get an ice cube, girl,” she said to my sister.

  Apparently she moved too slowly, and Magella again nudged her out of the way and took out a small block of ice from the freezer and hit it with an ice pick.

  “Pu
t this in the cup,” she commanded my sister. She left the ice block on the counter to melt.

  My sister’s fingers trembled as she put the tiny piece of ice in the cup.

  “This is pointless, I won't drink it,” I said.

  Outside, the storm had calmed, and I couldn't hear any wind. The silence must have overwhelmed Magella, and she frantically paced back and forth in front of me. “It is almost dawn. The storm I cast has come to an end. She must drink the tea before the sun comes up.” Her face had paled, and she no longer looked angry; she looked concerned.

  “I won't,” I said stubbornly.

  She sighed. She began to speak and then stopped. She paced back and forth a couple more times and then stood in front of me.

  “Look, Ivy, listen to me carefully.” She spoke calmly, almost softly. “Izadora has too much power. If you give her the rolling pin, you may be begging me for help.”

  “But I won't even be leaving here with the rolling pin.” I doubted I'd ever get it out of here alive.

  “Once she sent you for the rolling pin, she claimed it. Now it knows she calls for it. You have woken it up. And it will somehow return to her.”

  “What are you talking about, Magella? It's a stupid rolling pin, it doesn't have a consciousness,” I said.

  “Ha! You are not very bright, child. It knows. It's made from a branch of my mother’s personal old rowan. She always liked Izadora best. And it knows.” She sighed. “Now you've got to drink this tea, and you have got to rebuke Izadora,” Magella said.

  I almost believed Magella for a moment. She sounded so convincing that I could almost cave. But I stood my ground and looked to my sister for help.

  Zinnia stood wide eyed, her arms crossed and sweat beading above her brow. When we made eye contact, she shook her head and mouthed the words, “Don't do it.”

  I shut my lips tightly.

  Magella turned to my sister. “We must get her to drink this. Before dawn. Or you don't want to see what happens.” She walked to my sister. She stood in front of her, put her hands on her shoulders, and stared into her eyes. For a minute I thought she would threaten to do harm to Zinnia, and then I would have to admit defeat and drink the damn tea. Instead, she dropped her hands and turned toward the window behind me.