Witch's Ink- Chapter Two

As the weeks passed from that fateful incident, Dorothy began to notice a few changes in how she perceived the world.  It was small at first, like noticing small details in food and in her surroundings, but then it grew to more useful skills.  She began to notice that she could always find something she misplaced, even things others misplaced, with uncanny accuracy.  This skill for finding even extended to travel, as she soon noticed that she hardly ever lost her way like she used to anymore.

It was all quite strange, she reflected, placing a new shipment of young adult novels onto the shelf.   Her internet searches only brought up fairytales and Wicca- while interesting to read, did not illuminate anything new to her.  However, she did have one last resource, if she asked her questions right. She looked at her watch, half-past three, so he should be entering any time now.

"Hello Ms.Dorothy," she turned to the young man who had politely addressed her, and smiled a little. Right on time as usual.

Jethro Meyers was one of those people that made you wonder why he was in the social circle he was in.  He was built like a bull, tall and with a little bit of inherited bulk from a Western lineage, a kid that seemed more built for playing football instead of study hall.  But he did not turn out to be a football player, not a sports player of any sort, but a very dedicated student with an insatiable curiosity and appreciation for the supernatural and fantastic- some would even argue that the young man honestly believed that fairies existed, if not every other mythical beast he heard even a word about.

They were only acquaintances, having met during a study session she had volunteered to help out with, and an ensuing scuffle she had to dissolve between Jethro's brother and another student.

"Good afternoon, Jethro," Dorothy replied, putting up the last two novels before going to where he was stationed.  "Hey, you're the twin that likes fantasy, right- Oh I didn't see you there Francis."

The blonde teenager glared up at her, making no attempt to hide how rude he thought she was being currently.  Whatever civility and kindness Jethro had from a good upbringing and genetics, Francis simply did not have.   Francis- a pseudonym he had taken due to his birth name being 'unspeakable' in his own words- was antagonistic, brash, and really easy to tick off.  However, he was just as smart as his brother, if not smarter, and Dorothy noticed that Francis had a passion for anything with a wire or a screw in it, though he never said anything about it himself.

"Oh, don't mind Fran," Jethro waved a hand.  "He got into trouble again at school, so he's gotta stick with me this afternoon.  Er, but yeah, I'm the one who likes fantasy."  His eyes lit up as he sat up eagerly.  "Oh, is there something you need to know about? I know everything about those kinda things!"

When it came to myths and magic, this kid was like a goddamn otaku.

"Er, yeah, I'm researching a part..." Dorothy picked her words carefully.  "Can you find some stuff about witches and e-mail it to me?"

"Witches, eh?" Jethro looked up thoughtfully, and scratched his nose.  "Yeah, that won't be a problem.  ... Sure you wouldn't rather have info on fairies instead?" He added with a chuckle, and the comment came with little surprise; Jethro had a special fascination with fairies, almost an obsession.

"Oh, no, just witches, there's no fairies in this play," Dorothy denied gently, before being interrupted as Francis finally decided to speak.

"Christ, Jethro, what the hell is with you and those fucking fairies?" Francis spat from under his magazine, as eloquent with swear words as ever.  "I don't even see why you got to put a mention of one into every damn conversation, they're gay as fuck!!"

"Excuse me, Francis," Dorothy spoke up, slamming her hand on the table in the middle of Francis' tirade, causing the blonde boy to stop and drop his magazine.  Kudos to Aunt Rayna and her interrogation tactics.  "But first of all, that kind of loud and brash language is not allowed in this library, and also, be a little more considerate of who's parents you're using as an insult."

"Er, y-y-yes ma'am," Francis sputtered, with a little hiccup.  Of course, when she turned and walked away, she was pretty sure she heard him mutter 'bitch' under his breath, but  it didn't matter, she got her point across anyhow.

She would go through her day relatively well, but an idea would plant itself in her head like a suggestion from an outside force.  It was a small little thing, while she was ruminating over how Toby could possess objects.  Well, since I'm a witch, maybe he could possess a broom for me to ride on.  How quaint.

