The Accidental Witch

by Jessica Penot

  In my childhood, when life was hell, a good fifty percent of my time was spent shaping my mother in my mind. I created a fictitious mother who always told me she loved me and baked cookies for me and believed in me. She was a sort of plump, rounded woman with a pretty face and a soft smile. She sang me to sleep at night and promised me she would never be disappointed in me.

  Even as an adult, I was sure I would someday find my mother and we would have a tear-filled reunion. Now, that reunion was at hand and it was hard for me to reconcile the immortal witch my mother really was with the soft, sweet mother of my dreams.

  I was nervous and since it took more than an hour to drive from Dismal to Huntsville, I was only going to have more time to be nervous before I met my mother. I took a deep breath. I was hopeful. None of the bad things I had heard mattered to me. God knew people had said bad things about me. I was a witch and I was a cheater. I had made so many mistakes, they formed a kind of mountain in my backyard. I certainly wasn’t going to judge my mother based on other people’s opinions of her. I wanted to make my own.

  I looked at the road sign. We were almost there. We were almost in Huntsville. Huntsville is not your typical Alabama town. People who live in Dismal think of Huntsville as the big city, but people from Chicago would call it a little town. The truth was, Huntsville didn’t really belong in Alabama. It had built up around the Marshall Space Flight Center and the Redstone Arsenal, and most of the people who lived there were engineers or other professionals who had moved there for the jobs. It was a city based around military contracts and very educated people. It was a new city with old roots.

  We drove into Huntsville and I looked at its tiny little skyline nestled in the hills. The leaves had begun to change, painting the tiny city in brilliant colors that showed even in the dark. Fred turned up a mountain road. We drove up and up until we passed a state park and we had to be as high as we could get.

  He turned into a long driveway and we passed through some large black gates. My mother’s house was old and huge. It made The Black Magnolia look small. It was painted in bright colors and laced with gingerbread. A Queen Anne style turret was at one side and a long yellow porch wrapped around the entire house. Fred pulled up in front of the car and turned off the engine. It was one in the morning.

  * * *

  Diane put her hand on my shoulder. I grabbed it and looked out at the foreboding house. It was very late, but the house seemed very much awake. There was a young woman on the front porch in a long, blue sundress swinging back and forth. The swing groaned with each motion. All the lights in the house were on and I could see shadows moving about inside. There were cats everywhere. They sat on windowsills and on the porch. They watched us with slanted eyes as we walked towards the door.

  Before we even set foot on the porch, the door swung open and a very pretty woman in a long, tie-dyed skirt stepped out. She wore a simple tank top over the skirt, and several chains of beads with pendants on them hung around her neck. Her long, smooth black hair was tied back loosely. Her skin was very fair and freckles dotted her features with abundance. She had bright green eyes and her fine features gave her a very Celtic look. She looked like she was in her thirties, but it was hard to tell. She had the same tattoos with symbols and glyphs in them as Fred, except she had twice as many tattoos as Fred. Even the tops of her hands and feet were covered in symbols and odd pictures.

  Fred and the green-eyed woman bowed to each other and then she turned to me. She smiled brightly.

  “I knew you would come back to me,” she said. She pulled me to her and hugged me as tightly as she could. “You’ve grown into a beauty. I didn’t expect that.”

  “You’re my mother?” I said. I couldn’t believe it. She looked like she was younger than me.

  “Yes, my darling. I’ve been waiting years for this. Thank the goddess for your return.”

  I looked over at the young girl on the swing. Her eyes were glassy and they stared into nothing. She was blind. She didn’t move from the swing. She just continued the motion.

  “Come in, come in,” my mother said. “It’s late and you are thirsty. I’ve been expecting you.”

  “You’ve been expecting me?” I asked.

  “Yes, I keep an oracle.”

  “No shit you do,” Diane said with a bitter scoff. “Did you blind her or did she come that way?”

