The Witching Elm (A Memento Mori Witch Novel, Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  When she walked over to the window and peered out, she could see very little. In the gloaming, a hint of coral light tinged a deep gray mist. She returned to her pillow and pulled her scratchy wool blanket around her. In the dim light, an embroidered goat’s head on the rug leered at her.

  Maybe she should rethink this idea. What if demons haunted this tower—spirits who would drag her to a grisly death as she slept? She bit her thumbnail, thinking of a sharp-toothed spirit with flaming eyes. A creaking noise sounded outside the door, and something like footfalls echoed in the stairwell. She held her breath—probably only the wind troubling an old building. The footsteps stopped.

  She’d just started to breathe again, when she heard knocking, like knuckles rapping a coffin lid. She threw off her blanket and rushed to the philosopher’s guide, flipping the pages in a panicked scramble for the transformation spell. The sound of her own name interrupted her search.

  “Fiona?”

  She exhaled, closing the book. It was Tobias’s voice. “Thank God. I thought you were a monster.” She crossed the room, yanking open the door.

  “That’s only sort of true.” Tobias stood in the dark, holding two paper bags. “I didn’t see you at dinner. Celia thought you might’ve come here. I thought you must be hungry.” He walked into the room, sitting down on the rug near the tapestry. “And I wanted to see if you were okay after last night.”

  She hadn’t eaten all day, and she grabbed a paper bag, sitting next to him on the floor. “Thank you so much. I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten to eat before.” She pulled open a bag and began chomping through a bagel. “What do you mean, you’re sort of a monster?”

  Tobias looked down, rubbing his face with his hands. “Celia and I brought the Redcap here.”

  Fiona swallowed. “Oh yeah. Well, maybe it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he was drawn in by the aura from the Harvesters.” She was suddenly aware that she’d sat very close to him. Heat from his arm radiated against hers.

  He nodded, unconvinced. “What are you doing in here?”

  “It’s quiet. Celia’s always on the phone to Lucas, and I haven’t been able to nap. And we’re safe from the Harvesters here. I’m thinking of moving in.”

  “I like it here, too. I might stay for a bit.”

  “Nice. We could practice more magic.” She brushed some crumbs off her lap. “I guess I shouldn’t worry so much about the Harvesters since the police are all over it now.”

  He stretched his legs out on the rug, looking up at the ceiling. “But they don’t know what’s really going on. They don’t know this was only the beginning.”

  27

  Fiona

  Lying on the floor in the Adepti room, her chin propped up in her hands, Fiona scrolled through pictures on her laptop. Police tape still blocked off most of the park, but a photographer had snapped the burgeoning elm tree from a distance. It looked about five feet high, with curling alabaster branches. The Witching Elm. Was it some kind of monument to Druloch?

  While she waited for her friends to arrive for their coven meeting, she stood and pulled the philosopher’s guide off the shelf. A cloaking spell could prove useful in another Harvester attack, and she wanted to try out Lady Cleo’s Cloak. Based on Tobias’s earlier phonetic instruction, she was able to piece together the pronunciation. After stumbling through it a few times, she finally felt her skin prickle as she recited it.

  As she completed the spell, her body and clothing shimmered away to transparency. It was a disorienting feeling, to look down and see only the floor below. A dizzying moment of panic overtook her. Have I transformed myself out of existence? Is that even possible? She stomped the floor just to hear the sound of her feet, and she sang a few lines from Cats, reassured by her tuneless voice. A few minutes later, when her skin began to glimmer back into view, she breathed easier. Fully visible, she reclined against the wall as she waited for her friends.

  Celia and Mariana were the first to trudge up the stone stairs. Mariana had draped herself in a long black wizard robe and a necklace that looked like a spider web. Stuffed under her arm was a box of Damon’s Doughnuts. They joined Fiona on the floor and waited for the guys, tucking into the doughnuts.

  Celia picked at her glazed treat. “It’s kind of weird how we’re going to classes like nothing happened. I mean, they keep saying we can go to a counselor, but then we’re just supposed to go to class and do math.”

