Chapter 2: The Mirror

 

            "What's happened?"

 

            Samantha Wertamer looked at Chris' mother before sighing heavily and handing over a sealed envelope.  "This is your last letter, Sambo.  The 'doo-doo' has hit the fan down in the States."

 

            "What's happened," Sandra repeated calmly.  Sam had to marvel at the woman's composure.  Sandra was a plump woman with a pleasant disposition and warm, hazel eyes that twinkled in a heart-shaped face surrounded by light brown curls. 

 

            "And have you been reading my letters?"  This seemed to shake the black-haired woman out of her silence.

 

            "Keva's furious.  Well, she was furious before but now she's furious that you would step into this situation at all, but she just found out that her only daughter's a witch last month and that's made things much worse.  Ariel was called in to explain things to the Regs, but nothing's helped.  It's been over a month and that... that woman still won't let the girl out of her room!"

 

 

            "She's definitely a witch then?" Sandra asked, feeling her own temper flaring.

            "Oh, she's a witch alright," Sam chuckled mirthlessly.  "It seems she destroyed half her house and then almost suffocated her stepmother during an argument.  Luckily, one of her neighbors realized what was happening before it was too late.  The poor girl's in shock.  Keva's only made it worse by locking her in her room like she's contagious or something."

 

            "What about the father?"

 

            "He's shown more interest in the child since this happened."

 

            "Well, there's that at lea... what?"  Sam was already shaking her head.

 

            "He's backing any action his blushing bride chooses to take.  He was the one that locked her in her room in the first place.  What those two could be thinking is beyond-"

 

            "When are we going in to save her?" Sandra growled dangerously.

 

 

            Sam shuddered before answering, glad that the woman's ire was not directed at her.  Sandra was quite formidable when provoked, and as a personal care attendant, she had the strength and ability to become violent when threatened.

 

            "Ariel says she's allowed bathroom privileges and little else.  Apparently she snuck a letter to one of her brothers when Keva sent him to deliver hers, but that's the closest she's come to contact with the outside world.  Oh, before I forget."  She quickly passed over a tear-stained piece of paper.  "This is for Chris."

 

            "What's being done about this?  Has the Arc-Professor even been told?" the distressed mother demanded, looking ready to go rescue the little girl any second.

 

            "Of course," Sam snapped impatiently.  "We just have to wait for his next move."

 

            "But..."  Sandra let the word hang silently between the two, knowing that her companion understood.

 

            "Don't get ahead of the professor," Sam soothed her friend quietly, "I just know he's planning something.  He had that look in his eyes the last time I saw him."

 

----------

 

            "Why, hello, Arc-Professor Good," a cold voice belonging to an even colder man said.  The man being addressed felt his hackles raise at the sound of that falsely friendly voice, but forced himself not to turn from his shelves of books and attack his visitor with a supreme effort.  The smile he felt broaden on Samuel's lips did little to help his resolve, however.

 

            "Thank you for seeing me.  How much do you know about the situation?"  He could already see that his visitor intended to drag this out, a fact that annoyed him.  But Samuel Dumont was head of the Dumonts now, and as useless of he might be, he was Areyn Pryce's only chance.  Arc-Professor good sighed heavily, mentally preparing himself for whatever the portly, balding man might have in mind.

 

            "Where are your manners, Matthew?" his visitor 'tsk'ed, spreading his fat finger as if insulted.  Then the smile returned to his lips as he waddled towards the chair behind the headmaster's desk.  "You invited me here.  Shouldn't you at least offer me a seat?" he asked, plopping down into the comfortable chair with an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction.  "Now how about a drink for your old friend?"

 

"How much do you know about the situation?"

 

"No drink?  Not even a word of concern?  You wound me, Matthew."

 

"How much do you know about the situation?"

 

            "I really don't get you, Matthew.  You swore fealty to my brother-"

 

           "-And I was released from service to the Dumont's when he died.  I didn't ask you here to discuss old news, Samuel.   How much do you know about the Pryce situation?" Matthew asked again, feeling his control starting to slip.

 

"Not much, I'm afraid," the fat man shrugged, standing and moving to inspect the bookshelves with no real interest.  "I've heard a little about the little tyke's misfortune, but I have a domain to run.  I don't have time to look into every little situation."

 

            "Seamus would have."  The implication of this sentence was crystal clear: that's why I'll never serve you.  Samuel whirled around, all trace of condescending amusement gone, and pulled out his wand to attack.  The wand at his neck stopped him, however.  The lanky brunette that had served as his older brother's hunter was standing just to his left as if he had been there all along.  His dark eyes were hard and full of the dark fire they had once possessed.  Then his thin lips parted in that old parody of a smile that had once caused grown men to quake with fear.

 

 

The blood pounding in his ears told him that it was time; that the fat, worthless pig sweating and shaking in front of him was ready for death.  But then the voice, her voice, reminded him what it would truly cost him to kill again.  He withdrew as quickly as he had pounced, drawing his wand back up his sleeve with satisfied grin.  He'd made his point, anyway.  No need to kill.

 

 

            "This I will say, Matthew," Samuel chuckled dryly, feeling his neck gingerly as he moved away from the headmaster, "you were the best hunter Seamus ever had.  De Soto would have killed to have you during Abarai's little coup."  He chuckled again, his cold smile returning once he was back behind the older man's desk.  "Don't ever lose that edge, Matthew, or I will personally come back to claim what I know is mine."

 

            "I won't," the headmaster grinned.  The two stared at each other for a minute until Samuel relented, clearing his throat and straightening his suit before continuing.

 

"So, about the girl..."

 

"Here's what you'll need," the older man said, pushing a folder across the desk that separated them once more.  Samuel picked it up and glanced through it before answering.

 

            "She's got it on both sides, then?"

 

            "I suggest you go through the mother's though.  The father's is dead."

 

            "My, my, such aptitude," the portly man smirked.  "Won't your students be jealous that you're playing favorites now?"  He kept his pale blue eyes downcast, hoping for an opening, but Matthew simply gave him a hard look before answering.

 

            "Samantha and Ariel have kept me well informed."

 

            "Ah, yes, Ariel.  I know al about her and her little 'project'.  How is that coming along?"

 

            "Her 'little project' found your latest treasure.  I'd say it went well."

 

            "So touchy," Samuel 'tsk'ed again, dropping the folder.  "Why are you bringing this to me instead of FoMP?  This is Hensel's to fix."

 

            "Hensel Greaden won't make a move without the approval of the Families.  You know that."

 

            "Then take it to Abarai.  Livingston is closest to his territory.  I haven't got time for this nonsense."

 

"You're inviting Grayson into your domain, then?" the ex-hunter smirked.  "I'm sure he'd love a foothold in the Northeast.  Especially if it means he can have one of his precious blacks."  Samuel felt himself bristling again and firmly commanded himself to stop.  The last thing he needed was another confrontation with this deadly ex-assassin.  As much as he hated to admit it, Good had a point.  His house was still recovering from Grayson's last push into his domain; giving the power-hungry black militant a reason to enter the Northeast would do nothing to strengthen his position.  Carefully swallowing the sour taste in his mouth at having to admit that his brother's man was correct yet again, Samuel shrugged and picked up the folder once more.

 

            "It will take time to set up, but we should be able to arrange a simple extraction.  That's what the government is there for."  He bristled again at Matthew's smirk.

 

            "If you want to save this one, you'll have to act fast.  They're starving her to death down there.  And just think, when it's all over you might have another little soldier for the cause."

 

            "Let's get one thing straight before those weak-willed French bastards fill your head with too much bullshit.  You may live up here in Canada with the Champlains and their rules, but you're one of us, Matthew.  That means that you swear fealty to one of the Five Families-"

 

            "I swear fealty to no one."

