Covenkeepers

by Denise Gwen

  It reminded her of something familiar, a terrifying sensation she’d experienced once as a little girl. As she drifted around in an unconscious state of delirium, she understood, deep in her heart, what death felt like.

  But then a curious thing happened. The sensation of a firm hand fisted around her right bicep, as if someone—a human?—had grabbed her by the arm and pulled. Slowly, painstakingly, she felt herself being pulled out of the dark nightmare world, dragged back into the present. Little by little, the sense of terror drifted from her consciousness. Her mind stopped filling up with haunting images that looked and felt so eerily familiar, and in the next moment her shaking body lay on the dusty floorboards. Her mother’s hands, those soothing, loving hands, pressed down upon her arm, squeezing her, shaking her. She lifted her head, and as she did so, she saw the last few mites of black smoke skittering away down the corridor. The tendrils of black smoke slipped between the floorboards, the joists, the trim running along the floor, and disappeared. She’d fully returned. She’d left the land of darkness and despair; she’d returned to the world of light and hope. But with a sudden flash of insight, she realized something amazing. These two disparate worlds really did co-exist. Perhaps not peacefully, but the land of darkness did not brood as far away as she’d once hoped.

  “Asperateum,” Claudia whispered under her breath. “Asperateum.” Her blue eyes, normally so warm and welcoming, glowed cold with fear.

  Maddie coughed, and a puff of black smoke gusted from her lips. Her lungs cleared, and she inhaled deeply. She could breathe normally again.

  She’d made it back. She was safe. And the thing, that apparition—whatever it’d been—was gone, for now at least.

  A sob rose up in her throat.

  “Asperateum,” Claudia whispered again.

  Malamar looked into Maddie’s eyes and blinked. “Whew, that was a close one.”

  Maddie gazed, hard, into the ginger cat’s sea-foam green eyes, half-expecting him to crack wise with a joke. But he continued to stare at her, unsmiling.

  Okay, so that really wasn’t the least bit funny. It was as serious as I thought.

  A bead of water dropped onto her skin. It ran down her cheek and pooled at the corner of her lips. It tasted salty. She looked up into her mother’s tear-stained face. “Mama, I’m so sorry.”

  “At least you’re safe.”

  Okay, now I know that was serious. When Mama’s too upset to punish me, then I know it’s bad.

  She glanced over at Malamar, but even Malamar didn’t appear interested in flashing his ‘I told you so’ look.

  Yep. Bad.

  ****

  Dinner, a sad, somber affair. Bettina served the witches their stew out of a collection of mismatched, chipped bowls. Agatha found a bottle of vintage red wine and poured it out to the witches of age, into spotted tumblers.

  As Nana topped up Mama’s glass with a splash of wine, Maddie cleared her throat. “I ask you, is that fair?”

  “Life isn’t fair,” Nana said. “Not even for witches, my dear, so I suggest you get used to it.”

  “But I just escaped a near-death experience. Wouldn’t a glass of Merlot finish off the moment?”

  She looked to her mother for approval, for one tiny sip, but one look at Claudia’s ashen features, and Maddie decided to keep her mouth shut.

  “Wait till you’re older,” Bettina said with a reproving smile.

  They attempted to make conversation, but not one topic they covered, starting with the savory stew, to the rich wine, to the glow from the candles, eased the troubled brows and furrowed expressions of the witches as they huddled over their meal. They glanced occasionally at Maddie, their brows creased with worry, but Maddie kept up an expression of stoic reserve. She wanted to appear utterly composed—the effect she was striving for—because she wanted everyone to quit worrying.

  But worrying came second-nature to her family.

  Correction: worrying came first-nature to her family.

  She ate her stew without comment and drank the milk that Bettina procured for her—who knew where she got it? —and tried to calm her throbbing heart. Her hands continued to shake, and a tremendous lassitude fell over her. If she closed her eyes for even a moment, she returned instantly to that terrible vastness, to the place where the black cloud sucked her down, to the place where the dying called out to her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tear their anguished voices out of her mind.

