A Witch and a Secret Read online

“I’m going to kill him,” Jessie says and wants to stand up, but I grab her by the arm.

  “Ignore it,” I tell her. “Just ignore it. Take a deep breath.” Jessie takes a deep breath. It helps, but then the music gets even louder and the floor starts vibrating.

  “Does he actually like that kind of music or is he only doing this to piss you off?” Ciara asks Jessie.

  “I’m pretty sure one does not preclude the other,” I answer for my friend. It would be pretty hard to annoy Jessie with something that sounds like a clowder of cats scratching a chalkboard if Logan didn’t enjoy it himself.

  The music gets ramped up to what I imagine is the maximum capacity of Logan’s speakers. We’d have to shout to hear each other now.

  “Okay, I’m done ignoring,” Jessie says and is about to get up when Ciara stops her.

  “There’s no need for anyone to get hurt,” Ciara says. She then pulls out a pendant that was tucked under her shirt—a small crystal thing that glows in the candlelight like a prism reflecting a myriad of colors. I can’t even tell what its original color is, but I can tell it looks beautiful and mesmerizing. Ciara holds the little crystal between her fingers, whispers something very quietly—or maybe not so quietly, but in all the din I can’t hear a word she’s saying—and then the volume of the music starts going down gradually until it is so muffled that it sounds like it’s playing a few houses down the street and not upstairs, in a room above us.

  My jaw hangs open. It’s just a coincidence, I tell myself. Ciara did not just make Logan’s music sound less loud. Or they must have arranged for this to happen somehow, probably when they were talking in the kitchen. The only problem is, I didn’t notice Ciara using her phone or something else that could give Logan a signal to tone the music down.

  “Did you do that?” Jessie asks reverently.

  Ciara nods in response.

  “Can you teach us how to do that?”

  “Maybe,” Ciara gives a little smile and looks very pleased with herself. “Okay, I think we should start the spell. It looks like everything is ready.” She looks around at the thirty-three candles, all lit beautifully and placed in a large circle around us and in a small circle of three candles on the coffee table. Ciara reaches for her school bag and pulls out a closed-up board. It looks like a chess board folded inside.

  “Is that a Ouija board?” I ask. I really hope it’s not, because those are creepy. I’ve never actually used one myself, but I’ve seen plenty in horror movies.

  “Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” she says.

  I feel relieved. Whatever this thing is, at least we’re not contacting dead spirits.

  Ciara looks quite excited as she opens the board and shows us what’s inside.

  Jessie and I both gasp. The board isn’t a board at all. When open, it looks exactly like a mirror, even the seam in the middle disappears and blends in. It has a glossy surface that reflects the light from the candles, but what it doesn’t reflect is Ciara’s face which stares right into it. How is that even possible? And then an even more strange realization dawns on me. It’s not candlelight reflected in the mirror.

  “Is it—glowing?” Jessie asks, leaning over the strange board.

  I lean in, too. I’m pretty sure this is some kind of a trick, but I can’t figure out what it is yet.

  “Not exactly,” Ciara explains. “It’s a Mirror of Edana. It’s called a mirror, but it’s not exactly a mirror in a way that normal mirrors are,” she tries to explain. “I mean it’s not called a mirror because it reflects things. It’s called a mirror because it creates a pathway between dimensions, like a mirror into a different world. Basically, it acts as a telephone between dimensions.”

  “Are you saying that this mirror connects our world to another dimension?” Jessie asks. “And there are other dimensions?”

  Ciara nods. “A demon dimension, in this case.”

  “Neat,” Jessie says. I think she’s actually buying this.

  I shake my head in disbelief. How stupid does Ciara think we are?

  “Can I touch it?” Jessie doesn’t wait for a response and pokes the mirror. Its surface ripples and tiny circles of light spread out in different directions. Before the circles settle down, an eye flashes and disappears.

  “Whoa!” Jessie and I both exclaim at the same time, but while I instinctively pull away from the mirror, Jessie moves even closer to get a better look. But the eye is gone and there’s nothing there. I’m pretty sure I did not hallucinate this, because I’m not the only one who saw it.

