Bright Young Witches & the Restless Dead

by Beth Byers

  Echo shrieked, a muffled shout that would have been loud if they weren’t on board a ship. She dropped to her knees, brought out a piece of chalk, and drew a pentacle on the floor of the tiny space. In the lotus position, Echo closed her eyes and breathed deeply in.

  Circe rolled her eyes. Seek for Hecate to help you, Circe thought. At the end of this day and too many more, they’d still be traveling and not home where they belonged. Circe winced. She wanted to go home. She wanted things to be the way they were before Ariadne started making booze in their cellars and ruined everything.

  “Do you feel that?” Echo asked, cracking her eyes open.

  “What?”

  “Do you feel the chill? Why is it so cold?” Echo rubbed her arms within the pentacle and then she asked far more softly, “Why are you so angry with Ariadne?”

  Circe shook her head. It wasn’t something she could explain. She’d been furious for ages and ages, but it was growing in her over the last days. Maybe leaving home gave Circe a clarity that she wouldn’t have found otherwise.

  Why was Ariadne the heir? She had been Mama’s favorite too. Ariadne had been the one who Mama had turned to when she was dying. It had been Circe who had been at Mama’s bedside every day, but when Mama died, she turned to Ariadne and put the little girls in Ariadne’s care, the house in Ariadne’s care. It wasn’t Ariadne who had done so much. It had been Circe.

  There was a knock on the door and Echo rubbed out the chalk pentacle quickly and hissed, “Take off the dress!”

  Circe huffed and stepped behind the changing screen while Echo opened the door.

  “There’s no one there.” Echo shut the door and Circe stepped back into the room. It was two bunks and one larger bed. Ariadne, of course, got the larger bed that she shared with Medea. Faith and Cassiopeia were on the top bunks while Circe and Echo had the bottom bunks. The cats were everywhere and on everything and the staff on the ship would have rejected them if not for the magic Ariadne used to get her way.

  “Odd,” Circe said, as she dropped her pink dress back over her body. “Did you want to go get a cup of tea? We could visit the library.”

  It took Echo a moment to answer and she blinked a little stupidly at Circe who was staring. “Something is odd about this ship. Don’t you feel it?”

  “What I feel is heartbroken,” Circe said, sniffing and pressing a finger to the corner of her eye. Even if there wasn’t a tear there at the moment, there might have been. It would have been so easy for her to weep every day away. It was only her strength that kept her pushing forward. “I’m just trying to keep it all together and you’re all hateful.”

  “Hateful?” Echo demanded. “Close your eyes. Drop into a pentacle and listen to your magic.”

  “That doesn’t work for me,” Circe snapped. “You know magic doesn’t work the same way for me as it does for you.”

  “Pentacles and meditation work for all of us. Even you, song witch.”

  Echo rolled her eyes and slammed out of the room. Circe hummed low and listened to the sound of her music mix with her magic. The echo of the sound hit the door, the porthole. One of the cats meowed and the sound interfered with the vibration she was half-listening to. Oh! It was just like Echo to make Circe think there was something wrong and then leave her alone and afraid.

  Circe let the hum go and left the coffin of a cabin. The library, she thought. She could find a fun little love story and then she could find a sunny spot to read with some tea to make the day go better. She rubbed her hands over her arms and went back to the room for a sweater.

  “The man traveling next door to the Langford’s cabin is a witch,” Circe announced as she entered the hateful cabin. Ariadne only paused briefly in her reading to the girls as her sister crossed immediately to the small mirror above their trunk and added, “He’s quite handsome. One of the Redferne. He works with the Langfords and is going to London for business but plans to visit Paris and other parts of the continent in the near future.”

  Ari didn’t react but she wasn’t surprised that Circe ferreted out a witch on board. He was probably handsome, single, and well-off.

