Convinced she was in a dream, Alice clasped the chain around her neck. She didn’t know what she expected to happen or if she expected anything at all, but for a moment it seemed as if the snow stood still. The world had frozen in mid sentence. “Am I dead or dreaming?” She asked cautiously.
Graziella smiled. “Neither dear. You’re seeing what you are for the first time.”
“What…what I am?”
“A witch of winter.”
Before Alice could protest that this was clearly nonsense, Befana coughed. Graziella laughed and corrected herself. “All right. Not quite. It’s complicated. But now…unfortunately…is not the time to get into this. You have much training to do…and young Nico is due back in the 13th century.”
“You’re not taking Nicky anywhere.”
Graziella ran a hand through her hair. It turned a glossy shade of violet black though the rest of her remained aged. “Would you feel better if you came with us?”
Alice frowned and considered the two women. She was almost positive that she was dreaming at this point. It was one thing for Nick to believe in magic and another for Alice to accept the possibility of ghosts. But witches and time travel were far too absurd. “To the 13th century?”
“Why not?” Befana said sweetly, a motherly look in her eyes that Alice had never seen before. She looked almost like her own mother. It was frightening and warming all at once. “What’s holding you here, Alice, except Nicky?”
“Well…my…job for one…” Alice sputtered. Then she stopped herself. Were her jobs really all that important to her? She worked long hours and filed things, things that she had long ago grown too bored to read. “Why?”
Graziella frowned. “Our situation has changed more quickly than we had planned, but…we would be honored to have you.”
12.
Brianza. 1277
With each passing day, Bethania grew more confident in her magical skills. Gianni had promised to explain the mechanics of time manipulation. Graziella had taught her to appear as if she were a old woman. She could even hold the glamour for a full minute. She still couldn’t tell which face of Graziella’s was the glamour, however.
Divination took more work. No matter how long Bethania stared into the flames she could see only orange and red unless Graziella prompted her. “I don’t think this is one of my gifts,” Bethania said one evening after her eyes had begun to water from the heat.
“Nonsense,” Graziella replied, crouching down beside her and staring into the fire as well. “Divination is easy.”
“You said we all have different abilities...”
“You don’t remember, but you were very good at it once. You just have to focus.”
Gianni came from the kitchen carrying a tray of vin brulé. He set two down near Graziella and Bethania and then took a seat with his own. “Go easy on the girl, Grazie,” he said after a long sip. “Just because you were divining at the age of two...”
Graziella ignored him and gripped Bethania’s hand. “Think of something very important to you. What do you want to see the result of more than anything?”
Bethania knew exactly what that was: Nico.
She looked into the fire again, but this time instead of just seeing the flicking flames, she tried to imagine her son; his tiny hands wrapped around her fingers, his grey eyes full of wonder. Slowly the image began to form. She saw him, swaddled in a green blanket, cooing softly as he looked up with wonder on a woman…a woman with Bethania’s own face.
"Graziella?" she asked, hoping to understand, but Graziella only shushed her.
“Star, little star, Night is approaching,” the woman sang.
Bethania couldn’t quite understand the words, but the tune sounded comforting. “She’s…me?”
“No,” Graziella said in a very hushed voice. “And yes…”
“Which is it?”
“She is also Strenia…in case you…could not be found.”
Bethania looked away from the image and to Gianni. “What’s this? How many copies of me are there?”
“It’s not like that…”
“It’s exactly like that,” Graziella corrected. “There’s as many as there needs to be.”
The three stayed silent for a long while after that. Bethania sipped her wine and watched the flames. “Is she good to him?” She asked.
“As good to him as you would be.”
At this Bethania nodded. “Then I’m not angry.” She could feel Graziella and Gianni’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at either of them.
“Have you decided what you want to do with your magic?” Graziella asked, her tone tempered with caution.
“Children,” Bethania said, standing up and starting for her quarters. “I want to help children.”
13.
Brianza. January 6, 1283
Bethania wrapped herself in her wool cloak and gathered up her broom. The snow had dissipated for the time being and she was grateful. It would make for an easy trip around the country. “Gianni, I’m going,” she called back to her brother who was fixing dinner at the stove.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time.” He waved a hand and even the fire seemed to still for a moment.
“Stop that!” Graziella chastised from her place by the hearth. “I’m doing some important work.”
“This is my night,” Bethania protested.
“Don’t whine. You’ll drop your glamour.”
“Graziella…”
Graziella sighed. “You can go in a moment, but we might have some work to do when you get back.”
Hesitantly, keeping her broom in hand, Bethania walked toward the hearth. “Did you see something?”
With a nod, Graziella got up and went to the bookcase. “The book foretold this. I should have known.” She flipped to the page where the orange haired girl in black stared back at the two of them. “The hunter will step down. This girl will take his place.”
Bethania shuddered at the mention of The Hunter. She hadn’t seen him in a long while, but the mere thought of who he was terrified her. “When?”
“Far afield. 2013. Your Nico will have just turned six.”
“Will she hurt him?”
Graziella shrugged. “I do not know. She’s…a Harvest witch. If one thing's for certain, Harvest witches are not big fans of ours.”
“So she -will- hurt him?”
“Keeping him here might be safer after all.”
Fear began to well up inside Bethania, a kind of fear she hadn’t felt in quite some time. “Gianni…may I visit him? Just look in?”
“Whatever you need,” He said with a nod. “Wherever you need to go.”
Bethania took her broom and went to the door. “After I finish tonight…” She closed her eyes as she sat upon the broom and floated off into the winter’s night.
14.
Queens, New York. 2013.
No one stopped Alice from entering Nick’s hospital room, which further convinced her she was in a dream. Though she was his mother she had not been able to see him since his admittance. Even more convincing, when she got to the room, he was wide awake and waiting for her.
“Mom!” He called out when she came in. His voice was strong and he looked quite healthy.
Momentarily baffled, she rushed toward her son and gathered him into a tight hug. “Nicky…”
“Why am I in the hospital?”
“You were sick…”
“I’m not sick now.”
Alice had to admit he didn’t seem sick. He was responsive and no longer blazing to the touch. “Are you sure you’re feeling better?”
“Yes, Mama…Mom.”
She laughed and took in the smell of him, holding on a moment longer before pulling back and gripping her son’s shoulders gently. “We’re going to go on an adventure.”
“A adventure?” His eyes searched hers full of obvious confusion.
Alice nodded. “To Italy. Haven’t you always wanted to go
to Italy.”
“Befana lives in Italy…”
“Yes,” Alice said with a laugh. “Do you want to go?”
Nick nodded and Alice held him tightly to her once again.
“Graziella, we’re ready,” she whispered. A coldness filled the room before it all vanished. Alice was certain that when the world became clear again, she would be waking in her living room on Epiphany Eve.
# # # #
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
You can find her online at https://amystilgenbauer.wordpress.com/ and on twitter @Rosainverno
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And, be sure to read the next novelette in the Season of the Witch series: Ides
Bethania's Broomsticks Page 4
