Persephone gasped for air and doubled over. She peeked at the women through the pain. They appeared to be in their mid-thirties, and magic sparked off them like an electrical storm. Ariel and Ellison Way. They had to be. They were powerful, more powerful than she had guessed, than Hyacinth and Moira had alluded.
“Give. It. Back,” the shorter of the Way sisters said.
“What?” Persephone coughed twice, hard, and felt the magic inside her lift up and out. It was like the previous attack, only focused in a different direction. On instinct, Persephone reached her hand up and grabbed at the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The passenger’s other hand came up and fisted and Persephone cried out in pain.
“Liar.”
Persephone tried to breathe, tried to tap back into the vein.
“You dare?” the passenger said, her eyes narrowing.
“I beat you before, I can beat you again,” said Persephone, a deep pool of rage roiling beneath her skin. Screw these witches. Persephone was stronger. She couldn’t let them win. She wouldn’t fail Hyacinth and Moira. She gnashed her teeth and wrapped the invisible line tighter around her.
The tall woman stepped forward, and the passenger’s arm shot out to stop her. The passenger’s face had gone from livid to uncertain.
The passenger sniffed the air and said something low and in a language Persephone did not understand, and the tall woman’s expression lost its edge as the three women stood facing one another.
“You are not of the way,” said the passenger. “You are something else.” She looked up into the trees, before gazing at the spot on the ground where Persephone had fought off her attack. The passenger studied it like it was a riddle.
A seed of doubt sprang up in Persephone. “Wasn’t that you?” Persephone asked, thinking of the shadow monster, of the first attack, certain it must have been from them.
The witches only stared, eyes narrowed, brows creased.
A shudder worked its way through Persephone, and she wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to physically hold herself together.
Persephone got her answer when the woman looked at her and flashed a grim line of lip and teeth. “You are not of the way, but you are in the way.” The passenger closed her eyes, took a breath, and raised her hands, palms face up. “Return now.”
The gentle words scattered like leaves on the wind. Persephone felt them trickle up her legs and clamor onto her thighs. They undid the magic Persephone had wrapped around herself in one fell swoop.
The power she had pulled washed away and Persephone shuddered violently. The spell’s undoing stole Persephone’s breath and took her strength. She fought to keep herself upright.
“Come for my power again, witch, and I will end you in the most creative ways,” the witch from the ferry said. She turned on her heel and walked with her head high, back down the cobblestone path.
The other woman, the tall one, shook her head. “Ariel always has to make a show of it.” She studied Persephone, sighed, and lifted her own hands. “But really, you should know better.”
Ellison Way snapped her fingers and everything, in and out of Persephone’s line of vision, went black.
* * *
PERSEPHONE WOKE ON the white crescent couch in Hyacinth and Moira’s sitting room. Hyacinth sat at her feet, Opal at her head, and as her vision snapped into focus, Persephone saw a line of purple crystals varying in size resting along her right arm. “What—?”
“Amethysts,” Hyacinth told Persephone. “You’re depleted.” Hyacinth held up a sachet of herbs, and tied it shut with red thread. Standing, she placed it in Persephone’s palm. “I didn’t think you’d need so much protection right away. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”
“Protection?” Persephone asked, the rising aroma waking her faster than a cup of coffee ever could. The memory of facing the witches washed over her. “What did they do to me?”
“Drained you. I knew they wouldn’t respond well to your being on island, but neither Moira nor I anticipated they would attack you like that.”
Persephone studied the sachet in her palm.
“That will help,” Hyacinth said, giving her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “It’s a bit of rosemary, angelica, and sage, three cloves, and a pinch of salt. While it’s on you it wards off negativity.”
“Does it work?”
“It does if you believe.”
Persephone struggled to roll over, knocking the stones from her arm. “And these?”
“The Way sisters bled you of your energy, and the crystals aid in a faster process of calling it back.” Hyacinth reached behind her to the long table, and brought a cup of tea forward. “Cinnamon for healing, among other things. Drink, and then we’ll talk.”
