by Adam Johnson
This is such bullshit. We make the best wands in town, we shouldn't be forced to close. Maybe I should have told the CWC that they were inflicting a travesty on the witches of Yorkshire by making us close our doors.
Grammie unlocks the door and a short woman in a suit smiles politely as she steps inside.
“Morning. Toni of the Riverton Coven, CWC supervisor. I’m here to escort Amethyst of the Gemstone Coven for The Harvest.”
I muster a smile. “That’s me.”
Well, technically it's my Grammie too. One of the many reasons I plan on giving my children unique names that aren't shared with anyone else in the coven.
“Excellent.” She reaches inside for a small notebook and clicks her pen demonstratively. “Shall we?” she asks like I have a choice.
“We shall.” It's better if I don't fight this and get it all over with. One quick trip to the beach and a bit of wand testing are all I need to be able to put all of this behind me. I can't wait for that.
Chapter 6
I can smell the beach five minutes before we arrive and despite the company, I relax slightly. The salty air, the cackling seagulls, the wind through my hair are all so familiar that it takes the edge off the tension I'm feeling. There’s nothing like a trip to the beach, though it would be better if the CWC woman wasn’t here, but if I close my eyes, I can ignore her and pretend someone else is driving. It's not like she's being particularly talkative. She's probably worried that my recklessness will rub off on her and she'll start doing things at work that she isn't supposed to.
I don't have the heart to break it to her that she's either got a free spirit, or she doesn't. Once we're out of the car and heading down onto the beach, I rip my shoes off and throw them in my bag. It's a waste of good beach to be wearing them. “Wooo!” My feet sink into the sand and I wiggle my toes, enjoying the way it feels against my skin. I don't think there's anything that can beat this.
“Miss Gemstone. We’re here on official CWC business,” Toni warns me.
I shrug. “What, and I can’t do that on my bare feet?” I'm not hurting anyone by doing this, and she knows it.
With every step, my feet sink deeper into the hot, soft sand. Ah, what a beautiful day. All I need is a nice cold drink and maybe an umbrella for the shade. I can go and wade through the sea and search for shells and sea glass along the waterline. Some of them are perfect for wands, but others are just pretty.
I reach down to my leg for my wand but come up empty. Right, the suspension. Somehow, despite being here with a CWC agent, I already forgot.
With a sigh, I look back, just in time to watch the CWC woman stumble as her shoe disappears into the fluffy sand. She grumbles and I can tell she wishes she hadn’t worn socks today. Her mistake. I made it clear in my paperwork that my case would involve heading to the beach.
I skip to the darker part of the beach. The wet sand curls underneath my toes and leaves deep imprints as I wade through shallow pools left behind by the tide. We’re not close enough to the sea to find anything interesting yet, but I love how the puddles gradually heat up during the day. It’s the second-best part of the beach.
The first…
I race towards the sea and it greets my ankles with a foamy wave. The freezing cold water splashes up against my skin and just as quick as it came, it retreats. The sludgy sand underneath me gurgles and before it can settle, a second wave rolls over my feet.
“We didn’t come here to play,” Toni shouts from her safe patch of dry sand.
“I’m not playing!” I jump over the next wave and kick the water. “I’m looking.” And letting myself be refreshed by nature. I may not belong to one of the sea covens, but sometimes I wonder if there's some of their blood in me anyway. I've always felt at home when surrounded by the sea.
The woman mumbles and grumbles behind me, but I don’t care. There’s no such thing as hurrying or rushing when it comes to scavenging along the beach. Anyone who says otherwise doesn’t understand how the ocean works. The currents will bring what the currents bring. Sometimes, the sea doesn't want me to have anything. Sometimes, I'll return home with bucketfuls of finds.
Another wave rolls over my feet and exposes a couple of broken seashells. I reach down to pick up a black rock and run my thumb over the smooth surface.
“You found a piece already?” the CWC woman asks.
“Don’t be silly.” I throw the rock back into the water and turn with a big grin. “Finding sea glass takes time. We could be here all day.”
“Yippee,” she replies sarcastically.
“Do you not like the beach?” I cock my head to the side, realising that she probably doesn't have an affinity for this stuff.
“What’s there to like? Too hot, too sandy, and nothing to do.”
“That’s why it’s so great.”
“Hmm…”
A pang of pity goes through me as I realise how cruel it is of her superiors to send her if they know how much she dislikes it.
For the first time, I give the woman a good look. Her short hair makes her look less stern than she sounds and the big suit appears as if it’s a couple of sizes too big.
“What’s your star sign?” I ask.
She blinks a few times, clearly taken aback by my change of subject. “Sorry?”
“I bet you’re a Capricorn,” I guess. “No, no. Aries. You vibe like one. I knew an Aries. Very friendly girl, always wore her hair in pigtails. And she loved to eat soup. She ate soup every day for lunch, no matter if it was hot or cold. It was just soup, soup, soup. Do you like soup?”
Toni sighs. “Just get on with the search, Miss Gemstone.”
