Gypsy Witch

by David Delaney

  Elyse scooted her chair closer to Maddie. "Hey, Maddie. Do you want me to make you up a plate?"

  Maddie smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

  I set my Dagwood-sized bagel sandwich down. I can be a total idiot sometimes. Maddie still had that dazed, faraway look in her eyes – she was still reeling from the craziness of the past few hours, not to mention seeing Lucy shot point blank.

  "Maddie," I said, getting her attention. "You're doing amazing . . . last night must have . . . well, it was a damn freak show. I know Lucy must have filled you in a bit, but still, all of this must be making your brain hurt."

  Maddie picked at the sleeve of her shirt. "I would be lying if I said I didn't feel like running, screaming from the building . . . of course, I don't even know where I am, so that would probably be a bad idea."

  "Los Angeles," I said. Maddie looked at me confused. "We're in L.A. Um, we took kind of a shortcut."

  "You mean the wormhole?" said Maddie.

  I chuckled. "It did kind of look like a wormhole didn't it?"

  "Officially, it's called a portal," Cynthia offered. "But I'm familiar with the concept of wormholes, and portals work very much the same way, in their effect on space-time."

  "Yeah, but instead of some techy, cutting edge science-y wormhole generator, your portal was created by a lady with silver eyes," said Maddie.

  "Yes. The portals are created and fueled by—" Cynthia began.

  "Magic," Maddie finished. "Yeah, I got that part last night. The whole magic is real thing. Somebody shooting fireballs from their hands tends make believers out of the most skeptical people . . ." Maddie trailed off, staring at the plate of food Elyse had placed in front of her. "How long do I have to stay here?" Maddie asked abruptly.

  "Well, you are not a prisoner, dear," Cynthia said, trying to assure Maddie. "We just want to make sure you understand what it is you're capable of and the rules governing the use of . . . innate abilities."

  I had to bite my tongue at Cynthia's assurance that Maddie wasn't a prisoner. If Maddie proved unable or unwilling to control her power, I had no doubt the Society would become very rigid in their response. That's how secret societies stayed secret.

  "Innate abilities . . . Lucy alluded to that, but I'm not sure – I mean, just now with Jimmy and the gun, did I really do something to heal Lucy?"

  She didn't know? Maddie didn't know she was a Paragon.

  "Yes, Madison. You helped keep Lucy alive with magic," said Cynthia plainly. "Lucy also reported that you healed several people from an attack that should have left them dead. Do you remember the green fire?"

  "Of course – yeah – the lady with black eyes, the one who could do magic like Lucy. She was trying to kill everyone in sight. But I blacked out or something. I. . . I'm not sure . . ."

  "You blacked out because of the amount of energy you pulled through your body," explained Cynthia. "That much power can short circuit the brain and leave events confused and jumbled. But you saved all of those people."

  "Oh . . ." Maddie whispered.

  I didn't think she was totally convinced yet, but she was starting to believe.

  "It's my hope that you can help Orson fill in the events of what transpired at the campus last night," Cynthia smiled. "Do you think you can do that?"

  "Yeah," Maddie agreed, and then quickly added, "Is Lucy going to be okay?"

  "She is receiving the best care possible," Cynthia responded. "She has a fighting chance, and if it wasn't for your quick action, I don't believe she would even have that chance. So, thank you."

  Maddie's eyes filled with tears. She wiped at them and nodded at Cynthia's kind words. Cynthia turned her gaze on me.

  Showtime.

  I took a deep breath and began my report. "It all started with a lady named Tinkerbelle, a dude in pink pants and a chicken . . ."

  Between Maddie and me, the story of what had gone down at Stanford became an easily digestible account. Cynthia would stop us for clarification if the timeline got confusing, but for the most part, it all flowed.

  When we finished, Cynthia turned to Elyse. "And you, Miss Kelly, why were you at Stanford last night?"

  "I went to see Orson. The compound is not that far from Stanford, and I missed him," said Elyse, reaching for my hand, which I gladly gave her.

  "I see," said Cynthia, and then, in a much softer tone, she asked, "And how is your father doing?"

  "Better, but it's still very hard for him . . . for all of us," said Elyse.

