Junior Witch

by Ingrid Seymour

  Disha harrumphed but didn’t say another word as we turned the corner and the giant colorful owl appeared. It’s trippy, psychedelic wings spread out across the bricks of what was left of my building. Its owl eyes seemed to take us in, appraising, finding us wanting.

  In a swift motion, I placed my palm on the warm brick beside the owl and the girls did the same. I glanced between them, making sure they were ready. Then, I triggered my cuffs.

  The strange sensation of dissolving into particles would never feel normal no matter how often I did it.

  We lurched into being in the middle of a snowstorm.

  My legs, arms, and other assorted body parts fizzled into solid matter as snow pelted my face. Squinting and shrinking away from the cold, I bumped into Disha who shrieked, “Snow! I told you it’d be freezing.”

  “Don’t be a baby,” I said, pulling up my parka hood. “You should be used to this, being from New York and all. I’m a nice Southern girl, and you don’t hear me complaining.”

  Once I glanced around to make sure no one was looking, I created the heating spell and held it between us.

  Canada was white. Snow blanketed the land blurring everything into one homogeneous sea of wintery blandness. We had materialized at the far end of a park. Off in the distance, past the snow-capped pines, was the exit I’d seen in the photos. However, there was a large stretch of white wetness between us and civilization. Good thing we’d worn boots.

  “How far?” Disha mumbled into her parka’s faux fur lining.

  I patted her on the shoulder. “You’ve survived a lich, a time demon, and a crazy elemental. You can survive a day in a wintry climate.”

  I was going to say more, but Bridget was already charging ahead, arms pumping as her parka made a swish, swish sound. The determination on her face made me worry about her presence here. She’d promised not to rush into anything on her own but maybe I’ve made a mistake.

  “Come on,” I said to Disha. “We need to stop Captain Over-excitable before she gets herself in trouble.” I gestured to Bridget.

  Disha trudged beside me as we caught up to Bridget.

  With my breath puffing in front of me, I took in the sights. I had to admit that though snow was friggin’ freezing, seeing it blanket everything was truly magical. The powder sparkled as street lights reflected on it. The tree boughs hung low, heavy-laden with their snowy covering. Our boots crunched into the ice, leaving footprints wherever we went.

  The street was just as magical, though in a different way. It grew darker here much earlier in the day, so full night was already upon us, but the Quebecers knew how to handle it. Christmas lights dripped from overhangs and clung to balconies along the tree-lined street. Apartment windows glowed with warm light as cars streaked past. The twinkle lights reminded me of the fairy parties back at the Academy. Though I knew they were only replicating magic, it made me feel at home.

  “Lovely,” Bridget said. The white lights reflected in her green irises as she surprised me by taking a moment to enjoy our surroundings.

  Disha grabbed both our arms. “May I remind you that we are here to see known killers? You know, vampires and werewolves who will rip out our throats as fast as look at us. We can sightsee later. Buy a moose mug or something.”

  “Buzzkill,” Bridget mumbled. “And, yes, I’d like a moose mug.”

  We walked along the street, blending in with the few residents who walked from their cars to the strings of three-story apartments that lined the road. Across from us, a seven-story building rose up higher than the rest. The sign read “Hospital Saint-Sacrement.”

  “They’re living here?” Disha said with a raised eyebrow, glancing around the quaint suburban town.

  My eyes took in the setting once again. I had to admit this did not look like a place an evil group of subversives would pick to hide out.

  “Hide in the place people will be least likely to look?” I offered. “I mean, I never would have guessed they’d pick this place. Spooky castle maybe or bat-filled cave.”

  “It’s up ahead,” Bridget said, pointing with her mittened hand.

  Looking over my shoulder to confirm no one was in sight, I projected the cloaking spell over the three of us. Once invisible, we walked with more intention to the address we’d all memorized.

  1077 Rue Raymond Casgrain happened to be another one of the more modern apartment buildings, four stories tall with glass balcony railings and trees growing tall in front of it. It was posh and well-taken-care-of with red brick exteriors and decorative lights illuminating the entranceway where the numbers were clearly displayed.

