Daughter of Chaos, Page 2

Aunt Hilda deserved to be happy and loved more than anyone. I gave her an encouraging smile, and she beamed back.

  “They say calling on Anne Boleyn on New Year’s Day will bring a witch a lover. You stand with your eyes to the horizon on the new morning, and you give your wish to the wind. You say, ‘Lady Anne, Lady Anne, send me a man as fast as you can …’ ”

  “I’ve got a man.” Ambrose threw a piece of cereal into his mouth like a performing seal catching a fish in midair. “But if Lady Anne insists on sending me another man, or a lovely lady, I welcome them.”

  “I’ve always wondered why we call on Anne Boleyn,” I said. “I know she was a pioneer in brewing love potions, but she wasn’t exactly lucky in the romantic area.”

  “She was lucky enough. She married a king,” said Zelda. “What does anyone marry for, if not power?”

  The mention of power made me shiver. I’d signed the Book of the Beast, signed away my soul to Satan, so I could get the power I needed to defeat the Greendale Thirteen. I’d seen no alternative, yet I still didn’t know if I’d done the right thing.

  “Love?” I suggested. “Also, Henry the Eighth cut Anne Boleyn’s head off.”

  “So he did. Men all love witches, until they don’t. Mortal men can’t be trusted, any more than love.” Aunt Zelda shook her head, the stiff waves of her hair unmoving. “Power’s the thing. You have to learn from Lady Anne’s mistake and make sure no man has power over you.”

  I drummed my fingers against the back of Zelda’s chair and tried not to think of my broken heart.

  “Such as the power to cut your head off?”

  “Lavender’s blue, rosemary’s green,” Aunt Hilda murmured happily to her potion, ignoring our decapitation discussion. “When you are king, I shall be queen.”

  “Exactly,” said Zelda. “Let’s make a New Year’s resolution right now. If you lot can stop stumbling into disasters, I’ll make the Spellmans magical royalty. Do we have a bargain?”

  “I don’t know about that. I do have a coffee date before the Academy,” I told her. “A new tea shop has opened in the center of Greendale. I’m meeting Roz there.”

  She’d called and asked me to meet. I’d been so happy to hear her voice. Witches and wicked spirits hadn’t scared Roz off. She was still my best friend. Roz and Susie were standing by me, even if Harvey didn’t love me enough.

  Aunt Zelda wasn’t wrong. The last months of this dying year had been very hard, but through darkness and danger I’d learned who truly cared for me, and how to appreciate them.

  This bright space with my family around me was like a warm golden hollow carved into the ice of winter. It was difficult to leave this cozy kitchen, but snow had turned the world clean and bright, and my friend was waiting for me. When I opened my front door, I saw the frost on the path through the woods shining as though my way was strewn with diamonds.

  I was entirely a witch now, my name in Satan’s book and my soul in Satan’s keeping. I was afraid that meant I was evil, but perhaps there was still a way to walk a path of light. I didn’t want to let down anybody, not ever again.

  “Just stay out of trouble until New Year’s Day has passed!” Aunt Zelda called after me. “Even you should be able to manage that.”

  The bridge was a white curve over the frozen river, as though some witch queen had passed her pale hand over living waters and transformed them to ice.

  Harvey felt as frozen as the river. However much he told his feet to move, they wouldn’t. He couldn’t make himself go over that bridge.

  He’d asked Roz to walk with him, not saying where he wanted to go, but she had plans with Sabrina. Then in desperation he’d asked his dad to come with him over the Sweetwater. His dad told Harvey to stop moping, and suggested they play basketball.

  “I know you were never a football man,” he’d said. “But you like to shoot hoops in the summer, right? I was thinking it would be a good idea for you to try out for the basketball team.”

  “Um, I don’t think I can,” said Harvey. “I have WICCA meetings after school. It’s this organization for women’s rights with Roz and Susie and—”

  He couldn’t say Sabrina’s name. His dad regarded him with narrowed eyes and total incomprehension. But then, his dad never understood Harvey. “You need to go to meetings of your group of lady friends, who you see every day, so that you can talk about the stuff you always talk about?”

  His dad did have a point.

  “There’s AP art classes—”

  Dad snorted. “What do you want people to see when they look at you?”