  Fiona sighed. “They think it’s another isolated terrorist attack. Like the marathon bombings. They don’t know it’s a full-scale invasion.”

  Mariana’s purple lipstick was now covered in a white powder. “Not that I think we should just run away, but if the Harvesters are coming back—are we safe?”

  “This room feels safe.” Fiona glanced around at the tapestry and the hand-like sconces dripping with red wax. “I know it’s creepy, but I don’t think the Harvesters could get in here. If they come back, we should hide in here.”

  Celia sat up straight. “And we need to keep practicing magic and looking for the poem. You guys were right. I mean, someone needs to find it, right? Or they’ll just keep killing people.”

  “I’ve been trying to learn the spells in my free time,” said Fiona. “I’ve practically moved in here now.”

  Celia played with a strand of her blond hair, staring at the window. “It’s lonely in our room now. I wish I could have Lucas in your place.”

  “Ew. That’s my brother you’re talking about.” Mariana grimaced. “Have you told him anything about the Mather Adepti?”

  Celia shook her head. “He doesn’t know anything. But if the Harvesters come back, we should take him in here with us for safety, right?”

  “So are we going to choose who gets to live and die?” As Fiona took a bite of her jelly doughnut, she paused to stare at its glistening red center.

  “Let’s not think about that.” Mariana’s skull ring gleamed as she waved her hands dismissively. “Celia’s right. We should just focus on doing what we can—looking for the poem, and trying to learn the spells.”

  As Fiona took another bite, she heard a gentle scraping sound behind her. She turned to find the tower imp dragging her locket across the floor toward the windowed wall.

  “He’s got your necklace!” Celia shrieked, her blue eyes snapping open as she jumped up.

  Fiona leapt up. “Oh my God! Can you catch him?”

  Celia recoiled. “I don’t want to touch him. What if he bites?”

  While he dragged the necklace closer to the wall, he looked up at the girls with large, mournful eyes. He pulled the necklace into his small hole below the window.

  Mariana tilted her head as she watched him. “How odd. He’s like a sad magpie.”

  “What else do you think he has in there?” asked Celia.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sticking my hand in. But Tobias said he’s harmless.” Fiona shrugged. “So I’ll just ask him to fish it out.”

  The girls crept toward the hole and peered in, but could see only darkness. Celia flashed her phone light, eliciting a hiss from the creature.

  Just then, Alan and Tobias pushed open the door, covered in mud.

  Fiona pointed at the imp’s hiding place. “That thing stole my necklace! Can you get it?”

  Tobias brushed dirt off his hands. “Can we do it after the meeting? I’m sorry we’re late. We were digging in the courtyard. There was some uneven ground, and we thought maybe the poem was buried.”

  “Sure, whatever,” said Fiona.

  They formed a circle on the rug. Tobias began the lesson by asking everyone to recite fragments of Angelic spells.

  After the drills, they practiced the spells individually. While Alan mastered the fire spell, Fiona read through Frater Basilus’s Spell for Wind. Mariana smiled as she practiced Sir Isaac’s Spell for Growth, magnifying the size of a half-eaten chocolate doughnut.

  A slight mishap occurred when Fiona’s wind spell collided with Alan’s fire spell, casting a flame onto Mar
iana’s long robes. Tobias stomped out the fire with his foot as Mariana shrieked.

  “Next time,” Tobias declared as they finished their lesson, “after the language drills, we can do an initiation ceremony. In a vision, you’ll learn how to transform into your familiar. The invisibility and transformation spells are probably the only ones that might be useful if the Harvesters attack. As much as it’s important to study Angelic, I don’t think growing cakes will help.”

  Everyone rose. While Celia and Mariana left for their rooms, Tobias lingered behind to retrieve Fiona’s necklace from the tower imp, and Alan stuck around to see if he could catch a glimpse of the creature. Tobias got down on his knees in front of the hole and reached in. Fiona heard a distant whimpering noise and some scuffling, and then Tobias pulled out his arm. In his hand were two paperclips and a brass button.

