Bright Young Witches & the Restless Dead

by Beth Byers

“She is,” Ariadne nodded, twisting her necklace. “One does not preclude the other.”

  Echo stared at Ariadne and then pressed the palms of both hands into her eyes. “We’ve been fighting. Circe is angry.”

  “She feels like we’re united against her,” Ariadne told them.

  “Are you?” Mrs. Langford asked.

  “Yes,” Ari said. “We were both mad at her about the same thing.”

  “What was that thing?”

  “She told sweet Lindsey Noel that she was a witch and about what we’d been doing.”

  Lucian and Mrs. Langford stared at each other and Margot demanded, “What were you doing?”

  “We didn’t do anything—” Echo started.

  “Yes, we did,” Ariadne cut in. “We used magic to age alcohol and make gin. I— sometimes with Echo—bootlegged alcohol to speakeasies for obscene amounts of cash.”

  “You’re criminals?” Margot demanded.

  “Yes,” Ariadne said flatly. “We sold illegal alcohol.”

  “Why did you stop?” Hadley asked.

  “Lindsey crashed our last delivery and then lit a cross on fire in our front yard. I wasn’t willing to see my sisters harassed by the locals for being witches. Longtime friends had turned on us. That’s how the witch trials started. It wasn’t safe to stay.”

  “I agree with you,” Mrs. Langford told Ariadne. “You did the right thing.”

  “Did I?” Ariadne demanded. “If I hadn’t been a lady-legger, Noel wouldn’t have been able to crash on our booze drop. Maybe he wouldn’t have turned on us. Maybe Circe would still be with her love.”

  “He would have,” Lucian said. “What you did might have been illegal, but a man who terrorizes his beloved and her sisters, he’s someone who is worse later. My aunt fell in love with a normal human. When he found out after they were married, he tried to kill her. My family had to remove his memories. He was never the same, but I have to say—our family didn’t feel that bad for him.”

  “Where did they get the spell?” Echo asked suddenly. She yawned and then looked to Mrs. Langford. “Do you have any Books of Shadows from your family?”

  “I don’t.”

  “But someone in your family did.”

  Mrs. Langford nodded.

  Ariadne saw Echo yawning again. “We’ll discuss this in the morning. We’ve done everything we can tonight.”

  Lucian drove Ariadne and Echo home and as he stopped outside of Wode house, he asked “Were the Wildes really good witches?”

  “It was a long time ago,” Echo told him.

  “Whatever magic that Langford witch is using left Medea with nightmares and changed the behavior of Circe.”

  “I could do dark magic,” Echo told Lucian. “You could. That doesn’t make our family guilty. All we know for sure is that whatever began this was dark, either a spell or something drawn by a spell. It doesn’t mean that the Wildes are dark. The Hallow have a long history of dark spells, but they’re good necromancers who make the world a better place. The Redferne, the Wode, we’ve all made dark spells.”

  “It doesn’t matter if the spell is dark. It matters if the practitioner is dark for us,” Ariadne sighed. “For the Langford family, they don’t have the same experience. I don’t like Nanette, but that doesn’t mean she’s dark. If it is her, it might only mean she’s brand new and doesn’t know how to identify the symbols—”

  “I don’t buy that,” Lucian said. “We aren’t talking about proto-Romanian or ancient Latin spells. Who doesn’t leave notes in their own language?”

  “The Wildes might not have,” Ariadne said. “They lived in a society that killed people for being suspected of witchcraft. Most of the people executed were innocent.”

  “Right now all that matters is countering the effects of these ghosts. We have restless dead feeding on the feelings, emotions, and powers of people we care about. The dead need to go through the thinning to where they belong, and we need to heal the souls and auras of those affected.”

  “We need Margot,” Lucian said. “She can take your sister and the Langford girls out and milk them for whatever information she can find. You two and Mrs. Langford search the rooms of her children while Harvey is at work. If there’s a Book of Shadows, you need to find it.”

  Chapter 17

  MAY 1922, LONDON, ENGLAND

  ARIADNE EUDORA WISTERIA WODE

  Ariadne approached Circe’s bedroom in the Langford house with a breaking heart. There was something about knowing her sister was living under another roof because of a break between them that was devastating.

