Visions of the Witch - [Whispers 04]

by Tara West

  The best part about this whole acting experience was that I was no longer Sophie Sinora, mind reading witch abandoned by her two BFFs, hopelessly lost and alone at a school I hated. When I was acting with Ethan, I really did feel like I was someone else. It was amazing. I was actually starting to think more and more that I wanted a part in this play.

  And then Vanessa had to storm up to me and ruin everything.

  “What do you think you’re doing?!” she practically screamed while pointing her finger at me. “You can’t be in this play! You’re just the photographer.”

  Before I had a chance to defend myself, Ethan was beside me. “Ms. Jahns said Sophie could try out,” he said in a firm tone.

  “Fine,” Vanessa spat, “She can try out, but I get to decide if she stays.”

  “What?” Ethan folded his arms over his chest and leveled her with a glare. “You’re not the teacher.”

  Vanessa threw her hands in the air and made this strange screeching sound like an injured bird. “This play was picked just for me!” Then she turned from us, her bottom lip hanging down in a pout. “Tell him, Ms. Jahns.”

  I watched Ms. Jahns roll her eyes to the ceiling before plastering on a smile as she slowly emerged from behind the shadows.

  “Vanessa, Sophie’s got talent,” Ms. Jahns said in a soothing voice like she was speaking to a petulant child. “Don’t you want talented people in your play?”

  Oh, gag. So far, I’d liked Ms. Jahns, but did she really need to kiss Vanessa’s butt?

  Vanessa sent Ms. Jahns a look that would have melted butter before turning her visual daggers on me. “What prior acting experience do you have?” she growled.

  “Uh.” I looked at Ethan for some help, but the boy simply smiled before covering his mouth. I could tell he was holding back laughter. Good thing someone thought this was funny.

  Vanessa turned up her chin and flashed a smug smile. “I’ve studied for the past three summers at the Greenwood Acting Academy under a professional acting coach.”

  “Big whoop.” I shrugged.

  Vanessa let out a huff of air. “Elizabeth Proctor is an important part.”

  “Sophie did an awesome job.” Ethan stopped being stupid long enough to help me out.

  Vanessa’s features hardened before she turned back to her teacher. “Ms. Jahns, really?”

  Ms. Jahns heaved a sigh before waving a limp arm in my direction. “Why don’t you at least give her a chance?”

  Really? If it was going to be that big of a freaking deal, then maybe I didn’t want the part. I had better things to do with my time than to put up with her crap. Just as I was about to speak my mind, Vanessa interjected.

  “Fine. Tell you what. Ethan and I will do your scene together so you can see how it’s done. Then you can try it and we’ll see who’s better.”

  “That’s not fair, Vanessa,” Ethan growled.

  “What?” She batted her eyes at Ethan, like she was an innocent child. “I want to know if this photographer really knows how to act or if she’s just a phony.” Then she leveled me with a glare. “Watch and learn.”

  When she turned on her heel and sauntered toward the stage, I’d had enough of Vanessa the righteous drama queen. And even though moments ago I’d really wanted the part of Elizabeth, there was no way I was about to put up with Vanessa’s crap for the next several weeks of rehearsal.

  I had dealt with enough bullying last year at junior high. There was no way I was going to let kids walk all over me in high school, too. I may not have been an all star actress, but I was my own brand of special. I was a mind reading, mind controlling witch, and Vanessa had no right to treat me like dirt.

  I looked around the room. The other kids had fanned out and were sitting in chairs just below the stage. Ms. Jahns had taken a seat with them. They had their backs to me and were intently focused on Ethan and Vanessa, who were already on stage, each with a script in hand. Nobody seemed intent on stopping Vanessa from trying to make me look like an idiot.

  And then a thought struck me—a very wicked, bad thought, totally out of my normal good girl character. It was so awful, I almost mentally slapped myself for thinking it. But what good were my powers if I couldn’t use them to my advantage every once in a while? Somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear AJ and Krysta scolding me for even thinking the idea which sprung in my head. But AJ and Krysta weren’t here. They’d abandoned me, and so I had no one to help me. I was all alone against a bully, just me and my powers.

