New France Witches

Flash! Another orange flame shoots up from the center of the Jessamyn Forest, lapping menacingly at the midnight blue sky. Michel swipes a short, flame coloured tuft of hair from his pale, freckled face as he climbs further up the tall, old birch tree, just in time to see another flame building itself higher and higher. The flames leave long shadows dancing along the packed dirt ground and bases of the tree trunks.




Searching for the menace who had started this massive fire, his deep blue eyes stop on a familiar, heart shaped face. The girl has pale gold hair, carefully tied into a ponytail at the base of her neck, and strangely entrancing violet eyes. She is his older sister Nathalie's best friend, Bella Frost. Looking away from Bella, Michel quickly jumps down from his perch in the tree, sprinting blindly back to his two story stone house.




“Nathalie!” Michel whispers once he is in his and his sister's bedroom, “Wake up!” He shakes her quickly and Nathalie's eyes slowly flutter open.




“Wha-what is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms out to either side. Michel sits on the dirt floor and quietly explains what he had witnessed.




“You don't expect me to believe that, do you? It was probably a hobo, Michel,” Nathalie squints her deep blue eyes angrily at her brother. Michel laughs.




“What?” Nathalie cries in distress at a howling Michel.




“You are telling me that you are so dumb that you don't believe me when I say that Bella made a fire with only her hands!”




“Brother, that is why I don't believe you.,” Nathalie announces smartly, “Good night.” Michel jumps into his hay filled bed and climbs under his thin patchwork quilt, his eyelids becoming gradually heavier.




The next day, after a nice breakfast of eggs on toast, Nathalie snatches at her brother's arm and yanks him out the front door. With Michel whining the whole way, Nathalie marches down the long, dirt road edged with emerald green grass. She stops at the pathway leading to the enclosed clearing that Michel had supposedly seen Bella Frost building flames with her fingertips.




As they step into the packed dirt clearing, Nathalie gasps and Michel's jaw drops. In a caramel-coloured cloth tent lay Bella and her sister, Maggie. Kneeling inside the tent, Nathalie slowly shakes Bella's slender shoulders. “I didn't mean to!” cries Bella. A puzzled look crosses Nathalie's oval face.




“Oh, h-hi, Nathalie. I thought you were my mom,” Bella's pale cheeks get a soft, rosy undertone.




“Well could you please explain to Michel how you did not light fires with your fingertips last night and you were just camping?” Bella's face turns three shades whiter and her violet eyes flicker to Michel.




“How do you know that?” Bella snaps viciously at Michel. He takes an uneasy step back, “I-I have a confession to make. I am...” Bella is cut off by a rugged peasant man with receding, dirt-caked hair, a wild expression on his face, and dust covering much of his clothing. He points an uncleaned index finger at Bella and mutters with a deep voice, “Witch.”




Bella shrieks and stands up outside in the clearing. Raising her left hand above her head, Bella mutters something in Latin and pushes her hands out in front of her. The most amazing blue bolt of light pulses from her hand and shoots the man into the air. As he lands, he cracks his head against a pompous elm tree, knocking him out cold. Bella runs into the tent and a waterfall of tears wash down her pale cheeks.




“So now you know,” she whimpers. Michel wags his head rapidly side to side, his puffy hair bouncing around wildly.




“You are nothing but a demon. Don't speak to me!” He whispers and turns to leave the tent. Nathalie reaches desperately for his arm but Bella blocks it. She shakes her head slightly and mouths, let him go. Once Michel is gone, Nathalie points to sleeping little Maggie.




“Is she...” Nathalie is too astounded by what had just happened to even say the word. Bella nods.




“Yes, but she can't use her magic yet.” The girls talk for hours, until the sun is hanging low in the sky.




“I would so love for you to come tonight, Nathalie. You can even bring Michel along, if he likes. I know that Tavien has been itching to meet him,” Bella gleams as they walk into Nathalie's bedroom. Michel is laying on his hay-filled bed, snoring softly. Nathalie leans in closely to him and screams, “Wake up carrot top!” into his ear. Michel nearly clings to the low, wooden ceiling as he jumps awake.




