“I know.”
As with Aggie’s thirteenth birthday, there’s no real party. We have venison from a deer Henri and I killed the day before—which he claimed his father killed so we wouldn’t get in trouble—and I receive my gifts. Sophie gives me a book called the Argonautica about Jason and the Argonauts and the quest for the Golden Fleece. I thank her politely, though I’ll probably never read the book, just as I’ve never read any she’s given me on my birthdays in a vain attempt to get me to read more. Mama gives me a set of silver hair combs, which promise to see far more use than the book.
Aggie goes last, her face reddening as she gives me a long box, inside which is a dress. This dress is emerald green and more ornate than the last ones she gave me with gold trim around the hem of the skirt, the collar, and the sleeves. Like those other dresses, it’s too big for me. “It’s not for right now,” Aggie explains. She looks down with embarrassment at the table as she adds, “It’s for when Mama takes you to see Glenda and the others.”
I smile, resisting the urge to cry as I know this is Aggie’s way of saying she knows that I’ll become a witch like her, Sophie, and Mama. “It’s beautiful,” I tell her. I want to hug her, but Mama has said that such gestures are for little girls, not young women. I only hope my smile can convey how much this gift means. From the way Aggie smiles back, I can see that it does.
***
Aggie gives me another gift in private. This is a tunic, leggings, and a cap all the same color green as the dress she made for me. “I thought it would help for when you go out hunting,” she says.
“How do you know about that? One of your feelings?”
“Nothing stays secret for long in a house full of witches. You know that.” Though she smiles when she says this, I can see the sadness in her eyes as she thinks of the boy in the forest whom Mama had forbidden her to ever see again.
I try these on and find they fit exactly right, the cap with enough room that I can tuck my hair into it so I don’t have to worry about leaves or branches getting caught in it. I finally give Aggie the hug I wanted to give her in the dining room. “This is a wonderful gift.”
“You should go show your friend.”
I know better than to ask her how she knows about Henri. Instead, I sneak downstairs and find him out in the stables, brushing down one of the horses. He continues working while I stand in the doorway, waiting for him to notice. Without turning, he says, “Pass me that blanket, will you?”
“Get your own blanket,” I snap at him.
It’s only then that he turns and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were Luc.”
“Luc? Do I look like a boy to you?” I thrust my chest out as much as I can as I say this so he can realize his mistake.
“Well, I didn’t get a good look, I just saw—” He continues to flounder until I pick up the blanket and throw it at his feet. Without a word he picks it up to put it on the horse’s back. I sit on a bale of hay, crossing my legs in a way Mama would insist isn’t lady-like.
As I wait for Henri to finish his chores, I close my eyes. When my left foot begins to tingle, I can’t breathe. Aggie said this is what it would feel like, like your foot falling asleep. I concentrate, waiting for the tingling to spread throughout the rest of my body, waiting to become a witch.
But it doesn’t happen. I soon realize it’s just my foot falling asleep. With tears in my eyes I limp out of the stable, hearing Henri call after me. I don’t stop, pressing on into the forest even after the feeling returns to my foot. This only causes me to cry harder, knowing that it really was my foot falling asleep, not my powers beginning to develop.
I keep pushing through the brush until I find the spot where Aggie was kissing that boy six years earlier. I sink down on the same spot where she had been sitting, burying my face in my hands. “It’s not fair,” I keep mumbling to myself. “I’ve waited so long.”
I don’t look up when I hear the brush rustling. I feel a hand on my shoulder and know from the size and roughness of it that it’s Henri. “I’m sorry I thought you were Luc,” he says.
“That’s not it.”
“Well then what is it? Why are you crying?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
He pulls his hand away from my shoulder. “Why not? Because I’m a boy?”
“No.” I look up at him but it’s like looking through a fogged-up window. “Because you’re ordinary.”
“Oh, so’s it, is it? I can’t understand because I’m just a poor stable boy?”
