No sign anyone else had been in the same room with Clarissa to end her life.
VERONICA TRUJILLO, DELETER
OCTOBER 18TH, 2000
7:02 A.M.
Veronica Trujillo came out of her room to join her new fiancée in the kitchen. Julian had proposed only three days before and love was in the air. They could feel it.
“Buenos días, sweetie,” Julian said welcoming Veronica into the room with a kiss and a cup of fresh coffee. “I just got confirmation that we could book that cabin for the weekend. It's all paid for and we're ready to go,” he said with a smile.
“You did?” Veronica and his fiancée had been wanting to go to one of those fancy cabins in Oklahoma for months and they'd finally found one they both liked. “It’s going to be perfect. Just what we need.”
After another kiss, Julian said, “You need to talk to your boss today because I’d like to leave early.”
Veronica nodded, “I’ll talk to him, honey, no te preocupes.”
Julian smiled and gave her another sweet kiss, this time on the cheek. “You want any breakfast?”
“No, thanks. I’m late as it is.”
“Toast at least?”
“No, really, I’m late,” she urged. “But thanks for the coffee and I’ll call you during lunch, ok?”
Julian didn’t seem satisfied. “You should get a different job, one that lets you sleep in, you know?”
Veronica forced a smile as she headed for the door. Julian had brought up her job more than once and she was getting tired of being pestered by it. Although, the situation with her job wasn't the only talk she needed to have with her fiancée. At some point before the wedding, Julian needed to know the big secret she'd kept from him for as long as they'd known each other. It was a secret so unreal she feared he would call off the engagement when she confessed to the truth. For years she'd postponed the talk, but after she'd agreed to marry him, she knew she couldn't avoid the inevitable. Julian needed to know he was marrying a witch.
Veronica Trujillo wasn't just any witch, she was a witch working for the Texas Coven. There, she was a deleter, which meant she had the ability to selectively erase the memories from anyone’s mind - even Julian’s if it came to that. She'd never used her ability on Julian before, and she didn't want to, but she was ready to do it if he didn’t take the news of her powers well. Deep down she prayed everything would go smoothly when she confessed because once forced to use her memory eraser abilities on him, she wouldn’t be able to marry him. She would call off the engagement, break up with him, and be miserable for the rest of her life.
That future was one she was trying to avoid and Veronica was convinced the outcome of the conversation depended on the way the message was delivered, and not the message itself. So, she'd planned that getaway to the cabins to get in Julian’s good graces before she let the bomb of her news explode in his face.
“We’ll talk more about our trip when I come back,” Veronica told him, grabbing her keys from the small and colorful glass bowl they'd bought at the Art Museum the first time they’d gone together. “But I really have to go now. Te quiero mucho.” Giving him a peck on the cheek, she closed the door behind her and headed to the apartment complex’s parking lot to find her small red car and start her drive to work.
Traffic was murder as it usually was during the peak hours of the morning. Once they married, they would find a house closer to their jobs, but until that day came, she had to drive forty minutes to work. She liked being there early. It was a customer service center and she got paid by the hour, so the earlier she started, the sooner she could leave.
The radio was on and she listened to NPR news, just like she did every morning, to make the ride in the car more bearable. Even though her job for the Texas Coven didn’t require she knew about world events, she wanted to be well informed in case it was needed one day.
As a member of the Texas Coven, they often invited her to crime scenes where supernatural action had taken place; there, someone would tell her whose memory she needed to erase. Being a deleter was better than being a teleporter. Her work schedule wasn’t as busy and if she needed to get somewhere, Monica, the teleporter assigned to her, would pop her in and out from work. No one had ever found out her trips to the bathroom meant so much more.
She felt her beeper buzz on her waist and tensed. It was unusual for the Coven to message that early, but it wasn’t unheard of. Cursing under her breath, she took the little machine to read the message. It was Irina, one of the ghosts. In their world, a ghost was a witch who could turn herself invisible. Irina seldom had any contact with her. They knew each other from their monthly coven meetings, but she didn’t know much about her personal life. She never sent her beeper messages, that was for sure.
Heard from Monica? the message read.
With a frown, Veronica put the beeper down. No. She hadn’t heard from Monica since she had teleported her to a crime scene downtown the week before. She wondered what they needed the teleporter to do that they had a ghost calling to find her.
Traffic stopped in front of her. Breaking just a few inches from the car before her, Veronica turned to look in her mirror to see if the rest of the cars behind could stop before hitting her. When she glanced back, she saw someone in her back seat. Her heart stopped.
How could a woman in a black cloak be sitting in her car’s back seat!? How had she entered her car if she’s been driving all the time? And how long had she been there? Who was she and what did she want?
Panicked, Veronica opened the door to get out of the car right there in the middle of the jammed road. A force pushed the door back, closing the door on her face and locking it. The woman in the back had to be a witch, a telekinetic.
“What do you want?” With her heart beating fast and fearing the worst, Veronica began to cry.
