T*Witches: Split Decision

by Reisfeld, Randi

  Sersee. The vicious witch who had been so cruel, so hurtful, so bent on destroying Cam and Alex. Her haughty highness tossed her head, dramatically casting off her hood to free a cascade of ebony curls. She caught Cam in the crosshairs of her piercing violet eyes.

  Cam stared back hard. The scary vision of a little while ago? Over it. She shot back, “To what do we owe the opening remarks, insincere though they be?”

  The revelation that the leader of the Furies had been twice abandoned — once by parents killed in a fire, then by a Protector who had failed her — tempered Cam’s righteous anger. Not that she felt sorry for the Serster, but the burning desire to clobber her had dissolved. Instead, Cam was peeved at Shane — clearly he’d spread the word of her visit.

  “Welcome.” Sersee’s expression was anything but. “Come join us at the Coventry equivalent of the popular table at the lunchroom. We wanted to make you feel right at home. No Starbucks, no sushi, no slice of Beverly Hills pizza, but we can do tasty tea, hot chocolate, and ice cream with the best. And our herbal remedies are … to die for.”

  How convenient, Cam noted, there were two empty seats.

  Shane said, “It’s up to you, Cam. Want to go someplace else?”

  Well, duh, she thought.

  “Oh, not yet!” Sersee exclaimed. “We must introduce Lady DuBaer to her future subjects.”

  Shane scowled. “Enough, Sersee.”

  She ignored him. “Of course there’s Epie —” The intra was unnecessary. Cam recognized the grinning moonfaced girl. She was Sersee’s most loyal lapdog. “She’s kind of hard to miss,” the violet-eyed witch added.

  Hard to miss? Was the queen of mean dissing her faithful stooge? Epie was chubby but not grotesque — except in the friends she chose. The plump girl tried to laugh now but her face had turned crimson. “At least let me say sorry about what happened last time.” She continued gamely, “You remember me, right?”

  How could Cam forget? Epie was the most clueless of the Furies. As trusting and devoted to Sersee as their third partner, Michaelina, was wily and cunning. The three had been formidable enemies. “We got punished for what we did,” Epie informed her, as if that now made it all right, the slate wiped clean.

  She’s cute, man! One of the warlocks, a kid with long dark brown hair and full lips, was giving her silent props. He introduced himself as Rowan. His friend, a boy with a long face and sour expression, was Serle.

  That left one other young witch, a gray-eyed girl with straight chin-length dark hair, who was not just looking at Cam but intently studying her. Where had Cam seen her before?

  The girl grinned suddenly. “I’m Amaryllis. I work at Crailmore. I’ve seen you there. Rowan’s right. You’re very pretty.”

  Cam smiled, flattered despite her suspicions that the girl and the rest of the crew were Sersee’s new slaves, faithful, fresh recruits to the Furies. It crossed her mind that Amaryllis, since she worked at Thantos’s fortress, might have a dual allegiance — to Sersee and also to Cam’s treacherous uncle. Was she here to spy on Cam?

  “I’m not a slave, you know,” Amaryllis bristled, answering Cam’s unasked question. “Lord Thantos pays us well, and allows liberal time off.”

  “What a guy,” Cam deadpanned.

  Shane settled into one of the empty chairs, assuming they were staying. Before Cam could join him, Sersee unexpectedly seized her arm. “I need to speak with her in private,” she announced to the gathering. “I’m sure no one minds.”

  “I do.” Cam tore her arm away, but Sersee’s quick hand grasped her waist and swept her along, whispering, “Please. What I have to say is not for public knowledge.

  “They all look up to me,” she added when they were behind the café, “and I want to keep it that way. Anyway, I regret any inconvenience I might’ve caused you in the past.”

  Inconvenience? That was like the doctor saying you may feel some “discomfort” before plunging you into horrible, stinging, unbearable pain. Exactly what Sersee had caused her.

  “I am sorry,” Sersee reiterated. “I want to make it up to you.”

  Cam brushed her off. “Take a memo, Betty Spaghetty. Sorry doesn’t begin to do it.”

  The violet-eyed witch continued as if she were reading off a TelePrompTer. “You stole Shane from me. I hurt you because I was jealous.”