That evening, she would stop by a costume shop that knew her well, and bought a prop broom made from a good wood and with pretty bristles.  She never really considered actually using it, it was just a little idea she wanted to try out. For fun.  Besides, actually riding around on a broom would be a silly idea.  She tried to get the idea out of her head as she rode the elevator up to her apartment- or could it be called a flat? She did manage to find a very spacious little place for herself, with a wonderful skyline.

She let herself in and checked her computer quickly.  Jethro had sent her a small essay that compiled everything he knew and theorized about witches, but it did little other than clear up a few facts about myths about witches to her, and was overall not too helpful.  But then she noticed a message in her inbox titled 'I know What you are.' from an address she was unfamiliar with.  However, it didn't have the look of any spam mail, so she opened it, almost thinking that it couldn't possibly be... But it was.

To Whom it May Concern,

I have sources that tell me that you are of a similar breed to myself.  A witch, yes?

Please do not click away without reading my message, I only want to help you learn more about yourself.

My name is Nadia Belorov, and I am a witch, like you.  I have information, should you request it.  I encourage you to reply, so I may meet you in person so we may sort out some of your confusion for you.

If you reply, please include your address, so that I may arrive at your dwelling tomorrow evening.

Sincerely,

Nadia Belorov

The strange thing was the name at the end.  It looked like a true signature written on paper, and when Dorothy highlighted the name, her computer couldn't recognize the font.  And it certainly didn't look like one of those make-it-yourself fonts, it was far too real.  Almost as if someone had added it in with an otherworldly power as proof.

She knew she was taking a risk, but Dorothy felt that, for whatever reason, she just had to meet this person.  So, with a moment of hesitation, she hit the reply button.

Miss Nadia,

Please do not be making an attempt to pull the wool over my eyes, but if you are truly able to provide me with information, it would be greatly appreciated.

My current address is

---

"So, yoo want me to possess this 'ere broom..." Toby was repeating, a look of confusion on his face.

"Yes," Dorothy nodded.

".... So yoo can ride on it? Loike in the pictures." Toby finished, spinning the broom in his hands, with a frown of mixed thoughts.

"Exactly. Just a thought I wanted to try out." Dorothy nodded, smiling a little.

"But yoo know that would mean... Er," Toby seemed a little flustered as he made a few motions with his hands, trying to find the right words, before settling on just saying it flat out.  "Yoo'd be putting me be.... Between your legs."

".... Er, yeah... I guess that's true..." Dorothy suddenly realized why it was awkward for Toby now.  "But there'd be an object in the way, right, so.... Then again, I don't know how object possession works."

"It's not exactly something yoo can figure out, it's just something that yoo can do," Toby corrected.  "Kinda loike yawning."

"Oh, I see... Kind of," Dorothy crossed her arms.  "Well, we're both wearing pants, so it's not like it'll be... You know."

"Er..." Toby's eyes drifted down, before he corrected his gaze with a start. "R-Roight, of course!  Well, l-lemme see 'ere..."

He concentrated, holding the broom vertically in his two hands, his tongue sticking out of his mouth a little as he tilted his head slightly to the right, furrowing his brow until he finally looked like he made a connection between himself and the broom.  Then he seemed to get fainter than he already was, while the broom itself seemed to gain an aura around it, before Toby finally disappeared, leaving the broom hovering in exactly the same position Toby had been holding, the entire thing seeming to glow faintly.

Dorothy smirked a little, one test done, one more variable to test.  She walked up and touched the broom, a small chill ran up her spine as she did, but she attributed it to Toby being, well, a ghost.  Dorothy lifted the broom and moved it in her hands.  Initially, there was a little resistance from Toby, before he relaxed and allowed her to move the broom freely.  After a moment, she moved the broom down and placed it underneath her, sitting on the broom with her legs together as a proper lady would ride a horse.

