An Arrogant Witch

by E M Graham

His brows drew together, those lovely thick dark brows of his. ‘What about your coursework?’

  I shrugged uncomfortably. Bugger. Why did he have to act like an older brother? It wasn’t his place. ‘It’s only for a week,’ I said. ‘I’ll make up for the time. It’s going to be fun, sort of like being a carny, but for crafts people.’

  ‘Really wish you wouldn’t,’ he said after a pause. ‘You have to concentrate on your studies. You already got behind once this semester. And I have a lot of work planned for you.’

  ‘I’ll manage it all.’

  ‘You’d better, Dara, or you won’t be able to go to Scotland after Christmas.’

  ‘Never mind, you know I will,’ I said, brushing away his worries. ‘I’d rather learn the basics of magic. Let’s get started!’

  ‘Right here.’ He slid a pile of thick hard-cover books across the table to me. ‘They’re in the order that I need you to read them.’

  My face must have shown the dismay I felt, because he laughed. ‘You thought we were going to go out in Alt, did you? Well, I’m sorry to tell you that there’ll be none of that. I said you need the foundations, and that’s what I’m giving you.’

  ‘But...’ I fingered the books. Some were leather bound and ancient looking, others appeared to be from the middle of the last century. I flicked through the top one. Not a single illustration, just all words. Three hundred pages of words. ‘This is going to take me ages,’ I complained. ‘I don’t have time for this before I leave.’

  ‘Correction,’ he said. ‘You don’t have time to work for a solid week with the craft fair. If I were you, I’d let them know you can’t do it. The sooner the better, to give them time to find someone else who can spare the time.’

  ‘But I’ve already read lots of books about magic,’ I insisted. ‘All of the Harry Potter books, and Aleister Crowley – you name it, I’ve gone through everything I could find. I think I probably have enough foundation, just try me!’

  ‘The first thing you need to do is wipe all of that nonsense from your head. In order to harness the power of your magic, you need to understand the rules of the medium you’re working in. Math, physics, biology... even Latin, everything you’ve tried to avoid so far. You have a ton of work ahead of you before you can even begin to sit in basic witchcraft classes.’

  ‘But I’ve flown, remember that? And I can switch into Alt on a dime, you even said I did it perfectly like a ... a gymnast! And that was with no training from you at all,’ I replied.

  ‘You didn’t fly, you sent your mind out of your body. Not the same thing at all. And the Alt thing... you have to understand what you’re doing before you make any more moves like that. Dara – you need to understand that you know nothing, and ignorant use of powers is perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.’

  His Scottish accent came out strong when he came over severe and grown-up like that, but he wasn’t going to change my plans. ‘I can do it,’ I insisted. I could feel my lower lip pouting out and made a conscious effort to pull it back in.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ he replied. ‘Now come on, let me give you a ride to the university.’

  I got my book bag and coat together reluctantly, my plans to skip class and return to Zeta’s cellar that morning disappearing like a puff of smoke. I consoled myself with the thought that the secret door wasn’t going anywhere and no one else had approached it for many years, hidden deep under Duckworth Street as it was. I had the ring of ancient keys in my knapsack and would find a chance to jimmy that lock soon enough.

  KIM CALLED ME LATER that morning and told me the posters were ready for plastering around downtown. Classes were finished for the day, so I didn’t even have to skip one in order to begin my job. I wished I could have the satisfaction of pointing this out to Hugh.

  As I headed downtown in the cool November sunlight, my mind of course went back to Hugh. He had said he’d returned to teach me the fundamentals of magic, but all he did was shove those old books in my face. Seemed a little farfetched if you asked me, to come all that way just to deliver a few thousand pages. Why not just mail them to me?

  Maybe he had an ulterior motive in coming here in person. Maybe what Dad’s wife Cate had hinted was true, he was going to marry Sasha. Perhaps he’d omitted to tell me the truth and was actually here to work out the arrangements. I kicked a rock out into the gutter and stamped through the damp pile of leaves at my feet.

  Stupid Sasha.

