Mathilda, SuperWitch (46 page)

But for Fay’s Mama, there was a catch, all Irish people had a little bit of magic so you kinda weren’t allowed to turn them away.

Lucy was super lucky to be taken on.

(Yay! Glad she asked. Glad Mavis agreed.)

As tradition dictated, as Fay’s magic was the youngest, she started Lucy’s training.

Even at Tenderfoot, when she didn’t have a wand or a spark, we were still gonna have to use Lucy, feminine power was better than nothing at all.

So that meant we needed Josie too.

And Gabriel, for protection.

(Who, by the way, was expensive. Dratted mercenary vampire was sucking the lifeblood (read: savings for those Me&Ro earrings) out of me, no pun intended.)

We’d needed the whole posse if we had the slightest chance to succeed.

29 October

The time was right and we finally had our shit together.

We had all the ingredients and the implements for the antidote ceremony. Not to get back Althea’s sight (too gross to even contemplate and some of the items were illegal to own, even by Wiccan Law) but to get back her magic.

But even more importantly we had Josie’s fiancée visa.

Su, Viv, Josie and Lucy had also managed to send about a dozen boxes of Josie, Rory and my stuff to The States without being caught.

The protection spell on the house in Baker was mature and they were expanding it in a nice square from Broadway to Alameda to Santa Fe to Eighth.

The plane tickets were purchased (I could kiss Me&Ro good-bye).

And Viv had conjured cloaking spells for us from Somerset to Dover, across the channel and up to the outskirts of Orly Airport in Paris.

We figured Bristol, Gatwick and Heathrow would all be staked out so best to leave the country in order to flee the continent.

We were ostensibly having Girl’s Night In at Lucy’s house.

I knew both Aidan and Ash checked in on us during Girl’s Night In.

I considered giving them a sleeping draught but figured I’d rather not suffer the consequences if a) it didn’t work or b) it did and I was anywhere near either of them when they woke up.

Viv, Su and I worked together in the bathroom to create the cloaking spell that got us out the backdoor and into the waiting car that Gabriel was driving.

(Get this: a new, sleek, black Bentley. Yikes! Where did these boys find their cars?)

Althea met us on Castle Road, standing alone in her cloak next to The Corners (a fabulous old house where I would live if I didn’t already live in the oldest most fabulous house in town).

“All set?” I asked her when she shoved her way in with the rest of us.

“You know, girl, you could kill me if this doesn’t work.”

Ack!

“I know, don’t worry Althea, have a little faith,” I assured her.

Yeesh!

She grumbled but shut up and thus began the most sinister and alluring night of my life.

Dark Magic is seductive, everyone knows that.

It is warm and enthralling.

And it’s powerful.

And it’s dangerous.

White or Light Magic is from nature, from the earth and seas, the trees and flowers, the winds and rains, the sun and moon. It is night and day. It is a soft summer shower and a fierce hurricane. It is the gazelle and the lion. It comes from the pureness deep within you, your head, heart and womb. It is always good. But it can be perilous if used by those who are foolhardy or unschooled.

Dark Magic is also natural but human-bound.

Dark Magic is made of the things not of the earth or its precious populace. It is made from the weakness of woman and man.

Take Light Magic and twist it with the power of murder, the power of deception, the power of pain, the power of oppression, the power of fanaticism, the power of corruption, the power of greed, the power of decadence, the power of lust, the power of fear – all of which is all around us, all the time and one can succumb to it and let it overwhelm them or one can absorb it into oneself – then harness it and control it.

That is Dark Magic.

And that is what we used to get Althea’s magic back.

When we completed the ceremony, we were naked, sweating, panting and spent.

And can I say, a little grossed out yet turned on at the same time.

Ack!

And we watched in fascinated horror as Althea’s body regressed in age to that of a little, wee, innocent, weak babe and then she grew again, in mere moments and she became Althea again.

Then she exploded, or at least her aura did (which is kinda the same thing), shooting violent sparks of lime green and robin’s egg blue so brutally we all dove for cover.

Then it was over.

And we pulled ourselves up out of the grass, weakly circling her, depleted of energy and magic while she calmly took out her wand, zapped my cloak which lay several feet behind me so that it danced through the chill night air and wrapped itself around me, snug and warm. She did that for Viv then Su and with Lucy’s fleece and Josie’s trench coat.

She helped us to dress, gently, even lovingly. With swift blue and green flashes from her wand, she obliterated our tools and ingredients, our potions and vials, sending them, I’ve no doubt, to a plane where they will never be used again.

She then led us to the car where Gabriel was waiting (he’d given us privacy to perform the ceremony).

Gabriel and Althea helped us into the car.

When Althea got in last and buckled her belt, she said quietly, “Go gently, lad, you’ve got some delicate magic in this vehicle.”

And we went home.

* * * * *

I led the group to the house as Gabriel left us on Old Church Road for fear Ash or Aidan would see us. He was to take Lucy home.

Viv and Su split from us toward the footpath to come into The Gables from the greenhouse side. Josie and I took the driveway but split so she went in the front door and I headed to the back by the conservatory.

We were trying to divide attention so Ash and Aidan might find one or the other of us, but not all and most importantly not me.

But, as my luck would have it, Aidan was waiting for me in the conservatory.

