by Katie Cross
“She’s a conniving witch,” Leda muttered. “I knew it the moment I realized she cast the curse on your family. There’s something not right about her.”
Camille agreed with a low hum. “You better watch yourself, Bianca.”
“Watch her is more like it,” I muttered.
“It’s very sad that she’s so beautiful and so ugly at the same time,” Camille said. “A little bit like Priscilla, isn’t she?”
“A little bit too beautiful, I think,” Leda said, her eyes landing on me. “Miss Mabel has been running the school for over forty years now. She must use some kind of transformative magic to look that way. She should be much older.”
The thought made my skin crawl. I had the feeling that seeing the real Miss Mabel would be a horrifying experience and wondered what kind of festering soul hid under all that false perfection.
“Yes,” I said feeling a little sheepish that I hadn’t thought of it first. “She should.”
“A lot of powerful witches do that to conceal their true age,” Camille said, tugging on her hair and inspecting a wayward curl. “There was a witch in our village named Balinda that didn’t look much over thirty, but she was well over ninety years old. I plan to do that. I want to die looking the way I do at twenty-five. Unless I look better at thirty, which is doubtful, considering how, uh, old my aunts seem.”
“Balinda was also out of her mind,” Leda said. “So how she managed to use transformative magic every day, I have no idea. The woman talked to her onions and thought her cat was a mule.”
“Speaking of transformation,” I drawled, a sudden thought coming to me. “How did Priscilla react when I won? Did she say anything?”
“Oh, she was pretty upset,” Camille said in a prim tone, her lips pressed together in a poor attempt to hide a smile, “she, um, well—”
“First of all, she had been hiding in the kitchen the whole time. Then she threw a fit as soon as Miss Mabel left.” Leda supplied the information with the droll tone that meant she enjoyed talking about it. “Miss Scarlett had to escort her into the hallway. I somehow found myself near the doors at the time and heard Miss Scarlett telling her to pull it together.”
Camille laughed, falling backward onto the bed again, her arms thrown wide.
“She started to cry. It was wonderful, Bianca!”
The three of us dissolved into laughter, forcing away the dark cobwebs I’d already collected in the recesses of the attic.
“Jade and Stephany didn’t come back to the dinner either,” Camille said. “They sat up in Priscilla’s room with her, pouting. Miss Celia wouldn’t let anyone take them food, even though they tried to get some first-years to knick them some. No one would do it. Miss Scarlett said that Priscilla, Jade, and Stephany were poor shows of sportsmanship and gave them six hours of kitchen duty.”
Our mad fit of giggling continued as we discussed how Priscilla would look with flour in her red hair, Michelle ordering her around. Soon, the mirth subsided, leaving us clutching our stomachs.
I gazed down at the yellow parchment in my hand, a bleak reminder of my original intent. I let out a sigh.
“I better go,” I said. “I have a potion to start and a huge scroll of homework to complete tonight, but I’ll try to come down as often as I can.”
“Uh oh,” Leda said. “Did you say a huge scroll of homework?”
“Unfortunately,” I grimaced.
Camille sent me a sulky glance. “Sounds like you won’t be doing anything but studying.”
“Yes,” I agreed with the dismal tone of a martyr. “Sounds like it.”
“Sounds like heaven,” Leda muttered.
“Sounds like torture,” Camille said at the same time.
“When will we see you next?” Leda asked, and then fell into a trance. She came out of this one quickly with a jerk of her head, a puzzled expression on her face.
“I should be there in the morning,” I said.
“Okay,” she murmured, lines of concern creasing her forehead. “See you then.”
Camille threw her arms around me in another hug, and I slipped into the hall. The world still continued on down here without me, and for some reason, that gave me great comfort.
Liquid Curses
My bedroom didn’t have a place for a fire, so I moved my supplies into the classroom and set up a work area by the hearth. Working with herbs came naturally after all the years at the shop, and the smell of sage calmed me. The first brewing began simply enough, allowing me time to start on the scroll of homework.
Translating the questions from ancient Almorran proved mind-numbing. My thoughts strayed, distracted by the upcoming Veritas interrogation. The corner where Miss Mabel had set the vial kept pulling my attention.
What if I tried the Veritas before she forced me to? I pictured myself accidentally stumbling onto Priscilla while under the power of Veritas. Or, even better, Miss Scarlett. Then she’d really know all the rules I broke.
No, taking it unsupervised could be the worst idea I’d ever had. Giving myself a drop of Veritas to see what it would do was a prodigious risk. Miss Mabel could walk in, and I’d be totally vulnerable.
But, a worried little voice in my mind reasoned, not any less than when I take it in front of her.
I shook my head, turned my back on the corner, and focused on the homework, scrawling out an easy answer to the question, Who created the first trust potion?
I stared at it for several minutes before I realized I’d written down Veritas.
Frustrated, I hastily blotted out the response.
Finally giving in, I swiveled back around and stared at the glass vials. If Miss Mabel interrogated me and I wasn’t strong enough, she could get information about my father that I couldn’t afford to betray. No amount of study and verb memorization could change that.
Annoyed, I threw the feather down and raked my hands through my hair. This wouldn’t do. I had to find out.
