North End: The Black Forest

by Amanda Turner

  “Me, too,” he said with a smile on his face, bumping me back with his shoulder. “Hey, maybe don’t mention much about my dad around school. If other students hear he’s a hitch…” he stared into the distance for a moment choosing his next words carefully. “I just don’t want anyone to say bad things about him. Plus, my family has done some other things that a lot of people here wouldn’t approve of. Things far worse than letting magic fade…” Miles’ voice trailed off and his expression looked hard, closed off. So, I didn’t press the issue any further.

  “Anyway, what about you? I know you came to school here as soon as you could. So, I assume your parents are still faithful witches?” My heart sank a little. If you were raised in the witching world then you knew the story of my parents. But Miles hadn’t been. I hated telling people the sad parts of my story, but I wanted Miles to truly know me. And this was a piece of me. So, I took a deep breath and began.

  “They were both very powerful witches. My mom was in line to be Headmistress of this school actually. And my father used to work high in the ranks of our coven. Everyone knew how powerful they were, especially my mother, but they were so modest. They never let the power go to their head like some witches do. They were open and kind.” Once I got started telling someone all the good things about my parents, it was difficult to stop. I could have rambled on for ages. “But…uhm…a few years ago my parents were in an accident. We lost Mom.” I paused to swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Ever since then my dad…he hasn’t been the same. He was there when it happened. He tried to save my mom, but he couldn’t. He had to witness losing her firsthand. And his mind suffered. He stays in our home in Scotland now. I see him sometimes, but he never leaves the house.”

  “Geez. I’m so sorry, Josie. I had no idea,” Miles said. He put his arm over my shoulder, and I leaned my head against his.

  “It’s okay,” I lied. “One day I can tell you more about them. Maybe even break out the old home videos. I love showing people how vivacious they used to be. They were really special.”

  “I don’t doubt that. If they created you, they must have been extraordinary, Josie.” I felt him gently press his lips to my hair. “So, if they were that powerful, you must be very gifted.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  I pulled my head back off his shoulder and laughed. “I don’t know if I’d say that.”

  “Don’t downplay your powers, Josie. I have a class with you. I’ve seen a little. And I’ve heard things around school,” he said, winking at me.

  “What in the Underworld have you heard?” I asked, my eyes widened, mortified. Being the center of any sort of gossip was one of my worst nightmares.

  “Nothing bad at all. Just that you would go far in this world. Your parents must have been well known, too, because people seem to realize you have a natural gift. Plus, you are the most gorgeous girl at this school. That alone makes you stand out more than you might realize.”

  I scoffed. “That cannot be true. I’m glad you think I’m cute, though.” I smiled and looked away, suddenly overwhelmed by my nerves.

  “I didn’t say ‘cute.’ That would be a disservice. I said ‘gorgeous.’ You stand out of the crowd. And not just your looks. The way you carry yourself, the way you treat people. You’re a good person.” My heart fluttered. “I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. I’ve tried to hide it. My efforts may have been in vain. Maybe you’ve known that for weeks.” I looked back at him to see he was the one blushing now.

  “I felt the same about you, but I’m sure everyone could see that. I can’t hide anything. My face gives me away every time.” I pointed to my brilliant red cheeks.

  “I hoped you did.” His eyes burned through mine again, and it felt as though the forest moved around me. Was he casting a spell or was this just the effect he had on me? I didn’t have much time to decide before his lips were on mine again and I wasn't able to concentrate on anything, but the way they felt moving with mine.

  We spent more time in the Black Forrest talking, kissing, and laughing, before we began the trek back to the school. We had no idea what time it was, and neither of us had wanted to move from our magical spot beneath the trees. But the second time the fire died down, we knew we needed to get back before our roommates started worrying.

  Miles walked into the guard shack to say goodnight to Mr. Dan before we left, and I waved from the outside. Mr. Dan’s face lit up when he saw Miles, and I watched as he handed him something. Mr. Dan waved at me from inside the booth as Miles exited and took my hand.

  “Mr. Dan wanted us to have these.” Miles held out his other hand. There was a small white handkerchief concealing something. I took it hesitantly and unraveled it to find two chocolate chip cookies inside.

  “My favorite!” I giggled. I grabbed one and immediately took a bite. Mr. Dan seemed so sweet and it suddenly seemed so strange that I had been at this school all these years and never even knew he existed. I wondered how many other genuine people worked in the castle that I had never crossed paths with. It gave me hope. Even though dark magic lurked here, there was just as much good.

  The lights in the school were dimmed more than before and some halls were pitch black. It was well past curfew. We walked slowly and silently, listening for any professors who may have still been awake. We knew how easily we could be caught, and it made my heart pound. As we walked through a dark hall, I lit a small light using a spell and held it in my hands. It illuminated a path for us. When we reached my bedroom door, Miles gave me a kiss on the cheek before turning to walk to his room.

  I opened my door expecting Lillian to be up waiting for me, but the room was black. The only light was the moon shining through the window. I closed the door behind me, making as little noise as possible. I changed into my pajamas silently, but when I went to crawl in bed the springs beneath my mattress creaked, giving me away. Lillian sat up straight in her bed. I felt badly about waking her, but I was relieved at the same time. I was dying to tell her all about the night. She crawled out of her bed and joined me on mine and for the next hour that is exactly what I did.

