Kennedy McCarron is truly Unordinary...
If you met me today, you wouldn’t know who I was. Not generalizations, like what my name was, but the extraordinary life that I was living. If you heard my name on the high school morning announcements, you’d guess that I’m 100% straight-up Irish. Yeah right. If you met me today, you would guess a lot about me. You’d notice my dark skin, due to my Jamaican heritage, but at first you wouldn’t guess that I was Jamaican. You’d notice my wild hair, and if you looked at me more in depth, you’d notice my contacts.
If you went to the school office to look at my grades, you’d figure that I was in all Honors courses, probably inferring that I’m a nerd. I’m absolutely the opposite.
But really, you know nothing about me. You know nothing about my life, my family, and my extraordinary talent to see in the future. You wouldn’t know that though I’m 120 lbs, I have the strength of five adult body-builders, and can lift up to 750 lbs. You wouldn’t know that I’m so different from you.
I’m a witch.
But I have to pretend that I’m living a normal life. I can’t get into any special colleges because of my uncanny talents, and because almost all churches are against witchcraft, I can’t get into any religious services. If I wanted to join the military, run a marathon, or become a teacher, I could. I just couldn’t let the world know what I am. Who would believe that the beautiful, wild-haired, coffee-colored, Jamaican-American, straight-A honor student, seventeen-year-old high school senior, Kennedy McCarron nicknamed Kenny or Kay, was a witch? Who would believe that the entire earth is flooded with witches, beautiful good witches, and the Other ones. The witches so bad it was vulgar to even think of their names. Because of these Other ones, there are Witch Hunters.
The Witch Hunters are the ones that prey off of our very existence. They are the ones that wait for the chance for us to divulge in our own secrets, they are the ones that wait for the chance to destroy us. Why? Because they’re scared of what we can do.
Somewhere amongst the overcrowded, humid, school cafeteria Jessie Chakoroson and Chris Wheeler were waiting for me, but I was in line like most of the other students at South Rivera High School. The lunch special? Asian-spiced tuna cutlet curry, or just a fancy name for the Tuna Melody Surprise. Salad and bread were good for me. I filled my plate with lettuce and tomatoes, and found my way over to where Jessie and Chris were saving a seat.
Jessie Chakoroson was of Sioux Indian heritage, though she was pale white. She indeed had long, black hair, and almond eyes that made her look almost Oriental. Her lips were peachy, and her clothes definitely didn’t make her look like she was Native American. She wore a flimsy baby-blue camisole, an overcut, pricy Abercrombie sweatshirt, and skin-tight jeans.
Chris Wheeler was heavily built. He had longish, wavy, dirty-blond-almost-brown hair that flipped out, and a square-ish face. He had nice pearly-white, straight teeth due to four years of braces. Chris wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t thin either. He was wearing a baseball cap on backwards, making his hair flip out even more than usual. He was wearing a gray hoodie and baggy jeans. I had known Chris since second grade, and he’d been my best friend ever since I met him, on a coed tee-ball team.
The minute I sat down with my salad and bread, I knew there was something wrong. Jessie was staring at me intensely, looking into my eyes, as if she was entranced.
“Jessie, what’s up?” I asked, slowly.
“What’s up with your eyes?” Jessie asked outright.
“My eyes?” I asked.
“Yeah, they’re golden. Like a bright, bronzy, gold.”
“A bright bronzy gold?” I asked. Bright, bronzy, gold. That doesn’t make any sense.
“Will you stop repeating what I just said?” Jessie snapped, irritated. “And why are your eyes gold?”
Chris laughed. “Watch them be silver tomorrow.”
Jessie hit Chris on the shoulder and stared at me furiously.
“Jeez, calm down, Jessie.” I said. “It’s probably because of the light hitting my new contacts.”
“Your eyes are never this light.” Jessie snapped. “They’re usually so dark that they’re almost black.”
I suddenly breathed a sigh of relief. Jessie was talking about the irises of my eyes, and not the whites and pupils. Jessie suddenly snapped out of the trance that was holding her, and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ken.” She began laughing. “I guess it’s nothing.” However, Jessie’s hawk like stare kept me wondering, was it really nothing?
