Lovely Witches Club

Chapter 2: Seeking the Heir

They spoke together, their voices mingling then, a chanted spell that wove itself into the liquid rising like a charmed serpent from the depths of the cauldron. And the power answered, though it felt at last the damage done, the weakness, the taint of darkness that pitted its soul. Agnes's voice was strongest of all, however, and the bright pink sparks that fell from her hands seeded the power of the vessel.

"Lovely witches gather 'round, join your voice and magic bound."

Vine giggled suddenly, a pair of wings rising from the depths, sparkling and shining in the light of the cauldron. They fluttered to her, tickling her fingers when she reached for them, while Agnes nodded and they all went on.

"Refresh our power and our task, for our Island we do ask. Return our strength from days of yore, peace and prosperity evermore."

The wings rose, hovered before Agnes. She who had called the spell from its sleep. The four held their breath as one, just as they had spoken together, waiting. But the manifestation of their power didn't go to the oldest witch, as intended. Didn't seed her with the power of the Island's dwindling magic as their spell was created to do. Not while it pondered its weakness and lingered over the damage done. Instead, the surface of the cauldron flashed and an image appeared.

They gasped together, stared down into the depths at the woman within. A woman with a baby.

While the magic explored the scene with its own curiosity.

"Dear elements," Agnes whispered, horror in her voice. "The babe... lived?"

The woman in the vision passed a wrapped bundle to someone in a witch robe before the image tightened on her face, the agony written there. They watched her fade, fall onto her pillow, the light leaving her. Agnes's hand reached for the woman, tears escaping her eyes, trickling to mingle with the moisture in the cauldron even as the woman sighed her last, died, whispering something none of them could hear. While a wash of darkness black and foul gushed over the image and devoured the woman's dead face in an unmistakable growl of dark magic.

The power of the forest wept for its loss and the agony of the attack, shadow looming over the four and the dulled waters of the cauldron.

"A curse." Agnes shuddered back until the magic relented and the surface turned clear again, its message delivered. They understood. Even while the wings fluttered and hovered, as if waiting for her to notice them again. She must notice them. Send them onward. "How did we miss this? Lilith was cursed-and us with her?"

"By design?" Piper's deep voice had a fierceness that made them all stare. "It's obvious we weren't meant to know." Anger showed on her face, in the white knuckles of her hand grasping the haft of her broom. "And, were we the good little witches we'd been ordered to be, it's possible we would never have known."

"Diabolical and unforgiveable," Agnes whispered. "All these years..." She choked a moment, her emotions clear on her face, grief mixed with utter despair. "All these wasted years."

"But who could have done this?" Piper's deep voice leveled, her head tilting to one side, dark eyes narrow as her logical tone seemed to settle the other three, even the sagging Agnes. "Who would curse Lilith and why would she let us think her line broken, the babe dead and her heir long gone?"

The magic knew, longed to tell them, but its attempt to summon the face of the guilty in the cauldron's surface only stirred more black. Instead, it waited, the entire wood's breath bated, for the witches to act.

"I have no idea," Agnes said, as angry as her young counterpart, but with hope in her small, grim smile as she turned to the fluttering, waiting wings. They chimed at her in a happy little trill of excitement, shivering and waiting for her orders. A child of their own, in a way, a baby spell created to renew what had been broken. But, could it do better than help them start again? "In our haste, we made mistakes. When we lost Lilith I was certain it was she who brought her death on herself, some misplaced power, some error in spellcasting." She flinched then, one hand passing over her eyes. "Forgive me, most beloved leader, for ever thinking you could have made such an error when you were only ever careful and confident."

"It's not your fault, Agnes," Rosary said, fingers sliding into the older woman's hand, squeezing comfort and pink sparkles. "I was a child when Lilith died. I remember how devastating her loss. No one ever suspected anything like this." She released Agnes, gestured at the cauldron, shock paling her cheeks.

"In my grief," Agnes said, not a hint she had heard a word Rosary said to comfort her, "I doubted my leader, both of my coven and this place. I let go on a foul curse that's kept us confined and in despair and has taken our Island's power to the brink of destruction."

"Until now?" Vine's smile lit her face. She stared at the wings, shivered. While the power waited, waited. "You're going to send them out?"

"Of course." Agnes blew softly on the apparition hovering before her, anxious for orders. The instant Agnes touched them, she whispered, "Find her!" The pink sparkles shrieked their joy and launched themselves into the sky at last. "Find the heir," Agnes said. "Return our strength from days of yore."

Darkness fell over the four witches, leaving them in gloom as the magic of the cauldron went seeking what it longed for, what they sent it to find. While the Island's magic, the power of the forest so long asleep, sighed and trembled in hope.

***

She burst from the front door of her house, staring up into the stars and the blanket of black over her back porch, the garden beyond stirring with rising power. The moon had yet to surface past the horizon, no shine on the water beyond. Uncharacteristic of her ocean, it sat still and quiet, just the glassy smooth surface reflecting back pinpoints of distant light, the absence of waves washing against the shore giving her a chill like the premonition of something she wasn't sure she was ready for.

Impossible to mistake the flash of pink that suddenly appeared, coming from that sacred place where once she'd proudly marched among her sisters. There was no doubt in her this magic came from the cauldron of her people, from the most secret glade of her kind. Long abandoned, dark and quiet since the loss of Lilith. And yet, here was power, born of that place, singing its high pitched joy while it raced over the sea, a flare of power pushing it on. And though she knew she should be afraid, upset, the old witch felt her tired heart, shriveled by years of defeat and loss, wake and beat again in time with the laughter she was sure she heard echoing in a familiar voice from that disappearing light.

All well and good, if it hadn't been for the huffing, puffing fury of the woman who came to a stomping halt at her side, her furious face pinched, round cheeks red with rage. The newcomer snarled, the Island's power flinching from her even while she pulled it to her, threw it in the path of the racing pink magic. Too late, too slow. Or, perhaps, with a mind of its own, the old witch pondered, missing by design...? And squashed that slight rebellion as her leader-their leader, for goodness sake, she had to remember that despite her childish reaction to seeing what she'd just seen, feeling what she'd just felt-practically howled her fury as the hiccup of merry magic disappeared.

Seeking... what? Or who?

"How dare they?" Voice shaking, she spun on the older woman. "Did you know about this, Isobel?"

"Constance," the old witch whispered at the utter darkness in her leader's face. "How could you think such a thing?"

Constance lunged at her, murderous rage written in her power, like it was Isobel's fault the others were so unhappy.

"They'll pay for their betrayal," the leader hissed in the old witch's face. "With their power." Constance spun from Isobel and, while the terrified older woman clutched at her throat and watched the last of the pink light disappear in the distance, was sure she heard the faintest hint of fear in her leader's whisper.

"What have they done?"

***