Witch Rising

by Paige McKenzie

  Ridley was about to reply when the faint outlines of the house brightened and became sharper, more defined. Gradually, it morphed into an actual building.

  “I can see it now!” Aysha exclaimed, and the others nodded.

  Just then, the front door opened, and a figure stepped out.

  ShadowKnight.

  “Wands!” Binx hissed. “Claudo on three. One, two—”

  “Don’t!”

  ShadowKnight raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Please, I just want to talk. Will you come inside? I’ll stand down, I promise.”

  Inside the house, the five witches tied up ShadowKnight in a rocking chair via ligibus, not just with ropes but also with chains and steel cuffs around his wrists and ankles; Binx had insisted. The interior of his house was bizarre… a vast array of computer monitors, screens, gaming devices, pinball machines, and fantasy and anime collectibles combined with antique furniture, gas lamps, silver candelabras, and old-fashioned wallpaper with tiny birds and roses on it. Also, a painted Chinese screen sat to one side of the room. The place looked like a mash-up of a Victorian museum and a twenty-first-century gamer’s paradise, which, granted, made a surreal kind of sense since ShadowKnight himself was from both eras. Ridley wondered about the velvet settee, the fireplace, and the mahogany table with the candles and herbs and gems that she’d seen on the field trip; perhaps they were in another part of the house?

  Now Binx was pacing, touching an Xbox here and a VR headset there, picking up Pokémon figurines, checking out the Witchworld maps on the walls. The others perched on the edge of a couch, waiting on her orders, unsure of what to do next. Next to Ridley, Iris was gnawing on her thumbnail and humming quietly.

  Binx eventually stopped and turned to ShadowKnight. Her face was hard with anger, but her eyes revealed something else, at least to Ridley, who knew her best friend well. Disappointment. Hurt. Vulnerability.

  Her crush turned out to be a disaster, too.

  “Tell me the truth. Did you use me to try to locate C-Squared’s descendants? Is that how you found Penelope? Greta, too? Who else have you harvested for heart-fire so that you can keep your sorry self alive? And who’s next on your hit list?”

  “Mrs. Feathers and I found Penelope on our own, and Greta, too,” ShadowKnight explained. “But I swear to you, Pokedragon… Binx… Penelope is the only one who I”—his voice caught in his throat—“and since then, I’ve been working hard to create synthetic heart-fire in my laboratory. In fact, I think I’m almost there.”

  “So you’re a witch-hunter and a witch and a gamer and a mad scientist,” Binx said sarcastically.

  “I’m not a… I told you, I went to medical school.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You’re also a doctor. Plus, now you can add ‘fraud’ and ‘murderer’ to your résumé.” Binx sighed in disgust and shook her head. “What about Libertas? Was that another lie, too?”

  “No. I mean, yes, in a way. I don’t have a group of witches’ rights activists who are ready to march on Washington, DC. I wish I did, and maybe someday I will….” ShadowKnight hesitated. “Libertas does exist, though. It’s the name of a super-spell I’ve been developing to defeat our enemies once and for all.”

  “‘Our enemies’… you mean the Antima or New Order or whoever?” Aysha spoke up.

  “Yes.”

  “How would this spell… this super-spell… work?” Torrence asked.

  “It’s complicated, and it’s still in beta. I’m hoping to have it ready before President Ingraham signs 6-129A in a few weeks. In any case, I’m convinced this is what Callixta had in mind when she directed me to fulfill my prophecy. Witches—we—are under threat of extinction due to all the hatred and prejudice that’s sweeping across our country right now. Like the Great Witch Purge, but much worse. I have a chance to stop it with Libertas and attain the freedom and respect that we all deserve. Which would lead to a—”

  “What did you mean when you said that Penelope might still be alive?” Ridley blurted out before she could stop herself.

  ShadowKnight stared at her. Ridley squeezed her fists. Oh, hex… WHY did I ask him that? I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

  “I can show you, if you’ll untie me from this chair. You can keep these things on my wrists.” He indicated the steel cuffs.

  Okay, so maybe I do want to know the answer.

  Ridley glanced uncertainly at Binx. Binx nodded.