  I thought about Ethan. If he knew I was a mind reader, would he also know I could project thoughts into people’s heads? That I could even control what they said? He hadn’t figured it out when I’d made Mr. Sleznick change his mind earlier. But even if he did, wasn’t he the one who’d said Vanessa needed to be brought down?

  I watched with derision as Vanessa rolled her shoulders back and forth and made all weird sounds like she was some exotic animal calling to her mate.

  Were these some kind of vocal warm-ups? Gawd, she was acting so stupid. And then I inwardly smiled, because at that moment I knew she was about to get a whole lot more stupid. I quickly took a seat behind the other students.

  Ethan exited and then walked back on stage, announcing his arrival.

  When Vanessa glanced down at her script, I narrowed my eyes at her while projecting my thoughts into her head.

  “Hubba blubba hubba bahla,” she blurted.

  I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

  Ethan jerked his head back and looked at her. “What?”

  Vanessa scrunched her eyes and slapped her forehead. “Stinky cheese farts!”

  The other students laughed out loud.

  I had no idea where I was getting this stuff.

  “You’re totally off script,” Ethan groaned.

  Vanessa glared at him while shaking her head. “I have bad breath. Rrrrrreally bad breath.”

  Ethan scratched the back of his head while shooting Ms. Jahns a pleading gaze. “Okay?”

  “And an itchy butt crack. I forgot to wipe.” Vanessa yelped and covered her mouth with her hands.

  I clenched my midsection with one hand while biting my lip. It was so hard to keep from laughing.

  “Vanessa!” Ms. Jahns grumbled. “Are you going to get serious?”

  By this point, I was trying so hard not to laugh, I missed the chance to project more thoughts in her head.

  Vanessa’s wide eyes pooled with moisture. “I am serious. I’m not saying these things.”

  “Okay,” Ms. Jahn’s once sweet tone had soured. “Then tell Abigail to get serious.”

  “I’m not in character.” She emphatically shook her head. “It’s like I’m possessed.”

  Or bewitched, I thought while inwardly smiling.

  “Get real. We need to practice what’s on script.” Ethan’s eyes hazed over with what only could be described as frustration. Odd, because his bright blue eyes looked to be a thunderous grey. How cool that his eyes did that. Despite the guy’s messy hair, he really wasn’t bad to look at. Especially his eyes.

  A sudden chill came over me and I shuddered. What was wrong with me? Was I really getting goosebumps over a guy’s eyes? Then I noticed a few others in the room shivered, too. Maybe it wasn’t Ethan’s eyes. The room was probably drafty.

  Vanessa’s lower lip trembled as she nodded toward Ethan. “I think I’m ready now,” she squeaked.

  I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of thoughts about Ethan Maeson’s eyes as I thought about what Vanessa would say next. But my focus kept shifting back to Ethan.

  Darnit. His eyes really were distracting.

  “You have sexy eyes,” Vanessa blurted, before both of her hands flew to her cheeks. “What? No!” she shrieked. “I hate your eyes.”

  Crud. I hadn’t meant to make her say the eye thing. It was Ethan’s fault. Darn those eyes of his!

  “Ms. Jahns.” Ethan threw down his script. “I’m not doing this with her.”

 
; The teacher stood and planted her hands on her hips. “Vanessa, what seems to be the problem?”

  Vanessa looked slack-jawed at Ethan and then at Ms. Jahns. “I don’t know. I’m not saying these things.”

  “Vanessa,” Ms. Jahns groaned, “I’m really not in the mood to play games.”

  “This isn’t a game!” Vanessa stomped her foot. “It’s like someone else is speaking out of my shithole!”

  The rest of the students gasped. A few chuckled as a wave of murmurs swept through the room.

  Okay, I’ll admit, I’d pretty much let Vanessa have her mouth back, but ‘shithole’ was my word.

  “Vanessa!” Ms. Jahns’ screeched.

  “I didn’t mean it.” Tears streamed down Vanessa’s face. “I didn’t say ‘shithole’, I swear!”

