"I thought your speech was divine," Sarah said.
"I'm just glad it's over, I'm starving," I said.
"Ugh. There's almost nothing I can eat on this menu," Antoinette said.
Remarkably, we had a very dull evening after the show. We went to bed, and slept. No rogue witches, no debating. Newton spoke to the covens this morning. And now we had an hour and a half until our next task. And I needed to eat. A lot. So did poor Antoinette. With that figure of hers, I don't know where she puts all the food she consumes.
"Just have a salad," Faith said.
"Have five salads," I added.
"No whining please," Newton said.
"The salads here are probably dipped in grease. And ninety-percent water," Antoinette continued.
"Well, I'm having the seared salmon. It looks delicious." Elizabeth shut her menu and proceeded to pop the top of her compact and dab at her lipstick and powder.
"What are you having Newton?" Sarah asked coquettishly, twirling the ends of her long obsidian hair.
Antoinette and I stifled a laugh.
"I don't know yet," Newton murmured, her head buried in the menu.
"Well, I'm havin' a giant bloody piece of steak," Dylan said.
"Ugh," Antoinette quietly complained again.
"And you. Why are you doing that?" Dylan asked of Elizabeth's primping. "You're going to eat in a few minutes. It'll just get messed up again."
The entirety of the long table stopped. When a group of twenty-nine women become quiet and fix you with a strange stare, you know you've done something 'manish'.
"You spend this much time with women and you still ask questions like that?" I asked.
A flurry of teasing and poking comments followed mine.
He threw up his hands, "Alright, alright, never mind."
We laughed and talked about the summoning, the election, very little for the next hour. We simply enjoyed each other's company. It was a nice break. For as soon as lunch was over, Newton, Antoinette and I returned to the Frijjo ballroom for our late afternoon duties–taking pledges to the coven.
If a particular witch wants, or needs, to move into or nearby a particular county and state, she or he can apply for membership during the elections. Or if they simply want to sample the wares. They have a chance to do so. They can introduce themselves, sell themselves, meet the coven, all without traveling hundreds to thousands of miles.
We got our private room off the main event floor and set up shop.
"Ok Newton, we have a dozen witches to talk to in the next few hours," Antoinette said, reading off a tablet screen–how very 21st century-witch of us.
I finished the ritualized placement of Newton's chair, draped in black silk, along with ours to the right and left, just behind her. She sat down, crossed her long legs, and swept her hair back.
"Alright. Let's get to it. Give me the first one," she said, all business.
Antoinette and I spent the next few hours introducing witches by county and state, talking to them, tasting their power, and letting Newton pry and poke at them. We had a handful of good prospects. Two more Elemental witches. A Capturer–a witch who can capture pure energy from the Fabric with their hands and work it into certain materials: cloth, clay, paint. We sat there and watched as she knitted the three of us a simple yarn bracelet. I reached over and touched Antoinette and Newton. So they could see what I saw. The tendrils of threads, weaving themselves down into her hands. When the witch was finished, the creation was imbued with all good things: love, joy, happiness. It felt great putting it on. I decided I wasn't going to take it off for a while. Another witch with the ability to call spirit guides–a Spiritora. A whole level of spirit communication we'd never seen. All in all, it was a cool day. Until we reached the end of our list.
"Thank god, the last one," Antoinette said and paused. "Or the last ones. Huh, OK. Three witches…from the same coven."
Newton frowned and looked over my shoulder to study the tablet screen. "Three witches from the same coven. And from the same party. Sargon's contingent."
I looked up at her. "Weird huh?"
"Maybe not all of his coven has been so charmed," she said. "Alright, let's see 'em."
Antoinette went to the door and opened it. The three witches from Sargon's coven entered the room. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I closed my mouth after a number of seconds. I looked over at Antoinette. She blinked several times before announcing them.
"Witches from Orange County, please step forward."
"Newton Hunter, Vala of Norwood County. We are Riley, Marcy, and Stella." The middle witch stepped forward and gestured. It was a strange way to introduce themselves. But they were a strange trio.
Each witch was dressed in a costume of weird and epic proportions. The witch who had stepped forward, Riley, wore a frilled and shiny blue satin dress, covered in rows of patterned cherries and stars. She had matching silk ribbons wrapped around her midsection, white lace around the bottom, and a pale yellow petticoat peeking out underneath. A black leather bra also peeked out from the satin folds in the top of her dress. On her legs she wore baby-blue fishnet stockings. On her feet, black patent leather Mary Jane's. The outfit was topped off with a long black leather cape with studs lining the entire thing, and a large stiffened and raised ruffle at the top. Several necklaces hung down into her cleavage: an Egyptian onyx, the old magic five-pointed star, a metaled labyrinth, a silver Celtic crescent moon, what looked like animal bones, teeth and feathers, stones with runic and I-Ching letters. There was probably more, but I began to feel self-conscious staring into her chest. Her pale face was decorated with only black and blue eyeliner drawn in an Egyptian style on one eye. The two witches just behind her were dressed similarly, with the exception of colors and decorative styling.
