Witch Hollow and the Fountain Riddle (Book 2)

by I.D. Blind

  ~ * ~

  A golden-haired girl was passing across the glen, going to a place where she hadn’t been for years, but which she used to visit so frequently in her dreams. She remembered the road as if she had passed it just yesterday. The treehouse hadn’t changed. Maybe it looked a bit darker, but it was still the same hut where she and Jack would meet. It still had the same stairs, the rope bridge, the door, and the round window.

  She was so engrossed in her memories she didn’t hear the footsteps behind.

  “Hello, Elora,” someone said.

  That voice was familiar, and only she knew how much she had missed it.

  “Hello, Jack.” Eleanora glanced at him, searching for something else to say. She hadn’t seen him so close for a long time, and tried hard not to stare into his grey eyes.

  “How are you doing?” Jack said after a long pause.

  “Fine.” She began chewing on her lower lip. “And you? How are you?”

  “Marvelous.”

  The pause lasted for another minute.

  “Jack, I… you know… I… wanted to say… I am glad that you are well.”

  “Oh, please, Elora. As if you care.”

  “But I do. I… always did.”

  Jack smirked. “Sure you did.”

  “Oh, Jack, don’t be so heartless. You know I did. I… still do. I miss you. Everyday.”

  “Why are you saying that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “Why have you come here?”

  “I told you already. I miss the old days. I missed this house. And you.”

  “I don’t think you need to be here. It’s not safe, you know.”

  “You’re too cruel with me.”

  “Am I? More cruel than you?”

  Her face turned crimson. “I am sorry.” When her eyes glistened with tears, she bowed her head to hide them from him. “I was only a child,” she whispered.

  “You still are. If you think that saying sorry will change anything, then you’re indeed still a little child.”

  “Why shouldn’t it change? Have you become so heartless that you can’t forgive anymore? What happened to you? You were never so cruel.”

  “I had good teachers. Teachers who taught me to betray friends, to stomp on them, to turn my back on them when they need me the most. To… break their hearts.”

  “I was only a child.” She began to cry. “I couldn’t disobey my father. But he seems to have changed his mind. Eric is your friend, and if last year my father was disgruntled, now he has softened.”

  “Is that why you’ve come here? Because your father has softened? What if he changes his mind again? What if another Council meeting happens? Will you again call me a warlock and say that I am dangerous to your well-being?”

  Eleanora flushed. “I never meant those words.”

  “Please, Elora, leave this place.”

  She sniffed. “I miss being called by that name.”

  Jack was looking into the distance, at the lush trees and the darkness behind them, pretending he didn’t see her tears.

  “Is this because of that girl who’s always with you? Ariadne, right?”

  “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “But you care for her, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  His words stung her in the heart. “If I could turn back the time, I would have never hurt you. I would have never said those words, but I was silly. I was young and said stupid things. I don’t even know why I said them. I hated myself afterwards. If only I could turn back the time.”

  “But you can’t. We can’t take back what we say. That’s why we should be careful when picking the words. We can’t unsay them.”

  Jack left. Eleanora went home, and when she reached her house her mood couldn’t have been worse. Henry ran up to her, asking her to play with him, but she refused him angrily and entered the living room. Albert was sitting in his armchair, reading newspaper. Riona had settled near the window, sewing a tablecloth.

  “Where were you, girl?” Albert asked. “You’ve been gone since morning.”

  Eleanora turned to the stairs and was on her way to the second floor when her father repeated his question.

  “It’s all your fault!” she yelled out. “And I hate you for that! I hate you all!” She ran upstairs and slammed the door behind her. Riona went after Eleanora, but she didn’t open the door no matter how many times her mother knocked. She didn’t want to see anybody, and burying her face in the pillow, she cried until evening.

  21. A Flight on a Broom

  “Cassandra told us you had found traps in the forest,” Electra said when she and Eric met at the Old Curiosity Shop and walked down the alley.

  “Poachers put a lot of traps at the south edge of the forest. Cassie and I found a few yesterday, and marred them.”

  “Please be careful,” Electra pleaded. “And take care of my little sister.”

  “Of course I will.” Eric threw his arm around her and smacked her cheek.

  “Isn’t it an interesting coincidence that you two chose the same profession?”

  Eric was about to answer her when they came upon the famous Candy shop, and the smell of freshly baked muffins wafted through the open door.

  “I’d kill for a piece of strawberry cake,” Eric said, and both hurried inside.

  Rosy-cheeked Mrs. Rose McKennit began telling them about the muffins and cakes, how much cream was in the éclairs, how juicy were the blackberries in the fruitcake, and how many layers of chocolate were in the pineapple cake.