  “Just me,” said Harvey.

  His father snorted again. “That’s it?”

  Harvey knew what people wouldn’t see when they looked at him. They wouldn’t see Tommy, the captain of the football team, the apple of his father’s eye. Tommy was gone, and suddenly his dad wanted Harvey to take up sports. As though Harvey being a bad copy of Tommy was preferable to Harvey being himself.

  Harvey was tempted to play basketball and please his dad. His girlfriend was lost. His friends were Sabrina’s friends. His brother was gone forever. His dad was all he had left.

  He almost wanted to do it. But he couldn’t play ball, any more than he could cross the bridge.

  At Christmastime, Sabrina had cast a spell on his dad so his dad would stop drinking. His dad wasn’t drinking anymore, and it infuriated Harvey. If magic could stop his dad, why couldn’t his dad have stopped on his own? Why had he given up booze for magic, but not for his family? It would’ve made Tommy so happy if their dad had quit. It seemed like a bad joke, that Tommy was dead and now his dad was done drinking.

  He was so angry with his father. He was so angry at Sabrina.

  Harvey’s hands curled into tight fists, jammed deep in his pockets. The slender white lines of the bridge wavered in his vision. He imagined them transforming into a fragile structure of bones suspended over the ice. He had the sudden nightmarish thought that if he tried to cross the bridge, the bones would crack.

  He couldn’t. Not today. He turned around, and he saw some of the jerks from his class shambling up the icy road toward him. Their dull eyes brightened as they caught sight of him alone.

  “Hey, Kinkle,” said Billy Marlin. “But where’s the rest of the girl gang?”

  “Hey, Billy,” said Harvey. “Wow, seeing you here reminds me … I have to be somewhere else.”

  Living in a town as small as Greendale, your fate was set when you were five years old. Billy and his crew would always regard Harvey as the weird, arty guy whose friends were all girls, who flinched whenever Susie got a nosebleed, and who’d once said the word chiarascuro in class. Even though Harvey had filled out some from the string bean he used to be, these guys were certain Harvey couldn’t and wouldn’t defend himself.

  They were right. Susie and Sabrina were the fighters in their friend group. Sabrina launched into cutting arguments. Susie lost her cool and threw herself at people. Harvey’d always figured he and Roz grew up tall so they could hold back their small, enraged friends.

  “Seeing you always reminds me what a total loser you are,” contributed Billy’s friend Carl.

  “Yeah, I gotta run,” said Harvey. “Got an urgent appointment.”

  “With who?” Billy sneered. “Heard Spellman finally dumped you.”

  “Got an urgent appointment with loneliness.”

  “Tragic,” said Carl.

  “Still better than hanging out with you.” Harvey shrugged. “Bye.”

  He pushed past the boys, but Billy caught hold of the bulky sleeve of Harvey’s fleece-lined winter coat, battered and tight across the shoulders and passed down to him from his brother.

  The realization pulled Harvey up short. The guys in school had never liked him, but they hadn’t messed with him much. He’d always been under the protection of his big brother. Tommy the football hero, beloved by the whole town.

  Tommy couldn’t protect him anymore.

  Through his teeth, Harvey said:
“Let go.”

  Billy hung on. For a moment, Harvey thought he’d have to hit Billy.

  For a moment, Harvey wanted to.

  Then a voice rang out from the bridge. “Hey, mortal!”

  Harvey jerked away from Billy and turned to the river of ice. Standing against the snow with his dark hair and black clothes, Nick Scratch looked like a single ink blot fallen on a white page.

  Harvey closed his eyes in horror. “Oh, holy God.”

  He’d sincerely hoped he would never have to see Nick again.

  When he opened his eyes, Nick had made his way across the bridge and was strolling toward them. Billy and the guys were bristling at his approach, clearly regarding Nick as some smooth out-of-towner in fancy clothes. Billy advanced on Nick, squaring his shoulders.

  Harvey stepped hastily in between.

  “Don’t hurt them!” he told Nick.

  “Sorry, what?” Billy’s voice was totally confounded.

  Billy and the others were idiots, but he wouldn’t let them face a magical attack. It wasn’t fair. They couldn’t defend themselves.