  And now that she was safe again, she recalled things she’d blocked from her memory during the terrible incident with the poisonous black cloud. When she’d been inside that awful black fog, the dead drew close enough to touch her face, tracing their skeletal fingers across her skin. She shuddered with revulsion.

  Mama looked up at her sharply and Maddie pulled her features back into a smile.

  Come on, Maddie. Focus. Put your energy into the present, into the here and now. You’re safe now, with your nana, your mother, and your sister.

  Another thought drifted into her consciousness, a prickling sensation troubling her far worse than the incident at the top of the stairs. She glanced through hooded eyelids at her mother, at Nana and Bettina, as they discussed the stew’s finer points.

  “Needs more garlic.” This from Nana.

  “Cloves would’ve been perfect, but I just couldn’t find any.” Bettina.

  What is it about me that made that happen?

  Of all the witches in the house, she alone had stumbled into the secret corridor, one that the house kept hidden from the outside world; a corridor that’d opened up only for her, remaining open long enough for her to ascend the staircase and find the door. Then the black cloud broke free, swallowed her up whole, and nearly dragged her down to the underworld.

  If Mama hadn’t gotten there in time—

  “We heard you calling out to us,” Mama said, almost as if she’d been reading Maddie’s thoughts. “And so I ran upstairs to search for you but couldn’t find you.”

  “Because I was trapped in the secret staircase?” Maddie asked.

  “Yes,” Mama said simply, “and then I thought, perhaps, you’d come back downstairs to the kitchen, so I looked for you there, but found no Maddie.”

  “It wasn’t until that moment,” Bettina said, “that Mama and I discovered the secret staircase, hidden behind a false wall. It’d opened itself up only for you and closed up immediately after you climbed up it.”

  “By this time,” Nana added, “I’d returned from wandering the grounds, and with our combined efforts, of casting incantations and throwing spells, we finally forced it to give up its secret access.” She chuckled wryly. “It took a few determined spells to force it open, let me tell you.”

  “Let’s not re-hash all this,” Mama said, her features stricken.

  “That secret staircase gave way with mighty a disgruntled air,” Nana said, cackling. “But it proved no match for me.”

  A stricken silence followed. What happened next, Maddie knew only too well. With only seconds remaining, Claudia had raced up the staircase to rescue her younger daughter; she arrived at the very moment that the cloud started to assimilate Maddie. It took all of Claudia’s skills to pull her daughter safely back from the black hole that she’d fallen into.

  “I’m still not entirely convinced Maddie’s managed to escape unscathed,” Mama said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  “Now, now, Claudia,” Nana murmured sympathetically.

  Mama glanced over at Maddie with hooded eyelids. Maddie straightened up in her chair, hoping to assure her mother that she was indeed a living, breathing, perfectly healthy little witch-in-training.

  She spooned up a chunk of meat and chewed. She glanced sideways through the open kitchen doorway, gazing down the dark hallway that led to the main rooms on the first floor. It amazed her how different the hallway now appeared. Earlier that day, looking through the doorway from her vantage point in the kitchen, the secret staircase had emerged, standing to the right
of the doorway, fitting in perfectly with its surroundings, begging her to climb up it in search of her mother.

  She started at a sound and noticed Nana watching her. She smiled, embarrassed.

  “You can see it now, can’t you, dear?” Nana asked.

  “Yes, Nana. It’d been a trap and I walked right into it.”

  “A cleverly laid one.”

  “Yes,” Mama agreed. “The staircase—the real staircase, the one I used to walk upstairs to see to the bedding—is located further down the hallway, hidden behind a pillar.”

  “If Maddie’s wits had been sharper,” Nana noted, “she would’ve noticed that the staircase her mother climbed up was not visible from the kitchen.”

  “Oh,” Maddie moaned, “what a foolish blunder I made.”

  “All’s well that ends well, dear,” Nana said, patting her on the hand.

  “So where’s the staircase I walked up?” she asked. “It’s behind that wall, right?”

  “We sealed it shut,” Nana said tersely. “I’ve double hexed it.” She smiled thinly. “It won’t be opening up anytime soon.”

