Page 99 of The Magic We Made

“It w-wasn’t me.” Haley is so frightened, she can’t stop stammering as she begins crab-walking away, desperate to escape Hecate’s menacing gaze. “I didn’t do it—”

But it’s too late. Before Haley can get to safety, something white shoots from the ground near her feet and closes around one of her ankles, then sinks into the earth, trapping her where she is. I’m too far away to see what’s holding her, but from where I lie, it appears to be...

Bone.

A skeletal human hand, to be exact. It’s fastened her foot to the soil as firmly as a staple from a staple gun.

“You dare to wake me,” Hecate rasps to a terrified Haley as she floats toward her, the long black train of her veil-slash-dress still trailing from the fissure like it has no end, “to steal my powers?”

Haley is so frightened, she’s babbling. “No! N-no, please. I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

Hecate is hovering only a few feet away from the terrified girl, looking down at her the way a bug collector might look down at her latest sample.

“Misssunderstanding?” Hecate hisses the word in disgust. “What misssunderstanding?”

“I made a mistake!” Haley screams. “A terrible mistake!”

But this isn’t a good enough excuse for Hecate, who sends another skeletal hand shooting up from the earth, this time to fasten itself around Haley’s wrist, pinning her—and the bone in her hand—to the forest floor.

“Missstake?” Hecate hisses. “You woke me by missstake?”

I’ve never inadvertently wakened a goddess before (that I know of). But if I had, I’d probably come up with a better apology than Haley does.

“I’m sorry!” screams the terrified girl.

But it’s too late. Hecate’s response is swift... and brutal. An entire cemetery of white bones bursts from the black soil and fastens themselves around Haley’s arms and legs. Then the flames from the various smoldering fires suddenly leap to life, blazing as high as a dozen feet in the air and forming a circle around the imprisoned girl. Meanwhile, Hecate drifts menacingly toward Haley, the long black veil trailing behind her.

Is this a dream? If it is, it’s the worst one I’ve ever had.

But how can it be a dream when I can smell the smoke and feel Ash’s heart drumming hard against mine? Those kinds of details never make it into dreams, or even nightmares—not mine, anyway.

I’m not a religious person. I was raised in the church, but I’ve been mad at God since the death of my dad. I rarely pray, except as a sort of learned reflex in moments of desperation, like when Violet would go missing.

But I find myself praying now.

Please, God.I want to go home to see Daisy and her kittens, and my nieces, and my mother, and Ash in an apron again.... Please, God, send help. Please—

I break off because I can feel Ash’s muscles tightening. I look up at him and see that his gaze is focused intently on Hecate.

Oh, no.

“Ash,” I whisper. “No.Don’t—”

But it’s too late. He’s rolling away from me, and then off the altar. He lands on his feet in the leaves and dirt, crouches there for a moment as if trying to get his bearings, then straightens up and heads right for the floating, black-garbed woman.

“Aunt Hecate,” he says as he approaches, and I’m horrified to see the creature’s head turn toward him. “Hi, it’s me, Ash.”

Hi, it’s me, Ash?

But the creature doesn’t attack. She tilts her head to look at him through the black veil covering her eyes. Then recognition seems to dawn. Her voice goes from a hiss to a caress.

“Ashraf,” she purrs.

“Yeah, hi, it’s been a while, huh?” He walks right up to the apparition and points at Haley, still pinned like a bug to the forest floor. “Sorry you got disturbed by all this, but I promise she’s not worth your time, Aunt Hecate.Sheis, though.”

He points at Emma, who is still standing nearby, trembling...

But not with fear, I realize, as Hecate turns her head toward her, and Emma bows her own. Brightly shining tears are streaming down the girl’s face, and her expression is what I can only describe asecstatic.