“Totally an Aries,” I decide. With my back turned to Toni, I wander along the shoreline, scouring for a glint or a twinkle. Sea glass has a tendency to catch the corner of my eye so it’s best not to search too intently.
Every now and then, I bend down to examine something further. A beautiful seashell, a funny-shaped rock, a stray piece of seaweed. There’s so much stuff that washes up on the beach every day, I wish I could take it all home but I can’t imagine Grammie is in the mood for another shore haul. Sometimes she can be persuaded when I find something useful for wand making. Which only makes me assume that any sea witch blood is from Dad's side of the family, not Mum's.
“Have you found any yet?” Toni questions for the fourth or fifth time. I don't know if she's impatient by nature, or if it's part of the stresses caused by working at the CWC.
“No, not yet.”
“You’re aware you need ten pieces for the next part of the testing, right?”
“I am aware. Why is it ten pieces? Is there any significance in the number? I think nine sounds better. It’s nice and round, three times three. Very pleasing." And magical. Though seven would be that too. But ten? There's nothing special about the number ten.
“I don’t know why it’s that many," she admits.
I look at the other woman and gesture to the sand. “You know, two sets of eyes are better than one.”
“Huh?”
“You should help me look," I suggest. I'm not sure if involving her more will make her less grumpy towards me, but it's worth a try.
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on. It’s fun. And it'll help the time pass quicker.” That reason seems to be one she's more likely to go for.
“I don’t do fun.”
“That’s boring. Everyone needs a bit of fun. Is this a piece?” I pick up a random shell and shrug as I throw it into the water. “Nope. Oops. Guess we’ll be here all day.”
I can practically hear Toni roll her eyes. “Fine. What am I looking for?”
“Something smooth and colourful and slightly translucent. Brighter than any shell or any rock, almost like a gemstone. You’ll know it when you see it.” I don't know how to explain better.
Despite her protests, Toni starts looking alongside me. We work in silence for about ten minutes, coveri
ng a surprisingly large amount of beach. I kind of like having someone to work alongside. My sister and I used to do it when we were small, before Topaz moved away to be all rebellious and Topazy. After a while, something catches my eye. I lean down and pick it up, satisfaction and relief crashing through me as I realise it's what we've been looking for.
What was once an ordinary piece of glass has been smoothed out by the never stopping currents, charged by the power of the sea and the moon. There are a thousand colours hidden in this small piece of sea glass, each more beautiful than the other. Just from holding it, I can feel the magic, the potential. It holds pure energy.
I hold it out in my flat hand. “This is sea glass.”
“It’s pretty," she admits begrudgingly.
“Isn’t it? But it’s more than that. It’s powerful.” I'm not sure how I know what sea glass is capable of, but as soon as I put it into my wand I discovered how right I am.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Toni replies.
“Oh, you’ll see it.”
“Only if you can find nine more pieces before six o’clock.”
“What’s six o’clock?”
“The end of my workday.”
“How boringly rigid.” I shrug. “Not you, the CWC. Oh, found another piece.” I bend down and pick it up. It isn't as nice as the first piece but it will do. It'll still serve its purpose as a test piece.
Only eight more to go.
"Rover, no!" Someone shouts. I dismiss it as beach noise until an excitable dog splashes through the water beside me. He looks up with big imploring eyes and a tail wagging a mile-a-minute. I don't need to be able to speak dog to know what he wants.
"Hello, buddy." I scratch his head, getting an excitable yip from him. His tail goes even faster despite me not even thinking it was possible. "Good boy."
"Rover!"
"I think you have to go back to your owner," I tell him.
Toni clears her throat.
"And I have work to do. Maybe we can play another time?"
He barks happily.
"Rover!"
"Go on, good boy." I point in the direction of the man shouting the dog's name.
Rover jumps to attention, splashing sea water up against me. I smile widely. I love animals. I don't know why we don't have one in the shop. I guess there is Herb, but I'm not sure a gargoyle counts.
"Rover!"
This time the dog responds to his name and bounces off in the direction of his owner.
I sigh wistfully.
"Sea glass," Toni reminds me, pulling me out of my blissful animal haze.
"Yes, I know. We need to find ten pieces by six. We'll have them," I promise her, certain that the sea will deliver. It always does when I need it to, and today is no different. And once we’re done here, I’ll be one step closer to removing the suspension from us.
Chapter 7
The CWC workshop is huge. Massive beams, concrete floors, metalwork tables fit for a medical clinic. They definitely take their wand making seriously.
Despite wand making not being my calling, I can't help but be impressed. And want to work in here. If I could just have a couple of hours alone with some quality materials and all the equipment in this room, I could create something truly amazing. No one would question my capabilities again after that and I'd have all the licenses I wanted.
But that's not how it works. At least I can be certain I'll have a sea glass license by the end of the day. I know how the material behaves as a magnifier, and I'm confident the results won't indicate that it's unstable.
