Runaway Witch

by N. D. MacLaine

  “Gotta keep the normal people out of your business?”

  “Something like that,” I said. I held my arm out in front of me, sweeping it back and forth as though I was grasping for something in the dark. My fingertips brushed over that something.

  “Give me your hand,” I said, and he held it out. I guided it to that spot in the air.

  He jumped. “What is that? It feels like. . .” His brow furrowed as he decided on the best choice of words. “Like a string or something.”

  “Exactly,” I said. I wrapped my fingers around that invisible string and pulled downward.

  A door appeared in the ceiling and steps extended to the floor, like an access door to an attic. Except this was a full staircase. The steps were even carpeted.

  “Huh,” Evan said, and I took his minimal reaction to mean that he was starting to get used to magic, at least a little bit.

  We climbed the stairs, and when we reached the top and stepped onto the floor, the stairwell retracted and mostly vanished. Only the first step remained, and it would all reappear if we stepped onto it. Here, there were rows of tall bookshelves—some of which even had those rolling ladders common in old libraries. There was a desk off to one side, and an older woman, sixtyish, sat behind it. She had a kindly face and short gray hair. She wore a pocket watch on a chain around her neck like a necklace.

  “Well, hello dears,” she said when she saw us. “I’m Mary.” She gave me a once-over. “You're new in town.”

  “Just visiting,” I said.

  Mary turned her attention to Evan. Before she could say anything, he said, “Yeah, I'm a Rockwell.”

  Mary chuckled. “Indeed. But you’re handsome, so I’ll give you a pass. Plus, I've known your parents since before you were born.”

  Evan's eyes widened, which made her chuckle again. “I’ve lived in this town for close to fifty years now,” she said. “I used to do the book fairs at your elementary school, Evan Grant.”

  “Oh, yeah!” he suddenly exclaimed. “I remember you.”

  She fiddled with the pocket watch. “Until my husband passed. a few years ago, we also had a bakery on—”

  Evan cut her off. “Sycamore. I remember. My mom used to get stuff from you all the time. It was so good.”

  Mary smiled. “These days, I spend most of my time tending the library.”

  Evan said, “So you're a...?”

  “Witch. Just like your friend here.”

  “I'm Ally,” I said. “Veronica told me to come by. She says hi.”

  She nodded. “Sweet woman. So, what can I do for you?”

  What, indeed. What was it about this town that drew me here?

  “I'd like to know more about the town,” I said.

  Mary came out from behind the desk and led us to a table next to a large window that looked out over the street. We sat, and she waved her hand at the window. Suddenly we were looking at Chandler from an aerial view.

  “Chandler is a lovely town,” she said. “Quiet, clean. It stays that way because of its historic status—it was established in 1797–but tourism isn't what it used to be. In 1976, during the country's bicentennial, you couldn't keep people away, then again in '97, for the town's own two hundredth. Now, you just get the history buffs. Outside of Pittsburgh, we have the largest Other community in southwestern P.A. The ley lines attract us.”

  My mouth fell open and I smacked my forehead. “That’s the reason the magic here is so pure.” I felt like an idiot. Then: “Wait, did you say lines, plural?”

  She nodded. “Two smaller lines intersect right at Chandler.”

  Holy Crap. Ley lines–many have heard of them—are conduits of raw, undiluted magic that crisscross the world. If two of them—even two minor lines—came together here, well, it would mean a lot of power if someone could tap directly into it. I'd heard rumors that some witches could do it, but I had no idea how, nor had I met anyone who could. Ley lines are not incredibly common. I'd done a lot of traveling and had never encountered one. I cleared my throat. “I guess that explains why someone would put a club here.”

  Mary scoffed. “Kaotique. If it was up to me, they'd shut it down. When I first moved here, the Others kept quieter. But when that club opened, that's when the less savory Others showed up.”

  A chill ran through me. Was that why I'd been drawn to Chandler? Had I been up to something less savory? Despite my friends' attitudes, they and I had always done our best to work for “the greater good,” as Stephen liked to put it. And now their goal was to stop me. It made me sick.

