The air changed from brine- to beer-scented, from frost to feathers.
Betty hit solid ground, but it was a curiously soft landing. She opened her eyes and found she was lying on her back, staring at familiar oak beams on the ceiling above. The Poacher’s Pocket should have been open and trading, but instead it was deathly quiet and dark, and the windows and doors were locked and barred. Outside was not so quiet; the prison bell was clanging in the distance. Somewhere nearer was the squeaking of a rat.
Betty sat up, rubbing her eyes. Had it worked? Were they really back in their Poacher’s Pocket? If it hadn’t, then Betty had nothing else to give. All would be lost. She would be lost. There was no sign of Granny anywhere, and the only movement was downy black feathers cascading like ebony snowflakes. She was suddenly aware that someone was still holding her hand.
“Colton?”
“Am I alive?” He groaned, releasing her. “I must be. Being dead wouldn’t hurt this much.”
“Fliss? Charlie?” Betty’s voice rose anxiously. She leaped to her feet.
“Over here.” Fliss’s voice sounded from near the fireplace. Betty rushed over and found her kneeling, her arm around Charlie, who was still clutching the traveling bag.
Charlie batted a feather away from her face and sneezed. “Is it over? Did we break the curse?”
“I . . . I think so.” Betty looked around. Everything looked as she remembered, and for a scary moment she wondered if nothing had changed. Had they saved any of the Widdershinses before them? “I can’t hear the crows anymore . . . and if Sorsha didn’t fall . . .” She hesitated. “But where is she?”
“I’m here.”
Sorsha Spellthorn stepped from the shadows. Her matted hair reached halfway down her back, glowing like rust in the half-light. Silvery streaks of dried tears crisscrossed her brown face, which, now that it was no longer contorted with suspicion and dark thoughts, had a certain beauty about it. “Widdershins,” she said slowly, as if for the first time. The first time not saying it in hatred. “You came for me. You saved me.”
Betty swallowed, meeting Sorsha’s eyes. For the first time since discovering the horrible truth about her link to Prue, she felt the burden lift. The Widdershinses had nothing to be ashamed of anymore. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” Sorsha’s eyes lingered on the traveling bag. “But . . . why? Did my sister . . . ?” She stopped and blinked, like there was something in her eye. “Did Prue send you?”
Betty shook her head. “I’m sorry. She didn’t. But it’s because of her that we were able to use the . . . your magic.” She gestured to the traveling bag. “The objects got passed down, over time, to us. We each received one and could only use the magic of the one we were given.”
“Over . . . time? How much time?”
“Over a century,” Fliss answered.
Sorsha nodded, studying each of them. Her eyes lingered on Colton. “And you? Are you a Widdershins?”
“Er, no. Just . . . someone who got caught up with all this.”
Sorsha stared at the traveling bag. “I thought I’d never leave that tower alive.”
“I know.” Betty’s voice was hoarse. “All those days you spent in there. All the words you scratched into the walls: ‘malice,’ ‘cowardice—’ ”
“ ‘Escape,’ ” Sorsha interrupted. She smiled, sadly but warmly. “That’s the only word that matters now. As well as ‘forgiveness,’ perhaps.”
Fliss frowned. “You mean . . . you forgive Prue? For what she did?”
Sorsha’s eyes clouded with pain. “If what you say is true, she’s gone now. Long gone. And somehow, I don’t think what she did would have made her happy.”
“But she was jealous of you,” Betty blurted out. “Of what you were and what you had. So jealous and bitter she wanted you out of the way, at any cost!”
“Yes, she was,” Sorsha agreed. “But jealous, bitter people don’t suddenly find that those feelings go away when what they envy becomes theirs. They simply find something else to be jealous and bitter about, because it was never about what the other person had. It’s about what they themselves lack.”
Betty’s cheeks were suddenly warm and wet. To her embarrassment, she found she was crying. Sorsha’s words had touched something within her, a deep-rooted guilt that she had been holding in for a long time and trying to pretend she didn’t feel. There were times when she had envied her sisters, particularly Fliss for her beauty and charm. But now she smiled and met Fliss’s eyes, and they shared a look of love and understanding that only sisters could. They didn’t need to compete. Their differences didn’t have to set them apart.
Together, their differences only made them stronger.
“There are warders patrolling everywhere out there,” Colton cut in. He had moved to the window and was now holding himself so tensely that Betty thought the slightest touch would make him jump like a coiled spring. “So come on, Betty Widdershins. How do I get out of this one? Because I sure as eggs can’t stay in Crowstone.”
“With me,” Sorsha said simply, glancing at the traveling bag.
“You mean . . . it’s time to give my pinch of magic back?” Charlie asked, her voice trembling.
“Yes, Charlie.” Betty took the nesting dolls out, running her thumb over the beautifully painted smooth wood. “It’s time to give it all back.” She passed the dolls to Sorsha, then watched in silence as Fliss and Charlie handed back the mirror and the traveling bag. Sorsha held them all for a long moment. Unexpectedly, she handed the dolls back to Betty.
“Keep them.”
Betty stared at the dolls, longing to take them. She hadn’t expected that returning the gifts would be such a wrench. “I’m grateful, but I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to my sisters—”
“Their power is for you all,” said Sorsha. “You’ve earned it.” She gave another sad little smile. “Besides, they’re the perfect gift for sisters who look after one another.” She pushed them into Betty’s hand. “Real sisters.”
“Thank you,” Betty whispered, stunned. A deliciously warm feeling of gratitude spread through her body, as intoxicating as the magic itself.
Fliss moved toward Colton. “So this time it really is goodbye,” she said softly.
Colton nodded, his dark eyes somber. “I suppose it is.”
A floorboard creaked somewhere above.
