“I have money,” her mother said, digging into her purse and producing a transparent banking card with her name and number etched into the surface.
Felix’s face fell in an instant.
“With the banking institutions down, I’m afraid your card will be useless for the time being. Including all financial transactions.”
“But how will we pay for the things we need down here on Level One?” Tillie asked with growing worry.
Felix produced a ledger next to the pile of manila folders and wrote something down on a deposit slip and tore it off.
Handing it to Alicia, he said: “This will guarantee you a day’s worth of food for the three of you—wherever you go on Level One. Just be sure to show it to the vendor when you do so you can get work credit for it.”
“Work credit?”
The old man nodded. “Almost everyone here has a job—young or old. Like your friend, Charlie. He earns his keep, lodging, and food through his duties as a lookout and gopher. But since his is more dangerous in the interim, his credits accumulate faster.”
“So all I would have to do is pick the most dangerous job around and that would be it for me?” Tillie mulled hopefully.
“You’re still a teenager. And considered a juvenile until you reach seventeen years of age.” Felix explained to her at length.
“Since when?”
“The rules for one. There’s a bulletin board on Harper Street that will explain everything to you—once you get settled in of course.”
Alicia wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, but—?
“Is there any possible way we can go back to our high rise apartment and collect a few things?”
“Perhaps in a day or two, you may be able to—but it depends on how heavily patrolled and monitored this part of city is currently under the armies of the Third Watch.”
“So where will we be sleeping until then?”
“There is a women’s shelter on Level Two for the female residents. You can speak to the shelter’s administrator there for room assignments. It’s mostly for women and girls. No men or boys allowed. There, you’ll be giving toiletries, hygiene supplies, three changes of dress clothes, and access to a shower and a hot meal—both lunch and dinner. Breakfast is served in the mornings. Wake up calls are around eight. And we do drills every third Tuesday of every month.” Felix listed off—handing them a pamphlet.
On it, it read: Mercy Street Women’s Mission.
Alicia bit back a lip for a moment in concern.
“That might be a problem. We’re not religious.” She admitted.
Felix smiled gently. “Neither am I. I’m actually agnostic. Was Pentecostal for a time—in the Pre-War days—but that quickly changed after the war ended and religion—for all intent and purposes—died a quick death.”
“Does that mean we have to pray?” Tillie mused openly—reading the now open pamphlet.
“No. The term mission is simply a shelter “for all”—regardless of where you came from. Nobody will hold it against you. But don’t be surprised if you run into a few members from the Resistance and the Underground during your stay. They have a most vested interest in making sure that you are happy, safe, and well cared for.”
Alicia looked at everyone around her.
“I suppose that’s acceptable for the time being. But we’re not used to such charity—because of our previous job profession.”
“I am well aware of the responsibilities someone of your caliber has, Mrs. Gunderson. We’ve been well briefed on what the Witch’s Guilds are, the High Witches and the High Sorcerer too.” Felix said, tapping the open ledger with a pen.
“I don’t suppose you would have any leads on where our guild members might have disappeared to—would you?”
The old man shook his head. “Not at the moment—no. And we haven’t anything short of a whisper either since the city was invaded and then taken over. But if we have any information forthcoming…? You’ll be the first to know. I can promise you that.”
“Just our sisters…the other High Witches…” Sarah said softly; worry and concern in her face.
“I’m sure they got out before things got really bad, Sarah.” Alicia consoled her friend. “The fact that you’re here gives me some hope after all. It means we live to fight another day.”
The other woman wasn’t so sure about that. “”What good are two High Witches and an Academy apprentice going to do against the armies of the Third Watch?”
Tillie raised her hand briefly. “I’m an adapt, actually. Not an apprentice.” The girl corrected.
Sarah looked at her in strong disbelief. “Not at your age! Not at your age…!” She exclaimed. “An adapt is seven years at least—Academy rules! Apprenticeship lasts five!”
Alicia tried her best to calm her agitated friend down.
“Easy. Easy. She’s correct. The reason she’s an adapt at sixteen instead of twenty-two is because she alone possesses special skills and abilities as a full-fledged witch. I dare say her power and skill level at this juncture rivals Greta Freeman’s.”
Sarah blanched. “Greta…she was…a demon possessed. Her fighting power and ability were off the charts and unmatched. Tillamook here couldn’t possibly hold a candle to her.”
“You’d be surprised,” the other woman said in defense of her daughter. “Tillie here is very talented, skilled, and accomplished. The best and the brightest of her class.”
“I suppose she would like to become a High Witch as well?” Sarah ventured blandly.
Tillie grinned. “If you’re worried about me taking any of your guys’ jobs…you have nothing to worry about. I want to become a legendary Field Mage. That’s what I want to become.”
Sarah started and then chuckled to herself. “Now there’s a dream if I ever heard one. A Field Mage is only a position granted upon the death of the High Sorcerer himself in his final will and testament. There hasn’t been such a declaration in 130 years at least—to the best of my knowledge.”
