by Dianna Hardy
She looked back at her mother, and thought she caught sorrow in her eyes, but then it suddenly wasn't there and she was sure she must have imagined it.
“Fifteen minutes, Elena,” came the curt order, as she swivelled and walked out of the room, then, “We have a few things to talk about.”
Great.
Just great.
~*~
Nowadays, dinner – which they always ate at the breakfast table, because the dining room was her mother's second office – was the only time she and her mum ever talked. It hadn't always been that way, but Elena had committed a fatal crime when she was eight years old: she had brought a butterfly back from the dead. Of course, it was by accident. She'd seen it wilt in flight; she'd seen it fall. At eight years old, she hadn't been able to bear the sadness of it. She'd held out her hand, and the falling butterfly had landed in her palm. She had surrounded its still form in green light, felt life flow through her and into it; it had fluttered its wings once more and then flown away. It had been the first time her hands had ever glowed – the first time she had ever used her healing magic – and it had been nothing but pure instinct. Her mother had told her she was special – had told her about how she was a witch with a lot of power, but not in a million years would she have dreamed she could do that.
Karl had been with her. His ten-year-old self had been struck dumb, as they'd both watched the tiny creature climb the air currents towards the rays of the sun. She had turned towards him, beamed him a joyful smile, and giggled at the look of adoration on his face.
“You gave it wings,” he had said, awed. Then he had leaned in, pecked her on the cheek, and said, “I love you,” to which her giggle had turned into unrestrained laughter.
Her joy had plummeted as fast as it had soared when she'd caught sight of her mother off to the right, standing under a Willow tree. She knew instantly that she had seen the entire thing.
When she'd finally approached them, her face had been expressionless and for the first time ever, her eyes had been cold … and without being able to put it into words, Elena had known at that moment, that by giving life to the butterfly, she had killed a part of her mother. If she had known that would be the last time she'd see her laugh, or the last time they'd ever sing songs together as they sat on the swings in the park, she would have let the butterfly die.
“I need to talk to you, Elena, about sex.” Her mother's voice brought her out of her reverie, and she was disturbed to find her heart heavy with sorrow at the past memories. Then she realised what her mum had just said.
“Eeew, Mum,” she mumbled over her last forkful of noodles.
“No interruptions, please. I've been dreading this day…” In an unusual gesture, her mother reached across the breakfast table and took her hand. “Elena … you're special. Being the thirteenth in our family line makes you special … with that come certain responsibilities.”
Elena rolled her eyes. “Mum, I know about condoms and stuff.”
“Well you don't know about this … you can't ever be in a relationship.”
She laughed, amused that her mum had finally cracked a joke after all these years. It faded as soon as she met her eyes. She was deadly serious.
“What?”
“Sex is a powerful thing for any witch, just like a first bleed is, but for you, it's ten times more potent…”
But Elena couldn't quite take in her mother's words, because all she could hear in her mind was 'can't ever be in a relationship'. Of course, it was Karl's face that instantly appeared in her mind's eye. Was this some kind of sick joke? Was this because her mum thought there was something going on between them? She knew it, knew she'd given something away in her eyes earlier when her mum had walked into the bedroom…
What was she saying now? Was she talking about her periods? Yeah, she remembered the first time she'd bled – what a weird experience that had been … but what did that have to do with 'can't ever be in a relationship'?
“Elena,” her mother squeezed her hand, drawing her back to the present. “If you have sex, you'll be giving away your power – literally. The man you sleep with will take on your magic and you will be left barren of it. You will no longer have any powers and you will never be able to get them back.”
“I don't understand,” she said dumbly, annoyed that her voice was shaking.
Her mother sighed. “You can't have sex, Elena – ever.”
“Mum, there's nothing going on between me and Karl—”
“This isn't about you and Karl, this is about any boy – or man – that you end up with.”
Elena sat back in her seat, bewildered. “Are you telling me, that because I'm a witch, I have to be a virgin forever?”
“Not just a witch, a thirteenth generation witch.”
“I didn't ask to be a thirteenth generation witch!”
“And I didn't ask to birth one!”
Elena froze. She wondered if she'd been slapped, because those words stung.
Her mother sagged. “Oh, Elena, I didn't mean it like that … I just meant that we can't always choose our path.”
“And my path is to be alone and die a virgin?” she snapped. “What if I want to give up my powers? What if I want someone else to have them?”
“Would you really place all that responsibility on someone else's shoulders? They'd have to learn the ways of the Craft, their entire life would change beyond measure … they'd have to answer to The Council. They'd never be able to lead a normal life again.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. This couldn't be real. “I can't believe this … I don't believe this.”
Her mother held out her right hand. “Check if you don't believe me,” she said, her voice calm and steady. She was referring to what all the kids at The Council dubbed the Lie Detector Spell. A brief touch with her mother's mind would ascertain the truth of the matter.
