A lone stone house sat atop a hill that, from a distance, looked as though a river of flame ran from its front door–flame that belonged to torches which, in turn, belonged to villagers baying for the blood of the occupant.

“Elizabeth Knotts. Thou standeth before us accused of witchcraft. How pleadeth thee?”

“Judge me would thee, Gilbert Morris?” said the woman. She was once pretty, but the years and a hard living had robbed her of that one-time beauty. “I who have cured your cattle of the foulest of pox? I who have aided thine own wife upon the birthing of thy children? How can thee judge me so foully?”

The man looked away, but the crowd cried out and jostled.

“’Tis her fault,” called one.

“She be the cause,” called others.

“She must be tried. It is the law––”

“I be sorry, Elizabeth,” whispered Gilbert before turning to the crowd. “Take her to the square.”

A cheer went up as two burly men took hold of the woman and between them, marched her to the village square.

Upon their arrival, Elizabeth observed the large trunk set amidst piles of kindling and firewood–evidence of the outcome which, it was evident, had already been decided.

“Hast thou anything to say afore I pronounce judgement upon thee?” she was asked.

“Only this, villagers,” she spat. “I know each and every one of thee behind this and I know that this is not just. Thou hast made a grave error in thy judgement of me, for I have done nothing but aid thee.” She swept a gnarly finger across the assembled villagers, each of whom took involuntary steps back. “All of thee. Is this to be my repayment of that aid?

“Mark these my words,” she hissed in a tone that struck fear into the hearts of each and every one of the villagers present and although her words were softly spoken, each of those present had no difficulty in hearing them. “Thou wilt find my wrath descending upon thine offspring. Whether it be in one year or millennia, I shall return and I shall take mine revenge on the descendents of each and every one of thee––”

Silence fell upon the assemblage. No sound–save for the rustling of the trees and the guttering of the burning torches–could be heard. Gilbert Morris turned to the Mayor.

“Are we being perhaps too hasty?” he asked, trembling at the thought of his descendents being punished for this.

“Surely thou canst believe her blasphemous spoutings; her heresy?”

“Forgive me, but it’s obvious that you do, my Lord. Otherwise thou canst believe that she could possibly be responsible for the crimes thou hast levelled against her.”

The Mayor “harrumphed” and gave the order.

“By the power vested in me, on this, the thirty-first day of October in the year of our Lord fifteen hundred and nine, I condemn Elizabeth Knotts to be burnt at the stake for the crime of witchcraft.” He raised his voice and demanded, “Burn the witch.”

The crowd cheered as they each threw their torches into the wood around the base of the stake.

“I shall have my revenge, mark my words, I shall.” With that, the flames rose to the sound of an evil cackle.

That was the last time anyone saw Elizabeth Knotts. No-one really knew what happened to her on that fateful All Hallows’ Eve as nothing was found in the remains of the pyre. The only things left at all, were a pack of Tarot cards, undamaged in the ashes…

Chapter One: Halloween

Fifteen year-old Steve Collins tottered into the living room, where his mother was making some final adjustments to her witch costume for the Halloween party to which they had been invited.

“What do you think, mum? It’s not finished–”

His mother cut him off mid sentence. “What do you think you look like?” she demanded.

He stared at her in disbelief as she berated him for his choice of costume. “You said you wanted me to go in fancy dress. After I found this stuff in the attic, I decided I’d go as David Bowie–Ziggy Stardust. What’s wrong with that? I thought you might help with the makeup.”

“Makeup??” She almost blew a gasket right there on the spot. “I think not! You’re a young man, Steven. You should consider acting like one. What will people think?”

“Who cares?” he said with indifference. “It’s a fancy dress party for God’s sake. This was all the rage when you were my age. Anyway what does it matter what they think?”

“Who cares?” she asked. “I care. I’m not having you going out dressed in my clothes and makeup and that’s final.”

“But mum,” he whined. “It’s not like I’m going to dress like this all the time, is it?”

“That’s not the point. I thought you’d choose something like a pirate or something vampirish–not going out looking like a prancing poof.”

“But everybody dresses like that. It’s usually either those or cavaliers. I wanted something different.”

She was adamant that his choice was out of the question and would hear no more on the subject. “Makeup? Whatever next,” she muttered.

His choice of ‘costume’ was born out of the discovery in the attic of a pair of knee-high platform boots in pink leather, some skin-tight satin jeans and a white satin blouse. The jeans were a bit on the tight side, crushing his whatsits into his groin, but after a few minutes, he kind of got used to it. After looking at himself in the mirror, he considered it was alright, or would be with the application of makeup.

He was confused that she should have taken such a stance in light of what the party was about and all the grief she’d been giving him about going in costume. All in all, he felt quite dejected as he went back upstairs to change into everyday clothes.

Once he returned downstairs, he was sullen and unresponsive. Having taken so long to pluck up the courage to assemble a costume he was actually going to wear, he felt let down after his mother’s outburst. It must have shown as his mother took one look at him and gave him a stern talking to.

“You’d better not ruin this party or there’ll be hell to pay,” she said, gathering her bag and car keys. “I wasn’t sure about letting you come, but Lynne insisted. I don’t suppose she’ll be overly impressed with the fact that you haven’t gone in a costume.”

“But I had a perfectly good costume––” he began.

“–Don’t even go there, young man,” she said gruffly.

She drove them in silence to the party where Lynne, the hostess, greeted them at the door. She too was dressed as a witch and thanks to her rather prominent nose and the green face paint, she looked really convincing too, though he thought his mother was probably the real thing–all things considered.

“Hi, come in… Er, where’s your costume, Steve?”

“Sorry. I couldn’t get one in time…” he lied.

His mother shrugged. “You know how teenagers are these days,” she observed, deprecatingly as the two of them followed Lynne into her house.

Inside, few had turned up, but Steve saw a girl on the sofa in the lounge who caught his eye, although he didn’t have the confidence to talk to her. She was about his age and quite pretty, dressed in a Little Red Riding Hood costume that made her look incredibly cute.

He sauntered over to a large table which had been piled high with snacks of one form or another, giving her a sideways glance en-route, but within milliseconds, his interest in the girl had been replaced with a sudden need to attempt the decimation of the entire spread as he grazed on the goodies before him.

“Hello,” she said, suddenly standing close.

Steve turned round sharply, his mouth full of crisps, nuts and some of those really nice bits of cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks.

“’lo,” he managed, his hand flying up to his mouth as crumbs of salt and vinegar flavoured potato slivers fell from between his lips.

Fortunately, she giggled and as they looked at one another, something passed between them, unspoken and yet almost palpable.

“Steve?” called his mother.

“Uh?” he replied, smiling at the girl, whose name he hadn’t even had time to ascertain.

“Come here.”

How embarrassing. There he was doing his level best to look cool–which probably would have been easier had he been wearing that really cool get-up he’d discovered in the loft–and might have been doing alright had he not nearly sprayed the poor girl with a mouthful of masticated savouries. If that wasn’t bad enough, his mother calling him over like some kind of child did nothing to improve his chances.

“You know you’ll have to pay a forfeit, don’t you?” said Lynne, with an evil glint in her eye.

“A forfeit?”

“Yes. That’s where the party pooper does something he or she doesn’t want to do, because he or she didn’t do something that he or she was supposed to do. In this case, it’s a costume–or lack thereof...”

“I know what a forfeit is,” Steve retorted, sullenly.

“Yes, well. Just in case there is any confusion, you’re the party pooper. Anyway, it’s nothing really,” Lynne admitted with a shrug. “Just a bit of fun.” Her face however, showed the disappointment at his not wearing any form of costume and his mother pointedly looked away from either of them.

Lynne led them downstairs into the cellar, which had been done out with little glow-in-the-dark skeletons, witches on broomsticks, coffins and skulls that hung from the walls and ceiling. At the foot of the stairs sat a circular table and on it, a purple silk scarf had been draped. On top of the scarf sat a small glass ball and a pack of cards the like of which, Steve had not seen before.

“What’re these?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re Tarot cards. I bought them at one of those old curiosity shops in town. They’re supposed to be antique, but you know what those traders are like, they’ll tell you anything to get a sale. The trader that sold me those was actually only too pleased to get rid of them. He said there was something bad about them, some sort of story that went along with them, but I don’t believe in all that rubbish anyway. I thought they’d be perfect for tonight and they do lend some authenticity. Your forfeit–if you haven’t already guessed, will be to tell people’s fortunes.”

“But I don’t know anything about fortune telling. I know a bit about Tarot, but not enough to read them.”

“You don’t have to. There’s a crystal ball there too if you prefer… actually, it’s plastic, but it looks the part, doesn’t it? So, I don’t know, just make something up. Like I said, it’s only a bit of fun. Meanwhile, we need to get you ready.”

“Eh?” said a somewhat startled Steve.

A few moments later and…

“Perfect!” said Lynn after she had applied some garish eye-makeup; lipstick and rouge to his face, draped a shawl around his shoulders and tied a scarf about his head. “At least you have some sort of costume now… Welcome to Madame Mysterio’s Mystic Parlour,” she said dramatically.

He did however see the funny side; the irony in the fact that whilst his costume had been colourful, he was depicting a male celebrity, whereas here, he was playing the part of a woman. His mother’s face was a picture and she probably only went along with this charade as Lynne seemed to think nothing of dressing her son as a woman–at least his top half.

Steve sat at the table, the cards packed in their box. He picked them up, turning the box over and over. They seemed perfectly alright–ordinary even… as far as Tarot cards can. They were just an old box of cards. He’d had no experience with Tarot cards. He knew the card of ‘Death’–everyone knew that one and also ‘The Lovers’ as depicted in Live and Let Die; the old James Bond film.

“Good evening,” he said as a youngish woman approached, getting into character. “What can Madame Mysterio do for you on this most auspicious of nights?” His accent was appalling, probably based on half of Europe, flitting between French and Italian with a bit of Eastern European thrown in for good measure.

Most auspicious of nights? he asked himself. What was that supposed to mean?

“Shouldn’t you be telling me?” the woman said with a bit of a giggle. “After all, you’re the clairvoyant, aren’t you?”

Steve looked at the woman. Probably in her early thirties, petite with bubbly blonde hair and a penchant for tight, short skirts that left little if anything to the imagination. “As you say,” he intoned and before he knew what was happening, he’d taken the cards out of the pack and shuffled them. He didn’t even remember bending down to retrieve them from under the table.

“What is your name, miss?” he asked.

“Miss?” she remarked, giggling irritatingly. “That’s nice; I like that. I’m Nancy.”

“Would you like to cut the cards, Nancy?”

She cut the cards with hands that had impeccably manicured and painted fingernails and again, Steve started laying them out. He could feel a strange tingling sensation as he held the cards in his left hand; a tingling that seemed to get stronger each time he lifted a card from the deck and placed it in the spread.

That was another thing.

Without even being told, reading any instructions or anything, he knew exactly where to put the cards. The first went down with the second across it–forming a cross. The third went below those two and the four above. The fifth and sixth cards went right and then left, level with the first two and then the last four went up the right hand side of the others. This bothered him, but he just put it down to perhaps having seen the spread in a film or something.

“Let me see…” he said in that mysterious way, adding a few “oohs” and “ahhs” for good measure. He put the remaining cards down and passed his hands, palms down over the layout.

He knew instinctively that there were seventy-eight cards in the deck; twenty-two of which were known as the Major Arcana and the rest the Minor Arcana and what was more, he knew what each of them meant, whether they were upright or inverted and how they interacted with one another. In Nancy’s case, he could almost see her life spread out before him; the acrimonious divorce that had just been finalised; the fact that she had done very well out of the settlement and worse…

Her husband was not a nice man and from the cards, Steve could see that his style of retribution was on its way. Over and over in his mind he tried to work out whether or not she should tell Nancy about her husband’s plans, but the more he thought about it, the less plausible it sounded.

The whole story as the cards were telling him sounded like something out of a gangster movie, her husband playing the part of Al Capone and getting one of his scar-faced henchmen to do the dirty so that the police could find her, feet firmly entrenched in a concrete block at the bottom of the river or something.

His young mind turned it over. It surely was a conundrum and from what science fiction and horror films he’d seen, there usually wasn’t any way of escaping what was on the cards, as it were. Whatever she tried to do, could be precisely what would bring about her death–whether her ex-husband was involved or not.

“I see a tall, dark stranger,” he began and rattled off a whole load of gibberish in the hopes of placating the woman.

“Huh!” she snorted. “Some clairvoyant you turned out to be. Couldn’t you have been just a little bit more original and told me something about my ex and his murder plot.”

“You know about that?” he asked, astonished.

“Of course I do!” she retorted.

“Oh. I am sorry. Perhaps I should have told you the truth.”

Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “You knew about my husband’s plot?”

“Yes and I saw that it happens soon. I thought maybe he’d had the brakes on your car tampered with or something. I don’t know. I just got the impression that your death and your car were connected.”

“You can actually read those things?” she queried, pointing at the ten cards on the table.

“Apparently, yes,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s more of a shock for me than it is for you, I can assure you.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. Thank you,” she said as she tottered up the stairs on those impossibly high heels.

