A Witch Too Late

by Paula Lester

  Cas jolted, shocked at the clarity of her mother’s voice in her mind. Until that moment, she hadn’t had any recollection of the story or her mother saying that. What in the world? Why would her mother talk about witches as if they were real?

  She pivoted when a door opened behind her. Waverly re-entered the room ahead of five other people.

  “This really isn’t in our schedule, you know,” an elderly man with a few wisps of white hair and a handlebar mustache said. He wore what looked like red flannel pajamas and leaned much of his weight on a knotty cane. “I was just getting ready to do my morning yoga before the day’s appointments. Why shouldn’t this girl have to wait for an appointment slot like the others?”

  In her mind, Cas imagined this man doing yoga. He looked like he’d topple over and break a bone if he tried it.

  Another of the newcomers, a woman who appeared to be in her sixties, with sharply angled features and a severe bun of strawberry blonde hair that had probably been vibrantly red decades earlier, put an arm around the elderly man’s shoulders. “Albert, the girl has powers that she can’t control,” the woman shouted into the old man’s ear. “And the Blossom Greeter from the Department of Newspring Health Services says she blossomed yesterday evening, even though she’s fifty years old.”

  “I’m forty-nine for a couple more days,” Cas interjected before realizing it was probably a bad idea to open her mouth.

  The severe looking woman snapped her head toward Cas. The edges of her mouth, which were already down-turned, looked like they might dive right into her neck.

  “She’s fifty, you say?” Albert asked, cocking his head to the side while squinting at Cas. “No one blossoms at fifty, Lavania.”

  Cas almost had to bite her tongue to keep from correcting him again.

  “Come over here, Ms. Lorne,” Waverly said from behind her. “You can have a seat here while you answer the council members’ questions.

  Cas had no idea what the receptionist was talking about. The blue-haired woman stood beside one of the room’s smooth walls. There were no chairs in sight. Waverly waved her hand impatiently toward herself, “Come on, come on. The council has other things to do today, you know.”

  Waverly raised her blue eyebrows and Cas moved over next to her. The receptionist inclined her head toward the empty wall. When Cas didn’t move, the woman sighed, took her by the shoulder, spun her around, and gave her a little shove.

  Cas gasped as she toppled backward, and two things happened in quick succession. A chair popped into existence out of the wall, catching Cas as she fell, and a blast of cold air pelted them both with snow.

  “Ach!” Waverly threw her hands over the perfect blue spikes and sprinted across the room to stand behind the sirens.

  “Well, I can see that Ms. Crossings was right on one thing, anyway,” the woman with the bun, whom Albert had called Lavania, said curtly. “This woman doesn’t know how to control her power. You can go now, Waverly. Thank you for getting us. You did the right thing.”

  The receptionist left the room and the five sirens moved to the opposite wall from where Cas now sat. They moved backward until chairs popped out of the wall for them. Each of the chairs was unique, as though they were made for the person who sat upon them. Cas glanced down at her own chair. It was a delicate Queen Anne style with gold upholstery and embroidered burgundy flowers.

  Albert sat on one that looked like a cozy, overstuffed armchair covered with tattered brown fabric. Lavania sat in a high-backed, hard chair made of weathered dark wood that seemed as severe and uncomfortable as her personality. The others, two more women and a man who looked to be of varying ages between thirty-five and sixty, had their own version to sit on too.

  As everyone settled in, Cas shook snow out of her hair and held back a groan. What was she doing here? What were these people going to do with her?

  As if pulled by an invisible rope, her chair jerked into motion. Cas white-knuckled the arms and held on for dear life. Her seat slid to a stop near the center of the room.

  Closer to the sirens now, she noticed the younger man who’d entered with the others was pretty attractive. He looked about thirty and way too young for her, but Cas couldn’t help but eye him up. He smiled when he caught her staring, and heat crept into her cheeks.

  Lavania cleared her throat. “From what I’ve been told, what we have before us, friends, is a newspring—as ludicrous as that sounds. Supposedly, she blossomed yesterday and claims to know nothing about magic.”

