Witch Hollow and the Wrong Spell (Book 1)

By I.D. Blind

That spell was wrong!
When three young witches, Electra, Cassandra, and Medea, decided to practice witchcraft, they had no idea what consequences the wrong spell could have. Ghosts that scare the townspeople, and an old witch with an eerie wail are their minor problems.
Meanwhile, sixteen-year-old Eric O’Brian is sent to live in a small town called Hollow, which seems to be stuck in the 1800s. Soon he finds out that the beautiful town full of colorful ravines, green highlands, and dense forests, is not an ordinary one: flowers that whisper, a shop that steals the time, and a hanged man coming to life on the Halloween night lead him to believe that Hollow is a mystical place inhabited by witches.
After meeting the mysterious girls and befriending them, Eric becomes a part of the world with time traveling, medieval bards, flying brooms, and paintings with parallel reality.
Then a murder happens in Hollow...

• Language: English
• Publisher: I.D. Blind
• Release date: Apr 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301352487

I.D. Blind

I.D. Blind is the author of the "Witch Hollow" series.She loves hearing from her readers. You can email her at [e-mail].

Book preview

1. Something Wicked This Way Comes

The town of Hollow was waking up from sleep. At dawn, Medea was passing through the dense bushes and leafy trees of the forest. Her gaze slid upon the ground, looking for the necessary plants. Medea had such keen eyesight and extensive knowledge of magical plants that no petal could escape from her.

The Sight was a gift, one of those she received with birth. The knowledge, however, was the result of long hours spent at the library and at Aunt Andromeda's pantry full of recipes of potions, lists of plants and their drawings, and diaries of witches, bound in old, tattered covers. Dried plants, berries, and herbs were hanging in the dark corners of the pantry; candles, crystals, and mirrors were neatly placed on the shelves, along with jars, bottles, and flasks with liquids of secret origins. The secrets of the pantry were alluring, but entering the place was strictly forbidden. Needless to say that the ban was the force that pushed Medea and her elder sisters to commit an unacceptable act, namely, sneak into the pantry, and with trembling hearts thumb through the recipes, touch the cauldrons and ladles, look inside the flasks, and prepare potions.

Medea was the one who visited the pantry the most. With such keen eyesight, the dim candlelight was enough for her. She read recipe after recipe, and later shared them with her sisters.

And Cassandra was the rarest visitor of the pantry. She always warned about bad signs, had a constant foreboding, and preferred sitting on a swing in the garden, listening to the singing of the birds while Medea slaked her appetite for knowledge.

They communicate so beautifully, Cassandra would say about the mockingbirds and robins. You can learn so much from them by only listening to those feathery beauties, and it’s totally unnecessary to climb into Aunt's pantry. I can sense trouble.

A week ago Cassandra warned about danger, but no one listened to her. Medea was too brave and reckless to be scared by another of Cassandra's omens. The last few months the sisters had been sneaking into the pantry and learning to make potions. They were doing it late at night, when the family was asleep. Until now, everything they had prepared never worked: the withered flowers didn’t bloom; Medea's face didn’t alter, although they made a Disguise Potion; and Cassandra didn’t become invisible after drinking an Invisibility Mixture. But the girls didn’t give up, and continued their studies. This time Medea suggested preparing a Levitation Potion, for as she said, every respectable witch was able to fly, and the witches of Hollow shouldn’t stay behind.

Hollow was an old town divided in two sides by the mighty river Sirtalion, and the two sides were at odds with each other. Once upon a time, a feud broke out between the town's residents. Although those days were now behind, people on the East Bank hadn’t forgotten about the feud. The townspeople dared not go near the small blue castle at the edge of the forest, believing that witches lived there.

Women shunned the residents of the castle, even though no one would publicly declare that the mistress of the house was a dangerous witch. Andromeda behaved politely and smiled civilly while passing through the narrow lanes and alleys of the town, and never shouted curses. Sometimes desperate women would come to her for help—even those who called her a witch behind her back—and she would give them potions or would read their fortunes with a crystal ball, candles, and cards.

Andromeda's three nieces, Electra, Cassandra, and Medea, were not welcome on the East Bank. Instructed by their uncle and aunt, the girls never responded to the insults and offenses. They were also forbidden to show any magical skills around the Easterners.

One morning, Medea shared her plans with Cassandra about making a Levitation Potion.

I don’t know. Cassandra shook her head. I think the recipe is complicated. And I don't want to prepare anything. I’ve been having a bad feeling lately.

I’ll do the hard work, and you will only need to watch the moon and let me know a few days before the phase.

Fine, Cassandra sighed. But my heart feels—

Please, don’t start again. You’ve been listening to the crows so long you have started cawing yourself.

