Mark Lansing never wanted to stand out. He was perfectly happy disappearing into a football huddle with the rest of the team until one play made him the talk of the town. Thrust into a spotlight he never wanted, every choice can reshape his future, and every decision could transform him in ways he never believed possible. Mark’s destiny will be determined on the field … assuming he can figure out how to dress the part.

Chapter 46

All around Mark, he saw signs of students engaged in illicit behavior. A few blew vapor from vapes, another held out a lighter beneath a cigarette. Nearby, couples’ bodies intertwined underneath blankets. All of them frozen in place.

“What’s going on?”

Miss Ryan gave Mark a thoughtful look. “Come on, Mark. I’ve seen your grades.” She leaned against her hockey stick. “I know you’re smarter than you let people know.”

Mark stared at her. “You’re a witch?”

“Almost there…”

Mark swallowed hard. “You cast the spell.”

Miss Ryan gave him a wicked smile. “I knew you could figure it out.”

Mark stared without speaking. Miss Ryan seemed content to give him time as the events of the past week jostled in his head.

“Why did you do this to me?”

Miss Ryan looked around the now well-lit area under the bleachers. “This place graduates several hundred students every year. Most are quite ordinary.” She looked from one frozen student to the next, a hint of disappointment on her face.

“What’s your point?”

“Only a few are blessed with the gift. And only a few of them are worthy of training.”

Her eyes focused on Mark.

“I’ve been watching you for years, Mark. I’ve waited to see if you would ever break free of the sheltered life you built for yourself.”

“And?”

“I got tired of waiting…” Miss Ryan’s smile faded.

Mark pointed down at his body. “You changed me.”

“I opened a door. You walked through it.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Didn’t you?” Miss Ryan lifted her hockey stick and rested it on her shoulder. “Every day students advertise their desires without the courage to say it out loud.”

Mark shook his head. “You don’t know what I want.”

Miss Ryan looked at Mark. “I know more about you than you think.”

Mark wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted to demand she explain her actions. But this space under the bleachers reminded him of every time she’d called him into her office. Anything he said now would only make it worse.

Miss Ryan pointed her stick at a pair of young lovers in the middle of a kiss.

“Look at these two. Sex, drugs, and parties are all they care about.”

“They’re having fun. They have free will.”

Of course they do. People are entitled to waste their lives in whatever way they please.” Miss Ryan said, “But you’ve never been like them. You’ve never fit in.”

Mark didn’t answer.

“You saw football as your way to normalcy.” Miss Ryan nodded. “You’ve spent years trying to be like one of them. You spent years practicing, studying, and playing in games. You’ve had a single minded focus on football. You built your entire identity around it but that journey was destined to end tonight. So what’s next for Mark Lansing?”

Mark shrugged. “College, I guess.”

“Ah, yes. College.” She gave a small, humorless laugh. “Everyone goes because everyone else does. Four years of debt, a degree they may never use, and no clearer idea of what they want from life than when they started.”

“It's my choice.”

“Is it?”

Mark's jaw tightened.

Miss Ryan stepped closer. “You've never been particularly good at choosing. You've been content to let other people decide what comes next. Your coaches. Your parents. Your friends. You've followed the path laid out for you and called it your own.”

“That's not true.”

“Isn't it?”

Mark felt his face grow hot. He knew he should say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Miss Ryan had a way of making him feel like he’d done something wrong, even when he didn’t know the cause.

Miss Ryan tapped her stick on the ground. “Do you know what you’ve done this past week?”

Mark didn’t answer.

“You borrowed Alice’s speed, Emily’s hands, and Caitlyn’s balance.” Miss Ryan’s expression sharpened. “You have carried a spell most young witches couldn’t hold for an hour, and you’ve done it for days. You turned the curse into a tool and used it well.”

She leaned toward him. “Tonight’s scheme almost worked.”

Mark felt a new kind of cold. “You know about Aden?”

“I know everything that happens in my school.”

Miss Ryan had said these words many times in Mark’s presence. This time they froze Mark in place.

“Gina too?”

He remembered his anger and the moment his hand struck her. He remembered the sickening feeling as they walked down the hall, after seeing the damage he’d done.

“You’re forgetting a few.” Miss Ryan’s eyes gleamed. “Emily, Alice, Tina, Gina, Caitlyn, Aden … Tim.” She let the last name hang in the air between them. “We all make choices. We all make mistakes. Some of them are more interesting than the others.”

Mark turned away.

“Would you like to talk about what you did to Tim?”

“No.”

Miss Ryan smiled. “I figured as much.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, letting the warmth spread through him, a sharp contrast to the surrounding air.

“You have the makings of a fine young witch, Mark. You’ve always had the tools. The question is whether you’ll use them.”

She reached into Mark’s purse and pulled out the note. The letters of the poem shone from the parchment with key words on six of the eight lines shining slightly brighter.

Your shame no longer hides,
it blooms as frost provides.
The curse I wove runs deep,
a vow you're bound to keep.
To wear the long-sought crown,
you must put on the gown.
And pay the price to fire,
the change your heart desires.

“You’ve done well. Only two items left to complete.”

“I can’t give you the crown.” Mark said.

"Why not?"

“We lost the football game."

Miss Ryan’s eyes shone bright. “Why would I care about a football game? Or have you forgotten our game tomorrow?”

Mark pointed at the note. “That’s what this is about? A field hockey game?”

“My girls will need your help if we’re going to win the championship.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Mark said. “I’m barely on the team.”

Miss Ryan gave Mark a look. “You have the tools to become the best player on that field.”

Mark looked at his hands. He thought about how the hockey stick had begun to feel natural, how his feet seemed to know where to move before he'd consciously decided.

“And if I say no?”

Miss Ryan smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile. “Then I'll take back what I've given you.”

“You can’t do that.”

Miss Ryan tilted her head. “Can’t I?”

He looked at her, searching for some hint that she was bluffing. There wasn't one.

“If you don’t finish my tasks, your memories will be stripped,” she continued. “Your powers scourged. Everything you've gained will be taken away.” She pointed at students engaged in various activities under the bleachers. “You will become like them.”

Mark’s stomach twisted. All his memories. His parents. Jeffrey. Emily. The things he had learned about himself, even the things he hadn’t wanted to learn. He'd lost so much because they remembered him differently. Now Miss Ryan was threatening to take away the rest.

“You’re a monster.”

“Perhaps.” Miss Ryan nodded. “I understand why you might think that but in time you’ll understand it’s the way things work in the real world.”

She lifted her stick off the ground, pointing it at Mark sending a cold into his body so deep he thought it might cave in his ribs.

“What did you do?”

“A simple spell. Tattletale’s Truth.” Miss Ryan grinned. “It will keep this conversation between us.”

Mark pressed his hand against his ribs. The spell felt like it had hollowed him out.

“The Order doesn’t need to know about our little discussion,” she continued. “I suggest you not try to tell them. You won’t like what happens.”

“You can’t make me…”

Miss Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I?”

Mark stopped speaking.

