The Witches of Merribay (The Seaforth Chronicles)

by B. J. Smash

  As I approached my grandmother's house, I recapped my conversation with Ian. He had been waiting for me to return, to inform me that my grandfather had awoken from a coma. This was exceptional news, and my heart soared. Not only would he be all right, but he could possibly shed some light on what happened in the forest. Gran wouldn't have to worry and sit by his hospital bedside all hours of the night. She could soon relax. With Izadora's assistance, I would be rescuing my father soon. A knot in my stomach formed when I thought of my sister, but I vowed to myself that she too would be rescued.

  I had told Ian of my adventures in the forest, of the old woman Aggie. At that story, of the reburial of the old woman, he cringed, but he claimed that he had heard of Aggie. He just didn't know that she was buried beyond his family graveyard. “I shall not go up that way alone, I guarantee you that,” he had said. Another thing he had noticed were my ears. “They add a sassiness to you. I like them.”

  I walked into my grandmother's house, knowing that I wouldn't see anyone; they were all at the hospital. Except for GG Edmund, who called out to me now.

  “Ivy! That you?”

  I was careful to pull the hair down over my ears, although I feared they stuck out through the hair anyway. I didn't know how I'd explain it yet. I stood at his bedroom door, peering in. “It is me, GG Edmund. Can I bring you anything from the kitchen?” He lay in his usual spot on the bed, feet propped up by a pillow. He wore a blue and white flannel shirt, with his glasses hanging from a pocket. He had been sleeping.

  “A bowl of blueberries, and some tea. We'll play a game of Yahtzee.”

  I brought in tea for the both of us and his blueberries. I put a dollop of whipped cream on them, knowing that to be his favorite thing. Gran normally wouldn't allow him to have such a luxury, with him being on a restricted diet and all.

  “Thank you, Ivy. Get the game on the shelf.” He set the food on a tray to his left and placed his glasses on his nose. “Open the window, will you? It's awful stuffy in here.” The room smelled of newspapers and spicy cologne. I gladly opened the window, relieved at the pleasant breeze that spilled in, refreshing the room. I pulled the game down, and we started to play.

  “So, tell me how things have progressed out in the woods. Have you seen Izadora?”

  “I have.”

  “Tell me everything. Don't hold back from your great-grandpa. I can handle it,” he said solemnly.

  I didn't want him to worry about me; at the same time, I felt like telling him the whole story, even the parts about Izadora's gruesome curse. I explained Izadora's curse and how Izaill was surely wicked to the core. He kept nodding his head. When I finished the story he said, “That guy sounds like a real jerk.” When he rolled the dice, five 4’s appeared. “Yahtzee!”

  “How do you do that? I barely ever get a Yahtzee.” Pouting, I wrote his score down.

  I continued to tell the story of Aggie. To this, he appeared astonished. He put the dice down and scratched his head. “You have seen Izadora's mother? It's been said that she disappeared, possibly died.”

  “I sure have. She's buried up beyond the graveyard, in unconsecrated ground. And get this, she is still alive.” My stomach churned at the thought of it. “But she doesn't seem to mind it, though. She says it's a nice resting place.” I added the last part, trying to soften the story up a bit. He didn't look too happy, and I wondered if I should have withheld the story about Aggie.

  “I'm sorry, GG Edmund. Maybe I shouldn't have told you.”

  “Yes, you should have. I am sorry that you have been dragged into this mess. I have heard when Izadora sets her sights on someone, they can't resist. She has a way with pulling people in, promising them things.” He lifted his spoon and ate some blueberries with cream. “I must tell you, no one has heard from the likes of them weirdos for a long, long time. I truly am sorry that it had to be you that deals with them. I have heard they can be a wicked bunch. You need to be careful.”

  “I will. For sure. And I have Ian and Drumm to look out for me. And soon, we will have Father back.” Thoughts of Zinnia sprung to mind, but I couldn't bring myself to mention her.

  “Yes. Be very careful.” He looked as though he were in deep thought, chewing and staring straight ahead. “And the boy, he used to play with you. Your father would bring you to a field.”

