Dire Woods

Her hair glowed like an un-earthly halo. Her smile was chiseled ice.

“You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble, nephew,” she said. “A lot more than I thought you were capable of and definitely a lot more than you‘re worth.” She unclipped the silver charm bracelet that dangled from her slender wrist and clenched it in her left hand. “I really need to deal with you now. You‘ve taken up too much of my time already.“

Mrs. Wickaby, Emily and the bog cat stepped forward until they were side by side with John Joseph.

Angerona Alabaster tossed her head, blonde curls bouncing. “You know, this is vaguely entertaining, John Joseph. How you’ve gotten your little friends to help you and all, but you must realize that I can kill the four of you with a wave of my wand. I‘ve taken down enemies much more dangerous than your bedraggled little group. But I am in a hurry. If your friends just leave you and I to discuss our little problems, I might even attempt to forget all about them.”

John Joseph could hear Emily sputtering at his side, but it was her grandmother who responded.

“Not likely though,” Mrs. Wickaby said. “You never forget to punish anyone who ever gets in your way.”

“You‘re quite right, it isn‘t likely,” Angerona said, pursing her lips. “But at least you’ll have a better chance at survival than you’ve got right now.”

“I happen to like our chances at the moment,” the old hedge witch proclaimed.

John Joseph’s aunt laughed. “Oh, you earth magic types, always so optimistic. Well, your sunny little attitude won’t help you this time.” She lifted her arm and her wand blazed out in a broad arc that hit all four of them with the same blast.

They staggered backwards under the blow. John Joseph felt like he’d been whacked in the face with a frying pan.

Mrs. Wickaby’s hair was waving wildly around her face as she stared at Angerona Alabaster in disgust. “That’s not natural,” she said. “Whatever power you’re wielding, it’s not natural.” Her staff clenched in her gnarled hand, the old woman enveloped herself in a haze of energy. Around her boots. the blades of grass began wriggling earnestly.

Angerona chuckled, twirled her wand in a nonchalant spiral and once again they were blasted backwards. “No it’s not,” she agreed. “It’s a little creation I discovered and it’s working better than I ever imagined.”

Mrs. Wickaby’s staff cut through the air like a knife.

The ground at Angerona’s feet exploded as a sea of gnarled roots swarmed over her body. One minute she was there, the next, she was cocooned in a seething mass of greenery.

John Joseph felt like whooping. “Brilliant, Mrs. Wickaby. Brilliant! You’re the fastest old lady I’ve ever seen.“

“It’s not over yet,“ the old woman answered. “Like I said before, there’s something very wrong here.“

“Watch out!“ Emily screeched, waving her wand frantically.

John Joseph turned and stared in horror. The roots that seconds ago had held his aunt in a constrictive grip were falling in great loops from her hips.

“No you don’t,” he said through clenched teeth. He funneled his own power into the roots, beside him he could feel Emily and Mrs. Wickaby doing the same. The tendrils started to constrict again, tighter and tighter. Then with a shudder they fell in a twitching heap.

Angerona Alabaster, still spotless, stepped gingerly over the debris.

“That was very unpleasant,” she spat. “I’ve had enough.” Her wand flashed.

Emily, Bounder and Mrs. Wickaby collapsed to the forest floor.

John Joseph crouched down beside them and touched their faces one by one. Please be all right, please.

“They’re not dead,” his aunt said. “Not yet, anyway. I‘ve got to come up with some way of disposing of the bodies.” She stroked her dainty chin. “I think the injured bog cat will be discovered beside the dead little girl on a lane leading into the village.” She smiled softly. “Somewhere a little private, but not remote. They’ll think the cat killed her, so they’ll kill the cat. Simple.”

She stepped forward and prodded Mrs. Wickaby with her shapely foot. “As for the hedge witch,” his aunt bit her lower lip gently, “there‘s too much power there to waste, although with her being a green mage, it could prove tricky.”