He sat back at the table, thinking about the reading. It was a real surprise to find out that he could do this and it wasn’t fluke either–Nancy had proved that and to say that he was pleased with himself was a drastic understatement. He sat back, the cards in his hands wondering whether he would get another customer.

Within moments, another woman came down the stairs. “Can you read the cards for me?” she asked.

He didn’t even have to think about it and he smiled, shuffling the cards and as soon as he did so, he noticed how much stronger the tingling was, but he put it down to his imagination.

Four more readings were performed and by the last one, the tingling had become so pronounced that he was actually trembling as he dealt the cards. As soon as he put the cards down, the tingling stopped. He was loath to stop as this was something he found he was actually good at, but the tingling sensation wasn’t just in his hands as it had been before, but was all over. At times it even tingled in his stomach which made him nauseous.

Perhaps it was time to call it a day. He’d read five people and considering it could take over half an hour to read each one, he thought enough’s enough. It was time he had a break anyway and if he didn’t soon, the whole of that table of food would have been eaten and that would have been a travesty.

He placed the cards on a stand on the other side of the room and when he turned round, there was Little Red Riding Hood.

“Hello again,” he said.

“Can you do me too?” she asked.

“Beg pardon?”

“I mean, can you do a card reading for me too.”

He sat down opposite her at the table. “I’d rather not,” he said quietly. “I’m not really feeling all that right now,” he explained.

“But you’re so good at it,” she countered.

“I really don’t know anything about it–honest. Besides, I only got the job because I didn’t come in costume.”

“Your costume looks fine to me,” she said. “Suits you.”

“Oh thanks a bunch.” He pouted theatrically. “You can go off people, you know.”

“I didn’t mean it,” she said sincerely. “Would you please read the cards for me?”

“I can do a crystal ball reading if you’d like,” he offered, hoping that she’d change her mind, but before he knew what was happening, there were the cards, on the table before the rather startled-looking girl.

“Weren’t those…” she asked worriedly, pointing towards the stand on the other side of the room.

He looked before him at the cards, neatly piled and sitting in readiness for the girl to cut them.

“They can’t have been,” he said quickly. “Anyway, if you’d like to cut them… er… what is your name?”

“Elizabeth,” she replied.

“Well, Elizabeth. I don’t suppose one more go will hurt,” he said, feeling her eyes on him and hoping she didn’t take them off him again. “If you’d like to cut the cards.”

The tingling feeling was stronger, radiating out from his hands as he took up the cards and started laying them on the table.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, like I said, I’m feeling a little strange.” He continued to place the cards on the table and when he’d finished, his vision was starting to blur, like he was looking at things through moving water.

“So what do you see?”

“Um,” he said, but he was having trouble focussing on anything. It must have shown on his face because the expression on Elizabeth’s face was one of concern.

He could feel his mouth moving and words coming out, but seemed powerless to stop it. Not only that, but he sat, elbows on the table, cards in his left hand, but unable to move anything–not even his eyes.

He tried hard to move–any part of his body–but for some reason, he was powerless. He seemed to sink into this… this… whatever it was and as he strained and strained to try and move something… anything, he could move nothing.

He started to panic, feeling as if things were moving around under his skin. First it was over his face then it spread. Things could be felt moving over his ribs, his arms, legs; then everywhere.

More and more he tried to fight it, but fight what?

Suddenly before him was an almost transparent apparition of a woman. Her nose was large and hooked with a large wart on one side. Her hair was a steely-grey colour, lank and lifeless and her eyes sparkled with an unearthly light.

“Don’t struggle, my pretty one,” she said.

Pretty? he thought.

“I must say, you’re not what I was expecting,” she said critically, eyeing him up and down. “I had expectations of someone, more… well… female. Oh well, I suppose you’ll have to do. You are very pretty though–even for a boy.”

Steve was aghast and had he been able to move, he probably would have given some sign that what the apparition had said, was not what he’d wanted to hear.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth had rushed up the stairs. Hopefully, she was off to get help. Whether they would be able to do anything was another matter, but at least he didn’t feel so much like he was on his own.

“W-w-w-what do you want from me?” he asked.

“Your body, boy,” she said, with a cackle.

“M-my b-body?” he stammered. “W-w-w-what could you possibly want with that?”

“Like I said, it’s not what I ideally would have chosen, but once it’s been polished a bit, I think it will do fine. You have a good mind, you’re really pretty and that will do nicely for me.”

“I’m not pretty!” he said through virtually gritted teeth.

Although she had told him not to struggle, he couldn’t help it, but no amount of straining had any effect whatsoever. It was bizarre.

Then it dawned on him. If she wanted his body, what would happen to him? “What about me?” he asked.

“What about you?”

“What happens to me while you’ve got my body?”

“Who cares?” she said, laughing a horrible maniacal laughter that sent shivers up and down Steve’s spine. “All I want is to take my rightful place upon this Earth; to finish what I started–um… what year is this?”

“2009,” Steve supplied.

“Really? Goodness me; how time flies when you’re in purgatory. Anyway, where was I?” she pondered, turning to face him with dramatic flair. “Oh yes… I want to finish what I started five hundred years ago.”

“What stopped you back then?”

“Zealous, puritanical nit-wits,” she said, with a lofty expression. “Thought I was a witch.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Might be,” she said, pouting slightly and thrusting her nose in the air. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. I’ve been stuck in that pack of cards for nearly half a millennia. Purgatory. You’ve no idea how stuffy those cards can be. The lack of decent conversation was… well, anyway––”

“So why me?”

“You’re here–simple as that. No-one else has touched the cards. Well, there was one, but he was older than dirt. Didn’t want him.” She shuddered, which made her already insubstantial image waver and shimmer.

“So… let me get this straight. You want my body so that you can carry on with whatever weirdness you were doing five hundred years ago?”

“Weirdness? I haven’t heard it called that before, but that does about sum it up, yes.”

“And the polishing?”

“Ah, yes, well it is perhaps a little more complicated than just polishing.”

“How so?”

“I need to change you into a woman.”

“You’re g-g-going t-t-to what?” he shrieked, which was an odd sensation, under the circumstances.

“I’m going to have to change you into a girl,” she explained. “I really don’t think male would look at all good on me and I really like the idea of being what you now call a teenage girl once again.”

She was so off-hand about the process and made it sound as easy as making a cup of tea, but he was sure it wasn’t that simple. Even if it was, he wasn’t ready for that kind of change. He redoubled his efforts to get away, but whatever she’d done to him meant that his brain was no longer connected to his body and no matter how hard he tried, he got nowhere.

“You probably felt the first stage of the transformation a few moments ago. Anyway, if you don’t mind, the witching hour approaches and I have to concentrate. Quiet please.”

His mind raced as the witch began chanting, gesticulating, with her voice rising and falling, speeding up and slowing down. As non-corporeal as she may have been, it didn’t mean that she was any less capable of casting spells.

As she chanted, he could feel things happening, things he couldn’t explain, but they weren’t pleasant.

“Stop! You don’t want me. I’m a boy. You’ll have to go through all that trouble of changing me only to find I’ll be no good.” he shouted, trying hard to distract her, hoping that by making things awkward, she would perhaps turn her attention to someone else.

“I said quiet!” she snarled, angrily and with a flick of just one finger, Steve found himself unable to utter anything at all. “Now I’m going to have to start all over again.”

She restarted the chanting and quickly Steve’s body began making all sorts of cracking noises at the same time as his throat started to contract. He tried to reach up with his hands to his neck, but couldn’t move.

Then the pain struck as his ribs cracked, sounding more like someone striking a glockenspiel, which forced the air from his lungs in one big “whoosh” and his eyes ran rivers of tears. Inside he was screaming, yet outside, he was still sitting at the table, his elbows resting and in his left hand, the cards rested.

He remained completely unaware of what was happening outside his body as inside, the pain was growing second by second as the next thing to change was his hips as they began spreading.

His head started to swim, the pain in his hands and feet as the minute bones within both pairs, began shrinking was excruciating. As he sobbed his heart out, trying to compartmentalise the feelings he could not have been prepared for the final onslaught.

His testes rose, pulled up inside his body, constricting and making him feel as though they had been hit by something hard, while his penis felt as though it was being turned inside out across course-grit glass paper as it reformed. It was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.

To Be Continued…

The Witch's Tarot : Chapter 2

Author:

Nick B

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Contests:

October 2009 TG Terror Contest

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

The Witch’s Tarot
© 2009–Nick B

Edited, proofed and generally made what it is by the Gabmeister

A burning witch, a pack of cards and a fancy dress party. What can possibly go wrong?

Chapter II: What’s in a name?

The witch looked on, cackling and clapping her hands together as Steve’s once male form changed to a decidedly curvaceous feminine one. His hair was longer, passing his shoulders and not stopping until it reached the small of his back. His general frame although not big to start with, was noticeably smaller and the clothes he had been wearing swamped him.

“We can’t have that,” she said, and with some more concentration, chanting and much waving of hands, his male clothing disappeared, to be replaced by a bright yellow cotton sleeveless summer dress, his boxers by panties and his shoes by sandals with a moderate heel.

Once again, the witch jumped up and down, clapping her hands together and cackling away, pleased as punch. “Elizabeth Knotts, you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” she cooed. “That should be enough.”

She gave a negligent flick of her gnarly fingers and Steve’s body slouched forward, the cards sliding gently from his hand, spilling on to the table.

As Steve lost contact with the cards, the witch lost contact and any control she had over him. She gasped, her eyes went wide and her hands flew to her insubstantial mouth. “Oh no–”

It had always ended this way–or worse.

The old man she had told the boy about had not been discarded, but had died in her attempt to transform him. There had been many others down the line who had suffered at her attempts.

She sat down and looked at the very pretty girl who had not moments before been a boy and now was about as far out of her reach as all the others. Insubstantial tears trickled down her non-corporeal face as she looked at yet another failed attempt.

Elizabeth was feverishly looking for Steve’s mum. She’d been all over the house and even out in the garden, but hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her. She caught up with Lynne.

“Auntie Lynne. Have you seen Ellen?”

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“Well you are,” she replied nonchalantly. “What else should I call you?”

“Just plain Lynne would be nice. Anyway, she went home to get some bits and pieces. She won’t be long. Why?”

“It’s Steve. I think there’s something wrong.”

She explained what she’d seen.

Lynne frowned. “You been at those space cakes again?”

“Not at all, no,” Elizabeth assured her. “It really happened. Then he went all glassy-eyed and just sat there–he didn’t even blink. There’s something wrong, Auntie Lynne, I’m sure of it. Can you come and have a look? Please?”

Lynne didn’t answer because someone caught her eye; “Jim, so nice to see you,” she said, talking straight across Elizabeth as one of her guests walked by. She turned back to her niece. “I’ll be with you in a moment, sweetheart.”

Elizabeth grimaced. She hated being called sweetheart more than anything and her aunt insisted on calling her that. As she watched Lynne walk away with James, she wondered why it was that no matter what was happening, what adults had to do was always so much more important than anything she needed them to hear.

Disgusted by this, she stalked off towards the basement stairs.

When Steve came to, she looked around her and recognised nothing. In fact, she couldn’t even remember where she’d been or how she got there. All she could see was a large room with a staircase coming down beside her.

“W-w-what?” she muttered, stretching her arms, wincing as her elbows and shoulders cracked and clicked. She looked around her, frowning. “Where am I?”

Ghostly cackles with images of witches and strange-looking cards filled her mind. The mere thought of them made her shudder…

And then she saw the cards on the table.

“No,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “It can’t be.”

She gazed around the room, seeing nobody and yet she had an uncanny feeling that she was being watched. By whom, she didn’t know, but she could feel the eyes staring at her.

She rose on shaky legs, grimacing because her whole body ached. “What have I been doing?” she asked herself.

Taking the stairs slowly and holding tightly to the banister rail, she made her way to the upper floor, wondering what all the noise was as she approached.

All those people, she thought. Where the hell am I and what in the world’s going on?

She decided to get out, striding as boldly as she could through the doorway at the top of the stairs and, trying not to catch anyone’s attention, stepped out.

So far so good, she thought and was just about to start across the room when someone bumped into her.

Another girl caught her shoulder on her way past, heading towards the stairs.

Turning to face Steve, she said, “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

They stood for a few moments just inches apart. Steve thought she was very pretty and dressed as Little Red Riding Hood she looked so cute.

Staring into her eyes, a whole bundle of thoughts raced through her mind, the most prevalent being how weird it was being a girl and actually thinking the other was pretty and attractive, which stirred feelings in her of which she wasn’t quite sure.

But I’m a girl too, she thought.

There was definitely something there though–something between them. Whether it was just friendship that sadly she couldn’t remember, or whether it was more than that, she didn’t know, but it was almost palpable.

Lynne arrived, breaking their unspoken communication.

“Who’sh your friend, shweetheart?” she asked of Little Red Riding Hood.

As soon as Steve saw Lynne, she fled, running full tilt towards the door, slamming into it, fumbling with the locks and catches. Finally, she wrenched it open and ran out into the cold night air, not even stopping to close the door behind her.

