Generation Witch Year One

by Schuyler Thorpe

  “So what goes in the front doesn’t come out the back the same way?”

  “Oh it does, believe me. But we are very particular about it. Mostly we cough up the bones that get stuck down into our large stomachs—which I have two.”

  “And a fire lung,” her boyfriend kindly pointed out to her.

  “Which only works on its own good time.” Kara told him. “It’s not like it has a timer or anything.”

  “Like last night—when you coughed up a flaming ball of mucus before going to bed?”

  Kara nodded with embarrassment. “Yeah, I had to open the bedroom window for that one and make a three point shot into my neighbor’s open swimming pool. I’m praying she won’t mind cleaning up that mess when she gets back from her vacation to the Rockies next week.”

  “Score! And the crowd goes wild…” Jake intoned playfully.

  “Please Jake…” Kara begged of him. “I’m already going to get an earful from Maria when she comes back. Her husband’s going to be so righteously pissed when they see that blue-green slimy mess floating in their pool.”

  “You checked?”

  “This morning after I got back.” The other woman confirmed uneasily. “it’s still there.”

  “How about a net? Do you have one of those handy?”

  “It won’t work.” Kara explained to him. “Booger balls like those usually are super viscous and not a solid mass.”

  Jake broke out in laughter. “Booger balls? Is that what you call them?”

  Kara eyed him crossly.

  “Yes. Why? Do you want to die?”

  Jake held up both hands in supplication. “No, no. Not really.”

  “Then stop making fun of me. Being a half-ling is hard enough. Trying to conceal my true nature is a real bitch and a half.”

  “How many know?”

  “Not many.” The woman confirmed. “Which is how I like it. The less people know? The better.”

  CHAPTER-THIRTY-FIVE

  Historical Perspectives

  Tillie exited the restaurant rubbing her swollen stomach.

  “I think I overdid it on the seafood scampi,” she announced to no one in particular. “Either that or the spiced calamari side dish that came with that extra helping of vegetarian noodles.”

  “Probably because you haven’t eaten much in the past couple of days.” Charlie said in quiet support—as the trio stepped off the main walkway and out into the city street proper.

  “—or that’s what you had been telling me on the way in. Right?”

  “Gods…” the other girl moaned pitifully. “What a fine time for me to go on a diet of all places.”

  Roz glanced back at the distressed teen witch.

  “You? Diet? Come on! You’re thin as a board in spots—while buff in others!” She argued heavily. Then she looked at Charlie. “Tell her. Tell her.”

  The older boy declined. “I’d rather not.”

  “Why not? Afraid she’ll get her feelings hurt?”

  Tillie shrugged nonchalantly. “No skin off my back. I’m used to being called worse.” She called up forward.

  “It’s not that.” Charlie countered tightly. “I’m not the kind of guy to start making comparisons to people I barely know. It’s bad manners.”

  Roz rolled her eyes at him in passing.

  “Well! Excuse me…! I didn’t know the guy I hang out with could actually step in and take one for the team.”

  “It’s all right guys. I’m fine. Really. I actually like the way I look. It’s comforting.”

  Roz spun around at that moment in disgust—while feeling around her middle for emphasis.

  “Yeah well…” she muttered, before Charlie leaned back and said in a low voice: “You’re fine too.”

  “I do not. I look like a plump summer sausage that’s been hanging out to dry in the sun for too long.”

  “You think I care what you look like, Roz?” He reminded her pointedly. “Besides…it’s what is inside that counts more—or so I’m told. So don’t be a sour elf. Okay?”

  “You don’t always have to remind me, Charlie.” The girl returned with a dismissive air. “I’m just annoyed that I had to watch the witch back there put away four plates to my two.”

  “Vegetarians have different dietary requirements than us meat eaters.” The older boy pointed out gently. “A lot of it is roughage. Less space.”

  Tillie groaned at that point—while pausing for a moment mid-stride.

