by Susan Harper
“I see,” the toad-woman said.
“Um, is that Abigail Williams over there?” Monica asked softly, nodding toward the girl. She hardly recognized her without her 1690s style dress.
“Yes, of course,” the woman said. “I am Sister Celia. Is there a reason you are interested in Ms. Abigail?”
Monica fidgeted nervously. “I just don’t understand why she’s hanging around an orphanage. I mean, I know she looks twelve, but she’s hundreds of years old.”
“Yes, that is technically true,” Sister Celia croaked. “Though when the Sorcerer’s Council granted her those extra five years, they meant that quite literally. Mentally and emotionally, she is just twelve years old once more.”
Monica’s mouth fell open. “Really? I thought… I thought it was just a physical thing. I assumed she would still be…the Abigail I knew.”
“Oh, heavens no,” the toad-woman said. “What would have been the point in giving her those years back if she couldn’t enjoy them as a child would?”
Monica supposed this made sense, but it made her a bit sick to her stomach. She thought back to her last two interactions with Abigail. First, when she had shown up excited to show her that she was no longer a cat at the get-together with Holly’s family and Monica had practically slammed the door in her face. All she wanted to do was tell her the big news. Then, when she had seen her at the scene of the crime, Monica had jumped down her throat, accusing her of being involved in what had happened to Bonnie, and all Abigail had claimed was that she was trying to do was help. Had that really been just a little twelve-year-old girl seeking Monica’s approval?
“That’s trippy,” Isaac said, staring at the back of Abigail’s head. Abigail hadn’t seemed to have noticed them, she was just as interested in the Romp-A-Roo players as the others, though she kept averting her eyes to avoid looking at Brian or Deimus directly.
“She’s been given the chance to be a child once more,” Sister Celia said. “This time, though, she won’t have to spend it on the run. A shame she has to spend it in an orphanage, though, since her family died off in Salem many generations ago.”
Abigail at last turned around, and when she saw Monica, her face fell. Her cheeks turned red, and she turned back around and pretended like she hadn’t noticed her. Monica felt simply awful. She wondered how she hadn’t realized before how something—other than her obvious change in appearance—had been different about Abigail.
Eventually, the children were allowed up on the podiums with the players, and they all seemed rather excited by this. Monica sat back in the bleachers with Isaac, muttering scornfully to herself about how short she had been with Abigail. After a while, Isaac checked his watch and sighed. “I’ve got to head back to Bankstown,” he said. “Have to get an article written for the boss man before this evening.”
“Want me to fly you back?” Monica asked.
“Nah,” he said. “I know you and Brian got plans tonight. I’ll walk, I’ve got time. I’ll catch you later. Don’t let the whole Abigail thing bug you too much, all right?”
Monica sighed, watching Abigail as she stood with a group of other young girls on one of the podiums, looking like the uncomfortable and shy one of the group. “I’ll do my best,” she said.
Eventually, the children were carted off, and the Romp-A-Roo practice continued. Monica watched with less enthusiasm than she had earlier on. As a matter of fact, she was quite relieved when Brian finally returned from the locker room, gym bag slung over his shoulder. She very quickly found herself venting about the guilt she was feeling over learning more about Abigail’s freedom.
“Do you feel any differently about what you saw in the past just because Abigail has the mentality of a twelve-year-old?” Brian asked.
“I mean, not really,” Monica admitted. “I still feel pretty hurt by it all, but it’s not like the Abigail I knew still felt that way. She had changed since then, and now come to find out I had smarted off and hurt the feelings of a rehabilitated Abigail who had the emotional capacity of a child. Its upsetting is all.”
“You two are going to have to talk it out eventually,” Brian said. “You’ve known her almost your whole life. You guys just need to get everything out in the open.”
“I think you’re right,” Monica said with a sigh just as they were arriving outside of Mona’s side of Backroom Books. Much to her surprise, she spotted Grace headed down the street in the opposite direction, likely heading back to her hotel for the evening. She was by herself and walking rather quickly. “Grace!” Monica called, but the woman didn’t hear her. She suddenly dipped down an alleyway between two shops.