“Wash it shomething I shaid?” asked Lynne, taking another generous slug of her drink, giggling after burping, as she disappeared off into the guests, her body swaying with the beat of the music.

Windows and lamp-posts seemed to flash past as Steve trip-trip-tripped down the dimly-lit street, beating a staccato rhythm that echoed off the houses on each side of the road with a metallic ‘plick-plick-plick’. Her long, mousey-coloured hair whipped about her face, getting in her eyes, making them water as did the chilly air of the first November morning.

Blindly, she ran across a road and narrowly missed landing spread-eagled across the bonnet of the family saloon car that was approaching the junction. The car had two children in the back that appeared to be sleeping, while the driver–a woman–scowled, shaking her fist.

“Are you mad?” she yelled. “Watch where you’re going; I’ve got children–”

Steve heard no more and raising her hand, while smiling a thin smile of apology, she pushed herself away from the car, gasping for air and with a heaving chest, she ran round the front, ignoring the blast from the car’s horn as, once again, she glanced over her shoulder.

Upon reaching the next lamppost, she stopped; wheezing and trying to get her breath back as she looked up the street from whence she came, to check if she was, as she felt, being followed.

No-one was there.

Her senses however, told her otherwise. She could feel the stranger’s presence, stalking her as she reached down and slipped off her sandals, wincing as her feet touched the near freezing cold of the paving slabs beneath. Looking around her for any sign of movement, she knew someone was there, someone who seemed to have melted into the shadows, never far behind. She knew because she could feel their eyes boring into her and her brain screamed for her to get as far from them as possible.

She was certain that the woman at the house was not the same woman as she had seen in the images that kept playing in her mind–the weird and evil cackle, the warty nose and the lank, lacklustre hair. The shock of seeing that weird woman, just scared her–scared her enough to make her run, even though she didn’t know where she was running to.

The girl though–Little Red Riding Hood–was a different proposition. Steve knew they’d met before; it was just the when of it that eluded her. She was nice, pretty and there was something about her that made Steve wish they would meet again; to get to know one another better, perhaps even becoming friends, hopefully more.

The fact that the two of them were girls seemed wrong to Steve. Was it the thought of wanting to become romantically involved with another girl? He didn’t know, but he was sure that for whatever reason, that wasn’t an issue.

Were they already friends then? If that were the case, then surely the girl would have said more than she did–wouldn’t she?

The situation was all so confusing to Steve. Not only did she not know anything about Red–aside from the feeling that they had met previously, but she didn’t even know anything about herself.

She tried to remember birthdays, Christmas, school or a holiday perhaps, but nothing came to her and as she thought about it, the feeling that she was being watched and from nearby, reared its ugly head again.

It was time to press on.

Elizabeth ran downstairs into the basement and was startled by what she found.

Steve was missing; the cards lay just as they had when he’d begun reading them for her, save the discarded pack that was beside the spread, but of him there was no sign.

She checked upstairs, but could find no trace.

“What wash up with that friend of yoursh?” asked Lynne, the alcohol beginning to have an effect on her speech, which was decidedly slurred.

“Which friend?” she asked. Suddenly it dawned on her. “No way!” she exclaimed, her eyes going wide with disbelief. “So that’s why he didn’t want to read them!”

“What was that, schweetheart?”

“Nothing. I’ve gotta go out,” she said and with that, ran to the front door.

“Jusht a minute, young lady; it’sh after midnight–”

Ignoring her aunt–who was truthfully too addled by drink to have an attention span of anything more than a goldfish–she opened the door and poked her head out looking down the street, but there was no sign of the mystery girl.

She looked back inside to see that Lynne had–as she thought, been distracted by the drinks and the guests. She quietly went across the room and upstairs to her bedroom, where she picked up a quilted jacket, stashed it under her cloak and made her way back downstairs.

Her aunt was helping Steve’s mum in with two large bags when she reached the bottom of the stairs and, waiting the few seconds for them to get to the kitchen, went to the door and closed it quietly behind her as she left.

Making her way down the street, the cold air and quiet of the night began to make her wonder if the girl could possibly have been Steve and if so, how?

She stopped suddenly.

It was after midnight and she–a fifteen year-old–was out on her own, chasing after someone she didn’t know with the wild idea that by some means he’d been turned into a girl; how ridiculous was that?

There was something about the girl she’d bumped into at the top of the stairs though–something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but rang bells of recognition in her head.

“What the hell,” she muttered and carried on down the road towards town.

Steve entered an area of town where the lights were brighter and the smell of cooked food accosted her nostrils. There were burger bars, fried chicken outlets and restaurants in amongst the colourfully lit shop-fronts, but better was the amount of people who were about, even though they were into the wee small hours.

She slowed, hoping that those around her would stop her feeling so exposed, but it wasn’t to be. The feeling that eyes were boring into the back of her head did not diminish and despite the fact that her feet and thighs ached, her chest burned and more to the point, she had no idea where she needed to go, she pressed on.

Shortly afterwards, she arrived at the town square–a pedestrian-only precinct–which at one time had been the main street. Its cobbled roadway though, no longer played host to cars–aside from early morning deliveries–just the passing of hundreds of thousands of feet, eager to spend money in the many shops and cafés that lined both sides.

Large, cast stone circular beds planted with shrubs and small ornamental trees, had been placed at regular intervals, surrounded by ornate seats cast in the same material, giving the street a somewhat continental atmosphere. She stopped at the first one she came to and was about to sit and rest her feet, when her own reflection in a shop window caught her attention.

She moved closer, the image in the window becoming larger and clearer with each step. She looked quizzically, touching her face with her fingertips, drawing them over the smooth pale skin, along the jaw and down the sides of her neck.

Her hands trembled as she looked at the girl in the window looking back at her. Cocking her head to one side and turning slightly to capture her image from different angles, she smiled and smoothed down her dress, watching as the material accentuated the curves of her lithe young body as it tightened; her breasts jutting firmly from her chest, her curvaceous torso tapering down to her waist and then flairing across her hips.

She checked her hair as it flowed over her shoulders and down her back and as she did, she saw someone–a man perhaps–in the reflection, who appeared to be looking over her shoulder. She turned quickly to see that there was no-one there. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the feeling of being watched–stalked even, was as strong as ever.

Now that she was not exerting herself, she was cold and getting progressively colder as the temperature of her body dropped, yet she was still in a cold sweat. She may not have been running, but she was scared — very scared.

Sitting on one of the cast stone seats, she went over the events that had led her there. The feeling of being watched or followed had not gone away and seeing that person looking over her shoulder in the shop window had proved to her that she wasn’t going mad; that what was running around in her head had really happened.

“Are you alright?” someone close by asked.

Steve spun on the spot, turning towards the voice. It was Little Red Riding Hood. She nodded.

“You must be frozen… here.” Red took out a jacket from under her cloak, which she placed around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m Elizabeth, we um, bumped into each other at the party. Is that better?”

Steve nodded again, feeling the warmth returning to the top half of her body. Obviously she had been colder than she thought.

“I think we’d better go back, don’t you?”

Steve shook her head vigorously.

“Why?” Elizabeth asked.

“I saw her there,” Steve replied nervously. “The witch.”

“That was just Lynne. She was the one who organised the party. I’m pretty certain she wouldn’t have done anything to you. She might breathe on you,” she said, wrinkling her nose and flapping her hand in front of it. “But I doubt it would kill you.”

“Not her… I saw a witch…” Steve tailed off and looked down at her feet, realising that whilst she may remember having seen one, she couldn’t remember what it meant. “It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

Elizabeth smiled, gently touching her hand. “Don’t worry about it,” she said equally gently, which made Steve feel a lot better.

“Well, now you know who I am, what’s your name?”

Steve didn’t know.

She didn’t know her own name.

The shock of not knowing where she was was one thing, but finding out she didn’t even know her own name took this to a whole other level. “I-I-I don’t know,” she sniffed, clearly scared of the fact.

“I can’t just call you ‘oy!’ or ‘hey you now can I? Is there a name perhaps that you would like to be called, just until we find out who you really are?”

Steve thought about it, but nothing immediately came to mind. “It’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“You must have a name you wished you were called,” she said. “I know I do.”

“You? What’s wrong with Elizabeth?”

“Nothing I suppose. It’s better than some of those lame names people are calling their kids nowadays.”

“So what name did you want?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” she said.

“Cross my heart.”

“Alexandra. I thought it had an air of mystery about it.”

Steve smiled. “That’s a nice name, but I think Elizabeth’s better.”

“Come on then. What about you?” she asked, excitement showing on her face. “Ooh, ooh, I know: Tabitha.”

“I am not a Tabitha–makes me sound like somebody out of Bewitched. ”

“But it’s such a nice name,” she said. “So come on, your turn.”

Steve wasn’t aware that they were taking turns, but she liked the game. It was fun and Elizabeth was a fun person to play it with.

“Chloe,” she said at last.

“With all the names you could have chosen, that’s the best you can come up with?” she asked, watching Steve closely.

“What’s wrong with Chloe?”

“Nothing–I suppose,” Elizabeth replied. “But I still think Tabitha’s better.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way,” she responded. “But if you want Chloe, then Chloe it is.” She looked into Steve’s eyes, taking her hands and holding them. “Hello, Chloe. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

There was one of those moments where time seemed to stand still. Chloe, who until then had no name that she could remember, suddenly felt as though a bell had rung in her head. It was a nice name and although the situation wasn’t exactly a Christening as such, she now felt like she belonged to the world.

The two girls sat on the cold stone bench looking at one another–a look that made Chloe’s heart race just a little faster. She didn’t know about how Elizabeth felt but the situation was fast becoming one of those where her natural instincts were starting to take over and her heart was telling her to kiss the girl.

Her head however, was telling her not to.

“I think I’d best take you home. At least it’s warm there. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing my tits off here.”

Chloe felt a lot better. She was still scared about the fact that other than her new name–which sent tingles of excitement up and down her spine when she heard Elizabeth say it out loud–she knew nothing about herself. The memory of Bewitched was the first thing that had come from a time prior to that very evening. Other than that, she could remember nothing. Perhaps it would return.

There was also the sensation of being followed, watched, which could well have been Elizabeth following to catch up, but what of the man–if that’s what it was, who appeared over her shoulder in her reflection? Perhaps he was a figment of her overactive imagination and given the circumstances, that didn’t seem out of the question. Despite those two things and the fact that she didn’t know where she was going to go after they got back to Elizabeth’s house she couldn’t help but laugh.

She slipped on her sandals, put the jacket on properly then the two of them turned back the way they came. The feeling of being watched was still there, but she felt safe–safer than she had all evening.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure about Chloe. She was confused about her story–about the amnesia and about the fact that she was attracted to her–not that she was about to act upon it. However, for some reason, she felt close to this girl, but for all the wrong reasons. Already, she felt that it was more than just sensing that they were kindred spirits–it was kind of the same way she felt about Steve.

Everything had happened so quickly. Steve had come into her aunt’s house and all he’d had to do was walk across to the table where she and Lynne had put all the food and she felt it: an instant attraction.

The fact that he tried to stuff everything on the table into his mouth at once, only made him more endearing and made her laugh, but no sooner had they met, he was dragged off to play fortune teller downstairs while she was roped into greeting the guests and perhaps more embarrassingly, being cloakroom monitor.

That was it until later when he started doing the reading for her. She didn’t understand why he’d been so reticent to read for her, but had pressed him into it anyway–and what was that thing with the cards? He had shrugged it off, but she knew he’d put them on the stand on the other side of the room.

What if that had really happened? What if they really had just appeared in his hand?

A little way through the reading and suddenly he went all strange. She told Lynne about it and the next thing she knew, Steve had disappeared and Chloe had appeared. She knew it was Halloween, but this was strange even for that.

Now she faced something even more bizarre: whether Chloe was Steve or not, she was attracted to her–and not in just a friendly way either, far from it. When she greeted the new Chloe and stared into those beautiful brown eyes, it was all she could do not to glue her lips to hers. She had never believed in love at first sight.

“Love takes time,” her mother had told her. “You have to work on it.”

Yet she’d heard stories about people who meet and from that point on are together forever. What if this was one of those times?

She felt something with Steve that she’d never experienced before–a kind of need to be near him–with him and that transposed to Chloe. She just hoped that Steve and Chloe were the same person otherwise she was in big trouble. She was already having a hard enough time getting her head round the prospect of getting all smoochy with another girl. To find out that she would be vying for the attentions of both of them would be such a complete headache.

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Chloe.

Elizabeth turned and looked at her companion. That honest face; those eyes–eyes she could happily drown in and that hair–swaying gently behind her as they walked. What was not to like–to love? “Nothing–really. It’s just been a really weird night.”

“I know what you mean,” Chloe replied with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–” she began. If it had been difficult for anyone, it had to be Chloe. First she was Steve with a life ahead of him, dreams, aspirations and a past and then suddenly, it was all gone. That wasn’t to say that Chloe didn’t have a future, but it was hard to tell at this point. She certainly didn’t appear to have a past.