  Nick tilted his head, snowflakes settling like lace in his dark hair. He appeared to notice Billy and the others for the first time.

  “Go away, other mortals,” Nick commanded.

  “And who are you?” Billy spat.

  Nick’s next-door-to-midnight eyes narrowed. “I’m the guy telling you to go away. Now.”

  Billy was a bully, so confidence always knocked him back. He glanced at his friends, dismissively at Harvey, and finally sneered at Nick.

  “Or you’ll do what, city boy?”

  Nick smiled like a bad angel. “Oh, I’ll—”

  “No!” said Harvey.

  He put himself physically in front of Billy, so Billy was blocked from Nick’s view. Billy made a low growling sound. Clearly, Billy’s big day of harassing citizens was not going according to plan.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” Nick suggested at last.

  He met Harvey’s eyes and nodded. Harvey stepped aside. Billy shifted his weight from foot to foot, smart enough to be uneasy.

  Nick stepped in, grabbed the collar of Billy’s jacket in one hand, and whispered in the other boy’s ear. It sounded like only one word. Harvey watched as Billy’s face drained of color.

  Billy stumbled backward, almost falling, then began to run. He staggered as he went, as if the snow was deeper than it was. He left his friends behind.

  Nick spread his hands like a stage magician calling attention to a trick. “Who else wants to know a secret?”

  The other boys fled. In a matter of seconds, it was just Harvey and the warlock and footprints in the snow.

  “Friends of yours?” Nick asked lazily.

  “Uh, no. Do people in your school often threaten their friends?”

  Nick’s smug smile stayed in place. “Only my closest. They were bothering you?”

  “It’s their way.”

  “So why not let me deal with them?”

  In some ways, it was as if Nick really was a stranger in town. Someone who spoke a different language. No matter what he and Harvey said to each other, neither of them would understand.

  “Billy and his friends don’t know what you are,” Harvey tried to explain. “I couldn’t let them get hurt.”

  Nick’s face remained puzzled, but he shrugged, clearly dismissing hurt mortals as unimportant. “Do you remember me? Nick Scratch.”

  “No, I’ve totally forgotten the night my house was besieged by murder ghosts,” Harvey muttered, then louder: “Hi, Nick.”

  He would’ve said Nice to see you again, but it wasn’t.

  Harvey had never thought of himself as the jealous type. But he was aware there wasn’t much competition for Sabrina’s attention in their school. Sabrina had once described Baxter High students as jocks with beef jerky for brains, then added that she was being harsh on beef jerky.

  This was competition. Actually, this was the knowledge Harvey couldn’t compete.

  It didn’t matter. Sabrina was a witch. The world was suddenly a terrifying place. Harvey badly wanted to go home and have someone there waiting for him.

  Nick seemed amused. “Hi, mortal.”

  “I have no idea how witches keep themselves secret from the world if they go around calling ordinary people ‘mortal’ all the time,” said Harvey. “I don’t think it’s very sneaky. You know my name.”

  “You’re so right, Harry.”

  Harvey was beginning to get a headache. He’d heard about witches being evil, but nobody mentioned how annoying they were. “What do you want, Nick?”

  Nick said: “Sabrina.”

  Harvey wasn’t sure why the answer shocked him. Maybe it was the surprise of hearing Nick be so straightforward.

  He took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, Sabrina and I are broken up. Who she does or doesn’t date has nothing to do with me.”

  “Exactly,” said Nick disapprovingly. “You’re still broken up? Get it together, mortal.”

  He felt a snap in his brain like a crack appearing in ice.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your behavior is ridiculous,” said Nick.

  “My behavior is ridiculous?”

  “I told you Sabrina loves you.”

  “You … did do that,” Harvey admitted.

  “So I thought by the time I returned from vacation in the Unholy Land, you’d be back together. But my friend says you’re not, and you wouldn’t keep Sabrina’s Yule gift. Can you explain to me why you are so stupid?”

  “I asked Sabrina to get back together!” Harvey shouted. “After what you told me, I asked her to start again with no secrets between us. She wouldn’t. She said it was too dangerous for me.”

  He didn’t even know why he was telling Nick this. Maybe because he had no one else to tell. Maybe because he was stupid.

