Chapter 1

Chapter 1...Sample chapter of the Emmerson Witches

                   Take your amulet, your charms, your cross,
                        And keep them close at hand,
                        For in the gloaming of the witching hour, things unknown,
                       Loom in the shadows of the land,

                       And even the stars, they shudder, pretending that they glisten,
                      While the moon slides purposely amongst the clouds,
                      As fearfully she listens,

                

                      Beings that dwell in the catch of night,
                     Would chill the blood of veins,
                      If for one moment, they were glanced upon,
                     In an instant would drive you insane,

 

                    But who will help us, as the crypts slide open,
                    And the mist begins to draw near?
                   For is it the witches we should be afraid of ?
                  Or what the witches fear…

                                          

A.S.Carver

 

 Chapter 1

 

      I can’t ever really remember not living on the island, or it not feeling like home to me. Sometimes my Aunt Tookie and my oldest sister would talk softly of another place we had lived. Though their conversations always seemed sad and wistful  �"  memories best left far away and forgotten. I wondered briefly, as I breathed in a blast of cold white air, if our other home  �"  too long in the past for me to recall, had been any warmer than here.

“Let’s go Babybelle.” My middle sister Angel announced, starting down the wooden stairs leading from the veranda.

“Don’t call me that.” I snapped, hating my childhood nickname, and hating the cold even more. “Where’s Evangeline? Isn’t she coming with us?”  

“Not yet. She’s helping Aunt Tookie with something  �"  she’ll follow us soon.”

I wasn’t really listening; the icy stairs in March, glazed with  morning frost were a death-trap if not navigated properly. Regardless of the rickety stairwell, and the wintry weather, I sincerely loved the place I called home. I adored our house that sat perched on a bluff, overlooking a stretch of beach. The beauty of our dwelling lay in its whitewashed wood and sprawling verandas. Giant potted plants grew wildly, overgrowing with flowers and herbs. And the sweet smelling jasmine, spiraling through trellis, framed the balcony so prettily.

But mostly I loved the rainbow colored lamps, still lit-up in the windows, even at school time. Our island was always hung with morning fog this early in the year.

“Would you get a move on!?” My sister yelled through the mist, reaching the beach path before me. I ignored her and took my time. Another part of my morning ritual was to enjoy the view once I had reached the path, savoring a glimpse of the roaring, silver-grey surf.

 Americus Island  �"  the place I’d inhabited for most of my life, lies between Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket. It possesses a curious, subtropical climate. For the most part, my island home seems to prefer warmth, even when it shouldn’t. The blazing sunshine, and summer humidity claim a large part of the year. Except for days like today. During the first months of the new year, not even balmy Americus Island can turn its back on the icy tentacles of New England.

Our unusual island also boasted a strange botanical mixture. A mysterious combination of dense, twisted forest, and of bordering woodlands, the thick greenery tapered away to reveal palm-tree fringed beaches. The island spreads in an uneven merging of flat residential areas, and jagged, rocky cliffs. Shaped like a star, all five points raise above the ocean. We lived closest to the most southerly tip, Yule point.

Although Americus is part of the state of Massachusetts, it seems a solitary destination anchored in the ocean all alone, void of a partnership with the outside world. From time to time, I’ve heard locals comment about the feeling of isolation caused by residing on an island that seems separate  to anywhere else.

Of course, there are others who chose to be here for that reason…

“How much slower could you possibly go?” Angel scowled, forcing me to quicken my pace.

“What is Evangeline helping Aunt Tookie with?”  I asked, catching up and falling into step with her.

“Aunt Tookie felt a presence in our back garden last night,” she explained, her irritation disappearing now that I no longer delayed her pace.

“They’re placing twined garlands of hemlock, thorn, and probably belladonna around the garden. It’s an offering to let the presence know it’s welcome to the back garden…but not to come any further into the house.”

“What kind of presence?” I ventured, mildly unsettled at the thought of an unseen visitor taking an interest in our home.

“How should I know? Some sort of earth spirit.” Angel shrugged unfazed, still hurrying.

 A year older than me, unlike most sixteen year olds, my sister actually liked school. She is completely in her element �"  popular, funny, fiery and vivacious �"  all the things I’m not. Then at the other end of the spectrum is my eldest sister Evangeline. The boys at school seem to lose all concentration in her presence; infatuated and rendered helpless when faced with her beauty. I suppose if I were a male, I probably would too. Utterly moody, already sensuous at seventeen, Evangeline has the black eyes and rippling hair of a goddess. Once again, everything I’m not.

The beach path ended and opened onto the harbor, where fishing boats were already hauling bright red lobster and gleaming silver fish.

Mostly, Americus survives on the fishing industry and local trading, tourism is somewhat sporadic…visitors don’t always feel at ease here on the island.

Neither is it comfortably accessible. The ferry’s only ran three days a week from Boston, our closest major city.

That’s not to say that we don’t encounter our fair share of tourists. They travel here especially to experience the peculiar legend that shrouds this place.

Over the years, our small island has gained somewhat of a reputation.

From across the mainland, sinister and creative nick-names are rumored to have been invented for Americus  �"  Freak Island, sometimes Pagan Island, and most disturbing of all, Devil’s Island.

Obtained because of some of our more circumspect residents, and their odd beliefs.

Moving along the docks, past the white boats gleaming against dark blue water, Angel and I headed up to the main street of Americus largest town, Maples. The village unfolded before us in a collection of weird and colorful local businesses.

Angel didn’t even glance at the occult book and new-age stores, slanting toward a steep hill at the beginning of Maple Street. On my part, it took more effort not to gaze into the store windows at the withered old crones, silently whispering over burning candles. Or at the strange young women, hung with foreign jewelry and amulets, chanting and lighting incense before opening their stores.