  Circe pulled a small pot of rouge from her small purse and dabbed it on her lips and then smoothed the top of her finger curls. “He said the Langfords used to be a witching family but the magic slowly died in their line. Most of them don’t even know what they were though they still have ties with witching families in England. He said that there’s enough witch in them to recognize what they were and that is why Mrs. Langford is so drawn to Ariadne.” Circe turned from the mirror and scowled at Ariadne where she and the girls were gathered on the larger bed. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you being special.”

  Ari paused in turning the page and then replied evenly, “I never once said that. I believe that Mrs. Langford’s attraction to our family has more to do with Echo. Mrs. Langford, like Echo, is a younger sister.”

  There was also the spell Ariadne had placed to bring good fortune their way. Meeting a witch on ship? A cabin boy that looked past the cats? A kind matron who took them under her wing? That was the spell that Ari had no intention of admitting to at work.

  Circe scowled and then glanced at the little girls. “Do you poppets want to come with me to the deck and take a turn?”

  Ariadne just kept from snapping at Circe. Ari closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. It had taken Ari nearly an hour to get the girls to focus on their lessons, so of course, Circe had barged in with promises of treats that she rarely followed through with.

  “We can’t,” Cassie replied. “We haven’t done our runes or pentacles and Medea still has to read from the primer.”

  “Oh you can do that any time.” Circe wriggled in the mirror, watching the dress smooth into a straight line.

  “They need to finish school,” Ariadne said firmly and Circe’s gaze narrowed on Ari.

  “I said they could come.”

  “And I am their guardian.”

  “Only because I wasn’t old enough yet. Otherwise, Mama would have left them to me.”

  “And yet the fact remains,” Ariadne said, “that I am their guardian. Come, Medea, read us the story.”

  “Ari just doesn’t want you to have fun,” Circe said meanly and then shot Ariadne a triumphant look before she stormed from the cabin.

  “Now that I left home,” Faith told Ariadne as Circe shut the door, “I hope my sister starts to value all that I did for her and Papa. Sooner or later, she’ll see, Miss Ari.”

  The unveiled commentary on Circe’s behavior was disguised enough that Cassie and Medea didn’t follow it, but Ariadne had to admit that she appreciated the effort. It would be nice, Ari thought, if Circe could appreciate just a little of what Ariadne was trying to do. Even failing, at least Ari was trying.

  Chapter 6

  APRIL 1922. SOUTHAMPTON, ENGLAND

  CIRCE EUTERPE MAGNOLIA WODE

  The disembarking party was themed as though it were an under the sea party. It seemed everywhere she looked there were rich girls with long strands of pearls that Circe had wanted since she’d first seen a strand around a girl’s neck in one of Ari’s magazines.

  “I don’t understand,” Nanette Langford said to Circe. “Why does your sister get to decide?”

  “She’s the eldest.”

  Nanette’s head tilted. “I still don’t understand. It’s not like she’s the queen.”

  Circe licked her lips and said, “Mama left Ariadne in charge.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Christine added, twirling her own pearls around her finger. “Given how old you were when she died, but now? Why didn’t you stay if you wanted to?”

  Circe shook her head and took another flute of champagne. She had started to feel a little better, but there was something about knowing it could be years before she saw Lindsey again that was slowly ruining her.

  He was probably going to marry Betsey Morgan or Lily McCall, and Circe would come back single and alone. Just like her sisters.
Witches in a small town. No one who knew what she was had any interest in a witch. Anyone who didn’t know would either never know a huge part of her heart or would have to be told. She’d tried that though, hadn’t she? She’d tried it and Lindsey had lit a cross on her lawn.

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Let’s dance, shall we?” Christine said, “Why worry about sisters and bossiness? Nan is bossy as can be. She even has Langford Junior jumping to her whim.”

  “Langford Junior?”

  “Daddy’s heir,” Nanette said. “First born and with all the right parts? Daddy couldn’t possibly love him more. I understand what it’s like to be you, Circe. The only difference is your mother loved your uptight sister more than you and Daddy loves Junior more than me.”

  Ariadne smiled at Circe across the room, wearing that dress that Circe wanted. She scowled deeply, and then took a deep breath and smiled at Christine. She dove into the dance and tried not to feel the burning hatred that had been growing on the crossing.

