The Witch Stone Read online

  The gate groaned shut behind her. Baffled, Brenna decided to embrace the strangeness and followed the dirt path until she came to a dead end. She stopped the car and stepped out. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot. The smell of damp soil and moss surrounded her. Each breath made her feel lighter like she was inhaling happy drugs. She dug her bag and the box out of the car and locked it with a bleep.

  She walked past a couple of trees and found herself engulfed by forest almost straightaway. She turned around and could no longer see her car. It was like she’d fallen through a portal to a faraway land. Unfamiliar but enchanting chirps from unseen birds sounded from above. Branches snapped as she continued crunching her way through the thick carpet of fallen leaves and other assorted bits. The dirt path was no longer existent. Goddess knew the last time somebody had walked where she walked now. She wondered if the phone in her purse would have any signal and couldn’t help but shiver.

  The serenity was broken by a feisty wind that picked up leaves and swirled them into the air. Brenna’s hair blew all around, obscuring her vision. All sound was drowned out by a ghostly chanting and her hair suddenly flew away from her face and shot out backward like a high-powered fan from a movie set had been aimed at her. She dropped the box, put her hands out in front of her face, shielding it from the gusty wind. The ghostly chanting became louder and the forest grew dark. She tried to follow the chanting but it seemed to be surrounding her, coming from all directions. Then she bent down, picked up the box, and ran through the trees with her hair whipping at her cheeks.

  The chanting followed Brenna through the trees and stopped as she passed an ancient tree with a pentagram engraved into it. She stopped and turned back to the tree. She ran her finger over the carving of the five-pointed star and felt warm tingles buzz up and down her arms. It was the same carving Rowena had seen near Hawthorn’s cottage. She was sure of it.

  She turned right and found the little cottage a few minutes later as if she’d been there a thousand times before. Just like in her dream, the cottage was covered in vines and tangled in an overgrown mass of ivy and wisterias, making it almost camouflaged in the dense forest.

  A garden full of lavender, rosemary, and other useful plants and pretty flowers complemented the vines. It looked like the garden had been maintained beautifully, but to Brenna’s knowledge, nobody had been out here in over ten years. Roses climbed the old walls and the mixed scent of blooming flowers gave Brenna a feeling of déjà vu.

  She walked up the cobbled path to the tiny doorway and marveled at the sight of two wicker chairs, covered in cobwebs, sitting outside the door. Brenna didn’t dare to sit on the fragile chairs, fearing they would crumble with the slightest touch.

  The doorway had also been home to many spiders. Brenna brushed webs away and tried the door handle. Locked. Remembering the old iron key that came in her letter telling her she had inherited the cottage; she dug her hand into her bag and searched for the key. She found it, inserted it into the lock. After a few strong twists the lock released and the door opened with a creak. Brenna made a mental note to bring some oil next time to fix the squeaky door.

  A musty smell filled her nostrils as she made her way inside a dim room. She looked around and coughed. Dust covered everything inside the small cottage like a dirty brown blanket. Brenna carefully placed her things on the aged floor and walked across the wooden floorboards, narrowly avoiding a large black spider that scurried out in front of her feet. She stifled a scream and jumped up and down. “Gross, gross, gross!” She fluttered her hands in the air and took a deep breath.

  Now shaking, she wiped dust from a small window. The room flooded with light, revealing old upturned furniture, and glass candle lamps blackened with age hanging from the ceiling.

  From the window, she could see a tiny stable surrounded by a wooden fence. Turning away from the window, she noticed a large fireplace that had been built into the wall. The fireplace was full of debris from fires lit many years ago and had an iron grate above the coals with a black cauldron hanging above. Brenna smiled, imagining cold nights sitting around the balmy fire stirring hot soup in the big cauldron. She decided once she had cleaned up the cottage, she would have to stay here one night with Maggie and mix potions over the fireplace.

