Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Come on, Custard! Race ya’!”, Erica excitedly exclaimed as she burst from the yellow Citroen, shovel in hand. Feeling woefully challenged by his friend’s energetic head start, Custard stammered to grab his beach bucket and leapt from the car after her.

“Last one there is a rotten Zygon!”

Bella rolled down the driver side car window. “Don’t even think of getting in that ocean, you two! The water is too cold yet for swimming!”, she shouted after them as the two children ran towards the shore, blissfully unhindered by her warning. Rose smiled after them, watching their short legs sprint off as they laughed with glee.

“Come on, darlings. Let’s unpack the car. They’ve gotten a head start on us, already!” Rose winked at Bella, teasing her a bit. Bella was less than enthused to go to the beach, as she had gotten used to having a lack of fun outings in her life, but Rose reminded her of how much fun they used to have, back in the day. Some sunshine and ocean air would do them all good, she said.

“Well, I suppose I could use a trip to restock some salt water and mermaid’s purse…” Despite her reservations and curmudgeon-like behavior, Bella was off on her own, beach-combing for items once the blankets and chairs were set up.

“What do you want to do first, Custard, build a sand fortress or dig for pirate treasure?”

“Definitely treasure first. We can then use the moist sand for the castle.”

The children began digging and chattering while Mandrake resigned himself to one of the folding chairs. He couldn’t deny that the seashore, especially when this quiet, this early in the season, was an ideal place to lose himself in his reading. He looked up from his book and saw that Rose had joined the children in their quest for buried treasure. Dearwig seemed happy to have her mother’s assistance, even if she was just playing along. Yes, he thought to himself, coming to the seashore for the day was a good idea, and a much needed respite.

It had been six months since Rose had reunited with her family, and much had changed. A few more rooms had been added to the cottage at 13 Lime Avenue, including a sitting parlor and a dining room. Now that the family had grown a bit, there was no point in living like monks. Or, at least that was the way Rose had described it to Mandrake when she made the request of him.

Mandrake pondered this analogy. “There are four people living here now, including our child”, she said. After some thought, he decided perhaps Rose wasn’t completely off base. He had spent years living a rather monastic life: hiding behind his “sacred texts”, almost insisting on a vow of silence by avoiding conversation with his housemate, Bella, only to withdraw all day and night into one of his protective cloisters, as they were. Not to mention the celibacy, which Mandrake quickly pushed out of his mind, not wishing to dwell on the painful loneliness he felt during Rose’s absence. It was a good thing she returned when she did, he realized. Any longer, and he shuttered to think what might have become of him had they gone on like that for much longer. Now they all dined together each night, and even had a television in the sitting parlor, which Bella had bought for Erica as a special surprise for successfully mixing her first batch of good luck potions. The child showed promised, Bella told him, and one day would likely be able to start writing her own spells if she kept this up. Rose noted that their daughter had a ear for music and began teaching her how to play guitar. Mandrake was happy to discover that the girl could certainly flesh out an idea! She had been so helpful to his writing that he actually felt indebted to her. The success of his last book filled his need for recognition. What a fortuitous turn of events, having her come into their lives and bring such auspicious blessings. He barely recognized his life now, compared to those years in seclusion. He still wrote, and read and played music, and needed long stretches of undisturbed time, but he felt happier, and had a sense of purpose. And, most importantly, he was a lot less lonely.

Mandrake focused his attention on Rose. She was at the water’s edge, fetching water in a bucket, and calling to the children to come over and see what she had found. They ran over to her, excitedly, her own excitement being quite contagious. Mandrake marveled at her active parenting style, something for which he was not naturally inclined. Between Rose and Bella, Dearwig had the benefit of two mothers: one tough, the other tender. The witchling seemed to be flourishing under the guidance of all three of them, and they were all better for it. He couldn’t disagree that returning to the world of the living was helpful, even if he tended to be neglectful of this need. Rose reminded him, early on, that it would be good to get out again, visit the pubs and concert halls and hear what was happening in the music scene. “So much has changed, Mandrake!”, she said, coercing him with her infectious enthusiasm.

“Yes, my love, including fashion”, he replied, casting an exaggerated glance toward her outfit.  “Perhaps I should get the demons to fetch you something else to wear. Bell bottoms have been out of style for years now.”

Rose paused a moment, looking down at her clothing, and then started laughing.

“Is they why you won’t venture out with me? Because you don’t want to be seen with a fashion victim??” Mandrake smirked in response.

“Well, look at me,” he said. “I have a reputation to uphold.” They laughed together that his barb, and she wrapped her arms around him. But the truth behind this comment was far more unsettling and Mandrake was using humor and excuses to mask his concern. He grew increasingly worried that their previous entanglement with the Witches Council was not over. Sometimes he felt as though they were being watched. Rose would sometimes stir in her sleep, which was often fistful, as though she were running away from something. She would always deny any issue, come morning, claiming all was well. But Mandrake knew she was putting on a sunny disposition rather than admit something was wrong.

“You know I would do anything for you”, he said to her one night, as they lay together in bed.

“Yes, darling. I know…”

“I wouldn’t want you to think you couldn’t tell me something, if anything was upsetting you.”

“Of course, Mandrake.” A reassuring smile graced her lips as she looked at him.

For a moment, Mandrake couldn’t take his eyes off Rose, and instead gazed at her as her red hair glowed in the sunshine. She was wading in the water now, her pant legs rolled up to avoid getting wet, a plastic beach bucket in hand. But she may as well have been Queen of the Sea Fairies for all Mandrake cared, he was so enamored with her. Sometimes he almost pinched himself in an effort to remind himself that she was back, and they were together again, as it should have always been…He felt a devilish smile barely cross his lips as he looked forward to returning home later and retiring to his bed that night with Rose, and making up for all that lost time as a “monk”…

“I told those children not to venture into the water, and there’s Rose now splashing around in it, herself! No wonder that girl doesn’t listen to me half the time.” Mandrake found his thoughts abruptly disturbed. He looked to his left and saw Bella standing there having returned to their base camp with two buckets in tow. “Have you eaten lunch?”, she asked him.

“No, not yet. I believe Rose packed us some salmon salad sandwiches”, he replied, turning his attention back to his book. Before he could resume reading, however, the wizard spied Custard approaching them, just feet away. He was walking slowly and gingerly, carrying a bucket and looking inside. Bella looked up from the picnic lunch she was unpacking.

“What have you got there, boy?”, Bella asked him. Custard held out the bucket for Bella and Mandrake to peek inside. A small jellyfish gently bobbed, suspended in the bucket’s water.

“Miss Rose found it for us. It almost washed up on the beach.”

“Be careful of those, young man”, Mandrake advised. “Jellyfish can sting, some more painful than others.” Neither noticed as Erica approached the camp from behind…

“Oh, I know! I’ve read about them. But they are so cool, they look just like aliens,” the boy answered with wonderment.

“No wonder you are so fond of th~aaAAGH!!!”

Without warning, the Mandrake erupted into a furious and alarmed bellow, practically leaping out of his beach chair. Everyone turned to see Erica holding an empty bucket and staring with wide eyes at Mandrake’s very wet head. Mandrake fumed, his bespectacled eyes fixed on his daughter. Too angry to speak, his fingers gripped deeply into his book, now damp in his grasp. 

“GIRL, WHAT HAVE WE TOLD YOU ABOUT PLAYING PRANKS?!”, Bella roared into the child’s face.
“What’s all the noise about?”, Rose asked, as she approached the group. Spotting Mandrake’s drenched head and Erica’s cheeky expression and empty bucket in hand, she quickly concluded the events that had just transpired. “Oh, dear,” she mumbled, covering her mouth with her hand, attempting to stifle a giggle.

“How can you find this funny?!?”, Bella demanded.

“Oh, come now, it’s not that serious. Just a bit of fun…”, Erica’s mother stated in her daughter’s defense. Mandrake felt himself trembling with fury, his teeth clenched, a low growl growing in his throat.

“You know, Erica”, Bella said in a lowered voice. “There was a time when doing that to the Mandrake would have caused a very unfortunate reaction.”

“I wanted to see if the curse was indeed broken.” Erica stuck out her tongue in that impish manner she used whenever she attempted to explain away one of her mishaps.

“Well, there’s no harm done. Nothing a little reverse magic can’t fix…” With that statement, Rose raised her hand, making slow, gentle and deliberate motions toward Mandrake and the bucket. Slowly the water began to lift from the Mandrake’s soaked hair and clothing, gathering together like a stream, wafting through the air and purposefully landing back into Erica’s beach bucket.

“Whoa…”, Custard uttered with amazement. Mandrake shook himself off, clearly feeling better having been relieved of the cold wetness.

“Give me that, now,” Bella said curtly, as she promptly took the bucket from Erica’s grasp before the incident could repeat itself. “You’re very lucky no one was around just now to witness that,” she said pointedly to Rose.

“Come now, Bella, relax. Everything is fine,” Rose replied. Mandrake cautiously sat back in his chair, wishing to resume his reading and resentful of the childish intrusions that had recently disturbed him. As he opened the book again to find his last read page, he noticed a series of odd marks singed into the leather cover. He pondered this, knowing full well this book had no such marks before. Now, both the front and back covers had a row of what appeared to be burnt impressions that vaguely resembled…fingerprints..?

The family resumed their beach visit for the next few hours, devoid of further pranks, before packing up their belongings for the return trip home. As they placed chairs and blankets back into the yellow Citroen, Rose gathered the last items from their sandy encampment. She then stopped and paused a moment as she felt a strange and eerie sensation, as though she were being watched. She stopped in mid-step, slowly turning her head to look over her shoulder. Her eyes glanced from side to side, scanning the terrain. The beach appeared empty, however, despite the strong sensation Rose felt of not being alone. Mandrake was about the climb inside the car when he noticed Rose taking stock of her surroundings. He froze in place, watching her. Inhaling deeply, Rose looked forward again and resumed her journey toward the car. Bella started up the engine and Rose smiled as got into the front seat next to her, as if nothing felt wrong just now. She turned to face the children sitting in back, next to Mandrake. “Did you enjoy our little outing today?”, she asked them.

“Yes! I did!”, Custard answered. “I wish I could do things like this all the time.”

“That’s the great thing about having a family,” Erica lazily countered. “You should see about getting one for yourself, Custard. They can be great fun.” The Mandrake looked down at her with dubious suspicion.

“You used to say you never wanted a family! I’d like to find a family, but for some reason, no one ever chooses me,” replied Custard, a hint of sadness and confusion evident in his voice. Rose tilted her head, a look of sympathetic surprise on her face.

“Oh, who wouldn’t choose you??”, Rose asked in a voice oozing with motherly disbelief. Erica felt a bit of remorse for her friend and the hijinks she once encouraged to prevent herself and Custard from ever being adopted.

“Well, forget what I used to say…you know, on Visiting Days,” she said without any cheer in her voice. Rose looked at her daughter, then to her friend, considering these words, and wondered.

That night, Rose and Mandrake lay in their bed together, awaiting sleep to befall them. Rose’s mind raced however, unable to find peace. Despite the fact that each lay on their own side facing away from each other, the Mandrake could practically feel Rose’s brainwaves.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”, he asked from his side of the bed. Rose hesitated.

“Why do you assume something is wrong?’, she asked.

“I know you felt something today. At the seashore. I saw you, looking over your shoulder, as if searching for something.” He heard her emit an audible sigh.

“You’re right,” she offered reluctantly. “I did feel something today. I couldn’t shake the sensation that someone was watching us.” Mandrake quickly rolled over to face Rose.

“Why didn’t you tell me?? Have you felt this before?”, Mandrake asked, urgency in his voice.

“I wasn’t sure what to make of it before! I only felt it once or twice, I didn’t want to disturb you..”

“This is exactly the sort of thing with which you MUST disturb me!,” he boomed before collecting himself. “Thankfully, I’ve been taking precautions, shielding the house,” his voice quieter now. “I, too, have felt the same thing once in twice in recent weeks.” Rose sat up now to look at Mandrake squarely in the eye.

“And you never told me??”, she barbed back. Mandrake remained quiet for a moment.

“I was afraid that you,” Mandrake hesitated, “that you might…run away again.” Rose looked down, feeling dejected.

“You think I’m a coward, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that..,” Mandrake stressed his point.

“But you think it,” Rose reiterated. “I don’t need protection, and I’m not a coward.” She felt hurt by his lack of faith in her. “I told you I wouldn’t leave again, and I meant it.” Mandrake regretted this turn in the conversation. He had hoped this issue wouldn’t arise. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was closing in, that their happy days were limited, and that Rose might attempt to divert any threats away from the family by having herself become a running target once more. He tried again to reword his meaning.

“Rose”, he said softly, sitting up next to her. “A coward would never stand by and let their loved ones be in danger at their expense if they believed they could redirect the threat. I know you left before because you believed you were helping us. But I can’t stand by and watch my family be in danger, either, and not do anything to help.” Rose’s expression softened as he continued. “If there is danger, we must do something. You needn’t face this alone. Please, let me help you,” he pleaded, gently. She stared back at him, her eyes brimming with tears now and she nodded curtly, accepting his offer. He reached out his arms and pulled her close into an embrace, reassuring her that this was the best course.

Chapter Text

Just a few days after the family excursion to the seashore, the weather continued on a rare dry and warm streak. It was a clear testament that summer was once again around the corner. Erica and Custard walked home from school, relishing the warm spring afternoon.

“Do you want to go to the park for a bit?,” Erica asked her friend. Custard looked at her with skepticism.

“Don’t you usually have to go home and help Bella in her workshop?,” he asked.

“Don’t worry about that. I have Bella wrapped around my finger. I’ll chalk up some excuse to buy us a few hours when I return home. So, whattya’ say?” Erica seemed very sure of her ability to coax her witch mentor and was clearly excited at the prospect of playing at the park.

“I don’t know,” replied Custard rather sheepishly. “I was hoping to catch up on my reading today. I’m in the middle of Bradbury’s Illustrated Man and….”

“Hey, tossers!” An older boy on a bicycle rode up alongside the two children. “Off to have fun with your books again? It’s no wonder you have so few friends.” The boy had a snide and taunting leer on his face, clearly satisfied with his jab at the two best friends. Erica was taken aback at his smug attitude. Who did this knob think his was, anyway?

“Anyone who teases someone for reading should be careful who he calls a tosser,” Erica barbed back. “Perhaps if you actually read one, you’d have a shade more intelligence that you do.” The boy swerved his bicycle, perpendicular, in front of the pair, stopping short and blocking their path forward.

“Are you calling me stupid?,” he demanded, inches from Erica’s face.

“I’m not calling you anything. Stupid is as stupid does.” Erica stood her ground, arms crossed.

“Ericaaaa…”, Custard said in a low voice, wishing his friend to rein herself in. The boy shifted his attention to Custard.

“What’s the matter with you?,” he demanded. “Need your girlfriend to defend you?” Custard stared back, terrified, looking as if he wanted to tightly squeeze himself so small so as to disappear. Erica, on the other hand, had had enough of this nonsense.

“Move out of our way.” She stated, firmly.

“Make me,” the boy challenged. Without warning, the boy’s bicycle lurched sideways, hitting the ground with a jangled thud while he remained straddled on the seat. A look of shock colored his face and his eyes bulged at Erica. “You pushed me!,” he accused, loudly. Erica stood firmly in place.

“I didn’t lay a finger on you”, she said.

“Y-you did! You pushed me!”, the boy stammered, still on the ground. Custard began to feel less terrified.

“She did not!,” he shouted. “I’m a witness and she never put a hand on you or your bike!” The boy tried to right himself, upright, feeling miffed and bewildered, uncertain of what had just happened.

“But I might be tempted to push you if you don’t BUGGER OFF!”, Erica threatened with loud annoyance. The boy squinted at her sideways, clearly suspicious, but ready to pull back his horns for the moment. “Go on!,” Erica added for good measure. The boy then pedaled off down the road as they watched him go.

"That was Billy Bobsnell. He’s in year six!”, Custard said looking at Erica with worry and surprise.

“Well, why is he bothering us?", Erica countered.

“I don’t know,” he wondered. “But you did push him, didn't you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Not intentionally… I mean, I wished it, and it just… happened.”

“Erica,” Custard started, “I think you just used some magic.” His eyes were wide and as he was still flipping the possibility over in his mind. It was clear that neither of them were sure what to think. They conversed intensely as they walked, trying to comprehend what had transpired. Erica considered her friend’s theory. Had that been magic? Could she move things at will now? It had never happened before. She’s seen her parents and Bella move items on occasion, but it always seemed to be more calculated and intentional, like when her mother performed the reversal on the bucket water at the beach. But this was different. She had barely even conjured the thought in her mind, and it just…happened. Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling that someone was now on the sidewalk, trailing their steps. Erica swerved around quickly to reprimand the intruder.

“I told you to bugger off, Bill-,” Erica stopped mid word. She stared in awe at the empty road behind her. She could have sworn someone was there. She could practically feel their eyes on her back. Custard stopped and turned to look at his friend in confusion.

“What’s wrong?,” he asked, looking around and seeing nothing. Erica found herself at a loss for words.

“I-I, I thought..I could have sworn Billy, or someone, was behind us just now. Didn’t you…feel that, too?”

“I didn’t sense anything.”

“How odd…”, Erica spoke aloud to herself, still looking about at the quiet and empty road, aside from a delivery lorrie which turned and sputtered down a side street and was gone. They continued on, talking and walking so quickly they found themselves outside the cottage before they realized it. Erica suggested they go in for a snack. Custard accepted readily. Erica was pleased that he had finally become comfortable coming to the cottage in recent months, no longer afraid of the Mandrake. In fact, the pair seemed to have a special understanding, cemented by their mutual love of books.

The pair entered the cottage and found Rose sitting in the parlor with her guitar in hand, gently strumming several chords. A spread of papers lay before her on the coffee table. She stopped abruptly to grab a pencil and jot down some notes on the paper. Spying her daughter come in, Rose looked up momentarily from her work. “Home already, darlings? My, how the day has flown. How was school today?”, she asked, looking back at her notations.

“Just peachy,” Erica answered, flatly. Then, in a more quizzical voice,“What are you doing?”

“Trying to write some new songs. Your father is busy writing, and Bella is busy spell casting…I thought it best I should busy myself, too.” Erica’s ears perked up.

“Songs? As in, new Earwig songs?!?”, she asked with bright eyes. Rose attempted to tamp down her daughter’s excitement.

“I don’t know if I would claim that, just yet,” Rose answered. “But perhaps inspiration will strike in that direction.” Erica was intrigued. She was used to providing her father with inspiration, and if Erica was any judge, his work was much better for it! Perhaps her mother could use her help, also! After all, how different was writing a song from a story, really?

“Maybe we can help”, Erica offered. Rose looked at her daughter with a mixture of amusement and pride. Erica had never shown an interest in writing sings before, but she welcomed the opportunity to bond with her daughter.

“Well, first you need an idea,” Rose replied with mock seriousness. “You know, to determine what the song should be about.”

“Like murderers!?,” Erica asked with mischievous glee.

“Like Martians!?,” exclaimed Custard.

“Well, yes, certainly a song could be about those things, although I can’t think of too many…,” Rose countered delicately.

“How about witches?”, Erica asked.

“Oh, there have been many songs about witches!”, Rose said with delight. She paused a moment to think. “Here’s one of my favorites,” Rose directed the children, standing up from her sitting position. “Follow my lead.” She started humming a few bars to set the correct note, then began singing a verse.

“Raven hair and ruby lips

Sparks fly from her fingertips

Echoed voices in the night

She’s a restless spirit on an endless flight”

The two children watched with a mixture of amusement and fascination as Rose seemed to be performing a show tune rather than a rock song. She now began the chorus.

“Woo hoo, witchy woman

See how high she flies…now you, just like that!”, she beckoned to them to mimic her. The children glanced at each other in embarrassment and responded to Rose with a meek rendition.

‘Come on, don’t be bashful,” Rose replied, “that’s half-hearted at best!”

“It feels kind of silly,” Erica said.

“Don’t knock it, I used to do this for a living. Come on, Woo hoo….” Rose started singly again. Erica seemed willing to put her fear of foolishness aside for a moment and sung back with more gusto, as all three of them sang the chorus together.

“Woo hoo, witchy woman

See how high she flies

Woo hoo, witchy woman

She got the moon in her eyes”

The children seemed to forget their reservations now and sat watching Rose give her casual “center stage” performance in the middle of the sitting room. Genuine enjoyment played on their now cheerful faces. As Rose finished the last verse and chorus, with Erica and Custard’s backup vocals, she spun around once with her arms extended and with a spooky flourish. She smiled and winked at them and they laughed in return.

“That was a good song! Will Earwig record that one??,” Erica asked, excitedly. Rose looked a little dejected.

“I’m afraid that song has already been recorded, darling”, she answered wistfully. “By another band, in another place, in another time…,” Rose’s voice faded. Erica noticed that her mother seemed almost mournful upon uttering these words, as if longing for a past that was long gone. Custard sensed the drop in mood envelop the room and thanked Rose for the tune, but insisted he needed to return home to his reading.

“So long, love!,” Rose called after Custard as Erica escorted him out the front door. When Erica returned, her mother looked at her, pointedly. “Erica. Custard seems so bewildered recently about not having yet been adopted. I’ll admit, it seems odd, so adorable as he is. Would you know anything about that?”, she asked. Erica clasped her hands behind her back and cast her eyes downward, examining the floor boards. Rose walked over to the girl and stood before her. She gently titled Erica’s chin to look her square in the eye. “Hmmmm?” Erica looked sheepish, averting her mother’s intent stare, not wanting to admit to having an influence in the matter. But one couldn’t deny, Erica had never wanted herself or Custard to be adopted and it had taken great mental focus to avert such a fate. Until it didn’t work on Bella, that is.

“Well,” offered Erica, “perhaps there’s still a bit of magic floating about from my days at St. Morvald’s home…” Rose raised an eyebrow at her daughter, causing her to feel flustered. “Well, if he gets adopted into a family I might never see him again!”, Erica blurted aloud.

“That may not be true, darling. Even if he moves away you could still have visits,” Rose countered.

“Not very often! It wouldn’t the same…,” Erica look completely downtrodden at the prospect of losing such close contact with her best friend. “I know I ask for a lot of things,” she furthered in a low voice, “but keeping Custard close is one of the few things I want that actually matter. I’d trade all the fancy things in my room if it meant I could still keep Custard with me.” Rose felt her heart tug at her daughter’s heartfelt admission. Indeed, she knew how hard it was to separate from your best friend, not knowing their fate or future. She didn’t wish for her child to experience this kind of hurtful separation, even if it might be an important life lesson and was sometimes unavoidable. But, Rose considered, what would be the value in having the ability to use magic if you couldn’t bend it to your desires? She certainly couldn’t fault her daughter’s natural inclination to shape her reality when she’d done it herself, many times, and even instructed Erica to do so many years ago, in so many words…

“…and the rest is up to you.”

“I see. Well, I can’t place blame on your magical talents…,” Rose replied. Erica perked up upon hearing her mother’s words, suddenly remembering the events of that afternoon.

“Mum?”

“Yes, love?”

“How come my magic isn’t anything like your’s? I’ve seen you transform objects and move things without touching them…why can’t I do anything like that?” Erica was genuinely puzzled that her abilities seem to be limited to that of influencing people to her whims. Rose smiled at her daughter’s confusion.

“Any day now, my darling. Your abilities will start to reveal themselves soon, now that you’re getting older. It’s just one of those things that require us to be patient until they become known to us in their own good time.”

“I think they may have started revealing themselves…”, Erica ventured.

“Oh? What happened?”, Rose asked.

“A boy in year six followed us on the way home from school today. He was on a bicycle and wouldn’t let us to pass. He was being such a bother that I wished him out of our way and he just fell over in front of us! I didn’t touch him, but he fell with such force that he believed I pushed him. I didn’t, I swear it!” Rose calmly listened to her daughter recount the incident, and nodded in understanding.

“It could be that you willed it with your mind. But be careful and keep watch for any more of those moments. It’s best if such things don’t happen in full view of others. Most people wouldn’t understand our gifts. When I was your age, I once toppled over the entire dinner trolley full of dishes coming out of the kitchen because I didn’t like the meal that day. The matron was very upset with me. She’d somehow assumed it was me even though I never laid a finger on it. Made me wash all the dishes for a week after that. I still don’t like meat loaf to this very day, just thinking about it.”

“Something strange happened after that,” Erica continued. Rose returned her attention to her daughter. “As Custard and I kept walking, I suddenly felt as though someone was behind us, following us, watching us, listening to us speak. But when I turned around, no one was there…” Erica saw her mother’s face assume a serious expression. Rose stared hard and direct at Erica. She leaned low and close to her daughter, grabbing her by the upper arms and looking into her eyes.

“Was that the first time you’ve felt that?”, Rose asked her.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure now? You’ve never felt that ever before?” Erica felt unnerved by her mother’s uncharacteristic intensity.

“N-No. Never. I swear it. What does it mean?,” she asked. Rose stood upright and looked to the side, as if she could see through the walls to the Mandrake in the library. Then, in another sudden shift, her face changed again, now smiling. Erica knew this was a false sense of cheerfulness and wondered what her mother was hiding. But for now she would play along.

“Probably nothing. We should start preparing for dinner soon,” Rose directed as a diversion. Erica slowly began to leave the room, watching her mother suspiciously. She made her way to her room, peeking around the corner once more to see her mother continue down the hall and stop to pass through the door to the library.

Erica returned back to her room and flopped onto her bed. She stared at the ceiling and thought about what her mother had told her about her powers, and her strange reaction afterwards. She also thought about what her mother said about Custard. Yes….Custard. Maybe her old powers were still unhindered by these new ones now developing. Maybe………………………Maybe she could influence this situation in a way that would favor her and Custard both! All she had to do was plant the seed of suggestion…

*****

Rose entered the dark, cavernous library, guided by the tinny sound of typewriter keys tapping out a message from across the large study hall. She could see the Mandrake’s frame hunched over his desk, illuminated by the kerosene lamp nearby. She paused a moment, hesitating to disturb him, when she remembered, just a few days prior, his insistence that she do exactly that.

“Mandrake?”, she called out to him gently so as not to startle him.

“Hmmmm?” Mandrake murmured back, still focused on his typing.

“There something you need to know. It’s important.” Mandrake stopped typing and turned in his chair to face her.

“What’s wrong?’, he asked.

“It’s Erica. She just told me that she just experienced that feeling I had at the beach. On her way home from school. She said she felt like someone was following right behind her.” Mandrake could see the concern in Rose’s eyes. “I’m worried,” she said. “Do you suppose it could be…” Rose’s voice trailed off, almost unwilling to say the words out loud. “Do you suppose it’s the Witches Council? Could they be watching us?” Mandrake put his finger to his chin for a moment, pondering the possibilities. He shut his eyes in deep thought before thinking aloud.

“It’s likely that they are using remote viewing”, he noted more to himself than to Rose.

“It’s a wonder Bella hasn’t felt this yet. We’d better let her know. It’s only a matter of time before they come around and reveal themselves.”, Rose muttered, visibly unnerved.

“I’ve placed an enchantment on the cottage for the time being. It should buy us a little time”, Mandrake reassured her. “But I think it’s time we started taking proactive measures. What do you know of defensive spells?” Rose stared back at him, perturbed.

“Me?? Absolutely nothing. I’m self-taught, remember?,” she reminded him. “What little I know, I learned to hone on my own, and with some help from you and Bella.” Mandrake contemplated this, remembering what a freshly naive witch Rose had been when he had first met her many years ago, so young as she was, having left St. Morvald’s home only a few years earlier.

“Right. Well, we should consult Bella on this matter,” he suggested. “We need to be prepared.”

“We should also place some protective charms on the children!”, Rose suggested.

“Children?”, Mandrake asked, quizzically at her use of the plural.

“Erica, of course, and Custard! What if they try to use him to get to her, or any of us? He’s become like part of the family. Wouldn’t you agree?”, Rose asked.

“Hm. I suppose…,” he responded. But before Mandrake could say more, Rose promoted this idea even further.

“I think we should adopt him. He needs a family. I would be good for both of them and we can protect him under our care.” Rose offered this suggestion in earnest. She appeared deeply concerned for the small boy.

“But a non-magical child in a house and family such as this….do you think it wise?,” Mandrake pressed.

“We could train him in ways that could be useful in having a liaison with the non-magical world. Besides”, Rose’s voice grew low, “it’s not like you and I can have any more children of our own.” Mandrake was struck by Rose’s comment, who appeared almost resentful, but said nothing to indicate his shock. Indeed, he had given this subject little thought after the reunion of Rose and their child. He’d not thought about what trials may lay ahead for them as a family, for violating witch law.

“I’ll consider it,” he answered.

Chapter Text

“Come on, darling old friend,” Rose beamed at her housemate from across the kitchen table. “This would be a great idea…” Her eyes seemed to glimmer and twinkle with bewitching confidence. Bella knew Rose was likely working her magic on her, as she spoke. She could practically feel her nose tingle. The Mandrake sat silently watching Bella’s reaction to this master plan. Clearly he had already given his consent, for this would be too brazen a request to make without his permission, even for Rose.

“I don’t know…,” Bella replied, trying to avert the effects of Rose’s persuasive skills.

“What harm could come of it?”, Rose asked. Bella looked at her pointedly now.

“Famous last words!”, came her retort. Rose resigned herself to this statement, sighing aloud.

“Touché”, she said. “But you’ve grown fond of Custard, as well, I know you have.” Bella’s eyes widened.

“Fond would be an overstatement!” This remark was largely to save face, however, for she did not wish to admit that she had grown fond of Erica and Custard in recent months. But Rose wasn’t fooled.

“Parenting suits you better than you realize, Bella. From what I understand, things were getting pretty grim before you took Erica under your wing.” Bella stiffened with a bit of bravado. She turned to look at her other housemate.

“Mandrake, what say you? Do you think this is really such a good idea?”, Bella asked. Mandrake seemed to ponder this further, bringing his hand to his chin.

“Hm. I think it could be beneficial to mentor a non-magical child. We could train him to be a human familiar, of sorts”, he reflected. Bella considered this.

“Well, if we are being watched, as you both claim, then trouble could be on the horizon. We would be able to better watch and protect them here.”

“Exactly my thinking!”, Rose affirmed with enthusiasm. Now, she only needed to let the two children in question in on this plan. She called her daughter into the kitchen.

Fortunately, the adults discovered that Erica was over the moon with the proposal. Her face beamed and her eyes grew large. She clasped her hands together as though she were already hatching plans for what the two of them would accomplish as siblings. Erica was positively bursting at the seams when she and her mother told Custard of this idea. The young boy seemed a bit unnerved at first, wary of growing up in the bewitched cottage. After all, visiting was one thing, but living there? Despite his progress in overcoming his initial fears of Bella and especially Mandrake, he wasn’t sure he was ready to commit to being under their parental charge. But Rose and Erica both gazed at him with what felt like a soft caress and a peaceful sense of calm washed over him.

“Just think, Custard,” Erica spoke with a smile and a tender voice, “we can be best mates and family. And, you can have access to Mandrake’s library whenever you want…” The blond-haired boy felt his heart fall into agreement.

“Alright,”, he answered.

The next day, Bella and Mandrake once again posed as a married couple and paid a visit to the matron of St. Morvald’s home, who was relieved to see another of the older children finally join a family of their own. Erica seemed reasonably happy with the eccentric couple, despite her resistance at first, and so it didn’t take long to close the deal. All things seemed to be going according to Rose’s plan, and she instructed Mandrake to create a spare room for the family’s newest member. The witches were proud to show Custard the decor they had tailored just for him.

“Look, Custard! There’s a model of the Starship Enterprise I found, just for you,” Erica beamed. The model hung on a string from the ceiling over a desk with a lamp. A bed was across the room with a colorful bedspread and map of the solar system was painted on the wall. Most importantly, a bookcase stood against the wall, ready for Custard to fill with his favorite science fiction novels. He felt his eyes almost tear up in disbelief. It had been so long since he’d had a room of his own.

“Thank you,” he whispered back.

****

The Mandrake sat at his desk in the library, attempting to work on his latest manuscript. He had stared at the same three sentences for the past hour, completely uncertain of what to type next. He wondered where Dearwig was at this moment when he needed her most. He then remembered that she was likely welcoming Custard to the house, as her excitement was felt throughout the house. Mandrake exhaled heavily through his nose in annoyance. Dearwig was always ready with an inspired suggestion when he most needed it, and he felt himself in dire need of her services now. Perhaps a stream of conscience exercise would help get his creative juices flowing, he thought to himself. He quickly began typing, allowing his thoughts to break free of weight from his mind:

The children found themselves running. The girl screamed after the boy, as he was grabbed by an invisible force that swept him off his feet, carrying him far away. The girl lost sight of her brother. The girl was alone. A black cloud engulfed her as she spun around quickly in all directions, attempting to make sense of her surroundings. Meanwhile, the children’s parents were forced to watch as their children were at the mercy of a force greater than themselves. They could only hear their children screaming in terror and confusion.

Mandrake stared at the words typed on the paper before him, rereading them several times. He felt a tremor on the back of his neck as he realized the meaning of the passage he had just written. He felt his temper begin to rise and he lashed out his hand to quickly grab at the paper in an effort to pull it from the machine’s roller. As his hand came in contact with the paper, a flame burst forth from his gesture, igniting the paper with a bright flash. Mandrake was startled at this, confusion overtaking his senses. He grabbed a cup of tea that sat on the desk beside him, long gone cold, and threw it at the burning paper. It smoldered a moment longer before succumbing to the moisture. Mandrake now stared at his charred literary efforts. Had he done this? Was it possible that some remnant  of the curse still remained? He looked over at the oil lamp illuminating his workspace. He reached over, gently turning the dial to extinguish the flame, shrouding the library in darkness. Mandrake stared at the lamp and concentrated.

Nothing.

He focused on his intent, attempting to ignite the lamp. Still nothing happened. He gestured his hand toward the lamp, willing it to light, but the wick remained dark. Unable to prove his hypothesis, Mandrake exhaled aloud again with a mixture of disappointment and frustration, and lightly thumped his fist on the desktop. With that, a flame shot up from the lamp’s wick in a flash, and reduced its power just as quickly, almost disappearing. Mandrake drew himself closer to the lamp to better inspect what had occurred, noting a tiny flame now alight in the lamp. He extinguished the lamp and tried again, repeating his attempts until he was able to ignite the lamp three more times. Feeling his vigor renewed, Mandrake silently summoned his favorite demon. With a quick spin and turn, a small voice called out to him.

“You summoned me, Master. I’m here to serve.”

“Bring me candles”, he directed, “lots of them.”

Chapter Text

“What have been your findings on the Lime Avenue family, Chamberlain? Please give your report to the Council.” An assembly of twelve elderly women sat in an enclave, their seats perched on an elevated landing that permitted them to have a superior vantage point. A younger, middle-edged man with long black hair and simple attire stood at a podium with parchment paper in hand. He cleared his throat, preparing his voice to address the gathering.

“Your Esteemed High Mages, I have been observing this group of witches for the last several weeks upon your instruction. I can confirm that the witch in question has indeed resurfaced and is taking residence at 13 Lime Avenue in Cotswold.” The women appeared to be taking notes from their seats. One of them glanced up to ask for further clarification.

“This would be the fugitive known as Rose Scarlet, is that correct?”

“That is correct, High Mistress”, continued the man. “This residence is also home to Durwald Mandrake and Bella Yaga, both known to the Council.”

“Mmm,” she reflected on this a moment. “Continue.”

“Most notably is that two minors also currently reside at this address.” The council witch looked up to now glare pointedly at the man. “Erica Wigg, age eight, was taken into parental custody by Yaga and Mandrake one year ago from a St. Morvald’s Home for Children, also in Cotswold. This child is actually the biological daughter of Mandrake and Scarlet.”

“And what of the other child?”

“As of three days ago, a male child was granted adoption to Yaga and Mandrake by the same orphanage, a boy by the name of Charles Presnick, known to friends by the nickname, ‘Custard’, also age eight.”

A second elderly council witch now spoke. “This is an unexpected turn of events. Is there any indication that this boy is magical?”, she asked with a puzzled look of her face.

“None whatsoever, High Mistress.” The witches appeared to ponder this a moment.

“And what of the girl?,” the second witch spoke again. “Is she magically inclined?”

“Yes, High Mistress. From all observed instances thus far, there are indications that she appears to have inherited some abilities from her parents.” A third council witch now spoke.

“Judging from this child’s age, she could soon be exhibiting a strong increase in her magical aptitude. This could prove to be a problem.”

“Her very existence is a problem!”, barked another council witch to her peers. “Lest we forget: this child was born of a union between a highborn wizard and lowborn witch of non-magical parentage. A linage like this is forbidden, as we all know very well.” The witch then directed her question to the reporting wizard.