  ARIADNE EUDORA WISTERIA WODE

  Ariadne tried to smile at the witch traveling with the Langford party who was her current dance partner, but she was also trying not to use her magic to set him on fire with her fury. There were too many eyes for that, so she was going for the smile over the grimace.

  His hand slid down her back again, and she grabbed his wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He grinned at her, his gaze on her breasts. “You’re a lovely woman.”

  “You’re going to lose your eyes because I will take them from you.”

  “That’s no way for a lady to speak.” The smirk on his face said he was enjoying the way she couldn’t actually react. Anything physical—he was stronger than her. Anything supernatural—she’d reveal herself and put them all at risk.

  Ariadne spoke with slow, even statements. “I am not a lady. I am a witch. I will take your eyeballs, and I will preserve them as a warning to those who dare to grab my behind again.”

  He laughed. “I do like a fiery woman.”

  “You are underestimating the level of my viciousness because I have breasts, Mr. Porter. It is a mistake.”

  He laughed as though her anger was more delightful than anything else she could do.

  “I don’t like you,” she told him.

  “I like you very much,” he replied with a smirk. “I suspect you’d be an excellent breeding partner. You or any of your sisters.”

  Ariadne stepped back to stare at him and then she dug her nail into her wrist. She took his hand in hers and wrote a rune on the inside of his palm, sealing it with her magic, her blood, and her will.

  “What did you do?” His smirk was so condescending that Ariadne found her own joy leaping.

  “You really shouldn’t have let me write that rune on you.”

  “Something about my eyeballs?”

  Her grin was wicked as she glanced down. “Good luck finding the cure to that one. You’ll find that it’s a spell passed from woman to woman. We tend not to be very generous with the antidote.”

  Ariadne turned to leave and then glanced back to add in warning, “Stay away from my sisters, or you’ll find that I’m significantly less kind than a simple rune on a palm.”

  He laughed again with delight, but there was a look in his eyes that suggested he was moving from purely arrogant to a smidge of trepidation.

  When she left the dance floor, she had a napkin from one of the waiters pressed against her wrist.

  “Did you just do what I think you did?” Echo demanded. She glanced at her companion, Harvey Langford, and then stuttered, “Catch your wrist on your nail?”

  “Odd,” Harvey added.

  “I had a small cut there before,” Ariadne lied. “I caught the scab on it. You were right, Echo, I should have worn the long gloves. I am too clumsy to be allowed outside.”

  Echo laughed, a fake sound that Harvey didn’t bother to repeat. He glanced at Echo and then back at Ariadne. “I have thought that all three of you sisters were remarkably graceful.”

  “Until we aren’t,” Ariadne said with a cheerful grin. “Tell me, Mr. Langford, are you capable of keeping a clumsy girl safe on the dance floor?”

  Ari stepped into his arms and let him circle the floor. She was grasping when she asked, “Did you enjoy your trip to America?”

  “I enjoyed meeting some of the more distant relatives. They’re odd, colorful, and make me quite grateful for my mother.”

  Ari laughed at that. “My aunt Beatrix has made me quite grateful for my mother as well. She’s…harder that Mama was, meaner really. Mama would just talk to us when we were being naughty. Aunt Beatrix—well, she didn’t do the same for her boys.”

  Mr. Langford glanced at Ariadne and then over to Echo. “You must have done quite a good job protecting your sisters. They’re entirely unafraid of the world. Your Circe is downright aggressive.”

  “I suppose I faced off with Beatrix a time or two. Circe, however, has always been adventurous. When we were children, she was the one who always started the fun. I was the goody two shoes who didn’t want to upset Mama.”

  Harvey spun Ariadne wide and then, as the dance ended, led her to the side of the dance floor. “Why did you leave your hometown? Did Circe lead you into adventure?”