  Slowly Ariadne stepped inside Circe’s room, wanting to be the one who searched her sister’s things. Mrs. Langford had reported that there was no change after they added wards and the powder potion that Ari had blown into Circe’s bedroom. They’d even had to use Echo and Margot to get the Langford sisters and Circe out of the house so no one would be suspicious.

  Ariadne was almost positive that Circe had nothing to do with what was happening. At least to start, which meant whoever had engineered this ghostly infection had gotten past the guards of the sisters. Their own fighting had caused it. At any other time since their mother had died and they’d been looking after each other, one of them would have noticed the change.

  This was why, Ari thought, witches had places of power and security with wards, covens, and family to look after each other. So, since Circe was not the engineer of what happened, could Ari really believe that it was an untrained witch? Ari didn’t buy that either. Not really. Perhaps Mr. Porter? But why? What possible benefit could he have in targeting some of the Langfords?

  In the end, however, Ari knew if her sisters could recover Circe then they would have time to hunt the person who had started this.

  Again, she considered whether it could have been the mourning Circe lashing out with ghost magic?

  But no, Ari thought. No, never. Not with Medea having been affected. Echo might have turned to ghost magic, but Circe was a siren. She would have used her voice and song.

  To be fair to Mrs. Langford, however, Circe’s things needed to be searched along with everyone else’s. Besides, just because she might not have been the instigator didn’t mean she wasn’t involved now, especially after the ghosts started to affect her.

  Ghosts who were brought unwillingly through the thinning—especially for magic spells—tended to feed on those who were available. It was as though you introduced them to something they once loved and made it addictive. They fed on your emotions, your magic, and your fears. Witches were walking opium bonbons.

  It was hard enough to be happy in the normal course of events. With ghosts literally stealing your happiness away? It was impossible. Ariadne opened each drawer, feeling as though there were eyes on her. More than once, Ari glanced behind her to see if Mrs. Langford or Mr. Blacke had joined her, but she was always alone.

  Ari opened each drawer, filtered through Circe’s things, looked on the underside for letters or spells or the merest of clues, and then carefully returned everything to its place. After searching through Circe’s things, Ariadne dropped to the floor and looked under the bed. Her head tilted as the door to the room opened and she looked back at it.

  There was nothing there. A shiver passed through Ariadne and she took hold of her magic. Wind filled the room, but it wasn’t Ari making the air move, and this was no family house of power.

  A small motion under the bed caught her eye and she leaned forward to try to see it better. A small charm bag was tied to the bed boards. Ari drew back in shock, but it was too late. The strange wind flinging the bag back and forth whipped it around and the bag burst open, sending dust into Ariadne’s face. Ari gasped, lungs burning. She couldn’t get her air. Whatever she’d breathed in burned in her lungs like poison.

  She gasped and coughed and tried to flee the room, unable to rise beyond her knees. Ari had to crawl towards the bedroom door. As she went, she banged on the floor, hoping someone would realize she needed he
lp.

  Her eyes, her nose, her mouth, and most of all her lungs were aflame. She felt vicious magic digging at her skin, trying to burrow into her past her defenses.

  “Miss Wode?” Mr. Blacke called as the door swung open.

  She coughed, choking on the words as she tried to explain. “Ch-ch-cha—” She’d gone from coughing to wheezing and he picked her up and carried her out of the house, calling to Mrs. Langford.

  He took her to the garden. Ari felt it at once, even if it wasn’t the magical garden at Wode house. Mr. Blacke had more in mind, however, than taking her to where her magic was strongest. He found a bucket of water and dumped it over her head.

  Sputtering, Ari tried to wipe the water from her eyes.

  “Not yet,” Mr. Blacke warned, and then he was rubbing linens gently across her brow and cheeks and eyes.

  The wheezing faded as Mr. Blacke whispered a spell in her ear. She shivered in his arms and with relief as air started reaching more than the top layer of her lungs. She felt her mind struggle as she attempted to think beyond even the most basic of survival.