“How did she end up in the orphanage?”

“It would appear that Scarlet left her infant daughter hiding in plain sight at the children’s home, as it were, when she was only a few months of age, before making her own whereabouts unknown to the Council, thereafter.”

“Has there been any information as to how the fugitive managed to elude authorities during her absence?,” asked the first council witch.

“Nothing conclusive, as of yet, High Mistress,” responded the dark-haired wizard.

“The child should be removed from that home!”, said the irate third council witch.

“Now, sisters. We mustn’t be rash,” reminded a fourth council witch to the assembly. “We have had dealings with the father in this case, years ago.”

“Speaking of the father,” another council witch, interjected, “what of the curse?”

The chamberlain wasn’t sure how to answer this question, but tried his best to answer upon his best assumption, not willing to displease the council.

“It is difficult to say for certain, High Mistress, as this wizard is very reclusive. It is possible that the curse may still be intact, although given that the child’s mother has returned and is currently living with him and their child it..is…possible…”

‘That the wizard is no longer paying the punishment for his transgressions…”, said the third witch, finishing the chamberlain’s sentence with annoyance in her voice. “Well, this is a fine predicament,” she said, rolling her eyes. The witch’s sarcasm and irritation were apparent. 

“Clearly this family has little regard for witch law and have taken liberties to promote their own interests once too often,” commented the first council witch. “But since so little is known regarding the details of their actions, I recommend that we continue to monitor them closely. If anything new transpires, or if they engage in any further violations of law, you are to notify this Council immediately.”

“Yes, High Mistress.”

“That is all for today. This Council is adjourned.”

****

The Mandrake stood in the great hall of the library. Dozens of candles in various heights and thicknesses were arranged before him. Bella and Rose stood awaiting his explanation for summoning them. Bella was noticeably on edge.

”Mandraaake….”, she ventured, “what need would warrant so many uncovered candles in the library…?” She could just imagine all the collection’s valuable stacks going up in flames, lost forever.

“That’s why I called you both here,” he answered. “It would appear that I’ve made a discovery, something I have no recollection of having prior.” They both looked a bit puzzled. “Observe”, he stated, matter of factly. He raised a hand before him at arm’s length, hovering  several inches above one of the cold candles. He appeared to concentrate a moment when very slowly, the candle began to smolder and ignite. Neither of the witches seemed very impressed. After all, lighting candles wasn’t that difficult or unusual. The wizard then swiftly swept his arm over a row of candles, sending them all into a bright glow. The flames then began to grow and intensify as he focused his attention on them further. Soon, some of the wax from the candles was seen dripping rapidly as the flames grew, puddling on the tables and floor.

“Be careful, darling,” Rose said with a smirk, “we don’t want to have a major fire on our hands.”

“That’s just it,” Mandrake replied, lowering his hands and extinguishing the flames in unison. He then turned one of his large palms upward. A tiny flame arose from its center. “It would seem I can control it.” The tiny flame grew larger and became a round orb, radiating heat and blazing around the edges. Mandrake seemed unfazed by the fire and its heat, the orb’s glow reflecting in the lenses of his spectacles. Now the witches appeared impressed, their eyes growing wider. None of them had possessed this ability before.

“Pyrokinesis,” Bella breathed in astonishment. She’d heard the stories of witches who could control the elements, but had never known any in her lifetime. In fact, elemental magic, like most forms of high magic, had been deemed unlawful by the Witches Council. The Twelve Witches, themselves, were exempt from this ruling, while they required average witches and wizards to fall in line with the demands of their regulations. Simply put, such magic was forbidden, and if it was discovered that one possessed such higher order skills, they were required to register their ability with the Council’s Magistrate. In this way, the Council could then keep tabs on the magical practices of its members. Anyone who violated this law could expect a swift punishment.

“Where do you suppose it came from?,” Bella asked, in awe.

“And why now?,” Rose added.

“I can’t say for sure,” the Mandrake started, “but I believe it may be some residual effects left over from the Council’s curse.” Rose found this mildly humorous.

“So the crones curse you with a transformation spell…,” the redhead began.

“…one with dangerous, fiery characteristics…,” Bella continued.

“…and some of its effects still linger in the form of fire control,” Mandrake concluded, nodding his head once, in conclusion. He closed his fist, tamping out the last of the flames as he did so. Rose could no longer contain her amusement.

“Bloody brilliant,” she surmised with a smile. Bella, however, was not so amused. The blue-haired witch had a look of terror on her face.

“If the Council ever found out…!”, she said. Rose abruptly interrupted her.

“The Council will never find out”, she answered sternly, “because we aren’t going to tell them!” Bella looked like she’d been struck in the face, and she turned to look at Mandrake, her eyes wide. But Mandrake was resolute in this idea, as well. If they were indeed being watched by the Council, the family of witches would need whatever defenses they could muster.

Meanwhile, on the front lawn, Erica and Custard sat reading their latest novels. Thomas lay in a sunny patch of grass next to them. It was a pleasant and warm day and Mandrake had sent the children and the cat out of doors while he conferred with Rose and Bella. This was done as a precaution, as he didn’t want them in the house while he displayed his pyrokinetic abilities to Bella and Rose. His skills were simply too freshly uncovered for him to be confident that he wouldn’t burn something down, even in a house fully governed by witchcraft. It was simply too great a risk to take. Luckily, the children went out without argument.

“What do you suppose they’re discussing in there?”, asked Custard. Erica did not look up from her book. Thomas continued napping.

“Who knows. Probably some boring grown-up stuff.” Custard detected a hint of resentment in Erica’s voice.

“Do they do this often?”, Custard prompted further.

“Ask us to go outside while they discuss big, important things? No.” Custard considered Erica’s words. He found himself unable to quench his curiosity.

“Do you think they’ll tell us eventually?,” he asked. Erica felt her patience growing thin. She sighed heavily before giving an answer.

“I don’t know, Custard. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I don’t really want to think about it!” Thomas now peaked one eye open and peered at Erica, noting the annoyance in her voice.

“They’re talking about magic,” he said.

“What kind of magic?”, Erica asked. Custard looked over at Erica and Thomas. All he heard was the sound of meowing, but he’d been to this house long enough to know that Thomas was no ordinary cat.

“The kind that could burn down this entire house,” the cat responded.

“Fire magic??”, Erica asked. Thomas nodded once, in the affirmative.

“What’s he saying?”, Custard asked. Erica paused a moment to think before responding.

“He said that the adults are discussing fire magic…and that it could burn down the house…” Erica’s words faded as she appeared to consider this carefully. Custard felt his skin grow cold, recalling how he had lost his birth parents, resulting in his living at the orphanage. Would a fire claim his new parents as well, now that he had finally been chosen by a family??? His eyes stared wide into the blades of grass as a wave of panic rippled through his chest. Erica was too lost in her own thoughts to notice this change in her friend, now brother.

Would this fire magic, as Thomas called it, be different from the sort that Mandrake used to display when disturbed during his cursed ‘dragon days’? What if the curse was not truly broken? Or worse, what if it was back??

Chapter Text

Mandrake and Bella sat in the library at one of the large, oak study tables, piles of spellbooks stacked in front of them. Mandrake’s form hunched over one of the oversized, yellowed volumes, his large hands flipping through the crisp, dry pages. Bella could feel his growing annoyance.

“A spell to win first prize in a bake-off? A spell to induce a fit of hour-long hiccups? A spell to cure sneezing??,” Mandrake asked in disgust. “What is this drivel? Where are the real spells?!?,” he demanded. “Spells of defense, combat and confrontation?” Bella glanced over the book in her own hands, shooting him a look of smug irritation.

“They aren’t permitted by the Council. And don’t knock that sneezing spell. It’s one of my best sellers, come allergy season.” Mandrake looked at Bella in disbelief.

“What do you mean they’re not permitted?”, he asked. “How are witches and wizards supposed to defend themselves against magical injustice? Some problems are greater than winning dog contests!”

“The Council decreed against the use of such spells many years ago”, said Bella, “presumably in an effort to gain favor among the ‘non-magicals’. I suppose they figured that since witches are no longer burned at the stake they wanted to keep the peace by not attracting anyone’s ire.” Mandrake continued staring at Bella through his thick glasses.

“I understand that fulfilling the public’s requests, however trifling, makes for good public relations,” said Mandrake. “But how are we supposed to use our abilities to protect ourselves?” His expression held an odd mixture of fury and helplessness. Bella tapped her finely manicured fingernails on the table top. She seemed nervous, unsure of whether to speak for fear they would be overheard. Her eyes shifted from side to side, momentarily, before finally working up the nerve to speak.

“There are books available…”, she began. “If one knows where to look.” An expression of inspiration slowly crossed Mandrake’s frowning face.

“Perhaps I could send the demons in search of what we need,” he said. “They could retrieve the sacred spell books for us!” Bella closed her eyes and shook her head.

“That won’t work,” she answered. “Such books are traced and tracked, magically, by the Council.”

“Well, there must be some workaround! Someone must possess some of these books in secret,” said Mandrake, “outside of the Council’s knowledge. You said, yourself, one only need to know where to look.” He was unwilling to give up easily. Bella glanced over her shoulder, although it seemed unnecessary, given they were in the privacy of their own home.

“My family still has such books in their possession,” she muttered in a conspiratorial tone.

“Why are you whispering?”, Mandrake asked directly, with a touch of impatience. Bella caught herself and sat a little higher in her chair.

“One cannot be too careful, Mandrake. You, as well as anyone, should know that things aren’t always what they seem,” she answered. “I suggest we pay a visit to my relatives. My great aunt is very skilled in all the old magical ways. If anyone can teach us these spells, it’ll be her. I haven’t seen her in years, but I can let her know of our situation.” Finally, the Mandrake’s frown appeared a little less dour, but no less intense.

“Let her know straight away!”, he instructed with a curt nod of his head. “We can be ready as soon as she is.”

*****

“We’re going on a trip?!?”, Erica asked, excitedly, with a broad smile and bright eyes. The family sat at the dinner table as Bella and Mandrake explained the plan.

“This should be interesting,” Rose said matter-of-factly. “Bella’s family are descendants of none other than the infamous witch, Baba Yaga.” Custard stopped his fork midair towards his mouth upon hearing this information. Despite his love of science fiction, even he was familiar with the tales of the notorious hag. Erica, however, looked as though she was about to burst.

“REALLY??”, she exclaimed. “Are the stories about her true?!” Custard waited with baited breathe for her answer. Bella didn’t flinch, but rather continued to carefully cut her roast beef with her knife. She looked down at the children with lowered eyelids and a stone face.

“Tales are greatly exaggerated,” was all she said. Custard exhaled with come relief, while Erica sighed in disappointment.

Within two days, Bella and Mandrake had arranged for their growing brood to be whisked away to Eastern Europe to pay a visit to the current matriarch of the Yaga clan. Each of the adults had prepared a necessity before the family’s departure. Rose had magically secured Erica and Custard’s absence from school. They couldn’t risk anyone snooping around, inquiring about the children’s truancy. Mandrake had charged his demon familiars with minding the cottage and giving the illusion of residents dwelling within. An empty house would only alert the Council that the family had disappeared and would begin seeking their whereabouts. Bella gave each family member an enchanted shoulder bag that allowed them to pack a few essentials without the need for suitcases. They needed to travel light and inconspicuously, especially with a long teleportation across the continent. The group then convened in the garage where the yellow Citroen now stood quietly, waiting for passengers.

“Get yourselves ready, darlings,” Rose called out to the family. “We teleport in a few minutes.”

“I don’t understand why we don’t just take the car. It has enough room for all of us in a pinch,” Erica said.

“No, love. We’re traveling to a foreign country. We would look too obvious. Besides, it’s best to travel light when making a quiet getaway,” her mother replied. Bella made low snort of disbelief which caught Erica’s immediate attention. Erica was very good at observing people. Sometimes she made a grand show of her notice, while other times she was sly and discrete, so as not to draw any attention to her noticing. She looked at Bella, who looked at Rose with an expression that resided somewhere on the vast landscape between scathing disapproval and playful jest.

‘You would know all about that,’ she quipped. Rose simply stared back at Bella. If she was offended by Bella’s remark, she didn’t let on about it. The Mandrake, however, was even less obvious in his reaction, but Erica could sense a discomfort from him upon Bella’s remark. His back stiffened, he stood a little taller, his face tightened into a deeper frown and his face appeared to darken with discontent. Rose broke her stare and turned her attention to the children.

“Alright, loves, you know what to expect, yeah? It’ll feel like a rushing rollercoaster…,” she told them.

“I…I’ve never been on a rollercoaster…,” Custard said nervously with some embarrassment.

“Don’t be such a baby, Custard. Think of it as a new adventure!,” Erica countered. Custard did not feel reassured.

“I’m not a baby!”, he said, angrily. Rose put her hand on the young boy’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t worry, little man, it’ll be over in a flash. Just squeeze your eyes tight and when you open them, we’ll have arrived.” She gave him a smile and a wink and he felt better, if a bit still uneasy. “Alright everyone, gather round!”, she called.

The group stood in a circle wearing their jackets and shoulder bags strapped across their chests. Rose had shown Erica how to take a scarf and wrap it into something resembling a papoose which she wore on her body with Thomas tucked inside.

“I was hoping for a holiday from you lot,” he muttered to Erica, grumpily, “and catch up on my sleep.”

Rose stood in the center of the circle with her hands held up before her. She slowly began to turn on the spot where she stood, facing each family member, one at a time.

“What’s she doing?”, Erica whispered to Bella.

“Cloaking spell,” Bella answered, “to hide our movements from being detected.”

Rose continued turning in slow motion, deep in concentration, until she had turned a full 360 degrees. She then took her own place within the circle.

“The spell is now in effect,” she said. “Now join hands.” They each took hands, some nervously holding their breath and clenching their hands within those of another.

With a whoosh and in an instant, the group was gone….and relocated to a remote wooded landscape within the Slavic forests of Eastern Europe. They each took a moment to regain themselves, some bent over lost in a sensation of motion sickness, others looking momentarily disoriented, staring at their surroundings from all directions. A peculiar house stood in the clearing before them. Erica stood staring at the house. Familiar with the legendary tales of Bella’s famous ancestor, she half-expected to see something more twisted and foreboding. There were no skulls around the home’s perimeter. The house did not stand upon any giant chicken legs, at least none that she could see. In fact, by all accounts, one could say it appeared rather charming and quaint. Flower boxes adorned the circular shaped windows and the stonework was clean and well-maintained. Erica could see an aura of colors surrounding the small house, and she knew instinctively that something about it was not quite as is appeared. It reminded her of when she laid eyes on her father for the first time.

Rose looked down at her children. “Everything alright, loves?,” she asked. “How did you both fare on your first teleport travel?” Custard was sitting on the ground with his head between his knees. He looked up at Rose as if he’d just been sick.

“F-fine,” he gasped. She gently rubbed his back with her hand, reassuring him that the sensation would pass. Erica was too lost in her observations to answer her mother’s inquiry, countering it with one of her own.

“Mum?”, she asked. “What are these colors swirling around this house?”

Rose glanced at the cottage and back to her daughter.

“You can see that, can you?”, she asked. “That’s the magic within this house. Not everyone can see enchantments and magical disguises, you know. It could be one of your magical gifts,” she beamed.

The group collected themselves and headed for the front door with Bella leading the way. She rapped a rhythmic pattern on the door with her bend forefinger. The door slowly opened on its own, to allow the guests to enter. A voice called out from inside.

“Come in, girl!”

Bella led the group through the cottage’s door, and immediately the house felt at least three times larger once inside then it appeared from outdoors. The rooms were all connected in an open plan and the ceilings were higher than expected. Erica struggled to absorb what her eyes saw with so many curiosities competing for her attention. Objects appeared to move on their own, enchanted to fulfill household chores. Erica stepped aside gingerly as a broom scurried around her as it made its way across the floor. She tugged on Bella’s sleeve in awe.

“Why can’t we use this kind of magic to keep the shop clean??”, she asked with shocked annoyance. Bella jerked her arm away from the child’s grasp.

“Never mind that!”, Bella admonished. She looked around the room, searching for the home’s owner. “Auntie?,” she called out. A small, stout elderly figure stepped into the center of the room. She was covered in all manner of jewelry and had a colorful linen shawl draped over her shoulders. Her white hair was tied into a long braid that hung down her back.

“Bella, dear”, she said, a tinge of curtness in her voice. “It’s been a long time since you’ve darkened my doorstep.” Bella seemed embarrassed for having been called out.

“Yes, well. You know how it is!”, Bella stammered. “I didn’t want to intrude upon you…”

“You mean like what you’re doing now?,” the old woman countered. Bella knitted her eyebrows, her cheeks growing warm.

“I wouldn’t have come unless it was urgent…”, Bella began.

“Of course it is, don’t be ridiculous! This is was family is for,” the woman said. “Now, who are all these people you’ve brought with you?” She appeared to be enjoying teasing her great niece with a harsh disposition that Erica could tell, from her own experience with Bella, was more antagonistic than truly intended.

“These are my friends, Rose and Mandrake, and these are their children,” Bella began, before turning to the group. “Everyone, this is my great aunt, Brutta Yaga.” The elderly witch stepped closer to Erica and Custard, almost as if she were trying to sniff their scent. She directed her attention toward Custard, coming close to his face.

“This boy…”, she started, turning to look at Rose in disbelief. “You birthed a non-magical child?”

“Oh, no, Custard is our adopted child,” Rose clarified, for the crone’s benefit.

“I see…,” Brutta said with a tone of deep consideration in her voice. “Well, let’s show you all to your rooms and we’ll reconvene in the sitting room. We have much to discuss.”

Chapter Text

Brutta led the family into a sitting room that reminded Erica of a gypsy’s parlor. The furniture was old and ornate, dark and covered with rich textiles and beads. But it was large, larger than one would assume from the outside, and in the center sat a large, round wooden dining table surrounded by many chairs. Erica leaned into Custard’s ear and whispered in a mischievous tone from behind her hand.

“Look, Custard! I’ll bet they're planning to conduct a seance. Talking with ghosts and dead spirits! Wouldn’t that be exciting?” She slyly looked at the boy from narrowed eyelids, knowing this would set him on edge, unable to resist the enjoyment she derived from teasing the boy. Too nervous in new surroundings to respond, he simply gritted his teeth and shivered with raised shoulders, a look of annoyance on his expression.

“Everyone, please sit down and we’ll start,” instructed Brutta. “Bella tells me there have been some troubles in your lives, of late. It will be necessary for me to do some readings first, to better understand the situation. Before we start, would anyone care for some tea?”, she asked, looking at her guests. Mandrake guffawed lightly as everyone began taking their seats.

“I do hope you don’t intend to read our tea leaves…”, he remarked with a touch of cockiness in his voice, lowering his large frame into a small wooden chair.

“Oh, no,” Brutta responded as if the question needed no asking, dismissively waving her hand in Mandrake’s direction. “We’ll be using cards.” The old witch took a stack of cards from a nearby tabouret and placed them in the middle of the round table. Mandrake wasn’t sure this option was any less absurd and sighed with resignation.

“In that case”, he answered, “I’ll take a cup.”

Tea sounded lovely to everyone, and Brutta waved a hand with a flourish in the direction of the room’s corner where a tea service cart stood waiting. Erica watched as cups and saucers lifted from the cart as if dancing through the air of their own accord and began settling themselves in front of each guest. A softly steaming ceramic teapot then slowly drifted its way to the table and began pouring tea into each cup. Custard held his breath as it did so, hoping the hot liquid wouldn’t somehow end up in his lap. Erica finally broke her stunned silence.

“Do you have demons helping you in this house?”, she asked.

“What, dear? Demons, you say?”, Brutta asked, in obvious confusion.

“Yes,” Erica replied. “Mr. Mandrake has demon helpers who fetch us things.” The old witch simply stared at the witchling in confusion.

“She’s referring to my familiars,” Mandrake clarified.

“Ah, I see! No,” the witch answered reassuringly. “I have no need of familiars. Now who wants sugar?”

“You mean you’re making all this happen on your own?”, Erica asked in disbelief. “By your own power??” A tiny spoon and sugar bowl now made the rounds, pausing before each person. Rose stared in awe at the waiting spoon and slowly raised two fingers to indicate how many spoonfuls she desired. The spoon responded in kind before moving on to Bella’s cup.

“Of course, my dear,” answered Brutta. “Such is the basis of all magic: the ability to influence one’s surroundings.” Brutta looked at her great niece. “It’s a good thing you brought them to see me…”, she said as if to make a point.

Rose and Mandrake exchanged looks with each other, feeling hopeful that they had made the right decision in coming here, after all.

Once the tea was served, Brutta prepared to read by setting the atmosphere.

She waved her hand lightly over a candle in the center of the table which responded by setting itself alight. “Now, let’s see what we have here, shall we?”, Brutta asked rhetorically. The witch began shuffling and cutting the cards several times before finally coming to rest. Erica wondered why the old witch didn’t magically shuffle and cut that cards. That would have been cool…

Brutta turned over the first card in the deck. Erica noticed the card was upside down.

“The Heirophant reversed”, Brutta said. “Someone wanted to break free of conventional norms and orthodoxy, to challenge authority…” She glanced around the table at each of her adult guests. Rose looked down at the tabletop, her face flushing slightly. Brutta took note and looked closely at Rose, attuning herself to the redheaded witch for a moment. Brutta then flipped the next card which depicted a woman bound and surrounded by a barrier of swords.

“The 8 of swords.” Brutta looked at Rose. “You felt trapped in a hopeless situation as a result of your actions.” The next card was turned over.

“The Lovers. A choice was made, one that affected a close relationship.” Brutta now glanced at Mandrake, who appeared stoic and unwilling to reveal any visible physical clues.

“The 6 of swords. A long journey, an escape from current problems.” Brutta looked at Rose again, whose face now appeared tight. “You tried to escape your previous actions by running away…” Brutta’s attention had now returned to the cards. She appeared more closely focused upon the cards as she unraveled the story as it was revealed to her with each picture.

“The 10 of cups reversed.” Another upside down card, Erica noted. This one depicted a happy family. “Disconnection and isolation. Estrangement from loved ones, including…children.” Brutta looked at Erica, seeing the events of the cards as they happened in the lives of each of her guests. Brutta now began to fully understand the situation, but there were still more cards to turn over.

“The 6 of cups. Reunion and rekindled relationships, but only after a passage of time.” Brutta stared at the cards, but Erica noted a hint of approval in her voice.

“The 7 of swords. Someone is spying on you, attempting to gain information to use against you.” Brutta’s brows knitted in concern. This confirmation prompted worry from Rose and she could no longer hold back her questions.

“What will come of this spying?”, Rose asked. “What do they plan to do to us?” Brutta flipped over the final card. Erica’s eyes widened. Similar to the Lovers card, a picture of a man and woman were depicted. But this time they were bound in chains.

“The Devil,” answered Brutta in response to Rose’s question. “Imprisonment.” Audible gasps and soft exclamations were heard, although it was not clear from whom. A barb of fear pierced through Erica, but she also felt a fear that was not her own. With so many people in the room, she wasn’t sure into whose emotions she was tuning. The witchling looked into the faces of those sitting around the table. Brutta had an expression that appeared full of pity and concern rather than fear. But the others all looked terrified, with exception of the Mandrake. He did not seem afraid. He seemed downright angry. So angry, in fact, that his large hands gripped the edge of the round, wooden table as steam began to roll off his shoulders. The table and its ceramic contents began trembling under his grip as all eyes turned in horror to see the huge wizard look as if he were about to burst into flame. Erica watched intently. A vision began to emerge before her eyes, one that she had not had in almost a year. The Mandrake appeared to grow large and looming. He looked so tall that his head almost grazed the ceiling. His hands appeared to burst into flames and his head was surrounded by a fiery glow. But the vision soon vanished just as quickly as it appeared, visible only to Erica’s eyes. For some time now, she had secretly wondered whether her father's transformation curse had truly been broken by her mother, months earlier. It seemed a shame to lose such an amazing ability, even if it did isolate him from others. Still. Besides, what kind of wimpy curse could be broken by something as cliche as a true love’s kiss?? It had to be ruse! And here was Mandrake, looking very much as he did on Christmas Eve when her mother walked into the kitchen and back into their lives for the first time in years.

“It’s alright, darling…”, Rose cooed softly in an attempt to calm him down. “We’re safe here. Let’s not panic…right now…not yet.” The Mandrake seemed to inhale once very deeply and release his grip on the table, but not before Erica noticed the singe marks left behind on the wood’s surface where his hands had been.

Understanding the scope of the situation more clearly, Brutta held out her hands before her, as if presenting a sacrifice on an altar. She breathed in deeply, as if searching for answers from the cosmos. She inhaled deeply several times. The witnesses at the table waited on baited breath to hear the next pronouncement.

After a few moments, she spoke. “You are all in grave danger”, she announced.  Everyone sitting at the table tensed at this announcement. The witch almost sobbed at this statement. “You must prepare. You must train yourselves. You must be ready, for they are looking for each of you, and they will demand a price be paid.” Each of the adults now exchanged glances.

“Can you help us?”, Bella looked at her old aunt with a forlorn look in her eyes. Erica knew it took a great deal of humility for Bella to ask for help in this manner, especially from another witch. Brutta paused a moment, looking at her hands. She then exhaled and spoke in low voice.

“I must contemplate this situation more. I’ll give you my answer shortly.” The old witch looked at the children and their parents. “Please finish the rest of your tea and excuse me while I discuss things with Bella. Come along, girl. I have need of a few words with you.” Brutta gestured to Bella to join her in leaving the parlor and the two witches walked toward another room in the rear of the house. Once inside, Brutta raised a hand in a slow motion toward the door.

“You’re casting a sound proofing charm?”, Bella asked her aunt in disbelief. “I hardly think that’s necessary…”

“Little pitchers have big ears, my dear, regardless of what you may think.”

Bella softly snorted in agreement to this point. “Well, the girl can certainly be a snoop, that’s true…”

“Bella, who are these people to you?”, Brutta bluntly interrupted Bella’s line of thought.

“I told you who they are,” Bella responded, sounding a tad confused.

“Those two clearly have some sort of family they’ve created together, but I fail to understand how you fit into this arrangement of their’s.”

“It’s…complicated,” Bella answered with a tone even she did not find completely convincing. Brutta’s brows knit as she squinted her eyes to look closely at her grand niece. She paused a moment before speaking again, as if she was watching Bella’s whole life unfold inside some inner vision she was having. Bella couldn’t help but feel vulnerable in the face of such scrutiny, however silent.

“You know what they say about third wheels, don’t you? They will never open their bond to allow you into whatever relationship they have, not completely anyway.” Brutta fell quiet for a moment. “But I suspect you already know this.”

Bella sighed deeply and sadly.

“Yes, I know.”

“Then why endanger yourself for them??”, Brutta pleaded. “From what I just saw in those cards, they have gotten themselves into very deep waters. Defying witch law? Having children outside of blood purity?”, Brutta shook her head. “I had no idea that witch laws were so backward in your country…,” she said, her disapproval evident in her voice.

“But they are my friends,” Bella answered, not making eye contact with her great aunt. “More than friends, actually. They have become my family.”

“Are they?,” Brutta pressed with skepticism. “Are they even who you think they are??” This question actually struck Bella as both odd and disturbing.

“Why? Have you seen something?,” Bella asked with a growing sense of urgency. “If you know something, tell me, woman!” Brutta appeared taken aback at Bella’s tone of voice.

“Mind your place, girl. That witch in there disappeared to live as a fugitive, leaving the rest of you behind, didn’t she? How do you know she won’t up and leave again when the threat returns? And what has that wizard ever done for you to deserve your loyalty?? From what I saw, you’d been living with a great deal of fear and misery on his account.” Brutta paused to allow Bella a chance to retort, but Bella remained quiet, looking out the window, deep in thought. “You could have told me about it, you know”, Brutta continued now with a softer voice. “I know we are distant family, but we are family, nonetheless.” Bella didn’t have a good excuse for this, other than the fact that she was not the sort to make a dramatic display of her feelings or problems. It was true that she was deeply hurt by the actions of both Rose and Mandrake, but those times were past and beyond them now, certainly. Weren’t they? Sometimes Bella did wonder where she fit into this new familial arrangement Rose and Mandrake had established in recent months. Even the little lad seemed to be a better fit than she.

“Are you in love?,” Brutta asked bluntly, after a silence. Bella felt her face grow hot at this question, so often had she tried to push these types of feelings deep into the background so as not to deal with them.

“It’s complicated…”, was all she could muster, still looking out the window.

“Well,” Brutta started, “I suggest you figure out what would best serve YOU, my dear. You are an intelligent and skillful witch, and one such as yourself should not waste themselves on lesser pursuits. You are a Yaga, after all. Don’t forget that.” Bella pulled her gaze from the window now and turned her head to look at her great aunt. She nodded her head once to indicate this message was received and would be given careful consideration.

“They still need your help, Aunt. They are still my friends. And the children…”, Bella felt her heart uncharacteristically pull at these words. “They need your help. More than I can give them.” Brutta’s expression softened at Bella’s request and admission, and she returned the nod.

“Very well. We’ll start training tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Bella sat on the edge of a guest room bed in her great aunt’s house. The room was airy and softly colored, filled with lacy trim and gauzy textiles that Bella found revolting. But the summer morning was warm, and she felt the gentle breeze blowing in through the open window that was cranked widely outward while she remained still, sitting in deep thought like a statue in repose. Her aunt’s words the day before had struck Bella like a ringing buzz in her ear that she couldn’t shake.

“Are you in love??,” Aunt Brutta had asked her, more as an accusation than a question.

Love. What did any of them know of love really, Bella wondered. She had hardened her heart long ago. She wasn’t about to let anyone make a fool of her again, nor would anyone be allowed to abuse her trust. After all, she had trusted Rose, long ago, and had been burned severely. Bella recalled the early days, and how she had given everything she had on offer to Rose and Mandrake when they first met. The trio became almost inseparable, minus Mandrake’s need for periodic solitude. Even in those days, he could be seclusive. “He’s a creative genius, Bella,” Rose would say as a means of excuse. “You know how these genius types ‘need space for their process’.” Rose would smile, making air quotations with her fingers before tossing her hair dismissively. Evidently putting up with the Mandrake’s idiosyncrasies was just par for the course. And put up with it, they did. Despite this, Bella watched Rose and Mandrake fall in love and had even chastised Rose for engaging in such behavior with a bandmate. She knew that romantic entanglements among band members had a way leading to an eventual, and often early, demise of a group. Passion and camaraderie were usually replaced by bitterness and resentment. Bella believed Rose was endangering the band just as things were starting to getting under way.

“For hell’s sake, girl, look at you! You can have your pick of any bloke you want! Why go make designs on the Mandrake?”, Bella demanded of Rose when she learned of Rose’s ardor. “I doubt he even knows what to make of your attentions, awkward as he is…”

“I happen to fancy a challenge,” Rose answered with coquettish confidence. “He’ll come around”, she added. “You’ll see.” With that, Rose winked at Bella and sauntered off. Bella remembered feeling an odd mixture of disgust and envy. For a while, she teased the young witch and wizard about their budding romance, often peppering their moments of closeness with mischief-making. But Rose never took Bella seriously and Bella could never stay annoyed or angry with Rose for very long, because Rose had a way of always making Bella forget her offenses. It was just the way Rose was, and Bella was not immune to her charms. Mandrake was aloof, Bella was dour, and Rose was, well, Rose was Rose. She was quick to laugh, had a playful, spirited nature, and had a much lighter vibration compared to either herself or the Mandrake. She was vivacious and stunning and people were drawn to her. Like magic…Bella thought to herself. Whenever Rose took to the stage, Bella could sense that everyone in the audience was smitten with her, she was that captivating. For a long while, Bella was unsure of what this ability was. She theorized that Rose might have a magical talent for glamour: beguiling everyone who came into contact with her. But it was more than this, as Bella soon witnessed how Rose could turn any situation to her advantage and successfully control the outcome. The redheaded witch would speak in calm, short and deliberate sentences until the person was entranced enough to fall in line with her request. Persuasion: that’s her talent, Bella concluded. Everything else about Rose only bolstered people’s desire to do her bidding. But where did that leave herself and the Mandrake? Had she used her charms on them, as well?? Bella often wondered this, but she didn’t dare ask Rose. Because Rose likely never would have suspected the impact she had on Bella. The blue-haired witch found herself wishing she could be like Rose, envious of her charms, desirous of her charisma. But this did not last long. Bella vowed to herself that she would toughen up, and fast. If she was going to share a spotlight with the likes of Rose and Mandrake, both of whom had a physically compelling stage presence, then she would have to thicken her skin. She would stand proud in her accomplishments and abilities from that day on. No more coveting Rose’s attentions in the background. She was also encouraged by the revelation that while many wanted to be near Rose, Bella actually was. This made her feel a certain smug satisfaction that she was privy to an intimate proximity to Rose that many could only dream of having. This made Bella feel protective of her fellow witch, and even a little possessive, if she was being honest. But Bella didn’t care. Rose was the closest friend she’s ever had, and the only person who could make her laugh and smile with easy abandon no matter how ornery she was feeling.

Unlike the Mandrake, who was familiar with magical society, Rose was new to her abilities. She was born into obscurity and had no prior exposure to other magical people. Meeting Bella made her gush and marvel over Bella’s potions and magical manipulations. When Bella first demonstrated a transfiguration spell that turned a single strand of hair into a cluster of writhing worms Rose was beside herself.

“That’s brilliant, Bella! You’re brillant!’, the redhead exclaimed. “You must teach me how it’s done. Please, say you will!,” Rose begged with excitement while reaching out to touch Bella’s hands. Bella couldn’t help but feel recognized and flattered. Coupled with the fact that she was also older than Rose made her feel sophisticated and worldly, especially compared to the younger, less experienced Rose. Mandrake also took special notice of Bella’s skills, and she began to extend her protectiveness to him, as well. Rose was beautiful and hypnotic, while Mandrake was mysterious and masterful. Bella now found herself drawn to both of them, and her protectiveness soon developed into an intense and fierce loyalty. Bella made a second vow that she would never be responsible for breaking up their band. The band, and her relationship with her bandmates, had brought something into Bella’s life that she knew couldn’t be easily replicated: kinship. Bella knew she needed to be resilient, to be the glue that would hold this ship together, in the event that everything went tits up. Little did she realize how sticky that glue would be, and how this bond would continue to hold years down the line.

And what of bitterness and resentment?, Bella asked herself. She huffed with a sour smirk on her face. How did that hold up? Bella knew that she was nothing if not the very definition of the terms. In her efforts to not be disappointed, she carried the weight of disappointment around herself like a shield. She would be a no-nonsense, force with which to be reckoned, aye. But had it been worth it? When Rose left, Bella felt betrayed and heartbroken. When Mandrake blamed her for Rose’s absence and secluded himself almost permanently, she felt abandoned and accursed. What an abysmal state her life had become.

A knock rapped on her bedroom door, interrupting Bella’s thoughts. “Yes? What is it?”, she called out. The door creaked open and Erica peered inside the room.

“Hey, Bella, come down and get some breakfast!”, Erica requested with glee. “Your Auntie is going to start teaching us all magic today!” Bella quickly sniffed and jerked her head back. Enough of this self-pity. There was work to be done and no time to waste on whatever grievances had washed downstream.

“Yes, yes, girl! I’m on my way,” Bella said as a means of admonishing the child. “What have I told you about knocking first before entering?” She walked towards the door and began her exit with Erica at her side.

‘But Bella, I did knock…” The two disappeared into the hallway and toward the kitchen.

*******

Brutta Yaga had gathered her guests into the backyard, behind the house. Although, Erica noted, it was less a backyard and more along the lines of a clearing in the woods near to where the house stood. Erica and Custard were instructed to watch closely, but to not interfere. “Your lessons will begin soon enough, young ones,” Brutta told them, “but I have something important to impart on your elders first.” She then stood before Bella, Rose and Mandrake and proceeded to school them.

“The first thing you must understand about higher magic, is how to manifest it. As magically-inclined people, you have the gift within yourselves, but it is as a piece of fine stone waiting for a sculptor to carve it into its full potential. Wielding magic requires one to harness the earth’s energies, which requires feeling that energy and visualizing it into fruition.

“Easier said than done”, Rose muttered.

