Page 4 of Thistle Thorns

I realized then I would never be a robed elder of the Circle of Nine, not until whoever they were protecting me from had been eliminated as a threat. And since they’d chosen to hide me all these years, instead of proactively hunting down the one seeking me, then he or she must be very powerful indeed. The Hawthornes weren’t known to leave an enemy alive that they might then have to face again.

“Oh, honey,” Mom whispered, holding her arms out to me.

My weight shifted forward, but my feet remained exactly where they were. I wanted to rush forward, to hug my mother, to be swarmed by my family’s embrace. And yet…

They had known all this time about the prophecy Great-Uncle Hare had uncovered, about the person who hunted me, and they had said nothing.

Did they think me so naïve and powerless that I couldn’t be trusted with the truth? Had I known what I would be facing since the day I was born, maybe I could’ve prepared better for it. And thistle thorns, what was it already?

I leaned back into Arthur’s hand. “I… I’m not ready for that yet,” I told her.

Tears brimmed in Mom’s eyes, but she clamped her lips and gave me an understanding nod. For a moment, I almost didn’t believe it. Forsythia “Let’s Have It Out Right Now So It Doesn’t Fester” Hawthorne was actually giving me… space?

My chest tightened as I was swarmed with second thoughts, but Arthur’s hand on my back seemed to send an additional surge of warmth, supporting my decision to stand up for myself, however that looked.

Aunt Peony’s words had struck a chord with Grandmother, though, and she collected herself. Gone was the frazzled woman who’d just had her last forty years’ worth of work unraveled, not to mention a member of her coven stolen. The matriarch of the Hawthorn coven remained, and she was seizing control of this situation.

“Hyacinth, Badger, and Otter, create a protective circle,” she ordered.

As a unit of three, and what’s more, a unit of a wife, husband, and their son, their magic would be stronger than if any other threesome of witches had been called to the same task. Except Grandmother and her daughters Mom and Aunt Peony, but Grandmother had some explaining to do, and she knew it.

The three witches spread equidistant from each other across the moonflower grove and chanted an incantation in low-toned voices. As green threads of magic began to form along the ground, those outside the circle—the Crafting Circle ladies, Lewellyn, and Ame, quickly hopped over the boundary before it took full effect and sealed them outside. Flora sent Grandmother a scathing look for not initially including them but otherwise kept her mouth shut.

“Tod, remove those leaves,” Grandmother said, pointing to the spot where the portal had been.

Marten had been right about Dad possessing air magic, and with a sweep of his hand, the earth was free of not just the leaves, but every ounce of forest debris. Twigs, moss, leaf mold, it was all gone, and a bare patch of earth remained, solidified unnaturally in a swirl-like pattern.

From her pocket, Grandmother produced what looked like a silver cigarette case. She withdrew a yellow-headed Illuminate match, struck it, and ordered, “Flash of light, reveal to our sight.”

There was a collective gasp as not a ward was illuminated by the magic, but a glittering red thread exactly like the one I’d seen emanate from Shari’s chest. It rose from the center of the frozen swirl, straight as a redwood tree, and shot straight into the sky where it disappeared from sight in the storm. It pulsed like it had its own heartbeat, little beads of brighter light chasing after each other in a rate that was definitely, if minutely, slowing before our very eyes.

“The portal might be gone, but an echo of it remains,” Grandmother explained. “Even that will vanish in three nights’ time. Since demons are unable to cross realms unless summoned—”

“Or birthed,” Shari spat from where she clung tightly to Daphne.

No one said anything for a long moment as we each processed what Shari’s words implied, some more surprised than others at the revelation.

Grandmother swallowed, smoothing her features, and continued, “We must be the ones to summon Arcadis. Or at least get his attention, and all before that echo dies out. Otherwise it will be the equivalent of sending someone a letter but not knowing their address. To do that, we’ll need supplies and ingredients—”

“You’re not summoning a demon to Redbud.” Flora brandished her glowing beechwood wand from Daphne’s shoulder. “We might be a small town in the middle of nowhere, but it’s our town and we’re not going to let it turn into a hellmouth!”

“Summoning a demon”—Aunt Hyacinth wet her lips—“but that’s black magic, Aunt.”

Grandmother straightened. “Only if you bring it into this world. Which we are very much not doing. This is the equivalent of a magical video conference call and nothing else.”

“If it’s ‘nothing else,’ how do we get my son back?” Dad asked.

“First things first, Tod,” came her crisp reply. “If you’re thinking of somehow piggybacking on whatever link we establish, you can forget it. That portal is shut. And it won’t open again without Arcadis’s ring or an expenditure of magic that’s guaranteed to kill the witch attempting to pry it open.”

“His ring?” I asked, hope fluttering to life in my chest like the wings of a butterfly newly emerged from its chrysalis.

I opened my hand to reveal the demon’s glittering gold ring tacked to my palm with my blood and Sawyer’s hair. Upon closer inspection, it wasn’t the gold itself that was emitting that star-like glow, but the five diamonds embedded in the band.

“It slipped off his finger when we were fighting in the portal,” I explained before my family could demand an explanation.

Mom released a hopeful cry. “So that means—”

“We have a bargaining chip,” Grandmother interrupted. “That ring is useless to us, but it is very important to Arcadis. It’s what allows him such charming little visits to the mortal realm to kidnap witches. He’ll most certainly want it back. Well done, Meadow.”

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