Persephone accepted the cup and drank deeply. As she did, the sachet warmed in her other hand and a feeling of peace rooted deep in her. Persephone’s shoulders inched down from her ears. Whatever magic Hyacinth was doing, it was working.
Persephone finished the cup, pocketed the sachet, and swung her legs forward. Resting her head against the back of the couch she took a slow breath, and found the pain around her middle had abated.
“How did I get back to your house?” Persephone asked, her thoughts going to the library and the man there.
“Moira felt you fall,” Hyacinth said. “She sent me and I brought you back.” She brushed a loose lock of hair behind Persephone’s shoulder. “You’ve really grown on her. I haven’t seen her so worried since … well, it’s been a long time.”
“I’m growing on her like a boil,” Persephone said, with a quiet smile.
“More like a freckle.” Hyacinth said, flashing her trademark grin before her mouth pulled down and she looked to the side. Her expression reminded Persephone of someone biting off a secret.
Persephone thought of one she carried, and opened her mouth to tell Hyacinth of the man and the library, and the words stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Magic.
She closed her eyes for a moment, seeing the man’s hazel ones, and bit back a growl at whatever spell he’d worked to quiet her tongue.
“Those Way witches…” Persephone said, instead.
“They certainly give the term a bad name, don’t they?”
“Without a doubt.” Persephone ran a hand across her lips, tasting the fear from before, trying to recall precisely what happened. “I think, before they attacked me, that there was someone or something else there. It was … made of shadows?”
Hyacinth offered a subtle lift of the brow. “It could have been either Ariel or Ellison. Magic distorts our perception when we’re under attack.”
Persephone heaved out a sigh. “They really hate me.”
Hyacinth ran her palm along her jaw. “They don’t love you.”
“But they don’t know me.”
“They know what you could be.” Hyacinth sighed. “It isn’t fair, Persephone.” She looked her over. “Are you up for going outside, or do you need more time to rest?”
“I’m okay,” Persephone said, stretching her legs and finding all her aches had eased.
Hyacinth nodded and helped Persephone up, and they went out onto the expansive porch, down the steep steps, and onto the pretty cobblestone path.
Persephone drew a breath down deep into her belly, relishing how the clean sea air seemed to reenergize and lift her spirits. “It’s hard to imagine anything bad ever happens here,” she said, looking at the rolling hills and deep foliage that merged together almost as though they were in a race for the sea waiting at the base of the island.
“Bad things happen everywhere, don’t they?” Hyacinth said, her voice drawing Persephone’s gaze. She nodded toward the mountain on the other side of them, and they followed the road up rather than down.
“I suppose,” Persephone agreed after a beat. “I mean, bad things certainly happened everywhere I went before, but I assumed those times were from my own doing. You know, with the creepy eye
magic.”
Hyacinth looked over. “You haven’t had it easy, have you?”
Persephone shrugged. “Who has?”
“You don’t complain.”
Persephone gave a short laugh. “What good is complaining?” She rolled out her shoulders, tested her neck muscles by tilting her head from side to side. “I’ve never wanted to be the victim, I’ve only ever wanted to be…”
“The hero?” Hyacinth supplied.
“I was going to say a survivor,” Persephone said, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I read a self-help book at the last group home that said we should aim to thrive instead of only survive, so I guess that’s what I’ve wanted, really.” She shrugged to hide the feeling of being too exposed.
“To thrive,” Hyacinth said, and her arm came up and around Persephone’s shoulder. The side hug was gentle but reassuring. It lasted twelve seconds.
Persephone turned around to face her friend. “What about you?”
“I’m no hero,” Hyacinth said, her mouth curving into a crooked smile.
“You know what I mean. What do you want?”
“To break the curse,” Hyacinth reached over to pluck a leaf from a flowering bush. “To help you. To be free. To break the curse.”