  “So she still loves you,” said Nick. “And you still love her.”

  “Sorry,” interrupted Harvey. “How is any of this your business?”

  Nick appeared startled. It was unbelievable that this stranger had descended from the sky to ask questions about Harvey’s personal life. Harvey’d lost everything, Nick had the gall to rub it in, and now Nick was the one acting surprised.

  “Right,” said Nick. “I see the problem. I didn’t make myself clear. I’m down to share.”

  “Share?” Harvey echoed. “Share what?”

  They hadn’t been talking about anything it was possible to share. In fact, they’d only been talking about one thing, and she wasn’t a thing.

  Nick looked puzzled by Harvey’s confusion. Harvey stared at him with growing outrage.

  “You can’t mean … you don’t mean … share Sabrina?”

  Harvey’s voice rose in a shout. He looked around hastily to see if the guys from the football team might be within earshot. He didn’t see a single human soul, which was reassuring until Harvey remembered magic was real. Maybe animals could talk.

  Innocent baby squirrels might be listening to Nick Scratch right now. The baby squirrels must be horrified.

  Nick seemed pleased by Harvey’s comprehension. “Yes!”

  “Yeah, so …” Harvey shouldered his bag. “Never talk to me again. Thanks. Bye forever.”

  He shook his head as he walked off. What a weird joke. He’d thought Sabrina’s aunts were eccentric, but he’d had no idea.

  Night was falling, turning the snow gray as dust, by the time Harvey reached home. The house was chilly and dark when Harvey let himself in. His father hadn’t come back. Harvey doubted he would. When his dad was angry, he always gave Harvey the cold shoulder. Maybe he wouldn’t go to the bar, but he’d go out shooting or take an extra shift at the mines.

  When their mom died, he and Tommy had agreed they would bring each other up well, because Dad wouldn’t look after them. They had to be a team now. They learned how to make a bed and clean a bathroom, and how to make themselves dinner. Eleven-year-old Tommy agreed with six-year-old Harvey t
hat they wouldn’t learn to cook broccoli or any other disgusting thing, so they’d never have to eat their vegetables. Mrs. Link next door warned it would stunt their growth. Years later, Tommy reminded her of that, laughing in the way that made other people laugh with him. Harvey and Tommy were both a head taller than their dad by then, and Tommy told her: “I think we grew up all right.”

  Since his dad had poured his booze down the sink, Harvey’d made a lasagna, but he guessed they weren’t having dinner together. Harvey hung around in the gathering dark waiting for a while, just in case. Then he couldn’t stand waiting any longer. He decided he’d slink off to his bedroom as he usually did when his father was mad, and try to draw.

  Harvey called out, “Good night, Tommy,” to his brother as he had every night for sixteen years. Then he remembered Tommy was dead, sat down at the kitchen table, and put his head in his arms.

  His dad sneered that Harvey cried too easily, that he was a baby, that he was a sissy girl. He’d cried for an overwhelmingly beautiful sunset, cried for missing Sabrina when they were seven and her aunts took her away on a three-day trip, cried for an injured baby bird he’d rescued that hadn’t lived, cried for his great-aunt who liked mints more than children when she passed away. He’d cried into his big brother’s shoulder when his mother died, miserable beyond words but safe in the circle of his brother’s arm.

  He hadn’t cried for this.

  Harvey hadn’t cried for Tommy. Not since he’d picked up the gun and gone into Tommy’s room, where the shell of his brother slept. The relief of tears seemed impossible.

  The new café in town was quaint, in a totally different way than the kitschy interior of Dr. Cerberus’s bookstore and diner. The Bishop’s Daughter Coffee and Teas was an old-fashioned tea shop, with Victorian blue-patterned willow ware and scones served along with cakes on gleaming brass tiered trays. Even the residents of Greendale, often suspicious of novelty, were lining up. I spotted such unlikely people as jocks from school, including Billy Marlin, and Mr. Kinkle with his miner friends.

  The woman who ran the tea shop, a Welsh widow named Mrs. Ferch-Geg, wore a polka-dotted red apron and had her blond hair done in a beehive so high it was tilting to one side like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. She said she’d made the hundreds of éclairs in the display cases herself. The whole café was humming with the sound of conversation.