by Julie Abe
That evening, Ember and I walked up to the cottage slowly. The winds had picked up, so I leaned into the gusts and held on to my hat so it wouldn’t flutter away. It had been almost four weeks since I’d come to Auteri, and between mornings of charming the buildings, days of tweaking the compass and figuring out how to fix my broomstick, and nights of potion-making, I was using every bit of my magic. Mother had been right. Slowly, I’d been able to cast six spells a day to prepare the town for the Culling. Then seven, then eleven. I was just about at forty-seven spells now.
Sand kept trickling; the Culling would be hitting the realm by the end of the year. When I held the star-shaped hourglass to my ear, I could hear time slipping away. In less than a week, I’d either be receiving my license as a Novice Witch or…
I’d rather venture into the abyss at the Constancia border and fight nightdragons than consider other options.
I focused on dinner instead. Even though I didn’t have any appetite, I needed to keep up my strength for the enchantments I’d cast tonight. I scarfed down a quick meal of the last of my buckwheat noodles, swirled with slivers of emerald onions and cubes of roasted squab that Rin had given me earlier in the day. She had even set aside a hunk for Ember, who nearly inhaled it all in one mouthful. He didn’t have any issues with appetite, as my increasingly bare cupboards revealed. I took a deep breath as I cleared the table and set out my potion-making supplies.
My potions worked better these days, but they weren’t good enough to withstand a flood. The mixtures worked for a few seconds, and then water leached into the paper and it got soggy.
Tonight… tonight had to be different. I had a special kind of enchantment, with words heavy with power.
I consulted Potions of Possibilities one more time. The quick-fix guide stated, “Think of potions like spells. Simple and sweet is better than long-winded, meaningless babble.”
But… the spell had to mean something to me. After all, magic came from my blood. What were the absolute warmest things I could find?
I filled the frying pan with everything I had been using before: shavings of wax candles, burnt wood, and bits of wool. Then I tapped the edge of the table, thinking about what else to add.
This wasn’t going to work. I turned over the pan and dumped everything out.
Instead I added things that made me feel warm: shreds of parchment from my parents’ letters, the corner of my trusty blanket, and dust bunnies made of Ember’s fur. I added in a snippet of a sweater from the bottom of my knapsack and a leftover sliver of emerald onion from Rin and picked up my wand.
I began stirring in circles, keeping all the orphanage kids’ stories in mind, as if I could fill the pan with those thoughts.
There were some ingredients that I could touch and see. But other things—like the way my chest had squeezed tight from hearing the orphanage kids’ stories—couldn’t be counted or touched, and the power of those memories rested in their words.
The warmth of a fuzzy sweater. The warmth of love. The warmth of a good meal. The warmth of a perfect day. The warmth of a friend.
I thought of everything Auteri had done for me. The town felt less foreign than when I had first arrived. Rin always stopped for a chat, bearing food, and when I passed by the town square, Ami never let me disappear without tucking a flower behind my ear.
With those thoughts in mind, I murmured, “Stay dry and warm to weather the storm.”
The frying pan glowed as the ingredients melted into a shimmering liquid, better than any of my smoking elixirs from before.
I fished out Charlotte’s last paper animal from my pocket—it was a tiny turtle. When I dipped it into the frying pan, the paper pulsated a bright blue. Ember jumped into my lap and watched as I dribbled water from my canteen onto the turtle.
The droplets rolled off the shell and the paper stayed dry.
I clutched the tiny turtle in my trembling hands.
It felt like I’d cast a spell on myself. A rush of excitement tingled the tips of my fingers down to my toes. The potion repelled water.
Finally, finally—I had a potion to help Auteri fight the Culling.
CHAPTER 22
CLOUDS
Ember poked my leg with his wet nose, startling me awake. I jolted up, rubbing my forehead. My face had been pressed into the crack of my potion book. I’d been trying all night to make gallons of potions to bring to the mayor when I appealed for her signature, but batch after batch had failed. I had a panful of elixir—my first batch—and that was it.
