Witch Ends: Witch School

By Katie Tate

It's the beginning of the holiday break, but Evie Marston isn't feeling the Christmas spirit. And Birdie, Evie's grandmother and self-proclaimed witch, thinks she knows why. After Evie confronted the Creature of the Chasm something happened to magic and without it Christmas just isn't the same. Decorations have been replaced by store advertisements, and everyone has started referring to Christmas as Shopping Day.

Evie doesn't know why or how that happened, but she does know that somehow, someway she must summon and restore the magic the earth and all her people have lost.

Witch End was originally published as Witch Wishes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eclectic Books
• Release date: Feb 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393220930

Book preview

WITCH END

By Katie Tate

Rainbows, silent stars and musical winds

Let peace settle your soul for the magic begins.

It’s the beginning of the holiday break, but Evie Marston isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit. And Birdie, Evie's grandmother and self-proclaimed witch, thinks she knows why. After Evie confronted the Creature of the Chasm something happened to magic and without it Christmas just isn't the same. Decorations have been replaced by store advertisements, and everyone has started referring to Christmas as Shopping Day.

Evie doesn’t know why or how that happened, but she does know that somehow, someway she must summon and restore the magic the earth and all her people have lost.

Witch End was originally published as Witch Wishes.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Isat on the split rail fence that separated the Henderson’s property from Uncle Mitch’s, Josh stood directly in front of me, his torso inches from my knees. Despite the snow covered field, the icicles dripping from the trees and eaves, and the sharp wind cutting through my fur-lined cape, I was warm and flushed by Josh’s nearness.

His excitement made him look young, and just for a brief second, I saw him as a kid, about the age he’d been when I’d moved to Uncle Mitch’s house after my parents’ divorce. He’d been older than me, of course, his three years my senior launching him into a stratosphere where my Barbies and I could never venture, not even in my imagination. And so now, after 8 years, it seemed impossible he could stand in front of me, his eyes gleaming with an emotion I didn’t know how to interpret, and say, I bought you something.

For Christmas? I asked.

What? Confusion clouded his expression.

And just like that, the happiness I’d felt, the excitement of our first kiss faded. I touched his hand, and he intertwined his fingers with mine. He felt warm and solid, and his touch sent tingles up my arm, even though a dozen alarm bells jangled in my head. A skin-pricking sensation told me we weren’t alone.

I glanced around at the deserted fields stretching in all directions. The dark woods loomed in the distance. A pair of goldfinches flitted through the gray sky, their brightly colored feathers a sharp contrasting with the snowy landscape. Still, despite the quiet surrounding us, I couldn’t shake the being-watched-feeling.

Christmas, I repeated. It’s a major holiday.

Stepping closer, he drew my hand to his mouth and ran his lips over my knuckles. The prickles spread like fire, warming me from the top of my head, and down. He acted as if I hadn’t spoken.

Do you want to see what I got you? he asked, flipping his dark hair off his forehead.

I nodded, because when he looked at me with his big blue eyes, the only answer I could ever offer would be yes.

Cupping my cheek in his hand, he bent forward and kissed me. With his lips warm against mine, I found it hard to think of anything, or anyone but him and the tingles running up, down, and over my skin.

Is that it? I asked. Because that’s what I got you, too.

Good gift, he said, placing his forehead against mine so our eyes were just inches apart. But no, I got you something else.

They’re not mutually exclusive, right? If I accept your gift, can I still kiss you?

Anytime, he said.

Mmm, but probably not in front of your family.

He pulled away and lifted his eyebrows. Yeah, that’s going to be awkward.

I have to tell Bree.

I’m sure she already knows, he said.

What about your mom?

She probably knows, too. She has serious mom-dar.

I nodded, agreeing. Mrs. Henderson really did seem to have a heaping helping of intuition when it came to her kids. She could spot lie-loaded conversations before a word was ever uttered, and she probably knew about a crush long before her child even attempted to flirt. This surely came in handy for her, but it caused a lot of havoc and frustration for her kids...and girls-next-door who happened to have a thing for her son. If Mrs. Henderson could read her children, she could also sniff out a girl crushing on Josh.

Let’s not worry about anyone else right now. Josh planted a quick kiss on my lips, leaving me hungry for more. I want to show you your present. Taking my hand, he pulled me off the fence. You okay? Are you going to be warm enough?

I nodded. My head still felt a smidge fuzzy, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my recent accident and head injury, or because kissing Josh made me dizzy.

Something in my expression must have concerned him, because he stopped, stepped in front of me and turned his back. Get on, he said.

And in a flash, I was little again, climbing on for a piggy-back ride, something I must have done a hundred times in the years before there ever was an Evie-and-Josh, back when I was just his little sister’s best friend. I wanted to ask him when he started thinking of me differently, as someone other than the sidekick of one of his life’s biggest annoyances, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to answer, just like I knew I couldn’t say when I’d first decided I’d rather kiss Josh than breathe. Wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, I decided the exact beginning of the relationship didn’t matter. It wasn’t a race with a starting line. What mattered was if we ever got close to the finishing line, we’d find a way to stay on the course.