“Indeed,” Brutta replied. “The key is to tap into your energy, for that is the very power that drives your magic.” Rose could only cross her brows in response. None of this was making any sense. Brutta elaborated. “Think of all the events in your life that have had the greatest impact, for good or ill. How did they make you feel?,” she asked rhetorically. “Your emotions are the first step to manifesting your abilities.” Brutta picked up a small stone from the ground and held it in her closed fist. Her face grew stern and she tightened her grip on the stone wrapped by her fingers. “Take that power and direct it into your intentions, whatever they may be.” With that, Brutta appeared serene, immediately relaxed, and released her grip in mid-air, allowing a tiny bird to fly from her grasp. Erica was clearly impressed, as evidenced by her soft gasp followed by an even softer exhale. Her face delighted at the sight of something so lovely and unexpected.

“Now! The first order of business, is to determine what your elemental abilities are. Every witch and wizard has an innate skill in one of the four nature elements, those being air, fire, earth and water. In order to determine which is yours, it will be necessary to conduct a test. Brutta turned to face the Mandrake.

“I believe we already know your element, sir, if the incident during the card reading was any indication…” Mandrake’s brow furrowed deeply and his cheeks grew pink. “There’s no need to feel ashamed of your element or how it manifests! Fire is a very powerful and useful element to have…”

“…and equally destructive…”, Mandrake finished the old crone’s statement while glancing out of the corner of his eye toward Bella for a brief moment. As powerful as his fiery disposition could be, it was also not something he relished any longer. He no longer wished to delight in scaring others for disturbing his preferences, and looked back on his past behavior with considerable shame. In fact, he found the whole ordeal rather embarrassing, in hindsight. Brutta fixed her gaze on him a moment longer, squinting as if to get a better look.

“I see”, she said at last, still looking intently at Mandrake, who had the feeling that the old witch had just looked deeply into his soul, despite the brevity of the moment. “You prefer to present yourself to the world as disinterested and aloof,” she started, “but there is a hot temperament in you, strong and fierce. You feel everything very deeply, both the frustrations and the raptures. You are far more passionate that you let on, I think.” There was an awed tone to Brutta’s voice as she made this last statement aloud, and Mandrake’s face responded by turning deep red, furrowed and frowned. He appeared flustered, as if wishing the earth would open up and swallow him whole at that very moment. He then caught himself and within a few strides, stood before the much smaller old witch, hovering over her like a menacing gargoyle high upon a cathedral wall. An intensively private person, he did not appreciate this intrusion into his innermost self, and he certainly didn’t want it aired before present company.

“Be cautious, woman,” Mandrake said. “I didn’t come here to have you or anyone else pry into my thoughts or affairs…” The old witch didn’t threaten easily, however.

“Be cautious, yourself, wizard, if you know what’s good for you”, Brutta responded with a finger pointed toward the giant man. “There are those who will pry into your ‘thoughts and affairs’ far worse than I, and unlike I, will have ill intent for doing so!”

“Mandrake, remember why we’re here,” Rose pleaded softly. The giant wizard appeared to ease off then, his normal color returning to his face. Brutta softened her approach.

“There is no shame in strong feelings, Mr. Mandrake, that is why your element manifests so readily for you. But you must learn to control it, so as to use it to your benefit! Yes?” Brutta smiled, for she could see her words resonate with the wizard. “Only then can you effectively protect yourself and your family.” Mandrake stared at the old witch, pondering her words. He glanced around to see everyone watching him intently. He looked back at Brutta and nodded once in curt agreement.

“Very well”, he said. “Point taken.”

Feeling the situation with Mandrake to be under hand, Brutta turned her attention to Rose. “Now, my dear”, she said. “You are another matter entirely.” Rose was unsure of what to expect when the old witch’s eyes looked upon her. She had already gleaned considerable information from the card reading, and feeling the crone’s disapproval, was not in the mood for any mind games.

“What do you want to know?”, Rose asked with forthright confidence. “I’ll tell you what whatever you wish, I have nothing to hide.”

“No secrets, then?”, Brutta pressed.

“None whatsoever,” Rose replied.

“I’m glad to hear it”, Brutta said. “Of course, if you’re lying, I’ll know.” A slight smile appeared on the old witch’s lips.

“Yes”, Rose countered, returning the smile, “I don’t doubt it.” This one was more than she had bargained for, Brutta thought. She had a air of waifishness about her, but she was strong in countenance. She was magical, Brutta was certain, but not nearly as much as the wizard.

“What is your family name?”, Brutta asked.

“My surname is Scarlet,” Rose answered. Brutta did not recognize the name, but names did not always transcend borders.

“Was your family magical?”, Brutta asked, although she already sensed the answer and was asking more as a way of testing the young witch. Rose spoke calmly, but with a degree of remorse in her voice.

“I can’t say, I’m afraid,” Rose replied. “I was left in an orphanage.” Erica watched her mother closely, feeling a fleeting twinge of pain.

“No one ever adopted you, took you into their care?”, Brutta was skeptical.

“I didn’t want to be adopted,” Rose replied with more brassiness than the answer required. “I took great care to ensure that it wouldn’t happen.” Erica’s eyes were glued to mother, listening intently, and hearing her own experience at the children’s home mirrored back at her.

“You realized you could influence others around you from an early age,” Brutta replied, her voice sounding more slow and thoughtful. “I see. So you never had an sort of magical training growing up?”

‘No,” Rose glanced down before returning her gaze to the old witch. “Not before meeting Bella and Mandrake.” Rose briefly turned her head to look at Bella and smiled. “They taught me a few things,” she finished with a wink. Bella returned Rose’s smile.

Brutta watched Rose, piecing the young witch’s life events together with this new information. She surmised that Rose was likely born of non-magical parents, who abandoned her out of fear, when she began exhibiting signs of her abilities. How loathsome, Brutta thought, as she kept this revelation to herself.

“More’s the pity of it,” Brutta said in conclusion, gently shaking her head. “Well,” she said, redirecting the inquiry, “let’s see if we can reveal your element.”

Everyone seemed to perk up in anticipation, having no idea what this would entail. Brutta stood before Rose and fixed her eyes upon her. “I want you focus on something that makes you feel very angry. Conjure the strongest emotions you can muster.” Rose laughed mildly, tossing her head lightly.

“But I don’t have anything that makes me angry,” Rose responded.

“Come now, my dear. Everyone has something that makes them angry. Do you not rage at the thought of your parents leaving you in an orphanage, out of fear and contempt for who you are?,” Brutta prodded. But Rose only responded by looking down at the ground, and Brutta immediately knew that this filled Rose with sorrow, not anger, which was not exactly the feeling that would prove the most useful here. Brutta looked at Erica and Custard sitting nearby, watching them and was inspired to take another approach. “What about those who threaten your children’s safety? Do their laws not seem unfair? Does it not anger you to think about all the troubles your Witch Council has brought upon you??” Rose looked visibly uncomfortable, shifting her glances to the children, but once again Brutta could see she had taken another wrong turn. Instead of anger, she detected fear in Rose, and while fear was another strong emotion, it was also debilitating to magical manifestation. Brutta rubbed her fingers across her forehead, as if hoping to force a better idea into her mind.

Bella exchanged looks with Mandrake and they both felt some sympathy for this situation, for they knew Rose better than anyone. Anger and ill-temperament were easy for them, as they had had many years to dwell upon their disappointments. But Rose had always been an antidote to their furies, a calm port in the midst of a tempestuous storm. She was the cool, calm and collected one, the one who never allowed her emotions to get the better of her. She could take almost any situation and laugh about it and somehow, get the likes of Bella and Mandrake to laugh and smile along with her. It was this very dynamic that allowed the trio to function as successfully as they did. But it was also this very quality that could impede Rose’s progress from developing into a truly strong witch.

Erica did not know all of the details of the lives of the adults in her life, but she could sense that Bella and Mandrake were concerned. She understood Aunt Brutta’s efforts and could see that her ideas were not producing the desired effect. The little witchling decided to give this effort a whirl.

“Mum?,” Erica asked, “remember that time I snuck your guitar into school after enchanting it with Bella’s Virtuoso Potion so I could play it like a pro and show off to my mates and I got all the strings tangled into a big wiry mess?”

“I remember that,” Custard said, matter-of-fact.

Her mother paused for a moment to recollect the incident before letting her head tip back in an eruption of laughter. “Oh, that was a wretched day! I spent hours cutting all those wires apart and restringing that instrument,” Rose bemoaned, playfully. “You’re not to go near that guitar again, you hear?” Erica looked flatly at her mother. Oh sure, laugh about it now, she thought.

“She didn’t laugh about it when it happened…,” Erica muttered to Custard out of the corner of her mouth. She looked up at Bella with a helpless expression on her face and shrugged. It was then that Bella was struck with an idea. Perhaps she could raise Rose’s ire around a subject that she knew would have an emotional impact on her friend. I’ll probably wind up in hellfire for this, but something needs to be done, Bella thought.

“Rose”, Bella started. “I know you told my aunt that you don’t have any secrets, but I can’t claim the same.” Both Brutta and Rose looked at Bella blankly, awaiting for whatever news this was the caveat. “There’s something I’ve never told you, but I should have.”

“Well. I’m sure whatever it is, you had good reason for keeping it discreet,” Rose offered as means of understanding. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand. We’re old friends, after all…” Bella swallowed hard upon hearing those words from Rose, knowing this would only make the fallout even worse. Bella exhaled long and deep and clenched her fists. She stared up at the sky for a moment, willing some courage into her veins. Everyone watched, waiting to hear this long held secret news.

“Well? Spit it out, girl!,” Brutta ordered. Bella then blurted out a statement that was as agitated as her nerves.

“The Mandrake and I…..are married!”

Chapter Text

For a moment, it felt as if the entire world had come to a complete standstill. Everyone was completely quiet with their eyes agape at Bella. Rose stood staring at her friend, unsure of what she had just heard. But it was Custard, of all people, who broke the silence.

“You’re what??”, he blurt out. Erica immediately stopped herself from bursting into nervous laughter by tightly covering her mouth with both hands. She had to hand it to Bella. This was brilliant, even for her. Shrewd, but well played. Erica watched her mother, who had a look of confused terror on her face. Rose glanced back and forth between Bella and Mandrake, as if hoping one of them would indicate this was all a big joke. Her father looked utterly gobsmacked, as he stared at Bella in shock and disbelief, his lips parted in a dumbfounded response. Erica had to admit, this was not an expression she could ever recall seeing on his face before.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re married’??”, Rose finally asked, staring at Bella, directly, who then tried to look anywhere other than at Rose and Mandrake.

“We…got married. Many years ago”, Bella slowly spoke these words, almost not believing them, herself.

“When?”, Rose’s voice was stern and direct. Bella paused a moment, as though she had no wish to divulge any more.

“About a year…after you left.”

Rose turned to look at Mandrake now. “It this true??” Mandrake turned his surprised eyes from Bella and now looked at Rose. His face then crumbled into a deep and furious frown and he turned away from them both, emitting a grumpy exhale as he went. He stood there with his back to the two witches, his hands pushed deep into his pant pockets, stooping over with his shoulders high in defense.

“I can’t believe it…I just can’t,” Rose muttered in a low voice to herself, in disbelief. Brutta, who had remained silent until now, continued to watch Rose carefully.

“How does this news make you feel, dear?,” Brutta asked. “I imagine you must be quite…angry…?” Erica noticed a slight smirk on the crone’s face, as if she was goading Rose into a reaction. She then felt incredibly sorry for her mother, who looked as if she had just experienced the biggest betrayal of her life. Rose seemed disconnected from the group, and as Erica focused on her mother, she could sense her confusion. Rose pushed her hands into her thick curly hair, gripping her scalp, looking exasperated.

“I don’t understand any of this”, she finally sobbed. Erica could feel the emotional tension of the three adults in question, as if a weight had been dropped upon them. Bella felt empathy and guilt watching Rose fluster like this. But she could see this wasn’t going to be enough, as Rose’s anger was not escalating in the way she had hoped. She took a deep inhale and steeled herself, trying to recall some of her own painful grudges to act upon as fuel for what she was about to do next. Knowing full well this could cause a permanent fracture to her friendship with Rose, Bella dealt the final blow…

“Well, perhaps if you had stayed, none of this would have happened.” Bella’s voice was laced with scathing venom and she waited for Rose’s response. The air held a pregnant pause for what felt like an eternity, until….

BOOM!

A crack of thunder was heard directly above their heads, startling everyone present. Within seconds, a dark cloud formed overhead and a heavy rain began to fall.

“Quickly, children! Everyone! Back to the house before you get too wet!,” Brutta called out. She then picked up a long twig from the ground and turned it into an umbrella, which she popped opened and passed to Rose before going back to the house with the others. “Don’t stay out here too long, my dear,” she advised the redheaded witch, who continued to stand in the midst of the pouring rain, unwilling to move.

The family watched her from inside the house, feeling an assortment of emotions on Rose’s behalf. Bella could not help by experience the most profound sense of irony and deja vu, watching Rose standing under that umbrella as the rain poured down. It was like a perverse reversal of that night, when Bella found herself standing under an umbrella. She recalled how the rain fell, in the only display of anger Bella had ever witnessed from Rose…when Bella confronted her…and berated her…and struck her. Bella winced, remembering it all. Brutta noticed the family’s concern and tried to put their minds at rest.

“Try not to fret, dears. We’ve just discovered Miss Scarlet's element.” Mandrake looked forlorn as he watched Rose. Even from this distance, he could see her body shake under the umbrella, her back turned to them. But at what cost?, he wondered. This had gone on long enough, Bella thought. Rose deserved an explanation.

“I’m going out to her….,” Bella announced with resolve and made a step toward the door.

“Don’t you dare,” Brutta interrupted her niece. “Leave her be. She needs to bathe in her emotions, to masticate on them so as to draw upon them later. Come. Let’s all go to the sitting room awhile and wait this out.” With heavy hearts, Bella and the children followed Brutta into the quiet sitting room where Thomas had been snoozing on a cushion. Custard fetched a book he’d brought and sat down for some reading. Bella proceeded to fall into a firm wingback chair, exhaling in deep agitation as she did so. Erica approached her, resting her elbows on the chair arms to lean into Bella’s ear.

“I have to hand it to you, Bella. That was a brilliant move! Truly inspired! I’d never have thought of it…” Erica blathered on, in obvious admiration. “I had no idea you could be so skilled at manipulation…” The witchling’s voice was still filled with awe, but Bella did not look pleased at the girl’s praise. Little beast, Bella thought with some disgust. “How do you plan to reveal the deception to Mum, though? You can’t let her believe this forever, after all.” Bella glanced curtly at Erica before attempting to shrug her off.

“Go away,” was all Bella could muster in response. At this, Erica began to tune into Bella’s feelings more acutely.

“Wait…,” Erica said after a pause, clearly examining this in her mind. “You mean…it’s true??” Bella refused to make further eye contact with the little witch, who now had a look on her face as if someone had just told her that Christmas was cancelled. This would never do. She was going to get to the bottom of this!

Erica marched into the kitchen where the Mandrake remained at the window, watching her mother. The bravado she had just felt a moment ago had suddenly evaporated upon seeing her father’s worried figure looming at the glass. She slowed her step and approached with caution. Seconds passed in silence while Erica stood beside him, looking up at him, but he kept his stare fixed on Rose. Erica continued to wait patiently. Finally, Mandrake pulled his eyes from the window and looked down at his side as if noticing her for the first time. Dearwig, he thought. He had forgotten about her in all of this. He exhaled slowly through his nose, turning his eyes back to the window again.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation…,” he remarked. Erica returned the sigh while looking out the window to share in her father’s object of observation.

“Actually, I think you owe Mum an explanation…,” she countered, before cheekily adding, “but I’m willing to be your sounding board until then.” Erica then waited for the explanation that didn’t seem be forthcoming on its on. “Why didn’t you tell her?”, she finally pressed.

“Because I had honestly forgotten about it,” the wizard said with another heavily exhaled sigh.

“How does one simply ‘forget’ about something as monumental as getting married??”, Erica asked in genuine astonishment.

“Because it wasn’t ‘monumental’,” Mandrake replied, “It was a symbolic gesture.”

“I don’t understand,” Erica replied. The Mandrake was reluctant to say more but he knew his daughter wasn’t going to step away from something of this magnitude lightly.

“I shouldn’t be telling you all this. You’re still a child, after all,” Mandrake began, before pausing again. “But you are an unusual child, and you have a remarkably astute ability to read people.” Erica was even more interested now, after that preamble. She continued to wait patently for him to continue.

“When your mother left us, Bella and I were in a very bad way, Dearwig. We couldn’t bear the idea of also losing each other, as well. Getting married, in a civil union, allowed us the opportunity to create a legally binding bond, one that reassured us that we would remain by each other’s side, regardless of what may occur. By that point, we just wanted to start our lives over, in a sense. It also gave us some semblance of normalcy, as if we were no different from any other man and woman living together.” The wizard looked down at his daughter, unsure if she understood his meaning to this last bit. She had a quizzical look on her face that indicated to the wizard that further clarification was needed. “People can be very intrusive and judgmental, Dearwig’, he continued, “we just wanted to be left alone.” Erica absorbed this information like a sponge. She allowed the words to saturate her thoughts for a long while before speaking again.

“I once thought you and Bella were married,” she said, “when I first came to live at your house. But then Mum came back, and I found out…” Erica’s voice trailed off while the Mandrake continued to watch Rose out the window. She wandered away, leaving her father to his thoughts. She went in search of Thomas and found him curled up next to Custard’s feet. The little boy looked up from his book and stared at his sister.

“Are you alright?,” he asked with genuine concern. Thomas, too, looked at Erica and hopped into her lap as she sat down next to Custard. She began cuddling and stroking the cat’s black fur as she spoke.

“Fine, I suppose”, Erica answered. “It’s just all so odd, don’t you think?” Custard nodded in agreement.

“Mmm. I just figured Mandrake was married to your mum. Does this mean he has two wives?”, the boy asked. Erica continued nuzzling Thomas.

“No, my parents were never married,” Erica explained. “They aren’t allowed. Mum explained it to me once. Some witch thing or other. I don’t think I’ll ever understand these witches and wizards,” said Erica with a despondent tone.

“Yea, I certainly never did,” Thomas quipped in cynical agreement. Erica then took notice that they were alone.

“Where’s Bella and Brutta?”, she asked.

“They went into another room. I think they’re talking in private again,” Custard whispered.

****

“Unicorn hair? Dragon dung? Fairy wings?” Bella read aloud the labels from the various jars of ingredients that lined the shelves in Brutta’s workshop. “None of these things are allowed back home!”, Bella stated in awe. “I wouldn’t know where to even start looking for them, even if they were…” Brutta rummaged through her items of magical wares, clearly searching for something. She stopped a moment to proudly savor her niece’s envy.

“Most of those items are quite rare, indeed!,” she affirmed. “But they are also essential for many magic spells of any real value. Ah! Here it is!”, the old crone exclaimed. From a chest of drawers, she pulled a medallion of some sort that hung on a rusty metal chain. The crone held it up as if to admire it, a smile on her wrinkled face. Bella looked at the item with aversion. It certainly wasn’t a beautiful piece of metal-smithing, or a fine gem, both of which Bella had a natural affinity. This thing looked like an inert piece of junk that had seen better days. In fact, it appeared to have all manner of dings and dents covering its surface.

“I hope you don’t intend for me to wear that thing,” Bella remarked, with clear disgust.

“Oh, no. It’s not for you to wear, my dear”, Aunt Brutta replied. “This has a special purpose, to be worn only by an appropriate contender.” Bella said nothing, unsure of what her aunt meant. “Come now,” Brutta said, attempting to lead her niece out of the room. “I think Rose’s rainstorm has cleared up. We can now go back outside and resume the test and discover your element!” Bella remained standing in place, staring at her aunt.

“Don’t you think we should discuss what happened earlier?”, Bella asked, still thinking about her friend seething in the rain. Didn’t her old aunt want to hear about this marriage business? To Bella’s surprise, Aunt Brutta simply smiled in response.

“Not at this time, dear Bella,” Brutta answered. “This is not the time be sentimental…” Bella interrupted her aunt with a huff of distain.

“Hmpf. I’ve never been sentimental a day in my life…,” she countered. Brutta’s face grew serious for a moment and she looked squarely at her niece.

“Oh, I hope that’s not true, Bella, for your sake,” said Brutta. Bella simply blinked her eyes, uncertain of what to ascertain from this statement. “Now, let’s go find your friends”, Brutta continued with cocked eyebrows and a smug expression. “The fun is only just starting…!”

Chapter Text

Rose stood under the umbrella Aunt Brutta had handed her, for almost an hour. The handle felt rubbery in her grip, and her legs began to ache. Yet all she could do was stand there, paralyzed by anger, staring at the fallen twigs amongst the fresh, green growth of early summer. Soon her anger gave way to a painful sensation that felt like a punch to the heart. Her ragged breathing began to slow and the raindrops became fewer and fewer. Betrayal. This is what betrayal feels like, Rose thought to herself, now you know. She felt her knees want to buckle, so great was her desire to fall to the ground and weep in some nullifying stage of mourning. But she hadn’t lost anything. How can you lose something you never had?, she wondered. And yet there was an acrid taste of bitterness in her mouth that made her feel wronged, and by the very people she trusted and cared about the most, no less. With that thought, Rose lowered the umbrella, turned around on the spot where she stood, and briskly marched back toward the house. The Mandrake felt his breath catch as he caught site of this. At last, here she comes!, he thought. Worried and watchful, he had not left his self-appointed post of standing guard the entire time she stood out there. Just then, Bella and Brutta entered the kitchen and exited the door to return to the backyard where they could resume the elemental tests. Rose stormed past them without a word. Bella looked at her with a mild panic, looking as if she wanted to call out to her friend.

“Ah-ah!”, Brutta scolded with a wag of her finger. “Remember what I said…leave her be!”

Rose pushed through the kitchen door with a heavy presence, and the Mandrake immediately reached out to take hold of her arm as she passed him. “Rose—!,” he called. But she ignored his gesture and continued her beeline course for the guest room she shared with him. He followed close behind her, and while he was not nimble footed like she, his long legs caught up to her much smaller strides just as she was about to close the bedroom door on his face.

‘I don’t want to talk to you right now!”, Rose hammered out her words in rapid succession.

“Yes, you do”, Mandrake calmly countered, shutting the door behind him. Rose glared at him with a hot intensity that he had never seen in her before, and her breathing grew quick and heavy from her nostrils as if she was frantically calculating her next move. He remained cautious, but not perturbed. “I am certain you must have many pressing questions, so let’s have out with it, then.”

“You’re right, I do have a question,” said Rose. “Just one. How dare you?” Rose spoke in a manner than was both impertinent and caustic, but Mandrake looked at her blankly.

“I’m sure that isn’t one of your actual questions…,” he responded.

“Isn’t it, though?”, Rose sarcastically countered with deliberate pacing between words, like a constable interrogating a suspect. “I want to know why you decided to do the one thing with our best friend that was forbidden with me!” Rose paused a moment, thinking about the rationale of her argument. “And why Bella??”, she continued. “Were you so desperate for a wife that you’d shack up with whoever was at hand?”

“Don’t speak of her in that manner”, said the Mandrake, sharply. “It was a sign of loyalty, what she did.  Don’t make it sound so cheap!”

“Cheap, is it now?”, came Rose’s reply, with astonishment. “That’s rich. Do you have any idea how cheap this feels? This..this…whatever this is!!” She gestured at the air with her hands at the ambiguity of her statement. “I feel like a dirty secret you’ve been hiding. I suppose Bella is your respectable, public wife, while I’m just the whore you keep hidden away in private…”

“Oh, come now!”, said Mandrake, cutting her off loudly. “You know that isn’t it at all!” He lowered the volume of his voice in an effort to restore reason. “Rose, you know my heart has always belonged to you. What Bella and I share is entirely different.”

“And what exactly did you think would happen when I returned, hmm?,” Rose asked. “Where was I supposed to fit into all of this?” The Mandrake paused before speaking again.

“At that point,” he continued with calm deliberation, “I was no longer certain you were coming back.” Rose was almost speechless at this statement. Her face held a look of hurt and shock which forced the wizard to rationalize his reasoning. “I could no longer sense your presence. I had no idea of your whereabouts. As far as I was aware, you had simply taken our daughter and disappeared!”

“So you just gave up on me, is that it?”, Rose quipped, on the verge of angry tears. “Because I never gave up on all of you, despite what you think. I continued to search and search until I could find my way back to you all.” Rose was growing more emotional with each word spoken.

“No…no,” Mandrake reiterated, trying to reassure her. “I never gave up on you.” His emotions began to stir and he was growing visibly stressed by the conversation. “All I could do was think about you every moment that we were apart! For hell’s sake, Rose, I wrote pages upon pages about you, just…”, he voice faltered for a moment before continuing, “just trying to cope with your absence. I was haunted by you, by the memory of every experience we ever shared! How can you even think otherwise?”, he asked, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Then why would you put up this barrier between us?”, said Rose in a pleading tone. “You didn’t even have the decency to tell me. It’s been six months!"

‘It was so long ago…,” Mandrake stressed, “and I was just so relieved and overjoyed when you returned that it never even entered my mind…Please, can’t we just go on as we were? Why should something as trivial as some non-magical certificate come between us?” Rose looked skeptical.

“You couldn’t have believed it to have been that trivial if you believed it would keep Bella by your side.”

“Rose, it was just expression of our fealty. It felt necessary at the time.” Mandrake paused for a long moment before continuing. He turned away from her before speaking indirectly from over his shoulder. “At least she was willing to grant me some reassurance of commitment.” Rose could hear the resentment in her lover’s voice.

“Unlike me, is that it?” Rose waited for him to respond, but the Mandrake only slowly turned his gaze away and downward. He could sense she was offended but he did not feel generous enough to contradict her. Rose’s eyes lit up in fury and she stormed out of the bedroom and headed for the backyard in search of Bella.

Bella and Brutta stood on the wooded grounds behind the house tying bundles of twigs and dried reeds that Erica and Custard had gathered, together with twine. Brutta gave directions while everyone chipped in.

“Remember, children, only longer, flexible pieces will do!”, the crone called out as they poked around among the overgrowth and fallen branches. Their work was interrupted by the sound of the back door swinging open and slamming shut. The sight of Rose swiftly marching toward Bella reminded Erica of how Bella looked that time she was reprimanded for purposefully burning the fried bread.

Rose stopped abruptly in front of her friend and proceeded to confront her. “So tell me, Bella," said Rose with a mixture of petulance and righteous indignation, “is this how you felt the night I left in an effort to save your lives, or were you just looking for a reason to cross me?” Bella stood looking at Rose with a flummoxed expression.

“Well, I….I…don’t know what you mean…I.. ,” was all Bella could stammer before the Mandrake made his way out the back door now, following in pursuit. Brutta quickly put down what she was doing and gestured her hands toward Erica and Custard.

“Come, children, let’s go back inside!”, Brutta called. “I have a special enchanted chess board you can use for awhile. Won’t that be fun?” She ushered the boy and girl back into the house. She didn’t want to expose them to whatever display of agrimony these adults had in store. She was reassured that this was the correct decision as they simply continued their dispute without taking any notice, so wrapped up in the moment as they were. Bella immediately turned her attention to the Mandrake as he stood next to the two witches.

“Mandrake, didn’t you explain to her what we did?”, Bella asked him with bewilderment.

“I tried,” answered Mandrake. "She doesn’t seem to believe we were in earnest.”

“Oh, I am sure the two of you believed yourselves to be doing something of profound loyalty to one another,” Rose remarked with mockery in her voice. “I just don’t understand why you would do something that you knew would only serve to exclude me from your lives even further!” Rose was quite angry at this point, her tone snarky and sharp.

“No, Rose! Nothing has to change between you and the Mandrake”, Bella clarified. “I don’t care what the two of you do…”

‘This is what I tried to tell her,” said Mandrake to Bella before turning to address Rose. “You see, Rose? Bella understands. We can still be together-"

“Oh, yes,” Rose interrupted. “I’m sure this will look just delightful to the outside world, or have you forgotten about that, too? We do still live in a society, remember? What will people think when they discover that Mandrake has a wife and a mistress living under the same roof? I can just imagine it now…”

“Since when have you ever given a toss about what other people think?”, asked Bella.  "You certainly never did before…”

“That’s not true,” Rose replied, angrily. “I just don’t want other people determining my life for me, and that’s exactly what the two have you done behind my back!!” The Mandrake was now beside himself with frustration at his point.

“ARGH!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TELL HER?", Mandrake roared at Bella.

“Well, why didn’t YOU tell her?!?”, Bella challenged. “You had more reason than I!”

“Yes, that’s right,” Rose replied with disgust, “Keep this all one big, enormous secret between you. This whole thing makes me sick!”

“Now just wait one minute!”, Bella pushed back. “Mandrake and I have stood by one another through a great deal of grief, much of it on your account—”

“On MY account??”, Rose retorted with wide, furious eyes.

“Don’t interrupt me!”, Bella scolded. “We’ve endured nothing but misery for a long time. But at least we didn’t abandon one another like you abandoned us!”

“For the last time,” Rose interjected, “ I didn’t abandon you!”

‘Well, it didn’t feel that way to us,” Mandrake corrected. Rose glowered at the wizard with a fury that warned him to stand back and interfere no further, but Mandrake had no intention of letting Rose run roughshod over them. Rose began nosily exhaling again, furtively glancing between her two best friends.

“Whose idea was this marriage, anyway?”, she finally asked.

“I hardly see how that matters,” Bella scoffed.

“WHOSE IDEA WAS IT?” Rose’s tone was loud, deliberate and raw.

“It was Bella’s idea,” Mandrake answered flatly. Bella now stared at the wizard in shock, as if offended that he had just broken a unified front.

“I suspected as much,” said Rose with disgusted confirmation. She stared directly into Bella’s eyes. “So that’s it, isn’t it? First you take my man, and then you take my daughter. You know Bella, I always knew you were jealous of me, but I’d have never thought you would stoop so low as to take everything from me and attempt to also take my place!” Bella huffed in indignation.

“Wha…? Jealous? Hmpf. I’m not jealous of you…” she denied.

“Oh come off it, old chum,” Rose said, sardonically. “You’re so jealous, you can barely stand it.” She seemed to sneer and taunt Bella with this line of offense. Bella took the bait, readily.

“Jealous of what?”, Bella responded. “A spoiled little princess who gets everything she wants? Well you didn’t get to have this, did you? I had no idea she was your’s, though I should have guessed by the fact that she was a brazen brat just like you, with no respect for her elders. And where would she have been without us taking her from that place you had left her to rot if not for bringing her into our home?” 

“Oh yes, such a magnanimous move on your part, taking on a foster child for slave labor! Erica told me all about it…” said Rose, rolling her eyes in disgust.

Brutta watched the witches and wizard quarrel on like this for a solid twenty minutes, thankful that she had cast another sound-proofing charm on the sitting room where they children played their game of chess. Just as she had suspected, they didn’t need to hear any of this. She, however, extended an sound enhancement charm on her own hearing to better eavesdrop on their bickering. Bella, what is this mess you’ve gotten yourself into?, she thought, shaking her head.

Bella stomped her foot unceremoniously on the ground. “Ha!”, she called out. “You’ve got a lot of cheek mouthing off about proper parenting!” Rose narrowed her eyes at Bella, a keen story of Erica’s coming to mind.

“Say what you will about my parenting,” Rose retorted. “At least the child didn’t curse me with having extra hands coming out of my arse!” Bella looked mortified upon being reminded of this fact. Her face then contorted into a twisted grimace of horrified humiliation. Her eyes seemed to bore holes into Rose as she raised her hand high in the air as if to strike the redheaded witch across the face. As if sensing Bella’s intention, Rose steeled herself and didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, she remained still, firmly holding Bella’s stare.

“Are you going to strike me again?”, she asked. “Didn’t you learn anything from the last time?” This read more as a threat than a prompt to recollect, and Bella was reaching her boiling point. "I can walk away from you at any time,” Rose continued, “You’re not my mother!" This last remark caught Bella off guard and her clenched her hands into fists raised to either side of her head as of to punch the very words she heard coming into her ears. Baring her teeth and snarling loudly, Bella threw one of her hands in Rose’s direction, and summoned a burst of energy which crashed against the redhead’s chest, sending her back several feet and landing on the ground. Rose landed with a thud, and was visibly shaken.

“THAT'S ENOUGH!”, Mandrake bellowed at the blue-haired witch. “This is getting out of hand!” He went over to Rose, and bending over her, extended a hand to help her up. Rose, however, conveyed her refusal by jerking her arm out of his reach and proceeded to pull herself up on her own.

“Stay out of this!”, Bella shouted at the wizard. “You’ve done enough damage, and I’ve had enough grief from both of you!” Bella’s toned deepened as she continued to speak. “YOU….You thankless…ungrateful…”

A low rumbling could be felt underfoot as Bella continued rambling every defect she could think of to describe her two ex-bandmates.

“self-absorbed…entitled…”

The rumbling grew stronger and louder until Rose and Mandrake exchanged looks as Bella continued on, her face white with rage.

“Selfish…contemptuous….arrogant…”

Meanwhile, Erica and Custard sat in the quiet of the sitting room, blissfully unaware of the row taking place outside, thanks to Aunt Brutta’s charm. Thomas, however, sensed trouble, and sat up straight.

“Knight to D5”, said Custard. The two children then prepared themselves to be delighted by the sight of the chess piece as they gleefully watched a tiny carved knight on horseback trot over to the directed square on the board. Their joy was interrupted however by the table beginning to shake and the chess pieces tumbling in all directions. They felt the floor beneath their seats tremor and Thomas leapt onto Erica’s lap.

“What’s happening?”, asked Erica, completely confused.

“I, I think it’s…an earthquake!”, responded Custard. The children jumped up and ran to the nearest window facing the backyard. There they spotted Rose and Mandrake looking confused, as they tried to keep their balance with the quaking ground beneath their feet. Erica followed her parent’s gaping stares to see Bella standing a short distance away, looking enraged beyond hope.

“I’VE DONE SO MUCH FOR THE TWO OF YOU AND WHAT HAS IT GOTTEN ME, BUT NEEDLESS VEXATION!! With that, Bella stomped her foot on the ground again. The earth began to crack at the point of impact and spider outward toward where Rose and Mandrake stood. Unsure of where to stand, they stepped away from each other and the soil began splitting to reveal widening cracks in all directions. Then, as if on command, one large fissure sliced the earth and raced toward Rose who attempted to jump out of the way as it came toward her. The crevice broke so quickly, however, that the earth fell from under her foot before she could clear it, and the woman appeared to slip into the void below.

“MUM!!!!”, screamed Erica from behind the glass window. Custard and Thomas were speechless with terror.

“ROSE!!”, bellowed the Mandrake as he hastened over to the edge of the crevice, gingerly watching his step. There he found Rose, dangling on the edge of the fissure by her bent elbows, gripping the clumps of grass on the surface for dear life.

“Please…..Mandrake…..,” she whispered, her voice shaking with fear, “help me!!”

Mandrake hastened to lower himself near to the ground and grabbed a hold of her body.

“I’ve got you”, he said, trying to remain calm. “Now hold onto me and pull yourself up. Use my body for leverage. Go on now, I won’t let go of you.” Rose grasped at Mandrake’s shoulders and jacket, and back, and belt, and legs, while he hoisted her upwards, until she was completely out of the gaping crack in the ground created by Bella’s anger. Brutta, who had been watching the entire incident from inside the house, breathed a sigh of relief, while noting the lack of magic used during the entire rescue effort. So earth is your element, and what a display! Well, niece, she thought proudly, I should have expected nothing less from a Yaga.

Rose lay on the ground for a moment, trying to catch her breath.

“Are you alright, my love?”, Mandrake asked her, concern in his voice, and equally breathless. Once composed, Rose looked at him furtively and responded. Her voice was appreciative, if a little icy.

‘Yes, thank you,” Rose replied. Brutta and the children came banging out of the back door at this point, clamoring to see how their mother was.

“Well, that was very impressive, Mr. Mandrake!”, Brutta complimented the wizard before turning her attention to Rose. “Are you alright, my dear?”, she asked. “Nothing a strong, young thing like yourself can’t handle, yes?” Rose appeared drained and dubious and she slowly began to pull herself up from the ground.

“I think I’d had quite enough for today”, she answered. She sounded exhausted and leery, and with those words spoken, headed back into the house.

Chapter Text

“Mum? Mum! Are you alright?”

Erica and Custard stood staring at Rose as she got up, barely acknowledging their presence with more than a light touch to their shoulders as she passed them without a word. She closed the backdoor behind her, disappearing into the house.

“I think she’s in shock,” the Mandrake surmised. “And after what just happened, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised…” He glared over at Bella, pointedly, who remained standing across the yard examining the palms of her hands in confusion. “WHAT WERE YOU PLAYING AT, WOMAN?!”, he shouted aggressively. Bella tried to stammer out an explanation as she walked toward the group, but was as equally confused as he.

