Be Careful What You Witch For

by Hoobler, Thomas

  Paul stopped eating to stare at her. Dulcimer raised her eyebrows—along with the rings in them—as if she wondered whether Olivia was putting her on. Paul gestured toward Alex, who was at the counter getting pizza for him and Olivia. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

  Olivia gave a little shrug. “Who cares?” she said.

  “Well,” said Dulcimer, “you start with a box of raspberry Jell-O...”

  Olivia took out a notebook and nodded eagerly as Dulcimer described the ingredients. “You know,” Olivia said when the list was complete, “I’d really like to have a sample of your hair, so I can be sure of a perfect match.”

  Dulcimer shifted uneasily in her chair. “Well,” she said uncertainly, “I don’t know if I want somebody copying my hair exactly....”

  “We could be like twins,” Olivia suggested, hoping Dulcimer wanted a sister.

  At that point, Alex brought the pizzas, and Dulcimer looked at him in desperation. “Do you think Olivia should dye her hair my color?” she asked.

  Sitting down, he looked back and forth between the two girls. Finally, he said, “If she wants.”

  Even Olivia was surprised, but took advantage of the moment. “You don’t happen to have a scissors, do you, Alex?” she asked.

  Picking up a piece of sausage pizza, he nodded. With his other hand, he reached into his pants pocket. “Swiss army knife,” he explained, setting the many-tooled pocketknife on the table. Olivia picked it up and found the scissors part.

  By now, Dulcimer was definitely showing signs of resistance. She put up her hands and leaned away. “I’ll just take a small piece,” Olivia reassured her. Short of jumping up and running away, Dulcimer had no choice and in a few seconds, Olivia held a lock of her hair.

  “It doesn’t show,” Olivia reassured her. But Dulcimer kept fingering the cut end, as if she felt something was missing.

  On the way back to school after lunch, Paul managed to whisper to Olivia, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but that color doesn’t really suit you. You’re not the Goth type.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Olivia said. “I may want to change my image.”

  They had music class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so Olivia went straight to Eva’s apartment after school. She didn’t want Dulcimer to have to go through another session of misery administered by Mrs. Foley. When Olivia handed the lock of hair to her, Eva inspected it curiously. “This is someone’s hair?” she asked. “Why on earth would she want it to be this color?”

  “It’s kind of a... statement,” said Olivia.

  “I see. She’s what they call a free spirit,” responded Eva. “Lucky for her she lives when she does. There have been times when she would have been burned at the stake. Even today, in some places...” Eva trailed off without completing the thought.

  Olivia felt a chill go through her. She hadn’t quite believed it when Tilda told her, but hearing Eva say it made it sound real. Like something she really had seen. Sometime during the past eight hundred years.

  “Well,” Eva went on, “perhaps that will make our task easier. Her soul wants to soar. We’ll give her the chance to do it with music.”

  Humming, Eva gathered things for whatever she planned to do. She cleared a space on the coffee table in front of the couch and set down a flat-bottomed white dish. “Let’s see... music,” she said, half to herself, then nodded. “Bat’s blood.” She went to the kitchen and returned with a small jar of something that looked more black than red. As she shook it in one hand, she opened the lid of a small metal box on a shelf and took out a gray feather. “You’re supposed to use a lark feather,” she explained to Olivia, “but I took some from a pigeon on my windowsill. What New Yorkers call pigeons are really doves, anyway. Make do with what you have, is my motto.”

  Eva dipped the quill end of the feather in the jar of bat’s blood and drew a pentagram on the bottom of the white dish. “Do you know any Latin?” she asked Olivia.

  “Um... no.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll say the charm and you repeat it. But you’ll have to burn the hair and concentrate on your friend. Or is she your enemy?”

  “No, a friend.” Olivia must have looked puzzled, because Eva added, “Some of these charms are very close to things you would use on an enemy.”

  “I just want her to be good at music.”