  Albert snorted in response. “Newspring, my wrinkled behind,” he said.

  Lavania’s serious features softened a little, and one end of her mouth jerked up as though she might snicker. She caught herself, though, and wrestled the errant muscle back into submission, frowning like she had before. Cas thought the woman probably wouldn’t smile if someone gave her a million dollars and a yacht to enjoy it on.

  The other three witches chuckled until Lavania leveled a wicked glare in their direction, which silenced them. “So, the duty of figuring out whether she’s a freak of nature or simply a liar has fallen upon us. I personally think she’s a fraud. Maybe some backwater swamp witch wanting to stir up trouble for attention. Regardless, we need to figure out who she is, whether this late blossoming nonsense is genuine, and what to do about it. Right now, the Blossom Greeter and Waverly believe she’s a danger to herself and others.”

  Lavania looked down her long, thin nose at Cas. “Let’s take a good look at you.”

  She leaned forward, squinted, and made a circular gesture with her right hand three times, palm facing out. For a long moment, the witch seemed to study the air between herself and Cas.

  The air between Lavania and Cas took on a translucent sheen, sort of like a drop of baby oil in water. The effect was like a shimmering in mid-air. But without warning, it felt as if a hundred tiny eyes hovered over every inch of Cas’ skin. She squirmed under the intense scrutiny. Without thinking, she poked at the glimmer.

  A loud pop made everyone in the room jump.

  Lavania gasped and lurched from her seat. “How dare you interfere with the Archsiren’s spell?” She pointed at Cas and snarled. “You better hope you’re not a fraud, newspring. Witches who tamper with my spells regret it.”

  Cas shook her head in confusion. “Uh—I’m sorry. It felt kind of creepy.”

  Albert quipped, “Some of Lavania’s spellwork does tend to have that effect.”

  Lavania whirled to stare at Albert, but the older man waved her down. “Easy, Lavania, no one likes to be peeped on. The girl is right.”

  “I was gauging her magical prowess, not peeping. It’s interesting how selective your hearing is, Albert. And she,” Lavania jabbed a black lacquered nail in Cascade’s direction, “is far from being a girl. That’s why all of this is likely a hoax meant to make the Court look bad.”

  He shrugged with a hint of a sly grin. “You’re the Archsiren, but I’ve been on the court the longest. In all my years, I’ve rarely come across a witch who exudes power like this one.” Albert gestured with his cane. “And she had the oomph to burst your spell with her pinky finger. Let’s hear what she has to say.”

  The others nodded their agreement. A woman with sparkling bracelets climbing up both arms said, “We’ve all experienced it by now—her powers are quite considerable. Let’s hear the newcomer out.”

  Lavania lips settled into a hard line. She reclaimed her seat. “Very well. What’s your name?”

  Cas bit her lip. A weird sort of numbness had begun to settle in her limbs. It must’ve been the last few hours taking their toll. Her eyes traveled over each of the sirens. None of their stares were as cold and threatening as Lavania’s. Maybe it was because the woman had called her a fraud, or maybe it was the nasty look on her face, but Cas’ patience was at an end.

  “I’m the one who was brought here virtually against my will, has been detained definitely against my will, and is being questioned like a disobedient child. I think I deserve
to know who all of you are before I start giving any answers.” She did her best to sit up straight and folded her arms.

  Silence settled over the chamber for a long moment. No one spoke as Cas sat defiant. Lavania stared down her nose as if Cas was nothing more than a gnat that needed swatting. One of the other women started to speak, but Lavania shushed her.

  “Very well,” Lavania raised one eyebrow slightly and gave a small, impertinent nod. “You have been brought before the High Court. I am Lavania, Archsiren and leader. Beside me sit sirens Albert, Valencia, Stu, and Shiloh.”

  The woman with the bracelets smiled and waved. “Shiloh Newberry. Pleasure to meet you.” Her chair looked like a giant silver S that had fallen on its back.

  “Shiloh, please. It’s too early for all that good-naturedness,” Lavania said, rubbing her temple. “We are the most powerful witches in this district, and it’s our job to handle disputes, requests, and problems in the magical world within our jurisdiction. And you, my dear, seem to be a pretty big problem.”

