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CHAPTER EIGHT

It took a little longer than I wished to calm my friends down after their memories had returned and longer still to convince them they couldn’t start the Redbud Rebellion this very second. Flora was all for outright rebellion, volunteering the might of the town, but Daphne and Shari were more cautious, hoping we could devise a plan that didn’t put thousands of innocent lives at risk.

“It’ll take more than the five of us,” I told them. “I know you all have concerns about Ame and Poppy and Lewellyn and everybody else, but I don’t have all the answers. I do, though, have the first steps of a plan to make everything right. But you, Flora, need to stop sharpening Shari’s knitting needles, and you, Daphne, need to stop pacing and hitting everything.”

Shari, to her credit, had finally released Sawyer and returned to her crochet, hooking and twirling yarn at a frantic pace.

“Don’t leave us in suspense, cider witch,” Flora said, butting me in the leg with her snout. “I can’t do magic, my rabbit and my fairy are in prison, and if I don’t get an outlet for all this rage soon, I’m going to chew on you . ”

“No, you will not. Now wait a second. Daphne, would you ask Gerty if the coast is clear?”

At the mare’s request, the robin fluttered off. A minute or two passed that Flora spent grumbling, then the bird returned with an affirmative twitter that all was safe. I ducked out of the porcupine’s stick hut and headed off towards those moss-covered logs. The cat, the honey badger, and the horse followed after me.

“Sawyer, find me a cricket or grasshopper, something that hops,” I asked. “Not a frog.”

“Right.” The cat trotted off to root under the leaves and paw through the deadwood.

My knife had been stolen and transformed into Ossian’s faebane rapier, so I used a rock I’d found to scrape away a patch of thick moss from the log. At the log’s base, I collected the squishy black fungus and put that in my foraging bag too.

“Our first action must be recruitment,” I informed my friends. “I’ve already started with Brandi.”

“That essential oils bimbo from the Festival of Fall?” Flora asked. “The one who hexed your cider press? Who tried to steal your lumbersnack?” The honey badger faltered. “Jumping hop-toads. Arthur .”

The abrupt change in Flora’s demeanor derailed my calm like a stick thrown into a bicycle wheel. From Daphne’s gasp, I knew the two of them were picturing Arthur as he was now, a bear, beaten and humiliated and feared by everyone who was supposed to love him. Chained to a wall. My hands stilled, and suddenly I was blinking back tears.

By the Green Mother, Meadow, get a grip. Tears never solve—

But they wouldn’t stop. Now that I was safe in a forgotten piece of the woods and in the company of my true friends, I could finally grieve. Hunched as I was over the log, collapsing to the ground was only a matter of inches that didn’t hurt in the least. Sobs wracked my body; tears and snot stung my cheeks and nose as the late-autumn air chilled them against my skin.

Then something coarse brushed against my face—Flora. She’d climbed onto the log and positioned herself in front of me. The long black claws of her hind feet dug into the wood as if to anchor herself there, and she held paws out as if welcoming me into an embrace.

“You can’t risk being heard,” she told me. “Cry into my big fat belly, cider witch. It’ll muffle the sound.”

I did.

Dimly, I became aware of the honey badger’s vicious claws tenderly stroking my hair, Daphne’s velvety muzzle resting against my shoulder, then Sawyer’s familiar weight as he hopped onto my other shoulder and leaned against my head.

“That bear will never stop fighting for you,” Daphne murmured as my tears subsided. “And I know you’ll do the same for him, dear one. Now come, tell us how we can help.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “For everything. If I’d just confronted my family— If I’d never come here— I should’ve never made that bargain—”

“You played your cards the best you could from the hand you were dealt,” Flora said. “It wasn’t your fault your grandmother stacked the deck against you. And one hand doesn’t make a game. Now buck up, cider witch, so we can kick some butt.”

Nodding, I wiped my face clean with my sleeves. “Right. Recruitment. Brandi. I found her in the dungeon making the Caer powder that’s been helping keep the populace subdued. I told her how to sabotage it, and it’s already working. Mrs. Bilberry remembered what a dishwasher was this morning.”

“Huh,” Sawyer mused. “She actually came through.”

“If Mrs. Bilberry’s remembering that,” Daphne said, “you can assume the town is remembering things too. Good gracious! How confusing that must be. ”

“I can attest to that,” Shari said, waddling out of her hut. She had her mug and the steaming kettle. “I, um, heard you crying. Here’s something hot to drink.”

I accepted the mug with a grateful smile. Blackberry-scented steam rose from the dark liquid.

“So what I’m hearing is Redbud’s ripe for the influencing,” Flora concluded, rubbing her paws together. “I wonder if I can convince Cohen to give me free spinach-pineapple smoothies for life.”

“None of that.” I flicked the honey badger in her belly. “People will be confused and scared and even angry. They won’t know what’s going on. Since I have a key to charge, and him watching nearly every move I make, I can’t be the one to give them answers or assuage their fears.”

“Or sow dissent,” Flora added.

