by B. J. Smash
“Really?” Izadora said patiently. She could sense my anger.
“Yes, really. Now tell me what happened. Why was she ever in the forest to begin with?” I asked.
“Did you ask her?”
“I haven’t had the chance. It’s not likely she’d tell me anyway.”
“Too bad then. Ask her,” she said.
“I’m asking you! And to top it off, in the vision she was crying.”
I probably should have held any sign of anger at bay. This last piece of information set fire to Izadora’s temper.
“This is not a discussion I care to have in front of the boy.” She nodded toward Lucian. She then stood and hobbled over to the balcony doors, using her staff as support. She opened the glass doors and stepped out, leaning against the railing.
“Trees in my domain, I command you to silence. You will not speak another vision or memory to Ivy Seaforth. You will be SILENT!” she yelled, smacking her cane into the wood planks.
“Great. That’s just great,” I said. I was so angry, my cheeks and chest burned.
She turned to me and said, “Ask your aunt. If she wishes to tell you, then so be it.”
I took off running then, embarrassed that Lucian witnessed our argument, and mad that he had shown up in the first place. The worst part of it all, she had the balls to tell the trees to be silent? From me?
I ran through the forest, kicking off my flip flops. I didn’t care how cool the ground was; I somehow bonded with the earth this way. I could almost feel its very pulse come up through my feet. Anger consumed me to the point where I couldn’t see straight, and I knew I had to release it somehow.
I found myself in the field by the white bridge, trees surrounding me. The very field that Drumm and I used to dance in when we were younger. Mad at the trees, I lay upon the earth in the center of the field, releasing my anger into the cool ground. The smell of grass calmed me, and the sky soothed me.
I watched the clouds in the sky float by until the sound of feet swept through the tall grass. Then he was there, lying a few feet away, next to me on the ground.
“What do you want, Lucian?” How had he caught up to me that fast? There was no way.
“Just thought you might like some company. It’s tough…learning about things that…happened in the past.”
Lucian was a nice guy. I actually had started to think of him as a friend, but right now I hated him, and I wanted him to go away. So, I was rude.
“Get out of here, Lucian. I don’t need any friends. Just go away.”
He pushed himself up onto his elbows and said, “If you want to be alone, it’s all good. I’ll go. You know where to find me.” He jumped up and walked off into the forest line.
A while later, a cloud formed like a bird drifted slowly by. But this bird was on his back, an arrow or a stick through his heart. He was dead.
An omen?
I recalled Silvie and her dead bird trick. A dead bird. The thought kept pursuing my mind until finally I sat up. “A dead bird!”
Hopping up, I ran as fast as I could through the thickset forest, as though a field of demons chased after me. I must have hit 40 mph. “Izadora,” I said under my breath, “don’t eat that cake!”
Chapter Fourteen
She lay on the kitchen floor, her robe splayed over to the right side. A vial of purple liquid in her open hand. Some of the contents had splashed onto the hardwood floor. The cake sat on the table, about three pieces missing. The old woman loved her sweets. Who knew it would be her downfall?
“No! Oh no, no, no!” I screamed. My hands were shaking involuntarily, and I couldn’t get them to stop. Crouching down, I shook her body three or four times. Nothing happened. I checked for a pulse, but there wasn’t any.
“Oh, Izadora,” I whined, examining the room. A pot of something boiled on the stove, and glass bottles were strewed about; contents were spilled over the counter and puddled onto the floor. She had been trying to come up with some sort of remedy—a counter reaction to the poisoned cake.
Shaking with fear, I lifted the vial containing the remainder of the purple liquid; not knowing what it was, I held it to her lips. A small amount went inside her mouth.
Breathing deeply to calm myself, I waited. Nothing happened for a time, but finally her eyelids opened, fluttering once or twice.
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Lifting her head, I placed my ear close to her mouth. “Help me up.”
