The Witchfinder Wars (5 page)

It was green and sticky, but the dragon root
mixture Evie made did wonders for sore muscles and bruises. I
rubbed it on the blooming purple fingerprints, the only physical
reminders of my little confrontation during the walk home. I
examined my reflection in the mirror.

The red hair I'd thrown back into a ponytail
before school was now loose, causing tendrils to fall and frame my
face. The dark green eyes looked full of fear, almost wild above
the circles, light purple against the pallor of my skin. At
eighteen, the childish roundness had left my cheeks and made them
gaunt across bones a bit too fragile.

I hurried to throw a shirt over my arms as I
heard the whirlwind of noise my mother always made when she
returned home from work. Her voice met me now as I left my quiet
solitude and stood at the top of the stairs to watch her.

"Annie, you seemed to have survived." Ivy's
grin was bright as she pulled off her lab coat and threw it over
the purse she had dropped beside the door. "See, I told you. It
must not have been that bad, eh?"

No, worse
.

I trotted down the steps, grabbing the white
coat to hang up for her. I'm neat; Ivy's not.

"How were things at the store?"

My mother chuckled as she hugged me.
"Exhausting. Taking care of those old people wears a girl out."

My tongue clicked against my teeth as I hung
her coat up on the rack in the back of the hall closet, smoothing
the thin white cloth. Ma worked behind the pharmacy counter at
Floyd's Drug Store at the edge of town, mixing prescriptions for
those who have come to love her for her good sense and common
wisdom. She had the exact opposite effect I had on people, and I
was glad for it. It kept her happy to be wanted and needed. At
Floyd's, that's exactly what she got.

I met her in the kitchen, not surprised to
see she already had her cards out and was spreading them into a
configuration across the table. The kettle on the stove had just
begun to steam. I grabbed mugs and the tea bags down for the
afternoon ritual we had started in my childhood.

"What do you see, Ma?" I asked as I put bags
in our mugs.

Ivy's brow knitted as she concentrated on
the colorful array spread out before her.

The tarot was her talent. Each card spoke to
her in a way they had never spoken to me. The cards spoke to Ma
just as Aunt Evelyn's herbs and star charts responded to her
patience.
You'll find your gift soon enough, Annie
, my
mother had told me through my many failed experiments, with the
cards, the charts, powders, and spells. I chalked it up to my
rebellion against their workings, but now I wondered if a talent of
some kind, any kind, couldn't have helped me this afternoon.

I placed the mugs on the table and joined
her as she swept the cards into her hands and passed them to me in
silence. Their worn surfaces felt cool against my palm before I
shuffled them, concentrating on nothing but myself as they shifted
into an order of importance. I set them on the table in front of
her and waited, wondering if my secrets would be exposed to the one
person I didn't want to share them with.

Her thin fingers split the stack into three
separate piles, then collected them up once more into a single one
before picking the first three off the top. Ivy's lips were moving
along with her hands as each card was flipped to expose the
pictures underneath.

"The Queen of Swords. King of Wands. And the
Ace of Wands."

The late afternoon sun softened the glow in
the bright kitchen, and now the shadows across my mother's pretty
face darkened it somehow. The nose seemed jagged, her eyes sunken
as she placed her hand over each card, then looked to me.

"This is you, Annie." One thin finger jabbed
down at the Queen of Swords, almost hard enough to pierce it. "A
young woman, influenced by fire, whose strength has yet to be
determined. And this..." the finger moved over to the King of
Wands. "Ah, this is interesting. This is a young man, one I haven't
met yet. Strong in his convictions, wealthy, powerful in his own
way. The element of air is all around him like a cloak. This one
will prove to be a great influence on you soon."

My thoughts flew to Tommy, the one I had met
this afternoon, the one who had saved me, and I swallowed. My
mother's predictions often turned out to be truth, and I shuddered
to think of the type of isolation and pain I would be bringing upon
Tommy, who had been so eager to help me.

