Page 27 of Practically Witches

As I take a spot in the back, a professor I’ve never seen before comes in. She puts her books on the desk and then walks around to the front. “Good morning, people.” The murmur of voices and movements quiets and she folds her arms and leans her ass against the desk. She’s a small woman—maybe five feet tall if her heels are four or five inches—and she has long red hair tied into a braid over her left shoulder. She’s wearing a green dress that is form fitting and could easily work if she’s headed to a party afterwork. It’s got rhinestones sewn in, and if I was one to criticize the garments worn by others, I would tell her that it’s a little too dressy for fifth-year Magic Theory.

Instead, I pull out a notebook and poise my pen for notetaking.

“I know that with everything going on and the attacks on witches, we’re all a little bit worried.” A little bit? She hadn’t seen that…woman. She doesn’t have a sister who’s been bled dry of the thing that makes her herself. “My name is Lilith Creighton. I am a master witch and I’m not afraid to say that I, too, am worried.”

She looks at the clock. “We’re going to discuss what you can all do to protect yourselves should you come into contact with a syphoner.”

A girl in the front—Marissa Morgenstern—raises her hand. “I thought the police weren’t willing to say it’s a syphoner.”

“Well, I’ve been around longer than the police have been working this case. And while syphoners aren’t common, they do exist.” Undoubtedly.

“Have you met one?” I ask the question not because I’m curious, but because I want to know where she gets her knowledge from.

She nods. “Yes. This was sometime ago, and the ‘legend’”—she uses air quotes—“of the syphoner was floating around after a couple of attacks.” She shakes her head. “It’s the eyes that draw a witch in. The power is in their eyes.” And she stares at me for a second before moving on with her story.

“I was walking at night near the beach and I came across a woman staggering; she’d been drained by a man who was twice her size in weight and he came chasing after her. I wanted to be brave and protect her…” She shrugged and looked away. “I wasn’t brave. I hid and watched him take her power, drain her. Kill her.”

“Oh.” It’s as if we’re having a conversation rather than a teacher-student interaction. “Was he caught?”

She shakes her head. “No. They know his signature, though. So that’s something.”

“Signature?” I watch CSI and all those crime shows, so I knowsignaturein that context, but I can’t figure how it means the same thing here. We all use the same spells, the same potion recipes, the same ingredients and chants and incantations.

She nods. “Every witch and wizard and sorcerer has a specific signature to their magic. It comes from their power source and it’s traceable, so if that signature turns up again, at least they’ll know.” That’s semi-useful information.

“The signature is what’s left behind?” I can’t help it. If someone else wants to talk, I’ll let them, but I have specific questions and I need to know how to help my sister.

She nods. “The tell-tale signs.”

I jot the wordsignatureinto my notebook, and more questions swirl in my mind. “So, in the world there are people who have magic in them and those who learn magic over their years, how to use it, anyway. Would someone who’s had their magic syphoned away be able to relearn magic?” Maybe it’s an option for Aimee.

“The evidence all points to no. When a syphoner takes magic, they take the inherent ability and all the power.” That isn’t what I want to hear. But I write it down in the exact words she said it. “Learned magic is a different kind. Still leaves a signature, but it’s not the same as what we can do.”

“And magic taken by a syphoner can only be returned ifthe syphoner is killed? Does it have to be killed by the person whose magic it stole?”

She shakes her head. “No. And all of the magic stolen will return, not just the last victim. A syphoner uses magic differently, but takes so much more than they need.” She shrugs. “To be honest, there’s very little known about syphoners and their abilities.”

At least I know for certain that if we find this syphoner and finish her, Aimee will get her power back.

I look at the teacher solemnly. “Why would a syphoner not be able to take a witch’s magic?”

The professor cocks her head and a veil of long red tresses falls over her shoulder. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of that.”

Well I have, and I want an answer. That syphoner looked at me, said I wasn’t likethe other one. But I am a witch, born to the same parents, live in the same house. We go to the same school and we take the same classes. She’s older and her magic is stronger, but mine couldn’t be taken. It has to mean something.

I wish I could make sense of it. More, I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish we would’ve never found the grimoire. It’s crazy to think that now because when we found it, I’d been so excited. And I felt connected to that damned book. But on the flip side of that I don’t know if by using the grimoire, or even just by opening it, we brought the syphoner back. We don’t know if she’s somehow connected to the magic in the grimoire or if the timing is just a coincidence, but Mom always says that there’s no such thing as coincidence.

Another thought pushes forward. If she’s connected to the grimoire and I felt a connection when we found it, does that mean I’m connected to her? Aimee said shedidn’t feel it, but for me, it had been like lightning, sharp and strong.

As I am about to ask another question, the intercom speaker behind the desk crackles and Dean Ryman’s voice warbles through. “Ladies and Gentlemen, under the current circumstances and with the danger surrounding students of the Institute,” he doesn’t say syphoner or even allude to it. He’s only willing to mentiondanger, “we are canceling classes for the remainder of the day so that a sweep of the building can be made and wards put in place.”

Wow. This is serious. In all the five years I’ve been a student, the Institute has never closed. Not for weather. Not for any reason. Certainly not for danger.

“The attacks have taken a more serious and frenzied nature than any in the past. It goes without saying that we expect students to shelter at their homes and not be out at the beaches or on the street. I cannot stress enough the importance of protecting the magic burning inside each of you.”

Sorry, big guy. This witch has plans for the day.

The sound of books closing and bags zipping open makes a dull murmur in the room, accompanied almost harmoniously by the sound of keys clacking as laptops are shut down. I have to head to my locker because I want to stuff my books in there.

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