  Weekly Consultations

  Iwoke up on time this morning, which was a blessing and a curse. I stayed up much too late last night talking to Lillian about my date and only got four hours of sleep. It was worth it, though. Luckily, today was Friday, which was my easiest day of classes. I only had one in the morning, then my weekly meeting with Professor Howard.

  Another rule of the school is that we have to meet with our mentor for an hour each week. My mentor was Professor Howard. Our meetings reminded me of the therapy I attended for a year after my mom died. It was my dad’s idea that I joined him in therapy, and he insisted we both go twice a week, once separately and once together. I think it helped me, but it didn’t do anything for my dad. He was desperate to feel better, desperate to be there for me, but nothing could fix him. He was too broken. He started sharing less and less each week until he didn’t speak at all. So, I made the choice to stop going. My dad didn’t have that choice. Soon after the accident he was hospitalized for not taking care of himself and my coven ordered him to attend. As far as I knew he still went every week, though I couldn’t imagine him doing anything besides sitting on that couch in silence.

  My meetings with Professor Howard reminded me of that. We could talk about anything during the meetings: School, magic, friends, family. It’s basically just a check in. Honestly, Lillian and I theorized that it’s a way to keep tabs on young witches, to make sure they don’t go rogue. There’s been a history of young witches getting together and trying to overthrow headmistresses. In one case, two witches even attempted to do dark magic in the human world. It didn’t work out well for them. The weekly meetings seemed like an extra step to try to stop things like that before they got too far.

  If that really was why we were required to attend, then it was pointless for them to waste time interviewing me each week. I had no desire to take over anything. I didn’t even want to mo
ve up too high in the ranks of North End’s council. I knew others expected that of me, though, since my parents were so high up at our school. But all of that didn’t fit my personality. I just wasn’t born a leader. And I was completely fine with that.

  Thankfully, I had time to have my usual breakfast this morning. I went to the café and grabbed a blueberry muffin and an apple juice before heading to the balcony. The café was quiet. It was still a bit early for most students to be eating. A majority of them just ran in and ran out 10 minutes before class, scarfing down their food on the way. Only four other students sat in the café and two on either side of the balcony. I sat alone at a table in the middle and looked out at the view while I ate. The sun was rising, painting the grass an auburn color and the ocean a silver. I brought a book with me, so I studied in between bites and glances at the landscape.

  I was able to take my time getting ready as well, which was nice because I needed time to mentally prepare for my only class of the day. Though I only had one class on Friday, it was my most difficult for a couple of reasons. First, it was intense subject matter. The spells we learned in this class were not cute charms like I was used to. They were dark spells. Ones that could harm others. The school claimed they taught them in the name of self-defense, but it still made me uncomfortable to have the spells in my mind, to study them at all.

  This class required focus. You couldn’t relax for even a moment because if you did someone could get hurt. It was draining. Especially since the material was challenging for a 4th year to learn. It was a 5th year level class, but the Headmistress allowed the top four witches in their class to take it a year early. Which led to the next reason this class was so difficult. One of the other 4th years in the class was Frances, who, in my opinion, seemed a little too excited to be learning about dark magic.

  When I entered the classroom, I saw her sitting in the front row. This class was taught by the Headmistress herself, and she didn’t believe in assigned seats. She said free seating made it easier to see which of us were truly eager to learn and which were not. Naturally, Frances was never late to this class. She arrived even earlier than me and plopped herself front row and center. Suck up.

  I made my way to the fourth row and sat down, opening up the same book I brought to breakfast to review my notes from last week. I honestly didn’t need to study too often for my other classes, but this one was different. One simple mistake could injure someone...or worse. So, I was extra cautious.

  I reviewed the material from last week for 10 minutes or so as students filled the seats around me. I didn’t have friends in this class. I didn’t know many of the 5th years, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t spend much time talking to them during this hour. There was a creak at the back of the room and several heads turned to stare in that direction.

  The Headmistress, entering through the same door as we had, made her way down the middle aisle to the front of the class. As she moved forward, her heels clicking on the marble floor, the chatter in the classroom died down until it was silent. No one spoke while the Headmistress taught unless they were asked a question that required direct answer. It seemed that every student in the school was frightened of her. Even some of the professors seemed nervous when she was around.

  No one could blame them for being scared. The Headmistress wasn’t an average witch. You only received this job if you were overly qualified and one of the most powerful, well-versed witches of all covens. Headmistress Craw had already held this job for two decades. She was going to step down a few years ago, so my mother could take her place, but it never got to that point. She was in the accident before she could take the title of Headmistress.

  My mother would have been a very different leader than Headmistress Craw. She was good. She basically exuded a white light. She was powerful, yes, but certainly not scary or dark. So, the exact opposite of Craw. Craw is one of the oldest witches I’ve ever come across, which is likely why she was going to step down a few years back. The rumors suggested she didn’t necessarily love the idea of moving on from her position, but she trusted my mother and knew her time to retire had come. Craw welcomed her with open arms and put her own feelings aside for the good of the school.

