Witch Hollow and the Wrong Spell (Book 1)

by I.D. Blind

8. The Dinner

  “The McCormacks have invited us to dinner,” Uncle Albert said during breakfast.

  “Are they celebrating anything?” Riona asked.

  “I don’t think so. Yesterday at noon I met Peter near the market, and we had a short talk. In the end he invited us to dinner. It had totally slipped from my mind.”

  Eric wasn’t happy about the invitation. He didn’t want to see Dickens McCormack, much less to sit with him at the same table. When they saw each other, they never greeted, never spoke. And if Eric and Dickens ran into each other on the arena, Dickens hampered him in every possible way or threw insulting remarks. Several times the elder fellows had to intervene so that Dickens wouldn’t start a fight. And today Eric would have to sit with him at the same table and tolerate his presence.

  Descending the stairs, Eric ran into Eleanora, who had spent the last two hours in her room, choosing clothes and preening herself.

  “Nora, you look so beautiful today,” Eric said with a smile.

  Eleanora blushed.

  “You’re always beautiful, but today you’re exceptional.”

  “Thank you. I think I spent too much time in my room. It would be a pity to come out without good results.”

  “I wonder if your long preparation has to do something with one of the hosts of the neighboring house.”

  Eleanora made a face. “Eww, of course not. But if I am invited to a dinner, I always prepare thoroughly.”

  Eric didn’t believe her, but decided not to tease her anymore. They went downstairs, where Albert, Riona, and Henry were already waiting for them.

  The maid led the O'Brians into the living room, where Mrs. Caitlin McCormack met them with a smile. Her warm welcome lasted several minutes, during which she inquired about Eric, and repeated over and over how pleased she was to see him in her house. Eric liked Mrs. McCormack; he considered her pleasant and good-natured. He thought the same of her husband, Peter McCormack.

  Eric was delighted to see Dinah. She was so beautiful in her blue dress, her black hair styled in a long braid, that he lost his breath for a second.

  “And who of us longed to meet the host of the house? Or rather, the hostess?” Eleanora whispered in Eric's ear. He grinned and walked over to Dinah.

  “I am so happy that you are my guest today.” Dinah gave him her hand. “I hope you will enjoy spending time in our house.” Before she had finished speaking, her brother came in. Eric's face changed instantly. He didn’t conceal his dislike for the young McCormack. Dinah squeezed his hand. “Don’t pay attention to him. He’s not in a good mood today.”

  As if yesterday he was any better, Eric thought. While Dinah was exchanging pleasantries with Eleanora, Eric ran his eyes around the living room. The McCormacks’ big house was beautifully furnished; the room reminded Eric of one of the paintings of the Victorian era he once saw at an exhibition. Due to the beige wallpapers and white furniture, the room was bright and comfortable; the green curtains were open, and the windows, peering westward, let the orange sunrays fill the room. No less beautiful was the dining room, full of glassware made by the host of the house. Peter McCormack's fame was deserved. His small vases, fragile figurines, and tall glasses were admired by anyone who knew how to appreciate the glassblower’s craft.

  “How long do you plan to stay in Hollow?” Mr. McCormack asked Eric during dinner.

  “Until the end of the winter.”

  “What do you do at home?”

  Eric didn’t want to leave a bad impression on Mr. McCormack, and didn’t say he was expelled from school for persistent truancy and brawls.

  “I haven’t decided what to do. Every day I like something different.”

  “And what are you doing in Hollow?”

  “He helps me a lot,” Albert answered instead of Eric.

  “That’s good.” Peter McCormack took a sip of wine. “But I see by his hands that he’s not a farmer. This fellow should do arts or craft.”

  Mrs. McCormack smiled. “Peter likes to decide the fates of young people.”

  “That’s true. If I see potential, I can’t be silent.” He turned to Eric. “Have you been at my workshop?”

  “Not yet.”

  “It's my fault,” said Dinah. “One of these days I will bring Eric to your shop, Father.”

  “Would you like to learn the skill of the glassblower, Eric?”

  “I don't know. I haven’t thought about it.”

  “Think about it,” Peter McCormack said. “I tried to teach the craft to Dickens, but he doesn’t know how to handle fragile things. Give Dickens a glass statue, and he’ll definitely break it.”

  “Peter, don’t underestimate the boy’s talents,” Albert said.

  “I’m not underestimating; he now works for Siegfried and builds boats and canoes. Siegfried seems to be pleased with him, but Dickens was too awkward for glass. You see, glass is not for everyone, but wood is quite different.”

