The Mayhem Sisters (5 page)

Her eyes snapped open. She scanned the woods, searching for the needle in the forest, the one tree split down the middle. She couldn’t find it in the blur of trees racing by the hover bike. Her stomach clenched. There had been no sign of the missing witch. She had sensed and seen nothing and now had no idea which way to go.

The bike slowed. Lance pulled up next to a clump of trees, deactivated the levitation spell, and released the stand.

With his haunting black wingspan, Rumor glided down from above, coasted to a tree branch near Vivi, and gave her a reassuring caw.

Within minutes, Juniper and Honora joined them in the woods. On foot, they circled the immediate area the sheriff had pinpointed on the map, where the magic stain had been discovered, but there was nothing—no remnants of soot or blood salt, no scorched circle, no sign of anyone.

Lance spread the map out in front of Vivi. “Any ideas?”

Her confidence shaken but not discouraged, she searched for a solution. She would have to find the witch the old-fashioned way and do a little detecting of her own. “I haven’t gotten any sense of her. We’ll have to do a foot search of the area.”

The sheriff drew his finger across the rough surface of the map. “We have a five-mile circumference radiating outward from where the magic was detected, so we need to split up to cover the most ground. Honora can explore to the east by air. Vivi can go north. Juniper and I can investigate west and south. This is a ‘search and report back.’ If you find anything, don’t touch it.”

Vivi pulled a chunk of quartz from her pocket and rolled it around in her hand to help her focus. Rumor cawed from his perch up in the trees to let everyone know he was there. She glanced up. “The raven can alert us if we find something or if anything goes wrong.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get moving. We head out, and no matter what, we circle back and meet up again in two hours,” Lance said, and the group dispersed.

The forest floor was littered with blackened logs and jagged stones, some as large as boulders, protruding dangerously from the ground. Vivi walked for a few miles, switching back and forth in long lines to cover the most ground. The only sound was her leather boots tromping through the leaf debris. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Frustration filled her. She tugged a thin vial from the bandolier of potions strapped to her chest, pulled out the cork, and poured the liquid onto the ground where it evaporated. A pungent scent of sandalwood rose up in a cloud of amber smoke.

The potion was a simple one, used for finding lost objects. The smoke was supposed to indicate the direction to whatever she was looking for, or at least it always had when she was searching for her keys. The smoke withered and dissipated, being swallowed by the Dire Woods. She got nothing—no indication or impression. She felt foolish. One tiny potion was not going to find a kidnapped witch.

Vivi focused, drawing on her
persuasion
to guide her. Her head ached. It felt like she was digging for something crammed into the back of a drawer, something lost and forgotten. She tried to call her magic forward, to draw it upward from the base of her spine. She pulled and pushed, focused and begged. She pleaded with the small spark of magic, but it was like yelling into a dark and distant place and no one answering.

What had she expected? That she was going to pull up a vision from the dark pit of her subconscious and dazzle everyone with her wise foresight?

Vivi had neglected her
persuasion
for so long, how could she expect it to respond now, on command, when she needed it most? Magic didn’t work that way. Performing magic demanded practice, patience, and daily work. No flick of the wand or whisper of spells made it jump to life unless the witch had trained. That was why it was called witchcraft, because magic needed to be honed like art, respected as a gift, and nurtured like a child. It was special and would not respond to idle commands, no matter how good the intentions.

Her magic abandoned her, just like she had abandoned it.

Vivi sat on a large boulder and ran her hand through her hair. Defeat was not a state she was comfortable with. She got up and walked on with a mixture of sadness touched with shame welling in her heart, because now an innocent witch would pay for the fear and neglect she had for her
persuasion
. She had been afraid to see, and now her intuition was blind.

Rumor cawed. Her familiar circled above her head, his wings ruffling in the wind.

Staring into the distance, Vivi saw the cleaved tree.

She stopped dead, assessing what stood in the clearing ahead of her. She felt a flicker of hope.

It was a sign; she was close.

Vivi eased forward, scanning the woods. A scuffing sound came from the distance, pulling her forward. Then the scent of brimstone and burnt ash hit her in the face. Through the trees she saw a figure moving, stumbling, hunched and swaying. It had to be the witch from her vision. She quickened her pace, her stomach lurching.

“Rumor! Get the sheriff!”

The bird flew off in the opposite direction. Vivi’s heart pounded in her chest. She had found her! Vivi ran as fast as she could across the uneven ground. “Hey! Over here! I’m coming!”