  “This happens sometimes,” Ciara says. “Occasionally, certain creatures try to eavesdrop on conversations or get a piece of the energy that’s being transferred.” Right. Or this is some kind of experimental tablet or something like that, with a really cool feature of eyes popping up at random intervals. Okay, I’m not sure which is more believable, but there has to be some kind of reasonable explanation for everything that’s happening here.

  “So how exactly does this work?” I decide to play along. “Do we dial a number and then see who answers?”

  “No, of course we don’t just dial a number and wait to see who answers. If we did that, we’d more than likely get ahold of some nasty demon who’d want to piggyback on our communication channel and get himself into this world. That’s not something you want to happen, trust me,” she says meaningfully.

  “Has something like that happened to you?” Jessie asks.

  “When I was first learning to use it,” Ciara answers. “But my mom was there, so she managed to send the creature back, but not before it burned all the wiring in the house and broke every mirror trying to find its way back. It wasn’t the smartest thing.” She smiles as if she finds the clumsy demon amusing. Wait, what am I saying? She’s just making this up. She should write fiction novels, with that kind of imagination.

  “So who are we going to contact?” Jessie asks. “I don’t really want to contact some scary demon who will try to eat my soul or make me promise him my firstborn child.”

  “Actually, we’re going to contact my aunt,” Ciara says.

  “Your aunt?” I ask. “What is your aunt doing in a demon dimension?”

  “Is she alive?” Jessie asks. “Is she human? Oh my God, is your aunt a demon? Are you half demon?”

  Ciara makes a choking sound. Trying to suppress her laughter, no doubt. “All good questions, but it’s going to take too long to answer them, and we still have The Undead Chronicles marathon to watch, so we should get started. I can tell you one thing, though. I’m definitely not half demon, not even quarter demon. My aunt on the other hand—well, let’s just say she’s a witch, for now. So, are you ready?” Ciara asks.

  Jessie and I both nod, although I’m not sure I feel ready for whatever this is.

  “Do you know what you want to ask? Maybe you should write your questions down. The first time you do something like this, it may feel a little overwhelming, and you might forget what you wanted to ask.”

  That’s encouraging.

  Ciara pulls out a notebook from her bag, tears out two pages, and gives them to us. “Just write down your questions.” She holds out a pencil in each of her hands.

  I take one of the pencils and stare at the empty page in front of me. I try to come up with a question that would be at the same time meaningful and not too embarrassing to ask in front of Ciara and Jessie. I come up with nothing. Jessie, on the other hand, is scribbling away with her pencil as frantically as I am nibbling at mine. Even Ciara is writing something down in her notebook.

  I realize that I don’t have a burning question I really want an answer to. I don’t have a crush on a guy—well, not on a real guy, but I’m obviously not going to ask a question about Warren. Or am I? I nibble at the pencil some more. Maybe I should ask that question about the cliffhanger? If I get an answer, I may be able to verify it in a few weeks, when the new season starts. Yes, I decide, that’s as good a question as any other, plus it’s not personal, so I feel a little more
comfortable asking it in front of Ciara.

  I write down: “How do Gabe and Warren survive the latest zombie attack?” As Jessie has pointed out, I don’t believe they are actually going to die, but I don’t have a clue as to what kind of scheme they are going to come up with this time to get themselves out of the mess they’re in.

  Jessie has finished writing and is now rereading her question. Ciara has finished writing hers as well. “All right,” she says. “Now it’s time for the spell to begin.”

  Chapter 4

  We huddle around the shimmering board. Its glow turns from misty white to bright yellow, although no new eyes appear anywhere that I can see.

  “Here, take these.” Ciara holds out her hand with two small teardrop-shaped crystals in her palm. The crystals are clear-colored and glow as brightly as the prism around Ciara’s neck. “You’ll use them to pay for the answers to your questions.”

  Jessie and I take one of the crystals each.

  “What are they?” Jessie asks as she examines the glowing teardrop in her hand.

