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

and cut through the quiet neighborhood until finally coming to the one-lane blacktop that skirted that side of town. They crossed the railroad tracks and then Hunter took a hard left onto a dirt farm access road that paralleled the tracks and the corn and bean fields that bordered them. They bumped along the dark stretch of packed ground until the car’s headlights illuminated a substantial tree that loomed like a phantom between the tracks and the maturing cornfield to their left.

Hunter put the car into park and left the lights on, shifting them to bright as she said, “I’ve always liked this tree, especially when it’s blooming.”

The weeping cherry tree had bloomed several weeks ago so tonight, instead of a curtain of delicate pink the long, slender boughs looked weirdly like skeletal fingers.

Mercy shivered and didn’t move to leave the car. “Remember when we were super little and would come here with Abigail when she fertilized it in the spring?”

“Yeah, we’d pretend that the boughs made a curtain.”

Mercy nodded. “Inside, near the trunk, was our stage.”

Hunter continued the memory. “And we’d make up dances to Gaga’s songs.”

“‘Bad Romance’ is still my fav,” said Mercy.

“Of course it is.” Hunter turned to face Mercy. “My fav was when we performed songs from The Sound of Music.”

The edges of Mercy’s lips tilted up. “‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’—you used to love that one.”

“I had a giant crush on Liesl.”

“Good times.” Mercy tried to sound light and carefree, but instead her voice broke and she had to blink hard to stop the tears pooling in her eyes from escaping down her cheeks.

Hunter tugged on her hand. “Hey, we’ll have good times again.”

“Doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“I know. But we will. I’m sure of it,” Hunter said firmly. “Ready to go out there?”

“No, but we have to.”

“Yep.”

“Yep.” Mercy sighed and let loose her sister’s hand. “Okay, let’s go check it out. Maybe it’ll be okay.”

“It looks fine from here,” Hunter said as they got out of the car.

Mercy didn’t say anything. She was the Green Witch, and her earth-attuned senses had been tingling since the car’s headlights had captured the tree. She approached more slowly than Hunter. Mercy drew several deep breaths and stretched her senses. Now that her grief fog had lifted, she was relieved that she could hear the corn whispering with the soft spring breeze. The corn felt fine—young and strong and growing.

She turned her face into the wind, which was sweeping over the bean field to her right, on the other side of the railroad tracks. The air was perfumed with green, growing things. She could sense the pods that were already beginning to swell with soybeans. All was well there, too.

Farther away, Mercy caught the scent of the eastern branch of Sugar Creek. She could smell the distant damp earth. It was normal and soothing. She drew another deep breath to steady herself. Then, resolutely, Mercy focused straight ahead at the weeping cherry that guarded the gate to the Japanese Underworld.

“I don’t smell anything bad yet,” Hunter called over her shoulder.

“That’s good.” Mercy picked up her pace so that the sisters reached the veil of boughs together. Mercy gently lifted the drape of willow strands with her hand as she listened with her sixth sense.

At first everything felt fine. The pink flowers that would’ve perfumed the night just a few weeks ago had already been replaced with small, lime-colored leaves that, when fully grown, reminded her of arrowheads. The leaves were there, filling the long, graceful boughs.

“It looks okay, right?” Hunter stared at the long, graceful branches.

Mercy opened her mouth to agree, and to breathe a huge sigh of relief, when the wind picked up. It caught the dripping boughs so that they swayed as if to a waltz only they could hear—and as they moved together leaves rained all around them. Mercy bent and scooped up a handful. She turned so that the car’s headlights shined on her palm and the leaves curling there.

“Shit.”

“What?” Hunter peered at the leaves. “I don’t see any worms.”

“There aren’t any. Well, there aren’t any in this handful of leaves. Who knows what we’ll find when we look at the trunk. But this is so damn weird.”

“Tell me.”

“You see these leaves that are curled and yellowish?” She touched a couple with her finger.

“Yeah.”

“That usually means that the tree is not getting enough water,” Mercy explained.

Hunter’s forehead furrowed. “But we’ve had normal rain this spring. That’s why the corn and beans look so good.”

“Yep. Now check out these other leaves.” She pointed to another cluster in her palm.

“They’re green. They look okay.”

“That’s how they seem, but touch one.” She lifted her hand so Hunter could press her finger to one of the green leaves, which made it fall apart and turn to moss-colored dust.

“It’s like it’s autumn and it should be brown and brittle and falling off for the winter. Why’s it doing that?” said Hunter.

“Cherry tree leaves stay green but get all brittle like that when the tree gets way too much water.”

Hunter shook her head. “How’s that possible? First, it’s like it’s thirsty, and then it’s flooded. What the hell?”

Mercy shook her head. “I have no clue. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong. Come on.” Mercy squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she tried to bolster herself against what else they might find. She fished her cell phone from the boho bag she always slung over her shoulder and flipped on its flashlight.

Hunter also pulled her phone from her pocket and turned on its light.

Mercy parted the curtain-like boughs and the girls stepped inside the embrace of the tree.

“I don’t smell anything, do you?” Hunter sounded breathless.

“Nope. Not yet.”

Mercy led her sister to the trunk of the tree. The bark of the cherry tree wasn’t rough like the other four sentinels. Mercy had always loved its smooth, almost velvety texture. She went to the tree and pressed her palm against it, closed her eyes, and concentrated.

The first thing she felt was