Miss Ryan stepped close enough that he had to tilt his head to meet her eyes.

“You've done well so far, Mark. Don't disappoint me now.”

She looked at his hands. “And try not to drop the ball this time.”

Miss Ryan tapped the ground twice with her stick.

Everything went dark in a flash. Nearby, a boy finished lighting his cigarette. The couple under the blanket resumed their whispered laughter. The world returned to normal.

And Miss Ryan was gone.

Mark found his way out by running one hand along the underside of the bleachers. After a couple of embarrassing run-ins with strangers, he emerged on the other side, his boots clacking against the pavement, a welcome sound.

“There you are.”

Emily hurried over and gave him a big hug. Mark clung to her, hoping the warmth of her arms might remove the chill in his bones.

Bridget’s expression was more clinical in nature.

“I felt a massive burst of energy.” Bridget asked, “Did you see anyone?”

Mark tried to say, ‘Miss Ryan is the witch.’ - “I’m looking for Jeffrey.” came out.

Bridget gave Mark an odd look.

Mark tried again, ‘Miss Ryan turned me into a girl.’ - “I want to kiss him again.” came out.

Bridget gave Mark a look. “You need to focus, Mark.”

Mark nodded, giving up. “I didn’t see anyone.”

Bridget looked at Mark from head to toe. “You didn’t follow the plan.”

“I know.”

Bridget’s face grew cross. “The Millers aren’t happy.”

“They know?”

“Of course they know.” Bridget’s eyes drifted lower. “Were you paying attention to anything I said earlier?”

“Tim didn’t deserve my skill.”

Bridget said, “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

Mark didn’t respond.

Bridget stared at Mark for a full minute without saying a word. “I’m detecting traces of illusion magic everywhere. Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”

“Nobody came.” Mark said, his teeth chattering. “Maybe your people scared them off.”

Bridget nodded. “It’s possible.”

Emily squeezed Mark tighter. “You’re shaking.”

“It’s cold,” Mark said, returning Emily’s hug in a desperate hope for warmth. “I should have brought a coat.”

Emily took a long look at Mark’s face. Mark hoped she might guess the truth. She knew he’d never been a good liar.

“We should get you home.” Emily said.

“Good idea,” Bridget replied. “I’m going to investigate further. Something feels off.”

When Mark glanced back, he saw Bridget looking at him then stare into the bleachers and the darkness underneath.

Chapter 47

Emily answered on the fifth ring, yawning before she spoke. “What time is it?”

Mark had been awake all night, turning the days events over and over in his mind. He didn't know what Miss Ryan wanted, or what would happen if he said no. He only knew he wasn’t walking on that field without knowing what he could do.

“I need you to take me to the park.”

“Mark…” Emily yawned again. “We have a game at noon.”

Mark pulled on a pair of sweatpants. “I know. I need to practice.”

“Practice?” Covers rustled on her end of the line.

“You’re the one who wanted me to take an interest in field hockey.”

“Humphff…” She didn’t sound happy. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Mark’s mom was in the kitchen when he came downstairs, a mug of coffee in her right hand. Her eyes traveled from his sweatpants to the field hockey stick, then to his face.

“You’re up early.”

“I’m going to the park with Emily,” Mark explained.

His mother gave Mark a look. “Didn’t you break up?”

“We did.” Mark shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Don’t bother.” His mom held up a hand. “I was a teenager once.” She pushed a plate of food across the table. “I made this for your father but he’s sleeping in. You need to eat.”

Eggs, bacon, hash browns, and two pieces of toast. The usual weekend breakfast of the Lansing family.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She kissed the top of his head, no longer needing to rise onto her tiptoes to do it. “You need a sweatshirt.”

“Really, Mom?”

“It’s cold outside.”

“All right.” Mark said, shoveling food in with every jab of his fork.

“I remember when I could eat like that and stay skinny.” His mom smiled. “Want some orange juice?”

Mark grinned. “Can I get a Mountain Dew?”

“Not for breakfast.”

She placed a glass of orange juice on the table as Emily burst through the front door, followed by Alice and Gwen.

“I brought reinforcements.”

Mrs. Lansing slipped behind the counter, pulling her robe tight. “And who are your friends?”

Mark pointed with his fork. “That’s Alice and Gwen. They’re on the field hockey team with Emily.”

“I’m sorry, ladies.” His mother said. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have made more.”

Alice held up a bag full of doughnuts, “We’re good.”

“About ready to go?” Emily asked.

Mark stabbed the last piece of egg and tossed it into his mouth. “Yep.”

“Don’t forget your sweatshirt.” His mother called. She pulled one of Mark’s old Stanton High sweatshirts out of the closet and tossed it to him.

“Thanks, Mom.”

The park was empty when they arrived. Emily marked out a pitch with water bottles, Alice set up the temporary net, while Gwen strapped on her goalie gear.

“You didn’t have to come,” Mark said to the other two.

“We meet up a couple of hours before every game anyway.” Gwen said. “This sounded like more fun.”

Emily lined up a set of balls and flipped one to Mark. “Give it a shot.”

Mark swung but didn’t catch it clean.

“Keep the stick lower.” Alice advised. “Stop swinging like you’re holding a baseball bat.”

Mark said, “It’s the only way I know how to swing.”

Emily flipped him another ball, “Run through the cones.”

Mark moved the ball through the course three times as the girls seemed lost in conversation. “When do I stop?”

“When I say so.” Emily said, not looking up.

The trio had him stretch then ran him through more drills. Passing. Receiving. Another circuit dribbling through the bottles.

When he’d finished five laps Emily flipped a ball to him.

Gwen had taken a position covering the goal, pounding her pads. “Bring it!”

Mark received the ball cleanly, moved into the shooting circle, kept his stick low, and fired. The ball skipped across the grass hitting the post with a satisfying ping.

Gwen turned her head at the sound. “Beginner’s Luck.”

“Nice try.” Alice said.

Mark couldn’t help a smile. Emily smiled back

Mark felt something warm under his ribs, the borrowed talent starting to feel like his own.

Gwen and Alice ran to the store to get some sports drink, leaving Mark and Emily to stretch on the grass alone.

The morning felt a little chillier than it had the week before, but nobody seemed to mind. The same boys from last week had started a pickup game of football near the picnic tables. Last week, he'd stood on the same spot with Jeffrey, until the pressure in his chest forced him to stop.

Mark yawned. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I couldn’t stop thinking.”

“What about?’

Mark shook his head. Emily didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand. Mark pressed his forehead to his knees, pulling himself into a ball as small as he could get.

He wanted to tell Emily about Miss Ryan. He opened his mouth then closed it. The spell wouldn’t let him and he didn’t want to think what it might say next.

Emily watched him. He could tell she was concerned. ““Is this about what happened with Tim and Aden?”

“What about them?”

“Come on, Mark.”

“You know?”

“Tim dropping balls. Aden catching everything in sight. It was hard to miss.”

Mark plucked a piece of grass. “Did I do the wrong thing?”

“You certainly made Alice happy.”