The woman in the black cloak didn’t say a word. In a sudden move, the stranger’s left hand grabbed Veronica's neck from the back seat. Seconds later, she saw a long knife enter her chest. The pain was excruciating. The knife came out again only to go back in two more times. By the third stabbing, Veronica’s last thought was of Julian kissing her. It was the last image before her life ended forever.
TAYLOR ANDREWS, ATMOKINETIC
OCTOBER 18TH, 2000
7:27 A.M.
Classes at Woodrow Elementary started at eight o’clock sharp. The teachers and staff had a different schedule that often parents and students didn’t think about. For one, they always arrived before students did and they finished their workday way after they left. Before school started every day, teachers readied their rooms and materials, paraprofessionals took their posts around the school grounds to welcome students being dropped off by their parents, by car or bus, and administrators were there even before that to make sure everything worked out like clock-work. It was amazing to think the school came alive much earlier than 7:30 A.M. when students were allowed inside.
Ms. Taylor Andrews had been teaching for over fifteen years. She had taught almost all elementary grade levels, but her one true love was First Grade. She loved the little six-year-olds she welcomed into her class every year. For most of them, it wasn’t the first time they came to school - that was the Kindergarten teacher’s job - but they were still young enough to be molded into the good and productive citizens of tomorrow.
Ms. Andrews was someone who believed her job was crucial for the development of a healthy society. She believed her work was more important than most people thought the teaching profession was. With all her being, she believed she touched the hearts and souls of her students, making them better people for the rest of their lives. She was certain she instilled in each of them the love for books and numbers, and most important of all, the love for learning and growing as a person. She was certain if it weren’t for her efforts, these children wouldn’t have the rich lives they were sure to one day enjoy; she was sure of it.
Unlocking the door to her classroom, Ms. Andrews turned her computer
on - a computer she hadn't been trained on how to use yet, she opened her planner and began reading the schedule for the day. Then, she opened the internet browser (one of the few things they taught her during the staff development days earlier that year) to look at her email and the weather. More than anything - even teaching - Taylor Andrews knew about the weather.
“Oh no,” she exclaimed to herself out loud. The weather website was showing a slight chance of rain. She'd hoped the probability would go away on its own, but if it didn’t, she was ready to take matters into her own hands. This one looked to be one of those days when a little outside help was needed to make the day perfect for her students.
No one at the school knew it, but Taylor Andrews was a witch. A member of the Virginia Coven and an atmokinetic. The Coven rarely required her ability to control the weather, nor did she use it with frequency for her personal use. There was only one atmokinetic allowed in each of the Twelve Covens of the United States - although, she'd heard South Americans had much more.
Ms. Andrews didn’t care how often she got to use her powers because when she did, it was to for a good cause (like to magically alter the weather just in time for recess). Once or twice a few of the teachers had remarked how they never seemed to miss recess, not even on days when it should storm out. Oh no, not under Ms. Andrews watch. The weather would clear up a few minutes before for the First Graders were ready to come out to play and it would remain wonderful throughout recess. After the students were back in their rooms, the horrible weather predicted would somehow make an appearance outside and the other grade levels would go to inside recess for the rest of the day.
Just like the other First Grade teachers, Ms. Andrews would pretend complete ignorance of the strange phenomenon. She hoped no one would relate the slight headaches she got on those special days when the heavens miraculously parted to reveal the sun, creating a perfect day.
The Coven had never objected to the use of her powers for personal use even when she was sure they knew it happened. If being a witch meant she could bring smiles to her little six-year-olds, she would use her powers to make sure that would happen.
There was a knock on the door. Ms. Andrews’s head jerked to the interruption's direction.
“Morning, Taylor.” It was the principal, Mrs. Augustine Brock. Ms. Andrews had worked under her supervision for ten years now and their relationship had only grown through time. They both had similar views on education and Ms. Andrews appreciated Mrs. Brock’s constant support year after year.
“How are you this morning?” Ms. Andrews answered.
With a big smile, the principal said, “I needed to tell you Tobias’ parents called again this morning.”
“Oh,” her smile disappeared from her face. The boy in question had been a behavior problem from the start. His parents were divorced, and they seemed to care more about blaming each other for their son’s behavior than taking care of the problem. “Not the best start of your day, I imagine.”
“Well, we talked, of course,” Mrs. Brock sighed. “Looks like dad will go to the field trip with him tomorrow, after all.”
Ms. Andrews sounded relieved when she said, “Good! I couldn’t imagine the zoo with Tobias and twenty other students.”
“I know,” the principal agreed. “But rest assured, we’ve got you covered.”
Ms. Andrews’s smile returned. “Well, thank you for the good news, Augustine.”
Mrs. Brock returned the smile. “My pleasure. You have a wonderful day today.”
It was still a few more minutes before she had to go pick up her students from the gym. Ms. Andrews decided to get a second cup of coffee from the office so she went back to her desk to fetch her mug. Her open door suddenly slammed in front of her, keeping her inside the room.
“What-?”
Unable to turn around in time, she felt cold fingers on her neck. Electricity passed through her as she tried to summon a lightning storm to defend herself, but all it did was make her hairs stand on end when she felt the cold blade on her throat.