The closer she got to the Y-shaped tree, the stranger the figure looked. Viewed from behind, the witch’s long tangled hair was darkened with sweat and mud, but it wasn’t blonde. It was shot through with gray. Vivi squinted and brushed the sweat from her brow. She ran to the witch’s side and clutched her thin body in her arms, and as she stared into her face, she realized immediately that the witch wasn’t young. Her eyes weren’t green but faded blue, and her smooth skin was creased with wrinkles. Vivi held a witch hunched, not from exhaustion, but from time. She wasn’t young at all, but an old woman, and she definitely
wasn’t
the witch from her vision.

The witch cradled in her arms was a complete stranger.

Vivi spoke with a calm soothing voice. “Can you hear me?” There was no response. She gently eased the old witch to the ground. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now.”

The witch gave no indication that she heard Vivi or even knew she was there. Vivi stroked the woman’s long matted hair and tried to comfort her. Two deep red grooves encircled her wrists, similar to the marks on the witch from her vision. She winced at the sight of torn red skin, indicating the poor witch had been bound.

“Can you hear me? Were you alone? Was there another witch with you?” Vivi pleaded, searching the woman’s eyes for answers, a sign she understood, but the witch said nothing. She was so thin and frail Vivi thought if she squeezed too hard, she might break, but she held her in her arms and tried to comfort her. Her body trembled. She was wearing only a shredded gown that looked like it came from a healer’s ward. Vivi slipped her coat off and wrapped it around the witch’s body to try and warm her up a little until help arrived.

With a terrible realization, Vivi sensed the witch was empty, void of the energetic spark all witches carried inside of them, as if her magic had been drained. It was another thing she and the witch from her vision had in common. The idea of losing her magic turned Vivi’s stomach, both angering and sickening her. Who could do this? A lump formed in her throat. Sorrow and disappointment filled her, but her feelings were trivial compared to what this witch must have gone through.

Time seemed suspended before Sheriff Gardener and Juniper arrived. Luckily for Vivi, Lance took control of the situation and immediately sent Juniper for a hover-transport to come and take the injured witch to the nearest healer ward. His swift, decisive actions were those of an experienced officer. Vivi sat on a boulder off to the side while he worked, putting up a barrier spell that acted as magical crime tape. Two more deputies arrived shortly after and began an investigation of the area.

The sheriff handed out orders and then joined her. “So any idea who the witch is?” he asked.

“No. I’m sorry, I don’t.” Vivi shook her head. “She’s not the one I saw in my vision.”

“Well, there isn’t much more you can do here. For now this area is considered a crime scene, and it goes in one big circle.” He motioned a giant arc with his arm, pointing out the large scorch mark on the ground caused from burned ash and brimstone.

“That’s the black magic that was detected back at the station,” Vivi said.

“You got that part right, at least,” he said with a shrug.

Vivi knew he didn’t mean to sound harsh, but the words stung. She had to face the fact that her information wasn’t entirely accurate. That was probably why the sheriff only used
registered
seers. They didn’t screw up the details they reported to the police. She felt like a young witch, playing at magic.

“We rescued a witch in desperate need of help. That’s important,” he said, reassuring her. “Why don’t you head home? Not much more you can do here. Get a good night’s rest, and we’ll catch up later.” He gave her a professional nod and returned to his work.

Her sister dropped to the ground next to her after making another pass of the area. “You saved that witch,” Honora said, easing down next to her. “You should be proud.”

“I know, but this isn’t over. I have to find the witch I came for.” She was determined to push on, no matter how disappointed. This wasn’t over.

“Let me know if you need help.” Honora gave her a sympathetic nod.

Vivi rubbed her hands over her face. “I let it go for so long, Honora. I was so afraid of what I might see that I avoided my magic. I was ashamed of what people might say and think—of what they still might say. Except now my problem is that no one will believe me. My credibility just went out the window.”

“No one will believe you because
you
don’t believe,” Honora said. “You have to start trusting yourself and working on your
persuasion
. It’s not going to just come to you. You think flying came naturally to me?”

“Yes! You fly like a hawk, a sparrow, and a hummingbird all rolled into one. You are the strongest and most graceful flyer in all of Everland.” Vivi smiled. “You make it look easy.”

“It wasn’t. I trained constantly. I’m not going to tell you how many buildings and trees I crashed into during the learning curve. It takes time. And sometimes you make a fool out of yourself and it hurts.”