Neither Jessie or Chris have figured out why I’m so “smart” and attractive (now that sounded conceited). One thing that witches have been able to do for a long time (other than cast spells which we can do) is have the able to see foresight and be able to gain knowledge unlike any other supernatural creatures (Seriously, vampires are not real). Good witches, like myself, are known for their godlike grace, love, and beauty. Like the Sapphire Goddess Claira Venus, good witches can have fierce tempers, and they can curse people they don’t like (and they can curse about people they don’t like). But it was very rare for a good witch to curse. That explains why my parents get extremely upset when I swear in front of them! However, if it was known to the rest of the world that I was a witch, I wouldn’t be able to live in this town. The school board would realize how I was cheating on tests my entire life. I don’t need to study to be smart. I just take the knowledge of others and put into my own head. Witches are known as the “Plagiarizers of the World”. Hell, isn't that technically what learning is?
Lunch sadly came to an end, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to what Jessie was upset about than what she was telling me.
I was sitting on the floor in my bedroom “doing” homework when Alexa called me to the living room. That’s right. Witches don’t call their parents Mom or Dad. Just by their first names.
Alexa seemed urgent, which was never like her. She was always calm and patient, a beautiful woman with long, black, dreadlocks and a face so flawless she looked unreal sometimes. Alexa was violently stroking Zeke, our magnificent black cat. There was hardly a witch in Salem that didn’t have a black cat. Another sign that Alexa was anxious was that she was softly levitating above the armchair she was sitting in, in a meditational pose. She was only a few inches above the chair, but it was a surefire way to tell that Alexa was stressed. She rarely levitated. She hated knowing that people could spy and see that she was using magic.
My five brothers, Josef, Mo’Quen, Laurence, Narrien, and Kemi entered the room. I was the middle child in my family – Josef, Mo’Quen, and Laurence were in college. The twins, Josef and Mo’Quen were in their fourth year of college, while Laurence was in his second. I was a senior in high school, Narrien was in eighth grade, and Kemi was in fourth grade. The names of everyone in my family (except for Alexa, Darius, and Zeke) revolved around the letters J, K, L, M, and N. Alexa said because those letters were in the center of the alphabet, they were the “most powerful” letters that there were.
Darius, my father, entered after my brothers. Laurence and Narrien, the big jokers, were goofing off, and laughing.
“Shut up!” Zeke hissed, the fur on his back standing straight up. For once, Darius wasn’t joking around with my brothers, instead he seemed somber and his face was articulate, something that was arbitrary of him.
“As you all know, the McCarron family has had an ancient history in witchcraft.” Alexa’s voice was traced heavily with her Jamaican accent, and the sound of her sudden voice caused everyone to jump. Darius sat down next to Alexa, staring hardly at the five boys. I noticed that he just seemed to “accidentally” skip by me.
In real life, witches aren’t just female, they’re male too. Wizards are only really old male witches, the Grandfather Witch. There’s only one Wizard in each family. And even though I’m a witch, I don’t know what the hell a warlock even is. In the Golden Book of Witchcraft, the book lay across Alexa’s lap, a warlock is defined as a very handsome, young adult male witch in training to become an apprentice in the profession of wizardry. I guess none of my brothers are going to become warlocks then.
My mother flipped open to a page in the Golden Book of Witchcraft. The book was heavy and old, and was huge. The front cover was lined with golden lace, and most of the book was in Latin, but everyone in my family can read it and understand it, even though none of us knows Latin.
“What is this? Story time?” Narrien cracked, and he, Laurence, and Kemi burst out into laughter. Zeke crawled out of Alexa’s lap, and hissed at the boys.
“You boys better shut up, or I’ll be dealing with you.” He snarled, and climbed back towards Alexa.
“Ooh, scary cat.” Narrien muttered sarcastically. Zeke whipped around, but didn’t do anything. Alexa hold on to him tightly.
“All of us are going to become mature witches someday –”
“Well some of us are going to be mature.” Zeke meowed. Narrien rolled his eyes at the cat.
