[Bonus chapter]
"Watch and pray that ye enter not into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." — St. Matthew 26:41
"Let us close this sermon with the words of David: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me," Pastor Evans said during the benediction. "We live in perilous times and are surrounded by synagogues of evil."
Are we really, though? thought Michelle Blake as she covered her yawn with a pale hand.
Contrary to her minister's anxious parting words, her congregation was in the majority Christian town of Stony Brook, Massachusetts. Although a sizable pagan population lived in Winfair, the next town over, they were still a minority. Despite that, Michelle's pastor and her fellow churchgoers acted as if they were the troubled Church of Philadelphia. She would often roll her eyes at their needless victimization.
In spite of growing up in the same town for sixteen years, Michelle wasn't completely ignorant of the outside world; the Internet often poked holes in her religious bubble. She never went to places like Winfar due to her family's hatred of heretics. However, the forbidden mystery surrounding nonbelievers piqued her intrigue from a young age. She couldn't help but take interest in those people, especially the ones aware of the fiery punishment awaiting them in the afterlife. To Michelle, their refusal to worship God was fascinatingly bizarre.
The reason for Pastor Evans's particularly dramatic speech was Halloween's approach. On Halloween night, Winfair received many tourists due to their annual festival. Michelle long wanted to attend the event, and after a year's planning, she would finally see it through.
Halloween came before she knew it. Michelle had faked sickness since Sunday's sermon, knowing that it would upset her germophobic mother. With her father focused on helping his wife through her anxiety, Michelle was free to plot.
She smiled shyly at her reflection. In her need to avoid detection at all costs, Michelle dressed like her polar opposite that night. A skater skirt replaced her usual knee-length ones, which she paired with tall boots. An amethyst pendant hung over her oversized hooded sweatshirt.
I look so witchy, she thought with a giggle.
Unbeknownst to her peers, Michelle dabbled into some less than holy practices. Over the past few years, she learned about astrology, tarot, and developed a modest crystal collection. It was all harmless, she reasoned. It took belief and intention for magic to work, after all. Although she swore to herself that these hobbies were childish nonsense, she took comfort in sewing pockets into her clothes to hold a protective stone or two.
Michelle opened her bedroom window and secured one end of a rope to her bedpost. She descended the side of her house until she was roughly ten feet from the ground. She jumped and braced for impact as she landed on the manicured grass of her backyard. She winced from the discomfort, but was otherwise fine. Excitement brewed in her chest as she walked to the nearest bus stop.
The festival was already in full swing when Michelle arrived. Lanterns lit the streets with an eerie glow only rivaled by the bright moon. Performers of all kinds displayed their skills with gusto. Fire-eaters and tricksters in elaborate costumes awed people through their sensual deception. They amassed large crowds and their tip hats overflowed.
However, their skills paled in comparison to the actual witches present. Michelle's jaw dropped as she watched them show their abilities without restraint. She saw a blond in a dark green cloak make sparks dance off the edge of his wand. At another booth were a pair of twins levitating objects of various sizes.
"Mommy, how are they doing that?" a young boy dressed as a werewolf asked.
The twins merely smiled, their bright eyes shining in amusement.
His mother answered, "It's just a parlor trick, Timmy."
The twins shared a look before chuckling as the mother and son walked away. Michelle knew what they did was no optical illusion. She was vaguely aware of the magic and spells witches were capable of doing, but witnessing it was a different matter. As her feet led her on a slow path through the festival grounds, her eyes were wide in wonder.
Michelle pursued the many magic stands and attractions the event offered. She didn't stay at each one for too long in order to use what little time she had effectively. She came across a crystal vendor and purchased some citrine, having wanted the stone for its beauty and protective properties. After that, she bought a candied apple and observed her fellow attendees while munching on it. Many wore costumes, taking advantage of the freedom the night afforded them. Most were in groups, whether that be parents with their children, or gaggles of teenagers. There were very few loners like herself, she noticed with a frown. She wondered how many others were like her, people wanting a taste of the forbidden on this most special of nights.
The apple lost its luster as her loneliness sank in. After throwing the remainder of it away, she glanced at her watch and sighed at the time. Not wanting to take too much of a risk, she planned to look at one more display before heading home.
