Timeless Witch

by C. L. Scholey

  “I be good, Daddy, me wuv you,” I said with solemn eyes, causing the inevitable aws to be dramatically called forth from other observing adults. I was such a beautiful, charming child. Really, how could they not adore me?

  I leaned in closely and, wrapping my arms about his neck, I whispered, “The silly old cow thinks you’re hot. Want me to cast a spell on her?”

  “No, baby, just be good for a while, please?” he asked hopefully.

  Be good, yeah, I’ll get right on that. An hour later the fire alarm sounded and the sprinkler system went off. That’ll teach these morons to try and make a witch color inside the lines with purple crayons.

  * * * *

  High school years are always somewhat entertaining and quite amusing. I had no problem being popular; although, for the most part I chose not to associate with the others, as I am at least thirteen thousand years older.

  The age gap does pose a bit difficult at times. While everyone else complained of hormonal changes and blemishes, I was subtly practicing my craft. I had no need to date these silly boys, as my mate had already been chosen. And woe be to the unsuspecting fool who would try to distract me.

  “No, I don’t want to go to the prom with you, moron, I mean, Morton...and if you try and kiss me again I’ll turn you into a tree.” I mean really, why on earth would I want some puny, face-pocked mortal, when my handsome Randar awaited me?

  * * * *

  As the years rolled into a numbing ocean of hurry up and wait, I found myself caught off guard briefly. Ole gangly became sick. I am a protector of time, created as such to make certain the era I am in moves along smoothly without outside interference. What must come, will come; I am efficient to a fault. I demand no less of myself, as do my gods. And as time moves onward, so too, unfortunately, does life cease. Sadly, a nasty cancer had settled its way into his bones.

  I am not allowed to interfere with anyone’s life or death span, except mine own kind, or my foe’s kind. But I am allowed to spare those I care for great pain and suffering. Though he was dying, he experienced no anguish, or agony. He was able to keep Alice from succumbing to great despair at her looming loss, because he was in a relatively good humor.

  That evening, well after midnight, I sat by my father’s bed. It was his wish to die at home with his family. Mother slumbered fitfully in a chair near his side. I held his frail hand. He felt so cold. Closing my eyes, I used a summoning spell to warm his blood and take the chill from his bones. He offered me a small smile.

  “Don’t be afraid, Father. You will be at peace soon, I promise.”

  “How can this be, when there is no pain, or fear?”

  I smiled a smile I knew he found baffling. “I think you already know.”

  “Tell me, before I die. You were indeed a gift, my Sophia, but are you really ours?”

  “Yes, and also no.”

  This was so difficult to explain. How could I tell the man before me his own child was never meant to be born? The woman I was given to had never carried a fetus to term, and she never would have...except without my help.

  As I have mentioned I cannot interfere in a mortal’s life or death, even from conception. Therefore, the finding of a host could be quite difficult and a tricky act of precision timing. In order for my rebirth, my incantation must wait to take effect until a soul has left the body of its own free will, while the heart remains beating, and it cannot be just any host; it must be the body of one who has not yet taken her first breath outside the womb.

  Alistair’s kind was a stealer of souls, a heartless taker of innocent babe’s lives. They cared not who they possessed, or who they destroyed. They waited not for a babe’s soul to leave a body; they were ruthlessly evicted. When being reincarnated, they too, are only able to inhabit a being that has not yet taken its first life breath.

  A tragedy, but a necessary evil to level the playing field. I also had my suspicions it was the gods’ irritating way of teaching us a valuable lesson: be careful with your life, unless you wish to find your backside once more in shit, literally.

  My new mother had no idea I was different, or perhaps she chose not to see it. But Father, now, he had always suspected. A few times during my toddler years I had been sloppy, but in my defense, maneuvering with such pudgy little hands and being so small of stature, was hard at times. I also couldn’t help it if I toiled the time away, concocting a few small spells for my amusement.

  “Somehow, you have helped me with my pain.”

