“So we promised Alice that we would bring her up here tonight before midnight so she could pray . . .”
“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”
Clarissa, who was standing behind Eliza and Helen, suddenly took Eliza’s other hand. She started to chant along with them, staring intently at Miss Almay.
“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”
Soon Jane joined in with them. Then Lavender, Viola, and Bia. Finally Marilyn and Genevieve caught on, dragging Alice with them.
“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone,” they whispered together. “Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”
A cold wind kicked up around their feet, swirling up from the ground.
“What? What’s this?” Miss Almay demanded, shielding her eyes. “What are you girls doing?”
“It’s not working!” Eliza cried.
“Just keep going!” Helen ordered.
“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”
And just when Eliza was certain that whatever was supposed to happen would never happen without the power of the full coven, without Theresa reciting with them, the wind suddenly stopped. Eliza pushed her hair away from her eyes and blinked through the cloud of dusty dirt that billowed around them. When the haze cleared, she saw Theresa laughing.
“What can you possibly find amusing at this moment?” Eliza demanded.
“Look at them!” Theresa said, pointing to the lawn.
There, in the middle of the moonlit lawn, was a dazed-looking Miss Almay. She staggered from side to side with her arms splayed out in front of her, blinking rapidly and looking around overhead, her chin jerking this way and that as if she was following a rowdy flock of birds with her eyes. Mrs. Hodge was walking into a thick tree trunk over and over and over again.
“Poor Mrs. Hodge,” Theresa said. “She’ll have a bump the size of Plymouth Rock tomorrow.”
Eliza walked over to Mrs. Hodge and, taking her by the shoulders, turned her toward the school. Mrs. Hodge instantly began walking straight ahead, her eyes glazed over like a dead animal’s. As Eliza watched her go, Theresa gave Miss Almay a slight shove, sending her after her maid. The headmistress spun in circles as she walked.
“Good work, Helen,” Theresa said, turning back toward the group.
“I have no wish for congratulations, Miss Billings,” Helen said quietly. “I’d just like to get this done.”
Theresa’s expression hardened. She picked up her lantern from the ground and strode toward the chapel.
“Your wish, Miss Jennings, is my command.”
Life Out of Death
Eliza stood in the chapel basement, her palms slick with perspiration, her arms crossed in front of her. One of her hands grasped Helen’s, the other Theresa’s, as all eleven girls stared down at the lifeless form of Catherine White. Catherine’s face had been covered by a swath of white gauze, her hands folded over her chest like a praying angel. As each girl slowly left the circle, one by one, to add her ingredient to the stone bowl at Catherine’s feet, Eliza’s knees quaked beneath her.
This had to work. It simply had to.
We need you to return to us, Catherine, Eliza thought, closing her eyes as a wave of nerves crashed through her chest. We need you here with us. I know you want to be here, too. Please, please, please come back to us.
All around the room the candles flickered and dimmed, then flickered again and glowed stronger. There was a hush among the coven, and the air was thick with desperation, hope, and fear. Jane’s shoes scratched the silty floor as she shuffled forward and tipped her bottle of arrowroot toward the bowl. Then, head bowed, she returned to the circle and took Viola’s hand. Helen released Eliza, bent to pick up her vial of eye of newt, and slowly, methodically added it to the bowl. The ritual was like a rhythmic dance, each girl doing her part with grace and precision. And then it was Eliza’s turn.
As she rejoined the circle, Helen looked Eliza firmly in the eye. Eliza set her jaw, bent over, and lifted the bottle of jasmine from the floor at her feet. She carefully avoided the thick, white candles Lavender had placed all around the body, per the book’s instructions. When she arrived at the bowl, she looked up at Catherine’s face.
The corpse’s eyes were open and glaring at her angrily.
Eliza gasped and took a step back, her heel coming down right on Marilyn’s toe.
“Eliza, what is it?” Marilyn demanded.
“Shhh!” Clarissa admonished. “We’re supposed to stay perfectly quiet.”