“It’s alright, Elizabeth, honestly. I really haven’t had time to think about things. I’m here now and you’re making it really easy for me. You don’t even know me and yet you’ve put yourself out for me. I couldn’t have hoped for better.”

Elizabeth grabbed Chloe’s arm and stopped her, tears forming in her eyes and without any hesitation, threw her arms round her new friend, hugging her tightly. The closeness she felt at that time was the best she’d ever felt and right there, she felt that she wasn’t so alone.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The two girls continued up the road arriving at Lynne’s house shortly afterwards.

The lights were still on and they stood at the gate at the bottom of the short path to the front door for a few moments.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Chloe, noticing the hesitation on Elizabeth’s face.

“If not here, then where?” she asked. “Look, you need somewhere to be until we can get all this sorted out and here’s as good a place as any. You’ll freeze to death out here or worse and I can’t bear the thought of that. No. You’ll stay here tonight and that’s that.”

They opened the gate and started up the path.

“Finally,” said a man’s voice.

They turned round. Before them was a man who looked quite old, with dark hair that fell to just above his shoulders. His face was lined and his deep-set eyes seemed to have a hard edge to them.

“I see you have chosen. Still trying to recapture that youth, I see.” His expression was one of amusement.

“Who are you?” asked Elizabeth.

“My apologies, ladies. My name is Edward. Edward Ellsworth.” He inclined his head with a thin smile that didn’t seem at all pleasant. “But then you knew that, didn’t you Elizabeth?” He was looking at Chloe when he said that.

“Er, she’s Elizabeth, Mr. Ellsworth,” she said, pointing at her friend.

“Don’t toy with me, witch. I can see through the disguise. Is she another unfortunate victim of your lust for revenge?”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Mr Ellsworth.”

The man looked at Chloe and then at Elizabeth. “You really don’t, do you?” he asked.

“No and I think it’s time you left, before I call for help,” Elizabeth stated, leaving no room for debate.

The front door opened and three of the guests almost fell out laughing.

“Hey, It’s ‘lizh-beff. Hello, ‘lizh-beff. We’re going home now,” one of them said, or at least, tried. “Who are you?”

“Never mind,” said Edward, testily. “I will return, mark my words.”

“Who was that, ‘lizh-beff?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s gone now.”

To Be Continued…

The Witch's Tarot : Chapter 3

Author:

Nick B

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Contests:

October 2009 TG Terror Contest

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

The Witch’s Tarot
© 2009–Nick B

Polished by Gabs :)

Chapter III: The truth will out

Inside, the feeling of warmth enveloped Chloe. Her tense body relaxed and whilst there were still many people drinking, eating and generally enjoying themselves, the two of them were able to slip in without being spotted or subjected to inane questions.

“Come upstairs,” Elizabeth whispered. “It’ll be quieter there.”

The two girls tip-toed upstairs and into Elizabeth’s bedroom, closing the door quietly behind them.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Chloe said.

Elizabeth shrugged, taking her cloak off and flopping on the bed. “I couldn’t let you stay out with nowhere to go, could I?”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Chloe chuckled, her tongue firmly planted in her cheek.

“Of Course,” Elizabeth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “As if.” She glanced up at Chloe, who was trying to suppress a giggle, but failed and both girls laughed.

“Seriously though,” said Chloe, perching on the very edge of the bed. “What do I do now? I mean, I don’t know where I came from and I don’t know where I need to go to.” Tears started to roll down her face. “I feel so alone right now.”

“You’ve got me,” said Elizabeth comfortingly, putting her arm about Chloe’s shoulders and pulling her close. “It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

With that Chloe broke down and the tears turned to full-on sobbing as she wrapped her arms around Elizabeth and cried like a baby.

“I-I’m sorry,” Chloe said, breaking the hug. “I shouldn’t have–”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Elizabeth asked; a stern tone to her voice. “If I were in your position, I’d feel the same.”

“Really?” Chloe sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of a finger.

“Totally. Now I think it’s time we got some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll have to try and figure out what to do about this mess.” She paused, looking a little sheepish. “That is if you don’t mind sharing the bed.”

“Er…” said Chloe, looking away and hoping she wasn’t blushing.

“Look. It’s not that I’m asking you to come to bed like ‘come to bed’. It’s just that…” she added hastily, twiddling her fingers and trying not to look at Chloe.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Chloe for one certainly didn’t want Elizabeth to know that she would willingly jump into bed with her; to be close to her, though truthfully apart from the kissing bit, she had no idea where to go after that, and right there and then, she was probably too tired to keep her eyes open anyway. More to the point, she felt safe with Elizabeth and would do nothing to jeopardise that.

Elizabeth went to a drawer and took out two long t-shirts, clutching them to her chest and eventually spoke. “So what do you say?”

“Alright, I mean, like you said, it’s not like we’re going to be doing anything, is it?”

“No…” replied Elizabeth, her eyes slightly downcast. “Of course not.” She threw the t-shirt to Chloe. “Here, put this on.”

Was there a note of disappointment in Elizabeth’s voice? Chloe wondered as she settled on her side of the bed, ensuring that no part of her was touching any part of Elizabeth. It seemed that Elizabeth was as far from her as it was possible to get–given the bed’s size. Was that by choice or was it that she was acting, like her, out of fear?

However, it was more difficult to keep out of Elizabeth’s way than Chloe realised. Elizabeth was asleep in moments, her soft, gentle breathing rhythms said so and as she slept, she spread out, getting closer and closer to Chloe.

Chloe so desperately wanted to be as close as humanly possible to her friend; feel her warmth, her smooth skin against her own, but it could not be, but she was running out of room to escape–without getting out of bed altogether that was.

She moved across as far as she could, clinging to the edge of the bed, clutching the pillow and straining to keep away from Elizabeth, but tiredness took hold and soon, she too was dead to the world.

She found herself in a place where despite a fire roaring in the grate, the room was still cold. She went to the window and watched for a moment. A long line of torches, emitting a ruddy glow, lit up the tree-lined backdrop of the narrow track with a kind of surreal light as it undulated snake-like, moving up the hill towards her house.

“So it’s really happening?”

“I warned thee, witch,” said a man deep within the shadows of the room. “Thou hast brought this upon thyself with thy satanic rituals and thine evil practices. Thou should’st know that I have been praying for thy salvation yet, thou hast confounded mine attempts with thy continual and blatant disregard for all that is holy.”

She turned, her face hardened by the man’s accusations.

“Holy? How can’st thou think that I have been unholy? I have done nothing wrong. I use herbs and roots to make poultices; make decoctions and infusions from leaves and berries to cure ills. How is that unholy?”

“Thou knowest to that which I do refer,” he spat. “Thy poultices and so-called decoctions, infusions and other ‘remedies’ are naught but a smoke-screen to hide behind. I know what ist really occurring hereabouts.”

“And?”

“I intend to see that thee payest fully for thine indiscretions.”

The woman took a deep breath and sat down, the sound of footfalls outside becoming clearer. The folk with their torches could only have been minutes from her door now. “This is not about that, is it?” she asked.

“Thou art perceptive, witch,” the man said with a mocking laugh. “I cannot take the risk of thee turning people against me–and thou wouldst, were thou to be given the opportunity. Therefore, I need to ensure that thou art no longer a threat to my plans.”

“I shall not forget this, Edward Ellsworth. Thy confession disgusts me. Thou hast already given me the appearance of a hag–why else would I live alone on this lonely hilltop. However, whatever it is that thou hast done to me, I can not cease the help I have ever given others–more than I can say for thee. Thou seemest to be more interested in lining thine own pockets than putting thine abilities–thy gift, to good use.

“My gift–for it is a gift–is for everyone. It is a burden, of that there can be no doubt, but it is a responsibility I take most seriously. Yet thou art of a mind that I derive some evil pleasure from digging up certain roots or fungi in the dead of night so that the blacksmith’s horse can be cured of its canker, or that a woman in childbirth can be offered some meagre respite from the pain.”

“Most noble dear lady,” he said with heavy sarcasm, “But that is not how history will remember this I’m afraid.”

“Thou can not cheat history.”

“Can I not?” he asked, the mocking tone even more evident in his voice than hitherto. “I fear thou hast underestimated me, Elizabeth–as always. That is why I shall continue long after thou art nought but ashen waste at the base of a burned-out pyre.”

“Thou art truly evil, Ellsworth.”

“And thou art too kind, my lady.”

There was a knocking on the door.

“Elizabeth Knotts?” said the voice of a man. “Open up.”

The space that had not moments before, been occupied by Ellsworth was now vacant and taking another deep breath, Elizabeth stopped, picked a packet from the table and slipped it into the pocket of her pinafore. Straightening herself, she opened the stout wooden door.

Standing outside was Gilbert Morris, a good man whose family–especially his wife, had often asked for her assistance. She liked the Morris family and Gilbert didn’t look at all happy with the situation.

“I’m sorry, Beth,” he whispered. “But I have my orders.”

“It is not thy fault, dear Gilbert. Neither is it the fault of any of these goodly folk. I shall accompany thee to the village square.”

Gilbert looked astonished.

“Well, don’t just stand there with thy mouth open, catching flies. Lead on!”

“Of course, Miss Knotts.”

In the blink of an eye, they were at the square and Chloe found herself tied to a stout tree-trunk atop a large pile of tree limbs and kindling. It was clear that this was no trial. The outcome had already been decided and stood next to Gilbert was Edward Ellsworth, better known perhaps as the town’s mayor.

“Hast thee anything to say before I do mine duty and pass sentence upon thee, witch?” he asked.

“Only that thou shouldst remember that I am not at fault here and soon enough all the good people of this town shall know the extent to which their mayor will go to assure himself of his goal.”

Edward laughed. “They do not hear thee, witch. I have seen to that. They shall remember only that thy semblance has been taken from them and thy vileness has been forever removed from their sight.”

“I feel sorry for thee, Edward. Thou hast stooped so low as now to require looking skywards to see so lowly a creature as an ant. Thy deception will come to light–I shall see to that. Thou art a mark-ed man, Edward Ellsworth, and mine only prayer is that I shall not have to wait too long before this travesty of justice shalt be undone.”

Edward almost bent double with laughter. “Thee?” he demanded. “Canst thee not see that thou art in no position to attain any such thing. Thou art dead, witch. Dead to all of these people and any others whose misfortune it has been to know thee, like thee or even love thee.”

“That is what this is really about is it not?” she asked. “Thine advances towards me and my refusal to–”

“Do not flatter thyself, hag,” he replied, angrily.

“Alright, Ellsworth, thou hadst better get on with this farcical display and don’t take all day about it.”

Suddenly to Chloe’s surprise, hundreds of people seemed to file past, throwing their burning torches into the pile of wood beneath her, the flames licking ever higher as the timber pile caught light and the heat started to rise; the smell of burning strong in her nostrils.

She panicked, seeing the red, yellow and orange of the flames, leaping, licking ever higher and the thick smoke that rose in twisting tendrils. A deafening scream pierced the crackling of the burning lumber, which seemed to come from her own lips and for a moment everything went black.

When shapes and forms started to reappear, it was like looking at something from Alice in Wonderland. Cards seemed to be fluttering around her like moths, sometimes flying directly at her. The incessant flap, flap, flap of their ‘wings’ near to and sometimes often touching her face was terrifying as she flailed her arms about to try and beat them back.

Elizabeth was awakened by Chloe’s cries and a blow to the head from her elbow.

“OW!” she cried, sitting up to find Chloe waving her arms about like she was drowning or something.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she said, trying to catch hold of the girl’s arms and quieten her down.

Eventually, having taken more blows to the shoulders and arms, Elizabeth got Chloe under control and pulled her to her, spooning in and wrapping her free arm around her protectively.

“Wh–?” Chloe muttered opening her eyes.

“You were having a nightmare,” Elizabeth whispered.

“It was the witch,” said Chloe, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “I know what happened–I think.”

“Well, you can tell me all about it later can’t you? In the meantime, go back to sleep. Nothing can hurt you now.”

Within seconds, Chloe’s slow steady breathing told Elizabeth that the girl was asleep. She kept hold and although it was meant to be sisterly, the smell of Chloe’s hair, her closeness, made it difficult for Elizabeth not to think about nuzzling into her neck, stealing a kiss or dreaming of something she wasn’t sure could ever be.

They were still locked together sometime later when a knock on the door woke Elizabeth.

“You awake?” said Lynne from the other side and without waiting for a response, she opened the door.

“What in God’s name–?” she exclaimed, nearly exploding on the spot.

“It’s alright Auntie Lynne,” she said with exaggerated patience and particular emphasis on her name and title. “Nothing happened. Chloe just stayed here because she couldn’t get home last night.”

Lynne’s face was a picture of surprise and disgust. “You should have asked first.”

“What? With you in the state you were in last night? I’d have had more luck talking to mum.”

“How dare you talk about your mum like that.”

“What?” Elizabeth demanded angrily.

“You know very well what I mean,” Lynne said, her face red with anger. “Now both of you–get your arses downstairs–this instant.” The door slammed shut as Elizabeth’s irate aunt stormed off down the stairs; her footsteps sounding like an entire football team in lead boots.

