The Witches of Merribay (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 1)

by B. J. Smash

  “I can't write with these old hands. My fingers are too big.” She handed me the paper, said the short verse again, and I copied it down word for word.

  She walked to a cupboard, took out the charm she'd made me, and handed it to me. It smelled of mint and earth.

  “After you take the ribbon, put this charm in her hands.”

  So, the charm wasn't for me; it was for her mother, Aggie. Instead of bringing flowers to a grave, she wanted me to bring herbs. Interesting.

  “See you when I see you,” she said. “Now you must go.” She started shepherding us out the door. The sun had fallen way low, and if you asked me, it was officially sundown.

  Before we got to the door, she stopped, stood upright, and said, “Oh no. It's happening. You don't want to see this. Get out, get out! Go!” she yelled. Drumm was out the door, but all I could do was stare. She moved like a puppet, fighting something all the while. She tried to stop from walking, but her foot would be moved against her will, and she was headed for the balcony.

  “Get out!” she yelled one more time, piercing my eardrums.

  Drumm grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out over the bridges and down the stairs. There the dogs sat, sentinels, ready to pounce on anything that came close to their dominion.

  “We never should have come here this late. We must go,” Drumm said.

  “But she looked like she was headed for the balcony. What is she doing?”

  As we ran past the balcony, I heard the floorboards squeak and, turning back, I saw Izadora doing something unspeakable. She was climbing up onto the railing, preparing to stand on the edge.

  “Is she going to jump off? I thought if she landed on the ground, she would turn to dust?” My voice was shaky and panicked.

  “She will jump, but she won't be hitting the ground.” Drumm grabbed my arm and pulled. “Don't look.” He said it with such authority that I almost listened to him.

  But I couldn't stop staring. Izadora had put something around her neck, and stood upon the railing. “Damn you, Izaill!” she yelled, and as she jumped, Drumm covered my eyes. After a quick whooshing sound, I could hear the shifting and squeaking of the rope against the railing.

  I kept my eyes closed under his hand, held it close to my face, and turned. As I stood breathing heavily, he said, “It's okay. She'll be fine. And the dogs will guard the house. We must go.”

  “Is she…is she…”

  “Dead? Yes. The sooner we get the ribbon, the better for her.”

  “What kind of barbaric beast is Izaill?”

  “Shhh, do not say his name. And this is a game to him. It's also a game to Izadora. They see things differently than you and me. To her, he has beat her—outsmarted her—by putting this curse upon her. She doesn't look at this death every night as final. She looks at it as an inconvenience. What I'm worried about is what she will do to him in return.”

  We ran back through the woods and past Ian's gate about a half a mile to the east woods, where the McCallister graveyard stood. Because it was cloudy tonight, the moon couldn't be seen often enough. The darkness encompassed us like a foot in a shoe, and the air was dank and chilly. We came upon a small church amongst old trees and a gate with thick ivy swallowing it up.

  “We'll walk through the graveyard and out the back gate,” Drumm said, reaching in his bag for a flashlight. “You can use this.”

  The gate creaked as we opened it. A bat flew overhead, darting and rising, eating bugs. It let out a high-pitched squeal, making my skin crawl.

  Turning on the flashlight, I pointed it at the old gravestones which jutted out of the earth. “I'm not supposed to be in here. My grandmother told me to never come here,” I stated with a touch of sarcasm.

  “Just like you were never supposed to walk into the forest.”

  I snorted. “True, but here I am.”

  The air seemed cooler in here, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I rubbed my arms through my sweatshirt.

  Darkness engulfed us when my flashlight decided to stop working. I forced myself not to panic, but this was a graveyard, and my stomach clenched with uncertainty. I shook it a few times, and it finally came back on.

  The frogs were out tonight, crooning, and there must have been dozens of them. I focused the flashlight at the direction of their constant noise, and found that water cascaded down over a monument and into a small pond.

  “That can't be cheap, running the water like that through the monument 24/7.”

  He snickered. “It's a natural spring. It doesn't cost anything.”

