Better Witch Next Time

by Stephanie Damore

  "Oh my goodness, that is wicked cool. Show us again," a girl's voice practically shrieked. I had my shoulder against the wall and my feet crossed as I stood outside a bedroom and listened in.

  "Are you for real? Dude, this is way freaky," said another girl.

  "I think you need an exorcism," another girl added in all seriousness.

  "Shut up, no she doesn't." the first girl replied. "Don't you get it? She's a witch. Magic is real."

  "I don't know. I don't like it. I'm out of here," I looked inside the room just in time to see a girl perform an impressive hair flip and head toward me. I turned and looked behind me and held the drink to my mouth as the girl made her exit. She completely blew past me and headed down the stairs.

  "Don't listen to Betty. She's just jealous because the only thing she can conjure is a credit card," said the one girl.

  "And it's her daddy's," the second girl added.

  That got a laugh out of the trio.

  "Thanks. I know it’s sort of freaky, but it's kind of cool, right?" the young witch asked her friends.

  "It's totally cool."

  "Totally," the two girls chimed in one after the other.

  "What's your aunt think?" the first girl asked.

  "Aunt Carol? Are you kidding me? She has no clue what's happening to me. She's too busy trying to seduce the dance instructor back at the resort," the young witch replied. Oh my goodness, so it was true. Dirty Dancing was based on a true story, I thought to myself.

  "But don't, like, witches run in families or is that just a myth?" the second girl asked.

  "I have no idea. It's not like they have a witchcraft section at the public library or that I can ask my parents. They're dead, in case you forgot."

  "No, course I didn't forget. I'm sorry. I just thought maybe you knew," the second girl said.

  "The only thing I know is green sparks sometimes come out of my fingertips and I swear one time I froze Mr. Giggles in place for a minute. Don't worry, the pug was okay," the witch quickly added.

  I suddenly knew why my intuition had brought me here. This poor young witch needed direction much like the other young witches I was searching for. And if this young lady wasn't careful, she might face the same predicament that the other young witches found themselves in—at the hand of someone with much sinister intentions than showing off at a party.

  "Let's go get drinks," the first girl said.

  "Yeah, who knows what Betty is telling everybody downstairs right now," the second girl added.

  "We better go and make it sound like she's crazy," the first girl laughed, and the trio moved to come out of the bedroom. Thankfully, the young witch was in the back of the line, and I was able to tap her on the shoulder as she walked by.

  "Can I have a quick word?" I said.

  "Um," the girl shook her head as if unsure of what to say.

  I pressed on, pulling her aside into the room that she had just left. "I overheard your conversation."

  The girl started shaking her head more vigorously, and I had a feeling she was trying to come up with an excuse for what I might have overheard.

  "It's okay, I'm a fellow witch. In fact, it was your little magical show that drew me to you." I pointed to the window, and the girl's face drained of color. "I just wanted to let you know you have to be careful out there. There's a big supernatural world just waiting for you to discover it, but you want to discover it on your own terms and not when some demon and shifter comes calling, drawn by your magical talents." I may have pushed that last comment a bit too far as the girl looked like she was about to start hyperventilating. I touched her arm in a calming manner. For a split second, I did think about erasing her memory and taking back what I had just said, but then again, it was smart for her to be armed with the knowledge of what existed out there. She was going to be part of the witchcraft community, of that I was certain.

  I continued. "Don't worry, it's not all things that go bump in the night. There's plenty of witches out there, good ones. In fact, more than plenty if you live anywhere near New York City."

  The girl looked hopeful. "Really?"

  "Really. I promise." I took out Michael's phone number from my purse and gave it to the girl. I remembered him telling me that he had introduced Melody to a coven, and I was sure he would be able to do the same for this young girl. If anyone knew the ins and outs of the supernatural community in New York City, it was him. "This guy can help you out. Just call him and tell him that Vee told you to call. He can introduce you to the right friends."

