by T S Paul
“I thought that they wouldn’t take me because of Camilla?”
“Trust me. If I asked they would have taken Fergus as a student. Camilla is too easy to guilt.”
I started laughing. My Grandmother was very sharp.
She let me calm down then looked at me seriously. “Now we have much to discuss. You need to receive training, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be from the witch schools. Have you thought what you want to do with your life? Do not say run a shop in town, because I know you better than you think I do.”
I thought hard about it. I knew what I wanted to do deep in my heart, but it was something regarded with contempt by almost every paranormal race.
“Spit it out Agatha. I won’t be offended.”
I looked down at Fergus and he had a look in his eye directing me to tell her the truth. “I want to be join the police and help people.” I half expected her to yell at me. I looked up, and she was smiling.
“Very good. Did you think I would miss all the mysteries and crime books you read? Or the cops and robbers show you like on the idiot box? Child, I pay very close attention to what interests you. Now, down to business. What exactly do you want to do? Do you want to work with Cappy and be his new deputy or strive for something bigger?”
Cappy was the police chief here in our little slice of heaven called Blackbriar Heights. He cruised about town in an old police cruiser that has seen better days. His primary function was to keep the mundanes out of trouble.
“Bigger. No offense Grandmother, but we don’t have crime here.”
“We do, but you would not have heard about it. No, I will not explain. You can ask me later after you finish school.”
“What school am I going to?”
“How about the FBI Academy? Would you like to work for the US Government?”
“Really? How?”
“The Council has been trying to get someone to join for a few years. The Fed’s have to deal with paranormal crime on a daily basis. Some of the less powerful groups already have trained agents serving. They have been asking for a magic user for a while.”
“And they want me? Don’t they know about the mistakes and bad stuff that happens?”
“Dear one, even the Council knows that it is not your fault. The have offered to train you, under the auspices of the FBI of course. If you want to help people, this is your chance.”
I of course said yes. So begins my journey. Wish me luck because heaven help the FBI if I cut loose. I hope they have good insurance.
Chapter 2
My first day at my new school was a disaster. Once again not my fault in the least. This time I’m blaming Fergus. Let me back up a week or so.
A week after Midsummer's Eve Grandmother had a visitor. I was out in the garden as usual when I heard a car pull up out front. A few moments later, my Grandmother called to me from the house to come inside. I carefully placed the sumac and mandrake root in my basket being vigilant to separate the two. Our herb garden is extremely large. Grandmother meticulously keeps the really scary poisonous plants separated from the rest. No point in accidentally poisoning the coven members. Personally, if they don’t know their herb lore it serves them right to get sick. I took off my protective gloves and grabbed the basket. Just as I was about to close the gate to the segregated area when I heard a voice from the lavender patch.
“Hey! Don’t leave me out here alone!”
Peering into the patch I saw Fergus standing on a rock. “I thought you wanted to keep playing with the field mice?”
“More like tag. They have no sense of fun. I’m just trying to show them a good time, that’s all. Promise!”
I rolled my eyes. “I think they understand what your idea of fun is by now. If you’re coming get over here!”
Unicorns! Horniest creatures on the planet. Grandmother tells me all the time that Satyr’s are the worst, but I’ve not met one of those yet.
Fergus galloped over to the path and stood at my feet. I scooped him up and tossed him into the basket.
“Hey! What the freaking hell!”
“I’ve got my overalls on and they don’t have a pocket. Before you ask, no you cannot ride on my shoulder like a parrot.”
“I never get to have any fun!” He was hanging his head off the edge of the basket and moping.
“Fine. Last time.” He perked right up. I murmured ‘faker’ at him as I lifted him up. Having a unicorn on your shoulder is an experience let me tell you. Because he has hooves instead of claws he has to grip my shirt with his teeth to stay on as I walk. He resembles a flower corsage more than a parrot.
As I climbed the stairs I could feel him bouncing around like crazy on my shoulder. “You still OK?”
“Mmmmm mmm” I had to laugh at him. When I was younger it was a fun game to have him ride like this. Now that I’m bigger, he bounces around too much.
I could hear voices coming from the main room as I stepped into the kitchen. By the Gods, I hoped it wasn’t another upset member of the town council. Just because I created them doesn’t mean they listen to me. Damn squirrels. They listened to me one time. One! Somehow the family figured that out. They are relentless about nagging me to tell them to go somewhere else. Is it my fault they like our town?