That's ridiculous. He doesn't know me, nor I
him. He probably won't even remember my name tomorrow.

"The final one, the card I was seeking and
for which the Goddess be thanked, is the Ace of Wands."

Ma's voice brought me back and I stared at
the smile I think she intended to be one of triumph. Instead, it
looked sinister to me.

"Wands?"

Ivy sighed and swept the cards back into the
stack.

"Yes, Annie. Wands. Don't you remember
anything I've taught you? It means the fitting tonight will go
perfectly."

I nodded and glanced at the clock. It was
already after four, and I knew I would have to start preparing for
the magic of my fitting soon. "Speaking of which, I gotta get
going, Ma. But..."

I bit my lip to cut off the question before
it could escape any further. She and Evie had been waiting for this
ritual to begin for months now. Picking out just the right pattern,
just the right fabric for my robes. Although I didn't want to
participate, I knew I would have to do so regardless of any
decision I made later on, if only because they were both so
excited, so pleased. The chair squeaked as I stood up and backed
away from the table.

"See you then, Ma."

The sound of the cards shuffling once more
was my only answer. I left Ivy to the other world she found for
herself within the tarot.

***

Getting ready for a ritual, no matter how
mundane, can take hours of preparation. Cleansing all the tools and
getting in the proper state of mind is more exhausting than the
working itself. The events of the day had added to my exhaustion by
the time I was ready to join my aunt and Ivy in the living room,
yet the relaxation I felt overpowered it. If I must do this, I was
determined to do it right.

The first thing I noticed was the soft light
of the candles around the table where the bolts of cloth were
piled. The second was how the light seemed to fight back the rich
shadows masking the ancient furniture in our biggest room. Ivy and
Evie looked lovely in their own robes, each reflecting the elements
they were known for.

My mother's element was water. Prolific and
dreamy, calm but volatile, her robe reflected the ever-changing
blue and violets and lavenders which could only come from the
liquid. Aunt Evelyn was as solid as the earth she had come to
represent. The robe fit her sturdy form and cascaded down to the
floor in an array of browns and greens.

I shivered as I stepped into the circle they
had already created.

The circle of protection is a barrier
between the real world and the astral one we dealt with when doing
any sort of spell work. Invisible to the naked eye, its thin layer
was crucial to those of us who were calling upon the powers most
humans dismissed as myths and fairy tales. I joined hands with the
others in my family, my coven. The energy we were creating swirled
within the boundaries of the circle, and I trembled from the power
of it.

The words they spoke were said in unison.
Rhyming and lilting, their voices rose and fell in a harmony that
could only come with years of practice. I murmured my responses for
fear of disrupting the beauty of the song surrounding me. When Evie
dropped my hand, and Ivy did the same, I opened my eyes to watch as
they blessed the fabrics and began to drape them over my form.

The red was rich, the yellow bright to
represent the fire, my symbol at birth. Their hands worked to tuck
and straighten, then smooth the material falling down to puddle
around my feet. My eyes closed as I listened to their words until
they were drowned out by something much more soothing.

A sound so sweet and clear, I felt the tears
welling into my eyes before I could stop them. My hand reached out
to brush those tears away from my cheek and I gasped as I heard a
new voice within my mind.

Welcome home, child
.

My mother looked up at my gasp, and scowled
as she nudged me to be still before she continued her work. It
seemed to last forever, but when they finally finished and we
closed the working, both Ivy and Evie were grinning as they rushed
off to secure the sacred fabrics and compare what they had
experienced.

I was once again alone.

The flames of the candles adorning the
living room still danced as I walked around the room to blow each
of them out. A good witch would make a wish with each candle, but I
was too stunned by the ritual to think of such things. The final
candle stood before me and I watched as it flickered.

Talk to it.

The voice in my head sounded just as sweet
as it had earlier. I staggered back before shaking my head.

"Don't be silly," I said out loud.

Trust me.

