It’s STRENGTH; Bridget stands proud in a green hunting tunic. She looks like a hunter from many centuries ago. A bow and arrow are strapped to her back. Her hand rests on the head of a lion, which sits calmly next to her.
‘Hmmmm, this is going to be interesting.’
The card wants to come alive. Tara taps the card. ‘Not now. Stay in.’ Gently she strokes the figure on the card. ‘Come home, we need you.’
BOSTON
This makes Bridget shiver and sway for a moment. Tom eyes her. ‘Are you okay?’ Bridget snaps out of it. She reaffirms her grip on her gun and leans against the wall in a hallway. Who the hell just gave her a mental call? This is a bad time to get caught up in something magical. She’s the last in line behind Tom and the SWAT team. ‘Let’s do it.’ Tom nods to the SWAT commander. He gives the go ahead and one of the team slams down the door. Bridget is having a hard time focusing and gives herself a mental slap. Inside her head she imagines a brick wall, in the hope of pushing out whoever tried to reach her. She wonders if it’s coincidence or that she called it upon herself because she talked about her family this morning.
Shouts from the apartment draws her back to the reality. Tom and the SWAT team already disappear inside. She has to hurry to catch up and look engaged. Shots are fired and one of the SWAT pushes her against the wall. She had just walked in, not paying attention. His angry stare tells her how stupid she was, easy to get killed that way. More shouts and shots in the apartment. Bridget is eager to get in, but the SWAT team member doesn’t take any more changes with her and holds her in place. Angrily waving her arms, she tries to persuade him to let her go and get inside. He doesn’t budge. Until after a long minute, the sound of voices ‘Clear!’ ‘Clear!’ reaches her. She lets out sigh of relief. A heavy bark is quickly followed by a ‘Help!’ Tom sounds scared. This time she pushes past her SWAT teammate, who tries to go in first. ‘We’re coming!’ With more caution and focus, she swiftly moves towards Tom’s voice. Her SWAT teammate follows her, in the living room there is one man down and the other is being cuffed by SWAT. When they enter the bedroom, they see Tom and his teammate facing a big Rottweiler. His hair standing straight up on his back, saliva drips down on the floor and his impressive teeth are showing in his snarl. His anxiety level peaks, with more people entering the room.
‘Do something!’ urges Tom. Bridget’s teammate points his gun. She quickly puts her hand on the barrel and pushes it down. ‘Hey! What are you doing?!’
‘Let me.’ She moves in front of him and has only eyes for the dog.
‘Get out of the way!’ Shouts SWAT, but Bridget ignores him and makes sure he doesn’t have a shot.
‘Take your time.’ Tom tries to sound sarcastic, but the timber in his voice betrays him.
‘Wimp.’ Then her voice changes as she turns her full attention on the dog. ‘Calm down buddy. Here.’ She put out her hand, the dog snarls. ‘It’s okay, I’m a friend.’ Slowly he calms down and sniffs her hand. ‘Good boy. It’s okay, come here.’ Very slowly he comes closer. She gently tries to pet him. When he relaxes, she runs her hands over his body. She can feel his ribs and he’s full of cuts and bruises. The poor dog had it rough; this irritates her to no end.
‘I’ll call animal services.’ One of the SWAT team grabs his cell phone, but before he gets a chance to dial, Bridget cuts him off. ‘I’ll take him.’ Tom bursts out laughing. ‘How many dogs do you have now?’
‘He’s been abused, he needs a good home.’ Bridget shoots him an angry look.
‘Sure. Wes will be so thrilled.’
‘He loves dogs!’ In the meantime, she weaves her hands over the dog, and nobody notices that his cuts and bruises disappear.
‘It’s a miracle you found anybody to live with you.’ Counters Tom, feeling instantly better now the dog has chilled out. The dog gives a bark. Tom smiles at him ‘You’re a lucky boy’, he reaches out to him, but the dog growls at him. ‘Jesus’. He quickly snatches his hand back.
‘Give him a break. He’s had a hard time.’ Bridget snuggles with the dog, no problem.