  “Drumm is very trustworthy.”

  “Is he now? Good. Good.” He chewed on a single blueberry using his front teeth, avoiding my gaze.

  “You knew about Drumm.” I knew what he was going to say but that he didn't think it was his place to tell me. “You already knew that.”

  “I did. Although many times I thought you should know, I withheld. It was never me that you should hear it from. He's a good boy, I hear. Faithful kind. He's got morals and dignity, that one. Least that's what I have heard.”

  “Where do you hear these things?” I had to wonder, as he seemed quite knowledgeable of everything.

  “Oh, Ian tells me things. I'm an old man, but we are good friends. His father and I are the best of friends.” He picked up the dice and rolled. It didn't surprise me when he got yet another Yahtzee. “Yahtzee!” he yelled out.

  Thinking it would be time to show him my new ears, I tied my hair up into a ponytail.

  “Your ears! What happened to them?”

  “Izadora fixed them.”

  “I thought something about you seemed different. Your eyes—they are bigger.”

  “Ha! I can see better too.”

  He contemplated something for a moment. “You must be careful when dealing with this Izadora and the rest of that clan. Watch your back. When your father returns, you should probably leave here.”

  “I assume that we will,” I told him. A day ago I would have agreed wholeheartedly, but now…something in me wanted to stay. I mean, I had Drumm now. Could I just leave him behind? And Izadora, she didn't seem that bad.

  We finished four games and were on the last one, when he brought up a subject that got my full attention. My mother.

  “Get me that box up there on the shelf.” He pointed to an old wooden box with a little gold latch in the front. I handed it to him, and he opened it and pulled out a thin, long white rope. A pendant hung from the center. “This must have belonged to your mother. It was in the basket with you, when you were brought here. It was me that opened the door that night. You were the cutest little button I'd ever laid eyes on. I saw your mother in the tree line. Beautiful, she was. Anyhow, here is the necklace. It would suit you to wear it.”

  My face lit up and I reached for it, clasping it in my hand. The stone glimmered silver, blue, pink, and greenish; it appeared similar to a moonstone inlaid in silver.

  “I love it!”

  “Put it on but keep it hidden under your shirt,” he advised me.

  I put it over my head and held the stone. “Why can't anyone see?”

  “I have a feeling it has power. You keep it a secret. Don't let anyone know that you pack a punch.” He gave me a half smile.

  Before we finished the fifth game, I brought up Montague. “Aggie told me to summon Montague. She calls him Monty.”

  “Monty, you say? What does she want with him?”

  “She says he knows how to release her from the earth, break the spell. She told me to go to the ocean and write his name in the sand. That would summon him, and he would come to her aid.”

  He scratched his head and rubbed the stubble on his face. “Interesting. I wonder if he'll show up? No one has heard from Montague in quite some time.”

  “I don't know, but I hope so. She granted me one wish if he comes. If Izadora fails to free my father, I shall wish for that.”

  “If Izadora does free your father, what use would you have for a wish?”

  I paused, not knowing if I should broach the subject. I figured it was best to just get it all out there. “To free Zinnia.”

  “I hear from Ian that she is in cahoots with Magella. Is that so?” he asked.

  Surpris
ed that he knew this, I said, “It is true.”

  “Then that would be a good wish.” He thought for a moment, and then we added up our scores. Of course, he won.

  “Legend says that Montague never got along with the rest of his family. They were too strange to him. I don't know if you should get your hopes up. He might not show. If that be the case, you won't get your wish.”

  “I know. There is always a chance he won't come. One way or another, I have to help my father and my sister.”

  “I think I will lie down now. It's a bit late and I am weary. Good night, Ivy.” He rubbed his elbows as if they ached. I felt sorry for him; I knew that his arthritis gave him trouble.

  “Good night, GG Edmund.” I put away the game, lowered the window a bit, and left the room, quietly shutting the door.

  That was a great amount of information for such an old man to take in. I hoped that I hadn't caused him to worry. He seemed frail to me, and I would hate to see him suffer on my account.

