The Witch and the Hellhound (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  “Close your eyes. Think of the tree you lean upon,” Niall said.

  I leaned upon a mature pine tree. The trunk felt soothing to my back. I felt weird, extra calm, almost groggy. After about three minutes, I wanted to get up. This seemed silly to me, and feeling a tree’s energy wasn’t my thing. Did they think I was that gullible? About to protest, I carefully chose the words in my mind before I spoke them. I didn’t want to hurt Drumm or his uncles’ feelings. Just as I was about to say that I’d try another day, a vision—or rather it had to be a memory of the tree—eased its way into my mind, suddenly vivid.

  I saw someone walking along in the forest, a dozen feet away from me. Her hair up in a ponytail, she couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than me. As she drew near, I thought I recognized her from a photo album of my grandmother’s. Yes, I had seen this girl before, many, many times in Gran’s photos. She walked past the tree, but I could still see her. It was like watching a movie on the television. The scene began at my left and panned to the right. The girl walked toward Izadora’s balcony and then toward the stairs, disappearing out of sight. And the vision ended. Opening my eyes, I was terribly confused at what I’d just seen. For that girl had been my Aunt Clover.

  To make matters even more confusing, Aunt Clover, who at the time had long chestnut hair, wore upon her head a purple scarf. The very same scarf that I had seen in the limbs of the great yew tree, the very first time I had entered these woods. The same scarf that Izadora had told me to take from the tree, as a gift.

  Little did I know at the time, but I was about to open Pandora’s proverbial box. It was stupid of me to take all of the evils in Aunt Clover’s world, and bring them into my own—not a good idea.

  Chapter Three

  Izadora sat outside on her porch at her tree trunk table. “Good afternoon,” she said as she sat bent over a big clay bowl, shelling peas. Her white hair flew out in every direction. She tried to tame it with an obsidian studded barrette, but it didn’t help.

  “Hello,” I said, then getting right to the point. “I have to talk to you about something that just happened.”

  “Go ahead.” She popped some peas in her mouth and began to chew. She then adjusted the belt of her blue robe dress.

  I hadn’t mentioned to Drumm’s uncles or even Drumm of what I had just seen down by the tree. For some reason, it had shocked me so much that I kept it to myself. I knew the person to ask would be Izadora herself.

  “I was just learning a technique about how to meditate on a tree’s energy and heal yourself, or even see…memories.”

  “So? Would you like some peas?” She popped some more peas in her mouth and chewed.

  “Sure.” I took a few pods and started opening them. “Well…here is the thing. I did see a memory. I saw a young woman around my age walking through the yard and down toward your stairs.”

  “So? People have dared to actually come to me for potions before. Especially when they were that desperate for help, they overcame their fear of the old witch in the forest.”

  “Okay, but this girl was…my aunt. Aunt Clover.”

  “Ah. The tree showed you that, did he?”

  “He? Well, anyway, she had on the purple scarf. The one you had me take from the great yew.” The great yew had an array of colored scarves and ribbons tied to the branches. I just happened to like one of the scarves, and she gave it to me.

  “Did she, now? Hmmm. Let me see if I can remember.” She tossed a handful of peas in her mouth, knowing that I would have to wait for her to chew and swallow them before she spoke again. She was, if nothing else, a master at suspense.

  I hadn’t known Izadora for very long, but I knew one thing: she rarely answered questions or volunteered information unless she felt like it. So, whenever she actually talked about something, I tried to milk as many words from her as I could. And I had a feeling that she would remember Aunt Clover and the purple scarf. Every detail, in fact.

  “Clover Seaforth. I do recall her coming to see me in the past. Many times, in fact. But the time you speak of with the purple scarf—the scarf ended up being a request. She tied it to the yew tree.”

  “What kind of request? I mean, she made a request to the tree?”

