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“We want to make it right. Please, let us use the flower,” begged Ruby.
“No! I need it! I’m going to find a way to heal my sisters! You’re right! I’m tired of sitting around waiting for you to help me. I need to help myself!”
“Yes! When we come back, we will help you find a way to save your sisters. We promise, just as soon as we’ve helped Maleficent!”
“Fine, bring me with you! It’s my flower and if you’re going to use it, I want to be there to make sure it’s protected.”
The sisters looked at each other, stupefied. “That’s not possible. You don’t have any powers. It would be dangerous for you,” said Lucinda, clearly tired of the conversation.
“Then do the spell that makes me your real sister, and we will use the flower to heal the Dragon Witch. And then we will heal my sisters together.” Gothel was desperate. She knew the odd sisters were powerful witches and there really wasn’t anything she could do to keep them from taking the flower.
“If you knew how magic worked, Gothel, you’d understand we can’t do that. Not all at once, at any rate. There must be time between powerful spells.”
Gothel looked down at the floor. She saw little bits of red cloth from Ruby’s skirt scattered on the tiles, and she thought of blood. And then she remembered: she had no choice. She couldn’t let the witches take the flower from her. It was her only source of magic, her only chance to save her sisters. She said the words and wished with all her being they would help and guide her.
“Then I call upon the old gods and the new. Bring life to the dead, and give me my due!”
“What are you doing, Gothel?” said Martha, worried by hearing her say an incantation.
But Lucinda laughed. “Oh, look, Sisters. Gothel thinks she’s doing a spell!”
Martha and Ruby joined in Lucinda’s laughter, and it grew so loud the teacups started to rattle on their shelf, and the cake tin was vibrating on the counter, threatening to fall on the floor again.
“I call upon the old gods and the new. Bring life to the dead, and give me my due!”
“Gothel, this is just silly! Stop embarrassing yourself!” said Lucinda.
The odd sisters’ house started to shake so violently it knocked their teacups and knickknacks off the shelves.
“Sisters! Stop your laughing!” But Lucinda realized it wasn’t their laughing that was causing their house to shake. It was Gothel’s spell. The house was shaking so powerfully the windows were bursting out of their frames and the odd sisters had to hold on to each other to keep from falling.
“Gothel! What are you doing? Stop this!”
“I call upon the old gods and the new. Bring life to the dead, and give me my due!”
Gothel screamed the incantation, her face transforming into something sinister. The odd sisters had never seen her like that before. She looked like an entirely different person. Focused. Confident. Queen of the dead. And utterly terrifying. It was as if she was channeling her mother.
Gothel flicked her hand, causing the flowerpot to fly out of Ruby’s hand and into hers with such a powerful force the pot cracked in it on impact.
“Gothel!”
“I call upon the old gods and the new. Bring life to the dead, and give me my due.”
Gothel pushed the hair away from her face the way her mother always had when she was about to do powerful magic. She gathered all her hate and pain and felt it surging through her body. She could actually feel it; it was like a white-hot ball in her stomach that was growing so large she could no longer contain it. She felt her hands shake and realized the rage would consume her if she didn’t release it. She reached out her hands, which looked familiar and yet other to her—they looked like her mother’s—and she released a torrent of lightning into the floor, causing the house to shake more violently than before.
“Gothel, stop! You’re going to kill all of us!”
The witches could see the earth outside exploding violently, bringing forth a legion of skeletal creatures that swarmed the odd sisters’ house, clambering to get through the doors and windows. The sound of their bone fingers scratching on the windows and wood was terrifying. Their awkward and broken bodies were pouring through every broken window like a plague.
“Gothel, no! Tell them to stop!”
“You will never have the flower!” screamed Gothel. “Never!” She stretched out her hand, grasping at the air, tightening her grip on something invisible, causing the odd sisters to fall to their knees and scream in pain as she brought her hand down in a quick motion. “Keep still, witches!”
“Gothel, please stop this! We don’t want to hurt you!”
Gothel laughed. “Look at poor powerless Gothel now! What was it you called me? Silly?”
Lucinda’s face was filled with pain. She struggled against Gothel’s spell and slowly got to her feet. “Gothel! Stop this at once!” She slammed Gothel with a powerful blast, causing Gothel to fly backward through the large kitchen window and smash against the apple tree in the witches’ garden. The blast scattered the skeletons in every direction, rendering most of them to dust.
