by K. G. McAbee
Something I was meant to be.
Ma and Aunt Evie say our workings are a way for us to prosper where others fail. I don't believe this. I can't believe the power You grant to Your children can be so selfishly used. Please, I beg of You, show me what to do. Lead me through the darkness I feel without Your presence, and teach me the true power of magic.
I feel so alone, Great Mother. It's not because the people in town shrink away from us as we pass, or because I know I will have to decide whether to stay or to go. It's because no one understands what it is like to be in constant shadow, yearning for light but never finding it. Show me, if You will, that I am not alone.
These words are the seeds of power, and thus with my hand, they grow.
Anya Blanchett
The words seemed heavier on the page than they had on my heart as I lifted my pen up. My hands trembled as I struck the match, and I watched as the script disappeared within the folds of the paper, eaten by the flames. The burnished glow of the fire fell soft against the shadows of my makeshift altar, and I sighed as I held the paper close to me.
Magic is a power much like madness but so much more like fire. It begins with the simplicity of thought, only to grow into action that builds until it consumes. An invisible fire, an unexplainable madness grabbed hold of me as I sat in silence, and my anxiety melted until it was nothing more than an ache where the painful knot had been.
"Please, Great Mother. Please show me goodness where I've known only darkness and indecision. Show me the path to Your light."
I whispered the words as my grasp on the paper loosened. I lifted it upward then, bringing a single sharpened corner down until the flame interrupted my movement and caught hold of its fragile target. The haze whirled around me against the shadows and those heavy words became nothing more than coiling smoke and darkened air as they were released into the night.
And thus it is done, and so now must it be....
***
The Carolina sun peeked out from behind the first clouds of the day, and I smiled as I watched the light flicker across the wooden floors toward the bed where I sat. It will be beautiful today. My smile faltered as I thought of what the day would bring.
A sigh escaped.
No more places to hide, Annie.
I stood and grabbed the brush just within my reach, pulling it through the long strands of red hair and sweeping them upward in a ponytail with practiced motion. August twenty-fourth was a day I had nightmares about all summer long. A single square I had blacked out on the calendar above my desk, even with my Aunt Evelyn's astrological predictions things would go well.
The first day of school. Again.
The mere thought of it made me shudder as I turned back toward my window to look at the sun. It seemed to beckon me into an unforeseen danger.
Better to get this over with now, a voice whispered against the back of my mind as I pulled on a dark blue t-shirt.
The sooner it begins, the sooner it will end.
The town of Manning, North Carolina was non-existent on any map of importance, but it was home to those who loved small southern charm and sought easy access to both the beaches to the east and mountains to the west. That southern charm had its advantages. A glance never fell on a stranger, and arms were open to all who walked the streets. I stuffed my notebooks into my ancient book bag and glanced out to the bright light.
Well, almost everyone.
My family had lived here for generations, always practicing our craft in secret. Yet, as secrets have a way of doing, ours lay boiling under the surface and people in town began, many years before my birth, to talk. Whispers labeled us as 'the different folk', and I couldn't help but agree with them. We never participated in anything that wasn't absolutely necessary, nor did we take part in the social rituals engrained in every Southern family since the first church was built here. The kids around me noticed, and they thrived on the cruelty invoked by our strangeness.
"Anya!"
My mother's voice floated up the stairs and I grabbed the bag before rushing down to meet her. Ivy Blanchett's pretty face darkened in concern as I approached, and I sighed as I grabbed the customary toast and juice she placed before me.
"Oh, Annie...must you always look as if someone is coming to burn you?"
She chuckled at her little joke as she whipped around the kitchen.
"Besides, it's your first day back at school. Your last year. Final memories and all that. Aren't you the least bit excited?"
I glared at her as my teeth sank into the toast, reminding myself thoughts could be powerful if one was not careful.
"You know I'm not a bit excited, Ma. And you know why."
"Oh, I know. But you really shouldn't let the other brats get to you so."
I watched as her hands moved clockwise to brush the steam away from her tea, and I couldn't help but wonder what she was doing. What magic had been cast? She was quick to interrupt my curiosity with another scowl pointed in my direction.
"Besides, the new moon was just last week. Surely you did a working to make things easier for you today?"
I shook my head and returned the scowl. I lingered over what was left of my meager breakfast. "I told you, Ma. I'm not sure if...I'm not sure if I should do workings at all. Much less for something like my first day of school."
Her bright green eyes rolled at my words and she sipped her tea before she spoke in the tone she used on the bad children she often found playing in our garden.
"How many times must I tell you, Annie? That's what your power is for. You are no better than the rest if you choose to ignore it."
Tea gone, she grabbed her purse and headed toward the door, her words floating back to me as she disappeared out of sight.
"Good luck and don't forget about tonight! You have your fitting at seven!"
I groaned as I nursed the juice as long as possible, wondering if she had awakened Aunt Evelyn with her cheerfulness. Our house was the family enclave, with its small rooms built for lazier days. This was the place I'd grown up, and presumably would grow old and die in my time, as would my mother and aunt. I rushed to clear away the mess I'd lingered over as the walls of our kitchen began to close in around me.