Elizabeth lent Chloe some clothes. “There’s no way you can wear in any of that stuff you had on last night. You’ll freeze,” she’d said and found her a bra, panties, socks, some jeans, sweatshirt and a pair of boots.

“This is all my fault,” Chloe said as she pulled on the boots–red Kickers with a white sole, which went well with the jeans and sweatshirt. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”

“I’m glad you did,” said Elizabeth, pulling on a pair of fleece-lined suede boots that went over the outside of her jeans.

Chloe had watched surreptitiously as Elizabeth scooped herself into those skin-tight jeans, her heart in danger of beating so loudly, she had to look away.

“Auntie Lynne has been like that ever since…” she paused and Chloe looked up to see her friend looking decidedly melancholy. “Anyway, it makes a change to have someone else here. Kind of deflects the crap and certainly makes things easier.”

“What did you mean when you said you’d have more luck talking to mum?”

“She’s dead,” Elizabeth said simply, her face filled with sadness.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry. I–”

“No sweat. It’s not like I haven’t got used to it.” Elizabeth stood up and smoothed herself down, twirling on the spot. “How do I look?”

“Good enough to eat,” Chloe responded, then realising what she’d said, she added, “You’ll have the boys flocking round you.”

“You’d better believe it!” Elizabeth responded, flashing Chloe a wide, toothy grin.

Chloe Smiled back, though in her heart she was disappointed. Of course she wasn’t expecting undying love in response, but she was hoping for something of a lifeline in that last remark.

Was she kidding herself though?

She didn’t think so. The feeling of Elizabeth’s hot breath on her neck as she dozed off earlier, the feeling of her actually getting closer, pulling her tighter and almost purring–or was that just wishful thinking?

Definitely not.

Lynne was in the kitchen with Steve’s mum when they arrived downstairs.

“Good morning, Ellen,” Elizabeth said pointedly ignoring her aunt.

“Good morning, Elizabeth. You don’t know what happened to Steve do you? I think you were the last person to see him last night, I thought you might know. I ’phoned home last thing last night and again this morning, but I got no reply either time.”

“I haven’t seen him since he did that thing with the cards. He didn’t look very well and I asked Auntie Lynne to look in on him, but I think she got distracted.”

“I don’t remember that, sweetheart,” she said, continuing to bustle about the kitchen.

“Ooh!” Ellen growled. “When I get hold of him, I’m going to–”

“Anyway, aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” Lynne asked, cutting Ellen off mid-sentence. “I know the two of you are already very well acquainted, but this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on her.”

“Ellen, Auntie,” said Elizabeth. “This is Chloe. Chloe, this is my auntie, Lynne–you may remember her from the party last night–and this is her friend, Ellen. Steve is her son who was in the basement reading the Tarot cards. He was pretty good at it too.”

Ellen turned to face the girl. “Pleased to meet you–” she paused, looking carefully at the pretty, shapely young girl with the long mousy hair. “Have we met?” she asked. “You look very familiar.”

“Perhaps she knows Steve–a friend of his perhaps,” Lynne suggested as she filled the kettle.

Chloe sensed that Lynne’s interjection annoyed Elizabeth. She could almost see the “She can speak for herself,” behind her tight lips. “I’m sorry,” she said before Elizabeth could put her thoughts into words. “I don’t know him. I’m sure I’d have remembered.”

The four sat or stood in silence until Elizabeth spoke–getting the ball rolling, although Chloe was sure she wished she hadn’t.

“You wanted to see us, Auntie Lynne?”

“What? Yes I did. When I agreed to look after you in after your mother–”

“Jacqui,” Elizabeth corrected. “She was your sister as well as being my mother, remember?”

“Whatever. When she died and I started taking care of you, her absence didn’t mean you could come and go as you please. There are rules, you know and you should have asked before you had your friend to stay.”

“I would have done, but you were in no fit state to ask. After all, you can’t even remember my having asked you to look in on Steve or meeting Chloe, even though that was way before we came back.”

“Then that should have meant that you couldn’t have her stay over then, shouldn’t it?”

“What and leave her–a fifteen year-old girl–wandering the streets in the early hours of the morning? I don’t think so. I notice Ellen stayed though.”

“That’s my business, young lady, not yours and it’s my house. Just ask in future, alright?”

“Actually, Auntie, dear, it’s my house–unless you’ve forgotten.”

“I’ll tell you something, young lady,” said Ellen. “If you were my daughter–”

“Yes, well thankfully, I’m not, am I?” said Elizabeth, more annoyed at being told off in front of Ellen than being told off at all, but nevertheless, wondering why Ellen felt she had the right to say anything. “I’m not hers either. Now if you twohave quite finished, we’re going out.”

Chloe could see two things registered on Lynne’s face: The first was anger; probably at being spoken to that way and the second was hurt. This was definitely one of those times when she wished that she wasn’t there. Having to stand and watch while a dysfunctional family aired its dirty laundry in front of guests was something that didn’t sit well with her.

“Well don’t be late back. I want you here before six this evening–before I go out; is that clear?”

“No problem. Chloe will be coming back with me.”

“I don’t know…”

Elizabeth shot her aunt one of those looks.

“If her parents say it’s alright, then fine, do whatever you want–you normally do.”

They went upstairs and Elizabeth grabbed a coat giving Chloe the quilted jacket she’d worn the night before. “This one alright for you?” she asked.

“Fine. What exactly are we going to do?” asked Chloe as she followed Elizabeth down the stairs.

“Who cares,” she replied. “I’ve just got to get out of this place.”

They marched off down the road and Chloe had difficulty keeping up with the obviously stressed Elizabeth.

“Hey! Slow down,” Chloe called as her friend almost ran down the road. “What’s the hurry?”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth replied, stopping. “I get like that after Auntie dearest gets all holier than thou. Do you know she wouldn’t have anywhere to stay if it hadn’t been for my mum dying?”

“That’s harsh.”

“I know, but it’s the truth. Lynne’s always had a bit of a penchant for the booze and tends to get a little bit forgetful. She gets all into the moment and has been known to spend money she can’t afford.

“Her last landlord was going to throw her out and then mum… well, mum passed away and left her to look after me–on the understanding she was going to get her habit under control.”

“Has she? I’m assuming she hasn’t.”

“Well, she’s better than she was, but there are times when I have to dip into my money to eat.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Will you stop saying that? It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but I feel that there ought to be something I could do, yet you’re the one doing for me.”

“So?”

“Haven’t you got enough on your plate already?”

“If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t have.”

There was no arguing with that.

They continued on their way, this time at a more leisurely pace. There were lots of things running through Chloe’s mind. The first was where she came from, but then that had been pretty much at the forefront since last night too.

Next was what she was going to do. There was only so long that she could stay with Elizabeth, whether the house was hers or not, especially if it meant sleeping in the same bed; that part of things was bound to get tiresome pretty quickly, for Lynne if no-one else.

Then something hit her.

Elizabeth had said that Steve had been in the basement reading the Tarot cards, which was exactly where she found herself.

An entire regiment of ‘what if’s’ went through her head.

Supposing the cards had changed him into her?

No. That was too daft to even contemplate otherwise there’d be thousands of things of all shapes and sizes that used to be people, hanging around and Tarot cards would be banned.

What sounded more sensible was that perhaps Steve and she had changed places and maybe, just maybe Steve was where she should have been. Then again, wouldn’t he have ’phoned home?

Perhaps he was in the same state as she was–no memory.

“Can Tarot cards cause weird things to happen?” she asked as they continued their way towards town. “I’ve heard Ouija boards can and Tarot cards are pretty much the same aren’t they?”

“Don’t know,” Elizabeth replied. “Why d’you ask?”

“Well, it’s just that, well, the first thing I remember from last night was waking up at a table covered in Tarot cards.”

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. “Anything else?”

“No, not really. I know I was pretty freaked out though. In fact, now you mention it, I can’t remember anything from before that point–nothing at all. I can remember a witch, but I can’t remember why.”

“What brought this up?” Elizabeth asked.

“Well it’s just that you said that Steve was doing Tarot readings for people at the party and now he’s vanished. I wouldn’t have linked the two together, but that’s where I first found myself.”

“Let’s go and get some breakfast,” Elizabeth suggested.

They found a table in a small café and Elizabeth ordered them some bacon, eggs, grilled tomato, toast and tea.

“It’s a bit far-fetched don’t you think?”

“You may well be right, but it seemed a bit too much of a coincidence. First Steve gets ill and you go to get Lynne. You get back and instead of meeting him, you find me. Meanwhile, I doubt anyone saw me arrive or Steve leave. Now however odd or improbable this sounds, it’s making more sense than anything else I’ve considered.”

“What about your memories and stuff? Surely you would have remembered something about being Steve, wouldn’t you?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” she said, suddenly feeling all the momentum of what should have been a brilliant idea, slowing to a crawl.

Over Elizabeth’s shoulder, Chloe could see a mirror and in it, she saw the face of a man who had not only appeared out of the blue the night before outside Elizabeth’s house, but had appeared elsewhere.

He was staring at her, studying her and above all, making her feel most uncomfortable. More distressing was not being able to place him anywhere other than at the gate to Elizabeth’s house, even though she knew she had seen him since.

“What’s up?” Elizabeth asked, after a mouthful of egg and bacon.

“It’s that man from last night. I thought I just saw him again.”

“Where?” Elizabeth’s head snapped from one side to the other trying to see what Chloe had seen. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure alright. It’s just that I know I have seen him somewhere else, but I can’t remember where.”

“I’m sure it’ll come to you. It’s like dreams. Sometimes it takes something to happen during the day to remind you.”

“That’s it!” Chloe exclaimed.

“What’s it?”

“My dream,” she said jumping up and hugging Elizabeth across the table, narrowly missing getting egg on her jacket. “He was in my dream.”

To be continued…

The Witch's Tarot : Chapter 4

Author:

Nick B

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Contests:

October 2009 TG Terror Contest

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

The Witch’s Tarot
© 2009–Nick B

Fine grade sandpapering, use of jeweller’s rouge and heavy-duty buffing mop by the Gabmeister

Chapter IV: Revelations

Chloe followed Elizabeth out of the café, her head in a whirl. So much seemed to be going on in her mind that it was difficult to separate fact from fiction. The sudden appearance of Edward Ellsworth brought her head back into the present.

He stood very close and looked directly at Chloe, his lips curled into a snarl. “We meet again,” he said. “You’re looking well, Elizabeth.”

“What makes you think I’m Elizabeth?” she asked.

“It is not who I think you are, witch; it is who I know you to be.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. She’s Elizabeth,” Chloe retorted, poking her chin in Elizabeth’s direction. “I’m Chloe.”

Elizabeth pushed past her friend. “Look, mister,” she said, a note of irritability in her voice, “I don’t know or care who you are, but you’re starting to piss us off. Why don’t you just go stalk someone else, before I call the police?”

“It’s alright,” Chloe said, gently laying her hand on Elizabeth’s forearm. “I can handle this idiot.”

“So you are Elizabeth,” Ellsworth said.

“Not a chance, I’m Chloe–I told you that. You don’t scare me, even though that’s clearly what you’re trying to do. Arseholes like you should be locked up and they should throw away the key. I suggest you bugger off and leave Elizabeth and me alone.”

Edward looked annoyed–angry even and reached out, grabbing Chloe by the arm. “I would not be inclined to be quite so flippant, witch. I do not believe this subterfuge, I can feel who you are. I have defeated you more times than I care to remember. This time will be no exception,” he said between clenched teeth.

Chloe grimaced.

“I see from your reaction, you recall some of our previous meetings,” he said smugly.

“No, actually I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you are hurting me,” she said, struggling to get her arm free from Ellsworth’s vice-like grip. “Let go of me.”

She swung her free arm and slapped his chest. A mark appeared the same shape as her hand. Much of it twinkled in reds and gold’s, spreading outwards from the centre as thin wisps of smoke rose through the material. She wrenched her arm free of Ellsworth’s grasp and took two steps back, looking at Elizabeth, whose eyes were just as wide as Ellsworth’s.

Edward grabbed at his chest, terror showing on his face as he patted and rubbed at the ever-increasing smouldering patch. He started to panic as smoky, blackened particles fell around him; people looking on, some showing concern and others laughing as he danced around, patting himself whilst ‘ow-ing’ and taking sharp intakes of breath as he tried in vain to extinguish the garment.

“Youlied!” he exclaimed. “This isn’t over.” Then, turning on his heels, he disappeared into the tide of people, most of whom were now at least smiling at the exchange, probably unaware of what Chloe had actually done.

Chloe approached Elizabeth after Ellsworth had gone and was shocked as her friend shrank away from her. “What the hell did you do to him?” Elizabeth demanded, shock showing on her face.

“I don’t know, it just happened,” was all Chloe could say, shaking from the ordeal.

“I thought I knew you,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head and continuing to back away any time Chloe tried to get nearer to her.

“You do know me–as well, if not better than I know myself.”