  "Thanks," the girl said, pocketing the number. "But why can't you just help me?"

  I could tell she was still a bit shaken by my demon and shifter comment.

  "Because I have another witch to help. Speaking of which, I need to get going." I gave the girl’s hand a squeeze and left her to join her friends, hoping that she would take my advice to heart.

  I was one foot out the front door when I heard Betty's voice come from the adjacent room.

  "Marge is a freak, and I'm going to make sure everybody else knows that."

  "What is your problem, Betty? You can't handle that somebody has a special talent that you don't?" one of the young witch’s friends replied.

  "Talent? You call what Marge can do a talent? That's witchcraft. You know they used to burn people at the stake for doing things like that. Maybe I can bring it back." Betty looked down at her fingernails as if she was contemplating doing just that.

  Oh no, I thought. There was no way I was walking out of that house when girls like Betty were out to destroy a young girl's life. It's hard enough being a young witch and figuring out your own powers without having a bully like Betty out to destroy you.

  I walked right into that room and looked Betty straight in the eye. The other two girls sucked in a breath, not even knowing who I was. Just my mere presence seemed to tell them that I meant business.

  Betty wasn't that smart.

  "And who are you?" she said with her snotty attitude.

  Oh man, the choices. It would give me nothing but satisfaction to blast Betty and her backside. Unfortunately, it would also not cause her to change her ways. If anything, she would be more inclined to run around telling everyone about how horrible Marge was and how she needed to be stopped. No, I had to be the adult here. I took Betty by the wrist. She looked at me in shock that I had dared to touch her.

  "Let me—"

  I didn't let her get in another word. I sent a thousand volts from my body into hers and instantly recircuited her brain, making her forget everything that she had witnessed upstairs, including her promises to ruin Marge's life. The other two friends stood silently.

  I took a play out of Michael's book and said, "You know, Betty, I don't think you really like being in the Catskills anymore. No, you want to make a difference in other people's lives. So you're going to join the Peace Corps." It was the only thing I could think of on the fly that may give Betty a glimpse at how ridiculous and petty she was being. Perhaps working toward world peace would open her eyes and make her a better person. It was either that or I was going to have her join a monastery. I decided the Peace Corps was a more practical option.

  "You're going to go ahead and contact them tomorrow morning and see about enlisting. Do you understand me?" I asked.

  "Peace Corps," Betty said numbly.

  I nodded my head. "Good. And, you are going to be very nice to these two young ladies here," I raised my eyebrows to them.

  "Penny," girl number one said.

  Of course that was her name.

  "Judy," said the second girl.

  "You're going to be very nice to Penny and Judy, and their friend Marge. Got it?" I said to Betty.

  Once again, Betty nodded.

  "Good. You should probably head home now so you can start preparing to join the Peace Corps," I said letting go of Betty's arm.

  She blinked her eyes a couple of times and didn't say another word as she walked out the front door. I then turned my attentio
n to Judy and Penny. "Betty won't remember anything about Marge. The question is, can Marge trust you?"

  "Absolutely," said Penny.

  "Totally. Marge is our girl," Judy replied.

  "Good, I'd hate to have to encourage you to join the Peace Corps as well." Both Judy and Penny turned white as snow.

  "We'll be good, I promise," Penny said.

  "I trust that you will be," I said with perhaps a little bit more conviction than I felt.

  With my good deed done for the day, it was now time to rescue some witches. I walked out of the house with my shoulders back and my head held high, no longer caring if my presence caused pandemonium or not.

  I crept through the woods separating the two properties. With my knees bent and my body crouched low, I weaved through the underbrush, careful to stay alert for any incoming threats. The night was eerily quiet and the moon full and high in the sky. In the distance, somewhere in the mountains, a werewolf howled and sent a shiver down my spine.

