We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from So Witches We Became, a young adult horror novel by Jill Baguchinsky—available now from Little, Brown Books for Young Readers.
For high school senior Nell and her friends, a vacation house on a private Florida island sounds like the makings of a dream spring break. But Nell brings secrets with her—secrets that fuse with the island’s tragic history, trapping them all with a curse that surrounds the island in a toxic, vengeful mist and the surrounding waters with an unseen, devouring beast.
Getting out alive means risking her friendships, her sanity, and even her own life. In order to save herself and her friends, Nell will have to face memories she’d rather leave behind, reveal the horrific truth behind the encounter that changed her life one year ago, and face the shadow that’s haunted her since childhood.
Easier said than done. But when Nell’s friends reveal that they each brought secrets of their own, a solution even more dangerous than the curse begins to take shape. Reading like a YA feminist spin on Stephen King’s The Mist, So Witches We Became is a diverse, queer horror about female friendship, the emotional aftermath of surviving assault, and how to find power in the shadows of your past.
From the author:
High school seniors Nell, Harper and Dia are best friends on the spring break trip of a lifetime; even the presence of Harper’s overprotective older brother Harry can’t dampen the excitement of a week on a private Florida island. When Harper’s boyfriend Gavin and his friend Christopher show up, however, all hell breaks loose and the group finds itself at the mercy of the island’s old magic—a magic that holds a mysterious connection to Nell’s most closely guarded secret. In this exclusive excerpt, Nell and the others get their first look at the danger they’re in, and a hint of the dark fate they’ll face if they can’t find a way to escape. The island is awake—and it’s hungry.
Chapter 11
“What the hell, Harper?”
“Jesus, Harry, calm down.” Harper shoves her fishing rod into Tris’s hands and squares her shoulders, prepping for Round Two in the Spring Break Battle of the Siblings: Brawl by the Bay.
Harry pushes a hand through his hair. “Everyone back to shore!” he yells, nostrils flaring. “Now!”
I’ve never seen Harry so angry. Dia stares up from the floating dock, eyes wide, looking like she doesn’t know whether to pee her pants or fling herself into his arms. Even Harper hesitates; her mouth opens as a screaming fit builds, but then she ducks her head and stomps down the long dock. We all follow, meekly filing into the house and gathering in an uncertain flock near the front door. Harry stops long enough to grab the empty beer cans from the back porch and grunt, “Really?”
Inside, he points at Gavin and Christopher. “You two. Leave.”
Gavin’s jaw tightens. He inhales. He’s not as tall as Harry, but he swims and runs track, which builds more strength than Harry’s history books. The muscles in Gavin’s arms tense, and I worry that punches are about to be thrown, but then he exhales in a sharp, aggravated huff and drops his eyes. He snatches the blue-and-orange flask from the coffee table and pockets it, and he and Christopher take their beer cooler and head out the front door.
Harry turns to Harper. “Got anything to say before I call Mom and Charlie?”
“He was just visiting!” Harper’s stare hardens, her eyes dark under scrunched brows.
“You knew the rules.” Now that Harry has cleared out the intruders, his tone creeps closer to normal. “No boys. No drinking.”
“I didn’t know he was going to bring the beer!”
“Uh‑huh. And I’m sure you didn’t have any, right?”
Harper goes quiet.
Buy the Book
So Witches We Became
Beside me, I sense Tris shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her fingers graze my forearm. I wish I had the courage to reach down and catch her hand in mine. I want to apologize for causing her to be here for this mess.
“I trusted you,” Harry says. “Mom and Charlie did, too. You couldn’t live up to that trust for even a couple of hours.”
“I don’t fucking care about Charlie’s trust,” Harper mutters.
Harry huffs out an exasperated sigh and heads to the porch to make the call. Before he can close the door or dial, he says, “Oh, now what?”