“I, I….don’t know what happened…I didn’t mean to do any of that, not really! Mandrake, you must believe me! I, I was just so angry and I just couldn’t control it. It…it was as though my magic got the better of me…” The Mandrake looked at Bella sternly, but he couldn’t stay too upset with her, knowing full well what it was like to find oneself swept away in a firestorm of emotions and unruly magic, having experienced it so often, himself.

“And that, my dear, is exactly why you must learn to control your abilities,” said Aunt Brutta. “Uncontrolled magic can have unintended consequences, as well as be used against you. But, now that we know your element,” said Brutta as she gestured toward the large crevice in the middle of the ground, “we can work toward accomplishing that end.”

The Mandrake escorted his children back into the house, stating that he didn’t want them falling in, as well. He slowly stepped through the house, sensing Rose’s whereabouts. Approaching the closed door of the guest room, he knew she was there and knocked gently. He received no answer, and cautiously proceeded to open the door and peer inside. “Rose?”, he asked, deliberately keeping his voice low. Rose lay on her side on the edge of the bed with one hand tucked under her head. Her eyes were open but they appeared to look at nothing in particular. He noticed as she lay there on the clean bedspread that her clothes were quite dirty from being pulled out of the hole, but that she had only removed her dirt-sodden shoes and placed them carefully and neatly beside her, as if in an odd display of misplaced priorities.

“You gave us all a terrible fright," he said, trying to speak in as soft a tone as was possible for him. “I’m so happy you’re alright.” He slowly approached the edge of the bed and knelt beside her, touching her arm. Rose held her vacant, heavy-lidded stare. He paused, waiting for a response. When none came, he pushed further. “The children are very worried about you. Why not come out to the sitting room and reassure them that you’re alright?”

“The children?”, Rose’s eyes responded with a brief flicker before going vacant again. “Yes. Perhaps in a few minutes…” She then began shaking and shivering as she lay on the bed, despite the warm summer day. “Why it is so cold in here?”, she asked. That confirmed it. The Mandrake promptly took hold of a blanket that lay folded nearby and covered her with it.

“Because you’re in shock, as I suspected. Just lay still now…” The wizard slowly ran his hands over the witch’s body as she lay covered in the blanket. He furrowed his brows in concentration as he did so, and Rose could feel a warming sensation emanating from his touch as her form began to relax and recover.

“You always were good with those healing touch type spells,” said Rose. Her voice held a twinge of admiration and reluctance, for she was grateful for Mandrake’s help, but she wasn’t ready to drop her anger just yet. The Mandrake’s expression relaxed in agreement.

“They certainly come in handy," he said. “Dearwig contracted a fever last year and it was a great help, especially at 2am…”

“You’re a good father," said Rose through tired eyes. The Mandrake’s face warmed with unspoken pride before falling slightly.

“I’m not sure Bella would completely agree with you,” he remarked, wistfully.

“Bella shouldn’t complain so much,” Rose said with annoyance. The Mandrake paused for a moment before responding.

“You know,” he said, hoping to mend fences, “she doesn’t mean half of what she says. She’s always been like that.” Rose wasn’t taking the bait, however.

“Stop making excuses for her.”

“I’m simply saying,” Mandrake continued, recalling Brutta’s insight, “that sometimes when one is under the control of magic run afoul, it can create a lot of unintended chaos and hurt.” He paused. “I should know.” Rose could hear the tone of regret in his voice but she wasn’t prepared to forgive her friend just yet, either.

“She tried to kill me, Durwald,” she stated, her tone serious. “Let’s not try to downplay that.” Before Mandrake could respond, a gentle tap was then heard on the door, interrupting the discussion. After receiving clearance, the door slowly opened and Erica pushed her face into the door jab.

“Mum, is everything alright? We’ve been so worried!”, said the witchling. Rose brightened up immediately and beckoned the children into the room. She sat up on the edge of bed and stretched out her arms to embrace them, which they readily received.

“Oh, my sweets!”, she said, giving both Erica and Custard a kiss on the forehead. “I can imagine how frightening this all must have been, but I am much better now!” Erica could sense that her mother was not being completely truthful and was, in fact, putting on something of a brave demeanor for their sake. The girl’s eyes grew wide and misty as she looked at her mother’s face. She wrapped her arms around Rose once again in a tight hug, tucking her face into Rose’s shoulder, unable to let go. Faced with the frightening possibly of losing her mother, instilled in her a sense of profound sadness. For a long time she did not know her parents, and once she was in their lives again, it took some time to readjust to the idea. Rose’s spell on infant Earwig was strong and powerful, instructing her to refuse all opportunities and desires to leave the orphanage. But when her mother broke the spell upon her return, Erica’s heart began to soften and desire her new home and family. The last thing she wanted was to lose any of them.

Another knock tapped on the bedroom door. Aunt Brutta stood in the open door way, a smile upon her wrinkled face.

“So good to see you feeling better, Miss Scarlet,” she observed. “How about a cup of tea? I imagine we could all use a little pick-me-up, after such an eventful day, yes?” Actually, the thought of tea did appeal to Rose, as she physically realized Brutta’s suggestion in her weakened stomach at the mere mention of the idea.

“Yes,” Rose replied with a relieved smile. “That does sound lovely.”

“Excellent! The cups are preparing themselves in the other room,” said Brutta gesturing for them to help themselves. “And I suggest you all freshen up before dinner,” she continued, her eyes twinkling at what she was about to say next. “We have some special guests who will be joining us this evening.”

****

The clock struck 6pm and a strange sound could be heard, alerting everyone that the dinner guests had arrived.

“Yoohoo! Yoohoo! Yoohoo! Friend or foe? It’s 6 o’clock and a friend is at the door!” Erica’s eyes bugged wide and perturbed at the little voice that sounded from an enchanted cuckoo clock in the front hall. She turned her head just in time to see a small, wooden bird popping out of a tiny door in what looked exactly like a tiny replica of Aunt Brutta’s house. The crone called out for the door to open and in walked two men dressed in dark, elegant suits. The first man was much older, of medium height, his short, graying hair combed back smooth against his head. He smiled upon seeing Brutta and approached her, giving her a side kiss on each cheek.

“Greetings, Mother,” he said.

“Good to see you, my boy!”, Brutta replied, before turning to the group. “Everyone, this is my son, Yuri Yaga. Yuri, you remember your cousin, Bella?” Bella approached the man with some reserve and shook his hand.

“So good to see you again, cousin”, said Bella.

“It’s been such a long time!”, said the man. "If memory serves, I believe the last time I saw you was when I was on summer holiday from university and visiting your family in Bristol, and you were just this high!” The man held his hand near his waist to indicate a much younger Bella. He smiled warmly. “You were up to your knees in mud and collecting newts and frogs in a bucket from that creek behind your parent’s house. You demanded that I help, and then you chastised me for not working hard enough!”, Yuri laughed at the memory.

“So,” Rose commented in a jab that could only be described as moderately playful, “not much has changed then." Erica slyly smirked at the comment. Bella shot Rose an annoyed glance before introducing her own guests to her cousin. 

“And who is this you’ve brought with you?”, Bella asked with genuine curiosity. Her cousin perked up and turned to his friend. Erica noticed this man was considerably younger than Cousin Yuri, with long, black hair tied neatly at the base of his neck. A silver streak ran through his hair on one side, making him look like a good candidate for the role of Dracula, thought Erica, with curious amazement.

“Ah, yes! This is a colleague of mine, Sir Lionel Lupin. He’s an esteemed scholar of the occult sciences and a member of the Dark Arts Council on Foreign Relations," Yuri announced with pride.

“Did I hear correctly? ‘Sir'?”, Bella asked in disbelief. “Have you been knighted?”

“I have, dear lady,” Lupin said in an English accent, indicating his citizenship. “The Queen, herself, knighted me several years ago for my contributions in promoting ethical relations with magical citizenry.”

“I didn’t think the British government awarded knighthood for magical accomplishments,” Rose stated with skeptical wonder, “or to magical people.”

“Indeed they do,” replied Lupin, “although they obviously do not make any public announcement of it. It is not for nothing that our representatives play such an important role in non-magical society, and keeping our secrets…secret.” Lupin smiled in a way that communicated his discerning wit. “I asked Yuri if I could accompany him tonight for the purposes of academic observation, as I am eager to see his skills in action.” Lupin beamed at his friend. The group exchanged looks of perplexity.

“Yuri is a necromancer,” Brutta replied with pride. “He will be conducting a seance for us tonight, after dinner.”

“No, way!” Erica nearly lost her composure upon hearing these words, recalling her initial impression of Brutta’s parlor. “Did you hear that, Custard?”, she asked with excitement. Custard looked horrified.

“You mean….g-ghosts??,” the boy asked.

“We’ll be trying for spirits tonight, not ghosts," Yuri corrected. Custard failed to see the difference and immediately started glancing around the room looking for the best pieces of furniture he could hide under for when the time came.

“Yuri assured me that you wouldn’t mind,” Lupin said to Brutta, who appeared completely at ease with the idea. “It’s not everyday I have the chance to witness contact with the etherial plane, and so this was simply too great an opportunity to pass up. However,” he continued, “I am also very pleased to make the acquaintance of such lovely ladies.” Sir Lupin took Bella’s hand and brought it to his lips, causing Bella’s eyes to grow wide and appear momentarily flustered. He then extended the same gesture to Rose, who gracefully smiled with her eyes and nodded. Erica watched this interaction with interest, not sure if this was the cheesiest introduction she’d ever seen, or the most charming. But she had to admit, this Sir Lupin guy had a certain appeal. He was well dressed, and handsome, and he seemed nice enough. Erica wondered…

Dinner in Brutta’s house was a fascinating event, in Erica’s eyes. Brutta simply needed all the ingredients at her disposal and with several complex motions of her hands and arms, they assembled themselves into delicious entrees in mid air and loaded themselves into her awaiting oven. When ready, each course was loaded onto little carts on wheels, which slowly navigated around the dining table stopping to allow each guest to take their fill from the platters. The conversation was interesting, as everyone attempted to acquaint themselves with one another. Erica noted that even her father was a bit more sociable than was typical for him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had special reason for taking an interest in the new guests, or if he was simply in a good mood, which Erica knew was when his face was without its usual severity. Or, Erica pondered, it could be due to the fact that the Mandrake was enjoying having his accomplishments acknowledged…

“Oh, you’re that Mandrake!”, exclaimed Sir Lupin. “I don’t have much time to read for pleasure these days, but I do try to keep tabs on what members of our community are contributing to the greater cultural landscape. I’ve enjoyed your books very much!”

“Even the first one?”, Mandrake asked skeptically, in a rare moment of self-deprecation, “because you would be the first, in that regard.”

“Princess and the Wizard, was it? I thought the critics were unduly hard on that one,” Lupin said in consolation. “I don’t think non-magical people can truly appreciate certain things about our world, not experiencing it as we do. You may have simply been writing beyond your intended audience, my good man.” Erica smirked again as she tried to sip a spoonful of her borscht. That indirect praise would surely appeal to the Mandrake’s ego…

“Yes,” Yuri said, stepping into the commentary, “I thought the character of the wizard was too didactic for the average, non-magical person to appreciate.” Mandrake raised his brows in astonishment.

“You read it, too?”, he asked, now looking at Bella’s cousin with surprise.
“Oh, yes. I confess I’m a sucker for a romantic adventure. All those years of channeling deceased lovers, I presume,” said Yuri with a faint smile on his lips. “After all, who could resist that enchanting Princess Rosebud?” Sir Lionel nodded in agreement with this statement. Rose seemed to catch something in her throat upon hearing this, and took a sip of water in an effort to appear inconspicuous.

“Yes, she was a delightful charmer, for sure. I could see why the wizard fell in love with her,” Lionel acknowledged. Bella rolled her eyes as subtly as she could, wanting to gag herself. The Mandrake, on the other hand, seemed to bask in the glow of this conversation, clearly enjoying the chance to explain the deeper symbolic elements of his story to an interested audience. While the three men continued to converse about Mandrake’s novel, Erica sat looking disgusted, wondering on what planet she had just arrived. Here were three adults analyzing that boring, rubbish romance as if it were Wuthering Heights! This would not stand…

“I helped him write his last book, Earwig and the Witch," Erica interrupted. “It was a great success!”

“Really?”, Lupin asked, sounding impressed before gently brushing the child off. “That was a peculiar name for the little girl character….’Earwig’… However did you come up with it, Mandrake?”

“It was the name of their band”, Erica could not resist interjecting. "Mum and Dad, and Bella. They were rock stars! Earwig,” Erica pressed on, in an effort to inform him. “They had a big hit song and everything!”

“Oh, I seem to remember something about you playing drums professionally, at one point, Bella,” Yuri spoke, recounting the past to his cousin. “Long ago. Not able to make a go of it, eh?” Rose, Mandrake and Bella had a look of awkwardness at this pronouncement.

“We recorded a debut album. It went gold in the UK,” Bella described, feeling both awkward and self-conscious. "We were about to start touring Europe.” Her voice sounded as it she resented having to justify herself, but also saddened by the memories of better days. Erica noticed this change in Bella’s tone and felt sympathy for her.

“How absolutely fantastic!,” Lupin said. “I must confess, I have no knowledge of Earwig. When did all this happen?”

“We formed the band in the mid 70s”, Rose replied.

“Ah, that explains it’, Lupin answered. “I was a graduate student in Borneo, conducting field work on animistic practices for much of that decade. I was out of the loop, sadly,” he laughed.

“They were amazing!”, Erica blurted out, as if to save this sinking ship. “Bella was a great drummer! Mandrake always says so! I’m a huge fan!”

“Well, now,” Yuri replied, humoring the child. “You’ve convinced me! What happened?”

“What happened next, is what brings us here,” Bella explained. “We ran into some troubles, with the Witches Council.”

“Ah, yes. Mother told me you’ve been dealing with some troubles when she asked me to come here this evening," Yuri recounted. Bella, Rose and Mandrake spent the next while taking turns to explain the situation that broke up their band, and brought them to Aunt Brutta’s house.

“I haven’t set foot on the Isles for sometime, so I confess I was unaware that witch laws were so stringent in your country. A witch caste system? Forbidden use of higher magic?” His face held a look of disbelief and repugnance. “I had no idea the UK Council was so oppressive and intolerant.” Yuri looked at his friend. “What say you about this, Lionel? Is this true?”

“I’m afraid so,” Lupin replied. “The Council of Twelve Witches is not known to be a very flexible, nor forward-thinking, organization. At least not for quite some time now.”

“But why ban the use of higher magic?”, asked Brutta.

“I do believe they hope to prevent any wayward witches or wizards from going rogue and using their abilities on the vulnerable, non-magical public. I also think they hope to prevent the same public from turning against witches, out of fear. History has seen its share of what happens when the public fears witchcraft, after all.”

‘And that is all perfectly understandable,” said Rose, “but only to a degree. Surely there are ways of dealing with wayward magic and ill intent?” Rose shook her head in disagreement. “It doesn’t fully explain it.”   

“I think they also hope to prevent anyone from challenging their power,” replied Sir Lupin, with some apprehension. “In some instances, they believe that preserving pure wizard bloodlines will retain a sense of appreciation for the old ways, while preserving a system that serves their own self-interests, namely in magical privilege.”

“In other words, they do not wish to share power of any sort with those whom they perceive as lesser than themselves,” Mandrake concluded.

“It would appear so,” Lupin answered, solemnly. A momentary silence fell upon the group as they each pondered the weight of what had just been said. As if to break the awkward tension, Aunt Brutta announced that dinner had commenced, and it was time to reconvene in the parlor for what was hoped to be the highlight of the evening.

Chapter Text

After dinner, the group of eight entered the parlor and the adults began taking their seats at the round table while the children sat together on a divan near the wall. Thomas hopped up onto the divan and squeezed himself between Erica and Custard, ready to settle in.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Thomas,” Erica said. “I would have thought you’d be too scared for something like this.” The cat merely shot an annoyed glance at her.

“I’ll have you know that spirit conjuration is one of my specialities,” he retorted. “Besides, spirits are advanced souls who’ve crossed the veil, different from ghosts.” Erica pondered this, having never considered this subject before now. As the group settled in, Yuri called the attention of all who were present.

“We will attempt to contact any spirits who may have information that may be useful to your case,” he announced with confidence. “The spirits are often privy to factors that are unseen to the living and mortal realm.” Hearing the words “living" and “realm” set Custard on edge and he attempted to scrunch his body into a tight ball for some sense of protection and comfort. Rose saw his obvious distress and sat down on the divan next to him. She placed her arm around his small shoulders and attempted to comfort him.

“It is alright if I remain over here?”, Rose asked Yuri. “He’s quite frightened.”

“The rite works better with an even, rather than odd, number of participants,” he answered, not completely without sympathy. “And you are an integral part of this situation. Your vibration will be needed to reach any relevant entities.” Rose nodded in understanding and looked down again at Custard.

“Don’t worry, love,” she said trying to reassure the young boy. "There’s nothing to be afraid of, and no one here will let anything bad happen to you. Alright?” Custard nodded meekly, and Rose kissed the top of his head for good measure before joining the others at the round table. In the center of the table, Erica noticed a circular symbol of some sort had been created from a powdered substance. In the center of the symbol stood three white candles that had been positioned to form a triangle. Yuri snapped the fingers on his left hand which dimmed the lights in the room. A small brass bell sat on the table top, near his elbow. He then waved his right hand over the three candles that had been placed in the center. Instantly the candles lit, and he instructed everyone to join hands. Under Yuri’s silent command, the brass bell levitated a few inches off the table and begin to ring, once, twice, three times total, before slowly resting on the table again. He then closed his eyes and murmured a series of cryptic words that Erica did not recognize, but Thomas sat up in full attention, steadily swishing his tail from side to side. Yuri then began to speak:

“Gatekeepers of Darkness and Light, I humbly request that you open the gate and allow passage for any soul or spirit connected with those in this room, so that they may communicate with us.” For several minutes nothing occurred. Most at the table appeared either bored or on edge.

“Are you sure this works?”, Erica whispered to Thomas. “How come nothing is happening?”

“Shh!”, whispered Thomas. “These things rarely happen right away.”

Just then, a tiny orb of blue light, roughly the size of a marble, began to glow softly over the center of the table. Spotting this, Yuri spoke again:

“Are there any present who wish to communicate with us?” The glowing orb slowly grew a bit larger until it was the size of a tennis ball. Everyone came to attention at the sight of this development. A few audible gasps were heard. Custard’s eyes were transfixed on the glowing sphere and staring widely. The orb then grew in size before splitting into two orbs which remained floating several feet above the table until their glowing light began to spread and widen. Custard could stand no more and quickly darted behind the divan to sit crouched on the floor, hugging his knees. He sat facing the wall with his back to the room, squeezing his eyes shut in a terrified effort to go unnoticed by whatever was materializing.

Everyone else watched with interest at this spectacle taking place, anticipating who, or what, was manifesting in the air before them. The orbs were now dissolving into a much broader glow of light, growing taller and elongated.

“Who is present?”, Yuri asked, directing his question to the unspecified entity. “What would you like to communicate to us?” The glow lessened, and in its place, an ambiguous figure of some sort began to form. Erica noticed it appeared to be something resembling a human, or at least the upper body of one. A second one was forming beside it, but was progressing considerably slower. Then, as if on cue, a woman’s transparent face finally appeared, looking hazy and ill-defined. Erica did not recognize her, and from the silence permeating the room, she presumed no one else did either. The ghostly young woman looked rather distressed and confused, as if she had no idea where she was or why she was there. She seemed to be searching for something that was far away on some distant vista.

“Charlie?”, she called out at last, her voice was distant and echoing. “Charlie, where are you?” Everyone’s eyes darted about the room, exchanging confused glances with one another. Erica remained fixed on the ghostly woman, wondering why this name seemed familiar when she suddenly remembered Custard’s birthname…

“Custard!”, she called out, unable to tear her eyes from the apparition while reaching over to shake her adoptive brother’s shoulder as he sat beneath her on the floor. “Custard! I think she wants to speak to you…!” Custard was too scared to respond, still clenching his eyes closed.

“No!”, he breathed out in a frightened whisper, now placing his hands over his ears. The second figure now began to come into focus beside the female spirit, this time a young man.

“Charlie, my boy!”, he called out, his voice equally thin. “Are you here, son?” Erica’s eyes almost popped out of her skull.

“Custard!”, she exclaimed, loudly. “I think these are…your parents!” Everyone turned to look at Custard, whose eyes were now open, but still scared and unsure. Thomas leapt down from the divan and stepped up to Custard to sniff at the boy’s frightened face. The cat put one paw on the boy’s shaking arm and let out a tiny meow. Custard looked at him in confusion.

“Thomas says it’s alright,” Erica said in a reassuring voice. “Don’t be afraid.” The little boy slowly turned around on the spot and saw the glowing figures in the center of the room. He pivoted his body and stood up, allowing them to finally catch a glimpse of him. They now appeared relieved and overjoyed.

“Charlie!”, called out his mother. “I’m so happy to see you! We miss you, sweetheart.” Custard’s recollection of his parents was scant, at best, having been only three years old when they died.

“Mother? Father? Is it really you?”, he asked, unsure of who he was actually seeing.

“Yes, son,” answered his father with a bittersweet smile. “It’s really us.” Yuri and Bella exchanged confused glances at this point, wondering about the true nature of the spirits’ visit.

“They were killed in a fire,” Bella whispered, leaning over to her cousin’s ear. “It was ruled ‘suspicious’.” Yuri nodded in understanding.

“We’ve been with you all along, sweetheart. We know these people have become your new family.” Custard winced slightly. He was unsure of what to feel. Many mixed emotions swirled inside his tiny chest. Were they upset that he now had new parents? Did they worry about him? What else did they want to tell him? As if sensing his son’s concern, Custard’s father took a reassuring tone.

“It’s alright, son. We’re happy you have a family to care for you.”

“Please, spirits,” Yuri called out, eager to thread connections that may be relevant. “Could you tell us how you died?” The couple glanced around for a moment, becoming aware of their surroundings once again.

“There was a fire,” the mother said. “In the house next door. It spread to our house, faster than we could escape.”

“Who lived in the next house, Mrs. …..?”, Yuri glanced at Bella, questioningly.

“Presnick,” Bella finished.

“Mrs. Presnick,” Yuri said, now able to complete his question. “Do you remember?”

“A kind old woman who sometimes babysat Charlie for us. Her name was Mrs. Llewellyn. Laris Llewellyn, I believe it was.” Rose felt her blood run cold at the mention of the woman’s name. Sir Lupin seemed taken aback for a moment and called out to the spirit with shocked skepticism.

“Are you certain?”, Lupin called out, in need of clarification.

“Yes, quite certain,” answered Custard’s father. “We had lived there for a few years, just after Charlie was born.”

“Do you remember anything strange about that night?,” Yuri asked, “On the night of the fire?”

“Only that someone must have paid her a visit, earlier,” Mr. Presnick answered. “We could hear her shouting at someone, in an angry voice. The fire happened not long after.” Lionel and Yuri looked at each with stern, uneasy glances before Lionel leaned over to whisper to Yuri.

“Do you think they knew?”, he asked his friend. Yuri shrugged, unsure of how he should best pursue the next line of questioning.

“How well did you know Mrs. Llewellyn?”, Yuri ventured.

“Well enough, I suppose,” answered Mr. Presnick.

“She was very helpful, especially when whenever we came down with something,” said Mrs. Presnick, cutting in.

“She warned us of the fire. Came banging on our door when it started. I handed her little Charlie, so she could get him away from the building. Then I went back inside to find Susan…but it was too late…” Mr. Presnick’s voice trailed off. A grave silence fell over everyone present as they absorbed this information.

“Perhaps Mrs. Llewellyn was in some kind of trouble,” said Mrs. Presnick, with uncertainty. “But she saved our little Charlie’s life!” She looked over at Custard with fondness.

“Did you know,” Lionel paused with caution, “that she was a witch?” Mandrake looked up in surprise at this question, and exchanged looks with Bella and Rose. Bella also had a look of surprise, but Rose could only fix her eyes elsewhere. The Presnicks paused, seeming to think on this with uneasiness.

“No…”, they answered. They appeared mildly confused before seeming to tap into something unseen upon pondering this. Mr. Presnick glanced around at the faces in the room. “Are you all witches then?”, he asked, after some thought. Heads slowly nodded in accordance.

“We are, yes,” Yuri confirmed. Custard’s mother appeared worried for a moment.

“Then you must be careful!”, she called out. “Don’t let anything happen to Charlie!” The spirit looked around frantically before settling her eyes on Rose. “Promise me!’, she demanded. “Promise me that you’ll watch over him!” Rose’s eyes were large and fixed. She nodded her head before responding.

“I will”, Rose reassured the spirit mother. “I will watch over him and care for him as if he were my own.”  The two spirits appeared relieved at this before turning to Custard again.

“We have to go now, sweetheart,” said his mother, her voice sad and wistful. “We love you!” Custard sniffed. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, and he tried to hurriedly brush them off with his sleeve.

“You must be brave, son,” said his father. “Remember, we’re never far off.” Custard nodded in understanding, unable to answer, but only wanting to hold their image in his eyes a little longer. Erica watched this, feeling his pain and wishing she could do something to help him feel better.

Yuri thanked the spirts as they made a departure to return to the realm from which they came. He closed the rite and snapped his fingers again to restore light to the parlor room in which the group sat, now transfixed in quiet contemplation.

“What do you suppose it all means, Yuri?”, Brutta finally asked, breaking the silence. Her son yielded to Sir Lupin, in the hopes that he could better illuminate the group.

“Laris Llewellyn is a known instigator to the Witch Council,” Lupin explained. “She had been protesting the Council’s regulations for decades and has become a proverbial thorn in their side. To be fair, she has tried, more than once, to advocate for better relations between the magical and non-magical communities  while still promoting magical usage, but to no avail. I think she may have had some sort of dealings with the Council, resulting in a visitation to her home on the night of the fire.”

“Wait just a moment,” Yuri said, soundly perplexed. “Are you saying—-?”

“—that it is possible the Council started the fire that killed that young boy’s parents”, Lionel said, gently tilting his head toward Custard, who sat on the divan now looking as if he was absorbed in his own thoughts.

“Good grief….,” Bella muttered, looking and sounding sickened.

“This is very bad,” Lupin stated. “The Council prides itself on maintaining amicable relations with non-magicals. To think that one of their delegates may have incited an event that resulted in death…,” he shook his head in consternation.

“She was just an nice old lady from the sounds of it. What could she have done to upset them so?”, Erica asked, now fully invested in the conversation.

“She was just a nice old lady,” Rose now spoke, her expression distant and remote. “Perhaps it was her kindness that upset them…” She seemed lost in disbelief, staring at the tabletop. All eyes turned to look at her.

“Rose?”, Mandrake slowly ventured. “Did you know this woman?” Rose glanced up at him and he saw her eyes begin to brim with tears. Rose swallowed hard before answering.

“She let me stay with her for a time,” she replied, “as a safe house…while I was…” She almost choked on her words. “What if…?” Bella looked sternly at her and exhaled deeply, understanding the implication of Rose’s internal question.

“Nothing gave them the right to avenge your actions on her or anyone else,” Lupin declared, firmly.

“That’s what makes it all the worse!”, said Rose. Guilt began to wash over her.

Brutta sensed that this day had seen enough surprises and turmoil and suggested everyone turn in for the evening. Yuri and Sir Lionel bid their goodbyes for the night. Bella ushered the children to bed, while Brutta cleaned up the house from the evening’s visit. Rose seemed to be stuck in a stupor, and retired to her room. What other horrors could this day have in store?, she wondered. First she had learned of the strange pact Bella and Mandrake had forged without her involvement, and the painful betrayal she still felt in her heart over it. Then the terrifying fall as a result of Bella’s anger…and now this. Little Custard having lost his parents and almost his own life, in the most dreadful way, because of her. The thought of all the pain she had brought on everyone after deciding to flee several years ago made her want to burst into tears. Learning all this new information only added more layers to a situation that was already rife with resentment. But Rose was not one to fully cry easily or often. Instead, she felt herself begin to stiffen and her hands clenched into fists as she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. This was wrong! Rose reflected on the injustice she felt in her heart. Her anger began to return, as she thought about all misery the Council has inflicted on her and her family. She remembered Brutta’s words in the yard, earlier that day:

“What about those who threaten your children’s safety? Do their laws not seem unfair? Does it not anger you to think about all the troubles your Witch Council has brought upon you??”

Rose had not felt anger like this before, but she felt it now. Perhaps this is what Brutta knew was required of her, to tap into her power….to, to do what, exactly?

Just then, the Mandrake came into the room, unsure of what to expect. He was genuinely concerned that Rose had likely had more surprises and shock than one day should hold for anyone. He sat down next to her on the bed, but refrained from touching her, as he could sense her tension from a mile away.

“How are you holding up?”, he asked. Rose said nothing, and only continued to stare dead ahead at nothing particular, lost in her thoughts and emotions. “You mustn’t blame yourself,” he said in consolation. “Custard is lucky to have you as a mother.”

“Yes, especially after I got his real mother killed…,” Rose added, ruefully. “I don’t deserve to have him.” She sniffed back an angry tear. Mandrake felt his heart pull at this admission.

“Rosebud…”, he said, gently trying to put his arm around her shoulder. His tone was sympathetic in a way that suggested that he longed to make this all go away. Rose only stiffened up again upon hearing his private, pet name for her, for the second time that evening. Neither did she yield to his touch, but instead remained fixed in place. “What’s done is done," he continued. "Let’s sleep now and put this day behind us. We’ll have time tomorrow to consider next steps.” But despite the Mandrake’s sound reasoning, Rose didn’t wish to put any of this behind her just yet. She remained silent and the Mandrake sighed in defeat before resigning himself to his side of the bed, fully sensing her displeasure. She seemed to fester all of the day’s emotions back into herself and another half hour passed before she would finally lay down to rest in a fitful sleep on the edge of the bed, keeping a distance between herself and her partner.

Chapter Text

The next morning was bright and warm, but tension was thick in the house. Breakfast has been something of a silent and strained affair, with very little in the way of strong appetites. Rose appeared the most out of humor, her eyes looking very heavy and tired. Mandrake’s face was in a deep frown and he focused all his attention on cutting his food into tiny pieces as if belaboring the task. All the while Bella seemed to fume into a cup of tea, held high before her face, as if the caffeinated beverage was the only presence she could tolerate. Erica could sense the tension and quietly observed everyone while slowly and carefully chewing her eggs and toast. Custard still seemed engrossed in thoughts that were far away from the breakfast table.

Later that morning, Brutta had gathered everyone in the backyard again for the second day of their magical training. As a standing testament from the day before, the yard was still torn and ragged with dangerous chasms and cracks which webbed across the ground’s surface. Brutta seemed unfazed, however, and simply instructed them to stay close to the house and to watch their step. She paced slowly, starting the day’s lesson…

“Pyromancy. Hydromancy. Geomancy. These are the skills that are born from your elemental abilities,” Brutta stated to the trio. “They do not limit or define your abilities, but rather they can enhance them. Your level of proficiency will depend on several factors: your discipline, your focus, your development and your talent…” She continued her lecture while the children sat at a safe distance where they could still observe, but could quietly chat between themselves without being overheard.

“Don’t tell me you're still afraid of ghosts after seeing your parents, Custard!” Erica said, admonishing her adoptive brother, who sat next to her. “It’s not as though they would do you any harm…”

“Yuri said they weren’t ghosts,” Custard corrected. “And I’m not. I just….” He paused, looking for the right words to explain his predicament. “I just wish I had had more time with them.” Custard’s voice trailed off in thought. Erica sat, quietly considering this. “They were gone so fast, before I could even think straight.”

“I suppose it was very short, wasn’t it?”, Erica asked, pondering this point. “At least you know they are still with you…watching over you all the time…at every moment…worse than Father Christmas. Better watch yourself.” Custard paid no mind to Erica’s cynical, sing-song teasing.

“Actually, I find it comforting that they’re with me,” he remarked. Then, after a long pause: “At least MY parents aren’t fighting and trying to kill each other.” Erica’s first impulse was to defensively protect her parents and contradict this statement, but giving it some thought, she realized Custard had really struck a sharp one this time. She thought about the behavior she had witnessed the day before, and the tension at breakfast. The adults had tried to shield them from what happened, but it was clear something was wrong. Both she and Custard clearly sensed the animosity that had reared itself in the last 24 hours. But she also knew the adults in her family loved her, and loved each other, so why were they behaving this way??

“You’ll need to learn how to concentrate all your energies on manipulating your surroundings, rather than allowing your surroundings to follow your emotions. We’ll start with this,” Aunt Brutta gestured toward the cracks and crevices on the ground. She looked at Bella. “Use your focus to repair this damage.” Bella frowned. She never was good at reverse magic, recalling all the times she had to pick up the messes the Mandrake had created for her during one of his “outbursts”. Brutta sensed her lack of belief.

“You can do it! If you created it, you can undo it,” Brutta encouraged. Bella sighed heavily and knelt down near the ground, placing her hands on the loose soil and grassy clumps. She closed her eyes, and tried to visualize the earth pulling itself back together under her touch.

“Feel it,” Brutta said. “Feel the ground pulling back together.” Bella clenched the earth, but nothing was responding as she hoped. Sensing this obstacle, Brutta prodded a bit deeper. “Imagine the earth you grasp is under your complete control…” The only thing Bella wanted to control in that moment, was getting her hands on the people who had robbed Custard of his family, including a certain redhead… She breathed deeply and loudly through her nose, clenched her eyes shut tightly, and….felt the soil and stones begin to gently pull and push between her fingers. The dirt began to fill in and shift around her grasp, and as it did so, Bella felt herself grow more confident and at ease as the results of her intention continued to materialize. Within minutes, Bella was now standing again and slowly roving the yard, bending over periodically to touch various points and as she did so, the broken ground seemed to reverse itself until the yard was solid once more. Bella then stood tall and looked around with her hands on her hips, as if to admire her handiwork.

“Yay, Bella!”, Erica called out with a smile, and she and Custard clapped their hands with impressed appreciation. Bella looked over at the children watching from the sidelines and seemed to beam at their praise. She smiled in return, and gave them an uncharacteristic wink.

“Well done, my dear!”, Brutta declared with pride. Bella puffed up a bit more and  looked over at the Mandrake who nodded once with approval at his friend’s accomplishment. Bella’s brief moment of triumph was displaced however, when Rose only silently looked away, almost in disgust.

Brutta then asked the Mandrake to demonstrate some of his abilities with fire control, of which he was able to generate, manipulate and extinguish fire at will.

“Excellent, my dear!”, she exclaimed. “Your skills are very advanced. You only need some time to refine them into perfect submission.” Brutta recommended  Mandrake spend some time working on his control while she instructed Bella and Rose, separately. She directed them to sit at a nearby table and handed Rose a bowl of water. To Bella, she handed a bowl of stones mixed with dirt.

“I want the two of you to practice with these and manipulate them in as many ways as you can,” said Brutta. “You need to familiarize yourself with the qualities of your element before you can work it effectively. I’ll be working on a spell of my own, in the meantime.” Rose looked at the water and remembered what Brutta had previously told her. Her feelings about everything that she had discovered over the past twenty-fours were still fresh in her mind and heart. She placed her hand over the bowl and slowly lifted a portion of the contents into the air. Her fingers appeared to massage the liquid mass into an aqueous sphere which grew bigger under her control. She knew this was a tiny accomplishment but was pleased with how easily the water responded to her command. Rose relished in her emotions, and felt their assistance in controlling the water. She then began to sway and flex the water, guided by both her hands, until the manipulation came with such ease that she felt a sense of playful joy in the act. Bella sat watching this spectacle with a mixture of envy and irritation. She looked down at her own bowl with annoyance, thoroughly unimpressed with its contents.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”, she mumbled to herself, but loud enough to be heard. Rose looked over at the blue-haired witch smugly, while manipulating the water in mid-air. She no longer even needed to look at the liquid, so comfortable was it in her grasp. Rose was struck with an idea, and mentally divided the water mass into three separate blobs which remained suspended. Bella smirked, wondering if her friend was going to start juggling with them…

“Perhaps you could do with a mud mask, darling,” Rose quipped suggestively, a tone of mischief in her voice. With a wave of her hand, she sent one of the water orbs flying into Bella’s bowl of dirt, resulting in an immediate transformation into a muddy concoction. Bella gaped at the sight, but before she could even remark with disgust, Rose’s hand waved another gesture and sent the mud jumping out of the bowl and landing straight onto Bella’s face. Erica, catching a glimpse of this, burst into a fit of shocked laughter. Bella gasped at the uncomfortable and filthy surprise.

“Why, you…..!!”, Bella snarled, her eyes shooting daggers at Rose.