I tried not to notice them through their glass shop fronts, turning my head away from the curious eyes of the exotic woman that always, always, stared at Angel and I. Nor did my sister ever notice the tattoo and piercing parlor inhabitants. Not once did she look in the direction of the heavily tattooed young men setting up needles and ink guns  �"  their eyes all strangely shaped the same  �"  vacant and slanted. Angel was genuinely immune to the bizarre nature of the Maple Street residents, while I, on the other hand, was customarily unsettled by them.

A few more blocks offered a smidgen of normality; some deli’s, newspaper outlets, and a grocery store. Maple Street ended at the boardwalk marina, with our high school, St Lucia’s, a little further beyond. This time of the day the boardwalk shops were still closed. Even silent and uninhabited, it was my favorite part of town.  Beautifully adorned by the little jewelry shops and local designer’s clothing stores, their displays lent an eye-catching element to the marina. At nighttime it twinkled with candle-lit restaurants and bars. The wooden esplanade also housed our Aunt Tookie’s Plant and Flower shop, selling everything from roses to palms, herbs and spices. She even sold a few of her own potions for ailments, just in case you happened to be a local who was too squeamish about entering the occult stores. Or too frightened to visit St John’s, and the occupants that lived there.

 

      “Chime!” I heard my name called upon entering the school gate. Squinting across the yard, I saw one of my best friends, Crystal, waving frantically.

“Seeya later Babybelle.” Angel called over her shoulder as she went to join her own group of friends.

Hence the nickname  �"  bells make the sound of chimes  �"  and I’m the baby of the family.

“Don’t call me that!” I yelled back at her once more, pointlessly, as I joined my friend.

“Morning Chime!” she greeted eagerly.“What’s new?”

Although my friend was exuberant by nature, she seemed extra chirpy for this time of the day, I mused, yawning.

“Not much  �"  just the usual exhaustion caused by Angel’s unexplainable hurry to get to school.” I rolled my eyes and swapped a bemused smile with Crystal as we watched my sister continue her mad dash.

“How are you? Love the outfit, by the way.” I complemented. Her simple buttercup-yellow t-shirt, red leggings and blue runners were striking against her shiny black skin.

“Hey thanks! Guess what happened to me last night?” Crystal squealed excitedly.

“You studied math and actually liked it?” I joked dryly, but nonetheless curious as to what inspired her early-morning enthusiasm. Quite frankly, the only thing that would cause me the same excitement would be going back to bed.

“No, definitely not that.” She grinned.

“Then I give up. What happened to you last night?”

“Tyler Branson called me, and we talked on the phone for an hour!” My friend revealed, beaming.

I managed to return a fake smile, while inwardly, I groaned. Guys and dating weren’t on the list of my favorite subjects. The whole idea of dating was too difficult for someone like me...

But for my friend’s benefit, I urged my features into a display of enthusiasm.

“That’s fantastic Crys!” I exclaimed, hoping I came across sounding genuine.

Politely, I listened. I performed my friendship duty, and pretended eagerness while I was forced to hear every detail of last night’s conversation. But…much as I was happy for Crystal  �"  who had wished and hoped for Tyler’s attention since freshman year  �"  I was unhappy for myself. I felt my attention slipping away as I was distracted by  a familiar, sinking feeling…a feeling that overwhelmed me whenever my friends mentioned the word ‘date’.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like guys  �"  last year I could have wallpapered my bedroom with Edward and Jacob. And though, alas, nobody at my school looked remotely like those two,  that still wasn’t the reason I became indifferent at the mention of boys.

As Crystal’s voice faded into my subconscious, I speculated, not for the first time, why I still found them irrelevant. Wistfully, I supposed it was their apparent lack of interest in me. Nor had I yet to meet any boy I liked other than a friend. So…I guess it was mutual on both parts, then.

 “Oh their interested alright!” Crystal was always arguing.“But sometimes you can come across sort of aloof  �"  a little standoffish…and I think your kind of humor scares them away.”

 It was true that my humor often possessed sarcasm, one of the few things I shared with my oldest sister Evangeline. But it wasn’t as though I’d had a say in being born with that particular trait. Helplessly, I’d hear the smart-mouthed quips burst forth from me, usually at the most inappropriate moments.

But I didn’t think that made me aloof, or standoffish. I knew, however, there was a certain subdued quietness to my personality, and because of this, I was often perceived as remote, distant. My Aunt Tookie, who had a saying for everything, quipped ‘still waters run deep’ when describing my character. There had also been occasions where the more ignorant of my school peers had labeled me as vague  �"  a cruel, harmful taunt that originated from the sometime habit I had of withdrawing into my own world. Although, withdrawing wasn’t exactly what I was doing.

If only those individuals knew the real reason for my preoccupation…

But there was no denying I had a certain otherness about me. Nothing the eye could see, but rather, something that people sensed when they spent enough time in my company.

Actually…my invisible differences were probably the main cause as to why no boy had actually interested me yet.

Letting Crystal’s wave of chatter wash over me, I couldn’t help but cast a sidelong, slightly envious glance at her. My friend was so down to earth, so normal. She was also so very striking, how could any guy at school not notice her?

She made most of her clothes herself, her designing streak and appreciation for fashion apparent since we had been kids. Coming from a happy family unit, unlike a lot of the kids that attended high school on Americus, Crystal’s Mom and Dad encouraged her to develop her creative skill and flair for color.

