The Witch and the Hellhound (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 2)

by B. J. Smash

  Wishing that Drumm was here, or even Lucian, I exhaled deeply and then began talking to myself.

  “How do these things continually happen to me?” I smacked the railing. “Oh, wait—maybe it’s because I shouldn’t have put the stupid red-knotted love rope in a certain person’s pillowcase? And maybe I shouldn’t have brought an ‘enchanted’ cake to my mentor’s tree house.” I ranted on; sarcasm always made me feel better. Then more seriously, I said, “I need to grow up and fix my mistakes.”

  My gaze fell upon Izaill’s tree. Yup, that was my next step. There was no telling my Aunt Cora about it, either. She was too far gone, under a powerful love spell, created by a powerful witch. She couldn’t assist me in any way.

  It was beyond me why Izadora’s mother, Aggie, had not warned me about this love rope. Why hadn’t she given me some clue? It was almost as if she knew this would happen.

  Remembering what Izadora told me, I knew that I had to bury the red-knotted love rope inside the earth. Perhaps that would null and void the spell. It was worth a try, and that would be my next step, and then I would release…Izaill. Just the thought of seeing Izaill again brought bile up into my throat.

  Given that Izadora had needed a pixie, and the spell she handed me called for pixie dust, I knew that’s why she’d needed Pladia all along. She had planned to free her brother. What had she said? She’d seen the three siblings in the ring of death. Whatever that meant.

  “Done!” Aunt Cora yelled, bringing my attention back inside. The place was a mess with things strewed about, and she proceeded to tidy it up.

  “What are you going to do now?” I asked, picking up things and returning them to their places.

  “Going on a journey. I have some business to take care of.” She put out the fire and tidied the hearth. “But you can’t come. It’s something that I must do on my own.”

  I didn’t want to go with her anyway. The sooner she got out of here, the sooner I could get on with my own business.

  Shortly after, I patted the strong horse she’d stolen from Mr. James. A horse like this would be missed. My aunt pulled out one of the vials she had prepared and dumped the contents along the backside of the horse.

  “What did you do that for?” I asked as the horse shimmied around. The contents must have caused an itch.

  “He’s not an Elven horse. He needs a boost, that’s all.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, and I didn’t have time to ask any more questions. She grabbed the purple robe that hung on a tree limb and donned it. She looked like a wizard. Leading the horse over to a fallen tree limb, she got one leg over then pulled herself up. She had no saddle; she would be riding bareback, just as the Elven do. I couldn’t help but snicker. I had always pictured Aunt Cora as one who would ride a horse sidesaddle, especially in a dress. This was not the case.

  “Take care, Ivy. It’ll all be over soon enough.” She steered the horse around and galloped away, and I watched until she was out of sight.

  Not having a clue what she meant by that, I secretly wished her luck. Wherever she was going, she would need it.

  ***

  The big tree that held the letter stood before me, the limbs forming a green canopy above my head. I hopped up to the first branch like I had springs in my feet and sat on the rough limb that I’d seen in my vision. The hole that I’d seen Aunt Clover put the letter in was rather deep, with wet leaves and cobwebs. Reaching in, I felt around, hoping there was nothing icky inside. Not feeling anything but leaves, my hand toured the entire hole before it landed on paper.

  With a sigh of relief, I took it out and looked at it. The folded envelope was old and brown, as it had been wet a few times, smelling like mildew. My only hope was that some of it would still be legible. Carefully opening it, and especially careful with the parts stuck together, I managed to spread it out. The letter was intact. Leaning on the tree as I read, this is what it said:

  My dearest Ainsley,

  Oh, how I miss you. I cannot bear to be without you any longer. My wish is for you to understand that I do not care what the consequences are—we need to be together.

  I choose to join you and your fellow kinsman, for I cannot live without you any longer.

  I will wait for you at our secret place, and my hope is that you will be there. Don’t make me wait any longer. I know you think that you love her, but it is me that you love.