“No! That’s not what I meant.” I want to explain the problem to him, but I can’t. I’m not a junior witch or a novice, but I know I can’t let Henri know about Mama, Aggie, and Sophie. This is supposed to remain a secret between us. “It’s complicated.”
“So now I’m too stupid to understand? I don’t have your fancy education—”
I leap to my feet, knocking him onto his rear end like I did that first time in the stables. It’s easy enough for me to pin him down on the ground so I can roar into his face, “Just shut up and leave me alone! I don’t need you following me around all the time!”
When I let him go, he takes off like a scared rabbit into the brush. Part of me wants to go after him and explain things, but the rest of me knows that I can’t. I collapse back onto the ground to continue crying. I cry now not only because I’m still not a witch, but because I might have lost my only friend.
***
It’s easy enough for Henri and I not to see each other. For six months I don’t catch a glimpse of him, staying inside the house for the most part. On the rare occasions I do go outside, I stay away from the stables, the vineyards, and the houses beyond this where Henri and his family live.
Mama and I are alone in the house throughout most of this time. Aggie leaves two days after my birthday to go on another mysterious errand. Sophie leaves the day after that to resume her training. They both say a brief goodbye to me before they vanish in a flash of light. Aggie’s goodbye is more heartfelt; she risks Mama’s ire by giving me a hug. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispers into my ear.
Since I’m the only child left in the house and am too old to play with my dolls, I take to reading the books Sophie gave me. I start with the Argonautica and soon become riveted by the adventure of Jason and the Argonauts. That is until I get to the part about Medea, the witch who falls in love with Jason. I close the book, tossing it to the floor, not wanting to read about someone doing what I will never be able to do.
Each day becomes harder to get out of bed and go down to breakfast, where Mama waits for me. We’ve never been alone like this before, but we don’t use the time for bonding. Mostly Mama uses the time to continue drilling etiquette into me. “Sit up straight, dear,” she says if I slouch even a hair’s breadth.
“Why do I need to know all of this? It’s not like we’re having any dinner parties. We aren’t supposed to consort with mortals.”
I expect Mama to deflect this with a variation of the old, “Because I say so.” Instead, she gives me my first lesson about magic. “Using magic requires discipline. If you can’t learn simple social etiquette then you will never be able to master magic.”
I straighten instantly and make an effort to eat my porridge without spilling any on the front of my dress. If doing so will allow me to become a witch, then I’ll do it. But it doesn’t help. Nothing seems to help. As each day grinds on, the doubts become louder in my mind. I’m always going to be this way. I’m just an ordinary girl. I’ve never been as pretty as Aggie or as smart as Sophie, so why should I be a witch like them either?
Halfway through my thirteenth year, I finally can’t go on any longer. When Mama warns me about my posture, I hurl my spoon to the floor. “What difference does it make?” I scream at her. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve picked up my bowl of porridge and flung it against the wall. I’m on my feet, shrieking like a madwoman. “It doesn’t matter! None of it matters! I should go down and live
with Henri and his family! I’m nothing but a common, useless girl.”
My rage ebbs and I sink to my knees on the floor. I bury my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably, in a way I haven’t even as a child. I feel Mama’s hand on my back, her other stroking my hair. She pulls me against her body, in that comforting way she hasn’t since I became a woman.
“It’s all right, dear,” she whispers. “You just need to give it time.”
“I’ve given it enough time already,” I mumble into her shoulder.
“I know it’s been a long wait for you, but it won’t be much longer.”
I look up at her and see that she’s smiling at me with a mother’s tenderness. I smile back at her, feeling a flush of shame about my tantrum. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“No, dear, it’s all right. I’m the one who’s sorry. I knew this would be the hardest on you. I should have prepared you better for it.”
This is the first time I can ever remember Mama apologizing to me before. I’m not sure what to say at first. Finally I stammer, “It’s all right.”