  We’d been pretty close once, me and Sassy, back when we were kids. She was a year older than me, and part of Dad’s legitimate family. Back when Mom was still alive, I mean when Mom was still here, Dad used to bring her around when he came over. We knew we were both his daughters from different mothers, and back then it didn’t bother us a bit because no one told us it wasn’t normal.

  Sasha and me used to amuse ourselves playing in the gardens of Richmond Cottage, and she had taught me how to use my early powers. Despite her formal training and my complete lack of it, I’d been pretty much able to hold my own with her. Of course, they were just stupid kid games, like directing the spray from the old copper fish fountain which still worked back then, and moving things using mind power alone. Not real magic as such, at least not what I thought real magic must be.

  Just as I inherited my looks from Mom with my straight brown hair, blue eyes and five foot six frame, so Sasha was the spitting image of her mother Cate. In other words, she was tall with raven black hair, a flawless complexion and drop dead gorgeous. Having access to Dad’s money probably helped no end with beauty treatments and designer clothes.

  And she’d turned out to be a bitch, too, just like Cate. Her mother must have poisoned her mind against me, because the next time I saw Sasha back when I was fifteen and entering high school, she snubbed me something rotten. And not just that, she also got her Witch Kin friends to play horrible pranks on me. School became a lonely place for me because no one wanted to be associated with me in case the witch kids targeted them, too. I only had Alice and the nerds who didn’t notice social niceties like that.

  We had almost made up our differences last September after her lover tried to take my best friend’s life, but as you can imagine, there’s not a lot of love lost between us. Which made the idea of her and Hugh together even more hurtful, because for sure he wouldn’t be allowed to hang out with me if he married my half-sister. Well, we would be family I guess in a way, but it’s not like I’d be invited round to the birthday celebrations or anything.

  I picked up the posters, tape and staple gun from Devon House and set off on my route.

  Looked like I’d be getting plenty of exercise in this job, good thing it was such a great day for walking. So close to the harbour, the wind was usually icy cold and biting but today there was nary a breath of wind at all, giving the sun a chance to be almost warm on my face. The sidewalks were busy with all the office workers finding any excuse to be outside enjoying the last hurrah of fall. With weather like this, a person could pretend the coming winter wouldn’t be so bad after all. It actually made the reality of winter all the crueler.

  I’d done the circle of the two main downtown streets and was headed up the back of George Street, my postering done for the day. Then I found myself outside the door to Zeta’s store.

  I hesitated before I went in. All of a sudden I didn’t have a good feeling about this place as if there was something in there I didn’t want to meet, or something in the air that was going to poison me. But I shook that foolishness off me, it was probably just a hangover from yesterday’s cellar nightmare.

  She looked about ready to re-open the store already, with the shelves up and piled with things to buy. I didn’t see any of the tat she’d asked me to clean up yesterday, so she must have purchased all new stuff to sell. Zeta also had company.

  First I saw Carrie, an old acquaintance, her sheepskin coat shrugged off to reveal a loose sweatshirt, the kind that is designed to fall off one shoulder in a provocative way. She had her hand on the
arm of a slightly built person in a long black coat whose back was turned to me, and was leaning in as if to speak softly in their ear. I’d seen that trick of hers lots of times, especially in bars when she was looking to have another drink bought for her.

  Zeta was standing close by them, speaking over whatever the younger woman was whispering, trying hard to get the attention focused on her. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were in competition. But for what?

  Their companion turned his head towards me as the door shut behind me, just a glance before he looked away again.

  Willem. That odd little man I’d met in Kim’s office the other day. With his short blond hair and not a spare ounce of muscle or fat on him, he looked like a non-descript David Bowie except that his chin was too weak and his eyes set just too closely together to be called handsome. Right at this moment, he had the appearance of being a harmless non-entity.

  So why was Carrie salivating over him like he was the hottest thing around? I’d seen that girl in action around men, and believe, he wasn’t her usual type.