A sizable crowd ahead caught Michelle's interest, so she joined the flock. The people gathered in front of a simple stage where an old, dark-skinned woman was seated. A striped headscarf held her salt and pepper hair and a few locks framed her face. One of her eyes was milky and the other was dark brown. Once the crowd burst at its seams, she appeared satisfied and rose to address the mass.
"¡Feliz Día de los Muertos a todos!" she greeted before bowing stiffly. "Thank you all for coming to our lovely Hallows Eve celebration for yet another year. For those uninitiated, I am Elena Torres of the Seeing Eye. I may appear half blind, but my blindness is strength."
Michelle scowled as people muttered amongst themselves during Elena's speech. She pushed her way towards the front of the crowd to hear her better.
"To those unfamiliar with my 'performance,' escucha." Michelle's ears perked. "My blind eye can see into your souls. I lost its physical sight to receive this gift. If you have secrets you don't want outed to this crowd, leave now."
The hairs on Michelle's neck raised in anticipation as she debated on staying. She wondered what information a soul contained. There was always a chance the woman was lying, as not every performer she saw tonight used actual magic. Michelle was one of many, she reasoned, deciding that the risk was worth taking. A majority of the crowd thought similarly, the mass having only thinned slightly.
Elena began her demonstration. She closed her eyes and muttered a long incantation in Spanish. The crowd watched her with baited anticipation. When she opened her eyes, her countenance changed. She stood ramrod straight and held an entranced look in her brown eye. As if a puppet on strings, she marched to the front of the stage before addressing the crowd.
She pointed a sharp finger and fiercely bellowed, "You there! You have wronged your loved ones for financial gain by stealing their fortunes. You owe many debts and can't run forever."
Michelle watched as Elena descended the stage and walked into the crowd, her finger still extended. The mass parted before her, and her gnarled claw tapped the chest of a young man trembling before her.
"Yes, I did all of those things!" he admitted with a strangled sob, glancing left and right at the crowd. The audience watched the exchange with baited breath. Elena leaned in closer to him and whispered in his ear. As she withdrew, he fell to his knees with his head hung in shame.
Elena turned back to the eager crowd and gave a small smile as they applauded before her body seized again. Her back was hunched, and when she arose, her white eye looked even milkier.
She hissed lowly, "There is a snake among us, a clergy member's daughter."
Michelle's blood froze. She yearned to slip away, but her body stubbornly kept her in place. The crowd's speculative murmur heightened her panic. She hoped Elena would pass over her.
"I don't have all night, girl," Elena snapped.
Michelle took a shuddering breath and willed her legs forward when a blonde blur zoomed past her. The girl looked no older than fourteen. She knelt before the crone, her breath coming in thick hiccups.
"I'm s-sorry for offending you," she said.
Michelle waited for Elena to reprimand the girl. Instead, she bent down to the girl's level and took her smooth hands in her crooked ones. Michelle was too far from the pair to hear their conversation without drawing attention to herself. She really wanted to hear them. It wasn't like her to be nosy, but considering it was almost her kneeling on the ground, she felt entitled to knowing what they said.
She stared pointedly at the pair, unconsciously rubbing the citrine in her hoodie's pocket. She then closed her eyes and envisioned the conversation between Elena and the girl flowing to her. A scene unfolded behind her closed lids.
"Breathe easy, child," Elena said. "I will do you no harm."
"B-but you hissed at me and looked so livid," the girl replied. Her face was still flushed in embarrassment.
"I can't control my actions when under the eye's influence," she explained. "Although you are not personally at fault, you're still part of the pack that persecutes my own. What brought you here tonight?"
The girl's blush deepened. "I wanted to see if your people are as malicious as my preacher says. That doesn't seem to be the case. My religion may disavow magic, but you still deserve respect."
Elena's lips pulled back in a crude smirk. "Is that what they tell you at church, that Christians abandoned magic? What is the book of Psalms if not a lengthy grimoire?"
The girl's eyes widened as Elena spoke.
