Karen Mahoney - The Iron Witch
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Contents
Woodbury, Minnesota
The Iron Witch 2011 by Karen Mahoney.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Flux, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
As the purchaser of this ebook, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.
Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the authors copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover models used for illustrative purposes only and may not endorse or represent the books subject.
First e-book edition 2011
E-book ISBN: 9780738729886
Book design by Steffani Sawyer
Cover design by Lisa Novak
Cover image of: woman 2010 iStockphoto.com/Hannah Eckman
vial 2010 iStockphoto.com/Dmitriy Aseev
scroll illustration 2010 iStockphoto.com/Emilia Kun
Flux is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
Flux does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.
Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publishers website for links to current author websites.
Flux
Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
2143 Wooddale Drive
Woodbury, MN 55125
www.fluxnow.com
Manufactured in the United States of America
To Mum, for always believing in me no matter what;
I love you very much.
And to Veej, for pushing me to live my dreams
(for everyone!); thank you doesnt even begin to cover it.
Donna Underwoods Journal:
My father died saving my life when I was seven years old.
I wish I found it easier to remember him outside of my dreamswhere of course he is tall and handsome, and over and over again saves me from the Wood Monster.
In my nightmares, Im always running through twisted woodland. The trees bend close together and whisper beneath the moonlight as I stumble between them, trying desperately to keep my footing. Behind me I can hear quicksilver footsteps and a cacophony of cackling and screeching. I enter a small clearing with the yammering sound of my pursuers still ringing in my ears.
The ashen stump of a tree trunk stands in the center, a fairy-tale woodcutters axe stuck into the top of it at an angle. Im breathing hard, my chest burns, and the fear is like a frozen claw gripping me so tight it hurts. My childs hands reach for the scarred axe handle, even as I know I wont be able to pull it free.
I never can.
Im surrounded by a weird choir of voices, inhumanly singing my downfall, though I cant see anything outside the clearing but trees and darkness. There are other sounds, too: strange clicks and scrapings that hurt my ears and set my teeth on edge.
And thats when my father appears, right there beside me. This part is always so clear that I cant help wondering if this is how it really happened. Dad reaches for the axe and easily yanks it out of the stump, sparing me a glance. I see the flash of familiar determination in his eyes. Maybe we will get out of here after all. Maybe it will be okay.
Get behind me, Donna.
I do what he tells me, and as I cower behind my fathers broad back I begin to pray.
But when the screeching hoard breaks into the clearing, two of them riding on the back of the Wood Monster, I stop praying and begin to scream.
It all started with the party.
Thats what Donna Underwood would tell herself in the days that followed. If only she hadnt let Nav talk her into going with him, then maybe everything would be different. Maybe things wouldnt have gotten quite so bad.
But Donna was a total pushover when it came to her best friend, Navin Sharma. All he had to do was gaze mournfully at her with those big brown eyes and shed gladly follow him into Hell. Or in this case, into a strange house filled with a bunch of kids who thought she was the worlds biggest freak.
Which was pretty much the same thing.
It was hardly her idea of a fun way to spend Saturday night in Ironbridge, especially not when most of this crowd was still attending the high school shed been kicked out of last year. But Navin was determined to attend the hottest party this side of Thanksgiving, and he had been equally determined that she should go with him. This would be more than just a regular gathering, hed assured her gleefully; it was a major event organized by some guy whod graduated from Ironbridge High and already dropped out of college. His parents were disgustingly loadedand on vacationand the party had been talked about for weeks. Apparently, everyone would be there.
Which was exactly what she was afraid of.
Once inside, Donna grabbed the first opportunity to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She found a dark corner of the living room and leaned awkwardly against the wall, fiddling with her silver scarf, retying it for what felt like the hundredth time. With her embroidered blue jeans, black and silver T-shirt, and long, black velvet gloves, she looked a lot more sparkly than she felt. It didnt help that shed already begun the day unsettled and jittery, woken by the familiar weight of cold dread. The dreams always left her that way.
Earlier that evening, she and Navin had jumped off the bus at Central Station and set off in the direction of the Grayson townhouse. As the city closed in around them, all energy and iron, Donna had felt the thrum of power beneath her feet. Her adrenaline spiked, and the accompanying rush of blood left her light-headed. Her iron-laced hands and arms throbbed in unison to the beat of the citys heart. And she knew that if she wanted to, she could shatter the bones of Navins hand without breaking a sweat.
Donna was marked by magic. And not just any magic, but an ancient alchemical magic that had lain hidden behind legends for centuries. Yet knowing what she could do didnt make her feel special. It didnt make her feel powerful. All it did was make her feel completely and utterly alone.
But she wasnt alone tonight; she was letting Navin pull her through the streets while trying to pretend she wasnt completely terrified. Her fingers curled reflexively inside her favorite gloves as she resisted the temptation to flee.
Stop being so cranky, Underwood. Youre just nervous. Navin could barely keep the amusement out of his voice. He patted the back of her hand before releasing her.
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