Witching Hour

by Skylar Finn

  Suki sent me a thought that meant something along the lines of don’t worry about that, accompanied by a strong wave of reassurance. “What kind of people you are,” she said. “Whether you were good people, people on the side of light we could trust to keep our secret.”

  “People on the side of light?” Cameron repeated, looking skeptical. “Is this like a Star Wars thing? Or a cult?”

  “Not a cult.” Suki smiled. She dropped two sugar cubes into her tea cup and stirred. “My grandmother and I protect time from magical interference.” We are time witches, she added silently, for my benefit. I tried to conceal the effect this had on me. I had only just learned there were witches at all, let alone different kinds. This was news to me.

  “My grandmother, mainly,” continued Suki. “She will soon retire to the great beyond, and is training me to take her place.”

  “Magical interference?” queried Cameron. I remained quiet.

  “Have you never felt it?” asked Suki. “The morning dew on grass? The light of the sun before it sets? The hum of insects, the cry of birds? The pull of the ocean’s tide, the phases of the moon: this magic is all around us, always. Most take it for granted. More still do not consider it magic.”

  My family was pretty modern, as far as witches went, but Suki sounded hardcore. It was like she’d been living in the modern world for all of five minutes. She probably didn’t even have Netflix.

  “You mean like, nature?” asked Cameron dubiously.

  “Nature and more than nature,” Suki said cryptically. “What is time but a construct of our perceptions? It is largely an imaginary projection, man-made—clocks, calendars. Arbitrary; even absurd. Circadian rhythms occur with the revolutions of the sun and the changing of the seasons. It’s in the lunar phases, not the devices designed to measure them and dictate that people live according to these devices, rather than simple light and darkness. Sometimes, these measurements overlap with a truer reality, but time is much larger than people perceive it being. Regardless of what time you imagine it to be—the time of day, the time of year, the time in your life—really, for you, it is measured out in heartbeats, the inner clock which entails how long you have on this earth to do whatever it is you wish: what you set out to fulfill, or to perform what you feel is your duty or destination. Seconds are little more than heartbeats. Of course, being a keeper of time—” again, the silent voice: a witch of time—“my opinion is, quite naturally, entirely subjective.”

  Cameron rubbed a hand over his face. I wasn’t sure how he was taking this. “So what you mean to say,” he said slowly, “is that this grandfather clock you sold me, which seems to be…freezing time, is real? It’s magic, and magic is real?”

  “I don’t expect you to accept it,” said Suki plainly. “Ordinarily, I would never share this with a mortal man, but…” She studied him. I saw a series of images flash across her brain: Cameron, as I’d first met him, when he was possessed by a magical being which gave him powers and left him with no memory of the experience when it left his body. Then I saw him as she saw him: with a shimmering golden halo. His magical aura, she explained to me. There is magic in him still.

  “You’re different,” concluded Suki.

  This was boggling my mind on a number of levels. Tamsin had once told me that magic could never go to men, who would be tempted to use it for violence or power, but Suki seemed like the Stephen Hawking of magic compared to Tamsin’s Neil deGrasse Tyson. I would take Suki’s word any day of the week. It was something about the way she spoke and the way she was: she seemed both young and ancient, powerful but benevolent. Tamsin had once complained our family was too old school and traditionalist, but Suki’s school seemed positively ancient by comparison.

  Cameron sipped his tea and narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be mulling her words over. “Different in what way?” he asked carefully.

  “I know you’ve sensed the things I speak of,” she said. “I can feel it in you, too.” As if this should be explanation enough for any reasonable person, she seemed to consider the question answered and moved on.

  “Now,” she said, “you’re probably wondering why, if we mean you no harm, my grandmother and I froze time in your neighborhood.”

  “That was you?” I asked. “Dressed in black?”

  Suki shook her head, looking somber. “That was not I,” she said. “That was something else entirely. Something dark and dangerous that does not belong here.”

  Lindy, I thought, my heart seizing up with fear.

  Suki raised a questioning eyebrow, studying me briefly. She continued without asking me who Lindy was. “Occasionally—very occasionally, for most are wise enough not to attempt to disturb the current of time with magic—we come across an entity powerful enough to create a rift: someone who attempts to control or manipulate time,” she said. “Often it is those with the ability to see the future, clairvoyants—clairvoyeurs, we call them—who cannot accept what they’ve seen, and become obsessed with changing the outcome. They are relatively easy to subdue and defeat. But this is something else altogether.”

  “Is that the force that’s come to the city?” I asked abruptly. I still wasn’t sure how Cameron was taking this, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to know. Suki may have mastered the art of dual communication, but having two separate conversations verbally and mentally with both her and Cameron was too much.

  Cameron gave me a sidelong glance. His girl, what are you talking about was so loud I barely had to listen for it, though he was unaware that I could hear him at all.

  “We are the force who has come to the city,” said Suki calmly. “It’s natural that others should be aware of our presence, though we are quiet and discreet. It’s hard to miss. But we are old magic, and we don’t interact with others unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  “So this thing that’s come to the city,” I said. “It’s dangerous?”