 

            "Oh, you're too high up in the ranks for that now.  You left that life and the rules attached to it behind when you sought us out, Matthew," Samuel smiled broadly, relishing this small victory.  "Eventually you won't be able to hide up here in academia.  Eventually one of us will come for you. So, you really should be thinking about where your loyalties should lie when that time comes."

 

            "I'll keep that in mind, Samuel," Matthew smiled coldly.  Samuel cringed before cursing himself as that mad grin widened.  "If there's nothing else, you may go."  In the end, he was forced to retreat back to the world he knew.

 

----------

 

            An older, stately woman entered the house in the wake of a solemn teenager, two rambunctious boys, and a wobbly toddler.

 

            "Keva?"

 

            "I'm coming, Ms. Jo," Keva answered.  Jacqueline Stems observed her daughter's replacement as she bustled into the room.  Keva looked tired and a bit ragged around the edges, likely from the stress of the last few weeks.  All the evidence of her granddaughter's 'condition' was gone; new, better windows gleamed serenely in the humid sunlight filtering into the house and all the glass had been cleared away.

 

            "...and take these up to your room."

 

            "But I was gonna play with them!"

 

            "DON'T YOU TALK BACK TO ME," Keva shrieked, her eyes bulging.  "I'm your mother and you will mind me, you hear?  You take those things up to your room and put them away or I will tan your hide!"  Mackenzie gathered his transformers and dashed up the stairs, looking mutinous.

 

            "And I'd better not hear you talking to that girl again, Mackenzie," the woman yelled after him.

 

            "When are you planning to let my granddaughter out," Jacqueline asked calmly while helping to clean up the toys in the living room.  Her soft body strained slightly as she leaned over to pick up some of the mess, but she was able to complete her task.  She looked up and into the frantic eyes of her youngest child's replacement without a hint of compassion.  Did her son-in-law truly think this porky, desperate woman worthy of raising her daughter's children?

 

            "Why don't you boys head on up to your room?  I need to talk to your stepmother."  Keva flinched slightly, but showed no other sign of having heard the other woman.

 

            "Yes, Lala," Lewis and Jerome chorused, helping their youngest brother up the stairs as they went.  Jacqueline smiled after the three and turned just in time to glimpse a look of jealousy, hatred, and fury on the other woman's face.

 

            "I wouldn't be having this trouble if you didn't constantly undermine my authority, Ms. Jo," the woman snapped petulantly.

 

            "They are my daughter's children, Keva," Jacqueline replied sharply, noticing a shudder of anger pass through the other woman.  "They know the deal.  It's not 'undermining your authority' to deal with my grandchildren as I always have."

 

            "They're my children now," Keva shot back acidly.  "No matter what you think of me, I was Reginald's choice."

 

            "My idiot son-in-law chose the first woman that showed any interest in him," Jacqueline smirked.  "Are you really claiming that as a badge of honor?"

 

 

            Keva let the statement wash over her, hating the truth of it.  It was true, her husband had been very eager to latch onto the first person to come along after his precious wife's death.  It was as if he'd expected her to fall into the role carved out by her predecessor without changing anything.  It wasn't fair, but at the time she'd thought that the arrangement would be mutually beneficial to her need to comfort the grieving husband and show love and support to the children.  Things were not working out according to either of their plans.

 

            "I'm not here to re-hash old battles, Keva," she dimly heard Jacqueline sigh, bringing the conversation back to the present.  "I want to know what you intend to do about Areyn."

 

            "I will do what I feel is necessary."

 

            "And what is that?" the older woman persisted.

 

            "She is my daughter and I will do what I feel is bet to protect-"

 

            "To protect yourself from her," Jacqueline spat derisively.  "What happened to you was an accident, Keva.  She didn't realize what she was doing-"

 

            "DON'T YOU LECTURE ME, OLD WOMAN," Keva screamed.  "That little girl tried to kill me!  I will not have her running free around my house!"

 

            "You may not have to," Jacqueline answered quietly.  "I've been contacted by someone who is willing to take her off your hands."

 

            "And what's that supposed to mean," Keva asked just as quietly.

 

            "Do you know about Reggie's mother?"

 

            "No," Keva admitted, feeling the old stab of anger at her continued ignorance about her husband.

 

            "The poor woman was a witch," Jacqueline supplied uncomfortably.  "She did not present with signs of it until very late in life and just wasted away after that.  Areyn's teacher told you how rare witches and wizards are on this continent, right?"

 

            "Yes."

 

            "Then you realize that all of your stepchildren have been watched for signs that the magic trait in their grandmother was still present.  But on my side of the family there's a distant cousin that is also a witch, Amy Livingston.  She lives out on a ranch in Montana and she's coming here to discuss the living arrangements."

 

            "'Living arrangements'?" Keva asked, feeling the conversation starting to spiral out of her control.

 

            "Amy will be taking in my granddaughter until she's sent off to a school of magic, but she won't do it for free obviously.  She's a very successful businesswoman out there with no family-"

 

            "How the hell did this person find out-"

 

            "One of the first things you're going to notice about the world to which Areyn now belongs is that news travels fast," Jacqueline answered evenly.  "The fact of my granddaughter's removal from this house is fact.  She's coming here to iron out the details... work out the terms of her impending guardianship."

 

            "I will not turn over my child to a complete stranger!"

 

            "Maybe not.  But you will turn Angela's child over," Jacqueline said.

 

            "They are my children now," Keva shouted suddenly.  "Your daughter is dead!"

 

            "They will always be Angela's children by blood, Keva," Jacqueline retorted in a dangerously low voice.  "That's not going to change no matter how much you deny it.  The sooner you and Reggie accept that you can't just replace my daughter and expect things to go back to the way they were, the sooner you might be able to control those boys upstairs."

 

            "Get out of my house," Keva growled, looking murderous.

 

            "Amy will be here in two days," Jacqueline sighed.  "I suggest you prepare."  The woman was moving to the door as if her business was done.

 

            "Why?" Keva shrugged coldly, "Areyn's not going anywhere."

 

            "You've never met her Aunt Amy," Jacqueline smiled.  She left in the silence that followed her declaration.

 

----------

 

            "Did you hear that?  You're getting out of here soon."

 

            "Lewis," a small voice whispered back, "she said you're not supposed to talk to me!"

 

            "I don't give a damn what that fat bitch says," Lewis smirked.

 

            "Mom taught us not to curse," the girl whispered softly.

 

            "And since when did that stop us when she wasn't around?"  He waited; hoping to hear her laugh, but the girl merely gave a shuddering sob.  "Lala's right, though.  Dad and that bitch seem to think they can act like Mom's death didn't change anything and we'll just play along.  But I won't."

 

            "Easy for you to say," his sister put in bitterly.  "You've only got five years until you're free.  The rest of us are stuck with her for eight years at least.  Hell, Matthew won't even remember Mom.  We're all just doing what we can."

 

            "But you're getting out of here before me," Lewis insisted with a hint of admiration in his voice.  "I've never even heard this 'Aunt Amy', but she's going to take you away."

 

            "You heard Ms. Keva," Areyn sighed, "I'm not going anywhere."

 

            "Who do you trust more, Lala or that bitch?"

 

            "What do you call her in front of Lala anyway?" Areyn asked curiously.

 

            "'She'.  'Her'.  I refuse to call her anything but a bitch."  The soft giggling on the other side of the door was reassuring as it was the first time he'd heard his sister laugh in weeks.

 

            "But what if this 'Aunt Amy' is just as bad or worse?" the girl blurted, sounding tearful again.  "We don't even know her.  And how long would I be gone?  I have a feeling Ms. Keva isn't going to let me anywhere near you guys now that she as a reason to hate me."

 

            "Areyn, I'd take an unknown over being locked in there any day.  I wish I could do magic."