"Okay Toby, I'm gonna try it now, so make sure I don't fall." Dorothy announced, and heard a small sound of acknowledgement from Toby.

She put her weight on the broom, and she could feel the broom pressing back on her and keeping her afloat.  It took a little balance, and she had to shift her position a little, but once she got herself centered, the feeling of floating was quite interesting, freeing, even.  It was understandably unnatural, but it wasn't too different from sitting on a rail.

"Well, you can sit on it, I see, but let's try moving," Dorothy mused aloud, thinking of going forward, but Toby didn't move. "Er, forward?"

""Which way is forward supposed to be?" was the reply she received, tinged with a bit of a smart tone.  "I can't exactly see too well where I am just yet, especially after yoo jostled me around loike ya did."

"Then, how about..." Dorothy thought, leaning a little.  Then the idea struck.  "Okay, can you move where I lean?"

"I guess..." was the reply this time, as the broom slowly slid forward, like a boat on water.  Dorothy felt her balance slipping a little, so she swung her other leg around and straddled it for increased balance, keeping a grip on the handle.  Very witch-like, she mused to herself.

----

The next evening, she waited anxiously for her visitor.  She held her mug of chocolate milk- she never had a taste for hot drinks, but she did like coffee mugs- and tapped her fingers against the ceramic, glancing up at the slowly ticking clock every few moments.  When would she arrive, this harbinger of knowledge?

Then the knock finally arrived at her door.  Dorothy nearly leapt out of her seat, but she didn't.  She calmly went to the door, and, with a little hesitation, she opened the door.  She had been wondering what this 'Nadia' would look like.  Was she an old woman? A wiccan 40-something with frizzy red hair and hemp jewelry? Or even....

"I hope I am not too late," a soft voice, tinted with a hint of an accent, greeted her once the door was open.  It was the type of voice that felt like it should ride on a cool, minty wind on a moonlit night.  "But I try to time my arrivals to the best of my ability."

She was probably only a few years older than her, and a visage in white.  Soft pink eyes gazed out from under a sweeping curtain of translucent white hair pulled back into a long and flowing ponytail, on a background of pale white skin.  It would be quite evident to anyone that this woman was an albino, albeit a very well-kept one.  A white skirt wrapped her figure and ended just a little past her knees, and a pale blue jacket framed the pale pink of her buttoned-up shirt.  She looked more like a secretary than a witch, and in fact, the only particularly odd part of her ensemble was a dingy and worn leather satchel at her side, that held the shape of a large book that was presumably inside it.

"You're Nadia Belorov?" Dorothy asked, yet a part of her mind told her that this was true before Nadia even nodded.  "I'm Dorothy Rossin-Montaine. Uhm, feel free to come in."

"That's a rather long last name you have," Nadia noticed with a smile.  Everyone seemed to notice her long last name.

"Yeah, my parents weren't sure which last name to give me, so they gave me both," Dorothy explained.  "Oh, can I get you something to drink?  I don't have coffee, but there's milk and soda in the fridge."

"Oh no, it's fine," Nadia waved her hand, her eyes scanning the tidy apartment Dorothy resided in.  "I'd rather just get down to business.  I can see you are also anxious to begin."

"Huh? How could you tell?" Dorothy asked, her head tilting a little as they both sat down.  "Can you read minds?"

"..." Nadia gave her a look, before giggling softly.  "No, I gathered it from how you've been clutching your cup this entire time."

"... Oh yeah." Dorothy looked down, and would have sworn that she had set the mug down.  Instead, she had been clinging to it with a tight grip the entire time.

"Well, anyhow, I suppose you're wondering when I'm going to tell you about what we are," Nadia remarked as she took out what was in her satchel.

It was a book, all right, but much older than any Dorothy had ever seen.  It was about the size of a large encyclopedia, but the pages were many, all yellow-ish with careworn age.  The cover was bound with what looked like some odd form of leather, stitched tightly all around it, and it was covered all over with strange lettering that seemed somehow familiar to Dorothy, although she had never seen such symbols before.  Nadia held it with an air of ceremony, holding it out to Dorothy.