I adored and saved for new clothes as much as any other girl…but in my blue jeans, pale pink hooded jacket and white-blonde hair pulled back into a lengthy, messy pony-tail, I felt colorless next to Crystal’s bold outfit. Looking across the yard one last time at my sister, she also seemed so much more vivid than I did, though we were practically wearing the same ensemble.

 Both my sisters lack of resemblance to me was bewildering. If we didn’t share a similar tall height and olive skin tone, there would be no evidence of our physical relation. Evangeline’s rich, dark beauty was the extreme opposite of my appearance. Likewise, my middle sister Angel, who had been blessed with a startling waist-length mane of red hair and emerald eyes, also  varied greatly from the way I looked.

 It’s as if my older sisters took all the color before I was born, leaving my features diluted, pastel-shaded.

Except for one bizarre little rumor. All three of us had the reputation of being the most unusually pretty girls in our school. I could understand why my sisters, with their dramatic shading, were looked upon as beautiful. But as for myself and my peculiar coloring…let's just say the logic in it was definitely a mystery.

My older sister come running through the school gates, ebony hair flying in a cloud behind her.

Rushed and panting, she still looked gorgeous. How could we three have shared the same parents? Evie so dusky and mysterious, and Angel, so full of fire? My characteristics almost seemed alien compared to theirs.

Vague, detached, withdrawn and sarcastic…lucky me…

Not that my sisters agreed. During our traditional squabbling over borrowed clothes and housework, Evie and Angel saw me as a headstrong brat. Fortunately, they also perceived me as soothingly quiet, kind and sincere. Strangely, differentiating from most other siblings I knew of, my sisters and I genuinely liked one another  �"  our bond fierce and loyal. The fact that they found my sarcastic humor hilarious was another plus. It indicated that I owned at least one interesting personality trait.

Actually, I secretly possessed a few more…but they were very rarely discussed. And never, ever in public.

“You’re not listening to me!” Crystal whined as we entered the school hallway.

True, I’d forgotten she had been talking.

“Chime, just because you’re not interested in guys, can’t you at least try and show a little enthusiasm that I am!”

“You wouldn’t be if you knew what they were thinking,” I said without realizing I’d spoken aloud.

“And you do?” she queried with an arched eyebrow.

I pretended not to hear her and hurried forward, finding sudden significance in getting to class on time. I tried not to answer those sorts of uncomfortable questions…I didn’t want to give away to much of what was already suspected of me.

 

        My morning classes, consisting of math and history, were subjects I found mind-numbingly boring. The last class before lunch was English lit. With impending sophomore finals a few months away, we were studying  �"  of all things  �"  Romeo and Juliet. Sure that my lack of emotional experience was more tragic than their story, I couldn’t decide if I found our forced assignment on the star-crossed lovers ironic, or annoying.

Listening to Mrs. Jorgenson read the words aloud, I opted for annoying, as Shakespeare’s doomed couple declared, pledged and vowed. And as they did, I fidgeted, squirmed and daydreamed, impatiently waiting for the lunchtime bell. On the first ring, I was already out of my seat, hastening to look for Crystal in the outside cafeteria. Spotting her with Ellie, the third member of our close trio, I quickened my step toward them.

“Hey Emmerson!” I heard my surname called by a male voice. Regrettably I turned, and came face to face with my nemesis  �"  Anthony Regan.

Anthony had illogically chosen me to antagonize years ago, and hadn’t relented over time. Predictably self-assured from wealth, and unoriginally good looking, he was the sort of jock that found cruel amusement in taunting others  �"  especially when he had the attention of an eager crowd.

“Ever get altitude sickness from that height?” he guffawed to his friends, referring to me being tall for my age.

“Regan, I’m curious…because I’ve met your mother, and she seems far too nice to have dropped you on your head as a child.” I taunted sweetly.

Smirking, admittedly impressed by my own comeback, I gloated at Anthony’s scowl while his friends jeered at him.

Then everything changed.

My world unexpectedly shifted from its normal perception. This had happened to me my whole life, and it was happening again now.

I could hear Anthony calling my name  �"  but this time he screamed it in desperate warning. I didn’t need him to alert me of impending danger  �"  the mere fact that my reality was rearranging itself informed me of that.

Hearing the words  �"  Chime! Watch out!  �"   muffled and faded away as I turned to the baseball field beyond the outside cafeteria. Instinctively, I knew which direction the threat was coming from. A baseball was flying my way, and it was hurling rapidly in the direction of my face.

Everything around me was phased out, I ignored Anthony’s frantic caution, along with Crystal and Ellie’s combined look of horror, and instead, concentrated on the ball headed straight for me. On impulse, from somewhere deep inside me, I conjured a blue light. A glittering protective shield, visible only to my eyes, rose in wisps from the centre of my body. Focusing on the speeding ball, I mentally directed the unseen power to swipe the threat away from me.

It did,  the defensive magic grabbing the ball within just inches of my face, where it changed course and headed toward the science lab �"  its frightening speed smashing easily through a window.

I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until I exhaled shakily  �"  in sync with the shocked gasps of my classmates.

Flushing with embarrassment, I raced over to where Ellie and Crystal sat, far as possible from the centre of attention.

 “So… what shall we do on the weekend?” I asked my astounded friends, deliberately ignoring the astonished faces and whispers around me.

 

           Anthony wouldn’t let the episode go.

“That baseball should have hit you! I mean…it should have smashed your face! I saw it coming right for you! I tried to warn you…but then…it just changed direction!”

Anthony’s disbelieving chatter followed me out of the school as he trailed by my side.

“How could it have bounced away like that!?”

“Just lucky I guess,” I lied through my teeth.

“Lucky!?” exclaimed Anthony.

“Extremely…must have been a tail wind or something. Um...Anthony…I really have to go.”

