The Accidental Witch

by Jessica Penot

  “Hey,” I replied.

  She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Did you know that The Guild was founded to protect oracles and necromancers from spellcasters?” she asked.

  “Why would there be spellcasters as guild members if that were the case?” I asked.

  “You should know better than anyone. You’ve been spending your nights with the dark knight of the warlocks. They joined The Guild to keep in the know. They joined The Guild to know what’s going on in the world of magic. Most spellcasters never join, but the few that do, have their own circle within The Guild.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Fred is the dark knight of warlocks? What does that even mean?”

  “There are ten immortals. Fred is one of them. He’s a bit of a mystery. No one knows much about his life except that he was the chief exorcist for The Roman Catholic Church for almost a century. He still acts as The Guild’s exorcist, but he’s suspected of shady dealings.”

  “Where are you getting this information? This sounds like gossip to me. You believe everything you hear?”

  “I got it from Emilie. She’s the chief oracle. She wanted me to spy on Fred, you know, since I’m so close to you.”

  “You’re a shitty spy. You shouldn’t tell the person you’re spying on that you’re a spy.”

  “I said no. I would never spy on you. You’re the only friend I have. Us freaks have to stick together.” She smiled broadly.

  “We are a little bit freakish, aren’t we?”

  “Just a little,” Diane said with a wink. “Of course, in Dismal, we are the gods of freaks.”

  “I think we might just be the tip of the freak iceberg here,” I answered.

  Diane put a hand on my shoulder in that suddenly serious way she did right before she said something she felt was deeply important.

  “You should be careful,” Diane said. “I like Fred. He’s been good to you, but he’s more than he seems.”

  I nodded. “I’m no fool. I know that, Diane, but I’m just taking every day as it comes. Hey, why do oracles need spies? I thought you knew everything,” I said.

  “Not really. I just like to say that. The water of time becomes murky when spellcasters are involved or when the outcome is unpredictable, which is more often than not. We can see possible futures not absolute futures. Time can change. You haven’t noticed I’ve missed my mark before?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t want to mention it,” I answered, giving her a wink.

  One of the council members banged a gavel and the room became silent. Diane looked like she had more to say, but she sat back in her chair and looked at the front of the room like the rest of the witches in the room. The apprehension was tangible. It was as if the entire room collectively held their breaths. I know I held mine.

  Nineveh was brought into the room. She was still bound by toe-and-thumb screws. She was on a board and she was still sedated. The board was placed on the ground and you could see the binding spells were inscribed on the board. The room was filled with whispers and comments. I could hear the woman behind me. She said that the mighty had fallen and her friend said that there would be no justice if Nineveh wasn’t executed on the spot. A necromancer to my right said that Nineveh looked terrible. Everyone leaned forward to get a better look at the bound leviathan.

  I couldn’t help but feel a slight stab of regret. That was my mother bound to the board. That was the woman who had carried me in her womb and nursed me as a baby. That was the woman I had once dreamt of meeting. She had tried to sacrifice me to a giant toad demon to further her own ends, but I could almost forget that looking at her in the middle of such a ring of hatred. Almost.

  The chief council member, whose name was Emilie, stood up. The court hushed.

  “Nineveh de Lac,” she said. “You have been accused of crimes against humanity. You’ve been accused of summoning the demon Abaddon to drain your daughter of her power and in doing so sacrificed an entire town to gain power over the demon. How do you plea?”

  “I don’t recognize the power of this court,” Nineveh croaked from her bindings. “You are all beneath me. I should be tried by my peers.”

  “Your peers would burn you where you sit,” Emilie said. “Morgause, your mentor, requested that you be executed without trial. We are the voice of mercy here. How do you plea?”

  “I am a goddess amongst fools here. I will not answer these charges. I am Nineveh of the Lake. I killed Merlin and laid waste to empires. I am a legend. You have no power over me.”

  “Call the witness,” Emilie said.