At sundown Bella shows up at the Colemans' front door, wearing a long, flowing, black dress and tall, black boots. Nathalie drags Michel out the door and the three march off to the entrance of the secret tavern.




Bella finally stops at the east end of the clearing and, hidden by a sheath of underbrush, is a small, stone door. “This is Moonstone Tavern. Follow me,” Bella whispers to the two. She gingerly opens the heavy door and motions for Michel and Nathalie to follow her down a narrow flight of stone stairs.




Entering the large, stone room at the bottom of the stairs, Nathalie notices seven black clad figures kneeling around a dimly lit fire pit in the center of the tavern. One of the figures looks up at the three and stands, walking quickly toward them. The figure pulls down the dark hood cloaking it's face to reveal curly chestnut hair encompassing a pair of flame orange eyes staring happily at Bella, Nathalie, and Michel.




“Desmia!” Bella cries and reaches out to hug her friend. The girl-Desmia-nods slightly. One of the others strides quickly over to stop next to Desmia on her left side.




“What is your purpose here?” The boy asks with a soft Russian accent. He steps closer to Michel in particular.




“Stand down, Avis. They are friends of mine,” Bella announces coldly. Avis' brilliant red eyes flare as he turns toward the circle of witches, his glare never leaving Nathalie's face. Desmia motions for Nathalie and Michel to come and sit down with the rest of the coven, an envious look about her eyes.




Bella introduces Nathalie and Michel to the rest of her coven. The slight, dirty-blond haired girl with the electric blue eyes and a hard Italian accent is Lucia Cloves. Avis' sister's name is Alissianna. With those brilliant red eyes, and flaming orange and blond hair she has the same mysterious look about her that Avis has. Lucia's brother, Tavien, has the same electric blue eyes and hard Italian accent as her, but his blond hair is slightly cropped, while hers is left shaggy. In the far corner of the room, a tall, lanky boy with disheveled light brown hair and milky orange eyes is leaning against the granite wall. “Come join the circle, Shawn. That is an order,” a thin girl with tight, dark chestnut braids and metallic silver eyes says authority-like.




The girl turns to Nathalie and Michel, smiling a smile that does not reach her serious eyes. “Hello. I am Appatchi Moonstone, the only descendant of the original coven leader, Yvette Moonstone. Welcome,” Appatchi reaches out to shake each of their hands but Michel takes a step back towards the exit and yanks Nathalie with him.




“Well... you are welcome to watch, then,” Alissianna speaks almost as hatefully as her brother does.




“I will do nothing of the sort!” Michel cries out, “I have seen quite enough of you... you... you... monsters! I hope that you burn with the devil when I tell the Seigneur about this!” In a flurry of cloaks, the witches are positioned where Avis and Alissianna are standing behind Michel, blocking his way out, and the rest are standing ready to attack. Bella starts to whisper more Latin words, raising her left hand over her head.




Just as an electric shock of blue light pulses from Bella's hand towards Michel, Nathalie jumps in front of it. When the magic hits her, Nathalie is knocked forcibly to the ground. Michel cries in anger and in shock as he falls to the ground next to his sister. “You monsters. Bella, I thought that you were her friend. I guess I was wrong,” Bella falls to her knees, her teary eyes buried in her hands, “Why would you even try to attack me when you should have known that she would protect me? I will report you, and you will die.,” Michel stands up, holding his unconscious sister in his arms.




At that, Avis shoves past Appatchi, grabs Nathalie, places her on the floor, and shoves Michel up against the wall by his shirt. “Listen to me!” he snarls, “If you do that the spirit of Yvette will avenge us by killing you! You Colemans are the reason that this coven is so small! My mother was about to have more children when your aunt, Dierdre, killed her! And have you ever wondered why Bella's father is gone? Or why Tavien and Lucia have never spoken of their parents? Because of you Colemans! You... witch-hunters!” Avis is nearly about to rip Michel's head off when a booming voice above them calls, “They must be here somewhere! Keep searching!”