The hair and head accoutrements existed all by themselves. Riley wore a pale blue top-hat with ribbons of red silk around the edge, a variety of bows and trinkets hanging from the brim and her hair. The second, Marcy, a white bonnet, all lace and puffed. The third, Stella, had bow upon bow set atop two curly pigtails.
It was Strawberry Shortcake meets Judas Priest meets Dracula. But what do I know? Maybe it was the latest fashion trend.
But the most significant trinkets were the long wooden staffs each of them carried, set with large crystals at the top. I knew, at least, why they had those. Newton was famous for her love of, and interest in, the Norse Seeress. They were the first to carry such elaborate staffs and wands. She had collected a great many over the years. If I had to guess, they were trying to impress her.
"So, Riley, Marcy, and Stella." Newton began, not missing a beat. "Tell me about yourselves. Why are you interested in pledging to Norwood County?"
"Vala of Norwood County," Riley spoke, "We have heard your powerful words, your inspiring words. You understand the need to for women to hold the positions of power in our world. We are right, we are mighty. We cannot share our power with non-believers, with sleepers." I bristled. I've never liked that word.
"And men whose only goal is to dominate," Riley continued. "Our world has been a matriarchy for centuries, millennia. We must hold fast to our traditions." She slammed the end of her gnarled staff into the floor. It shook the ground and vibrated up into my feet. "Marking women as the dominant Seers and Prophets."
"Riley," Newton interrupted her. "I am not a Seer. And neither are you."
Riley's face fell a bit under the incrimination. Though I don't think it was meant to be. Just a statement of fact.
"Yes Vala Hunter, I understand. But with you in a seat of power, as a council member, we can shape our world, and theirs, as we see fit." She finished with a flourish. The speech was impassioned. Crazy. And she, along with the other two witches, spared not a glance for Antoinette or myself. Not smart.
Antoinette and I looked to each other, then Newton. Her face remained impassive, unreadable.
"And what do you have to offer our coven sisters? What energy, what emotion, what love?" Newton asked.
Riley smiled brightly at her. Frankly, a disturbing gesture. All three witches opened their equally bejeweled and decorated bags and threw the contents onto the floor. Hundreds, if not thousands, of jacks, spilled out. I had to bend down, squint, to verify what I thought I was seeing. Yes. Little metal jacks of all colors lay in a giant pile.
The middle witch, Riley, drew a pocket knife from a hidden place in her belt, sliced both of her palms roughly. Handed the knife to each witch, who drew from the palms nearest her, then joined hands behind the pile and began to intone.
"We three, bound by
Hunger and fated decree
Joined in lot, steady hearts,
And striking fear into enemies
From the aether above, and the earth below
Knot, arc, and weave
We call, we summons, carry the weight
Into the power of three"
The Power of Three is an incantation meant for the three–Vala, Vinstri, Skyldr. The incantation was Drawn, created, for only the three. Not for any other. It's been translated and rewritten in too many languages to name. For witches, the binding of the three, around the world. But I had never heard this version. They had changed it. With slight and small, but perverse, changes.
They kept intoning, drawing off Riley. She had clearly elected herself as mini-Vala for the trio. The spell, whatever their intention, grew and expanded around them. The magic finally sealed itself. It seeped out and picked up the first jack, moving and spinning it. The silver jacks began to coalesce, to form something, a body. The red jacks rose up and aligned themselves in rows at the top. The blues and blacks spun angrily into the center of the form. When it was finished, I took an unconscious step backwards.
They had created a beast. It sang a high-pitched and irritated song as the thousands of metal jacks rubbed together. The red pieces at the top formed the mouth and teeth, and chopped down loudly on the air.
Riley was clearly a Conjurer. Someone who can pull on lines in the Fabric, to coalesce energy, using it to animate things in this dimension. Based on the clarity and substance of the thing, maybe all three of them were of the same power.
But it was grotesque. Demented. Disturbed. It pulled at my insides, grasped at my happiness and light. It seemed possessed of sediments, not the wholeness, of emotions: lust, greed, fear, hunger. What the hell was its purpose?
I glanced over to Newton again. The glow of the beast reflected in her pupils. I wished she'd get rid of it. I know she could. Dispel the spell with her voice. But her still and impassive expression said nothing. The thing finally died as their power waned. The jacks fell, clinging and clanging their way to the floor, leaving only an echo of their creation. The three witches were sweating and spent, licking their bloody hands. Though they looked pleased as punch with themselves.