  “Very much so,” said Suki gravely. “Very powerful, and very dangerous.”

  “And you and your grandmother—you’re here to stop it?” asked Cameron. “But how?”

  “We can’t do it alone,” said Suki. “At least, not this time. We’ll need your help. I sensed the possibilities, when you came—which wasn’t a coincidence. We were looking for someone, or multiple someones, and so you were drawn to us. We will offer you protection. We will ensure that no harm will come to you—although there is of course always some risk involved in such a fight.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Does this dark and dangerous force have anything to do with the missing girls? And the hearts?”

  “Very much so,” said Suki sadly. “I am afraid it is all one and the same.”

  “Let me get this straight.” Cameron carefully set down his cucumber sandwich, as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “You want us to help you find some crazed murderous killer, going around stealing people’s hearts after kidnapping them, and you’re also telling me that this person is magic? And too powerful to be defeated on your own?”

  “That’s the basic gist of it, yes,” said Suki.

  “You’re asking me to take a lot on faith here, sis,” he said. “Let’s say I accept your precept that the clock is magical: I’ve done a lot of things in my time which might cause me to randomly see things that aren’t there, so I’m not entirely sold that we saw the world freeze and unfreeze. I was drinking a lot and, well...it seems more likely that I was having some sort of mental breakdown, and that you’re crazy and maybe in a cult. But even if we do believe you, you want us to go chasing after a murderer? Who wants to, what? Control time?” Cameron stared at her incredulously.

  “The problem is,” said Suki patiently, “that even if you should choose to stick your head in the sand: to refuse, as is your right—it will still come for you, anyway. Wouldn’t you rather meet it head on?”

  “What do you mean?” I was panicked, thinking of Peter; of Tamsin. Of my mother and Minerva and Aurora in Mount Hazel. “Why is it coming for us?”

&
nbsp; “If the darkness succeeds in taking time, no soul on earth will go unaffected,” she explained. “The stakes are quite high.”

  Cameron aimed a sidelong glance at me. It was a glance that clearly said, let’s get out of here, immediately without saying anything at all.

  “Before you go,” said Suki, “I ask only that you hear us out. Make whatever decision you wish. We will fight regardless, and perhaps we will win, as we always have. But perhaps this time, we will not. And that would mean devastation for you and everyone you love.”

  “We’ll hear you out,” I answered for both myself and Cameron. “But then we really have to be going.” I didn’t look at Cameron, as I knew he most assuredly disagreed. But I needed to know what she planned to say.

  Because I knew it was the truth.

  17

  The Myth of Mother Time

  “The story is best left to my grandmother,” said Suki. “It is from her I inherited my powers, and from her I will take over.” She stood and carefully turned the empty armchair, angling it to the door. I watched, puzzled, until a stooped figure appeared in the door.

  It was the elderly woman I’d seen on the lawn the day we came for the estate sale, the one who appeared to be staring at the sun. Her hair was bright white like a Persian cat’s. I’d never seen eyes like hers before. They were a sharp steely gray, but shiny like a cat’s in the dark so they looked more like silver than gray. She didn’t even glance at us as she came in and arranged herself in the chair, but was clearly aware of our presence.

  She does it to be polite, explained Suki. Her eyes frighten people. She can see into your soul. With these reassuring and pleasant words beamed directly into my brain, Suki said aloud to both of us, “This is my grandmother, Janice.”

  We nodded, unsure of what to say or do. Apparently nothing more of us was required, as Janice simply gripped the onyx ball of her cane, and began to speak.

  “In the beginning, there was magic. Before there were people to corrupt and deny it, before there was anything. The first souls had magic and practiced it openly. As long as we have existed, there have been beings with power, and beings without. In those days, those with power used it openly and protected those that didn’t, rather than operating separately and in complete and total secrecy.

  “The original witch of time was called Mother Time by the witches who knew and admired her. She wisely knew to prevent witches who could sense the future from attempting to meddle with it before it happened. She worked with Father Night, the keeper of dreams and nightmares, who collected the nighttime imaginings of everyone on earth. Even those without magic could sense when something was amiss before it happened, and would often dream about it.

  “They called them premonitions, but Father Night knew they were a sign of things to come, and at night he would sift through their sleeping recollections and read the future of humanity, which he would share with Mother Time.

  “One day, Father Night failed to appear before the council of witches to report the midnight imaginings of the ordinary human beings, who had no power. No one could find him. When he finally did appear, weeks later, his appearance had drastically changed: his eyes were sunken and dark, as if he himself no longer slept. His skin was sallow and waxen; his long hair even more overgrown, as if it had been months instead of weeks.

  “His altered appearance caused concern on the part of the council, combined with his unexplained absence. Father Night refused to account for it. He said his work was dark and complex, and the council was unable to understand the depth of what his power required. He said that he did not answer to the council, nor to any witch, and they should be glad of and grateful for his services. He said he would come and go as he pleased, and they should be happy for any information he deigned to give them. At that point, he left abruptly, without conveying the things he saw in the minds of the powerless.

  “Mother Time was both suspicious and concerned. Father Time was many things, but he had never been insolent, and combined with his refusal to account for his absence led her to believe that he was concealing something—something dark.