“Tina is pissed.”

“I’m sure.”

“But was it wrong?” Mark asked. “My spell changed the game.”

“You gave your ability to Aden.” Emily’s smile faded. “It was yours to give. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Mark didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure her words helped. “I did something else.” He looked down at his chest.

Emily looked too then back at his face. “Have your boobs gotten smaller?”

“Tina expected me to change Tim.” Mark explained. “I’m pretty sure she would have known if I hadn’t cast the spell on Tim. I had to give him something.”

“Oh my god…” Emily said, her smile growing larger.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You gave Tim boobs?”

“When I was inside him, I felt his arrogance all around me.” Mark pulled his knees tighter. “My anger… It was like when I slapped Gina. I did it before I realized what I was doing.”

“Holy shit!” Emily laughed. “You are one evil bitch, Mark Lansing!”

Mark looked up. “You really think so?”

Emily’s laugh faded as she put her arm around him. “How long have we known each other?”

“A long time.”

“Exactly.” Emily said. “I know you better than you know yourself.” She tousled his hair. “You’re a good person who’s had a bad week.”

Mark watched the boys playing football. “I came here last Saturday with Jeffrey. Something felt off all morning. I couldn’t stop pressing my chest.”

“Yeah?”

“I was growing breast buds and didn’t know it.” Mark pressed his hands to his chest as he continued to watch the boys playing football. That day felt like a lifetime ago.

Emily said, “I remember.”

“I think the same thing is happening to Tim this morning. Tina is going to be so pissed.”

“I’m sure his parents won’t be happy either.”

Mark shot his friend a cross look. “You aren’t helping, Em.”

“Have you told Bridget?” Emily said, still smiling.

“I’m pretty sure she knows. She seemed pissed last night.” Mark said. “I’m too nervous to call her this morning.”

“Heh.” Emily laughed. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall in Tim’s bedroom right now.”

“Will you stop? I feel bad enough.” He stared at his hands. “I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Well…”

Mark shot Emily a look. “… I’ve stolen so much from other people. The only reason I’m playing halfway decent today is the skill I stole from you last weekend.”

“You didn’t know what you were doing last weekend.” Emily put her hand on Mark’s shoulder.

“I knew when I took Cait’s balance last night.”

“I told you to do that.” Emily said.

“Does that make it okay?”

Emily considered Mark’s words. “Probably not.”

The pickup game of football had come to a standstill. The boys had bunched together, now sneaking glances at two girls stretching on the turf.

Mark nodded toward them. “Do you remember being that age?”

“Life was a lot easier at twelve.” Emily watched them for a moment and her jaw tightened. “Want to show them we’re more than two pretty faces?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Time to practice. We have a game in a few hours.”

“Okay.”

Emily used her stick to stop Mark’s mishit in mid-flight, and set it down without a word, lining it up next to the other balls she’d placed in a row. Mark reared back and hit one after the other. Three went sailing. One hit the net.

“I suck.”

His errant balls skidded to a stop next to a man and a woman at the picnic table, taking in the morning. "Sorry." Mark shouted. The woman answered with a sour look.

Emily said, "You’re getting better. Your stick handling is amazing for someone who just started."

“Thanks to you. I’m still not good enough to help the team.”

Emily said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself. This isn’t football.”

The man jogged over carrying the two balls and handed both to Mark with a big smile on his face. “You lost these.”

Mark tried to smile back. “Thanks.”

The man’s grin lasted a little too long. “You’re welcome.”

Over his shoulder, the woman at the table hadn't changed expression. The man stood in awkward silence, his eyes darting up and down. Mark glanced at Emily.

She spoke in an even tone. "You'd better get back to your girlfriend before you get yourself in trouble."

"Yeah, probably." The man sounded a little disappointed. "Have fun."

"We will."

Mark turned toward the football game. None of the boys bothered to hide their stares anymore. His shoulders tightened under the sweatshirt.

"Guys are such assholes."

"Tell me about it." Emily smiled. "Just last week my boyfriend insulted the game of field hockey. Can you believe that?"

“Yeah.” Mark blushed. "Field hockey has a lot more in common with football than I realized. There's offense and defense. Match-ups and set plays. You control the ball as you move down the field to score."

"Did you think we were a bunch of silly girls running up and down a field chasing a ball?"

Mark shrugged. "Do you want me to answer that?"

"It's probably best if you don't."

He fired shots at Gwen. He worked on his passing with Alice. Emily worked on his grip and stance.

Emily balanced a ball at the end of her stick and popped it on the ground in front of Mark. “Try another one.”

Gwen stood at the other end of their makeshift field, pounding her stick on the ground and daring Mark to shoot.

“We need to go.” Mark said.

“Who’s the boss here?” Emily replied, hands on her hips.

Mark shrugged as he went to work, trapping the ball, controlling it, circling the water bottles once, then moved toward Gwen. He caught her eye, looked down at the ball, and fired.

The quick shot sailed to the right, skimmed past Gwen's glove, as it slid into the net.

All four of them stared.

“Gooooal!” Alice shouted, “Yay! Marcy!”

“Lucky shot.” Gwen said, fishing the ball from the back of the net.

“I told you.” Emily said, hugging him.

Mark hugged back, and for a moment all his troubles disappeared.

“Now it’s time to go,” she said.

They gathered the bottles and loaded the bags into Emily’s car. Mark watched the park shrink in the car’s rear window, unsure if he’d ever see the place the same way ever again.

Chapter 48

“You’re a lot like Jeffrey.”

Emily blushed as she turned. “I am?”

Mark worked at the strap of his sports bra. "You always tell me Alice is the best player on the team. She’s good and fast, but you're better with a stick. You make great passes, and you’ve got amazing vision. You’re like the team’s quarterback."

“Ahhh…” Emily smiled, "That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me."

Across the room, the others were getting ready. Mark stared at Petra Walker, a fellow senior with her cast-wrapped leg propped on the bench.

“When did Petra break her leg?”

“About three weeks ago.” Emily said. “I told you when it happened. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Sorry.” Mark shrugged. “Did she play right wing?”

“Yeah. A damned good one too. Why?”

Mark looked over the coaches office. “Just wondering.”

Emily shrugged. "Yeah … Lainey took over when Petra got hurt. She’s trying but she’s a natural midfielder. She cost us last Friday’s game."

“Huh.”

"Let’s go ladies. We don’t have all day." Miss Ryan’s voice boomed through the locker room. Seconds later, the sound of feet scurried to join her at the whiteboard.

Mark didn’t bother to run. Little of it made sense anyway.

"… and watch out for their midfielders. They are tough …"

Miss Ryan stopped mid-sentence. Mark didn't feel her stare until he sat down.

"Glad you could join us, Miss Lansing."

"Sorry I'm late… Coach."

She stared a couple of seconds longer before returning to her pregame speech. Mark made little sense of it. He'd spent half the night on the internet researching the game, but there was only so much studying could do. Most of the girls in this room had been playing for over four years. The rules seemed like a mix of soccer and ice hockey, though he didn't know those sports well either.

