by Susan Harper
“Get out of my way, Montoya,” he warned.
“You’re sick, Jonathan,” Monica said. “Let us help you.”
Just as she had feared, Jonathan had no intention of letting himself get caught. He rammed right into her, and Monica tipped to the side. The next thing she knew, she was holding onto her broom by one hand, dangling underneath it. “Ah! You creep!” she yelped just as a bunch of brooms went zooming by. She felt someone grab her and pull her right back up on her broom.
Once she was upright, there was quite a sight before her. Mona was on her broom with the dwarf Trixie on the back, giving Jonathan a bothersome gaze. Coach Joanne-Jo had appeared as well, fluttering next to Mona’s broom with her arms crossed. Gale, the werewolf goalie, was seated on the back of Rosemary’s broom. Down below, Monica was surprised to see Bolt flying a broom with Ida on the back. Flying a broom was difficult enough for non-wizarding types, let alone to do so with a partner on the back, so Monica made a mental note to ask Bolt later where he had learned to fly. He was shaky, to be expected, but he seemed confident enough to fly high up and confront Jonathan with the rest of his team. And finally, after waiting on her arrival, Deimus flew up to meet them with Clowdia on the back of his broom. Clowdia, more so than anyone else, seemed a bit nervous on a broom.
The group circled around Jonathan, and the man looked shaken and unwilling to look any of them in the eye. “Jonathan!” Bolt called out, gripping his broomstick tightly with both hands. “You have to land, man, you know I’m a terrible flyer.”
“You think this is a joke, Bolt?” Jonathan asked.
“You see me laughing?” the werewolf retorted, his broom jerking about slightly. “Get on the ground, would you?”
“Listen to him, Jonathan,” Trixie called. “We don’t want anything happening to you too, you know? We got a messenger spell from Deimus. We all came straight away.”
“Did you really do it?” Rosemary asked, her voice as shaky as Bolt was on his broom. “Please tell me this is a mistake, Jonathan?”
“I didn’t want to do it,” Jonathan said. “I’m not a killer. I’m not! I was so angry. I’ve never felt so crazy.”
“We know, Jonathan,” Deimus said. “We know there was magic outside of your control taking place, but you can’t run. You need to see a doctor, and you’ve got to face the council. They know you were under the effects of a love potion on top of a selkie infatuation. They know all that, but you can’t just run away.”
Jonathan attempted to abruptly fly straight up, but Deimus had his wand ready this time. “Instabilitate!” he shouted, pointing his wand directly up at Jonathan.
Jonathan jerked to one side and fell straight off his broom. Monica dove, realizing quickly she was probably one of the better fliers currently in the air, and she managed to snag him by the back of his shirt with plenty of time to spare. She let go of him right above the circle of councilmembers and authorities, Holly and Abigail among them. They wasted no time in removing Jonathan, who was spouting apologies to his teammates, specifically to Rosemary and Clowdia. Madam Warz and Imelda departed with Jonathan and the authorities, leaving only Grog and Nud behind to speak with the devastated Romp-A-Roo team.
“You do good,” Grog said and started to slowly stomp off.
“He’s a troll of few words most days,” Nud said, turning toward them, his centaur horse-legs ponding into the ground as each team member slowly stood up beside their brooms or flying partners.
“What now?” Coach Joanne-Jo asked. “What’s going to happen to Jonathan?”
“There will be a fair trial,” Nud said. “One that takes into consideration the fact that he was drugged with a strong love potion that was inflicted with selkie hair. A love potion doesn’t drive a person to murder, but it does present them with deep, unnerving emotions that would greatly affect their judgement.”
“He’s going to go to wizards’ prison, isn’t he?” Rosemary asked, her face now covered in tears.
“I do not doubt that,” Nud said. “But I would expect a fairly light sentence. Thank you all for coming so quickly. This could have gotten rather heated without all of you here.” Nud turned and trotted off, catching up to Grog.