  “Hurt me? You turned me into a hamster! You tried to kill me!” Cam heard herself squeaking like one, as she shuddered at the memory.

  As if envy made attempted murder forgivable, Sersee continued, “Shane was so obvious about it. I was betrayed. I gave him a place to stay, helped him when he was down and out. And then you come along and he kicks me to the curb. Me! Treats me like some big, fat, bad nobody.”

  Cam was beyond unconvinced. “That’s awful, Sersee. He should have treated you like the skinny, sneaky, nobody you really are.”

  To her credit, the Serster didn’t take the bait. She changed tactics, played the pity card. “I was enraged. You had it all — a home, a family, money, admiration because of who you are, not for anything you accomplished. I had nothing. No parents, not even a Protector who wanted me. Then you invade my turf and steal my boyfriend.”

  “Your turf? I must have missed the sign that said ‘Serseeville: Enter at your own risk.’ I came to honor Lord Karsh” — Cam could feel herself choking up — “to attend his funeral. I didn’t know Shane was your boyfriend. I thought…” she trailed off and shrugged.

  Sersee’s stab at remorse was lame. “I acted rashly and hatefully. I used my powers to hurt, not to heal. If I were you, I would never forgive me. But” — she looked up hopefully — “I’m not you. You’re a better person than I could ever be.”

  The devious witch was using her own meanness as a defense? No wonder she was first among Furies. Cam gave her major kudos for shamelessness.

  “Anyway.” Sersee took Cam’s arm again and walked around the side of the café, where the others were. She whispered confidentially, “See Rowan over there? He’s my new —”

  “— quarry?” Cam suggested.

  “Lucky boy.” Sersee didn’t miss a beat. “So Shane is all yours.”

  “Thanks for your leftovers.”

  “Leftovers? I don’t think so.” Sersee’s violet eyes betrayed a flicker of anger. “Shane A. Wright is the most coveted young warlock on the island, a real ‘catch’ as you mainlanders might say. Any witch would give her best crystal stone for a chance with him. He’s brilliant, ambitious, easy on the eyes, and from one of Coventry’s most important families.”

  That was news to Cam. All Shane had said about his parents was they’d kicked him out.

  “I have an idea,” Sersee was saying. “Tomorrow I’ll show you around the island. It’ll be just us girls. I can show you where were the best stuff is —”

  “Speaking of just us girls, bad things come in threes,” Cam interrupted. “Where’s the caboose of your cabal — Michaelina?”

  “Mike’s still in lockdown. For her part in, well, the thing that happened with you and Alex.”

  “Lockdown?”

  Sersee laughed. “She’s still serving her sentence; doing community service.”

  Baap! Red flag. Scrappy Michaelina was still doing penance while slithery Sersee and her slavishly loyal fan Epie were already free? Did not track.

  “So now that the air is clear and you’ve forgiven me,” Sersee continued as if just saying it made it true, “hang with us for a while. We were just about to leave for our Summer Solstice ceremony. Okay, we’re a little behind — the real holiday was last month. But it’s fun. You might like it. Of course, you’re not really a full witch yet. So if you’re afraid …” She let it trail provocatively.

  Grabbing Shane and splitting, Cam thought, was probably the real fun thing to do. But — even though she knew Sersee was playing her — she wouldn’t have minded checking out the witchy ritual.

  Also on the “go with” side: the chance to observe Coventry’s “best catch” in hi
s natural habitat. As long as that didn’t include any place she could drown.

  “Is that true?” Shane asked, bringing her a steaming cup of fragrant tea. “You’re up for the Summer Solstice ceremony?”

  “It could be interesting,” Cam conceded.

  “Oh, totally,” Epie squealed, then cast a quick glance at Sersee to see if she’d said the right thing.

  Oh, she had, all right. In a way Cam could never have counted on.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  YOU WANT FRIES WITH THAT?

  Alex had almost forgotten.

  Back home in Montana, she’d always worked — after school, weekends, vacations, and every summer. So had her friends. Her mom, Sara, had worked three jobs to make ends meet.

  No matter how much the actual jobs reeked, for Alex, being able to contribute to the household, help Sara make ends meet, and be able to buy her own stuff — whether it was a new CD, a movie ticket, or a thrift shop splurge — had felt right and real. It was that feeling she’d almost forgotten.