We follow him outside and see Gavin’s BMW returning to the house. “Maybe the gate isn’t working,” Harper says quietly. “I can go down with them and—”
Harry shakes his head and jogs down the front steps as Gavin gets out of the BMW. “What part of ‘leave’ don’t you understand?”
Gavin stands still. “We tried. There’s something in front of the gate.” He looks a little pale. I squint, looking harder, thinking the sunlight must be playing tricks.
“What?” Harry asks.
“I don’t know,” Gavin says. His words carry a hesitant tremble. Gavin isn’t usually the sort to tremble. “It’s just… there.”
“It’s some kind of cloud,” Christopher adds, getting out of the passenger seat. “It’s blocking the way.”
This time, I do grab Tris’s hand. Her fingers twine through mine, squeezing. “That shimmer,” she murmurs, her words matching my thoughts.
“I just drove through the gate fifteen minutes ago,” Harry says.
“It was kind of hazy down there earlier,” I say.
Harry frowns, rubbing his fingers along his jaw. “That was just a heat mirage,” he says, but his voice carries a new undercurrent of uncertainty. He saw it, too. He saw it and he dismissed it as something normal, something born of rational circumstances. But it isn’t normal, is it? I think back to the bus, the phantom ice cream truck, and my lost uke. Nothing about this place is normal.
Finally Harry sighs. “Let’s go see.” We get into his SUV and follow Gavin’s BMW back down the dirt road.
Whatever waits for us, it’s no mirage. What was once a light shimmer in the air has congealed by the gate. The haze has turned soupy and rust colored, hanging like a thick bank of fog between us and our only path off the island. It’s not quite solid, but it’s close—the gate beyond is a nebulous form ghosting behind the brown murk. It looks wrong, uncannily so.
“What is that?” Dia looks at Tris. “Are there factories around here? Or a power plant? Maybe there was some kind of meltdown.”
Tris frowns. “There’s a chemical plant inland.”
“What kind of chemicals?” Harry asks.
“No clue. The place almost got shut down over a spill when I was a kid. But if this stuff is from there… The plant is at least ten miles inland. And wouldn’t you expect the wind off the ocean to carry it away from the shore, not toward it?”
“I don’t know what to expect at the moment,” Harry says grimly, pulling out his phone as our miniature convoy continues creeping toward the island’s only exit point. “There haven’t been any emergency alerts, at least not that I’ve gotten.”
“I’ll see if I can find anything,” Tris says, but the search app on her phone stalls without loading properly. “Coverage out here usually isn’t this bad,” she mutters.
Harry stares at the haze. “I’d really like to get us out of here, but we have no way of knowing if that stuff’s safe to breathe.”
“Doesn’t look too safe to me,” Dia says softly.
I nod, too unsettled to voice my agreement out loud. The chemical plant is a rational source to blame, but if the haze is from some kind of meltdown or spill, it would have to be catastrophic to spread this far. I almost say so, but something about opening my mouth right now feels unwise. I’m reminded of how I felt when I was little, keeping my jaw clamped shut as the shadow reached toward me. Somehow this feels too much like that.
My shadow. I didn’t do my ritual last night. I have no reason to believe the haze is somehow related to that, but the coincidence tucks itself into my mind and stays there like a whispered recording on an endless loop. But what if? What if?
We’re still about a hundred feet away from the gate when the BMW stops ahead of us and Gavin rolls down his window.
“What’s he doing now?” Harry mutters. He gets out of the SUV, and we follow.
The air here is heavy and still, with a bitter, metallic tang. We’re so near the ocean—the Atlantic is a short jog to the left—but there’s no salted breeze here to carry the haze away. I take a few steps toward the cloud, going beyond the BMW, and the air weighs on me, pressing on my shoulders like I’m hefting an invisible sandbag. My lungs burn with each inhalation, my throat contracting until I cough, still trying my hardest to keep my jaw shut. With a hand over my mouth, I retreat, walking backward because turning my back on the cloud seems like a very bad idea. Tris’s hand finds mine again, and she pulls me the last few feet to the SUV and holds tight.