  Cascade broke her defiant stare-off with Lavania. “I’m Cascade Lorne.”

  “How could someone not blossom until they were fifty?” Valencia glanced at Cascade. “I’m sorry—forty-nine. I’ve never heard of someone not blossoming during puberty. It’s peculiar.”

  The others, besides Lavania, all nodded and verified they’d never encountered such a thing either. They spoke among themselves as if Cas wasn’t there.

  To her relief, the mini-snow storm had ceased, but damp hair clung to her forehead. Cas sniffled. She had a funny feeling in her nose, like being tickled by a feather. She kept trying to rub it away, but it was persistent. Perhaps she was allergic to someone’s perfume?

  As the sirens ignored her, Cas couldn’t help but sneak glances at the younger guy. Lavania had called him Stu. He had wavy blond hair, a square chin, and full, kissable lips. She scolded herself. Now wasn’t the time to check out a man, even if he was handsome. Just then, the tickly sensation got the best of her. “Oh no, not again,” she said and clamped a hand over her mouth.

  Cas sneezed. A stream of tiny, glittery, red papers billowed out from her ears. They floated around her head in a scarlet cloud. She looked up in wonder. At first, Cas couldn’t make out what the things were. It slowly dawned on her. They were hearts. Red construction paper cut-out hearts covered in red and silver sparkles. Just like the kind she used to make in grade school.

  “Oh no,” she groaned and swiped at the glittery cloud. The hearts fell in a heap onto her lap and the floor around her shoes.

  All the witches except Lavania erupted into laughter. Cas felt hot as blood rushed to her cheeks.

  “Well, now, that’s just darling,” Valencia said. She wore a close-fitted, ivy green, full-length dress. Her chair was more like a small throne. A magnificent sunburst made of gold sat on top of the backrest. It circled Valencia’s head like a halo. “A witch with no control who manifests her innermost emotions for everyone to see. Looks like someone has a crush.” She elbowed Stu, who sat beside her. They both burst into a new round of laughter.

  Lavania clapped her hands. “Valencia, Stu, enough! We need to focus. I know this seems entertaining, but it could be truly dangerous.” She leaned back in her chair. “Perhaps we should kill her and be done with it.”

  Cas’ heart smacked against her ribs. Did the woman say kill her? Could they really do that? She cast a forlorn look at the door behind her.

  “No, no.” Shiloh rubbed her hands together. “There’s a mystery afoot. Lavania, may I?”

  “Oh, go ahead.” Lavania crossed her legs. “But I think my solution is the best. Are the executioners on duty today?”

  “Let’s not be hasty. Ms. Lorne, let’s puzzle this out. Do you descend from witches, or are there any supernatural threads in your lineage?”

  “No.” Cas shook her head and looked at the hearts still pooled around her feet. The edges of a few had started to flake into dust. The hearts, the silly string, and the pig. It didn’t make sense unless what Juniper and the others told her was true. “I didn’t know magic was a real thing until weird things started happening to me.”

  “Hmm.” Shiloh tapped her lip with a finger. “Okay, and when did these things start?”

  So much had happened, Cas had to consider. “Umm...let’s see. Yesterday was a strange day. But all the super weird stuff started after Juniper showed up.”

  “What’s that? The weird stuff.”

  “Fireworks coming out of nowhere and going off, silly string when I sneeze ... ” Cas glanced down at the few remaining hearts that hadn’t dissolved yet. No need to mention those since they’d all seen it happen. “Oh, and the little flying pig.”

  “She made a pig fly!” Lavania’s stern features hardly budged as she laughed out loud. The other sirens chuckled but not as heartily as the Archsiren.

  Shiloh ignored them. “Pay no attention to them, dear. Newspring powers are unpredictable. Though the ability to manifest by mere thought is,” she paused to hunt for the right word, “atypical if not slightly troubling.”

  “It’s downright aberrant, if you ask me,” Lavania growled.

  Valencia wagged a finger. “I’ve heard stories about newspring supremes having that type of power.”