Alexa ignored Zeke and continued talking. “As I was saying, you six are going to become mature witches, and you must learn. There are three very dangerous Witch Hunters afoot, and I believe that they may be tracking our family. The McCarron family is indeed the largest of all witch family because we are dangerously large. A witch family of eight is stretching the limit of a witch family of three. Even four is overdoing it. But we have eight, so we must be much more careful of Witch Hunters than others. You can’t trust anyone you don’t know, or even do know. Remember, elect and prosper.” Alexa shut the book with force, and closed her eyes. “So that means no more flying at night, no using magic to counterfeit money.” Alexa’s gaze turned over to Josef. “No using magic to burn down schools – ” Her gaze shifted over to Kemi.
“I swear, that wasn’t me!” Kemi cried. His efforts were pointless.
“Lil’ K, we all know that was you.” Josef said. Kemi was Lil’ K. I was sometimes Big K.
“And like always, don’t tell nobody that you are a witch.” Alexa said.
There are so many things about witches that are so bullshit¬ted, but books and Halloween costumes make them out to sound true. Like first of all, witches do not fly on broomsticks casting fairy powder all over the city. We don’t kill crops or animals, and we definitely aren’t green-skinned and wear pointy hats.
We eat normal food like normal humans, not newt eyes or toad skin, and most of us don’t have warty noses. We don’t live in remote, bat infested caves in mountains, we don’t melt in water (yes, I bathe every day), and we don’t make potions all day long. And our only motive in life is revenge? Not true.
Alexa has a crystal ball, but that is only because she is a mastery witch, and has been blessed by the Duchess. It’s locked away somewhere in the attic of our gigantic house.
In the late 19th and early 20th century, it was believed that Jamaicans were the main source of witchcraft and other type of magical creatures (That’s where they got Tia Dalma, or Calypso, the Jamaican witch chick from the Pirates of the Caribbean series from!). However, not all Jamaicans are witches. Actually, very few are. The most famous Jamaican witches were famous people. Bob Marley was one of them, but he died. So were Jamana Dominica, Saeonel Kris, Sean Paul, and Chessah. One thing to be proud of is, that of all the alive Jamaican witches, my family is the biggest.
“C’mon!” Jessie cried. “I think that you’d two make a really cute couple!”
“Yeah right.” I snarled. “I can’t stand him. He’s just ... so rude to everyone!” Not to mention the fact that he came from a family of Witch Hunters.
“Who you guys talking about?” Chris asked, walking up to us with a huge plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Oh sure, now the food is actually good looking.
“Guess.” Jessie said, and I groaned. Jessie didn’t wait for Chris to answer. “I think that Kennedy should definitely go on a date with Dan Debrenski!” Jessie took a carton of milk from Chris’s tray. He had bought, along with the chicken, three milks, two bags of chips, a diet Coke, and a candy bar from the vending machine. Chris offered us the food, and I took a bag of chips from the tray.
“And I think that I shouldn’t, Jessika.” I pointed out. “Dan Debrenski is a total jerk.”
“Yeah, but he’s hot, and he loves you, and you have to admit that.” Jessie said, looking two tables over at Dan, admiring him.
I rolled my eyes at Jessie, and looked up at Chris. “What do you think?”
“I personally think that you, and not Jessie, have the choice to date whoever you please.” He paused for a second. “That’s why I think you should go out with me.”
Jessie and I stared at Chris for a long time, and then we burst out laughing, and Chris’s big grin was wiped right off his square-ish face. “Or not.” Chris said sadly, and we started laughing even more.
I was just wiping the tears from my eyes when I saw him. He was new, I realized, and he looked both sad and angry. He had long, wild, jet black hair that at the top was sticking out in all directions. Spiky side bangs covered one side of his creamy-skinned face. His hairdo would have looked atrocious on anyone else, but it looked actually good on him. He seemed to be looking for somebody, as he was desperately walking around the cafeteria. And then he was gone – vanished amidst the other three hundred hungry kids in the school cafeteria. Suddenly, the bell rang, and the room was even more chaotic than ever.