  She walked towards the fireplace and shrieked as a huge black raven came charging out of the fireplace’s chimney and soared over her head. The huge bird flew into a wall, sending up a cloud of dust. The bird settled on the ground, twitching. Brenna approached it slowly and made a shushing sound. The bird let out a shy squawk and hobbled towards the fireplace and flew up the chimney.

  Brenna’s racing heart settled as she relaxed her shoulders and took a deep breath. She scolded herself for being so jumpy. Then she brushed off the mass of dust that had managed to collect on her skirt and spotted a straw-filled bed in the corner. Straw burst out of the aging mattress and the bottom had collapsed. She put a hand out to feel the sturdiness of the bed when a faint whimpering invaded the room. She spun around; there was nobody there. The tipped over furniture was still lying in piles of dust and the only footprints on the dusty floor belonged to her.

  “Hello?” Brenna’s voice was a tiny squeak in the weeping cottage.

  She ducked down and looked under the dilapidated bed, frantically opened tall cupboards, checked under the table. The cupboards were filled with jars full of ancient-looking herbs and spices, trinkets and charms, but there was nothing to explain the crying ringing about in her ears.

  The ghostlike crying stopped a few sobs later and Brenna decided to go outside to clear her head. She felt unsteady on her feet. This really was Hawthorn’s cottage from her dreams. Dazed, she decided to head back to the hotel.

  Clutching her bag tightly under one arm and the box under the other, Brenna walked toward the trees and re-entered the thickness of the woods. Golden light filtered through the trees from above. She heard a swishing noise behind her and turned around, ready to face whoever had made the sound. She was tired of being scared by noises. A floating black entity moving through the trees was another matter. Brenna screamed; the figure turned and looked at her. It had a face that wasn’t quite human. For starters, it was too long. The thing’s jaw almost sat on its chest. Blunt teeth stuck out at odd angles, and it had a discernable nub of a nose. The worst part was its eyes. Blood red eyes with a wetness that made Brenna’s blood run cold. Her own wide eyes fixed on the empty space beneath the bottom of the being’s tatty deathly dark gown. Whatever it was, it was hovering in the air.

  She clutched her box and ran, passing the pentagram engraved tree, and didn’t stop running until she ran out of breath a couple minutes later. She stole a quick look behind her and saw nothing except still trees.

  She turned back and found herself face to face with the horrible thing. It narrowed its red eyes as it sized up her green ones. Brenna’s breath came in short rapid gasps. The thing moved closer to her face and its mouth opened wider, giving her a good view of its foul stubs of teeth.

  “Leave now.” The entity’s decaying voice was raspy and sounded as though something had been sawing at its throat with sandpaper. With one wobbly step at a time, Brenna moved away from the creature. It kept its horrible eyes on her as it floated high into the air and vanished.

  Still gripping the box tightly, Brenna willed her legs to move, one at a time, stumbling her way to her car. She all but dove into the car dumped her things on the passenger seat, started up the engine and got the hell out of there. A cloud of dust from her wheels obscured the view in her rearview mirror.

  She looked ahead and slammed on her brakes. Her car was almost touching the exit gate.

  “Shit!” She sighed. Reluctantly, she pushed her door open and stepped out, tensing her hands into fists. “What is going on here? If somebody could tell me what is going on that would be great!” Brenna shouted, not expecting an answer, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she got one after everything else that had happened. Suddenly the gates open
ed. “Well that’s a start…” she mumbled as she walked stiffly back to her car.

  Brenna couldn’t help but think the floating nightmare reminded her of somebody. There was something horribly familiar about it. This thought stayed with her as she drove into the empty parking lot of the Oakwood motel.

  She checked over her shoulder and she stomped up the creaky steps to her room and unlocked the door. She checked that she was alone in the room before slamming the door shut. She walked into the small bathroom and showered. Her stomach growled the whole time. How could she even be hungry after what she saw today? Well, a girl has to eat, hasn’t she? Creepy floating monstrosities or not. She planned to go to a busy restaurant in town so she could be around some ordinary people.