Amazed that she was still alive, I leaned back, stood up, and pulled on her hand. She was very weak, but she managed to roll up and, pulling with all my might, she stood, grabbing the chair for support.
“Get me to the couch, and bring me my grimoire.”
We made it to the couch, where she flopped down like a dead rabbit. “The cake—Ian?”
“No! The cake was not from Ian!” Ian was known for sending along sweets.
“Cora,” she stated with exhaustion. “So, this is how it happens.”
“How’d you know? I was going to tell you that the cake was from her, but then we fought. I didn’t know it was poisoned!”
“Not poisoned. Enchanted,” she said, out of breath. “She only learned from the best.” She paused. “I don’t have much time.” She slowly lifted her hand to rub her eyes. She was having a hard time keeping them open, but she must have caught a second wind, and she began to speak more clearly. “Listen carefully, as I only have a short time. Within ten minutes, I will be in a deep sleep. I will not be easily awakened, and will require someone who knows this spell’s reversal. I do not have the counter spell, as she has somehow altered the original spell.” She took in a few deep breaths. “I knew this was coming. I knew that I’d be taken out of the game—I just did not know how. But alas, here I am. Soon I will be defenseless…but you won’t be.” She pointed to the pen-sized twig that sat upon the mantle. “You will use your wand…from Mother’s tree…is on the fireplace. Use it.’
“I don’t know how to use it. I don’t know how to do anything without you.”
“You must listen, and do exactly as I say. You MUST! Things are already set in motion. They cannot be altered at this point. There is nothing to be done but roll with the punches.” Then she looked at me full of doubt, for what she was about to say was insane.
“You take this spell.” She ripped a spell out of her grimoire and handed it to me. “And break Izaill out of that tree.” Her eyelids began to droop.
“Izadora! Seriously? Izaill?” I raised my voice.
“He’s the only one that can help you. Explain to him what has happened. Tell him I saw the three of us in the ring of death. He’ll know what that means.”
I glanced down at ingredients for the spell, written in her own chicken-scratch handwriting:
three pounds of salt
thyme sprigs
mistletoe
pile of wood, oak
crystallized bat urine
three drops lemongrass oil
a cup of pixie dust
water from a stream
mushroom from a fairy circle
“Bat urine? How am I going to find bat urine?”
Her chest heaved up and down as she forced herself to stay awake. “In a bottle—on the tree.” She pointed a crooked finger to a tree limb that ran its way up through her living room. “The black bottle.”
“This is stupid crazy. I’ve never performed a spell in my life! What if something goes wrong?”
“You are a Seaforth, it will come natural to you. You can do it, and it MUST be done.” She raised her head to accentuate her point. Slowly she lifted her feet onto the couch and gently lay her head back on a pillow, looking at me through heavy eyelids.
“You’ll be all right,” she reinforced to me.
“But I won’t! I’ll need you to help me.”
“You don’t need me.” A faint laugh escaped her mouth. “Someday, you’ll be an even greater sorceress than even I am. I’ve seen it.” Her arm dangled over the edge of the c
ouch.
It was almost like she was dying, and I could hardly handle it.
And then things got even crazier. She pulled the ring off from her finger. A purple amethyst stone, that had to be three carets, set in strong pronged gold.
“Magella,” she whispered.
“Oh, no way. NO way!” I answered. She couldn’t expect me to do such a thing.
“Wear my signet ring. Touch it to the ocean. My sister will come forth.” She held up the ring. Reluctantly, I took it.
“You must do this,” she said solemnly.
I bit my lip, trying to control my fear. “Whatever you say.”
Her breathing had slowed significantly. She would succumb to the deep sleep any minute now.
Her lips could barely move now; they were parched and dry, and I could barely hear her as she said, “If my siblings and I don’t step it up a notch, we will never enter the gates of paradise.”
“Paradise? What do you mean, paradise?”
“Paradise,” she whispered.
And with that, her head sunk into the pillow, and she began to snore ever so lightly. I stared at her for a good five minutes before I stood, folded her hands over her chest as though she were in a coffin, and spread a white afghan over her body.
