Fire witch, p.4
Fire Witch, page 4
Luna hesitated, and I felt the weight in her silence. “That’s a conversation for another time, I think. Right now, all that matters is you’re safe. And you’ve got a lot to take in. Let’s get out of here.”
She walked over to the door, and I knew she was expecting me to follow. But I didn’t, not straight away. I looked around the room one last time, taking in the space, trying to commit it to memory as much as possible. Then I picked up my mother’s bag. I couldn’t leave it behind.
As I took a step forward, I suddenly remembered the dagger I was still clutching. I didn’t know what it was for. But it was mine now. And something told me to slip it into the backpack, to not mention it. Luna was halfway down the stairs. She would never know I’d taken it. I didn’t know if I trusted her, and my mother’s things were too precious to be risked like that.
Again, my mother’s voice whispered through my mind: Trust no one.
I hugged the bag to my body, then followed Luna out of the house. As I stepped outside into the twilight of evening, a chill ran over me and I wasn’t entirely sure it was from the cool air. “The Hunters have her, don’t they?” The knowledge settled into my bones, like knowing the sky was blue. How did I ever doubt the thought’s truth?
Luna paused ahead of me, standing on the path amongst the overgrown garden. “Probably.”
“She wouldn’t leave this behind.” I hugged the bag closer to my body. “She just wouldn’t.”
Luna narrowed those storm-grey eyes, and for a moment, it was like her gaze pierced into the very depths of me, looking at that knowing buried deep in my bones. “No,” she finally agreed, the intensity of her stare relenting. “No, I don’t think she would.”
“I have to find her.”
“Yes,” she said, “I know. I’ll check out some old haunts first. Some hiding places she had. Just in case she had to run.”
I nodded and we continued walking. But my thoughts were elsewhere as the images replayed over and over. I couldn’t think of anything else but what had just happened, how close I’d come to… I didn’t even want to think it. It wasn’t until we turned on to my street, that I realised of course she knew where I lived. My mother had my address. Then I wondered how.
Luna stopped walking, my house in sight. She turned to me, a serious look on her face. “You know, you do have a choice. I can re-bind your powers, erase all your memories of this. You could go back to who you were before the letter. I could make it so they would never find you.”
I stared at the house in the distance, at the glowing, welcoming lights. I thought of Jason, of the new friends I was slowly making, of the version of me whose dreams were all coming true. Could I go back to that being enough?
The weight of my mother’s bag hanging from my shoulder, the tug of memories, the shimmer of power running over my skin made me pause. Could I walk away from my mother? From the truth of who I am?
To deny who I was would be to deny her.
And yet… “I don’t know,” I said.
“You have time. Think about it.” Luna pulled a small notebook and a pen out of her coat pocket, scribbled her number down, then handed it to me. “If the Hunters come back, if anything happens, if you need me for anything, call me.”
I slipped the paper into my pocket. “I’ll message you, send my number. If you find my mother…” It was a faint hope that rang hollow in my soul.
“Of course.” She placed a small stone in my palm. “This won’t stop the Hunters, but it should make it harder for them to track you.”
I studied it for a moment. It was a smoky grey, hazy, the swirls inside almost looked like they were moving. Like storm clouds trapped behind glass. I looked up at her again, closing my fingers over the stone. “Thank you.” I was sure there were a million more things I could have said, could have asked, but my mind wouldn’t formulate it all into words. I felt empty.
Luna simply nodded, then turned away from me. I watched her retreat into the growing darkness, then turned back to the house, holding the stone tight in my hand.
It felt a little like my mother’s protection, like a little part of her was with me.
And that made me feel safer than anything else could.
5
I closed my bedroom door and flicked the light on. The room was just the same as it had been before I left. My clothes in a heap by the wardrobe in the corner, the bed unmade, and my schoolbag sitting at the bottom of it.
Nothing had changed.
And yet everything had changed.
I put my mother’s backpack on the desk that I hadn’t even used yet. My laptop sat on it, worn stickers covering its lid. I mostly used it for watching films, though it was supposed to be for my homework.
I’d been too young for things like laptops and homework when I’d lived with my mother. She couldn’t have afforded a laptop anyway.
Where was she?
I sat on the edge of my bed, facing the desk and her bag with the knife inside. Was she okay? Would she find me again?
She would. She had to. I clung to the thought, to the belief. I couldn’t have found her just to lose her again.
I couldn’t.
I got my phone from my pocket, and quickly tapped Luna’s number in. I sent her a message to let her know it was me. Then I put my phone on the bed, my hands shaking a little.
My fingertips tingled as I lifted my hands up. Fire leapt into life, flickering, its heat a gentle warmth against my skin. Was this all I could do?
I pictured that man again – the Hunter. I had a snapshot of him in my mind’s eye: the moment I had looked up and seen him. It was like my memory had saved that moment, like I would always remember it.
Luna had made him disappear so easily. Her power seemed so… natural to her.
Would I ever have that kind of power? Would it ever feel that effortless?
