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Elements of Power (Council of the Harvest Moon Book 1)

Page 2

by Kate Stoessel

“I was walking with my mother and we saw her picture in a human newspaper one day. She told me how the ACC tried to recruit Apollonia for her talents, but that she had refused unpatriotically. She warned me that people like Apollonia were not to be trusted, but all I heard was that she might be able to help me.” Not a lie, I thought. Just not the whole truth.

  “Ok, so what happened when you got here?”

  I recounted for him my short conversation with Apollonia, leaving out that she knew my father and the images that I had seen through our magical connection. My instincts were telling me that these things were better kept to myself. Marshal Trackerson sighed at me when I told him that I had given her my hand, and added, “You know better than that Khlorie.”

  “Yes, sir.” I hung my head. He was right about that.

  “So, she knows your future, but she didn’t get the chance to share anything with you?” He looked at me questioningly. “Nothing at all?” I nodded in response, and his shoulders relaxed a bit. Something flashed across his eyes. Relief? “Well, we will make sure that she is unable to share your personal information.”

  “What will happen to her?” I asked finally.

  “Khlorie, we are at war with the fairies and things are getting more intense every day. Did you see what happened yesterday evening to the potions lab in New Jersey? A fairy extremist named Linus Boreas caused a sinkhole that collapsed the building and killed the night staff.” He paused to make sure I was listening. “That could have been your mother’s lab.” His voice was calm as he spoke, but with a dangerous edge. “We cannot feel bad for those who collaborate with terrorists. We cannot assume the best. The most dangerous people in this world are those who seem like they could never be dangerous. They are the ones who catch us by surprise.” With that warning hanging between us, Marshal Trackerson offered me his arm so that he could spell travel me home.

  In a flash, we were standing in the foyer of my home in Salem. The federal architectural style never seemed so cold or claustrophobic to me as it did in that moment. Off to my right, I could see my mother sipping tea with some friends in the sitting room. I recognized Marshal Trackerson’s wife, Virtue Williams, chatting happily with the small collection of witches. I imagined her proudly sharing about their daughter, Brigid, being the next in a long line of Williams and Trackersons to study animal magic and shifting at Tatanka College in North Dakota. Brigid had been the first in our class to be accepted to school. Interrupting my thoughts, the house announced our arrival. Virtue and my mother looked up and saw us in the entranceway. Bodhi gave his wife and their friend a pointed look and they politely excused themselves from the book club without drawing any unnecessary attention to my situation.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs while I talk to your mother and the boss,” Marshal Trackerson whispered to me. The “boss” was his pet name for Virtue, who was actually his boss. She had been named the head of the American Continental Coven’s Military and Security Law Enforcement Office (M.A.S.L.E.O.) a couple of years ago. She was smaller by a good amount than her behemoth of a husband, but her gray eyes belied her cunning, and I knew that she was as lethal as any marshal in the country. As I climbed up the stairs, I could see my mother taking in the situation with a concerned look. Morrigan Lethestone never missed anything. Her attention to detail is what made her the greatest potioneer in the country. She didn’t abide by disorder, and she was not going to go easy on me.

  I ran up the stairs to my favorite spot in my room, the window seat overlooking the gardens and the harbor. Even though it was dark, knowing that the water was there made me feel calmer. When I was a child, I used to sit down by the dock and try to spot mermaids who’d pop into the harbor to play tricks on tourists in boats. That rarely happened anymore, however. The mermaids were actively trying to remain neutral in the battle between the witches and the fey. The Atlantic Premier decreed that all her constituents must remain away from shore for their own safety. I missed hearing their magical singing and watching the effect it had on the humans. It wasn’t long until I heard my mother saying goodbye to her book club and starting to make her way up the wooden staircase.