 

            "Don't say that!  It's dangerous."

 

            "All the better!  Then I'd be able to-"

 

            "I don't know how I did that or even what I did!  I'm telling you, it was terrifying.  Mr. Duncan said that I could have hurt myself just as easily as...  I could have killed her, Lewis!"

 

            "Just think how powerful you'll be when you can control it," Jerome cut in.

 

            "And the fifth commandment just goes right out the window, right?"

 

            "Some people deserve it," Lewis muttered, scaring himself as much as his two siblings.

 

            "No," Areyn answered firmly.  "She's a grade-A bitch, but she doesn't deserve to die.  'Thou shall not kill'."

 

            "She's trying to starve you to death!"  Her stomach growled in agreement suddenly, making them all jump.  "See?"

 

            "Then it's a good thing you guys snuck me that candy, isn't it?"

 

            "That's not the point!  She keeps you locked up like some kind of convict!  I think...  I think she wants you to die, Areyn.  Why are you defending her?"

 

            "There's something you don't know."  Both boys waited in silence for their sister to continue, knowing instinctively that whatever she was about to reveal was important.  "That night, after Ms. Keva took you guys to Lala's...  Dad was the one that put me here, not her.  He whooped my butt, man.  I ain't never had a beating like that before.  Not even...  You remember how mom used to lay us out when we stepped out of line."  The two boys chuckled softly, remembering.  "I...  I couldn't sit for days after he was through with me.  For a while I thought that he was gonna..."  She stopped there, sounding as if she were choking on the words she refused to think of her father.  "After...  He taught me a bible verse.  Made me memorize it before he locked me in here."

 

            "Which one," Jerome breathed.

 

            "Exodus twenty-two, verse eighteen," the girl recited.  "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."  They could hear her crying on the other side of the door.  "He said...  He said that he didn't know what to do with me yet.  He said that the next time he saw me, he'd-"

 

            "Then you've got at least six months before you'll have to worry about it," Lewis broke in coldly.

 

            "Lewis!"

 

            "What?  You know it's true.  That cowardly bastard wouldn't have even been there that day if she hadn't begged him to take us to the doctor.  And now look at him!  He's hiding behind that desk of his, claiming he's running this family.  Well, where is he??"

 

            "Shh!"  Lewis took a few deep breaths, listening for the sounds of their stepmother coming up the stairs after them, but none came.  The radio was blasting downstairs as the woman went about whatever task she was doing.

 

            "Look, everything's going to be fine, Areyn.  You're going to be heading out with that 'Aunt Amy' person."

 

            "I'm telling you, that bitch will never allow it," the girl grunted.  "She likes having me here.  She likes being able to jiggle the lock every time she passes to make sure I stay put."

 

            "She's afraid of you," Jerome piped up suddenly, "She's all but admitted it.  Soon you won't even have to worry about her anyway.  Lala wouldn't lie."

 

            "Lala?  Jerome, Lala was practically born in the damn church!  If dad knows that passage, you can bet she does, she's read the bible cover to cover before.  I don't think she likes me very much right now."

 

            "If she didn't like you, she wouldn't have told that bitch about this 'Aunt Amy' at all.  You're out of here in two days.  I'd start packing if I were you."

 

            "But what about-"

 

            "Lala hates that bitch almost as much as we do."

 

            "Hey, did you know that stuff about Dad's mom," Mackenzie interrupted, chuckling as both boys kneeling at Areyn's door jumped.

 

            "I didn't," Lewis admitted, ignoring his brother's chuckling.  "But I was just a kid when she died."

 

            "Yeah," the girl agreed.  "I was a baby, and Dad never talks about her.  It sheds some light on the situation though."  The group sat in silence, pondering this.

 

            "I wonder if Lala's gonna-"

 

 

            "I'd better not be hearing y'all up there talking to that girl!"  The sound of scampering footsteps met this statement.  Keva stomped up the stairs, wondering why her sons insisted on talking with their murderous sister.  She would have thought that they would have welcomed the separation, as all they ever seemed to do was fight.  But since Areyn's attack on her, the children seemed to have reached some unspoken truce.

 

            She banged on the girl's door before checking that the doorknob did not turn when she tried it.

 

            "Your grandmother stopped by, Areyn.  Did the boys tell you that?" the woman asked sweetly. Silence met the question.  "You know she didn't even ask to see you?"  Again, no answer.  "Don't you ignore me in there!"  She banged on the door again.

 

            "I have to go to the bathroom," Areyn said dully when the noise died down.

 

            "Do you think you're going away with that 'Amy' person, Areyn?  Well, you're not.  You committed a sin and a crime and you're gonna stay right in that room of yours and think about what you've done."

 

The girl did not answer and eventually the woman started downstairs to check on tonight's leftovers.  During the first two weeks of her daughter's confinement, Keva had taken great pleasure in ordering foods she knew the girl liked, filling the house with delicious smells, and then presenting the girl with her two meals a day of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and water.  This had seemed an appropriate punishment at the time because she knew her daughter hated those meals.

 

But the plan had backfired in the end.  For one thing, the girl had started eating everything given to her within the first five days, which had taken the irony out of the punishment.  And to make matters worse, the other four children had quickly caught on to her intentions and had stopped playing along.  They had made themselves PB&J sandwiches, refusing to touch the foods she brought home.  So, with the fridge overflowing with the tacos, pizzas, and other fast foods she'd bought and cash running low from over-spending, she had been forced to give in and let the child eat like the rest of them.  Keva secretly gave her daughter less than the others, though.

 

"Damn kids," she blurted angrily, running to salvage the now burning tacos in the oven.  "Why can't you ever cooperate?"

 

----------

 

June 9th

            Dear Chris,

I'm not supposed to be writing this, but I don't care.  I'm not allowed to be your friend anymore because my stepmother is a selfish b*tch that would rather have me be miserable for the rest of my life than admit that she's wrong.  I tried to find out a real reason for her to stop us from writing to each other, but something terrible happened.  I don't exactly understand it, and in any case I can't explain it here, but my stepmother almost...  She was badly hurt.

 

My father has me locked in my room and I still don't know what's happening, but now is not a good time to ask questions.  I pray that I'll be able to get this to you before you move, but if not, maybe your teacher can send it to you.  I'm really gonna miss writing to you, Chris.  You're the best friend I've ever had.  Please pray for me.  I'm so lost right now and I don't know what to do.

 

Sincerely,

 

Areyn

 

P.S. I'm so sorry I'm gonna miss your birthday.  I was racking my brain for something neat to send you, but now...  I just hope you're day's a special one.

 

----------

 

            Chris sat staring at the letter his mother had given him that morning.  Although he had already read it a dozen times, he read it again, his mind still refusing to accept the words written on the tear-streaked page.

 

            "Are you alright, honey?"  The boy turned to face his mother, a look of bewildered outrage on his face.

 

            "I just don't understand, Mom," he shrugged.  "What's happening?"

 

            "Oh sweetie," the woman sighed, drawing her son into a hug.  "Honey, some people just aren't as open to magic as we are.  There's just...  There's a lot happening in your friend's life right now.  She just found out that she's a witch and her family is not reacting very well to the news."

 

            "Will she be alright?" he asked.

 

            "She'll be fine, sweetie," Sandra reassured her.  "She'll just need your help."

 

            "But how," the boy exploded, throwing off his mother's arms.  "She needs me, I can tell!  But I can't go there and I'm not even allowed to write her anymore!

 

"Chris, I...  You'll just have to be patient."

 

            "She asked me to pray for her," he told her desperately, picking up the letter and brandishing it.  "I want to help, but I don't know how!"

 

            Sandra looked at her despairing son, feeling truly helpless.  Then an idea occurred to her.

 

            "Wait here, Chris."