Turning, I walked over to the decorated tree limbs. At least a hundred bottles hung on the limbs. Most bottles were blue, green, and purple; some were orange, clear, yellow. All were a variety of different sizes, from one to maybe eight inches. Out of all of them, two were black.
As I reached out to take one of the two bottles down, outside, the hellhounds started to howl and bark. Someone had to be here. Probably Lucian.
Scowling, I walked out the kitchen door and toward the steps that led down to the ground. When I drew nearer, I noticed a familiar head of hair. I stopped on the bridge and leaned on the railing. The dogs weren’t angry to see this person. No, instead they were excited. Indeed, they had known this person for a very long time. Aunt Cora.
She fluffed the hellhounds’ fur, scratched them behind the red ears, kissed one on top of the head, and said, “Did you miss me?”
“What?” I said, confused, causing her laughing face to look up at me.
“Ivy! Did it work? Did she fall asleep?” Aunt Cora seemed too excited about what she’d done to Izadora.
“If by ‘Did it work?’ you mean is she passed out on the couch? Yes!” I ran across the planks and down the stairs. “How could you do something like that? What were you thinking?” She had to be going mad.
“Oh goodness, one of us is overreacting, aren’t we? I had to get her out of the way or she wouldn’t have let me enter the forest. You see, it had to be done.”
“And so you used me to give her the cake? Without her, do you realize just how much danger we are in?” I demanded.
“Well, you’re always coming here—who else would I give it to? And we’ll be fine without her.”
I bit my lip to keep from saying a few choice words that she deserved to hear.
She gave the dogs one last scratch behind the ears and went for the stairs.
“Wait—where are you going?” I blocked her way.
“Move aside, Ivy. I’m just going upstairs for a moment.”
I didn’t want her to enter Izadora’s territory, but this was my aunt. My dear Aunt Cora. How could I stop her? Not being able to think clearly, I let her pass and followed her up the stairs, and we began the walk over the bridge to the house. She wore a snug mid-length purple-lavender eyelet dress that billowed out at the hem. It was not a gown; still, it was a dress that seemed too fancy for the woods.
“And what do you mean, you had to get her out of the way or she wouldn’t let you enter the forest?” I asked.
“We had an agreement. I was to never enter the forest again. That’s all. But I feel different today. I feel…alive! Like I need a change. And so, I am going to do something about it.”
“You feel…different?” I knew what was coming.
“Yeah, like something is pulling me in a certain direction. It’s funny, I had weird dreams last night about a certain man, and this morning, I woke up just feeling…devious.”
I tried to swallow after she said that, but my throat had tightened, and so I spit over the railing instead. Somehow, I knew this was not good—and that it very well might be my fault.
“What kind of dreams?” I managed to say.
“Oh, dreams that we were married. I always knew he cared for me.”
My sight had blurred a bit, as the realization of what she was telling me hit me upside the head. It had to be the magic of the red-knotted love rope. Which meant that it was my fault, since I was the one who had insisted she needed it and had hidden it in her pillowcase.
Aunt Cora walked through Izadora’s front door, only after stopping to look up at the gold horseshoe that was nailed above her door. She faltered for a moment then pushed through whatever she’d been thinking, striding about freely as if it were her own house. And she knew her way around all too well.
She walked to Izadora, who lay peacefully on the couch where I had left her, and stood above her.
“I bet she’s still as grouchy as ever,” Aunt Cora said, and I thought I caught her looking at Izadora’s hand for the ring. Taking it from my finger, I stuck it in my pocket.
Piecing things together, it donned on me. Izadora had stated that Aunt Cora had learned from the best. She had to mean herself. “You used to be her apprentice,” I said plainly. “What happened?”
“I did something bad. Something that couldn’t be forgiven.”
Remembering that she used to be engaged to my sister’s current leader, Rodinand, I said, “You mean, you were going to marry Roddy?”