Snatching the Veritas before I lost courage, I pulled the cork and let a single drop fall into the glass of water from dinner. I set the glass on the desk and stared at it for several minutes. All traces of Veritas fled.
With a shaking hand I grabbed the glass and chugged the whole thing.
The burning sensation in my stomach disappeared after a few seconds, but the effects were immediate and intense. The world started to spin.
Seconds later, I knew I’d made a grave mistake.
I struggled out of the classroom and started down the spiral stairs at a breakneck, frantic pace. The steps felt like they fell in uneven intervals, so I slipped and stumbled my way to the bottom with my eyes closed. When I opened them a slit to see where I was, the world spun.
Miss Celia’s low hum drifted down the corridor from the kitchen, telling me I was in the main hallway on the first floor. An urge to speak overwhelmed me. My mouth opened on its own, but I slammed it shut so hard my teeth hurt.
I had to get out of there.
Lightheaded, I grabbed the wall and forced myself to walk away from the kitchen. My vision blurred when I opened my eyes, making the hall swim. A few third-year girls laughed from the library a few paces away. The desire to speak controlled me again. Somehow I struggled through it, groping for the side door that spilled into the yard.
The old handle on the side door rattled when I found it and pushed it open. It gave way with a groan just as the sound of the third-years swelled. I fell to my knees on the grass, kicked the door shut behind me, and crawled toward the tree line. The edges of my limited vision grew black.
“B-b-bad idea,” I whispered, unable to stop myself. “I took Veritas, and it was a bad idea. R-r-really bad idea.”
“Bianca! Over here.”
My heart faltered as a dark silhouette approached my side. Leda’s ash-blonde hair moved in front of me.
“Come on,” she said, her lips pressed into a line.
She hooked an arm through mine and jerked me to my feet. Ignoring my cries of protest, we started
into the trees. My balance plummeted. Every attempt to control my legs failed, and my stomach threatened to erupt.
“Walk, Bianca!”
“T-t-trying.”
Leda groaned as I leaned my weight against her.
“Don’t speak! Just … try to walk with me.”
“I took Veritas. I-I took it out of the cupboard. It tasted like mint. I don’t like it but I–”
Frantic, I tried to pull the words back, but realized I was making it worse.
“I-I need to control it. I need to know how–”
Leda cut me off. “Talk about something that doesn’t matter until the Veritas works out of your system. It will help. What entries in the History of Witchcraft have you read in the past ten years?”
The answers poured out of me; I didn’t even take a breath. The horrific lack of constraint terrified me. I recited things I didn’t remember.
“Esbat. Rituals. History of Defensive Magic. Western Network. Northern Network. Sword making. Heartswords. Southern Network.”
“Good,” Leda said, panting. “Keep going.”
“Persimmon. Hexes. Blighters. Eastern Network. Ruins.”
Speaking restored tiny pieces of my balance. The undeniable relief felt like a flood of heat in the middle of winter. I couldn’t gibber fast enough.
“Come on!” she muttered. “Walk!”
“Symbols. Chatham City. Letum Wood. Bellarmine jugs. Silent magic.”
Leda jerked me into the tree line. Thorns ripped across my legs when she shoved me through a shadowy bramble bush. Several minutes of toil and struggle through the deadfall later, the words stopped without warning. There were no more.
“I-I can’t stop it,” I said. “Secrets. I-I’m supposed to say my secrets. M-my father taught me how to–”
“Books you’ve read,” Leda panted, seeing the panic return to my face. “Tell me what books you’ve read.”
After dragging me around a large oak tree, she let go with a grunt and collapsed on the ground.
It took fifteen minutes of recitation for my voice to slow and gain control. The potion’s power faded, and my eyes focused on Leda’s face.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“No,” I answered too fast. “I mean … yes, I’m fine.”
I reached up and looked at my hand. It was clear. I could see again.
She let out a heavy breath. “That was close. I kept seeing Miss Celia leaving the kitchen to restock the firewood. It wasn’t pretty after that, either.”
“I didn’t … I didn’t know it would be so strong.”
“Why would you take Veritas?” she asked with a condemning glare, making me feel like a fool. “Have you lost it? You’re mad.”
“I needed to know what it was like,” I retorted with a snap, folding my arms across my middle, suddenly aware of how sensitive my head felt. Of all people, I felt the slap of censure from Leda hardest.
“You can’t get that from a book?” she asked.
“Miss Mabel’s going to make me take it,” I said. “I needed to know what it was like. It seemed like the right thing at the time.”
Leda considered this information, but it didn’t seem to change her opinion.
“You’re demented, Bianca. I knew you were pretty good with magic, but I didn’t know you were out of your mind. If Miss Mabel found out–”
“I know!” I stopped her. “I know.”
Knowing I’d end up hurting her feelings if we stayed on the topic of my poor choices, I asked her the first question that came to mind. Leda wasn’t outside at night by chance.
“You saw me out here, didn’t you?” I asked, the sound of my voice reverberating in an echo through my skull. “That’s why you had a funny look on your face tonight when I went back to my room.”