  I felt stupid for not knowing that, and we continued walking.

  The graveyard was nothing short of gloomy, and the fireflies weren’t even out.

  The fog that rolled in and around the stones didn't help with its appearance either, and the grass hadn't been mowed in at least a month. I had to imagine that it took a brave soul to mow this place. A job I wouldn’t want to undertake. Then again, I was about to dig up a grave, and that was probably much worse than mowing a graveyard.

  Walking over the sharp gravel hurt my feet. “I should have brought my flip-flops.”

  “We're almost to the back.”

  A stick broke. Immediately I pointed the flashlight in the direction of the noise to see a small fox escaping under the back gate.

  Drumm adjusted the arrows on his back and then opened the gate, causing it to squeal as though it had never been oiled; and it probably hadn't ever been oiled. The place was old and decrepit.

  We walked through the gate, shutting it behind us with another loud squeal. It grated my nerves to hear that sound. It was almost like chewing a cotton ball with my teeth.

  We walked up a little hill, farther back away from the loud frog concert. Drumm saw it first, and for all I knew, he'd been here before. Underneath a midsized hawthorn tree, a small white stone jutted up from the ground. It was slightly tipped, like someone had been sitting on it, and there wasn’t any inscription on the stone that I could see. It was just a plain white stone.

  White flowers bloomed everywhere on the hawthorn, but it still didn’t add any cheeriness to the place.

  He handed me the shovel. “I'm sorry that I cannot help. I would, gladly, if I could.”

  “I'll do it, but out of curiosity, why can't you help?” I asked.

  “It's against the rules of my family to dig up someone in unconsecrated ground.”

  I snorted. “Well, I'm betting it's against the rules in my family too, but here goes.” First I pulled clumps of grass out of the way, and then I pushed the shovel deep into the ground, pulling out chunks of cool earth. Over and over I did this.

  “How deep do you think it is? The regular six feet?” I said, panting. I was started to sweat.

  “Hard telling,” was his only answer. He sat atop a large rock to the side of the tree, watching the dark woods, alert.

  I continued digging for quite some time. My arms, shoulders, and back ached, and I stood in the grave about three feet down. If I had another three feet to go, we would be here all night.

  I silently hoped that I'd hit a coffin or wooden box soon. I had no idea what she'd be buried in. What I was doing was horrid and despicable, not to mention frightening and downright scary. Standing in someone else’s grave was enough to put someone in shock. I would rather be struck down by lightning. If I survived this, it would be nothing short of a miracle. I tried to think of other things, like sun tanning on the beach with Zinnia, cooking blueberry tarts with Aunt Clover, and long bike rides with my father, but my thoughts all came back to the present. Thoughts of death—what if I died here while digging this woman up? Would I haunt the place? What if I fell down and hit my head on a rock?

  I shook my head to release my current thoughts. I had to remember why I was doing this in the first place. My father. I would soon have him back; and Zinnia, I could help her too.

  They were the reasons I did this.

  As I forcefully slammed the shovel into the ground, I hit som
ething. It hadn't sounded like a coffin, nor a wooden box. It rather…clanked.

  “Did you hear that?” I whispered loudly to Drumm.

  “I did.” His attention was brought to me, and he stood up and looked down into the grave.

  I knelt down and started digging with my hands, tossing the dirt aside. After what seemed like forever, I touched a cold surface. Digging a bit deeper with my hands, I expected to find the hard surface of a coffin. Instead, what I uncovered was…a hand.

  I jumped back about three feet and grabbed Drumm's leg. “Oh dear God, what is that?”

  “A hand,” he simply said.

  “No duh! Why isn't it in a coffin or something?”

  “Just look for the ribbon. When you see it, recite the words and take it, and let's get out of here,” he said, looking around the woods.

  “Easy for you to say.” I couldn't imagine why he remained so calm.

  I continued to pull back and scrape the dirt from around two folded hands. The right hand had a rather large ruby ring upon its finger. That must have been what my shovel had hit. Shoving aside the dirt, I thought luck was on my side when I saw that they clasped a yellow ribbon.