Something was different. When I had been stirring another batch of waterproofing potion, it had been pitch-black outside, and I’d taken out my jar of flamefox fire to ward away the darkness. But reddish-orange rays of light trickled in through the window.
It was already morning.
“Curses!” The sun was well over the horizon, though it was covered by gray-tinted clouds. I had missed my time to walk around town and enchant the buildings. My shoulders drooped. There was still so much of the town left. But there was something else.…
“It’s the day of the festival!” I yelped. Ember, having done his work to wake me up, snoozed as I darted around the cottage to get ready.
This was an official appearance as Auteri’s one and only witch, so I dressed in the closest thing I had to a witch’s outfit: a dark gray blouse, my black witch’s skirt, a pair of black tights, and black boots.
“I could’ve worn one of my proper witch’s dresses if you hadn’t torn them all up.” I sighed, glancing at Ember, who simply burrowed deeper in the blankets as if he hadn’t been responsible.
Mother and Father hadn’t sent me a letter in the past few days, so I dashed off a quick note—The Festival of Lights is today! Will bring back souvenirs.
The wind whipped at my skirt as I hurried down the cliff with my flamefox at my heels. From the path, I could see shopkeepers putting finishing touches on their stands and laying out their goods.
I wasn’t looking at the trail—which was always empty—when I turned the corner.
Suddenly, a flurry of gray flew at me, and I stumbled backward with a yelp of surprise, tripping over a rock.
Ember squeaked as he darted forward, tugging the top of my boot to pull me away from the edge. Pebbles skittered out from underneath us and dropped off into the churning sea below. I clutched the cliff and caught my breath.
“What was that?” I gasped, gathering Ember in my arms, my heart pounding, as I stuck close to the wall of rocks. All around, tiny torn pieces of ashy, burnt paper fluttered like snow.
That couldn’t possibly be a letter from my parents—could it? If it was, what had it said?
I studied the dirt, but I couldn’t see any footprints other than my boots or Ember’s paws. Still, a sense of foreboding twisted through me as shreds of paper swirled in the wind and made their way into the sea, disappearing in the frothing foam.
In town, there was a strange quietness that didn’t quite feel like the day of the festival. The dockworkers tasked with setting up stands kept peering over their shoulders at the gray waters. The tide was high, too, adding to the unease. Tourists kept coming out to the stands to check on the progress and scuttling back into their inns for warm mugs of barley tea.
I met Charlotte and Davy in front of the orphanage.
“Have you seen anyone on the path to my cottage?” I asked, lowering my voice.
They frowned, and Davy shook his head. “No, why?”
“There was a bunch of torn-up, burnt paper. Almost like a letter, like the ones my parents send me.”
“Someone stole your letter?” Charlotte looked around indignantly, as if we’d discover the thief and she could give them a piece of her mind.
“I’m not sure. But that path only leads to my cottage,” I mused. “And it looked like a letter. The scraps were too small to read, though.”
Charlotte and Davy frowned again, worry flitting across their faces like the heavy clouds overhead.
Then Davy nodded toward the sky,
his forehead smoothening. “Maybe someone used old papers to light their fireplace and scraps blew up toward your cottage? After all, there’s a storm coming in.”
“I suppose,” I said, but Charlotte met my eyes. She didn’t think that was likely, either.
At the edge of the waters, Mister Rydern reached out to the dark horizon and then fiddled with his gold watch. He muttered under his breath, but a gust carried away his words. Davy sighed and looked longingly at the stands setting up. “The winds are getting stronger. I’m worried Mayor Taira will cancel the festival.”
“I’m more worried about what’ll happen if she doesn’t,” Charlotte said darkly.
“But this is the best day of the year,” Davy groaned. “Sky-high sweets, marvels to be seen. And the lights display! I’ve been counting down the days, hours, minutes until Mayor Taira opens up the festival. I saved all my coins since last year, just waiting for this night!”
“This might be a big storm, though,” Charlotte replied, and the hairs on my neck prickled.