  Ms. Jahns waved a dismissive hand at Vanessa. “Go take a break.”

  I looked around the room, expecting to see a bunch of smiles. Instead, all of the other students watched Vanessa retreat to the back room with looks of horror etched into their faces. I glanced at Ethan. He was walking down the stage steps with slumped shoulders, a look of defeat in his sullen expression.

  I had thought everyone would get a kick out of watching Vanessa make a fool out of herself, especially Ethan. What was wrong with them? Didn’t they appreciate a good joke? I had no idea why, but I suddenly started to feel bad, guilty even. Like my prank had been the needle that burst the bubble of energy in the room. All I’d wanted was to teach her a lesson for acting like such a jerk. So why did I feel like the jerk instead?

  ***

  AJ

  By the time six o’clock rolled around, I was a nervous wreck. We walked out the door three times, and each time made it halfway down the block before I remembered I’d forgotten something: first, to put on deodorant, second to grab a jacket, and third, my cell.

  “I can’t remember you ever getting so crazy over a guy,” Krysta said as we finally got down the street in the early evening light.

  I scuffed my black and white Chuck on the sidewalk and for the fourth time asked, “Is this outfit okay?”

  Krysta rolled her eyes. “AJ, you look great.”

  “The flannel shirt isn’t too boyish?”

  “It’s purple!” Krysta laughed.

  “What about…” I trailed off, unable to meet her eye. We paused on the sidewalk outside the pub I could always hear from my bedroom. The warm glow of lights spilled onto the street, and the chatter and laughter of partiers filled the air.

  My best friend’s dark eyes were concerned. She grasped my wrist and shook gently. “What’s wrong?”

  I sighed and ran a hand back over my shorn hair. It was the first time I would admit I felt bad about my missing hair. “Does it look… awful?”

  “Oh, AJ!” Krysta hugged me tightly. “You look beautiful. As always.”

  I returned the embrace, hot tears pricking my eyes for a moment, because Krysta couldn’t see it over her shoulders. By the time she pulled away and squeezed my hands, I’d composed myself.

  “Look at you. You’re gonna knock him dead.” Krysta winked. “Now, let’s get to the store before he thinks you stood him up.”

  ***

  The bell dinged over the door as we entered Bell, Book, and Candle. Deb and Tony sat at the round table just inside, holding cards and eyeing each other competitively.

  “Looks like a close game,” I joked.

  “Hey,” Tony said shyly, standing as Deb laid a card on the stack in the center.

  “Beat that,” she crowed.

  Behind me, Krysta closed the door with a second “ding” and the cool night air was cut off. It was stuffy inside, but it smelled good, like strong, spicy incense.

  “Hey.” I shifted from foot to foot, at a loss for words after my first brave joke.

  “You look great,” Tony said.

  “So do you.” And he did. He had on fitted jeans and a long sleeved tee, both of which highlighted his lanky, long-limbed body. I even liked his big black boots.

  There was a moment of silence, and Krysta stepped forward, shooing us away. “Off you go. Deb and I will hold down the fort here.”

  “Behave yourselves, you crazy kids,” Deb said wryly, gathering the cards together and starting to shuffle them. “Krysta, do you play?”

  Tony and I exchanged smiles. Mine was probably strained, but not because I didn’t want to be there. Hoo boy, did I want to. I was just so nervous.

  Tony grabbed his coat from the old-fashioned black coat rack next to the door and shrugged into it. He opened the door with a flourish, and held out a hand. “AJ. After you.”

  As we turned from the alley onto the sidewalk, Tony said, “I thought we could go eat on the water. There’s this great crab shack. Do you like seafood?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll have something I’ll like.”

  “How was your day?” Tony walked beside me with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. As tight as his jeans were, I had no clue how he managed to get them in there, but the effect was charming.

  “Um, it was okay. Aunt Bertrice has been teaching us banishments.”

  Tony nodded. “My favorite kind of magic.”

  I glanced at him, the orange glow of the streetlamps passing over his face as we walked. “Why?”

  He blew out a breath, shrugging. “I guess because it’s so easy.”