NEW ORLEANS
It’s later in the evening and Tara and Maeve enjoy a well-deserved cocktail at a table in the bar of ‘Under the Witches Hat’. The bar buzzes with excitement. Even on a week day there’s quite the crowd. Luna works behind the bar. She looks fabulous in a sexy witch dress and whips up cocktails and elixirs at an uncanny speed. It all seems to flow, and it’s a miracle she can manage on her own. Only her own kin recognize her talents. It’s old magic at work. Her cocktails are the best. It lifts up the crowd, and the atmosphere in the bar is one of happiness and joy.
Magical globes float around people’s heads and give off a mysterious light. Some heated conversations give off sparkles in the air and create nervous laughter. Tara looks at the crowd with satisfaction while she drinks in the emotions.
Tara twirls her finger and a little sparkle forms at her fingertip. She whispers to it and it slowly dances through the air towards Luna. Maeve follows the sparkle with interest. The sparkle reaches Luna and attaches herself to her ear like an earring. Luna’s head whips in the direction of Tara. Tara gives her a small smile. Luna doesn’t look pleased at all. Maeve puts her hand on her grandma’s arm. ‘What’s up, Gram?’
‘Don’t worry dear, I need to ask your mother something.’
‘Here?!’ Maeve’s doubts show through, but Tara gives her a reassuring smile.
‘Sometimes, that’s best.’
‘Oh Grandma, she’s not going to like it, is she?’
Luna’s hackles are already up while she motions Ron to take her place; he’s at the end of the bar talking to two young women. Luna elegantly weaves her way towards Tara and Maeve. People seem to make just enough room for her to pass without effort. Tara watches her while she wonders why it’s never easy with Luna; she’s the most powerful of her daughters in spirit and magic. There’s always been an undercurrent of tension in their relationship, even when she was very young. This will be uncomfortable, but that’s how life is sometimes. The Ace of Swords told her this morning she needs to cut through the crap and deal with it. This is one of those things. Tara feels Maeve’s anxiety build next to her. Luna reaches their table and doesn’t waste any time while she slides in the chair opposite Tara. ‘You summoned me?’
Here we go, thinks Tara, however, she mildly says, ‘You of all people should know that this is just a little nudge.’
‘I don’t have much time.’ She glances at Ron, struggling to keep up with the orders.
Tara weaves her hand and mumbles a quick spell. All of a sudden, the sound around them is muffled. ‘Some privacy.’
‘Come on Ma, enough with the theatrics.’ Luna’s patience is thin.
‘Mom!’ Maeve slides her cocktail over to her mother. ‘Want a taste?’
Luna shakes her head. Tara takes a deep breath. ‘I need a favor.’
Maeve takes a sip from her cocktail as Tara continues ‘I need you to patch things up with your daughter’ Maeve spits out the cocktail all over the table. Luna is unmoved.
Maeve shouts in disbelief ‘Bridget?!’ Tara and Luna both ignore Maeve.
‘How can you ask me that? You know she never wants to see me again. Which part of NEVER don’t you understand?’
Tara keeps her calm; this is what she had expected. Bridget’s leaving had cut a deep wound into Luna’s heart. For years she had tried to patch things up but to no avail. ‘I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t very important.’
‘What on earth is so important?’
‘I can’t tell you—’ replies Tara stone faced.
Luna icily interrupts Tara. ‘What?! You want me to take your word for it?’
‘Yes. I’m asking you as your mother and as your high priestess.’
‘I tried everything. I’m not going through that again, not even for you.’ Tara feels for Luna as s
he watches the pain cross her face. However, they need Bridget and she can’t afford to feel sorry for her daughter. Tara glances at Maeve, who has recovered from her initial shock and is following the conversation with interest. Bridget is not mentioned anymore these days, and Maeve has complicated feelings towards her twin—not all friendly, but nevertheless, she would welcome seeing her again. Maeve is always trying to find a balance; it’s one of her gifts to mediate and make everybody happy.
‘It’s been a long time. I’m sure B has mellowed by now. It’s hard on everybody, and I’m sure Gram has a good reason to ask.’
Luna looks at her daughter and she softens a bit. Tara weighs in ‘Will you at least think about it?’
Luna’s full attention is back on her mother. ‘You have to give me something more, if it’s THAT important.’