  Your true love, forever,

  Clover

  Ainsley. My Aunt Clover had loved a man named Ainsley. I had never heard mention of him before, and at this very moment she was engaged to someone else. What was this note all about? And evidently he’d never come for it—it was still here in the tree.

  I had to wonder, what had she meant by “I know you think that you love her, but it is me that you love”? Did this man love my Aunt Cora, too? It had to be some sort of love triangle.

  Things just got a bit more interesting, and at the same time, a feeling of dread sat itself upon my shoulders. Something had happened long ago, back when my aunts were around the same age as Zinnia and myself. Something bad that elevated to the point where my Aunt Cora wasn’t allowed in these woods. She actually had to get Izadora out of the way just to enter. And it had all been done by my own hands. I had delivered the cake right to Izadora’s table.

  Before I jumped down, I put the letter back in the tree, not wanting to hold onto it; it was too much of a burden. Aligning my back to the tree and hoping for some sort of vision was pointless. Nothing. The trees would heed Izadora’s warning not to show me any more memories.

  However, I did feel more energized when I finally hopped out of the tree and headed for Gran’s. The tree had given me that, even if I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread and hopelessness that had begun to consume me.

  I was on my own now. No Izadora, and no Drumm. Not even GG Edmund.

  I was alone.

  As I made my way through Ian’s gate, I knew there was one more thing to do besides bury the red-knotted love rope into the earth. I had to read Aunt Cora’s journal.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I’d made it to Aunt Cora’s room, unseen. Nobody had been present at Ian’s when I hurried through the sunroom, thank goodness.

  Her bedroom wasn’t a mess, although dresses were scattered around on the floor and her fainting couch at the foot of the bed—another sign that she wasn’t thinking clearly. Clothes had their place, either on the body or in the closet. I don’t think she’s ever had a full load of laundry in the washer.

  Sitting on her plush comforter, I fumbled through every pillowcase, only to find the absence of the red-knotted love rope. But what was present was the journal. Before opening it, I did a quick search throughout her room for the rope. Nothing.

  Taking a deep breath, I lifted the journal and opened it. To my dismay, the pages were blank!

  “This can’t be,” I said aloud. I fanned the pages several times and found not a single word written. Then, I saw it. A pen. A slim, silver fountain pen, encased in the inside of the front cover.

  Taking the pen out, I held it as if it were a feather, as it barely weighed anything. But what happened next amazed me.

  The pages flipped to the center of the book, and I could not lift the previous pages; they were held tight by some unseen force. Then it happened. The latest entry was being written right before my very eyes:

  My dear Cora,

  I am beyond happy to hear from you. It has been way too long since your last entry—over ten long years. Just to know you have come to your senses exhilarates me in ways you’ll never understand. I am looking forward to our first embrace.

  My one true love, I will see you soon.

  I nearly fainted as the next letters of the person’s signature were written out before my eyes. With each letter that formed, my pulse beat louder in my ears. “R-O-D…”

  Oh no, no, no! And then it finished.

  “Rodinand.”

  I slammed the journal shut.

 
; The journal had to be the way they communicated in the past—and now, now she was communicating with him again. I flopped back on the bed, my body conforming to the all-too-comfortable comforter. I quickly sat back up—I deserved no comfort of any kind.

  This was my fault.

  “Oh, Aunt Cora! What have I done?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next thing on my list: Izaill. As much as I did not want to free him, Izadora explicitly said to do it. It was the only way. (I had a hard time believing that.)

  Before I left the house, I went to Gran’s bedroom and took something that she used to ward her house. I would try anything to stay safe in Izaill’s presence.

  Next, I made my way to Ian’s gate. Again, I encountered no one. It was better that way; I needed to do this on my own. But as I arrived at the gate, I noticed Ian’s crutches were leaning against the post. I had no clue as to why they were there, and I opened the gate and hurried on. I just hoped I wouldn’t find him lying on the ground by the yew again.

