Free Witch's Awakening by Neely Powell

pencils were on the ground. Where was she?
    The owl screamed and thunder rumbled as if in reply. Jake lifted his head, scenting rain and something more—an acrid smell that turned his concern to panic. Where was Brenna? He turned in a circle, looking in each corner of the big yard, from the gardens to the big, ancient oak, to—
    At first the nightmare scene didn’t register. Then Jake realized Brenna was pressed against the big oak’s massive trunk. A bright green vine tied her to the tree. It was so thick she was barely visible.
    â€œBrenna!” he shouted.
    He saw no movement, no sound, no sign of life. Jake dropped the water bottles, grabbed the axe beside the porch and ran toward her, fearing she might be dead. Heart pounding, he raced to the side of the tree away from Brenna. He swung the axe with all of his might, cutting into the thick vine. It broke, but regenerated in seconds, keeping Brenna tightly wrapped. Overhead the owl circled and hissed in alarm.
    He shouted for Frances over and over as he fought the vine with his axe. He needed magic to get Brenna out of this. He yelled and hacked at the plant until the older woman opened the door of the screened porch.
    The sensible witch didn’t waste time asking for explanations. “Get the flower,” Frances screamed at him as she hurried across the yard. “Kill the flower.”
    Only then did Jake see the bright red bloom at the tree’s base. The flower pulsated, as if pumping energy into the angry vine. The menacing growth was between Brenna’s ankles. If he hit too far to the left or right, he could cut off her foot.
    â€œKill it!” Frances shouted as she arrived at his side. Her eyes closed as she chanted, “Guide his hand. Guide him well. Kill this bloom, this vine from hell. Save this girl. Free the tree. As I will, so mote it be.”
    Empowered, Jake drew the big axe back, aimed and brought it down with all his strength. He split the flower exactly in half.
    A keening like an animal in pain filled the air as the vine unwrapped. The long tendrils dried up as they hit the ground. Jake was at last able to break the stems. He tossed aside the blade, got Brenna’s arms free and held her as the vicious, living rope fell away and faded to dust. The dark clouds overhead retreated toward the mountains with the owl in flight behind them.
    Jake was laying Brenna in the grass when a shout sounded from the house. Lauren ran toward them, her face white against her auburn hair. “Granny. Granny, are you okay? I came home and heard shouting out here. I thought—”
    â€œIt’s Brenna,” Frances said, grasping her granddaughter’s arms. “She’s been attacked.”
    Jake checked Brenna for signs of life. Her breathing was shallow with intermittent shuddering gasps. The damn monster had almost crushed the life out of her. How could he help? He started to speak into the radio on his shoulder, but Frances stopped him.
    â€œThis was magic-made and will have to be treated with special healing. Get her inside to the front bedroom.” Frances turned to Lauren. “You get on the phone and get Sarah and Eva Grace over here. I’ll get something to help Brenna.”
    While Lauren punched numbers into her phone, Jake picked Brenna up in his arms and followed Frances inside. “That way,” she said, pointing him down a hall while she hurried to the kitchen.
    In a pale pink bedroom filled with ruffles and lace, Jake laid Brenna on the bed. Her pulse was slow and weak, but she was drawing air in jerky gulps. That had to be a good sign. He checked her body for wounds and found nothing more than purpling bruises. They colored her face, neck and the bare legs revealed by her khaki shorts. Her T-shirt was in shreds. More bruises and abrasions were visible through the torn knit.
    Rage flooded him at the damage to her delicate skin. The wildness he carried inside almost broke free. Despite his