“But I—she—”
Eliza gestured at Catherine with her bottle, but when she looked back again, Catherine’s eyes were closed. The gauze hadn’t been disturbed. The body hadn’t moved. It was just Eliza’s mind playing tricks on her. She cleared her throat nervously; her pulse was racing through her veins, making her feel lightheaded.
Trembling from head to toe, Eliza took a tentative step toward the body. She checked Catherine’s eyes once more. They were still closed. Shaking her head slightly, she opened the bottle and dumped the contents into the bowl’s fragrant mixture. Then she slipped the empty bottle into the pocket of her blue dress and returned to the circle, taking Helen’s hand.
Theresa stepped forward. The final ingredient was the rosemary. She stepped forward with the sprig in her two hands and slowly, meticulously tore each needle from it, dropping them in one by one. Eliza felt as if she was falling into a trance as she watched Theresa. The room seemed to be growing warmer, and the heady scents of rosemary, lavender, lilac, and jasmine filled the room.
As the last rosemary needle fluttered into the bowl, a light, airy wind filled the room—a comforting springtime breeze. It tickled Eliza’s skin and filled her with hope. All around the circle, the girls began to smile.
This was going to work. Every last one of them could sense it.
Theresa returned to the circle and took Eliza’s hand. She nodded, and the girls began to recite the spell, which they had committed to memory.
“Powerful spirits, we implore thee, give us the power, hear our plea.”
The words had barely escaped Eliza’s lips, when every candle in the room suddenly went out. There was no wind this time, no movement— nothing natural that had extinguished the lights. The coven simply plunged into darkness. Eliza could make out nothing, save the white gauze over Catherine’s pale face. Fear radiated from Eliza’s heart and poured off the others in waves. For a long moment no one spoke. Then Theresa squeezed Eliza’s hand and started the next line.
“From the darkness into the light, help our sister travel this night.”
The other girls joined in. Instantly, a biting cold chased out the last remnants of warmth, permeating the room and biting at Eliza’s skin. Eliza heard Bia moan in fear on the other side of the circle but could feel nothing outside of her own terror and the frigid cold air.
“We witches here will be her guide, to wrest her from the other side.”
A crash of deafening thunder filled the room, coming not from outside the chapel, but from within. Bia screamed as the candles blazed to light around Catherine, their flames like a wall of fire between her body and the coven. They licked at the beams in the ceiling and spread menacingly wide, threatening the hems of the girls’ skirts. A few girls edged backward, but no one broke the circle. The sudden heat was excruciating, and Eliza turned her face as her eyes began to sting and tear. Together the coven managed to shout the last few words.
“Let her know no pain, let her fear no strife, give us the power to save her life!”
Another crack of thunder leveled Bia as she fainted dead away. Instantly, the flames completely died as if doused by a deluge of water. Someone—Eliza couldn’t tell who—shouted in surprise. A few of the candles flickered meekly around Catherine’s hands and feet. Smoke plumed from the stone bowl, and the stench of burned herbs filled the air. Jane covered her eyes and began to
sob. Marilyn and Genevieve clung to each other. Looking stunned, Alice took a few steps back and fell into a chair.
Eliza, Theresa, and Helen stared at the body. Eliza’s chest heaved up and down with her ragged breath. Her locket was white hot against her skin, but she didn’t move to adjust it.
Catherine remained still.
“What’s going on?” Eliza asked, her voice a mere whisper. “What happened? Why didn’t it work?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said, her eyes wide. “We did everything by the book. You added all the rosemary?” she asked Theresa.
“Of course I added all the rosemary,” Theresa replied defensively. “Do you think I wanted it to fail, Helen? Do you think I wanted her dead? What do you expect me to—”
A sudden gasp cut her off, and Eliza hurtled backward, startled so thoroughly that she had to grasp the stone wall to keep herself from joining Bia on the floor. Every girl in the room held her breath.
Catherine White had just sat up.
Not Right
“Eliza?” Catherine said.
Her voice was a croak, and she stared straight through Eliza as she said her name. Theresa dropped Eliza’s hand, and Eliza rushed forward.
“Catherine!”
