I was here because of Adam Westfield. All of this new pain was because of him. He was the reason I’d ended up in Eb Falls in the first place. He was the reason, and if I ever got my witch powers back again, I was going to nail him to the face of a mountain somewhere, but not before I turned his seething-with-hatred eyes black and blue.
But Bel wasn’t going to give up. He raced back and forth in front of my swollen eyes. “Let’s call Dita and your dad, Stevie. They’ll help. They’ll know what to do! You can’t just take the word of one stupid spirit.”
“We haven’t had a clue in what? An entire day, Bel. Not a legit one, anyway,” I said, my words hollow. “A full day. I think the message was simple, Win decided to cross. That’s what rebirth meant. Something moved him to go into the light. How can we fault him for that?”
“Then let’s get your crazy parents here and have them ask around and make sure!”
I gave my head a violent shake, my knotted, mussed hair rubbing against the solid wood of the door. “I can’t involve them, Bel. You know I can’t. I can’t risk them losing their powers, too. I won’t.”
“We need to find out the truth, Stevie! We can’t just let this go. I know you’re a hot mess of emotions right now. I know you’re tired and overwrought with the fear of loss and you’re raw, but what if the spirit is wrong! Silence from the other side means squat. Think. I need you to think about what we can do to find the truth!
Think. Hah! that’s all I’d done since Win had disappeared. Think, think, think.
But that’s exactly when a crazy, totally insane thought hit me.
Chalk it up to sleep deprivation or emotional imbalance, but…
“What if…?” I dragged myself off the floor, my body feeling as though it weighed as much as any healthy NFL player.
“What if what, malutka?”
A thread of energy lit a fire in my veins, making me stand up straight. “What if I tried to find the truth? Just me—no involvement from anyone from the coven or my parents?”
Bel’s voice was disapproving, but I think deep down he knew what I meant. “Tried how exactly, Stevie?”
“What if I tried to summon Win? What if I tried some spells?”
“This is battier than I am, Stevie!”
We’d moved to the living room where, despite every effort to convince Bel and Arkady otherwise, they thought I’d gone off the deep end. Listen, I know I was exhausted. I know I probably wasn’t of sound mind, and for sure I wasn’t of sound body, but what did we have to lose?
I began to pace the living room floor, tucking my hands into my damp hoodie. “What do we have to lose, Bel? What? My powers don’t work and we go to plan B, right?”
“Stevie, you know what we have to lose!” he whisper-yelled as though the reason we shouldn’t try was right here in the room with us. “If that crusty old battle-axe hears you fishin’ around in the realms, she’ll fly here on her broke-back broom faster’n you can say alacazam and eat you for breakfast. That’s what!”
Oh, no. Nope, nope, nopety-nope.
I wasn’t going to buy into the Baba Yaga scare. No way. She’d all but abandoned me and hadn’t had thing one to do with me in ages. I wasn’t going to let her stop me from finding out what happened to Win. She had no right to do anything with me, let alone interfere in any part of my life now that I was human.
Not one single right. Not even Satan was going to stop me from at least trying.
Still, feeling wildly contrary and maybe even a little spiteful, I countered with, “Well, how can she hear me if I’m not a witch, Bel?”
“She hears everything, Stevie. Those big ears of hers are everywhere!” he spat.
“Malutka, what is this you wish to do that upsets little marshmallow so much? Tell Arkady because he does not understand.”
An eerie calm took over then, my rigid spine and tight muscles relaxed. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I was going to attempt to tap into my all but lost witch powers, something that once brought me a great deal of comfort, something that had come with great ease, something familiar.
Or maybe it was just that I knew they wouldn’t work at all, but at least I was doing something instead of standing stock still, waiting for my life to further implode into a million more little pieces.
I don’t know. Either way, I said, “I’m going to use a conjuring spell to try to summon Win.”
“A what?”
“A spell, Arkady!” Belfry yelped in clear frustration with me. “A very hard to manage, not to mention dangerous spell! You know, necromancy? Bringing back someone from the dead? Keep up, would you, old man?”