Brian raised a brow. “That’s… That’s unusual…” he said, and without having to say another word to one another, they scurried after her.
Monica and Brian stood on the sidewalk, peering toward the alleyway where they could see Grace standing and speaking to a hooded figure. The voice of the hooded figure sounded like a woman. “I just need to know you are doing your job,” the woman hissed.
“I am,” Grace assured her. “You don’t need to insult me.”
“You make it easy, child,” the woman said.
“I am not a child,” Grace snarled. “I just need time.”
Monica watched with great anticipation as the woman pulled her hood down. She saw a woman with shimmering, wicked blue eyes, dark, curly, serpent-like hair, and painfully thin lips that moved rapidly with each word she enunciated. She reached out and put a hand on Grace’s shoulder and began speaking so softly that Monica could not understand a word of it. When the woman leaned in a bit more, Monica saw a tattoo on the woman’s neck, and though she only caught a glimpse of it, she had the odd sensation that she had seen it before.
Grace took a step back and nodded in response to something the woman had said. The woman clapped her hands, and to Monica’s astonishment, she disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. Monica jerked Brian back and began marching him away as quickly as possible. “What?” he asked softly. “What was that?”
“That right there is some serious magic,” Monica said. “I’ve only ever known one witch who could just disappear like that.”
“Who?” Brian asked.
“My sister,” Monica said. “And, believe me, it is not a common gift. Mona rarely does it because of the amount of magical energy it takes out of her, and it’s not exactly something you want to tell people you know how to do.”
“Why is that?” Brian asked.
“It’s associated with dark magic,” Monica said. “Not dark magic itself, mind you, but dark magic wizards were among the first to discover the ability.”
“That’s…horrifying,” he said. “You think Grace is associating with dark magic?”
“Maybe,” Monica said. “I mean, Mona isn’t involved in dark magic, and she can disappear like that. So, I’m not sure, but did you notice that tattoo on the woman’s neck?”
“Briefly,” Brian said. “I only caught a glimpse.”
Monica pulled him into Backroom Books before Grace could see them. She knew she had seen that tattoo somewhere before, and she intended to find out where.
12
“Monica? Brian? Wasn’t expecting you two to be coming through here so early,” Mona said as they slipped into her side of the store.
“Yeah, well, we could use your help with something,” Monica began, and she went into a detailed explanation of what she and Brian had just seen. “It was weird. This woman was really creepy, even by witchy standards. Pretty, real serious, and she was wearing a cloak to hide her face. She pulled back the cloak, and I noticed this tattoo on her neck. I’ve seen it somewhere before. I think it’s some sort of old rune.”
“Is that what you need my help with?” Mona asked.
“Yes,” Brian said. “I mean, you do own one of the most impressive bookstores on this side of the portal. I bet we can find the answer in one of these books.”
Lenore, who was seated on the back counter where Mona had a small
perch for her, sighed heavily. “And here I thought we were going to be closing down early for once.”
“You’ll survive,” Mona told her. “All right. Can you describe the tattoo?”
“Yeah,” Monica said. “It was circular with these weird spirals.”
“It was a triskelion,” Brian said knowingly, and Mona shot him a quick, intimidating gaze.
“A triskelion?” Mona asked.
“Okay, a what?” Monica asked.
“It’s an old Celtic symbol,” Brian said. “It’s popped up in places like Greece too. Different cultures associate it with different things. It’s just the triple spiral that makes it a triskelion.”
Monica noticed immediately that Brian’s identification of the symbol had struck some sort of nerve with Mona. Lenore, too, seemed very on edge. “What?” Monica demanded. “Does the triskelion mean something to you?”
“Maybe,” she said, her cheeks slightly red.
“Mona, what do you know?” Brian asked.
“Tell me this: did you get a close enough glimpse to see what the spirals were? Were they… Were they snakes?” Mona asked.