A guard in a hazmat suit escorts me to my workbench where the bag of sea glass is waiting for me. It doesn’t look like much but I know these ten pieces are enough to create some excellent wands. I just wish they let me bring my own tools or let me play with the fancier ones dotted around the room. Instead, they've given me access to the standard equipment any wandmaker knows how to use. A couple of chisels to shave down excess wood and shape the wand, a blunt pencil for markings, a bunch of files, a sturdy knife. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I'll still be able to do a good job with them. A big part of the end result depends on the skill of the wandmaker, not the equipment used. Even with poor quality tools I should be able to make a good wand, and these aren't bad, they're just not my preferred brand.
I run my hand over the different woods the CWC has supplied. Three types of regular hardwood. Ash, oak, and maybe maple? I find it interesting that they haven't told me what I'm working with. It's almost as if they're testing more than just the sea glass. Or they're hoping I don't have the skills to create the pieces they need to test on. They're going to be disappointed if that's the case. I never back down on a challenge, and I do everything in my power not to lose them either.
I lift each of the pieces of wood to my nose and give them each a quick sniff, confirming my suspicions about which of them to choose to make my wands. I set down the wood I plan to use in front of me and put the other two to the side.
The blocks of softwood will be a little more challenging. Pine and fir are delicate and splinter easily. If I’m not careful with those and make them nice and robust, they won’t be able to channel the magic without exploding. We can’t have that.
The wood I want to use will need some heavy work to shape, but I shouldn’t have any trouble with it. I’ve been making wands like this since Grammie first started to teach me. The two branches and the set of roots will be a much bigger challenge. I give the roots a little bend. As expected, soft and extremely flexible. Root wands are easy to craft and notoriously difficult to perfect. Since they’re mostly used for children as growing wands, most people don’t bother putting in the effort to streamline them but somehow, I don’t think the CWC will accept anything sub-par. It's the one thing we can agree on. I don't want to either.
Better get to work.
I hum to myself as I begin to whittle down the wood to the right size and shape. I have no idea how my process compares to other wandmakers, I never pay much attention to them when I'm on my training courses. It's not that I try to be unaware of my surroundings, but more because I need to listen to what the wand I'm making wants. It's hard to do that if I'm distracted by anything. Including other people.
Once they're the right size, I start working on the shape. Even though I'm making test wands, I can't help but put in some extra intricacies. The beauty of the sea glass doesn't deserve to be placed into something that isn't as equally wonderful. This part is often what takes the longest, especially when it involves setting the sea glass into place. Everything has to be done by hand when it comes to making wands, using my own would only damage the conductive power of it. But there's still magic that goes into it. I'm not sure how it works, and despite my curious nature, I don't think I want to, either. But when my hands and tools are shaping a wand, I can feel my magic responding to it and giving it the magical strength.
Which is why the wandmaker is more important than the tools.
A couple of hours later, I’m covered in wood shavings and sawdust. My hands are sore from whittling and threatening to blister and the stench of varnish burns my nose as I breathe in. I can’t remember the last time I made ten wands in one go. Maybe… never?
Only an idiot or a fool would do this on a regular basis. It's exhausting, both from the physical labour, and the magic needed in order to make them properly.
I wave at one of the guards. “Done!”
He nods without saying anything and two other men with small suitcases join him to collect my precious wands.
“Careful!” I scold as they manhandle my babies.
“Miss Gemstone, we know what we’re doing,” the tallest guard says, echoing what they said when they removed my wand.
I scowl. Their actions say something completely different from their words.
“Doesn’t look like it.” I push one of them aside and take over putting the wands in the cases. I've spent all this time crafting th
em, I’m not going to let them ruin all my hard work.
The guard sighs but lets me do my thing. I’m probably not the first person who insists on doing this. Any wandmaker worth their salt wouldn’t be able to stop themselves. With a satisfying click, I seal the cases and push them to the guards. “There. That’s how you pack a wand.”
“Hmm.” The man gives me a polite smile. “Thank you for your cooperation. You may go now. We’ll notify you with the results.”
“Okay.” I get up from my chair and stretch the tension out of my limbs. Sitting down crouched over my table like a goblin isn’t good for my posture. “Is there tea in your waiting room?”
“I think you misunderstand. It will be multiple weeks before we reach a verdict.”
“Right… I hope there’s enough tea in your waiting room then,” I joke.
Nobody smiles.
Pff. Sour plums.
“Orrrr I’ll see myself out,” I say, doing my best not to roll my eyes. Ugh. Bureaucracy. Again.
Chapter 8
Exactly three weeks later, I walk through the sliding doors of the CWC with my letter tightly clasped in my fist. Verdict day. I don't know why they couldn't have told me the results via a letter, especially when they seemed perfectly fine with letting us know about our suspension that way. I'll never understand the Centre for Wand Control.
With every step, I have to remind myself to keep breathing and not be too loud. They don’t appreciate that here. Or much, to be fair. But that's not the point.
Without looking up from her computer, the same secretary greets me at the front desk. “Morning.”