Secrets in Phoenix Page 10

  I hit the floor with a smack.

  Lucky it isn’t tiled, I thought vaguely.

  “Sam?” I tried to call out to him.

  I heard his voice return to me, subdued and yet urgent at the same time. “We’ll be okay,” he assured me.

  I felt him squeeze my hand, and then everything went dark.

  Chapter Eight

  Secrets Be Known

  Twelve-year-old Wilber Ballester stood at the pine counter in the Phoenix Holt bakery. The smell of fresh pastries made his stomach growl. He gave it a little pat while Henry the baker slipped a loaf of bread into a paper bag.

  “You tell that mother of yours that I’ll be wanting payment tomorrow,” Henry groused, thrusting the bag into Wilber’s hands.

  “I’ll bring the money first thing, sir,” said Wilber. He cast his eyes down to the floor, unruly tendrils of brown hair drooping over his brow.

  “I’m sick and tired of you Ballesters,” Henry grumbled under his breath.

  Wilber walked out the door, pretending not to have heard Henry’s final comment. But he had heard it. He’d heard all the snide remarks and whispers around town.

  Peasants, they’d deemed his family. And worse, Witches.

  Of course, the Ballesters were good enough to call upon when somebody wanted an illness cured or an ailment healed. Yes, the neighbours would come knocking on their door at all hours of the night—less chance of being spotted at night time—begging for one of Sulinda Ballester’s potions.

  Sulinda, Wilber’s mother, was an apothecary by trade. Of course, no one ever paid her for her service. And she’d never pushed for payment, either. She’d say, “As long as I’ve got my two children and my happy heart, I’ve got all the riches I could ever desire.”

  But a happy heart couldn’t pay the debt collector.

  Wilber sighed. Although he would never admit it aloud, he was ashamed—ashamed that they couldn’t pay the baker. Or the grocer. Or the milkman. Ashamed that his father had left them. Ashamed that his mother was a witch. And ashamed that he was, too.

  “Hey, Ballester!” someone shouted his name.

  Wilber cringed. He glanced across the cobbled street. On the opposite side of the road, a few trees and lampposts lined the dusty pavement and a dozen or so locals strolled in and out of shops, going about their business as usual.

  One smartly dressed boy in a flat cap stopped and waved.

  I recognise him, Wilber thought. He’s a few years above me at school.

  The boy jogged across the road towards Wilber. He had a rolled-up newspaper tucked under his arm and the sleeves of his shirt were pushed back to his elbows.

  “You’re Wilber Ballester, aren’t you?” the boy asked. His cap was lowered to shade his eyes from the glaring sunlight.

  “Y-yes,” Wilber stammered.

  “I’m Jesse,” the boy said, with a self-assured grin. He offered his hand for Wilber to shake.

  Wilber timidly obliged.

  “I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Jesse told him. “You and your family… Miracle workers,” he stated.

  Of course, Wilber thought, suddenly remembering where he had last seen the boy. He called at the house the other week to collect a remedy for his mother.

  “My mother’s right as rain after that medicine,” Jesse went on. “Sulinda said it’d take a week or two to clear, and she was spot on. This morning, my ol’ ma wakes up and she’s better than she’s ever been! I couldn’t believe my eyes. She’s been sick for months, and then suddenly… poof!”

  Wilber smiled bashfully.

  “I’m telling you,” Jesse’ eyes glinted in awe, “she was sick for months. My mother, that is.” He adjusted the rim of his cap. “Anyway, she’s gone to the market today. She’ll be getting a pound of liver to take to your family. It’s her way of saying thank you. But I don’t know… liver isn’t much of a thank you, if you ask me.”

  Wilber’s face lit up. “I like liver.”

  Jesse grinned. “I’d say that’s lucky, then. And what about you, kid? The carnival’s starting tonight. You going?”

  Wilber blushed. “Oh, no. I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Jesse frowned. “It’s only here for three days. By Monday morning it’ll be just an empty field again.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be going at all,” Wilber admitted.

  “Why not?”

  “Everyone in town will be there.”

  “Exactly!” Jesse exclaimed. “You’d be off your head to miss it!”