  “She’s no supreme,” Stu volunteered. “Naturally gifted—I’ll give her that. But nothing more.” His chair was black leather and steel. Its legs jutted out like a four-limbed spider.

  Cascade frowned. They couldn’t be talking about girl groups from the sixties. “What’s a supreme?”

  Shiloh said, “It is a witch born with an incredible connection to the source that all witches derive their magic from. For some, the connection flows like a stream or a river. For a supreme, his or her connection is like a tsunami that never stops.”

  “I agree with Stu. This person is no supreme.” Lavania smirked at Cas.

  “I don’t know.” Shiloh looked at the other witches. “She even has a traditional witch name.”

  “Humans call their offspring by nature-based names sometimes. That means nothing,” Valencia said. “Besides, look at what Stu’s mother named him.”

  Stu shrugged. “I was the eighteenth child; my mother was tired of choosing names. What can I say?”

  “Stu and his mother come from a long line of witches.” Shiloh turned back to Cas. “How else was it a strange day?”

  “Well, for starters, an odd man delivered a package. It was addressed to me but in my maiden name.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  Cas put her hand out about waist-high. “He was this tall, with yellow hair—not blond, but yellow like a crayon. The name on his crazy pink delivery van was,” she tilted her head to one side, trying to picture the vehicle and the writing on the side, “um, Sun something. Bright, Light—”

  “Sprite? SunSprite?”

  Cas nodded. When she did, the other witches, who had been slouching in their chairs or picking at invisible dust on their clothing, or in Albert’s case, starting to doze off, came to attention. They sat up straight, listening. Even Lavania now perched straight-faced and quiet.

  Shiloh scooted to the edge of her silver chair. “I see. Now we’re getting somewhere. And the package?”

  “Oh, it was just a rock.” But even as Cas said it, she suspected it was more than that. “It was a river stone covered in black writing that looked kinda like Egyptian hieroglyphics. And when I touched it, there was a rush of...I don’t know how to explain it. It was like colors, sounds, and tastes all jumbled into one. I passed out, but I chalked that up to paint fumes. I woke up to Juniper banging on my door.”

  Silence followed for several heartbeats.

  Stu exhaled a gust of air and cursed. “Do you know what this means?”

  Whatever it meant, Cas didn’t hear because the witches broke out into a loud round of arguing. Some words did make their way to her. Snatches of words like rare, danger, and toxic. Impossible. Death. Forbidden.

  Finally, La
vania raised a hand. “Quiet! We can debate later. Action is required now.”

  “It was the river stone, then,” Cas said, searching their faces. “What was it?”

  “It may,” Lavania lips pinched so tightly they turned pale, “have been a cursed object. And you, my dear, may have been hexed.”

  All the twittering and chatting in the room stopped. Dead silence hung in the air after the word hexed was spoken.

  “Now, we need to launch an investigation. If this is true, we can’t have a forbidden magical object lying about. And there’s you, Ms. Lorne. I still think you’re an aberrant human. If so, there’s little chance you’ll be able to control your power.”

  Shiloh said, “She may be an aberrant, but we should check her family history, Lavania, just in case. Maybe her magical lineage has been lost over time. It can happen.”

  “If you insist.” Lavania snapped her fingers, and a bell on a rope descended from the ceiling. She rang the bell, and a few moments later, one of the doors opened, and a man entered the room.

  “Dustin, we need to know about this woman’s lineage,” Lavania said as she gestured. The newly arrived man’s eyes followed the Archsiren’s motion and landed on Cas. He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. He looked like he was about her age and had a kind air about him. She felt drawn to him—like he was on her side. Cas exhaled a tentative breath in relief. Someone acting in her best interest was a small gift.

  “She may have been hexed,” Lavania continued.

  “That shouldn’t contaminate the search, I don’t think,” Dustin said as he approached Cas. Out of everyone in the room, he was dressed the most casually. The most normal, Cascade thought. He wore a navy-blue blazer over a pristine white tee and matching blue slacks. It was like he was prepped for a casual Friday at the office.