The path looped and they took it to the right, deeper into the forest where thick moss was draped over curvy forked oaks like decorative scarves wrapped around voluptuous women.
“If you are working with me,” Hyacinth said after a long beat, “you are working against Ariel. She once wanted to break the curse, but time has a way of changing minds. After our mothers tried to break the curse and were banished, it changed Ariel.”
Persephone studied the trees in the distance. She could empathize with that loss, to a degree, but perhaps it was harder to lose what you’ve had than what you’ve only dreamed of.
“Did you ever scry for your mom? Like you looked for me?”
Hyacinth nodded. “I thought I found her once, on the winter solstice.” Hyacinth rubbed at her collarbone in a way that made Persephone think she wasn’t aware she was doing it. “She doesn’t want to be found. I couldn’t hold the connection, it was like it was everywhere at once. Like maybe she didn’t want to be traced.”
“Oh,” Persephone said, her heart breaking at the pain on her friend’s face.
“She has her reasons, I suppose. When you leave without the island’s magic, it can corrupt you if you aren’t strong enough. She knew she could never return, so maybe she did what she needed to survive.”
Persephone didn’t think there was a cost she wouldn’t pay to be reunited with her family. For Hyacinth’s mother to cast her daughter off so easily … it was unimaginable to her.
Hyacinth brushed her hair from her face. “Ariel couldn’t forgive the curse for forcing our mothers to leave, so she decided everything about the curse was evil. Including breaking it. She and Ellison now believe that to break the curse will free the darkness. They think to break the curse will destroy us and the island.” She shook her head. “Ari’s wrong, though. Saving the lost witches, our family, is what will save us.”
Persephone considered the pinch of her cousin’s lips, the determined set of her jaw. “Maybe it will even save your mothers.”
Hyacinth didn’t respond right away, only raised a hand and pulled a current of wind toward them so it sent her chocolate curls fluttering in the wind. After another weighted moment, she spoke. “Maybe.”
Persephone didn’t want to cause Hyacinth more pain and linger on the subject of her mother, so she rolled out her neck, freeing a few of the knots. “They wanted to hurt me, Ariel and Ellison. To stop me.”
“Perhaps.”
“I was able to control my magic,” she said, thinking back to the powerlessness she felt facing the other witches. “But I didn’t know how to stop them.”
Hyacinth rubbed her forehead. “They are strong, and we haven’t faced them in a long time. They are stronger now than before. I shouldn’t have underestimated them.” Hyacinth took a slow breath, released it. “Do you want to continue? Talking about magic and practicing your craft is one thing, but facing the Ways … that is another.”
Persephone turned her face up to the sky. She meant what she had said to Hyacinth, she didn’t want to be a victim to her life. She finally had family, family who made her feel seen and supported, and she didn’t want to let them—or herself—down.
“I’m not afraid of the Ways,” Persephone decided. “Though I’d sure like to not get my ass kicked if we face them again.”
Hyacinth finally flashed her dazzling grin. “Then after you’ve had a bit more time to recover, I say we up our training and go for serious defense spells.”
With that, Hyacinth and Persephone returned to Ever House. Hyacinth drew her a bath of rosehips and salt from the deep of the sea before she went out to her garden to work. When the last of Persephone’s muscles no longer carried a lingering twinge from the fight, she dressed and went downstairs.
Moira stood in the kitchen, dancing to the Indigo Girls, preparing a lunch of roast duck and buttered potatoes. On the table sat a thick coconut cake that should have been illegal.
“It smells like whatever tempted the fates into giving up their souls,” Persephone said, her mouth watering.
“Ha,” Moira said, and gave her hips a wiggle. “As if the fates would ever give up their souls. They’d trade one of ours first.” She turned around and waved a pitcher of tea in Persephone’s direction. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She considered the flour on Moira’s face, the batter on her apron, and the mismatched slippers on her feet. In moments like this, it was easy to forget the power of this particular witch. “Hyacinth said you felt me fall?”