  A young oracle stood up. “Calling Phaedra Michaels,” she said.

  Diane put her hand on my shoulder in an act of reassurance. I smiled at her and walked up to the front of the room. I was placed in the center of the court on a very uncomfortable old chair. I was afraid to put my entire weight on it. It felt like it might break. Nineveh looked up at me from her circle. She smiled at me and I drew back from her. She wasn’t in my head, but I could feel her. I could feel her strength.

  I stood back up and the chair fell backwards. I could feel her energy radiating outwards. I looked out through the court. None of the others were there. Al was gone. Fred was gone. Even that asshole Crowley was missing. Morgause was gone. Something was wrong. Why didn’t all those damn oracles with all their stupid, useless visions know something was wrong?

  I backed away from Nineveh, who was smiling at me with a grin that turned my blood to ice in my veins. The doors in the front of the court opened. The echo filled the courtroom. I turned around. Fred burst through the doors followed by Morgause.

  “Phaedra run!” Fred bellowed.

  It was too late. The words hadn’t even had time to register before Nineveh was lunging for me. The thumb-screws fell off and her bindings were revealed to be nothing but subterfuge. Nineveh’s power flowed through her body and into me. I could feel the ice cut through me. She was going to kill me. I knew it. My feet were frozen to the ground and the pain was overwhelming. I glared at the bitch who’d brought me nothing but agony. Without thought, I touched Abaddon’s symbol. I touched the symbol and whispered his loathed name. I whispered his name and I grabbed Nineveh.

  Terror spread out over her face. She knew what I had done. She knew better than I did and I knew because she knew. I knew everything she knew. I looked down at my arms. The tattoos that branded her body were moving from her arms to mine. They were migrating like birds from her flesh to mine and as they traveled, they brought memories and thoughts that were as unwanted as her touch.

  I closed my eyes. I could see my father. He was young and handsome. I had never seen him that way. He was holding me in his arms and weeping. He was fighting with Nineveh. He was protesting. He was protecting me. She had wanted to take my power then. He had run away. He had run away with me in the middle of the night and brought me back, back to his childhood home. He had called upon the powers of Heaven and Hell to protect me from Nineveh, who he had come to believe was the face of the Devil himself. I knew then that my father had loved me. He had loved me and tried to protect me, but he had feared me. He had seen me as a kind of Rosemary’s baby. He had tried to kill the Devil in me. He had tried to kill the parts of me that reminded him of her. He had buried us in the Church to shelter us from the darkness. I pitied him. I wish I could tell him I was sorry for all the hate. I wished I could thank him. It was too late.

  More memories came. Images of other children and other lovers floated to the surface and faded. I saw Merlin himself in the fading light of her eye. I say him entombed in rock and cursing her name. I saw so many spellcasters stripped of their powers in her hellish union with Abaddon. That was Abaddon’s strength. He could move the power from one spellcaster to another. That was his gift. That was my gift. I saw all these things as I watched the strength fade from Nineveh’s eyes. Finally, I saw Fred. I saw Fred light the fire to burn her. I saw him hunt her. I saw him as relentless as night. He came at her from all sides, but she defeate
d the fire and Fred released her. I saw Fred again. I saw her kill his wife. I saw her kill the wife he had left the priesthood for. I saw her kill his children. She had cooked them into a pie. I shuddered. She’d fed them to him. I wanted it to stop. Stop. Stop. I couldn’t watch anymore. I wanted her out of my mind. She was loathsome, vile, the evil witch from a fairy tale that fed on children.

  I lifted my hands from her and she fell. She was naked, stripped of her power. She lay helpless at my feet. She was a shriveled crone. She couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, but I didn’t care. The visions lingered in my mind. They burned my heart and I wept. I sobbed. The tears were like fire in my eyes. The rage came with the tears. She was the Devil. She was the witch with the gingerbread house that lured children to their deaths, so she could cast darker spells. I grabbed the chair behind me and smashed her skull. If my mother was the Devil, what did that make me? No wonder my father hated me. I hit her over and over again until there was nothing left.

