Chapter Six: Willow

Willow faced the rather reticent family alongside Professor Umber. Umber smiled, offering to buy drinks for Yannick's parents, Alfred and Helga Tarn. However, they both looked like they'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"Let's not waste any time," Alfred said, waving aside the offer for drinks. They were crammed inside a tiny village bar in the deepest, darkest corner it offered, allowing them to talk freely without the risk of being overheard. "We all know why we're here."

Helga's lip wobbled as if she were about to burst into tears.

"Okay," Umber said, glancing toward Willow. Willow was here because she looked young, pretty, and kind, and her type of magic was likely to convince the parents that the academy was finally making an effort to find their son, while before, both the police and academy had put off the search and had not updated them on their progress for two long months.

Sit still and look pretty and friendly.

Willow tried to squelch her nervousness. Martin couldn't come, for obvious reasons. The family wanted nothing to do with him.

"You asked us before if there were any important dates or rituals our family practiced," Helga said, controlling her tears. "Of course, we have some. An old family like ours – a proud family like ours – we carry some of the rituals our distance fae ancestors practiced."

Okay. That sounded promising. Willow leaned forward, and with an encouraging nod from Umber, she said, "That sounds exactly like what we wish to know. I am here, after all, to see that justice is done for your son. We've unlocked one piece of the puzzle. With what you can tell us here, we'll be able to complete the puzzle and find him."

"Yes, yes," Helga said, reaching out an impulsive hand to Willow, who took it. She tried not to act surprised, instead mustering as much warmth as possible in her smile. "We'll tell you."

"Don't forget the other possibility," Umber growled. "He may even be alive. There are no promises, naturally. Only that we must search, and we must do our duty."

"Imagine," Alfred said icily, "if you had done your duty before. We wouldn't be in this position now."

Willow nodded solemnly. "Mistakes were made. Now, we must make amends and do what's right."

Judging by Umber's approving nod, Willow felt she must be doing something right. Polite, friendly, and a soft but lower voice to add assurance. Everything possible, in other words, to try to produce a welcome outcome.

"One ritual we practice is our Sunday ritual. We bake bread and give thanks to our great fae ancestor and add cumin in the bread because it is their favored spice."

This… did not sound like what they needed. Still, Willow smiled as they started describing all sorts of inane, superstitious rituals, from leaving food for the wild fae, praying to some random pewter statue, making sure to clap their hands when they sneezed to leaving a boot by the chimney to capture spirits… nothing exactly noteworthy. Honestly, the family sounded crazy, like some backwater farmers who believed in every conspiracy theory under the sun.

At least until Helga finally started talking about moon rituals.

"There's the new moon ritual we do, don't we, darling – where we cast a piece of silver into the stream so that the fae of the waters know to leave us alone. And then the full moon ritual, of course, where we recite the name of the moon and pray for Brumous Draíochta, ancient words for a beautiful night passed down from our ancestors." She started rattling off another prayer, but Professor Umber interrupted her.

"You do this every full moon? Does anything happen when you do?"

"Why, of course! A beautiful night with the moon at its fullest!"

"And that's it?" he asked while Willow very slowly fished her cell phone out from under the table.

"Yes!" Helga said, apparently oblivious to the interest.

"How do you spell the words?"

"Oh, we don't know. We just say them."

Helpful. Willow suppressed the urge to scowl before asking them to repeat them once more with her recorder on.

They then both had to sit there and listen to even more stupid rituals, which also left Willow wondering if the couple had any time for normal things or if their entire day was one long list of rituals.

Professor Umber did a great show of checking the time before thanking them for their "extraordinarily helpful" discussion and said he hoped they would soon be able to return with good news.

They left the parents, who smiled and babbled to each other and stomped out into the fading daylight of what felt like a wasted Saturday.

"That was so freaking boring," Willow said. "What's with that family? Why do they do all this weird crap?"

"Some of the ones who deeply revere their fae blood hold a great number of superstitions," Umber said in a rather gloomy tone. "There is some logic to it. Fae love superstitions and rituals – it's one way to ground their presence in the mortal realm better. But it does mean some unusual habits form because of their beliefs."

Willow was glad that her family, even when giving thanks to their ancestors, never had an impulse to practice weird rituals.

A blessing in disguise.

Professor Umber listened to the recording with her. "One word sounds like brumous." He spelled it out, and she dutifully tapped it in. He read the definition of the term from a book: "A noun which relates to winter or sunless weather – and may refer to gray skies filled with heavy clouds or fog.

"Okay, so I think we have a fog-summoning ritual here, which, perhaps, when invoked in a specific location, can draw the fae realm closer. I don't know the first word, but it sounds vaguely Irish."

Willow tried a few searches until they discovered a word that seemed to match it.

"Referring to the secret lore and arts of the druids. A magic charm, an enchantment. Enchantment!" Willow squeaked. "Oh, this really sounds like it matches!"

"Well, it's certainly intriguing, but there's only one way to really test it. It's November 18th now. When's the next full moon, and what's its name?"

