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There’s no such thing as witches, but there used to be.
My grandmother, Mama Mags, says they can’t ever kill magic because it beats like a great red heartbeat on the other side of everything, that if you close your eyes you can feel it thrumming beneath the soles of your feet, thumpthumpthump.
Mama Mags,
Narrator's grandmother
Mama Mags said that was horseshit, and that wickedness was like beauty: in the eye of the beholder. She said proper witching is just a conversation with that red heartbeat, which only ever takes three things: the will to listen to it, the words to speak with it, and the way to let it into the world. The will, the words, and the way.
There were three of us Eastwood sisters, me and Agnes and Bella, so maybe they’ll tell our story like a witch-tale.
A tangled web she weaves When she wishes to deceive. A spell to distract and dismay, requiring cobweb gathered on the new moon & a pricked finger
James Juniper Eastwood was the youngest, with hair as ragged and black as crow feathers. She was the wildest of the three.
But on the spring equinox of 1893, James Juniper is lost.
That temper will get you burnt at the damn stake, Mama Mags used to tell her. A wise woman keeps her burning on the inside.
Home was her sisters, once. But they left and never came back—never even sent so much as a two-cent postcard—and now neither will Juniper.
A badge on her chest reads Miss Cady Stone, NSWA President.
Mayor Worthington
She’s asking: Aren’t you tired yet? Of being cast down and cast aside? Of making do with crumbs when once we wore crowns? She’s asking: Aren’t you angry yet?
Sugar and spice And everything nice. A spell to soothe a bad temper, requiring a pinch of sugar & spring sunshine
Agnes Amaranth Eastwood was the middle sister, with hair as shining and black as a hawk’s eye. She was the strongest of the three.
But on the spring equinox of 1893, she is weak.
Every woman draws a circle around herself. Sometimes she has to be the only thing inside it.
Mr. Malton
Agnes's floor boss at the cotton mill
Floyd Matthews.
A young man who is hung up on Agnes
Agnes learned young that you have a family right up until you don’t. You take care of people right up until you can’t, until you have to choose between staying and surviving.
Or—milk.
I wonder if she got pregnant by Floyd
The wayward sisters, hand in hand, Burned and bound, our stolen crown, But what is lost, that can’t be found? Purpose unknown
Beatrice Belladonna Eastwood was the oldest sister, with hair like owl feathers: soft and dark, streaked with early gray. She was the wisest of the three.
But on the spring equinox of 1893, she is a fool.
Beatrice has been a librarian for five years and has seen much worse,
Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone
James, Agnes, Beatrice
She learned young what happened when a woman indulges herself, when she tastes fruits forbidden.
Mr. Blackwell, the director of Special Collections,
But now here they are, wet and hungry-eyed, smack dab in the middle of New Salem: her sisters.
Little Girl Blue, come blow your horn, The sheep’s in the meadow, the cow’s in the corn. Soundly she sleeps beneath bright skies, [Sleeper’s name] awake, arise! A spell to wake what sleeps, requiring a blown horn or a good whistle
Their oldest sister. The one who betrayed her and the one she betrayed in turn, eye for an eye. The reason she had to run. Bella.
What happened between Bella and Agnes?
You left me behind. You knew what he was and you left me all alone with him.
Their father must have been abusive
“Does he know where you are? Is he coming?” “Doubt it.”
I wonder if Juniper killed their father
Her daddy’s death was supposed to feel like vanquishing a foe or winning a war, like the end of the story when the giant crashes to earth and the whole kingdom celebrates.
“Cousin Dan.”
The girls' cousin
Juniper sees their eyes meet, cold and cutting, and wonders what the hell they have to hold against one another.
THE TALE OF THE SLEEPING MAIDEN
A riff on Sleeping Beauty
one day a young maiden would prick her finger on a spindle and the castle would fall into an endless sleep from which no one could wake it.
In the whole castle only the Maiden moved. She stole the king’s crown from his brow and settled it on her own head.
The king pulled him to his feet and announced that he and the queen had finally found a fitting heir.
Sister, sister, Look around, Something’s lost And must be found! A spell to find what can’t be found, requiring a pinch of salt & a sharp eye
The Last Three Witches of the West.
The way she told it the Last Three had not flown to Avalon in terror, but in a desperate attempt to save the last remnants of their power from the purge.
But, she would whisper with a wink, what is lost, that can’t be found, Belladonna?
The spell
Lost Way of Avalon.
“Witching and women’s rights. Suffrage and spells. They’re both…” She gestures in midair again. “They’re both a kind of power, aren’t they? The kind we aren’t allowed to have.” The kind I want, says the hungry shine of her eyes.
Hush a bye, baby, bite your tongue, Not a word shall be sung. A spell for quiet, requiring a clipped feather & a bitten tongue
Bella informs her that this is the precise reason why women’s dresses no longer have pockets, to show they bear no witch-ways or ill intentions, and Juniper responds that she has both, thank you very damn much.
“Miss Lind
The secretary of the women's association
Miss Grace Wiggin, head of the Women’s Christian Union,