  Fred pulled me back. He pulled me away from the squirming corpse. He pulled me away from the woman who had become nothing but a bloodstain on the stone. The room was quiet except for the sound of my sobbing. Fred held me so tight, I didn’t think I could breathe. He pushed his mouth to my ear.

  “It’s over,” he whispered. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”

  I turned and wrapped my arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. I wanted to burn the images from my brain. I wanted to take a scalpel and cut them out. Wasn’t there some pill I could take to make me forget? I knew too well that there wasn’t. How many rape victims had asked me for such a pill? How many veterans? How many child abuse survivors? The memories were mine now and I would have to live with them. I would have to adapt or die.

  I sank down to the floor and sat on my knees. Fred sat next to me. I put my head on his shoulder and he stroked my hair. I knew we had an audience, but I didn’t care. Everyone watched. Everyone waited. They waited for the conclusion to my tragedy.

  Emilie stood up. She walked over to the bloodied body that had once been the most powerful witch in the world. She spat on her.

  “She enslaved and killed my mother,” Emilie said. “Good riddance. We owe you nothing but gratitude,” Emilie said to me. “The Guild welcomes you to our numbers with gratitude.”

  Slowly, the others came. All the necromancers and all the oracles. They came and spat on Nineveh’s body. They spat and walked away. As I watched them, I knew the trial had been a play. It had been put on to give the image of civility, but no one had ever intended to do anything but kill the old witch. She was evil, a reminder of a past The Guild wanted nothing to do with. I went to the back of the line and waited my turn and then I spat on Nineveh. Good Riddance.

  * * *

  “She’s stronger than all of us now,” Morgause said. “She has her own strength and Nineveh’s.”

  “I know,” Fred said.

  “You can’t cut any corners. You can’t take any short cuts. You must see her training through to the end. You must make sure she is secure in her abilities and her limitations. She must understand the consequences of every spell she casts. There can be no running off on any damn crusades. There can be no other job The Guild gives you that is more important. She must be fully and completely trained. Even if it takes a lifetime. Are you prepared to do this, Frederick?”

  “I am,” Frederick answered.

  “You are the oldest and wisest of us, except for me of course, so you are the obvious choice to train Phaedra, but you are notoriously unpredictable, Frederick. If you let me down here, I will never forgive you and I will take over her training myself.”

  “I know,” Fred said.

  I could hear their voices. I didn’t entirely understand why. I didn’t know what power I had inherited from Nineveh that gave me this skill, but I could hear better than anyone should. I could sit in one room and hear the conversation in the next with perfect clarity. What child had been sacrificed for Nineveh to gain this rare gift? It felt evil having any of her power. I looked down at my arm. Damn. I hated tattoos. I looked like a biker chick. I had a full sleeve. There was no hiding it. My flesh crawled with tattoos. I was the painted lady.

  “He won’t follow through. He never follows through,” Crowley said.

  “Do you still want her?” Morgause asked Crowley.

  “I’m no fool. She frightens me. I’ll stay as far away from her as I can, thank you very much. Honestly, we all should. No matter what we do, some day she’s going to figure out that with one whisper of Abaddon’s name, she can take all our powers. She’s going to realize that she’s become more than human. She’s going to crave more power. Absolute power …”

  “Corrupts absolutely,” Al filled in.

  “She’s deadly. She’s the Phoenix. She’ll be the death of us all,” Crowley continued.

  “We could try to kill her,” Morgause said.

  Al laughed. “You saw what happened to Nineveh when she tried to kill her and Phaedra was a hundred times weaker then.”

  “Shut up,” Fred said. “You aren’t touching her. I will train her. She’s my responsibility.”

  “Love is blind,” Crowley said.

  “Maybe,” Fred said. “But she is just a woman. She is a good woman and all she wants is to go home and help her little town. If anyone can be trusted with this power, it’s her.”