“No.” Her smile had turned into a frown. “Something far worse. But I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t mean to.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“Never mind that now—I have to put something together and be on my way.” She forced her voice to cheery tones.
Darting around the place, she knew where everything was located. She was in and out of the cupboards and handling the glass bottles, knowing full well what the contents were.
This could be used to my own advantage. “Which black bottle holds the crystallized bat urine?” I asked.
Picking up both of the black bottles, she dipped her finger inside each, tasting the contents. “This one.”
Not in a hundred decades would the Aunt Cora that I had known all my life do such a disgusting thing. Crystallized bat urine had to be full of bacteria.
“You…just licked bat urine from your finger—”
“Oh, you’re right. I better wash my hands.” She headed over to the kitchen sink, generously lathering lilac soap in her hands. After rinsing, she wiped her hands on her dress—not something that she’d ever do.
Next, she picked up several bottles, went to the hearth, and lined them up on the mantle. Lighting a fire, she then poured different amounts of liquid or herbs from the bottles right into Izadora’s cauldron.
No one used Izadora’s cauldron. Not even Izadora used her cauldron that often. It had belonged to her great-grandmother, and she wanted to keep it nice.
“Um, Aunt Cora…she won’t like it if you use her cauldron,” I warned her.
“Who?”
“Izadora!” I said a bit loudly.
“Ah, she’ll get over it.” She poured a few more drops of something in then stood and said, “Now things are about to get good.”
“What are you making?” I asked.
“A potion for my horse. Do you happen to know if she has any pixie dust?”
I had forgotten all about Pladia. I knew she had to be around here somewhere—probably in Izadora’s bedroom, out of earshot. She had most likely talked her ear off this morning, and Izadora would have stuck her somewhere.
“No,” I fibbed.
“That’s okay. I don’t really need it,” she said as she stirred the contents of the cauldron.
Magenta-colored wisps spiraled up through the chimney. You could see them through the open ceiling.
“Um…what did you mean by you need it for your horse? You don’t own a horse.”
“Oh, that…I just took one from Mr. James. He has plenty.”
“You stole a horse?” Things just got crazier by the second. My aunt would never steal anything from anyone. She was a hardworking, hypochondriacal neat freak with at least some morals, and she would never do such a thing.
“No, silly. I left my new Coach handbag as payment. It’s worth quite a bit, you know.”
Shaking my head and rubbing my temples, I said, “What is Mr. James going to do with a Coach handbag?”
“I don’t know—he can give it to his wife, I suppose. He could use it to carry medicine for the animals.” Her face lit up, and she snapped her fingers. “I know! He can carry apples and carrots around for the horses! There’s a lot he could do with it.”
She was clearly crazy.
Thinking about it further, I came to a realization. She would have had to come through Ian’s gate. It was the only way that I knew how to find Izadora’s. If she wasn’t allowed in the forest, why would Ian let her through the gate? Something was awry.
“Hey, if you’re not allowed in the forest, how come Ian let you through the gate?”
She snorted. “I’m not allowed at Ian’s, either. I had to come the long way around, silly. You would think that it was a hop, skip, and a jump away. But no—when you don’t come through Ian’s gate, you must go through the secretive dark part: Hunter’s Hollow. It’s covered in Izadora’s magic, enchanted in ways to deter the brave soul that wants to venture in.” She bent over and continued to stir the cauldron, adding some dead black houseflies. “But I”—she laughed—“know the way well enough. And even if it’s an extra ten miles, I had to come that way.”
It was hard to believe that Gran’s house was that far away, as it seemed it was a stone’s throw through the woods. There was definitely magic involved if there was a ten-mile gap between the two places.
Stepping out on the balcony for some fresh air, I noticed a black horse tethered to a tree. He lifted his head up to see me. The poor fella hadn’t a clue what was going on. Beside him and hanging on the tree was a purple robe, which must belong to Aunt Cora.