by K. B. Miller
Chapter Three
My bedroom door flew open and I bolted upright. Colleen had flung her bag over the chair, never once looking in my direction. The anger and animosity that she projected could be cut with a knife. She and I had had our little fights, we were sisters; it was expected, but this was a first. She had never treated me this way before, with such contempt. I rolled back over onto my side, curling into a ball.
I didn’t like the way it felt, two sisters who were best friends not speaking. What if we never spoke again? That was the thought that made my stomach pull in distorted directions. I was going to be sick. I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, purging my system.
Thump. Thump.
“Leeny?”
I was curled up on the bathroom floor when I heard my mum. I tried to answer her, but opening my mouth was not conducive to keeping the remaining contents of my stomach where they belonged. Instead I lurched up to the toilet just as my mother came through the door and grabbed my long hair pulling it away from my face. She rubbed soothing little circles into my back.
“There, there. Let it out my child,” she consoled.
I kept my head dangling precariously over the toilet.
“Mum, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak to you like that.” I managed to choke out just before the dry heaving began. She never responded to my apology, instead she sang a lullaby.
Sleep my child, so precious and warm.
I’ll keep you safe right here in my arms.
Nothing wicked in your sweet dreams.
Blessed is my daughter, protected by our family’s Moonbeams.
I drifted off in the safest place that I had ever known, my mother’s arms.
I shifted my body just a bit and realized that something was off. The last thing that I remembered was being supine on the bathroom floor, in my mother’s arms. I turned over and my mum’s eyes were watching me like a hawk.
“Do not move too quickly, dear,” she said as she rose from the chair at my desk.
I cautiously propped myself up on my elbows and she joined me on the bed.
“Mum, I really am sorry,” I said, ashamed.
“Leeny, I am the one who owes the apology. I should have at least given you the opportunity to know that Dillon would be in the field,” my mother said, guilt dripping from every word.
I tried to ingest what she was telling me.
“Wait, Mum, you knew that he would be there?” My temper started to rise again.
She lowered her head. Seeing my mother so vulnerable was unfamiliar territory to me. I rested my hand atop hers.
“What happened to your sister? Will you tell me?” I said in a hushed tone.
I watched her as she searched my eyes. I anticipated a negative answer and was thoroughly shocked she spoke.
“You are old enough to hear a censored version of the events. Leeny, when my sisters and I were your age, we too, wanted to be witches for the mystical aspect of the craft. Killing vampires was something that never appealed to my sisters or me. We wanted to have fun, working with the crystals, tarots cards, and herbs. My sister, Annie happened to be especially knowledgeable about the ancient ruins of protection. We were inseparable, sort of like you and Colleen. And, just like you and your sister, we used to go off for immeasurable amounts of time, and our mother would worry herself sick.
Annie, being the eldest, watched over us. In the fall of 1928, she had just begun her studies with the coven. She was sixteen and full of life; you remind me of her very much. Anyway, my aunt was having a party and Annie went to help her a little earlier than the rest of us. I don’t know all of the details, but I overheard my mother speaking to her coven and she said that my sister was attacked by more than one vampire because they found her body in parts,” my mum finished quietly.
I still had my hand on my mother’s and I gave it a little squeeze as tears fell from both of our eyes. “Mum, I’m so sorry. Was Dillon... was he one of her killers?”
“He was,” she replied.
I pondered to myself, what wouldn’t I do to avenge Colleen or my baby sister, Isadora? The answer was immediate and matter of fact, “I would have done the same thing. If they ever hurt my sisters, I will kill them,” I professed.
Our eyes met and she wrapped me up in her arms. I understood now why I needed to kill them. Although it would undoubtedly scar me for life, the thought of one of those monsters harming one of my sisters would physically kill me.
“When can we finish my training?” I asked.
“As soon as you have rested a bit, I think?” She said, kissing the top of my head.
I must have slept a long time, because when I woke up, the sun was just rising and I felt like a whole new person. My mum and I finally understood each other’s point of views. I tossed on a set of loose fitting clothes, and noticed Colleen sound asleep. I wanted so desperately to talk to my best friend, but knew that it would have to wait. She was already upset with me, if I woke her up it would only make matters worse. Therefore, I headed out of the room and bolted down the stairs. My mum lifted her head at my arrival.
“I thought that you would sleep a little longer,” she mentioned as I went to the icebox to get the milk. I reached for a glass and poured a little.
“I wanted to get started as soon as possible. I think that I may not be very good at fighting with my hands, so I want as much practice as I can get,” I informed her.