  “What happened?” Mr. Blacke asked gently. Mrs. Langford was nearby, watching as she clutched a few clean linens tightly.

  “Charm bag under Circe’s bed. Some…force…broke it open and it flew into my face.”

  “I heard you coughing and thumping before I got to search under the bed in Harvey’s room,” Mr. Blacke said. “Are you quite all right?”

  Ariadne nodded and then paused, “I believe I’ll need my bag which I set on the bed in Circe’s room. I brought some potions that should help clear the effects. Mr. Blacke, do we dare?”

  “I’ll get it,” Mrs. Langford said, turning, but Mr. Blacke called her back.

  “Allow me, please.”

  The flexing of his magic hit Ariadne’s senses, making her flinch at the purity of it, and she knew she was in more trouble that she wanted to admit. She’d need days to recover from what Circe had done, and Ari had to admit—she knew that the charm bag at least was Circe. Her sister was well and truly affected by this dark magic.

  “Tell Echo what happened,” Ariadne said. “In case I act odd later. None of this would have happened if we stood together as sisters better than we have.”

  “Are you quite all right?” Mrs. Langford asked with a confused expression.

  How to explain the combination of physical effects and magical effects? It was like having someone blind you in more than eyesight.

  Ari dabbed at her still tearing eyes. “It’s better, but I can feel the magic digging at me. It has faded, and with meditation and potions I’ll be all right. You know what would be really helpful?”

  Mrs. Langford shook her head, and Ariadne started coughing again. Her lungs caught as if she’d breathed wrong. Ari gasped, the tears starting in earnest once again. Mrs. Langford rubbed Ari’s back and she felt the assault restart as though the charm bag was hitting Ari for the first time.

  She dropped to her knees and used her magic to part the lawn, creating a pentacle by sheer persuasion. She was rasping for her breath as she struggled to work the peace and air runes into the grass.

  Mr. Blacke took too long to return and when he did, he was wheezing too. “Your—your—bag.” He shook his head, “Couldn’t. That wind. Swirled. I got a snoutful.”

  Ariadne pulled him into the pentacle with her. The protective nature of the pentacle worked in their favor and countered the nasty spell Circe had left behind.

  “She knows me too well,” Ari told Mr. Blacke. “Did something happen to my bag?”

  Mr. Blacke handed her to her feet. “It tornadoed around the room and slammed into the wall. Whatever you had was destroyed even before it landed into the fireplace and burst into flames.”

  Ariadne wished she were more surprised. What actually startled her was how vicious what was happening at the Langford’s house had become. Circe was kind. Her base nature, at home, even furious with the rest of them, never would have approached this level of cruelty.

  “That was worse than I thought it would be,” Ariadne said. “I didn’t think it would be a problem for Echo to not be here. I assumed that I could handle whatever they dished out with your assistance, Mr. Blacke. I fear we made a mistake.”

  “If there are more of those charm bags in the house, combined with the ghost activity?” He let the disturbing thought trail off.

  “Searching the house is too risky now,” Ari completed, and he nodded.

  “Why are the ghosts so active?” he asked. “That was outright assaultive. They shouldn’t be so strong.”

  “Circe is quite a feast.” Ariadne rubbed her throat and chest, still struggling to get past the effects. Ariadne bit her lip and her voice was hoarse as she said, “There’s no way Circe isn’t involved. Not now. She’s gone from victim to participant.”

  “Why do you say that?” Mrs. Langford asked, and her voice was nervous as she continued. “I thought you’d determined it was one of my children.”

  “There’s too much skill in those spells,” Mr. Blacke said. “If Miss Circe has half the skill I’ve seen evidenced by Miss Wode or Miss Echo—well, we’ve a fight ahead.”

  “I think we should go on the attack,” Ariadne wheezed as she rubbed her chest. “If we’d been less prepared or were alone, we’d have been in real trouble. As it is, we need potions. Mrs. Langford, I wonder if you’d join us at Wode house for a luncheon.”

