Midnight Magick

by Katerina Martinez

  I wanted to spare him the barrage of personal questions Eliza was about to put him through, so I grabbed his hand and nearly ripped him off the stool he was sat on.

  “Going somewhere?” asked Eliza.

  “If you don’t mind closing, I was gonna take Damien to Joe’s down the street.”

  “Sure, that sounds good,” said Damien.

  Eliza owed me a favor, so she agreed to close up. After bidding our goodbyes and avoiding anymore of Eliza’s invasive questions, Damien and I stepped out into the crisp, cool air. We walked in silence down the street toward the glittering neon sign above Joe’s tiny emporium. Occasionally we’d steal glances, but they were nothing more than just casual looks between friends. At least that’s what I told myself.

  CHAPTER 9

  Joe’s Hamburgerria—a pizza place that also served hamburgers—wouldn’t ever win any points for style. Plain white walls, uncomfortable chairs, and wooden tables so wobbly the slightest tip would send your drink into your neighbor’s table were among the penny-wise choices made by the owners to focus on what they thought bore more importance; quality ingredients. The place was packed, even the Sheriff and his deputy were enjoying a sit-in meal.

  “Try the Chicago BBQ Gut-Buster,” I said, tapping at a picture of what appeared to be a greasy, cheesy, barbecue sauce laden heart attack. “It’s good.”

  “I do love a good burger,” said Damien, “What are you having?”

  “I’m not sure. They do a mean green salad here.”

  Damien peeled his eyes away from the menu and stabbed me with them.

  “Seriously? Do I look like that kind of girl?”

  “I wasn’t judging.”

  “A girl doesn’t come here for the salads, okay? She comes here to get fed.”

  We smiled at each other, and for a moment I could swear we clicked. The connection couldn’t be more evident if someone had pressed a gun to the back of my head and pulled back the hammer. But our moment ended when Joe entered the scene, vanished into the night like a startled deer. If Joe, a middle-aged, pot-bellied sack of joy and warmth, had been anyone else I would’ve killed him where he stood.

  “Hey Amber,” he said.

  “Hey Joe, I’m not sure what I’m having yet.”

  “As always.” Joe smirked. “And you?” he asked Damien.

  “I think I’ll go for the Chicago BBQ.”

  “Chicago, got it. And you’ll probably have a tuna and black olive small once you’ve spent about fifteen minutes eyeing the menu.”

  “You put pictures of the food on it, Joe. You know how hard that is to deal with?”

  Joe joked about my indecisiveness, took our drinks order, and removed himself from our table along with the menus. His presence soon got replaced by sizzling frying pans, clinking pots and plates and indecipherable chatter from all angles.

  “Come here often?” asked Damien.

  “Oh yeah, it’s the only decent place to eat around here.”

  “Doesn’t look like much, though, does it?”

  “No, but they’re nice here and the food’s great. Anyway, what’d you think about Eliza?”

  “She’s cool.” Damien brushed a few stray strands of hair over his ear. “She reminds me of someone I knew back in San Fran. How long have you known her?”

  “A while. We met by pure coincidence, actually. It was fate,” I beamed.

  “Yeah, you guys seemed pretty close.”

  “Understatement of the year, Damien. So, tell me more about your Coven,” I said.

  “Actually, I thought maybe I’d ask you about yours.”

  “Mine?”

  “I’m going to be joining maybe, right? Assuming I pass this interview. That’s what you’re doing isn’t it?”

  “I am not interviewing you.”

  “So then why am I nervous?”

  “I don’t know. Stop being nervous.”

  Damien’s smile was infectious.

  “You were saying?” he asked.

  “My Coven, right,” I said, “Evan—oh, sorry, by the way, he was supposed to be there but he had to work.”

  “That’s okay, keep going.”

  “Right, so, Evan and Eliza are more into the spiritual side of things, you know, meditation and offerings to the Goddess and that. I wouldn’t be in their circle if I hadn’t met Eliza.”