“By the way,” I said, peering at the cliffs. “It’s called the Festival of Lights, right?”
“You’ve been passing out flyers for the past two weeks and you don’t know the name?” Charlotte said, appalled.
“I know there’s lightfish, of course. Are there fireworks?”
I pointed at the cliffs behind the town hall. Davy and Charlotte spun around.
A burning globe of light slowly floated down to somewhere in the farmlands. A trail of smoke followed it, pale against the thick clouds.
Charlotte spoke, her voice scratchy. “That’s not part of the festival.”
“That’s a flare,” Davy added. “Signaling for help.”
CHAPTER 23
ANTS AND AUTOMOBILES
I drew my broomstick out from under the counter as my heart pounded. The scratched-up, dull handle was now a glossy pale wood that gleamed like moonlight. Only a faint trace of Ember’s teeth reflected in the light birchwood. I had attached the bristles infused with mementos from Ember, Rin, and my parents. There had been a few bare patches, so I’d filled them up with the bristlelike brush on the path between Auteri and the cottage. Those weren’t magical, but hopefully it would be enough for a quick ride.
“Eva, what’re you doing?” Charlotte asked.
I met her gray eyes. “I’ll go. It’ll take too long for anyone else.”
“But—”
“I’m Auteri’s witch, aren’t I?”
Davy nudged Charlotte, and she swallowed. “Fly safe.”
The sky was overcast and the sea churned an ominous gray. A light mist coated my skin. I shook my head. Maybe I was imagining things because I was scared to fly.
I walked to the edge of the dock, past Davy’s father, where the waves crashed against the wood.
“I hear her,” Mister Rydern mumbled. “She’s there, she’s waiting.…”
A bead of sweat trickled down my back.
I stepped away from the frothing sea. Ember whined, pawing at my boots. I took a deep, shuddering breath.
My mother had always told me that Evergreen witches didn’t hide from the sun, heights, or a bit of water.
“I just need to remember I’m an Evergreen. I’ve flown before. Not amazingly, but I’ve flown. And I can fly again,” I told Ember. “This’ll be good practice for my trip to the Council Hall.”
My fingertips prickled as the broomstick stirred awake. I gripped the broom tightly and then tugged it up. A gust rustled my hair as I rose above the docks. I was flying.
The broom bucked and I clung on. My stomach lurched. No. I’d tried fixing it. And I needed it to work right now.
Ember barked, jumping up and trying to grab at my boots. Davy and Charlotte gasped.
“It’s okay. I… I think the broom’s getting used to flying again, just like me.” I flashed them a grin, and Ember sat down roughly on his curled tail and glowered, as if saying, You better be right about that. And I’m going with you next time.
“Fly safe!” Davy and Charlotte called. The dockworkers looked up, waving, too.
Below me, Auteri sparkled. The blue and gold rooftops glimmered in the faint morning light, and the white buildings looked like delicate sugar cubes. Over my shoulder, the moored trading ships bobbed in the choppy water, pulling slightly toward the open sea, like they ached to adventure to new lands.
Shoppers in the town square waved at me as I flew above the path toward the farmlands. The wind pushed stronger when I was up in the air. The broom shuddered strangely, and I held on tight, too scared to wave back.
I jetted toward the tall peaks, climbing the wind currents faster than a boat in water, and my stomach leaped. I was starting to understand why Davy loved sailing.
The broom kept veering right, and I had to push it forward. I rose above the farmlands, searching for the flare, until the trees were small pinpricks below me.
Finally, I glimpsed the faint trace of smoke and followed it with my eyes to a silver automobile, farther up the road.
I shot forward. Suddenly, the broom bucked. I clung on to the broomstick, my nails clawing into the wood. I hovered down to the tree-lined road slowly, begging the broom not to kick me off.
My broom jumped again and my teeth clashed painfully. I cried out as the broom shot out from under me and I fell straight down, screaming.
I tumbled through a tree, hitting branch after branch, each one raking me without any end in sight.