  It’s alright for him, Wilber thought. People like him. He’s popular. I wouldn’t be welcome there.

  “I’m not sure…” Wilber uttered aloud. “I don’t think my mother wants to go. I’ve got a baby sister, Ness, and she’ll be needing to be put to bed early—”

  “So come with me,” Jesse offered. “I’ll be there on my own, anyway. I could use the company. I’d go raving mad if I didn’t have anyone to talk to!”

  Wilber fidgeted nervously. “Um…”

  “Come on,” Jesse cajoled. “You’ll have a blast.”

  “Okay,” Wilber agreed reluctantly. “I’ll have to ask my mother first, though.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll come by your house after supper.”

  #

  “Sophie? Sophie, wake up.”

  I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder.

  Was it morning already? No. My eyelids felt far too heavy for it to be morning.

  “Sophie.” There was that voice again. Who was that?

  “Huh?” I mumbled.

  “Open your eyes,” the voice said.

  “Ness?”

  “Open your eyes,” she said again. Yes, it was definitely Ness. And she sounded cross.

  This time, I forced my eyelids open.

  Where was I? Not in my bedroom, that was for sure.

  Oh, no. Suddenly it all came back to me: I was in the apothecary room. The spell... A hazy memory of a dream lingered in my consciousness. I had dreamed about Wilber as a young boy. Buying… bread?

  I blinked.

  Ness glowered down at me. “Concentrate,” she told me sternly.

  I blinked a few more times, focusing on her bonnet of grey-brown curls.

  There was a groggy slur from beside me. I craned my neck in time to see Sam, stirring from what looked like a deep slumber.

  “Sam,” Ness spoke to him now. “Open your eyes.”

  “No,” he groaned.

  “Open your eyes,” Ness ordered.

  Sam rolled over. “No. I’m sleeping. Crazy woman.”

  Ness let out an irritable sigh. “You’re not sleeping. You’re under a spell. Now look at me, both of you.”

  I did as she said. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that we were in trouble. And if she told me to jump, the only thing I’d be asking was how high.

  “I’m sorry,” I offered meekly, sitting up and rubbing my sore head. “We didn’t mean to sneak around in your room. We just—”

  “No time for that now,” Ness interrupted. “Come on. Up, up, up. We must get out of the cottage.”

  Sam and I shared a bewildered look.

  “You’re not kicking us out, are you?” Sam choked.

  “Yes. I’m kicking all of us out. Now, come along. Quick, quick.” Ness helped me to my feet. “I don’t know how you managed to get in here in the first place,” she muttered, confounded. “The door’s been locked the whole time!”

  Sam staggered to his feet. “What’s going on?”

  “Quickly,” Ness said again. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  Obediently, Sam and I headed for the duct tunnel.

  Ness frowned at us. “This way, dears,” she said, gesturing to the far wall.

  We stared blankly at her.

  A look of recognition spread over Ness’s lined face. “Oh,” she drew out the word with a little chuckle. “So that’s how you did it! You’ve been crawling through the vent. My, my. You must have been terribly determined to get in here. You do know there’
s a door, don’t you?”

  I saw Sam’s shoulders sag. “There’s a door?” he groaned.

  “Where?” I asked. I couldn’t see a door. Only shelves and jars.

  Ness toddled to the back wall and gave it a shove. Before my very eyes, all of the shelves from ‘G’ to ‘J’ swung backwards, revealing a black, iron stairwell.

  “Come along,” Ness beckoned to us. “Make haste.”

  We slipped through the exit and embarked down the metallic staircase. In single file, we descended the steps, spiralling into the darkness below.

  When Ness reached the final step, she called back to us. “There’s a bit of a drop down,” she warned. “I’d say it’s two or three feet. Then you’ll need to take a sharp left, and remember to duck on your way out. We don’t want you getting any bumps to the head, now, do we?”

  Needless to say, I had no idea what she was talking about. But I was beginning to learn to just to go with it.

  So, after Ness hopped off the stairwell, I took my turn. I dropped down, landing beside a heap of chopped logs. Following Ness’s instructions, I stepped over the logs, and ducked beneath an archway.