  The tall and graceful figure of Morrigan Lethestone came through the door methodically. My mother never rushed, and she never got too emotional. However, there was a strain on her fair face. I curled my knees into my chest on the bench and looked up at her. Despite it being late, my mother’s chocolate brown hair was pulled back tight into a perfect top knot and neither her purple blouse, the color of the potioneers, or long black skirt had a wrinkle on them. She came and sat down on my bed but didn’t say anything. The silence was too much for me.

  “I’m so sorry, Mom,” I cried finally. “I know what I did was wrong. I wasn’t thinking clearly. This whole specialty thing…” My mother held up her hand and stopped me.

  “You are all the family I have left Khlorie,” she started quietly. “You cannot take risks like this; not for any reason.”

  I nodded.

  “I understand that the specialty process is taking a long time, but we must trust the process. The ACC has put it in place to make sure that all witches reach their potential.” She spoke calmly and firmly.

  “I know,” I responded meekly.

  “You cannot contribute to this world if you do not control your own destiny. Giving a witch like that your secrets is like throwing your future away. Who knows what she may know about you and who she may tell? You are lucky Bodhi and his team showed up.” The only emotion I sensed in her tone was disappointment. It gutted me.

  “I know,” I responded quietly.

  A small buzzing came from her pocket and she pulled out a rectangular shaped magic mirror. I could see text appearing across the screen. “It’s from Bodhi. Apparently, your secrets are safe.”

  My stomach dropped. There was only one way my mother would think I could trust Apollonia with what she had seen.

  “She killed herself before she could be interrogated by a Mind Witch,” my mom stated matter of factly, confirming my fears. “Apparently, she had a potion tablet hidden on her person. They were unable to get any information from her prior to her passing. You got lucky this time, Khlorie.”

  I didn’t feel lucky, however. I had the sneaking suspicion that Apollonia’s suicide and my future were connected in some way. Actually, it was more than a suspicion. Something in my gut told me that Apollonia meant what she said about not revealing my secrets. She knew something dangerous. Something that Bodhi Trackerson was relieved that she didn’t have time to convey. Terrible questions crawled into my mind. What did Apollonia know about my future, and what secrets were so important that she would choose death rather than cooperation?

  CHAPTER TWO

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Apollonia’s death was never reported by the papers. It was like she had never existed at all. Similarly, my life went on just the same as before. Callum and Marshal Trackerson never mentioned my indiscretion to anyone else. As far as my mother was concerned, it was something that never needed to be mentioned again. She did, however, keep a much closer watch on my movements than she had before the incident. It was going to take me a long time to rebuild that trust.

  Back at school, I felt like a ghost. I still had not been selected for an area of study. There didn’t seem to be any more tests for me to take. I’d exhausted the whole battery, but no college offer letters were forthcoming. People gossiped about me in the hallways. I was the only top year student still in my training uniform. Not even the gossip that Petr Rangersson only got into Volant College because his father, a flying wizard who ran a prominent trans-Atlantic travel company, had made a very generous donation pulled the focus from me for very long. Without a specialty, I could not attend college and would not have a career path. Everyone knew that and they pitied me. Being a member of a specialty was mandatory in our society. It informed every part of a witch’s life, from the jobs she had, to the friends she made, and even the color of the clothes she wore. Specialties were how the Ame
rican Continental Coven organized and galvanized every witch’s unique set of talents.

  My best friend Brigid Williamson, Bodhi and Virtue’s daughter, tried unsuccessfully to distract me from everything. However, one look at her brown blouse, the color of the Animal Magic specialty, was a reminder that she knew exactly what her future held. Always one to toe the party line, she assured me daily that the process was doing what it was supposed to and that it would all work itself out. She had no idea what the waiting was doing to me. I was one of the school’s top students. How could this be how the process was supposed to work?

  It seemed that the saga was going to be coming to an end today, however. My mother and I got called into Headmistress Helewidis’ office for an important meeting about my future. This was not how offer letters were typically given out. So, I was mentally preparing for the worst. As I sat in the headmistress’ waiting room, the enchanted tablet in my hand began to vibrate.