A list on the board showed the name and position of every player on the team. At left midfield was the name ‘Emily Cawthorn’. At left forward was ‘Alice Bryan’. Mark scanned the list and saw the name ‘Lainey Melfy’ etched at right forward. The name ‘Marcy Lansing’ was listed beside it under reserves.

"… and if we play as a team, I have no doubt who will win this game." Miss Ryan looked at the three girls standing behind her. "Do you have anything to add, ladies?"

Emily stepped forward. Her face was as serious as Mark had ever seen it. She scanned the group, said nothing for a few seconds, and took a couple of deep breaths.

"I’ve known some of you for a long time. Gwen, Alice, and I started playing together in ninth grade. It seems like yesterday now. It’s hard to believe today might be our last game…"

Mark stood with the rest of the team.

"… We all remember how Thomasville beat us last year. We’ve all heard how they’re tougher and faster now, but we’re the better team. And we owe them."

"Damned straight!" Gwen glared at the gathered girls, fierce in her goalie gear.

"I’ve only met some of you this season but none of that matters. We’re a team now. We’re a family. And I love each and every one of you." Emily raised her hand. "Team on three."

The whole team crowded around her. Mark pressed in too.

"One … two … three …"

"Team!" Mark shouted with the rest of the girls. He noticed a few girls had tears in their eyes as they ran out the door. It didn’t take long until he was all alone.

"Lansing?"

Miss Ryan stood in the doorway of her office. "Yeah, Coach…"

"Showing up late wasn't a great way to get on my good side."

"I never got a game jersey."

"Why haven't you done as I asked?"

Mark held her gaze. "Emily and I… we spent the morning practicing."

"I know. I see you haven't used your talent. It’s a bold strategy to defy me. Let’s see how it works for you," Miss Ryan said. "I’m putting you on the bench for the first half so you can think about it." She tossed two pieces of cloth to him. "I was going to give you this earlier, but you weren't here."

Mark held up the uniform. It was pink, with a large maroon #13 on the back and the name ‘Stanton’ embossed across the front, framed in maroon and white.

"I thought you might like to keep your old number," Miss Ryan said.

A surge of emotion hit him. He remembered getting his varsity jersey on the football team. You didn't dress for games simply by being on the roster. You earned it. He remembered the day his sophomore year when Coach Denny singled him out after a brutal practice and handed it over. Everyone knew he was too small to play that year, but everyone cheered as if he would. It was an honor just to sit on the bench.

"These uniforms are nice."

"There are advantages to being vice principal."

And a witch, Mark thought, but he was smart enough not to say it. There were so many things he wanted to say. "I've always liked #13."

"Me too." She smiled. "#13 is a special number."

Mark pulled the new jersey over his sports bra. It fit perfectly, no doubt Miss Ryan's doing. He leaned forward to free his ponytail from under the collar, then stepped onto the bench to put on the skirt.

Miss Ryan strode to the door. "I suggest you really think about what you're doing."

The football field looked different in daylight. A couple dozen people sat in the stands, a far cry from the couple thousand who'd filled the place the night before. Trash piled in the aisles. Custodians cleaned lazily with one eye on the action.

Mark watched from the sideline as groups of girls chased the ball up and down the pitch. The first quarter ended with the score 0-0.
Miss Ryan hadn't looked at him once. The girls on the bench, on the other hand, kept glancing his way and whispering. He couldn't blame them. After everything that had happened in the past week, Mark would be whispering if he were in their shoes too.

He'd forgotten how boring the bench was, though playing in daylight had its benefits. The metal bleachers got cold at night. He looked at his teammates, still gossiping and glancing his way, and only imagining the conversation. If they only knew…

Sitting on the bench gave Mark plenty of time to think. He’d spent most of the first quarter thinking about the cast on Petra Walker's leg.

He felt like a predator as moved closer. “I think you’re in my history class.”

“Yeah.” Petra said, her eyes focused on the field.

Mark placed his hand on the bench, inching it closer. Emily claimed Petra was the best right forward Stanton had on the team in years, but Petra couldn’t play.

It would be so easy. She wouldn’t even miss it as her leg healed. By the time Mark reached with his hand the theft almost sounded reasonable.
In front of them, a Thomasville girl sent a long pass down the sideline to a teammate, who flipped it to another player in the center of the field. She knocked the ball just past Gwen's outstretched glove. Mark could hear the big girl's curses from the sideline.

And despite her handicap, Petra jumped out of her seat, beyond Mark’s grasp.

“That sucks.” She shouted.

Mark nodded, returning his hand to his lap.

Both teams ran back and forth for a few more minutes until the whistle shrilled. The clock read 0:00.

Halftime.

Miss Ryan shouted, "Quiet down, ladies."

Noise stopped as all eyes focused on the front of the room.

"Down by one. Not a great start but we’ve come back from worse. Remember girls … we need more side support when they press the middle. I’ve decided to get a little more aggressive this half so we’re switching formations to a 4-3-3 in the second half. Lansing, you’re in for Melfy.

"Really?" The word was out before Mark could stop it.

The room got quiet. Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing.

Miss Ryan ignored them. "A switch to a 4-3-3 will open up our middle so you midfielders are going to need to work twice as hard."

"Yes, Coach!" Mark didn't need to turn around to know it was Emily.

Miss Ryan smiled. "We've got this, ladies."

"Yes, Coach," the team answered as one.

"Good." Her smile widened as she looked around the room. "Captains? Anything to add?"

Gwen thrust a fist in the air. "Everyone line up on me."

The whole room moved into a tight huddle. Mark had no choice but to follow.

"Win on three," Gwen shouted. "One… two… three…"

"Win!"

Mark didn't dare look at anyone. He could feel them all staring.

"What did Coach say to you?"

Emily was trailing behind him. He shook his head. There were a dozen things he wanted to tell her, and he wasn't sure he could say any of them. "I don't know."

Emily was quiet for a few seconds. "It's a good thing we practiced."

"Yeah. I guess." His heart pounded in his ears.

He remembered his first football game. Running out on the field. The nervous feeling of thousands of people staring. Hoping he wouldn’t screw up. This was worse. At least he knew what he was doing on the football field.

"You're fast, Mark," Emily said. "Your ball handling is getting better, but your shooting needs a lot of work."

"What am I supposed to do? I barely know the rules." He followed her along the sideline.

Emily pointed. "You're playing right forward, and the girl you're marking is good. She's got a scholarship to State next year. She's bigger than you, stronger than you, and she hits hard."

"I thought you weren't allowed to hit each other in this game."

"You're not supposed to," Emily said. "She does. How do you think Petra broke her leg?" She nodded toward the biggest girl on the field. "That one's yours."

Mark stared at #32. She had at least an inch on him and looked twenty pounds heavier. A week ago it wouldn't have been a problem. Facing her now was like the day Coach Denny made him square off against Vince, except football players got to wear pads.

"Shit."

Emily tousled his hair, making his ponytail flip in the wind. "Don't worry, Marcy. You're not afraid of a little ole field hockey girl, are you?"