  The hands were cold and brittle, albeit they still had skin on them. She couldn't have died too long ago. I took out the paper, recited the words, and then pulled on the ribbon…but it wouldn't release.

  “How long has she been dead? She still has skin on her hands.”

  Before he could answer, the hand that I was trying to pry open, moved. Abruptly it reached up through the earth, caught my arm, and pulled.

  I let a scream out of me that would wake the dead buried next door in the graveyard—in consecrated ground.

  Drumm reached down and grabbed my other arm and pulled, but the hand continued to pull me in.

  “Holy God!” I screamed.

  Suddenly, an old woman—that highly resembled a skeleton with skin and hair—sat up, spitting dirt from her mouth.

  “If God got involved, we'd all be in a heap of trouble,” an old, croaky voice said. “I'm not trying to pull you in, dear. I'm trying to pull myself upright so we can talk.”

  I fainted.

  Not sure how long I was out, I awoke to Drumm patting my face and then fanning me with a big leaf. Kneeling on the ground, he leaned over me. “Ivy? Ivy, wake up.”

  It took a moment for my eyes to focus. “Was it a dream?” I asked.

  Drumm shook his head no, and he held back a smile.

  I pushed myself up onto my elbows and looked down into the grave. There she sat, the old woman, Aggie, smiling up at me. From the waist up she was free of the dirt, and her lower half was still under the earth. “Scared you, did I?” She wore an ivory shift dress with a shimmering blue belt that tied around her waist. Although her face and hands were dirty, the dirt had barely touched the dress. She appeared thin and frail; however, she definitely was not dead.

  “You could say that.” I lay back down and took a few deep breaths, covering my eyes with my hands. The earth smelled moist, and I recognized something that smelled like sandalwood.

  “Time to rise, child. You don't have much time, and we must discuss a few things,” she said pleasantly.

  Drumm helped me up, and then he sat on the grass. I sat on the grass, too, but I swung my legs into the grave so I could face Aggie.

  “What is it that you need? The yellow ribbon? I shall give it to you, for Izadora,” she said. “My dear Izadora.”

  “Yes, ma'am,” I said.

  “Take it then,” she said as she held up one hand holding the ribbon.

  I stepped into the grave and took the yellow ribbon from her long, bony fingers. As I got closer, I noticed something altogether strange about her. One of her eyes appeared green but the other was white, and shimmered with blues, pinks, and greens…almost like an opal.

  I gulped.

  “Ah, yes. The eye. You see, I may be buried under the earth. However, I still see the goings-on of Merribay. I am no fool, and I wish to tell you so. I try to keep my children under control. They normally don't bother the human race, but alas, they continue to torment one another—and now me. Look at what Izaill has done to me. He put me here himself to get me out of the way.” She flicked a worm from her dress.

  I stepped back and sat back down on the grass, clasping the yellow ribbon tightly.

  “Izaill. Your own son did this to you?” I already knew this, but I still couldn’t believe it, and I wanted to hear her take on it. First he cursed his sister, and then he cursed his mother? This guy was a real screwball. I knew he had buried her here—but I didn’t know that she was alive at the time!

  “Oh yes, he did. He doesn't want me to interfere any longer. In his defense, it's just a game for him. He doesn't see the madness of his ways. Ah, none of them do. It's but only a game to them all, and I must admit, it was a brilliant idea to put me here. It's kept me out of the way. Unruly children. And the only one that has any kind of sense is Montague. He was always a good boy. But I had to punish the others. Always fighting. I separated them you know, but they still find ways to torment one another. Having ordinary people run their errands for them. Poor souls. ”

  I nodded my head. I was one of those “poor souls”; I could relate.

  I had forgotten about the herb charm Izadora had made, and I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to Aggie. She clasped it with her bony hand, smelling of its contents. “Ah, this is the first stage of breaking the curse that I am under. Imagine that, Ivy. You just killed two bats with one stone.” She chuckled. “You're helping me as you're helping Izadora. The first part of undoing the spell was to get a willing soul to dig me up—and there aren't many in these parts that would be willing to do such a task. They all fear me. It's a dreadful life.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “The second part was to hand me a charm of fresh herbs.”