  “They are called demon tears,” Ciara says, cringing ever so slightly.

  “Demon tears?” I ask. “You mean they come from actual demons?” This is getting more and more ridiculous. “How do you even make a demon cry?”

  “Oh, they come from demons, all right”—there’s that cringe again—“but they’re not exactly—um, well, you know, we should probably get started,” Ciara says evasively and then takes our hands in hers and positions them on top of the glowing mirror. The ripples that appear on the surface this time feel like real ripples on water, even more so, as if it’s actual glass twisting and moving under my hand. It’s hard not to pull away, even though the sensation is somewhat pleasant, but strange. Very, very strange. I’m starting to doubt my own senses. Either this is the most elaborate piece of equipment I’ve ever encountered in my life, or I’m beginning to lose my mind.

  “First, I’m going to cast a spell which will create a barrier to protect us if something goes wrong.” Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it does the exact opposite. “Then I’ll make contact with my aunt.”

  “Do we need to say the spell with you?” Jessie asks.

  “No, it’s not necessary. But I’m going to channel your power as well, so you might feel a little strange at some point.”

  “Good strange or bad strange?” I ask suspiciously. I’m not going to get electrocuted as part of this prank, am I?

  “You might feel warm or tingly, or a little dizzy. It’s different for everyone. But it should pass pretty quickly after the spell is over.” So I’m going to be electrocuted only for the duration of the spell? Good.

  Ciara starts chanting in a language I don’t understand. The ripples under my hand start moving faster and more violently, oozing and evaporating into a sparkling mist that surrounds us and permeates every inch of space in the room.

  A few moments pass, and there is no room around us anymore. There are no familiar objects, no objects at all, it seems, only the sparkling mist. The candlelight is gone and the only source of light appears to originate from the mist itself.

  A few more moments later the mirror explodes with bright light that feels almost like a hot blanket covering my face. I close my eyes and when I open them again, Ciara’s spell is complete.

  “Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” a drawling voice announces from the mirror. The voice belongs to a middle-aged woman who would have been very attractive if not for her twisted mouth and a sour expression on her face as if she constantly has something foul-smelling right under her nose. She has thick black hair that she has put up in a tight bun, but the hair seems too unruly to be bound so tightly and looks like any minute it will fall in dark waves all over her shoulders. A few wavy strands that have already escaped are framing her face. Her eyes are also dark, almost black. The room she’s in looks like a stone chamber, with an ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling—with actual candles instead of light bulbs. One wall of the chamber is covered entirely with heavy red velvet drapes. The rest of the chamber is filled with bookcases that can barely hold all the books they are covered with.

  “Hi, Aunt Krista,” Ciara says. She doesn’t show any unease about the situation, which I suppose is natural—she is talking to her aunt, after all. I, on the other hand, have no idea if I should say something—like “Hello”, maybe?—or if I should keep my mouth shut until spoken to. One thing Ciara forgot to mention: the etiquette rules when talking to people through a magic mirror.

  Jessie, however, does not trouble herself with such trivial nonsense as proper behavior. She leans over the mirror, stares at Ciara’s aunt for a second, and then she does something even I wouldn’t have expected from her. She pokes Aunt Krista. Technically, she pokes the mirror, whose surface ripples and a tiny cloud of mist escapes its surface, but what also escapes is another strand from Aunt Krista’s bun, in the exact place were Jessie poked her. I have no idea how Ciara arranged for this to happen. I mean, it’s not really a magic mirror, is it? It can’t be.

  The woman’s mouth twists into an even more sour expression—I haven’t realized it’s possible to twist your features like that, but maybe witches who live in demon dimensions have some special powers in that area. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asks in an angry voice. “Ciara, who are these idiots?”

  “Aunt Krista,” Ciara says pleadingly, her eyes trying to convey to her aunt everything she can’t say in words, such as asking her to be easier on us and not be such a twit. “This is Emily and Jessica. They are my friends.”

  “Very well, what do you want?” Aunt Krista says impatiently and rolls her eyes. I am starting to get an impression that she isn’t exactly being a twit—well, not on purpose, anyway—but that this is her usual mode of conversation.