  After changing into a lacy black dress and heels, she took her oversized handbag and rummaged for her phone. She had to call Maggie before she did anything else. “Come on, where are you?” She searched for a good few minutes in her bag and in the hotel room until relenting to the idea she must have dropped it in the woods. “Damn it!”

  She’d have to use Clark’s phone. She headed down to the office and knocked on the door before entering.

  “Hello?” Brenna called out.

  “Coming, Brenna!” Clark emerged from the back room holding a newspaper, probably the same one he was reading last night. “Well, aren’t you all dressed up like a fancy peach pie!”

  She couldn’t hold back a blush. “Oh, thank you.”

  “You look pale as milk though, something wrong?”

  “I’m okay, weird day that’s all.” Brenna thought that was the understatement of the century.

  “Oh, you’ve been in that haunted forest?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Saw something didn’t ya?”

  “I saw something, heard something and oh it doesn’t matter.” Brenna looked down at the floor and bit her lip.

  “Brenna, it feels dark in there am I right?”

  “Yes. Very, very dark.”

  “It’s not usually like that. Your grandmother used to take me for walks in there,” he said with a hint of a smile.

  “Really?” Brenna lightened up; she didn’t know anybody else who knew Annwyn Ravenwood.

  “We actually dated a while back. She talked about you a lot, Brenna. Gave me a lot of photos too.”

  “She gave you photos of me?”

  “Sure did.”

  “How come you didn’t say anything yesterday?”

  “Well, I don’t usually like talking to people, but you remind me of her.”

  “Really? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should. She was a wonderful woman.” He seemed to stare into space, before saying, “Anyway getting back to the walks. We’d go in with a picnic and spend the whole day there. She’d teach me about certain plants, even fixed my sore feet by placing a herb called mugwort in my shoes. Amazing huh?”

  “Oh definitely.” Brenna agreed.

  “She told me about a cottage in there but would never take me to see it. Said it was kind of a sacred family heirloom. I never pushed the subject; you know I respected her wishes. But strange things would happen in the forest, Brenna. Laughing coming from nowhere, happy voices chattering and all sorts of crazy stuff. It was never scary though, that was until the last time we went in there. Annwyn could feel it too, a dark presence.”

  Brenna wondered what could turn laughing and cheerful chatting into sad chanting and eerie crying.

  “Anyway, I haven’t wanted to go back in there.”

  “What’s the story with the big gate?” Brenna asked.

  “What gate?” Clark furrowed his considerable brow.

  “The massive black fence surrounding the whole forest.”

  “There’s no gate around the forest,” he said, matter of factly.

  “Yes, there is. A big one, it was locked and wouldn’t open and then it opened by itself.”

  “I don’t know anything about a gate.”

  “Was Annwyn planning on getting one installed?”

  “Nope, she liked having it open to people, not that many people went in there anyway.”

  “Well, I didn’t imagine it. It was a big steel gate. When was the last time you went out there?”

  “Drove past it last week. There wasn’t no gate then.”

  “Well, maybe the council erected it in the last few days, although a gate that big would probably be expensive and time-consuming. I need to use a phone. I seemed to have lost my one.”

  “Oh sure. It's outback,” he moved out of the doorway and motioned for her to pass on through.

  The small room was littered with photos of Brenna and her Grandmother. They ranged from baby photos to her high school graduation day, then the opening of her shop. This man she had never heard of until yesterday, must know her whole life story. She thought he must be very lonely; there was no evidence of any family of his own. She spotted a grey phone and lifted the receiver and punched in Maggie’s number. A distant voice answered, followed by a loud clatter, “Hello?”

  “Maggie?”

  “This is she.”

  “It’s Brenna.”

  “Oh, hi, Bren! Sorry, it's hectic here. I’m trying to cook dinner.”