“Thanks. I guess I just needed to hear it.” Vivi was glad to have her sister by her side. Honora understood. She was equal parts encouragement and butt-kicking.

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift back. Lance said I could borrow a hover bike. We can hit Nocturnes. I’ll buy you a cup of tea.”

“I’m going to need a really strong cup.”

About two hundred yards off in the distance, Vivi noticed a shining obsidian rock face rising out of the ground that she hadn’t seen before. Honora caught her stare. “That’s the Darklander’s fortress.”

“It’s awfully close to the crime scene,” Vivi said.

“Yeah, we noticed. The sheriff doesn’t seem too happy about it.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Vivi said, admiring the sleek stone and the towering walls with sharp jagged edges. The building was a mix of dull gray stone, but the façade was pure glossy black rock with a giant wooded door studded with huge nail heads.

Honora arched her eyebrow. “Not thinking of going to the dark side, are you, sister?”

“No, but you have to admit that the place is pretty in an evil overlord kind of way.”

Honora put her arm around her sister. “We need to get you out of here.” She shook her head and grinned. “The brimstone stench on the air is starting to get to you.”

T
he village of Willow Realm was a tight-knit community held together by a bustling main street with curious shops and restaurants to tempt even the most discerning witch and wizard. Vivi’s shop was located down one of the cobblestone side streets, so she quickly ducked inside to check on Pepper while Honora returned the hover bike to the police station. Pepper was getting ready to close for the night following a day of steady customers. After performing a few helpful sweeping and tidying spells and activating the security ward, Vivi headed over to meet up with her sister at one of their favorite haunts—Nocturnes.

Loath to rise early, witches were nocturnal by nature. Nighttime was when witches kicked back and had their fun as their senses heightened and the spark of the natural world nipped at their heels. Nocturnes was a cozy restaurant where witches could relax and feel at home. Sophisticated and social, the owner Arnica Delacqua served countless blends of exotic teas and roasted coffees, delectable soups and buttery scones, cakes and pies, and sandwiches and stews, but what she really served up best was comfort and community, making Nocturnes’ customers feel like they were with family.

A long counter lined with bar stools and café tables filled the front of the shop, and in the back a huge stone fireplace anchored a cozy dining and sitting room packed with overstuffed sofas and chairs covered in velvet pillows. A fire crackled warmly on the hearth. Vivi found her favorite nook in a discreet corner with three red velvet wingback chairs surrounding a tufted leather ottoman and surrendered into the soft cushions.

She listened to the rhythmic clicking of knitting needles as a gaggle of witches chatted over a steamy pot of tea and finger sandwiches. Gossip was practically a sport in the witching world, and the group of knitters was trading off turns talking and giggling, their needles moving quick and nimble, eating up strands of yarn and spitting out colorful scarves.

Just another night at Nocturnes
, she thought.

Vivi groaned with delight when she saw Arnica heading over with a full tray. Arnica had owned the shop for decades and was a fixture in the town. Her black hair was pinned up in a pile of curls. Her laid-back demeanor personified warmth and comfort, and her smile could turn around anyone’s bad day, even Vivi’s. Arnica’s
persuasion
was hospitality through and through. Plus, she wasn’t too shabby with baking spells, either.

“Good evening, little Mayhem witch. Here comes a pick-me-up hot from the kitchen.” She set the tray, holding two bowls brimming with rich meaty stew, some warm sourdough bread, two ceramic mugs of hot chocolate, and a plate heaped with her famous shortbread for dessert, on the ottoman.

“You’re too good to me,” Vivi said, raising the cup of hot chocolate up to her nose and inhaling the rich scent of deliciousness.

“I just know my customers, and you looked like you needed sustenance, and quickly.” She gave Vivi a wink and headed back to the counter. Honora passed her on the way in and dropped down in the chair next to Vivi. The third chair was where Clover usually sat when they had a sisterly get-together, but tonight her seat was left empty, since the talented word witch was preparing for the launch of her latest novel.

Honora settled in and snatched up some bread, dunking it in her bowl of stew. “Let’s cut to the chase and talk
persuasions
, shall we?” she mumbled through a mouthful.

She arched a perfectly shaped brow at Vivi, who buried her face in the billow of steam that rose up from her cup before taking a sip. The hot liquid slid down her throat and seeped into her veins. There was a low note of a deep dark spice, cinnamon or cardamom. She wasn’t sure what Arnica put in the hot chocolate, but whatever it was, it unwound her slowly. She could already tell she was going to sleep like a corpse.

