The Skinwalker's Apprentice (2 page)

Margo jolted back to reality just as the scroll caught fire and rapidly disintegrated into dark green ash, dancing away on the breeze. She stood up quickly and looked around. There was no one there, thankfully. She ran full speed all the way to her home. Perhaps her grandmother’s prediction had been correct after all. Branches and thickets tangled her long, black dress along the way, but she didn’t care. Her family was the most precious thing to her in the entire universe, and her heart ached every time her mother or father went hungry just so that she and her sisters could eat. Even worse than that, her grandparents were getting frailer by the day. Without proper food and medical attention, they wouldn’t last much longer.
But not anymore
, she thought with a smile.
Not if I can help it.
 

New York, New York

October 5, 1984

It was noon. Emerald was at her designated place on the roof of the school. Why had she volunteered to climb up there? She hated heights, and every time she looked over the edge of the building, her head spun. Any minute now the entire student body would come pouring out of the two giant double doors that led to the small campus behind the main building. The buckets, which Jackson had rigged together to tip over when the ropes were pulled, were all in place. Emerald chuckled to herself as she thought of what was going on inside. Seneka had somehow gotten ahold of two pigs.

“Don’t ask me where I got them. Just say thank you,” she had said a week ago when she got the pigs. She was covered in mud and another mysterious green substance. She did not smell good. They kept the pigs in a small abandoned shed on the school grounds. Every day before class started, Seneka would bring them food and water, and after school Emerald checked on them to make sure they were okay. That morning, before anyone else was on campus, Seneka snuck into the shed with a washable marker. ‘Pig One’, she wrote in large letters on one of their sides. “And ‘Pig Three’,” she wrote on the other as she smiled. These pigs were only a diversion, but she couldn’t wait to see her entire school scrambling to find the nonexistent ‘Pig Two’.

At exactly twelve, while everyone else was at lunch, Jackson and Seneka went and got the pigs.

“Should we name them?” asked Seneka.

“No, it’ll just make me sadder when you do … whatever it is you’re going to do with them after today.”

Seneka raised one eyebrow, a habit of hers.

“You’re right.”

They reached the side entrance of the cafeteria; Seneka cracked it open and peeked inside. Everyone was busy eating or talking. On her far left the school bully, Missy Michaels, was torturing poor Rosie Gulitz, ‘Lunchbox’, as Missy had cruelly nicknamed her.

“Come on, aren’t you hungry, Lunchbox?” Missy taunted the girl, holding a half eaten pizza against her face. Rosie was turning bright red against her pink sweater, the teddy bear on the front stretched to double its intended size as the red pizza sauce dripped down her face. Rosie was tapping her feet nervously as she looked around the cafeteria for help. As usual, no one paid any attention. Seneka seethed. The three friends tried to stick up for Rosie when they could; she was actually really nice and funny. Rosie’s best friend, Olive Pickleton, was nowhere to be found, and she usually tried to defend Rosie too, but today Rosie was on her own. And Missy was a monster. She picked on anyone who wasn’t as rich or pretty as she was, and in this case, as skinny. She was the kind of girl who wore pearls to gym glass and scoffed at anyone whose sneakers weren’t as impeccably clean as hers. Today she wore a pink polo shirt tucked into her designer jeans, her mousy brown hair in a dramatic, side-swept ponytail. She wasn’t big; in fact she was downright tiny, and Rosie could’ve easily taken her, but Missy was so vindictive that whatever she did to get Rosie back for hitting her would have been a thousand times worse than a pizza to the face. Seneka looked to her left; Jackson had opened the other back entrance of the cafeteria just a smidge, and he nodded at her. Seneka looked at her watch, counting down the seconds until she could let go of Bacon. She had named him after all and had decided to take both pigs home with her. Her mother and father didn’t need to know about it.

Her Casio watch flashed 12:20, and she looked at Jackson again.

She mouthed, “Go,” as the two friends let go of the pigs. They squealed loudly as they were set free into the crowd of screaming teenagers. Seneka and Jackson both scrambled backwards and ran towards the side of the school. They had locked all the other exits from the outside, and soon students would come pouring out of the back doors.

Jackson stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Emerald heard the signal and threw the rope down on one side and then the other. She climbed down a ladder quickly and landed next to Jackson. The two friends waited until the double doors flew open, and everyone was outside except for their teachers. They had pushed the students away from the cafeteria doors and stood in perfect position beneath the awnings. Emerald smiled wildly. Missy stood next to Principal Grossman, spewing something about her “PARENTS” and “FAMILY” not being happy with this “DREADFUL EXCUSE” for a school, and so on. Before they missed their chance, Jackson and Emerald pulled down hard on the ropes, Seneka doing the same on the other side. Seneka’s pungent concoction smelled of skunk and rotten bananas.