“This is my fault,” Clowdia said under her breath.
“Your fault!” Rosemary exclaimed and hurried over to her. “No, it’s that Remembrance group’s fault! They drugged him, Clowdia.”
“With my hair!” Clowdia retorted. “I should have known better than to be a part of something like this. Something so public as a professional Romp-A-Roo team. It was bound to make us all a target. I already complicated things enough playing alongside men who could easily get distracted by selkie infatuation.”
“You know that doesn’t happen during games thanks to the magic suspension,” Bolt said with a handwave.
Clowdia looked rather unsure of herself. “It’s going to be okay, dear,” Coach Joanne-Jo said, landing on her shoulder. “No one blames you one bit for this.”
“Thanks, Coach,” she said.
“Oh!” Abigail suddenly yelped. “Monica, we need to pay a visit to the wizards’ prison!”
“Jonathan isn’t in prison yet,” Trixie said. “What do you need to go to the wizards’ prison for?”
“To speak to Leonardo!” Abigail exclaimed.
Clowdia cringed. “What on earth could you possibly need to go speak to that cruel man for?”
“Oh my goodness, you’re right, Abs!” Monica said. “I had almost forgotten.”
“Forgotten what?” Gale asked. “Why are you going to see that freak?”
“Because we made a deal with him, or at least, Abigail did,” Monica said. “He agreed to tell us where he hid your skin if we found out who killed his brother.”
Clowdia’s expression was unmoving. The rest of the team seemed rather excited on her behalf. “He’s not going to tell you that,” Clowdia said. “Whatever he promised you, he loves the idea of me being trapped out here…like he thinks I’m waiting on him for when he gets out.” She shuddered again.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” Abigail said as Monica hopped on her broom.
“I’ll hang out here,” Holly said. “You two go ahead.”
Monica nodded approvingly at Holly before she and Abigail kicked off, floating above their heads. “I know you don’t want to get your hopes up, Clowdia, but we did find out what happened to his brother. Leonardo is many things, but he does care about his brother. Maybe he’ll keep to his word.”
Clowdia shrugged. “Maybe,” she said.
Monica zipped off, Abigail nimbly seated behind her. Monica felt that Abigail was right and that Leopold would stay true to his word. There was excitement brewing inside of her that she simply could not contain. “This is crazy,” Abigail said, a bit jittery. “You really think we’ll be able to help a selkie go home?”
“Maybe,” Monica said, but she paused a bit as they landed outside of the prison and began their walk toward the gates. “I just realized something, though.”
“What’s that?” Abigail asked.
“Well,” Monica said. “If Clowdia goes home, and I don’t blame her for one second if she does, but if she does…the Wysteria Werewolves will be down three Romp-A-Roo players before the finals.”
14
Monica stood outside of the Wysteria courthouse dressed in a professional-looking black blazer with a purple blouse and a pencil skirt. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and she held some paperwork in her hands, feeling a bit shaky. “You okay, Monica?” Mona asked, putting her hand on her sister’s shoulders.
With Monica that day was Mona, Lenore, and Abigail. Holly was back at the shop keeping an eye out on things. Today was the day. It was Monica’s court hearing for a reveal license. “I’m a little nervous, if I’m honest,” she said, and the three of them entered the large building.
They spoke with the secretary at the front desk, who told Monica to head up and wait outside the courtroom, adding tha
t Mona and Lenore would have to remain outside unless summoned as a character witness and that only her familiar could join her. Monica found herself bouncing her legs nervously, shaking the bench where they had all gathered to sit. Lenore cawed at her. “Knock it off before you jerk me clear off the bench!” she exclaimed, having perched on the back.
“Sorry,” Monica said, sitting herself upright and gripping her papers. “I’m just really freaking out. What if they turn me down for a license?”
“Then you’ll apply for another one in a couple of months and start the process all over again,” Mona said. “The council appreciates people who do their due diligence. It’s a judgement call they make about whether or not they can trust you to be careful on who to reveal yourself to. If anything, they’ll just give you a license with a strict limitation. So, don’t panic.”