  Ariadne had to stop by a restaurant and order food as a takeaway to be able to feed her guests and then she had the embarrassing oddness of not knowing where her dining room was. She finally brought them into the kitchen and asked them to take a seat.

  She opened the tea cupboards and her own spell book and blended her own tea as she worked. She began with black tea because she loved it, and combined it with orange peels, cinnamon, and ginger. She added drops of deadman’s tears, a potion that Echo made for ghost infections, along with a peace potion, and a lung potion she used when the little girls had an ailment.

  Ariadne didn’t know what she and Mr. Blacke had breathed in, but she knew it still burned. She fought fire with fire and burned sage in a bowl in her kitchen while she prepared the bread and soup for luncheon.

  “At some point, when we’re settled,” Ariadne said to Mr. Blacke and Mrs. Langford, “we’ll have a real luncheon or dinner party.”

  Faith brought food to the garden for the little girls, and they had a picnic while Ariadne placed talismans on each of their necks and wrists. They renewed the wards they’d written on their skin with henna, adding potions, magic, and blood, and due to Mr. Blacke’s insistence, they also added the essence of wormwood and wolfsbane.

  The tea soothed Ari’s lungs like nothing else could have, she thought, but she was going to rub her skin down with Balm of Gilead and take a bath in this same tea. There was something about being in Wode house that soothed her despite knowing her aura had been injured by the contents of that bag.

  She took another long sip of tea. “That charm bag was intended to be used like a bomb.”

  “You think they planted them?” Mr. Blacke asked. “But of course they did.”

  “I think Circe knows me well, and it’ll be hard to catch her unawares. That powder potion I put in her room only tipped her off, I think. The charm bag was her response. No wonder she hedged until Echo went along today. Circe is so much angrier with me than Echo.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Ariadne shook her head and then she asked, “Mr. Blacke, do you think that we could get Mr. Hadley Wode and Margot to help?”

  He nodded. “And my siblings will help. Dominic knows the Langfords quite well. He’s a bit of a friend to Harvey. They play golf and cricket rather often I think, and Sybil can always be counted on.”

  “Even to have a dinner party at their house?”

  Mr. Blacke lifted his brows and hesitated too long for Ari to be comfortable.

  She said, “What we need is someone who would serve tea the same way E
cho did, but for whom Circe won’t be suspicious. Yes, I think so. And the key too is that Harvey Langford and his sisters won’t be surprised in the least. Would your siblings do it?”

  He nodded and said, “Sybil will even though her husband is traveling with my father. Dominic will be there to play host.”

  Ariadne paused and then she glanced at Mrs. Langford, who nodded. “I agree. If we want them to come with their guard down, it makes sense to introduce them to your family, Miss Wode. Perfect sense. Perhaps we should also vaguely talk about some other event later? One where they’ll assume our response to today would be to lie?”

  “Mrs. Langford, you cagey woman.”

  “Not cagey dear. I’m a mother. My children have taught me well to think ahead.”

  Ari laughed, surprised that she found anything to be humorous about. “Promise dancing after,” Ariadne suggested. “Circe will be tempted by dancing and music. I’ll donate spelled wine—I confess being a ladylegger has given me rather a hand with magical alcohol. Circe won’t be surprised to see spelled wine at your sister’s house, Mr. Blacke, as she knows you’re all witches. Anywhere else and she’d balk.”

  “What do you want it to do?”

  “Circe knew I’d check on her. She knows me well. We need to discover which of Mrs. Langford’s children are practicing witches and have pulled Circe into this madness. We need to remove the infection however we can and then work on healing spells. If we can, we need to know who started things off and make sure that person is stopped.”

  “You know,” Mrs. Langford said, glancing between Mr. Blacke and Ariadne, “it’s not their fault. My children might be a bit spoilt, but they’re not bad people.”

  “They didn’t know what they were doing, Mrs. Langford,” Mr. Blacke said gently, reaching out to take her hand. “I don’t believe that whichever of them dove into magic is somehow out of line. But they are being affected by ghosts. For whatever reason that they started with ghost magic, they also started with quite a dangerous magic. Your child needs help, and my siblings will help. I believe Sybil will be happy to help.”