Practically spiriting away, I left him standing alone, frowning in confusion.   

My sisters lounged waiting by the school gate for me, barely concealed disapproval in their matching glares.

“Great trick sis!” Evangeline stood clapping, not in a celebratory way; sarcasm soured her expression.

“What remarkable talent!” Angel jibed. “For your next performance, why don’t you fly a broom to school?”

Referring to the strange gift that I’d been given, my sisters were irked that I’d manifested my power so openly…

Our family secret varied greatly from others, so much so, I doubted anybody else on the planet come close to sharing out hidden ancestry.

Evangeline, Angel and I, had been born into a bloodline of witches, and each of us had been bestowed individual, paranormal abilities. One of mine being the very same gift I’d used to stop the ball. Telekinesis  �"  the power to move objects at will  �"  and forbidden by my aunt to ever be publicly displayed.

“What would you have liked me to do?” I asked bluntly. “Let the ball smash me in the face?”

“No.” Evangeline snapped. “But you could have stepped out of the way or something!”

“Are you blind?” I snapped right back. “Did you actually see how fast the ball was going? There was no time for me to do anything other than what I did!”

This is great…just great.” Angel muttered to herself, then turned to me accusingly. “Everyone already thinks we’re weird enough  �"  without you flaunting magic in front of the entire student body.”

“Angel, shut up, okay?” I requested pleasantly.

“Fine  �"  but next time, try and leave your party tricks at home!” She huffed.

“Fine.” I mimicked. “Sorry that my powers of self-preservation offended you!”

She gave me a moody look without bothering to retort.

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about.” I continued flippantly. “Plenty of Americus residents are weird  �"  it isn’t only us.”

 “There’s still no need to draw even more attention to our family.” My sister argued peevishly.

“Angel  �"  the people that already think we’re strange won’t suddenly alter their opinion  �"  no matter how normal we act. Even if we became three little Martha Stewart clones  �"  you still wouldn’t change their minds about us.”

Evangeline found my statement amusing. Her earlier scowl had switched into a smirk. “Remember who you’re talking to BabyBelle. Angel actually could change their minds...if she felt like it.”

“No-one asked for your opinion, Evie.” Angel frowned.

“Oh come-on, sis.” I joined in with a snigger. “Remember when you changed Mrs. Loch’s mind?”

Angel’s face  broke into a reluctant smile. Thankfully, for the time being at least, my mention of the unfortunate babysitter stopped my sisters harassing me. Instead, they became gleefully distracted by that fateful, funny evening.

Three years ago, at the age of twelve, Mrs. Loch had come one night to sit for me. Tookie, along with my sisters, had had to go into the forest, and perform a yearly ritual of thanks to nature  �"  a ceremony I’d been too young to participate in back then.

Mrs. Loch thought a constructive and respectable bedtime for me was eight o’clock. I disputed her decision, because in all honesty, I didn’t have a designated time.  Disgruntled, I decided to scare her. It was a cruel and childish thing to do. My aunt and sisters came home to find my shoes dancing by themselves, my brush running through my hair without the aid of being held, and Mrs. Loch crouched screaming and shaking in the corner, her voice hoarse from hours of torment. My aunt had to escort her home, while poor Mrs. Loch, in a trance-like state, muttered incomprehensively about the Devil’s presence and unholy, evil spirits. Angel used one of her special abilities  �"  the skill of memory replacement. And with her power, she erased Mrs. Loch’s recollection, replacing it with a false image of a perfectly normal, uneventful night of child minding. Being an adolescent, I’d found my mischief extremely funny, and certainly not evil, as Mrs. Loch had claimed. I didn’t understand the harm  �"  there had been many a time I’d made my sisters laugh by instructing things to move on their own. But Tookie had had a different perspective. Although Angel had succeeded in erasing Mrs. Loch’s memory (even if she did look at us suspiciously and never babysat again) it had been the first and only time my aunt was furious with me. Any humorous opinion of my behavior quickly disappeared; my reward being three months abstinence from magic, and consistently pruned hands from dish washing duty.

Nearing home, unfortunately my sister’s also recalled my punishment, and took vast pleasure in taunting me for the rest of our walk.

“You have to do my share of the cooking for a month, or I’ll tell Tookie about the baseball,” Angel goaded.

“And my washing and ironing,” added Evie.

“You two dare tell Tookie anything, and you’ll have much worse than a ball flying at your head!” I responded threateningly.

“Race us to the top of the stairs, and we won’t tell Tookie what you did!” They chortled childishly, speeding off.

How immature. At sixteen and seventeen weren’t my sisters supposed to be setting an example of adulthood? And since they were already in front of me on the beach path, there was no chance of beating them. I contemplated a little childish behavior of my own, and considered using my ability to knock over a few potted plants and to obstruct their path… though that would undoubtedly land me into trouble.

“Tell Tookie what?” an amused voice asked.

Oh goody...what great timing...Tookie was home early...

 My aunt happened to be sitting on the veranda waiting for us.

“Nothing.” Angel and Evangeline blurted simultaneously, guiltily.

“Chime?” she pressed, turning to me.

I took a great and sudden interest in my shoes, wondering how long I could put off the inevitable. Sneaking a glance from under my lashes, Tookie’s expectant expression told me I didn’t have long.

“I hit a baseball.” May as well admit it now  �"  my sisters big mouths had already left me no room to wriggle out of answering.

“Why would your sisters feel the need to inform me about you hitting a ball, Chime?”

“Because I hit it with my mind,” I clarified.

My aunt considered my answer, smiled at me, and professed we’d ‘talk about this later’.

“Sorry…” The traitors apologized profusely, as I ignored them and stomped by.