  “No. To me. I’m the one who has certain power to fulfill one’s wishes. Some of them, anyway, and the ones I choose to.” She shook the bowl of peas to even them out in the bowl. “Back in the day, people were more apt to venture in the forest. They didn’t need to walk through Ian’s gate. They could just walk in, if they dared. Nowadays, you won’t see too many people doing that because I had to take precautions and measures to make it more difficult.”

  “Izadora. Why would my Aunt Clover be coming to see you? I thought she wasn’t allowed to come in the forest.”

  “She used to come in all the time.”

  This went against what I had believed. From what I knew, Gran always forbade Aunt Clover and Aunt Cora to enter the forest.

  “What was her request?” I blurted out.

  Izadora narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment. “A wise woman never reveals such information about her clients. That question, Ivy, you will have to ask her yourself.”

  So, that was how she was going to be. Stubborn. Sighing, I said, “Okay. Fine. I will.” I had asked out of curiosity, but her reluctance to tell me only caused me want to know even more.

  “But, Ivy, one thing you would do well to remember. Some things are better left in the past. And some things you should just let alone. Be careful what you bring to the table. Sometimes it is not always easy to chew. And even harder to swallow.”

  This was some type of warning. One I’d probably ignore, but I said, “I’ll do that.”

  “Be sure that you do.”

  I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going home, finding the purple scarf, putting it on, and wearing it to Cora and Clover’s Café.

  When I stood to leave, she said, “Not so fast. We’ve got work to do before you go hightailing it out of here.”

  Over the past few days I had become accustomed to helping Izadora around the tree house and in return she had become my tutor of sorts, or rather I had become her apprentice. Just as she had always predicted that I would. She insisted that I had to learn some magic spells, but I wasn’t very good at it and I hadn’t been trying that hard. She had told me that I would need certain training if I were to help the Elven people and certain training if I encountered my sister, but I just wasn’t picking up on it. Besides, she’d be the one to get the book back. Why did I need to know magic?

  My thoughts turned to Zinnia. Even though she was a brat and now my enemy, I still missed her. I had convinced myself that she hadn’t turned to the Unseelie willingly. The last evening that I’d seen her, she’d looked over her shoulder nervously, as though she were being scrutinized and watched.

  “Ivy? Get out of that cloud of yours. What in tarnation are you thinking about?” Izadora banged her staff to the floor.

  I hesitated at first. Then I figured I might as well tell her.

  “My sister. I kinda miss her.”

  Izadora sighed deeply, “I can see that I’m going to have to toughen you up. I can’t have a weakling as an apprentice.”

  “There is nothing wrong with missing my sister. We did grow up together.”

  “Well, one of you grew up a little, and it sure as hell wasn’t her. But you are far too whiny, so maybe you aren’t as grown up as I had initially thought.”

  Izadora could be harsh with her words sometimes.

  “Whatever.” My face grew hot, not so much from anger as from embarrassment, but there was some anger rising inside me, too.

  “Look. Some things you can change, but what you cannot change, you accept and move on. Now get a grip on yourself. Your cheeks are red.” She banged her staff on the floorboards once more. “Rule number one: never let your opponent see how you are feeling. Remain expressionless. Do not give them the upper hand by letting them see how you feel. T
hink of something you hate doing—like cutting off a chicken’s head.” She paused, and mischief filled her eyes. Raising her chin she said, “By the way, I’d like to have chicken soup tonight. I’d like you to fetch me one, but this time I want it dead before you bring it to me.”

  I gulped.

  This was something I had refused to do the other day. She wanted me to cut off a chicken’s head and bring it to her already de-feathered. I had brought her a live chicken and before she could say anything, I took off running to Ian’s.

  She hadn’t been happy. She had taken it back, via the bridges, and released it back into the chicken pen.

  “One day you will meet up with your sister again, and I intend to have you ready. From what I hear, she is cold and callous. She’ll eat you like a bowl of ice cream.”

  “What does that have to do with cutting off a chicken’s head?”

  The edge of her mouth curved up into a half grin. “Nothing. I just want some chicken soup.”

  “Seriously? You really want me to do that?” My feet started to sweat.

