Timeless Witch (2 page)

His eyes had widened and he declared to his wife I swore at him, and perhaps I didn’t like prunes. She just shook her head in disbelief and stated a baby of eight months wouldn’t possibly understand the concept of the word, or how to use it in context.

I had to give it to ole gangly though. He wasn’t so bad; stupid perhaps, but not a bad person. I really rather enjoy prunes, so that wasn’t it. I had only been angry with him because he had forced me to use my powers. Fool that he was, he stepped in a puddle in his garage, then dropped a live wire.

I hadn’t wanted to see him fry, and I was sitting close by in my playpen while he worked. I think he liked it when I watched him work. It took only a breath of my charm to diffuse the electricity; primitive device really, child’s play or, in this case, baby’s play.

But I needed to be careful. I could feel Alistair out there, as he could feel me, but neither knew the extent of the other’s power as yet. We were both left in the dark, wondering if we were the same age, or who had been born first. I snickered, pondering if somewhere out there some woman had lobbed goo on his naked behind and was speaking god-awful baby talk to him. What a blow to his over-inflated ego that would be. Especially to a fifteen-thousand-year-old man. I hope he falls off his tricycle too.

“Beddy-bye time, my wittle baby. Kootchy coo. Oh, me wuv ums me do, yes me do, me diddly do do.”

Oh God, kill me now.
Damn that Alistair.

* * * *

I sat at the table reading the newspaper in my booster seat. My mind worked furiously. Time was dragging on. I was three earth years old. Ole gangly was watching me, while pretending not to, periodically casting me a sideways glance. I knew he was aware I was different, but each time he broached the subject about me with my mother, she just laughed him off.

“Want some coffee?” he asked me. Surreptitiously, he moved the steaming mug just within my reach, really a foolish thing to do. I could burn myself. I did mention he was a bit stupid, didn’t I?

I chortled gleefully, and yes, I’m rolling my eyes as I say this, and scrunched the paper while noting the date. My heart was racing. I had gone back to before Alistair had murdered me; reborn before my beloved Randar was killed.

I could make it right. I could win this time. I could save my beloved Randar from death. Dreamily, I gazed back through my mind. This time I wouldn’t fail my love. We would be together, I vowed. It was a faint hope of mine Alistair would not strike again and risk another battle on All Hallows’ Eve.

I hoped he had learned his lesson. But in my heart I knew he would come for me; he would force a battle to the death. What was I to do? I couldn’t anger the Keeper. I had no wish to fight on such a blessed eve. Maybe we could strike a deal. Perhaps the Keeper could be given a gift of atonement; perhaps I might be able to...

“Want a smoke?” ole gangly asked as he attempted to pry the paper from my pudgy baby fingers.

Damn the man. He was always interfering in my thoughts. I leveled an intense look at him and as plain as day said, “
Fuf off.”

His eyes widened in surprise, though I don’t know why; I was always swearing at him. In my defense, he made it so easy.

“Alice.
Alice
. Sophia just told me to fuck off.” He raced wildly from the room.

I chuckled. “What on earth would you do if you heard me recite the alphabet backwards?” I was glad my teeth had come in, making it easier to speak properly, although it was done in private.

I once more scanned the paper. The only thing of interest was the date. I was three...that gave me twenty years before I needed to play my hand. I settled back and with both hands, took a careful hold of the steaming mug from the seat over to my left. I took a large swig of ole gangly’s coffee and a puff of his cigarette. There was plenty of time. Soon I would need to begin to exercise my ever-increasing powers.

* * * *

“Sophia, this is your kindergarten teacher.”

Ole gangly was squatted in front of me. I eyed the big, fat woman closely. Gangly leaned in close and whispered, “Please, sweetheart, don’t turn her into a turd.”

I couldn’t help myself; I laughed openly. The poor man was sincere. He had reason to be. Though I had never again drawn his blood, I had allowed him to see a cruel man run over with his fertilizer cart.

It was the man’s own fault; he had been rude to my ‘father’—ole gangly was mine to torment. It didn’t mean I didn’t care for the pathetic creature. No other was allowed to harass him. I watched out for both him and my ‘mother.’ I needed the protection of these human parents. Who knew where I would end up if something ever happened to them before I became of age? No one had bothered him since.

