Page 1 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

Sage

" S age turned Tommy into a frog!" Cate, my eternal bully, announced, pointing her finger at me. Her front teeth were still missing from when she'd crashed her bike weeks prior—the same day she'd clipped my hair and told me it belonged in the garbage like a evil witch's.

The frog squelched in my grip, cold and slick, as moisture seeped between my fingers. Frog pee dripped from my hand. Gross. Tommy croaked in protest, giving me away completely.

Ms. Randolph's eyebrow lifted as she tilted her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. She hated me, maybe because I was a Blackstone, maybe because of my power, or maybe just because of who I was.

I was the daughter of two witches from powerful families. The Blackstones were rumored to be direct descendants of the first witch, Hecate. Six months ago, shortly after we buried my parents, my powers had manifested as shadows and darkness—instantly marking me as evil in everyone's eyes.

"Hand him over." The elderly form of one of the most ancient witches, Ms. Randolph, demanded with her hand outstretched. Her bone-white hair coiled high on her head like a crown as her surprisingly smooth face stared at me with abject disappointment.

"I can't turn him back." I shrugged, though the truth knotted in my gut. One second he was shoving my face into the mud, and the next, poof, he was a toad. I had no clue how I'd done it, much less how to undo it.

"She's lying," Cate accused. "He was just helping her up and she went all crazy again!"

The other children filled the space around us, moving in closer until my back hit a tree trunk. "Wicked," they chanted together, boxing me in. "Wicked witch."

“Sage." Ms. Randolph glared, her hand still poised and waiting."Undo the spell."

"My magic is not evil. I'm not wicked," I cried as they pushed closer, their accusing fingers pointing.

"Face it, you're nothing but an evil, black magic witch," Cate snarled before grabbing my hair and slamming me into the mud. "And we do not let evil witches live.”

I turned my gaze to Mrs. Randolph as she watched impassively. She wasn’t going to step in and help. She thought the same as them, I was something that needed to be fixed, or worse, eradicated.

I pressed my eyelids tight and slapped my hands over my ears as they continued chanting. My magic exploded out in shadows and stars, and suddenly the chants became nothing more than a cacophony of croaks.

Frogs. As far as the eye could see.

Ms. Randolph was the largest, croaking loudly as if in anger.

I stood there for far too long, lost in what to do. I lifted my hands, calling my magic to me, trying to create my intent to turn them back, but every time I tried, the image of them circling me, pointing and chanting came to mind, and nothing happened.

“I’m in so much trouble,” I said to the frogs, who were now hopping off in various directions, sending an even bigger scare through me. They were escaping. If I didn't catch them and keep them together… I’d never get them turned back.

I grabbed a tub lying nearby, dumping out the playground balls, and began grabbing frogs and throwing them into the bucket as fast as possible, hoping I didn’t hurt or break any of them.

I reached Ms. Randolph, shoving her in as she tried to hop away. Then I counted; two were missing. I looked around, but no more frogs were in the area. I set the tub down, putting the top on loosely to keep them from hopping out as I searched for the last two frogs.

I found one hiding in a bush.

I turned frantically around, looking before falling to my knees to search through the grass for the remaining frog. Nothing.

I stopped, opening my ears up to listen for a croak, for any noise or rustling.

Finally, I heard a low croak to my right as I moved to look.

There in the bush was Tommy. I could tell it was him because there was a white mark on his back.

As I bent down to peer at him, he hopped high, flopping down on my face and peeing, again.

“Gross!” I sputtered, wiping the pee from my face as I growled, “How can one frog pee that much?”

I plunked Tommy into the tub with a splash and sighed.

My options were bleak: dump them in the woods and run, or face my grandmother and the council.

Hiding sounded great, until I remembered I was eight, broke, and terrible at foraging. So, I hoisted the tub, now holding the entire fourth-grade class and their cranky teacher, and trudged toward redemption... or doom.

Only as I counted the frogs in the tub, one was still missing. How did I miscount? I searched high and low, dragging the croaking class of frogs along with me. It was time to get help and tell Gran. I was going to be in so much trouble.

