Page 41 of Touch of Evil

“Where is here, exactly?”

“It was sold to us as the Promised Land,” Merche says. She cleans off the tears from her fur that continue to fall. “We were going to have our own coven, our own place to belong where we could roam with other supernaturals. At first, it was nice to be around more of our kind. But then the other witches, still weaker, but stronger than us, realized just how many we were, and thought we could do more as one.”

Farrah begins to pace, her face inflating and deflating with each step. I cover my mouth, hoping to mask my retching.

“We started working on developing our skills,” Farrah says. “It was like witch school only slower so we could keep up and work on our strengths.”

“That sounds appropriate,” I say, carefully. “What went wrong exactly?”

“Everything,” Merche says. “It didn’t work. Our improvement was minimal at best. As a result, the higher ups started experimenting with stronger spells, just to try to give us an advantage.”

“But there was only one spell that really worked,” Farrah admits, ignoring my blatant horror.

My hands fall away from my face. “Oh, no. You cast Mirror.”

They regard me as if slapped by one of Farrah’s missing fins. “How do you know about Mirror?” Merche asks.

Farrah seems disturbed. Never mind, I think that’s just how the poor thing looks. Mirror isn’t a spell I’m supposed to be familiar with. Even Lesser witches are banned from knowing about it.

They don’t understand that there’s a great deal I’ve learned about magic and a lot more I don’t care to know. Each class of supernatural are bound by loyalty to protect their secrets. As a non-witch, and someone who doesn’t belong to a coven, I’m not bound to these rules and explain the extent of my familiarity with their spells.

“Mirror is one of the three High Tasks of Witchcraft. Casting one successfully is your final exam and what permits you to graduate.”

“That’s right,” Farrah says, her large bulgy eyes watching me closely.

“If performed correctly, the spell-wielder turns into someone or something else.”

“Who told you about Mirror?” Merche asks.

“That’s not important,” I say. I examine them closely. Their forms are only portions of what they should be. They also seem comfortable in their bodies, as if they’ve occupied them for a while now.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I say.

“We’re not lying, miss,” Farrah assures me.

“What I mean is, Mirror is an espionage spell. One meant to last only a few hours, a day on rare occasions. You’ve been like this for some time now, haven’t you?”

Merche nods.

I groan and put some space between us when I realize what’s happening. “You didn’t perform mirror. You couldn’t have.”You were too weak.“They, your so-called leaders, performed it on you.”

Farrah looks down, mumbling as if merely speaking aloud and doing her best to justify her actions. “We had to try other ways. We had to experiment. It was the only way we were ever going to make something of ourselves.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “It’s what your leaders told you to get what they wanted from you. They were terrible, selfish people.”

“They weren’t all bad,” Merche insists, crying faster. “Some were good and wanted better for us. Except the others killed them until they were the only ones left.”

“They?” I ask. “You said only Una was left.”

Merche is crying so hard she can barely speak. “They’reallUna. They combined and became one.”

I’m supposed to face my enemies with a poker face. If they don’t know what I’m thinking, they can’t anticipate my moves. I stay safe. I maintain control.

Maybe, in another few decades or so, I’ll master that ability instead of allowing every emotion I’m feeling to play across my face like a symphony.

Horror, disgust, and fear drain the warmth from my skin. I’m clutching my heart and bouncing back and forth. In my defense, I don’t run around in circles screaming like I very much want to.

“Okay,” I say. “How do I fit in? Why am I here?”

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