  Craw was fair in that way, but she was also stern and loved her power, perhaps a little too much. Her high heels clicked down the aisle until she came to a stop at her desk, located directly in front of Frances.

  Craw wore a deep red dress. It was long-sleeved and practically plastered onto her body, hugging every curve. Black tights covered her legs. Her makeup was extravagant, and anyone could guess it was because she longed to be youthful again. She always covered as much of her body as she could. If she didn’t, it would be impossible to look past her age. No one knew her exact age, but it was rumored she was nearly 200 years old. Her skin had begun to sag and wrinkle intensely. It was a greyish color, as well, but she hid that with as much makeup as she could coat on her face. Her hands were the only part that showed what her skin truly looked like, and she typically wore gloves to cover that. But today she didn’t have them on so I couldn’t help but fixate on their strange color.

  The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Craw’s eyes slowly moved from side to side, scanning the room. They were foggy, but you could tell they used to be bright, clear silver. I used to wonder if the fogginess affected how well she could see, but I now guessed her vision was clearer than any of ours.

  Once she scanned the room several times, she parted her red lips to speak. “Good morning, my students,” she cooed. Her voice still surprised me sometimes. Based on her appearance one would expect her voice to be deep and stern. But it was the exact opposite. It was rather high pitched, light, and delicate.

  Craw began her lesson by reviewing the dark magic we learned last week. It was a spell that would leave our opponent paralyzed, stunning them. If there was enough power behind the words and they were repeated enough, it would permanently paralyze the victim. We practiced on insects, not people, but that was enough to make me uncomfortable. I hated thinking of how terrified the creature in front of me must feel when I took away its ability to move. It was alarming when we went over it last week, and I felt a wave of horror wash over me as she reviewed it now. The idea that another witch could deprive you of the use of your limbs by simply saying “opstupefacio” was one of the most dreadful things I could imagine.

  She spoke of real life examples of the spell that she witnessed herself. Craw was a proud Follower of the Fallen Angel, and she spoke of him often in our class. Only his Followers—the Followers who have actually done his bidding—would have witnessed this spell in action. Followers of the Divinity or even Followers of the Fallen Angel who worshiped from afar would never use such a spell.

  “I have never used this on a human subject,” she claimed, “but I have seen it used by someone else. It is not something to perform casually. However, when the Fallen Angel calls on you, you must do as he says. His wishes must be obeyed.” She smiled when she said his name and it sent chills down my spine. The Fallen Angel didn’t call on his ordinary Followers. It was said that he only called on witches who sought out the work on their own accord, witches who had truly dark intentions. Craw claimed she no longer sought out his work and only worshipped him from afar, but she used to work closely with him. I didn’t want to imagine what terrible spells she'd cast in her life.

  There were also rumors around school that Craw had been a mistress of the Fallen Angel, and that was how she landed this job in the first place. People said she sold what was left of her soul to him, giving herself to him completely in exchange for power. This was a terrifying thought even though I didn’t know how true it was.

  “So, as you all know from last week’s lesson, this spell will momentarily paralyze your victim. Today, we will discuss how you can not only paralyze the body of the victim, but also the internal organs and bodily functions, such as the heartbeat, permanently. In order to do so, you must have more than one witch say the
spell. Does anyone know how many witches it would require to complete such a task?”

  I knew the answer. I had read ahead in the text as I studied this morning, but I was in no rush to answer. I wasn’t a fan of having all eyes on me. But seconds ticked by and no one raised their hand, so I slowly put mine in the air.

  “Ms. Parker?” Headmistress Craw called on me. Several eyes turned to look at me, including the pair belonging to Frances.

  “It would require at least three witches to complete that task, Headmistress,” I answered, timidly.

  “Very good. Thank you, Ms. Parker.” Headmistress Craw began circulating the room, continuing with the lesson. All the eyes turned away from me and back to the Headmistress except Frances’. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye. She was so furious her tan face had turned a shade of red. I giggled to myself, suddenly glad I had chosen to share the answer with the class.

  The lesson continued and I took notes diligently, not missing a single syllable. Some of the stories about the victims of this spell made my heart hurt, and it was difficult to write the words, but I did so anyway. I supposed I needed to know this information in case I needed to protect myself one day. Just the thought made the hair on my arms stand up. The class ended at exactly 9:15 a.m., as usual.

  I closed my book and stood up, smoothing my maroon skirt out before putting my book in my bag. When I looked back up, Francis appeared out of nowhere. She was hovering above me, her judgmental eyes piercing through mine. She sneered as she said, “Clever answer in class today, Josie.”

  I rolled my eyes before brushing past her to head out the door. She made a show of jerking her shoulders back as if a stampede had hit her. “Excuse you,” she scoffed and grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face her. “You owe me an apology.”

  “What is your problem, Frances? Seriously. What have I ever done to you?” I questioned, pulling my arm out of her hand. I was feeling more confident than usual. It probably stemmed back to my incredible date last night. I was still on cloud nine. Frances seemed a little startled by my response, but quickly covered her shock with anger.