Felix cleared his throat experimentally in order to draw the attention of his party present.
“Yes, well, I’m sure this is a very illuminating conversation to be had, but I’m a tight schedule.”
Sarah wore an irritated look that lasted a whole ten seconds before she nodded tightly. Alicia did the same. Tillie was her breezy, conversational self—even though her words may have started something she might later regret.
“Sorry,” they apologized together as one.
“It’s okay. As much as I would like to pretend to understand the day to day politics of the average Witch’s Guild, my attention is needed elsewhere today. I will send one of my watch managers over to the women’s mission later to get you three situated.”
Tillie nodded. At least that wouldn’t be an issue. But she was dying to try out the pizza however. She heard it was something else.
“By your leave then, Mr. Crawford.” Alicia said, rising from her seat. Sarah did the same and Tillie was the last in line—like always. But she had a cheerful expression on her face—versus the almost neutral one on Sarah Winters’s.
But her friend realized she would have to play referee for a bit longer between the two—until she got news or word from the other High Witches in the coven or another encrypted audio burst from the High Sorcerer.
Whichever came first.
Coming around the conference table, the old man lead the way out of the room and down the hall—past the bulletin boards with the maps on them—and out towards the landing that overlooked the cavernous main lobby.
He then exchanged handshakes with each of them—with a promise to check in later on in the week and bid them good day.
Alicia smiled and leaned over to kiss the man on his grizzled cheek. Sarah just nodded, while Tillie took that opportunity to hug him for all he was worth.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you…!” She gushed with happiness and joy.
Felix laughed at her affectionate display and nodded.
>
“Go.” He implored gently. “You have a long day ahead of you. Best not dawdle.”
Her mother agreed. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go eat something.”
Tillie nodded and broke the embrace, before taking the first two stairs down on her own while singing: “Pizza, pizza, pizza…yummy pizza, pizza, pizza…!”
Sarah watched the display for a moment and giggled. “What’s the story behind that?”
“Oh, it’s a long story,” her friend revealed. “A long story indeed.”
Taking the first stair down, Sarah said, “I’m all ears.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Date
There wasn’t much she could do about the small holes in her headboard, so Kara Plummer elected to fix the problem with old fashioned duct tape from the utility drawer in the kitchen.
After that job was done, she headed for the broom closet down the hall from the master bedroom and got out a portable Dust Buster EL-R and came back to suck up the scattered remains on the floor and around the cast-iron legs of her bed.
Then her radio link went off and she went to answer it.
Thumbing the device on, she spoke into the receiver.
“Kara Plummer. Go ahead.”
“Thought you might have missed our little date?” Came the voice of her boyfriend, Jake Harper—a civilian contractor working for a foreign relations firm in London.
They had been going out for the past couple of years since meeting up in Newark during a college basketball game—which the woman felt was just what she needed after a few past (and failed) relationships that went nowhere fast.
Kara believed it had something to do with the fact that she ran a tight ship, she called the shots in everything not nailed down, and she expected the rules to be obeyed above all else.
Which led her to think that she would be alone after so many years of personal (or institutionalized) privacy after joining the military. Then when she started to climb up the chain of command, she started to find herself with more free time than she actually needed.
That’s when she started to hit the bars and night clubs around Long Island—Brooklyn, Queens, the Upper West Side, a few other places that would be considered shady to a degree (but manageable with her level of skill and military training), and so on.
Then when those leads went cold, she tried her hand at collegiate sporting events—which had grown back in popularity in recent years along with the professional sport events—and she started to see some possibilities and prospects in her weekly gatherings.
At this point, she was more interested in a human relationship than one with a magical kinsfolk—those could be easily spotted a mile away—and started settling on a SOB story that would attract the most attention; if only for the little known fact it was her SOP as a military officer in the army and she was just doing her own reconnaissance mission.
The process took about six months of personal aggravation and a few false starts before she finally met Jake Harper on the way to the ladies bathroom at the old Transit Metro Stadium in Newark and the two almost hit it off immediately.
For Kara, it seemed like a dream come true. And it was.
“Sorry. I had another relapse again this week. Damned termites.” She offered in a rush of a quick apology.
“Hmm…maybe you should call an exterminator or a contractor and find out the source—?”
“Anything’s possible in April. Even bed bugs.”
“Well, the reason I called was because I was in the area—on the way to your house—and thought you might need anything on the way in?”
Kara giggled. “Just your handsome ass. That’s all I ever want, mister.”
There was a brief pause on the other end of the link.
“No expensive wine? No roses? No boxes of chocolate for my beautiful army brat?”
The woman’s ears warmed up a bit at his terms of endearment towards her.
“I told you time and again not to call me a brat.” She warned none too lightly.
“Oh. Sorry. Soon to be Section Army Commandant—First Class. That’s what you’ve been telling me all this time—right? About your upcoming promotion?”