"Beaver Moon," Willow replied promptly. November 27th. Monday."

"Nine more days. Or eight more, if we consider that three days every month will be appropriate. We shall invoke the name of the Beaver Moon and then summon the fog. We can test it on the 26th, but we'll not go straight away. If it works, we'll get everyone we need for the 27th. I'll start making the arrangements."

The professor and student parted ways, and Willow messaged the group chat she now had with Eva and Martin, telling them everything they'd discovered.

Willow: Do you remember Yannick chanting anything? Did he mention anything about the moon?"

Martin: I don't recall. We didn't meet until around midday, so…

Eva: That sounds like he had enough time to summon the place before meeting up. If he were that confident, it'd work.

Martin: Yeah…

Willow: Do you think he knew it might be dangerous?

Martin: He never mentioned anything about that. Besides, we wouldn't have gone if we thought it was dangerous.

In all their messaging, something nagged at Willow. How responsible was Yannick for the situation? Why was his only body not recovered? It didn't sit right with her. Martin had survived, but it was a near thing with the drowning. Apparently, only his shift to tiger form helped him survive longer – perhaps the strength of the form helped him get through and find more air.

Professor Umber had said that the family's obsession with practicing rituals was a way for them to feel closer to the fae. Maybe they were visited by someone from the Unseelie. Maybe the spell had enchanted Martin.

Too many questions. None of which could be answered until the light of the full moon.

Helping Martin felt important. Helping him meant she spent a lot more time working on her magic, and Professor Z'Hana even arranged for a rather quick trip by private jet to the West Coast for the purpose of letting her use her magic to shield them from high tides. Saltwater moved differently from running water, and both Willow and Z'Hana waded into the sea, with her expressly trying to protect them.

Using her magic, she parted a small section of the sea, and the deeper in they went, the more challenging the control of the water became.

"The idea is that you need to form a pressure bubble," she said. "However, the deeper you go, the harder it'll be to maintain the bubble due to the water pressure. So, the deeper you go, the more the bubble will shrink, and you'll have to adjust to maintain an equivalent pressure within."

All of it sounded rather complicated to Willow, but she focused hard on her bubble cage, forming and weaving it around two separate people at once. They practiced at first by going ten feet underwater and timing how long the bubble held. Then, they worked on forming multiple bubbles, as it was easier to form many than to make one gigantic one.

By the end of the day, Willow was utterly exhausted, but Z'Hana had booked a hotel, and so there were four more days of relentless practice. No Dreadmor Academy for her while she wrestled with the ocean and attempted to perfect the magic.

"We must take no chances if you're the one to come with us. I need to be certain that your magic can protect us during high tide."

That was fair, and Willow agreed to it. But it meant that she could only message her friends and Martin early in the morning and the evening, as Z'Hana wanted her to work her magic as much as possible.

The first evening, she'd messaged Martin:

Willow: The prof is a complete slave driver. I can practically hear her cracking the whip as she gets me to use the magic!

Martin: Oh no, poor you! If you want, you can still return, you know – the professors did mention they can look for someone else if it's not something you wish to do. I wouldn't want to place you in any unnecessary danger…

Willow: The professor said this can count toward my grade, and it's a lot more entertaining than sitting at a desk and scribbling notes! I'm happy to help, anyway. You deserve it.

Martin: I'm grateful, truly.

Willow: This is also probably better than whatever half-baked plan you had, too.

Martin: Ha. Well, the professors insist that it's not my fault that I wasn't thinking clearly.

Willow: Do you think you've managed to shrug it off now?

Martin: I don't know. I still keep wanting to check every day. But it's hard to know how much of it is me and how much is the enchantment.

The second day went a little better, with them managing twenty feet and Willow even managing to hold the bubbles against a vicious riptide so that they wouldn't be sucked into the undertow.

On the third day, they risked going deeper, to forty feet, which honestly was a terrifying experience for Willow, as they needed to wade further out and sink deeper and deeper, knowing it would take a while to reach the surface. The paranoia of losing control of the bubbles helped since she could now accurately judge when her magic was close to running out.

"Storm day tomorrow," Z'Hana said, her bubble joining with Willow's. "That's the real test of how you manage in storm conditions. We won't go deep for it, however. But we must be prepared for the worst that can be thrown at us if we're to find the cave and brave the sea."

"Doesn't the whole thing worry you?" Willow drifted, shaping the bubble around her to mimic her body shape as she felt the intrusive pressure of the water against her skin. "The Unseelie Court, from what I've read, sounds terrifying."

"It's why I want to bring Katerina, one of our students. Faes adore making deals, and Katerina has a particular brand of magic that can form binding contracts of the sort that dark fae adore. She will be a last resort, however. The idea is that the team will be you, Martin, me, Umber, Katerina Davis, and a very talented student from our school – Marlon Rakeshadow. You may know him as Harrow's friend."

More like Harrow's boyfriend, Willow thought.