Both her hands went to her bleeding neck as the fountain of blood poured out of her. Ms. Andrews’s eyes grew wide as her vision faded, dropping on the carpet where the children would've come in a few minutes later.
As she lay there dying on her own pool of blood, she wondered what would happen to her students when they found out someone had murdered their teacher in their class minutes before the bell rang.
What would little Tobias do now?
LIZ HEINLEIN, TELEKINETIC
OCTOBER 18TH, 2000
8:16 A.M.
Every weekday, after dropping the kids to school, Liz Heinlein ran her way back home through Central Park. She’d been born in New York and she knew the small island of Manhattan like the back of her hand. She couldn't imagine someone not wanting to live in the city that never slept. She'd been born there, attended the schools there, and had even met her husband there. Her husband, Mike, was not from New York, not originally, but he'd moved with his family when he was still in his teens and he could fool any native into thinking he belonged there.
Together, they had created two beautiful children. Normal, healthy children with no apparent special gifts whatsoever. Her children, Sara and Ethan, hadn't inherited her telekinetic powers and Liz couldn’t be happier.
It wasn’t that she disliked being a witch. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to belong to the New York Coven. It wasn’t like her husband, Mike, hadn’t hoped they'd be special. She knew being normal was something she'd never had and was glad her children would enjoy the experience of being simply, well, human.
Her husband knew about her powers, she had shown him her abilities the same night he'd proposed.
Had it been a shock for him? Of course it had been. Had it been a deal breaker? Definitely not.
Regardless, they had talked about what her telekinesis would look like in their family and had since decided their kids didn’t need to know about it unless there was a reason they should know about it.
The reason had never come. Ethan, being a boy, was never an issue since boys didn’t get magical powers. Sara was now nine, and if she'd had any gifts, they would have manifested before she started Kindergarten.
Liz and Mike Heinlein had lucked out.
It wasn’t uncommon for a witch to breed more witches; it wasn’t a rule, either. Whatever power had skipped her daughter Sara from the burden and responsibility of magic, Liz was grateful for it.
Liz huffed and puffed as she listened to her instrumental music on her brand new mp3 player her husband had gotten for her birthday. It was amazing how now she could store so many songs inside such a small electronic device. She loved it, she loved Mike, and she loved her children. Her life was perfect - well, almost.
If not for the calls she received every once in a while from the Coven and the witches’ monthly meetings, she was living the American Dream.
They owned a townhouse four blocks from Central Park. It was a perfect little place with more than enough room for the four of them. It even had a small extra room where Mike could have his office.
Mike Heinlein was an accountant. Owning his own business gave him great flexibility, and since most of his clients worked on Wall Street, his earnings were good. Good enough to keep Liz from working, allowing her to be a full-time mom.
Liz released her short blond hair out of its tiny ponytail when she entered the building. She was tired and looking forward to her routine shower before preparing breakfast for both her and her husband. It was a good routine, and it never got old.
“Mike?” she called as she leaned on the chair next to the front door to take off her tennis shoes. The weather outside was getting chilly, and she now had to wear a sweatshirt every time she ventured out. By the time she came inside, she wanted to get rid of the sweaty clothes. “Mike?”
She heard him from the kitchen. Smiling, she walked to him ready to tell him about the cutest dog she’d seen that morning and how she was considering own
ing a little critter again. Except, when she entered the kitchen, it wasn’t Mike who was waiting for her.
Liz froze. “Who are you?” she demanded to know.
Her right hand was ready to send a telekinetic blast. The woman in front of her wore a long dark cloak that covered her head and part of her face. She was young, Liz could tell as much.
“Liz Heinlein, is it?” the woman spoke her name. Her voice sounded unfamiliar. Liz wasn’t sure if there was an official meaning to this visit or if this unannounced visitor had a darker objective in mind. Was she someone the Coven had sent or was she a foe? She'd never heard of a witch who didn’t follow the main principles of witchcraft, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a few bad apples here and there.
“What do you want?” Liz asked, her telekinesis power growing inside her. “Who sent you?”
To answer her question, the stranger pulled out a long knife from under her cloak. Its white handle bright as it contrasted with the darkness of the cloak. Seeing it made Liz release her accumulated power, but instead of knocking her opponent out, it backfired knocking her back on the wall and hitting her head.
Confused, Liz tried to push the intruder back with another blast of her power. Her telekinesis didn’t seem to be working somehow; as much as she pushed it out, nothing happened. Even worse, she now seemed to be pressed against the wall and unable to move.
The cloaked woman moved closer, knife in hand. Just then, Liz saw Mike entering the kitchen, his right index finger over his lips. Her savior. Mike would attack her from behind and she would take it from there.
Except, when she'd moved her eyes in his direction, the woman noticed her hesitation. With a move of her free hand, the intruder lashed out at Mike with a telekinetic attack, sending him flying to the other room.
“Mike!” Liz screamed.
The Fall of Witchcraft Page 2