The still-room is just off the kitchen. It’s original to the house. Initially it was to be a spring room. Before the first world war, people used them to keep eggs, milk and other perishables cool. Later, the maids or the cooks would use the rooms to make cleaning products, medicine, preserves, and other household products. Ours was Grandmother's domain. This was where all the magic happened, literally. Grandmother was very well known for her skill in medicinal potions and creams. The still-room was her workshop. I carefully opened the door and stepped inside. The temperature here was at least ten degrees cooler than outside. And that was without a cool spell. With the spell in effect, it was like winter on a blustery day in here. Everything had a proper place inside the room. Toxic herbs were kept in a locked cabinet. Only grandmother and I had a key and knew the cantrip that would unlock the traps set on it. It’s not that we don’t trust the family, but too many people have accidents. Poison is permanent.
I heard my name called again. It was time to quit stalling. I quickly stripped off my coveralls and headed for the main room.
Grandmother was sitting in her chair talking to a sharp dressed man in a black suit. “Grandmother? Did you call for me?”
“Ah, child. Good. Come over here and meet Agent Grimes. He is here to do a basic evaluation of you for the Academy.”
Oh, Boy. I stepped over to the chair opposite hers and sat down. “Nice to meet you Agent Grimes.”
He smiled at me saying. “Please call me John. Your grandmother has told me quite a bit about you.”
I glanced at her and she smiled. I was in so much trouble here. “Hopefully it was all good.”
“So far everything checks out. We are looking forward to having you at the Academy next week. It’s my understanding that magic teachers are going to be provided?” He looked toward grandmother.
“That is what the Council keeps telling me. They promised to help train her.”
“Good. I just wanted to check on that. This has been my pet project for a few years. Ever since the Mason Killer a few years ago the Bureau has been in need of a magic user on our side. For some reason no one wants to work with us.”
“Um.” I looked at Grandmother with wide eyes.
“It’s OK Agatha you can tell him. He will have to be told eventually.”
I looked back at the agent who was staring at us funny. “It’s like this Agent Grimes. Those of us in the Witch and Wizard community dislike and fear the government.”
“Why? We have always worked with your councils and have protected you in the courts from the anti-paras groups.”
“It was the Purge.” The fear was too deeply ingrained in the communities psyche to change our opinion of the Feds.
“That was a century ago. I don�
�t understand.” I hoped that the rest of the Feds weren’t this clueless.
“In this country the covens fear any government involvement. Any at all. We are taught in witch school to report things to the head of the coven before calling 911. It’s an unwritten rule. Don’t involve the government, ever. Too many of us remember what happened the last time we mixed or joined forces. The United States government was not involved, but they knew about it. We know that for sure. One spell. That is all it took to practically eradicate one of the largest species of paranormals on the planet. The fear is genuine and justified.”
“Still, it was a century ago. Governments change. Ours is more accountable than those in the past. I don’t understand. Don’t the covens in Europe work with the governments there? I mean, they were the ones that caused it.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grandmother wince. I let out a breath and tried to correct him. “Forget everything you think you know about what happened after the Purge.” I took a deep breath. Witch history was my favorite topic.
“OK. History lesson. The Spell. It was not supposed to kill anyone. That was not its function. The power that was raised and the blood that was spilled was supposed to bind the vampires and shield them from the Germanic covens. No one expected what happened. We are not normally killers. Respect has been a rule that paranormals have lived by until the Purge. The mundane governments, including yours, all patted themselves on the backs that we saved the day and the war could now be fought on even terms. For us it was as if the sun froze in the sky and the dead rose from the Earth. It was a thing of horror and disdain. Thousands of paranormals died. Tens of thousands. Imagine a city such as Atlanta or Nashville. Now remove all the people from it and kill them. That was how many were killed in the Purge. The amount that survived was minuscule compared to what had been.”
Agent Grimes had a look of horror upon his face. “But the history books? I don’t understand.”
“History is written by the victors, Agent Grimes. Remember that.” That came from Grandmother.
“Right. Think back to pivotal historic events. The Battle of Hastings, Battle of Bannockburn, Masada, and Caesar’s defeat of the Druids on Anglesey. History is filled with battles and executions of the wrong person or thing. It’s all a matter of point-of-view. From the Allied governments POV the vampires died and the war was won. From our POV it was a monstrous war crime. The leaders of the covens in question stood trial for their crimes. So did those on the German side.”
“I have never read that. I know I have never read that.”
“That would be because we didn’t tell you. Most paranormals know the true history. It is what we are taught so the same mistake doesn’t happen again. Something else that we have kept hidden is that the enemy covens were completely destroyed. Gone. Down to the last member and family. None remain today.”
