The Skinwalker's Apprentice (7 page)

Easthampton, New
York

1658

A bitter winter had settled in to the small Easthampton village, and Margo made sure to layer a cotton shirt beneath her black blouse and wore two pairs of wool socks. As she prepared for the day’s lessons, she looked herself over in the mirror. She was no longer the frail girl who had started her lessons three months ago. In fact, she seemed to have grown. Her cheeks, no longer hollowed, had filled out pleasantly, and her skin no longer had the tone of a sickly child waiting to die. No, despite the biting cold outside, Margo was radiant. Her magic before becoming an apprentice, which could be described as trumpery at best, was now more potent than any magic she’d seen before. She was able to cast protection spells around her cottage, so that her mother wouldn’t have to toil quite so hard. The house cleaned itself; brooms swept of their own accord, the cobwebs balled themselves up and rolled outside into the underbrush, and the beds made themselves every morning. The food, which they for the most part grew on their employer’s land, would already be salted and cooked when it hit the table. Her sister was also in good trim now; no more hacking coughs at night, thank the stars. Her grandparents—well, they were still old, of course, but it took considerably less effort for them to go about their daily chores. Her father was perhaps the most affected. The head of the household, he usually worked twice as long and hard as the others. But now, with not so much to provide, he was able to concentrate on doing only what he needed to do to get the family out of debt with Lion Gardner, who had paid for their passage to New York. The Pennyfeathers also owed money to John Mulford, as they lived in a small, one-room house on a quarter acre of the Mulford’s twelve-acre property, and had yet to pay him the agreed upon amount for their stay. Only those with capital made it to the New World, but a flood of families with meager means had recently made their way over, thanks to agreements with more affluent families. It was customary for the poorer families to live on the land of the wealthy, though their opportunities were harder to come by, and property was jealously guarded by the original settlers.

Nathanial was, of course, happy, but he was troubled as well. He knew that Margo was not supposed to use the magic she was taught, not yet. That morning, before Margo left for her lessons, Nathanial decided to talk to his eldest daughter.

“May I have a word, Margo?” he asked.

“Of course, Father.” Margo took Nathanial’s hand gently and smiled. She couldn’t be late to her lesson, so she hoped it would be quick, but she also could not disrespect her parent. She waited patiently for him to speak, breath bated.

“Margo, you know how momentous Coven apprenticeships are. They must be taken as such, and I know you have been diligent,” he squeezed her hand with a smile, “but I also know you have been breaking some of the rules which The Priestess gave you the day of your first lesson.”

Margo’s face burned. She was not used to breaking rules, and she had never before defied an adult. She looked at her dad with regret in her eyes.

“I know, Father, but what harm could come of it? I have cast the protection spell around the house. We need the magic to survive, for now. Don’t you see how much good it’s done for Hannah and mother? She is smiling again, really smiling, not those sad weak attempts of before. We are happier since I’ve been an apprentice. Wouldn’t The Coven see that and understand?” She searched her father’s face eagerly for an answer, but he said nothing. He looked down, eyebrows furrowed, thinking carefully of his response. He looked up at his daughter; their hands were still intertwined.

“Margo, you don’t need magic to survive. That kind of thinking leads down a dangerous path. But there’s something else,” he said, hesitating to speak his next words.

“The Priestess also worries me,” he blurted. “The way you described her, Margo, she seems unwell.”

Margo’s entire body became stiff. She had thought The Priestess most unusual, but that was before she got to know her. She knew now how kind, patient, and gifted she truly was. She supposed The Priestess had been an outcast her entire life, and Margo could sympathize with that feeling more than any other. She had become fiercely protective over her teacher, and her father’s words stung her more than she was willing to admit.

“The Priestess never leaves her estate because she is absorbed by her work,” Margo said watchfully. “But she is no different than you or I. You know how it is, Father, how you’re treated when you’re just a little bit different.” She squinted her eyes at him knowingly. If anyone could understand being different, it was her family.

Her father squeezed her hand one more time and let go.

“Just be cautious is all I ask, daughter. Will you grant me that?”

“Of course, Father,” Margo smiled sweetly and stood up. “Goodness!” she could see by the light outside that she was going to be late. “Forgive me, Father, I must hurry,” she said, gathering her skirts and hurling towards the door. Nathanial nodded silently in her direction and went to ready himself for a day’s work.