  My mother smiled. “Diane, so lovely to see you again. The girl volunteered for the position as my oracle. She blinded herself as a child to stop the visions. She had been living in an institution when I found her. I freed her and taught her how to use her power properly.”

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Diane said.

  “Always ready with a pretty phrase, aren’t you, my sweet? Never mind,” my mother said as she put her arm around my shoulder. “My baby is home and there is work to be done, so let’s go inside and get all of you a drink and get to work.”

  I stepped into my mother’s house and I felt the same feeling I had when I stepped in The Black Magnolia. I felt peace, like I belonged in the house. I took a deep breath. I felt at home. My mother wasn’t the mother I had expected, but she’d been happy to see me, and she seemed nice enough. Diane hated her, but Diane hated a lot of people.

  My mother’s house was beautiful. It had been renovated in the style of the Victorian period and all the furniture was antique. It smelled like old wood and thyme. My mother jingled as she walked. She had an anklet that made a jangling noise with each step. She didn’t wear any shoes, just the anklets. She took us into a lovely gilded parlor that had a roaring fire in the fireplace. There were cats sitting everywhere in the room.

  I shoved a cat away and sat down on the sofa next to my mother. Fred sat on a hard chair across from us and so did Diane. They both stared at us with caution.

  “You are everything I thought you would be and more,” my mother said as she took my face in her hands. “I’ve waited thirty years for this. Tell me everything about yourself.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Fred interrupted.

  “Shut up, Frederick. There is time. There is plenty of time,” my mother said.

  “He’s right,” I added. “I made a huge mess with your book.”

  “No, you didn’t. Not at all. You did more with magic in a few months than most so-called spellcasters can do in a lifetime. You mastered dozens of spells without even trying. You are extraordinary. So, you made a little mistake and left a candle burning too long. So what? Abaddon is an ass, but we’ll send him back to Hell where he belongs, but right now I want to know you. Tell me about you.”

  I looked at Fred for approval and he nodded.

  “I’m not really that interesting. I’ve actually messed most of my life up. I got my PhD in clinical psychology and then I lost my license. I’m divorced. Dad is dead. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I’m really a mess.”

  “Nonsense,” my mother said as she took my hand. “You’re a smart woman who got her PhD. You didn’t lose that. You just lost your license. Everyone is divorced nowadays. I’ve been divorced five times. Think of it as regaining your freedom. You’re not a mess. Look at you. You’re beautiful and smart. No, I don’t see a mess at all.”

  I smiled. She was the mother I’d always wanted. “Thanks,” I said.

  “What else? Do you have any hobbies? What do you like to do?”

  “I like to read. I read everything fiction, nonfiction, mysteries, romance. I also like to watch movies and I love cemetery walks and old places and old buildings.”

  “Wonderful!” she said. “Do you like to travel?”

  “I love traveling. When I was married, we traveled all the time.”

  “See, we already have so much in common.”

  “Thank you for the book, by the way. It really changed my entire life.”

  “Of course, you were born to be a witch. You need that magic. It burns in your veins. You have to use it. I wish your father had so much wisdom.”

  “Wha
t do you mean?”

  “When I met your father, he was a warlock with amazing potential. He was so strong, the wind bent to his will, but his redneck family out there all convinced him the magic was evil, so he took you and ran. He cast one last spell to keep me from you and then he gave up magic. That’s why he died. It burnt through him. It destroyed his heart and lungs. Once you’ve opened yourself up, there is no turning back. Your father was a blithering idiot who wasted his gifts.”

  I hugged her. There was no reason to, but I had to hug her. All my life everyone told me what a good man my father was. He was so godly, so Christian, so good. I heard it and hated myself for hating him. It was wonderful to hear her say he was an ass. It was wonderful not to be alone.

  She put her arms around me and squeezed me as hard as she could. She kissed me on the cheek. I had a family again. Fred scowled at me and pointed to his watch, and I released my mother.

  “What’s your name?” I asked her.

  “Nineveh,” she answered.