“Limitation?” Monica asked.
“Like it’ll only be good for a year and have a limit on the number of people you can reveal yourself to and how you reveal yourself,” Mona explained. “There’s all types of reveal licenses. Different degrees associated with it.”
“You would think that I would have come across that when I was reading up on court hearings,” Monica said. “Then again, I was really focused just on how to make the best case for myself.”
At last, Monica was summoned. Abigail walked beside her, strutting a bit, and Mona shot her a good luck thumbs-up as the double-doors shut behind her. The Sorcerer’s Council was quite intimidating. They all sat high up on podiums in the round room, and she was expected to stand at the room’s center and stare up at them all. Imelda was at the forefront of the council, surrounded by a number of witches and wizards. The Sorcerer’s Council had originally been made up of nothing but witches and wizards until after the split, then groups from various mystic realms had been invited to have a single representative. Nud, for instance, represented both centaurs and onocentaurs. Grog represented all of the troll clans. The mermaid who sat within a giant fishbowl not far from the groups of witches and wizards represented most every aquatic mystic. There were a number of others—a ghost, a vampire, a fairy, and several other mystics, all staring down at her.
Imelda cleared her throat. “Always a pleasure, Ms. Montoya,” she said, and Monica smiled. “I don’t believe this will take too terribly wrong. I believe I speak for the whole council when I say that most of us find it rather easy to trust you, dear, after the help you have given us several times with local investigations. However, that does not mean we don’t have quite a bit to take into account regarding your request for a reveal license.” Imelda waved her wand, and the papers jerked themselves from Monica’s grasp and landed in front of her. Imelda examined them carefully, and her eyebrows raised. “You are asking for an all-exclusive license with no expiration? Oh, hardly. We rarely give those out, dear. Only to special cases.”
“Sorry,” Monica said. “I’ll have to admit upfront that law is not my expertise.”
There were a few chuckles in the group. Truthfully, Monica had read that asking for more than you wanted was a good tactic in the reveal licensing hearings—it allowed for more negotiation room. “Why don’t you begin by telling us exactly what you are wanting this license for?” Madam Warz asked. “We are all aware you live in the mortal realm which, we know, makes life as a mystic difficult if you cannot share it with anyone. Is there someone in particular you had in mind, Ms. Montoya?”
“Yes,” Monica said. “There is a man, Officer Brian—”
Grog cleared his throat. “Officer? This is the mortal word for an authority?”
“Yes,” Monica said.
“No,” Grog said firmly. “Someone in government? Dangerous.”
“I hardly count a small-town officer of the law as high risk,” Nud said. “Why him, Monica?”
Monica took a deep breath. She had no idea how each councilmember felt about mystic-mortal relations, but she knew she needed to be forward about it. “Truthfully, Councilman Nud, we are involved, romantically speaking.”
The room was quiet. “What if they break up?” someone to her right muttered, and Monica turned her head to see a nervous-looking shapeshifter.
“A simple memory charm would do, then, wouldn’t it? If Monica felt that he was a risk,” Imelda said.
“She’s an unnatural witch, she’ll wind up blowing his head off,” one of the warlocks on the council said, and Monica had to concentrate hard not to scowl at the man for the offensive comment.
“I don’t believe we are here to discuss that,” Imelda scolded him. “The state of her relationship in the future should not be a deciding factor here. Frankly, I think it’s sweet.”
Monica smiled at Imelda, who winked down at her slightly. “What do you suggest, Madam Warz?” Nud asked. “You’ve sat in on far more of these proceedings than us and have seen the results of these licenses firsthand.”