Not… good… news.

I was exhausted, shattered, spent, drained and just plain old worn out.

I was dead on my feet, physically and emotionally and I didn’t have enough magic in me to extinguish a candle.

“Jesus,” was Aidan’s word when he saw me.

I was pretty sure my makeup had worn off too but that just proved it.

I offered a weak wave.

“Hey.”

But there he was, stalking me again. I couldn’t be bothered to back away so I didn’t. He grabbed me by my upper arms and it looked a lot like he was trying to stop himself from shaking me or something worse.

“I could just about –” he started, anger in his voice but stopped himself. “Matty,” he whispered crossly, “you’ve no idea what kind of fool you’ve been.”

Nice.

“We need to get you to bed and you need to stay in bed,” he ordered in a terse voice. “And get your mother to give you some of her healing brews.”

I nodded, too weak to talk.

He watched me do this then clipped, “Jesus, Matty.”

He walked me into the house taking a great deal of my weight most of the time and then eventually all of it as he slid an arm behind my knees and around my back and lifted me up. I draped my arm around his neck and let my head rest on his shoulder as he carried me into my rooms were both Su and Viv were already conked, sleeping the sleep of the dead.

He carefully lowered me to the floor, set me slightly to the side and then he opened the door to my bedroom.

And there stood Ash.

There was a little, kinda “zing” sound with a flash.

Followed very closely by this muted, revolting thud noise.

And then Aidan was falling and Ash moved forward quickly, pushing the smoking gun into the back waistband of his jeans.

He bent low as he approached me and, with nothing left in me, I couldn’t avoid it when his shoulder hit my belly and he picked me up in a fireman’s hold.

And as he walked away, I had just enough energy to lift my head and watch the blood seep out of Aidan and all over the floor.

* * * * *

Note on above entry: Derived from residue of aura of Mathilda Guinevere Honeycutt. Aura read and recorded by Mavis Lillian Honeycutt, 30 October.

31 October

This entry written by Josephine McShane.

We’ve been contacted by High Priestess, Agatha Darling and the Edwards Coven.

This evening at “The Witching Hour” they’re performing “The Ceremony” on Mathilda to slice away her power.

After which they will give her, alive, to the Honeycutt Family in exchange for me.

If the Honeycutts do not turn me over, the Edwards Coven will sacrifice her life in a further Dark Ceremony to cement the powers they are transferring to a new Dark Lord.

I’ve demanded that this exchange go forward.

I’ve legally transferred custody of Rory to Mathilda.

No one will die for me.

I couldn’t raise my son knowing that they did.

My hope is that your next entry will be made by your mistress.

Please, God, answer that prayer.

Hallowe’en

Hallowe’en

(Witches’ New Year)

The Night the Veil between the Worlds is Weakest

* * * * *

I didn’t cry.

At least I can say I was proud of that.

But that wasn’t a lot to hold onto when visions of Aidan’s dead body kept popping into my brain.

* * * * *

I don’t know where they kept me. It didn’t have windows or furniture. The floor was wood. The walls were stone. There was an air mattress and a blanket.

Get this: at one point, they gave me half a French stick cut down the middle, smothered in margarine (euw) and tucked with too-cold brie and grapes and a bottle of Cranberry pressè.

What kind of prison food was that?

I ate it.

I needed my strength.

Twice, two men (with guns) and two women (with wands) took me from the room down an equally dark hall to a bathroom.

Mostly, my hands were tied behind me and I lay on the mattress.

There was zero noise, nothing to give away where I was.

There was nothing to do either.

It was like being in the Big Brother house without any housemates or any weird and wonky furniture.

I had a fierce caffeine headache caused by the forced cold turkey off lattes.

I was still exhausted and I knew that although my magic was probably regenerating, without the physical energy or my wand (which was confiscated, of course), I was fucked.

And I thought about Aidan.

And I tried not to think about Ash.

* * * * *

Sometime when it was darker and colder and I knew night was coming, the door opened.

The two men with guns and two women with wands came in and I thought it was bathroom break time.

But then Agatha Darling came in behind them followed by Ash.

Darling was wearing her cloak and Ash, I swear to the goddess, looked like fucking Darth Vader following the Emperor.

I felt my mouth fill with saliva like I was going to vomit.

I wanted to spit it in his face.

Which, by the way, was still gorgeous and completely void of any emotion.

He was wearing the Alexander McQueen shirt I’d given him.

The bastard.

Then, behind them, in flew a big, black bat.

The bat hovered momentarily and then transformed and there stood Douglas Fucking Addison.

“Miss Honeycutt,” he said, in those smooth, kind tones I’d somewhat gotten used to which were undoubtedly honed over years of political ass-kissing.

I just stared, trying to look surprised.

(‘Cause, if you will remember, I wasn’t supposed to know he was a vampire.)

He nodded to Ash and Ash walked forward.

I wanted to back away but I held my ground, staring daggers at him.

I wished like hell I could use magic but I couldn’t. I figured I had a big night ahead of me. If I had any magic regenerated at all, I had no doubt I’d need it later.

I had no idea it wouldn’t matter.

One of the witches came forward, opening a small metal case that carried a vial that was filled with a syringe and some neon pink fluid that looked right out of
X-Men
.