Page 66 of Spelling Disaster

The town center is completely dark and silent.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

Much to my surprise, vines in various shades of ebony and midnight have risen to cover most of the buildings. There are no birds or bats calling out to each other here. No animal noises or even the usual rustling of the wind.

Dead silence.

If anyone had gotten trapped inside the barrier who didn’t belong, they had to be smart enough to hide. To lock themselves in their houses and board the windows.

My footsteps echo eerily as I make my way toward the ruins of the library where, I figure, I’m more likely to run into the possessed coven members.

Focus.

There’s no sense in worrying about what might go wrong. Or, more precisely, what will likely go wrong, because I might be book smart but that’s a whole lot different from using my powers for combat.

Rounding the last corner, my focus isn’t on the shell of the library or the crumbling brick walls. It’s completely focused on the members of the coven standing stock still in a circle on the outskirts of the forest. They’ve congregated on the small square of grass with the dark press of trees an ominous backdrop to this whole thing.

I barely hear a breath.

They stand as still as statues, with even the light of the moon and stars overhead blotted out. Each of them faces the center of the circle, arms outstretched.

There is no movement and no light. No candles or sacred flame to guard against the darkness. The members of the coven have their faces tilted up to the sky and their arms tense in front of them, waiting.

Waiting for what?

Hardly daring to think, I take a step closer, glancing around the area. The Horned God isn’t anywhere nearby but I sense him, at the edges of my awareness while he waits to strike. A collective inhalation sounds louder than an explosion and I jerk my attention back to the coven circle.

As one, they step to the side to reveal the hidden space at the center of their circle. And there, seated by a hollowed-out tree trunk in the space between bodies, is my mother.

“Mom.”

She’s okay. She’s alive—no one has absorbed her power yet. I hurry forward, stopping when I’m close enough to see the truth.

She’s been affected the same way as the others.

Her attention falls on me, her eyes glowing green. She swings her arm right and the other coven members follow her lead until they are all pointing at me.

Oh no. This isn’t good.

My feet freeze to the ground, more out of fear than any kind of spell work and the rest of me freezes like ice. Frost has my bones threatening to crack and the panic inside of me turns to outright terror.

What do I have with me that can break a spell of this magnitude? Mentally I try to think about everything I’ve got, nothing sticking. Nothing that will make a difference.

That’s when Mom starts to chant.

I hear the crinkle of growing things in fast-forward before I see any actual plant growth, and seconds later vines sprout from my mother’s feet. They shift, rolling over each other like a pit of snakes, and cover the ground around the witches in a circle. The vines circle their ankles, climbing up pant legs.

Her chanting is summoning the Horned God.

And when he appears, we’re all done for.

“No!” The word erupts from my mouth right as I lurch forward. “Mom, don’t do it! Stop chanting.”

I sprint to the circle, tugging at the vines to break their hold on the coven members. They’re iron and unbreakable, growing thicker even as I watch.

I’ve got to get to my mom.

“Mom, stop,” I yell. “You have to stop! Don’t call him here. He can’t appear!” My shouting bounces right off her. I grab those vines, using every ounce of strength to break them and do the impossible. They’re too strong.

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