When I felt I was nothing more than a bag of rattled, bruised bones, I finally hit the ground. I groaned, picking myself up.
The broom shot up into the sky and then torpedoed down, straight at me.
My heart pounded in my chest.
“Whoa, stop!” I screamed, rolling over just before it slammed into the dirt, right where my head had been, piercing the soil.
The broom twitched when I pulled it out of the ground. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely not riding anymore,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
I turned the broom over in my hands, examining it. It hadn’t been the wind. My colorful infused bristles were firmly stuck in, but the cliffside brush had fallen out, and the bare patches stuck out like a sore thumb.
When I touched the brush, the broom jumped out of my hands and fell to the ground. I glared at it. That was why it had veered off course—and kicked me off.
The remaining bristles were tucked away in the cottage. There was no way I’d be able to summon them from here.
I groaned. “Guess I’m walking.”
I hurried toward the silver car on foot. The clouds were rolling in thicker than ever. If I was going to make it back before it started raining, I’d have to rush.
As I turned the corner around the sunflower fields, I saw the automobile stopped half on the dirt and half on the grassy slopes that lined the side of the road.
A woman scrambled like a frantic ant trying to avoid getting eaten by a bird. She ran from side to side and stopped on the right to look under the body.
“Excuse me?” I peered around the car.
The woman straightened, smoothing out her simple periwinkle gown. She towered over me, radiating a sense of power. I had a strange urge to curtsy. For some reason, she seemed familiar, even though I could’ve sworn I’d never seen her before.
“Hello, I’m Eva Evergreen, Auteri’s witch.” I drew myself up as tall as I could. “At your service.”
“My name’s Stella and thank goodness you came by.” She spoke rapidly, grabbing my hand with a firm shake, and pointed to the right wheel in the front. “I was driving fast, hit a rut and some rocks and, well, the wheel’s busted. I don’t know why there was such a rut in the road to begin with. Please, can you fly me to town?”
“My broom’s broken.” I gestured at the end. “A few bristles are missing and I can’t fly without them.”
“Ah, that’s unfortunate.” Stella tapped her chin. “Would you be able to help with my tire, then?”
I ran my hands over the
tire and winced. It was solid rubber, but the rubber was punctured and slashed into ribbons.
“This car isn’t fit for long distances.” Her fiery dark brown eyes looked out through the mist, toward the sea. “Nonetheless, I didn’t have a choice. I need to get to Auteri—now. And at this rate, magic is the only thing that’ll help me.” She turned, focusing her gaze on me. “Can I ask you to help me, Miss Evergreen?”
“Please, call me Eva.” I rolled up my sleeves. “And of course I’ll help.”
It turned out the reason why my parents always took their automobile to the repair shop was because cars were complicated. Not only was the tire busted, but the axle and the alignment and the parts of the car that I didn’t even have names for weren’t working.
Stella’s heels crunched on gravel as she paced, and sweat dampened my blouse. I needed to get this fix done fast.
Less than half an hour later, I was slightly faint as I finished magicking Stella’s car back into one piece. Just as I cast my last spell, the clouds rumbled and rain started pouring.
Stella curtsied with grace. “Thank you, Eva.”
I dipped into a much less graceful curtsy and resisted the urge to fall face-first into the dirt road and curl up for a nap. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
She dug into her pocket and handed me a gold coin. “Here, take this for repairing my automobile. I would’ve been stranded for hours without you.”
“For me?” I grinned, despite my weariness. It was my first coin for a repair job, and it felt heavy in my hand. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“I do have one more request, though,” she said. “Can you please go with me to Mayor Taira? I have urgent business with her, and it involves you, too.”
“Me?” Had something happened to Mother? Had the Council sent Stella to discuss my magic? But why would the mayor be part of it, too? Because if not Mother or my magic… My stomach dropped.
The corner of Stella’s lips tugged down as she followed my gaze toward the dark horizon. “Unfortunately, I don’t bear good news. Ready to ride?”