  “Are you okay?” Mary's voice snapped me back to the present.

  “Sorry, I zoned out for a second. I'm fine,” I lied.

  She studied me for a moment. “You know, you remind me of someone,” she said softly.

  It made me think of the vampire's statement from the night before, and I suppressed a shudder.

  Mary shook her head. “Maybe I’m imagining things.”

  I looked back out the window at the view she'd conjured. It was one of those days where the moon was clearly visible, and I smiled at the memory it brought to mind. “My grandma used to say, if the moon's out, it is time t...”

  “Go to sleep,” Mary finished with me, her eyes wide. “My stars. You're Ruth's granddaughter.”

  My breath rushed out of me liked I’d been punched in the stomach. “How could you know that?”

  She was looking at me in wonder. “Ruth Barrett was my best friend for ages. And she’s the only one I’ve ever known who said that.” She leaned forward. “You have her eyes. I remember that from the picture she sent me.”

  “Picture?” My lips felt numb.

  “Of you and your brother, after you went to live with her. I wanted to come visit but I never found the time, and how angry I was at myself afterward.” She stopped. “We thought you were dead.”

  I tried to swallow but my mouth was dry. “We?”

  “All of her friends. Witches who'd known her forever.

  “My grandmother was a witch?”

  Mary gasped. “Ruth was one of the most powerful witches of our time! My goodness, everyone knew her or knew of her. But, then, I shouldn't be surprised that you don't know. Once she married your grandfather—”

  “Was he a witch, too?” My grandfather had died before I was born, and I didn't know much about him.

  “Oh, no. He was a Commoner—a Rockwell to you. She was crazy about him, and he settled her down. And when your father didn't have the Talent, she decided to live fairly normally. She didn't want him to feel like he was lacking. She may never have even told him. And he was such a sweet boy. I visited frequently when he was young, and Ruth and I kept in touch after that. When he and your mom died, I was heartbroken, for you and Josh especially. And then we all thought we lost both of you along with Ruth. But what about him? Did he make it, too?”

  I blinked back tears. “No,” I said hoarsely, a lump forming in my throat. “Just me.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mary said and moved as if to hug me.

  I stood and stepped around her. “We have to go.”

  “Please, don't,” she begged.

  “I have things I need to do,” I said, moving towards the stairs.

  Mary said, “Well, please come back and see me. I have so much to tell you.”

  I reached the stairwell, and the steps extended for me. “I'll try,” I said as I hurried down them, Evan at my heels.

  FIVE

  “You okay?” Evan asked after we'd walked for several minutes in silence.

  I cleared my throat. “That was a lot to process. I didn't have a clue about Grandma. She could've been the one to teach me about magic. Everything would have been different.”

  We'd come to Chandler's Riverfront Park. It was pretty—lots of trees, walking paths, the sound of a river nearby. I let it all wash over me, calming me.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked.

  There was no one around. I could open up without fear of being overheard. But l'd
kept it all inside for so long—the pain of losing my entire family, of being taken in by strangers, of feeling responsible for—

  The attack came from behind us, stopping me mid-thought. I felt it a second before it hit, and I grabbed Evan and pulled him to the ground. Something skimmed through the air just above us. Looking up, I saw what looked like a circular saw blade, at least a foot in diameter, fly through the air and slice through a tree trunk as easily as a hot knife through butter. The tree fell.

  I rolled to my feet and turned to face my attackers—plural. Two men dressed something like ninjas were approaching. Their faces were covered, but I could see that they had pale gray skin and eyes that glowed a soft blue.

  The one on the right twisted his hand in the air, and the saw blade curved back in his direction and he caught it.

  The one on the left unwrapped a thin silver chain from around his waist. It was about four feet long, but as he swung it over his head, it elongated to almost twice that length. It moved unnaturally through the air, twisting and writhing as if it were a living thing. Sunlight glinted off the chain's tiny, diamond-like teeth.