 

 

            Chris stared after the retreating figure of his mother, completely baffled.  "My Mom's a psycho," he whispered in amazement, a smile lighting his features.  He knew the look he'd seen on her face before she'd left.  It was the look she usually got when facing what seemed to be an insurmountable task and seeing a possible solution.

 

"Mom looks pretty excited.  What's up?"

 

            "I think she had another brainstorm," the boy shrugged at his sister.  "What's up, Dweezle?"

 

            "I don't know," she shrugged in turn.  "I'm bored.  Thought I'd come see what you were doing.  Hey! Did that girl write again?" the seven-year-old asked suddenly, noticing a piece of paper on the bed that looked as if it had seen better days.

 

            "Yeah," Chris said dejectedly.  "She won't be writing anymore."

The brown-haired girl blinked in disbelief, reaching for the letter.  She looked slightly taken aback when the boy snatched it out of her reach.  "Chris.  Let me see."

 

            "I don't-"

 

            "Chris!  Let me see the letter," she demanded.  Inside, she was shocked.  The two never kept secrets from each other.  But the hopeless look on her brother's face was even more disturbing to her, because her brother had never been one to give up.  Dweezer waited, hand extended expectantly, until he handed it over.  Then she read it and understood.  "Oh no," she breathed, plopping down on the bed next to him.  "Mom gave you this today?" she cried in exasperation.

 

            "Yeah.  Why?"

 

            "I think Mom's losing her touch," the girl groaned.  "She could have at least waited until after your birthday."

 

            "No, sis," he sighed.  "I've been waiting to hear back from her for almost a month and a half.  I went to Mom as soon as Mrs. Wertamer left."

 

            "What do you think's gonna happen to her," she asked, dreading the answer.

 

            "I don't know, Dweezle," he sighed again.  "Have you finished packing yet," he asked vaguely.

 

            She couldn't help chuckling at this very obvious diversion.  "Nice attempt at subtle, bro.  Very nice."

 

            "Yeah," he smiled, "I am pretty subtle.  So, have you?"

 

            "I don't want to go," she admitted, shaking her head and looking more serious.

 

            "Neither, but Mom says we'll be back to visit.  I guess I should start packing too," he said, making a move towards his dresser.

 

            "Come on, Chris," Dweezer pleaded suddenly.  Let's go see Grammy."

 

            "This stuff isn't just gonna pack itself, Dweezle."

 

            "Yeah, but Mom'll just end up repacking our stuff anyway!  You know how she's been about the packing."

 

            "Good point," the boy nodded.  "Okay, you win.  Let's go see Grammy and Gramps; at least then we'll be out of her way."

 

            "Where are you two headed?" Sandra asked as they reached the door.

 

            "Just to Grammy's," her daughter answered.  "We want to see them before we have to leave."

 

            "Listen, honey, I know you don't want to leave BC, but this new job of your father's...  It's a very good opportunity."

 

            "But what about the rest of us?"

 

            "Andrea," Sandra said sighed, hugging her daughter close.  "I can't pretend that his move is easy for any of us, but your father and I have talked about it and...  We all need this, sweetie.  I know you don't understand it right now, but you will one day.  And if you don't, then you and I will sit down and talk about it.  That I promise you."  Mother and daughter stared at each other in understanding.

 

            "Okay, Mom," Dweezer sighed at last.

 

            Sandra smiled gently and wiped away her daughter's tears.  "Alright then.  You two don't stay too long.  We'll be leaving first thing in the morning by Floo."  The two scampered off, racing each other out the door. 

 

----------

 

            "Open this door at once," a woman's voice echoed through the house.  Lewis moved to unlock the front door once more, only to be held back by his stepmother.

 

            "I've told you that you are not welcome here," Keva insisted.  Her face was burning with mingled fury and embarrassment, as she was sure that this awful woman's presence was attracting a great deal of attention from the neighborhood gossips.  "Areyn is my daughter.  You have no right-"

 

            The door burst open suddenly, showing the silhouette of a tall, dark-skinned woman in the sunlight now streaming in through the doorway.  She wore an elegant pin-striped pantsuit that showed off her lean body without revealing anything inappropriate, with thick brown hair shot through with silvery strands pulled back into a severe bun.  This style seemed to match the presence she radiated, which demanded both notice and respect.  She stepped into the living room with an air of impatience that irritated Keva, closing the front door with her foot and holding out a carpet bag for one of the boys in the room to take.  Mackenzie grabbed it eagerly before retreating back a few steps, looking slightly afraid.

 

            "Really," Amy Lester huffed finally in the scolding tones of a disapproving teacher, "the child and I will be flying out of this city tonight.  Must you make this so difficult?"

 

            "Areyn is not leaving this house," Keva spat.  "I'm very sorry that you've wasted your time and money coming out here, but-"

 

            "Where's the girl's father?" Amy asked over Keva's words.  "Both of you will need to be here to work out the details of this contract."

 

            "My husband is sleeping right now and there will be no contract," Keva shouted.  "Now get off my property before I call the cops!"  She reached for the phone, only to have it burst into flames.

 

            "It would appear that I need to make a few things clear before we begin," Amy began dangerously, tucking her wand away.  "First off, my name is Amy Livingston.  Areyn is my niece, although we have obviously never met.  Now, I'm positive that you know all of this information already as the children's grandmother was quick to inform me that she had completed her task of informing you of my arrival two days ago.  Therefore, I will skip the preliminaries.  I am here because you have proven over the last five weeks that you are unsuited to take care of the young witch you have locked in her room upstairs."

 

            Keva gasped in shock, but Amy continued undaunted.

 

            "Make no mistake, Keva.  This is not a social visit.  Areyn Dalia Pryce will be leaving with me this afternoon.  I have come for her in person to determine how much you will be paying me to become her legal guardian whilst in Montana.  You are not to assume that you are dealing with a woman that is willing to put up with your nonsense.  As I understand it, you have had the child locked in her room for the last five weeks, which can be construed as negligence and abuse.  You will go upstairs and release her immediately or I will have both you and your husband up on charges."  The woman she was addressing looked murderous, but held her tongue.

 

            "While you are upstairs, you can wake up your husband and pull out all invoices and statements regarding the cost of your stepdaughter's expenses: food, uniforms, tuition, everything.  I warn you that the arrangement we reach today will be legally binding.  Should you fail to live up to the terms, I will be well within my rights to sue you for breach of contract.

 

 

            "And should I refuse to work out this contract of yours?" Keva demanded, fighting to keep the tremor of dread out of her voice.  Even she realized that her threat was an empty one as the woman has obviously done her homework on this situation prior to showing up on her doorstep.

 

            "Then I will be forced to call the police," Amy said, calling her bluff.  "Tell me, when was the last time you let her out long enough to bathe?  How long has it been since you gave her a full meal?  I'm sure that a look at her weight during her last physical compared to now will show some very compelling evidence for my case."  She paused for effect, her dark brown eyes hard.  "Do not mistake your position here.  This situation has been monitored very carefully.  The only thing that has saved you from litigation thus far was our belief that you would see reason given time.  Since that has not happened, it is time to take action.  If you cross me, you and your husband will loss everything.  Your stepchildren, your house, your car, your jewels, even your dog if you have one.  Everything."

 

            Keva gawked at her, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.  The unrelenting look on the middle-aged woman's face spoke the truth of her words clearer than anything Amy could have added.  She rushed up to the second floor, already flipping through the keys in her pocket for the one that opened her stepdaughter's door.  She had reached a decision.  If this treacherous little girl was the price she had to pay for keeping her new family together, then so be it.

 

            "Go take a bath, Areyn.  Then you're to go sit in the living room and not make a sound.  Don't let me catch you," she lowered her voice angrily.  "If I catch you playing with the boys or doing anything... out of the ordinary, you will regret it."