Monica shrugged. “I only got a glimpse.”
“I need to know,” Mona said, pulling out her wand. “Close your eyes.”
Monica trusted her sister. She was the best spell caster she had ever met. “Okay,” Monica said, closing her eyes. Her sister muttered something and poked her forehead with the wand, and Monica found herself right back there staring down the alleyway.
“Can you see it?” Mona’s voice echoed in her head.
“What did you do?” Monica asked. She was back where they had been just moments ago, staring down the alleyway at the woman and Grace.
“Look for the triskelion! Focus on that,” Mona’s voice echoed in her mind.
Monica narrowed her eyes. She could not go any closer than she had been when this had happened earlier, but she could focus on the woman’s tattoo. She was far off, but sure enough, she saw that the triskelion symbol was indeed made up of serpents. She jolted back and felt herself falling, but when she blinked, she was standing in Backroom Books once more. “What was that!” Monica yelped.
“I had you relive a recent memory,” Mona said.
“That’s some serious spell-work, even for you, Mona,” Monica said.
“I take my spellcasting studies seriously, you know that,” Mona said. “Well? What did you see?”
“You’re right,” Monica said. “The spirals in the symbol were serpents. What does that mean?”
Mona glanced at Lenore, who was shaking her raven head repeatedly. “Hold on,” Mona sighed. She waved her wand, and a book from high up in the vaulted ceiling came flying down to them. It was old and worn, more like a library book than one for sale.
“What happened to that book?” Monica asked.
“It’s mine,” Mona said. “Not the bookshop’s. I hide it here.”
“What is it?” Brian asked.
Mona tapped the cover of the book anxiously. “There is this group I’m a part of. Sort of like your mortals’ version of the Knights Templar.”
“You’re part of some secret society,” Brian said, raising a brow.
“I joined it when I was twelve,” Mona said.
Monica stared blankly at her sister for a moment. “You… What is this group?”
“It’s called the Avalon Order,” Mona said. “It’s nothing to be too worried about. We’re not like Remembrance or anything. But their symbol…” Mona held up the book that had the same triskelion with the spirals made up of serpents.
“That’s it!” Monica said, but she couldn’t stay too excited for long. “Mona, what is this organization you’re part of?”
“It’s just a sort of underground club, honest,” Mona said quickly. “We teach each other complicated spells, we study ancient magics, and we do anonymous charity work both here and in the mortal world. It’s a good group, but you have to be…um…”
“You can’t be an unnatural,” Monica said. “I’m guessing that’s why I don’t know about it?”
Mona’s face turned red. “It’s an invite-only. And it’s only for witches who display higher than average levels of magic. It’s a good group, I swear. With everything going on with Remembrance resurfacing, they’ve gotten a bit more secretive lately. They’re worried about being associated with them. But…”
“What’s the name of this group again?” Brian demanded.
“The Avalon Order,” Mona said, handing the book over. “This book will tell you the history of the group. It was founded by Merlin.”
“Oh,” Monica said, feeling a bit better. Merlin was one of the most well-known wizards in history, and he was known as a force for good.
“Wait, Merlin?” Brian asked. “As in Merlin-Merlin? Merlin of the Arthurian Legends?”
“Hardly a legend, Brian,” Mona said. “King Arthur was a mortal who was an advocate for mortal-mystic relations. When the Split happened, the Sorcerer’s Council wiped the memory of mystics from the memory history of mortals, but some things were just too prominent to completely vanish from memory, so they became what you would call myths and legends.”
“You’re telling me the stories of King Arthur and his wizard Merlin buddy are real?” Brian asked.
“Yes,” Mona said. “And the Avalon Order was created by Merlin to help witches like me learn to control their excess abilities. We’re sort of like a support group for witches and wizards who have more magic than they know what to do with. So, it sounds like, there is an Avalon Order witch hanging around here other than me.”
“Wait, are there not any others in Wysteria?” Monica asked.
