by Phil Stern
Finally calming down, she took a moment to compose herself. Dabbing at her face, Tiffany read the letter through once more. Then, crumpling both letter and envelope into a tight ball, the sorceress effortlessly incinerated the last vestiges of Jenla’s alternate existence.
Fixing her hair and makeup took some doing. Finally returning to a table near the corner, the enchantress resettled herself just as Caylee entered the shop.
The younger sorceress wordlessly sat down in the opposite chair. Sweeping back her long blonde hair, she hesitantly met Tiffany’s eye. “So here I am.”
“Here you are.” Taking another sip, she nodded back at the serving counter. “Would you like something?”
“No, I’m fine.” Drawing herself up, Caylee hesitated a mere moment. “We did what you asked. Both of our reports said nothing about you or Jenla. Sarina just went to Donlon, got me out, and we returned to Haven.”
“Good.” Tiffany waited for an older woman to wander by before continuing. “How’d it go in Lysandy?”
“Fine. With all the unicorns and tigers no one bothered us.” Girlishly looking down, Caylee sighed. “It was really hard saying goodbye to Pend, though.”
“Oh, I suspect you’ll see her again. She might even be able to teleport right into Haven.”
“Really?” Glancing up again, she almost seemed to blush. “You think so?”
“Stranger things have happened.” Smiling, Tiffany leaned back. “Anyway, aren’t you now our Lysandy expert? I’m sure you’ll be back there.”
“Yeah, there are some loose ends.” Caylee thought a moment. “There’s something really weird about the human colony there. And the woman who runs it, Ayla. She just doesn’t belong, somehow.”
Tiffany visually scanned the coffee shop, finding nothing amiss. “What does Sarina think?”
“She agrees with me, actually.” Now the teenager looked wistfully at her Coven-mate’s coffee. “Maybe I will get something. But I don’t have any, uh...”
“LC, I know,” Tiffany supplied, referring to local currency. “Here’s a ten-dollar bill.”
The teenager soon returned with a coffee and four croissants. “It’s too bad Tornado isn’t here,” she mumbled, even while taking an initial bite. “He’d really like these.”
“I’m sure he would.” Smiling, Tiffany remembered being Caylee’s age, imagining all kinds of improbable crossovers from one world to another. Now she knew better. “But there’s a reason I asked you to come here today.”
“Ordered, you mean.” Taking an initial sip, she immediately reached for another sugar packet. “Barbara says I’m now posted here on Earth permanently.”
“Yes, at my request.” Tiffany now picked up a croissant. “Though permanently may be too strong a word. Let’s call it an extended assignment.”
The teenager rolled her eyes. “You’re worried about me.”
“I am, actually.”
“Look, I promise I’ll never say anything. Ever. So you don’t have to...”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Leaning forward, Tiffany pressed both hands around her paper cup. “You’ve been through an incredible ordeal these past several weeks. On your own, mostly. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now.”
“Look, it was a mission.” With an exaggerated flip of the hair, she pointedly leaned back. “That’s all. Yeah, it got a little crazy, and I’m sure there are some things that I did...
“Caylee, please.”
“...but I do think that for someone of my limited experience, things really...
“Stop.” Putting a firm hand over hers, Tiffany met the other girl’s defiant gaze. “Just stop pretending. It’s me you’re talking to.”
For some time the young witch stared into her own coffee cup, eyes slowly welling up. “You want to know something?” she finally said. “I actually wondered a few times whether I’d done something wrong.”
“Explain.”
“Maybe I’d really fucked something up, or pissed off the wrong witch.” Wiping away a tear, Caylee then tightly folded her arms. “Because sending me where they did, it really seemed like someone wanted me to fail! Or maybe even...”
“No one wanted that.” Swiping some croissant flakes from her sleeve, Tiffany contemplated the distraught sorceress. “But Eleanor was very, very sloppy. You never should have been sent on that mission alone. Not in a million years.”
A surprised eyebrow shot up. One didn’t normally criticize the Coven Leader in such a manner. “Into Lysandy, you mean?”
“Yes. Sending an 18-year-old into a highly magical, generally unexplored world?” Tiffany slowly shook her head. “Under the circumstances, you did quite well.”
Now she sourly looked away. “Until I jumped in the dander hole to Donlon, that is.”
“Yeah.” Taking another sip of coffee, Earth’s lead sorceress couldn’t help smiling. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I got all caught up, I wanted to help people...” Trailing off, Caylee let out a huge sigh. “It was stupid.”
For several minutes the two just sat there, lost in their own thoughts. Carefully watching the inexperienced operative, Tiffany knew what was coming next.
“Which means it’s my fault Jenla died.” Caylee finally announced, following her declaration with a definitive nod. “If I hadn’t...”
“No. Stop it right now.” Pushing aside the almost-empty cup, Tiffany took both her hands. “You didn’t kill Jenla. You didn’t even cause her death. That’s not on you.”
“How can you say that?” she barely whispered, pulling back her hands. “You were there. You know that...”
“Here’s what I know.” Briefly looking off, Tiffany chose her next words carefully. “Jenla made her own choices. And in the end, she did what was best for the Coven, and her Coven-mates. The rest of us can only hope to do as well as she did.”
Caylee frowned. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m saying all I care to say,” the regal brunette smoothly replied. “Just understand that her death isn’t on you.”
Thinking on this a long moment, Caylee stared out the dirty window off to one side. “But we can’t even tell anybody,” she finally declared, balling up the wax paper that came with the croissants. “No one will ever know...
“We know. And Sarina knows.”
“Yeah, but...”
“And you know who else will know? Someday?”
Her breath quickening, Caylee said nothing.
“Jenla herself will,” Tiffany finally provided. “Don’t forget, she’s still alive. In this time line, she’s only ten.”
“You’re going to tell her?” she slowly asked. “About all of this?”
“Someday,” the older sorceress firmly repeated. “Maybe when she turns twenty-five. That seems appropriate, somehow.”
“Look, I’m really tired.” With an irritable head shake, Caylee rubbed the ridge of her nose. “Maybe we can talk more later?”
“Of course.” Tiffany idly balled up a long white straw wrapper. “But for now, know that you did a great job. Better than most of our Coven-mates would have done.”
“Really?” Almost as if suspecting a trick, Caylee frowned. “You’re being serious?”
“Really.” Smiling, she nodded at the door. “Go. You’ll be staying in the apartment across the hall from us. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Fine.” Slowly rising, Caylee gave a firm nod. “I’m going to help her, you know. Our Jenla. Make sure everything goes all right.”
“Good. I think you should.”
“After all, she has her whole life ahead of her.”
“Yes.” Finishing off her coffee, Tiffany let out a long sigh. “As do we all.”
Turning about, the stunningly beautiful, powerful young sorceress threaded her way back across the coffee shop. Watching her slip out the door, Tiffany let her mind drift back to Jenla’s letter.
It didn’t say anythi
ng about how her marriage worked out in the other, now-defunct time line. Though with the Coven in constant crisis, she could easily guess. Jenla also didn’t say who the “older, less capable” future Coven Leader is. There were certainly quite a few possibilities.
But it didn’t matter anymore. Those stories had yet to be written. The future was again a blank slate, waiting to be filled in any way she chose.
Sedately rising herself, Tiffany Smith cleared the table and grabbed her bag. Then, thoughts of inter-dimensional operations, wedding preparations, and Blake once more crowding her mind, the sorceress followed her Coven-mate out into the bright sunshine.