The Promptuary

by P J Whittlesea

  Anaïs shivered involuntarily and not just from the cold. 'I honestly don't know who it is. We've met before. He first showed up in Amsterdam and has been chasing me ever since.' She thought for a moment. 'There was a sort of showdown in Cornwall and he disappeared. I assumed he was gone for good. Clearly, I was wrong.'

  'Geez, Cornwall? You have been getting around.'

  She flashed her eyes at him. 'I know. Tell me about it!'

  'Well, you're safe now. They'll never find you here.' The Apothecary winked at her. 'I had enough trouble finding the place myself.'

  Anaïs smiled. 'Good to know.'

  The Apothecary turned his attention to her companions. He scratched his head again and looked at one of the shades.

  'If you don't mind me asking, who's the tranny?'

  'Tranny?' Anaïs was confused for a moment and then realised he was talking about Marilyn. 'Oh, her, ahem, him? Guess.'

  'What is it? A him or a her? Give me a break. Why can't you just tell me?'

  Anaïs was unmoved. 'Nope, guess.'

  The Apothecary pursed his lips and ran his eyes over the shade. 'Conchita Wurst?'

  Anaïs snorted. 'C'mon, you're not even trying.'

  He cocked his head. 'Madonna?'

  Anaïs blew a raspberry. 'Madonna? How could it be Madonna? She's still alive and kicking! So is Conchita. How many shades have you actually met?'

  'Not a lot,' he said. 'It's not my department.'

  'Fine, if you're not going to take it seriously I'll tell you.'

  'Good,' he said and folded his arms. 'I hate games.'

  'It's Marilyn, Marilyn Monroe,' said Anaïs proudly.

  The Apothecary's jaw dropped and he stared wide-eyed at the shade. 'You're kidding!'

  He straightened his lab coat, bowed and doffed his baseball cap. 'It's an honour to meet you, Miss Monroe. I'm a big fan.' He shuffled his feet nervously. 'I hope you don't mind me prying, but what was the whole deal with the Kennedys? I mean, did they really knock you off?'

  Marilyn cleared her throat. 'Who is this imbecile?'

  'Don't mind him,' said Anaïs, shooting a glance at the shade. 'He's actually quite cool once you get to know him.'

  'I doubt it.'

  'What did she say?' enquired the Apothecary.

  'Oh nothing,' said Anaïs. She hissed at him. 'I think it would be better if you didn't ask those sorts of questions.'

  The Apothecary screwed up his mouth and pulled in his chin. 'Why? What's the problem? What did I say?'

  'I don't think you should talk about the you-know-whats.'

  'The you-know-whos?'

  'My god, I didn't think you were that thick.' She stepped close to him and lowered her voice. 'The Kennedys.'

  'Ah.'

  'Don't talk about it. It's insensitive.'

  The Apothecary tried to process the information. 'Ok, suit yourself. I was just curious.'

  'What a moron!'

  Anaïs grabbed the shade's arm and spun her around. 'Maybe you better wait over there.' She indicated a couch positioned against the wall next to the lift doors. 'This won't take long.'

  Marilyn hesitated and then obliged. She stomped across to the couch and sat down, simmering at the Apothecary.

  He looked disconcertedly at the shade before turning to Anaïs. 'And what's up with the other crossdresser?'

  'Which one?'

  'Her.' He pointed at the librarian.

  'What!' exclaimed Immi. 'Crossdresser?'

  'Oops, sorry sister,' said the Apothecary, grinning. He raised his hands in defence. 'I was just having a bit of fun.'

  The librarian regarded him with disdain. He turned to Anaïs. 'I'll just shut up, shall I?'

  'That might be wise,' said Anaïs. 'There is someone here you do know.'

  Anaïs turned to her caretaker. 'This used to be Nan.'

  'No!' The Apothecary shook his head in disbelief.

  Anaïs looked at him sternly. 'Yes,' she said and nodded.