  “She resolved to follow Father Time the following evening when he set out on his journey to collect the dreams and nightmares of the ordinary. She rendered herself invisible and followed him across the plains, into the hilltops and valleys where the villagers dwelled. Father Time disguised himself, shrouded in black—a hooded cloak, a hat, and black boots. He entered the village.

  “Curious, she pursued him. The magical did not interact with the non-magical, though they were aware of us in those days. Some feared us; others worshipped us. No good could have come from any interaction, as it would only have resulted in being either persecuted or deified. Neither was desirable to the magical, who viewed the non-magic folk roughly on par with the way they viewed their house pets.

  “Father Night had apparently disregarded this entirely. He strode directly into the nearest pub and Mother Time, invisible to him and the inhabitants, followed. He presented himself as a weary traveler and insinuated himself in the crowd. Mother Time watched, and listened. Not to his voice, but his mind. She realized he was no longer collecting the dreams and nightmares of the sleeping, but the thoughts of those awake. He seemed to catalogue their dissatisfactions—petty jealousy and resentment, fear and spite. With these dark sentiments in his heart, he left the pub and traveled up the road.

  “Mother Time followed him to an empty barn at the edge of a farm. The stable was empty, and he climbed to the loft. Mother Time climbed the ladder after him. Here, Father Night was gathered with what she first took to be townspeople. When she drew closer, she saw that they were not quite human, but shadows. The shadow-beings watched Father Night in silence.

  “He vowed that he would help them cross over and gain their true form if they would assist him in overthrowing the council. He called them the Never Was. He told them they could become human and take the place of the townspeople. He told them that although they never were, they still Could Be. He said he would perform a dark ritual to restore them, then they would overthrow the council and rule over all.

  “Mother Time fled, disturbed. She saw quite clearly what had happened: Father Night, after endless years collecting the worst nightmares of humanity, had become warped and altered by the things that he saw. He saw the shadows in everyone and brought them to life. He planned to invoke a dark and ancient magic, and it would require the combined forces of the council to subdue him.

  “The council worked together and planned to stop Father Night. They thought that they would offer him a final chance at redemption the next time he appeared before the council, and if he refused, they would use their magic to trap him. But the next and final time that Father Night appeared, he was Father Night no more. He had rechristened himself Father Death. He was no longer recognizable. He was scarcely human, and more closely resembled the shadows that surrounded him.

  “They attacked the council, wielding a dark magic the likes of which no one had ever seen. They fought for many hours and many lives were lost. It was Mother Time, who drew on every force at her disposal, who froze the war. She had never performed such magic, and the mere act of doing so nearly destroyed her.

  “While everything and everyone was frozen with the sole exception of Mother Time, she shattered Father Death into a thousand grains of sand. She trapped him in an hourglass and wore it on a chain around her neck, so she would know always where her enemy dwelled.

  “Afterward, the descendants of Mother Time have had the ability to manipulate time at their will, but only do so in the most drastic of circumstances. We have come here in pursuit of a Never Was, for while Mother Time succeeded in capturing Father Death, his army fled. Occasionally, in addition to the rogue witch who attempts to distort the future in her favor, we encounter the Never Was.

  “These shadows have grown in power over the many years since they last fought, but are still unable to cross over to the human world. They can take human form, but are not huma
n. It is merely an illusion they cast, and they are insubstantial as dust motes suspended in the light. Their goal is to weaken people enough to take them over, and to have their lives—their present and their future—for themselves. Our goal is to stop them.

  “We detected the presence of one such being here, and so we followed it. We have reason to believe it is targeting you, Samantha Hale—coveting your life and form and power, and attempting to perform the dark ritual that Father Death never did in order to cross over permanently. We would like your help in stopping it.”

  Janice tapped her cane on the floor three times at the conclusion of her story, as if to emphasize her final point.

  “So Lindy is the Never Was?” I asked, remembering how closely she watched me; how close she had been to me in the building above the deli. I kicked myself for being so naïve. She was a stranger; why hadn’t I realized how dangerous she could be? Tamsin often made fun of me for being “new to the game,” usually in tandem with expressing her incredulity that I could have missed something so important right in front of my face.

  “She would appear as an ordinary being,” said Suki, reading my chagrin. “She would seem just like anybody else. The Never Was have been at this a long time; they know how to deceive the living in pursuit of their greatest prize, life. A past, present, and future of their very own.”

  “How do we stop her?” I asked.

  “Much in the way we stopped Father Death,” Suki said. “By trapping them, after performing the spell we used to trap him. But first, we must locate her. She can vanish at will, resuming her shadowy form, and is presently hiding from us. We believe she will only emerge to pursue you, and will only make herself visible for your benefit.”

  “You want to use Sam as bait?” asked Cameron, at the same time I said, “You want to use me as bait?”

  “Of course not.” Suki looked offended that I’d even suggest such a thing. Janice remained silent in her chair. “We merely need you to track her for us. They move frequently, like nomads, never staying in one place for too long or attracting attention to themselves. Once you locate her, we’ll do the rest.”