  "That's not surprising. Your mother was an incredible woman," said Cynthia. "I see her strength within you."

  The emotional vibe of the room was broken when the computer-phone thingy in the middle of the table rang. Instead of picking up the receiver, Cynthia punched the speakerphone button. Elyse and I would have been able to hear both sides of the conversation, as this room wasn't spelled for privacy, but Maddie would have been in the dark. It was a very cool move and I smiled at Cynthia.

  "Yes?" Cynthia said, in her no nonsense, grand poo-bah council voice.

  "Ma'am, the cleanup effort is proceeding, but we have bad news on the two additional targets," a clipped male voice reported.

  Targets? Plural?

  "Proceed," Cynthia directed.

  "First, we've located the house owned, by the woman known as Tinkerbelle. It has been burned to the ground."

  Maddie gasped and I sat up a little straighter.

  The voice continued. "The second woman, known as Dahlia, is missing, as is the main target, James Tobin."

  "He took her," I said.

  Cynthia held up her hand to silence me.

  "Were you able to search – I refuse to use the name Tinkerbelle," Cynthia said, exasperated.

  "Janice Gonzalez is the target's legal name," the operative reported.

  "Were you able to search through the remains of Janice Gonzalez's home?" Cynthia asked.

  "Yes, ma'am. No magic items were recovered. We are working on the assumption that the person responsible for the fire may have those items in their possession. Also, we are happy to report that it seems that those infected by the portal creatures are not able to transmit the infection themselves."

  I glanced at Wyatt. He shrugged back. There would be no monster-zombie uprising. Score one for the good guys.

  Cynthia continued. "Has there been any luck in treating the infected?"

  "No, ma'am. So far, nothing has worked. We are rounding up all the bitten and will be transporting them back to L.A. for further treatment."

  "Understood. Please continue with cleanup and containment," Cynthia directed, before disconnecting.

  "Jimmy took Dahlia," I repeated.

  "It seems logical, yes," agreed Cynthia.

  "And he . . . what, torched her house to cover his tracks? Why?" Maddie asked.

  Cynthia frowned. "During the conversation I had with Lucy before she was shot, she reported that Gonzalez had lost herself to blood-magic. She must have been in possession of more than just the love spell and the other spells that she's been peddling online." Cynthia sounded disgusted. "The ability the Internet has given to people to cause this kind of destruction . . . it's a real pain in the ass."

  Elyse's eyes went wide, while I stifled a laugh. Cynthia was always very proper, so to hear her swear was surprising. It was kind of like a grandma using salty language.

  Cynthia continued. "Unfortunately, James Tobin is smart. He was probably able to deduce all of this and, with all the panic and confusion, got to Gonzalez's house before we did."

  "But why would he take Dahlia?" I asked. "She's tough. She definitely wouldn't put up with Jimmy's crap, and with the love spell broken, I don't see why he would drag her along. . ."

  Cynthia's face became very serious. "Simple. She's going to become his next chicken."

  Elyse, Maddie, and I sat in stunned silence. Jimmy was going to bleed Dahlia to fuel whatever maniacal idea he'd decided upon. Jimmy was about to transform himself into a blood mage.

  "Well
, that sucks," I finally said.

  The door to the conference room opened, and Wyatt walked in, looking a little shell-shocked. He had dried blood on his shirt – Lucy's blood. Wyatt plopped down, pulled the tray of bagels to himself, loaded an Everything bagel with copious amounts of cream cheese and promptly took a huge bite. He chewed quietly, looking at each of us in turn. "What?" he asked, around a mouthful of bagel.

  "Jimmy kidnapped a woman and intends to use her blood for his magical delusions," I answered.

  "Holy crap," Wyatt responded. "I thought you said that guy was a harmless dick?"

  "That's what we thought," I said.

  Maddie raised her hand. "Um, what exactly is a blood mage?"

  "Someone like Lucy: a spell-slinger, except evil," I explained.

  "Totally evil. Think Emperor Palpatine or Voldemort," Wyatt added.

  "How is Lucy doing?" I asked.