Josh tromped across the field, holding me as easily as if I was Gabby, his baby sister. I guessed we were headed for the barn, but I also noticed we stayed close to the woods, on the distant side of the shed, far away from the windows, and the spying eyes of his siblings inside his house. As the trees stretched their branches toward us and the goldfinches swooped in the air, the skin-crawling feeling of being watched returned. I tightened my hold on Josh.

Inside the dimly lit barn, Josh loosened his grip, and I slid off. A fiberglass boat stood on its stern, propped up against the wall beside a collection of fishing poles, nets, and waders. Mr. Henderson used the opposite side of the barn as a wood shop. Countless tools lined his workbench, and a large fluorescent lamp hung from the ceiling.

Josh went to the boat, reached behind it, and pulled out a package about the size of a bread box. It’s not a big deal, he said, flushing. It was wrapped in brightly colored paper covered with pictures of balloons, which seemed wrong, but glancing at his happy, hopeful expression, also right.

I’ll love it whatever it is, I told him.

Open it, he urged.

You don’t want me to wait for Christmas?

Why do you keep mentioning that word? Annoyance flashed across his face. I want you to open it now.

Smiling, I tore it open. Ice skates, black with red racing stripes, built for speed.

I bought them at a used sporting goods store.

They’re perfect, I said, hoping I wasn’t lying. I’d never tried ice-skating before, at least, not on real skates. I’d slipped my way across frozen Peter’s Pond hundreds of times, but not with anything sharp or pointy attached to my feet. I ran my finger across the blade.

They should fit, Josh continued. You let Bree borrow your shoes and I took one with me to the shop. Not that it matters. Clayton Carlson works there, and he told me I could return them if they don’t work out.

I imagined inching around the perimeter of the lake, clasping onto Josh with a death grip. I slid him a glance, wondering if he’d foreseen that, too. Want to try them out? I asked.

His face brightened and the apprehension in his eyes disappeared. Yeah! He reached behind the boat and pulled out his own, well-worn skates. I thought you might say that. But...are you sure you’re up to it?

I feel fine, and I’m tired of being babied.

My dad, stepmother, uncle, and even normally cranky Mrs. Mateo, our housekeeper, had been fussing over me ever since my accident a week ago. Sick of being treated like a princess on a pillow, I’d escaped with Josh. Occasionally, my ribs would twinge with a complaint, and my head would throb, I got tired easily, and I’d been really bored, which meant I slept a lot, which made my head fuzzy...it all seemed like a vicious circle, and besides all the physical trauma, there were also all the unanswered questions. My memories didn’t line up with what anyone else could tell me about the night I fell at The Creature of the Chasm State Park.

Except for Birdie.

Evie?

Josh startled me out of my thoughts. I smiled up at him and took his hand. Do you want to walk?

Let’s take the bike, he said. As long as you think you’ll be warm enough.

I shot a glance at Josh’s dirt bike propped between the boat and a stack of boxes. I’m good, I said, tying the laces of the skates together and looping them around my neck.

Yeah, you are, Josh said, leaning in to kiss me again and plop a helmet on my head.

I settled on the back of the bike behind Josh while he gunned the engine. The bike sputtered a few times before it roared to life. Moments later, we were cruising down the road, bypassing downtown and avoiding the busier streets. I caught a glimpse of the town green.

It looked different somehow, bleaker, although I couldn’t say why. In the distance, a gazebo stood on a small hill beside St. Mark’s stone chapel, the oldest building in Woodinville. Something nagged in the back of my mind, like a song wanting to be repeated, but the only lyrics I could recall were la, la, la. I tightened my grip on Josh and leaned against him. The skates pinched me, and I had to ease away.

Black and barren trees stood like sentinels along The King’s Highway. Silver ice clung to the bushes edging the road. I had forgotten we’d have to pass Birdie’s house to get to Peter’s Pond.

I bit my lip as we roared past her driveway. Birdie’s house was as lean and bare as the meat on her bones—long stretches of hardwood floors, soaring windows, and a circular staircase that twirled toward heaven. I guessed the house was old, given the stately mansions in the neighborhood, but I couldn’t have pinpointed an era by the exterior architecture. I loved it, and I loved the fact that one day it would be mine. My feelings for Birdie were a lot more difficult to define. I loved her honesty, her ability to speak her mind without worrying what anyone else would think of her. Her tiny body radiated energy. She seemed much more alive than anyone else I knew. And yet, despite her frankness, I didn’t completely trust her.

A small wooden sign marked the entrance to Peter’s Pond Park. If not for a wide swatch of dirt cutting through the forest, it would be easily missed. The park contained two picnic tables, a trash can, and a few fallen trees strategically placed to serve as benches in a small clearing.

Josh cut the engine, rolled the bike to a nearby tree, and climbed off. I followed him to a picnic table and sat down. My gaze wandered back to Birdie’s house, barely visible through the thick woods.

Go and talk to her, a voice inside me urged.

I told the voice to shut up. Besides, everything I needed to say couldn’t be said in front of Josh. If I started talking about The Creature of the Chasm and disappearing magic he’d think I’d hit my head too hard. He’d probably tell my Uncle Mitch, who would tell my dad, who would make me go to a doctor at the least, and a therapist at the worst. And my dad would tell