  “The Enchanted Tablet Network is being interrupted for breaking news from the American Continental Coven’s Luminary Witch, Felicity Pruitt.” My mother’s dear friend, who I simply knew as Aunt Felicity, walked up to a podium. Her blond hair was tucked into a perfect top knot and her harsh, hawk-like features came into full view of the camera. Her fair skin looked phantom pale against her black blouse, the color of Spirit witches. Around her neck was the amulet she liked to wear when she wanted to remain in the world of the living, unbothered by the needs of the dead. She was flanked by Brigid’s mother, Virtue.

  “I will keep this brief,” she began. “After the vicious attack on the government buildings of the American Continental Coven by the fairy terrorist, Linus Boreas, we have realized that stronger measures need to be in place to keep witches of all regions of this country safe. That is why, after consultation with the witches of M.A.S.L.E.O., I will be proposing the Fairy Registration Act at this year’s Council of the Harvest Moon. Once enacted, this will decree that all fairies living in American shared territories must register their names, addresses, and elemental abilities with the Council of the Harvest Moon. This data will then be provided to the brave witches of the ACC as we seek to put an end to the violence and terror caused by the fairy insurgency. Due to the need for careful consideration of this legislation it has been decided that this year’s Council meeting will take place in December under the Cold Moon. This postponement was intended to help fairies, but it will give me an additional two months to bring the delegates of the Council to the same realization that I had-- we MUST put safety measures in place to prevent horrible attacks like the one in New Jersey. I look forward to spending the next year making the witches of the American Continental Coven safe again. I will take no questions at this time.” Just like that, the images disappeared off my tablet. I knew that Aunt Felicity’s words would have an impact on me, but at this particular moment, debating fairy registration was not high on my list of priorities, particularly because I didn’t think she stood any chance of passing such legislation. The Council, made up of witches, fairies, mermaids, and vampires, was designed to keep the peace between different supernatural governments. Surely, there was no chance that Felicity could proceed. She was simply coming out strong against the fairies due to the violence. I put my tablet into my school bag and put the announcement out of my mind.

  At that moment, I saw my mother coming down the hallway towards the headmistress’ office.

  What will she think? I wondered as I watched her tall, fair, and graceful figure making its way to me down the corridor, her high-waisted black skirt swaying as she walked. What will everyone think- that Khloris “Khlorie” Lethestone, the daughter of Morrigan Lethestone, is such a disappointment that she cannot find a specialty? Questions that had never occurred to me now plagued me. What happens to witches not assigned a specialty? I had never heard of such a thing happening. I stared at my own black boots and held my breath until my mother reached my side.

  “Khlorie.” It was a simple acknowledgment that she knew I was there. Nothing more. She had been distant with me since the night I went to Apollonia’s.

  “Hello, Mother,” I replied.

  A kind looking witch with an aging smile was sitting at a rustic wooden desk outside of my headmistress’s door. While I was waiting by myself, he seemed quite preoccupied with scheduling and filing. Now that the great Morrigan Lethestone was here, however, he was beside himself with an excitement that he was unable to contain.

  “Madame Lethestone,” said the man. “Here is your burdock root tea,” he added, producing a china teacup and saucer from thin air. “The headmistress should be with you in...” His voice trailed off and his normally silver eyes glowed the tan color of his shirt; the diviner’s color. “About 35 seconds,” he said, completing his vision. I couldn’t help but think, not for the first time, how handy divination witches truly were as assistants. As I thought it, however, my mind jumped back to Apollonia’s fate. She was much more powerful than those who worked in offices.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cybilline,” my mother replied, accepting the china. His cheeks flushed red, and his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose as he nodded gratefully. His brown trousers slid back into the leather seat, as the door to the left of his desk opened. My headmistress walked out, obviously steeling herself for what was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. My breath caught in my throat.

  You can handle whatever she has to say. You can handle this. You will find a specialty.

