Mathilda, SuperWitch (4 page)

All the sparks flew at me with what seemed like great velocity, plunging back into my wand, driving my wrist against Sebastian’s hand as we both (with some difficulty and not a little pain) held my wand straight upwards.

When every flash, twinkle and glimmer was absorbed into my wand, I felt the heat in it burn me and I cried out, opening my fist and letting it go. It fell to the path between Sebastian and I and we jumped apart just as it exploded in a flash of blue and white light.

I didn’t have time to react or even think as Sebastian grabbed me and pulled me out to the street. He stopped the both of us, pulled me close to him and did this thing with his arm like Batman would do with his cape except he didn’t have a cape.

I saw the world turn to a shimmer around us and then he grabbed me again and pulled me toward Poet’s Walk.

“Stop!” I shouted but he didn’t say anything and kept going, dragging me with him. “Stop right now!” I kinda repeated, still shouting.

He stopped all right and I slammed right into him. And before I could step away, he took my upper arms and hauled me right up against his (very hard) body (yikes). He wasn’t looking at me but over my shoulder.

Then he told me, “We have to go, the glamour won’t last long.” (Er, wha?)

And off we went again.

I didn’t say a word just ran after him all the way up the Walk and into The Gables and right to my rooms where I figured I’d be safe to let him have it.

We both flew into the room, he closed the door and flipped on the light and before he could get out a word or even close the door…

“What the fuck was that about?” I shouted.

I was angry, really angry. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry.

“Mathilda, you know better than that,” he replied and I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was pretty angry too which pissed me off more because what did he have to be angry about?

“Know better than what? That woman is beating that boy right now. God only knows –”

He interrupted me impatiently, “A witch never meddles unless she’s invited, never. It’s elementary Wiccan Creed. At the very least, you should know that.”

Ack!

Okay, so, I’d read a lot in the past month (a lot, a lot) and been told a lot (a lot, a lot) about not ever doing magic to others unless I’d been asked. A non-magical person or an innocent must always seek magic before it’s performed. That was Canon Number One in the Magical World.

Fuck.

“So what do you do?” I asked. “Walk away? Watch? The faeries took me there. I couldn’t stand around and do nothing!”

“You don’t have a choice,” he stated, like it was as simple as that.

“Well that sucks!” I told him. “That really sucks.”

And then I let it all hang out, about the café and Wesley and velvet couches and expensive tile (though didn’t get into Aidan, the plumber) and boring coven meetings and faeries never letting me sleep and trees talking to me and now my wand had exploded and that little boy was being beaten by his Mom and I didn’t even want to think about that poor, cute puppy. Then I started talking about being homesick (ack! where did
that
come from?) and my nightmares of never entering another Saks Fifth Avenue for as long as I live and how aggravating that I can’t find a MAC counter within a fifty mile radius and no matter how cool, TopShop… just… does not… cut it (I mean, we all aren’t Kate Moss and can’t pull off that rock ‘n’ roll waif look). Then I finished with…

“What’s the point of being SuperWitch if I have to flit around making brownies and mochaccinos and wait for people to ask me for help? That’s just stupid. Batman doesn’t wait for people to ask for help! What do I do, get a big red phone and hope it rings?”

He was quiet through my tirade and, after, he studied me for a bit and then said, “You look exhausted.”

Ack!

“
Great, that helps a lot, Sebastian. Thanks. I
am
exhausted. No fucking duh.”

I was too mad to be any good with a comeback.

He looked impatient. “You’re doing too much with the café. You should be focusing on The Craft. I’ll talk with Mavis.”

“
Good! While you’re at it tell her I’ll take the brownies and mochaccinos over faeries guiding me to abused children I can’t help and if she says no then I’m just going to go home because having to wait to be
asked
to fulfill The Prophesy of The Chosen One really sucks.”

And then, unfortunately, I burst out crying.

Fuckity, fuck, fuck.

Like all men faced with intense, unheralded female emotion, he just stood there staring at me. Brooding, sexy Sebastian all of a sudden faced with a crying woman became impatient (or more impatient) and uncomfortable.

Fucking men, they have no idea how to deal.

Then he came up, wrapped his strong arms around me and hugged me (which, I have to admit, was kinda nice). Then he walked me to the couch and sat down with me. And I didn’t care if he was uncomfortable, I just sat next to him and pushed in close and cried and cried and cried.

Somewhere in the middle of crying and/or snuffling, I fell asleep and when I woke up awhile ago, Sebastian was gone, morning had broken, my hand hurt and I felt like hell.

And I miss home, I miss my friends, I miss Oreo Double Stuff cookies and Banana Republic and…

I lost my fucking wand and I have the strange feeling that the tree is mad at me.

30 November

(Have plan.)

Had long talk with Mavis and she explained Life of Witch containing:

a) Frustration (want to do good deeds, people scared of you);

b) Frustration (hunted, hiding, protected);

c) Frustration (myths o’ Satan worship, dark lore).

“Silly really,” Mavis said (understatement).

It was explained that rules were rules, tinkering with the innocent without their permission rarely leads to good things (yadda yadda yadda – what about the not-so-innocents?). No matter, seriously frowned on in the magical world no ifs, ands or buts.

In the end, she told me to get used to frustration and persevere, I had my calling and that was that.

She explained, “We have to be careful, history has taught us the art of cloaking our powers. Those that can find us, who open their hearts and minds, will find us.”