  Wyatt shook his head. "They're working on her." He pointed his bagel at Maddie. "You saved her bacon. The Docs downstairs can't believe what you were able to do. They're super-impressed."

  Maddie's eyes widened. She looked like she was starting to panic.

  "That's quite enough, Wyatt," Cynthia said pointedly.

  Elyse put a reassuring hand on Maddie's shoulder. "It's okay."

  Maddie wasn't buying it. She stood up, pushing away from the table, stumbling back against the wall. "But if I really can do magic . . . and magic makes people insane, what if I go crazy, like Jimmy?"

  "Magic didn't make Jimmy crazy," I assured her. "He was already a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic."

  "Orson is correct. Your abilities are not new," Cynthia explained. "You were born with them, and clearly you're not crazy. I will not lie to you, Madison. Magic can drive some people mad. It's the power that they become intoxicated with, but you show no signs of this."

  Maddie shook her head back and forth, "I told Lucy I didn't know I could do magic . . . the car accident . . . I didn't do anything—"

  I switched on my sight, just to be safe. Maddie's aura was lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew she could heal people, but the magic energy swirling around her was looking agitated. I wasn't an expert. All I knew was that magic was magic, and it looked like Maddie was about to pop. I sat forward in my chair, prepared to absorb as much exploding mojo as I could. I flicked my eyes around the room. I could shield Elyse. Wyatt could just blink away – the kid was faster than light – but Cynthia would be on her own. I really hoped she had some protective magic up her sleeve.

  Cynthia stood and moved slowly in Maddie's direction, keeping her movements calm, her voice soothing. "Your healing ability manifested under severe duress. This is very common. Madison. You saved everyone in that car, just like you saved those people last night, and Lucy. And I bet if you searched your memories, there would be other instances in which you healed a family member or friend. We can help you learn to control your power, safely. I promise."

  The power building around Maddie didn't show any sign of slowing, but Maddie bit her lower lip, deep in thought. "Freckles," she whispered.

  Wyatt looked at me, a perplexed look on his face and silently mouthed 'freckles?' I gave him a quick shake of my head. Cynthia had Maddie talking. We needed to keep quiet.

  Maddie continued. "Freckles was our dog. He got hit by a car. The Vet, my parents, everyone said he was going to die. I held him in my arms." Maddie focused on Cynthia. "He didn't die. I was eight."

  Cynthia smiled, taking Maddie's hand in hers. "You see? The power has always been with you, and you're not evil or crazy. You're a bright, gentle, kind person."

  Maddie visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping, but more importantly the power she had been drawing in began to release in a controlled, non-exploding way. I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. Maddie let Cynthia lead her back to her chair.

  "So, what happens now?" Maddie asked.

  "We will take care of everything," said Cynthia. "First thing, I think you should probably call your parents. We don't want them to worry. Of course, you can't tell them about any of this, at least not right away. Do you think you can do that?"

  Maddie nodded.

  I was happy that Maddie was feeling better and on the path to acceptance of what she was and the new world she found herself in, but we needed to find Jimmy.

  "So, how are we getting back to Stanford?" I asked, thinking that another portal was the obvious choice. "Jimmy's trail is getting colder by the minute."

  "You're not going back to Stanford. At least, not right now," said Cynthia, pulling out her cell phone. A powerful mage with a cell phone still totally weirded me out, but as Lucy had explained, email was the magic of the modern age.

  "We're not going back to Stanford?" I repeated, confused.

  "No. You're still in training," said Cynthia, typing on her phone. "And Lucy is currently out of commission. Until she's . . . until that situation is resolved, you're staying put."

  The witch seeks to neuter us. We must teach her that we are not to be controlled.

  Ignoring the voice in my head, I said, "Cynthia, Wyatt and I—"

  "Wyatt is still in high school," Cynthia said, dismissively. "And do I need to remind you that due to your . . . unique abilities, your training is Lucy's responsibility?"

  Cynthia stared me down.

  I swallowed the growl that started in the back of my throat.

  My bear wanted to smash. The table would be a good start. I was pretty sure I could break the thing in half.

  Yes.

  Shut up.

  It took all my willpower to break eye contact with Cynthia and look away. Elyse reached under the table and squeezed my thigh. Her touch definitely helped.

