I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right, and monkeys might fly out of my butt.”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Emily, it encourages negative energy.”
“OK, Iris, but seriously, I know you are into all…this,” I waved my hand towards her fireplace, which doubled up as an altar, “but it’s not my bag. I mean I like wearing black, it’s better than this cat sick yellow they make us wear in school – sorry, Lyra, no offence,” I apologised briefly to the cat, who licked her nose in response.
“But the black outfits aside, I don’t really dig the image, and I don’t want to be considered a freak at school, which I would be if I went around saying I was a witch!”
“Do you consider me a freak?” Iris asked as if it had genuinely never occurred to her.
I could hardly say yes, even though I wanted to. “Oh, ah, um,” was the best I could come up with.
Mercifully she just laughed. “Thanks, Emily. Listen carefully: you are going to become a witch at midnight whether you want it or not. You don’t have to tell anyone and you really don’t have to wear black. But you do need to know what you’re doing. Please, just humour me in this?”
“Humph, fine, I’m a witch.” I said. “So, do I have some magical destiny to fulfil?”
She furrowed her brow, “No, why would you?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I spread my hands, “Isn't that normally how it works?”
“Not so far as I know. You just get your powers. It’s up to you what you do with them. But you have to be careful; there are rules, of course, against openly using them.”
“Right, yes, rules. Will the vampires rip my head off? Or the Ministry snap my wand or something?” I said, letting the sarcasm creep back in.
Iris sighed slightly but all she said was, “Your wand. Mustn’t forget that.” She went over to the Welsh dresser against the wall, and reaching right up to the highest shelf, she reverentially took down a small grey book and a stick.
Placing them on the table in front of me she wiped a tear from her eye.
“This is your sixteenth-birthday present from your mother. Her wand and her Grimoire.”
“These were my mother’s? She thought she was a witch as well?” I said it sort of jokingly, to cover my emotions. My mother left these for me? I choked back a tear of my own; I would think about that later. I ran my finger down the dusty cover of the grey book.
Iris put her hands on her hips. “She didn’t just think it, Emily, she was an amazing kitchen witch.”
“Kitchen witch?” I was lost now.
“Yes, she was particularly skilled at brewing. And your Grannie Mara is a fantastic hedge witch, so you have it from both sides.”
This time I choked on a laugh of disbelief. “Oh, come on! You can’t tell me that my father’s mother is a witch too? My dad would bust a gut.”
“Your father chooses to ignore the obvious all too often,” she said sadly. “Are you not aware of your grandmother’s unusual herb garden?”
I looked at her in amazement. It was true my grandmother did grow all sorts of unusual plants, and on the rare occasions we visited her she would show her garden to me and try to teach me the names of the things.
I struggled to get my head around it all. Again I retreated into taking the mickey to move past something I wasn’t ready to comprehend. I picked up the wand.
“It’s a stick,” I said flippantly.
“Yes,” Iris said calmly, “in essence it is a stick. The wand has no actual power of its own, but it will give your magic some direction. The crystal in the end will enhance your magic too, making it stronger.”
I looked at the end, and buried in the wood was indeed a small crystal. I waved the wand around.
“Expelli…something!” I intoned, then looked around expectantly.
Iris huffed; I think I was starting to annoy her. “This isn’t Harry Potter, Emily. And secondly, you don’t actually have any magic, yet.”
I put the stick down and picked up the book. “What’s a Grimoire when it’s at home?”
“It’s basically an instruction manual. How to cast a circle, how to create magical objects like talismans and amulets, how to perform magical spells, charms and divination, and also how to summon or invoke supernatural entities.”
I flipped through the pages, a little overcome as I saw it was filled with my mother’s neat handwriting.
I wished she were here.
“OK, Aunt Iris. Thank you for these presents. Is there anything else I should know?” I wanted to go home now and look at my mother’s book.
Iris stroked Lyra as she jumped onto her lap. “Oh, Em. There’s so much you need to learn, but perhaps you’ve had enough for one night?”
I nodded.
She stood up. “The fact you inherited the craft from both sides is going to make you very powerful, do you understand? But until tomorrow we don’t know exactly what your powers will be, so just be careful not to do anything stupid – and promise you’ll call me if you have any questions?”
She then took off one of her necklaces and put it around my neck. “From Lyra and me, for protection. Happy Birthday, sweetie.” She planted a kiss on my forehead and I gave her a hug, before collecting up my new belongings, stuffing them in my school bag and heading home.
That night I sat up late reading my mother’s Grimoire. It was an amazing book and my mother had clearly taken all this witch stuff very seriously. How could I never have known? Why hadn’t my father told me? I knew he liked to bury his head in the sand, but was I really a witch?
Inside the front cover of the book was a poem of sorts, entitled “The Witches Rede”. It said:
Bide the witch’s law ye must
In perfect love and perfect trust
Eight words the Witches Rede fulfil:
An ye harm none, do what ye will.
What ye send forth comes back to thee
So ever mind the law of three
Follow this with mind and heart
Merry ye meet, and merry ye part
I couldn’t help but think it sounded more like something from “Pirates of the Caribbean” than a Witches Rede. But I took its meaning on board. Kind of a “do as you would be done by, or else” message.
I heard the church clock strike midnight and tensed, wondering if anything magical was going to happen. Would I be surrounded in a blaze of white light or float to the ceiling as I got my powers? I sat cross-legged on my bed and looked round; nothing was different.
I let out the breath I had been holding and rolled my eyes. Of course nothing was different; how silly to have let myself be sucked in to thinking it might be.
That’s when I saw the ghost materialise in my chair.