  Then through the tree line, I saw the Hendrickses' house. Lights were on, but the question was, who was home? I stuck to the property's edge as I walked downhill and around to the back of the yard. From there, I looked up at the house, which was set slightly on a hill. In front of me, I saw it—a garden shed. I knew that's where the girls were hidden. It made perfect sense. The setting was isolated with very few neighbors, and it was in close proximity to the water, not twenty feet from the lake's edge. And who could forget the dirt? I would bet any amount of money that the shed had a dirt floor. There was only one way to find out if my hunches were correct.

  My adrenaline was pulsing as I felt I was moments away from rescuing the girls. I kept my head low and dashed across the backyard until I was in front of the shed, my body hidden from the front of the house in shadow. With ease, I put my hand on the shed door and felt it unlock in my grasp. Carefully I pushed the door inward and leaned in to look inside.

  And that was when someone attacked me.

  I had been so focused on the shed that I hadn't heard the person sneak up behind me. Without warning, my neck was gripped from behind and searing hot pain poured into my body like lava. The unexpected pain took me to my knees. I fought through the pain and tried to reach behind me and get ahold of my attacker. One fistful was all I needed to fry their circuits. I tried to conjure an orb of electricity to hit them with, but my power was quickly fading. Then, it was lights out.

  Chapter 17

  Colors swirled and melted together in front of my face—watery blues, soft lilacs, cotton candy pink. Unable to focus, I watched the colors dance in front of me. In the distance, or maybe it was right beside me, I heard voices, but I couldn't concentrate on them. I had no idea what they were saying. Every time someone spoke, the colors became more vibrant, pulsing with the cadence of speech. I remembered thinking that I must be drugged, although I didn't remember the how or when. I only remembered the burning pain. Then, I shut my eyes and I slept.

  The only good thing about being drugged was that it made it easier to have an out-of-body experience, which is what astral projection required and what I was attempting to do to call for backup. Reaching out to my familiar, Agatha, was my best shot at getting her to alert Lexi and the other time-traveling witches. When you used astral projection, your physical body remained unconscious in one spot while you projected yourself to another. The fact that I had to pick not only another place to project to but also another time made it all the more of a challenge and why I'd be able to accomplish it only through Agatha. My eyes were already closed and my head felt fuzzy. I used that to my advantage as I floated away, feeling myself lift up from my body and, like a current, let the pull of the future take me away. Colors blurred past my eyes, much like the ones that had swarmed in front of my face a minutes before, only now additional hues joined the fold. It was like I was being churned in a vat of rainbow sherbet.

  Slowly, my living room came into focus, and there was Agatha, lying on my kitchen table just snoozing away.

  "Agatha," I said, my voice echoing in my ears. Agatha lifted up her paw and used it to cover her ear as to not be disturbed.

  "Agatha!" I said, louder this time. She continued to rub her ear, but this time she cracked open an eye. Seeing my projection had her coming fully alert. Her head jerked up and both eyes popped open.

  "What's wrong? Where are you?" Agatha asked.

  "In a shed in the Catskills. The Hendrickses' summer home. Get backup, quickly!"

  The words were barely out of my mouth before Agatha leapt off the kitchen table and into action. My living room dissolved in front of my face and I felt myself being pulled backwards through the ether until I was sucked back into my own body.

  A cold, hard slap across my face brought me to. My cheek stung. The colors were still there, but my mind was coming back. My hands were chained behind my back. My throat was dry, my head ached, and I felt weak. I looked down at my torn dress and bare feet.

  "Get up!" the woman snapped at me. I lifted my head, blinking several times as Mary's face came into focus. "Walk," she commanded me.

  I twisted my wrists in their metal vice, recalling the rope that had held the other girls secure.

  "I'm not taking any more chances," Mary replied as if reading my mind. But little did Mary know, I could break out of handcuffs quicker than I could have with rope. After all, mechanical locks were no match for me.