The voice was soothing, but it was unnerving
too, startling, even frightening. I wondered if the years of being
exposed to my mother and aunt had finally pushed me over the
proverbial edge. Resignation and curiosity set in as I stared at
the final candle warily.

My movements were timid at first, reaching
out with my hand to brush the tip of the flame with my palm. It
responded, or so it seemed, blazing up at my touch. I pulled back
for an instant, then leaned in, letting my vision become blurred by
the oranges and yellows that lived within the flame and held me
rapt. I swallowed back the feeling I was acting silly before I
whispered.

"Did it all go well?"

The flame flickered and rose to a thin beam
around the wick. I gasped again and stepped back.

It did
...
it all went very
well
, I heard someone—something—say.

Oh, my Goddess
...
it answered
me
...

The feeling of ridiculousness returned as I
leaned in once more, cupping my hand around the flame to keep my
breath from blowing it out.

"Was Ma right about Tommy Hopkins? Is he the
King of Wands?"

The candle flame flared up in a violent
display and the tip of it aimed toward me while a thin plume of
smoke reached out and circled around my hands.

Yes...yes, she was and he is. And I fear
I'll be the cause of much trouble for him, I'm sure of that.

I was surprised by the sadness overcoming
me. I sat down on the floor before the candle. The flame had
answered my questions but raised even more doubts. I stared into
the orange light.

I had long known fire was a part of me,
smoldering like coals just beneath my shy exterior. It was the
element of all Leos, but mine was damped down, restricted and
confined somehow. Perhaps it was all the self-doubt, the
persecution I felt at being someone different in a town with no
room for outsiders. But who knew fire in the physical world could
respond in such a way? Who could tell me if my answers were truth
or delusion?

The shadows I sat in felt heavy against my
shoulders as a desperate wish grew within me. I didn't
want
to be so different. So alone. I made a wish, a wish would take away
the loneliness. A wish the cards and the flames could be right
about Tommy. There was a certainty in my mind that, if I asked, I
could bind him to me forever.

Evie's sewing box and the remains left over
from the ritual were still scattered across the coffee table where
she had left them. I pushed them aside as I searched for the one
thing I remembered fawning over when she showed me the makings of
the robe. I could only hope she hadn't picked it up with the bundle
she was going to use.

A thick silver cord, its ends now cut where
it had been adjusted to serve as the sash to fit around my waist,
lay just beneath the mess. I tied it into place over the pants I
wore before kneeling back down in front of the altar. My eyes fell
onto the flames as I began to create an imaginary romance with my
thoughts. Tommy's face lighting up each time he saw me. His arms
wrapping around me to pull me into a kiss. The feel of his
fingertips on my skin. Every little detail I could imagine would
occur between lovers flashed in front of my sight amidst the fire,
almost as if I were staring into a mirror.

Sometimes, words are better off not spoken.
Sometimes, they are dangerous. But with my actions being taken over
by the spell, my caution indicators were shut off. I cupped my
hands around the flame as I began to whisper, speaking dangerous
words to make my thoughts reality.

"Fire of my birth, element of my soul, hear
the plea of this Chosen One. Fill my life with the love I dream of.
A love so strong it can never be destroyed here on Earth or on the
Astral Plane. Give love your strength. Your resilience. There is a
boy—a man—my heart desires. Make him mine. As this cord binds me, I
bind Tommy Hopkins to me. May neither his love nor mine ever falter
or fail. May our dedication to each other never fade, no matter
what the coming days have in store for us. With harm to none, thus
none shall pass, so must it be."

My concentration pulled me closer to the
shadows as those same thoughts focused on the images I conjured in
the candlelight. I'd only met Tommy once, but he had seemed so
sweet. So reluctant to let me go. My lips parted in a sigh as I
whispered those words of power once more, then lost myself in those
fantasies of nothing which could become a vastly important
something.

I stopped at last, words and images ceasing
together as a
thank you
was whispered and the fire
extinguished. I couldn't understand the sudden guilt making my
heart so heavy until I realized just how selfish my actions
were.