  The Apothecary was genuinely upset and covered his mouth with his hand. 'I'm so sorry. I really liked her. She was hot,' he said through his fingers.

  Anaïs glared at him. 'Are you trying to insult everyone in the room?' She shot a sideways glance at Nan.

  'Sorry, that came out all wrong.' He was genuinely upset and sniffed. He avoided looking at Nan and took Anaïs by the arm. He pulled her close to him and whispered, 'That's terrible. What happened?'

  'An accident,' said Anaïs flatly.

  'Anaïs, I'm really sorry.' He turned to Nan. 'Are you all right?' There was a moment of silence. Getting no response from the shade he directed his attention back to Anaïs. 'Is she all right?'

  The little witch didn't respond and stared at the floor.

  The Apothecary took a deep breath, eyed the women and exhaled slowly. 'Sorry, stupid question.'

  There was a pregnant pause.

  'Apology accepted,' said Anaïs, deadpan.

  The Apothecary took another deep breath and tried to break the impasse. 'By the way, you've really grown. I barely recognised you.'

  The little witch's face clouded over. 'Yeah, don't remind me,' she said with a hint of sadness.

  The Apothecary removed his cap and rubbed his head. He kneaded the cap in his hands apprehensively and his eyes flicked over the small group of women.

  He took another deep breath and straightened his back. 'So, enough chit chat. Is there anything you would like? It's all pretty unfamiliar here but I'll see if I can find what you need.'

  Anaïs shook herself out of her sullen mood and attempted a half-hearted smile. 'Thanks, we could use your help.'

  The Apothecary brightened and beamed at her. 'Excellent! Your wish is my command. Always willing to be of service.'

  'Good,' said Anaïs. 'Get us out of here.'

  'That's a bit beyond me, but I have a solution,' said the Apothecary. 'I'll call my mother.'

  Assistance

  Anaïs was taken aback. 'Son of a witch?'

  'Yes,' said the Apothecary.

  Anaïs was surprised and a little dismayed. The sudden news of the relationship had floored her. She temporarily forgot their present predicament. 'Why didn't you mention this earlier? That your mother was a witch.'

  'It never occurred to me,' replied the Apothecary sheepishly and with a tinge of guilt. 'There was no reason to tell you, I suppose. Besides, how often do we see each other anyway?'

  Anaïs considered him for a moment. Usually, the only contact she had with him was through email. They did have something in common. They both shared a passion for music. But when she thought about it, she really didn't know much about him. He supplied her with potions and such, but was more an acquaintance than anything else. She realised she didn't even know his name.

  'I thought the Organisation would've told you,' said the Apothecary.

  'Unfortunately, they don't tell me anything!' Anaïs retorted.

  The Apothecary pulled a long face and eyed her forlornly. 'That's a pity. What's wrong with them? I'm sure it would help if they kept you in the loop.'

  Anaïs wrung her hands and stared glumly at a black speck on the wall. She stiffened. 'Yes, it would. It would help a lot.' She looked down at her feet and sucked her bottom lip.

  Nan moved across to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Anaïs didn't feel the chill. She was already numb.

  'They wanted to protect you, Anaïs,' said the shade gently. 'It wouldn't help to tell you everything. Not right away, anyway. I tried to give you as much information as I could. But with some things, you first need to learn for yourself before you'll be able to understand what you're being told.'

  Anaïs sighed. She wasn't convinced. 'They could have told me this.'

  'They could have, but would it really matter? Would it make a difference?' She knelt down beside the little witch. 'You have to know you were never alone. There was, and always is, someone watching over you.'

  Nan bent forward and tried to put her head in the witch's line of sight.

&nbs
p; Anaïs stared past her at the floor. She refused to look Nan in the eye. She considered the caretaker's words. It occurred to her that what Nan said was true. In more ways than one she was not alone. She thought about the car which had followed them on the highway. She thought about the feeling she had after it had disappeared. The feeling she was being watched. She thought about the dark figure she had seen outside on the basilica’s steeple. She was certainly not alone. What bothered her was not knowing what or who was watching over her. And whether they were there to protect or attack her.