  It was a statement, and there was no need to deny the obvious. I squeezed his hand gently and smiled when he valiantly tried to return the pressure.

  “You will sleep soon, Father. But know this: you will be rewarded in your next life, this I promise you. The gods have granted me this favor I have asked. Both you and Mother cared for me well.”

  “It doesn’t matter where you came from. You are my child.”

  He spoke with such possessive ferocity I was stunned, and secretly pleased he felt so strongly. “In a way. I am yours.”

  It was true. I was of their blood, and yet not theirs in theory. My features had altered the moment I became one with my host body. I looked like neither of them, nor had I looked like any other one of my ‘parents.’ But they had cared for me like I was their own, loved me, as had all those I was given to.

  Truly, they couldn’t have loved me more. My true mother, my witch mother, was my rightful parent, as was her mate, her gift from the gods, my true father, but the man before me knew nothing of them.

  “Take care of your mother for me?” he asked, his voice was but a tinkling chime of a whisper.

  His time was nigh. Sadly and with great tenderness, I trailed a hand across his head in a loving gesture and went to wake Alice. My mother sat beside him silently. They gazed into each other’s eyes. Neither saw the incantation I spoke. There was already a humanoid type host awaiting his soul’s rebirth. His transition would be smooth, painless. He was to be born into a loving, wealthy family.

  My gift to him would be a carefree, long life. But I wanted no reminders to haunt him. Nothing from this time or this world must trigger or nag a déjà vu from his memories; it would be dangerous for him. And so my incantation thrust him three thousand years into the future. I sent him to a beautiful planet in another galaxy, a place so far my nemesis would never find him.

  As he slipped quietly away I could feel the energy of this time sag for a brief moment. It was like the skipping of a heartbeat, as the dimensions struggled and then allocated the change. He was then safely sequestered firmly into his new body. The solar gods adjusted this lap of molecules, regrouped, then settled.

  I scowled for a moment. Alistair had felt me. I had used a large piece of my magic to complete my transfer successfully. He knew where I was this very second. Knew where I stood, could feel my grief, and the bastard’s laughter filled my ears with warning.

  “Come and get me, if you dare, foul serpent,” I muttered under my breath.

  My fists clenched and unclenched with my seething anger. The putrid toad would not even allow me my grief in peace. But it wasn’t time, not yet—but soon.

  * * * *

  Three years later my mother passed. Her death and transition were just as easy. She and Father would meet and fall in love all over again. Only this time the gods would bless them with three of their own children. Poor ole gangly. Hopefully, none would offer him a hard time.

  For now, I would use these next two years and plan. With no ties, I sequestered myself away from all mortals. At long last my ruse was at an end. I embellished my craft. I would be a force to be reckoned with. My wait was almost at an end.

  Chapter 2

  The wind blew through my open bedroom window, tossing my long, thick black hair wildly about my face. The icy coldness landed upon my naked flesh to burn my skin, as sleet pelted down upon me mercilessly. My arms were raised high above my head, my body swayed.

  Supremacy filled my entire being. I could feel, at long last, the tim
e was now upon me, the moment I had been anxiously awaiting, and I was beyond ready. I was in possession of all my powers. I was finally full grown, finally of age, and All Hallows’ Eve was the day after tomorrow, the day my Randar was taken from me, the day my baby’s life was stolen before her first breath. It was time for me to summon my beloved’s image forth.

  “You were given to me by the Goddess of ole,

  My heart, my love, my body, my soul,

  You were given to me, I command you nigh,

  You were given to me, beyond the day we die.”

  Quickly I gazed up into the misty window before me. The swirls of smoky haze billowed and flittered wildly and then parted. And there he was, the reflection of my beautiful Randar, my beloved, my absolute everything. Innocent of the ways of my people, each time he was reborn. A necessary evil, as he had no way to protect himself if I were to meet my demise before his lifespan naturally ran its course.