  “My stomach…” she wheezed. “If I see another side of brussel sprouts, I’m going to throw up.”

  Roz smirked for a second. “You were saying?”

  Charlie rolled his eyes at her.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Well stop over at that street bench on the corner and she can lie down for a bit.”

  Tillie held up a finger for a second, wheezing and panting and then finally—

  And explosive belch ripped right through the space between them and both Charlie and Roz could swear they saw gouts of fire coming out of the other girl’s mouth too.

  Roz’s face peeled back in momentary disgust as she got a whiff of what was coming out of her mouth—having stood a little too close to the girl in passing.

  “Blessed Mother that’s rank!” she breathed through a pinched nose. “It smells like rotted vegetables and brimstone.”

  Tillie shook off the effects for a moment and then stood up. And smiled toothily.

  “Well, that takes care of that. I was wondering what was percolating down there.” She announced, while thumping her chest a little. Then she burped again, but spared them both of any unnecessary embarrassment.

  “How can it smell so bad in just a few seconds time?” Roz wondered in strong disbelief. “How?”

  “It’s the Dragon’s Tear,” the girl confirmed. “Since I am wed to Susha’s power, my metabolism operates on a completely different scale now—fire breath included.”

  “Do you still need to sit down and rest?” Charlie asked with passing concern on his part.

  Tillie nodded. “For a few minutes. By the way…where are we going?”

  “My place for a brief bit. Then we can drop you off at the women’s mission afterwards—since it will be getting closer to ten in the evening at that point.”

  “Phooey.” The girl sighed. “I was hoping that I could stay over for one night.”

  “No room.” Roz told her up front—not giving her any reason to start horning in on her turf when it came to her best friend.

  “Calm down girlfriend. I wasn’t implying anything super sick. I was just wanting to see if Charlie here might have a spare cot in his back pocket or something.”

  “Well—I do have a spare cot. A military one. But that’s—”

  “Mine.” Roz iterated thinly before looking at him. “Right?”

  Charlie hesitated for two seconds before nodding. “Yeah. Just for one person. Usually, it’s Roz that comes over for a sleepover. I never thought about getting another for a second visitor.”

  “Third.” Roz corrected.

  “Right. Third.”

  Tillie shrugged nonchalantly as they made their way over to the street bench.

  “It’s okay. I know when I’m not being wanted. I’ll just spend my second night alone by myself at the women’s mission and have the usual candy-coated nightmares of battling my worst enemies.” She motioned with her hands in a sing-song fashion. “Like always. I just hope you guys know that I am not always in control of my powers when I’m fast asleep. I’ve been known to be a little…destructive from time to time—ever since I first got a fragment of the Dragon’s Tear.”

  Roz shook her head adamantly. “There’s definitely no way your spending a night over with us, then.” She grumbled.

  Charlie was in a bit of a fix. “Well, how bad is it? Do you just pop off like you almost did back there with the armies of the Third Watch?”

  “You mean with my Gatling gun? Oh heavens no. It’s way worse than that. I am what you call an undine ele
mental—having control over the elements. Mother Nature. Also metal as well—plus my witch’s powers. It’s a hot mess no matter how you slice it.”

  Roz scoffed in disbelief. “How the hell did that happen? I thought witches only cast charms and hexed the hell out of people?”

  Tillie laughed a bit at her comment. “Maybe in the old days that were true. But we are a new generation of witches that have a little oomph in our back pockets when the situation calls for it.”

  “So you are…either born or bred for multipurpose missions and such? Like a mercenary? Or a commando?”

  “Actually, it was one part evolution, one part magic, and two parts necessity.” The other girl ticked off. “Especially in light of events in the last one hundred years.”

  “You mean…other than the Great War?” Charlie echoed in surprise.

  Tillie nodded and fired off a memory scroll incantation in front of them—which glowed yellow and gold. It was a live video recording of subsequent events in real time.

  She widened the picture a bit so they could all see.