  “We have come for a strawberry cake, Mrs. Rose,” Electra said.

  “Oh, I have a delicious cake to offer you,” the baker said with enthusiasm. “Absolutely fresh and oh-so-tasty.”

  Eric took his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and looked at the screen. “It’s my mom, I have to answer,” he told Electra, and went to the doors. “I’ll talk and be back in a moment.”

  “This pie has the freshest raspberry, and those rolls are absolutely delicious,” Mrs. McKennit was telling Electra when they smelled something burning in the kitchen. “The donuts!” Mrs. Rose exclaimed. “Oh dear, my donuts.” She rushed to the kitchen door. “Electra, dear, keep an eye on the cakes, and tell me if a customer comes. Oh, my poor donuts!”

  Electra bent to the stand and was smelling the raspberry rolls when someone entered the shop.

  “Just don’t touch them, or you might spoil them with your stench,” a voice said behind her.

  Electra turned around. The three Easterners, Thomas Baldric, his younger brother Edward, and Tim Van Balen, were staring at her.

  “This place stinks with a witch,” Tim said.

  Thomas smirked. “So many times we tell you not to show up here, but you keep ignoring us, as if something is wrong with your ears.”

  “Could it be that they are deaf?” Edward asked, approaching Electra from the left. She tried to get out of the circle, but Tim blocked her way and Electra retreated back.

  “Is it so?” he asked. “Witch, are you deaf?”

  She kept quiet.

  “Even the scent of those fine cakes can’t fight back your stink, witch.” Thomas came so close that she had no more space to retreat. “What is it? Do I sense fear? You’re not so brave when alone, right? That’s how we shall crush you, one by one.” Thomas leaned over; Electra could feel his breath on her neck, making the hair on her nape bristle. She made a desperate attempt to get out of the closing circle, but Thomas shoved her back. “I’m not done with you, witch.”

  She hit her back on the stand. Chuckling, the fellows pressed from all sides.

  “Such a miserable sight,” Thomas continued. “Like a butterfly caught in a trap. And now I am going to pull out its wings. Such sad eyes, filling with tears. But those tears can’t move me. I have no sympathy for the witches.” He gripped her neck and pulled her to his face. “Your family killed my brother. No sympathy for you!”

  Electra searched
for something helpful with her hands, and grabbing a piece of cake from the stand, spread it over Thomas’s face.

  “Witch,” he hissed, loosening his grip and wiping his face with his sleeve.

  Tim and Edward chuckled under their breaths.

  “These witches keep mocking you, Tom,” Edward sniggered. “How does the cake taste, by the way?”

  “Shut up!” Thomas turned to Electra. “You worthless, confounded witch. You think you’re so witty?” He was about to slap her, when someone grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back, then squeezed his neck and dipped his face into the cake on the stand. When Tim tried to pounce on Eric, he released Thomas and punched Tim so hard he rolled to the corner. Before Thomas managed to rise to his feet, Eric grabbed his neck again, shoving his face back into the cake.

  “Ned, behave!” Eric told Edward when the boy went to hit him. As Eric was older and taller, Edward retreated back and reached out to Tim, helping him to his feet. Tim pressed his palm to his bleeding lip and scurried out.

  “How brave you are.” Eric smirked. “Three guys against one girl. Unbelievable!”

  Thomas tried to squirm out from the grip, but Eric squeezed his neck harder. “What are you saying?” He bent down. “Sorry, I can’t hear you, speak louder.” He dipped Thomas’s face deeper into the cake. “Did he hurt you?” Eric looked at Electra. She shook her head.

  “Please, let him go,” she begged.

  “Did you hear that? The witch is asking me to let you go.” Eric raised Thomas’s face over the smashed cake. “This witch is asking me to let you go. Should I do as she says?”

  Mrs. McKennit came out of the kitchen and stared at the two fellows and her smashed cake. She threw herself back into the kitchen and returned with an oven fork in her hands. “Get out of the shop,” she said. “Or I’ll call the officers.”

  Eric let go of Thomas’s neck. Panting, he rose to his feet and looked around, his face a composition of crème and marzipan.

  “Call the officers, fatty,” he muttered. “We have culprits to arrest—the witch and her bodyguard.”

  “I said get out!” Mrs. Rose raised the oven fork.

  “Be careful, O’Brian,” Thomas said by the door. “And watch your back.”

  Eric watched them until Thomas and his brother left the shop, then turned to Electra. “Are you alright?” he asked, taking her in his arms.

  “What happened here?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. McKennit,” Eric said. “I’ll pay for the cake.”