  "So, we just wait around for Lucy to get better – if she gets better?" I asked.

  "That's correct," Cynthia snapped. "Miss Kelly, you may use the satellite phone to call your father and explain the situation and why you're currently in Los Angeles."

  "Thank you," said Elyse.

  "I'm an important part of the team," Wyatt interjected loudly, clearly not happy about Cynthia's high school remark.

  "Of course you are, but that doesn't change the fact that you're still in school," Cynthia responded. "And I believe you have a test today. If you leave now, you can still make it."

  Wyatt's mouth fell open.

  Cynthia stood, gesturing to Maddie. "Come along, dear. You can call your parents and then we'll let you rest up a bit before we start discussing our options. Miss Kelly, you're with me. I will take you to the phone."

  Elyse gave my leg another squeeze, nodded at Wyatt, and followed Cynthia and Maddie from the conference room. Wyatt and I sat there for a moment dumbfounded.

  "How the . . . that was so . . . she had no . . ." Wyatt stammered. "What the heck just happened?"

  "We were reminded who is in charge," I said quietly.

  The illusion of authority . . .

  Not now.

  "When's your test?" I asked Wyatt, getting to my feet.

  Wyatt checked his phone. "Not until fourth period. I've got about an hour."

  "How about breakfast? The bagels were good, but I'm craving bacon. My treat."

  "Sure," Wyatt agreed.

  "Can you . . ." I waggled my fingers.

  Wyatt laughed, imitating my finger waggle. "Is that your idea of sign language for teleport?"

  I gave him a look. It only made him laugh harder.

  "Come on." He reached for my shoulder.

  "Wait," I said. "We should check on Lucy first. I know they said it could be hours before we know anything, but I just . . ." I wasn't sure how to put how I was feeling into words.

  "Yeah, I get it," said Wyatt.

  He placed his hand on my shoulder.

  Blink.

  We were standing in a part of headquarters I'd never been in. It had a serious hospital vibe – quiet, but tense at the same time. We were standing in a hallway with cream-colored walls, doors evenly spaced spread o
ut in both directions – hospital rooms, maybe. I found it disconcerting that the Society had a need for so many rooms whose sole purpose was to house the sick and injured.

  "It's this way," Wyatt indicated, pointing left down the hallway. "I blink in down here because it's usually empty. I don't have to worry about bumping into anyone."

  Wyatt led the way. I followed, letting all my senses expand. It not only looked like a hospital, it smelled like one too: lots of cleaner and the tang of medicine. I couldn't hear anything from the rooms we passed, so I was pretty sure they were empty. My magic sight only revealed the normal magic wards I associated with Society HQ. As we rounded a corner, I could hear several agitated voices.

  "She's crashing!"

  "Damn it! Bring the field back up! What are we missing?"

  I sped up. As far as I knew, there was only one patient in that bad a shape.

  Wyatt ran to keep up. "Hey, what's up?" he called after me.

  "Something's wrong," I said.

  I skidded to a stop outside of what I assumed was an operating room. A speaker crackled to life, and additional personnel were requested to the operating room. Wyatt and I stepped aside as three more people in scrubs rushed past us. The voices in the operating room were still agitated.

  "Every time we drop the field, we start to lose her."

  "I don't know what else to do. We've removed the bullet, and the damage has been repaired. Why does she keep crashing?"

  "For now, we keep the field up. We'll take it in shifts."

  "Even in shifts, we can't keep her alive indefinitely."

  Wyatt poked me. "Hey, I don't have super hearing, remember? What are they saying?"

  I looked at the kid. He had known Lucy longer than I had, and he was a team member. I wouldn't lie to him. "They're not sure they can save her."

  CHAPTER 21

  It was after midnight when Jimmy finally pulled into a rest area in the middle of nowhere. The car was littered with fast food wrappers and small piles of Red Bull cans and Diet Coke bottles. A two-liter bottle that had once held Dr. Pepper was now filled with Jimmy's urine. He had not wanted to waste time stopping to use the bathroom. He wasn't sure if the cops were looking for him, but he knew the group Lucy worked for – the Society, she had called them – must be hunting him.