After I finished my drink, we headed outside together. My mother agreed with me that we should start working on my fighting skills first. Initially, she demonstrated how to throw a perfect kick, then a right hook that would send any opponent staggering backwards. I watched extremely carefully and replicated her movements. The ensuing hours proved more than tiresome and gave pause to the realization of just how relentless I could be.
Whack! Boom!
“Ouch,” I cried. I had landed the kick my mum taught me on her shoulder, and in return she used her foot to pull my leg out from under me and I hit the ground. My mother let a little girlish giggle escape. She reached her hand down, and I clasped it with both of mine as she pulled me to my feet.
“Very good, Leeny. Your fighting skills are top notch,” she declared.
I brushed off the portions of the Earth that were still stuck to my rear end.
“You just knocked me on my bum with barely any effort. How am I ‘top-notch’?” I asked.
“Your kick was perfect. That took me six months to master. We’ve only been working for a little over three hours. I am so proud of you. Let’s get you summoning fire, shall we?” she smiled.
That task proved more difficult to achieve than I had expected. I cleared my mind, really and truly cleared it this time. No lingering thoughts of Dillon, or anything else ran through my head. I had accepted the fact that I was, indeed, a Moon witch and was prepared to take my place in the coven and fight. After the fifteenth time a little puff of flame sprang to life, sending my mother into fits of joyous laughter. I stood there with a disconcerted expression pulling the corners of my lips down. I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. My mum approached me, and with the tip of her index finger lifted my crestfallen chin.
“Leeny, the fact that you have actually called on the element and it answered you is very good. You should be proud of yourself. I know that I’m proud of you. After all, just yesterday you wanted to walk away from the craft and now today, you are beginning to produce magick,” she beamed.
If I was ever going to protect my family, I needed to be better, stronger...determined.
“Can we practice a little longer?” I asked.
“Not right now. I need to take care of something and I need for you to eat and rest. Your energy will be depleted by your magick. It’s the reason that I am vigilant about your schedules. We, as witches, must nourish our bodies if we are to protect anyone. Go on. I’ll take care of this,” she said as she waved her arm to the scattered weapons in the yard.
I followed her instructions. I wa
lked back up the narrow little dirt path through the withered garden back to the house. I allowed my mind to retrace the last attempt at calling my element. What had made that effort different? I lost my train of thought as I opened the back door to the aroma of homemade potato soup. Da was an excellent chef in his spare time, so my mother willingly handed that chore over to him. I drifted through the door and over to the burner. My senses were overwhelmed. I eagerly grabbed a bowl and ladled myself a humongous helping.
After I had gorged myself, I rinsed out my dishes and left them on the counter upside down to dry on a towel. I tried to run up the stairs, but my stomach was full, I sort of pulled myself up the steps by the railing. I had finally, after an impressive effort, made it to my door. I pushed it open and found Colleen reading my grimoire.
“Colleen! What the hell are you doing?” I screamed.
Her eyes flashed up at mine. She threw the book on the floor.
“So...you don’t want to be a witch anymore, huh?” she regurgitated my written words.
“What is your problem? You’ve barely spoken to me in days and when you have it’s nothing but hateful and mean. What did I do to you?” I countered.
She flew out of the chair and started coming toward me with malice on her face.
“You were born!” she raged.
She flung herself past me, purposefully knocking my body into the wall. My mouth just hung open at the ferocity with which she apparently hated me. I gathered myself together and threw myself onto the bed, allowing the tears that had threatened to spill as soon as my sister had said those spiteful things.
Knock. Knock.
I looked up, before I could compose myself
“I’m going to go for a turn down by the shop. Would ya want to go with me and stretch your legs?” my father asked.
I pounced at the opportunity to get out of the house and away from Colleen’s constant glares, and the never-ending oh’-woo-is-me-because-I’m-not-being-trained-as-a-witch act. Plus I hadn’t had an opportunity to spend any time with my Da lately.
“I would love to, just you and me?” I asked.
He nodded.
I hastily dried my eyes, jumped off of my bed, and followed him downstairs. We grabbed our coats and my father told Colleen that she had to stay in with our baby sister. She was perfectly sweet to our Da.
We walked out of the house and down the lined path leading to the cobblestones and my mind flew back to the night I watched my mother kill a beast.
“I know that look, alright. Your Ma has the same one when she’s weighing something heavy on her heart. Want to talk about it?” he coaxed.
I knew that I should have shared with my father what was going on between Colleen and I, and how I hated the fact that I would have to become a murderess, but what came out was completely off that track altogether.
“Does it bother you that you’re not a witch?” I prodded.