  I looked closer, trying to see the attraction, but nothing was apparent to me. He was slightly built and looked washed out; I couldn’t even get a hint of the evilness I’d felt the first time I met him.

  ‘Oh, Willem, this is Dara.’ Zeta was still anxious to get his attention. ‘She wants to be a witch too, she’ll be attending our little get-togethers on Thursday evenings.’

  He gave me the once over with his pales eyes, and once caught there I couldn’t look away, I was stuck in his gaze. There was nothing of the hunger and greed which I had sensed before in his presence, this was a warm feeling, like the burbling of a gentle stream filling my head as the rest of the room fell away. The touch of his mind was soothing and persuasive as if he’d sent out slight tendrils right inside me, assessing me, trying to look into my soul.

  Mesmerizing me like a fly in a spider’s web of the softest silk, he promised so much as he tried to creep around my natural barriers, the way a wisp of gentle mist pervades even a stone wall.

  My eyes widened when I realized what he was doing, and I automatically blocked his access against my thoughts as I had learned to do under Hugh’s tutelage.

  He smiled, a humble small lifting of the corners of his lips. ‘I sense you are a witch already, Dara,’ he said, caressing my name in his odd European accent. His voice was clipped yet sing-song in its cadences. ‘I look forward to seeing what heights we can reach.... together.’

  I didn’t like to admit it, but now I could see how he had caught my friend’s attention. Carrie’s eyes sparked like daggers at me as she hugged him closer to her, and Zeta moved uncomfortably, realizing she had unwittingly introduced another competitor to the mix. I physically stepped back to give them room and broke the eye contact.

  ‘I’m pretty busy these days,’ I mumbled, looking at the floor. ‘Got the craft fair and university courses, you know, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to the sessions.’

  ‘Yes, the craft fair,’ he said and I could hear the gentle smile in his voice. ‘I too will be there, and I look forward to our time together.’

  ‘Willem is a warlock and a craftsman,’ Zeta proudly pushed her way back into the conversation.

  ‘Sorcerer,’ he said, cutting her off, a touch of menace suddenly in his voice. ‘I’m a sorcerer.’

  ‘Witch, warlock, sorcerer,’ Zeta tittered in embarrassment. ‘We’re all in the same boat, aren’t we? Living on the sidelines, doing our work behind the notice of society...’

  ‘I think Dara understands the difference,’ he said, trying to grab my eye again. ‘Dara knows the nuances of this life.’

  A sweat was breaking out over the back of my neck, prickling the hairs. I didn’t actually know the differences between the three, but Hugh would. All I did know was that there was something incredibly creepy about this guy, that the physical form which he presented to the world was a lie for there was no weakness or gentleness deep within his mind. He was hungry for something, and I had an uncomfortable feeling that it might be me.

  ‘And I know what you’re looking for,’ he said in a softer voice, right next to my ear so that only I could hear. I hadn’t seen him sidle up so close to me. He wanted me to look him in the eye again, I could feel it. ‘But it’s not a coin.’

  How could he have known? I stood my ground for a moment longer, hating the feeling of his breath on my neck, but then I made my excuses and turned and raced back out the door without even saying good bye and onto the sun warmed street outside and didn’t stop till I was down past City Hall.

  There was no way I could have gone back down in Zeta’s cellar to check out the secret door that day, not with that guy hanging around. It would have to wait for another time.

  4

  I NEEDED TO TELL HUGH about this new guy in town and what had just happened, to get his take on it, but he wasn’t answering his phone. Bugger. Why couldn’t he be available when I needed him? I tapped the phone with my fingernails as I thought.

  Yeah, I know, Hugh had advised me to concentrate on my studies.... but Willem knew about the coin, or medallion or whatever it was and somehow this so-called sorcerer was also aware that I wanted it. It stood to reason, then, that Willem knew where to find it. I had no choice – I had to get my hands on it, and I was pretty sure Hugh wouldn’t be willing to help me with this. I had to get in deeper with Willem and go to his meeting as he suggested. Yuck. I’d sooner stick needles in my eyes than hang out with a bunch of delusional pretend witches.