Do you even know how much you can learn from them? Two days ago I was listening to a crow, and it turns out—

Please stop! I don’t want to hear about the crows. But I want to fly like them. Let’s find El and see what she says.

Cassandra and Medea found Electra near the lake, with an album and pencils, sketching the landscape. Medea hurried to tell her sister about her plans.

A Levitation Potion? Why?

Because I want to fly.

But we have brooms and umbrellas for that!

I want to fly without a broom, like the ancient witches did.

Electra laughed. You’re raving, Medea. That’s impossible.

It is possible. I read about it in a book. We only need to prepare the correct potion. And I have already found the recipe in the Encyclopedia of Potions.

Even if you have found the recipe, I don’t think we can prepare it. It has to be something complicated if no one has done it for so many years.

It’s not complicated at all. Just a few plants stirred together. So, shall we make it? Or are you a coward?

It’s not about cowardice. Electra reclined on the thick grass, closed the album and stared at the lake. The weather was calm, and the smooth surface of the lake resembled a round mirror, reflecting Cassandra's favorite birds. The water is quiet, Electra said. There will be a quarrel.

Medea snatched a pebble, and with all her strength cast it into the water. A gurgling sound came out and circles appeared on the surface of the lake.

Not anymore. She smiled.

At other times, Electra would have laughed at her sister’s quick wit, but now she was thoughtful.

Flying without brooms, she muttered. But we don’t fly that much. Or have you forgotten about the Easterners? If they see us in the air—

They won’t! We’ll use the potion near the forest, just like the brooms.

Electra looked at Medea. No black magic.

Of course not.

No curses or hexes.

Absolutely!

You know the recipe?

By heart.

Oh, I don’t really know, we’ve been working on the Invisibility Mixture recently.

Please, please, please, let us do it, Medea pleaded. According to the book, it’s not even a dangerous potion. I’m tired of cooking the Invisibility Mixture. It’s been already a month, and we still haven’t become invisible. I want to try something new.

On their way home, the girls decided when they would practice the witchcraft and assigned the roles: Cassandra would watch the moon, Medea would collect the plants, and Electra would try not to change her mind at the last moment so that their efforts were not wasted. The latter was added by Medea with her usual irony, but the sisters never took offense at the ironic remarks of the youngest of them.

When the girls returned home, loud voices came from their castle. The pebble thrown into the water hadn’t helped. They stopped at the door, not wishing to interfere with the quarrel. As always, they would wait until the brawl was over, and then would head to the kitchen, where Aunt Andromeda had prepared a delicious dinner, and would help her set the table.

The girls were hungry, but Jack, angry as always, had closed the way to the long-awaited dinner. It was better to stand a little while with an empty stomach than to face him when he was so angry, yelling at the top of his voice. The quarrel would end the same way—Jack would run out of the house, leave for the whole night, and be back in the morning.

And so it happened: a young man of seventeen opened the door and walked out, his white Irish setter scampering after him. The girls looked after their cousin and his dog.

Don’t worry about him. A tall man with a kind face appeared in the doorway. It’s his awkward age. Come in, my dears, it’s time for dinner.

Uncle Colin, we have heard about this awkward age for a long time. Will it ever come to an end?

Uncle Colin put his arm around Medea’s shoulder and led the girls into the kitchen. A divine smell had spread all over the place. Aunt Andromeda was getting a pie out of the oven, and without looking up, said to the girls, Hurry up, sweethearts, lay the table.

The cupboards opened as the girls rushed to them, and plates, cups, knives and forks darted out. Each of the girls knew which cupboard she had to run to, and if one of them was late even for a second, the kitchen utensils would fall on the floor. The whole process was divided into seconds—catch the plate, run into the dining room, put it on the table, and be back in time to clasp the salt shaker or the glass. Sometimes the girls would get in the way of each other, and not managing to get back to the cupboard in time, would ask their aunt for help. Having no wish to lose her favorite porcelain plates, she would slow down the pace or would catch a pot in the air and pass it to one of her nieces.

When the table was heavy with a pot of apple soup, roast duck with vegetables, and a raspberry pie with a crunchy crust, the family sat down to dinner. The girls were silent; their uncle and aunt were the only ones talking. First about their son Jack, then about the crop, the weather, and finally about Aunt's sudden departure. Upon hearing the news that their aunt would be visiting their grandparents, the girls exchanged covert glances. Her departure coincided with their plan, and was just what they needed. Otherwise, it was much too hard to hide something from her all-seeing eyes.

