“I’m sorry to disturb you, my dears,” said Manea to her creatures. “But I need you. One of our nearby villages are hoarding their dead. Go forth and bring them all to me.”
Hazel and Primrose gasped in fear, but Gothel stood in awe of her mother’s majesty. She had never seen her mother command her creatures, and it sent chills throughout her body. She couldn’t fathom any of the nearby villages having the audacity to hoard their dead. For centuries, the dead had been sent to the witches. Sure, there had been times when a local villager had caused an insurrection and tried to defy the witches, but it had always been met with such violence that Gothel was sure it would never be attempted in her lifetime. Gothel could see one tall grotesque creature considering her mother’s words with intense concentration.
“Leave no one alive but their children and one adult woman. Bind her to the old promise. She must tell the story of this night to future generations and warn them never to hoard their dead again!”
“Yes, my queen,” said the exceedingly tall creature with leathery skin stretched over his skeletal face.
“Knock on every crypt as you go and wake all of my children. Even the young. Take them with you and show them the way. Show them how to make the living suffer for hoarding their dead.”
“As you wish, my queen,” said the creature. The other creatures just stood at attention, waiting for their orders, waiting for the queen of the dead to do her magic, waiting to bring the living into their ranks. The only creature who spoke was the grotesquerie who had once been a very tall man, who wore a black top hat, a long black coat, and trousers that were now tattered and crumbling like dust. The creature looked down at his own hands, examining them, his face strained as if he was surprised there was so little left of him since the last time he had been awakened from his slumber.
“You look beautiful, my love,” said Manea. “Handsome as ever. I still see the man you once were. Do you see him in my mind? Hold that image as you lead this army in my name. Know that I love you and will be waiting for you to return.” As she was about to dismiss her most favored minion, she remembered one last detail. “Oh, and, my love, bring the newly dead to me so we can record their names.”
“Yes, my queen. And should the woman refuse the terms?”
“Then kill her and the children, my love. And bring them all to me.”
“Yes, my queen.”
Primrose’s and Hazel’s screams rang in Gothel’s ears. She couldn’t tell one voice from the other as they pleaded with their mother to stop.
Manea didn’t seem to hear her daughters, and if she did, she didn’t care. Her gaze was fixed on the thicket as she reached forward, grasping at the air with her clawlike hand and then tightening her grip as if choking an invisible victim. Then, quickly, with a flick of her wrist, she released a scarlet ball, which shot through the air and turned into a spiraling vortex, creating a pathway for her loathsome minions to cross the boundary into the land of the living. The sisters had never seen her use her magic in this way, and it made them tremble in fear.
“Go now, my love! Teach the living what it means to hoard their dead! Make them fear me like their ancestors did before them. Make it brutal and make it bloody! Fill their minds with terrors that will live on in their imaginations. Create a fear so great within their hearts they will never forget what it means to cross the witches of the dead woods!”
“Mother, no!”
Gothel was awestruck and her sisters stood frozen with fear, watching the dead march through the crimson vortex. But even more disturbing was the twisted smile on their mother’s face. They had never seen her so happy, so pleased with herself, and they shuddered to think what those monsters would do to the villagers.
“Mother! Please don’t do this! Can’t you just give them a warning? Give them a chance to make it right before you do this?” begged Primrose.
Manea laughed at her. “You’re pathetic! If you girls want to learn my magic, if you want to honor the ancestors, then this will be one of your responsibilities. Do you think I do this lightly, Prim? Do you think I take pleasure in having women and children slaughtered? I do it for our protection. For our family!”
Primrose had a look of utter disgust on her face. “I think you do take pleasure in it, Mother! I can feel it! So don’t pretend otherwise!”
Manea narrowed her eyes at her daughter. “One day it will be up to you girls to take up this responsibility after me. It’s a grave undertaking, it takes courage and resolve, and I fear you are too weak to take my place when the time comes!”
Primrose stood stark still, clinging to Hazel. It was Gothel who spoke. She took a deep breath, raised her chin to meet her mother’s gaze, and said, “I choose to honor you and those who came before you, Mother. I want to learn your magic. I will take on the responsibility.”
Manea grabbed Gothel by the throat, lifting her off the ground. Gothel’s feet were dangling like a rag doll’s as her sisters’ screams rang in her ears. “What makes you worthy, Gothel, to stand in my place and rule as queen in this land?”
“I don’t know,” said Gothel, trembling and gasping for air. She knew she was worthy. She felt there was something of her mother inside her, waiting to get out. She knew this was her rightful place, but she couldn’t put it into words.
“What would you do in my place? What would you do if a nearby village was hoarding their dead?” asked her mother, meeting Gothel’s gaze.
“I would do the same as you, Mother,” said Gothel.