“We’ll have to drive through it,” Harry says, his voice hushed as if he’s afraid the haze will overhear.
Gavin shakes his head. “I’m not driving through that.”
“How else are we supposed to get off the island?” Harry asks, bending slightly to address Gavin through the window. “We need to get out of here.”
“That shit stinks, man. And we don’t know how much of it there is!”
“Can it get inside the cars?” Dia asks.
Harry straightens and presses a hand to his forehead. “Look, whatever it is… It’s a chemical, a gas. I just did a whole presentation on the chemical weapons they used in the First World War. There were things the soldiers did to protect themselves. We can do the same.”
“What? Are you going to dig up some gas masks or something?” Gavin scoffs.
“Not actual gas masks, obviously, but…” Harry frowns. “Before they had those, they used cloth masks. They’d soak them in water, or a baking soda solution. Some of them even used urine.”
“Jesus, Harry,” Harper says shrilly.
“I’m not suggesting we do that, exactly,” he says quickly. “But if we tear up a couple of shirts, that’ll be enough fabric for everyone to have a few layers.” He looks at Tris. “Is there any baking soda in the house?”
“There might be some in the pantry,” she says, although her tone is doubtful. “People leave staples like that behind sometimes.”
“Okay, so maybe we can make a solution and soak the masks. We just need to wear them long enough to drive through that stuff. That way, if it can get inside the cars…”
“There might be a couple of leftover painter’s masks in the garage, too,” Tris says, falling in line with his train of thought.
“Great!” Harry says, now on a roll. “We should protect our eyes, too. Some kinds of gas can blind you. Sunglasses won’t do much. Are there any goggles for the pool? Swim masks? And we should cover up in case that stuff is caustic. Mustard gas used to cause horrible blisters; this might be like that. Jeans and long sleeves—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gavin snaps. He opens his door with enough force to shove Harry back a step and gets out of the BMW. “Wet masks and long sleeves? That’s what you’ve got?”
Harry glares at him. “I don’t hear you coming up with anything better.”
“Gav,” Christopher says from the passenger seat, his voice reedy. “Just drive through it. Come on.”
“That might be our best option,” Harry says. “Get through it as fast as possible and hope for fresh air on the other side. It’s what Canadian troops did during poison gas attacks—charge in and get through. The French troops would retreat instead, but that didn’t—”
“Shut up about wars,” Gavin yells. “This isn’t a war!”
“We don’t know what this is,” Tris says.
“Fine. We’ll drive. Right now.” Gavin points at Harry. “You first, though. You open the gate, and we’ll follow.”
“The road’s not wide enough for us to drive around you,” Harry says. “Just go. Just…” He glances at Tris, an apology in his eyes. “Just drive through the gate. It’ll give.”
“I’m not wrecking my car on that—”
“Gavin, please.” Harper’s voice wobbles. “I’m scared.”
“It’ll be fine, babe.” He drapes an arm around her and walks her a few steps away from the group. “I always take care of you, right?”
“Can I ride with you?” she asks.
“You know it’s a two-seater.”
“But maybe Christopher could—”
“Harper,” Harry barks. “Come on back. You’re coming with us.”
“Go on.” Gavin gives her a soft push. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Looking wounded, she comes back and puts her arms around her brother, their earlier argument forgotten. “I’m scared,” she says again. I think of the time she and I secretly streamed a slasher movie when we were eight and she had to run to her brother for protection after the killer chased a screaming woman through a night-draped forest.
Harry exhales sharply in Gavin’s direction. “Just drive through the goddamn gate, man.”
The air grows hotter, heavier. Gavin starts to argue again, insisting that the SUV go first, but Christopher interrupts him. “Just go, Gav. Come on.” Christopher stares through the windshield at the haze, his face pale. “We have to get out of here. Just go.”