  “You named me Phaedra? Why? Does it have some special meaning?”

  “I just liked it,” she said. “Now we should get to work.”

  “Frederick, my love,” she said to him. “We are going to have to bind her with runes. She needs real power she can access in a pinch.”

  “Nineveh,” Fred said. “You haven’t changed. Always wanting to push people further than they should go. She’s not ready.”

  “She’s ready,” Nineveh argued. “She summoned the Lady of the Lake and Abaddon on her own. She cast out a demon on her own. She’s ready and we need her help. Abaddon is an ass and we’ll need all three of us to stop him.”

  “Fine,” Fred said. “As long as she agrees with it.”

  “Agrees with what?” I asked.

  “The symbols on our arms and legs come from many different places. They are binding spells,” Nineveh explained. “We burned them in our flesh, so we can always use them without having to go through lengthy rituals. You must gain the permission of the deity whose power you are drawing on, then we will burn them into you. After we’ve done this, all you will have to do is touch the symbol and say the incantation to call upon the power you were given by the deity again,” she added.

  “Deity?” I asked.

  “She calls them deities,” Fred said. “They are spirits and demons. There is only one God.”

  “Ever the priest,” Nineveh said, “aren’t you? When will you let go of that nonsense?”

  “History isn’t nonsense. The Guild embraces the truth, you should, too.”

  “We Celts had our own encyclopedia of spells long before King Solomon.”

  “Your spells were made later. Solomon is the beginning.”

  “My pantheon is far more powerful and helpful than your one true God ever was. If he is so interesting, why do you have to summon spirits from the Netherworld to do his bidding? Why doesn’t he just give you the power?”

  “Because he believes in free will and power like that takes away free will,” Fred argued.

  “Oh, shut up,” I said. “Don’t we have more important things to worry about? We can have theological debates later.”

  “You’re right, of course.” Nineveh turned to Fred with a smile.

  “Where will we work?” Fred asked.

  “Follow me,” Nineveh said.

  We all followed Nineveh out of the house and down a grassy slope that overlooked the city. The view was breathtaking. The lights filled the valley below us like stars. We walked across a short trail that lead to a small, stone house on the edge of a sharp drop off. I imagined the house had once been some kind of servants’ quarters as the building clearly post-dated slavery.

  Nineveh opened the door and we all walked in. Nineveh’s sanctuary was much more established than mine. There were tall bookshelves on all the walls filled with candles, herbs, crystals, and odd things in jars that I didn’t want to identify. Her altar was made of stone and stained glass. She went immediately to work and began grinding up ingredients with a mortar and pestle. She worked quickly and produced a brightly colored liquid. She then took out a long knife and cleaned the blade with alcohol. She put several candles on the altar and lit them

  “Odin,” she cried out. “We entreat you. Please grant this woman your strength. By the power of the Yggdril tree, we beg you. Grant this woman your power tonight.”

  Fred’s eyes were closed and so were Diane’s, but Nineveh’s eyes were open. We both looked around. The candles sparked and grew and an old man stepped out of the shadow. Nineveh drew a deep, stunned breath. The old man had a long beard and one eye. He looked around the room and then he looked at me with his one eye.

  “I gladly give you my strength,” he said in a deep voice.

  “Thank you,” I said. Odin took the knife from Nineveh and cut into my skin. I wanted to scream in agony, but the terrible one-eyed god in front of me helped me suppress my desire. He cut me over and over again until my blood pooled at my feet and then he took the ink Nineveh made and ground it into my open wounds. I gasped in pain. Odin put his hand over my wounds, so I couldn’t see them.

  “Be careful,” Odin said. “Abaddon is dangerous. He will not fight fair, but he must be sent back into the pit he came from. His work will hurt more than just your town. I give you two spells. The first will give you lightning and the second will give you fire. All you have to do is call my name and touch the spells and they will be cast. Know that I give you this power not just for your battle with the demon, but for a battle yet to come. I give it to you so you can erase powers that were stolen from me against my will. I give it to you to set scores right and settle injustices. I don’t like having my power taken from me.”