"Heh." Mark swallowed. "Yeah. That's me. I’ve always been big and tough."

"Look," Emily said, "your job is simple. Protect the right side of the field and pester them with long runs if you can. Guard anyone coming up your line. Try to get the ball if you can. Other than that, all you need to do is run fast." She added in a whisper, "Do I need to remind you how many times you bragged to me after football practice about winning all the team's sprints?"

"I’ve always been fast."

Emily squeezed his hand as they walked toward the field. "You've got this."

He gave #32 another look, then stole a glance at Miss Ryan. #32 looked bigger the closer he got. It was clear what Miss Ryan wanted from him.

"I'm going to need to be super fast."

Emily smiled. "Watch for Alice. She's playing center forward in this formation. If you get the ball, work it to her."

"Okay."

The halftime clock was under a minute. "Gotta go." Emily looked as if she wanted to say something more. Instead she pulled him close and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear. "You're going to do great."

"I'll do my best."

Both teams moved up and down the field. Mark did his best to follow.

Coach Denny always said the trick to winning a football game was to find the weakness on the other team and exploit it. If the team had small defensive linemen, you ran the ball. If your receivers were faster, you threw it. It was like a big puzzle of ‘Where’s Waldo’. Every play was meant to find the other’s weakness, the Waldo, and once you found it, the winning team exploited Waldo over and over.

It was clear Thomasville saw him as Waldo. #32 took the ball up the right sideline three straight times, brushing past Mark's awkward attempts to take it. It might not have been so bad if his own teammates hadn't given up on his side. Every Stanton attack went left, where Thomasville's defense crashed down and stopped them each time.

As the minutes went by, things started to make more sense. The game was really a series of geometric problems, with players running in different directions hoping their spacing might form an angle to open up a gap. In that sense it was like playing wide receiver in football.

And even if #32 didn't respect him, she couldn't afford to let him get to far away. So he started toying with her like he’d done with defensive backs, running in unexpected directions. If he couldn't play, at least he could tire the big girl out. After half a quarter of pestering her, Thomasville hadn't run a single attack up the right side, and #32 moved off him.

Emily's pass took everyone by surprise, Mark included, and he almost missed it. A hit and a dribble got his legs pumping. The entire Thomasville team shifted in his direction.

One hit, then another, his legs moving as fast as they'd go. #32 crashed down, her stick sweeping at his path. Mark flicked a weak pass toward the middle, in the general direction of Alice, but a Thomasville player got there first.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Emily smiling. She gave him a quick thumbs-up. Mark ran to catch #32 as Thomasville attacked.

The ref's whistle ended the third quarter.

Coaches from both teams shouted orders as the teams spent two minutes switching sides.

"Lansing, Cawthorn, on me," Miss Ryan called.

Emily jogged up with Mark close behind. "Yeah, Coach?"

"The right side is wide open. You need to trust your teammate, Emily."

"Okay, Coach."

"Dismissed, Cawthorn." Emily nodded and headed back to the others.

"What are you doing out there?" Miss Ryan asked.

"I was trying to tire her out."

"We need goals." She held out a hand. "Take this. Use my stick."

"Your stick?" Mark’s last memory of this stick was seeing flashes of light arcing from it as it lit up the underbleacher area. He touched it with one finger before grabbing with the rest, its grip seeming warmer than it should have been.

"Is it illegal for me to use this?" Mark held it up.

"Is it?" She smiled and pointed to the stands. "It looks like your cheering section has arrived."

It wasn't hard to find them. Only a few dozen people sat in the bleachers. Jeffrey's voice boomed as soon as Mark turned.

"Let's go, Marcy! Wooooo!"

His mom and dad were sitting next to Jeffrey. A jolt of surprise went through him. He hadn't told them about the game. But his mom was waving a thermos, and his dad gave a thumbs-up, and somehow the surprise turned into something warmer. They'd come to cheer for him, whatever he was.

"I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint them two weeks in a row," Miss Ryan said. "Win me that championship."

Mark continued to stare at Jeffrey, then slowly turned away. "Yes, Coach."

He glanced up at the stands, back at Miss Ryan, and then ran out to the field to find his spot.

“Heya.”

“Heya.”

#32 looked like most of the other girls on the field. Taller, faster, and bigger and obviously skilled. Up close she was just a girl: sweat-covered shirt, chipped nail polish, and calloused hands from years of practice. It would be so easy. They’d leaned on each other most of the last quarter.

“Good luck.” Mark held out his hand as he readied the spell.

“You too.” She took it.

Time slowed down. Her eyes turned white. In the distance, Mark’s Mom, Dad and Jeffrey smiled. Nearer, he saw Miss Ryan standing on the sideline, her unsmiling face staring deep in thought.

Mark pulled back as the girl blinked, and he cleared his throat. The Thomasville player moved into position as Mark stared at his new stick.

Emily smacked the ball forward and Mark took it in stride. He ran past #32 with a quick juke to the right then hit the ball once more, with everyone racing for the goal. His third hit sailed out of control and past the end line. Thomasville’s ball.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Mark cursed himself as he looked towards Alice standing in the middle of the field. He knew better.

"Way to go Marcy!" Mark didn’t need to look to know it was Jeffrey.

Thomasville changed tactics, moving a player from offense back to defense, preferring to play close to their own goal. It gave Stanton more shots, but it didn’t take a geometric genius to know that with a goal that only measured 12 feet across, every additional body on defense made it exponentially more difficult to score.

Stanton hit them with attack after attack, but failed each time.

There were five minutes left in the game when Mark saw it… he found Waldo.

They’d made a dozen separate attacks so far. When Emily passed him the ball for the thirteenth he raced up the sidelines towards the endline, and the middle fullback raced over in a rush to trap him. She’d left a slight crease.

A slight flick of the wrists was all it took. Mark passed the ball towards the middle and Alice’s waiting stick, who slammed it home.

"GOOOOAAAALLL!"

Mark didn’t see it. Both the fullback and #32 sent him sailing.

"Ouch." Hitting the ground felt about the same in field hockey as it did in football. Maybe a bit worse. He lay there in the grass for a while until he saw the offered hand.

"Nice pass." Emily helped Mark to his feet.

"Thanks."

"Game’s not over." Emily hurried to her position as both teams hustled for a restart of action.

"I know that."

Mark heard a voice scream from the stands. "Way to go, Marcy!"

He didn’t trust himself to look.

With the game tied, Thomasville changed tactics, now going on the attack with reckless abandon.

During the final timeout, Emily took the lead. "I think we pissed them off, ladies. They didn’t expect us to put up much of a fight."

Alice said, "They are the #1 ranked team in the state."

Gwen grinned. "They aren’t so tough."

Emily said, “They’re pushing us hard. Be ready for the counter.”

After the restart, shot after shot peppered Gwen in goal. She smacked them all away, the last ending with an outlet pass to Emily.

Mark felt guilty watching the team work down the field. He’d dated Emily for an entire month, but never gave this team a second of his time. Emily was good. Really good. He hadn't known that, and he absolutely should have.

