The Water Witch

by Juliet Dark

  A mineral chill filled my mouth, my throat, my belly … then spread outward, plumping every desiccated cell in my body. It was like drinking pure oxygen. I took another sip and it was like imbibing the ether of outer space. After a long draft I bathed my face, resisting the urge to plunge headlong into the shallow basin. Instead I sat back on my heels to look around.

  From the basin the water spilled from rock to rock: a granite stairway leading down to a green pool scooped out of the stone. Wild irises grew around the pool; water lilies floated on top of it. I made my way down to where Soheila, Liz, and Diana were bent over, gazing into the water. I crouched beside them and stared through crystal clear water down to moss-covered stones. I leaned farther … and found myself looking into a pair of moss green eyes, the same color and shape as the stones at the bottom of the pool. I flinched and the eyes blinked—then vanished in a whirlpool that splashed cold water in my face.

  “They’re quite frisky,” Liz said, handing me a bandanna to wipe my face.

  “They’re ready to migrate,” Soheila said, pointing to the far side of the pool. At first all I could see were rapids spilling into a fast-flowing stream, the clear water twisted into skeins of transparent silk where it braided over the rocks, but as we moved closer I saw that those transparent skeins were actually long thin bodies, slender as eels, slipping over the rim of the pool and into the stream.

  “Those are undines?” I asked, recalling the illustrations of the winsome maiden Arthur Rackham did for the German fairy tale. She had looked far different from these eel-like creatures.

  “Immature undines,” Soheila replied, slipping her fingers in the water and tickling the underbelly of one of the undines. It flipped over and stared at us with its large mossy eyes. Up close I saw that it did have arms, but they were loosely clamped to its sides by sheer, weblike netting. On some undines the netting had frayed to long streamers, freeing their arms. “Their arms start to separate from their bodies to help with their passage, but their legs won’t form until they get to Faerie. That’s why it’s so important that they get there. If they’re stranded here …” Soheila shook her head sadly. “They can’t survive past the summer here in this form. Poor things. During the last migration we found several dead ones stranded in the woods.”

  While I knew Soheila was ancient, it still unnerved me when she spoke about events that had taken place a hundred years ago as though they had just happened yesterday.

  “Let’s hurry,” Liz said, striking out down the narrow path beside the stream. “The first wave will be reaching the junction pool by now.”

  I followed the women, who now walked single file—Liz in the lead, followed by Diana, then Soheila—trying to keep up with their accelerated pace, but I found myself distracted by the activity in the stream. If I hadn’t known about the undines I might have thought the water was just running fast, as these mountain streams ran during the spring thaw or after a heavy rain. But it was the end of June and it hadn’t rained in a week. Nor could the water pressure explain the way the stream leapt over its banks, spraying bright arcs into the air, or the way the stream sounded. Beneath the rushing water was the sound of laughter—the raucous, wild twitter and screech of excited teenaged girls.

  “Are all the undines female?” I asked, watching a slender shape break from the frothing rapids and pirouette in the air before gracefully diving back into the stream.

  Soheila paused and looked back at me. She seemed unsure if she should answer, glancing nervously ahead on the path toward Diana, but then she said in a low voice, “There used to be male undines, but during the last spawning there were only a few. We fear there might not be any this season. We’ve noticed that many of the indigenous species of Faerie seem to only produce female offspring—and a few only produce males, and others simply can’t reproduce anymore. It’s a source of great concern in the fey community because it means, of course, that many species will die out unless …”

  “Unless what, Soheila?”

  “Unless they are allowed into this world to find a mate. Every hundred years, when the juvenile undines run downstream into Faerie, there are mature undines on the other side waiting to come through the door to find a human mate. It’s their only chance to reproduce.”

  “So these undines …” I pointed to the roiling mass of bodies in the stream.… “are the offspring of an undine and a human?”

  Soheila tilted her head and gave me a curious look. Instantly I was ashamed of the surprise—and the little bit of horror—in my voice. Soheila, after all, was an otherworldly being who had fallen in love with a human, the folklorist Angus Fraser. Perhaps she had hoped for children from the union. I myself had made love to an incubus many—many—times. Could I have gotten pregnant with Liam’s child? I felt myself go hot with the thought. A splash of cold water brought me back to the moment—and my body temperature back down to normal.

  Soheila finally answered: “We believe they’re the children of an undine who came through the door in the summer of 1910 and a fisherman by the name of Sullivan Trask. Sul, as he was known. In fact, the pool we’re heading for is known as Sul’s Eddy.” Soheila had resumed the cool, dispassionate tone of a lecturer. If I’d offended her, she wasn’t letting on. “The spot is famous in local angling lore. Come, I’ll show you the sign.”

  She turned to go, but I stopped her by laying my hand on her arm. I was startled by how cold her skin felt. While I knew that Soheila was always cold in the winter, since she had forsworn feeding off the life force of humans, it was shocking to discover that she was still frigid to the touch on a broiling summer day. “Soheila, was there something else you were going to tell me?”