"There is much more I'm willing to tell you, but..." Elena paused, turning from the girl to stare at Michelle, whose eyes were still closed as she unconsciously spied on the pair. "We have a few nosy birds peering in on this conversation that have no right to."
Michelle gasped and opened her eyes, staring straight at Elena who met her gaze before looking away. She was too shocked to process what occurred. She knew she overstayed her welcome and decided that incident was enough supernatural phenomena for a lifetime. She was ready to go home.
She still felt Elena's stare on her back after leaving the crowd. She breathed in relief when it vanished as she exited the fairgrounds. As the crone's stare evaporated, Michelle's mind trailed over what transpired. She knew she wasn't close enough, nor did the pair speak loudly, and yet it seemed as if Michelle was right there with them.
"That wasn't real," she said, shaking her head furiously. The spells she saw at the festival messed with her. There was no way she could have used magic herself.
Michelle was so consumed in her thoughts that she wandered off the path to the bus stop. She sighed upon realizing this and pulled out her phone to enter the stop's address in her mapping app. Her eyebrows raised skeptically as it instructed her to pass through a dark alley, and she made a note to tip off the developers about their sketchy routes.
She briskly walked down the alley, wanting to leave the area as soon as possible. As she approached the end of the tunnel and hastened her pace towards the light, a strong hand grabbed her forearm and pulled her back into the darkness.
Michelle screamed. Or, at least she tried, as no sound would escape her throat. She slowly turned around, sizing up the person that grabbed her. She instinctively tried screaming again, but it was useless. The boy in front of her snickered, and the dazzling blue orb he held illuminated his handsome face.
Warlock, she realized in shock as she scrutinized him. He loomed over her, his short brown hair framing eyes as blue as the orb he held.
How had she not noticed him? She was frazzled, yes, but not blind. She would have definitely noticed a bright blue light of all things. Michelle wracked her mind, thinking of what rudimentary magical knowledge she had. Was that brightness—?
"Yes, little witch. I'm holding your voice in my hand," he confirmed with a smirk.
Michelle couldn't help but blush at his words. His voice was smooth, a mid baritone that belied his years, as he looked not much older than her. But his words confused her. She was no witch.
She pointed to her throat and mouthed, "Give it back?"
"Will you stop trying to scream?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
She nodded enthusiastically and clutched her throat as her voice returned. It filled with a cool sensation as she regained the ability to hear the sound of her breath again. She glanced at the boy warily and took a step back. She wanted to run, but fear held her in place.
"What business do you have with me, warlock?" she asked. She unconsciously thumbed the amethyst pendant at her neck, a nervous habit that eased her anxiety.
His eyes watched the movement before locking with hers.
"There are so many other words to use besides warlock, you know. Like, a wizard, or a witch, as you are," he said instead of addressing her.
There he went again with the witch comment.
"You keep calling me 'witch,' but you're mistaken. I'm the furthest thing from one," she assured him.
The wizard's eyes narrowed further as he took a threatening step towards her, backing her into the brick wall. "You believe attending church services exempts you from dabbling in witchcraft?" he asked sharply, exhaling when Michelle's hands shook. "I'm not sure if you're naïve or stupid."
Ignoring the jab, she said, "Yes, I'm Christian, but I wanted to visit the festival. I don't do magic. I've only ever done basic research for curiosity's sake."
"Yet you're brimming with obvious potential, if that stunt you pulled on Elena is any indication. What a waste," he seethed. "What is with your kind coming to our events and learning our crafts after constantly shunning us?"
Anger fueled Michelle's blush this time. "Listen," she said sharply. "I understand your animosity, but I have no grudge against you. If I hated your people so much, would I have taken the time to learn palm reading and tarot when doing so could lead to my church condemning me? Would I have left the comfort of my home to try understanding you better? There can't be peace if we don't try to understand each other."
He stared at her, his mouth pressed in a line. He muttered something like, "Don't make me regret this," before extending a hand.
"Robert Frost," he introduced himself, adding as she grasped his hand, "Theistic Luciferian extraordinaire."
Michelle giggled and shrugged easily. This was more of the excitement she was looking for.
"Michelle Blake," she greeted in the same style. "Wayward Evangelical Christian at your service."