Emily led the attack up the left side, the ball going to Trisha then Yolanda. Yolanda passed it back to Emily and Emily moved to the top of the circle. Time was almost out.

Thomasville defenders raced back to cover as Emily crossed them up. The rest moved to cover Alice.

Everyone in the stadium knew who was getting the ball. Alice was a senior, a captain, and the best athlete at Stanton High School. She was the obvious target.

Emily shouted. "Sluggo!"

The word took Mark by surprise. Years practicing the passing tree told him her mind without explanation. He took three steps towards his defender, then made a hard cut up the center of the field. #32 moved to intercept. Mark waited for her to turn her hips before unleashing his surprise, smiling at the bigger girl when she fell trying to change directions.

Mark didn’t need to look back to know Emily had already made a lob pass as he raced towards the goal all alone. The ball seemed to hang in the air forever as it fell towards him. No defender was within five yards.

Mark made a desperate lunge when it got close, the sound of Miss Ryan’s stick connecting with the ball making a pronounced thud.
Mark barely had time to realize he’d scored a goal when the crash of girls’ bodies landed on top of him.

Chapter 49

"Way to go, Marcy!"

Mark had tears in his eyes as looked up into the stands towards his cheering section. None of it seemed real. He gripped his stick tight, marking #32 as Thomasville made one final desperate attack as the seconds counted down. It was too late.

The entire Stanton girl’s field hockey team roared their high-pitched screams when the clock hit 0:00. Mark could see everyone running towards the middle of the field towards him.

Nice shot!
Miracle Marcy!
I knew you could do it.

The last voice was Alice. Everyone was dancing and shouting with Mark standing in the middle. A look at Emily showed her grinning. They both knew it was a lucky shot.

"It was all Emily. She made a great pass."

"Don’t be so modest."

He’d almost forgotten how amazing it felt to win a game. They continued their celebration as they ran to the sideline, but Mark didn’t want to leave the field. He didn’t want to lose this feeling.

“Did you have fun?”

Mark turned to see his mom. He couldn’t speak for a second as they met in a hug. “I can’t believe you came to my game. How did you find out about it?”

His mother gave a sly smile. “Jeffrey told us.”

Mark looked around. “Where's Dad?”

“You know your father.” She smiled. “Mr. Tough Guy doesn’t like emotional situations. He went to get the car.”

Mark smiled as he looked towards the parking lot. Ten cars sat there. His father sat on the front bumper of theirs.

“Quiet down, ladies.” The team began gathering around Miss Ryan.

Mark gave his mom another hug. “I gotta go.”

Mark’s mom asked, “Do you need a ride home?”

“Emily’s got me.”

“OK. See you at home.”

Only one person sat in the bleachers. Mark smiled at him.

A voice called from behind. "We need to finish our talk."

Mark didn’t need to turn around. "You froze time?" He felt the spell as it wafted through the area.

“Not this time.” Miss Ryan said. "Privacy spell."

Mark looked at his uniform. He was sweaty and covered in a mix of grass stains and dirt. "I beat you."

“Did you?”

“I didn’t steal her ability.”

“I got my championship.”

“Because you gave me a magic stick.” Mark ran a finger over the nicks and scuffs marring its pink frame.

Miss Ryan waved to the bleachers. “He’s cute.”

Mark gripped the stick tighter, "Don’t you dare talk about him."

"Your loyalty speaks well of you." Miss Ryan smiled, "Mr. Simmons has more character than most boys his age. He’s been a good friend to you, but he doesn’t see what I see."

"Don’t try to confuse me." Mark said, "I know the truth. You needed a replacement for Petra Walker."

"I’m sorry you think so little of me." Miss Ryan’s face had returned to its normal impassive state, "I never cheat, and this past week wasn’t so you could take Petra’s place."

Mark held up Miss Ryan’s field hockey stick. "You gave me this."

Miss Ryan laughed. "That stick isn’t magic. Any stick can be a conduit for magic. It’s only a piece of carbon fiber."

"But you said…"

Miss Ryan interrupted, "The only thing you’ve ever needed was to believe in yourself.."

“But…” Mark pointed up and down his body. "Why this?" He could feel the tears forming in his eyes. "You’re supposed to be a teacher, Miss Ryan. You’re supposed to protect students, not torment them."

Miss Ryan said, "I gave you an opportunity, Mark. I gave you something you would never have found playing football or chasing after Coach Denny's approval."

"You want me to serve you. I’m not going to do your bidding.”

“That’s not what’s going on.” Miss Ryan said. “Everyone who undergoes a witch’s blossoming must undergo a series of tests that evaluates them in power, resilience, and morality. You passed the test. Once you take the vow, you’ll be given Initiate status in the Order and allowed to join my coven.”

“Passed the test?” Mark shook his head. “That sounds like bullshit.”

“It is deadly serious. I wasn’t kidding when I said those who aren’t worthy have their power scourged.” Miss Ryan explained.

“It was a test?” Mark repeated.

Mark stared at her. All the changes, all the visits to her office, and all the embarrassment. None of it had been accidental. She'd been watching him all along, deciding whether he was worthy and she never once bothered to tell him.

Miss Ryan said, "It’s easy to lose yourself in the power we can wield. We have to weed out the bad apples before they can rot the whole bushel.”

Mark shook his head. “You changed me without my permission.”

Miss Ryan unscrewed the cap on a small vial of blue liquid and placed it on the bench. "This potion will return everything to normal if that’s what you want."

“Normal?” Mark said. “Nothing is normal!”

Mark picked up the vial. It didn’t look like much. It smelled fruity.

"What happens to my friends?"

Miss Ryan shrugged her shoulders. "I don’t know."

Mark said, "What do you mean – I don’t know?"

"Exactly what I said. I don’t know what will happen." Miss Ryan explained, "You might get everything back. You might get some of it back. You might discover things have changed in ways neither of us anticipated."

Mark looked up to the stands and Jeffrey then looked back at Miss Ryan. "Screw you."

Specks of lightning seemed to flash in Miss Ryan’s eyes. "Do not forget the power I hold Mark. You may not agree with my methods, but I do demand you treat me with respect. I have earned that right."

"Fuck off." Mark didn’t care what Miss Ryan thought.

Miss Ryan’s voice softened, "Are you telling me you’ve hated every part of the last week?" She looked over at Jeffrey then back to Mark. "Let’s not pretend you haven’t found benefits."

"You wanted a championship, and now you’re feeding me bullshit. You’re trying to confuse me." Mark watched as his hands trembled.
"We’re more alike than you realize." Miss Ryan held out her hand. "I wish you could see that. I understand what you’re going through."

"Bullshit." Mark looked at Jeffrey and then back to Miss Ryan. He stared at the blue vial. "I don’t trust you."

"I know." Miss Ryan answered, "But you will."

"Stop lying to me."

"You are not a member of the Order yet. I will tell you the truth…" Miss Ryan smiled. "… once you take the vows. There are things I cannot say to the uninitiated."