 

            Areyn could barely believe it when she heard the door unlock.  It was the first time she'd been out of her room unsupervised since the day before school ended.  She moved quickly to comply with her stepmother's orders, knowing that she owed her current freedom to the mysterious woman talking to her brothers downstairs.  The thought of meeting this 'Aunt Amy', this woman capable of intimidating her father's wife, excited her greatly.  She dressed in her Sunday clothes, making her way shakily down the stairs, but by that time the lady had moved into the kitchen with her father and Keva to discuss her new life.

 

            "Did you hear her," Mackenzie whispered excitedly, moving close enough to the couch to block him from view of the kitchen.  "That was so cool!"

 

            "How long have they been in there?  And what happened after Ms. Keva left," Areyn whispered back, more interested in this information.  "What's she like?"

 

            "They've been at it for about an hour.  Dad and the bitch were shouting before, but they're hardly talking now.  I think Aunt Amy's put the fear of God in them," her older brother supplied.  "That lady's definitely not here to play."

 

"Have you caught any details?" the girl asked.  "I wanna know what she's like!"  She watched the boys intensely, waiting for answers.

 

"Well, she's fair," Lewis shrugged uncomfortably.

 

            "I think she reads minds," Jerome burst out hoarsely, moving towards the couch as well.  "She's like Mom; really good at spotting lies."

 

            "Why were you lying to her," the girl smirked.

 

            "Shut up," the seven-year-old retorted.  "We tried listening in and got caught."

 

            "Look, the bottom line is, you're out of here."

 

            "But what's the point of leaving one prison for another, Mackenzie?" she snapped.  "Don't get me wrong, I haven't felt this clean in weeks.  And I know I owe it all to her, but...  Well, what if she's worse?"

 

            "She's not," Jerome spoke up.  "I wish I was going with you."

 

            "I wish you guys were coming with me," Areyn answered, pulling her brother into a hug, a move unprecedented in their relationship.  "I doubt Ms. Keva's gonna let me talk to you guys once I leave.  Who am I gonna fight with in Montana?"

 

            "Don't worry about that," Mackenzie spoke up, looking a little teary.  "We'll meet up with you as soon as we can."

 

            "Promise me."

 

            The three brothers old enough to realize what a promise like this would mean, looked at each other and then at their sister.

 

            "I mean it.  I will do everything I can to keep in touch, but if they cut me off, you have to promise you'll come looking for me.  Please," she added, feeling tears threaten.

 

            "I promised Mom that I'd look after all of her children.  That means you too, Areyn.  I promise," Lewis said gravely, holding out his hand.

 

            "I promise," Mackenzie said, placing a hand on top of his older brother's.  "I'd never leave you alone out there for long."

 

            "I promise.  You have to show me some magic when I see you again, okay?" Jerome grinned putting his hand in.  Matthew shocked his siblings by squealing loudly before slamming his hand down on top of Jerome's.  The other four chuckled nervously at him, craning their heads to make sure the adults weren't around.

 

            "I won't forget you guys, I promise," Areyn grinned, crying softly as she put completed the pact by putting her hand on top.  She pulled the youngest of her brothers into her lap and hugged Mackenzie and Lewis in turn.  "Man, this is gonna suck.  What the heck am I gonna do in Montana?"

 

            "Oh, there will be plenty to do in Montana," a voice cut into the very cozy scene, causing all of the children to jump.  Their Aunt Amy was standing in the middle of the archway separating the living room from the dining room.  It was clear from her stance that she had been there awhile.  "You'll find that we're very friendly out there.  I take it that you are my new charge?"

 

            "Yes ma'am," the girl said, wiping her face quickly and standing to face the woman.  "I'm Areyn Pryce."

 

            "You may call me 'Aunt Amy' like the others, Areyn.  Now turn around and let me see you," the woman smiled.  The girl turned obediently, understanding instantly what Jerome had meant.

 

 

            Amy bit down her cry of outrage at the girl's condition.  She had expected Keva to have the girl bathe before meeting her, and Areyn had obviously gone to pains to make herself presentable.  But nothing could hide the child's pallor, nor the fact that her Sunday clothes were hanging off of her.  Her hair could use a good washing as well.  She looked worn out and dead tired - two things a child so young should never look.

 

            "We'll have to get you fed soon, child," she said.  She kept her voice gentle while her stormy brown eyes locked with the father's.

 

            The man - a tall, muscular stockyard worker - cringed visibly before returning the glare defiantly.  "'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live'," he ground out furiously, looking as if he were seconds from attacking his daughter.

 

            "Come here, Areyn," Amy said, holding out a hand for her charge.  The girl hurried towards her, looking seconds from wetting herself.  "Go upstairs and start packing.  I'll be up to help you soon."

 

            "Yes, Aunt Amy," Areyn whispered brokenly, running out of the room.

 

            Amy watched her go before turning to face the father just as he rounded on his sons.  "The best thing you can do right now is go back to bed, Reginald."

 

            "DON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO IN MY HOUSE," he bellowed.  "You can have that monstrosity, but you will not-"

 

            Whatever else the man would have said was lost as his tongue suddenly glued itself to the top of his mouth.

 

            "If you don't wish to remain like that was for the rest of your life, you will keep a civil tongue in your head, Reginald."  Reggie growled at her around his frozen tongue; then whirled and ripped the crucifix from over the mantelpiece.  He brandished it at the witch, his eyes crazed as he grunted loudly at her.

 

            "Go to your room, boys," Amy said with absentminded authority.  The boys scurried off quickly, having decided that they wanted no part in whatever was about to happen.

 

            "So this is what you've been wanting to do since you first saw me.  Is this what you want to do to your daughter?  What do you plan to do with that cross, Reginald?  Are you going to exorcize me?  Are you going to 'drive the demon out' now?"

 

            "You let my husband go, you monster," Keva shouted, moving from behind her snarling husband to look for a weapon of her own.

 

            "Sit down, woman," Amy growled harshly, her eyes flickering briefly over Keva.  "This does not concern you."  With a thought, she froze the fat, frightened woman in place.  "Now, let's hear these sacred words that will drive the devil out of me."

 

 

            With a muttered word from the witch's lips, he was free of her spell.  Reginald trembled with indignation and fury.  He could almost see the aura of evil around her.  Her taunting smile and the thin reed of wood she held before her like a sword gave her away her ungodliness.  Yes, this was exactly what his mother had warned him of before she died.  She'd taught him and made sure he remembered her words before she'd wasted away as righteous punishment for the crime of being what she was.  She'd told him many times during those last months that she had no business living.  She'd warned him that any man or woman that would not accept a fate such as hers was the true spawn of Satan.  And she'd taught him exactly how to purge these children of the Son of Perdition of their sin.  She'd told him how it must be done so that he'd be able to deal out justice to any of his siblings or their progeny.

 

But who would have thought that his own blood that betray him in the end?  Who could have imagined that his only daughter would be the one to manifest the evil of his mother?  He'd been in shock the night he'd come home to find his home ruined and his second wife terrified as she clung to one of the neighbors for comfort.  He'd sent his wife and sons away and listened to what the neighbor and teacher had said about the filthy child who had somehow managed to worm her way into his heart despite his mother's warnings.  Hadn't she warned him that the Devil would exploit any weaknesses he showed and that he must therefore always be alert and ready?  Hadn't she trusted him above anyone - even his father - with her shameful secret?  And yet, despite everything, he'd watched her from afar as she'd advanced in her classes with just the tiniest hint of pride.

 

Out of all of his children, nieces, and nephews he'd never suspected her of betraying the un-shown love he'd born her. And all the while, Satan had been rearing this child up against him.  Even as he raged at the depth of the girl's betrayal, however, he hadn't been able to do what his mother had taught him.  He hadn't been ready to send her back to Hell, not without first punishing her for betrayal.  And by the time he'd been ready to do what needed to be done, his sons and wife had returned.  He'd known right away that Keva wouldn't understand, so he'd locked the girl away.