Blah, blah, blah.

And then she said (and this was good)…

“It’s not like we can put out a shingle.”

(Mm.)

I thought that was interesting.

I took the rest of the day and went to Glastonbury and poked around a bit and noticed something important.

Auntie Mavis is wrong.

You
could
put out a shingle.

Others had done it, right out in the open. Sure they were new-agey and reeked of patchouli but they weren’t hiding, that’s for certain.

Last night, I set my alarm for 2:30 a.m. and woke myself up (crazy, now waking myself up in middle of the night).

I got dressed, put on my witch cloak and went to the tower room to get the bolline which I wrapped in my black velvet alter cloth.

I then headed straight to the kitchen and cut off a huge chunk of chocolate maraschino cherry cake (one of my favorites) and wrapped it in a tea towel (feeling this had better work as would be serious waste of chocolate cherry cake).

Then I went to my tree.

On my knees next to my tree, I put my forehead against the trunk. I could feel nothing; it wasn’t talking to me tonight (probably still angry I’d blown up its branch in a fit of (justified) rage).

I wasn’t giving up.

“Please, Tree, can I have another branch? I promise to take better care of it and learn to be a good witch.”

Nothing.

“Cross my heart.”

More nothing.

Didn’t want to promise to hope to die because, well, too close for comfort.

So I brought out the big guns and took the cake and set it at the base of the tree.

“Please. If you know me at all, you know that’s a lot of chocolate maraschino cherry cake and that’s quite an offering from me, let me tell you.”

I heard the wind, the branches swayed halfheartedly.

“It’s a really big slice. Look at it.”

More swaying, stronger now.

“And yummy. Really yummy. Trust me.”

More swaying, definitely getting something…

And then a branch came down and scraped my face.

I grabbed it on the upswing and sliced it off. It was thicker, slightly more gnarled than my last bit. I threw my arms around the tree, hugged it and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” and carefully wrapped my new wand in the velvet with the bolline.

* * * * *

The next morning I came down to the kitchen and Mavis was sitting at the big table, drinking coffee and staring at the sea.

I got my cup and walked to the table then tossed out the velvet with a flourish so that my new wand and the bolline flew out and slid across the table. (Dramatic, I know, but I was making a point and I didn’t want it to be missed.)

I sat down and said, “I want to name the coffee house ‘The Witches Dozen’.”

Her eyes were glowing with a strange light as she looked at the wand and me. It scared me a little bit but I held my own in the freaky Wiccan staring contest.

Then my wand started to vibrate and clatter on the table. We watched it as it jumped around and then it whizzed across the table and into my hand just like I was Luke Skywalker and it was my light saber.

I have to say it was totally fucking cool!

“So,” I said, ‘The Witches Dozen’?”

And Mavis looked over my shoulder and as I turned to see what she was looking at (Sebastian leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed on his chest, the usual impenetrable look on his face), I heard Mavis say (sounding all pleased with herself like it was her idea), “That has a nice ring to it.”

Yee ha! The witches were in business!

The Month of December

11 December

Too busy to write much.

New lease on Wicca and am busy training. Mavis and coven have been very supportive.

Yay!

Plans in full swing for Grand Opening of The Witches Dozen Coffee House on New Year’s Eve.

Yay!

New Year’s party is posh dress, so going to London to buy myself a new outfit.

Yay!

Harvey Nichols, here I come.

Yayayay!

Was Mavis’s idea and although lots of work, will be very fun.

Wesley threw hissy fit last week when I told workers to cut half star shape into hardwood floor/all-weather matt at front door and then to embed carpet sliver moon shape in middle of café.

Told Wesley was sick of his attitude and would be happy to allow him to move on to new client if I was being too difficult. Seemed to quiet down and no more hissy fits since.

Yay!

Hired staff member/baker/barista and she is lovely. Her name is Lucinda and she may be first new friend in England.

Yay!

Called Aidan on mobile and asked him if he’d like to go to Grand Opening (as was project’s plumber and entitled to see finished product in action). (Ack!)

He paused for a (very) long time and then said this:

“A bit short notice.”

I said:

“Oh, sorry.”

(Cambridge-educated plumber Aidan probably going to big party with Princes William and Harry or something.)

He paused again and then said, kinda quiet and very sexy:

“I’ll change my plans.”

Yayayayayayayay!

No William and Harry – just me! (And all the other people at the party but still.)

Yay!

(May be baddie but can use him for personal sexual pleasure then vanquish him or something.)

Had espresso machine lesson and although Pandora (another member of our coven) had a bit of trouble with it (her curse caused a minor delay when espresso machine only gave out burgundy sludge with gold flecks in – Octavia had to mindwash espresso machine teacher man (don’t worry – mindwashes not done very often, only in urgent situations like said espresso machine mishap) while Mavis released machine from curse – was sort of amusing (only after curse was lifted and I wasn’t having silent conniptions at maybe having to buy another £3,500 espresso machine!), rest of coven showed signs of being natural-born baristas (with Fay and Beatrice being obvious standouts).

Only bad thing is Sebastian has taken to having breakfast in the kitchen. He is always there when I arrive in morning, sitting with his long legs stretched out and reading
The Times
. Does not say good morning and did not appear to recognize or appreciate my early attempts to look attractive once I realized he was going to make a habit of breakfast sharing. So have given up and come down in fluffy slippers, flannel pajama bottoms, sweatshirts and no makeup.