  “They were a Coven before you?”

  Our drinks arrived. Two diet cokes in tall glasses.

  “I wouldn’t call them a Coven necessarily,” I said, “They were just both Wiccans together. We weren’t a Coven until I joined.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “About three and a half years, just after I graduated college”

  Damien sipped his drink. Immediately I became drawn to the way his lips enveloped the tip of the straw. What the hell? Stop staring!

  “Most Witches,” said Damien, “Know what they want out of the Craft.”

  “Oh?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

  “If I were to tell you all Witches had a calling, would you agree?”

  I searched within myself, and nodded.

  “What do you think your calling is?”

  “Knowledge, I guess. I feel like I’ve still got so much to learn but I’ve no idea where to start.”

  “Have you ever dabbled in real magick?”

  “Magick? Aren’t—”

  An unwelcomed chill cut me off as I was about to speak. I craned my neck around and immediately wished I hadn’t. Five jocks in total, all were loud, obnoxious and full of macho bravado. Joe tolerated them because they were good for business, but the ruckus they caused annoyed the hell out of other customers.

  “Check it out,” said Aaron. I went to high school with him. He pretty much shouldered the entire high school football team on his own. He was their rock. Back then he had pretty blue eyes, a conventionally hot body and a carefully maintained dirty blond mane which fell to his shoulders. Aaron was also a complete full-of-himself jackass. All that had changed since then was the length of his hair.

  “It’s the freak with her new gimp,” said Aaron.

  I rolled my eyes and paid no attention as they chuckled and walked past our table, but Damien hadn’t quite developed the immunity I’d built to such treatment. Years of enduring the title of “freak” forced me to learn how to let the slings and arrows roll off my back.

  “How’s it going, freak?” asked the ringleader, trying to get a rise out of me. I was going to snap a retort, but the Sheriff barked from the corner of the room and stood.

  “Hey!” The Sheriff closed in on Aaron. I likened the scene to a freight train hurtling toward a crook caught in the tracks—divine justice. “How about you leave the young lady alone and act your age?”

  “Sorry officer, we’re friends—I’m just teasing.”

  “Friends?” asked the Sheriff raising an eyebrow toward me. The man towered above everyone else and commanded the room.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I said, grinning, “I don’t socialize with half-wits.”

  “Sit down and eat,” said the Sheriff, “I’ve been hearing you say that word since you were fifteen years old, and if I hear the word one more time so help me God I will kick your ass.”

  I’m sure everyone in the room understood the seriousness in the Sheriff’s voice. Aaron’s jaw tightened but he nodded and rejoined his pack on the other side of the room.

  “Sorry about that,” I said to Damien.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” said Damien, sipping his diet coke, “Some people just don’t get over certain things.”

  “Did something happen with you two?” asked Damien.

  “I dated his best friend. We broke up pretty badly a while ago. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  I glanced at Aaron and caught him looking back, but he immediately averted his eyes. Joe, carrying two large plates, broke the awkwardness at our table with his jolly presence. Before me he laid
a large round slab with the tastiest looking pizza I ever saw. My mouth watered. Damien didn’t expect such a large helping of fries to come with a burger which already looked big enough to feed the State.

  “Enjoy,” said Joe, “Let me know if you guys need anything else.”

  The dilemma between wolfing down a slice of pizza—my first real meal of the day—and trying to be ladylike did not last long. In a few moments my fingers were dripping with delicious tomato sauce, and any semblance of manners flew out the window.

  “Good?” asked Damien, lathering a French fry in barbecue sauce and scoffing it down.

  I swallowed. “Good. Food’s always really good here. So, why’d you leave San Francisco? Don’t like big cities?”

  “I heard this school was good.”

  “It is. I think you made a good choice. How’d your girlfriend take it?”

  “How did you know I had a girlfriend?”

  “Just a hunch,” I said, smiling.

