Greta blinked.
Someone was standing in front of her house. It wasn’t Mrs. Mianowski or one of the other neighbors; it was a stranger.
Alarmed, Greta took a step back until she was half-hidden behind Teo’s Cozy Cocoon tree swing. She remembered Div’s comment about the police; could it be an undercover detective looking for witches? Or could it be an Antima member? Orion or Brandon or Axel or someone else? She searched her mind for a spell she could use to defend herself if necessary. Maybe repellare? The person was hanging out next to the family’s other car, a VW bug that was parked in its usual spot at the curb. His or her back was to Greta, but then he… she?… pivoted slightly to look around.
It was a she. A familiar she. Straight black hair, glasses, really pretty, a Zooey Deschanel–Audrey Hepburn vibe… wait, was that Iris Gooding?
Yes, it definitely was.
What was she doing here?
Greta retreated farther behind the tree swing. She watched curiously as Iris pulled a phone out of her pants pocket and swiped at the screen, shaking her head and muttering to herself. Was Iris looking for her?
Also, how did Iris know where she lived… or even who she was?
Now Iris was touching something at her throat—the moonstone pendant she’d been wearing this morning? Then she began walking down Junipero Serra, her stride suddenly quick and confident. So she wasn’t here to see Greta. After a block, Iris turned onto Sycamore.
Greta decided to follow her. Casting a quick pleukiokus spell on herself (the second of the day, for extra protection), she headed out into the street.
11 DEAD WITCHES
Your enemies will not always appear in human form.
(FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)
After the coven meeting, Ridley and Binx decided to take a walk to the mall, which was near Binx’s house. It was one of their favorite unwinding activities.
As they strolled down Cliffside Drive (there were no sidewalks, just the quiet road bordered by deep woods), Ridley found herself looking over her shoulder constantly. The events of the day had left her feeling totally rattled. And confused. Were they dealing with other witches or witch haters… or both?
The sudden buzzing of her phone startled her. Binx’s phone trilled at the same time.
“It’s a message from our fearless leader,” Binx announced.
Greta had texted:
Div and I talked (I know, I know), and we have assignments for all of us. Our coven is going to try to find the witch/witches who may have cast a spell on the shadow messages. Their coven is going to investigate Orion, Brandon, and Axel to see if they wrote them. And in general, we should all be on the lookout for other possible Antima members at our school. But don’t confront them (obviously). We need to stay safe.
“Women and girls can be Antima, right?” Ridley asked, glancing up from her phone.
“It’s backward, but yeah. Why?”
Ridley told Binx about the new history sub, Ms. O’Shea. “I don’t know if she’s Antima or what. But I felt like she was watching me—observing me.”
“Let’s add her to the list of people to check out, then,” Binx suggested. “We can’t be too careful. We’ve never dealt with any Antima around here. They could be super clever and super organized.”
Ridley shuddered.
“Okay, well… I have history again tomorrow, second period. Friday, too. I’ll watch her like a hawk.”
“I can try to find some info on her online. O’Shea, like O-S-H-E-A?”
“Exactly.”
Ridley read over Greta’s text again. “So… are Greta and Div theorizing that their shadow messages were enchanted by a witch at school? Who? It’s only us and the Triad. And maybe that Iris girl. If there are any other witches, they’ve been keeping it a secret. And they’re going to be even more secretive now because of the Antima.” She paused and added, “Is the idea that this witch, whoever it is, is trying to warn us? Or give us a clue? I mean, why cast that bizarre spell that made those numbers show up? Sorry to ramble. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“Who knows? I guess that’s part of our homework assignment, to figure it out.” Binx wrinkled her nose. “I’m not super down with the idea of working with the Triad on this. They’re so annoying. But if it means we can catch whoever’s threatening Greta and make the Antima go away, then I guess it’s worth it.”
They fell silent as they turned onto a gravel driveway at the entrance of the Sorrow Point Cemetery, off Cliffside Drive. This was their usual shortcut; the other end of the cemetery led to a hillside overlooking the back of the mall parking lot.
It was weird, but Ridley found the cemetery calming. She liked the winding paths that crisscrossed the grounds, dense with sycamores and pine trees. She liked the silvery-green clumps of old-man’s beard that dripped from the overhead branches. Sometimes she harvested the mossy lichen and made a healing potion out of it; whenever her little sister Harmony had one of her maybe-it’s-real, maybe-it’s-not-real colds, Ridley gave her the potion in a spill-proof kids’ cup full of chocolate milk.
Strolling through the cemetery also made her feel closer to Daniel, even though his actual gravesite was back in Cleveland. Ridley had picked a tree in this cemetery that she called “Daniel’s tree.” It was a maple like the one in their old backyard, with two thick, gnarled branches like arms going in for a hug, except a different variety—an Oregon maple. Which was perfect, because the Oregon Ducks had been Daniel’s favorite college football team. Sometimes she visited it the same way she would have visited his gravestone, if it were here.
You jerk, she thought angrily. Tears stung her eyes, and she brushed