We remain in that position on the floor for some time, until my tears have dried up. Mama must sense the time is right and helps me to my feet. She brushes hair away from my face and then says, “Why don’t you get dressed and go outside? Some fresh air would do you good.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Not wanting to jeopardize my new understanding with Mama, I wear one of my dresses outside. I stay away from the stable, venturing into the forest instead. I walk along the pathways Henri and I have beaten down with our footsteps over the years, careful not to catch my skirt or sleeves on the lower branches and the bushes.
I don’t know where I’m going until I reach the spot where Aggie and the boy were kissing, and where Henri and I quarreled. I sit down on the ground again, though this time I don’t cry. I merely sit there, listening to the wind rustling the leaves and the birds singing. A flock of geese honk as they fly overhead. Soon it will be winter and the geese, birds, and leaves will be gone in favor of ice and snow. The whole world will be frozen, which is how I feel at the moment stuck between the warm, comforting summer and the rebirth of spring.
When I hear something heavy crashing through the brush I assume it’s a deer and wish I’d brought my bow or at least a knife. But it’s not a deer—it’s Henri. We gasp in surprise to see each other. I notice that he looks different, bulkier than the last time I saw him. He’s also sporting a patchy brown beard and his hair is longer and unkempt. His eyes are still the same as is his smile when he recovers from his shock.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he says.
“Mama said I should go outside for some air,” I say.
I don’t invite him to sit down, but he does anyway. “I missed you,” he says. He reaches into a pouch to take out a necklace made of yellowed teeth. “That’s from a wolf Papa and I caught trying to eat the chickens. Colette made it into a necklace for me. I thought maybe you might like it as a belated birthday gift.”
“Oh, yes, it’s beautiful,” I say, though I know Mama would scream bloody murder if she caught me wearing such a thing. I let him put the necklace around my neck anyway, holding back my hair so it won’t get in the way.
He smiles at me and then puts a hand to my stomach. “You’re getting fat.”
“I am not!” I say, but I see that he’s right; I have the beginnings of a potbelly from all those months of living indoors. “I can still beat you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he says. There’s something different in his eyes when he says this; it’s not the taunting of childhood; it’s an almost predatory gleam in his eye.
Before he can react, I spring on him, pinning him to the ground again. From the way he smiles, I suspect that he let me get him in this position. “Now what do you say?”
He responds by kissing me on the lips. It’s my first real kiss. I’m taken by surprise, not sure how to react. I remember Aggie kissing in this same spot and what Mama said about it. But I’m not a novice in the coven; I’m not anything. I’m just an ordinary girl—
I feel the tingling in my left foot as I return Henri’s kiss. I ignore the sensation at first, too engrossed in my first kiss. We’re still wrestling on the ground, groping each other’s faces with our lips, when I feel the tingling all the way up to my waist. It’s happening! It’s finally happening!
I pull away from Henri and then roll off of him. “You have to go,” I whisper.
“Sylvia—”
“Go. Now!”
“Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”
I shake my head, but I can’t speak anymore. The tingling has spread through my entire body, just as Aggie said it would. I get down on all fours, like an animal. Though my body has gone numb, I can still feel Henri’s hand on my back. He’s trying to talk to me, but I can’t hear him anymore. Instead, I hear music. The most beautiful music I’ve ever heard, what an angel must sound like.
I’m blinded by white light. At first I think I’ve gone blind. Then I think I’m dying. But when I hear Henri gasp, I realize that the light is coming from my body—I’m glowing! My body is still tingling, still numb, but I manage to get to my feet. Through the white haze, I see Henri staring at me in shock, afraid of me. I’ve never felt so heartbroken in my life. I gather my voice to shout, “Go!”
“What are you?” he stammers.
“Please. Go.” When he doesn’t, I lift my right arm. Henri goes flying through the brush, disappearing from sight. I wait a few moments for him to return, but he doesn’t. Then I sink down onto all fours again, weeping for what I’ve done and what I’ve become.