  “Madame Lethestone,” she said warmly, shaking my mother’s hand. “Please come in.” Her silver eyes found my emerald ones. “You too Khloris.”

  It’s Khlorie , I thought bitterly. I have attended this school since I was 6. Why don’t you know that?

  Reluctantly, I stood up from my seat, straightened my black and white checked uniform dress and followed my mother and Headmistress Helewidis into the semi-circular office. The office was painted a bright white to match the white of the Headmistress’s shirt, the color of the Transformation witches. Behind Headmistress Helewidis’ modern minimalist desk, the floor to ceiling windows flooded the room with bright sunlight from the school’s courtyard.

  “Please have a seat, ladies,” she said, motioning to the white leather armchairs across from her desk. Once we followed her instructions, she continued. “As you know, the top year of a witch’s education is primarily for finding a placement in a specialty. We pride ourselves here at Gables Academy in placing our witches in the perfect specialty and our alumni thrive, as you yourself know Madame Lethestone.”

  “And yet,” my mother said stonily. “Here my daughter sits with all of the academic talent in the world and all kinds of familial connections. I find it hard to believe that she is this difficult to place.”

  The Headmistress nodded and then soldiered on, “Khloris…”

  “Khlorie,” I said quietly. “I go by Khlorie, Headmistress Helewidis.” I immediately regretted speaking as my mother’s purple eyes penetrated the side of my face with the heat of her glare.

  The headmistress smiled at me and then kept going. “Khlorie,” she said with special emphasis. “Is an incredibly talented witch, one of the best in her year. She is exceedingly powerful.” Helewidis paused, obviously trying to pick her words carefully with such an influential witch in the room. “Khlorie is showing powers that are above and beyond any one specialty placement. We feel that to place her in a specialty at this point would be to stunt her potential.” I looked up at my mother.

  “What does this mean?” I asked, panic starting to boil up inside of me. “I am 18. I am supposed to go to college next year. I can’t do that unless I have a specialty.”

  My mother reached out calmly and put her well-manicured hand gently on my knee. The action caused me to still and calm. That one movement exemplified Morrigan Lethestone- always calm in an emergency and always in control.

  “You will go to college, Khlorie. Let the Headmistress speak.” She turned her eyes on the caring witch behind the desk. “I assum
e you sent her profile and testing results to the Witch Education Bureau’s Placement Assistance Team.”

  “Of course, Madame Lethestone.” The headmistress turned toward me to explain further. “Khlorie, whenever we have a student that doesn’t quite fit into a specialty, we consult with the W.E.B.” She paused. “Based on all of our tests, school data, and the formal and informal observations by the W.E.B…”

  “Informal observations? What informal observations?” I was shocked. My mother seemed flustered for the first time this meeting.

  “Based on our notes from your time here and the observations of the W.E.B witches, we believe that you have access to pure elemental magic.” She walked out from behind the desk and leaned over towards me. “This kind of magic is extremely rare in witches. In fact, your case seems to be unique.”

  I took a deep breath remembering what Apollonia said about my being unusual.

  “Ophelia,” my Mother began, “There have been plenty of witches with connections to an element. I know a potioneer who can summon fire with barely any effort. I hardly see how this warrants Khlorie not being allowed to continue with a specialty.”

  “Madame Lethestone,” she said patiently. “You misunderstand me. Khlorie does not have a connection with one element.” She paused. “We believe that she has the ability to control all of them- pure elemental magic.”

  My mother gasped beside me. For a split second, fear crossed her face. At least, I think it was fear. I don’t remember my mother ever being afraid before, so I have no basis for comparison.

  “Elemental magic,” I said quietly. “Like a fairy?” My mother and Headmistress Helewidis looked shocked by my use of the f-word. It was well known that witches cast spells that engaged the elements and that fairies worked with the elements themselves. It was one of their limitations. We were much more versatile in our ability to use magic.

  “You are far more powerful than any fairy,” Mother replied with disdain.

 

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