by Lauren Quick
Clover skirted an enormous blooming red flower with petals shaped like a trumpet that looked soft as velvet. She imagined it was poisonous or had a deadly appetite and could swallow her whole if it leapt to life. Desperation had made her brave. Her family needed answers and the Darklander had them. Plus, thanks to Vivi’s potion, her sisters knew where she was.
She made her way up to the back door and pounded away. “Hello! Hello! Anyone in there?”
Silence. She pounded again.
More silence. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me!” she yelled at the house.
She heard bolts sliding, locks clicking, and the door creaked open. She braced herself for whatever fiendish creature might slither out. She prayed it didn’t have tentacles or rows of tiny sharp teeth, but she was slightly disappointed when a stout wizard shaped like a barrel answered the door. At first she thought he was a wizard, but the more she looked, she thought differently. He was only about four feet tall, had a wiry white beard, and thick curly hair, smoothed back. He wore green felt shorts with suspenders and a white button-down shirt.
“Come in, dear. Come in. It’s chilly out there even in the spring.”
A nervous thrill raced through Clover as she stepped into the house. Was he a wizard in disguise or a real gnome? The Darklander was known for associating with witches and wizards who supported opening up Everland to other magical and mythical creatures who existed outside of the wall. She followed after him as his thick-soled boots squeaked across the tile floor through an enormous kitchen with giant black cauldrons, down a long dark hallway, across plush antique carpets, and into one of the grandest libraries she’d ever seen.
“Make yourself at home.” He motioned to the books and to two leather wingback chairs that sat before a roaring fire.
“Thank you,” Clover said. “Is he home?” she asked, causing the gnome to pause in the doorway.
“Yes, he’s here. He’s been expecting you.” By the way his voice wavered when he said the word you, she knew it wasn’t true. The Darklander might have been expecting Vivi or even Honora, but not her.
The gnome nodded and stepped out of the room.
The acreage of shelving packed with books made Clover’s heart race. Seeing as the room was unoccupied, she glided over to the shelves and perused the books, climbing a ladder to browse a section of locked books near the top. Clover gulped when she read the spines. Blanch Blackshear’s Sinister Spellcasting, The Band Book of Black Magic, The Guide to Creating a Black Grimoire. Clover jumped when someone cleared his throat behind her. Luckily, she’d been clutching the rungs of the ladder and didn’t plummet to the plush carpet below.
“Clover Mayhem, I presume?” he said, his voice was thick and dark as brimstone.
Clover eased down the ladder before turning around. The Darklander was exactly how Vivi had described him. Dressed in a black shirt, black trousers, and black belt and shoes, he looked like a tall shadow with broad imposing shoulders and thick dark hair. One side of his face was handsome with a strong jaw and smoky eyes, yet the other side was deformed into a smear of scar tissue. With his magic, he could glamor the scars and camouflage the ugly side, but he didn’t, and it made him even more dangerously alluring.
He’d been banished from witch society by the council for practicing blood magic and twisted sorcery and, to her knowledge, still practiced black magic. From what Vivi had told her, he had built the stone fortress to house his followers. Rumors spread that the woods were filled with a slowly growing society of witches and wizards who practiced dark magic, seeking power through blood, sacrifice, pain, and even death. So why had she ventured into such dark territory? Momentary lapse in judgment, temporary insanity brought on by a shocking family reunion, or simple curiosity because the Darklander’s motives didn’t add up.
There was a reason he’d sent Vivi that message. It didn’t make sense for him to contact her, especially since he had his own mini army of minions to do his bidding. Why ask Vivi for help? Because he needed something only she could offer? And Clover had a good idea she knew what it was.
“Yes. I’m Clover Mayhem. I’ve heard a lot about you from my sister Vivi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. Was it anyone’s pleasure to meet a devious wizard?
“What brings you so boldly into my world? Did your sister send you out here on her behalf?”
“No. Not at all. Vivi had no idea I was coming. In fact, until a few minutes ago, I had no idea I was coming either. It just sort of happened. My back was against a wall and I reacted.” She thought of the portal coin in her pocket.
“I really don’t think you thought this through or your dear sister misled you on the type of wizard I really am.” His expression darkened, eyes narrowing.
Her stomach plummeted. “I don’t mean to offend you. I need answers that only you can provide me,” Clover said.
The Darklander pulled a long thin wand that looked like a crooked finger bone from the interior pocket of his jacket. A dark phrase poured from his lips. The snakes woven into the carpet peeled up out of the thick fringe and snaked around her legs, anchoring her to the spot. She yelped, trying not to scream. A thick black snake wove around her legs, hissing and coiling its thick slick body around and around.
The Darklander flicked his wand again and a chair flew from the other side of the room and bumped Clover from behind, forcing her to sit. More snakes glided up the chair and wrapped around her wrists and arms, literally tying her to the frame. Clover’s skin crawled, the hairs rising on her arms. She’d made a terrible mistake, but she held her chin high. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. Scare, torture, and terrify, maybe, but not intimidate.