  The cool earth felt refreshing on my bare feet as I walked along the path. The only company I had was the birds singing their songs and the chickadee, which was Maine’s state bird, who sang his song, “Chickadee dee.” Over and over.

  Loneliness enveloped me, and so did fear. I knew one thing to be true: Izaill was one to be feared, not one to be toyed with. Remembering how he could be cold as ice or hot as hell caused me to shudder.

  Reaching the yew with all its colored scarves and ribbons, I spotted off in the distance two great hellhounds. Milo and Hansgard must have returned. But something wasn’t right; when I got closer, I could see this was not Milo and Hansgard. There was a third hellhound.

  A low rumble escaped one of their throats. He was the biggest. All three were huge white dogs with red ears, but he was the biggest. He came closer, growling, the other two sniffing away—one had his nose to the ground, and one sniffed the air.

  As he came closer, the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. I was about to be in deep stinkin’ trouble. I knew how to fight now, thanks to Drumm and Conri, but I did not think I could take on all three dogs.

  I couldn’t decide if I had time to run, and I prepared myself mentally. I got into a battle stance, my weight on my left leg in front of me, my right leg slightly behind ready to swing out, and my arms at shoulder height positioned in front of my face to block and defend if needed. I would have to fight them.

  To my surprise, something strange happened. The other two dogs didn’t seem interested in me, and they tackled the big dog—not in a serious way, but in more of a playful manner. One bit the big hellhound on the ear and yipped. He was trying to get him away from me. The biggest of the three then gave me one last glance, and then all three took off running to the east.

  How were there more hellhounds in the forest? Perhaps they were the vagabonds that Ian always spoke of. Not humans, but huge dogs! Maybe they were the ones he fed food to by the gate.

  I didn’t have time to ponder that now, but I would ask Ian later.

  In the tree house, I went about gathering all of the ingredients that I would need to release Izaill.

  Three pounds of salt from the cupboard, which didn’t even dent her salt supply.

  Thyme sprigs from the herbs outside on the deck.

  I had to walk further down the plank bridges to find mistletoe. Cutting some leaves with a bone knife, I stuck them in the basket that I carried. Izadora had taught me to only use bone or gold when cutting plants, in order to retain their pureness.

  I finally found the lemongrass oil in one of her glass bottles. The clean, citrusy smell was clearly lemongrass, and I tossed it in the basket.

  The bat urine was easy, thanks to Aunt Cora. I cringed at the thought of her tasting it on her tongue.

  Fetching the stream water was simple enough. Next to Izadora’s stairs had always been a fairy circle made of mushrooms. I took the smallest mushroom, to avoid any future conflict with the fairies. I had been told by Ian that they didn’t like anyone to mess with their circle of mushrooms. They were a portal of sorts.

  Now all I needed was a pile of oak pieces and the pixie dust.

  When I opened the door to Izadora’s bedroom, the first thing I saw was Pladia sitting on a perch inside the gold cage, eating chocolate. She mumbled incoherent words as she chewed. “Gehod me oht her.”

  “Huh?” I said, stepping into the room and leaning down close to the cage.

  She spit the chocolate out into her hands and said, “Get me out of here!” Then she popped the chocolate back in her mouth and chewed.

  “Ick,” I said. “That’s gross.”

  “No it not—it good. Get me out, out, OUT!” She kicked her feet in a tantrum.

  “I want to set you free, I really do. But first I need a cup of pixie dust.” I noticed a few teaspoons of silver dust scattered on the cage floor. Not enough for the spell.

  “Easy-peasy. Then you take me to the coral pond, yes?” she said.

  “Coral pond? Where is that?” I wouldn’t have much time to dillydally.

  “I’ll show you—not far,” she said. Her little legs and stomach were a bit more plump than I remembered them being. Just how much chocolate had she eaten?

  “Okay, you give me the pixie dust, and I will take you to the coral pond. Deal?”

  “Deal. Open cage,” she said.