She couldn't stop her hand from trembling as she placed it in her mother's. She reached out with her mind, and touched hers briefly. Her eyes welled up, tears spilled over and a sob escaped her before she kicked back her chair, and ran to her room.
~*~
Sex was something she had never really thought about before, not to the extent her friends at school did. They were all into the idea of it, most of them eager to share their snogging stories and whether so and so had groped whoever's tits yet. Elena didn't have a so and so in her life, and she sure as hell didn't have any tits. Of course, none of that mattered now … and now that it didn't matter, all she could think about was sex. Life was cruel. Very cruel.
She shifted on the floor where she'd been sitting curled up for the past half an hour – her bum was getting numb. She could feel where her tears had dried on the skin of her cheeks. A glance up at her bedside clock told her she had to be at Karl's in fifteen minutes. Fresh tears threatened to brim over her eyes, but she pushed them back with a shake of her head. No more crying – she could do this.
Nothing had even happened between her and Karl earlier – it was a non-kiss, and she could forget about it. She had to forget about it…
And Karl would forget about it too, because Karl was Karl. He was easy going and accepting of the things that got thrown his way; besides, he was two years older than her – no doubt she'll be finding him with a girl on his arm before too long. Her throat constricted, and she almost threw up at the mere thought of it.
She pulled herself to standing and glanced at the photo of her and her mother, on her bookcase. It was the only photo of them together that she had, and it had been taken at the park when she was six. They were both beaming happiness – Elena at the camera, and her mother at her.
On the other end of the same shelf, was a picture of her with her friends, Sophie and Laura. Sophie had moved to Lancaster a year ago, and Laura no longer hung out with her, preferring the company of those who were a little more part of the 'in-crowd' than Elena was.
Every other photo she had in her room was of her and Karl, or just Karl. A lot of them consiste
d of them pulling stupid faces together; most of them held treasured memories for her. Her favourite was the one taken about two years ago. They both sat in a field of Lavender, under an August sun. They had placed the camera on a log and set the timer on it, then rushed back to position before it went off; only a rabbit had darted past them at the last moment, and Elena had squealed with delight. At the exact same time, the sun had burst forth from behind a cloud.
The resulting photo consisted of her, wide-mouthed, jumping up and pointing off to the right, and Karl looking up at her, laughing. The sun's emerging rays had bounced off the lens, causing a reflective spot just above Karl's head. It made him look like he had a halo, and where the light refractions spread out and ended, gave the illusion he had wings.
With a startling clarity, she all at once understood that she would never get over Karl – she had nothing and no one to get over him with. She had no ammunition. She could never move on. She'd never know if she could have loved him – she would never know love at all.
The air seemed to suffocate her.
This was the end. Love. Ends. Here… Now.
Catatonia rose within her – she couldn't breathe.
Something tapped at the window. A stone?
Somehow, she managed to put foot in front of foot and make her way to her sill. The sky was just fading into twilight, and its grey clouds had finally shed their water – it was spitting with rain.
Karl stood on the road looking up at her. He raised his hands and signed, Hello.
A faint smile touched her lips. This was one of their things – they had learnt basic sign language a few years back. It had started late one night, when his parents' arguments had gotten so bad he couldn't stand to stay indoors any longer, so he'd tapped her window with a pebble, and since scaling the front of her house was damn near impossible, they'd spent a rather amusing evening trying to guess what the other was saying, like a really bad game of charades. After that they'd decided they would learn to sign, so that if it ever happened again, at least the night would go by more smoothly.
I still have five minutes, she signed back.
I know, but I was worried about you … you okay?
He always knew when she didn't feel right. Her smile widened, even as a tear betrayed her and slid down her face. Nevermind, he wouldn't notice it this far away.
Mum just gave me some bad news … I'll tell you about it in a minute.
Okay… He hesitated, then raised his hands again. I'm always here for you, you know that, right?
I know … thank you.
As he turned and walked away, fresh panic took her over. She'd never get to say it, to anyone, ever, so she said it now to his back, hands and fingers trembling as it made the shapes of the words.
I love you.
Forcing herself away from the window, she gathered her homework and stuffed it in her rucksack.
I can do this, I can do this, I can do this… She could do this for Karl.
She couldn't give of herself – he needed to let her go. She would tell him what her mother had told her, and she would act like it was no big deal. She would spend the next three years not falling in love with her best friend, then she would go to university, and he would be free. She could do this for him.
She slung her rucksack over her shoulder, and glanced around the room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. The yellow of the daffodils in her window box caught her eye. The rain was falling harder now, pounding them into submission.
She straightened her back.
Flowers wilted.
She would not.
~*~
Katherine's hands shook as she placed the last of the plates in the dishwasher.
She heard Elena's footfalls on the stairs as she bounded down. Without a word, they continued on down the hall, then out the front door. The door closed with a firm bang.