  Mary grabbed my arm to lead me forward. The same searing pain filled my body and threatened to take me down once more. She gave a wicked laugh, and if my strength was half of what it usually was, I would break out of the handcuffs and throttle her.

  My legs were wobbly as I staggered forward up the hill and toward the house. Outside, shifters stood watch, their arms folded across their chests and their eyes steely. I had no idea what they shifted into, but I had a feeling it wasn't puppy dogs.

  The air shimmered and flickered around them. Their hands twitched. It was a full moon, I thought, which only made things more dangerous for us. The shifters were forced to change before the sun came up, that was just the way they were made. Preventing them from doing so would be catastrophic for all of us close by. I shivered as I thought about the house full of teenagers next door.

  Mary nudged me forward. The shifters stepped aside, and I walked into the ground level of the Hendrickses' Catskills home. The house was full of rustic charm. It was all exposed cedar—the walls, ceiling, and floor. Of course, it would be sometime before I would remember what the place had looked like. At that time my only concern was not dying. The room was a living room and kitchen combo. The living room furniture had been pushed back except for a small end table, leaving the center of the floor open where a geometrical pattern had been painted. I recognized the pattern from Mr. Hendricks' chalkboard. The three teenage witches sat bound there in the center. Like me, their hands were behind their backs, bound in handcuffs. Mary must've had to adapt her bounding strategies after Irene demonstrated her fire power—which I was sure she did shortly after being captured.

  "Didn't I tell you to stay out of this?" she said as she led me to the center of the floor and sat me down among the other three girls. She then used an electrical cord to bind us all together. Only our feet were free. Then she removed a dagger from the fireplace mantel, where a fire crackled below it. The room was already warm from the summer nighttime air, the fire only added to it, making me sweat.

  My mind struggled to comprehend how Mary could be the mastermind behind this. Across the room in the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Hendricks had been tied to kitchen chairs. The chairs were back to back, with their hands behind the chairs and tied together. Handkerchiefs had been used to gag their mouths. Tears streamed down Madeline’s face.

  "I am more than just a kitchen witch. I have given my life in servitude to your family and now you will give to me what I deserve." Mary knelt down in front of Mr. Hendricks. "My mother used to rule New York City and once this stone heals her, she will rule it once more with me by her
side."

  I couldn't believe that Mary had orchestrated all of this to regain her mother's strength. On one hand, it was an act of love, trying to save her mother, but somewhere along the line, it had gone horribly wrong and twisted into one of the most malicious plots I had ever come across.

  Mary stood and held the dagger up to Mr. Hendricks' face. "I'm going to cut you free and you're going to make the stone. If you make one move toward those doors, those shifters will shred you.” The man standing guard smiled as if that was something they would thoroughly enjoy.

  Once the gag was free from his mouth, Mr. Hendricks tried to reason with Mary. "Listen, Mary, I don't know how to make the stone. It's all theory at this point and without my notes—"

  "I don't want to hear your excuses! You will make that stone, or I will kill you all right here, right now!"

  Mr. Hendricks visibly swallowed.

  Mary led Mr. Hendricks to the center of the circle, to the small table where chunks of raw minerals and tools for measurement stood. He eyed them skeptically.

  Mary retrieved five glass vials from the fireplace mantle. "Five vials should be enough, don't you think?" she said winking at me. I quickly surmised that she was planning to take blood from all of the witches present—herself included. Unlike the werewolves, I doubted she was going to use a syringe. Light glinted off the dagger in her hand.

  She started with her own wrist. I looked away, but the smell of the blood put the already tense shifters over the edge. I looked up and saw that two of them had partially changed. Their hands were now paws and their teeth elongated. One shifter whimpered, and his back leg pawed at the ground.

  This was incredibly stupid, I thought to myself, employing the shifters to act as security. Although, I had a feeling these guys had been ordered to comply and that they hadn't volunteered for the job. No werewolf would willfully offer to take such a job on a full moon. They must be low in the rank.