Torn

I knew going into Grandma's garden was forbidden. But sometimes you do whatever it takes to stop the taunting—especially when it comes from your annoying cousin. And when I find a mysterious book that calls to me in an old well, I know I should have listened.

Now there are voices that call to me, begging me to let them control the magic in my veins. But I can't let them.They're dark. Dangerous.Now, I must face the consequences of my actions by fighting the demons while learning my own white magic. Some rules are made to be broken. But breaking this one may just destroy the world.

 It was the last cousin baseball game of the summer, and I was bored out of my mind. Standing out in center field was not my idea of fun, but
here I was.

“Sending it to you, Gwen!” Craig laughed and pounded his bat against the ground. Typical. Ever since he’d made the high school baseball team, he’d grown even more annoying. His looks had left the awkward preteen phase, and he loved to use it to his advantage.

“Not a chance.” Josh laughed and wound up to pitch. My brother was one of the only people I knew who smack talked our cousin. Lucky for both of us, he usually delivered what he dished out.

I snapped my gum and readjusted the cap that kept my hair out of my face. Josh threw a fastball that went straight to the catcher’s mitt. I grinned. Craig really hated when Josh pitched those.

Next pitch, and this time it went wild. I glanced at my watch. We'd been playing for over an hour, and if Josh didn’t hurry this up, I’d melt from the heat. Black probably wasn’t the best thing to wear in the middle of the summer, but I’d been roped into playing at the last minute.

Another strike. Craig fumed, and I knew before he swung at the next pitch that he was too slow. It was our turn at bat. While I wanted the game to be over, it was worth another inning to see Craig strike out. I jogged in with my team and grabbed the bat. Craig’s face was a storm cloud of annoyance as he pushed past me.

I shook my head and took a few practice swings. Craig stood on the pitcher’s mound, which surprised me. He was good, but he wasn’t a pitcher. Apparently he thought he had something to prove to Josh and the rest of us.

Josh stood next to me, watching Craig warm up. “He goes a little to the inside.”

“I see that.” I gripped the bat. “Nice pitches, by the way. Coach Wilson would be impressed.”

Josh had also made the team this last year and while he was stuck on second base for most of the season, he was really hoping he could be the pitcher for our junior year.

“Thanks.” Josh grinned. “Good luck.”

I tapped the bat on the makeshift home plate and got ready to swing. Craig pitched the ball, and it went inside, just like Josh had said it would.

“Strike,” Craig called out.

“Nice try. That was a ball,” Josh yelled back. “Maybe you should let someone else pitch.”

Craig caught the ball and shook his head. “It’s not my fault your sister can’t hit. That was a strike.”

I clenched my jaw at the insult. Just because I didn't like to play didn’t mean I couldn’t play. I’d just stopped
playing the day my dad died. It hurt too much to play his favorite sport
without him. I adjusted my grip, forcing the thought out of my head. “Just pitch it already.”

Craig smirked and wound up.

The ball was exactly where I liked it. I swung, and the crack of the ball hitting the bat rang out through the backyard. My team cheered while the other team ran for the ball. I jogged around the bases and hit home before I realized that no one was coming after me.

I bent over to catch my breath, then turned to see what was going on. Everyone stood at the edge of the garden, staring. Oh no. What had I just done? An argument broke out as they tried to decide who would get the ball. I ran over to stand next to Josh. I hadn’t meant to hit the ball hard enough to go in . . . there.

Craig shoved his younger brother, Austin. “Go get it.”

“You get it. I didn’t do it.” Austin ran back to the house, his eyes wild with fear. The others followed, leaving Josh, Craig, and me standing there.

“That was our last one.” Josh’s face had gone pale.

Craig glared over at me. “You did this on purpose.”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did. Go get it.”

Josh stepped between us. “She’s not going in there.”

“Someone has to, and it’s not going to be me.” Fear crossed his face.

I grumbled. Craig wouldn’t let this drop until someone got the ball. I took a step, but Josh grabbed my hand.