“Like on that crazy television show The Vampire Diaries?” Arkady balked.
“Yeees!” Belfry yelped, flapping his wings with frantic swipes of the air.
“No, no, no! Nyet!” Arkady yelled. “You must not toy with such things, malutka. I cannot allow!”
Rubbing my grainy eyes, I stopped pacing and stared up at the ceiling of the living room, with its inlaid tile and glossy chandelier, and I exploded all over the joint.
“You cannot allow? Allow? How dare you tell me what you’ll allow?” I roared in bone-weary anguish…in fear…in rage.
“Stevie!” Belfry yelled, zipping in front of my face, his wings still flapping furiously. “Look at me right now! You stop this insanity immediately. Understand? You will not talk to Arkady that way. He’s as afraid as we are for Win. He spent all day with me while you got lost in your misery, trying to figure this mess out! He’s our friend, Stevie. Our friend. I won’t allow—yes, I said, allow—you to talk to him like that. Knock it the fudge off or I swear, I’ll go dig up one of those nutbar witches we left behind in Texas and have them put a silencing spell on you so fast, your tongue’ll fall out of your head. Knock. It. Off!”
It was then I blinked, my hand shaking as I covered my mouth in horror at my sharp words, and whispered between my fingers, “I’m sorry, Arkady. Oh…I’m so sorry.”
“Malutka, please. Arkady begs you. Please sit down and take deep breath. You are tired. So tired. I see this on your beautiful face. Your eyes, they are red. Your legs, they are weary. Please, you must rest for little bit. Then we will think hard.”
I made my way to the corner of the living room, reaching for the arm of the chair before I dropped down into it and leaned forward, gulping air like a fish out of water.
I was beginning to sound manic, and that was out of character for me—as out of character as giving up. I had to calmly explain my position, even if the momentary calm I’d felt moments ago was already long gone.
“I’m sorry, Arkady. I was wrong to speak to you that way, but we have to do something. I have to do something. Please, I need you to trust me. If I no longer have even a shred of my powers, none of it will matter anyway, but I have to try. Can’t you two see that?” I sobbed hoarsely.
Out of the blue, I felt warmth surround my shoulders, and I almost called out Win’s name, but it was a different aura than my International Man of Mystery’s. It had a heavier feeling than Win’s presence, less intimate somehow, yet equally soothing.
It was then I realized Arkady was hugging me, something he’d never done before, and I let him. I let him breathe calming words into my ear until that manic, clawing feeling pervading my body eased.
“There, there, my sweet honeydew. I was wrong to yell at you. I speak before I think. Arkady is afraid for you, malutka. That is all. We must do what you say is best—even if risk turn out to be greater than reward.”
I almost chuckled at him using Win’s words, but my misery wouldn’t let me. “Thank you, Arkady. Thank you for trusting me. I promise you, I’ll be careful. I really don’t think it’s going to make a hill of beans, but anything is better than sitting around waiting for something to happen.”
“Wait one moment. You make hill of beans, too? How does beans help? Arkady does not understand,” he replied as I felt his warmth leave my side and dissipate entirely.
Now I did la
ugh. “Just another stupid American expression.” Pausing, I looked for Bel, who was pretty angry with me as it stood. “Belfry?”
“This is nutballs with more nutballs on top, Stevie.”
Yes. This was nutballs, but I was willing to take that chance if it meant Win was still out there somewhere, and I refused to give in.
“Are you in or are you out?”
He buzzed back to my face, like some bizarre hummingbird/bat hybrid. “I’m telling you, if this works even a little, you’re stewed. BY is going to make the remainder of your life a living hell, and she’ll do it with her stupid leg warmers and neon hair scrunchies—”
“But—”
“But hold on!” Belfry cut me off. “And I’m saying this with great hesitation…your witch powers haven’t worked in a long time. You haven’t even had a small blip lately. Now, I’m just going to say one thing, and then I won’t say it again. Be prepared for that old hag just in case, because I’m just as stressed about a missing Win as you are, and if I snap with Baba, I can still go down for my crimes. I’ll end up in witch prison as a lifer, and you’ll be here with a hundred cats to fill the hole in your heart left behind by your failed necromancy.”