  “Back in the day, Mother used to make me do it. People had to butcher their own livestock if they wanted to eat. You humans are too soft nowadays,” she told me, even though I was half Elven.

  I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me, but I wouldn’t let her get the best of me today. I would cut the chicken’s head off.

  “Just pretend you’re Zinnia. Then maybe you’ll get the job done.”

  Oh, she was a master at suspense and manipulation. I wanted to grab her staff and throw it over the railing. Only after I whacked her over the head with it first.

  As if she could read my mind, she let out a laugh. I stared her down for a moment and then shelled some more peas.

  “Go ahead now, get on with it,” she scolded me.

  “I’m on it.” I stood to leave.

  “Good. Go.”

  “I’m going.”

  She cackled. “See you in a few minutes, then.”

  “Fine.” I stomped the whole way to stairs—thump, thump, thump—and then down the stairs.

  Reaching the bottom, I patted the dogs for a few moments until I could get Drumm’s attention; I then motioned with my head for him to come over. He must have seen the scowl upon my face, as he quickly ran to me.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

  “I have to go cut off a chicken’s head. Can you meet me by the chicken pen in a few minutes?”

  “I can. We were just taking a quick break for breakfast.”

  “Have you eaten yet?”

  “Nah. Conri likes to start out on an empty stomach. Says when you’re in battle, sometimes there isn’t a time to eat. We have to be able to fight hungry.”

  “Oh,” I said, thinking that Conri was definitely a hard-ass.

  “I’ll be there in moments,” he said with his funny accent. “We wouldn’t want Izadora to see us walking off together, or she’ll know who did the cutting.” He winked and took off.

  I took my time walking to the chicken pen, observing the bright tulips that ran alongside the rocky brook. I smelled their vague fragrance and listened to the babbling brook to waste time, and then I finally arrived at the gate to the chicken pen and waited.

  There were around twenty or thirty chickens scurrying about, having a good ole time chasing each other. Several were inside the pen, sitting on eggs. I wouldn’t know which chicken to pick, and this task was nothing less than stupid.

  Drumm arrived shortly after, grabbed the first chicken he saw by the feet, and laid it on a tree stump. He was shirtless, and I watched his sinewy muscles as he moved around.

  “It’s not so hard to cut a chicken’s head off. What if you were deep in the woods and it was the only thing you had to eat?” he reasoned with me.

  “I’d starve,” I said.

  He smiled at me, grabbed the sharp knife that was sheathed on his leg, and bent down a bit. As he held the knife up before the drop and kill, I said, “Wait!”

  He paused midair. “Ivy, it’s not that big of a deal. Just turn your head if you need to.”

  “No, it’s not that,” I said. He probably thought I was trying to stop him, but I said, “Let me do it.”

  “What? Seriously? You want to do it?” His sparkling eyes were amused.

  “Yup. You hold the feet. I’ll do it.”

  “Okay then.” He stepped out of the way, still holding the feet.

  “Sheath your knife—I’ll use this axe.” I grabbed an axe that leaned upon the gate, no doubt left there for me by Izadora, and I stepped forward.

  “You’re afraid she’s watching, aren’t you?” he whispered.

  “Yup,” I said as I held my breath and swung the axe down, separating the chicken’s head from its body.

  I had noticed the arrival of a certain black crow on a limb a few trees down. One of Izadora’s famous birds to shape-shift into was the black crow, and I was stubborn enough to do the job myself, just to save face. And as the chicken scurried around the chicken coop headless, I turned to look at the crow and raised an eyebrow, my most ruthless grin fanning out across my face.

  But it wasn’t for killing the bird that I smiled, not in the slightest. The smile was for Izadora alone.

  Chapter Four

  Great-Grandpa Edmund, also known as Montague, was my hero. It was as simple as that. I adored him. I suppose that Izadora was my hero too, but if it weren’t for GG Edmund, she would still be a block of ice. When I returned to the tree house, only after plucking every feather from the dead chicken, he sat outside at the gnarly, weathered tree trunk table, sipping blueberry tea with Izadora.