  I watched him through my magic portal windowpane; saw the firm curve of his jaw, the sleek, shiny skin. The grace and power of the way he moved was so incredibly picturesque it brought me to tears. My heart was joyous.

  What a powerful protector this daughter of mine would have, once conceived, if I could manage to save her father this time. This child of mine must be a desperate necessity to the old ones, if I were being given a second chance to right the wrong committed against me. The father of the next witchly changeling must live. He was safe, for now, and before the gods, I swear he will be forever.

  With a wave of my hand across the glass, the scene before me faded. Alistair, what a cocky bastard he was. That fateful eve of before, he had somehow found out what living shape my beloved Randar would be. He had waited until I turned him mortal, and I had watched my beloved perish before my very eyes, as a harpoon sank through his muscled belly.

  Alistair had murdered him in his human form, knowing if he destroyed him as an orca he would be returned to the sea gods whole. They would have revived him, as he was under their protection, and again he would come to me when the time was right. But in human form he was vulnerable, and mine to guard until it was time to let him go. I could have saved him still from the injury done him. It was my duty to right the wrongs of these heinous beasts.

  I had the power...but instead I failed him. For that special night the magic of Halloween belonged to neither good nor evil, and what would come would come.

  Randar’s exquisite eyes had widened in agony. His hand had reached for me, fluttering weakly, as his lifeblood spilled to absorb within the water beneath his feet. Sending a message to the water gods I had failed and he must be returned to their protection. His memory of who I was, and our past together, fled across his fearful eyes. He had taken a step toward me, to warn me, but that day, I too, met my demise, even before poor Randar had slumped to the ground.

  My eyes were sodden with tears in my grief, as despair almost struck me to my knees. I had no way of knowing Alistair would again risk the wrath of the Keeper, thinking he had learned his lesson. I should have been more cautious. Alistair was there; the serpent’s silver dagger came round me from behind, and he whispered, “Death to you, murdering witch.”

  The weapon slid straight into my heart. But as my Randar sank to his knees, his beautiful eyes clouding with despair over our downfall, I grabbed hold of the bastard’s dagger and with my back pressed tight to his chest pushed with all my might. I as well became uncaring as to the sacredness of the night.

  Alistair howled with outraged fury and pain. And I was hysterical with real laughter, knowing full well the silver dagger had found its mark. Our blood flowed fast, intermingling. The bile of distaste rose in my throat as his foul serpent’s filth touched me from within, and from that moment on I would be forever aware of his presence. I would sense when he was close. Never again would he be able to catch me unaware. I had my edge.

  “May we die together, serpent of evil,” I had spit out. Then I was gone. My soul flew within a gust of wind on the back of a white dove. The frantic search for a host drove me to move on, without my dearest Randar, without my beloved child. It had seemed the bastard, Alistair, had stolen yet another daughter.

  I went to sit on my bed, pondering my troubled thoughts about that fateful eve. I knew for certain Alistair would try again. He sought Randar’s demise as well as my own. Randar was a threat to his kind.

  Though Randar sported no magic, he could create life within a witch to create a being powerful enough to destroy one of Alistair’s line. I took a small measure of solace in knowing there would be no way Alistair would be able to get close to a killer whale. He would have no means to find him—the water gods were too powerful. They would cloak him well amidst the mass of other mammals.

  Randar knew not what he was; he would act no differently than the next orca, making it impossible to single him out. No human thoughts would roam his mind that Alistair could sense. But the vile serpent could track me the moment I used my incantation.

  Already I knew Alistair was close. I smelled him. The evil stunk from his pores worse than one of my old smelly diapers. I shuddered with the thought. I couldn’t fail again. I needed to save Randar; we needed to mate and give life to a water witch.

  The world was in desperate need of her protection at this time. The waterways were erupting, with the help of evil magic. The evil ones whispered of the sinister humans and their desire to destroy life beneath the oceans. With travesty after travesty befalling our waters, it appeared the evil ones were correct. The waters were angry; they had taken their last blow.