“You must not get many guests,” she said. “I would have been thrilled with a cup of tea or coffee, maybe a cookie. But not snakes. You’ve really outdone yourself.” Sweat beaded at the base of her throat. The room felt suddenly stifling, the fire popping and crackling. Who built a fire in the spring?
“You’re trespassing,” he said, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs. “I don’t owe you any hospitality.”
“I knocked and your gnome let me in.” Clover smiled. “He’s a real gnome, isn’t he? I’d love to chat with him. Get his take on the wall and gnome-witch relations.” Clover could have sworn the Darklander rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Fear makes me babble.”
“Fear is exactly the emotion you should be feeling. You dare stumble all the way out here to my home and waltz right onto my property. The only reason I allowed you to make your clumsy way to the door was because you seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. My watchers at the closest portal and the surrounding perimeters didn’t detect your arrival. So either you’re very sneaky and you somehow made it past them, via some undetectable magic, or you’ve been a very naughty witch and taken something that doesn’t belong to you.”
Clover contemplated her options. Lying wasn’t one of them. “Option two is correct. I took the portal coin from my father, but I’m not sure it really counts as stealing since he left it on my porch. I had to take it before Kat Keene could get her hands on it. And since I’ve been so forthcoming, now I have a question for you.” A red-and-black striped snake glided up her bicep and across her collarbone, freezing her in place. Fear flashed through her, causing her eyes to water.
“You have the portal coin and you brought it here.” A wicked grin spread across his face at her obvious discomfort. Her nerves were rattled. This was the moment she dreaded. He seemed to sense her anxiety. “Because I admire acts of bravery, you may ask one question. I’d make it a good one.”
Clover didn’t hesitate. “Whom are you really working for?” she asked. “Because you sure as Hazel aren’t working for the council or Kat Keene. At first I thought maybe you were working with my father, but I don’t know. Then I thought maybe you were
working for Rye Finn and Hex Division and maybe you are, but it doesn’t add up. I have a feeling there’s more our father—and mother, for that matter—aren’t telling us. So, tell me. Whom are you working for?”
“I work for no one but myself.” He scoffed.
“Not true,” she said and the snakes hissed in unison, causing her to squirm under their writhing bodies. They felt like thick rubber worms twisting into her skin. “You expect me to believe that when you and our father suddenly show up at the same time in our lives, it’s a coincidence?”
“What brought you to that conclusion?”
“You needed Vivi’s help, but why? Because you needed to get the portal coin and you knew who had it. You knew our father, Charles Atticus, had the coin and you thought that if Vivi went looking for it, she had a better chance of finding him. You’ve been keeping tabs on him, on Devlin Strange. Why?”
He clapped his hands and the snakes loosened. “Very good. I should have suspected you would figure it out. Word witches notice details. Vivi is the nice sister, isn’t she? She’s very trusting and slow to judge. Always giving wizards the benefit of the doubt. It’s why I asked for her help.”
“Continue,” Clover said.
“What makes you think there is anything more to the story?”
“You sent a kind gnome to answer the door and bring me into your library. A room you probably and rightly thought I’d like and feel comfortable in. You could have killed me on sight and taken the coin from me within seconds of my bumbling arrival. I was easy prey for a dark and powerful wizard like you. And until you wrapped me in reptiles, you welcomed me into your home. I don’t think you did so to be cordial or polite. You don’t have to be any of those things.”
A shadow crossed his face. He waved his bony wand and the snakes slithered back into the plush carpet. He nodded to the gnome, who stood in the doorway. The gnome brought a tray with three glasses swirling with liquid and set them on the coffee table. Clover rubbed her wrists, relieved to be free from her serpent bonds.
“I hope you’re thirsty because my patience with you is wearing thin,” the Darklander said. “Pass my little test and I will tell you everything you want to know, fail and die right here in my home.”
Fear pulsed through Clover’s entire body. The cold, flat expression on his face told her he was deadly serious. There were three large globe glasses on the tray. One held a milky pearlescent liquid, the second held a greenish-brown liquid, and the third held a burgundy-colored liquid.
“The rules are simple. One glass contains a deadly poison, one contains the antidote, and one contains wine. You must drink one glass. If you live, then I will tell you who I really work for. I will divulge my secret.”
Clover eyed the glasses carefully. It was obviously a trick. He was misdirecting her with the contents of the glasses. The poison wasn’t the green liquid. Nor was the wine the burgundy one. The antidote wasn’t the milky white one either, because she’d suspect that. So which one was which? Her brow furrowed. She didn’t feel like playing games, but he’d given her no choice. Clover pulled each glass forward, inspecting it with all her senses. The green one bubbled and smelled horrifically of sulfur. The milky one smelled soothingly of honey and warm milk. And the final one smelled of deep, brooding grapes left to ferment to winey perfection.