‘I have bad dreams; Diana doesn’t want to talk about her visions. You know that means it’s bad. You have to trust me. I know the family needs to be whole.’
Luna laughs mockingly and gets up. ‘Not good enough. We’re not little children anymore, Mother, and you might think about telling us what’s really going on.’
‘It’s the truth.’
‘HA! We’re all witches and we can smell a lie—’
‘It’s not a lie.’ Tara realizes she’s losing the argument.
‘Even a half truth.’ Luna leans forward towards her mother and her face is close to Tara’s. ‘We can see you’re pregnant with secrets. Maybe it’s time for you to trust someone.’ Luna pivots and leaves a startled Tara and Maeve behind.
BOSTON
At the same time on a hilltop, two witches are witching it out. Lucy Lockwood, Tara’s identical twin, might look the same but there’s nothing same about her. Lucy’s hard features, her dark and stark clothes show nothing of Tara’s warmth. She’s an evil witch personified. She challenges Alana Jansson, a modern witch half her age. A fierce cold wind blows, and snow and icy rain batter down on the women. It doesn’t seem to affect them in any way, a mere distraction. Alana has to work hard to keep Lucy at bay. Lucy taunts her, ‘You’re no match for me. Give it to me.’
‘Never!’ Unconsciously, Alana touches the Dagger she has stuck in her belt on her back. The Dagger of Consciousness, one of the four elemental objects of powers. It governs the power of air. She’s only been its keeper for a short number of years. Her mother stressed the importance of never using it and to make sure it would never fall into somebody else’s hands. In all the years it has been in her family nothing like this ever happened. She should have hidden it somewhere and not be so careless as to take it with her tonight. But there’s no way back now. Who is this witch? How does she know so much about the object? Questions she tries to push to the back of her mind. This woman is very powerful and she needs to focus if she wants to overpower her. Again she quickly touches the Dagger. Maybe she can draw a little of the Dagger’s power; after all it’s to defend it.
Lucy shouts above the winds, ‘This is your last chance!’ and points a wand at Alana.
‘Where do you get your line? Witches-R-Us?’ Alana circles her index finger and chants a spell. Lucy all of a sudden has trouble breathing. Alana smiles. Lucy tries to draw a breath, but instead, the air seems to be drawn out of her lungs. She clutches her throat.
Lucy slowly sags to the ground but manages to gurgle a spell and a small fireball hits Alana full in the chest. She staggers backwards and loses control over her spell. Lucy draws in full jagged breaths. Color returns to her face and she scrambles back up. She immediately shields, and when Alana regains control, her spell slides off Lucy’s shield. With a wicked smile and a flick of her finger, she hurls another fireball. Alana puts her hand up and the fireball bounces off. She waves her hands in front of her and the wind builds up to a gale force. Lucy leans into the heavy wind and puts her finger to the ground, ice starts to form around her finger, and an ice crackle shoots towards Alana. Lucy has to struggle to keep her finger on the ground. The ice tries to find Alana and she hops around to evade it, but doesn’t want to lose her focus on Lucy. Alana’s wind forms a funnel and it picks up Lucy. Lucy stares at Alana unimpressed. The ice still grows on the ground, and with Alana’s full attention now on Lucy, she doesn’t notice as it reaches her and quickly starts to encapsulate her legs. It inches upwards. The tornado spins faster and faster but the ice starts to reach above Alana’s waist.
NEW ORLEANS
In the meantime, Tara watches Luna back at work. ‘She’s good.’
Maeve looks from her grandma to her mother. ‘Bridget wants to be normal, Gram. We don’t need her. I can help you, why don’t you trust me?’
Tara smiles fondly at her. ‘I trust you sweetheart, it’s just that we all have our gifts.’
‘I’m good with everybody.’
‘That’s not the—’ Tara clutches her throat and can’t seem to breath.
‘Grandma?!’
Tara claws at her throat and pulls away her shawl. Maeve jumps up and starts to pound on Tara’s back. Tara shakes her head, it doesn’t help. Maeve mumbles a spell. Blotches of darkness cloud Tara’s vision, and she starts to turn blue. She’s not choking; this is magical. She tries to look around to see where the threat is coming from. People are in the way and Maeve is not helping. Maeve frantically tries to get Luna’s attention. People around them start to notice something is wrong and a doctor offers his help. Tara swats his hands away while she struggles to remain conscious.