“Good. I always hoped you would take my place here once I chose to fall into the mists, Gothel,” said Manea as she gently let go of Gothel’s neck. “But that time is not now, my darling.” She stroked her daughter’s hair. “My magic doesn’t live in those books you’ve been reading, not entirely. It lives in my blood, and I can spare only so much at a time.” Gothel’s eyes were wide as she listened to her mother, and she knew her mother could hear her thoughts and questions. “Yes, my dear one, my Gothel, you understand me now. I’m not being selfish with my powers. Once I have given you everything there is to know, there will be nothing left of me. You will have it all, including my life and my place as queen, and the responsibility to honor our ancestors will be yours. That is paramount, Gothel, that you uphold our traditions and keep our secrets safe from the world of the living.” Manea looked into her daughter’s eyes. “Are you ready to receive more of my blood, Daughter? To take the next step?”
“More of your blood?”
Manea laughed. “Yes, my blackhearted child, more. How do you think you and your sisters can feel each other’s emotions? How do you think Primrose felt mine? That’s my blood running through your veins. I shared a small amount of my blood with each of you when you were born, and I intend to share it again. The more I share with you, the more powerful you will become. Are you prepared to receive more, my daughter?”
“Gothel, no! Don’t do it!” whispered Primrose. Gothel wanted nothing more than to quell her sisters’ fears, to make them understand she was doing this for them, but she didn’t have the words to comfort either of them. Hazel’s blue eyes were filled with tears, and Primrose was shaking her head frantically as Gothel considered her mother’s proposal. “Gothel, please don’t!”
Manea laughed. “You two were always weak-minded. So pure. Not like witches at all. Not like Gothel here. Her heart is almost as black as mine.”
“Don’t say that!” screamed Hazel. “If you’re so sure about Gothel, then let her take the night to think it over. Give her the night to decide.”
Manea laughed again. “Fine. Go back to the house, the lot of you! Gothel can give me her decision before the sun sets tomorrow. Now leave before I change my mind!”
“Come on, Gothel,” said Primrose, pulling her sister away from her mother, but Gothel couldn’t seem to make her limbs move. She felt numb, like she was in a trance and somehow tethered to her mother. Gothel’s sisters each took one of her hands and led her down the path that would take them to their
house on the hill, leaving their mother alone in the dead forest to do her magic, which erupted around her like lightning, casting terrible shadows about. With each step, Gothel had to will her legs to move. It was as if some invisible force wanted her to stay with her mother.
“Don’t look back at her, Gothel!” whispered Hazel. “Focus on us.” Gothel blinked, trying to focus on her sisters. She felt like she was coming out of a thick fog as they moved farther away from their mother.
“Are you okay?” asked Primrose, looking into her sister’s eyes. They reflected the light from their mother’s magic, which sparked in the distance, making her eyes look as if they didn’t completely belong to her. “Gothel?” Primrose stopped walking, put her hands on Gothel’s shoulders, and looked into her large light eyes. “Gothel! Look at me! Are you okay?”
“Yes, Prim, I’m fine. Let’s go home. I have a lot to think about.”
The three sisters stood on the balcony off Gothel’s bedroom, watching the lights from their mother’s magic dance in the dead forest. They created ominous shadows on stone carvings of harpies on the wall behind them, giving the winged beauties life.
“How long do you think she will be out there?” asked Hazel. Her voice was quivering.
“Don’t be frightened, Hazel. Everything will be okay, I promise,” said Gothel with a strange faraway look in her eye.
“How can you say that? Everything will not be okay! Our mother is killing everyone in that village!” Primrose was shaking with anger.
“Our mother is upholding our family’s traditions, Prim. This is the way it’s been done for centuries.”
Primrose looked at Gothel like she was something vile, like she was an alien species she didn’t recognize.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Gothel was hurt. She felt her sister’s revulsion, but there was nothing she could say to make her sister comprehend why Gothel understood what her mother was doing. And no way to explain why Gothel would do the same thing in her mother’s place.
“What’s gotten into you, Gothel? How are you okay with any of this?”
Gothel couldn’t answer.
But Primrose thought she knew. She could feel Gothel’s emotions, which were swirling around inside her like a tempest of anticipation. “You want Mother’s power!” Primrose exclaimed. “Don’t you?”
Gothel considered it for a moment and said, “Yes, that’s part of it. But I’m not being selfish, Prim. I want her power so I can protect you and Hazel! Mother won’t be here forever, and someone has to keep us safe here. What if something happens to her? What if the villagers revolt and attack us? How would I be able to protect you without Mother’s magic?”
Primrose stood her ground. “Earlier you said you wanted to see the world outside the thicket, Gothel. You said you didn’t want to be trapped here forever, and now you’re considering taking on a responsibility that will have you tethered here your entire lifetime!” Primrose seemed to be looking into Gothel’s soul, considering an aspect she hadn’t seen in her sister before. “Something within you has changed! Is it because Mother said she will finally share her magic with you? Do you really believe her?”
Gothel wished her sister understood why she wanted to do this. “Of course I believe her! She’s our mother!”
Primrose scoffed. “What the Hades is wrong with you? She’s having everyone in that village killed! Are you actually telling me that doesn’t bother you? In what universe is that not insane?”