I glanced up at his face. The lines and wrinkles of time had been kinder to him than my mum. He still had an effervescent quality about him. But, I guess if you’re not fated to save different races and cause the extinction of another, you’re able to skip the crow’s feet.
“Leeny, of course not. I’ve loved your Ma from the moment that I first laid eyes on her, before I knew about her little “ailment” as she used to call it. In life we all have different callings, mine is crafting things, and hers is saving lives. I find her world fascinating, and I love that she has shared this life with me, and given me the three best gifts in the world, my daughters,” he said, smiling.
We continued our journey to the shop. When we slid through the narrow door jam, something on his worktable caught my eye immediately. It was made of metal and wood, but had a fine string that followed the length of its body. I maneuvered around the other tables that held different tools, while my father hung back. When I reached the table, I ran my fingers longingly over the string. At its very center there seemed to be a hand hold of sorts and etched in the confines of that tiny little area was the triple goddess moon, our coven’s symbol, and... My name.
I turned around quickly to find my father watching my reaction.
“You made this for me?” I spoke, awed by his creation.
He nodded.
“Yes, sweetheart. This bow will hold the blessed stakes, you see,” he said proudly.
He joined me at the table that held my new piece of artillery. He pulled the long dark wooden stock to him, easily lifting the bow. He pulled back on the smooth metal cord, locking the bolt of the crossbow into place. He handed it to me, pointing out the different ways in which my new weapon would assist me. It would take me weeks to get the feeling for this contraption, but once I did, it would become an extension of me.
I carried it home, continuing to get a feel for its leather grip, and the trigger that my father created. His artistry was exquisite. I would take great care of his gift.
After the lovely afternoon that I spent with my dad, I wandered the cottage’s property and devoured the view, never once letting my new bow leave my hand. I noticed that the barn doors were closed, which could only mean one thing: the coven had gathered.
I went around to the far side of the sturdy brown barn. I knew there was a small hole in the wall, created by the wasps that built nests here every year. Da had knocked the last one down after the first freeze had killed them. I planted my eye at the ready-made peephole.
That was no regular gathering. I recognized different covens, the Murphy’s, the Kennedys, the Gallagher’s, and the Kelly’s. But, there were far more than just those in the little structure. There must have been nearly seventy-five people packed in there, and all of them appeared to be important witches.
I spotted my mum.
“Rose, they’re everywhere. We’re going to have to put a plan of attack into motion. We need to mobilize. Especially, if we plan on saving the humans, let alone...ourselves,” Wes said desperately. There were murmurs of assent throughout the barn.
“How many have we lost, altogether?” mum asked.
“Three. And if you ask me, that’s three dead witches too many,” said a tall muscular man. He had red curls atop his head that were obscured by the smoke emanating from the fire in the middle of the barn floor. I stood there perplexed. How is the barn not going up in flames? The answer hit me: witch fire. Mum said that any witch whose affinity is fire could control the heat and level of the flames.
My mother, the obvious leader, nodded her head in assent. She glanced at her cousin, Wes, again. I had seen this before. They were having a telepathic conversation, but it was clear by the way my mum narrowed her eyes at him, that he was getting ready to voice their silent words.
“There have been two other attacks, the Kilkenny’s daughter and the McHafferty’s son. Both of whom were not yet initiated,” Wes, said, solemnly.
The room silenced. Heads turned in every direction, looking for someone to discard that the two children were not targets, only innocents that had the severe misfortune of happening upon the vampires. When it was clear that those words were not forthcoming, an old croaky voice spoke up.
“But, how do we stop them? Ay, that is the real question. Joseph O’Donnell was one of the best fighters I knew and that didn’t help him. They killed, dead, they did,” came from an old man, his balding head covered with a kepi.
I pulled my eye away from the tiny hole and stumbled backwards. My mind started mulling over what I had just heard.
They’re trying to pick the covens off one at time, even going through the trouble to find out which children were next in line to enter the covens, and the most recent attacks are all centered here, in my town.
“What are you doing?” Colleen said, inquisitively.
I jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of her voice. After my heart was sufficiently back in its normal location in my body, I whirled around to face her.
“Why are you spying on me?” I countered.
My sister flipped her blonde
curls behind her and crossed her arms tersely across her chest. Her wildflower blues eyes seemed to light up from within her and they were fixed on mine.
“I... well, Leeny, if you must know, I was asked to find you. Da said to tell you that supper is ready,” she spat as she turned and left me standing in her wake.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she was my sister, and I was trying to protect her... I would slap her silly in the fondest hopes of causing her common sense to return!