“Oh dear, that’s too much,” Rose remarked with sarcastic sympathy. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then.” A second, larger wave of her hand, and Rose sent a larger orb of water careening onto Bella’s face leaving her in a more dampened, and still somewhat dirty, state. Bella narrowed her eyes at Rose, who was now chuckling softly at this predicament she had created. Bella grunted with embarrassed anger and gestured forth several marble-sized stones from the muddy mixture. With a quick flick of her wrist, the pebbles fired at Rose like miniature cannonballs, peppering her face and head.

“Oww!,” Rose called out in surprise, rubbing her forehead to alleviate the sharp pain she experienced.

“Hmph. See who’s laughing now, princess!”, said Bella with disgruntled satisfaction. “It’s not so funny, is it?”, she asked. Rose stood up, backing her chair behind her. She then used her arms to magically lift the water from the bowl and threw it sharply in Bella’s direction using a large, sweeping motion of her body. The water whipped Bella fast in the torso, knocking her and her chair backward.

“That’s how you want to play it,” said Rose. Bella took this as a challenge to her dignity and began hoisting herself up off the ground. As she did so, she grasped a fistful of dry dirt and pebbles and began grinding them between her two open palms until they formed a fine, sandy mixture. She gave Rose a wry smirk, opened her palm, and blew the sand into Rose’s face with a speed and accuracy that could only magical assistance could have achieved. Rose sputtered and coughed, rubbing her eyes as they teared up and became red and irritated. Erica and Custard were no longing laughing or smiling now, as this interaction had changed from resembling slapstick comedy to something a bit more sinister.

“Looks like you’re out of ammunition,” Bella smiled, glancing down at all the used water now lost to the ground. “Maybe you shouldn’t mess with an earth witch, as I will always have an endless source of material at my disposal.” Feeling goated into taking further action, Rose grew angry again and had to think quickly. Her eyes flitted around at her surroundings when another idea struck. She stood tall and outstretched her arms by her sides. Her open palms were facing downward and she appeared as if she was trying to hold off a horde of zombies from rising up, underfoot. Her hands started glowing with a magical aura and her face was tight with concentration. Water droplets began to rise up from the soil and gather into an orb the size of a football. Bella’s eyes grew wide at this development, unaware that her fellow witch was already capable of this skill. Once the water had accumulated to her liking, Rose held the globe of water before her face while it undulated at her fingertips. She drew her lips together and blew a long exhalation upon the water surface. The watery orb began to stiffen and grow white with frozen crystals. Rose repeated her exhalations until the orb transformed from a large snowball into a hard, sharply crusted orb of ice. For a moment, Rose appeared to have no concern for the damage the ice ball would inflict on her friend. Instead, her eyes sparked with malice and for a moment it was clear she was blinded with a quiet, steady wrath. Rose thrust her arm back and sent the ball hurdling toward Bella’s head. As it magically took aim and raced toward the blue-haired witch, the flash of a fire ball came in from right, melting the ball in midair and evaporating it before it could do any damage. Both Rose and Bella looked confused, turning their heads to see from where the flames had originated.

“That’s enough,” said the Mandrake as he approached them.  His tone was stern and humorless, his face deeply frowned. “You are both setting a very poor example.” He gestured toward Erica and Custard who sat quietly watching this unfold, now with uncomfortable looks on their faces. “Now get a hold of yourselves!”, he scolded, loudly. Rose and Bella looked at each other, but then turned away in a huff, neither willing to concede at this point. Worse than children, these witches will be the death of me!, thought Mandrake.

“Sufficiently annoyed at each other, are we?” Brutta’s voice was heard from behind the group as she reemerged from the outskirts of the yard, interrupting their struggle session. “How about we take aim at something more productive?”, she asked, with a smirk. She clapped her hands twice and a wicker figure stepped out from the wooded brush. It was almost as tall as the Mandrake, and more broad. A crudely carved wooden helmet with a decorated face plate adorned its head, giving it the rough semblance of a tribal warrior. Erica thought it strongly resembled a grotesque scarecrow, and it gave her the absolute creeps. That fact that it could walk on its own was the stuff of nightmares, she thought.

“This is a golem,” announced Brutta. “They are a useful form of earth magic, but I have crafted this one for a special purpose. She handed the golem a wooden shield, which it took from her and held in its twiggy “hand”. “The shield is enchanted," Brutta explained, “and the golem is powered by this medallion, which I have also enchanted.” Brutta gestured her hand to the metal disc hanging around the golem’s neck. Bella recognized it immediately as the battered piece of jewelry Brutta located in her workshop the day before.

“Enchanted to do what?”, Rose asked trepidatiously. Brutta smiled, as if in on an inside joke.

“To spar with you,” Brutta replied. “It’s time to practice some combative magic! And from the looks of things,” she continued, “not a moment too soon. Instead of taking aim at each other…” Brutta eyed Rose and Bella with the annoyance of a parent who has caught their children misbehaving, “…you would be better served by practicing with this. The golem will not attack you. But be warned. If your magic is deflected by its shield, the energy will bounce back to you, so you must arm yourself against it! If your magic strikes a blow to the golem, it will either destroy it, or the golem will absorb your magic, making it more difficult to defeat. A formidable opponent, yes?” Brutta continued smiling. The witches and wizard looked a bit forlorn and uncertain. Were they ready for a challenge of this magnitude?, wondered Mandrake. Brutta stepped over to the golem, and placed her hand over the medallion. She murmured something in a low voice and the medallion cast a glow under her touch. Turning around, she stepped away and headed for a safer distance. “Good luck, mages!”, she called out in a pleasant, sing-song tone. The golem assumed a squat and expanded its leg width in a battle stance, ready for the first offensive blow.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Each of the adults were busy scanning their minds for every spell they could remember. Few of these spells seemed appropriate, in light of the scenario Brutta was attempting to simulate for them.

“Anyone want to go first?”, Rose asked, staring at the wicker warrior.

“Perhaps we should spread out, to leave some space for whatever may occur…,” Mandrake suggested.

“Brilliant idea,” said Bella, with flat sarcasm. “We’ll be sure to do more damage that way.”

“What if we just blast it with energy?”, asked Rose. “You know, like a confounding spell.”

‘You can’t stupefy something that has no consciousness,” Bella remarked with annoyance. But Rose was not to be dissuaded.

“Well,” she said, “perhaps enough force can break it apart.” Rose brought her hands together at the center of her chest and with a quick motion forward, aimed a beam of energy toward the center of the golem. It immediately raised its shield and deflected Rose’s spell back toward her, from which she was unable to protect herself. Rose was struck in the chest and thrown backwards, landing on the ground, momentarily stunned into stillness. After reassuring everyone she was alright, Rose suggested a different course. “What if we all blast it from different sides?”, she asked excitedly. “It can’t shield itself from every direction, yea?” Bella and Mandrake agreed it was worth a shot and took their positions standing around the golem. On count, they each sent a confounding spell charging at the golem, in unison. The golem continued to stand without so much as budging an inch. The trio then took turns slamming a host of other lesser spells at the golem, all of which were equally ineffective. Feeling tired and out of sorts, they looked at each other helplessly.

“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” Bella suggested. “Maybe using elemental magic is the answer here.”

“Don’t look at me,” Rose said with defeated snark in her voice. “I doubt that giving it a bath will do much.”

“Perhaps I could try binding it with earth. If we could displace some of its form with another substance, such as dirt, other spells might be more effective…” Bella looked at the others hopefully before suggesting that Rose conjure some water to generate a thicker soil consistency, from which Bella could use to immobile the golem.

“At the very least, it will unable to use its shield. Maybe then we can get a better shot at it without it defending itself,” Bella explained. Rose looked incredulous but did as requested. She was already able to consciously conjure snowfall, she thought, so why should rain be any different? Bella swept her arms and with her broad gesture, the ground followed in response. A ton of soil plowed into the golem from all sides. As it did so, Rose fluttered her fingers toward the sky, hoping for a light shower. She figured there was no point in washing away all the soil with a downpour. With the added water, the dirt became a thick sludge and Bella cemented it like mortar between the twigs and branches of the golem’s body. She then plowed even more about its legs to hold it in place. The golem’s body staggered and creaked under the added weight of the wet mud.

“Now then! That should hold it steady,” Bella announced proudly. Just as she began to feel pleased with this idea, a strange groaning sound could be heard from the golem, its wicker body moving slightly. The trio watched closely as it continued to stretch and moan.

“It is just me…,” asked Rose, “or is that bloody thing growing bigger?” Sure enough the golem had steadily expanded to be almost twice its original size and still growing. It towered over the group, its helmeted face staring them down, menacingly.
“Of course!,” Mandrake called out. “Brutta said this was a piece of earth magic, yes? Well, using earth magic against it has only made it grow larger. It has most likely absorbed your energy and grown stronger! Damn it…” The wizard exhaled in frustration, his face frowning in annoyance. Bella placed her hands on her hips, assessing the situation.

“Mandrake, why don’t you try burning it? It’s really nothing more than a bundle of kindling, after all.” Mandrake didn’t look convinced, but he grunted and nodded his head once in agreement. His hands burst into flames and he sent a flaring fireball hurdling toward the golem, which then promptly raised it shield and deflected the orb back at the wizard. Mandrake grasped at the orb as it came roaring back at him, harnessing the power back to its source. Both Bella and Rose watched this with admiration.

“So much for immobilizing its movement..,” Rose observed.

“Hm. Perhaps this would be better…,” Mandrake aimed lower this time, and with a quick sweep of his long arms, sent a blazing trail of flames racing toward the golem’s feet. Within seconds, the bundled branches had burst into flames while the golem remained standing in wait.

“It doesn’t seem to be doing anything,” the Mandrake rumbled in awe. “If anything, the sticks seem to be fueling it like a damn campfire!” The golem was now expanding its width, its twigs and branches burning intensely.

“Can you extinguish it?”, Bella asked. Mandrake agreed to try, but the golem remained burning while the wizard’s efforts had no effect. The flames grew higher now, licking the sky above its prickly head.

Erica and Custard continued to watch the adults try to conquer Aunt Brutta’s creation, and it was clear that they were not having any success. Erica leapt to her feet and called out to them.

“Look! It’s getting bigger again!”, she cried, pointing at the twiggy humanoid. The golem was now a towering inferno and even Brutta was looking worried.

“Could the fire spread?’, asked Custard, with a terrified look on his face. “We’re surrounded by wooded brush, after all…” As if reading Custard’s mind, Rose tried her best to conjure a torrential downpour to extinguish the blazing golem, but was having difficulty focusing enough energy for the task. Raindrops began falling in a steady rhythm, but they were not strong enough to be effective against the much stronger flames. The trio tried using various other spells, but the results were even worse than before.

“Please!”, Erica ran up to Brutta, her voice shouting frantically over the roaring blaze. “You have to stop it! It’s too much, they can’t control it!” Brutta looked down at the girl, a reluctant look of agreement in her eyes. Just then, the trio made the decision to direct all their elemental energies toward the golem in unison. Fire, water and earth bombarded the flaming figure with fury, and for a moment, the golem appeared to shake and sway with the pressure.

“I think it’s working!”, Bella shouted. “It may be growing weaker!” The witch forced a blast of stones at the warrior, hoping it might be enough to break its form. The golem appeared to glow with energy, however. Just when it seemed to be weakening, its stance grew more threatening. Stones and rocks pelted the figure, some of which were absorbed into its fiery body, while others jumped and burst forth with the embers and sparks that threatened to engulf everyone present.

Brutta approached the golem. Extending her arm, she prepared to terminate the golem’s spell. As if in retaliation, a small, stray stone flew from the golem and struck the crone in the forehead, knocking her unconscious. The trio continued to battle the wicker creature, while the children ran to Brutta’s body, now laying on the ground. She lay unresponsive to their touch.

“Oh no!!”, Custard shouted frantically, “what do we do??”

‘MUM! Try ice! Freeze the golem!”, Erica yelled to her mother. Rose could barely hear her daughter’s voice over the din of raging fire and rain. She tried to muster all the anger she could, thinking of all the pain, grief and guilt she felt. But her thoughts were flustered, encumbered by fear and the frenzied commotion around her. Erica felt completely overwhelmed. She was used to things being orderly and controlled in her life, the way she liked them. Never had things been so completely out of her control as they were right now. Never had she wanted to turn back time more than at this moment, before all this started! She could see Bella and her parents struggling against magic they couldn’t control and felt terrified on their behalf. She felt anger at Aunt Brutta for putting them in harm’s way with something they were not yet ready to confront. But mostly, she just wanted everything, especially this golem, to….

“STOOOOOOOOOP!!!!’, Erica screamed at the top of her lungs. The witchling stood with clenched fists, her limbs fixed, her body rigid with rage. She stared over at the burning bundle of enchanted twigs as if she were staring down a charging bull. ‘STOOOOOOOOP IT!!! STOP IT NOW!!!”

Rose felt her daughter’s anger and felt in own respond in turn. They were in this mess together now, whatever may occur, though she wished otherwise. Damn those council bitches…!

A strong breeze began to blow, which quickly turned icy cold against Rose’s skin. She focused her attention again and ice crystals grew within the golem’s limbs. The breeze shifted into a gust of wind that seemed to blast from nowhere. The wind roared with a loud smash as icy twigs, mud and pebbles blew in all directions. In the space where the golem had stood, lay the splintered waste of what it had been. There were twigs and branches still smoldering on the ground, while others were covered in mud and debris. Erica fell to her knees on the ground, worn out from the ordeal. Rose ran over to check on her daughter, while Bella rushed to her aunt, seeing her body on the ground, laying beside Custard’s kneeling form. The Mandrake bent over and lifted the old crone into his arms. He carefully carried her into the house while the rest of the group followed.

Placing her upon the sitting room sofa, Mandrake knew the large bump on Brutta’s forehead would require attention. He laid his large heads on the front and back of her skull and closed his eyes in concentration. Everyone watched closely, waiting for a reaction.

After a few minutes, the crone’s eyes began to flutter. She opened them slowly, her confusion evident. She looked around the room and at each of the faces present. “What happened?’, she asked. No one was really sure how to answer the question, each as equally confused as the next.

“You took a terrible blow,” Mandrake said. “Flying debris, it would seem…” Brutta sat up in terror, her eyes wide.

“The golem…!”, she blurted out. Mandrake put up his hand to calm her.
“It’s been destroyed,” he reassured her. Brutta looked mystified, recalling the sheer mayhem that was happening before the stone struck.

“But…how?”, she asked.

“All I remember is a crash of wind,” said Rose, her voice low in contemplation. “The whole thing just…burst open…”

“Nothing we were doing seemed to help…,” Bella remarked with disgust. “Until the girl, here, started shouting at it. That’s when the wind started up.” Brutta considered this.

“A burst of wind, you say?”, asked Brutta, skeptically. Bella and Rose nodded. “Then I’m not sure that’s true,” Brutta replied. “If you three were all using your energies against it, simultaneously, and all it took was one blast of wind to shatter the spell…” Brutta turned to look at Erica. “Then this young one may be… an Air witch.” Erica eyes darted around at the adults, not understanding the gravity of Brutta’s observation. Brutta saw similar confusion in everyone’s eyes.

“Don’t you see?”, she asked. “All four elements. At once! No spell could stand up to that kind of power.”

“But it shouldn’t have been necessary!”, Erica cried out, standing to face the old witch. “We could have all been killed!” Brutta’s eyes softened.

“You’re right, little one,” she said with remorse. “I am sorry about that. I overestimated the situation. I hope you can forgive me, dears.” Her eyes pled for forgiveness. Everyone relaxed for a moment, nodding and relinquishing to the fact that they had much more to learn than they had first realized.

Chapter Text

After the incident with the golem, all everyone wanted, and what they all needed, was some time to rest and recover. The trio, in particular, was exhausted after the ordeal. Rose just wanted to be alone and retired to take a nap in her room. Mandrake had nearly collapsed into a armchair, his long legs stretched out before him. Bella, too, felt spent and followed his lead. She insisted her aunt take it easy for a little while, due to her head injury. The old woman rested on the sitting room sofa with a pillow and blanket, sipping tea. Erica decided now would be a good time to pick the old witch’s brain. She stood in the middle of the room, surveying everyone’s behavior.

“Why is everyone so tired, exactly?”, Erica asked. Her arms were crossed, and she began tapping one foot, as if scrutinizing the situation. “Is this a side of magic I don’t know about?” Brutta placed her teacup down on the nearby table.

“Magic use exacts a certain toll on the user,” Brutta explained. “The more powerful the magic, the more energy it requires. Some of that energy comes from the user, themselves. But, with practice one can build up stamina so that spell casting isn’t as tiring.”

“Like in sports?”, Custard asked.

“Yes, something like that,” Brutta answered. “The more one practices, the more efficient the user becomes.” Erica looked around slyly at Mandrake and Bella.

“Looks like you two are pretty well out of practice,” she said. “No wonder we don’t use magic around the cottage more often.” Both Bella and Mandrake frowned disapprovingly, but were too tired to argue. Not that they could argue, Mandrake thought to himself. Being limited to lower magic and having the assistance of pet familiars had not only reduced their magical opportunities, it had also made them lazy. Perhaps the embarrassing ordeal in the backyard had been a good thing. It showed them where their weakness lay, and what they needed to address, moving forward.

“We are obviously in need of a lot more knowledge that we first realized,” Mandrake stated grimly. “How do we go about learning better spells, beyond the usual fare?” Brutta took another sip from her teacup.

“I agree,” said Brutta, nodding her head. “I’ll bring out my spell books for you to study. I think you will find many valuable spells to add to your arsenal. But first,” the witch continued, “I’m going to finish my tea…” Mandrake nodded once, with approval.

Erica decided to retreat to her guest room while everyone was taking a rest. She couldn’t shake the feelings she was detecting from the adults in her family and it was really becoming a dreadful bother. Ever since Bella had revealed that she was married to Mandrake the entire family dynamic had changed into something that felt just awful! When they weren’t ignoring one another they seemed to want to kill each other. What a mess!, she thought. Maybe what they all needed right now was a little encouragement. So things could go back to normal. Erica paused for a moment. But what was normal? Sure, her family had always been a little strange; she knew that from the beginning. Being a family of witches, one had to expect a certain amount of unconventionality. But Erica knew her mother was unhappy with this, and to be honest, she could understand why. She knew from the way her parents usually looked at each other that they were clearly in love. Erica recalled a time they were once sitting at the dinner table…

“Mum, what did you think of Mandrake the first time you saw him?” Erica glanced over at her father, as he sat reading his evening newspaper. She still struggled with calling her father “dad”, often yielding to “Sir” or using his name, instead. Rose looked amused and waggled her eyebrows a bit before winking.

“I thought he was a stone-cold fox,” she replied with authority. Erica laughed, but not before the Mandrake flustered and frowned, his face turning a deep crimson red. Erica had to admit, it was cute when he was like this, in a funny sort of way. Sometimes she liked teasing him, and she wasn’t the only one.

“It’s true, she did,” Bella confirmed, taking a sip of wine. This added to Mandrake’s flattered embarrassment and Bella enjoyed every second of it. He lifted his newspaper high to hide behind its shield.

“Sir, what did you think of Mum, when you first saw her?”, she asked demurely.

“Don’t you have some homework to do??”, the wizard asked, gruffly, from behind the paper. The three witches exchanged smiles.

Erica sighed. She wasn’t much interested in romantic mushy stuff, but she liked seeing them content. Especially her father, who was much nicer to be around when he was happy. But if anyone was unhappy in the household, then that meant she would be unhappy, as well, and that just wasn’t going to cut it. What to do?, Erica asked herself. She reached into her enchanted travel bag and located her colored pens and a pad of notepaper. Ah, her trusty paper and pens! She was so glad she had packed them even if it meant packing a few less pairs of socks. Bella tried to convince her that the bag was enchanted and she could pack more than the bag appeared to carry, but Erica wasn’t completely convinced. With pen in hand, she started drawing. First, her father. He had always been a tricky face for her to render, but with practice in recent months, her skills had improved. It helped that his ears were now easier to draw, too. She busily added color once the drawing was complete. Erica peeled the drawing from the pad and carefully put it aside. She prepared to start a second drawing, this time of her mother. She had never drawn her mother’s face before, but found it to be fairly easy…until she got to the hair. Her hand turned and curved with every lock of curl, taking her time with each swirl and spiral until the portrait had a head full of ringlets. Now, the color. As she filled in the appropriate hues, Erica dwelled on her intentions for using these pictures. She imagined her parents smiling, and making up, and kissing, and being happy again. Once that was finished, she started on a portrait of Bella. Even though she had drawn Bella before, this portrait would require extra thought and special attention. What did she want to accomplish for Bella? Erica wanted Bella and her mother to stop fighting, but she knew that Bella would need a reason to not attract her mother’s anger anymore. Maybe…maybe Bella needed someone she could love and be happy with, too. But who? Who would be a good boyfriend for Bella? She realized Bella would probably hate that she was doing this, and would likely scold her for trying to interfere in her life in this way. But Bella cast love spells for clients all the time! She didn’t seem to think that was a problem! Erica paused her pen as she considered this deeply. But this is Bella, we’re talking about, she thought. Bella, who was ever the grumpy, dour witch who seemed most happy when she was un-happy. Except…Erica remembered the magical memories she saw in the photographs in her father’s den. She wasn’t always unhappy….was she? Hm, Erica thought with a curt nod of her head, Bella just doesn’t know what’s good for her! Now the witchling felt a sense of purposeful resolve. She was going to help fix this situation, whether anyone asked her to, or not! After all, something had to be done! They couldn’t just carry on like this! Erica put the drawings of the three adults safely back in her bag. She would need to give this more thought later…

As the others continued to rest in the sitting room, Aunt Brutta finished her tea and exited the room. Custard sat reading his book while Thomas curled up next to him. Since Custard had joined the household, Thomas had taken a special liking to the boy, as he made the least demands of him and never made the timid cat feel nervous. Thomas noted to himself that Custard spent enough time feeling nervous enough for the both of them… Mandrake noticed the child reading and felt a longing to pull out a tome of his own, but he was too tired to get up from the chair just yet. As if on cue, Brutta came back into the room with a stack of four books, each looking older than the next. She handed one to Bella and one to Mandrake. A third was put aside for Rose who was still napping. Mandrake held the book in his hands and examined the cover, which held a symbol etched into the leather. The binding was delicate, but intact. Bella knew immediately what her book was from the moment she held it, despite having never seen it before.

“These books contain the spells you seek,” Brutta said. “I recommend you take your time reviewing each one and begin committing them to memory. It is not necessary to master every spell, but having several valuable ones at your disposal will help you immensely.” Bella carefully flipped through the fragile pages, noting the decorated tableaux and insignia that appeared next the names of certain spells.

“What do these symbols mean?”, she asked her aunt.

“That indicates the element that most strongly corresponds to the spell.” She pointed at a marking that looked like three vertical wavy lines. “Do you see this symbol? This spell would be most efficacious in the hands of a fire witch.”

“Does that mean only a fire witch can cast it?”, asked Bella.

“No,” Brutta replied. “Any skilled witch can perform any spell, but the results would be stronger and come with greater ease if done so by a wielder of that element.” Bella pondered this and continued examining the text. There were wavy horizontal lines for water, zigzag lines for earth and straight lines for air. How clever was the simplicity of these symbols, thought Bella. Just a few lines could indicate a flame, a wave, a mountain or a cloud! Her eyes then caught sight of one that didn’t seem to fit with the others.

“What does this red tear drop shape mean?”, Bella bemused. Brutta looked to where Bella’s ringed finger pointed. Her face became serious.

“That,” Brutta responded, “indicates a blood spell.” Bella’s eyebrows rose to look intently at her great aunt. Bella had heard of such spells but had never encountered one. “Some spells require a blood sacrifice of some sort to manifest.” Overhearing this, Custard looked up from his book with a squeamish expression.

“A—a sacrifice?”, he stammered, his mind racing with all sorts of images.

“Yes, blood is the life source of most living beings. That said, some spells are so significant that they require a different source of energy and commitment.”

“Fr—from who?”, Custard ventured nervously. Thomas was also now sitting at attention, staring with terrified eyes at the crone.

“It depends on the spell and the desired goal," Brutta answered. “It can come from the target of the spell, if there is one, or from the witch, themselves, as a source of payment for the power called upon. It can also come from an animal, if that is more appropriate.” Thomas swallowed hard and hoped that Bella would never use one of those spells…

Just then, Rose came walking into the room looking more refreshed. She looked around and saw everyone looking at the books.

“Reading, are we?”, she asked with skepticism. “I thought I heard voices. What’s everyone chattering on about?”

“We were just talking about—blood spells!”, Custard answered, looking uneasy. Thomas shot the boy an irate glare.

“Shhhush! Ixnay on the ood-blay!”, Thomas pressed with discreet urgency from behind a paw raised to his mouth. Custard heard none of the cat’s urgings, but understood his sentiment, nonetheless.

“Blood spells?”, Erica asked, now walking into the sitting room, having left her drawings for the time being. ‘That sounds exciting! Is there going to be a lesson about those, too??”

“Not for you, little one,” replied Aunt Brutta. She then handed the third volume to Rose. “You’ll need to begin familiarizing yourself with these spells,” Brutta told her. “Take your time and absorb the texts carefully” The old witch approached  Custard, taking note of his book reading. “I see you enjoy reading, young man. A very worthy pursuit!” She handed him a book she had chosen for him from her library. “These are tales of magical lore, dating back many centuries. I think you’ll find them interesting and helpful in understanding the magical world in which you have found yourself now living.” Her voice was soft and compassionate. Mandrake took note of this instruction and comment from Brutta, wondering why he, himself, hadn’t thought of it. Training Custard in the ways of the magical world was going to be an important undertaking and this was a good place to start.

“I like to read, too! What book do you have for me?’, Erica asked with excitement, not wanting to be left out. Brutta looked down at little girl, placing a matronly hand upon the child’s shoulder. “You, dear, are going to join me in the workshop,” she told the witchling. “Come now! Let’s you and I have a chat.” She headed toward the doorway, ushering Erica with her while Custard and the adults held a study session in the sitting room.

Once in the workshop, Brutta instructed Erica to take a seat and proceeded to sit down across from her. The crone asked her to explain what she knew of magic, what she had learned thus far, and most importantly, what kind of abilities she believed herself to possess. Erica told her of Bella’s potions lessons, her time in the orphanage and her ability to understand to Thomas.

“I can make people do what I want,” Erica announced with pride. Brutta cocked an eyebrow upon hearing this, somewhat amused.

“And how do you do that?”, she asked. Erica’s eyes shifted sideways, and she looked away, unsure of whether it would be wise to divulge her best secrets. Even at her age, she knew that controlling others to her advantage was a power that few possessed and even fewer need know about. Brutta sensed her hesitation. “It’s alright, dear. I’m just trying to understand your abilities so I can help you develop them further. Whatever you tell me will be strictly confidential!” The woman made an exaggerated gesture of crossing her heart and locking her lips in an effort to win the child’s trust with humor and charm. Erica appreciated the gesture and trained her eyes on Brutta. She proceeded to look into her mentor and saw her sincerity. There was a genuine curiosity and desire to understand and know.

“First, I look inside them,” Erica began.

“What do you mean when you say that?’, the crone asked.

“I can see their real thoughts, what they want. I can see how they really feel about things. And if I tell them what they want to hear most, I can say it and make them like me. People are more likely to do what you want when they like you.” Brutta was impressed with the child’s understanding of human behavior.

“That is true, isn’t it?”, she concurred. “Are you able to see other things, aside from their thoughts and wants?”, Brutta asked. Erica considered this a moment.

“Sometimes, I can see colors. And memories.” Erica continued to mentally scroll through the list of things her mind saw whenever she focused on a particular individual at any given time. “The first time I saw the Mandrake was at the orphanage, when he and Bella came to choose a child to take home with them.” She paused and knitted her brows, trying to accurately recall the incident. “He had all these colors around him…,” She struggled to find the right descriptor when her eyes suddenly lit up. “…like the aurora borealis!”

“You saw his aura then,” Brutta tipped her head once, in understanding.

“And he grew, taller and taller, until he almost reached the ceiling! But he didn’t really. It was just something I saw.” Brutta recalled her own insightful visions from the card readings she conducted several days before.

“Your father was cursed, wasn’t he?”, she asked.  “A curse that changed him sometimes, turned him into something tall and frightening.” Erica nodded.

“I was never afraid of him. But Bella was. I knew he was more bark than bite.”

“How did you know that?’, asked Brutta.

“Because I could feel it,” Erica answered. “I can tell what people are feeling, what their real intentions are, if I focus on it.” Brutta asked the child if she was able to influence people in other ways, say, if they weren’t present, but rather at a distance.

“I draw a picture of them,” Erica explained. Brutta’s eyebrows raised noticeably at this. Seeing this, Erica elaborated. “I draw them, and think about what I want them to do. Sometimes it takes awhile for it to happen, but I keep thinking about it when I see their picture.”

“Interesting,” said Brutta, matter-of-factly. “The reason you are able to do all these things is because air is your element.” Erica looked at the old witch with confusion.

“I thought being an air witch meant I could control the element of air…,” Erica questioned.

“You can, although not as much as you might think,” Brutta explained. “Air witches are better equipped at using air to their advantage, more so than other witches.”

“Does that mean I can fly?!?!”, Erica blurt out, loudly, her eyes wide with excitement. “Bella refuses to teach me, but I know I can do it!”

“Yes, air witches are very adept at flying, but that lesson will have to wait until you are a little older,” Brutta said, raining on the child’s enthusiasm. Erica’s face and shoulders fell in disappointment. “Right now, I think it best if we focus on your other air abilities. This may surprise you to know,” the witch continued, “but air witches are very skilled at mental manipulation and communication. Your ability to feel and influence people, to see things that others cannot, are examples of this. With practice, I can help you develop these skills further.” Erica looked at the crone and beamed.

“That sounds great! When do we start?!”

*****

Later that night, as the clock struck eleven, the adults in Aunt Brutta’s enchanted cottage began turning in for the night. Mandrake, ever the voracious reader, was the last to relinquish his book and had remained in the sitting room until he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Was it really his love of reading that kept him up so late this night? Was it the urgent need to learn as much as possible, as Brutta recommended? These reasons would be as good as any on any other night, but he knew the real reason. He was procrastinating. He knew that Rose was already in their bed and he was reluctant to confront the icy welcome he would receive from her. He gave serious consideration to sleeping on the sofa, but it was far too short to accommodate his exceedingly long frame. The armchairs would also prove unsuitable…as he had learned. He sighed heavily, and begrudgingly dragged his large body out of the chair and down the hall to the bedroom, being careful to enter quietly. To his surprise, the light on one of the nightstands was still on, and Rose’s form sat in bed, reading a large spell book. “You’re still up?”, Mandrake asked in disbelief, removing his shoes upon entering the room. “It’s not like you to read in bed,” he observed. He began undressing, while still hoping for a response. When none came, he prompted further. “Have you found anything of interest, something that may prove useful?” He sat down on his side of the bed, watching and waiting. Still, no reply. Mandrake inhaled deeply in frustration, staring at the red-haired witch. “Are you not speaking to me now?”, he asked. Rose kept her eyes on her book. His brows twisted into a cross and his voice grew sharp and firm. “You’ve been acting very childish all day, Rose. This is so unlike you!” Without taking her eyes off her book, she finally gave a detached response.

“If you don’t like it, perhaps you should go sleep with your wife tonight—!” Mandrake could easily detect the snide edge in her voice…and it sent him reeling.

“That’s it then, is it?”, he retorted with hurt and contempt. “Maybe you’re right, perhaps I should! I wonder if she’d be up for the idea!”, the wizard shot back, with just as much scorn. And with that pronouncement, he got up and left the room, firmly closing the door behind him. Mandrake’s comment held a certain implication that Rose didn’t like. Was he really going in search of Bella’s room?? Jealousy surged through her veins, but she refused to chase after him.

Chapter Text

The sun was just barely rising when Erica heard the summer birdsong chirping through the open windows. She lay in the small bed in the guest room she shared with Custard, who lay in an identical bed on the opposing wall. Excitement made to difficult for her to remain sleeping, as she was eager to get up and start her magical training with Aunt Brutta. She wondered if Custard was awake yet.

“Psst! Hey! Custard!”, she whispered. “You awake?” Custard was still, his breathing soft. A silence followed and Erica turned to look back at the ceiling. The house was still quiet, indicating that no one else was up yet. Pushing back the covers, she stepped out of bed and was careful to tiptoe to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. Upon exiting, she caught a sight out the corner of her eye that caused her to investigate further. There, on the sofa, lay her father’s sleeping form, his long limbs hanging over the sides, his head tucked in what appeared to be a most uncomfortable position. She had never seen him looking so disheveled and vulnerable before, and it was an odd sight. More to the point, she certainly had never seen him in this predicament. What was he doing out here? She could only guess that he wouldn’t be here unless he felt he had no other option. They must have fought again, she concluded with dismay. This was too much. Perhaps he needed to be taught a lesson… Just then, the witchling felt the most impish sense of mischief take over her senses and went in search of one of her ink pens from her enchanted bag. Returning to the sitting room, the Mandrake was still out cold, oblivious to the world. I shouldn’t do this, she chastised herself. But the imp in her ear took over. Go on, he deserves a little ribbing, he’s been a right git lately. Do it for Mum. She then took the pen and proceeded to draw a two thin black lines beneath his nose, giving each end an upturned curl. His face twitched slightly as his unconscious self detected the sensation and she was careful to be gentle so as not to wake him. Tickled at her handy work, she pondered the results while making some delicate adjustments and adding some lines on his chin for good measure. Oui, Monsieur, you make a fine Frenchman, indeed. If only I had a beret to put on your head…Oh! That would be so funny! Not wanting to risk waking him, she capped the pen and tiptoed back to her room. Once there, she found Custard already up and dressed, tying his shoes.

“Good Morning, Sleepyhead!”, she greeted, cheerily.

“You’re in an awfully good mood this morning,” Custard observed, not without a touch of annoyance.

“That’s because today Aunt Brutta is going to teach me the finer points of being a proper witch!”, Erica announced with self-assured excitement. She glanced from side to side as if to be certain she was not being overheard. “Hey. I found the Mandrake sleeping in the sitting room just now.” Custard looked up from his shoes, looking perplexed.

“Why? That doesn’t seem very comfortable,” he said. Erica looked at her brother with a confounded look on her face.

“Custard. Don’t be so dense,” she chastised. “Obviously he and Mum are quarreling. She must have kicked him out or something.”

“Well, how do you know that?”, Custard asked, defensively. “Maybe he left on his own! Maybe she was being mean to him!” Erica cocked an eyebrow at him preceptively, noting that Custard sounded like he was taking this a bit too personally.

“Don’t be daft, Custard. Mum is never mean,” Erica said, dismissively. The young boy considered this a moment, his brows pinching together in thought. It was true, Rose was the nicest to him of anyone in the entire household. But lately…

“She was mean to Bella yesterday…,” he countered softly, recalling the incident with the mud and the ice ball. Erica pondered this and realized Custard had a point.

“Well,” she stammered, feeling protective of her mother. “That’s only because Bella and Mandrake did something they shouldn’t have done! Maybe they drove her to this!” She stood, facing her brother down, with her hands on her hips. Custard shirked back, not looking for a fight.

“Okay, okay,” he replied, putting up his hands in a defensive gesture. They were interrupted by the sound of someone moving about the house. Custard breathed a sigh of relief. “Looks like the grown ups are waking up.” The two children ventured to the kitchen where Bella and Brutta were starting to prepare breakfast. As they sat down, Rose entered the room, her mood darker than most mornings. Still, she attempted to put on a cheery face for the children, which Erica noticed was half-hearted, at best.

“Good Morning, loves”, Rose said bravely, pouring herself a cup of tea. “Come sit down, Bella has breakfast almost ready for you.” As dishes were being laid, and bodies were taking seats, Bella looked around the room, questioningly.

“Now where is Mandrake? He’s never late for breakfast,” she said grumbling. She leaned over the table, dispensing food, when the looming figure of Mandrake appeared, darkened the doorway of the kitchen. He was rubbing the crook of his neck due to the smarting pain he felt there and looked annoyed and miserable, as if his sleep on he sofa has been far from adequate. He was normally a man who took care that his appearance always be presentable, and his visage this morning was alarming by comparison. His clothing and hair was crumbled and disheveled, his face unshaven. And while his glasses hid his eyes from view, one could easily deduce there were likely dark circles under them. Rose looked up and saw him approach. She then smirked loudly into her cup of tea, causing Bella and Brutta to turn around and find the source of her amusement. They stood, eyes agape, at this bizarre and pitiful semblance of the proud wizard. Custard stifled back a giggle before shooting Erica a look of admonishment. Mandrake looked confused at their reactions, but assumed it was because of his unkept appearance, and he was in no mood to humor chitchat or entertain questions.
“Mandrake…,” Bella ventured with cautious confusion, “what happened to your face?”

