Chapter 1: London

Enter Somer Underwood (pronounced Summer just so you know) and Jasper Turner, two young witches a long way from home on their first trip to London.

Chapter 1: London

Somer Underwood was my birth name. I ran back through the unfamiliar London streets, lit in the darkness by streetlamps. Over the Thames, ducking through alleys, jumping over trash, dashing over cobblestone streets, past Big Ben. “Run, run, run, as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the Witchwood Clan!” I threw over my shoulder with a laugh. My pursuer laughed and kept up the chase. “Come on, Somer! Slow up!” shouted Jazz. I stuck my tongue out at him and ran on.

                Jazz was my best friend ever, and also the only guy in Witchwood Clan. Jasper and Clairey were the only siblings in our clan. Clairey was an adorable and innocent girl of about eight. Jasper was fourteen, a teeny bit older than me. By the way, you probably will rarely hear me call him Jasper when I’m not furious at him. To everybody, he’s either Jazz or Apple Jacks, because he’s addicted to the cereal. He and Clairey had been found on the doorstep of the clan when Jazz and I were only seven. “The best time,” Witch Mother Salina had reasoned.

                Every coven had one child who was special, one child destined to become the Witch Mother. (Witch Fathers didn’t exist anymore because, frankly guys, you’re way too competitive. Witch Mothers are supposed to be capable and spiritual, in tune with their souls and nature’s harmony.) When Salina had found me on her doorstep at the ripe age of twenty one months, she had been ecstatic. I was the perfect subject, and I was brought up from there on with the belief that magic was Nature’s doing, not my own. Jazz had never known his powers before. And Clairey had barely been one year old, so we didn’t expect her to show anything for awhile. Turns out, Clairey missed out on the Witch in their family. She was totally average, except for her disturbing aversion to toads. She never practiced alchemy, because she could not stand toads, frogs, or anything “warty and grossly-green”.

                Anyway, you may be asking yourself why Jazz and I were running through the London streets, alone, at night. Well, I’m perfectly sure that there’s a good reason for that, and when I think of one, I’ll let you know. So, for whatever unexplainable reasons, Jazz and I sped through the back streets of London, all quiet. Strangely, there were no cars about. I didn’t notice it, and neither did Jazz, because both of us lived in the middle of Witchwood Forest our whole lives.  We were used to the quiet. Jazz started to catch up with me, putting on more energy. I was panting already, and we were almost to the edge of the Thames again. I thought of something in an instant and half-concentrated on the broom back on the corner somewhere in London. I saw in my mind’s eye as it started and sped toward me with unnatural speed.

                I looked back at Jazz. He was staring at me skeptically, like, ‘You’re not going to jump off, Somer. I know you better.’ I laughed at him once, and then crouched on the edge of the river, while still running, mind, and then sprang upward, curved to go into the water by my calculated trajectory. I heard Jazz’s shout as he saw me soar in the air, and then gravity reclaimed me. I started to go down, and then my broom was there and I was seated comfortably on it, riding side-saddle, as a girl in a skirt should. I was wearing a stereotypical witch’s hat, in bright purple, to go with my lilac jumper and blue ankle-skirt. My black hair fell in sheets, layered naturally around my olive-toned face. My dark brown eyes were framed by thick lashes, and my feet were rather large actually. Salina said she thought I was a native-American baby, but didn’t know my tribe.

                I felt it sometimes, the special connection with our Mother Nature. When I stood in my clearing in the forest, surrounded by my trees, by my home, I felt her spirit in me, felt her rear in triumph when I whispered words to make the wind swirl the autumn leaves about my bare feet. And my nature magic always worked. Always. Some of my other spells to do with altering nature (changing something’s true form, for instance) went badly awry, like any other witch.

                But now was one of the moments that I felt the connection. Jazz was shouting something to me and I yanked myself out of my reverie. I fishtailed and sped toward him, back bent over the broom. I saw his shock freeze him in place, and then he ran down the road we had just come up. “Run, run, run, little gingerbread man!” I sang, giving a good old-fashioned Witchy cackle. He looked terrified, like the setting was just freaking him out. I sped up, and knocked him off his feet, where he landed in my lap. I turned the broom toward home and sped away from sleeping London. “Somer, don’t do that!” whined Jazz from in front of me. I laughed in my regular way, and shook my head. Jazz pretended to hate flying, proclaimed himself strictly an Alchemy Witch, who studied only spells that would help him with his brewing. But he loved it, and knew there was no rhyme or reason to him denying it to me. He was also a killer cook. I’m serious; he could make a beef stew like nobody’s business.   