Newton gave them a second to collect themselves then spoke. "This is your offering? Your gift?" she asked.
"Yes Vala." Riley answered for them, still smiling.
Newton stood, "Riley, Marcy, Stella, please excuse us for a moment." We followed Newton to the end of the room, to our private area. Really just three chairs and a table protected by a divider and a spell. We'd been using the sanctuary to discuss our possible new coven members. The three of us took the chairs in a thump.
Newton stared into the distance. I looked at her, not knowing what to say, then to Antoinette. We finally caught her eyes and paused mid-breath. Then my smile broke, then Newton's, then Antoinette's. We had a good quiet laugh for a few minutes.
"That bastard," Newton finally said.
"Who?" Antoinette asked.
"Sargon. He brought those witches hoping to get rid of them."
Asking a witch, or several, to leave your coven was not unheard of, but certainly rare. It was usually a mutual decision. If your coven isn't working for you, you know it, they feel it. You go your separate ways. And given the display we'd just seen, I wondered if he was…trying to get rid of them. And he was having trouble getting them to leave.
"Do we uh," Antoinette shifted nervously in her chair, "Really need to discuss this?"
Newton grinned. "No," she said and rose. We followed her back out after the shortest review of a membership in our history.
"Riley, Marcy, Stella," Newton walked over and addressed them with Antoinette and I at her back. "You have misinterpreted who I am. What you think you know about me. The coven is not bonded by just power, but by sisterhood, brotherhood, love, loyalty. I am not against new ideas or fresh doctrine, as long as we aren't sacrificing our core values. Our intentions must serve each other and the greater good."
Riley's face fell. As did her sisters'.
"And you have forgotten yourselves." Newton continued. "You have lost your way. Being a witch is not about flash or having power, accumulating it, or using it for wanton displays. It's about being a part of the power. Being a part of the flow. You have perverted yourselves and your magic with desire."
"But Vala Hunter," Riley interrupted, "We commissioned ourselves to him," she spat, "To under-mind his disgusting pledge to equality. To show and demonstrate our true allegiance to the sisterhood. You were correct! We must protect our words, what is ours by rights by generations of tortured witches. To bring down the seeping repulsive rise of patriarchy in our world. We have done this for you!" Her face flushed. The veins in her temples throbbed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought she was implying that she, that they, had done something to Sargon to stop him from winning. She went to her knees in front of Newton. "Please."
Newton took a step toward her, "Riley, please get up," she said softly. "I'm afraid we have to deny your pledge to our coven at this time."
Riley slowly rose from her kneeling position, her aura shifting and contracting. "Who do you think you are?" she asked. "Who do you think you're talking to? I'm no newborn or initiate. I am a powerful witch."
"I'm sure you are."
The energy in the small sectioned-room thickened and massed. I paused, feeling an imminent boom. Newton's aura remained calm and steady. Riley's face turned in on itself. Turned ugly. She opened her mouth, and I saw the tendrils of a foul spell dripping from her lips.
"Whispers of woeful intent
Bayful cries without charm
For the next five days
Those lips shall utter no harm"
The spell was out of Newton's mouth and into the air before Riley could take her next breath. Newt's power, probably amplified by her anger (I know I was angry), flared across my skin. You do not cast against another witch out of spite. And Newton's utterance was just that, a binding to prevent such a thing.
Riley paused, a look of confusion marring her un-pretty face. She curled her lips and spoke. "Stinging phrase" The words left her mouth, built power, then died and stopped. Her lips moved in an angry dance, they fought with themselves. "Stinging phrases" She yelled louder. Then stopped. "Busy of buzzing b" She tried again.
"You bitch!" she yelled and jumped forward. The air stirred around Antoinette, leapt out in front of Newton and myself. She took one step to face Riley. I wasn't much good in a fight, but Antoinette…she's a damn bruiser.
Riley paused again, spittle bubbling at the edges of her sealed lips.
Considering how uncouth Riley had been, she was lucky the binding was for five days, and not five years.
I had a thought. "Newton," I said, looking from her to Riley. She caught my meaning. I let my power out completely. Letting the room fall into the lines of the Fabric, seeing Riley and her sisters with new eyes.
"Riley," Newton said, her Siren's gift vibrating the air around us. "Have you ever been to Santa Fe?"
Riley opened her mouth, then closed it.
"Riley, have you been casting against other witches? Against Virginia?" Newton nodded once toward me. "Have you been using old magic? Forbidden magic?"
Riley's eyes turned on her, seeming to confess something. Before we knew what was happening, she turned and ran from the room. Followed a microsecond later by her two sisters.