  This was it.

  It didn’t look like anything magical could happen here. At all.

  “This has to be wrong,” Disha whispered beside me. I didn’t need to see her face to know it was scrunched up in disbelief.

  Just as we were about to duck around the corner and regroup, two figures appeared, heading in our direction from down the street. They walked side by side, breath puffing as they spoke. My heart pounded as I took in the shape of the man coming our way.

  Rowan.

  The three of us took a step back, slipping between some trees as they approached.

  The other figure was Tempest. She held a sack of groceries as did Rowan. They walked in unison, looking very much like a couple. A knife blade seemed to twist in my heart as I took in the sight of them together. Was he with her? Was she the reason he had changed so much? Jealousy consumed me and I had the fleeting notion that blasting her right now would be in my best interests.

  But this was New Charlie. I clenched my fists and did nothing, waiting as they approached the entryway only a few steps from where we hid.

  Disha put an invisible hand on my shoulder for support.

  Their voices reached our ears as they strode up the sidewalk.

  “...call from my mother. People are starting to suspect. Maybe we need to move again.” Rowan glanced at Tempest, deferring to her like she was the boss and I didn’t doubt it.

  She sniffed, narrowing her almond eyes. “Your mother probably just wants you closer to home so she can keep an eye on you. I can’t believe you told her where we are, anyway. I thought we had an agreement.” Tempest cut her eyes to the side like she was greatly displeased at Rowan.

  I enjoyed their argument way too much.

  “We can trust her. I told you. If she had wanted to turn us in, she would’ve done it already. Plus, she knows how important it is to deal with our phoenix problem. Nothing in the world is more important than that.”

  Phoenix problem. What did that mean?

  Tempest stopped, whirling on Rowan. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t considered this over and over? What is at stake? I’ve betrayed people, Rowan. Basically everyone I know. And I’m stuck here with you.” She gestured at him cruelly and he flinched.

  Anger clouded his features. “And you think I haven’t given things up to come with you?”

  She didn’t take his bait and, swinging her long black hair as she tossed her head back, she said, “Yeah, but look at what you’ve gained. We all remember tortured Rowan. The Rowan who was willing to kill himself just to stop being what he was. I gave you your life back. Never forget.” She jabbed a finger into his chest.

  They looked as if they were about to square off right here on the street, but then an explosion rocked the night.

  The ground shook. Car alarms went off. My heart skipped a beat.

  Startled, my eyes took in the fiery ball rising into the sky. Flames burst from the windows of the third apartment on the top floor. Smoke curled into the night while fire raged, devouring things too quickly.

  Magic. It had to be.

  Tempest and Rowan darted glances at each other, then dropped their grocery bags and ran to the entrance door just as people poured out in nightgowns and pajama pants.

  I stood frozen, not sure what to do. Should we help these people? Should we go after the grimoire? Was it already a pile of ash?
<
br />   Then, Bridget burst out of a side door and tore in our direction. She was sooty and smoking and… carrying the grimoire in her hands. When the hell had she left our side? I’d been so focused on Rowan that I hadn’t noticed her absence.

  With one hand, she waved us forward as she sprinted away from the blaze.

  “Run! They’re coming.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  FALL SEMESTER

  LATE NOVEMBER

  I stared at Bridget in disbelief as she ran down the dark alley where Disha and I were hiding under the cover of trees and my cloaking spell. My heart sank as three others burst out of the side door, hot on her tail.

  “Run,” Bridget yelled again, announcing her presence to all who cared. Oblivious, she was headed straight for us. She’d not only blown her cover, but she also seemed determined to blow ours, too. We were still cloaked, but Bridget was not. A small crowd of residents had gathered and they all turned to stare at her.

  “Shit!” Disha said in a whisper as her fingers twitched. “What now?”

