Chapter 18: Protected

I loved the curving, winding roads of the Island, banked with tall grasses, the ditches filled with white, purple and pink lupins, edged with red soil, endless blue sky overhead. It never seemed to be cloudy here, only raining at night, though from what I gathered that wasn't the norm for this time of year. Still, I was rather enjoying the nice weather, and heading to the beach on such a gorgeous day was my idea of the right thing to do. Sure I was working, but I could have a little pleasure in there at the same time, couldn't I? From what I could tell, having fun was what being a Lovely Witch was all about.

Snort.

I really was lucky to be here in the summertime, I knew that. No stifling city for me with endless rounds of air conditioning freezing me mixed with the sweltering dread of emerging into the sun baked and impossibly hot streets where not a breeze cleared the heavy scent of burning asphalt and too many people living too close together.

And how about those red cliffs that edged the highway up ahead? I'd never seen anything so stunning. I sipped at my third coffee of the day, smiling at the thought of Jack, and then blushing a little, glancing at myself in the rear view mirror to make sure the flush didn't show. Of course it did. But it wasn't just thoughts of Jack or the beautiful summer day stirring my insides. And no, not too much caffeine, either. Everything about this amazing place seemed bright and shiny and full of possibility today. Like I'd cracked open some giant can of hell yeah and was in the perfect state of mind to appreciate it.

Or, if I was going to put a witchy spin on it, I guess I could tell myself the Island really was magical.

I opened the prize tab on the side of my coffee, feeling like this happy mood was something I could hold onto and I had to be a winner. The big, black TRY AGAIN on white told me otherwise and, for some reason, dampened my enthusiasm. It was just a stupid game. Like I hadn't played and lost in the past. Yeah, that was cheering me up. "Wah-wah. Can't win them all, I guess. Or even one, ever."

Nice effort in trying to make myself feel better. And, just my luck, a puffy jerk of a little dark cloud chose to scuttle across the sun at that exact moment. Way to ruin my day, cloud.

***

It failed once. It will not fail again. It races for the back of her car, black mist cold and bitter. It scoots beneath it, snuffling at the wheels before spreading out and settling against the undercarriage.

This time she will not survive.

***

Carol had her own issues to share. She picked that precise instant to go flat out crazy car on me. As she spluttered suddenly before lurching forward at a rapidly increasing speed, my coffee flew violently from my hand and spilled all over me as if it had a life of its own. I was so distracted that when I looked back to the road I saw a bright red fox with a big fluffy tail crossing my path. I swerved immediately, leaning into the steering wheel, chest pounding, heart palpitating, Carol careening toward the ditch. I slammed on the brakes, but pumped only air.

What happened to my brakes? "Oh, crap!"

My foot pumped the pedal, panic seizing every inch of me, but at least I missed the fox. I squeezed my eyes shut, braced for impact with the telephone pole coming toward me-correction, I was heading right for it-and turned away just as the cloud parted from the sun again.

***

No! What was this pink sparkling power that appears suddenly, striking from nowhere? The burning tingle of the magic surges through its dark mist and breaks it apart, shredding it into pieces. It falls away from the undercarriage, whipped into frail scraps by the wind.

It will take time to reassemble its power, to recover. It snarls its pain as it watches the pink power take its place, vowing that the next time nothing will save her.

***

I will always remember that moment, held frozen in time. The instant the light returned, glaring through my tightly closed lids no matter how hard I tried to block out what was coming. When a soft zinging sensation like sparks dancing over my skin rose goosebumps all over me. And, while pink sparkles glowed behind my eyelids now lit with bright sunlight, to my utter shock and disbelief, Carol spun sideways of her own accord and lurched to a sudden and abrupt stop. I looked up, opened my eyes, positive I had to be dead. Spotted the telephone pole bare inches from my front bumper. And kissed my steering wheel. "Carol, you sexy beast! I'm alive. Whoo-hoo!"

Adrenaline still pumping, but happy to be there and unharmed and positive despite the spilled coffee and the almost disaster I was sure someone at least was looking out for me, I gently steered Carol out of the shallow edge of the ditch and back onto the road without even a hint of a skid. Shivered with the shift of luck and continued on to my destination.

***

"A protection spell?" Constance threw back the hood of her velvet cloak, staring at the image of Reese in the surface of her cauldron, fury written all over her face. Isobel shrank back as her leader flung aside her dark bob while Reese pulled up to the entry of the Singing SandWitch truck.

"And recently cast, from the freshness of it." Isobel knew she should be on Constance's side.

Shouldn't feel so relieved the girl was safe, an unclenching of anxiety releasing her own adrenaline into her shaking body. She hid her trembling behind her own robe, one hand clutching tightly at the haft of her broom. It was impossible to deny any longer, though she'd tried. She was more and more convinced by the moment that Reese was sent by Lilith herself, her long deceased best friend either attempting to save the Island's magic, or, more than likely, cursing Isobel to guilt and regret now that she was old and had lost her way so far.

"They can have their little game," Constance said, her full attention on the image in the cauldron as lovely Vine leaped from her food truck and raced to Reese to embrace her. No doubt who Constance referred to. Isobel hid her face and the tiny smile of delight at the hug behind one hand, her growing horror at the reaction of her leader making her question even more who she'd chosen to align herself with. What would Lilith think if she were still alive? They'd often talked of their hopes and dreams for the Island and its witches. And then Lilith had died and left her.

That bitterness always stung, unrelieved no matter how much time passed, almost worse with each reliving of it. Lilith wasn't here and Isobel had done her best, until now.

Perhaps it was the right moment to admit to herself her best wasn't enough.

Constance spoke again as if forgetting she wasn't alone. Or not caring she had a witness, which troubled Isobel even more. Was she that lost to rigid intolerance she could stand by while her leader did her best to drive away who she was positive was Lilith's heir? "I will find a more permanent way to eliminate that abomination."

Enough. Isobel's old loyalties woke and took over, forcing words out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Eliminate?" A fierce protectiveness seized her, shook her to the core of her heart. As Lilith had been eliminated? Horrible doubt blossomed, withered but didn't die all together as Constance spun toward her, face twisted with malice now settling into a more acceptable expression.

"Right. I meant scare her away."

Of course she had. Isobel was overreacting, as usual. "For the good of the Island?" Isobel had clung to that assurance since the day Constance took over, since Lilith's loss. Retreated into it, embraced it, used it as her mantra, her dogma, to soothe her grief, to cast off her doubts and concerns. Drove her into history and the nurturing of the past so she could forget the future still went on without her. Without her dear Lilith.

If she had nothing else... always. Always for the good of her beloved Island.

"As always, Isobel." Constance had this way of speaking, of convincing her. And, after all, Isobel had followed her leader quietly and decisively for all these years, since the day Lilith died. And it certainly wouldn't do to change that now. The Island's history had to be upheld. "For the good of the Island," Constance said. "Tea?"

She drifted away, exiting her private cauldron room, indicating to Isobel this conversation was over. The historian stared down into the reflection in the cauldron. Into that familiar and most adored face on the body of a strange young woman. A stranger who she now believed was family. And, as she did, her heart clenched and the question arose at last, one she had hesitated to ask herself.

Was Constance really telling the truth about putting the Island first?

Before she could stop herself, Isobel raised one hand and waved it over the cauldron, pink sparkles falling into the water. Her cheeks warmed, a faint smile lifting her lips at her rebellion, a feeling of childish compulsiveness making her remember how happy she was when Lilith was still alive.

Maybe, maybe she could be that happy again. If Reese was who Isobel thought she was.

***