“Betty?” Granny’s voice thundered. “Felicity? Charlotte?” The girls froze at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Fliss was the first to snap out of it. “Go now,” she whispered.
Colton hugged Charlie quickly, then gave Fliss a swift kiss on the cheek.
She touched her fingers to her face. “What was that for?”
“For luck.” He grinned suddenly. “But I think you girls have already changed that for yourselves.” He turned to Betty, reaching for her hand. “I’ll miss you, Betty Widdershins. Don’t ever change.” He hesitated. “Friends?”
Betty squeezed his hand. “Something like that. And, Colton?” Her voice became muffled as he pulled her into a hug. “Thanks.”
Colton grinned. “It was a pleasure. Well, some of it.”
Sorsha tucked the mirror into her clothing and reached into the traveling bag, ready. “Farewell, Widdershins girls. You have your own magic now.” Then, linking her arm with Colton’s, she whispered something, so quietly that none of them heard.
In an eye blink, they were gone, with only a scattering of crows’ feathers floating on the air to say they’d ever been there at all.
“Jumping jackdaws!” Granny shrieked, startling them all. The girls whipped around to face her. A black feather had stuck straight up in her hair, making her look like a cross old turkey. “Just where have you three been? Crowstone is on lockdown—there are prisoners on the loose and you three go gallivanting?”
She peered at Fliss. “I see you took my advice and finally cut that mane of yours. We don’t need any more complaints about it getting into the customers’ beer. But that still doesn’t explain where you’ve all been!” She wagged her finger at Betty. “This was your idea, wasn’t it, hmm? And what in whiskey’s name are all these feathers? It looks like every crow across the Misty Marshes has been massacred here!” She eyed Charlie suspiciously. “Is this you, bringing dead things home to bury again? This has got to stop, young lady—”
“No, Granny,” said Charlie in a small voice. “I didn’t bring anything home this time . . . well, nothin’ dead, anyway—”
“Charlie?” Granny said in a warning tone, but Charlie rushed on.
“We were too busy saving Sorsha Spellthorn and breaking the curse—”
“Curse? What curse?” Granny threw up her hands. “You girls and your games, you wear me out. It’s not the time for games when that prison bell is tolling, do you hear?”
“Yes, Granny,” they chorused.
Granny softened, exhausted by her tirade. She pulled out a chair and plonked herself down, using a wrinkled hand to fan her face. “Mind you, our Clarissa was the same with her games. She always loved the story of Sorsha Spellthorn, too.”
“Which story was that, Granny?” Betty asked carefully, with a warning glance at Charlie to hold her tongue.
Granny frowned at her. “The tale of how she vanished from the tower, of course! Everyone knows that. Why, Clarissa and your father used to drive me mad, making me tell them that story so they could act it all out. Clarissa loved pretending to be Sorsha. Poor Barney had to be an imp or a crow.” She snorted. “She’s no less bossy now.”
“You mean she’s alive?” Betty asked.
Granny stared at her in astonishment. “Are you feeling quite well, Betty? You’re acting peculiar, not your usual sensible self at all.” She held up a hand to Betty’s forehead. “You don’t feel overly warm.”
Betty forced a smile. An unfamiliar feeling trickled over her, like warm sand. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt content. Dazed, but happy. “We were just . . . just having a joke with you. I’m fine, Granny.”
It’s true, she realized. I really am fine.
“Hmm.” Granny let her hand drop and heaved herself up. “A joke, eh?” She collected a cup from behind the counter and poured herself some tea. “Let’s see how funny you think being grounded for two weeks with extra chores is. Perhaps we should ask your father what he thinks. Look, here he comes now—”
“What?” Betty turned as the door rattled and someone pushed it open from the outside. Hope welled within her. It couldn’t be, surely . . . ?
Barney Widdershins stood on the doormat, stamping dead leaves off his boots. His cheeks were red with cold.
“You three!” he scolded, closing the door against the wind. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He paused, a twinkle in his eyes as he took in their shocked, frozen faces. “I just hope Granny’s done the telling-off part so I don’t have to.”
“Father?” Betty managed, disbelieving. The dolls rattled in her shaking hand. Beyond breaking the curse, she hadn’t considered what other consequences could arise from their actions—but here he was. Slivers of ice fell away from her heart. They would never get back the years they had lost with him, but at least now they had time to make it up. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
He chuckled. “I live here, last time I checked!”
“Did they let you out early?” Fliss asked, her voice strained.
None of the girls had moved an inch.
“Out of where?” Their father stepped toward Charlie, sweeping her up into his arms so that she was perched almost on his shoulder. Charlie stared back at him stiffly, then slowly reached out and poked him on the nose.
“Prison,” she said.
“Prison?” their father laughed, poking her back. “You cheeky little beast! I’m a respectable man.”
“Just about,” said Granny, rolling her eyes. “You won’t get any sense out of them, Barnaby. They’re playing one of their games. I’ve already told them they’re grounded for two weeks . . .”
Before Granny could say any more, Betty found herself walking over to her father. Tentatively, she put her arms around him, half afraid he would vanish like marsh mist. A moment later, she felt Fliss beside her, and her father’s breath in her hair.
“You’re real,” she murmured into his coat. It smelled of crunchy leaves and cold—and beneath it he was warm and solid and there.
“Sweet as pumpkin pie when they want to be,” said Granny suspiciously. “But don’t think that’ll change anything! Grounded—two weeks!”
“S’not fair,” Charlie said, glowering. “Not after what we’ve just done!”
“I’ll talk her down to a week,” Father whispered.
Betty turned to Fliss and they shared a secret smile.
“A week’s not that long,” Fliss said, her eyes shining.
“No,” Betty agreed. “Not now that we’ve got forever.”