I caught a glimpse of the new kid for a split second before he once again disappeared right in front of my eyes. What the hell, two very tall kids stepped right in front of me, directly in my line of vision. Frustrated, I tried to move in front of them to find him, but there was a wall to my right and several people to my left, blocking my escape.
Jessie and Chris saw me struggling to get around the tall kids, and they became suspicious.
“Kennedy, what are you trying to do?” Jessie asked.
“I’m trying to find someone.” I snapped back at her. I didn’t mean to be so harsh, but I was getting really annoyed with the tall kids.
“She’s looking for Dan Debrenski.” Chris teased, whispering to Jessie.
“I heard that!” I snarled. I heard Dan walk up behind Chris. Well, actually I “saw” Dan walk up behind Chris. I had already knew that he was coming. Along with foresight, we can foretell the future. Since I’m not a completely mature witch, on good days I can foretell up about seven or eight seconds, and I can only foretell in visions that usually randomly appear. The best I’ve ever done is fifteen seconds into the future. Alexa, however, can foretell about two days into the future. That is just something I’m looking forward to.
“Why are you saying my name?” Dan snapped, spinning Chris around to face him. Dan was big and burly. He had short, spiky, dirty blond hair and was muscular. His skin was slightly bronzing, and he had the brightest sky blue eyes that I had ever seen. Jessie was right, Dan was hot. But I would never, ever, go out with him. He was a big meanie.
“I-I uh d-didn’t.” Chris stammered.
“Yes, you did! I heard you! I heard you say my name! You were making fun of my name!”
I turned around furiously, glaring at the big football-playing jock.
“Kennedy, you heard this loser saying my name, didn’t you, Kennedy, babe?” Dan said.
I rolled my eyes at Dan. (I had been doing that a lot lately). “Dan, just leave him alone.”
Dan put his arm around my shoulder. “C’mon baby, do me a favor, and just forget about him. Start thinking about me!”
“How about you do me a favor, and stop being such an asshole! Get the hell out of here!” I growled, pushing Dan away from my body.
“If you wasn’t so pretty, I would have listened.” Dan flirtatiously said. He pulled me close to him, and kissed me hard on the lips.
“Stop!” I yelled, aggravated, pushing him away. “Dan, I don’t feel that way about you! You are such a ... jerk!”
“Oh, and I guess you want to go back to being with Chris, don’t you babe?”
Fuming, I smacked Dan. To me, it was very, very, lightly. To Dan, it was very, very, hard. Dan reached up to his cheek – it was already turning red. If I wanted to, I could have broken his jaw. I definitely had the strength, the energy, the willpower, and the want to do it. But I decided against it.
“Ow, you bitch! Bitch with a freaking capital B!” Dan snarled.
“I’m sorry Dan.” I said apologetically. I was starting actually feel a little sorry for the football player. But I knew that Dan was bad news. I could never date a Debrenski. I couldn’t date the son of a Witch Hunter. And even if Dan wasn’t the son of a Witch Hunter, I would never date him because he still was a son of a bitch. “You shouldn’t have said that about Chris. I’m not going out with him, and I never will. I’m also not going out with you, and I never will.”
Dan turned away from me. “I will lure you to me. Even if you have the strength against me. Believe me, Kennedy, death comes much more easily in some families, then others.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I growled at him. I had made a fatal mistake – hitting Dan. He knew that only witches could have that sort of strength for such a light hit. He knew what I was.
“No,” Dan sneered evilly. “That’s a promise.”
“Alexa! Alexa!” I screamed, running into my house. I knew Alexa would be where she always was so I jumped in the air. Energy blasted through my body, my pulse was racing, and my body cleanly glided through the house. I was flying. But suddenly the emotion was over. The adrenaline was gone. I had flown straight into the living room, where Alexa was sitting, holding the Golden Book of Witchcraft... and cooking dinner.
Alexa didn’t even look up from the page as she flipped sizzling hot peppers in a pan. Along with the peppers, she was cooking chunks of beef, onions, and sausage. She turned yet another page, as her wily magic sliced a tomato, and formatted the vegetable and meats together on a skewer. She handed me the shish-kabob on a small plate along with sliced tomatoes sprinkled with shredded cheese.