“Obviously I don’t know you as well as I should then,” Elizabeth said, giving Chloe a look that showed her fear and disappointment.

She said nothing to Chloe after that. Her brow seemed permanently furrowed and she muttered frequently, though Chloe didn’t hear what she was muttering about. Each time Chloe tried asking, she would look away.

It hurt.

The one person Chloe felt she had any kind of bond with was in the process of rejecting her and she felt that at any time, Elizabeth could say goodbye and that would be that.

“Please say something,” Chloe pleaded. “You haven’t said anything for hours and all you have done is mutter and stomp about.”

“Are you surprised?” Elizabeth retorted.

Chloe could feel the tears well up; the lump in her throat getting bigger alerting her to the fact that sobs were just moments away. “we–ell, yes, I am.”

“I thought you were my friend,” Elizabeth said accusingly. “I shouldn’t be scared of my friends, but right now and after what you did, you scare me.”

“What have I done to you? For God’s sake, Elizabeth; I would never doanything to hurt you. That thing with Ellsworth? I don’t know how it happened–it just did.”

“What you did to him wasn’t normal, Chloe. That was freakish and knowing you did it without even thinking is just scary–so not right.”

“Elizabeth, please,” Chloe begged. “I would never hurt you.”

“How do you know that? You can’t know that. If you did that to him without knowing, what might you do to me?”

The tears began to flow as Elizabeth stormed off, leaving Chloe staring at her hand, the hand she’d hit Ellsworth with; a hand that appeared to be perfectly normal–nothing special, but how had she done that?

She wiped her eyes and ran after Elizabeth. “Wait up,” she shouted, but Elizabeth just kept going.

Chloe wove her way through the shoppers and eventually caught her friend.

“Get away from me, freak,” Elizabeth snarled and with that, she turned and left Chloe standing, watching as she disappeared into the crowds.

“Now what do I do?” Chloe asked herself, taking a seat on one of the ornate cast benches.

Elizabeth arrived home in a right old mood.

Her friend–her best friend, had turned out to be a freak–a scary freak at that. Whatever she’d done to that man wasn’t natural and if she’d done that to him, wasn’t it possible she could do something like that to her?

“Oh!” said Lynne, obviously surprised, but nevertheless pleased to see Elizabeth home. “I’m glad you’re back. I need to go out early.” She looked around. “Where’s Chloe? I thought she was coming back with you.”

“Don’t know and don’t care,” she replied, not sounding overly convincing as she flopped on the sofa with a deep sigh.

Lynn looked taken aback. “Oh. Well, er, whatever. I have to go out early and I haven’t had the time to clear up downstairs. Would you mind?”

“Off to the pub are you?” Elizabeth said with a sneer.

“Probably not actually, but if we do go, it won’t be until much later,” Lynne replied without rising to the taunt. “Ellen still hasn’t heard from Steve and both of us are worried. The police haven’t heard anything either so we’re going to the police station to give a detailed description. Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?”

The fact that her aunt was focussed on something other than partying elicited a note of sympathy from Elizabeth. “No, nothing; I’m sorry.”

“It was worth asking. There’s some lasagne in the fridge that will take five minutes in the microwave. I’ll be going back home with Ellen. She’s beside herself with worry. Will you be alright here?”

“Yeah. I’m just going to watch some telly then I expect I’ll go to bed.”

Lynne stood over Elizabeth, looking down at her sad-looking niece. “What really happened today?” she asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

Elizabeth’s eyes started to brim immediately. “I don’t know that I can describe it exactly, but let’s put it this way, Chloe’s not the girl I thought she was.” She began to cry. “I thought we were friends. I thought she liked me.”

“I’m sure she does. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Well if she liked me, she wouldn’t scare me would she?”

“Sometimes people do things that scare us. Look at Steve. He’s never done anything like this before and he’s certainly scaring Ellen half to death. I’m not far behind.” Lynne looked at her niece and gently stroked the hair away from her face. “It doesn’t mean she loves him any less though–or he, her for that matter and I’m sure that there’s a very good reason why Chloe did what she did, but it doesn’t mean she likes you any less or would want to harm you, does it? Anyway,” Lynne whispered. “I expect it’ll all come out in the wash.”

Elizabeth sat up. “Do you really think so? She really frightened me down at the precinct. I should have just let it go, but I didn’t. I know she wouldn’t hurt me, but–”

“–Don’t worry about it. These things have a way of working themselves out.”

Lynne gave Elizabeth a peck on the forehead. “I’ll see you later. If not, tomorrow morning.”

“Good luck, Lynne,” she replied.

Lynne stopped dead in her tracks, spun round, probably looking for a sneer or a face being pulled, but there was nothing. “Thank you,” she said.

Elizabeth sat on the sofa. She hadn’t even made herself a cup of tea or coffee, got a soft drink, a sandwich, snacks or anything and after about and hour of flicking through the countless channels of pap on the television, she decided to go downstairs, simply to take her mind off possibly the biggest mistake she’d ever made.

“So this is where it all began,” she said, looking about her.

The walls were still bedecked with the little figures of witches on brooms, skulls with daft grins and other things that glowed in the dark or went bump in the night, while at the foot of the stairs, stood the table. The cards were still laid out in exactly the same place as they had been and as she began collecting them up, she felt a strange tingling sensation running up from her hands. Then, before her very eyes, up popped a woman who looked for all the world like a real witch. Her steely grey hair, long pointy chin and the wart on the end of her equally pointy nose just screamed ‘witch’. Strangest of all, was the fact that if she concentrated, Elizabeth could see straight through the figure of the woman, to the empty plant stand on the other side of the room.

“You’re not my pretty one are you?” the apparition said. “Not that you’re not pretty, you understand. In fact, you’re very pretty, just not the one I was expecting–or rather hoping for.”

Elizabeth dropped the cards as if they were hot coals and the image vanished.

She stood there for several moments, wringing her hands and not quite knowing what to do. Eventually, she picked the cards up and again, the tingling sensation returned.

“Please don’t do that, I don’t know how long I can keep this up.”

“Who are you?”

“Elizabeth Knotts–at you service,” the apparition said, bowing floridly.

This must be the Elizabeth, Edward Ellsworth thought Chloe was she thought. “Um, the boy who was here last night using these cards–do you know what happened to him?”

“The pretty one?” the apparition asked, nodding. “Oh yes. I changed him.”

“You did what? Why?”

“That is none of your concern,” said the apparition, with a hint of steel in her voice.

“It’s not?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “It most certainly is. My best friend just touched someone and they started smouldering. I thought he was going to burst into flames. What’s to say that she couldn’t have done something like that to me? Surely, that makes it my concern.”

“She did what?” asked the apparition, looking shrewdly at Elizabeth.

“She hit this bloke on the chest and it left a blackened handprint which smouldered and smoked. I thought he was going to catch fire.”

“Who was this man?” her face was thoughtful and her eyebrow raised.

“I don’t know. Some weirdo who thinks Chloe is me–or you.”

“Chloe?”

Yeah, well, she doesn’t know who she is–amnesia or something–and she thought that if she had a name, it would help her feel better about the situation; just till she gets her memory back.”

The apparition sat down heavily on a chair. “Oh dear.”

“What now?” asked Elizabeth, beginning to get a little exasperated by the apparition’s reluctance to be forthcoming with any information.

“Who chose that particular name?”

“She did. She liked it and although I didn’t think it fitted her, it’s starting to grow on me. She thought it was perfect.”

“It is,” the apparition said, her voice softening and her eyes taking on a faraway look. “It couldn’t be though.”

“Couldn’t be what? Come on, enough with all the cloak and dagger stuff. What’s going on?”

The apparition took a deep breath. “Chloe was my companion–before all this happened.” She shook her head and sighed. “Must be over five hundred years ago now. She was murdered right in front of me by a warlock who–”

“A what?”

“Warlock, girl. Now don’t interrupt, we’re running out of time and talking about half a millennium of history here.”

“Wow!”

“Precisely. Anyway, Chloe and I lived in a house left to me by my parents and together we were very happy until a man named Edward Ellsworth–”

“Ellsworth?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “That’s the name of the man Chloe burned earlier.”

“Hmm. I thought as much.” The apparition nodded. “He started making overtures towards me. At first I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I found him to be the epitome of what I didn’t like in a man–or anybody else really. I tried to let him down gently. It didn’t have the desired effect however, and the more I told him I wasn’t interested, the harder he tried.

“Then one day, I discovered that he had announced our engagement. I was livid–as you can well understand. I never agreed to marry him and went to confront him. All he did was take on the arrogant stance of someone with whom I would never spend a moment longer than was necessary. He said, ‘you will marry me Elizabeth Knotts and you’ll enjoy every moment of it.’”

“Sounds like a right arsehole,” said Elizabeth, remembering what Chloe had called him.

“I like that,” the apparition said, smiling. “In fact, it’s perfect.”

“I thought so too when Chloe told him that in town earlier.”

“Anyway, I told him that there was absolutely no chance that I would consent to marry a blackguard like him and he slapped me. ‘You will learn to be more respectful, woman,’ he said and I ran, got into my carriage and drove home as fast as I could, crying all the way.

“Chloe was there to meet me and once inside, I broke down again. Chloe did her best to comfort me and pretty soon we were in an embrace with Chloe telling me how I would not have to marry him and that it would all be alright, but whilst she and I embraced, he appeared, his face like thunder.

“We stared in fright as he appeared in the doorway, a tower of rage. ‘Get away from her,’ he bellowed, snatching Chloe from me and dashing her to the floor. She cried out as she landed, which just seemed to anger him further. He raised his hand, sending a bolt of what looked like lightning across the room, hitting poor Chloe in the chest. I ran to her and cradled her in my arms, whispering ‘I love you, I love you,’ but it made no difference. My Chloe was dead.”

“Blimey!” Elizabeth gasped. “Couldn’t you zap him back?”

“I didn’t know how to back then, but even if I could have, I was stricken with grief and not thinking clearly. It was the first time I had admitted to anyone, least of all myself that she was the person I loved and just when it was too late, it stared me in the face; I had accepted it, but she was dead. It was too late.

“He just laughed. ‘That should make it easier now, shouldn’t it? Marry me and I can make all of this go away.’ Without thinking, I screamed ‘NEVER!’ and ran at him, scratching at his face, but instead of backing off as I’d hoped he would, he just got more angry, throwing me to the ground on top of my beloved, raising his hand again and engulfing me in a kind of fog.

“When the fog had gone, he laughed out loud. ‘If I can’t have you, then from now on, no-one will even want you.’ When I saw what he’d done, I cried solidly for weeks. He had turned me from a fair maiden to what you see now. He threatened to tell the townsfolk that I had killed Chloe; that I was a witch–unless I left there and then. What could I do? I fled.”

“Where did you go, I mean all that time ago, it can’t have been easy?”

“It wasn’t. I just ran away from everything and everyone. I was so embarrassed by what he’d done to me and how he’d made me look, I just made my way deep into the forest, trying to scrape a living from the land, keeping out of everybody’s way, but I couldn’t survive on my own. I was found there by a woman named Ursula. She saw through the outer ugliness and took me in.

“She taught me the Wiccan ways and after four or more years with her, I had learnt to temper my desire for revenge as well as keeping my true identity from the rest of the townsfolk. The fact that we lived outside the main town was helpful and no-one recognised me anyway, so I was able to live something of a normal life, although continually haunted by what Edward Ellsworth had done to both Chloe and to me.

When Ursula died, I took the mantle of looking after the needs of the people in the same way she had, but then things went awry. The man who had killed my beloved became the town’s Mayor. I knew it was him and although I tried to avoid him and remain incognito, he found me and told the townsfolk what I had done–even though in reality, it was he who had been the perpetrator of that heinous crime.

“I was tried in a mock trial where everyone present, except me, was under his influence and as far as I know, they’re still there, fixed in time, but I got him. I dragged him along with me and it’s been a fight ever since.”

“When we met Ellsworth outside here last night and in town this afternoon, I thought it was me he was after, but now I realise it was you,” said Elizabeth–the younger.

“You must get Chloe back here with all haste, my girl. I don’t know how much strength I have left, so win or lose, this is likely to me my last showdown with that–what was it you called him?”

“Arsehole?”

“Yes; that arsehole! If I lose, the repercussions will be felt all the way through history. I must stop him. There’s no telling the damage failing will do.”

Elizabeth–the younger was just about to put the cards down on the table.

“Just how long have you known Chloe?” the apparition asked.

“Since last night.”

“And you have already slept with her?”

“How the–?” Elizabeth began, then realised she was talking to a woman who at the same time as not really being there, how not really been there for over five hundred years. “It wasn’t like that,” she argued, blushing furiously.

“I see,” the apparition observed. “And when did you know that you were in love with her?”

“I’m not!” Elizabeth stated. “She’s my friend… She’s my best friend, but that’s all.”

“Of course it is,” said the apparition. “But remember not to make the same mistake I did. It was too late when I came to admit my feelings. I would hate to see the same thing happen to you.”

“Well it won’t, will it?” Elizabeth said somewhat pugnaciously. “It’s not that kind of a relationship.”

