by Ashley McLeo
“Like they don’t believe in witches?” Sara said, half her lip curved up in a lopsided smile. “Like Brigit said, the Irish are cautious about their superstitions. A lot of them wouldn’t admit it outright, but yeah, they believe in fairies.”
“How ’bout here?” Lily asked as they approached a relatively manicured spot near the lake.
They settled in, and within seconds Lily found herself playing with her corner of the blanket, flattening and rolling it in her hands repeatedly. How do you force yourself to bond with someone you’re not sure you even like? she wondered, stealing a glance at Evelyn, who was staring at the lake. If it were only Sara and me, this would be so much easier. Awkward seconds became minutes. Despite being stuffed, Lily debated searching the picnic basket for a snack or at least something different for her hands to play with.
“So, I guess I’ll start then?” Sara asked, breaking the ice. “I’ve already had two families; this is my third. I’m a military brat, so no real home, no real family either, come to think it. My adoptive family, the one I actually thought of as my adoptive family, only chose me for my hair color. Apparently, there was a shortage of ginger orphans at the time. My adoptive mother is a redhead and wanted a child she could pass off as her own at new military posts. Fewer questions that way. They were infertile and quite ashamed of it. My father didn’t care what kid they got as long as it made her happy. He had enough connections to secure my adoption quickly and easily. My childhood was spent moving from base to base. At each new base I was told to lie about my family being my biological family, a situation that practically ensured I never felt a true connection to anyone. The first time I felt I belonged was when I attended Princeton. At least there people were into the same stuff I was. Being here is the second time I’ve felt that way. Though it’s weird and more than a little scary, I can’t say I wouldn’t want to be here. Or be meeting you two.”
Lily gawked at Sara’s matter-of-factness. She’d never heard anyone describe their life in such a detached, cold way. Lily found it impossible to correlate with the vibrant, caring person before her.
“So, Lily, what about you? I’m curious to hear all about the commune,” Sara said.
Lily had been mildly anxious about telling her story since Brigit mentioned they should bond. Despite having a happy childhood, she found she didn’t always like talking about it. The dynamics of a commune were unconventional, and Lily had found many people distrusted the unconventional. Unfortunately, those people were usually the same people who had no qualms letting her know what they thought of her home. Here goes nothing, Lily thought, launching into the past. Sara and Evelyn turned out to be a good audience, laughing, nodding, and scowling in all the right parts. Lily even found herself telling them about Liam. How he’d seemed so perfect. How his amazing violet flecked eyes had mesmerized her. And how he’d turned on her, growing violent in the span of a night.
“The commune sounds amazing,” Sara sighed. “Rena, Em, Annika, and Selma sound so interesting.”
“They were my pillars growing up. So many other women came and went, but those four were always there looking out for me.”
“And Liam. What an asshole! You did the right thing getting out of there. Even if he hadn’t gotten in your face, the way he said it,” Sara shivered. “That gives me the creeps!”
Lily shuddered as she remembered his words. “Rest assured, I’ll uncover your secrets.” Who the hell says something like that anyhow?
“So, I guess I’m up,” Evelyn sighed. “Though I probably can’t tell you anything you haven’t already found online.”
“We’ve been busy dealing with our own issues, Evelyn. Plus there’s no internet, so how could we have?” Sara said kindly.
Evelyn cocked her head as if considering their lack of preconceived notions.
Lily bit back the sarcastic remark on the tip of her tongue. How strange it would be to be so rich, so searchable. The thought made her cringe.
And suddenly, Evelyn was spilling her guts. It was odd to hear Rockefellers, Kennedys, and Clintons referred to as playmates, classmates, and family friends. Evelyn’s parents were loving and encouraging of their daughter’s quirks. Yet they made it clear that networking with the right people was paramount to success. And success was the end goal. Lily felt sure they would have been shocked by Evelyn’s current means of networking: A scheme that relied on Evelyn using her beauty to get to know promising businessmen. Lily sat enthralled as Evelyn regaled them with the story of her latest conquest, a Russian oil tycoon named Dmitry, who ended up revealing damning secrets to get in her pants.