  Oh. My. God.

  That was the fireplace! I realised as I clambered out into the den. The secret stairwell was in the chimney.

  Sam appeared behind me. “No way,” he murmured.

  Ness gave him an approving smile. “Yes, dear. Now, get a move on.”

  “Where are we going?” I stammered.

  “Averett Academy,” Ness replied.

  “School?” Sam exclaimed. “No way! I’m not going back to that place.”

  Ness held up her index finger in a no-nonsense fashion. “No arguments, deary. We’re safer at the Academy.”

  Safer? I froze. “Is it not safe here?”

  Ness shook her head. “Not if there are Divellions on our scent.” She hustled us into the hallway.

  Divellions? Wait. I know that word from somewhere…

  “Divellions,” I sounded it out on my tongue. “Mr. Garret told us about them.”

  Ness paused at the front door. “Oh he did, did he?” she said, tutting. “Oh well, I dare say it matters now,” she muttered. “I knew you’d find out sooner or later. Although I must admit, I didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Sam slapped his hand to his brow. “I’m lost.”

  “Walk and talk,” Ness advised, flinging the cottage door open and leading us into the moonlit garden.

  It was dark outside. Well into the evening, I guessed. Sam and I stumbled through Ness’s flower garden, unable to see the pebbled path beneath our feet.

  “Tell us what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. “And where’s Todd?”

  “Todd’s at school,” Ness answered. “When I couldn’t find you two, Todd let slip that you might be in my apothecary room. I thought it was best to send him back to the Academy. He’ll be waiting for us there.”

  Sam came to an abrupt halt. “Todd’s at school?”

  “Yes,” Ness confirmed.

  “And you want us to go to school?” he said. “Now?”

  “Yes. Walk and talk, dear,” Ness told him. “Walk and talk.”

  We began bumbling forward again.

  “Did you hear me? I said I didn’t want to go back there,” Sam repeated as we began our ascent up the wooded slope.

  “I’m aware of that, dear.”

  “So I don’t get a choice? Is that it?”

  I knew Sam well enough to know how his mind operated. He was the kind of person who would thrive off a battle of wills. It was one of the things that drove our grandfather nuts. Not that Sam was unreasonable, but he was hot-headed and impossibly stubborn. I knew, without a doubt, that if I hadn’t been standing right there, and if Todd wasn’t currently being held prisoner at the school, Sam would have bolted. He’d have been halfway to China before Ness even had the chance to blink.

  As it was, over the years I’d become quite the pro at defusing Sam’s flight-risk. He was going to need answers. Convincing answers.

  “Ness?” I trotted to keep in stride with her. “Why is the cottage not safe? Please, you have to tell us what’s going on.”

  Ness sighed. “You’re right. You deserve the truth…”

  I felt my stomach knot.

  “It was your grandfather’s wish,” Ness carried on indistinctly, “and I promised that I’d respect that. I didn’t agree with him, mind you.”

  “His wish?” I echoed.

  “Witchcraft,” Ness clarified. “Wilber wanted nothing to do with it. And he didn’t want the three of you having anything to do with it, either.”

  Sam stopped walking again. “You spoke to Wilber about us?”

  “From time to time, yes.”

  In the shadows of the night, I saw Sam’s body tense.

  “So, you were all in on it?” he stammered. “It was all lies?”

  Ness met his stare. “Not lies, dear. Well, yes, perhaps they were lies. But they were never intended to hurt you.”

  Sam laughed resentfully. “Oh, well, that makes it alright, then.”

  “Yes, I suppose it does,” Ness replied. “Keep walking, dear. Walk and talk, remember?”

  We shuffled on.

  My mind raced. “So you were in contact with Wilber?”

  “On occasion,” Ness admitted. She linked her arm through mine, hurrying me along through the maze of towering sycamores.

  “But you told us you’d lost touch with him,” I stuttered. “Why?”

  Sam raked his hands through his hair. “Because she doesn’t respect us enough to tell us the truth!”

  Now it was Ness’s turn to stop walking. “You must understand, I had to respect Wilber’s wishes. He didn’t want you finding out about your abilities.”