Bel always helped me see the other side of things, and I hadn’t thought about his involvement. “Then I won’t do it. I won’t risk your safety.”
“Yes. Yes, you will. She can’t put me in jail if I don’t slug her in that smug sourpuss of hers. I think I can promise not to slug her.”
“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly.
“I’m sure. Now forget me, what spell shall we start with?”
“Conjuring?”
“It’s as good as any,” he answered.
“Whoa. Explain conjuring to Arkady, please. So I know what we face.”
“Our girl here’s gonna try and raise the dead, buddy. Hold on to your ushanka. It’s about to get real in here if she can pull this off.”
“Please be careful, malutka. I do not wish to lose you, too. You are my friend. I love you. We are family.”
“I love you, too, Arkady,” I whispered upward, my heart full, but also determined.
Holding my breath, I closed my eyes and tried to recall from memory the conjuring spell, knowing it was a foolish attempt, a desperate effort to locate Win.
But I almost didn’t care. I’d had blips in my powers before, hadn’t I? Small blips, certainly not a blip as large as a conjuring spell, but anything was worth trying.
Bel fluttered nervously about the room, but his support was clear when he asked, “Stevie? Do you remember it without the book?”
The book. That stupid, stupid book of spells the coven had treated as though it were a Bible. The book we’d coveted, protected…and for what? So it could all be taken from me?
So when the time came, and I needed my coven most, when I needed my powers the most, I could fumble around foolishly, almost delirious from lack of sleep, without the book I’d have protected with my own life?
Right now, I despised everything witch. All of it. Because I needed that book and my coven sisters now more than ever. I needed just a little bit of magic from someone—anyone—to help locate Win, and I’d never felt more alone since being shunned than I did right now.
Still, I remembered. I remembered every stinkin’ word.
So I nodded, forcing my breathing to steady itself so Belfry wouldn’t panic and fear for my sanity, squeezing my eyes shut so my threatening teardrops wouldn’t fall.
Running my tongue over my dry lips, I said, “I remember. Say it with me, okay, Bel?”
He pushed himself tighter against my neck. “Always, Stevie. Always. Ready?”
Clenching my hands together, I began, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Come to me now, into this realm you must.”
“With conviction, Stevie,” Bel whispered-yelled. “Say it again.”
For someone who’d been against this, he sure was fierce now.
So I repeated, closing my eyes, focusing every cell of my energy on making Win appear. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Come to me now, into this realm you must! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Come to me now, into this realm you must! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Come to me now, into this realm you must!”
Chapter 11
I waited then. I waited and prayed to any entity willing to listen that Win would appear and we’d figure everything out from there. No matter what body he was in, no matter what condition he was in, we’d figure it out.
But nothing happened.
The four corners of the living room were as quiet as they’d been when I’d convinced myself this was a good idea. In fact, if my spell were accompanied by a sound affect, it would be the one you hear when your character’s on empty.
My shoulders slumped as the dark claws of depression sank their talons into my psyche, reminding me I wasn’t a witch anymore.
If I’d even had a shred of hope as a witch of conjuring up a soul—and mind you, it’s very dangerous, necromancy is—it was small. But as an ex-witch who hasn’t had her powers in over two years? Probably not a chance in Hades.
“No, no, no, my enchilada. You must not give up!” Arkady cried, his voice thick with emotion. “Try something else. You have not used your powers in long time. Maybe this is wrong spell. Maybe you rusty. Try another!”
Belfry chirped his agreement, injecting enthusiasm into his words. “Maybe he’s right, Stevie! Let’s try another one. Try them all. Every bloody last one!”
My how the tides had turned. I felt as though they were both humoring me, egging me on with the realization this wasn’t going to work, and if it calmed me down, if it gave me purpose, they were all for it, because it couldn’t hurt anyone anyway.