  Eva smiled slightly. “Being good at something is not always a blessing.” She placed the lock of Dulcimer’s hair on the pentagram in the dish. Then she took a black candle from a shelf, struck a match, and, muttering something under her breath, lit the candle.

  She handed it to Olivia. “This will be very easy,” Eva said. “I’ll say the words, and you repeat them while you burn the hair with the candle. Picture your friend in your mind. What is her name?”

  “Dulcimer,” Olivia replied. She was having trouble holding the candle still. Her hand was shaking.

  “Dulcimer it is. Ready?”

  Olivia simply nodded. She stared at the hair, almost feeling as if she were about to burn Dulcimer.

  “Ego dico Dulcimer...” Eva began.

  “Ego dico Dulcimer.”

  “Filia et peritia...” Eva motioned for Olivia to start burning the hair. Olivia had forgotten, and now she rushed to poke the candle flame into the bright pink strands, which immediately caught fire.

  “Filia et peritia,” Olivia repeated, her eyes fixed on the hair, which looked like it was shooting off small fireworks.

  “Musicae,” Eva said, raising her hands to show that she was finished.

  “Musicae,” repeated Olivia. The hair had burned up quickly, leaving a sweetish smell in the room.

  “Now drip a little wax in the dish and set the candle into it,” Eva told her.

  When Olivia did this, she and Eva simply sat and stared at the flame. “Keep thinking about your friend,” Eva instructed her.

  Olivia did, but she was nervous. She could see Dulcimer in her mind. This seemed much more real, more frightening, than when she had watched Alex in the crystal.

  “Close your eyes,” Eva said, and Olivia obeyed. The image of Dulcimer was stronger now. She looked unhappy, the way she had looked the other day in Mrs. Foley’s class. Olivia wished for her to change.

  And then Dulcimer disappeared. It was so surprising that Olivia opened her eyes. As she did, she saw the candle had gone out, leaving only a thin trail of smoke coming from the wick.

  “Why did it go out?” she asked. “Did you put it out?”

  “No,” said Eva. “It went out by itself. It was time. The spell was cast.”

  Olivia felt something brush against her leg and she jumped to her feet. Looking down, she saw the yellow-green eyes of Eva’s cat.

  “That’s just Brighde,” said Eva. “She’s pleased with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Evidently because you succeeded. But you can’t take Brighde with you, dear. I’m very attached to her.”

  Olivia had no wish to take Brighde away. She felt a little weak, but remembered to ask Eva, “When will the... spell take effect?”

  “Evidently it already has,” Eva said.

  “So tomorrow... she can play music? Just like that?”

  “I would imagine she could do it now.”

  Olivia went back home to Tilda’s, and as soon as she let herself into the house, she felt another warm, fuzzy creature rubbing her leg. “Julius?” she said.

  It was Julius, acting as though they had been old friends forever. Olivia tried to ignore him and went into the kitchen, where Tilda was pouring a pot of thick orange liquid into jars.

  “What’s that?” Olivia asked.

  “Red and yellow pepper extract,” said Tilda, “with a few other things added. I make it for all my friends so they can have a jar or two all winter. It cures colds.”

  “Nothing cures colds,” said Olivia.

  Tilda smiled and glanced at her. “We can test that theory when you catch a cold,” she replied. Then she gave Olivia a second, long
er glance. “You look as if you’ve been to Eva’s.”

  Olivia tried to laugh, but it came out weak sounding. “How... what would that look like?”

  “Like you’ve been casting spells.”

  Olivia bit her lip. “I was only trying to help someone I know.”

  “You shouldn’t get the idea that all the troubles of the world can be solved by magic,” said Tilda. “Some people believe they’re made worse by magic. Did Eva tell you about Desmond of Sheelin?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how she has to stay inside her veil most of the time so James Sheelin can’t find her?”

  “No. Inside her what?”

  “Veil. A protective shield created by magic that conceals her from those who are looking for her.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “So even though Eva is probably better at casting spells than anyone you’ll ever meet, she can’t completely control them. They’re not just for fun. Every time you cast one, you change yourself. Be careful. Learn the craft.”