Mark sighed.

“What will it be, Mark?” Miss Ryan asked, "Are you going forward or backward?”

Mark looked at Jeffrey. “Forward.” He handed over the blue vial, "But you can shove your vows up your ass."

Miss Ryan smiled as she placed the vial in her pocket and started putting her things into a sports bag. "I’ll take that as a maybe."

Mark stared at her, a thousand questions spinning in his mind. "Why do you hate the football team?"

“Hate them?” She said, “I don’t hate them. I do think this town cares too much about Coach Denny’s boys. I’m not a fan of their macho bullshit, entitled arrogance, overblown egos, and toxic masculinity either. But I don’t hate the football team."

Mark said, “If I played last night we might have won the game.”

"Perhaps. But you can't spend your life worrying about what might have happened on a football field."

"We worked hard to win a championship."

"And what would you gain, Mark? Some cheers, a trophy, and the approval of people who won't remember your name in two years?"

“It was important to me.”

“Sometimes, there are things in life that can’t wait.” Miss Ryan smiled at Jeffrey, "Your friend doesn’t appear to be too broken up about last night’s loss."

Mark looked at Jeffrey and his big, silly smile. He didn’t look upset at all. In fact, he looked incredibly happy.

Mark said, “You say Coach Denny is toxic. You say he forces his vision of the world on others. How are you different?”

Miss Ryan opened her mouth but didn't answer.

For the first time that afternoon, Mark thought he'd managed to surprise her.

Miss Ryan’s expression hardened. "That's enough questions for today."

Mark smiled.

She smiled back. “You should enjoy today’s victory. We will have plenty of time to talk starting on Monday.”

“I told you. I’m not joining your Order.”

Miss Ryan smiled. “Have you forgotten you have detention? And don’t think I’ve forgotten Gina’s slap or what you did to Tim, either. You and I will be meeting in my office at 6:30am every morning for the foreseeable future."

“Seriously?”

Miss Ryan put her hands behind her back. “You are dismissed, Miss Lansing.”

Mark looked over at Jeffrey who was walking toward them. He looked so happy, Mark thought his friend might hug him or maybe even kiss him. Jeffery stopped short.

Miss Ryan smiled. "Hello Mr. Simmons."

Jeffrey’s voice boomed. “Hello Miss Ryan.”

Miss Ryan pulled a team jacket around her shoulders. "You kids have fun."

Chapter 50

Deirdre Ryan smiled as she watched the two youngsters holding hands on their way towards the parking lot. She watched the taller one start his car then watched as the car disappeared up the main road before getting in her own car.

*** KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! ***

An older woman opened the car door. Deirdre showed her the vial. "Success."

Bridget asked, "What’s in the vial?"

"Raspberry sports drink."

"Nice." Bridget grabbed it, pulled the stopper, drank it down in a single gulp."

Deirdre said, "Did you see that shot at the end?"

Bridget smiled, "That was a helluva goal.”

Deirdre said, "Kid’s got natural talent. We could win the State tourney if he figures things out."

“Did you tell him that the win over Thomasville put the team into the playoffs?"

“He’s had a long week. I figured that it could wait until Monday.”

Deirdre started her car, "Did the others leave?"

"They’re en route."

Deirdre drove under the speed limit as she made her way through the city. It was getting dark, and the sky looked like it might snow.

"You should be happier." Bridget asked, "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing." Deirdre answered, "This operation couldn’t have gone better."

"Something is bothering you." Bridget gave her familiar ‘spill it’ face.

"It’s nothing."

Bridget smiled. "It’s always tough being the boss."

Deirdre said, "Yeah."

Bridget said, "Appoint yourself a good second-in-command. You can’t do it all yourself. I’m sure whoever you choose will do a great job. You’ve got a good group."

"It’s not that." Deirdre sighed.

"OK then. Spill it."

Deirdre shrugged. "Mark compared me to Dennis."

"Ha. Ha. Wow." Bridget laughed. "She really knows where to hit you where it hurts."

"Mark is still going by he/him."

"Oh." Bridget smiled. "I figured Mark would have gained acceptance considering all the changes."

"He’s holding on to a lot of anger." Deirdre gripped the wheel a little tighter. "We’re holding off the next phase until Mark has figured things out. In the meantime, I’m going to ask a few of the girls to continue close surveillance."

"Makes sense."

The shopping mall’s parking lot looked as full as it had been in many years. Curious passersby might think it odd a fortune teller had so much business.

Deirdre smiled at Fiona who sat at the front desk, "Is everyone here?"

"Everyone but the guest of honor."

"Good. Lock the doors once they arrive."

Deirdre passed through the curtain to find a large group. In the middle of the room, sat a large casting circle encompassing most of the room. Twelve small circles surrounded one in the middle giving space for the thirteen positions required for the ceremony. Bridget was already on the floor retracing the pattern.

Deirdre did a mental checklist of her flock. Isolde was talking to Jasmine, speaking about a boy she just met no doubt. Of course, Bella and Kaya were sitting together, munching on pieces of pizza. Henna and Caitlyn were listening to Luna who appeared to be deep into another rant.

Everyone looked tired. It had been a long week.

"Ladies. Can I get your attention?"

The room quieted.

Deirdre smiled at each girl. It had taken years to recruit them all.

"Initiation week is tough, but you’ve all done excellent work. Coordinating something of this scale isn’t easy, and I think other than Mark draining all of Fiona’s power, everything went as well as could be expected."

Nods came from every corner of the room.

Deirdre was glad to see everyone decided to go without a glamour spell today. It was easy to fall into a trap of becoming too reliant on magic.

A jingle of bells announced someone had arrived.

"Ah yes. I bet that’s them."

Two heads popped into the room. Alice spoke first, "Sorry we’re late coach. It’s all Gwen’s fault."

Gwen said, "It’s not my fault. You were the one who wanted to stop at a convenience store to get more sports drinks."

"Sorry." Alice replied, "Not everyone gets to stand in goal with a water bottle for sixty minutes."

"Screw you."

Deirdre shook her head. These friends looked as close today as the day Deirdre met them. Maybe even closer.

A voice called out. "Is it okay if I come in too?"

Caitlyn shouted across the room at the third of the trio. "We’ve been waiting for you."

Emily smiled as she entered. "Sorry. I wasn’t sure."

Deirdre said, "There’s pizza on the back table and if I’m not mistaken, I think Bella and Kaya snuck in a couple bottles of wine."
Bella and Kaya answered together. "Fiona brought it."

Deirdre shook her head, "Is the casting circle ready Bridget?"

Bridget said, "Almost. I’m checking a few final things."

Deirdre nodded, "Pay attention to the lines ladies. I think we all learned a valuable lesson this week about not taking shortcuts when casting spells. Isn’t that right Fiona?"

"Yes ma’am."

If everything went well, Mark would make a fine addition to the group. A nod from Bridget told Deirdre all was ready.

"Everyone, take your place."