“Of course it isn’t. Now go get her before Edward does and we all fail.”

The wind had freshened and was blowing freezing gusts from the north-east, making people scurry in all directions, whilst pulling their collars up and fastening their coats, jackets and anything else they had on, tightly around them.

Chloe had wandered around the big department store slowly, trying to stay out of the cold for as long as possible. However, they were closing and she had to leave, but where was she supposed to go and what was she supposed to do?

She stepped out on to the cobbled street as the smiling man said, “We’re open again at nine tomorrow,” and closed the door behind her, the keys clinking against the glass.

Darkness had already draped itself over everything, which only made it seem colder than it already was. With no money and no idea where to go–other than Elizabeth’s house–she sat back down on one of the cast stone seats, taking a sharp intake of breath as the coldness threatened to draw every last degree of heat through her bum.

“It’s not nice out here is it?” said a voice that Chloe recognised immediately.

“Elizabeth?” she exclaimed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Whoa!” Elizabeth replied, trying to suppress a giggle. “Easy tiger.”

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“I nearly didn’t, but let’s just say this was on the cards.”

The two girls walked back up the road towards Elizabeth’s house and Chloe listened while Elizabeth told her about Ellsworth and Elizabeth’s namesake.

“So she was real? I wasn’t just dreaming about her or Ellsworth?”

“It seems not and from what she was saying, this encounter between her and Edward could be the last.”

“Why?”

“She’s been growing weaker with every encounter and she doesn’t think she has it in her to make it through another.”

“Shit!”

“Anyway, we need to get you back home as soon as possible for the next round.”

“Um, just a minute,” said Chloe as a metaphoric light blinked on over her head. “What do you mean get me back for the next round?”

“Well, you’re involved–kinda crucial actually. She can’t do it without you.”

“Nuh-uh. I could get hurt… or turned into some form of vegetable or something.”

“Can you hear yourself, Chloe? You started a fire on a man just by touching him. If anything, he should be scared of you. Elizabeth wouldn’t have changed you if she didn’t think–”

“Yes, but none of that was me. It was Elizabeth–the witch. She must have put her ‘fluence in me. I can’t fight Ellsworth. I’m just a girl.” Another metaphoric light flashed in the dim recesses of her slow-moving mind. “She changed me? What d’you mean, changed me? Changed me from what?”

Elizabeth suddenly realised that she was possibly about to send Chloe off into an apoplectic fit.

“A boy,” she said quietly, her head bowed as if it were her fault.

Chloe blinked. “She did what?!”

“Look, Chloe. There’s something bigger than me or you going on here and we have a chance to be a part of it.”

“Which boy?”

“What?”

“Who did I used to be?”

“Steve, but that’s beside the point. The last five hundred years of history could be rewritten if you–”

“Was he nice?”

“Pardon?”

“Was–he–nice?” Chloe said slowly.

“Yes, I suppose so, I don’t really know. I was only with him for about ten minutes, probably less actually and then you were there. She had to do it because otherwise, the whole history from Elizabethan England onwards–”

“Did you like him?”

“What do you mean? I told you I was only with him for ten minutes, if that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Okay!” she said irritably. “I liked him. Are you happy now?”

“More than me?”

“What?”

“Did you like him more than me?”

“It’s not the same.”

“What isn’t?”

“Well,” she replied. “If you were Steve, you’d never have stayed over last night for a start. You certainly wouldn’t be wearing my clothes and I doubt very much whether we would be having this conversation.”

“I see. So which of us do you like best?”

“That’s the same question you just asked. How can I answer that? Just drop it okay. I like you, isn’t that enough? I mean, why do you want to know anyway?”

“Because apart from the fire bit, I’ve really enjoyed today and wonder whether you’d have done something like this with Steve.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to that. She too had enjoyed their day–apart that was, from the incident with the burning, but knowing that Chloe wasn’t wholly responsible put that into a different perspective. There was also the point that boys rarely liked shopping–well, from what she’d heard they didn’t, not in the way girls did, and Chloe had been happy pootling around the shops. She doubted very much whether Steve would.

Then there was this morning.

When she awoke, okay, Chloe had clobbered her with her elbow, but being so close to her was intoxicating, thrilling and that was without doing anything too. She thought she wouldn’t have been interested in girls and she still didn’t think she was–but being near Chloe was an exception.

Elizabeth had been–albeit surreptitiously–checking out other girls while they were in town and not one of them ‘did’ anything for her, but Chloe? She was a completely different matter and even before she knew that she used to be Steve–who she’d also been attracted to–Chloe just did something she couldn’t explain.

Of course, she couldn’t tell Chloe that–

To be continued…

The Witch's Tarot : Chapter 5

Author:

Nick B

Audience Rating:

General Audience (pg)

Contests:

October 2009 TG Terror Contest

Publication:

Final Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

Other Keywords:

The final frontier

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Compound, T-Cut, wax and other very high-class valeting by Gabi the Wise

Chapter V: Showdown
Ellsworth seemed to appear out of nowhere. As Chloe and Elizabeth walked up the road, deep in conversation, he simply materialised in front them.

“It will not be so easy now, witch!” he snarled.

Immediately Elizabeth grabbed Chloe’s arm and stood really close. “W-what do you want?” she asked.

Chloe could feel the girl trembling at Ellsworth’s intimidating presence.

“You know what I want,” said Ellsworth, appearing to tower over them, his face twisted in a maniacal grin, with an evil sparkle in his eyes. He raised his hand, pointing a finger at Chloe. “I want her.”

“Get behind me,” said Chloe, pushing her friend behind her–not an easy task since Elizabeth appeared to have no intentions of letting go but, eventually, Chloe stood facing the witch’s arch nemesis in the dark–and apparently deserted–street. “You may have bitten off more than you can chew this time, warlock,” she said quietly.

“My dear, nothing would give me greater pleasure than having a real opponent, the others, it’s sad to say, have not been anything more than a minor distraction.”

“Chloe, don’t,” said Elizabeth from behind. “You have no idea what he might do.”

Chloe ignored her friend. “Well? What are you waiting for?” she asked. “I’m here, you’re here. Why delay this any longer?”

“You’re showing gumption, girl, I like that,” he said with genuine enthusiasm.

“Don’t trust him. You said it yourself, he’s an arsehole.”

“However,” said Ellsworth. “I should like to put a stop to that incessant chatter.”

He raised his hand and Elizabeth immediately let go of Chloe, her hands flying to her mouth.

Chloe stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at her friend, whose eyes showed all too clearly, her fear and distress. When Elizabeth moved her hands, Chloe could see her lips growing together, almost as if they were being zipped shut.

“Mmmmph!” Elizabeth mumbled, her fear turning to panic.

“That was a grave mistake, Ellsworth,” said Chloe, darkly.

“We’ll see.”

“We will indeed,” she replied, with grim determination.

With Elizabeth in such a fluster, Chloe found it almost impossible to concentrate and needed to regroup–a difficult task, what with Ellsworth sneering and sealing up mouths all over the place. She saw her chance and let out a blood-curdling scream. At the same time, she felt Elizabeth’s fingers grip her upper arm so tightly it almost stopped the blood flow, while confusion showed as plain as day on Ellsworth’s face.

Taking another breath she was about to let out one more, even louder scream, but a sound–something akin to a cat being strangled, pierced the evening air and the road was filled with the effects of flashing blue lights.

“What’s going on here, Miss,” said a policeman through the open window of his patrol car. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes, officer. This man’s been stalking us all day. He’s scaring us.”

“Oh come now, Elizabeth, that’s beneath even you,” said Ellsworth, disapproval and frustration replacing his original expression.

The policeman got out of the car, manoeuvring himself between the two girls and the rather flustered-looking Ellsworth. “Which one of you is Elizabeth?”

“She is,” said Chloe.

“That’s not Elizabeth,” said Edward. “The other one is.”

“Is this true?”

“No officer,” said she replied. She moved her head in Elizabeth’s direction. “I’m Chloe; she’s Elizabeth.”

“So you know this man?”

“Only because he threatened us earlier in the precinct and has been following us around, but I don’t know him.”

“You girls had best run along. We’ll deal with this,” said the policeman, his colleague stepping out of the other side of the car.

“You can’t escape that easily, witch,” shouted Ellsworth.

“You’re not doing yourself any favours here,” said the second policeman.

The two girls left the scene, returning to Elizabeth’s house as quickly as their legs would carry them.

Chloe led Elizabeth straight downstairs to the basement and picked up the cards.

“Elizabeth,” she called. “I need your help, quickly.”

Elizabeth–the younger–watched as Chloe appeared to go into some kind of trance.

Elizabeth–the witch–appeared to Chloe and saw Elizabeth–the younger–immediately.

“Ellsworth?” she asked.

“Yes. A few minutes ago. I managed to get him taken away by the police, but I don’t imagine it will hold him up for too long. Can you fix it?”

“I can’t. You’re going to have to.”

“But, I don’t know how.”

“It’s alright, I can give you what you need, but there’s likely to be a price.”

“Price? What price?” Chloe asked, aghast.

“The fact is I am not what I used to be. Five hundred years of fighting and hiding has taken its toll. I can help you to right this, but whether that will leave me with enough strength for the fight and to return you to normal afterwards–assuming we’re successful of course, is not certain.”

Chloe thought for a moment, her head bowed.

“Then that means I would stay as I am, right?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’d never go back to being Steve?”

“No.”

Chloe had to think.

There was an overwhelming desire to do right by her friend Elizabeth and of course, at the same time, she was curious about who she really was.

However, despite the fact that she liked being Chloe–it was after all, all she’d known over the very short space of time she had been this way–Steve was who she really was. Ellen was desperate to find her son and Chloe felt she owed her the chance to have him back.

However, it wasn’t as if she had a choice.

Elizabeth–the witch–may not have been able to change her back and, much as she wanted to know who she had been before all this started, she also felt a need to make things right before any of the brown stuff got caught up in the air conditioning. Then at least, Elizabeth–the younger–would be herself again and that’s what mattered to Chloe.

“I don’t care,” she said at last. “It’s my fault Elizabeth got mixed up in all this and she just has to be fixed.”

The witch looked at Chloe and smiled. “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

“Duh! She’s my friend.”

“I see,” the witch replied, nodding knowingly.

Chloe didn’t think she believed that was all there was to it. “She’s just a friend,” she assured the witch.

“Of course,” the witch agreed, with a slight smirk.

“Right,” Chloe said, with some degree of obstinacy and a vigorous nod of the head.

As they set about curing Elizabeth, Chloe could feel a strange sensation flooding her body, kind of like the tingling she received from the cards, but more so. It was so strong that she was only vaguely aware of the witch’s voice in her head, giving her step-by-step instructions on what to do–something Chloe seemed to be doing on autopilot.

She was also dimly aware of the arrival of Ellen and Lynne as they reached the foot of the stairway, standing mouths agape on the bottom two stairs, as Lynne’s niece appeared to glow slightly and lift, her head tilting back, eyes closed and arms outspread, while her lips started to slowly reform and part. Then, very slowly, the young girl descended back to the floor, the glowing ceased and Elizabeth opened her eyes and her mouth with a deep sigh, followed by two almost simultaneous sharp intakes of breath from Lynne and Ellen.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Lynne demanded.

Chloe and Elizabeth were about to reply when Edward Ellsworth’s voice thundered, “I’m not going to play these games anymore, witch. ”

How he’d gained entry was uncertain, but there he was in the middle of the cellar floor, just a few feet from the two girls. Chloe immediately pushed Elizabeth across the room towards her aunt and Ellen, stepping across to the table to get to the cards.

“As I said–no more playing.”

With a negligent flick of a finger and a muttered collection of words, the cards flew in all directions, shredding into thousands of pieces and fluttering like confetti to the floor.

“What have you done?” Chloe demanded. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Not at all, it’s just you and me now. There’s nowhere for you to hide, Elizabeth. This is the last time for one of us.”

Chloe felt a wrench in her stomach. She could not feel the witch’s presence as she had done and it felt to her as though she had gone. Maybe Ellsworth’s destruction of the cards had finally put paid to the witch too and now, she had to face down a very angry-looking warlock–alone.

“Bring it on, arsehole,” she said bravely.

“I do hate that expression. It sounds so uncouth when it comes from one as pretty as you. Perhaps I should do to your latest incarnation what I did all those centuries ago–poetic justice don’t you think?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Chloe said through clenched teeth.

Ellsworth pointed a finger at Chloe and a bolt of lightning arced and sizzled as it spanned the intervening space between him and Chloe, but it didn’t find its mark. Instead, Chloe ducked and it hit a wall lamp behind her, causing the bulb to burst, sending a spectacular spray of blue-white sparkles and shattered glass cascading over the floor.

The smell of ozone hung heavy in the air as Chloe glimpsed her friend, held protectively by her aunt, Lynne, at the foot of the stairs. As she tried to reach out, crying and fighting to get to her, but Lynne simply gathered her in her arms and held her close.

“Lucky,” said Ellsworth, already drawing himself up for another attack.

Again, Chloe dodged the bolt of lightning, which this time struck the floor, sending a plume of smoke upwards as it singed the pieces of the cards Ellsworth had shredded moments earlier.