  “The cats knew,” Olivia said to herself.

  “What’s that?”

  “Eva’s cat and Julius. They were friendlier to me afterward.”

  “Mmm.” Tilda filled the last of the empty jars on the table. She slid her finger along the side of the pot and licked it. “Cures colds... and tastes good,” she said, nodding with satisfaction. “Want a taste?”

  Olivia said yes, and Tilda handed her a spoon. Olivia blinked when she tried a sample. “It’s like... something that makes you warm all over,” she said.

  Tilda smiled. “As good a description as any,” she replied.

  Olivia sat down to help Tilda put lids on the jars. “Aunt Tilda,” she asked, “do all wit—, do all practitioners have cats?”

  “Many do,” said Tilda. “But a few have other animals. Dogs are usually not suitable, but I knew one practitioner who had a raven.”

  “Suitable for what?”

  “They’re called familiars, dear. They serve a number of purposes, including a second pair of eyes and ears. Their senses are often keener than ours. And sometimes they find things in places we wouldn’t think to look.”

  Olivia had a strange idea. “Could a person be a familiar?”

  “Another person?”

  “Yes. Say... a boy?”

  Tilda laughed. “Well, he’d have to be pretty weak minded and eager to please you.”

  “Yes,” Olivia said. And it didn’t hurt that he was sexy.

  Tilda gave her a sharp look. “It wouldn’t be a very good idea, though,” she said. “People have the right to be free in their actions. Remember the first rule I told you?”

  “If it hurt none, do as thou wilt,” repeated Olivia.

  “Turning a person into someone who does your every wish... would you want that to happen to you?”

  Olivia tried to think of some situation that might enable her to say yes, but couldn’t. “I guess not,” she said. “But some people—” she started to say.

  Tilda put up her hand. “Yes, some people do accept subordinate roles. But it hurts both them and the person who accepts the superior role.”

  “Teachers accept superior roles,” argued Olivia.

  “That’s true. But do you have to obey their every wish, in and out of school? Would you want to?”

  “So it wouldn’t be a good idea,” Olivia said, trying not to allow the thought of Alex to enter her mind, where Tilda could see it.

  “If it hurt none...” Tilda repeated.

  Chapter Eleven

  FOR THE FIRST TIME, Olivia was waiting outside Tilda’s house in the morning even before René arrived. She was eager to see if Dulcimer acted any differently. Also, she wanted to get away from Tilda so she could think about Alex. He wasn’t really Olivia’s familiar. He didn’t stay with her all the time, for one thing. He was just a sexy guy who had a crush on her.

  And someone she had cast a spell over.

  Eva had told Olivia that the spell would go away. It hadn’t, at least not totally, and here Alex was, finding things online that Olivia wanted. Trying to please her. Olivia wasn’t sure how to handle it.

  So she was annoyed when she found him waiting for her at her locker as usual. “I had another dream,” he told her.

  She drew herself up to her full height, which still left her about eight inches short of looking eye to eye with him. “Alex,” she said, “I am going to tell you something and I want you to remember it.”

  He slumped his shoulders and hung his head. She felt guilty already, but went on: “I want you to take that book and put it in your comic-book room and not take it to bed with you, understand?”

  Alex nodded. Olivia wondered for a second just how much of this he would take. The thought frightened her, and she toned down her voice a little. “I don’t think it’s good for you.”

  “Okay,” he said, “but do you want to hear what I dreamed?”

  Despite herself, she was curious. “All right,” she said. “You can tell me.”

  “I had this dream about us,” he said.

  Hearing that made her uncomfortable, but she asked, “You weren’t a cat, were you?”

  “No,” he said. “Why do you always ask me that?”

  She shook her head. “Forget it. Who were you?”

  “I was just me and we were in this garden where there were a whole lot of flowers. Roses and things. I didn’t know their names.”

  “All right, and then?”

  “Well, you were sitting on the grass near the garden and you were reading the book.”