“Yes. And you’re foolish for trying to best Veritas,” she added for good measure, unwilling, as ever, to change the subject unless she wanted to. “Do you ever think before you act?”
“I get it,” I growled. “I should have planned this differently.” A headache thrummed through my sensitive skull. Every movement sent off a shot of pain. Despite her help, I wanted to get rid of Leda because I knew she was right. She’d saved me out here, but my pride wasn’t ready to admit it. “You should go back before you get into trouble.”
“I think I’m the one that’s more qualified to determine what could happen. Give it a few more minutes.” She peered through the forest. “Miss Celia is still restocking the wood pile.”
A blessed silence followed. I closed my eyes and cradled my head in my hands. The twirling sensation changed into a hammer and anvil.
“It’s okay. You’re welcome,” Leda said, just as I opened my mouth to thank her.
“Thanks,” I said anyway, opening just one eye and managing to sound sincere. “I appreciate your help.”
She bit her bottom lip.
“There’s something I need to tell you, something I feel like you should know. I didn’t want to tell you earlier because I worried it would concern Camille. She’ll just stew on it all the time if she knows.”
“What is it?”
“Something changed,” she said. “I mean in your future. It’s pressing on me more than ever. I see glimpses and flashes of it more often now, but it’s–”
She broke off. I straightened up.
“It’s what?”
“It’s different. Instead of images I can’t make sense of, occasionally all I see is darkness. Or gray.” She pressed her hands to her eyes. “I know that doesn’t make sense, and I can’t explain it very well. The future is always shifting and changing. It’s like that for everyone. But yours is so pushy, so different.”
Her revelation settled on me with all the weight of a boulder.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said with a voice that didn’t ease either of us.
Leda turned away with a huff of frustration, looking back at the school over her shoulder. She stayed in that position for a little while longer, then stood up.
“I think it’s safe for me right now, but you need to be careful going back. Wait two minutes after I go inside.”
Leda offered me a hand and helped me to my feet. White dots burst across my vision, and my entire skull pulsed in pain.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, avoiding my eyes. She’d be grateful to get back to her room, I could tell. I felt the same way.
“Yes, thanks again.”
She started out of the trees and headed to the school, leaving me behind with a walloping headache. I leaned my head back with a groan and closed my eyes.
It would take more than one night to recover from this.
Experiencing Ignorance
“Your potion looks perfect for this stage,” Miss Mabel said the next morning. “That color indicates you are on the second brew, which means you started last night. Didn’t I tell you to begin this morning?”
She stepped away from my small cauldron, where a murky blue liquid bubbled, smelling like cheese. Her hands hid behind her back and the inscrutable expression on her face made my stomach clench in fear.
“No, Miss Mabel. You said the time began tomorrow morning. I decided to start early in case something went wrong.”
“A very smart move.”
Coiffed in a delicate bun at the nape of her neck, her hair glistened as she wandered through the early sunbeams. I let out a breath of relief as she moved past, her maroon dress waving.
“There’s absolutely no reason to delay starting something that has to get done. You passed my test.”
Miss Mabel smiled again, but it held a hint of promise that this wasn’t the last test. Her praise gave me more paranoia than relief. Luckily, and despite my stress regarding her silent expectations, I saw no indication in her mannerisms that she knew I had taken Veritas.
“Did you finish the assignment?”
She approached my desk and rolled through the scroll sitting on top. My eyes burned from lack of sleep. I’d completely forg
otten it after the Veritas and wouldn’t have completed any of it if a nightmare hadn’t woken me in the earliest hours of morning. My answers only filled the first part of the scroll.
“No, Miss Mabel,” I swallowed a lump of fear in my throat.
She looked up in surprise.
“Why ever not?”
Because I spent the night trying to get ahead of you and still haven’t recovered from a banging headache, thank you.
“I-it’s a lot of information, Miss Mabel.”
“That bodes well for the next three weeks,” she muttered, shooting me a perturbed stare. “You can’t even finish the first scroll on time.”
“I’ll finish it today, Miss Mabel.”
She studied me.
“Yes, you will. Thirteen years of your life are hanging in the balance. I’m sure you’re aware.”
Yes. How could I forget the assurance of death and misery? It all came down to a couple of scrolls and a dash of bitter irony.
“Have you even started translating the Almorran language?”
“A little.” A very little. “It’s slow but doable.”
Miserable and boring.
“At least you got that far. Well, I look forward to grading your assignments, which will be perfect.”
A challenge. I heard it in her voice. If you can’t even finish the first scroll on time, then you’d better get them all right.
“Yes, Miss Mabel.”
“I have something new for you.”
A small headache still nagged me from the Veritas, as if my brain was swollen inside my head, so the thought of learning had lost any appeal. Unable to do anything about it, I steeled myself for another miserable day.
Miss Mabel produced a jar of ink and a large peacock feather from her desk.
“Lovely,” she sighed, staring at the feather, “isn’t it? I just love peacocks. They are such attractive animals, very misunderstood. I don’t believe vanity exists in the animal kingdom, so I don’t know why they have such a bad reputation.”
She stroked the fuzzy edge against her cheek and then turned her gaze to me. The vivid blue of the feather matched her eyes in a shocking way.