“I definitely do NOT want to know what’s in there,” said Jackson, shaking his head as Seneka quietly had stirred the mixture at her house a week before.

“It’s all natural,” she had said nonchalantly. It was her idea of a joke.

In an instant, Missy, Principal Grossman, and about a dozen teachers were doused in the liquid. They had guessed correctly that the staff would stand manning the doorways, putting them directly under the reeking waterfall. Missy being there was the unexpected cherry on top. As they screamed, Emerald, Jackson, and Seneka managed to join the crowd of mesmerized students; Emerald and Seneka struggling not to explode with laughter. Their plan had gone off perfectly.

Well, it almost had. Then something happened that they hadn’t planned for. Sheryl, Principal Grossman’s sweet older assistant, must have gone off campus for lunch in her car. She had pulled up just as the smelly liquid was falling from the school roof. In her shock, she hadn’t looked forward, and she rammed right into the principal’s shiny red 1983 Mustang.

“The only good thing he’s got going for him,” Jackson always said.

Only it wasn’t so shiny anymore. It was halfway submerged in the murky pond at the edge of the school parking lot. The front of Sheryl’s car was spewing smoke, and the old woman sat paralyzed in her front seat. Emerald had thought she’d seen Principal Grossman at his most angry that time she fell asleep in the auditorium, snoring loudly through his start of the year speech, or when she had ‘helped him organize’ by shredding her permanent record into confett
i. And the time she got suspended for shoving Missy into a locker and chipping her tooth because she was trying to help Rosie, she was sure he couldn’t have gotten any angrier. She was wrong. Principal Grossman yelled loud enough to be heard through all five boroughs, and to her terror, he was walking straight towards her.

Easthampton, New York

November 1657

It had been three weeks since Margo had received her letter from The Coven, and the day had finally come. She had spent the past twenty-one days speaking in hushed tones to anyone in her family that would listen; you never knew what nosy neighbor could be eavesdropping.

“Margo, please,” pleaded her mother, “can you think of nothing else to speak of?”

“Perhaps, Mother, but why should I? Is this not the most wonderful news we have ever received?”

“I can think of happier occasions,” her mother smiled softly, kissing the top of Margo’s head and scrunching her nose playfully at Hannah, who had found a toad outside and was trying her hardest to enchant it somehow. She was holding her sister’s wand in her chubby little fingers, being too young to have one of her own, and she tapped the top of the animal’s head. To her surprise, a small vine began to grow where the wand had touched, blooming into a small white lily. Hannah squealed with excitement as she ran, toad in hand, to hug her sister.

“Well done,” Margo cooed into her sister’s ear, squeezing her tightly and kissing the top of her head. She kissed her mother goodbye, and headed out the door towards the waterfront, a ball of nerves forming in her stomach as she did.

It was a Monday, and the village was calm. Margo was able to cross Market Street and get to the shore unnoticed, but when she reached her destination, she looked around in confusion.

She had walked the path to the shore many times, but it was nothing like she remembered. Instead of a bare waterfront, a lush forest stood before her. She continued walking forward; perhaps she had missed a turn? But it was impossible; there was nowhere on the island that looked like this. She went on, and after five or so minutes, she reached a perfectly circular clearing. At its center stood the most unusual looking structure. It was triple the size of any home she had ever seen, and the stones seemed to be covered in a shiny black coating of lacquer. An onion dome loomed at the center of the estate, and its ends shot out and curled upward like enormous ribbons. At the front entrance stood a woman.

“The Priestess,” whispered Margo to herself and hurried her pace. The woman was stone-faced and elegant. Her black hair was swept up tightly into a bun at the crown of her head. Her face, porcelain white, stood in sharp contrast to the black lipstick she wore on her thin lips. Her eyes were such a pale color of blue they seemed to almost blend into the rest of her eyes. She wore a black blouse buttoned to her neck and fixed with a blood red brooch. Her blouse was tucked into a black skirt, which had layers of red and brown fabric beneath it. Her socks, the same blood red color as her brooch, peeked from underneath her plentiful skirts, and she wore brown leather boots laced to her ankle.