  Soheila sighed—a sound like wind rippling through the pines, reminding me that in the centuries before she became flesh Soheila had been a wind spirit. “Hmm. Well, we were going to tell you later, after we saved the undines. There’s a meeting on Monday, the day of the summer solstice, of IMP and the Grove.”

  IMP was the Institute of Magical Professionals and a much more liberal organization than the Grove, a conservative witch’s club that my grandmother belonged to. I had joined the Grove myself a few months before in exchange for learning how to lift a curse from one of my favorite students—a fact of which my friends at Fairwick were unaware.

  “I’m surprised that the Grove would meet with an organization that includes fairies and demons.” I was also surprised—and not a little put out—that my grandmother hadn’t told me about it.

  “So were we. They said they want to improve relations with the witches of Fairwick. The governing board of IMP thought it was prudent to take them up on the offer of a meeting. The Grove has been growing more and more powerful.” I could tell by Soheila’s expression that she certainly wasn’t happy about the prospect.

  “What do you think about the meeting?” I asked.

  Soheila sighed again, but this time the sound was more like a gust of wind before a storm.

  “I’m afraid that IMP will be helpless to stop the Grove from pushing their own agenda, which is to close the door between this world and Faerie.”

  “Close the door … forever? Can they even do that?”

  “We’re not sure. We know that over the last hundred years every door but the one here in Fairwick has closed. Some believe that it’s a natural process, that as this world grows more crowded and polluted the avenues between the worlds become … clogged. But we at Fairwick believe that the witches of the Grove have been working spells to close all the doors, and that they intend to close this one. If they do, all of us who came from Faerie will have to decide which world we want to live in …” A look of pain flickered across Soheila’s soft brown eyes.

  “Why?” I asked. “I mean, I thought you already had chosen to live in this world.”

  Soheila let out an expulsion of breath that shook the branches of the trees and rippled the water in the stream. “Many of us have, but we still need to go back to Faerie every few years to refresh our power. Ot
herwise we begin to fade. If the last door closes, those of us who live in this world will have to decide between going back to Faerie or eventually fading and dying in this world.”

  “What a horrible choice to make,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Soheila, “but at least we have a choice. The ones who would really suffer would be the creatures who need to come to this world to breed—like the undines.” She waved her hand toward the vibrant stream teeming with young, boisterous creatures. “Without access to this world, their species will die out.”

  TWO

  We continued to follow the stream through the woods, its gurgle accompanying us like a fifth companion. I knew when I agreed to join the Grove that my loyalty to my friends at Fairwick might be tested, but I hadn’t known that I’d be thrust into a conflict so soon. If the Grove was really coming here to close the door to Faerie, would I be compelled to take a side?

  It was true that I’d seen some pretty dangerous creatures come through the door, but I’d also seen harmless ones. Many of my closest friends had originally come from there. Which of them, I wondered now, would choose to leave this world if they knew it was their last chance to go back?

  My thoughts were interrupted by a loud splash. An undine had leapt over a boulder, her slim transparent body twisting in the sunlight as she performed a backward flip. Immediately two others copied their sister with their own flips, the second one adding a double somersault and a midair twist.

  “Great, now they’ll all have to do it,” Liz muttered, hands on hips. She clapped her hands briskly and called in a stern Jean Brodie brogue, “Come along, girrrls, we haven’t got all day. No time for showing off.”

  In response one of the undines performed a triple axel worthy of Sarah Hughes at the 2002 Olympics.

  “Very well,” Liz said, the ghost of a smile flitting across her face. “Get it out of your systems.” And then, noticing me on the path behind her, she added in a low voice, “Poor things. I can’t begrudge them their little bit of fun. They have a difficult journey ahead of them … and then, this might be the last time I ever see an undine run.”

  Glancing at Liz, I noticed the smile had faded from her face.

  “Soheila told me about the meeting next week,” I said. “Do you think the Grove will really try to close the door? Will IMP go along with it?”

  Liz turned to me, her face looking suddenly older. The truth was I didn’t know how old she was. Witches could augment their life span with magic. If Liz had seen the undines run before that meant she was more than a hundred years old. Normally, she looked like a stylish, well-preserved sixty, but right now her eyes seemed to have seen a century of woes.

  “I believe it is what the Grove has been working tirelessly to achieve for over a hundred years. Before I came to Fairwick I taught at a girls’ school in the Hudson Valley. There was a door to Faerie nearby. The school was run by the witches of the Grove, who believed that the creatures who came from Faerie were all evil and must be destroyed.” She shuddered. “Some of the creatures were evil. But some of us came to believe that not all the denizens of Faerie were bad. There was a rift, followed by a battle in which innocent blood was shed …” Liz’s voice trembled. She bit her lip and looked away until she had mastered her emotions.

  “I wasn’t the only one to lose loved ones. The witches of the Grove suffered losses they still haven’t recovered from. They closed the door to Faerie near the school and since then all the other doors to Faerie have closed, except for the one here in Fairwick.”