Quite a few, actually, Gothel thought. She didn’t want to upset her sister with the truth, but really there was no way of avoiding it. “It’s always been done this way, Prim. Always. Long before Mother, and long before Grandmother! Mother just hasn’t had to do it in our lifetime, and she probably won’t have to do it again for another hundred years. I’m sure the villagers will learn their lesson and stick to the pact their ancestors made with our ancestors.” Gothel paused, then continued. “And if they don’t, we’ll be forced to do it again until they learn. We have to make it clear we won’t allow them to break the pact, that we aren’t weak and we can’t be taken advantage of.” Gothel could tell Primrose was getting angrier with every word Gothel spoke, but she continued. “Tonight will work in our favor, Prim. Some of our horde is starting to crumble, our ranks are thinning. We could use more dead should we ever need them again.”
Primrose was thunderstruck by Gothel’s words. “Need them again? To do what? Kill innocent people because they don’t want to give us their dead? Oh, that’s right, I’m talking to Gothel! Always the logical one! The pragmatic sister! The smartest in the lot! Well, you don’t sound intelligent, Gothel! You sound like a sociopath! You sound like Mother!”
Gothel gave her sister a sad smile. “Prim, read our history! This is how it’s always been, for more generations than you can fathom!”
“So what if our great-great-great-grandmothers were killing innocent people! That doesn’t mean we have to! We can leave here, we can refuse! This doesn’t have to be our life, Gothel! Please, let’s just go the way we talked about earlier today. We can leave Mother here to do what she wishes, but I don’t want any part of it!”
“We can’t go, Prim. Not now. We have to stay! Hazel, tell her we can’t go!” said Gothel to the silent Hazel, who was standing at her side.
“Gothel, are you really going to do this? Please tell me you’re not really going to do this!” Primrose pleaded while Hazel watched her sisters argue, as she often did, waiting to find the proper moment to share her feelings.
“I am, Prim, and when Mother offers me her blood, I want you and Hazel to take it with me.”
“Are you insane?”
“Clearly you think I am! But I think if we all take Mother’s blood tomorrow, we’ll be able to share our thoughts. Think about it, Prim, I will always know if either of you need me! We will be able to protect each other.”
Primrose wrinkled up her face in disgust again. “You mean you want to control us, the way Mother is controlling you now!” she spat, hurting Gothel’s feelings.
“No! That’s not it at all! Also, she’s not controlling me!”
“Then what was that all about earlier, then? You looked bewitched!”
“I was just dizzy! I was overwhelmed by what Mother is offering us, and what all of this really means.”
“You mean what Mother was offering you! You’ve always been her favorite, and you can lie to yourself about what that means, but you can’t hide your heart from me! Listen to me, Gothel, if you do this, if you take Mother’s blood, I will never forgive you. I will leave this place forever and you will never see me again, do you understand?” Primrose was in tears, but she looked entirely serious.
“Prim! I love you, I love you so much! But you don’t understand what you’re saying! We have no idea how old Mother really is. She won’t be with us forever!”
“She can live as long as she wants! She doesn’t have to die if she doesn’t want to! You heard her, it would be her choice to go into the mists!” said Primrose.
“What if something happens to her before she’s ready to move on? How would I heal her without knowing her magic? Besides, you know one day she will be too tired to stay in this world. She will want to move on just like her mother before her, and her mother before her, and like every other witch of our blood before them. It’s our duty to take her place, to make sure our family’s magic lives on after she passes into the mists. We have to stay here and protect our forest and uphold our traditions. You’ve always known this!”
Primrose shook her head. “Not this way, Gothel! I won’t be part of killing innocent people! I will never be okay with killing children! And I will never forgive you if you do this!”
Gothel felt as if her heart was being ripped out. Her mother had finally agreed to share her magic with her, and her sister was forcing her to make an impossible choice. She sighed and said, “You know you mean more to me than Mother’s magic! Please don’t make me choose!”
Primrose said nothing.
She just stared at her sister with tears sliding down her face.
Gothel tightened her fists, squeezing them so hard her nails were piercing her palms, making them bleed. “Fine. I won’t do it! You know I can’t lose you, Prim! I can’t! If you really don’t want me to do this, then I won’t. We can leave here together tomorrow before the sun sets if that’s really what you want. But I want you to understand what that decision means.”
Hazel, who had been quietly listening to her sisters argue, finally spoke. “No one is leaving!”
Gothel and Primrose stared at their sister in astonishment. Quiet, contemplative Hazel was taking on a role she rarely played, but it was nevertheless her place. She was the eldest sister, and her younger sisters stood there, mesmerized by how calmly and resolutely she spoke. “I will share the blood with you tomorrow, Gothel. Our place is here. We are the daughters of Manea, and we have a responsibility to the dead woods, and to our ancestors. Primrose, you know this! You’ve known it your entire lifetime. I don’t understand why you’re acting as if you’ve just learned about this now! Mother has always told us the stories of times before we were born. Did you think it was all fairy tales? We live in the dead woods, Prim! The dead woods! This shouldn’t be such a shock to you! We have walked among the dead our entire lifetimes! We have heard the stories of our ancestors at bedtime since we were small. If we leave this place, there will be no one left to control the dead after Mother is gone! Do you realize what that means, Prim? Listen to me! We’re all going to take Mother’s blood tomorrow. All of us! I’m the eldest after Mother, and my decision is final.”
Mother Knows Best: A Tale of the Old Witch Page 2