She was striking and unusual looking, and had any of the village women seen her, they would’ve been appalled. Margo thought she was the most interesting witch she had ever seen, although that wouldn’t have counted much to The Priestess, considering the only other witches Margo knew were her mother, grandmother, and younger sister.

Margo stood a few feet in front of her and smiled bashfully.

“Your holiness,” she curtsied politely. The Priestess only nodded and opened the door, standing outside and holding it open for Margo. The young witch walked inside somberly. She was nervous and excited all at once. The room was more lavish than anything she had seen in her life. Even the Gardner’s home, which she had seen once when she delivered an apple pie from her mother, could not compare. Everything seemed to be made of the plushest fabric. The sofa was a creamy red velvet color, and the drapes were a dark purple with dramatic swag at the top. The wood floor was made of the finest cherry wood, and there were such chalices as Margo had never seen, embedded with enormous glittering jewels. She tried to hide her surprise, but the extravagance was a sight to see. She wondered silently what new magic she would learn, but on her first day she was only to learn how very much The Priestess liked rules.
“Only speak when you are addressed,” said The Priestess in her silky voice. “Do not come here dirty or smelling of swine.” She spit the words ‘dirty’ and ‘swine’ out but all the while avoided looking at Margo. She looked at anything else, the walls or the chalices on her mantel. Anything else. “Do not tell anyone what you have learned here, until your apprenticeship is completed.
If
it is completed.”

As The Priestess spoke those words, Margo’s heart sank. She hadn’t thought of the possibility of not completing her apprenticeship.
No matter
, she thought,
better to be grateful you’re here at all, Margo
. She promised herself that very moment that no matter what it took, she would complete her apprenticeship, that she would make her family proud. She wouldn’t let herself down. The Priestess continued on like that for the next four hours, listing rules, not looking at Margo, and standing stiffly, awkwardly almost, in a corner. Margo tried her best to remember the rules without a quill or piece of parchment, and she did not dare ask for anything.

The next morning at eight o’clock, Margo was at the enchanted stone house.

“We will begin with the most basic of spells,” said The Priestess on the first day of lessons.

Margo sat in a small, circular room on the second floor of the stone house. It was mostly empty, save for a marble table and the stiff wooden chair where Margo sat nervously. Unlike the rest of the house, the room had but one window, and judging by the view, Margo guessed they must have been inside the onion dome on the roof. Margo tried not to fidget, as The Priestess circled around her as she spoke.

“There is magic that is practical, that you will need in everyday situations, and magic that is impractical.” 

“I do not deal in the impractical sort,” said The Priestess sternly, stopping directly in front of Margo, “love potions and beauty enchantments are amongst the kinds of frivolous spells you will not be learning here. Instead I plan to teach you useful, direct, magic, which you can implement in most any situation. You are to take these lessons seriously, for you will never know when they might be of use to you. The difference between knowing practical spells and not knowing them is a matter of life and death.”

Margo gulped and nodded anxiously, her eyes following The Priestess as she continued to pace about the room.

“For your first spell,” said The Priestess, taking her wand from her sleeve and nodding at Margo, her signal to do the same, “we shall be attempting a growing incantation.”

The Priestess’s face contorted suddenly at the sight of Margo’s wand.

The young witch blushed. Her wand had been handed down to her by her grandmother, and it was not in the best condition. In fact, the once wooden wand had been enchanted to have the look and feel of toad’s skin. Mary thought it would impress The Priestess.

Margo smiled nervously as she tried to hide the slime secreting from her wand and sticking to her fingers, silently cursing her grandmother’s obsession with toads. 

“That…wand, just won’t do,” said The Priestess delicately. Margo put the wand on the marble table, the gunk stretching as she tried to free her hand from it. She pushed the wand to the corner of the table, and pressed down hard on the cold surface, trying to wipe the glop off her hands. Her face turned red as she struggled to pull free, and finally an exasperated Priestess pointed to Margo’s hand with her own wand; “
Divisio
.”

With a slight pop the wand unattached itself from Margo, but she was still covered in slime. She shook off what was left of it on the floor with a few sharp flails of her arm, smiling bashfully at her teacher as she did.

The Priestess walked over to the small window facing the front of the house. She opened it, and pointed her wand at a weeping willow that adorned the road leading to her front door. Margo heard a loud CRACK and suddenly, a tree branch was entering the room.