“I was going to make tacos,” Alexa said, “but I wanted to be a little more Jamaican tonight.” I nodded, not really caring about what we had for dinner. I had more important news.
“Alexa, there’s, there’s Witch Hunters after us! They know we’re witches! What do we do?”
“Nothing.” Alexa said calmly, and went back to cooking dinner.
“Alexa!” I screamed. “How could our family be in such danger, and you just sit there and do nothing! Alexa, do you want us killed?!”
Alexa looked up at me, glaring. “We sit here, and we wait.” She growled. “Now tell me the name of the Witch Hunting family.”
Alexa smiled. “Kennedy, we’re not in any real danger. The Debrenski’s are the weakest of all the Witch Hunters. And they’ve been spiteful of our family for a long time. Every Debrenski has always hated a McCarron.”
I looked confused. Dan hadn’t just realized that I was a witch; he had always known I was! “But Dan Debrenski is in love with me, I mean he kissed me today in school – ”
Alexa looked up sharply. “He what?” She gestured for me to sit down on the couch. “Kennedy, Daniel Debrenski may be part of the weakest Witch Hunting family in the United States, but he still is a Witch Hunter. The family is trying to lure you in to kill you. They may be trying to pick off our family one-by-one. That’s the only way they’ll win. But remember, Kennedy, the McCarron’s are still very powerful witches, and I bet that you are stronger than all of the Debrenski’s combined.
I remembered what Dan had said at lunch. I will lure you to me, even if you have the strength against me... “He was really weird though. I’ve always known he was a Witch Hunter, but I never stopped to think if he knew that I was a witch.”
“You should really consider who you choose to date, Kennedy. You’re only seventeen, but it will matter to you soon enough.” Alexa said sternly.
“But I’m not dating him!” I cried, but it was useless. Alexa had already gone back to reading and cooking dinner.
I had completely forgotten about the cute new kid in our school, the one that I was desperately searching for at lunch, only to have run into Dan Debrenski.
Steve Ubbes, a.k.a. Stubby, our history teacher, was talking about the political aspects of the War of 1812. (I wasn’t listening, I already knew all this stuff), when Principal Retner opened the door, the new kid beside him.
“Well, here you go,” Retner, a short, stubby, bald man, said, slightly pushing the new kid into the classroom.
“Well hello,” Stubby said. “Hello, Principal Retner.”
“Hey.” The new kid said.
“You can take a seat anywhere you’d like.” He eyed the room. There were about fourteen kids in the class and about thirty desks. “You know what? Take a seat behind Kennedy. That used to be Nina’s seat before she switched out. Guess which one’s Kennedy.” Stubby grunted, and then laughed. Like Retner, Stubby was short and fat.
The new kid walked up to me and smiled. “Are you Kennedy?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m Kennedy.” I smiled, and laughed.
He sat down behind me. Stubby went out into the hallway to talk to Retner. Everyone in class started talking at once. I turned around and faced the new kid.
“Well, you know I’m Kennedy, who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Alexander.” He said, shaking my hand. He had a foreign accent, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
“So, Alexander, where are you from?” I asked.
He looked at me strangely. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, like, did you come from this state? Or did you go to North Rivera High? Or another Wisconsin school?”
Alexander laughed. “You’re not from South Rivera.”
“Yes I am.” I said stubbornly.
“No you’re not. You’re Jamaican. How many Jamai¬cans live in Wisconsin?”
I rolled my eyes at Alexander. “First of all, I’m Jamai¬can-American. There’s a difference. Second, you’ve got a weird way with words. Why?”
Alexander smiled. “It’s the Alexander charm.”
History passed quickly, and I was saddened. I wanted to continue talking to Alexander, but the minute the bell rang, he vanished, into another classroom.
Too bad I didn’t share the same lunch with him.
“So have you considered it?” Jessie asked me as I sat down with my bagged lunch. It consisted of leftover kabobs from last night. It was surprising how I could live in a family of eight, six of them male, and still have leftovers. It was one of life’s mysteries. But as I thought about it, I figured that Alexa had probably made more this morning for our lunch, and told us it was leftovers. She loved shish-kabobs.