Chloe taunted the aged warlock. “Not very good at this, are you?”

“Mock me not, witch,” he bellowed, standing tall and sending a third bolt at Chloe, which this time found its mark, engulfing her in a blue-white nimbus.

Static charges leapt from wall to floor, crawling everywhere, fizzing dangerously. The whole room seemed alive with electricity. Lynne, Elizabeth and Ellen’s hair was beginning to stand on end as Ellsworth’s electrical bolt continued to buzz, feeding the aura of pure energy that surrounded Chloe.

At the same time, in all the static, the pieces of the cards started to move.

Slowly at first, the tiny pieces stood up, like iron filings over a magnet, but then they began moving, edging towards one another, lifting off the ground and swirling as if caught in a vortex.

Ellsworth’s face began showing signs of fear as he didn’t appear to be able to stop the flow of the charge. His body shook as the pieces of the cards moved together, swirling upwards joining and forming a shape, but this time not as the cards they had previously been.

The cards swirled faster and faster, blurring as Ellsworth,wide-eyed with terror, shook violently, his body almost convulsing and his head nodding forwards and backwards, then from side to side. All the while, the cards swirled and Chloe, still suffused with the white glow, continued to stand as if apart from all that was happening.

The pieces of card had reformed into something reminiscent of a human being; its back hunched and its face haphazardly placed around a huge nose, hooked over and almost touching a very prominent chin–never looking as though it was going to finish forming as it undulated and pulsed.

For the briefest moment, everything stopped and the figure in the cards turned to face the sweating and ashen figure of Ellsworth, the face twisting and distorting in a hideous grin.

“Please,” he begged, dropping to his knees, though it wasn’t obvious whether that was a gesture of supplication or because he no longer had the energy to support his own weight.

“Edward Ellsworth begging?” intoned the darkly hollow voice of the card figure. “Please?” it asked, mocking.

“I-I…” the sentence trailed off into nothingness as the figure of the warlock tumbled forwards, prostrating itself on the floor at the card figure’s feet.

“You what?” it asked. “For years you tormented; lied through those stinking rotten teeth of yours and above all, murdered to get what you wanted, walking over everyone in your way in order to further your own desires, but no more.”

“Who…?” he began.

“SILENCE!” roared the card figure as it turned and smiled somewhat wistfully at the glowing figure of Chloe. With a series of intricate gestures and mumbled incantations, the figure lifted its hands and cried out.

The aura that surrounded Chloe burst in an explosion of light shards that flew in all directions, ripping the cards away from the figure that had been within and, moments later, Elizabeth Knotts stood before Ellsworth.

“This is what you did to me.”

Ellsworth cowered.

“Now it is your turn.”

With more incantations and gesticulations, she brought her hands together as if to clap and then slowly drew them apart, a mist-like substance between them, which grew as her hands moved apart.

With a single motion of her hands, she pushed the ball of mist towards Ellsworth who cried out just once.

As the mist descended, engulfing Ellsworth’s entire body, he began writhing and the more he writhed, the more Elizabeth changed. Her nose shank and her chin receded. The warts disappeared, the hair changed from iron-grey to honey blonde growing longer, cascading over her shoulders and shining like it had just been polished.

Within no more than a couple of minutes, Elizabeth stood over the form of Ellsworth, weeping sores and boils covering the majority of his face. Black, rotten teeth fell from between his lips as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Why?” he asked, but Elizabeth ignored him.

“Poetic justice, I believe you called it,” she said and turned to face the three others in the room.

“I apologise for this imposition,” she said. “I can see you are fearful, but please do not worry, I have no animosity towards any of you.” She focussed on Elizabeth. “In fact, young lady, I must thank you, for with your help I have been able to force the hand of Edward Ellsworth. Hopefully, this will be an end to centuries of fighting.”

“What about–?” Elizabeth–the younger asked.

The beautiful witch who stood before them raised her hand. “I shall deal with that momentarily. If you will excuse me.”

For a few moments the witch, Elizabeth, seemed to stare into nothing.

“Are you there, Chloe?”

“I am here,” came the reply, but the words appeared to come from two voices.

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped open as standing before them was not only the Chloe who had once been Steve, but also the elder Chloe who once was hers.

“You have returned?” she asked.

“Sadly no, my love, I cannot. The foul deed that Ellsworth hath performed upon me cannot be reversed. Know that I am with you in spirit and know too that one day, we will once again be together.”

Elizabeth’s face dropped and her eyes took on a look of profound sadness.

“Please, do not mourn my departure, my love,” said her Chloe. “For that was my time. Had I not been so foully murdered at the hands of that insane man, thy victory today would not have been possible.” She turned to Chloe–the younger. “And it wouldst seem I have thee to thank for that.”

“I did very little,” said Chloe, blushing furiously.

“Thou hast done what was right and that is what is important.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“I do love thee, my Elizabeth and I will be waiting for thee…”

With that, the image of the older Chloe faded, leaving those in the room in silence, save Ellsworth, who continued to snivel on the floor at Elizabeth–the witch’s feet.

Chloe had met the older Elizabeth’s Chloe. She had appeared while Chloe–the younger had been engulfed in the white nimbus. During this time, Chloe–the younger could only guess at what was happening beyond that fuzzy white halo, as for her, it was like trying to look through the frosted glass of a bathroom window.

Chloe–the older, was so beautiful that Chloe–the younger felt almost jealous, something that Chloe–the older had seen through almost immediately.

“Thou hast nothing to be ashamed of,” she said. “Thy looks are quite breathtaking enough.”

“Thank you, but it’s not that which bothers me at this time.”

“What is’t that ails thee, child?”

“It’s just that in order to do this, your Elizabeth had to change me. I can’t remember any of it, but I used to be a boy named Steve. I’m afraid that when this is all over and if I survive, I shall have to return to being him.”

“Is that so bad?” the elder Chloe asked.

“I don’t know, but I like this–I mean, being a girl. I’m sure I would think differently were I Steve’s mind in this body, but I’m not. I’m me, not Steve and I’m afraid that if we win, I shall have to let this go and I’m not sure I want to. Actually, I’m very sure I don’t.”

“That is a dilemma, is it not?”

“I know, but being Steve again would make it easier to ask Elizabeth out.”

“Elizabeth?” the elder Chloe asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

“Not your Elizabeth, my Elizabeth,” Chloe replied. “It feels awkward as a girl asking another girl to be my girlfriend.”

“And thinkest thou it would be easier were you male?”

“Well, yes. It’s kind of natural for a boy to ask a girl out, isn’t it?”

“Wouldst thee find it easier?”

Chloe–the younger thought about that and truth to tell, it probably wouldn’t have been any easier for Steve to ask Elizabeth–the younger out on a date after all.

“We–ell probably not, but boys and girls are more conventional, aren’t they?"

“That may well be so, child, however, that is not always how love works, is it?”

The young Chloe thought about it momentarily. Perhaps boys and girls was acceptable, but it wasn’t always the way love worked.

The memory of seeing her Elizabeth crying and trying her best to get to her earlier made Chloe think hard about the situation. Would Elizabeth have been so emotional if the person being attacked by Ellsworth had been Steve?

It was a moot point since that didn’t happen, but what did occur to her was the fact that such an emotional display meant that it was highly likely that Elizabeth had stronger feelings for her than she thought and if she was to be returned to being Steve, would those feelings still be there?

The scary part of it all was whether her mum would still love her if she knew that she, Chloe, didn’t want to be Steve anymore? Would it make any difference if she didn’t tell her mum that she didn’t want to change back and told her instead that she had to stay this way?

There were so many questions and not a single answer to be found.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Elizabeth–the witch cleared her throat and wiped some rather obvious tears from her eyes.

The witch took Chloe’s hands and as she did, something passed between them and the woman’s voice sounded loud in her head.

“I know I said I would change you back to Steve if I was able, but it is time for me to pass my gift on as Ursula did for me and I trust you will use it wisely. I can think of no-one better to pass this gift to, though it will no doubt take some time for you to learn the extent of what you are able do; but I have faith in you. As for Steve, I think we both know he’s not what you want to be and anyway, I need you to send Edward and me back from whence we came.”

“I-I don’t understand,” said Chloe.

The witch gently laid a hand on Chloe’s face and smiled warmly. “You will, my child. You will.”

Elizabeth–the witch, turned to the others and moved to the centre of the room.

“I must thank you, Chloe,” she said, aloud this time. “And you too, Elizabeth, for your help and support. It is nearly time for me to leave, but before I do, I have to talk to you, Ellen.”

Ellen nearly jumped out of her skin. “M-m-me?” she stammered.

“I must tell you that Steve is missing because of me. For five hundred years I have been waging this war against the miscreant you see before you and each time I have found someone to help, they have been thwarted. It’s been most unfortunate, but I have never been given a choice in this.

“When your son handled the cards, something happened that has never happened before and that was an interruption at a crucial point. In fact that saved his life–or not, depending upon how you care to look at it.”

“It did? Where is he?” Ellen asked.

“He is standing just over there.”

Ellen looked round, trying to see her son, yet the only person visible was Chloe, who was trying her best to hold herself together. “Where?”

“Come here, Chloe,” said the witch, holding her hand out.

Obediently, Chloe stepped forward.

“This is Steve,” said the witch. “I can only work with women and over the years have discovered that it’s not always women that I am dealt–if you pardon the pun–what with the cards and all.”

The comment went straight over the heads of both Ellen and Lynne, although Chloe and both Elizabeths all saw the funny side.

“Anyway,” said Elizabeth–the witch, clearing her throat. “I had to change Steve and Chloe was the result. However, the interruption meant that Chloe has no recollection of Steve or his life whatsoever and I’m pleased to say that had that not been the case, it’s entirely likely that we would have fallen, Ellsworth would have won and I would be no more. Heaven alone knows what the changes to what we all know would have been.”

“S-she’s St-Steve?” Ellen asked, her face ashen.

“Yes–well, no. She’s Chloe.”

“I don’t understand,” the anxious mother said.

“Chloe came from Steve, but retained none of his memories. Essentially, Chloe is an entirely new person.”

“Does that mean she’s my d-d-d-daughter?”

“That’s about the size of it, yes.”

With that revelation, Ellen dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

Lynne immediately dropped to her knees, trying to make Ellen comfortable as she came round. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?” she said, angrily.

“We only found out just before we got back and didn’t have time to tell you. By the time we got here, everything kicked off,” said Chloe. “We were going to. We just didn’t know when.”

“Please don’t be angry with them,” Elizabeth–the witch asked plaintively. “They have been most helpful in ways you cannot even begin to imagine and it really isn’t their fault that they didn’t have the time or opportunity to tell you about what was happening.”

The witch straightened.

“It is time, Chloe. Please, take my hand.”

To the astonishment of Elizabeth, Ellen and Lynne, Chloe began an incantation in a language none of them understood. The air around her, Ellsworth and Elizabeth–the ex-witch now, began twinkling, what appeared to be tiny beads that shone with all the colours of the rainbow swirled around them, becoming more numerous and faster with each passing second.

Soon, all three were engulfed in a tornado of light, which whipped around them and when Chloe lifted her hands, the swirling lights rose, taking Elizabeth and the disgusting Edward Ellsworth with it, rising up through the ceiling until the last shining ‘bead’ disappeared with a ‘pop’.

Chloe dropped her hands by her side, her head bowed and her face showing traces of the tears that had run from her eyes.

Though their meeting had been short, Chloe felt a wrench at losing Elizabeth–the ex-witch, feeling that had the time been different, they may well have enjoyed a long and lasting friendship.

“Holy shit!” said Elizabeth, breaking Chloe’s moment of reflection, running to her friend and engulfing her in a huge hug. “Are you here to stay?”

Chloe nodded and looked at the two women, neither of whom looked as though they really believed what had occurred.

“Are you disappointed, Mum?” she asked.

Ellen looked at the young girl, her face filled with awe, shaking her head slowly. “Not at all. I was horrible to you as Steve, but that was because I knew you needed to grow up without a father. I think I can be a much better mother to you now,” she said, blushing. “As, at least I know something about girls.”

Wordlessly, Chloe walked across the room to her mother and the two of them held each other tight.

It was a new start for Chloe and whilst she felt a little nervous of all the power she had, she knew that Elizabeth–the ex-witch wouldn’t have passed it to her had she not felt confident. Yes, she would probably make mistakes, but didn’t everyone? So long as she didn’t leave a trail of burning people, toads or radishes, she didn’t think things would be too bad.

As Ellen and Chloe made preparations to leave, Elizabeth approached Chloe.

“Don’t you ever frighten me like that again,” she said, standing very close.

Quite how she had frightened Elizabeth, she wasn't sure, but she looked into the eyes of her friend and knew exactly what Elizabeth wasn't saying, that perhaps she should have been. Elizabeth–the ex-witch’s friend Chloe was right. Love wasn’t always straightforward.

“I won’t,” she replied and with her stomach doing back-flips, she took Elizabeth’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly on the lips. “I love you too much for that.”

The end.