"Have you realized what you've done?" she asked, after several minutes. "This vampire, Victoria, can walk in the day? You do know you can never make anything like that again."
"Actually, there's a friend of mine. Another vampire. Her name's Zoey—"
"No. You can't make that potion. Ever. Again. And the werewolf cure. You rip them out of your book, and throw them away."
For the first time since he'd known Martha, Kevin was angry.
"You want to tell me why? You teach me all about magic, about being a witch, but you forgot to cover the rules."
"There aren't any rules, Kevin."
"Well, obviously there are."
"No. It's just…" She paused, gathering her thoughts. "This is my fault, and I'm sorry. I've never taught a full-blood before. This is all so…insane."
She was quiet. He wasn't sure if she expected him to contradict her, to prop her ego up, but he didn't have it in him. Like Martha, he was frustrated and tired.
"Magic is supposed to be…smaller. More personal. You're trying to change the world."
"I am not," he said, getting defensive.
"What's going to happen when this Victoria woman tells every vampire she knows that she's friends with someone that can take away their greatest weakness? There's a balance to the world, Kevin. Vampires stay in the night. Werewolves stay in the woods, away from silver. You are breaking that balance."
"Okay, fine." He was willing to say anything to make her relax. "I won't brew that potion anymore."
"What if they make you?"
"Then they'll find out how strong I am."
Martha looked down her nose at him, staring at him sternly. The glare immediately made him feel foolish for the macho remark.
"You're starting to believe what they tell you. All your monster friends. All the creatures that live in this world. Werewolves, vampires, goblins, fairies, humans. You think we're better than they are."
"No," he said, holding a hand up. "I never said that."
She stood, never taking her eyes off him. Gesturing to wait, she walked into the living room, turning on the lights as she went. Kevin leaned forward to watch as she approached the desk in the corner. She took a key from one drawer and physically unlocked another. The sight was a strange one. With a key in hand, a witch didn't need to unlock anything.
Martha pulled out a tablet. She returned to the kitchen and sat next to him.
"Why did you unlock the drawer?" Kevin asked.
"There's a spell on it," she said, tapping at the tablet. "A locking potion. You really do need a key to open it."
Kevin made a mental note to ask for that recipe later.
Martha launched an application, which asked for a password. She inputted a second password. Then a third. She held the tablet away from her, taking a photo of herself.
"Damn," Kevin said. "Are you breaking into Area 51?"
She didn't laugh.
With a sigh, she set the tablet on the table and angled it so they both could see. They were watching a video feed from a security camera. There was no audio. The room was small and bare. A bed was against one wall, a sink against the other. Mounted in the corner was a television. Behind the television, Kevin could see iron bars.
He was staring at a prison cell.
"What is this? What's going on?"
"This is…."
Martha trailed off, and Kevin glanced at her to see her staring intently at the screen. He looked back to see movement on the cot. A figure sat up. From the shape and broad shoulders, he could tell it was a man. Kevin couldn't make out many details, just a white set of pajamas and brown hair.
"Is this live, like right now?" he asked. "What are we looking at here?"
"This is David Manchester." Her voice trembled. "He's a witch, just like us."
She went silent. He knew there had to be more. A witch in a jail cell simply didn't make sense. He could think of ten ways to get out of a locked room.
"Why is he locked up? Hell, how is he locked up?"
"Thirty years ago, David went into a hospital and spent the weekend there. He went room to room and healed every single person he could. It didn't matter what they had. Cancer, broken bones, a few car accidents, a woman in a coma. He's a good man, and he wanted to do good things." She smiled sadly at Kevin. "He wanted to change the world."
He rolled his eyes.
"And that's a terrible thing," he said sarcastically. "To use our magic to help people."
"Kevin, think. What do you think happened after that?"
"I don't know. Maybe the media came?"
"Much worse than that. The government showed up, swarming like bees. They shut down the hospital, quarantined the patients and their families. They even locked the doctors up for weeks. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the world doesn't really believe in miracles. We're lucky the Internet didn't exist back then. David could have exposed witches to the world in just two days."
Kevin felt a lump in his throat. One of his acts before knowing he was a witch was helping Rachel's parents in a hospital.
"So, what happened to David?" Kevin asked. "Did you all hold some kind of witch trial or something?"
He meant it as a sarcastic joke. Martha, again, didn't laugh.
"The other witches got together. They decided, for his sake and ours, to lock him away."
"You're his jailer?" he asked, pointing at the tablet. "You keep an eye on him with that?"
"No, I don't. I'm just a backup. One of many. I had nothing to do with the decision. I stay out of witch politics."
He shook his head at the phrase. It seemed everyone, from vampires to witches, had politics.
"How do you even lock a witch up, anyway?"
Martha's cheeks turned pale, and he regretted asking the question. Her answer was to gesture to the tablet. Kevin stared at David, who now performed jumping jacks. Ten seconds passed, and nothing jumped out at him.
"What?" he said. "What are you—?"
Kevin saw it.
David's arms didn't look right. Kevin grabbed the tablet and drew it closer. He pinched and zoomed for a close-up as David exercised.