“What do you mean?”, he asked flatly. Now Rose was laughing quietly to herself and the children followed suit. Bella quickly turned to Erica.

“Did you do this?”, she asked the witchling, before mumbling, “As if I had to ask…” Erica only stared back as if she had no idea what Bella was saying. Now Mandrake was starting to appear alarmed, glancing around at the room at all the faces looking at him. Brutta touched his arm gently.

“I think you should go take a look in the mirror, dear,” she said. Taking long, agile strides, the Mandrake hurried to the nearest bathroom. Erica awaited his reaction with baited breath, while feigning ignorance and eating her toast. A loud, rumbling voice could be heard from the bathroom, one that escalated in volume with each word.

“What. IS. THIS?!?” The Mandrake came charging back into the kitchen, completely irate. He’d had enough of these witches pushing him to the brink of his limited tolerance of late, and now THIS. The youngest of his witch brood, most likely, now disrespecting him in such a flippant and undignified manner? This would not stand! “DEARWIG! WAS IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!?,” he raged.

“I have no idea what you mean, sir,” Erica responded dully. The Mandrake then started to fume and smoke in ways she hadn’t seen in over a year. She also could have sworn she saw him begin to transform again…He bared his teeth and clenched his fists and started towards her.

“Calm down, Mandrake! It’s not that serious, it’ll wash off…,” Rose interjected, coming to her daughter’s defense, her attempt to de-escalate the situation failing miserably.

“Stay out of this, woman!”, said Mandrake, sharply. Rose’s expression twisted into one of angry offense and she stood up quickly, backing her chair behind her. Before she could say a word in protest, however, Mandrake was lunging toward Erica’s seat. She, however, was already out of her chair and half way around the table before he could reach her. A quick mid-step chase ensued, but Erica was too nimble and quick for the large, lumbering Mandrake. Just as he was about to finally grasp her with his long arms, the girl darted under the table and ran across the kitchen towards the back door. As he came around the table in pursuit, Erica opened the door and ran into the yard, now with the Mandrake hot on her trail. With nothing obstructing his path, his strides began to gain on her and the two charged out into yard with the rest of the family watching, chasing, and shouting for him to stop. For the first time, Erica felt some degree of fear of her father, something she had never felt before, even at his worst moments. Erica felt him approach so close that she could hear his heavy footsteps on the ground behind her. And then, just as she was sure he was about to grab her and carry her back to the house, her foot was suddenly off the ground. Then, her other foot followed suit. She seemed to be climbing, but on what? The treetops seemed to grow closer and larger before her eyes, and as she looked down, she saw it. There was the ground, a good distance below and here she was…floating? Mandrake’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he saw his daughter directly before him, ready to meet his grip—then suddenly lift into the air before his very eyes. Erica turned in mid air and saw her family, standing on the ground below, looking up at her with shocked looks on their faces. Erica belted out laughing, now fully understanding the situation. This was flying! SHE was flying! Just when she needed it most, or so she believed, her flying skills had kicked into use! She stood, suspended in the air, feeling the breeze gently sweep her skin. The weightless sensation almost made her dizzy for a moment, before Brutta called up to her, as she hung in the air above the group. The old woman held out a grandmotherly hand to the child, reassuring her that nothing would harm her.

“Come now,” she said, and Erica air-walked her way back to earth, taking long strides until her feet were on solid ground once more. “Looks like we’ll need to address those flying lessons much sooner than I first thought.” Aunt Brutta held Erica’s hand and escorted her back into the house while everyone stood speechless, especially her father. Rose smiled in disbelief. As Brutta passed the Mandrake, she patted him lightly on the arm. “Go and get yourself washed up for the day now, Mr, Mandrake.” Rose turned and made a similar maneuver with Custard, until eventually the only two people left standing in the yard were Bella and Mandrake.

“Looks like she showed you…,” Bella said to him, in a flat tone. The Mandrake remained transfixed, his eyes barely registering that she was still there. “Welcome to the club.” The blue haired witch then turned and walked back the house, a smirk rising on her lips. Good on the girl, she thought to herself.

****

Once the morning’s events had simmered down, things began to move in more progressive directions. The trio studied and experimented with the spells in Brutta’s books. Custard read the lore and legend texts Aunt Brutta had given him, and Brutta began training Erica to use her powers more effectively.

“These are sigils,” the crone told Erica. “If you apply them to anything you put on paper, your drawings for example, they will help harness the powers of the universe and apply them to your intentions.” Erica examined the selection of strange symbols and scribbles Brutta had given her. She found this information very intriguing. “They each have a specific purpose. But you must be careful, little one. All magic can be intercepted, bound or backfire. There are many powerful magic wielders in the world and you don’t want to go crossing them, unnecessarily! It also helps to really know what you want before you go about setting it into motion.” Erica believed this would not be a problem. After all, knew what she wanted most of the time…didn’t she? She studied each of the different meanings attributed to each sigil. “To attract the love of a suitable suitor.” Hmmm. That sounded promising for a certain somebody. She pulled out her drawings of the trio again, locating Bella’s portrait. Using one of her pens, she copied the sigil design onto the back of her drawing of Bella. She imagined Bella being wooed and romanced by someone…well, suitable. Whoever that may be!

“Alright, magic! Let’s see you work this one!”

****

That evening, Brutta announced that Yuri would be returning for another visit. She then leaned over to Bella, separately, speaking into her ear. ‘He’ll be bringing that charming friend of his again…” Brutta’s smiled, her tone suggestive and coy. Bella looked taken aback at her great aunt’s remark, unwilling to decipher the old woman’s insinuation. Across the room, Erica took note of this exchange between the two witches and received the inspiration she sought. Her inner dialogue started to run a blue streak: Yes, that “charming friend”! What was his name again?? Oh, bother, I’ll think of it later.

Erica went back to her room to retrieve her drawing pad and pens. This time, she pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began a drawing of Sir Lupin. Having only met him once, she did her best to capture his likeness. Once completed, she drew the same sigil on the back of the paper as she did on Bella’s drawing. Pleased with herself, she put the drawings away safely in her bag and eagerly awaited for the dinner guests to arrive.

Meanwhile, tensions were still high between Bella, Rose and Mandrake. Bella wasn’t speaking to Rose, Rose wasn’t speaking to Mandrake, and Mandrake was fed up with it all. The night spent on the sofa, and the prank that ensued that morning, were enough to make him realize how significant this marriage announcement had been for Rose and Dearwig. He knew the prank was likely the result of a child acting out her own feelings of protectiveness toward her mother, and perhaps even some anger toward him. If only….if only he could somehow make this right again. What he wasn’t prepared to accept was the anger that threatened to completely overtake him that morning. What exactly was he planning to do to the child when, if, he caught her? And then there was the matter of the…“affliction”. He didn’t dare refer to it by it’s previous name. It was supposed to be broken! But he felt it. He felt that old familiar energy creeping into his skin and pushing him past his limits in order to overtake him. No, he thought. I cannot allow that malediction to infect me anymore! He sighed deeply and picked up the spell book he was currently reading. He opened it to the marked page in the hopes that perchance, some miracle could be stumbled across on the pages within.

Chapter Text

The enchanted cuckoo clock announced the arrival of Yuri Yaga and Lionel Lupin, who were as punctual as before. All the adults were happy to see their new friends return and greeted them amicably.

“Thank you for allowing me a return visit to your home, Mistress Yaga. I thoroughly enjoyed myself last time,” Lupin said with a gravitas that Brutta seemed to adore.

“You are always welcome here, Sir Lupin,” said Brutta, pleasantly. Lupin’s eyes quickly went in search of Bella. Finding her, he stepped toward her, making an effort to not appear over zealous.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Bella,” he said, a most pleasant look on his face. Bella felt awkward for a moment, but quickly recovered without notice, putting on one of her more gracious expressions, however fake it was. So skilled was Bella at putting on facades for clients, that he was unable to tell the difference.

“Likewise, Sir Lupin.”

“Please, call me Lionel. I’ve been informed that you enjoy red wine. I brought this for you.” He presented Bella with a wine bottle. “It’s from my personal collection. A shiraz, vintage 1949: a very good year. Undertones of cherry. I think you’ll find it delectable.” Bella’s eyes widened in disbelief and she slowly accepted the gift in her hands.

“Why, thank you’, she said, feeling genuinely flattered and honored that someone she barely knew would present her with such an expensive, but considerate present. “What a remarkably thoughtful gift. But really, you shouldn’t have…”

“Ah-ah,” Lionel cut her off. “It’s my pleasure.” Being satisfied with his kind insistence, Bella accepted his generosity. Mandrake and Rose watched this gift-giving presentation with a twinge of envy. They knew exactly what was going on here and they resented it. Erica on the other hand, was already balancing back and forth on the soles of her shoes, tickled pink.

The evening progressed from drinks and banter in the sitting room to the main courses in the dining room. Lionel made certain to sit next to Bella for the purposes of conversation. He was eager to get to know her better, but he also wanted to make a favorable impression on her. Brutta seemed to encourage his efforts without appearing obvious and for a time, only Bella, herself, was oblivious to what was actually transpiring beneath her notice. That is, until Rose cornered her in the kitchen between courses, away from the other guests.

“He’s flirting with you, you know,” Rose said, aware that her friend was being obtuse, perhaps deliberately, in this department. “Why else would he be trying so hard to curry your favor?” Bella poured herself another drink, ignoring Rose’s insightful remark. When Bella left the kitchen to return to the dining room without so much as acknowledging her, Rose felt a sharp desire to watch her friend flounder her way through this awkward territory. Fine, she thought to herself, if that’s how it’s going to be…

Bella returned to her seat in the dining room with her refreshed drink in hand, unsure of how to proceed with the dashing wizard sitting next to her. He had been very attentive, asking her questions, and appearing genuinely interested in her responses. In fact, it was difficult not to respond in kind, as she had so few opportunities to interact with handsome, interested men, anymore. Not since the days in the band had she been afforded this kind of attention. And while it took some time to get used to this new, yet familiar territory, there was something in Bella that wanted to enjoy the experience. Bella took stock of the faces around the table to gauge the social temperature in the room. Everyone appeared pleasant enough, but Bella couldn’t deny that something felt…off. The Mandrake, ever the hardest person in a room to read, had been conversing with Yuri throughout the evening, but Bella could sense that he was distracted by something. Brutta was even more pleasant with the guests than usual. Custard was eating and listening, nothing out of the ordinary there. The girl, on the other hand, was up to something, Bella was certain. She was performing her “sweetest child in the world” routine on Lupin and it was working. She also seemed to be keenly observing Bella and Lupin together and more than once, Bella had caught the girl with a fish-eating grin on her face. But it was Rose that Bella had the greatest difficulty pinning down. She was seated on Lupin’s other side, and throughout dinner, she seemed to be in some distant and disinterested place. But, Bella knew better. Perhaps she’s jealous, Bella wondered. Hmpf! Bella couldn’t help but smile to herself at the thought of that hilarious reversal. Then, as if reading her mind, Rose suddenly decided to come alive. The redhead turned her full attention to Sir Lupin, her face alight with concentrated and renewed interest.

“Lionel, you have such elegantly slender fingers,” she asked, examining the wizard’s hands, her eyes sparkling under sultry lids. “Are you musical at all?” The wizard was taken back by the intimate attention he was suddenly receiving from the beautiful witch.

“Ah, well… I had some musical training on piano in my youth, but I’ve only dabbled in it since. I generally don’t have much time to play anymore,” he replied.

“Really? Piano?! Did you hear that, Mandrake?,” Rose asked, looking coquettishly at Mandrake. “Yet another thing the two of you have in common…” Mandrake's eyes skidded between Rose and Lupin with scrutiny. Rose now turned her body in her seat to face Lupin. “You must play for us after dinner! Aunt Brutta has a fine instrument in the other room. Please, say you’ll agree.” Lupin raised an objection, holding his hands defensively before him.

“Oh, no, I would feel quite inadequate playing for professional musicians…”

“Nonsense! We’re not the sort to dismiss an honest effort,” Rose reassured him. “Come, it’ll be great fun!” She looked intently at Lupin as she spoke, and the wizard felt his objection dissolve.

“Well, al—alright,” he replied, a shy, but appreciative, smile coming across his face. Bella tried her best to appear nonchalant and unaffected by this sudden turn of interest, but this was typical territory she had some to expect many times over the years. Why should anything be different now? Especially when she knew Rose was on an emotional warpath, with Bella and Mandrake in the minefield. Yuri sensed this tension in his cousin and attempted to divert the rejection he felt on Bella’s behalf.

“I studied lessons on that piano as a child. Perhaps you could give Lionel and myself a renewal tutorial, Bella. What say you?” Bella only looked as if she wanted to remove herself further from this scenario.

“That’s Mandrake’s department,” she replied, sounding somewhat removed and despondent.

“I don’t see the problem, here. Lionel has agreed to play for us, so let’s go!”, Rose announced before getting up and leaving the room for the aforementioned sitting room. She glanced over her shoulder at Lupin as she exited the room, giving him an alluring, come-hither stare. Lupin immediately tossed his linen napkin aside and got up to follow her. Exchanging looks covering a wide range of responses, the group followed them, feeling as though they had no better options.

Once in the sitting room, the group centered their attention around the humble, upright piano Brutta kept in the corner. Having not received much attention in many years, Brutta performed a quick tuning spell to bring the instrument into compliance and Lupin took a seat on the bench.

“Any requests?”, he asked. Rose encouraged him to play something in which he was well familiar.

‘Surprise us,” she said with a beguiling smile. Lupin took a moment to think and then set his fingers carefully to the black and white keys. After opening with the first few chords, Rose recognized the piece and stepped up to the piano, breaking into song. Lupin’s eyes lit up at her accompanying partnership. A smile crossed his lips and he joined her in singing the lyrics. The two were clearly enjoying this moment, as evident on their smiling faces, singing into each other’s eyes. When the song came to an end, a single set of hands clapped enthusiastically for the couple. They looked up to see Custard’s shining, appreciative face smiling at them before realizing he was the only one clapping. Then, out of shame and pressure to be polite, the rest of the group half-heartedly lent their applause, as well. Lupin and Rose were not to be dissuaded, however, growing fond of each other’s company and seeming to take no notice of the annoyed faces watching their performance.

Yuri had been watching this interaction with interest. He and Mandrake had staked out a spot together, standing by the wall. Yuri spoke discreetly so as not to be overheard by the others in the room. The two watched Rose work her magic on Lupin. “That’s quite a woman, you’ve got there,” said Yuri, a note of derision and detached observation present in his voice. Mandrake, similarly, presented a blank expression, not wanting to reveal himself in any manner and only responding with one of his characteristic grunts. Yuri took another sip of his drink. “I’m not sure Lupin knows what to make of her attention.”

“Neither do I,” Mandrake replied.

“She is quite…captivating,” Yuri pointed out, Rose’s appeal not lost on him.

“Irresistible Charm. It’s one of her abilities,” Mandrake explained. “She could make any poor sod give away his heart and doff his trousers without missing a beat, if he wasn’t careful.” Yuri smirked at Mandrake’s description.

“Speaking from experience?”, he asked. Mandrake’s expression did not appear to understand the subtle humor Yuri intended. 

“Not quite,” Mandrake responded.

“You’re a stronger man than I, old chap,” said Yuri with a shake of his head, and another swig from his glass.

“That was delightful! Shall we play another?”, Lupin asked Rose.

“Absolutely! But not before getting myself another drink,” Rose replied, getting up from her seat, clearly feeling herself to be in an increasingly celebratory mood. The witch sauntered out of the room and headed toward the kitchen. Before reaching her destination, however, Erica was hot behind her.

“Mum, what are you doing?! You’re ruining everything!”, Erica exclaimed in as quiet a voice as she could manage. Rose looked at her daughter in confusion.

“What on earth are you going on about?”, she asked.

“I’ve cast a spell on Bella and Sir Lupin! That way Bella can have a boyfriend so you and Mandrake can be together! And you’re mucking it up!” The witchling was exasperated. Rose was stunned for a moment before slowly grasping the situation.

“Love, let me understand this,” Rose said. “Are you saying that you cast a love spell of some sort? On Bella and Lupin?” Erica nodded her head, expressing the affirmative. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s not a good idea. You mustn’t meddle with  people’s hearts like that. Real love comes from within; it’s not something a spell can ever replicate…” Just then, Aunt Brutta approached Rose as she was conferring with Erica.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, young lady?”, she asked, brusquely, with annoyance. Rose was taken aback by the crone’s tone. “I’m trying to set up my grand niece with Sir Lupin and you are sabotaging my efforts!”

“But I…”

‘I want you to mind your place, step back, and let those of us who actually care about Bella’s happiness take the lead in this matter!” Rose was gobsmacked at Brutta’s directive. Brutta then looked down at Erica and placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Come child, we have work to do.” Erica nodded once and the two left Rose standing in the hall alone, just as the Mandrake stepped forth.

“Let me guess. You’ve come to berate me, as well,” she said, the irritation clear in her voice. Mandrake took a moment before answering her.

“Actually, I’ve come to berate Lupin’s playing. His technique is shoddy,” he replied flatly, glancing over his shoulder.

“Don’t be such a snob, his playing was perfectly adequate,” Rose chastised, looking away. “You’re just jealous.” Mandrake stared back at her in defensive disbelief.

“Jealous of what, a second-rate amateur? Hmpf. I think not.” Rose glared at him, knowingly. Catching this, he elaborated his point. “Oh, you mean to say I’m jealous because he’s lavishing you and Bella with all his attention this evening, is that it?,” his tone snarky and sarcastic. “Well, at least Bella is handling herself with appropriate restraint…”

“There’s nothing inappropriate about my behavior!”, Rose defended herself, angrily. “I’m just being sociable!”

“Ah, yes, your usual beguiling, sociable ways that make all men lose their senses around you…”

“It never bothered you before,” Rose quipped in response.

“Maybe I never felt as though you were throwing it my face before!”

“Well, this is who I am. You’ve always known this about me.”

“True. But I had hoped that perhaps you would be a bit less…enticing…now that things are different than they were years ago.”

“And how exactly are things different now?” she asked. “Oh, that’s right, you’re married! Perhaps Bella is behaving with restraint because flirting openly with single men would be unbecoming of a married woman! I wonder how Lionel would feel if he found out the object of his desire was already taken? Perhaps I should do him a favor and tell him!” Rose turned abruptly on her heel in the direction of the sitting room when she felt Mandrake grab her wrist, holding her back.

“No, Rose. Please.” His tone turned solemn and grave. “I understand you’re upset with us, but Bella deserves the same happiness that you and I have shared. She deserves someone who will love her for who she is, in ways that you and I cannot.” Rose looked down at the floor, considering his point. And then, as if punctuating his insight further for good measure, he added: “The real Rose, who isn’t angry with me, knows this.” Guilt washed over her then, as she knew Mandrake was right. Who was she to stand in the way of Bella meeting someone who could appreciate her and make her happy? As misguided at Erica’s methods may be, her intentions were more pure than her own, and for that reason Rose felt like a terrible friend. “Promise me you won’t interfere any further,” Mandrake requested gently in earnest. Rose felt humbled. She closed her eyes and nodded slightly in the affirmative.

They walked back to the sitting room and saw Yuri standing over the piano making technique suggestions to Lupin. Noticing Mandrake reenter the room, Yuri called out to him.

“Mandrake! Come here, we’re in need of your expertise.” Feeling vindicated, Mandrake’s mood lifted a bit and went to confer with his friends. Brutta and Erica seemed to be exchanging some secretive chitchat, with Custard looking on, while Bella sat alone looking completely dejected. When she saw Rose enter the room, she could only summon the urge to glare at her. Noticing this, Rose decided to step up.

“Lionel, why don’t you and Bella do a number together?”, she asked, her words feeling more like a strong request than a suggestion. Lupin looked as if he had just snapped out of a stupor.

“Wha—? Oh, yes, that sounds like a splendid idea!”, he exclaimed. This time it was Bella’s turn to protest.

“No, I'm no singer! Drums, remember?”, the witch remarked with a mock gesture at holding drumsticks.
“She’s being modest,” Rose insisted, “She was a great back up singer to me and only needs a little reminder of her talents with the right partner." Rose was eyeing Lupin persuasively now, who seemed to subconsciously accept the message.

“Bella, please? It would be an honor,” Lupin implored. Everyone in the room went quiet with anticipation, watching for Bella’s response. She could sense the silent swell of their expectation mounting, making it difficult for her to refuse.

“Oh, alright,” she grumbled. “But don’t expect any encores!” Everyone seemed pleased with this outcome, especially Erica who started to clap her hands enthusiastically before the music had even started.

“Yay! Bella’s going to sing something for us!”, she called out with excitement.

“Well, don’t get too excited”, Bella said. “It’s been a long time and I’ve not learned any new songs for many years. I make no promises for a quality performance,” she half-joked.

“Wait,” Rose said, her eyes suddenly lighting up. “I have an idea…” And with that announcement, she left the room, leaving everyone exchanging looks of curious bemusement. She returned a minute later with a guitar in hand, drawing surprised looks from her family. “I packed it, just in case! Those enchanted travel bags were a genius idea.” Bella beamed shyly at Rose’s praise. “I have the perfect song for you, one I’m sure you’ll remember, Bella. It sounds better with a guitar accompaniment so I’ll play and you two will sing, yea?”

“But, what if we don’t know all the words?”, Bella asked with worried cynicism.

“You definitely know the words to this one,” Rose teased. “As for Lionel…,” she stepped up to the tall wizard, facing him. She raised her index finger, indicating her desire to place it on his forehead. “May I?”, she asked. He nodded in agreement. With that, she pressed the tip of her finger to his skin for a moment, closing her eyes in what appeared to be intense concentration. His eyes lit up then, a smile on his face.

“Remarkable!”, Lupin exclaimed, clearly impressed. “I remember that tune, but now I’ve suddenly got all the lyrics in my memory…You’l have to teach me that spell!” Rose agreed with a smile and prepared her position to play, leaving Bella wondering what the song would be. But Bella wouldn’t wonder long, for she recognized it within the first few notes. An excited blush spread across her face.

“I remember this!”, she said, sounding almost as if she might cry. “I used to love this song! I can’t explain it—a guilty pleasure, I suppose!” This was true, for as much as the trio focused their attention on rock music in their youth, that didn’t stop Rose and Bella from ironically enjoying some of the cheesy love ballads and pop songs at the time, even if it was only in jest. Knowing this, Rose winked at her friend, as encouragement. As she strummed the opening chords, she nodded her head in preparation.

“Get ready—“, she said. And with that, they started their duet with Lupin opening with the male lead:

Baby, when I met you, there was peace unknown

I set out to get you with a fine-toothed comb

I was soft inside

There was something going on

Bella kept shaking her head in disbelief, and a touch of joyful embarrassment. True to form, she was ready when it was time for the female lead:

You do something to me that I can’t explain

Hold me closer and I feel no pain

Every beat of my heart

We’ve got something going on

The two quickly fell into complete enjoyment of the melody, rolling freely with the words. When the time came for the chorus, the two were ready and eager to sing in unison:

Islands in the stream, that is what we are

No one in between, how can we be wrong?

Sail away with me to another world

And we rely on each other, our heart

From one lover to another, our heart

As Rose played for her singing friends, she glanced past them for a moment and looked at Mandrake. Bella’s enjoyment was a rare and long gone sight for him as well, and this moment was not lost on him. Neither was Rose’s gesture. He nodded his head once to Rose, in approval. When the song was over, everyone clapped in enjoyment, happy to see Bella smiling and happy. And as Bella was thanking Lupin for such a fun experience, Rose looked across the room at Aunt Brutta. Catching her gaze, Brutta mouthed a silent thank you’ to Rose, looking happy and appreciative.

The group was able to enjoy the rest of the evening in a rare moment of musical merriment as Mandrake and Rose provided accompaniment on the guitar and piano for everyone’s song requests. In addition to providing a much needed respite from the stress of the past several weeks, it also allowed a chance to bond with new friends and family members, as well as re-establish bonds that had been neglected or forgotten. Erica, for one, was beside herself with joy. This was exactly the sort of event she had for so long hoped to experience with her new family but the right moment had either yet to present itself, or would be dismissed outright in favor of excuses. Who would have guessed that it would  require a reason such as fearing for their safety to make it manifest? Seeing Bella and her parents joyfully making music together again was worth it, and she would take whatever she could get. But as with all such moments, the evening came to an end and it was time to say goodbye.

“Thank for a most enjoyable evening, everyone,” Lionel said to the group, before turning directly to Bella. “And most especially to you, Bella.”

“Thank for the wine…and song!”, Bella replied, in higher spirits than usual. “Will we see you again soon?” Erica took this moment to support Bella’s inquiry and stepped up to the tall knight.

“Yes, Sir Lupin, promise us you’ll return soon, pretty please! It would be ever so nice to see you again.” Her eyes were abnormally large and wide, as if using her cuteness to sway Lupin’s decision.

“I have to return home to the UK for a few days. I’d to look into your case with the Council while there, if that’s alright with you all of you,” Lupin said, glancing at the others.

“Yes!”, Rose replied, eagerly. “We would very much appreciate that. Please let us know if you discover anything.”

“I certainly shall. Until then…,” he took Bella’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Farewell.” This time, Bella blushed awkwardly, and Yuri and Lionel left for the night.

With the guests gone and the remnants of dinner cleared away, the family members made their way to their bedrooms. Everyone, that is, except for Rose. She remained in the darkness of the sitting room long after the others had gone to bed, perched in one of the parlor chairs with her knees pulled up under her, staring out a window, into the moonlit night. She had given much thought to what had been said and done that evening. While she was pleased that everything had gone better than it had started that evening, it did nothing to negate the looming subject that has occupied her mind for some time past. Who would have guessed how things would have changed so much in only a few days? A few weeks ago, they were thinking about how to protect the children, and spending time together as a family. In no way could she have ever believed that Bella would drop a bombshell of an announcement and send everything they had together into a tailspin. Perhaps I deserve all this, she thought. I was too trusting. I trusted myself to outrun the Council. I trusted my friends to wait and watch out for each other until I returned.

But they did wait…., an internal voice spoke in her conscience, longer than expected…much longer. Rose couldn’t argue with that. And they did watch out for each other. They promised themselves to never leave one another…She sighed aloud. Couldn’t they have found another way to pledge their loyalty?

Rose got up and made her way down the hall to her guest room, enveloped in darkness. She tried to be extra quiet so as to avoid waking anyone. As she crept into the shadowy and dim bedroom, she quickly shed her day clothing and slipped into bed. She could make out the back of Mandrake’s large, sleeping form on his side of the bed and she laying staring at it for several minutes. His breathing was slow and gentle and she was certain he was already asleep. After spending the previous night on the sofa, she could only imagine how sleep deprived he must have felt. Poor pet…She felt her familiar empathy soften her heart again. He always tried to do right thing, even when he wasn’t sure how to go about it. Sometimes his best intentions were subtle, finding them hard to express. But he was steadfast. He would stick through the worst situations life had to offer and while he would grumble and find fault with things when they didn’t meet his expectations, he would never falter in his loyalty. That’s who he was. Just like now. Over the past week, she had ignored him, and belittled him and lost her temper, accused him of being jealous and disloyal, when in fact, she could be accused of the same, depending on how one looked at things. And yet despite all that, here he was, still laying next to her…waiting for her to come around, like he always did.

She reached over and gently placed her hand on the center of his back, if only to connect with him on some level. Then, pulling herself close to him, she kissed said spot, whispering softly, “I’m so sorry, my love.” She believed his slumbering state would ensure she could do this without any imposition or detection. That is, until Mandrake turned his head groggily to the side.

“Rose?”, he whispered over his shoulder. She succumbed to his sleepy inquiry.

“Mandrake…,” she said softly, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Mandrake quickly rolled over to face her. He paused for a split moment, wanting to be certain of what he heard. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” He draped his long arm around her, pulling her close. “I know you love me,” she continued. As she spoke, he nuzzled his face into her hair, kissing the top of her head, grasping at her with an intense ferocity.

“No. This was all my fault…,” he breathed, his voice dripping with relief. Rose felt her face press into his chest as his arm clutched her near, feeling heavy.

“Mandrake,” she whimpered. “Too…tight…” He pulled back quickly, not realizing the strength of his ardor.

“Oh!”, he said as he pulled back a bit. “Sorry!” They both smiled slightly, recognizing the humor of the situation. Putting all her past anger aside, she relished his embrace, releasing all the angst she had been nursing for the past week. She breathed deeply into his chest as he continued to stroke her long curls. “I wasn’t honest with you, or myself,” Mandrake began to explain as he held her close. “When you left, my hope was shattered. As much as I value solitude, I was afraid of being left completely alone. You and Bella had changed that for me, and I desperately tried to hold on to something.” Rose felt anguish at the resurfacing realization that she had inadvertently set all this in motion when she left, years ago.

“I wish I could undo everything, but I can’t,” she said. “It’s just…,” Rose tried to continue, but sounded uncertain. “It pains me so much that you and Bella did the very thing that forced me to have to leave in the first place.” She lay quietly, allowing them both to absorb the painful irony of the situation.

“I should have tried harder to understand how this decision would have affected us,” Mandrake admitted. He held her, thinking for a time, before offering some solace. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll think of something.” The two of them quickly drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

The next day, Mandrake and Bella sat in the sitting room reviewing their spell books. After reading them almost from cover to cover, it would soon be time to rotate them among the group. They had already made significant progress and had each learned at least one new offensive spell. Earlier that morning, the three had ventured into the woods to demonstrate what they had learned and practiced, to one another. Bella had learned how to activate stony projectile spikes from the earth and sent them flying into the trunk of a thick oak tree with precision. Mandrake followed, and was able to fashion a magical bow and arrow out of fire, which he then used to set the same tree ablaze. The best part, was that he was able to extinguish the fire, as well, afterward. “Magical fire is different,” he explained to the women. “It burns only what I intend to burn, and I can terminate it at will, just as quickly.” Bella examined the tree closer and saw he was right, the bark was free of char, while her projectiles were still warm from the heat they had absorbed.

“Remarkable,” she said, with awe. Turning her attention away from the tree, Bella looked at Rose. “And what of you? What have you learned?” Rose perked up, looking very self-assured, much like a student who had brought in something extra special to demonstrate to the class for Show-and-Tell. Her eyes scanned the tree branches for some sign of life. Hearing a rustle in the leaves, she spotted a squirrel scampering some distance above their heads.

“Keep your eyes, now, on that squirrel,” she directed. She held out her hand and the squirrel stopped abruptly, as if frozen in place. Rose seemed fixed in concentration and the poor animal began to twitch and squeak, unable to break free of whatever control the witch held over it. Within moments, the squirrel fell to the ground with a light thump at their feet. Mandrake bend over and looked at the rodent closely, seeing steam emanating from its now dead body.

“It’s hot. What did you do to it?”, he asked in confusion. But before Rose could answer, Bella attempted an explanation.

“It’s a form of water control, isn't it? You controlled its blood or its bodily fluids somehow.”

“I did more than that,” Rose replied. “I warmed its blood to the point of death.” Bella and Mandrake looked impressed and horrified at the same time.

“That’s….that’s quite a skill,” said Mandrake, his voice unsure of what else to say, but clearly in a stunned state of amazement.

“The uses for blood work are limitless!,” Rose said with enthusiasm. “Including something even more impressive, I think. Watch this!” She then crouched on the ground over the little squirrel, its body still warm, but cooling quickly. She placed her hands on its lifeless form, concentrating for a moment. Bella and Mandrake watched closely, not knowing what to expect. The squirrel then twitched again, opened its eyes and rolled over under Rose’s light touch. She pulled back her hands and the animal quickly ran up the tree again, away from any further chance of entrapment.

“Good grief,” Bella breathed in astonishment. Mandrake’s mouth fell open, almost speechless.

“Wha—? You…did you just…bring that animal back to life?”, he asked.

“I did!”, Rose replied with a triumphant smile.

“Resurrection magic,” Bella said, clearly impressed. “Hell’s blaze, girl… I have to hand to you on that one. That is truly some magic worth knowing.” Bella’s eyes then narrowed. “How many critters did you off while learning that one?,” she asked, a touch of macabre amusement in her voice. Rose paused.

“Never you mind,” Rose said dismissively, looking away. Bella just chuckled and shook her head.

Bella was the first to be done studying her volume, as she had the most experience with reading and understanding magical texts. She came over to Mandrake with her edition in hand, ready to pass it off to him.

“I'm almost done,” he said, not looking up from his book. “I’ll give it to you once I’m finished.”

“Take your time,” she answered. “I’ll leave this here.” Bella left the book open on a nearby table. “There’s a spell here I think you’ll find interesting. You may want to look into it.” She then exited the room in search of her aunt. Mandrake put down his book and picked up the one Bella had left. He examined the open page, reading the incantation’s title, The Pressing of Palms. He scanned his eyes across the printed text until they fell on a now familiar symbol: a red teardrop. Hmmm, he thought. What is this?

Bella made her way to the backyard where she found Aunt Brutta instructing Erica on how to create her own broom for flying. Now that the girl had activated her flying abilities, Brutta felt it was best to teach her some basic flying skills. Rose and Custard were keeping watch and company, respectively, although for Custard, curiosity was a factor, as well. Since discovering her ability, the witchling had been tormenting the poor boy with teasing and bragging.

“Pretty soon I’ll be able to go wherever I want. Too bad you’ll never be able to fly,” she said, hoping for a typical sibling reaction.

“I don’t want to fly!”, Custard stated, adamantly. “What if you flew into an airplane or a flock of birds, or something? It could be dangerous!”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“On the ground, where I’m supposed to be, clearly,” The boy sounded dejected, pointing out this obviously overlooked reality on his sister’s part.

“Hey! Maybe when I get really good, I can take you with me!”, Erica offered. “Just think of all the places we can go and things we can see!” Custard looked at her with a mixture of fear and longing. That had been several days ago. Now, here he was eagerly waiting to see what would transpire. Brutta stood with several brooms in tow, while giving Erica the final instructions for finishing the broom’s construction. As Erica tugged and tied the last bristles together, she still had questions for her mentor.

“Why do I even need a broom to fly? I was able to fly without one the other day,” she pointed out to the crone.

“Levitating and jump-flying are fine for short flights, say, for jumping out of danger,” Brutta explained. "But if you want to fly long distances or at fast speeds, you’ll need something to help guide and direct your energies to your destination quickly. Brooms are a traditional method, but are not the only vehicle a witch could use. Now make good on that tying, girl!”

“Baba Yaga used to fly around in a large wooden mortar,” Custard said. “She used a pestle to navigate herself.” Brutta looked pleased.

“That’s right, dear boy,” Brutta said, proudly. “It’s good to see you’ve been learning from the texts I gave you to study!”

“I still don’t see why I have to make my own broom,” Erica said with annoyance. “You have a whole bunch of brooms right here. Why can’t I just use one of those?”

“Before you take your first flight, you need to concentrate your desire and energy into the device. Once you grow accustomed to the act of flying you can use any device you wish, barring any necessary enchantments, that is. Now focus!”

“You mean like Baba’s mortar. That was enchanted,” said Custard.

“Precisely,” said Brutta. “Are you ready now, child?” Erica shook and tapped her broom on the ground, testing its sturdiness.

“Yes! Let’s do this!”, Erica exclaimed.

“Whoa, hold up now,” Rose said, firmly. “I know that Aunt Brutta has promised to take you up, into the air, but as your mother, I will join you and help ensure your first flight is a safe one. We don’t need any hapless accidents, love.” Brutta nodded her head once, in agreement.

“Not so fast,” said Bella. “Your mother has almost as much experience flying as you do, girl.” Bella paused, looking at the other witches, pointedly. “So,” she continued, “I will also be joining you, for both your sakes!” The group grew excited at the prospect of all of them taking to the skies together, and each of the witches took a broom from Brutta and straddled themselves over the handle. Once each of them had reacquainted themselves with the strange sensation of floating and flying, they were ready to coach Erica into the air.

“We’ll stay low and in the immediate vicinity, Just over the wooded acres,” Brutta advised. “It’s safer that way.” Erica gave her mother a puzzled look.

“We can avoid being seen by unfriendly eyes,” Rose clarified for her daughter. Brutta then instructed Erica to concentrate and recall the way she felt the day she took to the air for the first time. Erica had barely shut her eyes in concentration when she began to gently lift from the ground, her feet dangling on either side of the broom. And even with that gentle start, she suddenly burst off into the air ahead of them, screaming with excitement the entire way.