  Was he really a sorcerer as he claimed? One thing was certain - whether wizard, warlock or sorcerer, he was one creepy dude. His words and appearance were meek and gentle, yet when he got into my head I had felt the strength of him, his desire for what I was hiding from him, deep below the feathery touches from his mind. I remembered the dark presence I’d felt in Devon House. It had to have been him giving off those vibes, but he could hide his power well when he chose.

  Just what was the difference between a warlock and a sorcerer anyway? I tried to remember the few times I’d played Dungeons and Dragons with my geek friends in high school, but the game had never much caught my interest. The guys were intent on creating long-winded and intricate battle scenes, with frequent arguments about each character’s specific rules for what they could or couldn’t do, and my attention span could never keep up with their convoluted meanderings. Besides, I was just there for the weed.

  Hugh had said to disregard all the stuff I’d read or heard for it all bore no relationship to the actual magic I’d be learning in the Outer Hebrides. All of the Tolkien, and CS Lewis, even the Harry Potter series, all that was just fiction, he said, and would have no bearing on my education. Hugh’s magic was going to be all about learning algebra and chemistry and physics. Gawd, if I’d wanted to do that I could have stayed here in town, and not bother going to his sunless northern island.

  I had to face it - his magic wasn’t going to be very sexy or fun, nothing like the stories I’d read. In fact, if the books he gave me were any indication, it all promised to be hard work and drudgery and I found it difficult to justify. Yes, I wanted to develop my natural power, but to spend the next however-many years studying all that stuff...

  What was the point of having magic if you couldn’t be... magic with it?

  I WAS DOWN ON the west end of Water Street before it hit me, and I stopped outside one of the antique stores which huddled together on that road. Willem had known what I was searching for in Zeta’s shop, for he’d told me it wasn’t a coin that I sought. So yes, he must be a sorcerer as he claimed or something like it.

  Yet, he was also entered in to the craft fair. Sure, this was one of the biggest and best fairs in Atlantic Canada, but seriously, what kind of sorcerer would demean himself by working with his hands and selling his wares at a craft fair? Sorcerers considered themselves to be the cream of the crop, the elite amongst the magic lines, didn’t they? More than mere magicians or wizards, a sorcerer w
as the most powerful of the lot, so it was strange that one of them would have to support himself by the tedious process of hand making creations to sell in a public market.

  He must not be a very good sorcerer, I decided. Which would make my job in getting the medallion from him pretty easy.

  EDNA WASN’T TOO HAPPY to find out I would be taking a week off my studies to work with the craft fair, either. She shut the microwave door with a bang and set two plates on the table.

  ‘You’re kidding me?’ Her face foretold all the reasons she thought it was a bad idea.

  ‘Calm down, it’s not so bad,’ I said. ‘I’m already caught up with most of my work, and we have more than a month left to the semester. I just about have my big paper for Folklore finished.’ Well, it was almost just about finished. All my research was done, I just had to organize my thoughts on paper.

  ‘And math? You’re keeping on top of that? Cause that’s the one that you have to work at steadily, every week. I know you can write a paper off the top of your head, but math is actual work.’

  Fortunately for me, I’d found an almost foolproof way of passing math exams with my rediscovered magical powers. It involved sitting close to someone smart and getting inside their mind during the exam, but I wasn’t going to share that with Edna.

  ‘Trust me, my schoolwork will be fine,’ I told her. I was more of a last minute scholar, anyway, and there would be loads of time after the fair was finished.

  ‘Because if you’re serious about wanting to go away after Christmas...’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I already got the lecture from Hugh.’ I swallowed back a further retort and changed my tactics, for Edna was going to be at that fair selling her books and would be keeping a close eye on me. I had to get back on her good side or she might just get Dad to forbid it. ‘Look on the bright side, I might be able to booth sit for you, let you take a lunch break.’

  The fair would be five days long, each day opened from ten in the morning to ten at night. I often came up to relieve her when she did these things, if my schedule allowed.