“Considered what?” I asked, popping a fried pepper in my mouth.
“Are those shish-kabobs?” Chris asked suddenly, ap¬pearing out of nowhere. I looked up at him. I immediately realized that something was unusual about him. His voice seemed a little different, and his hair appeared darker, and he seemed stiff.
I handed Chris a shish-kabob. “Are you okay, buddy?”
“Yeah, why?” Chris asked. I shrugged, and turned back to Jessie.
“If you were going to say “asking Dan Debrenski out”, for the hundredth time, no!”
Jessie stared at me strangely. I could see the light flicker in her glossy eyes. “What’s up with you?”
I laughed, apologetically. “There’s this really cute new kid, Alexander, in my history class –”
“Margon?” Jessie said, interrupting me. However, she appeared to be staring right past me into space, not even listening.
“What?” I asked. Her question was off-balanced.
“Is it Alexander Margon?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He never mentioned his last name.” I replied. Thinking about it, I never mentioned my last name either. For all I knew, he probably thought Kennedy was my last name.
Jessie thought for a second. “Does he have really weird, long spiky black hair?”
“Yeah!” I said, excitedly. “That’s him!”
Jessie just stared blankly at me.
“What?” I asked.
She shrugged me off. “Nothing. Just leave it to you, Kennedy.” Then she suddenly got up and walked away, slamming her lunch in the trash. I stared as she walked out the double doors of the cafeteria, and into the courtyard.
“What’s up with her?” I asked Chris.
“I dunno.” He was starting to sound like himself again. “That’s probably JC in disguise.”
Jessie had a twin brother, Jesse. Mrs. Chakoroson probably thought it was a good idea to name the twins Jessika (yes, it’s spelt with a K) and Jesse, but Jessika went by Jessie, so Jesse had to go by JC. (Talk about confusing!)
“No,” I said, “Even JC isn’t that weird. Jessie’s been acting like that all week.”
Chris nodded. “I dunno. I didn’t notice.”
It was like Chris to “not notice.”
Was there some type of connection between Jessie and Alexander that I hadn’t known about? Was I making a big mistake?
Alexander was in my chemistry and trigonometry class as well. Since I was the only person that he sort-of knew in both those classes, he at least tried to sit near me. In trig he sat next to me, in chem, two tables behind me. Jessie was in my chemistry class, but she never showed up. Twice, Mrs. Gonzales asked me where she was.
Trig was the hardest of all my classes, because I knew the least about it. And the teacher, Mr. Kaleise, didn’t help much. He was from some foreign country, and had a very heavy accent, like Alexa did. He said he was from Gúönia. Where the hell was Gúönia? If you closed your eyes and heard him talk, you wouldn’t be able to tell if he was from Brazil or France or China. I later learned that he was Lebanese, Finnish, Chilean, Portuguese, Italian, Honduran, Korean ... When he had said he was from Gúönia, he meant he was Gúönian, meaning “Creole mixture from Guam”. Or at least Mr. Kaleise’s version of Creole mixture from Guam.
Mr. Kaleise was writing an equation on the board when Wendy Bates tapped me on the shoulder.
“Do you know what’s up with Jessie? I know you’re her best friend, so I’m just wondering.”
“I don’t know, Wendy.” I said. “She was really pissed at lunch for some reason, and then left.”
Wendy looked up at the ceiling. “Well, I hope some¬one finds out. We need her in the Art and French clubs.”
“It’s really weird.” I said. “She’s been like this all week.”
“Hey, didn’t her parents just recently get divorced?” Wendy suggested.
“Yeah, like ten years ago.” I said.
Wendy laughed at her ignorance. “Maybe some¬thing’s going on in that mind of hers. Maybe it’s an Indian thing – hey how long have we had that new kid in our class?”
I looked over at Alexander who was writing down Mr. Kaleise’s equation, and back at Wendy. “He’s been here since yesterday. This is the third class I’ve had with – wait, you’re in my chem class, he’s in that class too!”
Wendy smiled. “I guess I’ve never noticed. He’s got nice looks. Maybe that’s what drove Jessie insane.”
I laughed at her suggestion, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Wendy was right.
