Spells Trouble by Kristin Cast (mystery books to read .txt) 📕

Mercy concentrated, trying to sift her thoughts through the fog of grief that blanketed her mind. “You—you don’t think Mr. Thompson’s death had anything to do with the tree, do you?”

“Mag, I don’t know. That’s part of what we have to figure out.” She moved closer to her sister and forced Mercy to meet her gaze. “I need you to try to pull yourself together. If the gates are messed up we have got to figure out how to fix them—and I can’t do that by myself.”

Mercy struggled to make her mind work. “Okay. I’ll help. Promise.”

“So, you agree that we should check out the Greek tree first?”

Mercy fought against gravity to lift one shoulder. “Sure. Whatever you and Xena think is best. I’ll wait down here while you get dressed.” Her legs gave out and she sat on the couch, staring at the cold fireplace.

Hunter put her hand on her twin’s shoulder. “I’ll be down in a sec and I’ll bring you a change of clothes, too.”

Words stopped coming again, so Mercy nodded wearily as she picked listlessly at the embroidery that decorated her grass-stained, torn dress and continued to stare at the ashes of what used to be a warm, brightly burning hearth fire.

Nine

“I think I better drive,” said Hunter as she studied her sister.

Mercy shrugged. “Okay with me.”

“Girls, remember, what you do today is gather information. Study the trees. Bring back details about everything—how they look, smell, and feel—sense the space around them. Reach out with your minds and your hearts, as well as your senses. We need details so that we can accurately consult the grimoires for what must be done next.” Xena had changed into a pair of their mom’s jeans and her sweatshirt that said KALE in bold letters across the breast. The cat person had hastily grabbed the clothes from Abigail’s room while Hunter and Mercy dressed. They still smelled vaguely of cinnamon and spice. Mercy had to force herself not to hug Xena and breathe in deeply. “Do you understand?”

Hunter nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got it. Right, Mag?”

Mercy was staring at the fireplace wishing she’d had the energy to build a fire. Maybe it would chase away the cold that had settled deep in her soul.

“Mercy, did you hear me?”

She blinked and looked up at her sister and Xena. “Sorry. What?”

“I was telling Xena we understand what we have to do at the trees.”

“Yeah that. We’ll check them out.”

“Good,” Xena said, though she sent Mercy a dubious, slit-eyed look. “Be careful. Do not let people see you. Neither of you have car papers yet.”

“You mean a license,” said Hunter.

“Yes. As I said, car papers. Girls, be wise. And safe. And do not be gone long. Are you sure I shouldn’t go with you?”

“No, stay here,” said Hunter. “People are going to start bringing by food. They should see you so they know we’re not alone. An adult will keep them from being too nosy.”

“You are correct, of course. I will reassure the townsfolk. I shall also bring out the grimoires and have them ready for when you return. Now, do you have any questions?” Xena licked her finger and then smoothed back a section of Hunter’s hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

“Eww, Xena. Stop. No, we’ve got it. Really. Right, Mercy?”

Mercy managed to nod. Even though she felt almost too heavy to move she followed Hunter to the garage and climbed into the passenger side of her mom’s silver Camry. The key fob was in the cup holder where Abigail always left it, and for a moment the twins just sat. Hunter’s hands rested on the steering wheel—Mercy’s were lifeless in her lap.

Hunter leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. “It smells like Mom.” Her voice was strangled.

“Everything does.” Mercy wiped a hand across her face, which felt numb again. Actually her life felt numb, wrong—so drastically altered that it was unrecognizable. She tilted her head and looked at her sister. “H, I don’t think I can do this.”

Hunter lifted her head and wiped almost violently at her damp cheeks. Then she took her sister’s hand and squeezed it—hard. “I know, but you have to—we have to.”

“Do we?”

“Of course we do. We have to make sure the trees are okay and the gates are closed. It’s what Mom wanted. It’s what she’d want if she were still here. That’s important, Mag. More important than how sad we are.”

“Okay. I know you’re right. Sorry. I’ll try harder to get it together.” Hunter squeezed her hand again before she let it loose. It flopped down on the console that separated the front bucket seats before Mercy put it lifelessly back in her lap. She blinked fast. First, to try to keep more tears from spilling out and, second, because if she closed her eyes for even a moment more she might never open them. The truth was all Mercy wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep and sleep and sleep—and hope when she woke, if she woke, everything that had happened since the creature had broken through the Norse gate would be a nightmare from which she’d finally awakened.

Hunter backed the car out of the garage, but instead of turning left to take Main Street through the heart of Goodeville, she turned right, heading for the one-lane country roads that snaked around the fields that surrounded the town—roads the twins knew as well as they knew their own names.

They drove in silence. Mercy stared out the open window. It was one of those spring days in Illinois where the sun seemed to highlight every tree’s bright emerald leaves like they were dressed in jewels. Everything looked normal, just as it had yesterday before her life had stopped, but today everything felt wrong. The trees that used to call to her were mute. She couldn’t even hear them breathe, something she’d been able to sense since she was in kindergarten. As Hunter followed the curvy blacktop from