 

It seemed ironic that he'd just decided that it was time to finish his task, and this demon, this... unholy creature wearing the skin of a woman should show up to rescue her.  The only thing that had kept him from purging the Devil from the woman when he'd first laid eyes on her was his wife's warning that he would lose his sons if he refused her the demon child he'd been planning to destroy anyway.  But something about this Amy person's look of righteous fury had snapped his resolve.  Now that the foolish woman had given him the chance, he intended to show her how the righteous dealt with demons.

 

            "You are damned, and I intend to purge the evil out of you before sending you back to Hell where you belong!"

 

            "And how do you intend to do that, little man?" the offending woman spat derisively.  "Gonna drive that cross of yours through my heart?"

 

            "Oh no, demon," Reggie chuckled darkly, his lips twisting into a cruel smile as he moved towards the closet.  "Blanche Pryce taught her son well.  I know that killing you isn't enough.  The poison in you runs too deep.  It needs to be bled out before your sinful flesh burns."

 

With that he pulled out the hunting knife he'd been carrying in his inner coat pocket - the one his mother had received from a holy man and given to him before dying.  "I will purify your evil soul by the grace of God!"  He approached her triumphantly, the warm handle of the knife in his right hand and the crucifix in his left.  'First this bitch,' the man thought grimly.  'First I'll bleed this arrogant bitch.  Then I'll take care of my demon daughter.'  He was relishing the thought of their impending screams when the heat from the knife handle began to burn him.

 

"No," he glared at the woman smirking at him contemptuously.  "You will not win this battle, demon!  My mother had this knife blessed by a priest from the Order of the Black Cross.  It cannot lose to the likes of you!"

 

            The knife burst into flames suddenly, causing the man to cry out in pain.  "You will not win," he screamed, charging at the woman with deadly intent.  Just as he reached striking distance, however, the fire became too hot to hold.  He dropped the crucifix at once, falling to his knees from the pain of ripping the knife handle away from his flesh.  He managed to pull it free with some effort, watching in amazement as it extinguished the second he dropped it and lay innocently shining on the rug.

 

            "My family is full of Magiks," the woman he'd meant to kill began thoughtfully, picking up the knife and turning it slowly in her hands as she spoke.  "Did you know that, Reggie?  Well, my family on my mother's side anyway.  There hasn't been a generation born in my family that did not include at least three witches or wizards.  I can trace my ancestry straight back to the Motherland.  But unlike you, I know the names of the men and women who used to live in the villages of Liberia, where we were revered as holy.  When Fasu kidnapped Abeba and forced her onto one of the slave ships 425 years ago, he didn't do it to get rid of prisoners among the tribes or even to create a vacuum of power.  He did it because his uncle had sold him into slavery, and he believed that having her with him on the boat would protect him."

 

            "There have been two traditions in my family since the Middle Passage - we birth early and we die young.  Any idea why that would be Reg?" she asked sharply, disintegrating the weapon in her hands and facing him full on.  "Because of people like you.  You and your stakes and your crosses and your guns and your insistence that you're different than us.  That we have to be 'evil' - that we must be demons because we can do something that you can't.  Your decision to hate us because you can't understand us.  Your rage and your ignorance."

 

            "The righteous must hate the damned," he spat angrily.  "God commands it."

 

            "And when was the last time you talked to God, Reginald Pryce?  Did he come to you in a dream last night and tell you to cut your daughter open and bleed her dry before burning her corpse?  Did you think that somehow that wouldn't count as murder?"

 

            He glared at the woman furiously, cradling his injured hand.  "I don't have to answer to you, witch."

 

"Petrificus Totalis," she said, watching with some satisfaction when the man went rigid and fell onto his back.  "Now, let me show you a bit of what I know of the Bible."  She ran her hand over the man's melted palm, watching the flesh harden into a scar resembling the handle of the knife.  She then took a careful step back, surveying her handiwork, before muttering the counter-curse.  He clambered to his feet, touching his palm in disbelief.

 

            "You healed my hand," he muttered, completely bewildered.  "Why would you do that?"

 

            "'In that way, you will heap burning coals on their heads'," she answered, smiling sweetly at him.  The man flinched, his eyes widening in dread and realization.  Then he fled the house, his howl of anguish following him out the door.  Amy sighed and turned to his wife, unfreezing her.

 

            "You'd do well to remember this, Keva."

 

            "Remember how you threatened and attacked my husband?" the woman growled.

 

            "Remember what your husband intended to do to his own flesh and blood.  Remember the other children that have been entrusted to your care.  And remember that Areyn is one of those children," Amy replied.  "If you shut her out, there will come a time when she won't want to be one of your stepchildren anymore."

 

            "You come in here threatening to destroy my family, force me to give her to you, and then dare lecture me on that... that demon?  As far as I'm concerned, you can have her!  She and her evil are all yours now.  She's nothing more than an embarrassment and an abomination to us.  Take her and go."

 

            "Be very careful, Keva.  The girl's ties to this life are much stronger than yours.  There are some in this family that will not give her up so easily."

 

            "If you are referring to my sons, they will do what they're told.  They will soon learn that we know what's best for them."

 

            "You're a fool to think you can do such a thing to them, but have it your way.  I will tell you this, though.  All of your stepchildren are being watched closely for signs of magic.  But more importantly, they - and you - are being watched.  If any harm should befall them, we will know.  I would suggest that you and your husband have a long talk about that before he sees the boys again."

 

            The doorbell rang suddenly, making the squat woman jump.  "That would be the children's grandmother," Amy said as she opened the door.

 

            "Where did Reggie just run off to?" Jacqueline asked, looking baffled.  The sight of her daughter's replacement looking pale and close to fainting was vaguely satisfying, but it did nothing to answer her growing curiosity.

 

            "You may take the children now," Areyn's new guardian said, calling for the boys.  The three crept down the stairs, carrying the youngest and looking apprehensive.  They all seemed to latch onto the familiar sight of their grandmother, however, and rushed to her.

 

            "They may need to stay with you overnight, Miss J," Amy mentioned nonchalantly as they passed her.  She touched Lewis' arm briefly as he passed, but made no other move to interrupt them as they fled the house.  "I will be taking your stepdaughter out of this house in a few minutes.  Stay out of our way."  With that, Amy turned on her heel and left to find the child she'd now be raising.

 

----------

 

            "Areyn, honey?"  She found the child standing in the middle of her room, looking lost and helpless.  "What's the matter?"

 

            "I...  I don't know where my mother put my suitcase," she said haltingly.  "I tried to pack, but...  I don't know where-"

 

            "Hush, child," the woman sighed, pulling the girl into a hug.  "I want to show you a little magic.  Would you like to see?" she offered to distract the girl from her misery.  Areyn nodded slightly.  "Accio, carpet bag," Amy said.  Seconds later, the bag she'd brought with her on this trip was hovering serenely in front of the pair.

 

            "But how...  When you came in you didn't..."

 

            "As you get older, you're going to find that more powerful witches and wizards are able to perform magic without speaking aloud.  It gives us a great advantage over our enemies," Amy smiled, kneeling so they could talk face to face.  "You're also going to find that words hurt a hell of a lot more than they should."  Areyn looked at her guardian carefully, nodding in understanding.

 

            "Now," Amy continued briskly, standing up to allow the girl time to wipe her face, "here are your bags."  She presented two miniature footlocker trunks the size of toy trains to the child, who blinked in astonishment.

 

            "I can't use those, Aunt Amy," Areyn giggled, pointing to the multiple piles of clothes on her bed.