Luna rushes over to Tara and Maeve, pushing away people who’re trying to help. Tara is on the edge of losing consciousness. Luna mumbles a spell when all windows and doors bang open. A gale force wind rages through the Hat, and the people duck and try to find cover from the flying debris. Luna and Maeve look around and Tara regains her ability to breathe. She sits up straight and gulps in deep breaths before she falls backwards and faints. Luna manages to break her fall. The wind stops abruptly and a deadly silence follows. People are stunned. Then everybody starts to shout and run out at the same time. Both Ron and Luna work spells and the crowd seem to calm down considerably. Maeve and Luna share a puzzled look before while they clear a space around Tara, to protect her from being trampled by the mass exodus from the bar.
BOSTON
Cal Lockwood leans against a gleaming black Bentley while he browses the Internet on his phone, ignoring the weird weather on the hilltop and the occasional light flashes. He’s in his early twenties and dressed in sleazy gothic black. His outfit definitely doesn’t fit the fancy car. He’s bored and has been left behind once again by his grandmother to wait by the car. She doesn’t value his opinion and treats him like shit. He understands why his dad left, but why didn’t he take him with him? His grandmother is downright scary and doesn’t tolerate any opposition.
A loud bang startles him, and to his surprise, he sees Lucy hurtling up into the air and then coming down fast. He fumbles his phone and can’t seem to find his pockets. Frustrated, he throws it aside and starts to weave his hand in front of him while he chants, ‘Oxicodendron radicans, grow, hang, obey. Oxicodendron radicans, grow, hang, obey.’ Poison ivy starts to grow in a rapid rate from the ground; it forms a net, about six feet above the ground. He glances up and his grandmother falls fast. Now he shouts, ‘OXICODENDRON RADICANS. GROW. HANG. OBEY!’ The last strands tangle together when Lucy hits the poison ivy. For a moment she just lays there. Concerned, he rushes over. ‘Grandma, GRANDMA, are you okay? What happened? Jesus, that was a long way down.’
‘Help me up.’ Lucy roles to the side of the net, suddenly showing her age; this definitely hurt. Cal helps her down.
‘Grandma, are you—’ He doesn’t get a chance to finish. His concern is met with disappointment. ‘Poison ivy? You moron.’ Lucy’s face and uncovered arms start to turn red with irritation. Cal’s face falls. Another missed opportunity to please Lucy.
Cal half helps-half herds Lucy to the car. She slides in
the back; she touches her irritated face. ‘Do you want me to do something about that?’ Concerned, Cal bends forward. Lucy slams the door in his face. ‘I guess not’. He quickly makes his way around the car, hops in and drives off. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road; he feels the angry stare of Lucy on his back. Uncomfortably he twitches his shoulder.
‘Get me home as soon as possible’.
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
He picks up speed. Lucy weaves her hands over her arms and face and slowly the red dissolves. Gently she pulls the dagger from her pocket. Her eyes shine with desire and gently she strokes it. ‘Justice, finally.’
‘What?’ Cal looks in the rear-view mirror ‘What is that?’
‘Watch the road. Get me home. I have work to do.’
‘But—’ Lucy silences him with an angry stare. He shrinks two sizes and drives as fast as he dares. Lucy covers the dagger and stares out of the window with a contented smile.
NEW ORLEANS
Later that night Luna and Maeve sit next to Tara’s bed. She hasn’t woken yet, and they are concerned. This is clearly something magical. Luna watches her mother’s chest rise and fall. When did her mother become so fragile? She’s always been so strong and had such drive. Even when Seamus died she carried on and managed the family. How she loves to meddle in everybody’s affairs. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so harsh on her earlier tonight. Then again… Tara’s secrets always drive her crazy. She lets her hand move back and forth above her mother to see if she can sense a residue from a spell. Tara’s hand snaps up and grabs Luna’s hand. Luna jumps up. ‘Mom?’ Tara coughs and slowly opens her eyes. ‘You scared us.’
The Dagger Page 3