  While Mr. McCormack was speaking, Eric was observing his neighbors and thinking how much Dinah looked like her father. She had the same dark-blue eyes, black satin-like hair, and the same cheekbones and jawline, except that Dinah’s features were gentle, soft, and feminine. And Dickens looked just like his mother, with the same golden hair, pale-blue eyes, and a strained pose that was giving away his discomfort.

  His thoughts were cut short by Caitlin McCormack’s question.

  “Do you like Hollow?” she asked.

  “A lot. It’s a great place, although a bit witchy,” he jested, but no one smiled to his joke.

  “Witchy?” Peter McCormack’s voice was cold. “Why do you think so?”

  Eric looked at Dinah. When she cast her eyes down, he turned back to Peter McCormack. “I’ve heard witches live in Hollow.”

  “And I’ve heard you defend them vehemently,” Dickens muttered.

  Peter McCormack stared at his son. “Dickens? What do you mean?”

  Dickens’s pale-blue eyes stared at Eric. “A protector of the witches is sitting with us. Isn’t it true, O'Brian?”

  Under the intent gaze of those around the table Eric felt awkward. “When girls are insulted in my presence, I feel it my duty to defend them,” he said, returning the same look at Dickens. The latter smirked.

  “Eric didn’t know who they were,” Dinah said. “If he knew, he wouldn’t have argued with Dickens.”

  “I still don't understand,” said Mrs. McCormack.

  Dinah told them about the accident on the square. Mr. McCormack looked grimly at Eric. “Do not rush into the battle until you know what you fight for.”

  “Father, I told you, Eric didn’t know who they were. He wouldn’t defend them if he knew.”

  “I hope so!”

  “Defending women is the correct thing,” said Albert, “but these girls don't need your help. You’ll probably be the one who needs help if you meet them. Don’t ever talk to them again.”

  “Uncle Albert, I haven’t talked to them…” Eric paused, then added after a second, “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I don't care what has happened between them and Dickens. If I see him insulting girls, I will stand up for them, whoever they are.”

  Deathly silence hung over the room. Neither the hosts nor Eric’s uncle liked his words. Only Riona didn’t seem disappointed; she was smiling, though she tried to conceal her smile. She attempted to change the topic of the discussion, but there was no more pleasant conversation that day. The hosts ignored Eric till the end of the evening. When everyone retired into the sitting room, where the maid was serving dessert, Dinah approached Eric with undisguised displeasure.

  “Why did you say that?”

  “You wanted me to lie so that your father would like me?”

  “You are our guest; you could behave more discreetly.”

  Eric stared at her. “I am sorry that I didn’t meet your expectations, but I can’t say what I don’t think.”

  “But you can keep quiet about what you think. Is it an obligation to always sp
eak your mind?”

  “Maybe not, but your brother provoked me.”

  Dinah left his company. She, as well as her family, pretended not to notice Eric till the end of the evening. Every minute seemed an hour to him. He felt uncomfortable in the McCormacks’ house. Riona and Eleanora were the only ones who tried to soften the situation. Eleanora sat by her cousin to make him feel less slighted, but it didn’t help when the hosts openly shunned him. Like Eric, Riona was counting the minutes when Albert would finally decide to go home, but Albert stayed late at the McCormacks’.

  When they finally returned home, Uncle Albert was quick to announce his displeasure. Riona tried to stand up for Eric, reminding her husband that the boy hadn’t lived long enough in Hollow, but Albert was adamant. He advised Eric to control himself and not to talk unnecessarily; otherwise he’d have to return home.

  9. The Chase

  It was nighttime and the girls were once again looking for a clue in the library, when they heard an argument outside. Jack and Uncle Colin were quarrelling. Cassandra looked into the courtyard. Colin left his son and entered the house, and Jack went to the stables and a moment later darted out astride his stallion.

  “He didn’t lock the stable,” Cassandra said. “Uncle will get angry.”

  “I shall lock it.” Electra left the library. When she was away, Cassandra had a bad premonition. She froze with a book in her hand and stared aimlessly at the wall.

  “Cassie, are you alright?”

  “I have a bad feeling.”

  Medea wanted to assure her that it was only her imagination, but Cassandra hurried after her sister.

  It was dark outside, but the moonlight was enough to help her not to stumble while crossing the courtyard. Near the barn she saw Electra coming towards her with a rake in her hand.

  “Cassie, what happened?”

  “Nothing. I thought to come after you. I had a bad feeling.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’ll put the rake inside the barn, and we shall go inside,” Electra said, and entered the barn while Cassandra waited for her outside. A roar of falling tools came from the barn. Cassandra rushed inside and found Electra lying on the floor, her leg caught on something in the dark. Falling, she had dragged the entire contents of the nearest shelf down with her.