The next three nights, Cassandra sat by the window for an hour or two, watching the moon and the constellations, and making records in her notebook. And Medea, with the first rays of the sun, went to the woods, looking for cinquefoil, clover, and belladonna.

The day after Aunt Andromeda had left, Cassandra told Medea about the state of the moon. The best day for conjuring is tomorrow; the phase of the moon and the movements of the planets are favorable.

The next morning, Medea went to the forest for the last time. Just in case, she picked some fern and nettles. On her way home, she stopped near the garden, looked around, and cut off three buds of roses.

You cut off the buds from the garden? Cassandra stared at her sister.

I had to, Medea whispered, emptying the contents of the basket on the table in the pantry. Buds of a beautiful flower are necessary for the potion.

Aunt will kill you if she finds out.

She may see the missing buds, but she doesn’t have to know that I cut them.

They heard steps behind the pantry.

Uncle went to bed, Electra whispered, coming in. It’s time. She closed the door, and the pantry plunged into darkness.

I will light a candle. Cassandra turned to the shelf on the wall and snapped her fingers. The candles, arranged in a row across the shelf, lit up one after another. The dim light gradually increased in strength, and the pantry brightened up.

Let’s do the work, girls, Medea giggled. "Cassie, take a board and a knife and cut the leaves. El, bring a cauldron, kindle a fire, and boil some water. I will get the book."

From the top shelf, Medea took a book in a black leather cover, laid it on the stand, and carefully thumbed through it. The book was old, the pages dry and yellow. She moved her fingers slowly, so as not to spoil the Encyclopedia of Potions.

Reaching the necessary page, Medea examined the drawing, took a piece of chalk, drew a large circle on the wooden table, then copied the symbols from the book inside the circle.

Electra took the chopped leaves from Cassandra and threw them into the boiling water.

Now stir hard, Medea said, and returned to the symbols on the table.

The girls shuddered when a peal of thunder boomed outside. They stared at each other, their faces reflecting the glow of the candles.

They listened. The rumbling repeated.

Thunderstorm, Cassandra said. We shouldn’t cast a spell during a thunderstorm.

Why? Medea asked.

I once overheard Aunt saying it’s dangerous to cast a spell during a thunderstorm.

I haven’t heard anything like that.

Let us stop. I have a bad feeling.

That's enough. We have already begun, we won’t stop!

Cassie, don’t be afraid, Electra took her hand. Nothing bad is going to happen. I hope so, anyway, she added under her breath.

With a sigh Cassandra went back to the leaves on the board. Thumbing through the book, Medea found the next page, ran her eyes through a few paragraphs, and whispered words she didn’t yet understand.

A storm began. The drops hit the walls and the only window of the half-dark pantry. The wind whistled its way through the cracks; the candle flames flickered.

Electra and Cassandra kept throwing the chopped leaves into the cauldron and mixing them. They stirred long and hard, until the leaves formed a greenish paste, then removed the cauldron from the fire and placed it on the table. Medea put white candles around the circle with symbols.

Light the candles, she told her sisters. Electra snapped her fingers. The candles lit up one after the other. Medea took a bottle from the shelf, dripped a bit of colorless liquid into the cauldron, and began stirring the potion with a wooden ladle. She took another flask with blue liquid and dripped some drops into the cauldron. Something inside hissed and began to foam. The girls gathered around the table, watching the potion thicken and rise up.

Medea looked at a page in the book and read aloud:

"The moon, the sun, and the world, hear me now as I'm your lord. The spirits of light take my hand, hear me now as I command."

Electra and Cassandra stared at her.

What’s that? asked Electra.

A spell. Don’t interrupt.

Are you sure about it? Electra asked dubiously.

Hush! You should not interrupt.

Thunder pealed out as silver lightning tore the sky. Cassandra’s blood ran cold, hands began shaking. The harder the rain poured, the more she paled. She squeezed Electra's hand; her eyes begged her to stop the conjuration. They both repented of casting the spell, but Medea was totally absorbed in the action and didn’t respond to their requests.

"Potestatem ventus, da mihi fortis alis. Repeat after me," she said.

Medea, you shouldn’t say that, it’s black magic, Electra told her.

No, it’s not. Everything is checked. It’s an ordinary spell.

I don’t like it. I don’t want to say that. I have a feeling it’s from the Dark Diary.

It’s safe. Let’s do it already.

I won’t say that, Electra almost cried.

Hush, El, Cassandra whispered. Please, let’s finish this.

Medea frowned. Alright, give me the roses.

I think you don’t even know what you’re doing.

I know everything, but you don’t want to help me. Give me the buds! I’ll do it alone.

Time was short, and Medea was acting in haste. She tore the petals off the buds and tossed them into the cauldron. Some of the buds had