Zayda's Quest - Chapter One

The night was dark. Lightening bolted across the sky followed by bombs of thunder that rumbled setting the earth to tremble. Zayda sat in the alcove of her window seat hidden behind the veil of white curtains that fluttered in the wisp of air that seeped in the cracks around the window. Her lips pressed together in determination as she watched the sky writhe. Flashes of lightening showed a purple sky bruised by the torment of the weather.

Rain pelted the window lashing at the pane with a brutalness that had the hairs on her wee arms standing and rippling as tremors pulsed through her body.

Somewhere out there her mom and dad had gone. Called out to some social function that could hopefully propel them into something great they told her. Whatever it was, had seemed important. Both her mom and dad had vibrated with energy. When they had hugged her, Zayda had seen a fireworks of colours that had her grinning along with them.

The weather had been clear then. The sun dipping below the horizon setting the sun in a vibrant display as it took itself off to the other side of the world.

Despite the happiness, Zayda had sensed a glimmer of something dark that seemed to hang like a cloud around the edge of their excitement. Zayda bit her lip not wanting to mar the moment, but now as she sat watching the storm, she could not help worrying about that darkness. She pulled her legs below the hem of her flannel nightgown hiding her toes as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms trying to chase the chill from her body. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. It was this dread that had her crawling out of bed and sitting here behind the hazy veil of curtains that hung just outside the window’s seat. It was usually a cozy nook perfect for reading, but tonight her emotions were too stirred up and she could not sleep.

What did it mean? Were they in danger? Had she done the right thing by not saying anything? Who would believe her anyway? She was only seven. If she said anything they would simply brush it off as the sensitiveness of a child not wanting her parents to go out for a long waited evening.

She bit down into her lip drawing blood as the storm raged on.

With each thrash of lightening and boom of thunder she tensed and tried to see out into the glazed window.

Just after midnight lights flickered on in the hallway outside her room. Zayda scrambled back of the window seat and into bed not wanting to be caught out of bed.

She pulled the sheets up her to neck and strained her ears to listen to muffled voices from the hall.

The word ‘accident’ carried over the air and cut into Zayda like a rasored knife. She bolted upright and stared at the door. Her breath suspended as her heart beat ramped up flooding her ears with a pounding that rivaled the storm.

Unable to stay away, she had thrown off the covers and tiptoed to the door her hand touched the handle then stopped as more words skittered over her prickling skin.

“We need to tell her…”

“No, we’ll wait until the morning. Let her sleep. She’ll need it before she has to deal with the loss…”

“Well, I’ll check on her anyway.”

Hushed Footsteps made there way to her door. Zayda flew back to her bed and through the covers over her head. She heard the door open and silent feet head towards her. A gentle hand rubbed over her covered shoulder and Zayda gasped at the painful colours that flooded through her. Images of a mangled car and blackness rammed themselves into her mind. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Oh, little one,” the soft old voice of Mrs. Adams smoothed over her.

Zayda sprang up and fell into the arms of the old woman who held her tightly. Her sobs drowning out the woman’s kind words that tried to comfort her.

**

Weeks later Zayda had arrived at the doorstep of the Aunts. They had insisted they take her in. Get her away from the city, especially now that her senses were hyper aware and painful for her to exist outside the townhouse she had lived in with her parents.

They insisted the small town in which they lived would be good for her and provide her with a place to heal and learn, if she wanted to learn the craft her parents had gifted her with as she was a Gallagher. And Gallagher women were rich with the craft. They would help her develop her skills and teach her what is was to be a good, little witch.

**

Zayda enjoyed exploring the small, sea side village. The sights and sounds had a calming effect on her frazzled nerves and the Aunts had done well to provide her with a soft place to land.

But one day things began to change and there was no hiding who and what she was…

Zayda stopped to touch the flowers growing in the the little window box. The Aunts walked on. She bent over out of view letting the petals tickle her cheek. Her ears perked at the voices that rose above her.

“I hear she’s an orphan.”

“Poor thing.”

“I heard her parents were killed in a car accident.”

A snort cut the air before an annoyingly high pitched voice said, “she was probably mad at them and caused the accident herself. She is a witch, you know.”

The others fell silent.

Zayda straightened up and stared over at the small group not far from her. Three woman and a girl. One of the woman had wrapped her arm around the girl as if to shield her.

Colours seeped into Zayda’s mind. Dark and ominous like a snake coiling browns, greens, with spiteful yellow eyes. Zayda glared at the woman who was radiating the strongest of these colours. Fear and distrust assailed her. Her amber eyes bore in.

Meeting her gaze the woman pulled her daughter closer and stepped back as if assaulted.

The colours spiked. Zayda could feel the smooth ripples of snake skin move over her own tanned forearms and settling on shoulders.

“Mama it’s the witch,” the little blonde girl cried out pointing at Zayda.

“Hush, now Darla. We best go before she casts some spell on us.” The woman hissed and without another word to the others, she whisked her daughter off and away.

Zayda kept staring. Her eyes boldly fierce.

In their hurry, the woman and her daughter both tripped on the pavement. The woman stumbled and managed not to fall, but her daughter skidded out along the ground, then toppled over the curb. Her mother dropped the bags of groceries she had been carrying to grab her daughter before she fell into the road.

The girl began to wail as her mother hoisted her back up and brushed the dirt from her pretty dress.

“Mama, my stockings are ripped,” the little girl wailed.