  “Oh, dear, why didn’t you turn on the light?” Cassandra helped her to her feet.

  “I tried, but the bulb has burned out.”

  “Come, let's put everything in its place and go back. I wasn’t planning to clean the barn today.”

  They picked up the hammers and saws from the floor and placed them back on the shelf. The girls were in a hurry and didn’t notice the black figure in the corner of the barn, standing still among the rakes and shovels, his yellow eyes staring at their backs. Electra took a clipper from the floor, turned around to put it into its place, and gasped. Following Electra’s trembling finger, Cassandra let out the same low cry. He was there, his eyes glimmering like yellow spheres in the dark.

  The girls took a step back and stumbled upon the shelves. The dark figure didn’t move, but they were sure that the barn door closed by his command.

  “That’s him.”

  “What shall we do?”

  “The broom is in the corner, find it.”

  But neither of them moved. Their feet seemed nailed to the floor. Knees felt weak; they would collapse if they dared make a move. When the creature stepped forward, the girls screamed and ran into the corners of the barn. He stopped, looked at one, then at the other, and stepped towards Electra. Searching for something helpful in the dark, Cassandra hit her shoulder against the shelf, once again dropping the tools down. Finally, she felt the broom against the wall and grabbed it.

  “The broom has no saddle, what shall I do?”

  “The bucket, hurry up, get into the bucket!” Electra huddled in the corner and watched the creature approach her. Cassandra clambered into a large bucket in the corner of the barn, then took a hammer from the shelf and hurled it at the creature. As he turned to her, Electra rushed to her sister and jumped into the bucket. The creature hissed and darted after them. Electra pulled out the broom and struck it on the side of the bucket. It hovered up and slipped out through the chimney of the barn. The bucket soared to the forest, and the black mantle with a long beak followed it closely. Electra hit the side of the bucket with the broom, making it fly faster, but the creature continued the chase.

  “Give me that!” Cassandra snatched the broom from her sister’s hands, and raising it in the air, hit the creature’s head with it.

  “Go away!” she yelled, pouring blows upon the black head.

  The creature lost control, staggered and got tangled in the branches of an oak. The mantle transformed into a smoke and converted into an old woman on a broomstick.

  “WITCH!” Cassandra screamed, almost dropping the broom.

  “Up!” cried Electra. “Go up!”

  Cassandra sent the bucket up. To avoid the sharp twigs, the girls dived into the bucket, hearing the witch hollering in the air. Breaking the branches, the bucket was racing at a high speed. When it squeezed through the last branch, the bucket came to a halt in the air. The girls poked out their heads and looked around. They were above the forest, surrounded by the night sky, and the tops of the fir trees had remained far below. All they saw were peaks of the highest trees; there was not a soul around. Only the crescent moon and seldom stars were shining in intervals when the dark clouds passed over them.

  The girls took a deep breath and looked at each other.

  “Is it gone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The same blood-chilling screech rang out nearby, and the witch on the broom rose before them.

  “Back! Back to the woods!”

  Cassandra hit the side of the bucket with the broom, and it rushed back into the thick forest. Bawling, the witch dashed after them. The bucket was descending so quickly that even the thickest branches were breaking. Losing their grip on the handles inside the bucket, the girls shrieked all the way down, until the bucket hit on a thick bough and turned upside down. The girls crashed on the ground; the bucket and the broom fell nearby.

  Electra took her hand to her aching temple, crawling to Cassandra, whose head was spinning so badly she couldn’t stand on her feet. Electra helped her stand up, and staggering, they trudged to the bucket.

  “Get in, hurry.”

  “Is it going to come back?”

  “I don’t know, so hurry up.”

  Cassandra climbed into the bucket. Electra found the broom in the bushes and climbed after her sister. They returned to the barn and put the bucket and the broom in their places, then hurried to the house. The girls found Medea in the kitchen, sitting at the table with their three cats and sharing a piece of cake with them. Upon seeing their bruised faces and tattered clothing, Medea almost choked on the cake.

  “What happened to you? I’ve been sitting here and waiting for you for more than an hour, and it turns out that you got into a fray.”

  Electra sat down and buried her face in her hands. “The creature chased us.”

  “What? Where? What happened?”

  “Let's go to the bedroom for a talk.”

  With her mouth agape, Medea could only nod. Electra and Cassandra crashed on their beds and told Medea about the barn, the flight inside the bucket, the forest, and most importantly, about the creature in a black mantle, which shape-shifted into a witch.

  “This is serious,” Medea whispered, and bit her lips.