Authors: Fabio Bueno
Skye’s body jerks back.
She tries to pull her hand
away
, but I hold it
firmly
in mine.
I hate myself, but I have to go on. “Just like you were
when
the tree hit me.”
She sta
res at me. For a long time, s
he doesn’t move a muscle. I slowly let go of her hand.
I have to close the deal. “So, you are in a cult. And you’re messed up enough to try to kill each other.”
She bites her lower lip. All that, and she
still
won’t talk to me. I reach for my ultimate weapon.
I say, “I’m cool with that, as long as you invite me
to
your naked dances in the woods.”
Not even a smile. Tough crowd.
Jane performed a ritual. And
Drake
saw me performing mine in the woods.
Oh, Goddess. I broke the Veil.
I try to think of a story. Anything will do. He mentioned a cult. That’s a good one. Go with it, Skye.
But I draw a blank. My thoughts keep coming back to
Connor
. To
Connor
with Jane. To Jane.
Why didn’t she finish me off?
Why would she perform a ritual while I drowned? I list the ritual
s
I know and the ones I
’ve
only heard of, but nothing fits.
And Drake knows. He just knows. That’s why he
’s overwhelming
me with
all this. He looks
at me in a way he never did b
efore. He’s not exactly angry,
or sad.
But
all his sweetness is gone.
As if on cue, he says, “Won’t you tell me the truth?”
I can’t bear it. “What do you want
me
to say? That I’m a witch? That’s ridiculous!”
He shakes his head. “Skye, in the woods, a tree hit me. My dad was right. I should have been gone. I
was
gone. You brought me back.”
I’m trembling. “I was gone, and
you
brought me back,
”
I argue.
“Through CPR, not some weird voodoo!”
h
is
voice rises. “Level with me, Skye.”
I look down. “I just can’t.”
He sighs and says,
“Explain it to me, or I’ll go to the police. Give me a
good
reason why Jane shouldn’t be in
juvie
right now.”
Drake isn’
t kidding.
I look at him.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
His voice is cold, and it breaks my heart. “I’ve been nothing but understanding since I
’ve
met you. Come on, Skye. You owe me
that much
.”
Forgive me, Goddess. I just can’t go on.
“I’m a witch. And Jane is a witch. And
Connor
, too. A male witch.” I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud.
And I hope he can’t
either.
“So, is that a cult, a religion, a
N
ew
A
ge
thing?”
No sarcasm in his voice.
I’ll just lay it on him. “It’s
none of tho
se.
Well, it
is
a religion. But i
t’s the real deal.
And w
e can do magic.”
“Do it, then.”
His expression is inscrutable.
“What?”
“Do you have to hide? Is that it?”
Something’s wrong. “I don’t understand
,” I say.
“
Do you believe me or not?”
He s
ighs. “I believe you believe it,
or you wouldn’t waste time doing a ritual while I was
dying
.
And I believe Jane believes it,
or she wouldn’t let you
drown
while she did her thing. So,” he says, leaning back, “unless you are
both
psychos playing with other people’s lives, I imagine you have a good reason to say you can do magic.”
I look around. We’re still alone. “We can do it.
It’s just a part of our philosophy, but we can do it.
Through rituals, enchantments, potions, charms.”
“You have no idea how silly this sounds,” he says.
“
Of course I
do
.”
“Okay…” he says. “So, there’s no wand? No turning into a toad? Or, what else? Oh, I know. What about controlling the elements, shooting fire from your fingertips? No?”
It’s
disheartening watching Drake turn into this cynical, cruel guy.
“That’s not fair,” I mumble.
“Yeah. To me,” he says.
“Put yourself in my shoes, Drake. What do you want from me?
You
asked me about it.”
He shakes his head. “Okay, okay.
Just assume
I’m stupid, and tell me how this works.”
“Do you believe
me
?”
“Let’s not get into that right now. Just convince me.”
This is ridiculous. I don’t want to co
nvince him, quite the opposite.
But
he’ll go to the police and create a real mess
. I prefer trying to explain it to him than to
anyone
else
. I imagine a detective telling me,
So, you’re saying that when the victim, Drake Hunter, was lying unconscious on the ground, you, instead of calling for help, decided to perform an ancient
,
ahem, ritual. And you’re the daughter of Katherine
Lexington-Ellis
… N
ot the
British
actress, I presume?
T
hey would involve Aunt Gemma. And Drake’s family.