  “Fine, but the five of us will have our wands trained on you at all times,” Binx informed ShadowKnight coldly. “If you make the slightest wrong move, you are going to know a world of pain.”

  “Understood.”

  Binx twirled her wand at his restraints… all except for the ones on his wrists. “Solvo!”

  The ropes and chains and cuffs disappeared. ShadowKnight stood up slowly and rolled his neck. “This way,” he said, starting across the room. The others followed, wands out pointing at his back.

  Binx fell into step beside Ridley and hooked arms. “Are you sure you’re okay to see this? Whatever this is?” she whispered. “For all we know, he built a Penelope bot out of spare computer parts. Or designed a video game with her as the main character. I wasn’t joking when I called him a mad scientist.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just… I’m curious. Well, maybe ‘curious’ isn’t the right word.”

  “No worries. I understand.”

  At the painted Chinese screen, ShadowKnight turned sideways and squeezed past it, then indicated for the others to do the same. The screen seemed to serve as a divider between two rooms that had no separating wall.

  The area on the other side was dimly lit—just a few candles—and the air smelled faintly of roses. Blinking, Ridley could make out a settee in the middle of the room. The mahogany table and fireplace. Everything from the field trip.

  She moved closer to the settee and peered tentatively over the back of it.

  A girl was sleeping.

  Penelope.

  Ridley clapped her hand over her mouth and silent-screamed.

  The others came up behind her. There was a collective gasp.

  Binx marched up to ShadowKnight and touched her wand to his head. “Explain. Now. Is this some sort of illusion spell?”

  “N-no. It’s necromancy. I’ve been trying to bring her back.”

  Necromancy?

  Ridley circled the settee, her steps faltering, and gaped at the still form of her friend. Her sister witch. Her crush. The rose scent was her perfume, and she wore the same pink dress with gold buttons that she’d been buried in. A strand of her honey-blond hair had fallen across her pale, pale face; Ridley had to resist the urge to reach over and push it back. She saw that Penelope’s chest was rising up and down slowly. Too slowly… and unevenly, too. She was clearly breathing, though.

  “Div’s used necromancy spells to bring back insects, mice, small birds, stuff like that… but never a human,” Aysha said, gazing in wonder at Penelope.

  “Well, I still have a way to go with her,” ShadowKnight explained. “This is my first time, so it’s been a lot of trial and error. Anyway, I want to gather some different ingredients and write some new incantations, too. I also want to try this as a group spell. Maybe your two covens could join me? That would make, what? Nine of us, total?”

  “Aren’t there repercussions with necromancy spells? Like karmic side effects?” Torrence asked.

  “I’m looking into that, too. I was hoping to use a spell to prevent or neutralize those,” ShadowKnight replied.

  Ridley twisted her hands. She tried to look away from Penelope, but she couldn’t.

  They’re talking about her like she’s a lab experiment.

  But bringing her back might be a mad-scientist move worth trying.

  “A group necromancy spell. We’ll definitely need to run that by Div,” Binx said.

  “And Greta, too,” Iris added. “She is not going to like this. I mean, she’ll be glad that Penelope is alive or semi-alive or quasi
-alive or whatever. Is there a difference between ‘quasi’ and ‘semi’? Anyhoo, she doesn’t like necromancy spells. She told me. She says they’re against the natural order of things.”

  ShadowKnight shrugged. “Who’s to say it’s against the natural order of things, though? I mean, if you really believe that, then all magical intervention could be interpreted as being against nature, or at least against ‘nature’ as perceived and defined by humans.”

  “But we’re talking about life and death here,” Torrence said, frowning.

  “Life and death are not simple, finite concepts. They’re fluid.”

  ShadowKnight paused and glanced down at his cuffed wrists. “Listen. I know you guys don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you,” he went on. “But believe me when I say that I want to right all wrongs, here and now. I want to fulfill my promise to Callixta and save our kind from extinction. I’m this close to doing that. And I want to undo the harm I did to your friend and bring her back. Will you let me do these things? And will you join me?”

  Ridley gazed down at Penelope’s sweet, beautiful face and breathed in her rose perfume.

  Yes.

