Backwards Moon by Mary Losure Page B

I’m glad you did it,” said Nettle.
    Bracken leaned on her shoulder. They staggered into the garden and pulled the door shut behind them.

chapter eighteen

    The others were waiting in the little stone house.
    â€œDid you get it?” cried Ben.
    â€œYes, but it was awful,” moaned Nettle. “Awful.” She squeezed her eyes tight shut, willing herself not to cry, but still the tears leaked out. “Toadflax came, this terrible witch. And she said she had the magic to find the Door. She said if we didn’t come with her, we would never get another chance.”
    â€œShe said our
fathers
were waiting and it was the only way to find them,” said Bracken in a broken voice. “She said all our mothers cared about was them. That our mothers would have gone through the door and just left us behind if the Fading hadn’t gotten them first.”
    Dee patted them both on the shoulders. “Things will be okay,” she said awkwardly. “Really they will.”
    â€œI’m sure your mothers wouldn’t have done that,” said Anna. “Don’t cry,” she said uncomfortably. “Please don’t cry.”
    But they did cry.
    Dee and Anna and Ben the Witchfriend and the raccoon all stood around and said kind and comforting things. Ben gave them an oil-stained red bandanna to use as a handkerchief, but nothing seemed to help.
    Still, no one can cry forever.
    â€œThere now,” said Ben, when at last they had stopped.
    â€œAnd you do have the stone,” said Dee. “Maybe you can get to the other world anyway. On your own.”
    Bracken looked at her in silence. Then she pulled the stone from her pocket. “I wonder,” she said slowly. “I wonder . . . if it’s as hard to do as Toadflax told us it was? Because if a secret is hidden in the stone, who would have hidden it?”
    â€œUs,” said Dee, nodding slowly.
    Bracken nodded back. “And you wouldn’t have made it a hard spell, would you? Because why would you do that, if you wanted another witch to find it?”
    â€œWe wouldn’t,” said Dee. “We would have made a simple one.”
    Bracken put her palm on the stone. “ ‘Open,’ ” she said.
    And there, deep inside it, was the image of the great oak that grew right outside in the garden.
    â€œCan you see?” asked Dee, peering into the stone. “Is there anything there?”
    â€œIt’s the oak,” said Nettle. “The great big oak in the garden.”
    â€œBut there’s no Door
there
,” said Dee, frowning. “Is there?”
    â€œI think it takes another spell,” said Bracken. She put her hand to her forehead.
    â€œAre you all right?” asked Dee.
    â€œMy head hurts,” said Bracken. “It hurts more when I do magic. And my leg aches.”
    The Fading, thought Nettle again. But it would not happen to Bracken.
    It couldn’t.
    Bracken took a breath, then murmured some more, her face pale. Trembling, she passed her hand over the stone.
    And deep in the stone, words formed themselves out of mist. Touch the tree, and say this spell, and the Door shall appear. Enter and welcome, seeker. Beneath that, in tiny silver lettering, were the words of a very simple spell.
    â€œYou did it,” said Nettle softly. “Oh, Bracken! You did it!”
    â€œThe others at home,” said Bracken. “We have to take them through the Door too.”
    â€œBut how can we?” asked Nettle. “They’ll never make it to the oak before the Fading gets them.” In her mind she saw a ragged V of witches falling from the city sky, spiraling down in a flutter of black, turning to glittering dust. . . .
    â€œI have Woodfolk beads,” said Bracken. “If we can fly home, we can wish everybody back here with the beads. We can magic them right to the Door, then hurry them through before they fade.”
    â€œYou