  “Nothing about magic is easy,” I said with a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound like a whine.

  “Here’s our turn.” He motioned me to go left.

  “That was fast!”

  The restaurant was made of weathered wooden slabs and had a giant crab out front. I let Tony lead the way, and once inside, a smiling hostess gave us a table by the window.

  When we were settled and had ordered drinks, Tony asked, “Are you having problems with magic?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just confused.”

  “About what?”

  I stared out the window. Lights from the shore glistened off the dark surface of the water.

  “I know we don’t really know each other,” Tony said before I could speak. “I can tell something is bothering you. If you wanna talk about it, cool. If not, tell me to shut up.”

  Krysta was probably tired of hearing about my dreams. Shoot, I was tired of dreaming them. What would it hurt to confide in Tony? Maybe he would have some new angle for me to consider.

  I had no idea how to start, so I settled for, “Do you believe in the unexplainable?”

  Tony laughed, the movement lightening his face. When he laughed, he did it with his whole body: hands, shoulders, face. “Of course. I believe in magic.”

  “Not just magic. What about… prophecy?”

  “Sure. Like tarot?”

  I shrugged. “Um, sorta.”

  He sipped his soda and then set his glass back down. “AJ, you don’t have to beat around the subject. What are you telling me?”

  “I can see the future. Or, I could. Before.”

  “Before what?”

  I liked that he didn’t scoff or question my declaration I was psychic; that the first question he asked was a heck of a lot more relevant.

  “I had an accident.”

  Tony’s gaze drifted to the top of my head, and then snapped back to my face.

  I nodded glumly. “You noticed the scar.”

  He reached across the table to squeeze my hand. The sensation of his skin on mine gave me the shivers. He grinned. “Barely.”

  “Liar.” I touched the long line of baby soft skin just above my right ear. The hair around it was only starting to get long enough to cover it. “I didn’t see the accident coming.”

  “A power like that probably isn’t always one hundred percent,” he said softly. He didn’t let go of my hand.

  “Mine was. Always.” I slouched in my seat. “Anyway, that’s not what’s bothering me.”

  Tony didn’t say anything, but nodded for me to go on.

  “It’s these dreams I’ve
been having.”

  “Prophetic?”

  “That’s the thing. I have no idea.”

  We were interrupted as the server—a sweet-faced girl with boy-cut red hair and vivid hazel eyes—came to take our order.

  Tony leaned back, his hand releasing mine, and my heart fluttered sadly. As Tony spoke to the server, I wondered if I could ever look as cute as she did with that haircut. Unconsciously, I rubbed a hand over my hair again.

  After she left, Tony straightened his silverware, his expression thoughtful. “Okay, so tell me why you don’t know if the dreams are definitely prophetic.”

  “The people are dressed funny.”

  His eyebrow quirked, disappearing under his shaggy hair. “How so?”

  “Old-fashioned.”

  “Like what, nineteen-fifties?”

  I laughed. “Um, no. Older. Way older.”

  “Describe it.”

  “The woman wears dresses. The kind that cover her neck all the way to her ankles. And boots. She lives in a cabin that doesn’t have electricity, only candles.”

  “Neck-to-ankle is definitely pre-Victorian,” Tony mused, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on the table. “What do you dream about her?”

  I stilled, my hand wrapped around my cold glass. “A man who is after her because she’s a witch.”

  Tony sucked in a breath. “AJ, you’re probably dreaming about the trials.”

  “The Salem witch trials?” I asked, aghast. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “But the dreams started before I ever came to Salem!”

  “Maybe the dreams are what brought you here,” he suggested softly.

  A chill rushed over me. “Do you think?”

  “It can’t be a coincidence your dreams are similar to what happened here over three hundred years ago.”

  “But why would I be dreaming of the past? I’m psychic.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. But what I do know is you should figure out this woman’s name.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never heard it said.”

  “The only way you can figure out what you’re supposed to do about it is to find out who she is and how she died.”

  “I can tell you how she died,” I grumbled. “I bet this guy chasing her kills her.”