“It’s fine. I’m just grabbing the ball.” I opened the small rusty gate and jogged into the garden that I wasn’t allowed to go into without Grandma. But if it meant shutting Craig up, it was worth it. I had to get out of there before
= Grandma and the kids got back from their fishing trip, and they’d already been gone for hours. If they caught me in here . . .

The back corner beckoned to me as I walked toward it. And while the garden was off limits for the most part, the back corner was absolutely forbidden. Not that I wanted to come in here anyway. I didn’t like the way my stomach clenched or how goose bumps popped up on my arms whenever I was in the garden with my grandma. It only got worse the closer I got to the corner. But I’d promised to go get the stupid ball, and I was going to do it. I swallowed down the fear and stepped into the corner. An old well sat there, surrounded by overgrowth. A chill ran through me, and I didn’t want to go in any farther.

The sunlight seemed to dim just a little, but I brushed it off. I had to force myself to stop thinking and just keep moving, or I’d never get out of there.

Toys littered the ground, but they’d almost become part of the foliage around them—almost as if the ground had claimed them for its own. Trucks with vines growing up and out of their windows, dolls entangled in weeds, almost begging for help. The headless doll that Craig had thrown in here when he didn’t want to get in trouble for it. Shuddering, I kicked away leaves and vines, searching
for the ball. Nothing seemed disturbed except where I had just walked through. Pulling out handfuls of weeds only revealed bare ground beneath it. Combing through the overgrown bushes along the back wall brought nothing but a few
spiders and a sliver in my finger. Perfect.

“It’s not over there. It’s closer to the well,” Craig yelled. His voice seemed muted, even though he was standing at the gate.

A breeze whipped up around me, blowing leaves into my face and tangling them in my hair. I turned to Craig and Josh. “I don’t see it. We’ll have to ask my mom to take us into town for another one.”

“That’ll take too long. Keep looking. Maybe the ball fell in the well.” Craig’s usual smirk seemed to be a little less cocky as he stared at me. “Pull up the bucket. I bet it’s there.”

“It can’t fall inside the well. There’s no way.” At least, I didn’t think it could. It was open to the air, but the odds of it falling inside were very slim. I walked around the well, but there was nothing there except the same dead leaves as everywhere else. “It’s not here, Craig.”

 “It has to be. You looked everywhere else. Just check inside if it’s not anywhere else.”

“Drop it, Craig. She’s already looked everywhere. Come on, Gwen. I think I heard Mom’s car,” Josh pleaded.

Craig swore. “She’s not coming out until she finds the ball. That was my last one my dad got me for my birthday. I want it back.”

“Then you go get it.”

“Guys, shut it. You’re not helping.” I hated to admit that Craig was right, but there was only one place it could have gone. I crept closer to the well. All the horror stories told by older cousins, all the nightmares I’d had of this place when I was a little girl, came back to me in a rush. Pure, unadulterated fear screamed at me to run. But while I could leave right now—say that the bucket hadn’t pulled up anything—that would mean Craig would win. I couldn’t let that
happen.

“Gwendolyn.”

I jumped back. I was sure . . . no. There was no way I’d just heard my name. My heart beat wildly as I took a step toward the well. The rocks around it were rough and dug into my hands as I leaned over the side, expecting . . . something. I wasn’t sure what, but I couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment. If there was actually water, it was deep. There was nothing but blackness. I wanted to relax and told myself there was no way I’d heard a voice, but it continued to echo through my mind.

“Come on, Gwen. We need to get out of here.” Josh’s voice was frantic now.

“I’ll be there in a sec.” Curiosity had won. I needed to know what was down there. It was like something had a hold on me. Terror gripped me as I grabbed on to the handle and yanked on it. The pulley protested, not having been used for who knew how long.

The bucket slowly came into view, and while there was clearly no baseball, the bucket wasn’t empty. A book sat nestled inside, as if it belonged there. It should have been wrinkled and falling apart, but it looked untouched by the water. The title was worn, but I could just make out the ancient lettering on it. The word “Spell” caught my attention. My stomach dropped. No way. This was
impossible. Maybe Craig was playing some kind of trick on me . . .

“Gwen! Seriously. Get out of there. Mom and Grandma are back. You know they'll freak if they see you in there.”