  And what was there was not pretty.

  Both her companions gasped, swallowing what was in their throats, but couldn’t tear their eyes away from some of the macabre scenes playing out in front of them.

  “It started one hundred years ago—in May 2089. When the Farber Riots killed six hundred humans during what was supposed to have been a peaceful labor strike.

  “Magical kinsfolk were the first to be blamed—as witness reports indicated there were a few there taking part in the dispute. But nobody knew for certain in those days. There had been a ton of conflicting reports and not a single one of them were in favor of either magical kinsfolk or even those magical familiars who were brought in as case mediators. Neutral third parties—or so it was hoped. But as you can see—?” she shifted the memory scroll a few days, then a few weeks ahead and that part of the city of Old Chicago was in smoking ruins. Some leftover vestiges of police enforcement and a few National Guards unit attached to the old municipal government could be seen.

  But most of the streets were completely destroyed in the riots. Bodies still littered the area—some covered. Some not.

  “I remember something that Felix told me about those days—when tensions between the three people’s were running high and everyone was looking for any excuse to light the match.”

  “It was mostly a human thing, Charlie.” Tillie answered softly. “The magical kinsfolk and magical familiars were both trying to defuse the situation the best they could.”

  “From what I remember, it didn’t quite work that way,” Roz said with renewed interest—staring at the memory scroll’s viewing screen. “Nerves were shot to hell, passions and emotions were running high. Lynch mobs formed. Vigilante justice reigned supreme for the next fourteen months—well into the new year. 2090.

  “Then the old federal government put a swift end to it all. Declared an instigator to the mess and told everyone to move on. Even passed a Congressional resolution to mark that event. Told everyone to go back to their lives under the threat of martial law.”

  Tillie sarcastically laughed in turn. “Sympathizers—right?”

  Roz nodded. “For the most part. But again, from what my family told me, nobody was absolutely certain. But please…continue.” She said, pointing the lit memory scroll. “I’m finding this to be absolutely fascinating—for a teen witch such as yourself.”

  “I hope you’re not planning on putting yourself on a pedestal, Tillamook.” Charlie cautioned with genuine concern.

  But the other girl shook her head.

  “This isn’t about me, you guys. This is about the new generation of witches that were born and bred to become more ruthless and unforgiving than anything you ever thought or known.”

  “Like your former associate?” The older boy was kind enough to point out.

  “Ashley Dietrich? In a way, you’re not wrong. She was ruthless and unforgiving—willing to turn me over to Captain Kara Plummer and her armies of the Third Watch.”

  “For money?”

  Tillie shrugged. “Probably. But anyways, this new generation I spoke of slowly began replacing older generations of magical familiars. Witches.”

  “What about the others? The sorcerers?” Roz wanted to know up front.

  Tillie chuckled morosely. “They wanted no part in the upcoming war. They decided to sit this conflict out. It was just people like me.”

  “What about now?”

  Tillie started. “That’s a good question—to which; if you’ll pardon the expression—I have no clue.”

  So everything in the first fifty years following the Farber Riots just culminated from that one event?” Charlie cut in easily enough.

  “Actually…it was more like a series of interconnected events which led to the death of humans in greater and greater numbers. A lot of people were comparing the scope and breadth of the ensuing tragedies to either Pearl Harbor of the 20th century and the World Trade Center attacks of the early 21st—before that period of calm from the late 2020s all the way to 2078.”

  “Who was it that time?” Roz asked with trepidation.

  “Again—? Nobody knew. At least no one on record would go on saying publicly of course—for fear of stoking the divisions that now existed—which led a lot of people to wonder if a second Civil War would be touched off; on their own home soil.

  “It was something that many couldn’t begin to conceive was even possible—until the federal government instituted camps along certain border states and out near the Rockies where whole families of magical kinsfolk were incarcerated for their own good. But that didn’t stop the humans’ bloodlust for long.” Tillie said, showing them one of the infamous camps.