She whipped away the gauze that clung to Catherine’s hair, and enveloped her in a hug. Catherine’s arms hung limply at her sides, but Eliza hardly noticed. Catherine was back. Catherine was alive!
“It’s a miracle!” Alice said from her chair near the door. “A miracle.”
“How do you feel?” Eliza asked. “Are you all right?” “Are you hungry?” Genevieve asked.
Eliza pulled back and looked into Catherine’s eyes. They stared back at her as if unseeing. As if she’d never looked upon Eliza before in her life. A cold slice of uncertainty bisected Eliza’s heart.
“Catherine?” she said, holding on to the girl’s arm. “It’s me. Eliza.”
Slowly Catherine’s eyes seemed to focus on Eliza’s face. Then, suddenly, as if tugged by an invisible string, her head jerked downward in a nod. Eliza felt a rush of relief. There was still no color in her friend’s cheeks, and her skin was waxy, but she was moving. She was there.
Then her eyes glazed right over again.
“What’s wrong with her?” Viola asked.
“She’s been dead for almost two days,” Clarissa replied in her know-it-all way. “Give her some time.”
“Let’s not talk about death, shall we?” Theresa requested with forced brightness. “What’s important here is that Catherine is alive. We should bring her home and give her a chance to rest.”
Eliza clenched her jaw. She didn’t like the fact that everyone was talking about Catherine as if she wasn’t there. As if she was still just a corpse on the floor.
“Would you like that, Catherine?” she asked her friend. “Would you like to go back to our room and lie down?”
Catherine stared into Eliza’s eyes and again, Eliza felt the chill. Catherine’s head jerked side to side, as if she was a marionette being operated by a novice puppeteer. Eliza held back a choking lump of disappointment and fear, telling herself that Clarissa was right. Catherine just needed some time.
“You don’t wish to go back to Crenshaw?” Eliza asked patiently, trying to keep the tears out of her voice.
“Here,” Catherine said hoarsely. “Stay here.”
“But we have everything back in our room for the party,” Genevieve lamented, biting her lip. “The punch and the sandwiches and the chocolate.”
“You planned a party?” Theresa demanded, nonplussed.
Genevieve blushed, and Marilyn reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It was Genevieve’s idea. It was meant to be a surprise.”
“Well, we can go get all the food and bring it back here,” Alice said, her eyes bright. “If this is where Catherine wishes to be, we can bring the celebration to her.”
Everyone agreed to this plan, and Lavender, Alice, Marilyn, and Genevieve set off to gather the party things. Eliza held Catherine’s hand as they watched the four girls go.
“You,” Catherine said. “I wish to stay with you, Eliza.”
Eliza glanced at Theresa, whose jaw was set with obvious anger. She felt a thump of trepidation, but she couldn’t deal with that at the moment. Catherine was back, and she needed Eliza.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she told her friend, taking her hand in both of hers. “We’ll all stay right here together. Isn’t that right, Theresa?”
Theresa clucked her tongue. “Of course. If I’m even wanted.”
Eliza glowered at her. How could Theresa possibly be selfish at a time like this?
“What was it like, Catherine?” Clarissa asked, approaching her tentatively. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all about what it was like to be . . . dead?”
Catherine tilted her head, another jerking action. “Cold. I remember cold.”
Clarissa slipped her arm around Catherine’s and led her to one of the chairs near the wall. “Come and sit. We can talk all about it.”
As soon as the two girls had walked away, Eliza hazarded a glance at Theresa. “What’s the matter with you? Aren’t you excited? The spell worked!”
“A spell we wouldn’t have had to do if it hadn’t been for you sneaking off into the woods to meet my future husband,” Theresa snapped, the color rising in her cheeks.
“Theresa!” Eliza reeled back. “I thought . . . I thought we were past this. I’ve told Harrison I can’t see him again. Now Catherine’s back . . . you have everything you want.”
“No thanks to you, Eliza Williams,” Theresa said, narrowing her eyes. “I think I’ll go see if the girls need any help with their supplies.”