Not able to hold herself up any longer, Katherine sank to the floor with a keening wail. She clasped the amulet around her neck – the one that had hidden the lie from Elena's mind – and ripped it off her. Self-loathing coursed through her, and what a wretched emotion it was. She wondered if she'd burn in hell for this… Better her than her daughter.
Taking in deep breaths, she tried to gather herself … and failed. Sod it. Five minutes … she'd allow herself five minutes…
The foreign sound of her desperate sobs filled the air.
She'd be fine in a moment. In a moment, she would stand up tall, harden her heart and carry on as normal.
“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…” she whispered, holding onto the words like she'd hold onto a life raft. And she could – she would. She would do this for Elena… She would do anything for Elena.
Glossary of Terms
The Witching Pen – a creation forged by angels after the fall of Atlantis, approximately 11,750 years ago (also known as the fall of Eden) under the instruction of God. It has now been destroyed by Abaddon. Its destruction triggered the apocalypse (Armageddon).
Lokoli – an angel who was demonised and cast out of Heaven, and then became known as the most bloodthirsty demon of all. She stole the Witching Pen from Heaven and created a new dimension she could rule over, as well as seven demon tribes:
The Lagool lived in water – oceans, rivers and swamps – and she gave them the gift of sight.
The Brujii lived in the forests and woods, and were given the gift of magic.
The Malattal lived under the ground, in caves, and held the gift of prophecy.
The Brokk inhabited the cold places of the north, and were given the gift of immortality.
The Totilemi were not limited to a region, but travelled the Earth, and were given the gift of knowledge.
The Dessec inhabited the hot deserts, and were given the ability to bend time.
The Shanka, a type of succubi (and the males, incubi), were given the gift of creation itself – the power of life and death. But too afraid their power would be used against her, Lokoli banished them from the earth, forcing them to live ethereally, only able to enter this dimension through shadows and dreams. The Shanka did eventually kill Lokoli, but only after she awarded them with the Witching Pen. It became rightfully theirs, until it was destroyed.
When humans grew in numbers upon the Earth, followed by the 'fallen', demons became outnumbered and shunned, and retreated into their own separate dimensions, all of which can be reached via portals, except for the Shanka's dimension which exists only in shadow.
Witches – humans who practice the art and science of magic (or magick). Some witches are Pagans, some are Wiccans, and some follow other religions, but witchcraft itself is not a religion.
The Witch Council – also referred to as The Council, is the governing coven of all the witches around the world. Run by many Elders and one High Priest / Priestess, they are prestigious and regard themselves as the Keepers of Magical Law.
Shapeshifters – humans that have harnessed the ability to change form, a skill handed down through lineage from the shaman's of old. Also called 'shape changers' and informally, 'shifters'. Not the same as werewolves or werecats, whose abnormality is caused by a mutant gene.
Guises – forms that shifters can change into. One shifter can have many guises, including that of animals and the four elements.
Fallen angels – also referred to as ‘the fallen’. Angels that have been cast out of Heaven, or who chose to leave Heaven.
Archangel – an angel ranked highly on the [angelic] hierarchy ladder, usually holding some sort of position of command over other angels.
Mergence – also referred to as ‘total mergence’. A result of bonding between fallen angels, where, after the bonding, they are merged in heart, mind and soul, able to share thoughts, know each others’ pasts, and feel each others’ feelings. Because of its all-consuming nature, most fallen angels never bond.
The Old Tongue – the original language used by angels. It is said that The Old Tongue was the language of the fay, and that t
hey taught the angels how to speak and write it. Traces of The Old Tongue can still be found in old Irish, which is the language’s closest descendent.
The fay – also called fairies, or the race of Faerie (coming from the land of Faerie). They don’t like anyone to know they exist, and as a rule, keep themselves well hidden. Their queen is Morgan le Fey.
Blood-drinkers – fallen angels that have never adapted to physical like on Earth. Over thousands of years, they have become elusive, and more myth than fact. They gave rise to the ‘vampire’ that is so revered in modern day pop culture.
Teleportation – the act of travelling through space, by dematerialising the body. All demons – save the Shanka, who travel by hiding in shadows – can teleport. Teleportation also comes naturally to shapeshifters, once they know how to harness the ability. Some witches can also teleport, but it drains their magical energy. Angels do not teleport. They either fly, or will themselves into being in a different place, which is different to teleporting, and closer to transfiguration.
Portal – an opening or gateway that can allow one to cross dimensions. Should not be confused with a wormhole.
Wormhole – a manifestation, natural or enforced, that allows one to travel through time. Often interchanged with the word 'portal', although the two are quite different.
Abaddon – Satan, ruler of the Underworld, and the first angel to have ever been created.
Lucifer – the first angel to have fallen from grace, he is considered a legend by most other angels, some even questioning if he ever existed.
Primeval Chaos – what was in Heaven's place before Heaven existed. Also called ‘what came before’ by the angels; they saw it as a living, breathing mass of dark matter that was dangerous and unruly. The fay called it Tír na nÓg – it was their home, until God came and moulded it into Heaven.