  Abilities. There was that word again. “And by abilities you mean…” I trailed off.

  Ness shot me a compassionate smile. “Witchcraft.”

  “So it’s true?” I asked shakily. “We really are witches?”

  “Ballesters are witches, yes.”

  I hesitated. “All of us?”

  “Yes.” Ness began walking again.

  “Wait!” Sam called after her. “Hold up. So, are you telling us that we had to leave the cottage because we’re…”

  “Witches,” I finished for him.

  “I suppose you could put it that way,” Ness agreed. “After all, it’s not a safe place for a witch to be right now.”

  “Divellions,” I backtracked.

  “Yes.” Ness seemed disconcerted to hear that word coming from my mouth. “If I’d known you’d found my apothecary room, I would have warned you. Please understand, I’m not angry that you’ve used the book. After all, it’s as much yours as it is mine. However, there are only two safe times to brew a potion, and they are dusk and dawn. Only in the hours between night and day can the potion’s smoke go undetected.”

  I envisioned the opaque billows of black smoke rising from our brew and drifting into the chimney pipe.

  “Divellions caught the scent,” I guessed.

  Ness chortled to herself. “I’d be very surprised if they didn’t. Divellions live for power. Even the slightest trace of it would not go unnoticed.”

  Sam jogged at my side, his face drawn. “What are the Divellions? Cops?”

  “Police?” Ness guffawed. “Of course not, Sam. A Divellion is a creature of darkness. A power hunter. If they pick up the scent of a brewing potion, they will stop at nothing to steal the power.”

  “So these things steal your potions?” Sam presumed.

  “No. The potions are nothing. It’s the people who make them that source the power.”

  “Us?” My stomach flipped. “They want us?”

  “They want your power,” Ness corrected. “And the only way to take your power is to…”

  “Kill us?” Sam deduced.

  “Which is why we’ll be safer at the Academy.”

  Panic rose in my throat. “What makes you
think school will be safer?”

  “Ah. That’s another thing I perhaps should have told you earlier,” said Ness sheepishly. “The boys who attend Averett Academy are—”

  “Don’t tell me,” Sam cut her off. “Witches?”

  “No. More like soldiers. Our soldiers.”

  Her words made my blood run cold. “What do you mean?”

  “The boys are gifted. You may have seen it in their strength and agility. They are natural combatants, here to protect us and guard what’s left of our land.”

  I thought back to Jaxon—how he’d lifted me clean off the ground when I’d stumbled, how he’d fired the archer’s bow with such incredible precision…

  “You see,” Ness continued, “a long time ago, Phoenix Holt was more than just woodland and hills.” She let her aged fingers skim a tree trunk as we strode past it. “It was a thriving town. Of course, the original town was a few miles south of here. It moved after the Divellions claimed the land as their own. Those who survived—myself, Wilber, Mabel Winterford—”

  “Mabel?” I choked. “The school receptionist?”

  “Yes. And some of your teachers, too, like Mr. Garret and Mr. Hardy. There weren’t many of us left, but we made our home in the sanctuary of the woodland, and we joined together to create an army…”

  As Ness talked, my head spun. Surely this was some sort of joke? Witches? Divellions? And what did that make Jaxon? Some sort of superhuman soldier? Again I pictured him with the archer’s bow. The litheness and prowess of his movements…

  No. This couldn’t be true.

  “Jaxon,” I blurted out. “He’s one of your soldiers?”

  Ness gave me what appeared to be a rueful smile. “Yes.”

  “But he can’t be,” I gasped. “He’s…human.”

  “We are all human, Sophie.”

  Sam’s hands balled into fists as we paced through the woodland. “So the school houses these…soldiers? And it’s all run by witches?”

  “Not witches. One witch. Me. Witchcraft is unique to the Ballester family, although the others help out where they can. I suppose when the Divellions took over, the survivors evolved into one big, happy—albeit dysfunctional—family.”

  Sam and I glanced at one another.

  He exhaled heavily. “If what you’re saying is true, then we can’t just wait around here to be…” he let the sentence end there. “We need to get out of here. I think I should take my sister to the train station. I’ll come back for Todd.”