  “Oh.” Maddie sipped her milk.

  Malamar cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Malamar?” Nana asked in a weary voice.

  He coughed delicately into his paw. “Ahem. It appears to me that the house is responding to Maddie in ways that are not entirely beneficial to her health.”

  Zippy the ferret scoffed. “No snot, Sherlock. I’m glad you figured that one out all by yourself.”

  Claudia rolled her eyes. “That would serve as a vast understatement, Malamar.”

  “I’m okay,” Maddie insisted. “Really, I’m fine.”

  The three witches gazed at her.

  Danube the cougar, who’d been reclining luxuriously on the windowsill above the sink, now stirred and everyone looked at him. “Perhaps we ought to find another house. One that isn’t quite as . . . haunted as this one,” he finished, glancing around him with evident disdain. He rose and stretched luxuriously, then jumped down and padded toward Nana, rubbing his head against her leg.

  “The problem with finding another house,” Zippy mused, “is the unique character of this town. I spoke to some cats whilst out on my perambulations around the neighborhood, and apparently every other house in Batesville is haunted.”

  “It’s true,” Roby hooted. “It’s true.”

  Bettina pushed her half-eaten bowl of stew away from her with a disgusted sigh. “Wait, let me get this straight. We’ve barely managed to escape from a warlock who wants us dead. Who told us, in so many words, that he’d be only too happy to sic his blood-sucking vampires on us, and we travel thousands of miles, fleeing to the so-called sanctuary of a haunted house? In a haunted town? How in the world did we manage that? Are we incredibly clever, or unbelievably stupid?”

  Mama smiled wryly. “Sometimes it can be very helpful to live in a haunted house. A haunted house can serve all sorts of purposes.”

  “Yeah, but a haunted house that wants to kill my baby sister isn’t exactly what we’re looking for, is it?” Bettina shot back, even as a sly smile flitted across her features. “Although, I must admit, there’ve been times in the past when I dearly wanted to be an only child.”

  Maddie snorted.

  “Perhaps Nana should release the hex from that secret staircase and let Maddie run up there again.”

  Maddie blew a loud, wet raspberry at her sister.

  “Same to you,” Bettina retorted.

  “Ladies,” Mama sighed, putting her long, elegantly-tapered fingers on either side of her temples and breathing deeply. “Please stop it.”

  Maddie and Bettina exchanged glances and smiled wickedly at one another. Nana looked from one girl to the other and laughed ruefully.

  Mama may be stressed out right now, but at least Bettina and I can joke about it. That’s a good sign, I think. It means I’m out of danger and we’re all safe. We can laugh about it now.

  She’d almost forgotten this house once served as a nursing home. Surely, there’d been many a resident who’d died here, perhaps in this very room? She shuddered. Did that person leave behind a spirit? Well, she needed to develop a thick skin when it came to this kind of thing. Yeah, okay, so the house was haunted, but what house was ever perfect? Maybe a brand new house, but even then, there were always problems. There was always something wrong, be it a leaky faucet, antique plumbing, or a basement prone to flooding. So this one was haunted, so what? The roof was good; it kept them warm and dry. The house stood alone, on acres of land, so they didn’t have to deal with nosy neighbors. She needed to let her fears go. So what if there were a few ghosts? Ghosts! They’d dealt with a lot worse than that in recent months.

  Mama dropped her hands into her lap and gazed at Maddie. “While we’re staying here, there is one thing that I can do to keep you safe and out of trouble.”

  “Tie her up in chains in the basement and give her a bowl of water?” Bettina offered helpfully.

  “I’d like to see you try it!” Maddie shot back.

  “Ladies, hush,” Nana shushed them.

  “Until we find out exactly what’s wrong with this house,” Mama said firmly, “and until we decide that it’s safe to go back home, I’m sending you to school.”

  “Witches’ School?” Maddie asked, her forehead creased with consternation. “But that’s back home in Salem—”

  “No,” Mama said with a level gaze, “regular human school.”

