BLUE VELVET SAPPHIRE

“Hannah Taylor, you have been accused of the theft of spells from the evil witch Engragen. How do you plead?”

“Ummm,” I managed, “y-y-yes, your Greatness, I h-have stolen such spells, but, but . . .”

High Priest Matthew went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “You are hereby found guilty of stealing and experimenting with Black Magic. Do you have an explanation?”

“Yes, I d-do,” I said, my confidence slowly returning, “You see, I intended just to test those spells with the scientific method.”

Matthew snorted. Turning to the others he declared, “As we all know, such spells are the exclusive domain of the devil’s witches. Hannah knew this as well as any of us. She has risked calling the Servant of Satan to our coven by casting such spells.”

The others gasped and moved away, leaving me standing alone at the center of the white-gowned group. I looked around at my former friends, and couldn’t believe they would turn on me. “But. . . “

“Hannah Taylor,” the High Priest interrupted, “you are hereby evicted from the Blessed Supplicants coven by order of the Witches Council. Now, leave us.”

The entire group turned their backs to me and I stood there, stunned, for a long moment. Then, with as much dignity as I could muster, I stalked through the church and out the double doors at the back, using all my power of will to refrain from slamming them shut.
I was trembling, my knees were shaking and I feared I might just collapse there outside the church. How could this be happening?

How did the High priest know I’d stolen the spells from the witch Engragen? No one else knew, and I couldn’t believe the witch would have had contact with Matthew. So how could he have found out?

The only person who knew was Esther. Esther, my best friend for years. It had been she who had brought me into the coven. Esther? It just couldn’t have been Esther. But who else?

Could Matthew have used magic to learn about it? But what reason would he have had to cast such a spell to begin with? It had to be Esther.

***

I stood outside the church, trembling as if in an earthquake. How could they evict me? What I’d done wasn’t that bad! I breathed deeply three times slowly, and was able to hold my nausea at bay. My fury with the High Priest left me feeling cold and a bit dizzy. And what about those other witches I thought were my friends; none of them had spoken up for me, not even my best friend, Esther.

I was no longer a member of the only coven in Eugene, Oregon. I’d thought I might enjoy being able to use magic, but had found many of the rules very restrictive before being evicted. I realized those in the coven were my only friends and I needed them all.

None of my skills had been taken, but I knew I’d need the coven, or at least other witches, if I ever wanted to cast a powerful spell. And having the women I thought were my friends just turn their backs on me gave me a heavy, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

This is so unfair, I thought, gamely trying to avoid whimpering. I hadn’t intended to use the spells for myself, but only to see if I could cast them. I wanted to explore the beliefs of the coven from a scientific point of view. The High Priest should have been more open-minded! I told myself.

Walking slowly, I headed home, still furious and pondering how I might find my way back into the coven. I’d joined it for two reasons: the first, because Esther invited me; the second because I was curious. I’d read many novels about witches—witches who solved murders, witches who snared a gorgeous guy, witches who improved the lives of their hometowns. But I guess Dad had been right; he’d said that my curiosity would be my undoing.

I couldn’t help but muse over the problem of how the High Priest had learned of my theft of the spells. Would Esther have told him? She was the only one who knew, but I couldn’t imagine my best friend betraying me like that. We had been close ever since we first met in third grade, when her family moved to Eugene, twelve years ago.

I’d befriended Esther in college, and soon after she learned about the coven and joined it, she convinced me it would be good for me. We’d both studied science in college, but Esther had stopped with her Bachelor’s in Sociology.

I’d had two boyfriends in high school, and one in college that lasted three years, but we’d broken up sometime before I joined the coven.

Esther was much taller than me, at 5’9, but we were often amused at our height disparity. Some of our friends called us Mutt and Jeff, who I learned were comic book characters from many years ago. Esther’s eyes were brown and her hair was a lovely shade of auburn, while I was almost her exact opposite, with blond hair and blue eyes. But we saw things very nearly the same way. We both loved TV and the movies, and she read mysteries and detective novels just like I did, and then we spent hours discussing them. I loved her, and I knew she loved me.
But maybe she didn’t! Maybe she was jealous of me, and that’s why she’d tattled to the High Priest about my stealing the spells.

The High Priest had accused me of endangering them all by potentially calling up the Servant of Satan. That was their great bugaboo, like mothers sometimes threaten their kids with: “You’d best behave or the Monster in the Closet will get you.”

The Servant of Satan was the coven’s “Monster.” So maybe some kind of minor demon besides him might help me get back into the coven. I wasn’t sure how, but so long as I made sure I was safe, it might be worth the danger such a demon might pose.

I wasn’t sure if I needed to know the name of any demon I could call, and just hoped a general request would work for that.

After petting Lulu, the poodle who lived next door and was always seeking love and attention, I went directly to the smallest room in the little house, my “temple.”

I opened my Book of Spells and soon found one I thought might succeed. I recalled the theory that one should never try to cast a spell if he has an impure spirit and body. What that meant to me was that I needed to cast away any demons, doubts, and impurities in my spirit that could interfere with the process.