Brittany Geragotelis - Life's a Witch

“Does anyone know what our greatest asset is when it comes to our magic?” Jackson asked.

“Knowledge?” Peter, the youngest in the group, said.

“Intelligence?” Sascha guessed.

“Our ability to trick our opponents!” Fallon shouted, as if we weren’t all standing within a few feet of him. I covered my right ear, which was now ringing, and prepared to answer.

“Power.” There was no doubt in my mind that this was my greatest asset when it came to performing spells.

“All of those are good answers, and in a way, you’re all correct,” Jackson answered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his fitted jeans. The charcoal color of his sweater made his blue eyes stand out even more than usual. I could see why he’d been such a catch as a teenager. If he weren’t so old now—almost twenty-five—we might’ve made a great power couple. Alas, I’d never understood the whole teacher/student attraction. Not for me, thanks.

Jackson continued his lecture. “Good guesses, but there’s one very small, very simple thing you’re each overlooking.”

We looked around at each other quizzically. I still thought my answer was right, but I was willing to see where he was going with this. After all, he was our teacher, and this was his lesson.

“Fallon, come on over here a minute,” Jackson said, motioning for my nemesis to stand beside him. We all took a step back to watch. “Okay. Now try to hit me with a spell. Doesn’t matter which one. Surprise me and put everything you’ve got into it.”

A devilish smile grew on Fallon’s face as he was given permission to do his worst. I couldn’t remember the last time we were given free rein to go crazy with our magic during a lesson. I could tell Fallon was going to enjoy this, and I had to be honest: part of me wished I could switch places with him.

Jackson steadied his stance and rolled his neck in a circle as if he were warming up for a five-mile run. See, it’s important for a witch to be as calm and loose as possible in order to sustain an attack from another witch. If you’re too tense, it’s easier for the magic to work its way into you.

Besides, when your mind and heart are clear, you can respond a lot more quickly to things.

Right before Fallon spoke the words to his spell, I caught Jackson mumbling something under his breath. Everyone else was focused on Fallon, waiting to see what spell he’d choose. Instead, his eyes grew wide as no sound came from his lips. Fallon opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, but still, nothing happened. When he began to claw at his throat, Jackson said, “Muflix sertikin,” and carefully put his hands on Fallon’s shoulders.

“What the hell was that ?” Fallon yelled, gasping, when he was finally able to speak again, sending a nasty look Jackson’s way. He was shaken—and it was more than just embarrassment over failing to one-up our teacher.

“Calm down and let me explain,” Jackson said evenly. “Did everyone just see what happened here?”

“Fallon couldn’t get his magic to work,” I said, snickering a little at the implication.

“True. But any idea why?” This time nobody answered. Finally, Jackson told us. “I took away his ability to speak.”

A few people still looked confused, but I had a feeling I knew what Jackson was getting at. “No voice, no spell,” I said, already admiring the cunning behind his simple counterattack.

“Exactly, Hadley. Very few witches have the power of thought alone to pull off a spell. Take away a person’s voice, and you take away their ability to use that power,” said Jackson.

“Excellent,” Jasmine said, smiling.

“It’s cheating, if you ask me,” Fallon mumbled, not enjoying the fact that he’d been the butt of a joke, even if it was to prove Jackson’s point.

“Oh, come on, Fallon. You had no chance from the very beginning,” Jackson said, trying to smooth things over with him. “There’s nothing a person can do when their voice is taken away. What we’re going to learn today is how to perform the mumming spell on our enemies, and of course, how to deflect them so we’re not caught in such a vulnerable position. Now, split up into groups of two and start practicing.”

For the next hour, we took turns performing the spells on each other. I teamed up with Sascha, who’s usually good at casting spells but isn’t very aggressive with her magic. This meant that after the first few times I deflected her mumming spells with no problem, I stopped trying to avert them in order to give her a chance. Nobody likes a show-off.

Fallon obviously didn’t know this, and I watched as he refused to allow Peter to bewitch him. As much as I hated to admit it, Fallon was probably the most powerful kid in the coven besides me. Peter, however, was only eleven and hadn’t really found his voice yet, which made him an easy target. Because of this, I couldn’t help but feel protective of him. Maybe if I’d gone up against Fallon, I could’ve kept him from running his mouth for the rest of the night.

Ahh, there’s always next time.

When Jackson felt we’d had a sufficient chance to put the new spell into practice, and most of us seemed comfortable with it, he had us gather around for the history portion of the night.

We met only twice a month since our members lived across several neighboring towns—not like in the olden days when covens were determined by location. After the trials, the original Cleri members who were left felt it would be safer if they spread themselves out. So those who escaped Salem Town moved far away and then tried to separate themselves so as not to draw unwanted attention.

Because we had to travel a ways to get to each meeting—the location of which rotated—Jackson had to try and cram as much into our lessons as possible. The truth was, with the state of the world being what it was, our parents didn’t have the time they used to to devote to our daily lessons. So most of our group depended on our magic classes to learn about our powers and the Cleri heritage.

I got to do both. My parents both used magic pretty regularly and had always encouraged me to develop mine. And as much as I loved to take advantage of the practical side of magic, I felt like I knew all I needed to about our history.

Maybe too much , I thought, recalling that morning’s dream. Why relive such a gruesome part of our past over and over again? We’re not masochists.

“Now, can anyone tell me when this spell was first used and who created it?” Jackson asked as he paced across the floor. My hand remained by my side, even though he was looking straight at me as he said it. I wasn’t sure why, as I never knew the answers to these types of questions. “No guesses?” We remained silent. “Well, Hadley, it would do you some good to do a little research into your family’s past. Given your lineage, many of our lessons stem from your relatives. This one in particular was thought up by your great-great-great-aunt Trixie Bishop.”

“Ah yes, Great-Aunt Trixie,” I mumbled, already bored. “I believe she’s referred to as Crazy Aunt Trixie in our house. Not the finest example of the Bishop bloodline apparently.”

Jackson chose to ignore this comment and instead moved on. “And can anyone tell me why Trixie cooked up the mumming spell?”

This time, several hands flew up all around me. Seemed like my classmates had actually listened when Jackson suggested that reading material a few months back. They must not have had a school to run, a squad to lead, a reputation to uphold… Even so, I hated that they knew something I didn’t, and I began to rethink my position on studying magical history.

“Jinx?” Jackson asked, calling on the pretty brunette sitting in the corner. Looking at her now, I thought about how the name didn’t match her at all. The girl in front of me was mild-mannered and quiet and came from a really great family—you’d never know it but her parents were very well-off. She got good grades and was liked by everyone as far as I could tell. Despite her name, she was the last person you’d ever consider to be bad luck.