  He moved in and swung the chain, and I dodged it, but it lightly grazed my arm, slicing into it. Droplets of my blood splashed to the ground.

  I ran to the fallen tree and grabbed a long branch, pulling hard, backing it up with a little magic that caused the thick branch to snap. I turned back to the ninja demon thing—I'll call him Chain Guy, cause I'm creative like that—twirling my makeshift staff in the air.

  Chain Guy moved in first, the chain launching itself at me. I deflected it with one end of the branch and smacked the other end into his face, hard.

  He staggered.

  Lumberjack sent his saw blade at me again, and I ducked, smacking the center of it with the branch. It careened off course, slicing through more branches, which fell to the ground. One of them caught Lumberjack's shoulder and knocked him down.

  Chain Guy moved in for another attack. I focused on my “staff” and willed some magic into it, making it rock-hard. As the chain came for me, it wrapped around the branch. Small splinters fell from it as the chain tried to dig in. I pulled hard, yanking the chain out of his hand. The seemingly living thing went limp and fell to the ground.

  Chainless moved in close, and I dropped the branch and took up a defensive stance. He threw a punch, and I dodged and slipped past him, sending my elbow into the nape of his neck as hard as I could. He grunted and fell to one knee. I reached down and grabbed the end of the chain. I felt it wake back up, responding to my thoughts. It uncoiled from the branch.

  Lumberjack had recovered his blade and launched it at me again. I sent the chain up, and it wrapped around the blade. I whipped it around and sent the blade into Lumberjack's head. It embedded itself there in his skull, and he dropped. Before he could hit the ground, his body turned to smoke, and his clothes and the blade fell into a pile on the ground.

  I reeled the chain in, made it small, and wrapped it around my wrist like a bracelet. Then I turned back to Chainless, who was starting to get up. I kicked him in the back of the head and he fell again. I knelt and grabbed his wrist. There was a tattoo there—a pentagram with an infinity symbol in the middle. I was afraid of that. “Crap,” I said. “Legion.”

  I untwisted the chain and let it wrap around his neck, slicing through it until it separated and he, too, turned to smoke. Then I returned it to my wrist.

  Evan was watching, agape, from the side. The whole thing had taken barely a minute. He was breathing hard. “What the hell?” he managed.

  I picked up their clothes and wrapped the saw blade inside. “Legion,” I said again. “A huge network of soldiers for hire with a ridiculously cliché name. And I mean a huge network, I might add. This is a problem.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Whatever they're hired to do. Pay half up front, half on delivery. I'm guessing they've been hired to kill me.” Obviously, I was not happy about this.

  Evan noticed my bleeding arm. “Ouch!” he exclaimed. He pulled out his healing charm and held it over the cut. It sealed and faded to a light scratch.

  “Thanks,” I said, and we walked for a few moments while I thought it out.

  We came to some benches and sat, while an elderly woman fed some birds nearby.

  I sighed. “Maybe this is hopeless. If I just go back now, Stephen might forgive me for whatever he thinks I did and everything can go back to normal.”

  “Is that what you want to do?” Evan asked.

  I shook my head. “No. There's too much going on here to be a coincidence. Finding out about Grandma proves that. I looked at him. “Why aren't you running far away at this point?”

  He shrugged. “Feels safer with you than without you. Who knows where I’d be right now if you weren't around?”

  I half-smiled, but my smile faded when I caught sight of a crow standing off to the side of the birds the woman was feeding. It wasn't eating. Instead, it was watching me. When it saw me looking, it took off. Quickly, I plucked a stone off the ground and threw it at the bird. I hit it square on the side and it fell to the ground. As it did, there was a flash of light, and instead of a bird, there was a man in its place.

  The bird lady screamed and ran off. Smart woman.

  The man was dressed in jeans and an open shirt, showing off the tattoos on his chest and the rest of his body, all of which were of different animals. He was in his thirties and looked vaguely Native American, with his wavy black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He was very skinny—like, drug-addict skinny–which I knew was the result of his wicked-fast metabolism.