“Exactly. I need you three for that. Or rather, just Daphne and Flora. Shari will be our go-between, as I will play the fickle bride who keeps changing her mind about what kind of wedding dress she wants.”

The porcupine heaved a sigh of relief.

Lifting the mug, I slammed back the rest of the tea. “Can I turn this into a makeshift cauldron real quick?”

Shari’s bulbous nose twitched as she thought. “Just make sure there’s no funky aftertaste when you’re done.”

The five of us trooped back into the hut (Daphne only stuck her head in), and I got to mixing the moss and black fungus into the mug, along with the dead crickets Sawyer had found. A regretful whine slipped free of the porcupine—it smelled truly awfully—as I mashed it all with some water and set it over the grate to bubble. It was no hearth bound to a hearth witch, so the process would be slow. But still effective.

As I rooted around in my foraging bag for my dwindling potion ingredients, I continued with the plan. “Sawyer, I really need you to reconsider not leaving my side and take this potion to the farmhouse and release my family.”

The tabby tomcat immediately flattened his ears against his skull and tucked himself into a tight ball. If he was attempting to turn himself into an immovable lead weight, he was doing a pretty good job.

“Now wait just a daisy-pickin’ minute,” Flora snapped. “Release your family? So they can muck up Redbud some more?”

“They’re powerful witches who can help. Although, I expect them to be weak. He might’ve made a bargain not to hurt them, but that doesn’t mean the Brotherhood can’t. I suspect it was them who placed the wards around the farmhouse that are keeping my family confined. They have the power of the hearth now, for a little while anyway, and this should help disrupt the wards enough so they can break through and escape.” I gave the potion another stir, mashing it up with the end of a mountain ash stick.

The black fungus I’d collected was known as witch’s butter. It was a prolific little thing and quite the weed suppressant. All one had to do was drizzle the potion around the perimeter and the potion would cover the entire lawn in a matter of hours. The carpet moss would ensure a tight and clinging fit, and the crickets—particularly their legs—would aid in the speediness of its working.

“Sawyer,” I tried again, “please—”

“I’m not going!” His tail lashed. “I just got you back, and you need me, whether you want to admit it or not!”

“Of course I need you. But we need this more.”

“I can take the potion, dear,” Daphne offered. “I know the way.”

“But you’re not small and sneaky like he is. And you don’t have an arsenal of spells at your disposal to use if something goes sideways.” I abandoned the cauldron-mug and crouched down by the tomcat. “Please, little cat. It must be you. You know how Ame is always explaining away phenomena with ‘because I’m a cat?’ I think there’s a little more truth in that statement than she lets on. How else can you explain how you two slipped past Ossian’s wards? You’re immune to some magics simply because you’re a cat.”

Finally I reached out to him, palm up—an invitation for affection. For an alliance.

“I know this isn’t ideal; nothing about this situation is. But we have to do whatever we can to defeat him. To free Arthur.”

Sawyer huffed. He didn’t care one whit for the Hawthorne coven, but Arthur . . .. Sawyer had come to respect, even love, the lumberjack simply because Arthur loved me as much as the tomcat did. And he knew how much the bear shifter meant to me.

“Fiiine,” the cat growled. “Gimme the potion.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a little scratch behind his ears before turning back to the cauldron-mug. “I’ll make it concentrated so it’ll be easier to travel with. You’ll have to use the spigot by the barn to dilute it so there’s enough to encircle the perimeter of the farmhouse.”

“And how am I to use the spigot when I have no thumbs?”

“Find a way, Stripes,” Flora told him, giving him a swat on the rump. “You’ve got magic and a brain; use them.”

Suppressing a smile, I stirred the bubbling liquid and chanted a variant of the Cleansing Spell:

“Remove these spells, these pestilent sores.

Return to Nature, be clean ever more.”

The brown sludge became like syrup, and I poured it into a spare vial I’d found in my foraging bag. There was a little leftover, so I poured the rest into a second vial and squirreled that away in my foraging bag. Wrinkling his nose, Sawyer gently took hold of the glass vial with his teeth.

“You owe me a new mug,” Shari grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

“I’ll get you a whole tea set,” I promised. Outside the hut, I heaved the honey badger onto the mare’s back. She corralled Sawyer in her arms as she held on tight to Daphne’s mane.

“Take him to the outskirts of town—you’ll have to make your way from there, Sawyer,” I instructed. “And then you two go be rabble-rousers.”

Flora grinned. “Best part of my day.”

“Start with Cody and Emmett. They’re respected by many, so their opinions will have more weight. The more we get doubting the Brotherhood and him , the better. In the meantime, I’m going to find a way back into that dungeon for more supplies and see what I can do about the prisoners. And if anyone sees Ame, tell her what we’re up to.”

“And that I love her,” Shari piped up.

Gertrude called then—a warning.

I gave Daphne a swat on her flanks. “Go. Be careful. Don’t be seen.”

“You neither, cider witch,” Flora said, and my friends disappeared into the forest.