  “Just because you live in cutesyville with the Barneses,” Michaelina had chided her, “you had to become one of them?”

  Okay, so it had taken a sneaky little sorceress to pound the point home. Color her reminded. Independence? Alex was all over it.

  She knew exactly where to start. College-bound Jason had worked at Marble Bay’s premier pizza joint, Pie in the Sky. Had they replaced him yet?

  Alex got Michaelina to change into civilian clothes, and they hopped a bus into town. They were outside the pizza place, peeking in the window, when suddenly a woman came flying out the door looking grim and in a hurry. Alex recognized her as PITS’s cranky waitress, Irene Palmer.

  “Hi —” Alex started, but was drowned out by Mr. Tagliere, the manager, who’d followed Irene, yelling, “You can’t do that! You can’t quit without giving me notice! It’s against the law!”

  Without turning, Irene responded with a spiteful, “Buh-bye,” and a flutter of her bloodred fingertips. She brushed by the girls so quickly Alex had to duck not to be nailed by her huge shoulder bag.

  PITS was now two wait-staff short. Alex and Mike were hired on the spot — no questions asked, except, “Can you start today?”

  “How cool is this?” Juiced, Alex smoothed down her cheesy red-and-white-striped PITS apron. “I knew there’d be one opening, but two? And she quit just as we got there. I can’t believe our lu —” She trailed off and rounded on Michaelina. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

  Michaelina was writing out her name tag. She shrugged innocently. “Well, how fun would it be without you? That was the whole point of coming here.”

  “We’re supposed to help people, not swell the Massachusetts unemployment rolls.” Alex got in her face. “What did you do? And how soon can you undo it?”

  “Get over it.” Mike grinned. “Irene is gone. She was already thinking she was too hot to sling hash. Didn’t you catch her attitude? I read it through the window. All I did was agree with her. I sent her a message suggesting she was wasting her time in a paltry pizza place when she could do so much better.”

  Alex began to untie her apron. The plan? Ball it up, fling it at Michaelina, and split. But there was Mr. Tagliere looking so happy and relieved, and here she was, about to do what she’d sworn she would do when she first got to Marble Bay. She was going to pay her own way. She was on the way back to being the person she’d once been.

  Except, back then, there hadn’t been Cade. And it suddenly occurred to her — as Mr. Tag put a tray of steaming pizza in her hands — that she would probably be working PITS’s busiest shifts — evenings and weekends. She glanced at Michaelina, who was already at a corner booth busily sponging down a table. Had the mischievous imp realized what Alex hadn’t? That this job would severely cut into prime Cade time.

  Mr. Tagliere called a quick conference right after Alex delivered her first tray. He gave them the download on the salary-plus-tips system, how to place orders, how to treat patrons.

  He hadn’t thought to mention rules like “no mind reading, no food levitating, no magick when dealing with disruptive customers.” Which was, considering Michaelina’s penchant for trouble, a serious omission.

  Her first customers were sisters, about thirteen and nine years old. They’d barely slid into the booth when Mike advised the younger one, “I wouldn’t go with the extra cheese, it’ll get stuck in those wires on your teeth.” The child’s hand flew to her braces-filled mouth and her eyes went wide.

  To the stunned older girl, the wild little witch urged, “Forget the diet pizza. Matt won’t like you better if you lose weight. Go ahead, pig out on the sausage, peppers, and mushrooms.”

  What are you doing? Are you crazy? Fearful of having her own witchness blown, Alex was flabbergasted. But the sisters hadn’t stalked out. They took Mike’s advice instead.

  What? Michaelina innocently demanded of Alex. I’m helping people. That’s my job.

  Alex gritted her teeth. Wrong. Your job is to bring them what they order, without commentary!

  The put-upon pixie shrugged and rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, I didn’t order yet,” shouted a portly man as Michaelina headed to the kitchen.

  She whirled and shot him a smile. “Sure you did. It was between the chicken parm and the sausage hero. You went with the chicken. I have it right here.…” She showed him her order pad.