“You still haven’t answered my question yet.” I said, catching up to Alexander at his locker in the hallway. I had finally found him before he disappeared amidst the other kids.
“What question?” He asked, spinning the combina¬tion lock. Without even looking at him, I already knew the numbers: 4-23-19.
“You know.” I said. “Where are you from?”
He laughed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does matter!”
“Why does it matter?” He didn’t seem to get mad.
“Why won’t you tell me?” I said, stubbornly.
Alexander laughed. “You are a wonder, Kennedy.”
“Oh, so now I’m a wonder, eh?”
He softly kissed me on the forehead. “A wonder, with insanely curly hair. I’m from Washington.” And he was gone, just like that.
The room in which housed Shea, Elizaidor, and Sofista was dark, clammy, and freezing. There was a stone table that sat many in the middle of the room, but only three sat at it. The two women, Shea and Sofista, sat at the sides of the table. The only male, Elizaidor, sat at the head.
Shea had hair down past her ankles – a magnificent dark red, her eyes were electric blue, and her lips were blood red. She was wearing a skintight black, strapless, revealing dress, and wore a silver necklace, with wispy strands, and beads the color of bones. Hanging from the necklace was a pendant – a six-pointed star with a circular hole in the middle: the symbol of Idira, the death of witches. Snaking down her arms and back were intricate tattoos. Shea was a beautiful woman, nevertheless, her voice was cold and alarming.
Al a tiaki den iyen lo shie: I am unrest, hope of death
Myki aro odone lee tie dhse: My only pain is what held
Nanl iak iodtre ven iso mesh yire: to long for your loveth rue
Loan diao ké ryon sheu nnieu kai: at night bring son of moon
She chanted in a hypnotic voice, staring straight ahead of her. Flames began licking at the legs of the table.
Mun dirao si fianan le! To die of Fire inside you! Shea yelled.
Suddenly, the flames erupted into a large, raging fire, with a crack as if someone had shot off a gun while pouring invisible gasoline into the fire. Sofista screamed loudly in shock, falling backwards out of her chair.
Broken from her trance, Shea glowered down at Sofista on the floor. “Get up, and stop goofing off! We go through this every month!” Shea snarled impatiently.
Sofista straightened her blonde curls, and nodded.
Extraordinarily, the table seemed to just sit in the center of the flames, not even turning into melted rock. Shea stuck her hands in the fire, and threw them up in the air. The fire turned into sparks like fireworks, and rained down like water. Sofista realized why the table wasn’t burning – the fire was cold!
Twa se jaman se la deh ni! Bring all Gods tonight! Shea’s words were louder and more angrier. Suddenly the three were blasted with intense heat, as the table fell to ashes.
“I am first.” Shea said softly, pulling out a dagger. Elizaidor reached around the fiery remains of the table, wrapping Shea’s arm in soaking wet herbs – a mixture of ebony sage, lavender, and rosemary in a very slow burning oil. Once her entire arm was wrapped in the herbs, Shea reached across the fire, however leaving the knife in the flame for a second, allowing the metal to become searing hot.
She handed the dull end of the knife to Sofista, who nearly dropped it because of the intense heat. However, Sofista got a grip on herself, and closed her eyes, taking the knife to the back of Shea’s hand.
Mundai odone oder. The pain will be over, she whispered frantically to herself, as the knife cut through flesh. Sofista heard a scratch – and Shea winced sharply as the knife was starting to hit bone. Shea furiously stared at Sofista – she wasn’t supposed to cut that deep. Sofista couldn’t bear to look at what she was doing, but her hands seemed to know what to do.
Elizaidor pulled a large, clear, crystal, ornate bowl from underneath his stone chair. Sofista was crying as she made the last cut – a circle – in the center of Shea’s hand. She shrieked as warm blood trickled over her fingers. Elizaidor rushed the bowl over to Shea, and gently lifted her hand above the bowl, and turned it, so the blood dripped into the bowl. Even after the entire torment, Shea seemed to show no feeling of pain. She sat, seeming to be in a deep trance with her eyes closed shut, and her blood running into the crystal bowl. After, what felt like an hour, Elizaidor uncovered a small vial of potion, (which remarkably smelled like nail polish and detergent) and lightly spread it over Shea’s bloody, scarred, hand. Steam arose from the cuts, and Shea bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming – so hard that a drop of blood emerged from her lower lip, which was slightly turning a ghastly white.