  “You are blind,” Crowley said. “She’s a drunk and a drug user. She can’t even control her most basic emotion. I would rather Nineveh had the power. At least we knew she could control herself. Do you really think that volatile child can control herself?”

  “We need an oracle,” Morgause said.

  “No,” Fred said. “Diane already told me. Oracles are blind to her. She’s blinding.”

  “We have no choice,” Morgause said. “Fred will go with the girl back to whatever backwater town she comes from and teach her as best as he can.”

  “Does she even understand she’s immortal now?” Al asked with a little pity in his voice.

  I hadn’t thought of that. I didn’t understand that. I looked at the tattoos on my arms and wondered which marking cursed me with eternal life. I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to live forever. One lifetime seemed hard enough. Why would I want more than one? Just making it into my thirties without going crazy had seemed like a challenge. How on earth would I go on forever? I wiped the tears from my eyes. I wondered if any of my tattoos gave me the power to turn back time. It seemed doubtful. Nineveh certainly would have done that if she’d had that power.

  The door opened and Fred came out.

  “We are ready for you,” Fred said.

  I walked in the room. The four immortals stared at me with a mixture of emotions. I looked at them all.

  “We think … ” Crowley began

  “I know what you think,” I said. “I could hear everything. I’m fine with Fred teaching me.”

  More silence. More fear. They all feared me. Except Fred.

  “So be it,” Morgause said.

  * * *

  Most days I tried to pretend things were the way they used to be. I walked on the psychiatric floor like I always had. I complained about the supervisors and bitched about the staff shortage and lack of hospital support for the psych. I smiled. I did groups. I tried not to think that I could bend almost everyone to my will if I wanted to. I didn’t want that kind of power. Honestly, I really didn’t even understand that kind of power and the learning process was much slower than I expected. I went home to Fred at the end of the day and we studied together and made love. He cooked me dinner. I was happy. I tried to forget about Nineveh and Abaddon. I wore long sleeves. I cast simple spells and I only cast them for my patients. I tried to heal the wounds that had been inflicted on my little town by the bitter witch that was my mother.

  It had been several months. Diane was seeing a new man. I was working my two jobs and was as happy as I had ever been. Love can erase a lot of pain and Fred’s kisses washed away much of my pain
. It was a beautiful winter day and I was rounding up the patients for group like I always had. The floor was full again. Seven major depressive disorders, four alcoholics, and one with schizoaffective disorder.

  I sat down in my chair and looked out at all their sorrowful faces. I smiled. I did one of my favorite groups that day. We built a shield. The shield was simple. The patients answered seven questions and put it in different sections of the shield. What is your best memory? What do you value most? What are two things you want to do when you leave here? What are two things you’ve done that you are proud of? What are two things you have yet to do? List your top three strengths. What is your personal motto?

  We went around the group and they answered their questions and held up their shields. They all had different mottos. Trust in God. Live life for the day. Pray every day. Finally, the group circled around to a pretty blonde in her forties. She was doing better. She had made it through the worst of her stay at the hospital.

  “My motto is ‘love every day’,” she said. “But I want to know what your motto is. I mean, you are the one showing us how to live. You’re supposed to be our role model, right? What’s your personal motto?”

  I looked out at the group. I should have some wisdom to convey. I should have the answers. I should have learned something along the way. Magic is bad? Magic is good? God is good? Fear the Devil? There should be a moral to my story. But part of me was gone. The part of me that wanted to learn or understand what had happened to me and grow from it, was gone. There should be some deep message I could pass on to others. I should know something more now, than when I began this journey, but as I looked out at all those faces with all their meaningful mottos, I knew I really hadn’t learned as much as I should have. The only thing that had really changed was my diet and my love life. I smiled. That was enough. Sometimes the little things were enough and when that was all you had, you learned that life was the little things.

  “Eat, drink, and be merry,” I said. “For tomorrow you may die.”

  Of course, I would never die. But I would have to deal with that later.