Spells Trouble

forests beyond. Sarah slowed, then, and allowed Dorothy to walk beside her while Odysseus trotted with them, weaving between the fruit-laden trees as she made her way to the oldest of the apple trees.
At the heart of the grove Sarah approached the ancient tree respectfully. She placed her hand against the rough bark and whispered, “Merry meet, old friend. I give thanks for you to our great goddess, Gaia.” Sarah smiled up as the leaves above her quivered in response, though the lazy night breeze had completely died. She walked to the north side of the tree, where two massive roots had broken through the surface to form the V of a divining rod. There she dropped to her knees and, using a sharp stone, began to dig.
It didn’t take long for her fingers to touch the wooden box. Sarah didn’t bother to pull it free. Instead she cleared the dirt from it, opened the lid, and pulled out the cloth satchel she had buried the day before they’d come for her. It held her treasures—the means to a new future: travel cloaks for herself and Dorothy as well as a change of clothes, a leather purse filled with every coin she had saved, and her grimoire disguised as a prayer book. Beneath the book was a piece of cloth, carefully dyed the deep green of moss and of her daughter’s eyes. Within it was wrapped a tin of salt and a precious walnut-sized opal that glimmered lazily in the wan predawn light.
“Sit here at the base, little love,” Sarah told her daughter as she poured a circle of salt around the ancient tree. Then, with Dorothy by her feet and Odysseus beside her, Sarah drew three deep breaths and held the opal to the center of her forehead as she invoked.
By stone and salt I call to thee,
Guide mine steps from this fair tree.
Gaia, goddess good and kind and just—
In you I have always placed my trust.
Now I beseech, show me thy way
I am yours to command—yesterday, tomorrow, today.
Lead me to a place of power
Where never again will your daughters fear and cower!
With the last word of her spell Sarah closed her eyes and imagined that she peered out through her own forehead, into the flaming opal, and past it—to the magic it revealed.
“Oh, goddess be blessed! Thank you, Gaia! Thank you!” The words rushed from Sarah as green light lifted from the floor of the grove. Under her feet a ribbon of emerald pointed westward. As Gaia’s power channeled through the opal to enhance her sight, the path blazed and pulsed with energy, building in intensity in the distance. She felt its pull as if she had been tethered to it.
Sarah opened her eyes then and bowed her head reverently. “I shall follow your path—now and always. Blessed be, Earth Mother.” She kissed the center of the opal and then turned to the ancient oak. On tiptoes Sarah reached up to press the stone into a niche in the bark. “Thank you, Mother Apple. I shall always remember how you stood sentry over my future.” Again, the leaves above her shivered in response.
Only then did she gather their supplies, rebury the now empty box, and—with her daughter’s hand in hers and the feline familiar at their side—Sarah Goode broke the salt circle and headed west, following the ley line of power that thrummed like a heartbeat beneath her feet.

Present Day
GOODEVILLE, ILLINOIS—SALEM COUNTYOne
Goode Lake was postcard perfect with its tree-lined banks and sandy shores that gradually sloped into the crystal blue water. The lake always looked good, but somehow today it looked better. Maybe it was because today was Hunter Goode’s sixteenth birthday. Or maybe it was because Hunter was looking for a reason to procrastinate. Either way, she had charged down to the edge of the water, towel in hand, shimmied out of her T-shirt and shorts, and now waded into the calm blue.
Goose bumps crested against her skin and she stared down at her feet as the gentle waves consumed more of her. The water reached the high neck of her swimsuit top and she could still see her toes, blurry pale orbs against the camel-colored sand. Another few steps and they were gone, swallowed by the rich navy of the deep water, and Hunter was floating.
She lifted her legs, stretched out her arms, tipped her head back, and closed her eyes against the piercing sunlight. Her ears plunged beneath the surface as she drifted on her back. The dull whoosh of water was an active kind of quiet. The sort of roaring silence that made drifting off to sleep more of a command than a choice. And, for Hunter, this forceful silence was always welcome. It kept her from her thoughts. Better yet, it kept her from her memories.
A boat motor stirred the water and roared through Hunter’s reverie. She shielded her eyes and let her legs sink back into the water. The red-and-black boat circled the far side of the lake before it returned to the center. Its belly smacked the water as it jumped its own white-capped wake. A chorus of whoops and cheers erupted as the boat slowed and bobbed on top of the surging water.
A wave slapped Hunter in the face, and she wiped her eyes before squinting at the boat and its passengers. Its five passengers. Hunter blinked more water from her eyes. Five male passengers. And one of them was waving at—
“Hey!” The only shirtless member stood on the row of seats flapping his arms like a goose. “You go to Goode High, right? You’re a Mustang.”
The boat drifted closer to Hunter. She stared back at the five young men who looked at her expectantly. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her heart was lodged inside her throat and her pulse hammered against her eardrums. She dove under the water and swam back to the safety of the sand and her towel and