Time to get out of here.
The walk to James P. Cothran High School was a short one I always tried to make as long as possible. Kids I had known since kindergarten snickered as they rushed past me, and the thought of ditching rose with my fantasies of what else could be done on such a perfect Southern day. Those changed as I remembered my mother's remark of how, if I don't use the magic, I'm no better than the other kids living here in Manning.
But that was the point. At least to me. Our family history had been filled with words like 'Chosen' and 'gifted', but I didn't care. I didn't feel as if I had been chosen for anything. Much less special enough to have the powers of a goddess flowing through my veins. My own failed attempts at spell working proved this to me time and time again.
No, Ivy and Evie were the Chosen Ones. They were examples of women who used the powers given to our ancestors by the Gods. Me? I only wanted to be normal. To be just like my classmates rushing to school with friends. Laughing. Smiling. Instead, I was 'chosen', or so they wanted me to believe. Chosen.
And alone.
The school came into view too soon for my liking. I rounded the final block, and my cheerful fantasies disappeared against the clamor and laughter of those who had passed me, now leaning against cars and benches with the same reluctance to face the first day of school I'd felt all morning.
Now I rushed to the first class on my list as an excuse to get away from the social scene straight out of a bad high school sitcom. It wasn't until I slid into the familiar confines of an empty desk that I felt secure from the prying eyes which had surrounded me outside. Here, with any luck, and with the assistance of the teachers, I could be happy in my solitude.
The day wore on as slowly as I had imagined it would, but I began to relax as the attention shifted
from my presence to someone else entirely. I was too grateful for this good fortune to push it away by inquiring too much about my replacement. The gossip swirled in every class and I asked no questions as girls I would never care to know giggled their way to their seats. Their customary stares, the ones given instead of casual greetings, were now lost in the flush of every female cheek and a predatory gleam in every female eye.
The more normal gushing went something like this.
"I met him this morning, Allie...and he's so cute! You just want to hug him!"
The girl named Allie agreed as she slid into the seat diagonal to mine and leaned in closer to her friend.
"Which you did...twice! I still can't believe you worked up the nerve! You know they bought the old Berwick place, right? He's not just cute, Hannah...he's got to be loaded too!"
"Well, of course he's loaded!" her friend replied with an avaricious gleam in her eye. "He's a Hopkins. They're the ones who've redone the old mill and turned it into a clinic. They're the one who're renovating downtown. They're the ones who are bringing jobs back. His family must have absolute tons of money! And did you see the car he drove to school?"
The best part of my new sense of non-existence was the attention that had been mine was now taken away. This day I had dreaded all summer was suddenly a breeze to get through. The hard plastic of my chair became a cushion to relax in. I leaned back to concentrate on the history lesson.
I would have pitied the new boy if it hadn't been for the girls' reactions. While it was never good to be considered the new one, at least they were accepting him. I would have been jealous if my relief had not been so great.
Looks like Evie's star charts were right again....
When the final bell at the end of the school day rang at last, I was almost sorry. I sprang out of my seat and out the door to join the sunlight that had teased me through the thin blinds shielding our classrooms from the outside world. My steps quickened as I left the big lawn edging the sidewalk and became quicker still as I headed toward home.
Don't forget about tonight! You have your fitting at seven!
Relief now that the day was finally over brought on a whole new fear as I remembered the words of my mother; I slowed almost to a crawl as the memory took hold.
My robes...my robes for my initiation.
I groaned aloud as I shifted my backpack, weighted now with books though it had been so light this morning, against my thin shoulders. Not now...not tonight. I don't think I can handle it, not that and the first day of school.
The astrological charts Aunt Evelyn lived by had proclaimed tonight would be the perfect time to begin getting me ready for the initiation as a full member of the Blanchett coven. The robes had been designed, created, and blessed by her; she'd been working on them in the last few months, the months leading up to now: the time when I would become something I didn't know I wanted to be.
A true member...one with a special gift to contribute...one who fills the third opening.
A Chosen One.
A witch.
The voice behind me seemed to read my thoughts as it cried out from the brightness of the day.
"It's the witch, boys!"
The saner part of me warned me not to stop, all too aware of how alone I was on the deserted sidewalk too far from safety. Not to stand and face the group of four descending on me faster than a pack of lions eager for a slaughter. My fear of the fitting took a backseat to something else; I planted my feet to the ground as the group came closer. They were all boys I'd known for years, Michael Pitts and Chuck Donovan, Billy Barnes and, worst of all, Jordan Raquel. Jordan had become their unspoken leader before preschool and they circled around him now like wolves around their alpha male, awaiting his permission to strike. Jordan tossed his books to the one closest to him.
"Hey there, magic maker."
Jordan's smile would have been charming if it had been aimed at anyone else. To me it was full of nothing more than malice as he stopped inches away from where I stood frozen.
I seemed to stop breathing as I waited for the worst to come. Teasing and spitefulness had become a part of my daily life when I was forced out into the world Manning had to offer, but never before had the others allowed themselves this close.
