The Magician's Witch

A Midnight Ride

Eilis tossed and turned, unable to keep her mind away from dredging up the occurrence in Hester and Alafair's tent. She had gone to bed early, claiming that she still wasn't feeling well due to the night before; but try as she might, Hester's timorous voice kept her from blissful, 

unencumbered sleep.

I fear your fate is entangled with something--or someone--quite sinister, my girl.

Over and over and over, the words spun on a repeating loop, like the "It's a Small World" song, but infinitely more peeving.

Also, as soon as she began to drift off, the face would return. That twisted, ghoulish face. The Devil, Hester had called that face.

Eilis sat up in bed, slapping the sheets, exasperated. She ran her fingers through her loose hair. She looked out the window at the moonless, starry night. A few clouds sat suspended in the diamond-dotted sky; none were laden with rain.

"Screw it," Eilis said to herself, throwing the sheets off and getting out of bed. She stomped into the bathroom, raking a brush through her hair and tying it back into a messy braid. Then she went to her closet and pulled out a sports bra, an undershirt, a long-sleeved shirt, a thick sweater, exercise pants, and the thick wool socks she wore when she went hiking. She layered up in the dark, tucking shirttails into pants and pulling pants on over socks, then grabbed her hiking boots.

Eilis then went to the closet closest to the front door where all her outer gear hung. She threw on a thick fall jacket, donned a knitted beanie, and grabbed a pair of winter gloves. She reached down for the backpack that she usually brought with her on the trails. She unsecured the hydration pack and went to fill it in the sink in the kitchen.

That done, she grabbed a handful of protein bars from one of the cupboards and shoved them in the front pocket of the backpack. She went and unplugged her phone from the socket in the living room and added it to one of the smaller pockets, zipping it in. She then went and found her journal in the side table drawer and added that as well, along with a pen.

The water container replaced and secured, she checked the rest of her provisions: a small first aid kit, a compass, a battery-powered lantern, extra batteries, a solar charger for her phone, chapstick, hand warmers, plastic bags, a cord of rope, a roll of toilet paper, hand sanitizer, a knife, and matches; she didn't need the matches, but Eilis liked to be prepared for any scenario.

Zipping everything up, she arranged the pack on her back, adjusting the shoulders to accommodate the thick jacket.

Eilis then came back to the front closet and pushed all the hanging items aside; she groped for the corner until her hand came in contact with a smooth, wooden shaft—her broom.

Eilis crept down the stairs in the dark, groping for each step she took, clinging to the railing. She was afraid someone in the main house would see a light on and would sound the alarm that she was sneaking out. The Sampsons and their friend slept in the tents in the yard. Eilis feared that if they heard her moving about or saw her fly off, they would alert the rest of the family and her cover would be blown.

Making it to the base of the stairs, she readjusted the pack one more time and snapped the straps around her waist and under her shoulders. She pulled on her gloves, then eased the door open and stepped out into the moonless night, closing the door behind her.

The night was clear and cold; riding would be even colder. She imagined it was akin to how bikers had to gear up before they rode—except flying a broom was far superior to driving a motorcycle.

Eilis held her broom out, laying it across both palms. She concentrated for a few seconds, then let her hands fall away. The broom hovered above the ground, defying the laws of gravity and physics.