After the day she’d had, Vivi decided not to fight it and told her sister everything about the vision, about hiding her true
persuasion
all these years, her fears and regrets flooding out of her in a whoosh of words. This was the first time Vivi had spoken to anyone about her
persuasion
in any great detail, and it felt good to unload.

“The greater a witch’s
strength
, the heavier her burden,” Honora said, biting into a hunk of bread after repeating the old Haven Academy mantra. The two sisters laughed together, letting the stress of the day fall away.

Honora flashed a wolfish smile at her sister. “You want me to give you a piece of advice?” She pulled a thin, ivory-handled blade out of a sheath concealed in her boot and used it to cut a loose thread on her shirt.

“No. But I have a feeling you’re going to anyway, so go ahead.”

“Your problem is that you think you’re ordinary, simple, but
we
aren’t. We were born different with special
persuasions
. It wasn’t just the curse that our ancestors gave us. They gave us power. So think differently. Think brilliant, think stellar, think big. I know I do.” Her fingertip tapped at the tip of her knife.

“Let’s just say I’m still adjusting to finding that out. I was good with being normal,” Vivi said. “Normal,” however, was not acceptable in the Mayhem household, and she had been hiding in the comfortable role of middle sister for a long time—too long, she was realizing.

“We will never be normal, so stop trying so hard to be something you’re not.”

“What am I supposed to do now? I just can’t leave it. The witch from my vision is out there and I have to help her.”

“The first thing you need to do is practice your
persuasion
. You can’t keep repressing it. Are you prepared to accept it?” Honora asked.

Vivi hesitated. “I think so.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.” Honora held a heaping spoonful of stew up to her lips and blew.

“Yes, I will. I have to. It’s just…” Vivi bit into a hunk of bread. The heady sourdough satisfied her hunger, filling her up.

“Just what? Come on, spill it.”

Vivi swallowed and cleared her throat. She didn’t want to think about the dark wizard, or about how clueless she was to her
persuasion
. “Honora, I’m afraid of this guy. What if his magic is too strong?”

“You can’t worry about the future right now.” Honora swallowed a spoonful of stew and then pointed at Vivi with her spoon for emphasis. “You have to focus on what’s important in this moment and act on that.”

“You’re right.” In reality, though, Vivi wanted to do more. She didn’t have time to wait for her
persuasion
to catch up. She fished around in her purse and pulled out her notebook and reed pen. Flipping to a blank page, she said, “So, Miss Private Investigator, tell me. I’m not having any luck finding the missing witch, so how do I find the wizard who took her?” She cocked her head, listening with pen held over the paper, ready to take notes.

Honora snorted and smiled. “First, ask yourself what he needs the witches for and what he’s doing with them.”

“He’s experimenting. He wants their magic, and he’s desperate. I could feel it.” Vivi wrote her thoughts down in her notebook.

“That’s a start. Now ask why. What motivates him?”

“Good question. I hadn’t considered that.” She tapped the pen against her cheek. “I’ll have to think more about it. Get inside of this wizard’s head.”

“Keep questioning, always. Never be satisfied. Just remember all magic is done for a reason, even dark magic. You’ll figure this out.”

They finished eating, and even though the mood of the night was bleak, Vivi felt a spark of hope. She was more determined than ever to find this witch, no matter where she had to look.

“Let’s go,” Honora said. “I’ll walk you home.”

The streets of Willow Realm were bustling with activity. Vivi loved her little village. There was a line out the door as witches and wizards waited for a table at The Brewery Tavern. Illuma lights glowed brightly in the window of Goodspells Grimoire. The bookstore was packed with an all-night vigil party as eager fans camped out for the next
Spellbinder
novel to come out tomorrow. Honora and Vivi smiled, both thinking of Clover, and continued up the street, strolling past The Charmery and Wildwoods Wands and Woodcrafts, which like The Potion Garden were already closed up tight for the evening.

Rumor was perched up in his tree, waiting for Vivi when she got home. Her sister zipped up her jacket, slipped on her leather hood, and adjusted her goggles before saying goodnight and disappearing into the starry sky like a beautiful night bird.

Vivi climbed the stairs up to her apartment and slipped inside, happy to finally be home after such a long day. Her place was the perfect size for her and her familiar. At the top of the stairs was a cozy nook for a bookshelf and an oversized chair where she liked to curl up and read, the high windows of the old building letting in shafts of sunlight. There was also a nice-sized living room and a kitchen with a built-in banquette and table. A bathroom and bedroom made up the rest of the apartment.