  “What about magical familiars?” Charlie asked then.

  “Many vanished by this time—forsaken their responsibilities towards humanity and decided to sit this coming conflict out. However, rumors and legends sprung up of a few hardy souls remaining behind to help guide both parties towards a better outcome. But nobody could confirm that.”

  “Then the Great War happened where fifty million humans died along with five million magical kinsfolk.” Roz tossed out next. “A conflict that lasted five years at a huge cost for all involved parties. A war of attrition. The old North and South grievances. But this time with something more telling than a simple issue of human slavery.”

  Roz tapped her knee thoughtfully in return. “It was supposed to be a total absolution of all magical kinsfolk. Those in the camps were killed by roving opposition “death squads” at the behest of some members of the federal government—the ones that came to power in 2048 through to the end of the war in 2055.”

  Tillie nodded. “Yes. You would be correct.”

  “I can’t believe it took four old style atomic bombs to end the conflict. Forth Worth, Indianapolis, Tampa Bay, and Spokane, Washington—all nuclear wastelands—even by today’s imperial standards.”

  “A grim reminder of the conflict which consumed the nation.” Charlie mused sadly—while Tillie extinguished her spell incantation and leaned back on the park bench; sighing.

  The other girl agreed.

  “And here we are again—one century later…repeating the same mistakes that cost everyone so much in the long run.” She said softly.

  “Only this time, it’s humanity that’s the aggressors on an open platform with nobody to stop their murderous rampage.” Roz said with a brief shudder. “And who is to stop them? Who?”

  Tillie Gunderson raised her hand in quiet defiance.

  “Me.” She solemnly vowed.

  CHAPTER-THIRTY-SIX

  Blind Accusations

  Roz laughed in her face after a full minute of silence from both her and Charlie.

  “No way, witch girl.” She flatly dismissed right then and there. “You may be good—as Charlie hinted to me earlier on the way to lunch—but there’s no way you can take on the armies of the Third Watch, the Seventh Arm, or even
the whole Tenth Legion—without taking some serious damage.”

  “That’s what the Resistance and the Underground would like you to think.” Tillie threw back with supreme confidence. “I’m not just a witch. I am a new generation of witch. The first of many like me—born and bred for combat against the forces of darkness.”

  Roz laughed some more. “Come on…you can’t be fucking serious. From Charlie’s story of your little encounter, there were only three of you—including your former associate. There’s no way the four of you could take on thousands of highly trained soldiers of the Third Watch and live to tell about it.”

  Tillie giggled maniacally—drawing some measure of concern from Charlie himself.

  “Four alone would change the course of human history, guys. That’s how powerful we’ve become in less than one hundred years. Because circumstances have demanded it. I held off blowing away those two regiments because I didn’t want to create a scene. Or a trail of bread crumbs for others to follow. In that sense…I was playing it smart.”

  “But if you guys are that powerful…why did you retreat when you could have kept going?” Roz wanted to know.

  “Because this city still has its share of innocents. That’s why.” Tillie told her. “I managed to humiliate Captain Kara Plummer with my little stunt/save back there yesterday, but she’ll be back once she feels she‘s got the upper hand. And with greater numbers.”

  “An entire army?”

  The girl shrugged. “She’s most senior in the ranks of the armies of the Third Watch. Rumored to be promoted soon—which will increase her authority and clout. And if that were to happen—?”

  “—the whole city would become a war zone.” Charlie offered with a sympathetic nod of his own.

  Tillie nodded in return. “Which is why I’m not so super eager to go gun slinging like a space cadet and get myself killed on a fool’s errand.”

  Roz looked at her in a new light. “Plan?”

  “Plan.”

  “Okay. I’m down with that.” The other girl interred. “You tell us what to do and we’ll do it.”

  Tillie rose up from her seat then and dusted herself off.

  “It’s No-Name Charlie’s game.” She said in passing.