Twelve witches moved spots in the smaller circles. Emily knelt down in the center. One hand touched the shoulder to their left. Each right hand was placed on Emily’s head.

The chanting began once everyone was in position. Energy circled through the coven, bringing balance to the group.

Not every witch was destined to be a great spellcaster, but they were all equal in this circle. Only a lucky few progressed far enough to receive a boon like the one Emily was receiving. Like Deirdre, Emily had decided to dedicate herself to the study of the arcane. She might even make a good choice to be her number two someday, but it was best to wait to see how things worked out.

Deirdre had decided long ago she’d never settle down. She didn’t want to get married, and she didn’t want to have children. She had eleven kids in this room and another thousand at the school. That was more than enough for one person.

Deirdre spoke the words, "You came to us as a child, not sure of your place. Every day you mature a little more, bestowed with all of a woman’s gifts. You have bonded with your sisters and this covenant of love and friendship shall never break. I am proud to help you on this journey. You have earned the gift we all give freely. Arise with renewed purpose."

On cue, the other voices in the circle got louder. Bridget had chosen an old chant though the words didn’t matter. When the chanting finished each of the women in the outer circle would be slightly weaker, willingly sharing some of their power with their sister. When Emily arose she would no longer be an initiate.

Power flowed through the circle over and over. Deirdre knew they were waiting for her cue, but she wanted to hold to this feeling as long as possible. The group was never as close as they were in these moments.

Deirdre felt the familiar warmth as the circle began to share its power. One by one, the connections strengthened until the room seemed to breathe as a single living thing. She could feel Emily drawing closer to each of them, then suddenly pulling away as the surge passed through her.

She held the connection until she thought she might burst.

Energy flowed into Emily in a flash of light, her body falling to the ground which cut their connection. None dared move from their circle to help. It was important for Emily to rise on her own.

Emily blinked several times, looking around the room as if seeing the room differently. Then she smiled.

Deirdre asked, "How do you feel?"

Emily picked herself off the floor and attempted to stand. "I think I might be sick."

Bridget smiled. "Deirdre might have overdone it a bit."

Twelve hands reached for Emily as she stood and the hugs began.

Deirdre stood back from the others, doing her best not to show any emotion. She always felt a little sad after one of these ceremonies. Losing the link left an empty feeling.

Bridget said, "Nicely done High Priestess."

Deirdre shook her head. "I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that title."

Bridget said, "It’ll grow on you. It’s your coven now. You recruited all these girls. They all look to you for leadership."

"I wish you weren’t leaving." Deirdre said, her words nearly catching on the ache in her chest.

"I’m getting old. Running a coven needs a younger person’s energy. I need rest."

"You’re not old." Bridget didn’t look a day over thirty-five even if she was closer to sixty.

Bridget looked around the group. "I do ask you to tread carefully. You know HQ wasn’t keen on exposing ourselves as much as we did this week."

Deirdre nodded, "Those people need to join the 21st century. Salem happened a long time ago."

Bridget said, "I know that, and you know that, but they’re scared and old habits die hard. I’ll run interference as best as I can. I still have a little pull."

Deirdre laughed. Bridget had more than a little pull. "I appreciate that."

Emily ended the discussion by catching Deirdre in a tight hug. "Thank you so much."

Deirdre smiled. "How are you doing?"

Emily said, "I’m tired. And nervous."

Deirdre asked, "Why nervous?”

Emily said, "I’ve got to talk to Mark."

Deirdre said, "The sooner, the better. He’s going to need your help."

Emily said, "He’s going to hate me."

"He might be angry. He might not want to listen. But you owe him the truth and he deserves to hear it from you."

“I know.”

“Let me ask you something.” Deirdre looked across the room. "Do you hate Caitlyn?"

Emily smiled, understanding. "Not anymore."

Deirdre put her arm around her newest full member. "You and Mark share a special bond and nothing can ever change that. He’ll come around."

Emily asked, "How long did you hate Bridget?"

"It depends on the day." Deirdre smiled. "It was a different time when she found me. I was in a bad way back then. She saved me in every way a person can be saved.”

Emily pointed around the room. "You did that for the rest of us." She smiled. "And look at us now."

"And look at us now." Deirdre repeated. "With one more on the way, thanks to you."

Emily asked, "Do you think Mark will join us?"

"You dated him. You saw his aura. He’s happy. I think he will."

"I hope so." Emily shrugged, "It’s going to be so weird talking to him after he learns the truth."

"I couldn’t be more proud of you, Emily. You’ve done an excellent job." Deirdre put out her arms and pulled Emily into a tight hug. She pointed towards the other girls who’d brought out the cake. "Go join the party. This is your celebration."

"Thanks, Coach." Emily smiled, then turned and ran to hug both Alice and Gwen.

"Why do you always have to play at being the lone wolf?"

Deirdre turned to see Bridget. She’d most likely listened in on their conversation. "Leaders can’t afford to get too close to the rank and file. You taught me that."

Bridget shook her head, "I think you don’t want to get too close. Don’t be afraid that they’re going to leave you. It’s a part of the job."

Deirdre nodded. "Henna just got engaged. Jasmine is looking at law schools in Massachusetts. They’ve done their time here."

Bridget asked, "Got your eyes on some others?"

"I’ve got a list."

Bridget asked, "What about Dennis?"

"Dennis? You know he doesn’t fit the criteria." Deirdre stepped away from Bridget. "I can’t believe you brought up that man’s name."

Bridget smiled, "I wasn’t talking about recruiting him into the coven."

"Oh god. Not this again."

Deirdre could see Bridget was grinning, "I’m just saying … there’s a dozen schools in the area you could have made your base, yet you chose to work at his school. I hear he’s single again."

Deirdre sighed, "We’re different people now. He doesn’t remember."

Bridget gave a motherly look. "People change, Deirdre. But that doesn't mean the person you knew is gone."

"Grrrr…"

Deirdre looked at her group of girls. Most of them would go off to college or get married. It was constant work to keep the circle full.

Bridget asked, "Did you notice the way Mark looked at Jeffrey? They make a cute couple."

Deirdre knew where Bridget was going, "I bet it ends in less than two months. You know how tough it is to keep a stable relationship with a normie."

"I’ll take that bet." Bridget smiled.

With all the new hormones, pheromones, and daemones surging through Mark’s veins, there was no telling what he might do over the next few months. It would take special managing.

"Jeffrey has no idea what's about to happen to him."

"He's one lucky guy." Bridget grinned. "We should make it interesting. If Mark is dating Jeffrey at the end of the month, you have to ask Dennis out on a date."

"Yeah?" Deirdre didn’t dare look at her friend for fear she’d see right through her. "And what if I win?"

Bridget grinned. "I’ll bewitch Dennis, and make him ask you out. He obviously likes you, but you keep scaring him off. The man just needs a little push."

Deirdre shook her head, "Will you stop?"

"So it’s a bet?"

The way Bridget grinned, Deirdre knew it was useless to argue any further. She’d always found it difficult to say no to her High Priestess.

Deirdre smiled, "Let me think about it."

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