I knew, without quite knowing how, I was in danger.
I wonder if Aunt Evie saw this in her charts....
Chapter Two
Tommy
"Tommy?"
I pulled a pillow over my head and hoped the voice would go away.
"Tommy!"
I grabbed out blindly, not daring to open my eyes, and a second pillow joined the first. I burrowed deeper under my covers.
"Thomas Carlisle Matthew Hopkins!"
I moaned and rolled over, pillows escaping from my bed as if they knew something I didn't.
A rattle. I was pretty sure it wasn't a rattlesnake, but I wouldn't have bet on it.
A shard of light from newly-opened blinds sliced into the eye I had cracked opened. I squeezed it shut again to offer up a hopeful groan.
"Out of that bed right this instant, young man!"
"Five more minutes, Grand? Please?"
If it had been my dad, I would never have dared to even make the request. But I was lucky today. Dad hadn't arrived yet.
"No time to dawdle, Tommy. Come on now, out of bed. It's time to get up. You know what day it is."
Lucky. Hah. How lucky can anyone be on the first day of school? And a new school at that. Not just new school either: new town, new house, heck—new state. New country, if it came to it, since we'd just moved back to the States from Italy.
I sat up, all thoughts of sleep escaping with those turncoat pillows.
"Grand, say it ain't so!" I begged. "Please tell me it's not the first day of school already! We just got here!"
My grandmother stood at one of the windows of my room, the blind cord still in her hand. She is known officially as Mrs. Harcourt Jamieson Matthew Hopkins; to friends, family and acquaintances as Katherine; but to her thirteen grandchildren, of which motley crew I was the oldest at seventeen, as Grand. Both her nickname and a title, at least to me.
When you grow up in a very rich family always on the move, not just from city to city but from country to country, you look for a fixed point in your life.
My point is Grand.
"Now get those long legs in the shower, Tommy. Brent will have breakfast ready in fifteen minutes and you know how he hates it when anyone is late." She tucked the cord into a fancy holder at the side of the big window. Our new house—one of what seemed like dozens we'd lived in over the last few years—was a remodeled Victorian, Grand had told me on our trip here. Big and old, with lots of room for Grand, my dad, my sisters and me, and all our servants.
Brent, for one, is our chef. I know. Pretentious. But we Hopkins have tons of money and, as my dad once explained to me, we can't be expected to do menial things for ourselves when we can hire someone and provide them with a useful job. Well, that's not exactly how he said it, but I'm pretty sure that's what he meant.
"And if you don't hustle, I'll make you ride the limo to school, and drop off your sisters on the way."
I hit the floor and ran toward where I thought the bathroom was but, since we'd only got to this house late yesterday, wasn't exactly sure. I made it, though, and reached in to start the shower. Steam rose and I looked around to see if there was any soap.
Sure there was. Our maids took care of those things. One day, one of them will forget something. Or maybe they forgot stuff all the time, only Grand followed behind them to correct their errors, like she did mine.
I peeked back out the bathroom door. Grand was standing at one of the tall windows, the one with the blind she'd raised. From the tilt of her head she was gazing down, and her shoulders were a little slumped.
"Grand, are you okay?"
I heard her sigh as she turned. She smiled at me. "Just a little tired, Tommy. All this moving is making me feel my years."
"Hey, now."
I walked over and put my arm around her shoulders, gave her a quick hug. She looked as Grand always looked: a dress, today pale blue, pearls, and her grey hair in a braid wrapped around her head like a crown. She felt a little thinner than the last time I'd hugged her and it gave me a funny feeling. After all, I hugged her every day. Didn't I? Well, maybe I'd skipped a day or two lately, what with the move and all. You'd think we'd get used to it, moving as much as we did, but I sure never had.
"We're here for a while, at least, so let's make the most of it. Hey, maybe I can go out for football at school! Will you come to my games to cheer me on? Oh, and by the way; where are we again?"
Anybody else would have laughed, but not Grand. She knew I was as serious as a heart attack. "North Carolina, as you ought to know quite well, young man; a little town called Manning. Almost back home, at least for me. I was born near here, and I met your grandfather in Raleigh, the capital, when we were both in college."
She reached up and patted my cheek, then gave me one of those grins which meant 'I'm onto you, so watch out'.
"Now get in the shower, you hear me? I hear your sisters arguing."
My twin sisters, Jos and Jax, are eleven-going-on-twenty-five; both blonde and blue-eyed like me. In the distance I could hear loud shouts and louder complaints. Something to do with whose blouse was whose and what someone was going to do to someone else about stealing it.
I headed for the shower as Grand headed for the ruckus down the hall. Inside, the bathroom was steamy from the shower I'd left running. I wiped a space clear on the big mirror over the sink and made a face at myself, then stuck out my tongue. My hair stuck up all over my head, like it always does. Bed head could have been invented with my head in mind.
For a minute, it looked like someone was standing behind me and off to my right side, a figure barely visible in the steamy glass. A vague outline, a shape: shorter than me by a good bit, but then I'm pretty tall.