Prologue
In the beginning, there was good and evil, light and darkness. These forces were powerful and always at war. For a millennia, or so, the battle raged on all over the universe, until a greater power came into being and ended the fighting. This greater power created man, and put a small piece of good, and a small piece of evil, into the heart of his creation. Now the war of good and evil rages silently in everyone on earth, listen closely, and you shall hear it.
Good and evil were too powerful and important for the greater power to destroy. That is why it was merely broken up into billions of tiny pieces. This keeps good and evil balanced, neither one heaped together to overwhelm the other. However, the greater power never thought that his creation would grow as intelligent as to denounce him. Man began to experiment with the gifts, using dark rituals, or simple blessings, to gain power and awaken at least part of that gift.
Most of earth's inhabitants awakened the good, bringing light into the world. There were others, though, that awakened the evil inside themselves, shrouding the night in darkness. As soon as men discovered this strange new idea, many became what we now call witches. There was a select group, handpicked by the creator, to transmit his messages to the world. Most of them were stoned or banished by the ignorance of their fellow man, but those who kept their ability secret wrote great prophesies of an apocalyptic war in the distant future. That time is now.
Chapter One tc \l1 "Chapter One"Are you sure about this, Mom? I mean, a private school, I'm not that awful, am I?" I grumbled as we trudged up the imposing stone stairs, dragging my dingy old suitcases.
"Yes, I'm sure darling. Don't worry; it'll be fine. As soon as you settle in, I'm sure you'll just love it here. You'll see, it'll be just like a slumber party every night, honey. Just think it'll be like you have a dozen sisters, like you always wanted!" Mom tried. God, I hate it when she gets like that!
"Oh quit patronizing me, Mother. I hate this! I will always hate this! There is nothing you can say or do to change that!" I spat the words out between gritted teeth and stomped up the last three steps.
"Darling, you'll get used to it, just give it some time."
"Sure, Mom. Whatever." I answered.
"Sugar, what do you want from me?" She cried. I turned and faced her.
"I want Tommy. I want my make-up. I want to wear what I want to wear, and I want my book. But most of all, I want to wake up, right now, in my own little bed and let this whole thing have been a horrible dream. That is what I want from you, Mother. That's it."
"Well, I guess I can see why you hate me. I can't give you anything you want." Mother said, frigidly. "I can, however, explain as to why." She cleared her throat and began in a monotonous tone. "No toys, the dress code, i.e., is to be followed precisely, which means uniforms and no make-up, and your little pranks and flunking grades cost you your book and have destroyed the last of someone else's possessions¼" Mother went on and on, as she always does, with her list of my past run-ins with trouble and, as always, ended with "Now do you understand, Dear?" And the classic "Me and your father still love you just as much."
"Let's just get this over with, okay?" I grumbled.
Mother's back stiffened, she nodded curtly, and said "Yes, let's be done with it." I opened the massive oak door and she followed me through.
The inside of the building was just as prim and proper as the ivy covered brick outside. The ceiling, towering fifty feet above us, was decorated with angels that were more depressing than cheerful. Other than two sofas set across from each other, and a table in between, the room was sparsely furnished. The dimly lit space gave an eerie shadow that mimicked my own personal depression. Our footsteps echoed as we wandered over to one sofa and sat down.
"Hmm, for a big school, it sure seems empty." Mother whispered. She squeezed my hand gently, comforting herself more than me. "Well, let's look for the Head Mistress, shall we?" She said, perkily, standing up again. She turned towards the nearest door and I followed along glumly. She knocked lightly, listened for a response, and then timidly opened the door.
"Hello?" She whispered. "Is anyone here?"
I followed her into the dusty dank room and laughed, "No, Mom, there's no one here. They all died of boredom. That's usually the case in these hoity-toity schools."
"Oh Liz, be reasonable. It won't be that bad." Mother chided.
"Tell that to the other kids." I said, striding over to a glass door and jerking my thumb towards the people on the field. Mother's gaze followed mine to the four perfect rows of twelve, plus the fifth row with one vacancy. They were the carbon copy drones called the students of Harper High. "They're like robots." I laughed when they started marching towards the building.
"Well, my little soldier, it would do you some good to learn self-discipline." She said, pinching my cheek. She was probably referring to the fact that my last hobby had been rather illegal.
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Darling, you skateboarded on the rooftops of six public buildings while your friends filmed it." Mother stated. "And you wonder why you were expelled!"
"Hey, I didn't know it was illegal. Besides, school is a learning environment, and I was learning new tricks." I cracked.
"Yes, well, I hope you learn more useful things here; like manners, proper lady-like behavior, and responsibility." Mother said crisply. "And learn what a proper young woman should wear." She said, lightly touching the hood on my sweatshirt.
"May I help you?" Sometime during our little chat, someone had entered the room. I spun around to see an old little woman with a strict air about her. She wore a black dress from her chin to her ankles with her once jet-black hair in a tight bun. She had a stern face and a menacing look in her eyes. "May I help you?" She repeated. She had a strange accent; thick, like German and somewhat slurred.
"Yes." Mother answered, taking a few steps towards the woman. She reached out to shake the woman's hand, but the woman didn't respond. Mother withdrew her hand with a queasy smile and said, "I'm Carol Parker, and this is my daughter, Elizabeth Marie Parker. We're looking for Ms. Harper. Elizabeth is the new student from Jefferson High."
"I see. Ms. Harper is in her office, awaiting your arrival."
"Thank you very much, um, what did you say your name was?" Mother tried, warmly.
"I didn't. Ms. Harper's office is this way, follow me." Said the woman. She led us across the hall and into a larger, more moderately furnished room. She snapped her fingers, as a signal for us to wait, and went through a small door on the other side of the room.
"I guess we wait here." I sighed.
"I hope it's not long, I have a facial at four." Mother muttered, biting her fingernail.
"Gee Mom, I wouldn't want to take up too much of your time." I laughed, sardonic. We waited half an hour in awkward silence on opposite ends of a stiff-backed couch on carved legs. "Well, I guess she's too busy. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to go back to Jefferson." I sighed dramatically. Just then, the door through which the woman disappeared swung open.
"Ms. Harper will see you now."
"Oh, how lovely, and when shall I schedule my next appointment?" I cracked, and the woman looked at me, quizzically.
"Darling, let's not keep nice Ms. Harper waiting. I promise you'll be settled in by dinner time." Mother crooned.
"Oh I can't wait!"
"Be good."
"Yeah, right."
"I mean it." Our little conversation took place between the room where we waited and the next, between gritted teeth and phony smiles. We entered the office, the picture of domestic dispute, to meet Ms. Harper. One brittle hand gestured for us to sit and we obeyed. After a short uncomfortable pause, Mother launched into her most convincing speech, dripping with charm and oozing with compliments while Ms. Harper tapped her fingernails against the desk. I studied her intently.
Ms. Harper was old, but not so much as the maid. She wore her hair up in a French braid and had small silver reading glasses she could look over. She was a thin little woman, but still full of curves. I couldn't tell how tall she was, or her age, but I guessed she was maybe 6' 4" and 40 years old. I bet she'd even be pretty, if she weren't about to become my drill sergeant.