                When we got back from London, the sun was rising over the horizon. We had left before it set, without the consent of Salina, our Witch Mother. We were lucky that morning; she wasn’t outside waiting for us when we got back to the five story cottage. Have you ever read Wayside School? Our house is like that, except it’s the width of a normal cottage. Every witch had her/ his own bedroom, except Jazz and Clairey, who shared, but by choice, not necessity. There were nine of us, excluding Clairey. Clairey, we decided, was our mascot. Wendy Lockett, Jocelyn Liard, Janie Duke, Salina, me, Jazz, Krista Snow, Persephone Cattle, and Melissa Jesse. 

                We were all relatively young, as witches go, except for Wendy and Salina. They were cousins, distant, but related. Salina kept us safe and hidden, and Wendy kept us in order. She was stern, but we all loved her, and she loved us. Other than Clairey, I was youngest, because Jazz was born in January, and I in October. Guess what day. That’s correct; All Hallows’ Eve is my birth night. Salina knows this because it was on my info card that my parents left with me. Jocelyn was thirty nine, and the studious one. She had dark brown hair, and was our teacher in theories. When you had a question, you went to Jocelyn. Janie was thirty four, with fire red hair. She taught us alchemy, and cooking. She was sweet, but she was firm, and she held a grudge almost as well as a ladle. Krista was twenty seven, and was the fun, bouncy one. Melissa was twenty five and loved cleaning, and taught those spells. She kept the magical supplies in order and organized people’s chore charts. Persephone was a normal girl, who just happened to have a slight talent for magic. She loved to help, and she was only twenty two.

                We snuck inside the sleeping house of witches, to find the fire already burning and warming the home in the huge fireplace in our clean-but-disorganized kitchen. (The fire lit itself every morning. Come on, it’s a house of witches. We don’t bother with lighting a fire. Puh-leez. ) It was full of normal witch stuff; bottles full of god-knows-what, cinnamon, cloves, bane, and I think we still had hogweed in there. Melissa and Janie were forever at odds about the kitchen. Janie insisted it be left alone, because if Melissa cleaned it, Janie wouldn’t know where any of her potions were. And Melissa argued that it was an eyesore in a perfectly clean home. (Not really true, but whatever…) Jazz went right up to the top two floors, where all the bedrooms were kept, except for mine, which was the attic. (We had a huge attic, full of stuff. In the midst of all the neat stacks and boxes was a rickety old iron bed frame with a thick mattress atop it, covered in a huge patchwork quilt. It was right under one of the two windows at both ends of the room.) I stayed behind, rummaging around for what was left of a sleeping draught that Janie had made me yesterday. After a few minutes, I gave up; figuring somebody had a really good sleep last night with what they thought was a glass of minty milk. Probably Melissa, courtesy of Janie.

 I smiled to myself as I dragged myself through the rooms on the bottom floor (which was bigger than it looked on the outside), into the front room, which was already lit with the fall sun. It had an umbrella stand and a merry carpet full of colors sitting at the white door, which had a window in the top-middle, covered by a white film-curtain. I dragged myself up the wide, worn stairs, completely enclosed by the beige walls except for when I hit a level. When I reached level five, which held Janie’s room and Persephone’s room, I went to the end of the landing and pulled the staircase that led to my attic down. Up the narrow stairs I went, pausing at the top and flicking my wrist at the stairs so that the folded up neatly. Before I had learned how to do that, the stairs had had to be open at all times, so I could get down if I needed.

I made my way through the mess of boxes on the wooden floor, over to that queen-sized bed lying under the window. I pushed off my black shoes and socks as I went, leaving a trail of clothing until I had just my undershirt and skirt on. I crawled out of the cold of my attic and under the thick quilt, where I snuggled up and went to sleep, laying my head down on the huge feather pillows. I watched my music angel for a while before using the last of my strength to flick it on, even though it was only on the bedside table beside my bed. The tinkling music of the Place where Wishes come true (by CLANNAD OST Disc 2) came out. It was the full version, and the angel was sitting on a cloud that had flowers of rose and lilac on it. The angel had her legs curled up under her, her heavenly garb adorning her pale body floating out in porcelain. Her long curls of gold trailed down her back, as though disturbed by stagnant wind. Her eyes were closed in rapture. She was beautiful, in a way I had never seen before. I had seen pretty before; most of the women here were simply homely, like me, but this angel was so beautiful it broke my heart.

I fell asleep sometime after she started playing the song.

 

 

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[Irena]

I love this "Ally"! I'm hooked!! :D