  Odin looked at Nineveh with his one eye. He was angry. His anger burned a hole in Nineveh who stepped back from the old god. I looked up at him, entranced by him. He was so different. He was human in form, but not flesh. Odin looked down at me again and smiled. The pain in my arm was gone. Odin vanished in a ring of smoke and I looked down at my arm. There were two rings around my arm. Each ring was covered in runes.

  “Does it always happen like that?” I asked.

  “No,” all three observers said in unison.

  “How does it happen usually?” I asked staring at my arm.

  “Usually, the old ones send a sign that they have agreed and the witch or her companion does the work,” Fred said. “The old ones don’t usually make appearances.”

  “So what does that mean?” I asked. “Why did he show up for me?”

  “I got the impression that someone really pissed him off and he wanted you to fight them,” Fred said. “He came as a warning and a threat.” Fred looked at Nineveh.

  “Fred,” I asked. “If the old ones aren’t gods, what are they? They clearly aren’t demons.”

  “They are the first race of beings created by God to help him.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Nineveh said. “We need to go.”

  Nineveh pinched out the candles and stormed out of the little house. Fred followed her and they continued to bicker as they walked. Diane and I stayed a few steps behind watching them yell at each other.

  “Jesus,” Diane said. “You’d think they were married the way they fight.”

  “They like each other more than Johnny Boy and I did,” I said as I watched them.

  Diane laughed.

  It took a good deal of time for Nineveh to get all her things together. She might as well have been packing for a three-week cruise. She packed several suitcases full of clothes and another one filled with various magical items, books, and garbage that I’m sure had some significance. We all chatted in the pretty parlor while she packed. Fred looked seriously pissed off. He really couldn’t stand Nineveh. Diane couldn’t stand her either, but she seemed more able to put her hate aside for whatever reason.

  “So why do you hate Nineveh so much?” Diane asked while we waited.

  “She and I have always represented opposite sides of the po
litical spectrum,” Fred said. “She and I have been enemies for a very long time now.”

  Nineveh came down the stairs with several suitcases and yelled out, “That and he tried to burn me.”

  “You hold a grudge forever. I apologized for that, didn’t I?”

  “You and your little group of sexless, joyless minions tied me to a stake and lit the wood beneath my feet. Those are the kind of grudges that last.”

  “To be fair, you cursed an entire town and gave them all the black plague. It’s not like you were one of the multitude of innocents that were accused of witchcraft. You killed fifty people …”

  “All assholes,” Nineveh said.

  “You killed fifty people and when we tied you to the stake and lit the logs, you bent the fire and killed six of us with the flames and three innocent bystanders.”

  “Oh, please, anyone who comes to watch a burning gets what they deserve,” Nineveh said.

  “One of them was a pregnant girl of no more that sixteen,” he said.

  “She shouldn’t have been there,” Nineveh said.

  “Really,” Fred said with enough venom to kill an elephant. “What about the babies? I suppose the babies you cooked and ate were somehow corrupted, too?”

  “That is an ugly rumor,” Nineveh yelled. “I never ate babies.”

  “I can smell them on you still,” Fred’s voice was getting louder. “I know how you gained your immortality.”

  “You were still a babe yourself when I became immortal,” Nineveh screamed. “I should have eaten you!”

  “Okay,” I said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Do you think that arguing about this is going to help anything?”

  “No,” they both said at the same time.

  “Then why don’t you both just agree to disagree? You will have plenty of time to kill each other after we send the giant toad demon back to Hell. What do you think? Does that sound like a good idea?”

  Fred smiled and Nineveh scowled.

  “That sounds like a wonderful plan,” Fred said with a half smile.

  “We aren’t children,” Nineveh scolded. “I am your mother and he is certainly your elder. You can’t talk to me like that, little girl. I believe you owe us more respect than that.”