  At that moment, she was willing to do just about anything to help ShadowKnight.

  23

  SLEEPLESS IN SORROW POINT

  The work of magic must involve both careful planning and carefree improvisation.

  (FROM THE GOOD BOOK OF MAGIC AND MENTALISM BY CALLIXTA CROWE)

  On Tuesday after school, Greta hurried across the large courtyard in the middle of the Sorrow Point Hospital complex. She hadn’t been to the hospital in years, not since Teo broke his arm falling from the maple tree in their backyard—he was a fan of high, forbidden branches—and she, Mama, and Papa had to drive him to the ER during a freak snowstorm. That night at home, he’d cried and cried, unable to fall sleep because of the pain, and neither Mama’s guided breathing exercises nor Papa’s rendition of “sana, sana, colita de rana” had helped… so Greta had made him a tea out of lavender, chamomile, lemon balm, and skullcap, and he’d finally drifted off, cocooned in the soft glow of his T. Rex nightlight.

  Greta had made herself the same tea last night because she’d been too restless and agitated to sleep, even though her mother was back home safe and sound, thanks to Div and Mira. The tea hadn’t worked, though, and neither had the spells she’d tried after that, cessabit and somnia. And so she’d stayed up, watching the minutes and hours tick by on her alarm clock, envying Gofflesby and Lovebug and the three kittens, Tessie and Meg and Alex, who were zonked out together in a furry puddle at the foot of the bed. At around four a.m., she’d poked them with her toes—her brain was no longer working properly at that point, and she was feeling exhausted and peevish—and they’d woken for only a few seconds before rearranging themselves into a new pile and falling right back to sleep.

  Lovebug and the babies. Since bringing them home, she’d been trying to figure out if they were still linked to Mrs. Feathers somehow—maybe via a mystical pipeline from the dead to the living?—but so far, she’d found no evidence to support that. They seemed to be sweet, silly cats, grateful to have a home and food and one another, and also to be reunited with their old buddy Gofflesby. Who was her familiar and no one else’s. Greta had considered gently probing Gofflesby’s memories—via conimentium, a special mind-melding spell she’d been teaching herself—to find out what really happened to Mrs. Feathers. Maximus Hobbes aka ShadowKnight had apparently denied having anything to do with Mrs. Feathers’s death, but there was a good chance he’d been lying. He’s Maximus Hobbes, for Goddess’s sake.

  Although he hadn’t been lying about Penelope. Iris, Ridley, Torrence, Binx, and Aysha had seen Penelope’s undead body at Hobbes’s mystery mansion in the forest. It—she—was breathing. The five witches had performed a series of scrying spells to verify that it wasn’t an illusion.

  It wasn’t.

  All of which explained Greta’s never-ending insomnia.

  Seriously, I may never sleep again.

  A text popped up on her phone. It was Div, checking on her status:

  Where are you?

  Greta stopped and peered around the courtyard. She could just make out two people sitting together at a secluded picnic table, their heads bent close in conversation. Div and an older woman dressed in white hospital scrubs, her blond hair swept back in a neat ponytail.

  Dr. Jessup. Callixta’s descendant. The Descendant.

  At least we have a super-witch on our side now.

  Greta rushed over to join them. “Hi! Hello!”

  Div and Dr. Jessup glanced up. Greta couldn’t help but stare at the doctor. This was Callixta’s descendant… her great-great-great-granddaughter. Of course, Greta was a descendant, too, which was why Hobbes had targeted her. But Greta was probably just one of many random descendants, whereas Dr. Jessup was a legend—albeit an unidentified one—in the witch community. She’d risked everything to try to bring witches together, to make them realize that they weren’t alone.

  “Greta, this is Dr. Jessup. Dr. Jessup, Greta,” Div said.

  Dr. Jessup smiled tersely and nodded. “Hello.”

  “Hello! It’s an honor to… wow, I never expected to see—”

  “Can we fan-girl some other time? We have a lot to discuss,” Div cut in.

  Blushing, Greta sat down on the bench. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. We can get to know each other properly and have a more leisurely conversation later. And Greta, it’s wonderful to meet another descendant,” Dr. Jessup said. “But I have a few urgent matters that I need to discuss with the two of you, as the leaders of your respective covens.”