 

        Aunt Tookie is our mother’s sister. Our parents died in an accident, not long after I was born. Tookie was the eldest of the Sabelle family, though mine and my sisters surnames are that of our long gone father, Emmerson.

Tookie’s second youngest sister is our Aunt Kate, who also lives on the island. Some long ago family altercation ensured we had rarely, if anything, to do with her. Nor did we associate with her daughter, my cousin Virginia.

Our mother Emmaline had been the third and baby sister of the family. Consistent and abundant in her upkeep of stories about Emmaline, Aunt Tookie spoke of our mother on a frequent basis. Her goal was to ensure the woman who gave birth to us, and loved my sisters and I beyond measure, remained living in our hearts at all times  �"  and not as just a fading memory, even though she had left us an eternity ago. We would sit for hours listening amused by Emmaline’s outlandish behavior, her penchant for trouble and mischievousness she often indulged in. Tookie would also describe how her our mother had been sweet and serene by nature, capable of great acts of generosity, but fierce when the situation was called for.

Sweetness and tranquility must have been a heredity virtue in the Sabelle family. Our aunt habitually displayed both traits, rarely showing annoyance at any of our wrongdoing. Her resources of understanding and patience never seemed to run dry. She delighted in our triumph, and tenderly consoled any defeat. After our parents had died, legally in the role as our new mother, Tookie transported us from Boston to Americus to ensure we be provided a secure and loving family environment.

In hindsight, our aunt is the only mother any of us three girls have ever really known. Tookie’s long dark plait, threaded with silver-grey, always smells of lavender. And her cotton print dresses, usually worn with a croquet shawl, feel like a sanctuary when enveloped in the giant bear hugs she frequently bestowed upon us.

The island has its share of dysfunctional families. Many of the kids from school with both parents don’t always appear to have the comfort and stability our aunt has created for us. One of those unfortunate souls was my best friend Ellie, who I spied coming up our stairs.

“Ellie!” exclaimed Aunt Tookie, dropping a kiss on the top of Ellie’s head.“How lovely you’re here! Can I get you a soda-cola or something?”

“How many times do I have to tell you Aunt Tookie  �"  it’s called Coke.” I teased.

“Sure Aunt Tookie, I’d love one,” Ellie accepted. “Chime, I brought by your English lit revision for tomorrow’s test. You left school so fast  �"  I realized you probably forgot it.”

“Gee thanks,” I said petulantly.“A girl can never have too much homework.”

“No problem, I know how you love studying.” She giggled at my sour expression.

I rolled my eyes.“Let’s go to my room.”

My friend Ellie Porter is a beautiful girl with pale skin and striking red lips. Her Gothic exterior is complimented by her poker-straight thick black hair and heavy fringe falling over her dark eyes. Ellie is one of the individuals I know from school who lives with both her mother and father, unfortunately for her.

Unsure as to what Ellie's father does for a living, or if he actually ever has been gainfully employed, Mr. Porter can generally be spotted slumped on stool in one of the bars down on Canal Road…drinking from lunch time till closing time. After that you can usually see him lying on Canal Road.

Ellie's mother  �"  being the family bread winner, works too hard and too often at Regan’s Grocery and Save on Maple Street; our local store belonging to the parents of my school nemesis, Anthony. Sometimes Ellie had black bruises to match her eye make-up, a topic she was never forthright or open about.

“What the hell happened at school today!?” Ellie gushed within seconds of entering my room.

“Happened when?” I evaded.

“You can lose that innocent look, I’m not buying it.” She folded her arms, while looking smugly confident. “I saw that baseball headed in your direction, and I also watched it miraculously change course!”

 “Um…” I delayed.“Would you consider wind change?”

“Probably not. That ball stopped and hovered in thin air, and I think somehow you did that... am I warm?”

“No.”

“Am I cold?” she pressed.

“Tepid.” I admittedly reluctantly, knowing Ellie wouldn’t just let it go, but wishing she would. I wasn’t in the mood for this conversation, not in the slightest. I had no doubt that Tookie was, at this very minute, preparing her lecture on the same subject.

I also, in general, discouraged long talks about my supernatural skills. Not that it was a forbidden topic, but my aunt urged my sisters and I to maintain at least some secrecy. Understandably, she preferred our extraordinary talents weren’t broadcasted. The power we’d been granted wasn’t common knowledge on the island.

Crystal and Ellie were both privy to my secret  �"  without being fully informed to the extent of my ability. Nor did I care to share the details, since talking about it made me slightly uncomfortable. I didn’t want to take the chance that they might see me as a misfit, so I’d never gotten deep and meaningful about my skills. But we’d been firm friends since pre-school, and the girls swore they were accepting of my differences. The two were actually enthralled whenever given the opportunity to view my power first-hand  �"  Ellie in particular. On occasion she would beseech me to use my gift to help with her predicaments, or interrogate me for further details on how it worked.

This was going to be one of those times.

“So…how are your mind reading powers this week?” she asked suggestively.

“How many times do I have to tell your economy sized brain? I don’t read minds.” I half lied.

Well…it wasn’t entirely untrue, I couldn’t read them while deliberately trying not to.

But Ellie simply gave me a knowing look. My friend wasn’t fooled by my untruth, nor should she be. By now Ellie had figured I possessed more than just one ability.

And it was for that very reason I sometimes appeared vague, switched off.

 Another of my strange characteristics was that I could  �"  by all accounts  �"  read human thoughts. My talent so accurate, I had either the choice of listening in on a person’s hidden secrets and opinions, or plucking a vivid image from out of their head.

Each and every day of my life, I spent a considerable amount of time doing what I could to drown out the endless, random thoughts of those around me.

