T*Witches: Split Decision by H.B. Gilmour, Randi Reisfeld

old warlock lying on the ground, inside the circle of stones; she could still see Ileana leaning down to comfort him, straining to catch the fallen tracker’s last words. Which Alex had heard and, in the grief and fear that had followed his passing, had nearly forgotten. Now she recalled they were about a book.…
    “Keep the change. Both pennies,” Michaelina snapped at the driver, hopping out of the cab and slamming the door. The taxi sped off, leaving her and Alex in a cloud of dust.
    To her immense relief, Alex saw that this was not the same area she and Cam had traveled to before. Theforest where Lord Karsh had been killed had been near the water, smelling of salt and brine. This place was dry, its ground a bed of soft pine needles.
    Still, this woodland was eerie in another way. Alex couldn’t put her finger on it until Michaelina led her onto a narrow dirt road that cut through the forest. An old, weather-beaten sign nailed to a tree alongside the path told the story: GALLOWS HILL. This was the executioners’ lair. In these very woods, victims of the witch trials not burned or drowned were hanged.
    But why would Sara’s spirit be here? Sara had been a protector, and though she held firm beliefs about the beauty and bounty of nature and its ability to heal sick souls, she wasn’t a witch. And she hadn’t been murdered, unless you counted the big C as a killer. Lung cancer, not a noose, had ended Sara’s life. Nor had she any ancestors that Alex knew of whose spirits might haunt this place.
    “Over there.” Michaelina stopped, pointing to a thicket of evergreens. “We’ll cast a sacred circle right there.”
    Alex’s stomach lurched. Until this moment, she hadn’t completely believed this would happen. Only now it felt very, very real. It sounded real, as if, over the buzz and scramble of forest creatures, someone was breathing, waiting only to be summoned.
    Alex sniffed the air, expecting the aroma of violets,of chamomile and chocolate, her mother’s sweet scents. She caught a whiff of something else — medicinal and acrid.…
    “Pay attention!” Michaelina ordered. With the slim branch in her hand, she scurried to draw a circle in the earth. Even before it was complete, the urchin extracted stones from her drawstring pouch. “Opals to contact the spirit world,” she announced. “And lots of marjoram —”
    The traveler’s herb, Alex knew. Mike’s candle was courtesy of the Cami collection, an aromatherapy candle she’d swiped from the nightstand.
    “Come inside.” Michaelina held out her hand, and Alex took it, stepping into the circle. “Are you ready?”
    Numbly, Alex nodded, her pulse pounding in her ears, until she could barely hear the incantation.
      
In the pale before day, in the dark beyond night,
      
Good spirit, grace us with your light
      
Grant that Alexandra, the daughter adored,
      
May see you, and hear you, dear mother, once more,
      
Seeking truth and guidance, she braves this black glen.
      
Be with her now, Sara, as you were with her then.
    “Don’t be upset.” Michaelina gave Alex’s hand a surprisingly strong squeeze. “She might not look exactly as you remember her.”
    A breeze picked up and Alex shivered. A faint tinkling gave way to a rustling, to footsteps in the forest. From behind a tangle of trees, a thin, tiny ray of light shone. Alex watched it in awe until its brightness forced her to shut her eyes. When she reopened them, a cloaked figure stood in the shadows, just outside the circle.
    Alex’s eyes clouded; her throat closed. Was it…?
    “Yes, it is. I was hoping you would send for me. I’ve been waiting.”
    Alex gasped. Sara’s voice — it wasn’t… hoarse. She spoke in a whisper, but there was no wheezing, no coughing. A wild thought came to Alex. In death, had Sara been cured, the ravages of years of smoking cleansed from her lungs and throat? “Mommy?” She swallowed hard. “Are you