  The sea and oceans would soon be at war with humanity. The disturbed turbulence of this era sought guidance. They screamed for a mediator. We were behind schedule with our loss from before. Evil had run amok. The tides were turning, literally. If my little witch were to fail, it could mean the death of all humanity on this planet. The demise of a planet was a serious occurrence. It would throw off the harmony of the galaxies.

  I was unable to stop a violent shudder. I was hopeful my little water witch would be strong enough. But first she needed to be born. I would need to use my time magic to manipulate her descent into where she was needed most. It mattered not what era she was born to, it was to where she would be sent. I could slow time to a hairsbreadth. Linger seconds to a perpetual standstill, until the exact moment she came into her full power.

  Once born, our little water witch would have the comfort of her parents for a short while. At least she would have her adoring father for ninety years; he was such an amazing parent and mate. It would take a full ninety years before my child would come into her powers. She needed the love and protection both parents offered during this carefree time, a special gift to us.

  I loved best those years when we could be a normal loving family, aging slowly under the guise of my powers. That is, if I chose for us to appear in public on certain occasions for outings. As our child aged we needed to age as well, we being her parents, not wanting to raise any unwanted suspicion. Or we could be away to a secluded place of my choice, and Randar and I would age not at all in the serenity of our surroundings.

  Once Randar’s earthly body expired, as no matter how much power I had, I must obey the rules of my kind, the cloak of my protection would no longer be necessary. I could then use the full extent of my powers for which they were needed—teaching.

  I could transform us, my child and me, to a place of tranquility, where it would be I teaching her the witchly duties demanded of her, during her infancy. Yes, infancy; you see, with our very first birth, witches of our kind do not reach maturity for many, many millennia.

  Normally, I was allowed only a short two thousand years with each daughter; it never seemed enough, each one my heart’s joy, each one more powerful than the last, as mine own powers grew and continued to grow.

  During this time, Randar would sleep in the sweetest of slumber, cocooned in the gods’ safety, as he was my gift from them for doing their will. Once my daughter was weaned into all of her
powers, I would be free to search out Randar’s new form, where we would join, mate, and create a new and powerful witch-child to nurture. It was always intriguing to see what the witch-gods would turn him into to hide him. Even I never knew until I called his image forth.

  The only child I ever lost was my firstborn; my heart near breaks with the memory. On All Hallows’ Eve, the first time she caught a glimpse of her intended soul mate through a portal she created, she should have seen it for what it was. A trick, a ruse, to destroy her and her line of forest witch.

  A serpent he was, and a serpent he remains. But the beast was cunning. A shape-shifter of such handsomeness, he was irresistible. He lured my daughter away to her death with the assumption he was her mate. I hadn’t been in her time, or even her world, to save her. It was a devastating blow to Randar, me, and to our gods. We were at war with the vile serpent’s kind, and already the casualty list was far too high.

  Alistair was created by his kind, Demon gods, fallen from grace, who were ousted from our own. They wanted ultimate power, absolute control over the galaxies and universes. They thought those beneath them to be paltry, insignificant little toys for them to play with, for them to antagonize.

  No life had meaning for them. Their measures were extreme, their excessive cruelty used under the guise of ‘punishment,’ was deplorable. They were without scruples. They had no intention of creating anything of use. Their beings were loathsome, and my kind abhorred them.

  The earth always announced the birth of an enemy looming, in the way of a fearsome warning, when one of Alistair’s kind came forth. The more powerful the catastrophe, the more powerful and repulsive the being. When Alistair’s son had come forth upon the planet Earth, in the year 1470 BC, the volcano, Santorini, had caused a severe blow to Greece.

  A child of massive destruction, he had risen to glory over the years, enough to be able to cause damage in his wake. Killing hundreds of thousands for nothing more than his amusement. That was, until I put a permanent stop to him. For my daughter and for the Keeper, I ended his miserable existence the day after Halloween with the gods’ blessing and encouragement, and perhaps a tad of magical assistance by the latter.