New York, NY

October 5,
1984

Charlie Woo stretched his legs and took a deep breath, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him the way he did when he was concentrating. His straight black hair flopped in the wind, and he unzipped his red track jacket, throwing it on the grass, as he got ready for a fifty-meter sprint. Two other guys lined up next to him; one was a tall runner named Brandon that Emerald recognized from Charlie’s birthday party last year. He was sort of cute in a geeky way. And the other was blond and muscular; he looked like the kind of guy Missy Michaels and her group of idiot friends would fawn over. Emerald sat in the bleachers, watching her friend. She knew he was out there practicing every day at this time, and she needed another excuse not to go home. She also knew that Charlie’s teammates were about to eat his dust. They all got into position at the starting line, knees down. Their coach raised a flag, and in a flash they were off. They started off running parallel to one another, Brandon on the inside track, Charlie in the middle, and Mr. Muscles on the outside. It only took about fifteen more seconds before Charlie pulled ahead of them, far ahead. The two guys struggled to keep up as he glided away from them, their faces red and contorted, while Charlie barely broke a sweat. When they reached the finish line, Charlie was already zipping up his jacket and casually sipping his water. No big deal. Emerald chuckled to herself; she loved seeing Charlie at his meets. He literally never lost, but he wasn’t one of those people who went around bragging about how good he was. He was actually pretty quiet most of the time. He wasn’t the biggest guy on the track, and he definitely wasn’t the flashiest, so sometimes other teams would scoff after seeing him.

“This is Charlie Woo?” they’d laugh, expecting someone who acted like a track star, not the quiet, unassuming kid who just smiled at them when they made fun of him.

But that all changed once Charlie started running. When Charlie ran, the wind at his heels, his eyes zeroed in at the finish line before him, he was the biggest track star anyone had ever seen.

“Hey, Emerald, happy birthday, Grandma!” He waved from the track with a smile, and Emerald smiled back. He jogged towards the stand as Emerald thought,
Finally, a friendly face that isn’t going to abandon or ground me on my birthday
.

“What are you doing here, kid? Shouldn’t you be out raging in some seedy basement or something?” joked Charlie. The friends had a habit of calling each other ‘kid’; maybe it was a New York thing.

“It was canceled. We ran out of drugs,” said Emerald, shrugging her shoulders and throwing her hands up. Like Jackson, Charlie knew there was a lot more to Emerald than being the bad girl at school, and he often made a joke of her reputation.

“I’m starving. You wanna grab a slice?” she asked hopefully.

“We are in Brooklyn, so might as well. And oh, yeah, I guess ’cause it’s your birthday too or whatever. Hope you don’t mind me smelling like a sock, though,” teased Charlie.

“Nah, I’m used to it,” she said as they walked towards the track exit, laughing.

Emerald had forgotten all about the huge trouble she was in, at least for now. Maybe this birthday wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“So how much trouble are you in?”

It was the second time that day Emerald had been asked that question, but this time it was by someone who hadn’t witnessed the disastrous school prank unfold firsthand. She was holding her slice crust down, letting the excess grease drip on her paper plate.

“Let’s just say,” she said as she stretched a piece of cheese and popped it into her mouth, “that if President Reagan himself came to try and pardon me, it wouldn’t work.”

“Yikes,” said Charlie wincing.

“Yeah, if I’m late just ONE more time this school year, my ass is grass. You know how punctual I am, though, so that should be no problem for me,” Emerald said with a sarcastic grin.

“Seneka has a better chance of being named Miss Congeniality.”

Emerald laughed, nearly spitting her soda out at Charlie’s comment.

“That’s about right,” she said wiping her mouth with her jacket sleeve. She needed to stop being such a slob, she thought to herself, but old habits die hard. Charlie handed her a napkin, and she nodded her thanks.

“Seriously, though, Emerald, you’ve got to try. I know the last thing you want is to be stuck at Upperten all summer.”

“Trust me, I know. I’d rather eat rat meat than go to summer school. I have to stay out of trouble completely if I want to make it to graduation. I’m doomed,” said Emerald, letting her head fall on the table, her forehead landing against her overlapping hands.

“Speaking of which, what are your plans for after graduation?”

She should have expected the question, but still it caught her off guard. She kept her head down for a few seconds, half hoping he’d forget, but she could feel Charlie’s eyes burrowing into the back of her blue head of hair. He wasn’t going to let her wiggle her way out of this one.

“Well, you know, probably going to a local school, or I don’t know—taking time off before going back to school. Traveling, maybe? There are … so many possibilities.” She said ‘so many’ a little too enthusiastically, and Charlie looked unconvinced.

“Okay, and now that you got the lie out of your system, what are you really doing?”

“Sheesh, Charlie, beats me,” said Emerald, admitting defeat. She trained her eyes on her pizza and took a ferocious bite before looking back up at her friend, shamefaced.

She had been having such a good time with Charlie on the way to grab food that she had almost completely forgotten about the incident at Seneka’s. But now the torrent of awful feelings came rushing back, making her stomach lurch. Her lack of plans was another stinging reminder of the future that lay ahead of her. With or without summer school, she was destined to be the loser friend who never left town. Even if that town was New York City, it didn’t make it any less pathetic. Some future.

“Why don’t you apply to some schools? Your grades aren’t bad. What about going to school to study music?”

