Shadows of Darkness

10. Whisht

This wasn't how it should go down. Molly left home six months earlier than planned. Her destination wasn't as exotic as Japan, but a forgotten midwestern town. Moments faded into the haze of strange rhythm, highway hum, and some monotonous gibbering.

Rapping in the driver's seat was a middle-aged woman who adamantly claimed to be sixty-seven. If the case were legit, a splendid amount of Botox would be responsible for her pristine face. Her stiletto's tip crushed the gas pedal eagerly, her hands more attentive to her shoulder-length gold hair than the steering wheel. Between a lace crop top and a mini denim skirt, her diamond belly-button stud blinked. Molly understood why her aunt was the estranged one; the type of music that Abigail listened to would have made Rebecca soap the whole car.

"So yes, just like the Princess Diaries," Gail concluded her entire rambling.

Molly wasn't sure why she willingly followed someone she had just met. Nothing really made sense without Rebecca explaining it to her. The only certain fact was things would change. She briefly thought of the church, her friends, her neighbors, and her coach, and realized that they didn't matter much. The only person who mattered was Rebecca, but Rebecca was dead.

Molly glanced at Gail's diamond belly-button stud again and chuckled silently. She was reckless to trust this vivacious stranger easily. When Abigail arrived with her fruity claims and proposition, Molly had no one to fact-check.

Gail said, "Without all the frigidity and makeover, but a lot of fun tricks."

Molly peered at a wooden chest on her lap. "Fun tricks?" She opened it to inspect the unfamiliar symbols on some parchments. On one folio, Rebecca's handwritten script thrust through the lines.

Mighty Black Wolf dances on the grass blades...

"Candles, sage, graveyard soil, copper wires, salt, sweet creepy decorative." Gail looked at the contents in the chest from the corner of her eye. "And a daughter who thinks she's a teenage human."

Molly nodded carelessly. Craziness was intriguing—and distracting. Yeah, right, Reverend Wolf was a witch. More likely, Rebecca, who detested paganism as she would have to Gail's choice of music, confiscated these props from some free-spirited kids.

"You actually thought you could hide these things from her forever." When Gail spoke to her dead sister, she had to do it with the pursed lips. A mix of a reverend and a witch in the same house would have been wild. "You were into earth magic, I see."

Another reason Molly came along was Gail's deafness to remorse.

It wasn't a year of sweat in a karate camp. Freedom, Molly thought as an ocean of empty cornfields swept behind both sides of the road. She had fantasized about a break from her strict mother, a little adventure, and even a reckless kiss. And here it was: the total package in the form of a life-size Barbie. Wild tales of magic, witchcraft, blood lineage, and something called huldrekes came to Molly like whatever she could grasp in the hooks of those rap songs. Nevertheless, Gail's tales of the Allen sisters were entertaining—witchcraft was in their root, the origin her aunt referred to as Darkness.

"That's not the Princess Diaries." Molly interrupted after Gail mentioned a variety of magic that Molly was supposed to already know. "That's Terminator."

Rebecca never talked much about her family, but she could, at least, warn Molly about this particular twist.

Gail grimaced. "Dear Darkness, in which part I mentioned that you'd be hunted by robots." She peered at a horizon behind the windshield.

"The protection spell part." Molly crinkled her nose. "A princess shouldn't have to learn a sword fight. The chosen one in danger, on the other hand, would have to cuddle a knife to sleep."

Gail let out a steamy breath. "You definitely inherit your mother's attitude, but nothing of her talents." She swerved onto a road opposite to Oakbarrow High, where Molly managed to slide in the middle of a semester. "What a waste! If I delivered you to Darkness like this, she'd toss both of us in Hell instead of the Dark Meadow." She rolled her eyes. Her rambling confused and entertained Molly at the same time.

It wasn't a vibrant land of cherry blossoms and flashy anime, but a quiet terrain of the Great Plains. Even a princess could feel like a tiny speck in this monotonous mega-landscape.

Their trip ended before a bright yellow house. Some tenacious blooms were swaying in early winter winds. On the porch, metallic wind chimes rang eagerly while the red candles calmly illuminated the porch. Molly was curious how Gail orchestrated the candle-lit welcome. Clearly, a great effort had been put into this elaborate scene. Molly used to be embarrassed about having a reverend mother, but now she had to live with having a witch aunt.

In a town with a population less than three hundred, Gail made a comfortable living as a psychic. In a strict catholic household, Molly couldn't know the market for occultism. Gail's house was rich like her personality—colorful, dazzling, and chaotic. A kitchen was spacious enough to serve the purpose of a living room because she converted the actual living room to a reading room. The backyard was an herb garden with the Oakbarrow Forest's border its boundary.

After a five-minute exploration of her new habitat, Molly lolled in a bed of her new room. It was somehow better than the old one, sweeter and messier, in fact, close to what she thought of Japan. A two-day road trip and many dramatic magical tales effectively won what could have been last year's blockbusters in one tiresome flight. The arrangement was really better than the original plan. The only regret was that its perpetuity.

"Hey, Sarah Connor!" Gail cried out at the door. She was standing on her bare feet, hesitating between coming and going. "When you know the truth, you will be glad that she is dead."

That was bright, clear, and somehow hopeful.