She remembered Marlon. He was a hot shot for time magic. People with time-based magic were rare, and unlike the fancy tales of time travel machines sending people far into the future or the past, actual time-magic people could travel back a few minutes in the past maximum, which still made them highly useful if something went terribly wrong. They could rewind the clock to that moment and ensure it went right.

That was why an alumnus of Dreadmor Academy, a time witch, protected the president of the United States.

It reassured her a little. She also mentioned that information to Martin in the evening.

Willow: Storm day tomorrow. I'm to be tested in a storm at sea. Honestly, I'm terrified – if something goes wrong, I don't think Z'Hana can save me.

Martin: Tell her you don't want to do it. Don't risk yourself! I'd much prefer you to be safe.

Willow: I'm afraid, but I'll do it anyway. It's better to experience it now than potentially be surprised by it when we reach that area, don't you think? I want to protect you and the others.

Martin: I should be the one protecting you. But… I suppose I knew something like this might happen if I found a water witch. From what I've seen, you're talented. I'd be proud to have you at my side.

Willow: Resorting to flattery, are we?

Martin: What if I was?

Willow: Go on. Let's hear some more…

Martin: Ha. Well, let's see. I would be honored to have such a wonderful, talented, beautiful witch assisting me with my glamour. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have.

Willow blushed a little, grinning at the words, kicking up her feet while lying on the drab white mattress of her bed.

Willow: You're just saying that because you don't know any other water witches.

Martin: Why would I want to know any others? You're the only one who matters.

Oh, crap.

Willow's heart leaped, affected strongly by his words. A growing, warm feeling spread through her body, radiating from her stomach. She grinned a silly grin, smashing her face into the pillow for a few manic seconds. It took a brief brainstorming to come up with a response.

Willow: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me…

Martin: If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted me to flirt with you.

At that point, Willow had a mini meltdown, and she froze. Her fingers reached for the letters.

Willow: Maybe I do.

Martin: Then maybe, when you come back, let's see where this goes.

She did a little screech into her pillow, struggling to contain the surge of emotion within. He was flirting! More than flirting! She wasn't ready for these weird feelings. No way.

The excitement carried over to the next morning, only to be replaced by dread when she and Z'Hana ventured out into the storm. The wind howled, creating dark, twisted noises, and the choppy sea pounded the coast. Red flags lined the beach, but they headed toward a more secluded spot usually reserved for surfers since the waves there were larger.

One good thing about manipulating water was that they didn't need to change clothes; Willow could draw moisture from wet clothing. The sea frothed and churned like a wild thing, and she shivered, wondering if it might be like that when they attempted to visit the fae realm or if it might be gentle, making all this training unnecessary.

Still, it was a great test of her powers. They pushed on, and she formed the bubbles around them, finding it more effective if the bubbles were as close to the skin as possible instead of spherical. This made swimming easier for them, as they could repel the water as she maintained the surface tension. However, larger bubbles were easier to filter oxygen through – so it really was a practice of when and where to adjust the magic.

A riptide pulled viciously at Willow, but she resisted. Because of the chaos above, there were more unruly currents beneath, and she needed to study the pattern of the water to ensure they remained safe, especially if they went deep and a lapse in the magic might mean dangerous pressure forcing nitrogen bubbles into their bloodstreams if they left a compressed area too quickly.

Deeper they went, to forty feet, then fifty. The deeper they went, the calmer the water became, and she idly watched some of the marine life bobbing in the dark waters, seemingly unaware of the turmoil above.

"Good," Z'Hana said, floating beside her, arms out, legs poised to kick. "Do you find this challenging?"

"It's easier when we go deeper. Nearer the surface, there's more going on." She expanded their bubbles to merge since they weren't moving, balancing the surface tension, so they now stood on the bottom of the bubble. Moving in this state was a little like being in a hamster ball.

"The undertow is the main issue with water in a compressed space. But you've managed to deal with the undertow by the rocks well enough."

"Yeah." She focused on her magic, eyes closed. "I can continue this for a good twenty minutes." She pushed out, creating more individual bubbles, pretending someone might be in each of them. Five bubbles, ten. "Like this, five minutes."

"Let's go up to the riptide and see how you maintain the focus there."

It didn't go well. Twice, Willow lost the thread, and both she and Z'Hana were consumed by the rush of icy, cold water – but at least she was able to flare up the bubbles while in the water, even with the shock of cold. Z'Hana made her keep practicing until she became somewhat proficient with concentrating on multiple pockets within the riptide.

All the same, it was clearly a risk that something might go wrong in an instant. They left the water shivering, and she used the last of her energy to separate the water from their skin and clothing, forming a little curtain against the rain.

"Ready or not," Z'Hana said, grasping Willow's shoulder, "in a few days, we're going to try. But right now, I'm extremely hungry. How do you feel about steak?"

Sure. Willow followed the professor, spending the rest of her last day there in contemplative silence, hoping that she knew enough to protect everyone when the time came.