Struggling with this sudden helpless, dark feeling, I shuddered a breath as fear took root in my belly before a smidge of sanity returned. “We’re not supposed to use our spells for personal gain…” I muttered, as though I hadn’t known that from the start.
“Well, if you’re not a witch, if your powers are really still kaputski, what difference will it make?” Belfry shot my words back at me. “Just try. We have to try everything we can!”
Hearing Bel’s voice, as agonizingly desperate as Arkady’s, for the first time since this began, I realized how selfish it was of me to believe I was the only one who loved Win. They loved him, too. He was family to all of us, and if I didn’t at least give it my best effort, how could I live with myself?
Running a hand through my disheveled hair, I flexed my fingers and used my shoulder to wipe my eyes free of pending tears. “Okay… Oh! I know, let’s try a time-traveling spell, right, Bel? Remember it?”
He chuckled. “Remember it? Are you kidding? Do you remember what happened when Orwell Hanson recited one by mistake because he forgot to put his glasses on and ended up back in a cave with a bunch of cavemen? How could I forget?”
The corner of my mouth lifted in a smirk of a smile. “I’ll give you that. It was definitely funny to see Orwell in a bearskin rug with a spear he’d made with his little Neanderthal friends.”
“So are we gonna sit around and rehash memories about it or are we gonna do this, Stevie?” Bel encouraged.
My heart pumped erratically, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “We’re gonna do this.” I prayed we would do this.
“That’s the spirit!” Arkady encouraged.
“Just make sure you picture the time period in your mind, Stevie. Be very clear, understood?
I nodded, my hands clammy, my legs weak. Breathing in, I focused every cell of my body, every ounce of the little energy I had left and began the incantation. “Hands of the clock, take me back, return to yesterday. Take me back so I might stay!”
An hour later, we’d tried every frickin’-frackin’ spell in the book, or the ones I could remember by heart, anyway, and had come up with absolutely nothing. If my composure was gone, my sanity had left with it, and I was cracking once more.
The funny thing about cracking is, you know you�
��re doing it, but you can’t seem to stop the forward motion, you can’t pull up on the reins because all the self-control you’ve so carefully utilized no longer matters to you.
You don’t care that you’re about to lose control and crack. You don’t care about your dignity or how you appear to other people. You don’t care about pretty much anything. You just want to let go and let the cracking happen.
And I did exactly that. Boy oh boy, did I ever do that, and I remember the very moment I let it all hang out. I remember when my field of giving the letter Fs dried up, and I’m not even going to ask you to pardon my French because at that moment, I didn’t want a pardon. I only wanted the agony of losing Win to end.
Anyway, as I said, I know when I cracked completely. It was when I heard Bel’s voice quiver for the first time since this had begun—I heard him really waver.
“I don’t know what to do, Stevie,” he said on a deep shudder, his voice steeped in defeat. “I…I don’t know how to guide you through this…”
If Bel was nothing else, he was my familiar first. He’s not just an adorable little ball of marshmallowy cotton with a squeaky voice and tiny wings. He’s my moral compass, my eyes, my ears, my confidant since childhood. That he was as beaten as I, left me feeling helpless.
But only for a moment before I decided, as long as I was cracking, I might as well crack big.
Really big.
Whirling around, I tightened my damp, smelly hoody around my waist and looked up at the ceiling, widening my stance so I wouldn’t tip over, bracing myself.
And then I wound up for the out-of-control pitch I was about to make. “Baba Yaga!” I screamed with such ferocity, my throat burned. “Get your eighties-loving, weirdo-shoulder-pad-wearing, crotchety old backside here nooow!”
“Stevie? Have you lost your bloody marbles?” Belfry yelled, flitting about the room in a frantic circle. “She’s going to flay us alive!”
“Then hide, Belfry. Hide now, because we have no hope! There’s nothing left to help us find Win but her and her magic. No stone unturned, right?” I sobbed. “No stone unturned.”
Witch Way Did He Go? Page 10