  “Let me try again. There was more in there.” He reached in and grasped around, finally pulling his hand out—this time with a skeleton key. An attached note read: Don’t Upset Bess. He handed Fiona the key, and after he reached back in, he pulled out Fiona’s necklace.

  “Thank you so much!” She crossed to the bookshelf, secreting the necklace into her large, floral-printed cloth handbag.

  The imp’s gray face emerged from his hole, and he looked out at the three humans with dolorous eyes. Alan gave him two quarters and a nickel, which he dragged into his sanctuary, though his sad expression remained fixed.

  “They always look that way.” Tobias plucked the key out of Fiona’s hand, examining it before looking up with a faint smile. “We need to try this on the door downstairs.”

  28

  Tobias

  Tobias led Fiona and Alan down the stairwell, illuminating it with a glowing orb. At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped at the wooden door and slid the key into the lock. There was a sharp intake of breath as it clicked open into a dark space with a thick, moldy spell.

  Tobias directed the light forward. It cast a dull glow on a low passage made of arched, earthen walls. Particles of dirt caught in his lungs. They walked forward, huddled together, until Tobias noticed some white flecks embedded in the dirt. He bent down, brushing aside some of the soil to reveal a smooth, ivory surface.

  “What is it?” asked Alan.

  “Bones.” He jerked upwards, almost smacking his head on the low ceiling.

  As they continued walking, more bones became visible in the walls and floor, with a few distinctly human skulls embedded in the dirt.

  Fiona whispered, “Do you think we should turn around?”

  “I think we’re okay,” said Tobias, his shoulders tensed.

  “Yeah, I mean they’re just bones.” Alan laughed nervously.

  Tobias felt Fiona’s nails dig into his arm as the tunnel opened into a large earthen room. The foxfire illuminated uneven rows of dark shelves arranged haphazardly around the room. Jars of fetuses, syphilitic skulls, and desiccated human limbs lay on the shelves, and a misshapen wooden stool rested on the floor.

  They froze as a wavering, high-pitched voice filled the room with a song. Tobias pulled Fiona closer.

  Girls and boys are come out to play,

  I have not seen the light of day;

  Shut your windows and shut your door,

  And hide with your playfellows under the floor.

  A hunched crone tottered into the dim light. A gray cap hung over her scraggly white hair and wrinkled skin, shielding her eyes. Her dark dress draped over an emaciated figure.

  “Are you Bess?” Tobias asked, his voice barely audible.

  The woman replied with a shriek:

  Bessie Pain, whipped in vain,

  Wicked sinner, once again!

  “Bessie Pain?” Fiona whispered. “Elizabeth Pain? Are you the ghost of Elizabeth Pain? The lady with the gravestone?”

  “Not a ghost. I never died.”

  “I thought I saw your grave. With the A on it.” Fiona’s voice faltered.

  “The city is filled with liars. Under the earth, you find the truth. What do you see when you walk about upstairs?”

  Fiona stammered, “I don’t know.”

  “Paintings of heroes, gilded and gleaming. But I live with the bones they buried to build their city upon a hill.” Bess chanted:

  Eggs, cheese, butter, bread,

  Stick, stock, stone, dead,

  Hang them up, lay them down,

  On corrupted frozen ground.

  “Corrupted frozen ground…” Tobias recognized the line from the poem. “We’re looking for the whole poem. Do you know it? The King Philip poem—about the corrupted frozen ground?”

  “I have no need for it.” She stepped closer to Tobias, lifting her chin to peer at him through bloodshot eyes. She roared, “Where’s Wormock?”

  “You knew him?” If she knew Wormock, maybe she was friendly to the Ragmen, despite her terrifying appearance.

  “He brought me cakes.” She smacked her lips. “Some with honey and some with flowers made of sugar and cream.”

  Tobias attempted a smile. “He was a friend of my father’s.”

  “Where is Wormock?” She shuffled closer. One eye was half-closed, while the other bulged.