"This will tell you about which sort you are," Nadia commented.  "She can always tell what sort of witch is holding her."

"She?"  Dorothy gave the book an odd look, taking it in her hands.  There was a strange feeling about this tome, as if it held a living presence of it's own.  Her fingers lightly traced the stitching on the cover.

"Oh yes," Nadia nodded slightly.  "She's a bit of a magical book, so I suppose she must have a little more magic than the average spell book."

"..." Dorothy gave her a small look, but then hesitantly opened the book.  She saw the letters on the page moving and changing on their own whim, settling to an illuminated-style manuscript, silver words glinting in the light, stylized graphics of canines of all species peeking in and out of the margins.  Dorothy looked up at Nadia, who was sitting patiently.  "I don't understand what this thing is trying to do.  What's with all the pictures of dogs, anyways?"

"Oh, it's dogs for you? Interesting..." Nadia looked over at the pages, giving a nod.  "That must mean you're the wolf. Or dog. Whichever you prefer."

"...." Dorothy merely stared, a little confused.  On one had, it was incredibly coincidental that she was a dog or wolf or whatever witch, but on the other, something seemed too incredibly lucky about this assignment.

"I suppose you find it a little odd, but I can explain," Nadia spoke up, bringing Dorothy out of her thoughts.  "It's a little bit long, but I assure, I'm an expert."

---

"You see, when you think of witches, an image of an old lady flying around on a broom probably comes to mind, or else a couple of crones huddled around a boiling kettle.  These are actually not too stereotyped, though one shouldn't come to conclusions that all witches are the same.  There are different types.  Miss Montaine, you and I are from a special group of witches created by Hecate herself.  We only exist through humanity's belief in the symbolism of the animals we represent, and our job is to further keep myths alive.  Whether this is because there's something out there that feeds off mortals believing in it, I do not know, but at any rate, that is what we believe we have been made for.

"Now, each witch has a different specialty- we're like tailor-made subjects in a government, I suppose.  I, for example, have a specialty with information, as some cultures thought that knowledge was carried on the dust of a moth's wings.  We have an innate ability to attract things that relate to our stations and their symbols, and this extends to other witches- which is how I was able to find you.  Of course, you being awoken made things a good deal easier, I must say.  I don't know how it got awoken, but at any rate, knowing and learning your skills shall become much easier.

"Of course, my skills, you might think 'spells'.  I suppose that's another thing you could call them.  You see, our magic varies from witch to witch.  As a wolf witch, you probably wouldn't be able to do things with information like I can. There are a few tricks that most witches can do, and I'd be glad to show you them.  However, I suppose I ought to explain you, shouldn't I?

"The wolf is a very strong witch, and a double-edged sword if you will, representing both protection and destruction.  I suppose you are a very loyal person, but you should know that wolves aren't entirely pillars to knightly behaviors, as gluttony and a desperate need to be a leader are also likely to be traits they fall prey to."

Nadia went silent then.  Dorothy tilted her head.

"Is that it?" Dorothy asked.

"Well, that's all that I can think to say," Nadia replied with a shrug.

"Well, how many witches like us are out there?" Dorothy asked.

"Well, there's about 14 or 15 of us out there, give or take," Nadia said after a small pause to think.  "Of course, not all of them are alive at the same time.  There may be witches like us that are older, younger, or have even just passed away.  We just sort of come in and out of this world on a whim, so real rhyme or reason as far as that goes."

"I see." Dorothy ran a hand through her hair, then looked up at Nadia.  "Well, it's a please to make your acquaintance, Nadia, and you've really taught me a lot. .... There's a way to read this book, right?"

"Oh, yeah, keep it in your room when you go to sleep for one night, and that should do it," Nadia replied, standing.  "And speaking of sleep, I do think it's time I leave.  I have been talking for quite a while, but do feel free to contact me later at your leisure."

"Alright," Dorothy nodded.