  “We’re trying to work things out. Long distance relationships are always tough and we’ve never gone through something like this before, but so far it’s working out.”

  “Good for you.” Of course he was in a relationship.

  When we finished our meal we ordered a few cupcakes Joe’s wife made for the restaurant and split the bill. Aaron and his group wouldn’t normally let me go without throwing another comment my way, but the Sheriff’s imposing presence served as a blocker for any abuse they were thinking of throwing. Rain doesn’t bother me, having an umbrella beats getting soaked.

  Damien and I walked to the end of the street together, where he had parked his car.

  “Do you need a ride?” he asked.

  “No, I’m used to walking.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s fine,” I said, smiling.

  “Well, before you go,” he said, “I’ve got something I think you should read.”

  Damien handed me a small, black book with nothing written into the spine or the cover, only a five pointed pentacle decorated with symbols I thought were familiar, but couldn’t identify. I opened the book to the first page. The pages were thick parchment and the ink seemed to have come from a feather quill, or a fountain pen.

  “The True Witch,” I said.

  “It’s good, and I think everything that’s happened will make a lot more sense once you’ve read it.”

  “Well with a tag line like that I’m don’t see how I wouldn’t read this book.”

  Damien smiled.

  “Thanks, Damien. So, I’ll see you in class?”

  “Not if I see you under the sycamore first.”

  We parted ways and headed in opposite directions. Full autumn had descended on Raven’s Glen early and rain clouds threatened to soak everyone caught outdoors tonight.

  I hurried home.

  CHAPTER 10

  I was right to hurry home. The steadily growing hiss of rain falling on trees and cars followed me down the street, erupting into a full on roar just as I stepped inside. I shook the drizzle out of my hair and settled on my kitchen table with a diet coke, a cupcake and The True Witch.

  The book was handwritten and intimate. I likened it to a Book of Shadows—a collection of a Wiccan’s research, spells, impressions—but the content contained suggested the book contained fewer spells and more historical and theological knowledge about a world I never realized existed.

  “To be human is to be divine,” read the book, “All of humanity is gifted with the spark of magick, a special connection to the central power which created the universe and everything within it. These Currents of magick, named so by the way in which they act—pushing and pulling, waning and waxing—are all but invisible, but much like air, the Currents exist. The Currents are mysterious and uncaring, likened by many to a vast black ocean shrouded under a mantle of perpetual fog.

  Though humans are divine they cannot perceive the Currents, but they feel its effects. They are lost ships with no means of propulsion, given away to the whims of a force they cannot understand. A trained Witch, however, is a beacon in the dark capable of not only navigating these unforgiving Currents, but also manipulating the way they flow and affect our universe and in turn effecting change.

  Make no mistake. Magick is inherited by blood. As a Witch, you have what humans do not; the privilege and the burden of Magick. Through learning you will unlock the secrets only we know. I impart to you, dear reader, what I have learned so that you may make the world a better place for all.”

  Magick is inherited by blood. The words struck me hard. Inherited by blood. I always thought my parents were Atheists, but when I got into Wicca my mom showed me she’d been Wiccan her whole life. My dad still didn’t much care about Religion at all but my mom had to hide her practices from him.

  When my folks moved out my mom left most of her trinkets and books behind. In my attic there sat a few dusty old boxes with books I’d never read, crystal balls, wands, dream catchers and semi-precious gems. I’d never opened the boxes because they weren’t my things. There’s a Wiccan tradition where you use things you’re given—like decks of cards, runes and all that kind of stuff. So I didn’t go digging around in my mom’s things because she never told me I could use them, but after reading this I may just have to.

  A car rolling into my drive stole my attention. I checked the time and opened the front door, anticipating my visitor’s arrival.

  “What’s up, freak?” asked Aaron.

  I stepped aside and hurried him in. “Do you really have to call me that in public?”

  “I thought you liked people not knowing about us.”

  “I do, but you don’t have to make a fucking show out of me in front of your friends.”