Hmm. Somehow that thought had never crossed Emerald’s mind, but as Charlie said the words ‘study music’, Emerald’s face lit up, and she could feel butterflies in her stomach. It made total sense. Music was Emerald’s obsession; her room was filled with cassettes and records, and when she wasn’t with her friends or at a library, she was in a record shop.

“I’ve never actually thought about it,” she said, prepared to take a final bite of her pizza.

“Well, think about it now,” said Charlie, grabbing the small piece of crust from Emerald’s hands quick as a wink and holding it over his own mouth.

“Do it, and prepare to die by plastic spork stabbing,” said Emerald, pointing her spork in Charlie’s direction.

Charlie moved the crust closer to his mouth, and Emerald lunged forward.

“I’m serious, doofus. I will end you right here in this pizzeria. Your mom will be sad. Do you want her oldest son to die covered in tomato sauce?” 

“Fine, why don’t we make a wager? You catch me, and I’ll give you your precious pizza crust back. I think I see a piece of cheese on it. Maybe I’ll just eat it,” he said, pretending to take a bite.

“CHARLIE,” squealed Emerald with a laugh, “come on, quit fooling around! You know the last bite is the best part; now you’ve gotten your disgusting track hands all over it.”

Charlie tossed the pizza back at Emerald, and she caught it with her mouth midair. Food came at a close second behind music as her favorite pastime. Emerald couldn’t stop eating for the life of her.

“So, are you going to?”

“Am I going to what?” asked Emerald, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Apply to music programs, duh. And I mean really apply, not just say you did to shut me up.”

“Yeah, why not?” shrugged Emerald, hoping Charlie didn’t realize how intoxicated she was by the idea. The less she pretended to care, the less face she’d lose if she didn’t get in.

“Good,” smiled Charlie as he got up to refill his soda and seemed to drop the subject, though Emerald knew she hadn’t heard the last of it.

Easthampton, NY

1658

Margo ran faster than a jackrabbit. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she ran against the rising sun, trying to beat it to the stone house.

“If you are late, or break any of the rules I’ve set,” she remembered The Priestess’s words from her first day, “I will cancel this apprenticeship and notify the entire Coven of the transgression. You will most likely be stripped of your right to practice magic as a free witch. It would be an utter disgrace upon you and your family.”

Rules, expectations, what was proper and what was not. Those were the things that reigned over Margo’s life. There was no room for debate or misunderstanding. It was black and white in her world, with the villagers, her parents, and now The Priestess. Margo felt sick, as if her entire head were being submerged under water. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. And then, in an instant, the world around her fell black.

She stopped. The sun, which was growing furiously over the horizon a moment before, was gone. The crisp wind, which had been biting at her face as she ran, was now a gentle breeze, still cold, but much stiller. She looked around, and the forest all around her was empty. Had she run into some enchanted area of The Priestess’s house without noticing? But then she realized she hadn’t gotten that far. No, she was still on the dirt path towards the stone house. She turned on her heels and started walking home in a daze, breaking into a run after about ten steps. When she reached her front door and pushed it open, she found her entire family asleep. Her father was rubbing his eyes sleepily as he sat up in bed.

This was most unusual. She had seen her father begin to ready himself for work. And now here he was, in his sleeping dress, lying next to a still slumbering Elisabeth at his side.

“Father, why have you gone back to bed?” asked Margo, still frozen in the doorway.

“Back to bed? I have not been out of bed since last night,” he said in a surprised tone.

“But this morning we spoke … ”

“Perhaps it was a dream. Or perhaps you are overtired, child,” said Nathanial as he swung his long legs out of the bed. He looked at the clock on their fireplace.

“Why, it’s only five a.m., Margo, why are you up so early? And dressed already?”

Margo swallowed hard. She was sure that she had left the house at exactly seven forty-five.

Had her father turned the clock hands back as a joke? She couldn’t imagine why he would, and that wouldn’t explain the sky turning black suddenly.

“Since we’re both up,” said Nathanial sleepily, “may I have a word, Margo?”

The same words he’d spoken this morning, or whenever that conversation had taken place. In her dreams, maybe? Margo was stunned silent, and she stumbled towards a chair, plopping herself down and putting one hand on her forehead.

The disappearing sun, the clock, her father still asleep; no, it had not been a dream, for she could feel her face still warming from the cold of the outside, the hems of her skirt covered in thistles from the forest. She had run out of the house this morning in a rush, and her father had spoken to her. There was only one other explanation, but she didn’t want to believe she was capable of it. She didn’t dare.

“What’s the matter, darling?” her father asked with a concerned tone in his voice.

“I … think I’ve just reversed time, Father.”

Nathanial walked towards his daughter and sat down in silence. He took her hand in his and the two sat like that until the sun began to rise again.