  Tired myself, I went to bed. The last thing I remember was dreaming of a woman in the forest. With the moon shimmering behind her, and the millions of tiny sparkling stars in the black sky, she looked like a goddess. Long, wavy blonde hair flowed past her shoulders, billowing out at the sides with the wind. Her silver and blue dress matched the silver crown with bright blue stones atop her head. She waved for me to come closer. Nearing her, the smile upon her face vanished, and a look of fear crossed her eyes. One moment I was standing before her, and in another I was up close, looking into her eyes. I could see a ship and storm with waves the size of towers, and mad-looking faces appeared and disappeared before my eyes. The earth opened up, threatening to swallow me.

  I awoke panting, sweat covering my body. Sitting up, I wiped my brow on the top sheet.

  Magella and Izaill were coming for me; I was certain of it.

  The next morning, I ate lime Jell-O topped with whipped cream, even though a better part of me preferred to eat celery. I couldn't find any; my sister had finished it off, which left me with a deep craving. There weren't any carrots either.

  My aunts were wandering about the house. Aunt Cora scurried from room to room, dusting everything in sight with a bandana over her mouth (to keep the dust out, I suppose) and rubber gloves. When she was excited or nervous about something, she couldn't sit still. It was why Gran's house was spotless. Aunt Cora was always excited or nervous about something.

  Aunt Clover chatted on the phone with someone, walking back and forth and down the hall, up the stairs, and back down the stairs. Finally she plopped down at the table and clicked off the phone. She leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands, smiling all the while.

  “That was Ian. He's such a nice man, isn't he?” Ian had a way about him that made everyone feel special, and my aunt Clover fell victim. Before I could answer, she spoke again. “He wants you to come up as soon as you can.” She wore a black tank top, gray cardigan, and jean shorts, causing her to look comfortable, whereas Aunt Cora wore tan capris, a light pink cami covered by a short-sleeved, white button-down blouse, and white wedge sandals. She looked as though she should be out shopping at an upscale grocery store.

  “But it's not even 8:30 a.m. He's supposed to be asleep still. He doesn't come down to brunch until 10:30 a.m.,” I said.

  “Apparently he's awake now. You should get a move on.” Aunt Clover said.

  “Wear a sweatshirt! Maine mornings can be chilly,” Aunt Cora yelled from down on her knees behind the kitchen island. She was cleaning the floor with Windex and paper towels.

  I grabbed a black hoodie from a hook on the wall by the door. I was about to ask about my grandfather but was sorely interrupted when Aunt Clover spilled her coffee on the floor. Aunt Cora apparently had good ears. She stood and walked over to the spill, got back on her hands and knees, and Windex-ed it up.

  “Always making messes for me to clean!” She scolded Aunt Clover while wiping and spraying once again.

  “You know, people can be exposed to a few germs and it's actually better that way. It makes you healthier, if you ask me,” Aunt Clover replied.

  “Ah, but no one asked you, did they?” Aunt Cora sprayed the area again and wiped one more time before she continued on under the table.

  “Look at you—you’re actually going underneath the table!”

  “Move your feet.”

  “Bye,” I yelled as they continued to bicker back and forth. They didn't acknowledge me, but I left anyway.

  The door at Ian's opened before I could even ring the bell.

  “Mr. McCallister awaits you in the sunroom,” Mrs. Pumbleton informed me. She led the way as though I'd never been there before, and pulled a chair out for me to be seated at the exquisite table. Today there were Belgian waffles, strawberries, whipped cream, eggs Benedict, and cappuccinos. I scanned the table for any celery but to no avail.

  “Miss Seaforth. Good to see you.” Ian had food in his mouth, but that didn't stop him from talking.

  “Why do you call me ‘Miss Seaforth,’ and not ‘Ivy’?” The question had always plagued me; I had to ask.

  “Why, Miss Seaforth”—he chuckled—“do you care?”

  “I don't know, just curious,” I said.

  “I inherited the habit from my own father. He rarely calls people by their Christian names. Would you prefer me to call you ‘Ivy,’ Miss Seaforth?”