  I reached for the cage door and paused. “No funny stuff—if I let you out, you can’t fly away.”

  “Deal is deal. I do for you…pixie dust. You do for me…coral pond.”

  Unlatching the cage door, I could do nothing but trust that she’d keep her end of the bargain. When the door opened, she wasted no time zipping out of there, soaring around the room, leaving silver dust in her wake. Following her to the kitchen, I watched as she shook and shimmied over the kitchen table. Grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, I placed it beneath her as quickly as possible, and she continued to shuffle around. Now it was almost a dance, and then a few spins and dive toward the bowl and then up to the open ceiling. The bowl held about two cups, not just one.

  Finally, she stopped and hovered in midair, her shimmering silver wings fluttering. “I’m empty. All I got.”

  “That’s plenty. Thank you, Pladia,” I said, scooping a teacupful from the bowl.

  “Izadora—she would have ground me up with pestle mortar. Or pepper grind. Mean, mean.”

  Stifling a laugh, I said, “No, she wouldn’t have done that.” As I said it, I had to wonder. I could see Izadora doing such a thing, but no sense in letting Pladia know that.

  “Hmmmppphhh,” she said, holding out her teeny, tiny hand and looking at her nails. The nails were slivers the size of rice and glowed pink.

  “I have to do something…and then I’ll take you to the coral pond.”

  “No, no. You let beast out from tree. I know—I hear old witch tell you. Not good. He wicked.”

  So, she had heard about Izaill. That was no surprise; he had a bad rep. And he deserved it.

  “I have to. You can stay in here.”

  “If you live, then you take me to coral pond,” she said matter-of-factly, rolling her sparkly aquamarine eyes. “I no stay here—I wait in tree line. Away from bad, bad wizard.” She shook her little finger at me and fled out the open window, disappearing into the trees.

  Maybe she’d find her own way to the coral pond without my assistance. She said it wasn’t far, so I didn’t see the problem with it. On the other hand, I told her I’d take her, and I’d keep my word.

  Outside, I laid my hand on an oak to warn it—something the elves said I should do if I ever cut any wood from a tree—and I spoke to the tree. “I will be cutting a few limbs from you, but it’s necessary. Thank you in advance for your participation.”

  Using a saw that I found in Izadora’s kitchen, I slid it back and forth, cutting a total of three branches. After cutting the branches into smaller pieces, I figured that I had enough for the circle.

  Needing a caul
dron, I fetched Izadora’s from the tree house. Ready to begin, I stood before the dark tree that imprisoned Izaill.

  The spell said to circle the object or entity you wanted to release, with the wood, leaving the circle large enough for the sorcerer (which was me—I snorted out loud) to fit. Next step, pouring salt around the circle to keep out negativity. At this I laughed. What could be worse than Izaill? And he’d be inside the circle with me.

  The mistletoe and the thyme were to be worn on the sorcerer’s body, and so I tucked them behind my ears.

  Lastly, I poured stream water into the cauldron, three drops of lemongrass, the crystalized bat urine, and the mushroom from a fairy circle.

  All I had to do now was read the words and dump the pixie dust into the cauldron. According to the spell, the pixie dust would be the final step to release Izaill.

  “Here goes nothing,” I said aloud. “Or should I say, here goes everything.” What if I died? What if he killed me? I’d heard him called a demon before. I was certain that he wasn’t far from it. I stood inside the circle, about ten feet from the tree.

  My voice shaking, I began to recite the simple words written on the paper:

  “I call upon the element of earth…

  You will be freed upon this day.”

  At this point, the ground started to tremble slightly. My fear, being so great, caused my leg to shake up and down on its own. Continuing on…

  “For you, a fire will ignite…

  As a symbol of greatness.”

  Behind me, a fire lit on its own accord and spread around the circle. When it burned in a complete circle, it had to be around five feet tall. Oh great, I stood inside a circle of fire! What fun? Oh gosh.