“Of course I left alone that night. What do I care if he has blue balls?” Evelyn smirked. “I wouldn’t want to give him any ammo to fight back with later on.”
Lily could only marvel at the confidence Evelyn exuded about her life in New York. She must be damn good at what she does, Lily thought wistfully. She had never felt so sure about her own future, especially recently. If I had even an ounce of that confidence, I could rule the world.
“It’s strange, don’t you think? You have more money and privilege than I’ll ever see, but you’re the one that had the normal childhood, compared to Lily and me.” Sara said.
“You know . . . I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right. I suppose being rich is more normal than growing up in a commune or what happened to you,” Evelyn said, an easy smile growing on her face.
“It’s almost three,” Lily said, glancing at her runners watch and stretching her legs. Hours of talking had felt like minutes. “You guys feel up for a walk around the lake? I’m dying for some exercise. It helps me think.”
“I’m going to head in. I’d like to try to call my parents or at least the office if the witches will allow me to do so,” Evelyn said.
“I’m going to meditate.” Sara motioned to a rock jutting out over the edge of the lake, her hands already running over her mala beads. “Come get me when you’re ready to go in, will you?”
Lily nodded. “See you soon.”
She hugged the banks of the lake as she walked, breathing in the scent of algae mixed with mud and reveling in the solitude she knew would be short lived. The past twenty-four hours astounded her and something told her the punches weren’t going to stop anytime soon. Usually being outside helped Lily forget her worries right away, but not this time. Questions began to swarm her mind. Anxiety bloomed in her chest, shortening her breath and slicking her palms. What’s the big secret? Who’s looking for us? What else were are we going to learn?
All of a sudden, she was running. Five minutes, she thought, her eyes on the expansive field before her. Five minutes to move, to clear my head, and then I’ll get Sara. We’ll be back in no time.
She’d worn the wrong shoes, and her jeans were too tight, but it didn’t matter. As Lily flew over the uneven ground, she felt like she could handle anything the witches threw at her. A white picket fence that presumably indicated Brigit’s property line appeared in front of her. Maybe I’ll hop the fence and go a little further? Who’s going to care all the way out here if I run a little on their land? she thought. She covered the space easily and with the muscle memory instilled in her from high school hurdling leapt.
“Shit!” Lily cried, falling awkwardly short of the fence, one leg bent at a ninety-degree angle against the wood. What the hell?
She looked around as if to spot some huge animal that had run in front of her, knocked her leg out of place, and scurried off without her noticing. She was alone.
Then it hit her. It’s enchanted, she thought. She lifted her leg again and it stopped, having come up against an invisible barrier.
The laugh escaped her before she knew it was there, echoing through the empty countryside. I guess I’ll have to get used to running into walls here, she thought, turning on her heels and sprinting back to the lake.
Lily and Sara could hear the buzz of excitement radiating out of Fern Cottage all the way from the garden.
“There
they are! We were wondering when you’d make it back. Saw you running like the wind out there, Lily,” Gwenn said, green eyes twinkling, as Lily and Sara opened the front door.
“I’d reached my limit,” Lily replied with forced nonchalance as she hung her jacket. The shock of hitting an enchanted fence had faded. Now, Lily found she was unsure how she felt about it, and even more unsure if she wanted to share her concerns. Is it meant to keep others out or us in? she wondered.
“It’s there to keep out those who have no business being here,” Aoife said. “Most will feel a pull in another direction leading them to skirt the property line before they even reach the fence. The fence itself, besides keeping people out, acts as a mirage of sorts. It renders the cottage invisible to those who haven’t explicitly been told of its existence. Brigit’s property will appear as a dark, foreboding wood. We put most of these spells in place after you three were born and kept them as a precaution. You need not worry, you’ll not be held here against your will.”
The tightness in Lily’s chest lifted.