His hands were missing.
It all became clear. Kevin put the pieces together. He slid the tablet across the table, not wanting to see another second of it. His own skin turned cold, followed by slight nausea.
"Shit," was all he could say.
He didn't need an explanation, but Martha provided one regardless.
"Without these," she said, wiggling her fingers and waving her hands. "We're not really witches anymore. I told you before. Every recipe needs a witch's touch."
His thoughts swirled in all directions.
"You…cut off his hands," he muttered. "For helping people. You took his powers and threw him in a cell."
"I didn't do anything. But…yeah. Vampires do it, too. If one of their own goes crazy, they take care of it." She touched his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry you had to see this, but I had to show you. We're not like everyone thinks we are. We're not all-powerful. And we have to keep a low profile. Really, you should be keeping a no profile. You wonder why they keep chasing you. It's because you use magic like you're on the stage, for all the world to see."
She wasn't entirely right, but he didn't feel like arguing. His throat was dry, but he couldn't bring himself to reach for the soda in front of him. He wasn't sure how they got there. He was working on his project, privately, keeping a low profile. Now, he was in the kitchen watching a witch in a cell.
One of the reasons he left his home and friends behind was to clear his head. It was a mess once again.
"So," Kevin said. "There's a group of witches running around out there cutting hands off."
"You make it sound so barbaric. We do have a society, Kevin, just like anyone else. We talk about the world, about ideas, how to make things better for everyone. We talk about how to protect ourselves from those who wish to hurt us." She pointed at the tablet. "And, sometimes, we have to protect everyon
e else from us. David wasn't thinking, and he hurt more than he helped."
"You agreed with that?" he said, watching David as the television in the corner turned on. With no hands, Kevin guessed it was voice-controlled.
She leaned back, staring at him. He realized, at that moment, their relationship had changed.
"We gave him another chance, and he tried it again. We kept an eye on him. He was caught trying to sneak into a center for burn victims. Again, he would have exposed all of us. What would you have done?"
Kevin didn't have an answer, and he hated that. A part of him understood the point Martha was making, but that didn't mean he liked it. Jack always told him he was too soft. He couldn't fully understand punishing someone for trying to do good. Did he have it in him to cut off someone's hands?
Martha accepted his silence as an answer.
"I hope you never have to make a hard decision like that."
He was quiet a moment.
"Don't use magic too much," he said. "Or lose my hands."
"Stop. No one's taking your hands. Just…small magic, Kevin. Common sense. Not what I read in your book. I'm the one who sent you after your first werewolf. And you took care of it, without showing up on the news or Internet."
"Yeah, by curing him! I had help with that, too. Victoria, my friend. I guess I've been breaking the rules since day one."
She sighed and put a hand to her forehead in frustration. They were going in circles. Kevin got the message. Be subtle. It was a lesson Victoria had imparted as well. Victoria, the woman who fought with her own kind to protect him.
No more selling potions at the mall. No more curing werewolves, or helping vampires walk in the sun.
That shouldn't be too hard.
"Martha, I get it," he said, his tone easing somewhat. "I won't do anything crazy. I won't run into any hospitals throwing healing water everywhere. But…I'm sorry. Victoria is still my friend."
She managed a small smile.
"I'll take what I can get. I'm just worried about you. I worry about all of us."
Movement from the tablet caught his attention. David was sitting on the cot once again. Two women stood at his side. They weren't dressed as security or prison guards. A dress, a pair of jeans, colorful blouses. One jotted notes on a pad while the other fed David from a tray of food.
"What's going on?" He pulled the tablet closer.
"Breakfast, I guess," she said. "And it looks like she's writing down a recipe."
"Magic?" he said. "It still comes to him?"
She nodded.
"All de-powered witches are still in touch with magic." She gestured to David. "The act of getting it out, writing it down, helps keep us…even. I know you've felt it. As soon as something hits you, you have to get it out there, think about it. So, they're helping him do that."
Kevin knew what she meant. It was why he carried a notepad, and often blurted out strange things to Leese at the worst times.
"What happens if they weren't there? If he had to keep it all bottled up?"
"He'd eventually lose his mind, go crazy."
He said nothing as he let that sink in.
"Do you see?" she asked gently. "We're not as dangerous as the monsters out there think we are."
"Just to each other, it looks like. Why don't you all just kill him?"
"Good witches don't do that. We don't kill each other."
He wanted to bring up his parents, his birth parents, but decided against it. He regarded Martha as she sat next to him. Her expression told him she took no joy at David's fate. Even now, as she watched the crippled witch, her eyes welled with tears. It reminded him that she was still the caring woman he knew. She was the same woman that trained his parents and mentored him.
But a part of him wondered what else she'd done in her life.
"A lot for one night, I know," Martha said. "I just…I don't want you to be in the dark. And this magic you're using…it's big."
"You don't think I know that? I can't help what I come up with."
"I know, I know. But you can just write it down, hide it somewhere, and never think about it again. We don't need vampires and werewolves hunting us, not to kill us, but for magic."