 

            "You're right," Amy smiled, looking the two suitcases over speculatively.  "So, we'll just have to enlarge them, won't we?"  A wave of her wand and the trunks grew almost as fast as Areyn's liquid brown eyes.  "Emigro!"  The clothing and books the girl had piled around the small room began whizzing into them obediently.

 

            "That is a lovely mirror," the woman commented, noticing that the child was touching the frame of it wistfully.

 

            "Yeah," Areyn jumped, spinning around guiltily.  "My Mom and I used to...  It..."  She gasped with delight as the mirror and the bookshelf under it both jerked into the air, shrinking down to fit in with the rest of her luggage.

 

            "Is that everything, Areyn?" Amy asked, looking around.  The girl nodded; amazed that only things left in her room were her bed and dresser.

 

            "Good, 'cause I think you're going to like the bedroom set I have for you in your new room better."  Another silent command and the girl's things folded and arranged themselves neatly in the footlockers.  Then they closed and shrunk back to their original size.  Aunt Amy plucked the two bags from midair and handed them to the girl.  "See?  Easy as that."  She took them out of the girl's still open hands and packed them into her carpet bag as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.

 

            "Now, we need to get you something to eat before the flight."

 

            "Can we go to McDonald's," Areyn asked hopefully.

 

            "McDonald's," Amy exclaimed, "I said we need to get you some food, child.  Preferably real food.  I'm thinking maybe... the Old Country Buffet."

            The girl's eyes shone.  "I haven't been there since before- n-not in a long time."

 

            "Then it's all settled," Amy nodded.  The two made their way to the stairs, but Areyn paused just before heading down, looking towards her brothers' room.

 

            "I told your brother that I'd look after you, honey," Amy said gently.  She watched her young charge's struggle patiently; knowing that right now, this moment, was the toughest the girl had faced throughout this whole ordeal.

 

            "My Mom told me to protect them," the girl admitted baldly.

 

            "Then you'll have to hurry up and become a good witch then," the woman smiled gently.  "Your brothers will be waiting for you when you're finished."

 

            "What if they're not?" the girl blurted out, a gleam of panic in her eyes.

 

            "Have your brothers ever lied to you?"

 

            "Yeah.  All the time," she answered, clearly despairing.

 

            "...when it was important?"  The girl stopped, obviously brought up short by the question.  "It's going to be alright, little girl.  I promise."

 

            Areyn nodded finally, walking down the stairs and out the door as if the matter were settled once and for all.  Amy watched her go, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride in the young witch she would be raising.

 

            "You will make a fine witch, Areyn," she whispered fervently.

 

---------

 

            "Christopher?  Where are you?  I- ah there you are," Sandra laughed.  "How goes the cleaning?"

 

            "Just finished, Mom," the boy smiled.  "I just laid out my Tarot Rugs; they're showing good things for me," he added, pointing to the vividly colorful Prince of Swords and Two of Disks looking benignly up at the two from the floor.  These rugs had been a godsend for Chris' mother, as their fringes tended to find any missing socks, toys, or books that the boy might miss in cleaning his room.

 

            The place looked almost exactly like his old room.  Already he had rearranged his mother's organized stacks of toys, trinkets and baubles to suit his tastes.  The shelves hanging on the walls were filled to capacity with a hodgepodge of both Reg and Magik playthings. 

 

            "You've definitely inherited your father's organization skills," Sandra grinned, rescuing a transformer from being squashed by the Merlin doll that had watched over the boy since he was a baby.

 

            "Mom," Chris whined, taking back his toy, "I like Optimus Prime there, he keeps Merlin in check."

 

            "Does he now?" the woman laughed, relinquishing the toy with a flourish.  "That's an interesting tarot card reading for today.  Change and upheaval."

 

            "Yeah," Chris grinned excitedly.  "I think it means-"

 

            "I have a present for you," Sandra broke in over one of her son's infamous tarot card scenarios.  "I'm a bit late, I know, but I think it's worth having."  She reached out into the hallway, retrieving a large, rectangular package and placed it on the boy's bed with pride.

 

 

            "It's only been a day, Mom," Chris grinned as he tore off the wrapping paper.  "But thanks!  I was-"

 

            He stopped suddenly, looking at the gift with a slight frown.  "Um...  What is it?" he asked at last.  It was a rhetorical question; he already knew what it was.  The mirror she'd given him was beautifully made, set in a frame of golden wood overlaid with flowing silver runes.  But why would his mother give him a mirror for his birthday?  It was true that he wasn't always the most kempt boy; but the full-length mirror in the hallway was his usual method for fixing this.  "Is it the hair?" Chris smirked finally, running his hands through his habitually untidy dark brown hair.  "Is this a gag about-"

 

            "No, sweetie," his mother sighed, and Chris noticed that she looked slightly crestfallen at his cynical attitude towards the gift.  "I just finished making this mirror.  It's very unique, literally one-of-a-kind.  In fact, it's so unique I haven't figured out what to call it yet.  I was thinking maybe 'The Pen Pal Portal'..." she trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

 

            Chris leaned over the mirror thoughtfully, watching his reflection as he worked through his mother's words.  "Pen Pal...  You mean I can go see her with this?" he asked excitedly.

 

            "Not exactly," Sandra grinned.  "This mirror will let you see and talk to her.  It's more like a telephone than a regular portkey.  But I used a few of the same enchantments.  I forged the connection using your friend's tears," she added.  The ten-year-old went and pulled his friend's letter out of his drawer and automatically noticed that the words on the page looked less smudged.

 

            "You can only use this mirror to talk to her," his mother continued.  "I've made the runes and incantations very specific.  All-"

 

            "This is perfect, Mom," he exclaimed, hugging his mother.

 

            "Thank me after you hear the rules," Sandra told him sternly, "'cause I won't have you taking advantage of it.  I made this mirror because I don't believe in keeping friends apart.  But if I catch you abusing it or using it in any wrong-"

 

            "I understand," the boy nodded gravely.

 

            "Okay," his mother nodded as well, looking relieved.  "Now, you turn it on by touching the frame here," she instructed, pressing the boy's hand to the frame gently.  The mirror flashed as he touched it; then disappeared.  The place where the rectangle used to be was filled instead with shimmering, silvery waves that brought to mind the tide coming on a moonlit night.

 

            "Hmm...  She must not be in her room right now.  The connection will only work if you're both in your rooms.  Once you've made contact, her mirror will take on these runes and she should be able to contact you in the same way.  When you're finished using it, say 'sincerely' and the spell will end.

 

            "Sincerely," the boy repeated softly, watching the shimmering surface of his new mirror revert back to quicksilver.

 

            "It acts just like a Reg mirror otherwise," Sandra smiled at his amazed reflection.  Chris was in awe of his mother's accomplishment.  Both of his parents were well known for their proficiency in making wizard items.  His father supplied some of the best staves, pikes, and shields available.  The weapons that came out of his forge were famous for their self-repairing nature and resistance to fire - even dragon fire - among other things.  But his mother claimed equal fame for an uncanny knack for charming common household items - rings, trinkets, and clothing - with unbreakable protection spells.  Most of the people they did business with inquired after the children of these two powerful Magiks, waiting to see if they would develop their parents' talents.

 

            But the fact that his mother would not only conceive and create such a priceless commodity, but entrust it to his care, was humbling.  "Thank you, Mom," he said sincerely.

 

             "You're very welcome, sweetheart.  Just... be careful with it.  I've never made anything like this mirror, so I don't have a replacement for it should something happen to it.  And if it's damaged or broken..."

 

            "I'll take extra special care of it."

 

            I know you will, honey," Sandra smiled, kissing the boy's forehead before leaving him with his present.