“I be good, Daddy, me wuv you,” I said with solemn eyes, causing the inevitable
aws
to be dramatically called forth from other observing adults. I was such a beautiful, charming child. Really, how could they not adore me?

I leaned in closely and, wrapping my arms about his neck, I whispered, “The silly old cow thinks you’re hot. Want me to cast a spell on her?”

“No, baby, just be good for a while, please?” he asked hopefully.

Be good, yeah, I’ll get right on that. An hour later the fire alarm sounded and the sprinkler system went off. That’ll teach these morons to try and make a witch color inside the lines with purple crayons.

* * * *

High school years are always somewhat entertaining and quite amusing. I had no problem being popular; although, for the most part I chose not to associate with the others, as I am at least thirteen thousand years older.

The age gap does pose a bit difficult at times. While everyone else complained of hormonal changes and blemishes, I was subtly practicing my craft. I had no need to date these silly boys, as my mate had already been chosen. And woe be to the unsuspecting fool who would try to distract me.

“
No, I don’t want to go to the prom with you, moron, I mean, Morton...and if you try and kiss me again I’ll turn you into a tree.”
I mean really, why on earth would I want some puny, face-pocked mortal, when my handsome Randar awaited me?

* * * *

As the years rolled into a numbing ocean of hurry up and wait, I found myself caught off guard briefly. Ole gangly became sick. I am a protector of time, created as such to make certain the era I am in moves along smoothly without outside interference. What must come, will come; I am efficient to a fault. I demand no less of myself, as do my gods. And as time moves onward, so too, unfortunately, does life cease. Sadly, a nasty cancer had settled its way into his bones.

I am not allowed to interfere with anyone’s life or death span, except mine own kind, or my foe’s kind. But I am allowed to spare those I care for great pain and suffering. Though he was dying, he experienced no anguish, or agony. He was able to keep Alice from succumbing to great despair at her looming loss, because he was in a relatively good humor.

That evening, well after midnight, I sat by my father’s bed. It was his wish to die at home with his family. Mother slumbered fitfully in a chair near his side. I held his frail hand. He felt so cold. Closing my eyes, I used a summoning spell to warm his blood and take the chill from his bones. He offered me a small smile.

“Don’t be afraid, Father. You will be at peace soon, I promise.”

“How can this be, when there is no pain, or fear?”

I smiled a smile I knew he found baffling. “I think you already know.”

“Tell me, before I die. You were indeed a gift, my Sophia, but are you really ours?”

“Yes, and also no.”

This was so difficult to explain. How could I tell the man before me his own child was never meant to be born? The woman I was given to had never carried a fetus to term, and she never would have...except without my help.

As I have mentioned I cannot interfere in a mortal’s life or death, even from conception. Therefore, the finding of a host could be quite difficult and a tricky act of precision timing. In order for my rebirth, my incantation must wait to take effect until a soul has left the body of its own free will, while the heart remains beating, and it cannot be just any host; it must be the body of one who has not yet taken her first breath outside the womb.

Alistair’s kind was a stealer of souls, a heartless taker of innocent babe’s lives. They cared not who they possessed, or who they destroyed. They waited not for a babe’s soul to leave a body; they were ruthlessly evicted. When being reincarnated, they too, are only able to inhabit a being that has not yet taken its first life breath.

A tragedy, but a necessary evil to level the playing field. I also had my suspicions it was the gods’ irritating way of teaching us a valuable lesson: be careful with your life, unless you wish to find your backside once more in shit, literally.

My new mother had no idea I was different, or perhaps she chose not to see it. But Father, now, he had always suspected. A few times during my toddler years I had been sloppy, but in my defense, maneuvering with such pudgy little hands and being so small of stature, was hard at times. I also couldn’t help it if I toiled the time away, concocting a few small spells for my amusement.

“Somehow, you have helped me with my pain.”

It was a statement, and there was no need to deny the obvious. I squeezed his hand gently and smiled when he valiantly tried to return the pressure.