  “Soheila said that some people believe it’s a natural process …”

  Liz shook her head impatiently. “No more than global warming is a natural process. The Grove has been closing the doors with their spells. This door would have closed already were it not for the spells we’ve cast to keep it open, but over time it’s become harder and harder to keep the door open. We were afraid that it was closing for good … but then you came …”

  “If the Grove wants to close the door will IMP be able to stop them?”

  Liz sighed. “I honestly don’t know. There has been a growing conservative trend among the governing members of IMP. They’re concerned—and rightfully—about the dangerous nature of some of the creatures that come through the door. Even some of the fey members of the board would like to limit future immigration. I’m afraid that it’s possible that IMP would vote with the Grove.”

  “If the vote went to closing the door, as doorkeeper would I be able to stop them?” I asked.

  Liz gave me a long, considering look. As far as I knew her magical powers didn’t include mind reading, but I felt that she could tell I had a guilty secret. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “You’ve already demonstrated extraordinary power in opening the door, but you haven’t yet had to go up against a really powerful witch—and mark my words, the witches of the Grove are very powerful. The truth is we don’t know the limits of your power. The combination of fey and witch bloodlines makes for a powerful but unstable mix. You should have been trained from early on …”

  Liz looked embarrassed to have brought up this detail from my past. My parents had died when I was twelve, leaving me to be raised by my grandmother Adelaide. Since Adelaide was a witch she should have, by all rights, trained me herself, but she hadn’t. She later claimed that she had seen no sign of magical power in me and assumed that my half-fey ancestry had canceled out my witch’s power. It wasn’t until I moved to Fairwick that I discovered I had any power at all—or even that such creatures as witches and fairies existed.

  “… and I have been remiss in getting you the proper training,” Liz continued. “I promise we’ll start this summer … as soon as we’ve got the undines settled. Your magical abilities need nurturing,” she said, turning to walk ahead of me on the path. I only heard her next words because they were carried to me on a gust of wind. “Heaven knows we may all be in sore need of them.”

  I caught up to Soheila, Liz, and Diana at the edge of a waterfall. They were watching the undines tumbling down into a wide pool. Another stream rushed into the pool from the south. In the distance I could make out several fishermen standing knee deep in the water, casting their lines out over the sun-dazzled water of the lower branch of the Undine.

  “Won’t the undines be in danger of getting caught in those lines?” I asked. “And won’t those fishermen be … surprised to find a teenage girl on their hooks instead of a rainbow trout?”

  “The Department of Ecological Conservation has declared Sul’s Eddy off limits until the beginning of July,” Liz told me.

  “Officially to prevent overfishing on the Undine, but really because we’ve got friends in the department who are giving us time to get the undines out,” Diana added.

  “But we have to act fast,” Soheila said, leading the way down the steep, rocky path to the junction pool. “The underground passage to Faerie is on the far side of the pool, but the undines get confused because of the different currents. They could head down into the lower branch of the stream if we don’t help direct them.”

  At the bottom of the falls there was a metal sign erected by the Fairwick Fly-Fishing Club. It seemed out of place here on the edge of Faerie … until I read it.

  Sul’s Eddy is one of the most famous pools in angling lore. Formed by the waters of the Undine and the Beaverkill, it is a pool with strange and mystifying currents and eddies. Legend says that the confusing flows cause migrating trout to linger for days trying to decide which stream to enter. This indecisiveness causes delay which, in itself, is the reason many of the largest trout in the Undine are taken from this pool.

  “The same thing happens to the undines,” Soheila said. “Look, you can see them swimming in circles. They’re confused by the currents.”

  I looked into the pool. At first I saw nothing but clear water; then I noticed circular ripples spreading out from the center of the pool.

  “This is bad,” Liz said. “When a few start swimming in circles they create a whirlpo
ol that sucks all of them into it. It’s a sort of mass hysteria.”

  “How do we get them to stop?” I asked, the spinning circles making me dizzy.

  “The way you get all teenage girls’ attention,” Diana said, pulling a swath of gaily colored material out of her rucksack. “By distracting them with something bright and shiny.”

  • • •

  The objects in each rucksack were kites—fancy, elaborate kites purchased at the Enchanted Forest Toy Store in town. Diana had bought different shapes for each of them, but none for me.

  “We’ll use the kites to lure them to the far side of the pool,” Liz explained to me as she took her kite out of its packing. “You wait on the far side and concentrate on opening the passage.”

  I wasn’t sure how that would work, but I went obediently to the far side of the pool, sat on a rock overhanging the water, and watched the women launch their kites. Liz sent hers into the air with an impressive cast that landed the kite well in the middle of the pool. It lay on the water for a moment, then sank. Liz gave the line a gentle tug and the cloth swelled beneath the clear water and took the shape of a curvaceous mermaid with long red hair and a seashell brassiere, clearly modeled on Disney’s Little Mermaid. At another tug from Liz, the mermaid wiggled her hips and shimmied through the water. Within seconds several of the undines were following the mermaid through the water, their mossy green eyes as wide with wonder as any nine-year-old at Disney World.