Lucia gasps. Everyone turns to face her. “'They' being us! Those are the Seigneur's men that he had asked the king to send over here last year,” They all scatter around, opening spell books, searching through bottles of potions, and trying to find alternate ways out, apart from the granite stairs leading into the Jessamyn Forest.




The voices get closer to the entrance and Michel can now hear hooves pounding on the ground above them. “I see it! Over here!” The German voice is at the top of the stairs. Making a relieved huff, Shawn grabs a dark green powder from a crate of empty potato sacks. All of the witches stand in a group around the fire pit.




Bella raises her left hand over her head and yells, “Ut salus nos vado!” and, in a puff of gray smoke the witches disappear, leaving Michel and Nathalie behind.

“Aha! Ich habe gefunden Hexen! Es gibt nur zwei!” A tall, clean-shaved man yells in German, “Sie sterben bald!” The man pulls a potato sack from the crate next to him and puts it over Michel's head.




When the sack is finally removed Michel and Nathalie are in a dark cell with a dirt floor, one simple wooden bench to sleep on, and a small hole in the corner to be used as a toilet. Nathalie finally sits up. “Michel. Michel. Michel, where are we? Why didn't Bella attack you too? Wha...” she babbles. Michel places a finger to her lips.




“The king's men think that we are the witches. I couldn't tell them otherwise because they mostly spoke German. I know that he said something about dying, though,” Michel whispers to his sister. Just then a young girl with thick, walnut hair wound loosely into a bun and silvery gray eyes comes to stand outside of the cell.




“Hello. I am not really supposed to be here but I had to see the Hexen for myself. You do not fit the description. No strange eyes, and you aren't even wearing a speck of black. Are you the Hexen?” The girl asks with a German accent. Nathalie shakes her head.




“No, we are not. We are Nathalie and Michel Coleman of New France. And who are you?” Nathalie asks with a voice made of stone.




“I am Nikola Resten. Are you by chance related to Michella and Nathaniel Coleman?”




“Yes, they are who we are named after. They are our grandparents,” Michel whispers with an iron voice.




“Then you are descendants of witch-hunters. You could never be here! We must get you out!”




“'We' being who?”




“My friend Isobel and I. I will be right back,” the girl says and runs off down the hall to get Isobel.




A half hour later Nikola returns with a girl with black curls and piercing green eyes. “Bonjour, Nathalie et Michel. You are the witch-hunters, oui? I do know one way to get you out. My papa works here so I know the place well. We must be quick though. Come,” Isobel unlocks the cell and motions the siblings down a long, sod hallway.




Outside in the near forest, Isobel leads them to a small cave and sits on the stone floor. “We must stay here until morning now,” she says, yawning.




Just as Nathalie is drifting off to sleep, a flaming arrow shoots past her face, “Michel! Isobel! Nikola! Arrows!” Michel sits up immediately and Isobel and Nikola scream in terror. Another arrow zooms through the cave. The four run out to see the ambush awaiting them. Fourteen men on horses. One man pulls out another arrow and slowly pulls it back in the bow. Just as the arrow is whizzing towards Michel's head a shot of blue light disintegrates it.




“Awe come on Nathalie. I would never watch you or Michel be killed,” a familiar voice calls from the trees, “Thank you for understanding my point, Isobel and Nikola,” it is Bella. The Bella who is friends with Nathalie. The Bella who tried to attack Michel. The Bella who is a witch.




“I also must thank all of you here for helping me in getting Nathalie and Michel ready,” Bella nods at the men on the horses. They nod back. One of the men gets off of his horse and walks over to Bella.




“Nar ni sager att de ar varvular?” He asks in Swedish.




“Nu,” Bella says back, “Nathalie. Michel. There is something that I must tell you. The reason that you are called witch-hunters is because you are our most dangerous enemy, but I wanted to keep peace with you. What you are is the same as Isobel, Nikola, and the men on horses. You are a corpus-lupi as we say in Latin. Or, in English you are a person-wolf, or a werewolf.”