I feel Mama’s hand on my back like in the dining room earlier. “It’s all right, dear,” she whispers to me again. “Just try to relax. Don’t fight it.”
“Mama—”
“I’m here, Sylvia.” Her other hand touches my head. She whispers into my ear, “Henri is fine. He’s not hurt. Just scared.”
The glow begins to fade. The white haze evaporates until the world takes on its familiar shape again. Still I remain on the ground, trembling, the music replaced by a buzzing that resonates through my entire body. I’m panting as if I’ve run a marathon. What little I ate for breakfast comes back up to spew on the ground.
Then Mama helps me up, pressing me close again. “Let’s get you inside to rest,” she says and we start the long walk back to the house.
I have become a witch.
Chapter 5
I am a baby again. Not literally; I still have my thirteen-year-old body. I’m a baby in that I can’t do anything for myself at the moment. If I try to dress myself or even to reach for the chamber pot, my magic fires with unpredictable results. The chamber pot turns into a dove that screeches away from me, almost breaking its head open as it tries to fly out the window with the shutters drawn. Mama comes in to open the shutters and my chamber pot goes flying out the window.
“Mama, I’m scared,” I say. And for the first time since Aggie came into her powers, I am actually terrified. Not so much for myself, but the fear that I might hurt Mama or someone else—like Henri. Despite that Mama assured me I didn’t hurt Henri, I still see him flying backwards, through the brush, and imagine him lying broken and bleeding somewhere.
Mama has enough experience with this that she isn’t afraid to bend down and take my hand. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything. You just have to relax. Remember what I said about magic requiring discipline?”
“Yes.” I also remember how badly I did at etiquette. What if I couldn’t learn to control this power? What would happen to me? Would they keep me locked up here forever?
Even as I think this, one of my dolls in the corner goes up in flames. I let out a squeal of terror that in turn prompts another doll to come to life. It begins hurling the others around the room, at least until Mama reaches into her pocket. She pulls out something that looks like a doll, only made out of dark red hair—my hair. The dolls sags back on to the
shelf and the fire goes out. Mama tucks the hair figure back into her apron.
“What was that?”
“It’s a charm. I made it from your hair.”
“My hair?”
“Yes. Your hair, your fingernails, and even your teeth can be used to make a charm. That’s why you have to be very careful to dispose of them properly.”
Turning my head slightly, I understand now why Mama never let me play with dolls with human hair. “This charm, it makes my magic go away?”
“It can, if I say the right words.” She smiles at me, giving my hand a squeeze. “You don’t have anything to worry about, dear. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
“All right,” I say, but I can’t help thinking of my chamber pot flying out the window.
***
As with Aggie and Sophie before me, Mama keeps me quarantined in my room. Unlike Sophie, I need far longer than two months to get my magic under control. Whenever I seem to be getting it under control, there will be a hiccup and my clothes will disappear or my hair clips begin flying around like wasps. Then I sag back onto the mattress, screaming into my pillow.
“You can’t fight it, Sylvia,” Mama says, patting my back. “Magic isn’t a wild horse you’re trying to break. It’s a part of you.”
“I’m trying!” I wail. I’m still crying into my pillow when it turns into a tortoise and tries to crawl off the bed, at least until Mama uses her charm to turn it back into a pillow.
“You’re trying too hard,” Mama says. “I keep telling you to relax. Don’t try to force it.”
But the more she says this, the more I wind up forcing it, trying to show her that I can do it. I want to prove to her that I can be a witch too. I want her to be proud of me, like Aggie and Sophie. Instead I wind up disappointing her time and again.
Three months go by without me being able to control my magic for more than a few hours at a time. Out of frustration, Mama brings Sophie in to try and help me learn mental discipline. Sophie brings one of her books with her, a copy of Canterbury Tales. She sits beside my bed, Mama’s charm in her lap.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 90