The shop echoed with the tinny jingle of the old bell the witch hung over the door many years ago, the sound sweet and comforting to visitors. However, customers were few this time of year. Most of them only stopped by on a dare or for a good story to share with their straight-laced friends. So, she half considered ignoring whoever it was while she continued napping in front of the icy blast of the window unit running in the back office.
"Hello?" The female voice was young and uncertain, rising on the o with a quiver.
Snapping to attention, she pushed the sweaty strands of her pixie cut off of her forehead, cursing the hairstylist who assured her that the style was effortless and perfect for the humid, Mississippi summers. No matter how many decades passed, she never grew used to the boiling heat.
The witch spied the plump teenager hovering near the front door. Dust motes danced through sunlight slipping through blind slats. Golden beams warmed the worn wooden floors and provided the only light in the room. The center of the sales floor was covered in tables and shelves housing herbs, crystals, mortars, pestles, and books about witch lore. All the basics every good witch needed to practice the craft. And it was all a sham.
"Hello dear. What brings you to Amulets?" she asked the adolescent girl.
"I-I'm sorry. I think I'm just wasting your time," the girl answered, clutching her satchel to her side. Her hazel eyes grew wider with every sweep of the shop, and she shifted closer and closer toward the exit.
The witch gave the girl what she hoped was a calming smile, but she feared she failed when the girl flinched. Year after year she stayed in this pitiful town, hoping the next young girl to walk into her shop would be the one she was waiting for, and each time they disappointed her. But dreams had led her here, and she never dreamed a dreamed that wasn't true.
"Come child," she said, motioning the girl closer, weaving a bit of magic into her words. Perhaps nurture was not natural to her, but magic was. "I sense you have the Gift. What is your name?"
"Corinne, ma'am. I don't know if I'd call it a gift. I woke up this morning, and it just started happening. I drove all the way over here cause my Mama said you dealt in sorcery and devil worship, and I just need it gone."
"Is today your birthday, Corinne? Your seventeenth?"
The child looked surprised, but nodded. "Mama said the same thing happened to her when she turned seventeen, but Granny made it stop. Now that Granny is dead, you're all I have left. Please. She gave me five hundred dollars."
"Shh, it's fine. Come here." The witch walked behind the jewelry counter positioned right in front of the entrance. This was the only thing in her shop that really mattered. "Do you see these stones? I want you to touch each one and tell me what you feel."
She pulled the precious gems from the case and placed each one on the glass counter-top. Right now, they were nothing more than pretty baubles, but in the hands of the right witch, they were conduits for power.
Her gaze shifted to another cabinet. One she kept locked at all times. Those stones were filled to the brim with magic- mostly stolen from foolish witches who had wandered into her shop seeking the same help as Corinne. A few had been more reluctant to part with their power, but few witches were as old or skilled as her. In the darkness, whispers permeated the shop-angry and anguished, they haunted her relentlessly. In the end, it would be an insignificant price to pay for her sins.
During the day, another type of whispering assaulted her- this one a siren's call begging her to drain the stones of their magic. What she wouldn't give to siphon each of their power and fill the burning rush through her blood, but such greed was the downfall of her kind. And she would be different. She had to be for the world's sake. All she needed was the right girl.
That thought drew her attention back to the new witch in front of her. Corinne wiped her palms against her denim shorts before reaching for the first stone. She rolled the emerald around in her palm, but other than its usual gleam, the rock behaved like nothing more than a rock. Shrugging, the girl placed it back on the counter. One by one each rock failed to respond to her touch, making the witch's hope rise as they narrowed the options down until only two stones remained.
"Is this supposed to do something? I haven't felt a single thing," Corinne said.
"A witch is born with the Gift. It will manifest in small ways throughout her early years. Perhaps you've always known when someone would come for a visit, or you would dream of the death of a loved one, only to have it happen the very next day."
"Yes," Corinne said, her eyes widening as she clung to every word.
"On her seventeenth name day, her powers awaken fully, but no witch is complete until her soul binds to the gemstone which represents the house of her power source. The emerald represents a witch who excels in earth magic. Her powers are strengthened by fresh soil and plants. The azurite binds to witches with air magic. She often has prophetic dreams and can harness the weather. The pearl is water, the ruby fire, and the tektite is spirit."
"These rocks are that powerful," Corinne responded, the fear and uncertainty fading as the possibilities of her power became real to her. "What about this one?"
Her index finger hovered above the opal, its surface blazing with all the colors of light. Again, hope sparked within the witch's breast. "That stone represents the most powerful magical order. An opal witch has not been born in more than a century. Many think the line ended when the last opal witch died with no daughters."
"Oh," Corinne murmured, slowly lowering her finger until it brushed against the fiery surface of the gemstone. And nothing happened.
Both women looked crestfallen, but Corinne shook it off and picked up the pearl. The milky white surface warmed and glowed softly against her black skin. A triumphant smile spread across her face, and she showed the other woman the stone with pride.
Sighing, the witch stepped around the counter, around the teenager, and locked the door. Scanning the craggy parking lot briefly, she flipped the open sign to close before turning to face the newly minted witch. She'd hoped for an opal witch, but a pearl witch was not a bad second choice. Her control over the water element had dwindled to almost nothing over the last decade, and the girl had begged to be relieved of her Gift.
"What are you doing?" Corinne demanded, her intuition heightened by the bond to her gemstone.
She turned to face the girl, the curve of her lips natural now. "Exactly what you wanted."
YOU ARE READING
The Opal Witch
Fantasy[Completed] Lux's senior year of high school had been carefully mapped out since her freshman year. Snag the lead in the school play, chalk up a few more volunteer hours, and ace her AP English class. Maybe even get her first kiss out of the way bef...