  Ciara pops out another tear-shaped crystal, the one she must have saved as payment for her own question, and shows it to her aunt.

  Aunt Krista’s eyes twinkle with some kind of interest for the first time. “Well, you should have started with that.” Somewhere behind her something growls. The growl lasts for at least a few seconds and then turns into a prolonged howl. “Never mind that,” Aunt Krista waves her hand dismissively at whatever creature is howling in her chamber. “Let me get my supplies.”

  She disappears for a few seconds and then reappears holding four cylinder-shaped crystal prisms, similar to the one Ciara is wearing on her neck, but slightly larger. By this time the howling behind Krista has turned into unpleasant dry coughing. The poor creature’s suffering doesn’t seem to affect the witch one bit. She just holds out the prisms in front of her, then lets go. Instead of falling, they float in the air for a moment and then start moving around in a circle. “We can start. Who’s going to be first? They do have demon tears to pay, don’t they?” Aunt Krista asks in a nasty tone of voice that implies she doesn’t really believe that could possibly be the case.

  “Yes!” Ciara says, a bit annoyed at her aunt.

  “I’m just asking,” the witch says, not even bothering to pretend that she is abashed or in any other way recognizes the error of her ways in speaking to potential clients like that. She must have an extremely high demand for her fortune-telling skills, because how else can you explain her appalling manners? “So, who’s going to go first?”

  Ciara looks up at us, but I shake my head no, while Jessie is indecisive.

  “Okay, I’ll go first,” Ciara says and picks up her notebook.

  “No boy trouble this time, I hope.”

  “Aunt Krista!”

  “What?”

  “We’re not alone!”

  “So? Aren’t these chickens your friends? Isn’t that what you told me?”

  “Aunt Krista!”

  “Never mind, then. So, if it’s not boy trouble again, what is it then?”

  “I was wondering if you could tell me when I could talk to my mom again,” Ciara says quietly. Her notebook lies unopen in her lap.

&nbs
p; Aunt Krista sighs heavily. “You know I can’t tell you that. Why are you wasting your question?”

  “But you told me—”

  “I told you that you will be able to, but I can’t tell you when. It’s not up to me. You know I can only see into the human realm.”

  “But I’m human. You can tell me my future about every other thing, but not about this? If I’m going to be talking to her, you have to be able to tell me when.”

  “First of all, you’re not human. You’re a witch,” Aunt Krista snaps. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. “And second of all, you’re not going to be talking to her in the human world, or in any other world. You’re going to be talking to her In-Between, just like you are talking to me right now. Why is it you think I can never tell when you are going to contact me? I can’t see what’s going to happen in the In-Between.”

  Ciara’s face falls. She is clearly upset with what the witch has told her.

  “Do you have any other question for me?” Aunt Krista asks, her voice the most soothing it has been since the beginning of the conversation, although that isn’t saying much.

  Ciara shakes her head.

  The witch sighs. “I can tell you something about that boy you’ve been asking about.”

  “No, no.” Ciara holds her hands up and waves them frantically in front of the mirror. “That won’t be necessary. Here.” She picks up the crystal teardrop and holds it over the mirror. Aunt Krista holds her hand out. Ciara lets go of the demon tear and it falls right into Krista’s palm. The woman smacks her lips in satisfaction and tucks the tear into a small black pouch around her neck.

  “Very well, who’s next?” Her eyes survey Jessie and me, then go back to Jessie and stop there.

  Jessie clears her throat. “Um—how does this work, exactly?” she asks uncertainly, which, if you know Jessie, is completely out of nature for her.

  Aunt Krista rolls her eyes and clucks her tongue in annoyance. I think she is going to say something mean and disconnect—is that the right word to use when talking about interdimensional mirrors?—but apparently she changes her mind and a more calculated look appears on her face. “Just ask a question, silly girl. What do you want to know? You’re talking to one of the most powerful witches in the world. Why are you wasting my time? Chop-chop.”