  Tobias glanced at Fiona. He wasn’t sure how to deliver the news. “He’s not around anymore, I’m afraid. A succubus killed him.”

  Bess sighed, and with a groan she lowered herself onto the stool. “I feared it would be him. Terrible business. But everyone’s got to go sometime, except me.” She snorted. “I guess he won’t be coming through here anymore.”

  “What do you mean, coming through here?” asked Tobias.

  She spat on the ground and then rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. “To get to Maremount. I used to let him through, since he brought me the treats.”

  Tobias’s heart raced. Is this the Darkling Tunnel? “You let him through? This goes to Maremount?”

  “If I say the right words, yes.” Grasping her back, she rose again. “But you’ll need to bring me something.”

  “What would you like me to bring you?” he asked.

  She folded her arms, rubbing them with her hands as she stared at the ground. She kicked at a stone near the stool. “Cakes.”

  “Cakes?” He repeated. “You’d like cakes? To get me home?”

  She nodded. So this was the route home, if he wanted to take it.

  Fiona squeezed his arm, leaning into him. “You can’t go back yet. The poem is in Boston. And we need you to lead our coven, or we’ll get our heads hacked off.” She turned to Bess. “Ms. Pain, you don’t know anything about the King Philip poem?”

  She coughed. “Right. Wormock asked me about that, too.”

  “Do you know where it is?” asked Fiona, but the woman shambled back into the shadows again. Her voice rang out:

  Search in the cupboards, search under stairs,

  Search in the pantry behind the chairs,

  High and low and everywhere—

  You’re searching for what is not there!

  This seemed to be the end of the conversation.

  Fiona whispered, “Are we supposed to go?”

  “Wait!” Suddenly agile, the old woman darted into the dim light and pointed her gnarled finger into Fiona’s face. “Are you Fiona?”

  Fiona took a small step backward. “Yes?”

  Wheezing as she gripped Fiona’s shoulders, Bess raised her filmy blue eyes into the light. Her irises clouded over to a milky gray. Her jaw detached, elongating her face. She emitted a deep howl that half sounded like screaming, and half like a choir of angels singing. Fiona shrieked.

  Alan grabbed Fiona’s arm, yanking her away from Bess, and they sprinted back through the earthen tunnel, followed by Tobias. When they were all through the basement door, Fiona scrambled to lock it behind her with the key. They bolted back up the stairs and into the Adepti room.

  Fiona slammed the door shut, gasping for breath. “What was that?”

  Tobias put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s
okay. She won’t hurt you.”

  She shook her head. “How do you know?”

  He swallowed. “It was just a—just a banshee.”

  As Alan caught his breath, he slid down the wall to a sitting position. “Don’t they kill you by screaming at you?

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” Tobias inhaled slowly, looking at the floor. “They just predict death. But it’s probably not Fiona’s. It could be a loved one or a family member.” It couldn’t be Fiona.

  Fiona frowned. “A family member?” she asked in a small voice.

  Tobias nodded.

  “My great-aunt is very sick.” She crossed to the darkened window. “I don’t even really know her. She’s been sick for a while.”

  “Do you want to call your mom?” said Tobias.

  She pulled out her phone, punched a few numbers, and held it to her ear, biting her thumbnail. “Mom? Everything okay?” She began pacing from the window to the door. “Everything is fine here… What do you mean? I just wanted to see if everything was okay… When are you leaving?” She bit her thumbnail. “Okay. I’ll see you when you get back… Yeah, I’m studying… I will! Love you. Bye.” She disconnected and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. “It’s my great-aunt. She’s at death’s door. My mom’s going to the hospital in New York.”

  “That’s too bad about your aunt, but thank God it’s not you.” Alan looked up at Fiona. “Or your mom.”

  She joined him on the floor, closing her eyes as she slumped against the wall. “You don’t know how much time Celia, Mariana and I spent trying to call up spirits. Now I just want all the spirits to stop. I feel like I need to go watch football or shop in a supermarket to cleanse my mind with something totally mundane.”