Gavin narrows his eyes, but he nods and gets back into his car. “Okay, okay. Stay close,” he says to Harry before rolling up his window.
We pile back into the SUV, and Harry pulls up close to the BMW’s bumper. Beside me, Dia is shaking. I link my arm through hers; my other hand is still safe in Tris’s strong grip.
“What if this is a war?” Dia says quietly. “You know, an attack. Some kind of chemical weapon.”
“Then we’ll get through it and come out on the other side,” Tris says. “Whatever this is, there’s a rational explanation for it.”
I still haven’t opened my mouth. I can’t shake the ghost of that long-ago terror, the fear that made me clench my jaw shut against the shadow. The haze is a mystery, but this feeling is too familiar, and I’m beginning to suspect our situation has nothing to do with a toxic spill or a chemical weapon. There’s nothing rational about this moment.
I can’t explain that, though, not in any sane way, so I stay quiet and hope I’m wrong.
Harry turns on his brights. Ahead of us, Gavin does the same. We can see the gate more clearly now, although it’s still like staring through etched glass.
“What the hell is that?” Harper whispers.
The gate is covered in… something. It looks like greasy black tar, shiny and wet. It’s on the ground, too, and on the plants and trees nearby, and on the low, flat bridge. It drips off the Straight Shot sign in thick, moldering glops like mucus coughed up and spat from a smoker’s lungs.
“Come on,” Harry mutters when the BMW stops just before the bridge, its front bumper nearly vanishing into the haze. “Just fucking ram the gate already.”
The BMW’s engine revs with a jarring metallic squeal as if Gavin is standing on the gas pedal, but the car stays put. After a few seconds, the sound dies off and the taillights go dark.
“Why aren’t they going?” Dia says, her voice shrilling into a squeak.
“Harper, call him.” Harry taps the horn. “Tell him to keep going.”
Harper already has her phone to her ear. “The connection’s all staticky. I can barely hear him, but I think he said the car is dead.”
“Damn it!” Harry smacks the steering wheel.
The SUV’s engine shudders.
“It’s the haze,” Tris says.
“But we’re not even in it!” Dia yelps.
“Doesn’t matter,” Tris says. “We’re close enough. That stuff is doing something to the cars. It might be interfering with the phone signal down here, too.”
“That can’t be possible—” Harry starts, but he’s interrupted by another shudder, this one more violent. “That’s it. We need to get back to the house.” He puts the SUV in reverse but keeps his foot on the brake. Harper flails her hands toward the BMW. “We can’t just leave them!”
“Tell them to get back here. Now.”
Harper relays the message, and the doors of the BMW fling open. Gavin and Christopher leap out, the collars of their shirts pulled over their noses and mouths. They sprint toward the SUV. Gavin stumbles, his head whipping around to glance behind him. The movement causes his shirt collar to fall, exposing his face. He appears to gasp, open-mouthed, and he doubles over, coughing violently, retching like something’s stuck in his throat.
“Gavin!” Christopher screams from next to the SUV. He freezes, caught between retreating and going back to help his friend.
Gagging, Gavin glances up. He looks hunted, with the saucerlike gaze of a prey animal, but then he straightens and forces his feet to move.
“Hurry!” Harry says as Gavin and Christopher scramble into the SUV, bringing that metallic smell with them. They slam the doors and Harry floors the accelerator, hurtling us backward while the engine shakes and sputters. With no time to fasten seat belts, Christopher and Gavin lurch out of their seats. Gavin’s chest crushes against the seat back in front of him, setting off another vicious coughing fit. I close my eyes and press my face against Tris’s shoulder, hoping Harry won’t fling us off the road and toward the ocean. A scream rises in my throat, forcing my jaw to unclench.
The SUV makes it halfway back to the house and dies.
“Run!” Harry yells, and we run.
Excerpted from So Witches We Became, copyright © 2024 by Jill Baguchinsky.