The Priestess placed her wand in her skirt waist, and pointed one long, jagged, fingernail in the direction of the bough. A green light shot from her black nails, fracturing the limb, and sending the branch back into the woods from whence it came. The Priestess brought the remaining wood further into the room in her net of brilliant green light, spinning it as she did, her eyes steady and focused. The Priestess whittled the branch bit by bit, splinters flying every which way, and darting dangerously close to Margo’s face. The older witch’s flesh was the color of rusted copper as the viridescent light danced off her skin, and Margo could see the wand she was crafting beginning to take shape. Margo sat transfixed, watching her teacher work. Suddenly, The Priestess stopped, her net of light disappeared, and the branch now transformed into a polished wand. The Priestess took the wand in her hands and walked it over to Margo.

“Here, take it,” she motioned with a small smile, “it’s yours.” 

Margo thanked The Priestess and took the wand in her hand. As she did, a symbol appeared at its base: a circle, flanked on either side by outward facing crescent moons. The symbol branded itself onto the wood with a glow of blue light.

“What does it mean, Priestess? Why has it appeared on my wand?” asked Margo.

“It is the symbol of the triple goddess,” said The Priestess, “it symbolizes the stages of womanhood; maiden, mother, and crone. And it has appeared on your wand because it is the symbol which nature decided suits you best.”

“What reason could nature have for thinking this symbol would suit me?” asked Margo curiously, turning the wand over in her hands, and tracing the symbol with her fingertips.

“There is always a reason why, but I’m afraid only time can tell you the answer to that,” said The Priestess. She clapped her hands together, signaling that the conversation was over, and it was time for work.

“Now, for today’s lesson.”

The Priestess pointed at the marble table with one finger, and three balls, made of clay and covered in red cloth, appeared before Margo.

“One of the most simple of charms is the growing spell,” said The Priestess.

“
Incresco
,” she said, a soft green light emitting from her fingers as she directed them towards the ball furthest to Margo’s right. The small sphere buzzed and jolted, hovering just above the surface of the table, and growing rapidly until it reached almost triple its original size. The Priestess lowered her hand, and the ball dropped with a small thud on the table.

She pointed at the ball in the center
; “
Resorgo
,” she said, pointing one finger in its direction, and sending the ball soaring above Margo’s head, and reaching the top of the onion dome.

Finally, with a flick of her wrist at the third ball she said, “
Inluzeo
,” and the sphere became brilliant with light.

“Now, it is your turn,” she said turning to Margo.

The Priestess waved her wand and the balls were gone, in their place was a glass tank with a white mouse inside. The mouse ran back and forth, pressing its little pink nose to the glass, and sniffing the air rapidly. Margo twitched, she didn’t like mice.

Margo leaned away from the tank subtly, trying not to let on how scared she was of such a small animal, when suddenly the lights went out and Margo was thrown into pitch black darkness.

“Priestess?” she asked anxiously but there was no response. She looked out the window, and although it was still day time, there was no sunlight streaming in.

She called out her teacher’s name again, it was so dark, she couldn’t be sure she was even in the same room anymore.

Margo opened her eyes wide, willing them to adjust to the darkness but it was no use. She wondered briefly if she had become blind, when she remembered the third ball.

“
Inluzeo
,” she said waving her wand in a circle before her. The room flooded with light, and Margo could see The Priestess standing just as she had been before the room went dark.

“Why didn’t you answer me
, Priestess?” asked Margo innocently, and at that very moment she noticed something new had materialized on the table before her.

A snaked, coiled around itself, and piled as high as Margo. She shrieked and jumped out of her chair, the snake beginning to slither towards the white mouse in the tank.

“Priestess, help me,” she pleaded but her teacher remained silent, watching the events unfold before her.

The snake poured over the top of the tank, hissing menacingly as the rodent cowered in a corner, the fear of death in its beady black eyes.

Margo watched on in horror as The Priestess continued to do nothing, not even so much as looking in Margo’s direction. Her eyes were trained on the snake and the mouse.

The snake was mere centimeters from the mouse, its mouth opening to reveal two large fangs and a split tongue just as Margo screamed, “
DIVISIO,
” pointing her wand at the snake. The snake convulsed, and was thrown back, but it remained draped inside the tank, and began to make its way towards the rodent once more. The Priestess repressed a smile, she had not demonstrated the dividing spell as part of her lesson, but Margo was clever, and had been watching carefully when The Priestess made her wand. The snake closed in on the mouse, but instead of swallowing him whole, he began to wrap around it, his slimey skin rubbing against the soft white fur. Margo was panicking, and had stopped looking to The Priestess for help. Instead she tried to think which of the spells she’d learned would help the creature escape. She was not fond of mice, but that did not mean she relished seeing them crushed to death.