  Izadora must have known this. I gritted my teeth. What would have been so wrong with giving me a heads-up about a few things? She could have mentioned that her mother wasn't dead. She could have mentioned that I would be starting the process of breaking yet another curse.

  “So, now you are free to go?” I asked.

  “Posh! I'm not free to go yet. You must cover me back up,” she said.

  When the words she had just spoken had sunk in, I lay back on the ground and rubbed my head, but I sat back up almost immediately. I was afraid to take my eyes from her for too long. Who knew what she'd do? She seemed sweet and kind, but how did I really know that? She was, after all, the mother of crazy Izaill and secretive Izadora, not to mention insane Magella.

  “I don't think that I can cover you back up. I mean…” This was too much for me. The things I was asked to do just became creepier and creepier, and…twisted. The whole family was twisted! I looked at Drumm for support. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “You must. I am under a spell, and you surely can't break it until certain things have been completed. Bad, bad things would happen to you. But once the spell is broken, I shall grant you one wish. Anything you desire that is within my power.”

  I had a feeling many things were within her power. Hadn’t GG Edmund told me that she was from a long line of powerful witches?

  “Anything? What must I do next?”

  I couldn't believe it. Here I was running around, doing things for Izadora, and now I'd be doing things for Aggie. Would it never end? On the other hand, if she granted me one wish, and Izadora failed to bring my father back, I would wish for his return…but did I really want to be the one that freed Aggie?

  She smiled at me kindly. For all of her reputation, she seemed to be quite a nice old lady. She even had a sweet, gentle face. But the eyes were mesmerizing and scary as heck.

  “I know what you are thinking. But it would be in your very best interest to get me out of here. Not that I've minded it, as it's been a nice resting place. However, the point is, Izaill gains power. And I shall have to put him in his place before Izadora has a chance to. I fear what
she will do to my boy.”

  It amazed me how she still referred to her children as if they were but young kids.

  Out of nowhere, a bat flew by, ruffling my hair. I ducked and swatted at it. Drumm did the same. Just as we were getting our bearings back, it flew by Aggie, and she reached up and grabbed it out of midair.

  “Harm none, little bat,” she chuckled, and let it go. It flew off and didn't come back.

  “Now back to what I was trying to tell you. Izaill knows you are helping us. You will need something to ward him off.” She unpinned a silver broach from the inside sleeve of her dress. “I had to hide it there, or he would have taken it. Anywho, you take the broach. Wear it. By the end of the tomorrow, this will all be over. For the good or the bad, I cannot say. Everything is nothing but a circle of events. It started with you, and it ends with you.”

  I shuddered to think Izaill would be after me. He was horrifying. I took the broach, looked it over—it was a silver rose—and I pinned it on my shirt.

  I couldn't speak. How would it all end? I wished that I could jump ahead to tomorrow and see what happens.

  “Anywho, for the third and final part of breaking this curse, you will have to find my son, Montague. He will know what to do,” she said as she picked little pieces of dirt from her dress. “Also, something you must understand about my family and me: Sometimes we work together. Sometimes we work against each other. It is but a game we play.” She winked a sagging eyelid. “But we will always be family. Now, are you in?”

  I sighed and wiped the sweat that had formed on my brow. “Okay. Where will I find Montague?”

  “No one knows where Monty is. He's been under the radar for years now. Just go to the sea and write a message in the sand, asking him to come forth. If you are who I think you are, he will come.” She lay back down in the dirt and folded her hands over her chest. “Now cover me back up.”

  I wanted to vomit. In fact, I did get up and vomit behind the white hawthorn tree.

  “Now, now, Ivy. Remember what I said; it's a game we play. No harm comes to me. It is about who can outwit who, and who can outplay who. Izaill is one up on me, that's all. For now.”