  We were still trying to decide what to do when a powerful wind lifted Bridget up in the air. Her legs dangled several feet off the ground, pumping as if she were still running. After a few beats, she stopped and glanced down. Her mouth made an “o” of surprise. She hugged the grimoire tightly to her chest with one arm while she waved the other one, trying to form a spell.

  I readied my cuffs. I had to get her down.

  More people ran out of the burning building, some carrying barking dogs and terrified cats. Smoke poured out of the windows as the fire moved to the lower floors. Panic and confusion reigned. I couldn’t release a spell without possibly hitting one of the people streaming out of the building. Disha seemed similarly concerned.

  On the sidewalk, Tempest strode toward Bridget with her hands raised above her head, her elemental magic holding Bridget in place. Tempest seemed to care little about the people around us as her wind lashed the trees and buffeted the crowd. Her black hair flowed back and her face was set in awful determination.

  She was going to kill Bridget.

  We had to do something.

  The three others who had burst through the side door slowed to a stop on the other side of our friend. Two women and a man with a blurry face.

  “Fucking little witch,” the man barked in a nasal voice I would never forget.

  Anger flared through my veins, and it took every ounce of my will power not to lunge at him. It was Smudge Face—one of Trey’s killers.

  “She blew up the apartment,” he added. “Nearly killed us.”

  Fury and hatred enveloped my heart. I was shaking from head to toe, magic charging my body as if I were a battery. The need to kill Smudge Face nearly drown out all other thought.

  “What do we do, Charlie?” Disha whispered.

  My thoughts raced, but I couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t result in a huge magical battle, putting all these people in danger, not to mention us, which was precisely what I’d been trying to avoid. We were outnumbered and Bridget was trapped. It seemed New Charlie was a bigger failure than Old Charlie.

  “Bridget,” Rowan said, glancing up at her and stepping next to Tempest. “What the hell are you doing here?” He looked all around the building, his dark gaze passing right over Disha and me. He wisely suspected she hadn’t come alone.

  “You know her?!” Smudge Face asked Rowan. His eyes narrowed to slits.

  Rowan nodded.

  “And Tempest knows me, too. Or should I say Ava Marie!” Bridget exclaimed. “This is for my brother.” Her hand thrust forward, red magic sparkling between her fingers.

  People screamed and ducked for cover. Tempest took the blow, staggering, but not losing her hold on Bridget.

  Shit! She was going to cause World War III if we didn’t do something.

  I was about to jump in with a blocking spell when one of the women who stood next to Smudge Face flickered into a shadow and jumped up into the air toward Bridget. The shadow plastered itself to our friend’s back then quickly seeped into her.

  Bridget went utterly still, her spell-ready hand falling limp to the side, the sparks fizzling to nothing.

  The Shadow Puppet! I knew well what it felt like being controlled by such a creature. I would recognize the symptoms anywhere.

  Slowly, Tempest lowered her hands. Bridget came down to the ground and was deposited back on her feet. She hung there like a marionette without a master, lifeless.

  “We need to do something now,” Disha hissed, taking a step forward.

  I wrapped a hand around her wrist. “No. Let’s give it a moment,” I said, going against all my instincts to act.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded, my gaze locked on Bridget. She was standing still, her eyes wide and practically screaming for help. The expression on her face felt terribly familiar. I knew I had worn a similar one over two years ago when a shadowy figure jumped inside of my body and took over. I remembered how it felt to be possessed by a Shadow Puppet, the way my body hadn’t been mine anymore, the impotence of not being able to act, all while my mind was aware of everything that was happening around me. Could this be the same one who had taken me away from Trey that fateful night? It seemed likely.

  The onlookers’ attention was split between the raging fire and our little spectacle as they tried to decide which was more interesting. Didn’t Tempest fear bringing attention onto themselves?

  “How did you find us?” she asked, her face a mask of anger as she stepped right in front of a paralyzed Bridget.

  “And is this book the reason you took such a huge risk?” Tempest put her hands out, and Bridget willingly and promptly returned the grimoire to the elemental, even as her eyes screamed “no.”