“How? Why? That’s mass murder!”
“Agent, we didn’t do it. No witch or wizard alive today committed that crime. Rumors exist that it was done by the Vampires. However, they refute it too. It is a rare occurrence to see a vampire anywhere in Europe. They avoid it like we do the plague.”
I looked over at Grandmother. She nodded to continue. All righty then. “After the war was over and victory was at hand the magical alliance broke up. The governments of the world promised to help integrate us and we promised to listen to what they had to say. Betrayal is such a dirty word, but that is what happened nonetheless. The public as a whole was scared and the governments of the world did nothing to help change that. Your agency herded the Were’s onto reservations so they could be watched and experimented on. The Fae melted back into their forest and groves. Very few are seen these days. Everyone else played it safe and hid themselves from public view. Then another war loomed. You came to us for help. And what happened?”
“You said no.”
“Yes. We as a whole, said no. The covens in Britain cooperated, but they had no choice. Everyone knew where they lived and where their children went to school. Many were taken into protective custody to force compliance. In this country only the Were’s were at risk. They took a chance and told you no. We went the smarter route this time: Newspaper articles, public radio pieces, and show-and-tell. We forced Congress and the White house to meet with us on our terms and we insisted on formal recognition and laws. For you the Salem Witch Trials were history, but for us it was still happening. In the years between wars many a small town witch or magical practitioner was burned out of their homes or run out of the town they grew up in. People were scared. Going to the police and asking for protection was like painting a big W on your head and asking for trouble. It was not all that unusual to come home and find white-sheeted men tearing up your yard and burning a cross in it.”
He started to speak, but I held up my hand. “We fought your war for you. Once we found out it was a demon incursion we were glad to help. Those things are nothing but trouble to begin with. This time when the war ended we did not go back into obscurity. We stayed. We call it being out-of-the-broom-closet. So back to your original question. We still to this day avoid police and any government official. That is what the various councils are for. They talk to you, not us.”
The agent was nodding his head. “That explains so very much. I’ve been beating my head on the table wondering why no one would talk to us. Having a trained magical person on our team would make so much difference. We are literally flying blind sometimes. The Were’s help some, but they are mainly muscle. We need magic. We need you.”
I chuckled at him. “I’m sorry Agent Grimes.”
“Call me John.”
“I’m sorry John. I don’t mean to laugh. But, you said you have Were’s on your team?”
“We do. Why is something wrong?”
“Did you ask any of them why we wouldn’t work with you?”
He thought for a moment. “I did. I remember asking one of the Bears that very question.”
“What did he say?”
“Something to the effect of he could ask his council for direction. Why?”
“The Were’s are taught the same history as we are. As I am. They could have told you what I just did. He was asking you if he could ask permission of his council. Only they can approve a history lesson for a mundane. Especially a government one.”
“It’s a matter of POV again Agent. You just have to understand us better.” My grandmother looked him in the eyes as she spoke. “To answer the unasked question. The answer is yes. The council did give us permission to tell you. You need to understand the dynamic here. The lesser paranormals know this as well as we do. It’s all about balance, something our government forgets about. Now enough history for one day. You are here to speak to Agatha. Please feel free to do so.” She stood up from her chair and walked back toward the kitchen.
I listened for the still-room door but failed to hear it.
“Is she always so…”
“Stern. Demanding. Scary. That would be yes, John. She is very sweet to me. I’ve lived here since I was seven.”
“So the Academy. It’s my understanding that you actually want to go. It’s not the council pushing you?”
“Yes, it’s something I would love to do. I like the idea of police work and helping people.”
John looked down at the files in front of him for a moment. “I’ve read all the files and studied what was available about you. What happened when you were seven? Our basic background check was met with anger and fear beyond what it should be.”
I sighed. Everything always comes back to the birthday party from hell. “Everyone from here calls it “The Incident.” They are trying to be nice, in their own way. My father was killed on my sixth birthday. Mother very nearly didn’t get over it. Her sister, my Aunt Camilla, organized a seventh birthday party for me without telling mother first. It was a surprise. Mother was just starting to come around when suddenly the yard was filled with loud, noisy children, and fussy parents. Uncle Harrison, Camilla’s first husban
d. No, I think he was number two. Three? Her husband. There have been so many. He bought me a Unicorn for my birthday.”
“Wait. A Unicorn. Like a live Unicorn? Looks like a horse with a horn sticking out? That Unicorn?”