Comparatively, it was not unlike hundreds of televisions turned down, humming consistently in the distance. Or I could tune into one in particular, if ever need be.

“Sorry  �"  my mistake  �"  I’ll rephrase.” Ellie smirked. “How’s your capacity to just know things this week?”

“Why?” I asked guardedly. “What is it you want to find out?”

Her pretty face lost its smug expression, instead flushing pink, with the tell-tale signs of embarrassment. “I wanted to know…if I’ll be asked to the Spring Ball.”

“Oh Ellie, I try not to predict dark and empty futures,” I kidded.

“Ha-ha. Very funny. I’m being serious here, Chime!” She implored.

“Sorry,” I snickered. “Who did you want to ask you, El?”

“I’m not sure…” She stalled, knowing perfectly well who. “Maybe Davies Roberts?”

Awesome…more boy talk... just what I wanted to hear...

Tookie’s lecture suddenly seemed more appealing.

“What is it you want me to do?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I thought you could…maybe…see inside his head?” She fidgeted self-consciously.

“It’s not that simple, El.” I pointed out. “I can’t just pluck the information from his brain.”

“Why not?”

 “Because all I’ll see is what he’s thinking right now; do you understand what I’m saying?” I tried to make her fathom how my gift worked. “ If Davies isn’t thinking about Spring Ball  �"   right at this very moment  �"  reading his mind would only be a waste of time.”

“Couldn’t you just try? Take one little peak?” A pleading, vulnerable note entered my friend’s voice. Her eyes downcast, the pink flush in her cheeks was slowly changing to a humiliated red. It dawned on me then, how much this actually meant to Ellie.

“Okay, sit tight.” I agreed.

In no way did I feel comfortable performing deliberate telepathy in her presence, but I couldn’t refuse Ellie. Her sad little insecure face inspired my sympathy. I’d always been an easy mark when it came to helping a friend in need.

 I stretched my mind across the island, invisible tentacles seeking out Davies thought process. He was geographically too distant from me to enable a clear reading. I received a brief flash of an actor  �"  indicating he was watching television, while idly looking forward to a roast chicken dinner. Ellie had been watching engrossed while I had gone mentally exploring for her.

“I’m not getting anything but TV and food.” I told her apologetically, causing her face to fall.

“Don’t stress, El, we’ll try again tomorrow.” I promised, adding. “As long as you don’t tell anyone about this!”

 She nodded enthusiastically.“Thanks for trying Chime. And I swear  �"  it stays between us two.” A wicked grin spread across her features. “If you tell me how you did the baseball trick…”

“Ellie, how can you be so sure one of my many talents doesn’t include igniting you into a ball of flames?” I mock warned. “There are people in the world who can do that, you know. It’s called Pyrokinesis.”

“So that’s a No?” she grinned. “Hey! I just thought of something else! If Davies won’t ask me to Spring Ball, could you whip me up some sort of love potion, or attraction spell?”

“Shut-up and drink your soda-cola.” I admonished with a smile.

 

            Not long after Ellie jumped on her bike, and left for her home on the north tip of the island in Wixen Point, I attempted the chore of my English lit home work. Flipping through the pages of Shakespeare, I felt disheartened that I was unmoved by his passionate words. Perhaps the fact that I hadn’t been interested in any male meant I was just plain immune to romance. Again, Crystal’s opinion that I was perceived as standoffish played games in my head. Maybe I should try and communicate with the male species a little more  �"  perhaps finding them uninteresting in general wasn’t an overly healthy attitude. Then again, on the other hand, not obsessing over boys may be a blessing in disguise. Most of the girls I knew were either busy being distracted by guys, or miserable when the object or their infatuation didn’t return their interest.

Of course, knowing every thought they were thinking didn’t exactly make boys the most appealing species on the planet…

 The only male I had a relationship with  �"  purely platonic  �"  was my friend Nim. We’d been friends forever, it seemed.  I admired his confident choice to be a loner, and his indisputable weirdness. Our friendship based on fondness, the mutual lack of romantic interest on both our parts seemed much more rewarding, and much, much less trouble.  

 

            “Dinner Babybelle!” my aunt hollered. Honestly, how could I get my sisters to start using my real name if my Aunt wouldn’t?

Joining my family at the table, the four of us held hands before eating, and spoke together in a small chant. “Thank you to the Mother, the Goddess. To the moon, the sister of the sun. And to the sun, the provider of earth, and the rain, the quench for all thirst of things, living and growing. We thank you for this sustenance.”

It was a standard mealtime thank you, as was Aunt Tookie beaming at each of us in turn once we’d voiced our thanks to nature. Tookie professed many times over that nature was her religion, and she held no fondness for being labeled a wiccan or occultist. In her pagan worship of the earth Goddess, the use of witchcraft was a frequent occurrence, as was the ancient practice of drawing upon natural energy to perform magic. 

“Chime, have your sisters informed you we were visited by a presence last night?” My aunt enquired casually.

“Uh-huh. Have you figured out what it was yet?”

Instinctively, my eyes slid in Angel’s direction. Tookie and Evangeline also glanced her way. My red haired sister’s talent for memory replacement wasn’t quite as impressive as her other, more terrifying skill. Angel was clairvoyant, and from birth, had been able to contact and converse with the ghosts of the once living.

But she was shaking her head negatively. “It’s a mystery to me. I have no idea what it was. I can’t even be sure the presence from last night was ever once human. ”

“I think it was a wood spirit,” decided Evangeline. “I vaguely sense an earth guide.”