  Nan spoke softly. 'Trust me, Anaïs. You will know everything in good time.'

  The witch straightened and turned to her caretaker. Their faces were centimetres away from one another. So close Anaïs could feel Nan's icy aura.

  'That's good to know, Nan,' she said, almost in a whisper. 'But I still think it's a bit strange. Like they don't trust me.' She ran her eyes around the underground room. It was a large, long space and not well lit. There were dark recesses in the walls and she couldn't make out the far end of the room. It was pitch black. The feeling she was being watched returned. It was palpable. She shivered. Nan retracted her hand from the witch's shoulder and stepped away from her.

  The Apothecary crouched down on his haunches in front of the little witch.

  'Look,' he said. 'She can help. I'll call my mother. She'll come. She always does.' He smiled at her. 'I don't know about the rest of them but she's dependable.'

  Anaïs stopped eying the room over the Apothecary's shoulder. She looked at him morosely. 'But I can't get close to another witch. It's dangerous.'

  'Not a problem,' he said. 'We'll work it out. There are ways around that.' He stood, pulled out his phone and unplugged the headphones which were slung around his neck. 'I'll call her straight away.'

  A voice sounded in the darkness. 'That won't be necessary.'

  Anaïs looked past the Apothecary. A tall, thin woman, decked out in an air hostess's uniform, stepped out of the shadows in the far corner of the room

  'I am already here,' she said.

  Children

  Anaïs Blue was fortunate to have a rare gift which is only bestowed on children. When you are young more magical things come to you. Anaïs had second sight. She could sense and feel things others could not. Naturals have this too but the skill is rarely retained and developed. Often it is lost completely. This was not the case for Anaïs. She was still learning. She had an advantage. Even though she was mentally in her late teens, her physical form still influenced her. Like all small children a part of her had not yet been fully indoctrinated into the adult world.

  If we, as adults, could recall the inner beauty of childhood and not be forced to conform to the false lessons our counsellors have taught us, the world would be a far richer place for all concerned. There is much to be said about this influence. The wisdom of age is a useful thing. Unfortunately, it utterly destroys innocence. This innocence, which some may call naivety, is required to maintain an open mind. Most adults have lost this to their own detriment.

  Small children are not given the benefit of intelligence. They are not trusted with knowledge. They are far more resilient than they are given credit for. They are clever. Filters are put in place to ensure their education does not have a long term derogatory effect on development. Often these filters are poorly implemented.

  Due to this oversight, fully matured humans tend to carry the pains of their formative years around with them. They forget the good. The joys of childhood are masked. It affects every decision they make and warps their view of the world. For some, the negative completely obliterates the positive. It haunts them for the rest of their lives. For others, it never ends and continues on into the beyond. They can no longer recall what went before: the innocence at the very beginning of their existence. The wrong sort of education gets in the way. It prevents them from truly having free thought.

  If we were able to step out of these inbuilt restrictive zones and let fate hold our hands, we would get a great deal more out of life. I cannot deny that I too have fallen into this regimentation. But then, I am not a witch.

  The Organisation is extremely careful on the behavioural development front. A heavy, but delicate hand had been dealt with Anaïs's education. Or perhaps it could be better described as mis-education. She had been sheltered to encourage free thought.

  Witches must maintain an open mind. It is not possible to influence other people successfully, and supernaturally, if your upbringing has been tainted. Quite simply, you can no longer see clearly. How on earth are you going to notice the little things? Stuff like the subtle changes in seasons, or that one fragile insect trying to make its way across a busy highway. It ends with opening your eyes but always starts with opening your mind.

  As a child the world is an exciting place. Every day brings new discoveries. The imagination is given room to thrive. The outside world will accept your behaving oddly and acting out your fantasies. Children have enormous freedom. Witches make an effort to maintain this but sometimes, for them just as with all of us, life gets in the way.