  I thought about it for a second, and I couldn't picture Ian using my given name. “No. I like ‘Miss Seaforth.’”

  “Well, now that we have gotten that important issue resolved, would you like to hear your instructions for the day? Or do we have any more pressing matters to further discuss?” I believe one of the reasons Ian and I got along so well was due to his sarcasm.

  “Ha! No, we can get on to business. I must get to Izadora's soon. She promised to get my father back once the spell is broken, and it should be broken today.” I'm sure he could sense the excitement in my voice; there was no way he could miss it.

  “Precisely so. Now I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Yeah?” I realized the time had come. I had always known he expected me to do something for him.

  He held a fork in one hand, a knife in the other. A sly smile spread across his face. He laid the utensils down, patted his mouth with a white cloth napkin, and sat back in his chair.

  “After your father's return, I need a vial of spring water from Merribay.”

  “You know about Merribay?”

  He rolled his eyes. “It's on my property, Miss Seaforth. I own it.”

  “But it belongs to the—”

  “It belongs to me, but they are welcome to it. Not that I could actually take it away without them chopping my head off, but just the same, they are welcome to it.”

  “How can I get the water from the spring? Where is it located in the city?”

  “You are half elf, half human. You walk right in to the center of the city, place the vial in the spring, walk out, and, voilà, bring it back to me.”

  “What do you need it for?”

  “Full of questions, we are.” He tapped the table with his fingers, narrowed his eyes, and said, “I have more money than God Himself, but I cannot use my legs. The spring water has curative properties. I have accepted my fate. However, if there is something out there that may help me to walk again, I would be a fool not to try it.”

  “I understand. I will try to get it for you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Seaforth. I have no doubt.”

  I could feel the stone from the necklace that GG Edmund had given me. I felt safe and secure wearing it, right on top of the world.

  “Are you going to eat? Mrs. Pumbleton specifically made you the waffles.” He waved his hand at the table as though it were a showcase of diamonds.

  “I would rather have celery, if that's all right,” I said.

  “Celery? Are we dieting? You are like a beanpole as it is.”

  “Thanks.” I scowled.

&nbs
p; “Mrs. Pumbleton,” Ian yelled out, “bring me some celery, if you would.”

  “Uncut,” I said.

  “Uncut, Mrs. Pumbleton.”

  He looked at me for a few seconds as though he seemed confused about something. “You know, you look taller. Anyway, go get your father back and then proceed to the city of Merribay for the spring water. I will be sure to reward you, even if you try and fail.”

  Mrs. Pumbleton carried in a plate of crisp celery. Overly excited, I grabbed the plate and pulled out a celery heart that was nice and tender. “Thank you,” I mumbled as I chewed.

  Both Mrs. Pumbleton and Ian watched as I devoured the celery. I chewed and swallowed several times. A koi fish made a splash in the pond, but no one took their eyes from me.

  “Must be something you need in the celery that you crave,” said Mrs. Pumbleton.

  “Would you like a bag to take with you?” Ian asked. He sat with his back to the chair and his hands folded in his lap, eyeballing me.

  “This will be fine.” I grabbed a few more stalks and jumped up to leave.

  “I'll go with you to the gate.” Ian pushed himself up and swung over to the wheelchair.

  As we made our way to the gate, he informed me that my craving for celery meant that my body was changing.

  “Otherworldly beings rarely eat meat. They tend to enjoy vegetables and, I have found on occasion, wine.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “In fact, sometimes if you leave wine outside during a full moon, the next morning you will find the cup empty. Just ask my father. He used to leave a cup out and find it empty in the morning. Ah well, sometimes it was me that drank it, but usually it was the fairies.

  “Now, when you arrive at Izadora's, explain to her what I have asked you to do. And take the boy with you; you'll need him to guide you into the city. Good luck with getting your father back.”

  “Wait. I have a question about Zinnia. She also ate nothing but celery and vegetables before she went with the Fae. She started to look pale and scrawny. Do you suppose that—”