Maudlin's Mayhem (Bewitching Bedlam #2)(28)

Zara, my mother, had been particularly cruel, calling him a loser and telling him she wished he had died during the attack so she could at least remarry. I couldn’t take it any longer.

“You bitch. Leave him alone. He was out hunting to fill your belly, and you gave no thought to the fact that he almost lost his life for you and for us. So help me, I hope to hell you hurt yourself so bad that one day you’re the one who’s disabled and can’t take care of yourself. Then see just how welcome you’ll be.” I smacked her across the face, hard, and ran out as she began screaming at me.

I decided to go see old Auntie Berma, who lived deep in the woodland, to ask if she could help us. Auntie Berma had a reputation for loving children and hating adults, and all the kids in the area knew they could go to her when things were bad at home and she’d be there to listen and—if she could—help out. I was now an adult, but she had watched me grow up and we had a gentle friendship that transcended age.

I ran barefoot through the tall grass, moist with dew, darting between the raindrops that threatened to come. We were in a glen protected by magic so the witch hunters couldn’t find us, though now I was pretty good at sensing them. As I took a shortcut through the Singing Grove, a Faerie Barrow in a tall circle of stones that continually hummed with a resonating pulse, I paused. The smell of smoke filled the air. Curious, I began to follow the scent, traipsing through the woods till I came to a clearing.

I was on the outskirts of Joseph Stanton’s farm. He was a mandrake farmer, and all the witches came from far and wide to buy their roots from him. He also sold eggs and pork, bacon and milk. Joseph’s wife was the local herb woman, and taught wortcunning to all the young witches, and her laugh made everybody around laugh with her.

But something was wrong. The smell of wood smoke was too strong for the early evening, and I could hear the crackle of flames. I darted along the side of the house—it looked empty, and I remembered they had decided to take a caravan around the countryside selling herbs and eggs and vegetables. As I passed the house, I saw the barn was blazing. The thatched roof had caught fire and it was raging out of control.

I started to run back to the village, so that I could find someone skilled in water witchery to put out the blaze, when I heard it. A faint cry, almost like that of a cat. I paused, listening, and then heard it again. But in that mew, I heard fear and a cry for help.

I raced over to the barn and tugged open the door. The flames were licking at the walls, and the roof had already fallen in several places. The cries were coming from the nearest corner to the door, but a wall of flames stood between me and them. I caught my breath, wondering if I could do it. My element was fire, and I was considered quite powerful for my age. I had never been able to fully merge with the flames, even though I could summon them.

As I squinted through the smoke, I saw a sparkle from the corner—it was a kitten, small and ginger, with long hair, and he was crying frantically. The flames were making their way toward him. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and reached into the fire, whispering to it, feeling its vibrant hunger against my heart. The flames were eager, gobbling the wood, burning brighter as they went. I focused on their need, and then whispered the spell I had seen my mentor practicing.



Flames burn brightly, flame and spark,

But your wall must break and part.

Move aside, form a door,

Flame and fire, I implore.



As I opened my eyes, I was startled to see them obey. The flames parted, forming a door. I knew I had to move fast, so I dashed through the break in the wall and grabbed the kitten. Then, before the flames could cascade back together, I raced back through and out of the barn. The next moment, the entire ceiling collapsed and the barn was engulfed in the frenzy of the fire.

I held up the kitten. He looked at me, and with a gentle tap, touched my face. I knew that I had found a dear friend. In my heart, I knew we were meant to be together. Carrying him close to me, I headed toward Auntie Berma’s, knowing she would be able to help me with him.





SHAKING OUT OF my memories, I slid out of the car and walked across the beach to a log by the shore. As I settled down, I thought about how long ago it had been that I first found Bubba. I wasn’t ready to let go of him. Not at all.





Chapter 8





AS THE WAVES crashed in, I stared at the water, resting my arms on my knees. I thought back to the discussion of the night before. Now that we knew Bubba was under a hex, I needed to find out who did it and why.

There were any number of ways to curse somebody. Most witches were cautious about dabbling with darker magic because it could backfire so easily. I had never really feared putting whammies on people because I reserved them for when the situation was dire and the person in question really deserved it. But then, again, I was strong with my magic, and I had learned long ago that sometimes, you had to stand up for yourself.

The scent of seaweed and brine swept over me. To the east, I could see the coast of upper Western Washington. To the west, I could see a faint glimpse of Saturna Island. Bedlam was north of Orcas Island, exposed to the winds that swept down from the north, out of the Strait of Georgia and the Salish Sea. The Pacific Ocean fueled this area, sweeping in from the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The waters were cold, even in summer, and deep and dark.

When I had moved away from Seattle, I had left the city behind and with it, my ex. But now, I wondered—had he finally figured out how to have his revenge on me? Was Craig behind the hexes?