I clenched my fist and the fire grew a little, moving to envelop my whole hand. Its reflection flickered in the mirror leaning against my wardrobe. It made me look different, the fire reflecting off my face in the dim light.
Fierce. It made me look fierce. Dangerous.
Not at all like the girl I’ve been for the last few years.
The girl who moved schools every few years as she changed foster families, the girl who lost any possible friendships before they’d begun the moment she mentioned she lived in a foster home, the girl who started to believe she’d always be alone.
Was it a coincidence I’d received that letter from my mother right as I met Jason? Someone who hadn’t backed off when they learned my background? Not yet, at least.
I grabbed a random piece of paper from my desk, not really caring what it was, and sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of my mirror. Then I held the paper up to the fire still flickering around my hand.
Smoke curled from the paper as its edges blackened.
My fire could at least burn paper.
I held it close to the skin on my other arm, but all I felt was that same gentle heat. It didn’t burn me.
It was my power.
I held out my other hand, and drew that tingling feeling to my fingertips. It built until it sparked, and fire consumed me all over again. As I drew my hands together, silver flickered at the edges of my vision, and I remembered.
I was standing in the garden of my mother’s old house. Laughter echoed against blue sky.
my mother caught my hands in hers, and crouched in front of me. “Show me,” she whispered.
Fire leapt up between us. Hers and mine, consuming our joined hands.
Her smile was hazy through the heat we created, the flames reflecting in her dark eyes. She let go of my hands and moved back. “See you’re doing it yourself,” she said, her words barely more than a breath.
I’d watched my power with fascination, a child’s wonder, until she’d closed her hands over mine again, extinguishing the flames. Small wisps of smoke drifted up between us.
Silver flickered, and I was back in my bedroom, tears in my eyes.
Where was she?
I let the flames at my fingertips die. What use was it if it couldn’t find her?
The half-burnt paper lay carelessly on the floor beside me. Distantly, I realised I could have set the house on fire.
I should care about that.
I got up, unable to stand looking at myself in the mirror any longer, at the face that reminded me of hers, and walked over to the window. It had been left open from earlier in the day, and I pushed it further as I sat down on the wide sill. It was my favourite thing about the room – the large bay window, big enough that I could sit comfortably for hours if I wanted. I had put a few cushions on it, and a blanket, and I often did my homework there.
I’d even taken a few beautifully backlit photos of me sitting there for my socials, the sun setting behind me, my laptop in front of me as I sat cross-legged, at least pretending to do prep for the new school year.
I lifted the half-burnt paper up again, and summoned the fire just to one finger. It caught the paper’s edges again, and I held it near the window, watching it slowly burn. I pulled my phone from my pocket, flicked on the front camera, and held it out as far as I could.
It wasn’t my best shot. It would have been better if I’d set up a tripod.
But as I examined the image – the paper burning against the night sky, the edge of my open window – I realised I’d captured something more important than the perfect shot with the perfect set up.
I’d captured the end of my old life, the childhood I’d forgotten, the version of me that knew nothing about the world of witchcraft, and the new version of me that was somehow both at the same time.
I tapped on to socials and posted the image, after a bit of quick editing, with the caption: Beginnings, endings, and the moments in between.
A few likes came in straight away from my followers, strangers whose screen names I simply recognised, a comment that was just a heart emoji, then silence. More would trickle in, maybe. I logged out of it, and my thumb hovered over the messaging app.
I hadn’t given Jason my number yet.
So I clicked into it, and tapped out a quick message: Hi, it’s Daphne. See you at school tomorrow?
The reply was almost instant. Hey. Glad to hear from you. What are you up to? See you tomorrow.
I smiled, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. What to reply?
Just sitting by my window. Thinking. You?
Heading to bed. Stayed up too late.
I hesitated. I wanted to ask what he’d been doing. But it felt too forward. Too much too soon. So I simply replied, Goodnight then. See you tomorrow.
He sent a sleeping emoji. I smiled again, then set my phone down beside me. The moon was rising above the houses that formed the horizon out of my window. A half-moon.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that everything was changing all at once.
Could it?
Another message pinged on to my phone. From Luna. A date and location for where to meet her. I’ll do whatever you want, she wrote. Just let me know by then.
Just over a week. That’s all the time I had to decide my whole future. I put my phone down, and her words echoed in my mind. You do have a choice. I can re-bind your powers, erase all your memories of this. You could go back to who you were before the letter. I could make it so they would never find you.
I would be safer.
But I would never see my mother again. I would lose this shimmering feeling in my veins, the knowledge that I had power the rest of those girls who’ve ignored me my whole life didn’t, the chance of being something more than they could ever be.
I’d never know what I could have been.
Maybe I would lose Jason. Maybe there was a connection somewhere between the letter and someone finally seeing me.
Someone finally wanting me.
Maybe, at least.
Maybe now I knew the truth of who I was, things would change.
6
16TH SEPTEMBER
I opened my eyes and squinted against the sun streaming in through my still-open window. My alarm was screaming in my ear. I reached over and switched it off.