John Joseph had definitely had enough. First his grandfather, then his parents, now Mrs. Wickaby, Emily and Bounder, everyone he cared about was being ripped from his grasp.

“Why are you doing this?“ he asked from his knees. “What is so important in Alabaster Manor that you’d get rid of my parents, me and my friends to get it? A magic ring, a book of charms, a horde of gold?“

His aunt chuckled. “You really are a moron aren‘t you? Don‘t you think with all the magic at my command I could get all the THINGS I wanted?”

“Then why are you doing this?” he repeated. “Why are you hurting all these people?”

“Isn’t it obvious, even to you?” His aunt laughed softly, dropped her head and stared directly into his eyes. “The only thing I wanted that I couldn’t get was Alabaster Manor. Once you’re gone, its mine.”

“You did this all for a house?” he screeched. “For a stupid house!”

His aunt’s beautiful face sharpened. “A house it’s obvious you don’t deserve to own, if that’s the way you talk about it,” she said. “It’s not just a house you idiot! It’s been standing in that same spot for over five hundred years. That’s five hundred years of history!” Her eyes blazed with an unearthly light. “Alabaster House is an icon.”

“I could give it to you,” John Joseph suggested. “I mean, I really do love Alabaster Manor, but if that’s all you want….”

His aunt hit him full in the face. “It’s not yours to give and it never will be. I‘ll see to that.” Then she hit him again, harder this time, with her clenched fist. “And of course, it’s not all I want. I want my father and mother to pay for kicking me out of their house and writing me out of their will. I want your father to pay for taking my place as the heir to Alabaster Manor and I want you to pay for ever being born!”

John Joseph raised his throbbing head and looked deep into his aunt’s impossibly exquisite face. She’s mad! She’s filled with more power than she knows what to do with and she’s whacko!

He gripped his wand tightly, filled with the knowledge that no matter how much he’d learned, no matter how he’d improved, he didn’t stand a chance of beating her at magic. But then he never had. So there must be another way to battle her. There had to be. If there was one thing he’d learned on this journey, it was that he had to try. He had to try something different.

He dropped his eyes to the clenched fist she’d hit him with. It was clutching the bracelet she always worn so tightly that the tiny silver charms were bursting from her fingers. He was close enough to identify them now. Each one of them, small and intricately wrought, was a perfect human figure. The bracelet. She always wore that bracelet and now she clutched it in her hand. Why?

He could feel his wand warming in his grasp. He gazed up into his aunt’s startling blue eyes and flipped his wand in his hand.

“My god, you don’t even know how to hold that thing,” she said and she started to laugh.

John Joseph raised his wand and stabbed it into the back of her clenched fist with all his might.

The world sped up.

Bright, warm blood spurted into his face. Angerona Alabaster shrieked and dropped the bracelet. John Joseph pulled his wand from the wound and grabbed the bracelet from the air as it tumbled before his eyes. A blast of pure white light exploded from between his fingers.

“You idiot!” she screeched. “You unbelievable idiot!”

John Joseph, his blood-tipped wand in one hand, the blazing bracelet in the other, watched in horror as his aunt, still screaming, began to warp before his eyes. She was crumpling like a leaf on a hot fire. The moisture was being sucked right out of her. A strange, metallic glow suffused her porcelain skin as it collapsed in upon itself. He scrambled backwards as she began to smoke and bubble. There was a sharp, resounding crack, then a red-blood mist filled the air.

“John Joseph, John Joseph, are you okay?” asked the tremulous voice of Mrs. Wickaby.

He couldn’t answer. He was too busy staring at the dissipating mist before him. Staring at the spot where his aunt had disappeared. There was nothing there now but empty air. She was gone. But where? His gaze fell to the grass at his feet. Still smoldering, was a tiny silver charm. It was a perfect replica of Angerona Alabaster, her mouth still frozen open in a silent scream.

“Are we still alive,” asked Emily, in a strangely timid voice.

“I hope so,” John Joseph answered, “but it doesn‘t look like my aunt is.”