  “C’mon, it’s only to keep up appearances. You encouraged we act normal around each other in public.”

  Freak. Sweltering heat rose to my cheeks. I shoved my hands on my hips and shot him a look. “I don’t like it, okay? You embarrassed me in front of my friend.”

  “You’re one to talk about embarrassing. That Sheriff nearly tore me a new one because of what happened. Think I’m happy about that?”

  “Well it serves you right. You should know better than to go over the top when I’ve got company.”

  Aaron bit his tongue. He wanted to say more, but he also wanted what he came for. His jaw clenched while he decided what to do. Then he advanced on me and took my slender waist in his arms, pulling me to him with such force he left me gasping. Before I could catch my breath he’d pressed his lips against mine and we locked into a deep kiss.

  Aaron was my guilty pleasure. I keep telling myself that I don’t like alpha males anymore, but after all those years wasted on Kyle and now this situation with Aaron I see in me a girl still yearning for bad boys. One night, after I broke up with Kyle, Aaron came to my place looking for him. He’d heard Kyle skipped town and demanded to know why I’d broken up with him in the first place. They were best friends.

  I explained my reasons, although Aaron defended his friend’s unfaithfulness tooth and nail. We fought for hours, then ripped each other’s clothes off and spent the entire night taking our frustrations out on our bodies. I’d already hurt Kyle greatly before fucking his best friend—over and over again—but I didn’t care. If hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, imagine how vicious a Witch can be.

  “Beer?” I asked, peeling myself off him and smiling.

  “Only if you’re having one too,” he said, following me into the kitchen.

  I opened the fridge and handed him a bottle of Budweiser. Our bottles clinked and we each took a swig.

  “How’ve you been?” I asked.

  “Stressed. This week can go and fuck itself.”

  I nodded. “Yup, it’s been pretty hectic for me too.”

  “All I’ve wanted to do all week is come and see you.”

  He wanted to come and see me. I had the power. This is what I liked about him. “Me huh?” I asked, “Well you better cut it out with
that freak business, or else.”

  “Hey, you got a dig in there too. Hit me square in the heart.”

  “Oh please, your type don’t have hearts—only another pair of balls.”

  Aaron laughed and spent a moment checking me out.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing. You just look like a badass school girl.”

  “You like it?” I asked. “What do you like in particular?”

  His face twisted into a wolf-like grin. “Turn around.”

  I turned around and placed my hands on the counter. The gentle arch of my back caused my tartan skirt to ride up to the point where my ass peeked out from behind the curtains.

  Aarons’ dark silhouette came into view in the kitchen window in front of me. In the dim light I could only make out his nose, lips and teeth. I wiggled my hips for him, knowing how much it excited him. His hand caressed my delicate ass and came down on it like a paddle. A yelp escaped my lips at the sting and prickling numbness that followed.

  He lifted my skirt all the way up and took in the sight. I swear I caught him licking his lips. Then he peeled down my lacy black panties to about my thighs, spread my legs, grabbed a fistful of my hair and pushed my chest further against the counter. I closed my eyes and gripped onto the faucet with both hands, surrendering myself to him.

  SLAP.

  Electric fire rushed through me, exciting my sensitive areas. I smiled to myself. Then another spank came down on me, again on the same spot, the sting trailed by a million tiny kisses that nearly took my breath away. I gasped with the third slap on my other cheek.

  That’s enough.

  I turned around and we locked eyes. He advanced, pinning me against the kitchen counter with his chest. He took me in his arms and lifted me. I wriggled out of my panties and found his lips with mine, throwing myself into the crackling fire ablaze inside of me.

  Aaron’s hands rose within my sweater, which he spared no time in pulling over my head and tossing it aside. He gently licked and nibbled on my nipples through the lace of my bra before unhooking it and setting my breasts free. His warm tongue flicked my pink skin and I couldn’t stop an elated sigh from slipping through the gap between my lips.