  “Trying?” Brenna laughed.

  “Yes, I’m not a master chef like you are. And I almost dropped the phone into a pot of soup.”

  “I’m not a chef I just paid attention in home economics, unlike somebody I know.”

  “Ha, ha. Well, how is it? Have you visited the forest yet?”

  “That’s why I’m calling.”

  “Oh, so you’re not checking to see if Tiddles is still alive?”

  “Oh, my goddess, is he?”

  “He’s fine, Bren. I have a little trouble feeding myself, but I can handle cats.”

  “Good to hear,” Brenna smiled, “there’s something weird happening here.”

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  “I read your cards last night.”

  “How can you read my cards when I’m not even there?”

  “I visualized you and held Tiddles,” Maggie said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Of course you did. Well?” Brenna was almost afraid to ask, but she had to know.

  “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. I was hoping you’d call though.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. Let’s put it this way, I found out some things and I think I may have dream dropped.”

  “Dream dropped?”

  “You know like eavesdropping, but I’m listening in on your dreams.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Last night, did you dream about a woman with black hair traveling to Witches Hill?”

  “Okay, Maggie I believe you. What are your thoughts?”

  “I think I should drop Tiddles into a cattery and get my butt up there because you can’t handle this by yourself.”

  “Oh, Maggie you don’t have to,” Brenna lied; the thought of Maggie accompanying her to the terrifying forest was comforting.

  “I want to. You know I can’t ignore something this big!”

  “Okay, good! Please hurry. I’m staying at the Shady Oak Motel; you can’t miss it. It’s the only building for miles after a long stretch of boring road.”

  “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I’m leaving right now.” Maggie hung up the phone. Brenna placed the phone back on its hook and laughed. Maggie hadn’t been this excited since her hair caught on fire. The memory of Maggie puffing away on a cigarette with her hair puffing along with her made Brenna laugh out loud. Maggie isn’t a smoker, but when they were offered one when they were fifteen, Maggie couldn’t keep her shaggy red hair from drifting into the embers and catching ablaze.

  Something on Clark’s desk caught her eye. A small golden plaque beside a computer displayed the name ‘Jeff Cod’. Brenna frowned. Something about that name wa
s familiar. Why wasn’t Clark’s name on the plaque? From what Clark said, she assumed nobody else worked here.

  Clark was sitting behind the desk as Brenna exited the office. He looked up at her from his newspaper. “Did ya find the phone alright?”

  “Yes, thank you. Um,” Brenna stalled, “I couldn’t help but notice the name plaque back there.”

  He seemed to stare right through her and look at the wall. “Oh?”

  “Sorry I didn’t mean to be nosey; it just seems so familiar to me.”

  “Annwyn told me never to tell you my name. My real name anyway.”

  “What? Why?” Brenna raised her eyebrows. Then it hit her. “Jeff Cod! You’re the man who split up my grandparents!” Brenna gasped. She’d heard of the striking young man who had swept Annwyn Ravenwood off her feet but was too young to remember him.

  “It wasn’t only my fault, dear. Their relationship was over before I came on the scene. I’m just guilt-ridden that it’s partly my fault your parents are dead.”

  “Hey, I never blamed you. You’re right, Annwyn was never happy before you came on the scene. Besides we don’t know they are dead.”

  “It’s been a long time, Brenna.” Jeff lowered his eyes and stared at the floor.

  “I know.” Brenna felt her throat tighten at the memory of sitting in front of the television all those years ago. Her twelve years of life had not prepared her for the horrifying news broadcast interrupting the music video blaring on screen. Brenna could remember exactly what the reporter was wearing, (a blue blazer with gigantic shoulder pads that made her look like a robot, a gleaming white shirt that matched her gleaming white teeth, a pair of gold clip-on earrings, and bright red lips) who reported a small Cessna aircraft had gone missing somewhere over the mountains.