Her eyes and nose told her to go with the wine, so she knew to stay away from it. It smelled delicious, but it couldn’t be wine, could it? It was probably the poison. Or was that the trick? Was the curdling green bubbly liquid really the safe one or was it really poison? Perhaps the safest choice was to drink the antidote. Her head began to ache. She should just grab one and chug it down and let that be that. But her impetuousness might get her killed.
She had only one choice. “Tell me the rules again.”
“Drink one glass.”
“That’s the only rule?”
“That’s it. They are really good odds. Two out of three are safe. It’s just the deadly poison that will get you.” He smiled, annoyingly.
“Okay. Then I have only one sure choice.” Clover picked up the green one and poured it into the middle glass and then picked up the wine and poured it into the middle glass also, consolidating all three liquids into one. She downed the entire glass of her little homemade brew, set the glass onto the table, wiped her mouth on her sleeve and burped. “Excuse me.” She shuddered and licked her lips.
The Darklander paused, observing her. Nothing happened. Thankfully.
A rueful smile broke across his face and he clapped. “Bravo. You Mayhems never cease to amaze me with your thought process. I must say you have a flare for the dramatic, Clover. Must be the word witch coming through.”
Clover shrugged. Her stomach rumbled a little but quickly quieted. “It was the only sure way. By combining them all, I nullified the poison with the antidote and washed it all down with the wine. It was really the safest option. I removed the element of chance entirely.” She gave herself a mental pat on the back.
“Yes. You did.” He shifted in his seat, propping his ankle on his other knee. He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully.
The gnome winked at her as he removed the tray and hurried from the room.
Clover straightened in her chair. “A deal’s a deal. Now tell me who you’re working for.”
“Why are you so eager to know? There’s no going back once you do.”
Sadness bloomed inside her as Clover contemplated the question. The answer opened her up to her vulnerabilities she didn’t want to share, but she really had no choice. “I have flashes of memories of my father before he left. From what I can recall, he was kind and gentle. But I was just a little witch. I want to know because I’m not ready to believe that my father is a bad wizard. I don’t believe it. And if that’s true, then he has to be involved in something greater, and I’m hoping that you are too.”
His brow creased. “I see you’ve left me no choice but to tell you the truth. It’s not something I enjoy doing. I’ve found that secrets have a lot more value than honesty, but never let it be said that I don’t keep my word.”
A dark wizard with integrity. That was rich. Clover kept her expression as neutral as possible. He was laying it on thick, obviously very impressed with himself.
The Darklander continued. “What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential and must remain between the two of us.”
“You know that’s not going to happen. I will tell my sisters. You can’t expect me not to.” She folded her hands in her lap.
He sighed. “Of course you will. But try to be discreet. You’ll understand in a second. As you know from the scrying incident you and your sisters pulled a while back, I occasionally work with Rye Finn and Hex Division. I am not an agent nor do I work in any undercover capacity with them. The arrangements have been brief mutual agreements on certain matters, but that’s all.”
The gnome carried in a tray with two glasses of water and set it on the coffee table. The Darklander took a sip from his glass and thanked the gnome.
“I do work for another organization, a clandestine group that works outside of the purview of the council and Hex. It’s called The Order of Hazel and was founded shortly after the witching wall went up and Everland was established.”
“You’re telling me you belong to a secret society,” she said. Her mouth practically hung open. He was full of surprises. “Why was this order founded?”
“After meeting a witch like Kat Keene, I would think the answer would be obvious. Corruption exists in all areas of our society. The order was created to root it out and to be the last line of defense to insure the witching world’s survival. The order protects us from ourselves.”
“How did you get involved? You aren’t actually the upstanding citizen. And don’t try and convince me the dark and devious aspect of your persona is an
act because I won’t buy it.” Clover took a sip of water, rinsing the bad taste out of her mouth.
“Your father recruited me,” he said.
“Really? Why?”
“My parents were part of the order, but I never knew it. I had a rather traditional upbringing with what I thought were ordinary parents. Both had minor persuasions. My mother was an accountant for the council and my father traveled as a surveyor and city planner. It was all a cover. They were really protecting our world and I never realized it until it was too late. I rebelled against what I saw as their boring, rigid ways. I excelled at everything my parents abhorred—black magic, wicked spellcraft, and dark deeds.”
“And you got caught.”
“No. I didn’t. I let them catch me. That was part of your father’s grand plan for me to live out here on the fringe and deepen my cover.” He shook his head. “Your father is my mentor.”
Clover narrowed her eyes, not hiding her disdain. “You’ve done terrible things and being part of something greater doesn’t wash your sins clean,” she snapped.
The cruel smile returned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am who I am. But I couldn’t escape the order. It was my destiny and after my parents were killed, your father approached me, and I joined gladly.”
“Why? For your parents?”
“Mostly, I did it for the gold. The order paid me handsomely. And they kept Hex at a distance.”