  Maddie gasped.

  “You’re thirteen years old, young lady, so I suspect you’d be attending middle school.” She tapped her finger thoughtfully on the Formica tabletop. “At least I think that’s what the humans call it.”

  “Human school?” Maddie asked, aghast.

  “I’ve got tons of work to do,” Mama said, “and I can’t stand by and watch you every second of every minute of every hour.”

  “But I’ll be careful—”

  “Next thing I know, you’ll be wandering down booby-trapped corridors and passageways, getting into danger and perhaps even losing your life.” Mama looked stricken as she said this.

  “Mama, I won’t get into trouble, I promise.”

  Mama shook her head, a definite negative. “I must be able to concentrate fully, and my nerves won’t stand for it if I’m constantly on the look-out for you being swallowed up by the next wandering toxic cloud.”

  “But Mama—”

  “Nope,” Claudia said, draining off the last dregs of her wine. “That’s my final word. You’re going to school.”

  Maddie looked over to Nana for help, but Nana simply sat there, with Danube on her lap. She stroked the nape as he purred. “It’s for the best, my dear. Your mother has your best interests at heart.”

  “What about her?” Maddie demanded, pointing to Bettina. “Shouldn’t she go to school, too?”

  “Bettina’s eighteen and just finished her Witches’ School training. She took her final witching exams in May. She isn’t required to attend school.” Mama gazed levelly at her blonde daughter. “Bettina’s considered an adult,” she said with a wry smile.

  Maddie scowled.

  Bettina started chuckling. It started out as a low, rumbling giggle, then grew in intensity until it turned into a full-fledged cackle. Malamar’s ears turned bright pink; Roby hooted and laid a turd.

  Maddie glowered at her sister. “I hate you.” She turned her attention to Malamar. “And you,” she added ferociously, “are helping me with my homework. Every night.”

  “I don’t deal with humans,” Malamar informed her with a lofty toss of his head.

  “You do now. Or I won’t change your litter-box for you.”

  Malamar huffed himself up into an indignant ball of fur. “Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I must comply.”

  “That’s right. You must.”

  Malamar shook his head with disgust. “Teenage boys. They’re the worst.”

  ****

  “Hold on a minute,
Maddie,” Mama said the following morning as Maddie got ready to leave for school.

  “What’s wrong, Mama?”

  “Nothing, dear, I’ll be just a minute.” Mama stepped out through the back door and walked up to a mature maple tree.

  “Why a maple tree, Mama?” Maddie asked.

  “I’ve discovered,” Mama said, waving her wand, “that a mature maple tree has proven to be the best at providing green dollar bills.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Maddie said. “We’re supposed to use human currency, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, dear,” Mama said with some temerity. “Now step aside, my sweet.”

  Mama waved her wand and as she did so, the green leaves fell from the tree and shimmered to the ground. As they floated along, they transformed into one-dollar bills.

  “I wonder,” Mama said, “how many you’re going to need?”

  “Don’t know,” Maddie said, darting along and collecting the dollar bills as they landed upon the ground. “Ten?”

  “Ten, at the minimum,” Mama said.

  “All right,” Maddie said, clasping the soft green bills to her chest.

  “Now, I’ve discovered,” Mama said, as she flicked her wand one last time, “that in a pinch, in a real pinch, sycamore trees will serve very nicely, but the bills from sycamore trees tend to be a little on the white side.” She chuckled to herself. “As if they’d been powdered with talc.”

  “Hm,” Maddie said. “Is it because sycamore trees are white?”

  “Yes, that, and the fact that they thrive along bodies of water.” Mama lowered her wand and held it to her side. “If you’ll ever notice, sweetheart, as you’re flying along, take a look at the creeks and streams in the valleys. You’ll notice the white sycamore trees growing along the water’s edge, and by that manner, you can also find a water source.”

  “Oh,” Maddie said. “Well.”

  Mama’s gaze grew unfocused. “It’s always such a pleasure to see a string of white sycamore trees lining a path to a body of water. It comforts me, how true Mother Nature is to what’s real and true.”