“You will sleep soon, Father. But know this: you will be rewarded in your next life, this I promise you. The gods have granted me this favor I have asked. Both you and Mother cared for me well.”

“It doesn’t matter where you came from. You are
my
child.”

He spoke with such possessive ferocity I was stunned, and secretly pleased he felt so strongly. “In a way. I am yours.”

It was true. I was of their blood, and yet not theirs in theory. My features had altered the moment I became one with my host body. I looked like neither of them, nor had I looked like any other one of my ‘parents.’ But they had cared for me like I was their own, loved me, as had all those I was given to.

Truly, they couldn’t have loved me more. My true mother, my witch mother, was my rightful parent, as was her mate, her gift from the gods, my true father, but the man before me knew nothing of them.

“Take care of your mother for me?” he asked, his voice was but a tinkling chime of a whisper.

His time was nigh. Sadly and with great tenderness, I trailed a hand across his head in a loving gesture and went to wake Alice. My mother sat beside him silently. They gazed into each other’s eyes. Neither saw the incantation I spoke. There was already a humanoid type host awaiting his soul’s rebirth. His transition would be smooth, painless. He was to be born into a loving, wealthy family.

My gift to him would be a carefree, long life. But I wanted no reminders to haunt him. Nothing from this time or this world must trigger or nag a
déjà vu
from his memories; it would be dangerous for him. And so my incantation thrust him three thousand years into the future. I sent him to a beautiful planet in another galaxy, a place so far my nemesis would never find him.

As he slipped quietly away I could feel the energy of this time sag for a brief moment. It was like the skipping of a heartbeat, as the dimensions struggled and then allocated the change. He was then safely sequestered firmly into his new body. The solar gods adjusted this lap of molecules, regrouped, then settled.

I scowled for a moment. Alistair had felt me. I had used a large piece of my magic to complete my transfer successfully. He knew where I was this very second. Knew where I stood, could feel my grief, and the bastard’s laughter filled my ears with warning.

“Come and get me, if you dare, foul serpent,” I muttered under my breath.

My fists clenched and unclenched with my seething anger. The putrid toad would not even allow me my grief in peace. But it wasn’t time, not yet—but soon.

* * * *

Three years later my mother passed. Her death and transition were just as easy. She and Father would meet and fall in love all over again. Only this time the gods would bless them with three of their own children. Poor ole gangly. Hopefully, none would offer him a hard time.

For now, I would use these next two years and plan. With no ties, I sequestered myself away from all mortals. At long last my ruse was at an end. I embellished my craft. I would be a force to be reckoned with. My wait was almost at an end.

The wind blew through my open bedroom window, tossing my long, thick black hair wildly about my face. The icy coldness landed upon my naked flesh to burn my skin, as sleet pelted down upon me mercilessly. My arms were raised high above my head, my body swayed.

Supremacy filled my entire being. I could feel, at long last, the time was now upon me, the moment I had been anxiously awaiting, and I was beyond ready. I was in possession of all my powers. I was finally full grown, finally of age, and All Hallows’ Eve was the day after tomorrow, the day my Randar was taken from me, the day my baby’s life was stolen before her first breath. It was time for me to summon my beloved’s image forth.

“You were given to me by the Goddess of ole,

My heart, my love, my body, my soul,

You were given to me, I command you nigh,

You were given to me, beyond the day we die.”

Quickly I gazed up into the misty window before me. The swirls of smoky haze billowed and flittered wildly and then parted. And there he was, the reflection of my beautiful Randar, my beloved, my absolute everything. Innocent of the ways of my people, each time he was reborn. A necessary evil, as he had no way to protect himself if I were to meet my demise before his lifespan naturally ran its course.

I watched him through my magic portal windowpane; saw the firm curve of his jaw, the sleek, shiny skin. The grace and power of the way he moved was so incredibly picturesque it brought me to tears. My heart was joyous.

What a powerful protector this daughter of mine would have, once conceived, if I could manage to save her father this time. This child of mine must be a desperate necessity to the old ones, if I were being given a second chance to right the wrong committed against me. The father of the next witchly changeling must live. He was safe, for now, and before the gods, I swear he will be forever.