  Michaelina soon found other ways to “help.” She added selective herbs to the orders, “for better digestion.” She sprinkled soothing nettle on the pasta of a patron who’d complained of stomach pains, and mallow on the sausage-and-pepper sub of a woman with an eye infection. She added a healthy pinch of wormwood to the salad of a kid she deemed too thin. “Wormwood stimulates the appetite,” she told Alex in passing. “This is a good deed.”

  The moment Alex allowed herself to believe the little witch, things changed.

  While most people didn’t notice Michaelina’s potent pizza potions, the regulars did. One disgruntled customer sent his spaghetti and meatballs back, bellowing that it tasted like turpentine.

  “Don’t blame the waitress,” his wife chastised him.

  Oh, yes, definitely blame the waitress, Alex thought, shaking her head at Mike, who stood her ground. It was thyme, not turpentine. The guy needed a mouthwash! Pee-eew! I mean, what would you have done?

  The wayward elf was beyond stoked. And soon her glee turned contagious.

  Alex gave up spying on and scolding Mike. She herself had used magick in the past to get even with kids who gave her a hard time. Of course, back then she hadn’t really known what she was doing and her powers hadn’t been as impressive as they were now.

  Alex spent her entire break on the phone with Cade, who was surprised — Alex hadn’t told him she was job hunting — but supportive. “I get it, I really do,” he assured her. “It feels good to accomplish something on your own. And if working helps you get back to who you were, well, I want to know that girl, too. I want to know everything about you.”

  She melted. She’d been right. Cade was a keeper.

  “What does Cam say about your new career direction? Will she want in on the action when she gets back?” Cade teased.

  Cam! Alex hadn’t told her, hadn’t communicated with her twin in days. How weird was that? The closest she’d come was “e-personating” Cam, finally sending that e-mail to the cruising Dave and Emily.

  The action at PITS really picked up during the evening shift.

  A group of middle-school kids came in, three boys and two girls whose idea of a good time consisted of flinging spaghetti, dousing one another with their soft drinks, and pouring sugar all over the table.

  Mike and Alex looked at each other and, with barely visible grins, were on it so fast, the kids didn’t know what hit them. As they lifted their forks to sling pasta across the booth, their spaghetti boomeranged back, snaked up their noses, matted their hair, splashed rivers of sauce into their ears. When the tossed drinks froze
in midair and the sugar coiled back into the dispenser, they jumped back, awestruck and speechless. Alex made sure they settled the check before bolting.

  Later, a couple of big-attitude biker boys came in looking for trouble. But targeting Michaelina? So unfortunate.

  The one with the shiny slicked-back hair leered at the little witch. “Hey, small fry —” He winked to his partner before turning back to Mike. “Get me a small order of fries. Get it?”

  His pal tried to top him. “Yo, that’s not her name. Check the name tag, it’s Thumbelina.”

  Michaelina gave them a thumbs-up — and a pitying gaze before going to fetch their pie. Their next clever words were “mmmrrrph” and “grrumrruurph,” as oddly sticky pizza cheese superglued their mouths shut.

  “What’d you say? Speak up!” Mike dared them as, red-faced and sweating, they pointed to their mouths and pounded on the table. That brought the attention of nearby customers, who found the sight of two mute thugs a total hoot.

  Michaelina ended the torment after a minute or so, advising them sagely, “See what happens when you’re rude? It’s instant karma, dudes.”

  Throwing a pair of twenty-dollar bills at her, they bailed.

  Then she went too far. A stuck-up blond came in, totally putting down the girl who’d come with her. “Who cut your hair? Edward Scissorhands? It looks awful.”

  Mike, the avenging elf, arrived at their table carrying a steaming pie. Somehow the piping-hot cheese — all of it — slid off the dough, heading for the diss queen’s lap. Alex was aghast. Nasty as she was, Snob Girl was wearing shorts and was about to be badly burned. Alex moved without thinking, stopped the cheese in midair, and slid it back onto the tray, glaring at Michaelina.

  She deserves it! Mike insisted. Again the sizzling mozzarella slipped off the pie. This time Alex caught it in her hand and yelped as the hot cheese seared her palm.

  Mike gasped and jumped back as if expecting Alex to hit her. When it didn’t happen, she quickly and gratefully took the twice-reconstituted pie and Alex back to the kitchen. Streaming apologies, she reached into her herb pouch and found cooling, curing herbs to rub on the wound.