  Ariadne paused as she considered her answer and then admitted, “I suppose being the oldest and the protector of my sisters made me braver. I’d do anything to keep them safe or get them the things they need. Right now, we need a break from home. What better place than our ancestor’s homes? We want to see the graves of our dead. We want to see where we came from.”

  “My mother’s family came from England too, but she has so little interest in them. She said they’re disappointing.”

  Ariadne took another flute of champagne and Harvey Langford asked, “Why did your parents give you mythology names? Ariadne was abandoned. Medea attempted to murder her child and was driven away. Echo was torn to pieces. None of your namesakes had good fates.”

  “Do you know what happens to women in ancient literature?”

  He shook his head even though he clearly knew. His eyes glinted with amusement.

  “They’re almost always turned into villains. Those women were dangerous creatures, but Mama said anything that made them villains was either the result of villainous men or out and out lies.”

  “She wanted you to be the witches who turned men into pigs?”

  “She wanted us not to be walked all over. If you got a name in ancient literature, if your name was remembered for centuries, you lived your life well.”

  He turned, his gaze landing on Echo, and asked, “What do you think my chances are with your sister?”

  “With Echo?”

  He nodded.

  Ari’s gaze narrowed on him and he held up his hands.

  “She’s young.”

  “Women have relationships at her age often.”

  “She’s young.”

  Harvey Langford licked his lips, carefully. “I would just like to get to know her better.”

  “Echo is sweet, kind, loving, and she has a core of steel. I don’t have to protect her from you, she’ll protect herself. And you are a good man, aren’t you? Mr. Langford?”

  “I am.” He was grinning charmingly.

  “Then I have no concerns. She doesn’t need my permission.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’ve heard my sisters talk about how controlling you are, but you aren’t, are you? I wanted to make sure. Just in case they were wrong.”

  Ariadne shook her head. “I’m not controlling. I do, however, have a wide dose of vindictive and vengeful.”

  Chapter 7

  MAY 1922. LONDON, ENGLAND

  ARIADNE EUDORA WISTERIA WODE

  “Excuse me, sir,” Ariadne said to the fellow behind the bar. He was a tall fellow with a paunch, rather wonderful curling mustaches, and a crisp white apron that tucked below his belly.

  She marveled for a moment
at the sight in the pub of the gents with their pints of beer, drinking without an issue. There was a family in the corner—pint for the mother, pint for the father, pint for an older son. The little ones looked to be drinking some sort of fizzy drink, and no one was protesting outside as though this fish and chips joint were a den of iniquity.

  The man lifted a brow at her as he paused long enough to meet her gaze.

  “I’m looking for the Wode house. I was told it was near here. Do you know it?”

  The fellow blinked rather blankly before his brows drew close, his forehead wrinkled, and he hummed a bit. “Sorry, little love. I can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

  Ariadne frowned, rubbing the back of her neck. If she didn’t find something that was Wode before long, Circe was going to never let Ariadne hear the end of it.

  “It’s because the last Wodes were teetotalers,” an older man said. He had very little hair but large eyebrows that drew in as he examined Ariadne. “I know the Wodes.”

  Ariadne turned his way, noting the wrinkles that covered his face with personality and history.

  His eyes were bright as he looked her over. “You have their eyes. I knew Delilah Wode, and she had those demon-black eyes as well.”

  Ariadne’s head tilted, not quite sure how to respond to such a statement. Her eyes were so dark brown they seemed almost black, but honestly—it was impossible to reply in any way to such a statement.

  “Ah,” Ariadne said. “I am also a Wode, although I am from America.”

  The man nodded and snorted. “Miss Wode died during the Spanish flu outbreak. Her and that sisters of hers. The one who refused to leave the house. Ain’t been any Wodes about since. I thought the family died out. Down two streets, turn left, three houses towards the end. It’s been locked up tight, though, so you won’t see much. Not sure who owns it now. Big old place to be standing empty.”

  Ariadne thanked the man, trying to hide her disappointment. She’d hoped to meet a long lost cousin and walk among the graves of her kin. She thanked him again and went back to the black cab.