  “Hello, Walker,” I said coldly.

  “Ally,” the man said. “Nice job back there.”

  I didn't take my eyes off of him. “Stephen wants me that badly, does he?”

  “What choice does he have? After what you did? You're dangerous, Ally—to yourself, to him, to the world.”

  I blinked. That comment threw me.

  He shook his head. “You still think you're right. After everything he's done for you, you just don't see.” He brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. “You were right about one thing, though. He can still forgive you, if you drop this and come back.”

  “The answer is no,” I said. “Tell him that. And if I see you again, I'll throw something a lot bigger than a stone.”

  He shook his head sadly. “It's a shame. I always liked you.” He took a step backward. “And if you see me again, I’ll be something a lot bigger than a crow.” With that, he turned back into said crow and flew off.

  I rubbed my eyes. I'd always liked Walker, too. I turned to Evan and explained, “That was Walker. A former... business associate.”

  Evan nodded. “Gotcha. Any idea what he meant about you being dangerous?”

  “Nope,” I said. “But maybe he's right. I have no idea what I did to get them all so pissed off.”

  Evan grunted. “No way. I realize I just met you, but I can't believe for one second that you'd do something that terrible.”

  I wished I was so confident.

  “You worried about his threat?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I replied. “Walker is fairly harmless. He's Stephen's scout. Does recon. All he can do is turn into the animals in his tattoos. I've handled worse.”

  I sighed and started telling him my story. Figured he deserved to know where I'd come from.

  * * * * *

  When I was six years old, my parents died. I was old enough to know what was going on, but young enough to adapt. I'd always loved my grandmother, so moving in with her wasn't hard. My grandfather had died several years earlier, before I was born, and Grandma had moved to be close to my parents. Josh, of course, was so young that he never really knew better.

  Grandma was fun, really just a big kid at heart. She loved to play. We went biking in the summer, sledding in the winter. She loved blowing bubbles and watching cartoons.

  We lived in the country, in an area similar to Eva
n's, so we had space, but we weren't so isolated that we didn't have neighbors and friends. Josh and I were happy there.

  The last day we spent together was just a normal day. We ate breakfast. We went to school—I was in seventh grade, Josh in fourth, but the elementary and middle schools were in the same building, and I always walked him to his classroom. That day, I tousled his hair and he laughed. “See you later, Ally-gator,” he said.

  “After while, Josh-odile,” I replied. Yes, we were totally corny, but we loved each other.

  I remember taking care of hermit crabs in my science class. And having peanut butter and jelly for lunch. I got an A on a social studies test. It's all still so vivid to me.

  We had spaghetti that night for dinner. Grandma made her own sauce and it was amazing. Then we did our homework and watched a little TV. Eventually, we went to bed. Grandma always came in to tuck me in, even though I was too old for it at that point. She kissed me on my forehead and told me she loved me.

  Just another day.

  I was woken up in the middle of the night to the sounds of Grandma and Josh screaming. My walls were burning, fire all around me. I cried their names but quickly started choking on the smoke. I didn't know what to do. It was so hot.

  Then my window shattered, and a man I'd never seen before climbed inside.

  He almost glowed in the light of the fire. He took my hand and lifted me. His skin was rough, and he was strong. He pulled me into his arms and carried me back out the window and away from the house. Over his shoulder, I could see that the entire house was ablaze. I cried for Grandma and Josh again. I heard sirens in the distance as I passed out, in his arms.

  I awoke in bed, sunlight streaming in. For a moment, I thought it had all been a bad dream, but then I realized I was in a bed twice the size of my own, in a room easily three times the size of my bedroom. The sunlight was coming through a set of French doors that opened onto a balcony.

  I was wearing comfortable purple pajamas that definitely weren't mine. There was a desk and chair in the room, and a soft white robe was draped over the chair. I put it on. Then I noticed a pair of slippers on the floor and put those on as well.