I rubbed my eyes, and the sounds from downstairs filtered through the quiet. Chloe and Nathan getting ready for work. Just like every other morning.
How was it possible that the world was continuing on as normal when everything had changed?
My mother’s backpack still sat on the desk. Evidence that yesterday evening had happened.
I had met Luna. I had been attacked by a Hunter.
My mother was truly missing.
“Daphne!” Chloe’s voice drifted up the stairs.
“I’m up!” I shouted, then forced myself out of bed.
I went through the motions of getting ready for school, though it was the last place I wanted to be. But what else was there to do?
Life carried on.
“Daphne!” Nathan shouted up the stairs, as I was pulling my hair into a rough ponytail, hair clips between my teeth.
I rammed the clips into my hair and shouted back, “I know, I’m on my way!”
“Have a good day!” Chloe’s faint voice called, then the front door opened and closed.
Silence descended on the house. The car started outside, then the sound of the engine disappeared.
I sat on the end of my bed, my schoolbag beside me, my hair kind of done, and I looked at myself in the mirror again. I summoned the fire, just because I could. What if I didn’t go to school? What if I went to look for my mother instead?
My gaze flicked to the backpack.
But where would I look?
I extinguished the flames, stood, then pulled my tote bag onto my shoulder.
Luna was looking for my mother. That had to be enough.
I left the house and headed down the street towards school. If I didn’t go, all I would do was think and worry. At least school would be a distraction.
I got there, signed in as late, and went to my first class, hoping to sneak in unnoticed. But the teacher, an older woman with grey hair whose name I couldn’t remember, spotted me the moment I opened the door.
“Hi,” I said, as the whole class turned to look at me. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I should think so,” she said, and indicated to a free table. “Take a seat and do your best to keep up.”
I slipped into the seat at the back of the room, every eye on me.
The teacher started talking again, and I did my best to pay attention. But my thoughts were on last night, on Luna, on the Hunters, on my mother. On the choice I had to make.
Could I walk away from it all? Did I want to?
My phone vibrated in my pocket, bringing me back to reality. I glanced at it beneath the desk. It was a message from Jason: Want to hang out tonight after school?
A date? Was this a date?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my heart racing. Finally, I tapped out a reply. Sure, meet by the gates?
He replied instantly. See you then.
I dropped my phone into my bag, and did my best to try and focus on what the teacher was saying. But I was restless, tapping the end of my pen against my notebook.
Memories surfaced in my mind, fractured, edged in silver. my mother flicking her wrist, setting a fire in our old-fashioned fireplace, an endless stream of people at our back door in need of a cure or remedy.
All the times she’d crouched down before me, telling me I had to keep who I was secret from the world, unless she told me it was safe. They hate us, she’d said, for what we are, the power we have…
Silver flickered, and I was back in the classroom, the word ‘pairs’ echoing in my mind.
Chairs scraped against the tiled floor as the others paired up. A quick glance around told me I was now the only one sitting alone.
A shadow drew my attention back to my desk. I looked up. A girl was standing there. She didn’t look happy. “I think we’re the only ones left,” she said.
“I guess so,” I said, and I shifted my bag onto the floor, freeing up the second chair for her.
She sat down, put her books on the table and her bag on the ground at her feet. She had short blonde hair streaked with silver, manicured gel nails. She wore flared leggings and a long tank top that hung loose from her shoulders.
I was aware of all the ways I wasn’t like her. How scruffy my nails looked, the careless way I’d thrown on jeans and a T-shirt this morning, my very rough ponytail.
I made a mental note that tomorrow I would wear proper clothes and do my hair. The best I could, anyway. Maybe I would ask for some money to go shopping. Especially now I had Jason watching. I hoped.
My attention drifted back to the teacher as she was finishing, telling us what exactly we were supposed to be doing in our pairs. Something to do with ideas for an advertising campaign.
“So,” the girl next to me said, turning just enough to look at me, “I guess we’re working together.”
“I guess so,” I said. “I’m Daphne, by the way.”
“Cam.” She pointed at herself with the end of her pen. “Now, what about the campaign? Any ideas?”
No small talk, then. “I don’t know. I’ll be honest, I didn’t hear all of what she was talking about.”
Cam raised those perfectly sculpted eyebrows at me. “You weren’t listening?”
I’d never felt so uncomfortable beneath a stare in my life. “No. I guess I got distracted.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, just narrowed her eyes at me, then sighed and tapped her textbook with her pen. “We’re working on chapter one, which is about the fundamentals of using photography in advertising. Which is what this class is about, in case you weren’t paying attention to that, either.”
I flipped my own textbook open. “I was, actually. I do pay attention sometimes.”
“Good to know,” she said, sharp gaze flicking back to me. “So what do you think?”
I had no ideas, but she did, so we went with them. By the end of class I had a list of things I needed to do for my end of the project. And it had to be done by next week. When the bell went, and I stuffed my books into my bag, I was seriously considering my life choices.