“Shall we get started?” Mary asked, waiting until Lily situated herself on the couch. “So far you’ve seen only what we’ve witnessed with our own eyes. The facts, as it were. But tonight we venture into theory. Aoife and I spent years combing libraries, coven archives, church collections, and the minds of our fellow witches for information pertaining to the prophecy you heard last night and a volume referred to as Seraphina’s tome. We didn’t have as much as we would like to go on, but we did have a few keywords we could use.”
“We began by searching for any mention of fata, Hecate, Lilith, Eve, and Seraphina,” Aoife said, taking over seamlessly. “As you may imagine, some of those words yielded more results than others. Eve and Hecate are revered and demonized throughout history and religion. Lilith was a bit more rare but by no means unheard of. Our white whale was fata, and we found no mention of the word in the libraries or archives we searched.”
“Any record from a reputable archive, that is,” Mary corrected, clearly enjoying herself. “It was only when we ventured into the libraries scorned by academia and the larger churches that we got lucky. We found the term fata littered here and there, mostly in long-running coven archives of Eastern Europe and Northern Africa. It even cropped up in a small number of ancient pagan churches. Thanks be to those clergymen who couldn’t bear to throw out the heretical material. Well, heretical in their eyes—”
“And then there were the elders,” Aoife interrupted, steering Mary off a tangent.
“To be sure,” Mary nodded, “The elders were a wealth of knowledge, especially once we knew which covens to seek out.”
Mary pulled a thin stack of papers from a bright red laptop bag that matched her tunic and tennis shoes. The smell of old paper wafted up mixing with Mary’s scent of grapefruit and rain as she set the stack on the table. “We hit gold with these.”
Lily leaned forward. There couldn’t be more than ten sheets of paper there, some of which displayed only one illustration. How much information could they have gotten from that? she wondered.
“Can we touch them?” Sara asked, her eyes shining with reverence.
“Aye, after we go over them you’ll have your fill. They don’t look like much, but these few pages pack a wallop. And they’re backed by dozens more Mary wasn’t able to take.” Aoife’s tone left Lily with the feeling that the confiscation of these materials had not been sanctioned by their previous owners.
“This one is my favorite,” Mary said, plucking a sheet from the stack and holding it up for all to see.
The sheet was filled with Egyptian symbols, its colors still vibrant despite its obvious age and clear lack of proper preservation techniques. Like the paper Aoife had shown Lily that morning, it depicted three women with their arms outstretched to link hand in hand. One wore a cape of blue waves that mirrored the blonde ripple of her hair and startling blue of her eyes. The middle woman was depicted as the smallest and also the most frightening to behold. Fire blazed from the top of her head and out of her eyes as she stared at the viewer, unyielding and fierce. A smile played on the lips of the third woman, whose dark hair cascaded down a green cloak to mix with the flora they stood upon.
“Is that Earth?” Sara asked, pointing behind the women to a blue circle Lily hadn’t noticed.
“And they are shielding it? Protecting it from that?” Sara continued, pointing to a smaller red circle on the corner of the page.
Lily had thought it a slip of the artist’s hand or even a drop of dried blood. Looking closer she saw it was intricately decorated. Different colors of ink dotted the surface to indicate mountains and crevices. It was a planet.
“Aye,” Aoife repeated, grinning.
“It looks so old,” Sara whispered, looking as if she wanted to reach out and pluck the page from Mary’s fingers.
“We had it dated in a laboratory. It hails from around 45 B.C.,” Mary said, blue eyes twinkling.
“That piece of paper is from before the birth of Jesus?! And it’s sitting here? On this coffee table?” Evelyn’s mouth gaped as she looked down at the water-stained and chipped table in horror.
“And the tale it tells is far more ancient,” Mary said, pointing to the indecipherable hieroglyphics. “Would you like to hear it? I had it translated by a witch gifted in ancient languages.” She pulled a new piece of computer paper from the stack and, taking their silence as confirmation, began to read.