Madam Warz thought for a moment. “I would grant her a two-month license that limits her to residents of Bankstown with a maximum five mortal reveals. As this is Monica’s first time seeking a reveal license, I feel that that is more than generous. If she wishes to expand her license later, she can, though as it’s clear she’s seeking a license really for this gentleman…what was it…Officer Brian, I doubt she’ll be requesting another one anytime soon. At least this way, we will have a record on how well she behaves with a reveal license without too high of a risk factor.”
“I second that,” Imelda said. “All in favor?”
The room echoed with “ayes.”
“All opposed?” Imelda asked.
The wizard beside Imelda grunted, “Nay,” but no one seemed to pay him any mind as he was alone in his opinion.
“Do you have anything to add?” she asked the wizard, and he waved her off with an annoyed look. “Excellent,” Imelda said. “Monica Montoya, we hereby grant you a reveal license with a two-month expiration date with a maximum five mortal reveals and location restriction to your home in Bankstown.” Imelda banged her gauntlet, and Monica smiled brightly as a small card that looked similar to a library card appeared in her hands.
“Thank you so much!” Monica exclaimed. She was just about to turn and leave when the mermaid poked her head up from her bowl, her elbows propped up on the rim.
“If I may,” the mermaid said, and Imelda and the rest of the council looked her way. “I realize that this was not on the books today, but I would like to address Ms. Abigail Williams’ case.”
Monica stood upright, and Abigail whipped her head around so fast Monica could swear her neck cracked. “We have time if you do,” Monica said quickly.
Imelda smirked. “Very well,” she said. “What is it you are wishing to address?”
“Abigail made a deal with that warlock, Leonardo, and thanks to her, a young selkie will be able to return home today,” the mermaid said. “As a representative for all aquatic mystics, I can hardly let this moment pass without showing the familiar my appreciation. As I am the only aquatic in the room, I think I can speak with a bit more knowledge on the subject of selkies. A selkie trapped on land is a horrid thing. They view this capture, as what Leonardo did to the poor girl, as their hell on earth. Clowdia, though a strong woman indeed, was suffering dearly. It causes them pain physically and emotionally, and she has been living this hell for a long time. Thanks to Abigail’s agreement with the warlock, the authorities were able to locate Clowdia’s skin last night in a cave in the mountains. She will be able to see loved ones she has not had the opportunity to speak to in a very long time. I think this behavior should be rewarded.”
“You can’t keep knocking years off her sentence for acting like a decent human being,” Nud said.
“As I have mentioned before,” the mermaid said with a slight snarl, “I strongly disagree with the way our predecessors handled Abigail Williams’ case to begin with. A five-hundred-year sentence for a minor who, frankly, never actually killed anyone herself was insanity at its finest.”
“It was
a rather dark time in our history,” Imelda said. “It was around the time of the split. Perhaps the Sorcerer’s Council of that era did act awfully rash?”
“She’s responsible for the Salem witch trials!” the warlock who had opposed Monica’s license exclaimed.
“No witch killed,” Grog said. “Just mortals. But she made accusations—got them killed intentionally.”
“A twelve-year-old witch all alone in a world surrounded by mortals who had little to no understanding of mystics and viewed us all as demons to be wiped from the earth,” the mermaid said. “Abigail defended herself against a world ready to take her down at the slightest sign of non-mortal behavior. The council should have helped her, not punished her and chased her all over Boston for five years.”
“She’s served over three hundred years of her sentence already,” the vampire said.
“We’ve already given her reductions,” the ghost said. “She’s had plenty.”
Imelda cleared her throat. “Beatrice,” she said, looking directly at the mermaid. “What is it you are recommending for the council to do exactly?”
“I want to reduce Abigail Williams’ remaining sentence significantly, Imelda,” the mermaid, Beatrice, said. “I must, as you land dwellers say, stand my ground. I have said time and time again that this sentence was unfair to begin with. I call for its end.”
There was a roar of laughter from the entire council. “No,” Imelda said. “I refuse to even bring that to a vote, Beatrice. While we have seen worse murders, the public nature of the witch trials is enough to keep Abigail in her form for a good, long time.”