  If the training is successful, witches can cope with acquiring knowledge without losing the child within. There are distinct advantages to their slow physical growth. Each stage in their development is allowed to take its own sweet time. There is no hurry—no pressure. Not giving more information than is absolutely necessary is fundamental. This can be frustrating for the student. Every child will constantly want to know more. There is the desire to suck everything in as fast as possible. But we all need to find a stable footing before we can fly.

  Anaïs had been given the chance to play with magic before it needed to be put into practice. This concentrated effort on the part of her nurturers would stand her in good stead. The advantages of her prolonged early childhood had been fully harnessed and strengthened. If she relied on them and trusted her educators she would be a force to be reckoned with. She would know how to use her powers correctly.

  We all have the chance to take advantage of childhood. We should never forget what we once were. Our inner child is the most important part of our psyche and should never be destroyed. It should not be subdued. It should be honed. Without it we can never fully be ourselves. When this part of us is lost we forget our place in the world. We lose our magic.

  The Mother

  The uniform was bright blue. The sight of it made Anaïs cringe. The air hostess had long blonde hair which was tied up in a bun. It sat like a crown upon her head. A thick layer of make-up coated her face and her pencilled eyebrows were positioned unnaturally high on her forehead.

  'How are you, Anaïs? It's so good to see you again,' she said.

  Anaïs took a step away from her and screwed up her face. 'Again?'

  She averted her eyes from the blue uniform and studied the woman's face. Anaïs guessed she was in her mid twenties, although it was difficult to discern. The make-up caked on her skin hid her true age.

  'Yes, we've met before,' said the woman.

  Anaïs frowned. 'We have?'

  'Yes,' said the air hostess. 'We met in Amsterdam.'

  'Oh?' Anaïs drew a blank. The woman was unfamiliar. Apart from that, Anaïs was still trying to work out how she could possibly be the Apothecary's mother. She was far too young.

  'Do you remember the library?'

  Anaïs eyed her suspiciously. 'Yes.'

  She ran her mind back over the last few days. So much had happened. But she had not forgotten her experience in the library in the Rijksmuseum.

  Anaïs stepped back in fear. 'Caput Mortuum!'

  The witch had not been happy to see her then and probably would not be now. Without other members of the Organisation around to stop her, she might be a threat. Anaïs sensed danger and grabbed Nan's arm. She pulled the shade in front of her. 'Don't hurt me. Look, I found your daughter.'

  She quickly released her grip. Her hand throbbed in pain from the cold. She cupped her hands and blew hot breath into her palms. It did not h
ave the desired effect and she shook her wrists vigorously to encourage the blood to flow.

  Now it was the air hostess's turn to be confused. 'My daughter?' She shook her head. 'No, I don't think so.' She turned and indicated the librarian.

  'This is my daughter,' she said.

  Anaïs was nonplussed. Still convinced she was facing Caput Mortuum she stuttered, 'Yes … but isn't this your other one?'

  'Other one? No, I don't have another one. One is definitely more than enough.' She threw a disapproving eye over the librarian. Immi reddened, her usual bravado completely gone. She shrank away from the woman and made herself small. Cut down in size she looked like a little girl. The air hostess moved over to the librarian and attempted to give her a kiss. She shrank away from her.

  Immi yelped. 'Oh, Mum, not now! Give it a rest!'

  Anaïs was dumbstruck. She knotted her brow and gaped at the two women.

  The air hostess began to fuss over the librarian. 'Why do you insist on wearing such a warm coat in this weather? You aren't in England anymore.'

  'I like it,' said Immi defensively and wrapped her arms around her chest.

  Anaïs cried out in bewilderment. 'Hang on!' She eyeballed the librarian. 'Wait a minute. This really is your mother?'

  The librarian turned up her lip. 'Yes, I'm afraid so.'

  Anaïs shook her head and tried to process the information.

  'But then …' she spluttered. 'Then, you're his sister!' She pointed and waved a finger at the Apothecary.