  Mrs. McKennit put the oven fork down. “Did it happen again?” she asked Electra. “They threatened you?”

  Electra nodded. Eric tightened his embrace and kissed her brow.

  “My dear child, I am so sorry,” the baker said.

  “No big deal,” Electra said. “But I spoiled a piece of cake. I’ll pay for that.”

  “Oh, stop it, child,” Mrs. Rose giggled, waving her hand. “That haughty boy deserved it.” She gave them napkins to wipe their hands. “The Baldrics are so arrogant. Esther and Louis should have been paying more attention to their children. They are absolutely unsupportable.”

  A torrent had started, and Eric and Electra lingered in the Candy shop until the grey clouds dissolved in the air. Two days ago, Electra had made a promise to Eric, and now they hurried to the treehouse, where she would fulfil his request and give him a flying lesson. Two brooms were leaning against the wall, with leather saddles. Electra took one, told Eric to take the second, then crossed the rope bridge and reached the landing on the opposite tree.

  “In fact, it’s not very hard,” she said, saddling her broom. Eric was expecting her to fall down once she raised her feet, but, strangely, she stayed in the air. Eric did the same, seated on the saddle, and crashed down on the landing. Electra giggled.

  “Look here.” She pulled the edge of her broom up and rose into the air. “You need to relax, just like in the water. You can’t swim with a tensed body.” She moved higher and looked down at Eric, dangling her feet in the air.

  He gaped at her, his breath held back. “This is amazing.”

  Electra spun around the tree and returned to the same spot. “Oh, it’s not really hard. Concentrate, relax, and fly!” She laughed.

  Eric tried again, and again fell down. “I can’t do this,” he said. “There must be something wrong with me. Guess I’m too untalented for witchcraft.”

  “Nonsense!” Electra reached out to him. “Sit behind me. We’ll have a short flight.”

  Eric jumped on Electra’s broom, wrapped his arms around her waist, and held his breath again.

  “Ready?”

  “Go!” he cried.

  The broom dashed through the branches. Eric felt as if he was on a carousel and was simultaneously riding a horse. The flight on the broom reminded him of riding—in both cases he had to hold his balance and keep his back straight, but if the horse hit the hoofs against the ground, the broom soared above the earth. How strange it was not to feel the solid ground, but to hover freely in the air, sitting on a broom and not falling down, watching your own shadow follow you, and letting the wind caress your face.

  “Let’s go faster,” Electra said. “Hold on.”

  Eric held her tighter, and the broom increased its speed. Electra rode the broom higher, and through the branches and the leafage they made their way into the darkened sky. The broom and its riders swept over the forest trees, their feet touching the peaks of the pines. Eric looked down at the endless forest. The familiar lights sparkled inside the thicket. And though they were riding fast, he could swear he saw wooden constructions looping around the trees, looking like colossal treehouses with towers, roofs, and narrow stairs.

  Eric turned around. They had left the town far behind and were high above the infinite woodland. There was nothing around but the dark sky and the twinkling stars. And he was among those shiny gems, so close and yet so far away. Their glitter taunted him and called him higher, into the boundless sky, to the round-faced moon. He was among the clouds, above the earth, so high, so free, riding through the vault of heaven.

  An ivory crow cawed near the broom.

  “It’s Morrigan,” Electra said. “She wants us to go down.”

  “Shall we do as she says?”

  “No!”

  Electra lowered the edge of the broom, and they dashed down, where instead of the forest, black water was spreading into the horizon. They descended so much that the heels of Eric’s sneakers plunged into the sea. He bent down and dipped his hand into the water. The round moon was hanging over the waves, its silver ray crossing the sea.

  “I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Eric said when the broom came to a halt. He stared at the silver disc of the moon shining in the horizon, and at the foamy waves arising in the distance and curling under their feet.

  A shiver ran through his body. The scene was mesmerizing but frightening at the same time. He was sitting on a flying broom, above the endless sea aglow with the moonlight, and the blackness of the water under his feet was terrifying. Eric raised his eyes to the silver eye. It was so big and so close that he could see the craters on the moon’s surface. A grey fog began to curl in the horizon, covering the sea with vaporous smoke. The moon disappeared in a misty gaol, and the fog spread all over the ghostly waves.

  “So quiet,” Eric whispered.

  “Are you scared?”

  “I’d say I am, but my pride won’t allow me to.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

  The curls of the vapor whirled under their feet, enshrouding them inside.

  “What if in the mist we lose our way back?” Eric asked.

  “We shall fly high above the fog,” the witch said, and rode the broom up into the sky.