I dragged the heavy tub of frogs toward home, my arms straining from the weight. The croaks echoed loudly, a cacophonous chorus of amphibious accusation. I counted again - twenty-three frogs. There should be twenty-four. Someone was missing.

My stomach sank as I realized who it must be. Cate. Of course she would slip away, probably hopping off to show the whole town what an evil witch I was. To force them into a mob with pitchforks and torches to brand me a wicked witch.

All because my magic was different, so like a dark wielding ancestor of mine. The elusive Bess Blackstone. The very witch who started the hysteria that fueled the Salem witch trials killing so many of our kind. My magic, just like hers, manifested early with shadows and stars and darkness.

Now, surely my end would be just as tragic as hers, burnt at the stake.

I had to find Cate before it was too late. Before I ended up tied to a stake. I set the tub down with a thud, ignoring the angry croaks of protest from Ms. Randolph and the others.

"Sage Blackstone! What in Hecate's name is going on here?" a shrill voice demanded.

I winced, slowly turning to see my grandmother, Bertie, marching toward me, her flowered house dress flapping in the breeze.

"Hi, Gran," I said weakly. "I… um… I may have accidentally turned my class into frogs."

"Accidentally?" She peered into the tub, hands on her ample hips. A particularly large bullfrog glared back at her balefully. "Looks pretty thorough to me. Is this… is this Geraldine Randolph?"

I nodded miserably. "She was yelling at me and… and I just wanted her to stop. They were calling me wicked again, and they had me boxed in, I was scared. I didn't mean to. I swear it, Gran, I'm so sorry."

I sniffed and placed the tub down on the ground so I could wipe the tears from my face.

"Please, don't be angry with me. I'm trying to be a good witch, I swear.

" Heat streaked down my cheeks, and I swiped at it with the back of my hand before she could catch a glimpse.

I turned away, pretending to study the floor like it held all the answers.

Gran sighed heavily, running a wizened hand over her face.

She placed her hand to my shoulder, "Look at me, Sage, dear.

" I slowly turned, pressing my lips tight together as I bit my lip, hoping it would stop my tears and the wobble of it.

I hated disappointing her. But she looked at me with such love and kindness.

"Oh, Sage. Your magic is powerful, but your control is lacking. What have I told you about magic?"

I sighed, sniffling back tears as she waited patiently, one white eyebrow raised. I answered on a long exhale, "That magic is tied to our intentions and emotions."

"And?"

I shrugged, avoiding her disappointment as she pierced me with her bright blue gaze before shaking her head and sighing.

Her face was stern as she answered, "And emotion without discipline leads to chaos.

" She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Magic isn’t just something we use, Sage. It’s something we are .

It flows from our will, shaped by our desires and thoughts.

When your heart is steady and your mind clear, the magic listens.

But when you let fear or anger take the reins.

.." She shook her head softly. "It turns wild. Unpredictable. That’s when it becomes dangerous, not just to others, but to you too. "

"I know, I know. It's just so hard sometimes. They are so mean." I bit my lip, holding back a sob as my Gran's face softened.

"People will always fear what is different, they will always fear what is powerful, and that will never change," my gran said as she observed me carefully.

"Then what's the point?" I almost shouted. "Why do I have to keep being good? Keep being the better witch only to get a face full of mud every time and they never get punished!"

"I know it's hard to understand. I know it doesn't make sense. But you can't control what others feel and think. You can only control what you feel and think. By doing that, you'll control your magic."

"What if I don't want to?" I admitted as a dark thought entered my mind. What if I didn't? What if I just became what they wanted me to be? Nothing more than a wicked witch?

"Then they win. Do you want them to win?"

"No," I admitted with a sigh as my shoulders deflated.

One of the frogs jumped and hit the top of the container, and I felt my entire being crumble. She was right. Doing the right thing was better than what they thought of me. And one day I would find someone who liked me and my magic just the way I was.

But that meant I had to stop trying to prove myself to people who would never see past their prejudices. I couldn't do that by trying to change minds that were already made up. I could just work every day not to be exactly what they accused me of; that would be letting them win.

As if she followed my thought process, my Gran nodded. "We'll have to cast a null spell - it will undo all the magic you've ever cast, reverting everything back to its natural state. It's the only way to turn your classmates back to human again."