  “Ivy! You did it,” he said, talking about the dead chicken I carried. “I used to have to do that, too. I never liked it either.” His white hair stuck up all over, and he pushed his big, black-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  I smiled at him and handed the chicken to Izadora. Bending down, I kissed him on the forehead.

  He was a kind man, unlike his oldest sister.

  “Thank you. I plan on staying for lunch,” he said. He had been coming here every other day since the battle he’d helped Izadora win, riding up here on his four-wheeler. They were good old friends now, playing cards, and sharing spells and the occasional drink of sherry. He sat now, eating peas.

  “You get these peas from right up here in your garden?” he asked Izadora. She had hundreds of things growing up here—everything she needed and beyond. Herbs grew everywhere, and every vegetable you could think of.

  “Of course,” she called over her shoulder as she stood at the counter quartering the chicken. “In fact, I think it’s high time I showed you my other garden, a few bridges over.”

  This was news to me. I knew there were probably a hundred bridges throughout the forest, extending from tree to tree all belonging to Izadora. I’d never been on any of them except for the one that led from the stairs to the house. Being curious was an understatement, although I hadn’t given it much thought ever since I’d lost Zinnia to the bad side.

  “Can I come?” I asked eagerly, hoping that if she said no my great-grandpa would speak up for me.

  “Certainly. You are the reason we must go. I have something to give you.”

  After she had the chicken soup cooking on low heat, we ventured out on the bridges. What things would a powerful, old witch have need for on these bridges? I couldn’t wait to find out.

  GG Edmund walked in front of me at a slow pace, his shoulders hunched. There was a crispness to the atmosphere, almost as if it were autumn already. Fresh currents of cool air breezed by now and then, producing bumps on my limbs. The bridges she escorted us on had flowers (that I thought had gone by already) and herbs. Thyme, basil, rosemary, a sage bush, a broad lilac bush that filled one whole side. Some roses and pretty red and yellow snapdragons.

  Ahead was the first tree stop, where boards encircled a tree. Beautiful pansies hung in baskets from the limbs. The next tree stop held endangered silvers
word plants which I thought were only grown in Hawaii. Following that, we reached another tree stop, where she opened a wooden gate layered with vines. Here, the planks ended. There was nothing but thick fog straight ahead.

  Their pace never slowed, and if they continued they’d fall right off and land on the forest floor. Izadora was chatting with GG Edmund about pumpkin seeds and the climate.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” I yelled.

  Izadora looked over her shoulder at me, rolling her eyes. “Just follow me.” I could tell exactly what she was thinking—I was a poor apprentice with little faith in the unknown.

  “Suit yourself,” I said. Scrunching my eyes, I expected her to fall off the planks and land on her face.

  Stepping forward, her foot was met with a plank that just up and appeared, and the fog ahead parted to the sides. Each step she took, another plank formed, one right after another. GG Edmund followed, a big grin on his face.

  “As I was saying, this garden might amaze you. It is the flowers and plants themselves that change the atmosphere in accordance to what they need in order to grow. Many things grow here, that should not be able to survive the way they do.”

  We’d reached the end of our journey, and she knocked on the tree. “Amarchi-oon-hallee,” she said—more of her fancy words that I knew not the meaning of. Seconds later a ladder made of (probably) pure gold appeared. Some blue type of berries growing on a vine wrapped around the trunk of the tree and hung down to a reachable height.

  “Now how do you expect me to climb that ladder? You know my old joints are stiff,” GG Edmund scoffed.

  “Easy. Eat two of these.” She grabbed three of the blue berries from the vine and handed two to him, and ate the other one.

  “Oh, nice,” he said as he placed them in his mouth and chewed. There was no doubt in my mind that he thought they were just plain old blueberries, and he’d eat anything that resembled a blueberry.

  The next words out of his mouth caught me by surprise. “Oh my! I feel like a young man!” He shook out his arms and legs and did a jig. Laughter escaped from both Izadora and me.