  “Well, you wasted your time, little witch.” Tempest mocked, getting her face so close to Bridget’s that their noses almost touched. “This means nothing to us anymore. We already got the spell we needed out of it, and it’s only a matter of time before we’re able to use it.”

  Tempest threw the grimoire to the side. It landed a mere couple of yards away from my feet.

  I stared at it, itching to pick it up. There was a spell in that book that the subversives wanted to use. But on what? Whatever they intended to do couldn’t be good.

  Tempest grabbed the lower half of Bridget’s face with one hand and squeezed it so hard Bridget’s lips popped open.

  “Ana, don’t hurt her,” Rowan said, stepping up and placing a hand on Tempest’s arm.

  Ana. I remembered Bash Mink calling her by the same name in the abandoned warehouse in Hilton Head Island. The way Rowan said it felt far too intimate for my already bruised heart.

  She gave Rowan a sideways glance, then let go of Bridget’s face. “We’ll take her with us.”

  What?! No, they couldn’t do that. Disha and I looked at each other, both wearing expressions that said, No way in hell we’re letting that happen.

  “We can’t do that,” Rowan said. “That would be kidnapping.”

  Tempest ignored him. “We should get out of here before the police show up.”

  Just as she said this, sirens sounded in the distance.

  “Let’s go.” She turned and started down the street. Bridget followed, controlled by the Shadow Puppet.

  Rowan hung back as the others took off down a dark alley. He stared at the ground, a conflicted expression on his face. I wanted to know what was going through his head. Did he regret joining these criminals? Would he do something to stop them from taking Bridget?

  “I’m ready,” Disha whispered.

  “When I say go, grab the grimoire,” I said.

  “But—” she started to protest.

  “Just do it. I have an idea.”

  Disha nodded.

  I let my cuffs fill with power until they were glowing so brightly that even our cloaking spell couldn’t conceal the light. Rowan’s head snapped in our direction. He squinted, peering intently at the trees. Head cocked to one
side, he took a step closer.

  “NOW!” I said.

  Disha leaned forward and snatched the grimoire from the ground. As soon as she had a hold of it, I wrapped my arms around her waist and cast the materialization spell, focusing my attention on the spot right behind Bridget.

  We crumpled, zoomed through space, and reappeared between Smudge Face and our friend.

  “What the...?!” Smudge Face exclaimed. The woman next to him—probably another non-wizard like the rest—jumped back and screamed in equal surprise.

  I saw the exact moment when recognition registered in Smudge Face’s expression. Without thinking, I threw a punch. There was a crunch as my fist connected with his nose. He moaned and grabbed his face at the same time that pain exploded through my hand. I shook my fist, relishing the agony and satisfaction I felt. I’d dreamed of hitting his ugly mug enough times that I’d acted purely on instinct.

  Damn, it felt good.

  Coming back to my senses, I got a hold of Bridget just as the Shadow Puppet began to turn her body in our direction.

  “There’s more of them!” Tempest shouted.

  I cast the materialization spell again, this time focusing on the corner at the end of the block.

  One second Disha, Bridget, and I were between Tempest and the other women as they lunged toward us, the next we were beside a lamppost by the corner I’d targeted.

  Stumbling forward, we got our bearings while Bridget struggled, trying to get away.

  Disha touched the back of Bridget’s head. There was a zap and a crackle of electricity, then Bridget went limp, and a shadow slipped out and slid to the sidewalk, settling into what looked like an oil stain.

  I glanced at Disha, a bit surprised by the shock spell. Bridget would have an awful headache for a few days… if we got out of this alive.

  “What? She deserved it for doing something so stupid.” Disha’s parka was askew, her hair a mess. I didn’t even want to know what I looked like.

  As we had no time for subtleties, I had no choice but to approve.

  I set my focus on the next corner just as footsteps pounded in our direction. In the moonlight, Rowan’s eyes locked on mine as he came running with his super vampiric speed.