“Oh, no, I’m the only one from around here,” Mona said. “It’s a very exclusive invite.”
“Have you ever seen Grace at one of these meetings?” Brian asked.
“No,” Mona said. “I told you, it’s only for witches and wizards. Grace isn’t technically a witch. She’s an Ibeji.”
“I’m going to have a character sketch done of the woman we saw,” Brian said. “Do you think you could identify her?”
“I know everyone who is part of the group,” Mona said. “So, yes, I suppose.”
Brian turned to Monica. “I’m going to go to the authority station. They’ve got a better sketch artist there than at the mortal precinct in Bankstown.”
“I have something I need to take care of while you’re doing that,” Monica said.
Brian nodded. “Okay. Mona, I’ll meet you back here for you to try to identify the woman?”
“Sure thing,” Mona said, and Brian hurried away after giving Monica a quick peck on the cheek.
“Do you mind if I borrow this book?” Monica asked.
“Sure,” Mona said sadly. “I’m sorry I never told you about the group before, Monica. I was worried you would be…upset…”
“You were worried I’d be jealous,” Monica said. “Mona, you should know by now that I am happy for you and for what you have. Do I wish I hadn’t been born an unnatural? Of course. But it is what it is. I can be happy for you being invited to some exclusive group like this. I’ll get this book back to you soon. Hang around for when Brian comes back.”
“Where are you going?” Mona asked her.
“I have someone I need to visit,” she said, tucking the book under her arm.
Once she was outside, she whistled. Her broom came zooming toward her from far off. Where it had been, she wasn’t sure. It liked to roam occasionally. She hopped on her broom and sped off. It was a long flight, but eventually, she was flying past the centaur reservations. Soon, the enormous orphanage appeared in the valley of the mountains. It was a beautiful building, and there were children everywhere of all sorts of mystical ancestries.
Sister Celia was out by the main entrance, working with the rose bushes planted by the walkways. Monica landed right by her, and the woman with the toad face smiled. “Monica, wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” she said.
>
“I was wondering if I could speak to Abigail,” Monica said.
Sister Celia smiled. “She would love that. She talks about you a lot, you know?” Sister Celia pointed toward the main entrance. “Go down the main hall to the right, and if you keep going, you’ll eventually find an exit leading to the playground.”
“Thanks,” Monica said, and she hurried off.
She went down the winding hall, and eventually, she heard children laughing. She exited onto the orphanage’s playground. Everyone was running around excitedly, except for one little girl who had found herself a bench and had her nose in a book. She smiled, recognizing her as Abigail—her little button nose quite distinguishable. Monica hurried over, and when Abigail glanced up from her book and saw her, she jumped to her feet. “Monica!” she exclaimed, smiling with a big, toothy grin. “What are you doing here?”
Monica could see it very clearly now in the way she fidgeted and fiddled with her fingers. She was not a grown woman in the body of a child. She was a child once more, and it made Monica quite sad. “How are you?” Monica asked her.
Abigail smiled. “I’m doing good,” she said. “I’ve been…doing good in Sister Celia’s classes. She does literature. It’s my favorite!”
Monica managed to smile back at her. “I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you, Abigail.”
Eager to please, Abigail beamed up at her. “Sure!”
Monica showed Abigail the book. “I know you know a lot about ancient symbols. Mona told me the symbol on this book was for—”
“The Avalon Order,” Abigail said. “Yes, I’ve seen it before.”
“Were you part of it?” Monica asked curiously.
“No,” Abigail sighed. “But I wanted to be. So bad! My grandmother was part of it—that’s how I know about it. She was such a good sorceress!”
“I bet,” Monica said. “Is there any relationship between the Avalon Order and Remembrance?”
“Eww, no,” Abigail said. “The Avalon Order hates Remembrance. Well… Actually, there is one thing,” Abigail corrected. She took the book and flipped through it, showing some coded writings. “This style of runes that the Avalon Order would use, Remembrance was greatly inspired by that when they created Cinur.”