“There goes our air witch!”, Brutta called out, zooming after her with Rose and Bella in tow, laughing as they went.

The Mandrake stepped out into the yard in search of his family. There he could see only Custard, standing alone, facing away from him. Mandrake approached the boy.

“Where is everyone?”, he asked. Custard, whose head was tilted back toward the sky, pointed up in the direction of his gaze. Mandrake followed the boy’s pointing finger.

“Hm. I see. Flying lessons have begun, I take it?” Custard answered in the affirmative. Mandrake watched the spectacle of four small figures on broomsticks in the atmosphere high above them. Noticing the wizard’s fixed gaze, the boy looked up at him, curiously.

“Do only girls fly?”, he asked.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Why aren’t you up there with them, then?”, Custard asked. Mandrake pretended to be taken aback.

“And leave you down here all by yourself?”, he joked. “That wouldn’t be very nice.”

“I’ll be alright. You should go!”

“No,” said Mandrake, more seriously. “The truth is, flying is not for me.”

“Really? Why is that?” The Mandrake grunted an exhalation, his brows pinching in discomfort, unsure of whether it was wise to divulge something so personal.

“Because,” he paused, “…because I have a fear of heights.” Custard looked gobsmacked at the wizard’s explanation, his eyes growing round, like saucers.

“Really??”, he asked. Mandrake sighed loudly, feeling a bit exposed by this reveal, but was now willing to take ownership of this admission.

“Does that surprise you?”, he asked.

“Yes!”, the boy said. “I’m afraid of a lot of things. Erica likes to tease me about it…But you! I didn’t think you were afraid of anything!” The tall man put his hand on the little boy’s shoulder and looked at him squarely.

“Listen here, lad. You mustn’t let so many fears take control in your life, otherwise they will hold you back. You must be strong,” he pressed.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re very big, and well, a little scary…” Custard’s gaze shifted sideways for a moment. “I was even afraid of you, for a long while,” Custard admitted.

“But you aren’t afraid, any longer,” Mandrake said, softening his tone.

“No, but…” Mandrake reached into his pocket, pulling out a medallion. He handed it to his adopted son.

“Here,” he said. “Take this.” Custard took the piece of metal and examined it. It looked similar to a coin and was imprinted with an image of a dragon, breathing fire.

“What is it?”, the boy asked.

“It’s a charm,” Mandrake started to explain. “It has a picture of a dragon on it, see there? That’s the Mandrake family crest. Carry it with you and it will give you courage; the heart of a dragon!”

“Really?”, Custard asked, with skepticism.

“Of course,” the wizard said. “You just have to believe.” Custard pondered this.

“Then how come it hasn’t conquered your fear of flying?” Mandrake smirked, and looked at the boy, knowingly.

“Sometimes, fear is not to be confused with good sense,” he said, tapping the side of his long nose with his index finger. Custard smiled in agreement, and appreciating the wizard’s take, placed the dragon medallion in his pocket.

****

That evening, everyone retired to their rooms a little early, each having things they wished to do before bed. Having made up with Rose the night before, Mandrake was feeling especially amorous. He detested when they fought and wished to resume normalcy as soon as possible, or as close to it, under the circumstances. In an odd moment of role reversal, Rose sat in bed reading another spell book, intent on letting as much information soak into her brain as she could. Mandrake, however, had other ideas in mind. Turning over on the bed, he propped himself up on one elbow and curled up to her. Gently pushing the red ringlets from her shoulder, he slowly began grazing soft kisses along the side of her neck. Rose squirmed from the sensation.

“Mandrake, please. I’m trying to read,” she said. He continued his quest, however, unperturbed.

“Now you know what it’s like when you do this when I’m trying to read…,” he countered between kisses. Rose smirked.

“Fair enough. I promise I won’t do it again,” she teased. He then attempted to escalate the seduction by slipping a hand under her silk night shirt, feeling the soft warmth of her smooth belly.

“But then I won’t have the thrill of playing hard to get,” he teased back, dryly. Rose broke into a lilting laugh. She loved when he was like this, which was fairly seldom, but his wry wit always brought a smile to her lips. Now his fingertips had lightly slipped beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

“Darling, please, there’s so much to do…,” she protested, trying to ignore his touch and keep her eyes fixed on the text in front of her.

“But Rosebud”, he pled, now kissing her ear and jaw, “it’s been so long…”

“It hasn’t been that long,” she contradicted him, a smirk on her face. “Besides, we’re guests in this house. What if someone heard us? It would be rude, and I know you appreciate manners, Mandrake.” 

‘Nothing a simple soundproofing charm can’t remedy,” he admonished. “Besides…,” he continued with a loaded pause that hung in the air. He was feeling extra feisty this night and came in with another zinger to tease her, clearly on a roll: “…we both know that I’m not the noisy one in this relationship, my dear.” True to his expectation, Rose pulled back to look at him now, her eyes wide and her mouth agape with an exaggerated expression of horrified surprise. She let out a gasp, feigning offense. This time it was his turn to laugh, enjoying her reaction. Then, as if to taunt her further, he cast his hand high toward the closed bedroom door and a silent ripple rode through the immediate space, indicating the deployment of said soundproofing charm. He suggestively cocked his brows at the redhead, as if prompting her to accept the challenge. Rose’s eyes glistened and her face held a shrewd look of both amusement and arousal. Keeping her eyes fixed on Mandrake, Rose made a playfully dramatic gesture of tossing the spell book aside before lunging at the wizard’s lanky form. Laying atop him, she kissed him heavily on the lips, causing them both to softly laugh between kisses. Their hands deftly undressed one another as if they were racing each other to some forbidden finish line…

Some time later, they lay in each other’s arms, recovering in the exhausted afterglow of their erotic activities. Rose looked up at Mandrake with a cheeky smirk.

“You were in rare form this time, darling; I’ve never seen you so ravenous. Perhaps I should ignore you more often,” she teased.

“Don’t you dare…,” the wizard discouraged with a faux threat.

“Or what?”, she prompted, feeling playfully provocative. The Mandrake paused for a split second before grabbing her tightly and pulling her even closer to his chest.

“Or I’ll whisk you away from this place…and bewitch you into a state of sexual servitude!”, he said, his gruff voice made playful as he lifted her arm from where it lay across his chest and pretended to gnaw on it with love bites. Rose shrieked with glee, thoroughly bewildered at this unusual side of him.

“Whatever has gotten into you tonight?”, she asked. The Mandrake only shrugged his shoulders, lightly shaking his head, seemingly unperplexed by the question. “You were never this…frisky…when we were younger,” she added.

“Perhaps I’m learning to appreciate what I have in my old age,” said Mandrake. His previously playful demeanor was then suddenly replaced by a more somber one. “I do wish I had been able to make you my wife years ago, and do the right thing by you and Dearwig.” He seemed almost lost in a moment of self-reflection, one that was punctuated by regret and remorse. Rose absorbed this admission for several moments before speaking again.

"What do magical people do when they wed one another?”, she asked.

“Well,” Mandrake started, trying to answer to his best recollection. “They engage in a ritual ceremony, similar in many ways to a non-magical wedding, I suppose. Albeit less…white,” said Mandrake with a subtle smirk.

“Is that all?”, asked Rose, with curiosity.

“They often include other magical rites, in addition, such as casting commitment circles and etching vows in stone, that sort of thing.” The Mandrake paused then and allowed a moment of silent thought to pass between them. When he finally spoke again, it was in a tone loaded with implied possibility. “But…one doesn’t require a legally binding ceremony…to vow themselves to another,” he offered, cautiously. “There are…other ways…for witches and wizards to bond themselves to each other…” He waited for her reaction. Rose looked at him curiously.

“How?”

“There is an old piece of ritualistic magic, known as The Pressing of Palms, that allows a person to give themselves completely to another. It is not something that is done lightly, as there are two phases to the ritual.” Mandrake paused, waiting again for Rose to respond, in case she raise any objections, but she only continued to listen intently. He then continued. “Before making this commitment, the two lovers engage in a chance to fully understand their partner. By pressing the palm of their hand over the heart of the other, they can see and feel, essentially experience, everything that person has endured in their lifetime. In doing this, they can, in fact, see into the very soul of their beloved.” Rose remained quiet for a moment as she gave this deep consideration.

“No secrets,” said Rose, lost in thought.

“No secrets,” Mandrake reiterated.

“Do you…want to see inside my soul?” Rose finally asked in a soft, uncertain, voice. “…or are you afraid of what you might see?” Mandrake paused before answering, looking away from her.

“I am actually more afraid of what you will see,” he replied, his voice laced with regret. “I have done things in the past, of which I am not proud.” Rose’s eyes softened as she listened. “I don’t want you to think less of me because of something you might see.” In a moment of determination, Rose sat up and positioned herself to face him.

“Then I’ll go first,” she said, her voice full and resolute. Despite her unclothed state, she sat before him, fearless and adamant in her decision. Mandrake nodded his head once, indicating his cooperation. Wrapping one long arm around her smaller frame, he placed his large hand upon her bare skin, directly over her heart. He carefully enunciated a phrase: “luminos lovor livinous”, and slowly began to breathe deeply. A glowing light began to bloom from under his palm, and he felt his heartbeat quicken faster than seemed humanly possible. His eyes must have closed because he could no longer see Rose in his line of vision. Rather, a timeline of events flashed before his eyes in rapid succession: a couple walking away as a child cries, children playing in a school yard, teenage mischief, first crushes, playing guitar, a younger Bella, learning magic, his own younger self, composing music, a cheering audience, a flashing camera, a microphone, an interview, an autograph, the car ride to the seashore, kissing him, holding hands, making love, a slap to the face, walking in the rain, crying in his arms, a motorcycle ride, giving birth, nursing Dearwig, a car chase, running, racing, hiding, a myriad of unknown faces, learning teleporting, cloaking, disguising, ringing a doorbell, hugging Bella, Christmas dinner, singing lullabies to Dearwig, the kiss in Epping Forest, the broken curse, the children at the beach, adopting Custard, Aunt Brutta, seething in the rain, the golem, flying on a broomstick… In addition to this bombardment of images, Mandrake could feel the emotions that correlated with each. A wide spectrum of feelings: abandonment, pleasure, joy, elation, excitement, sorrow, love, betrayal, anger, delight, honor, fulfillment, fear, guilt, admiration, it was all here…and it was…exhilarating. His body shook with subtle tremors as his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, for the second time that evening. His eyes focused on Rose sitting before him, as his view came into focus once again.

“Well?”, Rose asked.

“It was…extraordinary. I saw and felt everything…” After the moment of awe and physical exhilaration had passed, Mandrake regained his composure. He kissed her forehead and smiled. “It was everything I could have ever expected.” Rose relished his smile for a moment, before preparing herself.

“Now it’s my turn,” she said. Mandrake steeled himself, nervously, as she placed her delicate hand upon his bare chest, covering his heart. She repeated the same phrase he had used and within moments she began trembling. Her breathing grew ragged and intense. He watched her intently, wondering what she was seeing behind the veil of the spell. Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes gently rolled back in her head, lost in the visions that only she could see. He winced with fear and shame. He could imagine her seeing his profound anguish, grief and depression, his selfish demands for isolation, his boorish destructive behavior, and the monstrous transformation she had, up until now, only heard about. She gasped, sucking in her breath, exhaling several times before slowly returning to normal. He waited patiently for her to open her eyes.

“Well?’, he asked, unable to meet her eyes. “What did you see?” A look of pain twisted his expression. Rose touched her hand to his cheek, her thumb gently brushing the skin. With it, she gently guided his face to look at her.

“I saw you, darling,” she smiled softly. “I saw you.” She looked at him with such acceptance; a complete lack of all harsh thoughts and judgments. He gazed back at her, overcome with relief and acceptance.

“Then you aren’t…repulsed...by anything you saw?”, he asked, his voice struggling to maintain control.

“As I’ve told you before, I could never find you repulsive,” said Rose, She leaned over to him and kissed his lips, which he happily received.

“There is a second phase to the rite,” he then told her. “For all intents and purposes, this part contains the most significance. Come, I’ll explain.” He slipped on his paisley smoking jacket and handed Rose the silk robe she had hung on the back of the bedroom door. Once they had covered their nakedness, he summoned the demon he favored most for important and sensitive tasks. Within seconds, a whirlwind spun into the room and a tiny demon resembling a rat with wings appeared.

“What can I do for my master today?,” it asked the wizard.

“Bring me a quill pen, a dagger and a candle,” Mandrake ordered.

“As you wish, my master.” A minute passed and the demon returned, leaving the three requested items sitting on the antique writing desk in the corner of their guest room. Rose watched her lover with interest as he opened the spell book Bella has given him that morning. He turned to the marked page and pointed to the spell and a diagram pictured there.

“It is a binding spell, of sorts. When this sigil is drawn onto each of our palms and the ritual performed, we will be bound to each other…,” Mandrake paused, “for life.” Rose felt her eyes blink heavily several times with deliberation, absorbing the implied weight this rite would carry for them, should they decide to go ahead with it. As if to help pave the way for her acceptance, he volunteered to go first. He sat down at the desk and waved his hand over the candle, setting it alight. Taking the quill in hand, he heated the sharpened tip in the burning flame.

“Give me your hand,” he said, holding out his own to receive it. Rose swallowed hard, and held out her hand to him. He took it, facing her palm upward, gripping her fingers tightly.

“This may hurt a bit,” he warned.

“I’ve felt worse, believe me,” she reassured him. He nodded his head once and proceeded to use the heated quill to “draw” the sigil into the skin of her open palm. The sharp tip lightly scratched the tender flesh, leaving a reddened imprint in its wake. She winced slightly at the sensation. Once finished, he released her hand briefly to take up the dagger. He then pierced the skin of his thumb, drawing a drop of blood. Holding her hand again, he swiped his blood across her palm. They watched for a moment as the blood was absorbed into the etched lines of the sigil.

“There,” he said. “I am now bound to you. Of course, we still have to press our palms together to seal the pact…after you repeat this step by drawing the sigil and your blood on my hand. Then, you will be bound to me…” He paused, awaiting her response and wondering what she would do. Would she accept his offer to be bound to him for life? Would he be enough for her? Would she flee again, leaving their fates to chance? He felt himself holding his breath in anticipation, dread pinching his nerves. She met his stare, a look of determination in her eyes. She then spoke firmly, taking his hand in her grip.

“Hand me the quill.”

Chapter Text

“There. It is done.”

The ritual was complete. Mandrake held Rose’s smaller hand in his own, their fingers clasped. Having pressed their etched palms together, the binding pact between the witch and wizard was now sealed. Still holding her hand, Mandrake led her away from the desk where they had conducted the ritual.

“Come, let’s sleep now. It’s getting late,” he said, leading her back to the bed, where they laid together in a loose embrace.

“I’m happy you agreed to do this with me,” Mandrake said. “I wasn’t certain you would.”

“I told you before that I would never leave you again, and I meant it. If this is what it takes to convince you, then so be it,” said Rose. “But why didn’t we just use one of those other commitment spells you mentioned earlier?”

“Mm. Those are done under the summoning of a magical officiate,” he replied. “Whereas this was something we could do by ourselves, for each other. Now we’ll always share a unique bond that will, hopefully, only strengthen over time.” Rose took his hand and planted a tender kiss in the center of his palm, directly onto the now faintly etched sigil.

“You’ve given this a great deal of thought,” she said. His face perked up at her acknowledgement. Rose then rolled over onto her back, facing the ceiling. “What about Bella?”, she asked.

“What about her?”

“Do you think it wise, excluding her from this? She might feel excluded. I can’t say I would blame her.”

“She was actually the one who brought the spell to my attention. She thought it might be of useful interest to me,” he answered. “After studying it, it seemed an appropriate way to…to show my commitment to you.” Rose felt her heart swell, and her lip quivered slightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I told you before I’d do anything for you,” he spoke softly, but firmly. “I love you, Rose.” She smiled, her heart feeling full, but also amused.

“So then, you’re like my husband now, in a way. My magical husband,” she said, with a coy smile. Mandrake’s face softened in response, also amused.

“Mm, you could say that…”

“Well then, we’ll have to consummate our union,” said Rose with a sly smile on her face. “You know, to make it official.”

“It will have to wait until tomorrow, I’m afraid,” Mandrake replied. “I don’t think I have the energy for a second go tonight. Besides, Brutta has another training  lined up for us in the morning. We’d best get some sleep.” With that, the couple drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that nether of them would be leaving the other any time soon.

******

“I have a new lesson for you all this morning,” Aunt Brutta announced. Before her, stood the trio and Erica, for it was decided that today’s lesson was also necessary for the youngest witch in the group. Custard sat on the edge of the yard’s clearing, batting away occasional insects and trying his best to read Brutta’s book of magical lore despite the distraction. “Today we will discover your spirit animals. Knowing what animal walks beside you through life will not only strengthen your magic, but can also offer unparalleled protection and assistance, especially in the most dire of circumstances!”

“How exciting!”, Erica exclaimed. “Will we be able to communicate with it?!”

“Yes, indeed,” Brutta answered. “Although perhaps not in the way you might imagine. But we’ll address that in due time. For now, I want each of you to think of something joyful in your lives, something that brings you happiness upon thinking of it.” Erica’s mind was racing, thinking of all the things in her life that were bringing her the most happiness. She thought of her beautiful room with all its posh furnishings. She thought about the Mandrake’s library and its endless supply of mystery novels. She thought of her command over the Mandrake’s demons and their willingness to do her bidding. But not least of all, she blissfully considered how much influence she had over all the people in her life. Things were looking fine, indeed, she thought with a dreamy smile on her lips, lost in her feelings of self-satisfaction.

“Rose, dear,” said Aunt Brutta,”we’ll start with you.” Brutta remembered the difficulty Rose had in identifying her element, and Brutta sensed that summoning her spirit animal would be considerably easier for the young witch. Rose appeared to agree. She stepped forward while the others stood in an informal circle around her. “Close your eyes, dear,” Brutta instructed. “Feel your joy, and imagine a familiar creature friend beside you…” Rose did as instructed. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She had so many wonderful things in her life for which she grateful, it was almost hard to settle on one. Rose let her feelings wash over her while the most joyous among them came to the front of her mind: Earwig’s birth. Far and away, the birth of her daughter, despite the fear and pain that surrounded the event, would be one of the strongest and most important moments in her life. Brutta closely watched Rose. True to her suspicion, she could sense that the red-headed witch was relishing a myriad of happy thoughts. The crone spoke gently, not wishing to disrupt the younger witch’s revery. “Now summon your spirit with the words, Veni Spiritum!” Without opening her eyes, Rose did as instructed. She spoke the words gently, as if in a dreamy daze. A swirl of light began to gallop around her in a flourish of movement and sound. The beast could be heard neighing before it materialized enough to be recognized by the group. Rose opened her eyes in amazement, yanked from her daydream. All eyes followed the glowing animal as it began to take shape. The head of a horse emerged from the light, it’s mane waving as the majestic spirit ran in circles. Custard looked up from his book and stared at the fascinating display. Erica stared in amazement and excitement. “It’s a horse!,” she called out, without thinking. Brutta knit her brows.

“Don’t be too quick to assume, young one,” Brutta remarked. With that said, the spirit animal’s full form could be seen. With the head and front legs of a horse, a powerful fish tail rolled and swayed in place of the steed’s hind quarters. Erica looked utterly confused.

“A mer-horse??,” Erica asked with befuddlement, uncertainty coloring her guess. Custard lit up.

“I’ve seen pictures of that!” Custard began to frantically flip through the pages of the book in his lap in an effort to find the page in question. Before he could locate the source, however, Bella summed it up promptly.

“It’s a hippocampus,” she said. Her voice was tinted with mild admiration.

“Bella is correct,” Brutta confirmed, with proud enthusiasm. “The hippocampus is a ‘titan of the sea’, a symbol of those who are strong, graceful, elegant and noble.” Not appearing to hear Brutta, Rose was awestruck. She held out her hand to the spirit horse as if testing to determine if it was real. The creature briefly lowered its vaporous head to her hand before quickly disappearing into thin air.

“It’s gone,” Erica remarked sadly.

“Spirit animals do not spend much time on this plane,” Brutta said. “Today’s goal is to allow them to make themselves known. We can’t expect more than that.” With that said, Aunt Brutta turned her attention to Bella. “Now, niece. Let’s find out what your animal spirit will be. Joyful thoughts!” Bella grimaced. Many things could be said of Bella, but ‘joyful', ‘happy' or ‘pleasant’ were generally not among the words one would choose. She knew this about herself and didn’t make any excuses for it. Still, she had known happy times, but of late, with how things had been going, she was not feeling particularly joyful. Bella knew it was going to take a great deal of mental prowess to steer her thoughts in the right direction. Erica sensed this as well, and could not help ribbing the grumpy witch.

“Hey Bella,” Erica called out. “If only this task was like the last one, eh? Your animal would be here already!” Bella shot the witchling an angry glare, rife with annoyance. Erica couldn’t help but wonder to herself what Bella’s animal would be. A angry mountain gorilla, perhaps? Or, if Erica was generous, a mother grizzly bear, maybe. Bella stood in the center of the clearing, unsure of what memories to recall. All her best memories were from so long ago that the only emotions attached to them were wistful nostalgia and a joy so distant as to be mildly pleasurable. She glanced at the faces of each member of the group. Each had brought a certain amount of happiness to her life, but there was no denying that the grief, heartache, frustration and fury outweighed any joy that was present. Bella’s eyes fell upon her great-aunt and their eyes locked. Brutta, sensing a great struggle in her niece, stepped forward, with Erica treading cautiously behind her.

“Bella, dear. I feared this task might be tricky for you…,” said Brutta. Bella could only speak barely above a whisper.

“I don’t have any joyful feelings,” she said. The crone caught sight of Bella’s eyes growing glassy and forlorn. Erica, too, took notice and a wave of sympathy washed over her.

“I was only teasing before,” the child offered. “You have lots of amazing things that bring joy. Your drums? Your potions?” Bella huffed under her breath. More work than joy, she thought. Erica struggled to think of more happy events. “What about when we went broom flying? Or…or…when you sang with Sir Lupin the other night?? That was great fun!” Hm, Bella thought to herself. Those little moments were joyful, but they were also enshrouded under the influence of one person, in particular, who had the greatest emotional impact on Bella’s life, as she knew it. Bella looked at her aunt, her eyes pleading with her.

“I have something,” she offered, “but I don’t know if it’s enough.” Brutta looked squarely at Bella.

“Is it powerful?”, she asked Bella, pointedly.

“Yes.”

“Then it will have to do.” With that, Bella concentrated. A silence fell upon the group as they awaited the arrival of Bella’s spirit animal. The air felt heavy with uncertainty and anticipation. Erica watched Bella carefully as Bella’s shoulders slowly rose and fell in sync with her deliberate breaths. She murmured the words, veni spiritum, repeating them like a chant. Several minutes passed before a mist began to rise from the earth. Erica could make out what appeared to be paws taking shape in the mist and with each step they took, a dull and heavy thud could be heard on the ground. The mist prowled around the group, as if surveying its surroundings. Bella’s eyes remained closed and she continued to breathe deliberately, lost in her remembrances. Everyone watched the mist thumping its steps around the perimeter, revealing more of itself, which began to appear feline in form. Its paws were enormous and it swished its long tail with apprehension, as if tasting the air. By all accounts, Erica felt almost certain she could identify this animal and was not surprised.

“I think it’s a lion,” she whispered to Brutta.

“Remember what I said about rushing to assume,” Brutta warned the girl. Sure enough, the mist rose higher, revealing feathers, an avian head with a large beak and keen eyes. Erica gasped as the creature stopped a moment in its stride to stretch and flap it’s enormous wings.

“A griffin!”, Custard shouted with excitement. The creature was known well to the young boy, even before studying Brutta’s books, having seen it so often represented in British lore. Bella opened her eyes to see the towering animal standing before her. Upon meeting her eyes, the spirit griffin lowered its front legs in a bow before rising again. It stood with an appearance with seemed proud, measured and ready. Bella’s eyes widened and her lips fell open in amazement, but before she could react further, the creature dissipated into a mist that rose toward the sky.

“Incredible,” Bella whispered in awe, still eyeing the place when the beast had stood.

“And what a sight it was,” Brutta said, with pride. “The griffin is a regal beast. They are fierce and loyal protectors and guardians, and said to represent those with the same qualities.” This news appeared to inspire Bella, as her expression brightened and her mood lifted. Brutta turned to the next member of the group.

“Alright, Mr. Mandrake,” said Brutta. “Let’s discover what spirit companion you have.” Mandrake gave a curt nod of the head to the old witch.

“If you had asked me to perform this task on any other day, I would have struggled, as well,” Mandrake told the crone with confidence. “But I’m feeling especially fine today and the timing is apt.”

“Excellent!”, Brutta exclaimed. “I’ve leave you to it.”

The Mandrake stared down at his hands, the sigil of his pact with Rose now faint    on his palm. He thumbed the markings, recalling everything that had happened the night before, what was said and seen, and he felt his heart swell with happiness. He glanced over at his family and felt a renewed sense of peace and purpose. A new lease on life, he thought to himself. A second chance…Mandrake inhaled long and hard. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the sky as if to challenge the clouds above. He then spoke the words with determination, low and clear: “Veni spiritum!” A blast of bright, hot light seemed to burst from his chest, high into the air above the group. The light circled overhead before coming back to where the group stood. It emanated a fiery glow and outstretching its wings for all to see its magnificent crimson feathers.

“Well, children? Can you identify this creature?”, Brutta asked, turning to Erica and Custard.

“A firebird?”, Custard asked, with uncertainly.

“An excellent guess,” replied Brutta. “But this animal has more significance in this case, I think…” As if on cue, the spirit bird burst into a blaze of fire which then appeared to extinguish before their eyes. A tiny orb of light then appeared, growing larger with each second until the bird appeared again, looked at the Mandrake, and soared off into the sky once more until it disappeared into the distance.

“A phoenix…,” Mandrake mumbled in awe and surprise, his eyes still staring after it toward the sky.

“Yes,” Brutta confirmed. “A fiery creature that accompanies one who experiences profound transformation. A rare and most excellent animal, indeed!” The Mandrake looked down at Brutta. Upon absorbing her words, his face flushed red and he proudly lifted his shoulders to stand a bit taller.

“That only leaves one animal left to be revealed,” Brutta announced, as she turned to face the youngest witch in the group. “Are you ready, child?”

“Absolutely!”, Erica exclaimed with confidence. Wasting no time, she stepped into the center of the circle, folded her arms across her chest, and closed her eyes. She firmly spat out the enchanted words and waited. The sound of gentle breezes could be heard blowing in the wooded distance, barely breaking the spring silence.

“Maybe it didn’t hear you,” Custard offered, trying to help. Erica scanned her surroundings, looking for signs of a spirit manifestation.

“I said, veni spiritum”, Erica loudly announced with more emphasis to whomever may be listening. Still, nothing happened.

“Take a deep breath, love,” Rose suggested to her daughter. “Close your eyes and relish your most joyful thoughts. Then take a moment and try again.” Erica did as her mother instructed. Still nothing happened.

“I don’t understand. I have all my most happy thoughts ready!”, said Erica. Brutta paused before inquiring further.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” the elder witch started, “what kind of thoughts are you recalling, exactly?” Erica rattled off the laundry list of proud accomplishments that granted her the most satisfaction. Brutta frowned.

“Smug satisfaction isn’t the same as happiness,“ Bella remarked with some disgust.

“Bella is right, young one. Joy and happiness can certainly be found in achievement,” Brutta started. “But magical control is a tool to make things easier. It will never bring you the same joy as more meaningful events in life.” Erica stared down at her boots in thought. Her whole life, thus far, had been about bending others to her will for personal gain. Was else could be better?

“Is there nothing else that has brought you any happiness at all?”, Rose asked. Erica could read her mother’s sad disappointment on her face and in her voice as she looked at her, pleadingly. Erica looked around at the others, each with varying degrees of discomfort on their faces. She then immediately detected their pain, a pain which signaled that the joy she had brought to their lives was not felt in return by her. For the very first time, Erica felt selfish. She felt the disappointment she had instilled, as if she had let them all down with her superficiality. A tight ache tugged at the center of her chest, gently squeezing and making her gasp at her breath with a hard, inward sigh.

“Perhaps you should take some time and think more on this,” Mandrake suggested with the tone of a fatherly mentor.

“Yes, sir,” Erica replied, with a tone that admitted defeat. She wandered off, deeper into the woods to be alone with her thoughts.

“I wish I could have a spirit animal…,” said Custard, wistfully. Brutta looked away from the woods and towards the young boy. She approached him like the grandmother he never had.

“Well, now, you DO have a spirit animal. We all do!”, she told him. Custard looked up at her with excitement.

“Really?”, he asked. “Can I see it, too?”

“No, child. Only witches have the power to summon their spirits, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have one, or that it can’t help you…if you call on it.”

“But how do I do that?”, he asked.

“You simply think of an animal whose traits you admire, such as strength or cunning—an animal that resonates with you,” said Brutta. “Then, imagine that animal with you, helping you achieve your desire or goal.”

“It sounds a bit hard. Are you sure it would work?”, Custard asked.

“It only takes some practice,” she said, “…and to believe.” Custard pondered this. There was that advice again: ‘believe in oneself’. He wished there was an easier way. He touched his hand to his pant pocket, feeling the outline of the coin the Mandrake had given him. If only…

Erica sat on a collapsed tree trunk, poking at the damp earth with a piece of fallen branch. Why is this so difficult??, she wondered. A sharp snap from behind made her jerk her head to look over her shoulder. Her eyes continued to scan the vicinity until she noticed a small, black object moving towards her. As it came closer, she identified its features more clearly, and sighed with discouragement.

“Thomas, what are you doing here?”, she asked.

“Not quite the animal you expected, I take it,” said the black cat. Erica resumed her stick-poking. “I saw from the window. When you ventured into the woods I knew something was wrong and thought it best to investigate.”

“I don’t understand it, Thomas! Everyone else was able to see their spirit animal, why can’t I?!” Erica was visibly annoyed and Thomas ventured with caution.

“Maybe you need to rethink what it is that truly makes for happiness…” The cat cowered his head just slightly for fear she might swat at him with the stick if he wasn’t careful. Witches were known for their short tempers, and this young one was no exception. Erica tossed the stick into the air in frustration.

“But those are the things that make me happy!”, she exclaimed. “I can’t help it my idea of happiness differs from everyone else.”

“Well, on the surface, yeah,” said Thomas. “But some feelings run much deeper.” He paused a moment, trying to think of an example that would ply the girl’s heart. “Remember when you mother fell into that crevice? And the Mandrake helped her out? How did you feel?” Erica recalled the incident with horror.

“I was terrified when that happened!”, she said.

“How about when you was discovered she was alright, how did you feel then?”

“I was relieved, of course.” Thomas continued to prod the girl.

“Why were you relieved?”

“Well…because she was safe. She was alive.” Erica was beginning to think this line of questioning was rather absurd.

“Why would you care so much if she were alive or dead?”, asked Thomas.

“Wha—? Because she’s my mother!”, Erica exclaimed with exasperation at such a foolish question.

“And..??”

“And I love her!”, she said.

“Would you feel the same if that had happened to any of the others?”, Thomas pushed. “To Bella? Or Mandrake? Or Custard?”

“Of course, I would! I love them all!” Thomas sat up a little higher now.

“Then you need to think about why you love them, what you would miss about them if they were to fall into that crevice. Because I can assure you that each one of them was thinking about you and each other when they summoned their spirit.” A look of stupefaction crossed Erica’s face as she considered Thomas’ point. This was simply not a factor she had ever considered before. Feeling cheeky, she attempted to dispute Thomas’ reasoning.

“Well, if any of them were gone, I wouldn’t be able to control them,” she said.

“Oh, boooo!!”, Thomas said, in admonishment. “You know what I mean!” Erica sighed in resignation and looked away.

“Yes. I know.”

“Then I suggest you give it a great deal of thought,” the cat advised. “Because your spirit animal is growing impatient with you.” Erica sat up in alarm and turned to face Thomas.

“You mean you know what my animal is??”

“Of course, I do,” said Thomas, now licking his paw with confident distraction.

“Then tell me, please!!”, begged Erica.

“I cannot,” he replied. “A witch must do this for themselves. Just think on it. I know you can do this.” His tone was softer now, and Erica’s expression followed. She nodded her head once in agreement, just as her father would do. Thomas turned and began walking back to house. Erica called after him before he could get too far away.

“Thomas?”, she called. The cat stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “I would feel the same if you were gone, into the crevice. You’re a good friend. I wish you were my spirit animal.” Thomas’ eyes grew wide for a moment. No one had ever said such a thing to him, so used to being treated like a worn handbag, as he was. His heart warmed and swelled.

“Now, now, “ he said, feeling bashful. “Let’s not get overly sentimental. Besides, your animal is much more impressive than the likes of me!” And with that, the cat made his way back through the woods to Aunt Brutta’s cottage. Erica’s imagination was racing now. ‘Impressive?’ What could it be? She put her chin in her palms and thought hard about what Thomas had said. She thought about how much she loved helping her father with his writing, singing and flying with her mother, and softening Bella’s heart. And now she had Custard as a brother, as well as a friend. She wanted to bring good things into their lives, as well as her own, to do kind things with them, and for them. Thomas was right. The orphanage was fun, no doubt about that, but she couldn’t deny her life was better now…and she, too, was better for it.

Erica stood up from the fallen log, and brushed down her jumper. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed her surroundings, feeling a new sense of resolve. After a few moments spent preparing her thoughts and re-evaluating her feelings, she began walking back to the house. When she reached the clearing, she saw the adults talking amongst themselves and Custard petting Thomas. Rose was the first to spot her.

“Erica, darling, is everything alright now?”, she asked. Erica nodded once and stepped into the open clearing with a new sense of self-assurance.

“Yes!”, Erica announced with confidence. “I’m ready!”

Chapter Text

A hooded figure in a dark brown cloak stood across the road from the cottage at 13 Lime Avenue. As the sky darkened into nightfall, the little house appeared as it would have on any given evening. Lights shown from inside the windows, periodically flickering on and off as if the residents were actively moving within. The figure approached the house, feeling a buzz of magical energy emanating from the dwelling. To anyone passing by, it gave the appearance of any other home in town. But to the experienced mage, it could easily be detected as the residence of a witch. Or a family of witches…, the hooded figure thought to themselves. After crossing the road, the figure stopped at the gated entrance. Something felt off. Wanting a closer inspection, the figure raised a gloved hand and gently pulled the glove away before placing it upon the stone fence posts. Barrier magic. Perhaps they don’t want anyone on the property and they’ve taken measures to prevent it…It had been several days and not once had any of the residents been observed entering or leaving the cottage. Knowing they could not move any closer, the figure decided on another approach.

A quick breeze arose and a voice spoke in the darkness: “You summoned me, master.” The figure turned toward the source of the voice, now visible: a small, red demon resembling a bird, with large keen eyes and a pointed beak.

“Use your keen sight and spy through the windows of this house. Tell me what you see,” the figure instructed. With that command, the little demon quickly flew away and could not be detected for several minutes as it darted to and fro about the house’s perimeter like a high-speed hummingbird. After several moments, the demon reappeared before its master.

“What did you see?”

“Demons dwell within. Otherwise, empty rooms.”

“You saw no humans?”, asked the figure. “No…witches?”

“Negative,” replied the demon. They are gone, thought the figure. They have left somewhere without a trace. The figure turned and took several steps down the quiet sidewalk, turned into a deserted alley and vanished. The Council must be informed.

*****

Erica stood in the center of the backyard clearing, ready to summon her spirit animal, her family around her. “Remember to just take your time, love,” Rose said, hoping the encouragement would allow the witchling better results this second time around.

“And not to think only of yourself…,” Bella grumbled under her breath, looking sideways.

“You can do it!”, Thomas meowed from the sidelines. He stood on alert, eager to see his young protégé succeed. Erica glanced around at each of the faces present. She thought about what Thomas had told her and all the joyful ways her life had improved in the past year. Indeed, no amount of controlling the daily events at St. Morvald’s Home was as satisfying as when she mixed up her first successful batch of Conquering Courage potion and impressed Bella enough to receive a wry smile and a proud nod of the head from the cantankerous witch.

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, and a content smile appeared upon her lips. A gentle breeze began to stir around her, but she continued to concentrate, determined to make the task work. The breeze grew a bit stronger and Brutta and the others felt an electric charge in the air. Goosebumps crept over Rose’s skin and Custard’s eyes grew wide with anticipation. A gust of wind rolled and surged around the circle of witches, their eyes scanning the area as they each wondered what animal would reveal itself. A breathy exhale could be heard, a deep and low roar that melded with the sound of wind making the two sounds nearly indistinguishable. Erica continued to replay her happiest thoughts and memories as the powerful mist wound and spiraled around her. Mandrake calling her Dearwig for the first time, playing with Custard at the beach, her mother singing her to sleep, Bella teaching her magic… The gust began to take shape: a long, undulating mist that curled through the air and moved with quick speed. The witchling’s smile grew wide and she finally snapped her eyes open.