Ignoring her daughter, the woman scrambled to grab the groceries that had tumbled out over the sidewalk. In her hurry, she left the eggs. Their broken shells, whites and yolks marring the cardboard packaging as it glistened in the noon day sun.

When Zayda saw the little girl look back, she twisted her lips up into a smirk. The fierce look faded and in it’s place was satisfaction.

Turning away, she hurried after the Aunts who had turned and were waiting for her.

She could read the concern etched into their old faces. Even at seven. she knew she had stepped beyond her reach. Satisfaction melted and in its place a dark hole ripped at her heart. She steps slowed as she caught her bottom lip with her teeth.

Aunt Lydia tsked and shook her head. Her look morphed into thoughtful consideration. “Come child, you have much to learn.”

The words were a balm instead of the blaze Zayda had been expecting.

She glanced at Aunt Jess. The older woman’s lips were pursed tightly as if restraining a laugh. Her eyes sparkled and danced with mischief. She gave Zayda a wink, then clamped her lips together and nodded as she murmured, “yes, much to learn.”

Zayda clamped her own lips together to restrain the answering smile that bubbled up. It would not do for Aunt Lydia to see her joyful. She needed to practice being a proper young lady.

“We’d best start sooner, than later sister dear. Seems our wee charge will need much guidance if she is to control her emotions.”

“Too true. One must control our emotions. Particularly if we are to make our way through the valley of prejudice and small minded pettiness.”

“Oh, sister,” Aunt Lydia tsked again.

Aunt -’s smile found its way to her lips and the warm glow of it pulled Zayda forward. “Come child, seems we had best head home for some lessons.”

Zayda took her place between the two older woman who walked with such purpose you’d think they owned the town despite the flickering glances from everyone they passed. Everyone gave them a wide berth.

Aunt Jess seemed to take particular pleasure in calling out each person’s name and saying hello. Aunt Lydia merely smiled her beguiling smile to each as they passed.

As they walked on, Zayda felt the glow of family flicker to life as she took Aunt Jess’s hand. A kaleidoscope of colours swirled and a glance at the older woman’s face got her a wink and a squeeze of her tiny hand.

She didn’t feel so lost or alone anymore.

Once all the groceries had been put away and the tea made. They all settled in at the wide kitchen table to nibble on fresh scones Aunt Lydia had made earlier that morning.

“Now, Zayda dear, the most important element in any good casting is love.”

“Love?” Zayda looked over at her Aunt Jess, who smiled at her.

“Yes, my girl. Love. It makes the magic work…better.”

“All things work better with Love,” Aunt Lydia said as she joined them in the work room.

Zayda wrinkled up her nose and pursed her lips.

“Oh, that’s very true,” Aunt Jess said. “When you put your heart and soul into the making and conjuring the magic knows -“

“And in that knowing, it works deeper. Any big emotion generates deeper results. That is why you should never cast when you are angry. Witches do not cause harm.”

Zayda rubbed at her heart remembering the tear that had pulled at her painfully earlier that day on the street. She remembered the woman’s cruel words and the pain they had caused her.

“And if they do, their own body will take on some of that negative energy.”

Zayda wriggled self consciously on the stool and let her legs swing out. “What’s that?”

“It’s like a burn. The darker the emotion, like hate and anger, the deeper and more severe the burn.” Aunt Jess met and held her gaze.

Zayda nodded giving her heart another rub before letting her hand drop away. “Can you see it?”

“Not always, Sweetling. Sometimes the burn or little tears happen deep inside. Especially those ones that feel hurt before we retaliate. Those are the ones we must guard against. They cause the deepest pain to ourselves. It’s like drinking poison when we really want the other to feel the pain. It kind of backfires.”

“So what do we do… instead?” Zayda asked as she did not want to experience that tearing at her heart again.

“Did your mama not teach…” Aunt Lydia let her voice trailed away as a wave of sadness engulfed the room. Zayda sat stock still. Her eyes welled with tears.

“It’s okay, Sweetling.” Aunt Jess said as she reached over to cup Zayda’s cheek and wipe away a few of her tears. “You are much too young.”

The touch seemed to brighten Zayda and she sparkled as she said, “I’m old enough now.”

“You are.” Aunt Jess said her smile kind.

Zayda’s smile returned as she gave a determined sniff. She began to swing her legs again as excitement bubbled up.

“Can you teach me all that mama knew about magic?”

“We can and we will.” Aunt Lydia said as she opened the biggest book Zayda had ever seen. “This is our family’s grimoire. It contains all the Gallagher family secrets and spells.”

Zayda leaned forward and seemed to absorb the pages as she reached forward to touch the well worn pages.

And so began Zayda’s education. The ones she learned in secret. The ones that made the villagers nervous.

She learned of crystals and their energies. She learned of herbal medicines and concoctions. She learned of charms. And she learned to practice under the watchful eye of the Aunts in the secrecy of their home.

“Mundanes don’t use magic and it scares them.” Aunt Lydia whispered. “We practice our craft away from their prying eyes.”

“Some people have caused witches harm in the past and I dare say, they will do so again if they feel we have over stepped our place.” Aunt Jess warned.

“But they don’t harm you.” Zayda said.

“No, but we have earned our place here.”

“And we are needed.” Aunt Jess said with a mischievous smile.

“What do you do?” Zayda asked leaning forward to catch every word.

“We meddle.”

“Meddle?”

The Aunts shared a smile between them, but said nothing more.

Word count = 2,271 - this is still very much a work in progress.