  “That same book.”

  “Right. Only now you could understand it, I guess, because you were reading it.”

  “Okay, was that it?”

  “No, see I kept picking the flowers and bringing them over to you and putting them around you.”

  In spite of herself, Olivia said, “That was nice.”

  “Well, I wanted it to be nice, but you didn’t pay any attention. You just kept reading the book and I kept bringing the flowers and pretty soon the flowers had completely covered you up. All I could see was this pile of flowers.”

  “It was nice of you anyway,” she said.

  “And then I heard some other people coming, and I turned to look and they were all dressed in black and carrying flowers too. So I realized... you know.”

  She didn’t quite get it. “Know what? Who were these other people?”

  “They must have been your relatives and stuff. Because it was your funeral.”

  She felt like he’d hit her in the stomach. “All right, now stop, Alex. That’s enough.”

  “But see...”

  “Stop it!” Several people in the corridor turned to look. Olivia could imagine how fast the story would get around that she’d had to fight off Alex. Madison would get a charge out of that.

  She slammed her locker and rushed off down the hall. It was useless to try to outrun Alex, however. His longer legs let him walk along beside her. “Hey, you didn’t let me finish,” he said.

  “I don’t want to hear how they lowered me into the ground,” she said.

  “That’s the thing, see. I came over to where you were. The coffin was open and you were lying there. It was like Snow White, remember? So I bent over to kiss you and your eyes opened. You weren’t dead after all.”

  This part of the story made Olivia even more uncomfortable. “I wasn’t?”

  “No, and you got up out of the coffin and I took your hand and we walked past all the people.”

  “Where did we go?”

  “No place, I guess. I woke up then. And I realized I was supposed to help you.”

  “I’m not sure...” she began.

  “With the decoding, remember? This was what I was supposed to do.”

  “You didn’t get that thing you sent for yet, did you?”

  “I paid for them to FedEx it to me. It ought to arrive today. You’ll have to come home with me after school so we can open it together.�
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  “I’m feeling tired, Alex. Maybe we could do it some other time.”

  “Aren’t you interested in finding out what the code in the book says?” he said. “I thought you really wanted to know.”

  “Well, I do, but...” This is too creepy, she thought. The guy is dreaming about seeing me dead. Maybe he’d want to help me become dead so he can take his revenge every year, like Wolverine does. She shook her head, trying to think clearly. No, he’s weaker minded than I am. He’s my familiar. Assume control.

  She stopped and looked straight at him. “Alex,” she said sternly.

  “Yes?” He looked really eager to please.

  “We’ll discuss this later. I want to think about something else now.”

  He nodded. “Sure, okay, whatever you want.” And that was all, except of course that he walked a little too close to her all the way to class. She decided to let it go.

  When they arrived at Mr. Feldstein’s classroom, Olivia sensed that something had happened. People were whispering to each other at their desks. It couldn’t be Mr. Feldstein’s latest masquerade, because he hadn’t arrived yet. Olivia hoped he hadn’t decided to do naked cartwheels.

  She looked around for Paul and Dulcimer, but only saw Paul, who was sitting next to some new girl. Paul met Olivia’s eyes and kind of shrugged. She didn’t understand what he meant until she took a closer look at the new girl.

  For a second, Olivia didn’t believe what she saw. It wasn’t a new girl. It was Dulcimer. Only she had totally changed. Her hair was dark brown—really, a much nicer color for her, Olivia thought—and she had taken out all the piercings. As Olivia came closer, she wondered if maybe this was Dulcimer’s twin sister, just released from the asylum.

  But no, there were the holes in her ears and her eyebrows and the rest of her face, where the piercings had been. They would grow closed eventually. Provided Dulcimer didn’t put the rings back in them.

  Olivia slid into a seat on the other side of Dulcimer. Just then Mr. Feldstein came through the doorway, dressed in another old-fashioned costume. At least this time it looked like a man’s clothes.

  “I am Pocahontas’s husband,” he announced. “What’s my name?”