 

----------

 

            "How do you like it?" Amy smiled.  She wasn't surprised at the girl's inability to answer right away.  The woman was actually quite proud of how well her conversion of this storage room to a bedroom had gone.  The rooms of her grandfather's ranch were spacious to begin with, as was the ranch itself, which she had inherited when he passed away.  She'd taken care to ensure that the girl would be comfortable during her stay.  A four-poster canopy bed stood against the back wall, its wooden frame matching not only that of the hardwood floor and woodworks, but that of the large dresser and desk on the walls to either side of it.  The dresser stood next to a walk-in closet big enough to hang up twice the meager amount of clothes the child had brought with her and still have room for more.  The rest of the room was bare, but her charge was too busy staring in astonishment at the walls, which were changing color around her.

 

            "I didn't know your favorite color, so I've enchanted the walls to cycle through a few different ones.  Once you've settled on the one you'd like, I'll-"

 

            "This is amazing," the girl breathed.  "Can I just...  I mean...  Would it be okay-"

 

            "If you prefer the rotation, we can certainly leave it as is," Amy nodded, understanding at once.  She'd chosen soft colors for this room; tan, light golden, peach, pink, and a blue so pale that it easily faded back to the tan again.  The overall effect seemed to have the child mesmerized, which pleased her guardian to no end.  "Am I safe in assuming that this is acceptable?"

 

            "I get to stay here?" she whispered as if afraid this miracle of hers might be taken away should she name it too loudly.

 

            "Of course, child," Amy shrugged.  "Where did you think you'd be staying?  Certainly not in my room," the woman added as if this settled the matter.  "Now, there are a few ground rules we'll have to go over once you've settled in, but I think they can wait until morning.  It's been a long day for the both of us.  How anyone could stand six hours in the air on such an indirect flight path is beyond me."  Without prelude, the woman rooted through her bag and retrieved the girl's things.  With a tired flick of her wand, the child was unpacked.  "There."  Then she noticed that her charge was speechless once more.  "This is going to seem like normal after awhile, little girl.  You'll learn how to do all of these spells and once you start school at Northloft."  She watched the girl's eyes drop from the walls at last.

 

            "Am I... evil?" she blurted out suddenly.

 

            "Do you feel evil, Areyn?"  Before the child could answer, the doorbell rang.  "That must be Sandy.  I won't make you come meet her tonight as it's been a long day and she stops by almost daily anyway.  You just think about my question.  And while you're at it, you can look around your new room.  I'll be back in a little while."

 

            "Okay," the girl nodded, watching her aunt sweep out of the room with a grace and air of confidence that reminded the girl heart-wrenchingly of her mother.  Was she evil?  It was the question that had plagued her for weeks now.  Her father obviously thought she was, but what did he know?  Even when her mother was alive, the man had never taken much of an interest in her or her brothers.  They'd often felt as if he regarded them as mouths to feed rather than his own flesh and blood.  Her mother had been careful to teach her children about the love of Christ, and for the life of her, she wished that her mother was here now to guide her.

 

            "Or maybe it's better this way," she mumbled dejectedly.  The thought of her mother cringing from her or sending her away was too much to take.  How would her real mother - the woman who'd raised her, loved her – have reacted to this situation?  The girl sighed, unable to think of anything that might have pointed to what her mother might have done had she known.  Putting the question aside for the time being, Areyn looked through her drawers to find a pair of pajamas before pulling her overstuffed desk chair over to the mirror now hanging on the wall near her door.

 

            Her mother had told her often how old and fragile this mirror was.  The frame was a three and a half foot tall oval of dark, rich wood, pitted from multiple handlings over the generations.  The mirror itself had a small divide circling its surface, making a frame within a frame.  Her brothers had often mentioned how strange it looked, but Areyn had always loved it.  Late at night, her mother would come into her room and the two would talk about the worlds that might be waiting on the other side of that mirror.  Both had believed it to be a doorway to another world.  The girl had carried those precious memories with her throughout the last stages of the terminal and extremely aggressive cancer that had eaten her mother alive.  Through the funeral that her father had actually shown up late for and left his five children grieving at.  Through her father's wedding mere months after the death of her mother.  Through a year of refusing to hate her father for betraying the memory of her mother with a woman that wasn't fit to tie her mother's shoes.  Through a year of struggling not to judge her father's wife.

 

            Now her father and stepmother were over two thousand miles away, on the east coast.  They'd sent her here because they hadn't known what to do with her.  They hadn't even bothered to tell her the terms of the contract they'd used to get rid of her.  Her brothers, the only people that mattered to her, were also gone.  They were likely being taught to hate and despise her.  That was all well and good for the three she'd grown up with; they hated that bitch and their father almost as much as she did.  But what about Matthew?  Would they stay close enough to him to teach him the truth about her?  And what truth was that?  That she wasn't evil after all?

 

            "This sucks," the girl muttered at last, rubbing her temples to stave off the awful headache she had from her first plane ride.

 

            "A...  Areyn?" an unfamiliar voice asked.  The girl pulled her head out of her hands immediately, looking for the source of the sound.  It didn't take long to find it.  The mirror she'd been gazing into just moments ago was gone.  In its place was something that looked like waves of glistening water and light.  It was beautiful.

 

            "What is this?" she asked standing up to get a closer look.

 

            "Is this Areyn Pryce?" the voice asked.

 

            "Yes.  Who is this?"

 

            "It's Christopher Cordova.  Can you see me?"

 

            "Wait, are you my pen pal?"

 

            "Yes.  Listen, I know this is a shock, but it's really me.  My Mom made me a mirror for my birthday, one that's supposed to let of hear and see each other, but it's not working right."

 

            The girl moved forward, leaning on the frame of the mirror and squinting as if she might be able to see the boy through the waves if she just looked hard enough.  The moment she touched the frame, however, a bright flash blotted out her vision.  Her fingers began to burn where they were touching the wood; she yanked them away to find that a series of strange symbols were being burned into the frame.

 

            "What the hell do you think you're doing to my mirror," the girl blinked, feeling a surge of anger at the desecration of the only connection to her mother she had left.  "You'd better-"

 

            "It's okay," Chris insisted.  "I think the spell needs to be embedded on your side as well to work correctly."

 

            "It's ruining my mother's mirror," Areyn cried in outrage.  "Make it stop!  You make it stop!!  Y-"

 

            Another brilliant flash of light stopped her demand as both children cried out in pain.  When it was over, they stood staring at each other, blinking stars out of their eyes.  On one side of the mirror there stood a little boy with a mischievous grin playing on his round face.  His silver-blue eyes were kind as he looked at his pen pal for the first time.  On the other side was a little girl with sunken cheeks and over-bright brown eyes.  Her clothes were almost a size too big for her, and she had the wobbly look of the undernourished.

 

            "Hi," Chris said at last, the mischief melting out of his features.

 

            "Hi," Areyn responded, a nervous smile on her lips.

 

---

 

Thank you for sticking around to see chapter two! I'm not very good at author's notes, but there are a few things that I should probably mention now that the story's truly getting underway.

 

1.'Emigro' is the name of a relocation charm used in Anna's 'Jewel of the Nile', part two of her amazing trio of fanfiction stories featuring Hermione Granger as the star of the show. I highly recommend it all three stories (Roman Holiday, Jewel of the Nile, and Last Tango in Paris), as well as the side-stories she's cooked up for the characters at http://www.witchfics.org/anna/. Special thanks to Ms. Anna for allowing me to use her handy spell in my writing.

 

2. The 'Middle Passage' is the name given to the part of the African slave route carrying the slaves from Africa to the Americas. You can find more about it at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle_passage.

 

3. Please bear with me on the briefly introduced 'Five Families'. There will be more information given through the story (and future author's notes if need be) in the chapters to come.

 

4. Special thanks to all those that have helped me on this endeavor thus far, especially Draxel Bethlehem and Stirke Fiss. More to follow! Please review, I'm always up for some constructive criticism.