Tookie shook her head in bewilderment. “That doesn’t make any sense. Wood Spirits  �"  dark or light  �"  are similar to earth, sea and wind entities  �"  they act as guides. Never do they venture out alone at will  �"  they’re always called upon by a human.”

 “Maybe it wasn’t alone,” I suggested.

“Why would you say that?” Evangeline demanded. “Can you sense another presence’s mind guiding it?”

Evangeline always became frustrated and snappy when she couldn’t determine a specific magic.

“No.” I shrugged.

“Then why don’t you stick to reading teachers minds to get your test answers, or switching channels without having to perform the strenuous task of using the remote! Better still, maybe you could join as star batter on the baseball team!” she sniped.

“Jealous?” I bit back. “Why don’t you stick to mixing potions to make yet another boy fall in love with you, or better still, fly right off the island   �"”

“GIRLS!” Auntie Tookie scolded. “This doesn’t help us one little bit!”

 She took a breath, calmed down, and began again in a softer tone. “Evangeline, your younger sister has a point  �"  our visitor may not have been alone. Now, since we’re also unsure as to why the spirit was here, tonight the four of us will place a protective verse over our home. Just to be on the safe side, agreed?”

We nodded our heads, agreeing reluctantly. Poor Angel looked the most disturbed. It wasn’t the first time we had had a visitor in the shape of a spirit, and Angel was the sister that had to deal with them. I didn’t envy her chilling gift one bit, sibling rivalry was non-existent in our neck of the woods.

 

         While stacking plates, Evangeline hovered around me in the kitchen, looking for a way to apologize for her frustrated outburst.

“Come-on baby-sis, you wash, I’ll dry.”

I smiled back at her. “Sorry I told you to fly off the island Evie.”

“Actually, Evangeline, you wash  �"  Angel can dry; I’d like a chat with Chime, thank you.” Aunt Tookie stated.

Both sisters winced, looking remorseful for causing the lecture I was inevitably in for. I braced myself as Tookie beckoned me into our cozy wooden dining room. But my aunt’s soft, unexpected smile indicated I wasn’t in huge trouble after all, I realized with vast relief.

“Honey, do you remember me telling you about when we met? You were just a little baby, but we had an instant connection  �"  a special bond, even back then.” She reminded me gently.

 I nodded agreeably.

“What I haven’t told you about that day is how stunned I was. I took one look at you, and I thought; this is the daughter most like her mother, exactly like Emmaline.”

 I looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” confirmed my aunt. “You are the exact image of her. White-blonde hair and olive skin   �"   like a palomino angel  �"  and Chime, you’re becoming every bit as powerful as she was.”

Tookie’s sentence ended on a serious note. It wasn’t the first time my aunt had attempted to have this conversation with me. There’d been numerous times she’d predicted my destiny would be to excel in witchcraft and psychic strength, though I never truly believed her words. More often than not, I was annoyed by Tookie’s ominous sounding prophecies, cutting her off before she could ever fully explain the future she saw for me.

I accepted that witchcraft was a part of my life, my history. It had always been a silent, but ever-present element of my family’s way of living. But occasionally, I yearned for a smidgeon more normality. I wanted to spend my teenage years doing ordinary things  �"  parties, dancing, sun-baking, pizza  �"  and keep the craft well on the outskirts of my existence.

Today, however, my aunt had my full attention on the subject. This was the first time Tookie had made the comparison between my mother and I as most alike. For some strange reason, it made me feel wistful and nostalgic for a woman I hardly ever knew. For once, I stared at my aunt riveted, impatient for her to continue.

 “Chime, I’ve always been able to feel little things about to happen; an accident, unexpectedly company, a pregnancy, or even a death. I know the craft better than I know myself  �"  but my knowledge is hard earned. I wasn’t born talented.” She said of herself dismissively.

“But you, on the other hand, are just like your mother. The two of you are the most powerful witches I’ve ever   �"”

“Aunt Took,” I interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s true…being part of this family doesn’t automatically make me a witch.”

 “Oh, but you are Honey,” she corrected firmly. “One of the strongest I’ve seen in a long blood line of witches.”

I’m sure my expression was dubious, which made my aunt intent on persuading me.

“When I first come to see you in Boston, you were only eighteen months old, but no less talented. Do you remember what you did that day, Chime? You wanted to make me laugh  �"  by

taking the toys from your cot, and making them float in a circle above my head.”

 “I didn’t!” I gasped, laughing.

“You most certainly did Babybelle,” she smiled, remembering. “Over the years, I’ve watched you and your sisters develop gifts and senses rare in almost all humans, and perceivably stronger than most witches.” She paused thoughtfully.

“Only a rare individual can move objects move by looking at them, and no ordinary person can hear the thoughts of others   �"”

“But that’s exactly why I think you’re mistaken.” I cut in again. “There are plenty of telepaths in the world  �"  it’s a scientific fact. It doesn’t instantly make me a powerful witch, Aunt Tookie, and I know for sure that I’ll never match the brilliance of Angel’s clairvoyance, or master Evie’s knowledge of the craft.”

 “I agree that your sisters are developing their strengths,” she chuckled to herself. “I’m sure Angel has placed thoughts of cheesecake in my head when I’ve been grocery shopping...and  it still never fails to shock me when Evangeline elevates herself straight off the ground!” She raised her eyes to heaven.

My sister Evangeline had been levitating for as long as I’d allegedly been floating toys from my cot.

Tookie sipped her tea while she contemplated her next words. “Chime, the craft and the accompanying spells are learned  �"  something you can and will do  �"  along with what I teach you as you grow older, and more focused. But regardless of what you believe…one day you will be stronger than all of us put together.”

I continued to eye her doubtfully. “Why are you so positive about this?”