“I would have settled for being a general. But this is Regency Council’s personal directive. They want someone competent to run their East Coast operations. And my name popped up in the rec pool. Came as a pleasant surprise—if you ask me.”
“Well, I hope you get it. Although from what I know of such jobs—being in a military family myself—the time constraints will be murder.”
Kara giggled to herself. “Don’t think you’re getting off my good side that easily Jake. I still intend to see you. Even if I have some extra braids and medals on my uniform.”
“Well, I hope it’s soon. My vacation is just about over. Supposed to be heading back to merry old London.”
“So I hear,” the woman said—taking a moment to lay down on the bed—while cradling the radio link in her small hands.
“Guess that means I’ll have to stop baking you your favorite coconut-chocolate covered macaroons when you’re not here then—huh?”
“Now you’re just tormenting me, baby.”
Kara smiled broadly. “Me? Torment you? You know I like to do other things to you that just drive you crazy—right?”
“Yes. You are very skilled and talented. That’s what I love about you. And you have a wicked personality on top of everything else—though I still have to ask you what you do in the service…?”
Kara’s mood darkened ever so slightly. “You know the rules: My job is my business.” She countered menacingly. “That’s the cost of being my boyfriend.”
“Well, you could always ask me what I do for a living. At least, some of it isn’t classified like yours.”
“That may be so, lover, but I still have to follow the rules. Regulations. Sometimes the law.”
“Only sometimes?” Jake radioed back.
“What did I just say a minute ago? You‘re just asking to be punished by me—aren‘t you?”
“I wouldn’t mind. I like being punished—being the consummate bad boy at times.”
Kara’s bubbly mood returned in a flash.
“Do you really want me to tame you again, Jake?”
“Only if you promise to use that feather duster you call a riding crop on me.”
The woman giggled at the image her boyfriend was giving her. And future ammo to boot.
“Anything for you,” she gave in right then. “Would you like me to cosplay as the sultry Blood Maid as well?”
A cry of delight exploded from the radio link’s speaker and she could tell that she hit a winner on that one.
Anything for her anime loving boy toy. It’s what made living a bit more bearable in this day and age—considering all the crap and shit she had to handle on a weekly basis at her post.
“I take that as a yes then?”
“Most definitely!” Jake blurted out excitedly. “You rock it as the Blood Maid. You have all the right curves and such.”
The woman’s eyebrows raised up a bit at that. “Oh? I have curves? You like it when I’m curvy and sultry for a little boy like you?”
“Yes. I do. That’s what I love about you, baby.”
“But I thought I had a great personality? Are you changing your mind already? Or is it because you know you’ll be getting some mind blowing sex from a half-ling such as myself?”
“Oh, the sex is beyond mind blowing. You rock as a dragon maid—all dressed up and after the changes. That makes it even more hot.”
Kara grinned. “So you don’t mind the scales, or the tail that comes out on its own to a tapered point which I use to tease and torture you with?”
“Yeah. I don’t mind that at all. It makes you even more beautiful and special to me.”
A lump caught in Kara’s throat. “You’re sweet, Jake. Really sweet. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”
“I don’t care what you are or what you look like. I
fell in love with you for who you are—even though you do have a habit of breathing fire at the most awkward moment.”
Kara chuckled. “Blame it on my allergies. They get really bad this time of year.”
“And here I thought that was just a human vice of myth and legend..?” Jake said.
“Okay. I’m about one block from you. Better hang up now, baby. I’ll hug and kiss you after I pull in.”
Kara smiled. “I’ll be waiting,” she responded breathlessly, before killing the link.
Getting up, she placed it on the nightstand next to her bed and ran for the stairs in a spirited rush—her extra large SPIRIT RUSH X FIRE t-shirt getting hung up over the top of the banister in the process.
She managed not to buy it then and unhooked herself, before taking two stairs at a time in the blink of an eye and skidded to a stop on the linoleum floor right as she reached front door.
Unlocking it, Kara threw open the door to a cool April morning on South Island—the call of the seabirds overshadowing the early morning visage which stretched out before her in terms of a high class neighborhood full of government housing for off duty military and their families.
There were garage spaces for ground cars, a few ground cars themselves in spitting distance of the woman herself, and almost no sign of human foot traffic anywhere.
Then she spotted a Frisbee being thrown out to someone on the far end and a little girl catching it and laughing. But Kara was too far from the action to figure out who she was.
Probably one of the neighbors. She mused as she closed the screen door behind her and happened to stare at the mail box attached to the left side of her door and noticed that it was full of mail.
Going over, she fished out everything in a handful and came away with a few more due bills and some advertisement flyers.
Kara started with the bills first: Electric, satellite, cable, and…?
Yup. There was the water bill. Just as she thought. The woman was starting to wonder when that would come in—after living here for the first few months since she transferred over from the Hancock military ammunitions depot (or H/MAD) down by the Annapolis naval base.
Generation Witch Year One Page 9