“I did.” Moira reached for Persephone’s hand. She placed her palm across hers, and a jolt ran into Persephone’s toes. “We are connected.”
Persephone smiled at the idea. Then, thinking it over, she asked, “Is there a reason Hyacinth didn’t feel me fall?
Moira set the pitcher beside the cake. “Her magic isn’t quite so strong as yours, it’s a bit of a different wavelength so to speak.”
Persephone nodded, looked out the window over the kitchen sink to where she could see Hyacinth in the garden, bent over a bed of hibiscus.
“She knows, doesn’t she? It’s why she works so hard.”
Moira came to stand beside her. “Don’t those who feel a lack always work twice as hard for what they want?”
Persephone thought of her mother and grandmother, and tugged at a pilled thread at the edge of her shirt. “Can I help with anything?” she asked, turning to Moira.
“That depends, how are you at setting a table?”
Persephone wiggled her brows. “I am a veritable badass when it comes to donning silverware and plates.”
Moira’s eyes twinkled before she nodded in the direction of the cloth napkins.
They made quick work of it, and as Persephone laid plate over plate and fork beside knife, she couldn’t help but think of how many generations had gathered in the kitchen of Ever House. It made her heart squeeze to know her grandmother likely had stood where she stood.
It made her sad to recall what Hyacinth had said of her own mother, and how she would never stand here again.
“Do you miss your mom?” she asked Moira, the question popping out.
The fork Moira was holding clattered to the plate. She looked over at Persephone, her gaze sharp. Moira set the rest of her forks down, methodical in her motions, before she pulled out a chair and sat.
“How do you feel about thunderstorms?”
“You’re asking me about the weather?”
“I am.”
Persephone looked out the window, to where the sun cascaded gorgeous rays of gold across the grass, considering. “I love thunderstorms when they don’t bring tornadoes or hurricanes.”
“I hate them,” Moira said, her voice level. “They are loud, bright, and aggressive. But th
ey water the earth, they change the land, and change is necessary as well as inevitable.” She ran a hand through her hair. “My mother was like a thunderstorm.”
“Oh,” Persephone said. She opened her mouth to ask Moira more, as footsteps sounded on the porch.
Moira reached for the spoons. She went about nestling them beside the plates, while Persephone held the wooden ring for a cloth napkin, her eyes on Moira, and the slight, barely there, tremble that ran down her cousin’s arm, into her fingertips.
* * *
THE WOMEN ATE, savoring each bite, and talking about nothing and everything. When they finished, Persephone helped Moira wash and dry the dishes after Hyacinth cleared the table. Ever House had a dishwasher, but Moira believed it was for special occasions. “Busy hands help clear minds,” she told Persephone.
Once the dishes were dry, Moira and Persephone went out to the porch for a restorative meditation session. An hour and a half later, Hyacinth led Persephone through the Arch, and out onto a meadow bordered with wildflowers and apple trees.
“Welcome to Alternate Wile,” Hyacinth said, waving an arm at the world around them. “This is what we imagine the other islands could have looked like had they not sunk into the ocean.”
The air was cleaner on this land, the grass more lush than on Wile Isle. It was a type of oasis, Persephone realized, unmarred by a single imperfection. She immediately decided she preferred the real thing to the illusion. Persephone held out a hand to see if she could catch the breeze, and shuddered. Her whole body shook from the effort like leaves clinging to a thin branch during a windstorm.
“Your energy is blocked,” Hyacinth said, as Persephone shook out her hands, trying to rid herself of the cold that flooded in when she tried to channel her power. “It happens when we let our minds believe what they should not. When we forget we have the power to manifest our world. To clear it, we need to release the imprint of negative energy left behind by the Way sisters.”
Persephone’s teeth chattered. “How do I do that?”
“By untangling the thread.”
“What kind of thread?” Persephone asked, envisioning herself as one giant scarf and if Hyacinth tugged the wrong end she’d fall apart.
The Orphan Witch Page 10