Shea’s hand stopped bleeding immediately, and the blood vanished. What was left was a hand so chalky white it looked as if it had been painted, with a messy scar of a six-pointed star with a circle in the middle.
For the next hour, Shea carved the Symbol of Idira into Elizaidor’s hand, and Elizaidor carved the symbol into Sofista’s hand. White-hot pained seared through Sofista’s body as Elizaidor made clean cuts. The pain was torturous and intense. Instead of using self control, as Shea did, Sofista let out a bloodcurdling, piercing, scream every time the knife cut her hand. By the time Elizaidor had applied the vial of potion to Sofista’s hand, his ears were ringing.
The three got up, stacking the chairs, forming a table. Elizaidor placed the ornate bowl of blood on top of the chairs, away from the pyre.
Shea suddenly stuck her hand in the center of the bowl of blood, and placed it, dragging it across rough, brick walls. She started at the top, creating the six points of the Symbol of Idira. By the time she was done with the star, there was so much blood, Shea couldn’t tell if it was hers, or the blood from the bowl. Figuring it was hers because she could feel pain, she finished the Symbol with the circle in the center. She looked at the bowl, admiring how much blood was left. If she had used too much blood during the worshipping of the Star upon the wall, they would have had to go through the ordeal of cutting the backs of the hands again.
Please, a sacrifice of the Symbol, Your star, blessed Idira. Shea spoke humbly and respectfully, bowing to the wall. Shea seriously prayed at the wall for quite some time before retreating. Shea turned to Sofista. “Your wall may be made.”
Please, a sacrifice of the Symbol, Your star, blessed Idira. Sofista quickly said. She was starting to wish that she wasn’t here. She bowed at the wall, quickly got up, and bowed at Shea’s feet. “My wall – um, my wall of Honor, your Honor has been made. She kissed the star on Shea’s hand. May I retreat?”
“You may.” Shea answered, and Sofista stepped back. Elizaidor made the same statement as Shea and Sofista, and kissed the star on Sofista’s hand – the one that he had cut – and kissed the star on Shea.
After the offering of the sacrifice, Shea held up the ornate bowl of blood.
Anyo idoa re ler kof fii ne dieon: the souls darkest inside
Mey haho jofi ido nnani odone: from Even goddess, bring pain
Idira, lo odone, ke carfefe Caufohey! Idira, bring pain the head of Caufohey!
Suddenly, a whirlwind of dust appeared in the air in front of Shea, and in the middle of it, a skull formed. Shea picked up the hovering skull, and placed it on the ground in front of the Symbol of Idira.
Idira, lo odone ke carfefe Wade! Idira, bring pain the head of Wade!
Another whirlwind and another skull appeared in front Shea. Sofista placed the skull on the ground in front of the wall about a foot’s distance from the other skull.
Idira, lo odone ke carfefe Blackstone! Idira, bring pain the head of Blackstone!
Elizaidor picked up this skull, and once again placed it on the floor a foot away from the two other skulls.
The last name, Shea said with the most force, the most energy, the most hatred. Her blood boiled inside her, and her scar of the Symbol of Idira singed with pain.
Idira, lo odone ke carfefe McCarron! Idira, bring pain the head of McCarron!
Shea, Elizaidor, and Sofista picked up all four skulls, painting them with the blood from the ornate, diamond, bowl. The skulls glistened with blood when Shea picked them up, holding them above the still-raging fire. The blood, still warm, began to burn Shea’s fingers. One by one, she dropped the skulls into the pyre. The blood splattered and cringed, the skulls shattered like glass, and began to turn an ashy black as they burned. With each skull, the fire rose, and became more fierce. With the last skull, Elizaidor poured the contents of the bloody bowl into the fire. It crackled as if it were laughing, and the flickering illuminated the large, bloody Symbol of Idira on the wall.