The scho
ol too, since Jane attacked me o
n
the
school grounds and we’re both students. T
hey would bring Jane for questioning: who knows what that
psychopath
would do then?
N
ews sites would carry the log
line
,
“
Movie star’s
daughter caught in intrigue of murder and witchcraft,” or something cheesy like that.
Oh, Goddess, imagine
the tabloids back home! The Mothers would go
insane
.
That wou
ld be a huge breach of the Veil,
in addition to totally compromis
ing
the search for the Singularity.
Forgive me, but I’m going to break the Veil a little bit, to just one person, because the alternative could be catastrophic.
And I still have a little hope
he won’t believe me.
Skye pauses again, calculating. I don’t care. We have the whole day.
“If I tell you, do you promise you won’t go to the police?”
“I can’t promise that,” I say. “She did try to kill you, after all. But I’ll tell you what
:
if you give
me
a good reason, I promise I’ll consider your request.”
She nods. This must be hard for her. She looks at the trees, as if begging their forgiveness. Or maybe I’m getting crazy too.
“The ritual I did was an old one. It was supposed to stabilize your body,
or to affect y
our blood flow. I don’t know how it works, actually. Mum never explained it to me.”
“Your mother? Is she a witch too?”
Now
I’m wondering
whether
Skye
was
brainwashed as a child.
She bites her
lower
lip before saying, “Y-yes. We can go into that later.
What I don’t know is why
Jane
didn’t
stab me.”
“I have no idea,” I say. “Maybe to make it look like an accident?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe it’s related to
the ritual that
she
was performing. I bet she wasn’t trying to save me.
I really don’t know.
”
“You don’t know much, do you?”
I’m amused.
“It’s all very c
omplicated. It takes us years—a lifetime—to
learn. I doubt there’s even a single person that knows all the rituals and everything that’s behind them. Jane and I, we’re so young; we know just the basics. And not the same things, obviously.”
I kind of settle
in
to
the
wackiness
of the conversation. We might as well be talking about
music,
or the weather. I lean back on the bench,
asking casually, “What about the other things? Enchantments and whatnots?”
My posture relax
es
her a little bit, or maybe she’s just that into the subject, because her mood improves. No more hand-wringing now. She says, “These are incantation
s
we say out loud, usually
protection and shield rituals
. Some of us do them every morning.”
“Like prayers?”
“Kind of, but they are more
effective.”
I nod. What
can I say? I have no religion.
I am a non-practicing, no
-thinking-about-it generic
Christian
, and I go to church exactly once in never. But I respect other people’s beliefs, and I try not to mock them. You know, just in case they got the right answer, and I’m somehow angering their god
. O
r gods.
But I gi
ve her the same look I give Scientologists.
She must be expecting it, because she doesn’t miss a beat. “
The potions can be beverages or
oils
or
creams or—”
“L
ik
e the one you used on your face,” I interrupt her.
“
You know, when you went blind?” I say without thinking. Boy, I didn’t even notice
I was getting carried away.
She stares at me. Then she slaps my leg. “Of course!” she says. “That was Jane! But that doesn’t explain how I didn’t feel her presence—”
“
Wait!” I say, raising my hand. “You can feel each other’s presence? Like the Force?”
“Like what?”
She narrows her eyes.
“The Jedi thing?”
“Oh,” she says. “Well, when you say it like that…”
“Sounds crazy, I know.
” I say,
nodding
.
She slaps my leg again
, this time trying to hurt me. “S
top it
! You wanted to know.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t have fun too,” I say, rubbing my thigh.
She ignores my comment. “We all can feel each other when we’re close. But I have this special Charm that lets me feel other…” She pauses, casting
a furtive glance
over her shoulder
.
“…others of my kind from much farther away.”
“A Charm?”
“Yes, it’s like an innate power. We can’t turn it off. We all have two.” I look at her inquisitively, and she goes on, “My other is Allure. This sounds
embarrassing
saying
a
loud but… I
just
look
good
.”
“I agree,” I say. Come on. That was too easy.
“And it’s not just that. My skin recovers fast. Minor imperfections go away. I never had an acne problem. I bet
my
scar”—she points to her right temple—“is going to heal much faster than yours. You’ll see.”
She pauses, probably catching
her breath. Or wondering if I’ll
run away from the crazy girl. This
gives me time to think. A new batch of questions pops
i
n
to
my head.
“So, what do you call yourselves?” I ask.
“
Sisters
,” she whispers. “Or
Mothers, if you’re an elder
.
And, okay, sometimes, witches.
”