Her style was eclectic. She collected most of her furniture from antique shops or local artists selling handcrafted furniture, glass-covered illuma lights, iron candleholders, woven wool rugs, and gorgeous paintings of the magical world. Colorful scarves and knitted throws were scattered on armrests and sofa backs. And, for her familiar roommate, there were plenty of handcrafted wooden perches positioned around the apartment.

Rumor gave her a welcoming caw when she opened the window and he joined her. Vivi shook a paper sack filled with seeds and dried berries and smiled. She filled a small dish at the base of his perch with the mixture as a little treat. Mostly, Rumor dined al fresco, catching prey or snacking on what he could find in the wild. Ravens were omnivores and ate an array of tidbits including insects, seeds, berries, meat, and carrion, the dead flesh of animals, which made her cringe. Sometimes Vivi thought that Rumor would eat anything. Live and let live. As long as he didn’t bring his dinner home with him, she was fine with his wild appetite.

Vivi stroked the top of Rumor’s glossy black head. He tolerated a stroke or two, but he was not the touchy-feely type of guy. Her thoughts returned to the bike ride out to the Dire Woods and wrapping her arms around the rock-hard body of Lance Gardener. She sighed, wondering if the sheriff had a girlfriend, if he had someone to go home to at night, or was single like she was. Maybe one day she would put the time in to have a real relationship, instead of working all the time in her shop. A date wouldn’t kill her; it might even lead to something more romantic.

One day
, she thought.
Just not today.

She should meditate and think about her
persuasion
, but she didn’t have the energy. What she really
needed
was a good long soak. Her claw-foot porcelain tub was calling to her. She poured herself a glass of wine and snatched up a jar of new bath salts she had imbibed with a muscle-easing potion which made her whole body feel like it was being submerged in a warm, pillowy ooze.

Within minutes, Vivi was immersed in a wickedly hot bath, surrounded by twinkling candlelight, and sipping on a dry white. Since seeing Esmeralda on the path last night, she felt as if events were spiraling out of her control. The seer had predicted things that she didn’t want to face, and then Vivi had experienced a vision so powerful, even she, in her perpetual state of denial, couldn’t ignore. None of it made sense. Had she been wrong? Did the young witch even exist? Doubt gnawed at her insides, but she brushed it away, for she needed to focus on finding out what motivated this dark wizard and why he was hurting witches.

Vivi set the glass on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes for just a second. The warm water eased her mind, pulling her down into the shadowy land between sleep and wakefulness where visions stirred.

Tiny claws scratched at the windowpane. Tapped on the glass. Tap tap tap. Scurrying sounds pierced the silence, scratching at the wooden frame, trying to get inside, wanting to tell a terrible secret. Voices whispered, pleaded, cried out in gravely voices. Vivi tossed and turned in a tight space, her wrists burning and bound.

He
was there, on the edge of her sight, thin as smoke drifting under the bathroom door, then rising and taking shape—the dark wizard had come for her. “He is stronger than anyone realizes,” Esmeralda’s voice whispered in Vivi’s ear. He crossed the room in a dark blur and poured a jar of blood salt into the bath, staining the water with crimson swirls. A black cloth smothered her face, pushing her down farther and farther into darkness. A burning sensation exploded in her throat and neck, making it impossible to breathe. Her limbs grew heavy and weak.

Vivi jerked awake. Freezing cold water sloshed over the side of the tub in the darkness. She panicked, jerked up, and knocked the wine glass to the floor, shattering it into a million tiny shards. She clutched at her neck, recalling the strangling nightmare. Slowly her body calmed and her senses returned. She had fallen asleep in the tub. The candles had long since burned out. Illuma light glowed from the living room, but otherwise her apartment was shrouded in darkness.

There was no one there. She was alone.

She climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. Tiptoeing through the minefield of broken glass that covered the bathroom floor, she realized it was the perfect metaphor for how she felt—one misstep and she would slice open a gash in her foot and bleed, but the glass was nearly invisible, impossible to see.

Sick and tired of being at the mercy of her
persuasion
, Vivi couldn’t go on like this. Something was pounding on the door of her intuition, wanting to get in, calling for her to listen. She needed to figure out how to harness her
persuasion
and make it work for her. If she didn’t find this girl, she would never forgive herself, and from her latest vision, it was becoming clear that the wizard responsible for her suffering was involved in a dangerous magic and would haunt her dreams if she didn’t do something. Now.