We looked at each other.
"I'll take Riley. You take the one on the right. And you the left," Newton said quickly.
We managed to make it out of the room without killing each other getting through the door at once, seeing all three witches exiting the ballroom. As soon as we cleared the ballroom doors, they split up. My quarry, Stella, (at least I thought that was Stella), ran to the right, toward the old spiral staircase. Before making it halfway down the stairs, I shed my shoes. Running in heels is a bad idea. And unlike some women, I can't do it.
As it happens, it was the perfect idea. As she made her way through the casino floor, I began catching up. I could see where she was going. Winding through slot machines and jack black tables. She was headed for the doors leading to the street. I would probably lose her if she made it.
"Oof!" I bowled someone over as I was passing behind the vending machines. "Aislinn?" I reached down and pulled her back up. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah," she laughed. "Where's the fire?"
"Oh! I, uh, can't really explain right now. I've got a witch to catch."
Her eyes drifted up, following mine. Stella was making a scene. Fighting her way through a gathered crowd watching someone win at slots. "Her?"
"Yeah."
"Want me to zap her?" she grinned and waggled her eyebrows. "I'm not sure I can target just one in this room. But I can try?"
"No, no. I got this." I took a deep breath, calming myself. Looked at the obstacles in Stella's path. The patterns of electricity in the room were crazy. Like hundreds of lightning storms. But…
There.
When I rearrange something, I need to know what I'm looking at. What I'm dealing with. And all the chairs lining the walkway, in front of the old slot machines, between her and the doors, were wood. I could see the patterns all the way from across the room. I focused in on the joints, not caring what I was doing. The fine fibrous threads of the dry wood began unraveling. The base of the first chair burst. The second and third simply dissolved. Stella tripped and fell as a dozen chairs were suddenly in the aisle with her.
"Nice work, Virginia. Very sly."
"Thanks." I grinned then set off toward the pile with Aislinn at my heels.
"Oops." I hadn't noticed one of the chairs was occupied. "Are you ok?" I asked of the chair's former occupant, helping him to his feet.
"Well, what in the world?" He picked up his cowboy hat and stood proudly. "They told me this casino was haunted. But boy howdy!" I had to smile at his excitement.
The witch was fumbling in a mess of her legs and chair tops.
"Stella," I warned her, seeing her eyes drift back to the array of doors leading to the street. "Don't make me hurt you."
She took another look around her. "Oh my god. Don't hurt me. I didn't do anything. I'm not even a witch!" she yelled.
The gathering crowd looked at her like she was high. My eyes bulged from my head. "What?! You know what, stop talking and just get up. You're coming with me." I looked at Aislinn. "Can we keep this between ourselves for now?"
"Yeah, of course."
I led Stella back to our room. I knew that's where Newton and Antoinette would be. When I opened the door, the two other witches were sitting on Newton's bed. I let Stella slink into the room to sit next to her friends.
"You won't believe what she just told me," I said.
"She isn't a witch?" Antoinette asked.
"Oh man. You too? And Riley?"
"I am a witch!" Riley screamed from her seat on the bed.
"Riley, what did I ask you?" Newton's voice quivered.
Riley slunk back down to pout.
"Riley is not our witch. She's never been to Santa Fe. And these two women are not witches. But Riley has somehow surrounded them with magic. They even passed the threshold binding. And watch this."
Newton turned back to the trio. Focusing on Riley. "How did you do this? Why did you this?"
Riley crossed her arms. Set her face into hard lines.
"Riley, tell me. Tell us. Confess…"
Riley's face strained under the pressure she was feeling. Her lips finally moved. "I don't know. I don't remember!"
"Did your Vala, Sargon, make you do this?"
"No! I mean…I don't remember." She began to cry. "They had nothing to do with this."
I looked closely at Riley's mind. The same pockets of grey littered her head as did the guy we'd interviewed in the police station.
"Riley is our friend," Stella said. "We just thought it would be cool to be witches for a week!" They both started crying too.
I rolled my eyes, "Oh boy."
Newton rubbed at her forehead. "Let's just turn them over to the council."
"No! They'll bind me from doing magic!" Riley screamed, now in hysterics.
"Riley you've done something here that defies many existing bindings. And you may have been bespelled. For the sake of our covens, the council must understand how you did it, and who did it to you."
There was no doubt in my mind that our rogue witch had done this. The real question was why? They had done no real harm to us, to me, and would only be in trouble now. As for Sargon…well, he had a lot of explaining to do. He'd somehow let two sleepers into an election, and let one of his coven become bespelled. Heck, maybe he'd done this himself. Though my gut told me he wasn't powerful enough. This magic was different, darker. I was betting the council would be able to ferret this witch out of hiding now.