  Greta peered around. A few other hospital workers were hanging out on the other side of the courtyard; other than them, there was no one else around.

  “It’s fine. I’ve already cast calumnia. Also, I often take my breaks out here, so no one will be suspicious. If any of my colleagues asks me later about the two of you, which they won’t, I’ll explain that I happened to run into my son’s girlfriend and her friend. That’s another reason I wanted to keep this meeting small, so we don’t call any unnecessary attention to ourselves.” Dr. Jessup clasped her hands and leaned forward. “Several things. Needless to say, I happen to have all the inside knowledge about the workings of the Antima, now called the New Order, because of my position in the organization. So. As you know, there’s going to be a New Order rally downtown tomorrow, at four o’clock. What you don’t know, and what I just learned, is that some anti-witch agitators from out of town will be crashing the rally and making trouble—like harassing anyone who looks ‘suspicious’—and that our local police intend to look the other way.”

  “What?” Greta cried out.

  Div scowled but said nothing.

  “They will certainly be targeting anyone whom they suspect to be witches or witch-sympathizers. But I’m wondering if they might also target other marginalized people, like BIPOC and queer people,” Dr. Jessup went on. “In any case, they apparently plan to start on Main Street and spread outward to the side streets—Pleasant, Church, and so forth.”

  The Curious Cat is on Pleasant Street. Greta had to make sure that her father stayed safe. And of course, her witches. And everyone else.

  “There’s more, and it has to do with Maximus Hobbes,” Dr. Jessup continued. “I’ve been searching for him ever since I learned that he was still alive. In fact, I owe you a big apology, Div, about the fundraiser for Neal Jahani at our house last month. I saw you in my study looking at my board of information about Hobbes—I had it under a corium spell, but obviously, you managed to see it nevertheless—and I was forced to cast nescium on you, to render you temporarily unconscious, and also praetereo. I’m very, very sorry.”

  “Nescium,” Div repeated. “Hmmm. I’ll have to learn that one for future use.”

  “Again, my apologies. Anyway, I got wind about Hobbes-slash-ShadowKnight’s time-travel journey to the twenty-first century a few days ago
, through my own channels”—Dr. Jessup turned to Greta—“and Div just told me that some of your coven members tracked down his physical location, his residence, just last night. And that he has Penelope with him and is attempting to bring her back to life.”

  “Greta isn’t a big fan of necromancy,” Div told Dr. Jessup.

  “Neither was Callixta!” Greta said defensively.

  “Actually, it turns out that my great-great-great-grandmother was more”—Dr. Jessup hesitated—“complicated than we’d all thought. That’s a whole other conversation. What’s important is that we know ShadowKnight believes he’s been tasked by Callixta to stop our extinction, which was prophesied to happen this year. It’s not hard to imagine that prophecy coming to pass, with our current president and the new anti-witchcraft law he’s working on, and of course the rise of the anti-magic movement.”

  “How does ShadowKnight intend to fix all this? What’s his grand plan? One of my girls—Binx—said he’s developing a ‘super-spell’ called Libertas,” Div said.

  “Yes. I’ve heard rumors of a super-spell, too. Do you and your witches have any information or even theories about what it will do?” Dr. Jessup asked.

  “No. But Binx said that back when she thought he was just ShadowKnight, and they were good friends, he used to talk about how witches should rule over humans rather than the other way around,” Greta offered.

  “Well, he does have a point,” Div murmured under her breath.

  Dr. Jessup gave Div a sharp look. “Do you really believe that?”

  Div met Dr. Jessup’s look. “You must admit, witches are much smarter and more powerful than humans. Also, humans don’t care about anyone or anything but themselves. Look at all the damage they’ve done to the planet, to each other, and to us. If witches were in charge, we could fix all those wrongs.”

  Greta blinked. She absolutely didn’t agree with Div on this. Witches should strive for equality, not world domination. Sometimes, though, Div made it very hard to argue with her. Like now. She was right that witches had superior intelligence and powers. She was also right that humans had inflicted a lot of harm throughout history, and were continuing to do so now. But still…