“I have my reasons. One of them is that your sisters have always had to strive and work at their power, whereas it always came effortlessly to you.”

“Hhhmmm.” I speculated how she made a connection between me simply being born with irregular brain activity  �"  to making the leap toward powerful witch. Tookie, being an excellent expression reader, answered before I could ask.

“Honey, your path was chosen for you by your heritage. The reason I’m teaching you magical responsibility now is important. As some witches grow stronger, they can disrespect the craft, and instead replace it with dark, dark power.”

“What kind of dark power?” I asked inquisitively.

“Well…I guess by calling upon forces that shouldn’t be disturbed, and by creating sinister energy to perform unholy spells. Unfortunately Honey, the craft isn’t always practiced as it was when based on pagan beliefs. Its origins were once gentle and worshipping of nature. But I’m afraid it’s now used for selfish gain, or more dishonest reasons.” My aunt gave an involuntary shudder at the thought.

“You see Chime, I’ve met individuals similar to you  �"  although very rarely  �"  with your combination of telepathy and inherent witchcraft, and they haven’t always taken the path they should have. To master both takes practice and development. Once a witch’s power reaches its full potential, it’s an intoxicating feeling. There are those who have realized they don’t want to use it for the purpose of good  �"  especially when a witch learns their capable of changing, or manipulating other people’s lives  �"  to selfishly enrich their own.”

Was I actually hearing my aunt right? Was she really-truly implying that someday, she feared I was destined to become a crazy mix of the Blair Witch crossed with Hitler? For Gods-sakes…surely my aunt couldn’t be that bad a judge of character?

Okay…so sometimes I was a little carless and immature in using my ability, but I thought I was predominantly a nice person, and I thought Tookie had that opinion of me too! I knew my aunt’s concerns for us, I completely understood Tookie preferred our gifts remain discreet, rather than their bold use labeling us as freaks. But one unintentional slip wasn’t going to turn me into Satan’s girlfriend!

“I accidently hit that ball with my mind, Aunt Took.” I huffed. “It doesn’t mean I’m preparing to run away and join the dark side.”

“I know that Chime, but it’s my responsibility to keep a close eye on your future.” She said evenly.

I adored my aunt, I really did, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit how much her words offended me. I didn’t know a great deal about black magic, except those that practiced it were generally twisted and corrupt souls.

“You said earlier I’m just like my mother, right?” I asked indignantly. “Did you worry about her casting malicious curses for personal gain, or whatever evil thing you think I might do someday?” I knew I was pushing my luck, using that surly, rude tone with my aunt. But how could I help it? She was practically calling me a Chucky-Doll!

 “Using telekinesis today wasn’t my fault.” I defended myself. “ In fact, that ball came at me so fast,  it somehow happened subconsciously  �"  before I even made the decision to use it.”

“Which is why you need to listen carefully to what I’m saying  �"  the mere fact that you used your ability instinctively proves your power is growing.” Tookie insisted gently, thankfully letting my temper slide.

“It isn’t only about using telekinesis Chime; what I’m trying to teach you involves much, much more. The path we practice is about using the natural elements that surround us for good use. To help people in need, to right any wrongdoing, and to protect and prosper when it comes to our own lives. You following?” she checked.

I gave her a curt nod.

“Oh, Honey  �"  I’m not singling you out.” Tookie soothed, not indifferent to my offence.  “Even your elder sister Evangeline isn’t responsible all the time. Only the Goddess knows why she spends her time practicing the languages of other species…”

She sighed in exasperation, while I quickly shut my mouth…I wasn’t going to be drawn into that topic. My aunt wasn’t overly fond of Evangeline levitating, but my sister’s other talent sent Tookie over the edge. My aunt hated Evie’s spooky pastime of conversing with things that slithered or walked on four legs.

She stood up at last, signifying the conversation was coming to a close.

“What I’m trying to say is this; it will take time for you to control your gift, and not the other way around  �"  you can’t let it control you. Until you are truly in charge of what you are capable of, it must be kept low profile. Your magic is a beautiful thing to have, but it can be erratic when you don’t yet comprehend how it works. Understand me Chime?”

“I do  �"  no more magic in public  �"  I promise…and I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“You’re my daughter,” she smiled, “it’s your job in life to worry me. We’ll say no more about it and you can work in the shop for me on Saturday.”

Damn! Just when I thought I was getting off with a lecture! Well… there goes my weekend...

 

        Night dew dampened my bare feet as I padded across the garden. Bordered with yellow and white chrysanthemums and dotted with blue hyacinth, our sloping yard met with the forest, shadowy behind the garden lanterns. At night it looked like the setting for a fairyland ball  �"   hard to believe anything sinister could be lurking within the perimeters of our lovely surroundings.

We stood in a circle, our clasped hands pointing up toward the night sky.

“We represent north, east, south and west.” Intoned Auntie Tookie. “We ask the goddess of earth, and the natural spirits of the forest to protect all four directions of our surroundings. No essence without good intent shall pass  �"  or the spirits will challenge, and make this step your last.”

The three of us repeated Tookie’s verse.“No essence without good intent shall pass  �"  or the spirits will challenge, and make this step your last.”

To complete the ritual, each of us chanted the incantation individually to protect every direction. Evangeline poured white candle wax along the flowers and stones that separated our garden from the woods, its function to provide a white and protective light. Then Aunt Tookie imitated Evangeline with a black candle, its intent more sinister  �"  a warning to our visitor that if it held any ill intent toward us, the repercussion would be a much more than a protective spell. Next time an abolishing hex would be used, causing pain for the spirit as it was dispelled into another world. A realm far way, and created by us  �"  the Emmerson witches.