“Veni Spiritum!”, she shouted.

With that exclamation, the mist sped up until a long body took form, covered in scales, its nostrils flaring. Huge eyes peered out from an enormous head that stared directly at Erica as she returned the stare with her own eyes agape.

“I don’t believe it,” muttered Bella in awe. Custard appeared confused.

“Is that…? That looks much like…a dragon, I think…,” he said in a low voice to no one in particular. Mandrake, having barely overheard the boy, confirmed his guess.

“Indeed it is!”, he stated. Then, as if to dispel the doubt of its onlookers, the creature stopped before Erica and stretched outward a large pair of leathery wings from its back. Erica was unsure of whether to feel excitement or terror. The spirit dragon continued to look at her with keen eyes, its scales bristling and its breath thick and deep. It then flapped its wings again and lifted itself higher before swirling around the group once more and disappearing into the air on which it had arrived. Everyone remained silent for a moment, as if processing what they had just witnessed. Brutta broke the silence.

“Congratulations, young one!”, she exclaimed. “Not only have you summoned your spirit animal, but you have the rare gift of a dragon as your companion! A special creature that is wise beyond its years and able to bestow gifts to those it deems deserving.” Aunt Brutta could not conceal her pleasure at making this pronouncement.

“I thought dragons were fire elementals,” Rose said, with some confusion. “Given that all our animals have aligned with our element, I would have thought Erica would have an air animal.”

“Dragons are unique in that they embody all the elements, so a witch of any element could have one as their spirit animal,” said Brutta. She smiled again at Erica who seemed lost in thought.

“Yes! There are many kinds of dragons,” Custard proclaimed, excitedly. “I’ve been reading about them! Some fly, some breath fire, some live in water and some live deep in the ground, like in mountains and caves.” He looked around at the adults. “I’ll bet Mr. Mandrake knows all about dragons, too. They’re on his family crest.”

“Is that true, Mandrake?”, Bella asked, quizzically.

“It is,” he stated and stepped over to his daughter, placing a large hand on her back. “You’ve made me proud, Dearwig. Just like a true Mandrake!” Erica lit up now upon hearing this, and beamed up at the tall wizard. Just think, she said to herself, a dragon! Thomas was right. She couldn’t help but wonder what feats could be accomplished with having a dragon for a spirit animal…

Erica continued on this line of thought for the rest of the day, even as the adults continued with their session with Aunt Brutta for the remainder of the day. She asked Custard to lend her Brutta’s book so that she, too, could familiarize herself with every aspect of dragon lore. That evening, she quizzed Custard on her findings while the two sat reading on their beds.

“Which dragon has no wings and one pair of legs?”, she asked from behind the large, leather-bound volume.

“The Indian Lindworm,” Custard replied. “Not to be confused with the Chinese Celestial, which has two pairs of legs.”

“Correct. What dragon has wings but no legs?”

“Um…the…Arabian Amphitere!”, Custard answered. Erica then paused.

“What kind of dragon do you suppose was my spirit animal?”, she asked with some reflection.

“I’m not sure,” said Custard. “It was gone so fast I didn’t get the best look at it. But, it had wings and legs. I know that for sure! Maybe a Wyvern?” Erica considered Custard’s guess.

“Hm. Maybe,” she said, flipping through the pages of pictures and descriptions. “The Wyvern is known to be fearsome and aggressive,” said Custard, looking a bit skittish. “D-do you think it would be…dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” Erica answered. “But there must be something good about having it as a spirit animal.” She considered a moment. “Perhaps it will give us protection? At a time like this, we could probably really use it.”

“Yea,” Custard acknowledged with some hesitation. “After what happened the other day with the golem, I’d say we’ll need all the help we can get.”

Erica was not the only one concerned about protection. Bella knew that the family would never fare as well as necessary if they were to encounter anyone from the Witches Council. She spent the evening in Brutta’s workshop, scouring her aunt’s spell books in the hopes of finding something that could give them an advantage, but all she could find was the usual fare of elemental magic and combative spells. This is no use, she thought. I’ve scanned these texts several times. It this all there is??, she wondered. Just then, Brutta came into the room….

Brutta noticed Bella’s knit brows and frustrated expression. “Something wrong, dear?”, she asked. Bella looked up and shook her head with a sigh.

“It’s not enough,” Bella said. “None of this is enough.” She gestured broadly with her hands toward the books.

“What are you saying?”, asked Brutta. Bella pressed the fingertips of her right hand to her temple as if soothing a headache that was developing there.

“These spells are stronger then anything I’ve been able to learn before, but they aren’t enough. We aren’t yet skilled enough to protect ourselves from the Council, even with having these spells in our arsenal. Magic like this takes years to master and we simply haven’t had enough time to do them justice!”

“You can stay as long as you need,” Brutta pressed, hoping to reassure the blue-haired witch.

“Not as long as proficiency would require,” said Bella. “I would feel better if we could make use of something that could give us an extra boost. What I wouldn’t give for a good, strong potion!” Brutta looked at her great-niece for a intense moment of thoughtful scrutiny.

“A potion, you say?” The crone appeared to be scanning her mind for something. Bella pressed on.

“Yes, something that could make us undetectable, somehow. Or could create a protective barrier of some kind…” She thought about the potion spell from her own grimoire that could provide “protection from all magic”. But she knew that such a potion would never stand up to the sort of power used by the witches of the Council. She would need heavy artillery for that sort of magic!

“Hmmmm,” Brutta murmured as she placed her finger to her chin in a gesture of deep thought. “I wonder…” The old woman left the room for several minutes and came back with a stack of books in her arms measuring at least two feet in height. Bella watched her with a mildly puzzled expression on her face.

“Oh no. What is all this?”, asked Bella. “Not more spell books…”

“These are volumes from the rest of my collection,” said Brutta. “There could be something that will fit your needs in one of them!” Bella looked unimpressed and unconvinced.

“Not more books to scour through!”, Bella exclaimed with irritated fatigue in her voice.

“Silly girl! Have you forgotten how to use basic magic??” Brutta laid the numerous volumes out on the workshop table in single layer fashion. “A simple retrieval spell will do very nicely here.” The crone closed her eyes in concentration. She then slowly waved both her hands in a slow flourish over the books. “Find me a magical protection potion,” she said aloud. Bella watched as the book covers flipped open and their pages began to fan rapidly, obeying the witch’s command. After several seconds, some of the books closed shut, while others fell open to a particular page. Brutta suggested Bella take a look, and the two witches began reviewing the results. “Here’s one that will disguise a magic user with an invisible barrier,” Brutta stated upon examining the page. A look of defeat crossed her face. “But it takes over a year to maturate. Drat.” Bella nodded her head in acknowledgment, for although potions were her speciality and preferred form of magic, she knew the limitations they often imposed. Time limits, rare ingredients, precise measurements and tricky preparations often made them particularly difficult to formulate. The witches continued to read awhile longer, carefully scanning the descriptions of each spell. At last, Bella raised one eyebrow as she read a the spell sparked her interest.

“I think I may have found something,” she said slowly, still reading. Brutta looked up from her text, to hear the results of Bella’s search. “A shielding spell. Says it will deflect all offensive magic and send it back to its point of origin…”

“That sounds promising, yes?,” Brutta asked. Bella’s eyes never left the page and she read over the requirements and specifications. She slowly began to nod her head.

“Yes. Yes, I think this might be exactly what we are looking for. What do you think?” Bella turned the large tome toward Brutta for her aunt to inspect. The crone looked over the list of ingredients.

“Looks like something we can whip up immediately, too! Let’s see, it contains the usual fare: rue, mugwort, bat’s blood…hmm.” Brutta stepped away and began gathering the aforementioned items. Placing the bottles and jars on the workshop table, she called to Bella. “What else does it list?”

“Uh, wolfsbane, beech berries, and dragon dung,” said Bella. Brutta pulled more  bottles from the shelves lining the workshop walls.

“Hm. Dragon dung. I daresay that is the primary ingredient doing most of the work in that potion,” said Brutta. She tapped her finger along the shelf until she came to the bottle of dragon dung. Taking it promptly into her hand, she examined its contents through the glass. Holding the bottle up the light, Brutta frowned upon closer inspection. “How much does the potion call for?”

“One hundred grams,” said Bella. Brutta looked at her niece and sighed.

“There’s barely two, here.”

“And we have to make enough for all of us,” said Bella. “Can we source more?”

“I haven’t any idea where we would find that ingredient in this day and age. Dragons were always rare beasts, now even more so,” Brutta explained. “I’ve had this sample in my possession ever since inheriting it from my mother. Never needed to use it, myself. One can only wonder where she got it from…” Bella’s shoulders fell in resignation, her hopes dashed. She sighed heavily and reached across the table, taking several of the open books into her arms.

“Looks like its back to the drawing board then,” Bella said. “I’ll take these into the sitting room and see if there is anything else that might work for us.” With that, she headed off to the parlor to find a comfortable chair in which to sit and resign herself to potential failure. She found Rose and Mandrake sitting together and muttering softly about something in whatever spell book Mandrake had in his lap. Just as Bella sat down, Erica came into the room. Rose and Mandrake stopped their chatter and looked up.

“Bella,” she started. “Would dragons be willing to protect a witch? I’m wondering if having one as my spirit animal would be good in that way, despite their ferocity.” Bella looked up from her book.

“Yes, I imagine so,” Bella answered. “I was looking for a forbidden potion that could offer us all some needed protection; it’s strongest ingredient being ‘dragon dung’, if that tells you anything.” Erica’s eyes lit up.

“Really?? That sounds great!” The witchling’s thoughts began to run a mile a minute.

“Well, not so fast. There was very little in Brutta’s supply, certainly not enough for one person, let alone all of us,” Bella said, dashing all excitement from Erica’s face.

“Dragon dung, you say?”

Bella looked across the room from where the voice originated. The Mandrake was looking at her, expectantly.

“Yes. Do you know where we could get some?”, Bella asked, rhetorically, with no expectation of getting a good answer.

“I think I might, yes.” The Mandrake nodded slowly, in thought. Bella, Rose and Erica all looked at him, not believing their ears.

“Pardon?’, asked Rose. Mandrake looked again at Bella.

“We’ll need to go home.”

In a matter of just a few short hours, the entire family was packed again, standing outside the cottage, and ready to make the return trip home. Once again, Thomas was swaddled around Erica torso, and everyone prepared to teleport back to the cottage in Cotswold. Brutta had given Bella a copy of the potion spell, as well as all the ingredients she had on hand that Bella would need, including a few special ones that would be impossible for Bella to acquire back home. Bella placed everything safely into her enchanted shoulder bag.

“Good luck, my dear! You know how to reach me if you need anything.” Brutta hugged Bella tight, almost afraid to release her. Upon saying her goodbyes to Rose and Mandrake, Brutta turned her attention to the children. She embraced Erica and whispered fondly into her ear, “Be careful, little air witch. I expect to hear good things about you in the near future.”

“Thank you for everything, Aunt Brutta,” said Erica, returning Brutta’s hug with a gentle squeeze. Brutta then turned to Custard.
“I’m entrusting you with the safe keeping of my book of magical lore,” she told him. “Study it well. One never knows when such information may prove useful.” She then winked at the young boy in a conspiratorial manner and Custard responded with a knowing nod of the head and a promise to do exactly that.

A final wave goodbye and the family stood in a circle with joined hands.

“Everyone ready?,” Rose asked, glancing around for the green light of confirmation. “Hold on tight!” And within moments, the family was transported back to the garage of 13 Lime Avenue, as if they had never been gone.

“It’s so good to be home!”, Rose exclaimed upon arrival. The family had only been gone a week, but Erica couldn’t help but feel that the garage felt foreign, somehow. Several demons appeared to welcome their master and mistress, but Mandrake paid them little mind. They made their way back to the main house and Mandrake instructed everyone to leave their bags and belongings. Except for Bella, that is.

“You’ll want to take whatever you need to collect ingredients.” Bella, still unsure of what to expect, nodded in stunned agreement and proceeded to load her enchanted bag with vials, bottles and other items for gathering specimens.

Erica was nearly bouncing off the walls with anticipation.

“Alright! What now?”, she asked. "Why did we need to return home for this special ingredient??”

“First, we go to the library,” Mandrake instructed. The group followed him, still exchanging looks of bewilderment. They entered the cavernous library. It was still dusk in England, and a low evening light was barely visible from the series of small windows high above the book-lined shelves. As the group made their way past his writing desk, Mandrake took the kerosene lamp he housed there and waved his hand over it to activate a flame. Following his command, a soft, warm glow illuminated the library, allowing for better passage as Mandrake led the family to the farthest end of the extensive hall. Despite having been in the library before, Erica noticed how immense it actually was, with its high cathedral ceilings and soaring columns. Similar to the garage…, she thought.

The group walked past numerous towering book stacks, many of which made for cumbersome passage through the library hall and lending to its shadowy interior.

“We really should do something about cleaning this place up,” Rose commented  in a low, disgusted voice. Erica glanced around in all directions as they walked, examining the mysterious structure as she had never done before. It was in the close surveying, that she first took notice of something quite peculiar. Several of the hall’s columns were designed at the base to resemble enormous, clawed feet, with scale-covered skin….! They reached the far end of the library and were greeted with yet another wall hiding behind numerous vertical stacks of books piled high in no particular order or system. Some were so high they appeared as if they would tumble down on top of the group at any moment. The family stood a moment, staring at the stacks. Mandrake then bent his arms and with his hands held firm, he gestured to the right, and then to the left. The stacks shifted slowly, parting ways to reveal an arched wooden door. Erica gasped in surprise.

“I never knew this door was here!”, she exclaimed.

“It doesn’t get used very often,” explained the Mandrake.

“Where does it go?”, Custard asked. The Mandrake looked down at the children as they stood next to him, staring at the mysterious door.

“I’m sure you’ve both learned that there are many rooms and spaces that are too large to fit inside the actual, physical parameters of this house,” said Mandrake. Erica nodded, as she had lived in the cottage much longer than Custard.

“Right. So we use portals to other places,” she said. Custard’s face remained unchanged.

“This library is not part of our house,” Mandrake began to explain. "When we walk through the library entrance from our house, we actually pass through a portal into a different house…”

“And the garage, too!” Erica interrupted her father as she began to understand how these strange, inexplicable spaces were connected.

“That’s correct, Dearwig”, said Mandrake. “They are part of the Mandrake family estate in Wales.” The wizard then flicked his hand toward the heavy oak door. “Open,” he commanded. The door creaked and gradually opened wide, leading the way to another open space. “Follow me.” The Mandrake’s head passed through the stony arch of the doorway as Bella, Rose and the children followed him into a huge, expansive foyer. Gothic arches curved overhead and heavy columns lined the walls. Just then, a servant stepped into the foyer from an adjoining room, taking notice of the tall wizard among his brood.

“Lord Mandrake”, said the servant, in surprise, “we did not know to expect you.” Mandrake continued to look straight ahead.

“Everyone,” he said, flatly, “this is Marshcliff Manor."

Chapter Text

Walking into Marshcliff Manor felt like stepping back in time. High stone walls were met with thick oak paneling that was adorned with tapestries and paintings. Higher still, a mezzanine encircled the foyer creating the sensation that one was standing amidst a courtyard, save for the covered ceiling where beams and buttresses loomed overhead. Several doorways led to spaces both opened and closed and Erica was eager to see all of them. The male servant who greeted Mandrake approached and inquired further.

“Is there anything I can get for your lordship?”, he asked.

“No”, replied Mandrake. “We won’t be staying long. Leave us be.” The servant acknowledged the command and left the family to step further inside, looking at their new surroundings with awe.

“I feel as though I’ve just found myself in the Middle Ages…”, Rose remarked with disbelief as she looked with wonder in all directions.

“Mandrake,” said Bella, “you never shared this with us before. Why have you kept it secret?” Bella had no intention of interrogating the wizard; she knew of his high-born wizard status. But in all the years she had known him, he had never brought Rose or her to this house. Looking at it now, she felt a bit silly and should have expected the grander rooms of their cottage would lead to such a place, but at the time, she had no desire to probe the ornery wizard on the subject.

“I am not close to my family,” he replied. “You do know that much.”

“Well, yes, but I, I…”, Bella stammered.

“The estate has its uses, is all”, he added. “We should hurry. I don’t want to spend more time here than is necessary. Follow me.” The Mandrake led the family to a discreet door and opened it. An overwhelmingly musty odor burst forth from the darkness that lay behind its entrance. Custard felt himself tighten and Erica couldn’t resist the urge to start teasing him.

“Hey, Custard. What if we see a dead body down there?”, she asked. “Wouldn’t that be fun??” Her voice was thick with tantalized excitement. Custard’s only response was a sour expression as if he’d just accidentally swallowed his least favorite food disguised as a jelly baby. From the look of this place, he suspected such a thing wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibilities. He touched the dragon talisman in his pocket and took a deep breath.

Next to the door’s entrance stood a tall, gothic candelabra loaded with unlit candles. Mandrake instructed everyone to take one. Sweeping his arm in a graceful gesture, he set all the candles alight and led the way through the entrance. Erica could now see that the door opened onto a dark, spiral stone stairwell which led down below the castle.

“Reminds me of a dungeon…”, remarked Erica. Her penchant for mystery, adventure and spookiness made her head swoon. Still, there was something unnerving about this place, as well, if she was being honest. Not that she would ever tell that to Custard… She found her thoughts correcting herself. “Ah, haha, was this a dungeon, by any chance…??”, she tensely asked her father.

“Something like that,” Mandrake replied.

They proceeded cautiously down the hard, cold staircase, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly as they went. The candles cast tall shadows upon the curving walls of the stairwell and Erica noted they were covered in some sort of cryptic pictures. They must be magical symbols!, she thought. When they finally reached the bottom, a cavernous room stood before them. Mandrake seemed to disappear for a moment into the darkness that enshrouded the space, but within seconds a blazing fire burned in a central brazier in the middle of the cellar room. The room was largely empty, but everyone was grateful for the ability to see their surroundings more clearly. Glancing about, Erica caught a glimpse of something on the stone floor: a glint of lustrous shine that appeared for a brief moment before disappearing again. With her ability to see magic spells, Erica noticed even more symbols and some archaic language on the walls which seemed to swell and throb in a variety of pulsating, glowing colors. Wait, she realized…these were sigils!

“Mandrake, why are we here?”, Bella asked.

“My great, great grandfather was a sorcerer of considerable skill. He tried to enhance his abilities by harnessing the power of dragons. He eventually managed to capture one and kept it magically bound to this castle by imprisoning it in this cellar.”

“How dreadful,” said Rose, both sympathy and revulsion coloring her tone. Mandrake turned to Bella.

“You said you needed dragon dung as an ingredient. There should be some here to fit your requirement.” Bella appeared confused for a moment. She strained her eyes in the low light of the cellar, looking in all directions, until she saw it: a large, dried pile of dusty dirt in the corner of the cellar vault.

“You mean…that??”, asked Bella, unsure of what she was seeing.

“Yes,” Mandrake replied, flatly. The group made their way over the to pile. Slowly they grasped the implications of Mandrake’s words.

“Holy…shite…,” remarked Rose, with understated awe as she stared at the voluminous mound.

“In, a manner, of speaking…,” said Mandrake. A faint but musty odor filled Erica’s nostrils. It was a smell reminiscent of her many years around babies at St. Morvald’s Home.

“It smells a bit like a stale nappy,” she exclaimed in disgust, pinching her nose closed.

“It does,” said Custard, in factual agreement.

The adults continued to chatter amongst themselves and Erica wandered the room, inspecting the premises. She had no interest in the pile of dusty dung in the corner, but went to investigate the source of the shining glint of light she noticed earlier. On the stone floor, lay a large disc of some sort, roughly the size of a rubbish can lid. It was flat and thin and came to an impressive point on one side. She held it up to the firelight and admired the gleaming shimmer than flashed when she tilted it back and forth in her grip. Custard came over to her side.

“Looks like a scale,” he said. Erica considered this.

“Yes. A dragon scale!” Her voice was breathy with excitement. “What a fantastic find! A great curiosity!”

“Would make a good shield,” Custard remarked before breaking into an excited smile. “You could be St. George!”

“Ha ha! It would!” Erica held it before her and made a mock face, impersonating a heroic swashbuckler. “Stay back, foul beast! Or I’ll slay you with my sword, Excalibur!”

“Excalibur was King Arthur’s sword!”, Custard corrected her, with a laugh.

“Oh, what difference does it make, Custard? The point is, I’ve found an actual, honest-to-goodness dragon scale!”, Erica exclaimed with pride. “I wonder what it might be worth…?” She knew the rarity of her find made it valuable. Sensing she might have something forbidden, Erica slyly slipped the scale into her enchanted shoulder bag, thankful she had decided to bring it.

As she was closing the clasp on her bag, Erica felt a familiar sensation she had not experienced in a long while. An unsettling feeling of being watched burned into her back. She slowly turned around to see two large, glowing red circles on the far wall of the cellar, like a pair of molten eyes staring at the group. She  stood transfixed for a moment, unable to look away. She remembered her first night at 13 Lime Avenue. That’s the Mandrake, said Thomas…She looked over at her father, who was clearly engrossed with Bella and her mother. So who was watching them through the walls of the manor at this moment??

“Uh, sorry,” Erica called out to the trio. “Not to interrupt your dung collecting, but, someone appears to be watching us…” The trio turned around to see the source of Erica’s concern. Rose gasped audibly.

“Mandrake?”, she asked with unease in her voice. “What is this?” Mandrake did not reply, but instead spoke with urgency to Bella, who was crouched on the floor, taking samples of the dusty ingredient.

“Quickly! Collect what you can and teleport home, immediately. We’ll catch up with you there.” Bella nodded her head once in understanding. She quickly finished and carefully slipped her specimen jar and spatula into her own enchanted shoulder bag. Mandrake and Rose stood blocking Bella from from the prying eyes, hoping the light in the cellar was low enough to let her go unnoticed. Erica kept her eyes trained on the glowing red circles on the wall until they faded from view. Bella stood up and dusted herself off. She exchanged a look with Mandrake that conveyed mutual understanding of the aforementioned directive, and within a blink, she was gone. Mandrake then extinguished the fire in the brazier.

“Come, let’s get out of this abysmal cell,” he said, leading his family back up the stairs.

Upon reaching the top, the group reentered the central foyer just as another door was opening, across the way. A tall man emerged from the opposite doorway, and Erica could not help but feel as though she was almost seeing double. The man was extremely tall, though not quite as tall as the Mandrake. Save a few differences, this man could almost be Mandrake’s twin. Unlike her father, his shoulders did not stoop, but his face held the same stern and hardened expression on his sharp features. His hair was cut short and combed back with a smoothness that could only be described as severe. The most notable difference however what that this man did not wear glasses, making his fierce and ghoulish eyes ever more apparent. This HAS to be a family relative, thought Erica. The similarities were just too strong. Erica looked him up and down. Despite his intimidating presence, he wore a long cape over his fine suit, which only served to undermine his intensity with a touch of the absurd.

“Durwald,” said the man. “I see you’ve decided to make a visit to the homestead on this fine evening. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Erica noticed that despite his congenial words and affect, there was a snark in his tone that felt belittling.

“Waldron”, said Mandrake, in acknowledgment. “How good to see you.” His voice was flat, betraying extreme indifference. Erica glanced back and forth between the two men, noting their tone did not match their words. “I felt it was high time to show my family the estate. They’ve had many questions, you see,” he lied. “Everyone, this is my brother, Waldron.” Mandrake’s eyes never left his brother. The man briefly turned his attention to Rose and the children.

“Ah, yes. Your family. How good of you to finally bring them around. Or perhaps I should I say, how…brave…of you. After all you’ve been through…” He shook his head, slightly, in a mildly exaggerated gesture of sympathy.

“Brother??”, Erica asked aloud, glancing between the two wizards. Her eyes were wide with intrigue. “So that makes you my uncle, then?” She cupped her hands together behind her back and swung back and forth on the soles of her boots, attempting to appear sweetly adorable. The wizard, Waldron, was not having it, however. He stared down at her coldly, for a moment, before turning his attention back to his brother.

“My dear brother, why don’t you and your lovely family stay for dinner this evening,” said Waldron. “It’s been so long; it’ll give us a chance to to catch up.” Mandrake remained unmoved for a moment. Erica, sensing his hesitancy, urged him with a plea worthy of her most persuasive skills. Rose touched his arm, gently.

“What harm could it do?”, she asked. Mandrake’s eyes returned to his brother, who awaited his answer. He nodded once.

“Very well,” he said.

“Splendid. Dinner will be served in one hour. That will give you some time to show your guests around and see some of the highlights of the manor.” Erica’s eyes stayed on Waldron as he swept aside and exited back through the door from which he had emerged. What a strange man, she thought, even for a wizard!

The family casually made their way through the maze-like corridors of the castle house. Mandrake pointed out long-passed members of his family tree whose portraits seemed to both grace and haunt the manor's hallways. Erica was fascinated by the castle and wanted to know more of its secrets and history. “Sir, why is this place called, Marshcliff Manor?”, she asked.

“It derives its name from its location,” Mandrake started. “Come.” He stepped ahead of Rose and the children, and led them into an expansive hall, much like a ballroom. From there, several large, exterior doorways opened onto a stone terrace. The wizard beckoned them to come see. Rose’s eyes scanned the castle’s surroundings, admiring the vast expanse of uninhabited land. Several hills surrounded the house, shielding it from view.

As they stepped outdoors, they could see the evening sun was very low in the sky, signaling that a sunset was soon to occur, The summer air was dank and the soft sound of various insects, birds and other creatures could be heard in the distance. Erica hoisted herself upon the stony enclosure and surveyed the distant landscape. “Be careful, Dearwig,” Mandrake sternly warned his daughter. “We’re a long way up.” Erica looked down and felt a twinge of vertigo. A steep cliff broke away beneath the terrance balcony, revealing the earth far below. An ominous fog hung in the air, making details difficult to distinguish. “The house is built upon a cliff,” Mandrake explained. “And directly below, are the marshes for which it is named. Squinting closer, she could see the ground appeared swampy and wild. “It is said that the dragon my great grandfather imprisoned here, once lived in that marsh before being captured.” Erica and Custard’s eyes both widened.

“Whatever became of the dragon?”, Erica asked.

“I believe his daughter, my grandmother, set it free. She was a witch who could communicate with it, apparently. She took pity on the beast and released it back into the wild.”

“Do…does it still live there?”, asked Custard, gulping hard.

“It’s very likely,” answered Mandrake. “They can live for several millennia.”

“So I’ve read,” replied Custard, nervously eyeing the distant marsh.

*****

Bella found herself standing in the cottage hallway after teleporting from Marshcliff Manor, exactly as she had intended. I hope no one saw me collecting this, she thought to herself, her hand protectively touching her shoulder bag in an effort to reassure herself that the rare and prized ingredient was still safely inside. The last thing they needed was one of the Mandrake clan prying in their affairs, and Bella had no intention of letting on about the protective potion she planned to create. They always were a strange lot, she thought as she magically revealed the door to her workshop. Uppity, as well as strange: the worst combination! She opened the door and began emptying her bag onto the worktable. After removing the various bottles and jars she had been given by Aunt Brutta, and the prized dung, she removed a piece of paper that had been neatly folded several times. Bella opened the paper, which appeared blank at first. She located some dragon’s blood resin and set it alight in a small, brass incense burner. As the smoke wafted upward, Bella held the paper in the smoke of the burning resin and Brutta’s handwriting magically appeared on the paper, outlining the instructions for creating the potion. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized every word.

“Hmm,” she spoke aloud to herself. “This spell calls for a familiar.” She looked around the shop, but did not spot the cat in question. “Must have gone somewhere to nap as soon as we arrived home, lazy little scruff,” she muttered with annoyance. “Tho-mas!”, she called out, loudly. “Come here! We’ve got pressing work to do!”

*****

Dinner at Marshcliff Manor could only be described as disturbingly surreal. The dining hall was grand, at least by gothic standards. Tapestries and paintings depicting magical lore adorned these walls, as well. Candelabras hung from the vaulted ceiling and a long table that seated at least fifteen stood squarely in the center, anchoring the room’s noble status. A huge fireplace was located on the east wall, with a fire burning to warm the chilly room, despite the summer season. Erica noted the fireplace was high enough that both she and Custard could easily stand inside of it when a fire was not present.

“Would your ladyship care for more potatoes?”

The shiny, silver face of a metallic automaton stared down into Erica’s face, waiting for her response. Its eyes were completely black, vacant of any iris or pupil that would suggest a life-force dwelled within. Indeed, there was no life within. This mockery of humanity, a mere stuffed puppet, dressed in a long black robe and animated by magic, was too creepy even for Erica. Its mask-like mouth remained frozen in an eery smile of happy servitude. Dolls. They’re like dolls. Life-size, robotic, androgynous, creepy dolls. Erica never liked dolls. She politely declined the offering of seconds and redirected her attention to her equally unsettling uncle.

“Why don’t you use real servants instead of these magical…puppets?”, she asked, not knowing what else to call them. Waldron took a long sip of wine, then dabbed his lips with his linen napkin, slowly and deliberately, before responding.

“Servitude is no longer supported in the magical world,” he said. “No one in the magical world would do such work, even for pay, and long gone are the days when one could indenture others to serve one’s needs, magical or otherwise.”

“Couldn’t you just use familiars?”, asked Erica. “And what about the man who greeted us when we first arrived? Wasn’t he a servant?” Waldron’s eyes remained focused on cutting his filet mignon as he spoke.

“Enchanted dummies recreate a feeling of the lost aristocracy,” Waldron explained, with a wistful tone. “Regrettably, we don’t have much use for them anymore.” He shot a glance at Mandrake, who picked and prodded at his scalloped potatoes with his fork. “Now, their use is reserved for when we have guests.” With that, his lips split into a saccharine smile that only added to his unsettling demeanor.

“And the man?”, asked Erica.

“He is a wizard unfortunate enough to have lost his powers, years ago. He is loyal to the Mandrake family and serves here as a form of refuge.”

“How did…” Rose cut Erica off before she could finish her line of inquiry. The conversation during the meal had been awkward and sparse, with little being said between the two brothers. Noticing this, Rose remained polite and reserved, not wanting to create any turbulence for Mandrake and prevented their daughter from asking intrusive questions. Custard simply tried his hardest not to let his fear and discomfort be detected. As the meal culminated, Waldron turned to one of the automatons and requested a round of cognac to be brought to the dining hall. The figure obliged with a silent head bow and exited the room. Waldron then turned his attention to Rose.

“If you’ll excuse us, Miss…Scarlet, is it? I’d like a chance to speak with my brother, privately. Family business, you understand. Why don’t you take the little ones and peruse the library for a bit, before dessert is served.” Erica took umbrage with this.

“ ‘Little ones’ ??!”, she snipped. “I’ll have you know I’m almost…”

“Erica, that’s quite enough,” Rose interrupted her, yet again. “Come, children. Let’s leave the brothers to chat. We’ll return in a bit.” As they exited, Erica turned and looked again at the dining hall. Having finished serving dinner, several automatons stood at distant points, encircling the perimeter of the great room, silently awaiting further instruction from their master.

“Aren’t we having dessert later?”, she asked, befuddled. Rose hushed her again and ushered her out.

The aforementioned servant automaton returned to the hall with a silver tray loaded with several brandy sniffers. Waldron took one of the balloon glasses and held it in the webbing of his right hand, leaning his back into the velvet upholstery of his dining chair.

“Cognac?”, he offered the Mandrake.

“I’d prefer not,” Mandrake replied, flatly. Waldron huffed at his rebuff. “Turning down expensive French brandy? You really have changed.” Mandrake remained unaffected by this jab. “Do you still carry on with that blue-haired witch, what was her name…?”

“Bella Yaga.” Mandrake’s voice was now laced with slight annoyance.

“Ah yes. Lovely Bella.” Waldron’s voice with swooning with patronizing admiration. “She was a fine one. Bit of a country bumpkin, but decent stock, nonetheless. What of her?”

“We…share a house,” Mandrake answered. He did not want to tell his brother about the martial arrangement he and Bella entered years ago. Waldron could sense his brother was holding something back, keeping something from him.

“Still playing in that sordid rock band?”, he asked, his question sounding more like a thinly veiled interrogation. Mandrake’s patience was quickly burning away at the edges.

“What is it you really want to know?”, Mandrake demanded, his voice short and quick. “Surely you didn’t send the others away to discuss the generalities of my life.” Waldron sharpened up now.

“Direct, as always”, he observed. “Fair enough. How dare you bring that low-born, fugitive witch here,” Waldron hissed. “It’s bad enough you’ve brought immense shame to the once great name of Mandrake.”

“Yes, a fine name, indeed,” Mandrake responded in kind. “Rife with snobbery and intolerance…and for what? Prestige in the pursuit of power??”

“The only reason the Witches Council did not imprison your indignant hide is precisely because of that name!”, Waldron snapped at his brother.

“They may as well have!”, Mandrake replied. “Do you have any idea what misery I endured after that ordeal?? Prison would have been a blessing!”

“Everything you’ve ‘endured’ was a result of your own foolishness.”

“Perhaps,” Mandrake said. “But that is where you and I have always differed. You never believed in the pursuit of dreams or love. You’ve been a different sort  of prisoner, in that way.”

“Yes, well, it’s true I never had any of the romantic predispositions in which you’ve always been prone. But I daresay I have never brought myself to ruin or disgrace to my family! Performing in rock bands? Producing children with low-born harlots?” Mandrake’s fists squeezed tight. He wanted to pop a punch straight into the center of his brother’s scorning face. “This is hardly behavior becoming of a wizard with any modicum of self-respect.”

“I love my family,” Mandrake said, his voice turning into a lower growl than usual. “They are my real family. I don’t care a wit for your disapproval. Rose and I will not be separated again.”

“Is that why you’ve bound yourself to her?” The Mandrake looked stunned for a moment.

“How did you…”

“I could practically smell it on you!” This hyperbolic statement wasn’t enough to satisfy the giant wizard, and he demanded his brother elaborate. “You’re my blood relative. The moment I saw you, I could see a red aura over the two of you. I knew you were magically joined, somehow. The real question is: how did you do it?” Mandrake did not wish to divulge his use or knowledge of the forbidden magic he’d found in Brutta’s books.

“Never mind that…”

“What do you mean, ‘never mind’?? No magical officiate of reputable standing would have performed such a spell. You must have done it yourselves! Where did you learn such a thing?? To use such magic is forbidden. To bind yourself to a low born witch comes with a steep penalty, dear brother, of which I am certain you are aware.”

“My affairs are my own,” said Mandrake, with resolute. “I never requested your approval of my choices.”

“So you’ve been living with these women, have you? Having children with them? Your great love? Your muses and musical partners, alike? All the while nursing your artistic endeavors. How very…bohemian of you.” Waldron’s words dripped with contempt.

“I don’t expect you understand,” Mandrake said, with disgust.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, brother! I do understand.” Waldron looked squarely at Mandrake. “I understand that you’ve taken to hiding yourself and that witch from the Council’s notice. But that simply will not stand, I’m afraid.”

At that moment, the passively waiting automatons lining the hall sprang into action. Pulling the masks and dark robing from their bodies, Mandrake could see these were no enchanted dummies. He abruptly stood up, backing his chair away onto the stone floor. At that moment, the door to the hall opened. Mandrake saw Rose emerge in its archway.

“Rose, go back!”, he shouted. “IT’S A TRAP!”

Rose’s eyes widened and quickly shot in all directions, noticing the looming people leering at her. Council henchmen! Just as one of the henchmen threw a spell at her, she backed out the door, slamming it shut after her and stopping the spell. She ran back to the library across the foyer, shutting that door, as well. Erica and Custard stood in the center of the library, looking a large atlas spread open on the table. Rose ran up to them, catching them by surprise.

“Children! Quickly! Back to the house!”

“What’s wrong??”, they demanded, fearful of her frantic energy.

“Tell Bella that Council henchmen are here!”, Rose urged. “Through the portal door, now! Hurry!” The children did as told, running to the end of the library and through the magic door, back to the cottage on Lime Avenue. Just then, the door to the library flew open and three henchmen barged in, sending a burst of magic after Erica and Custard’s footsteps. As the children disappeared behind the door, the portal disappeared, leaving only an empty wall in its place. As the magic to hit the wall, it left a sooty, black scorch mark where the portal had been.