Then she turned on her heels, whipped her wide skirt behind her, and stormed up the stairs. Eliza stared after her, feeling so livid she could have spit on the floor. Didn’t Theresa understand what she’d given up for their friendship?
“Eliza?” Catherine said, staring blankly across the room. Clarissa, Jane, Viola, and Bia, all of whom had gathered around the girl, turned to look at Eliza as well. “Eliza? Where is Eliza?”
Eliza took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Tonight was about Catherine, not Harrison. Catherine was here, and Catherine needed her.
“I’m coming, Catherine,” she said.
But just then, a cold hand closed around her wrist. Eliza’s heart hit her throat as she whirled around. Helen Jennings stood before her, her blue eyes shot through with fear. Eliza placed her hand on her chest and tried to catch her breath.
“Helen? What is it?” she asked.
“I must speak with you,” Helen said, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She glanced past Eliza’s shoulder at Catherine and the other girls, and something about her expression made Eliza’s blood run cold.
“What is it?” Eliza asked impatiently. “Catherine’s asking for me.” “This is about Catherine,” Helen whispered, ducking her chin. “Eliza, she’s . . . she’s not right.”
A lump of foreboding formed just above Eliza’s heart, and she reached up to touch her locket. For the first time she felt the tenderness beneath the pendant, and she winced. “What do you mean, ‘not right’?”
“I don’t think the spell worked,” Helen said, taking Eliza’s hand and tugging her toward the doorway, away from the other girls. “I don’t know what exactly, but something is not right with that girl.”
“How do you know?” Eliza asked, the lump traveling slowly up her throat.
“Her eyes. The way they stare . . . ,” Helen whispered furtively. “It’s just like Caroline looked before she died. That’s not Catherine. At least, not the Catherine you knew.”
Eliza hesitated a moment, but then the words filtered through and she found them suddenly ridiculous.
“Not Catherine? What are you talking about? Look at her!” She gestured toward the far wall and was appeased to find that Catherine was, at that very moment, smiling. “She’s fine. She’s alive. Helen, s
he’s alive because of us,” Eliza said, holding both Helen’s hands in hers. “I know you don’t trust the books, and I know that some awful things happened, but look at what the books have wrought now. They may have killed before, but now . . . now they’ve given life.”
“But Eliza—”
“No,” Eliza said. She took a step back, dropping Helen’s hands. “There’s a difference between what Caroline did to herself and what’s happened to Catherine. Caroline used magic for her own vain and selfish reasons. What happened to Catherine was not her own doing. She has been sent back to us because it was not her time, and she is going to be fine.”
Just then, Eliza heard footsteps and laughter overhead. Genevieve and the others had returned with the food and drink.
“This is a celebration, Helen,” Eliza said. “Why don’t you join us?”
Helen clenched her teeth, but remained silent. Then she turned on her heels and was gone. Eliza felt a pang of anger mixed with disappointment.
But then Alice skipped down the stairs and into the room, grabbed Eliza around the waist, and swung her around happily. “This is all because of you, Eliza,” she said. She stopped twirling and gestured at Catherine. “Look what we are able to do, all because you brought it out of us! We are all-powerful because of you!” She flung her arms around Eliza’s neck and hugged her as the other girls began to unpack the sweets and pour out tumblers of punch for the party.
Eliza laughed as the members of her coven cheered and applauded for her. Alice was right. They were all-powerful. And never had she felt so alive, so free, so utterly unrestrained by expectations and rules and uncertainty. She looked over at Catherine and smiled; her smile was readily returned by her friend.
Catherine was alive again. That was all that mattered. Finally, everything was going to be perfect.
Early Morning Visit
Eliza knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew that if her mother found out she was sneaking onto the boys’ campus at dawn— unescorted, no less—she would be disowned forever. She knew if Theresa found out, she would declare war on her. But she was far beyond caring about right and wrong. The line between the two was so completely blurred at this point that she could hardly make it out. All she knew was that she wanted to see Harrison. No, she needed to see Harrison. And so, as soon as the imposing gray brick wall of Ketlar House came into view, she lifted her skirts and broke into a run.