The History of Witches
Transcribed from memory by
Amenia Trypheana, High Priestess of the Coven of Isis
Translated by Bahiti Basara
“Many years ago, on the red planet of Hecate, a great king named Dimia ruled what remained of the fata race. Millennia of few fata choosing to die led to a pilfering of Hecate’s soul, the very source from which fata obtained their magic. Most of the young began to find the simplest magical feats impossible. The king knew they had sown all they could from Hecate. In an act both brave and rash, he banned the birth of any new fata until he found a solution. The king knew that if fata were to thrive once more, they would need a new home. A home full of power that his kind could harness to become great again, as they had been in the time of the ancients. A new world to call their own.
“Dimia looked to his daughters, Lilith, Eve, and Seraphina, as the last hope for their kind. As triplets born full of magic in a time of infertility, their birth was hailed an omen of greatness to come. Dimia ensured they received the best and his daughters became the strongest fata on Hecate since the time of the ancients.
“It was only when Dimia received a testament from a seneschal by the name of Noro that the king thought he had found a solution. Noro had but one great skill with which to please his ruler. The midnight blue fata could send his pneuma, an entity much like the human soul, outside his body to explore. It was during a recent journey that he had found a planet much like Hecate. He called this planet Earth, and as Dimia listened to Noro’s tale, he realized Earth was the answer.
“Dimia hatched a plan. His daughters would travel to Earth, body and pneuma, and bring over the rest of their kind if Earth proved hospitable. If they could not thrive there, he knew no other fata stood a chance. He informed his daughters, who were dutiful and agreed to fulfill their father’s wishes.
“It is said once they made the journey to Earth they traveled far and wide, accumulating power and seeking a land that called to them. It was only when they came across a tribe of men that they stopped, found mates, and built a life. From these unions the first witches were born. Half human, half fata, the first witches were rumored to resemble fata and humans equally, though most disguised themselves as humans through magic. In time, the human appearance prevailed—though many believe that the fata pneuma, or soul, has remained with us and is the source of a witch’s magic.
“The sisters died on Earth with their father's wishes unfulfilled. Some say their strength never recovered from their journey. Others postulate Earth
could not fulfill their needs for magic as Hecate did. Whatever the case, we witches give thanks to the three: our ancestors and mothers of our magical lineage.”
“So putting this together with the prophecy, and the whole timeless night thing which sounds a whole lot like death to me . . . you’re basically telling me aliens are looking for us because they think we can do what Lilith, Eve, and Seraphina did? Create a . . . portal between Hecate, a planet . . . not a goddess, and Earth?” Sara asked, her voice cracking as she worked it out.
“Searching for centuries, I’d dare say,” Mary agreed, placing the parchment back on the stack. “Since finding this gem, we’ve come to discover that there is an alternate side to this tale and those willing to support it. They have a small network of spies. Many of them are witches who wish to align with the fata side of their ancestry rather than humans. They believe that if the fata make it to Earth, humans, even witches or other supernaturals, would be relegated to the lowest caste in a new realm. In return for their services, the spies hope to be placed above other humans and supernaturals in social status. Or if humans are killed off, the spies hope to be spared for their loyalty. These spies search for witches possessing extraordinary power, specifically hedgecrossers. For the last two decades, there have been rumors circulating about witches of untold power in hiding. We believe your binding has something to do with this. A magical vacuum of that size and magnitude would have been felt for hundreds of miles. Questions were sure to arise.”
“Hedgecrossers?” Sara asked, her brows furrowed.
“You’ve heard of astral travel? When a person can send their spirit to travel this world?” Aoife asked.
A vague image of an out-of-body experience she had read about online popped into Lily’s mind and she nodded.
“Well, a hedgecrosser is a witch whose spirit can cross between worlds in addition to exploring this one. They’re rare. Only about one in a million are born with the gift, and even with natural proclivity, it takes years of practice to become adept at hedgecrossing. In the past, some chose to disregard their gift entirely, because it came at a cost. More than one hedgecrosser has lost their soul during travels. Taking into account the power you three demonstrated at birth and the prophecy, it’s possible you may be hedgecrossers.”