Kevin nodded. He took her words to heart, but wasn't worried. If Martha knew his friends, she'd understand. He trusted Victoria with his life. Zoey didn't know any other vampires. He only knew one werewolf, and she wanted nothing to do with a cure.
"I understand."
He stood up, casting one final glance at the tablet. He wanted to crash in the basement and sleep for twelve hours.
"Kevin?"
He turned to face her. She seemed more exhausted than him.
"Are we still cool?"
It was strange to hear her use the word cool.
"We're cool," he said. "Just don't let me catch you snipping at my wrists with garden shears."
They both wanted to laugh, but weren't capable. He politely waved as he headed for the stairs.
"Goodnight, Martha."
"Goodnight."
CHAPTER 9
Leese muttered to herself as she climbed out of the car.
"So much for not wearing an uncomfortable dress."
She pulled the dress from her skin for what felt like the hundredth time as she stood at the gas station. Part of her regretted agreeing to help Cindy out of her current jam. It was another hectic day at the vet's office. She had to hurry home to shower if she wanted to avoid being out all night. She had the stylishly-ripped jeans in her hand, but decided if she was going to represent her family's company, she'd better avoid looking like she was on her way to the club. Putting the jeans and tee shirt away, she pulled out an aqua-colored dress she hadn't worn since high school. It still fit her nicely and was comfortable.
At least, comfortable at first.
The speedy shower was for nothing. Rush-hour traffic took over when she hit the road. She'd been driving nearly an hour when she stopped to get gas. Her legs were sweaty, making the dress stick. She stood near the pump and fanned out the bottom, creating a breeze. Her display caught the attention of a group of high school football players a row over. They leered and smiled, with two of them whispering to each other. Leese tried to take comfort in the fact that despite her recent bad luck with romance, she could still turn the heads of immature teenage boys. Cindy had been constantly trying to make weekend plans, to party through every street in Baltimore, but Leese wasn't ready. The admiration of high schoolers would have to do for now.
She returned to the car after filling the tank and buying a bottle of water. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to relax for a moment. She shifted in her seat and took a deep breath. A flash of memory attacked, of the two men grabbing her. She flinched, but didn't open her eyes. She felt their hands on her skin, her wrists and ankles. Her breath hitched as she remembered the struggle, of fighting with everything she had, but still being taken against her will.
A knock came at the window. Leese's eyes shot open as she nearly lunged for her purse on the passenger seat. She reached inside, feeling for the pepper-spray she now carried always. A gentle voice made her pause.
"Miss?"
She looked back to see an elderly man, giving a polite wave as they made eye contact. He smiled sheepishly as he gestured to the gas station around them.
"I don't want to be pushy, but are you done? All the other pumps are filled up, and it looked like you were just sitting here."
A wave of emotions took hold as she tried to control her breathing. She wanted to be mad at the impatient driver, but was just happy that's all he was. Common sense and logic wrestled with her panic. Alex and Victoria had dealt with the men that kidnapped her. They weren't a threat. Even if they were, it was doubtful they'd come at her in a crowded gas station. Kevin was also out of her life. There was no use going after her to get at him, when she didn't know where he was.
"Ma'am?" he said, concerned. The phrase sounded odd considering their age difference. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Sorry. I'm all done."
She pulled into one of the front spots, freeing the pump. Sweat beaded on her forehead, despite the air conditioner running full blast. She took a drink of water. Her dress was damp, and a moment of vanity grabbed her, as she wondered how she'd look for the walk-through.
The phone rang inside her purse. Leese didn't need to look at the caller ID to know who it was. Only one person called her regularly. Everyone else texted.
"Yeah," she greeted, dabbing at her skin.
"What are you doing?"
The sharpness of Alex's tone surprised her. She froze in place as she checked her appearance in the mirror. Covered in nervous sweat or not, she still looked presentable.
"Heading to the client's house." She closed her eyes, thinking back to the notes she'd read at lunch. "Sheila Boyd, and her son, Timmy. I'm ten minutes out. Don't worry, I won't be late."
"You shouldn't be doing that."
His words stung. She didn't like to admit it, but she was still Alex's little sister. His opinion of her meant a lot, more than she often let on. She was legally old enough to drink, but only over-indulged once. Even in her drunken state, she clearly remembered the look of disapproval on Alex's face as Cindy helped her out of the club. She never drank that much again.
"Cindy said you needed help," she explained. "I'm not going to embarrass you guys, or the company. Don't worry. I even wore a nice dress. I can do this."
"That's not what I'm talking about."
"What do you mean?"
Alex was silent, and Leese finally realized what was going on. She struggled to keep her emotions in check. He didn't have to say a word. Sibling communication.
"Oh," she said. "It's because I'm so delicate, and so broken down from breaking up with Kevin. If there really is a ghost, I might fall apart and cry in the corner."
"I didn't say that."
"Then what are you saying?"
More silence. Leese let out a smile at having figured her brother out. He wouldn't have chosen her words, but his thoughts must have been very close.
"I'm just looking out for you," he said, his tone softening.
Leese's tone hadn't wavered.
Damned and Cursed (Book 8): Witch Trial Page 10