The Adventures of Gwendoline: The Blackwood Witch

Chapter Three: A Half-Breed Walks Into A Bar

I walked down the gloomy main street of Mayville; a small town in the middle of nowhere. 'Two-fifths of nothing' as Uncle Blaise would put it. As far as buildings went, there were a lot. But most abandoned and run down; decorated in graffiti and accented with smashed glass panes, courtesy of the towns ever-growing population of young delinquents. There was a school, a butcher with over-priced meat, a general store with over-priced groceries and a bar with over-priced drinks. It was the perfect place to hide a rebellious half-breed witch. The town was my playground.

I made my way over to the bar and approached the bouncer. I attempt to walk straight past, but he extended his arm out before I could. "I'm going to need to see some identification before I can let you through young lady." He said, in a deep and low voice. I turned to face him and looked him deep into his chocolate brown eyes. He was bald, and the bags under his eyes proved he was definitely sick of this job, maybe even sick of life. The wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes showed he was in his late forties or early fifties. He was looking into my eyes. What a complete fool he was. I waited until his pupils had fully dilated before I cocked my head slightly to the right, and he mirrored my actions. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't have an ID. Is that okay?" I said with a smirk on my face.

"Yes," he said, mindlessly. "Go right ahead, miss." I straightened my head and proceeded to walk into the bar. "Stupid Mortal." I whispered underneath my breath.

One of the things I enjoyed about being a witch was the ability to use compulsion. It made my life a lot easier and enjoyable. I could compel people to give me things for free, let me into places I shouldn't. There were spells and such for things like that, but I found the power of compulsion much easier, quicker and more under the radar to other mortals.

The bar was small and crowded, filled with middle aged farmers from the properties surrounding Maryville. The air was stuffy from all of the people and all I could smell was dirt and beer. I walked over to the bar and ordered my drink. I had compelled the bar attendant last night, so the compulsion would still be in place, which meant free drinks for me. The barman handed me my drink, a vodka and raspberry. I nodded to thank him and turned away, only to bump into a farmer.

The famer was in his mid-sixties and was absolutely covered in dirt. He had a tan line around his eyes from where his sunglasses would have sat. He wore an awfully stained tank top that would have been a bridal white when purchased and paired it with a ratty and ripped red flannelette shirt. He wore navy blue drill shorts that had faded from his hard-working hours in the sun, and boots with the steel caps exposed. "Where're goin' darlin'? Ya lookin' for a good time?" he slurred, I could smell the whisky on his breath. He was rotten drunk.

"No, thank you. I am quite alright." I said as I tried to get past him. As I tried, he took a firm hold of my left wrist which jolted me back in front of him.

"Come on ya miss. I don't bite." His face kept getting closer and closer. I was getting nervous. I could have used a spell to knock him out, but there were too many witnesses. "Come with me and I'll show ya what a real man feels like." He started to drag me to the back of the bar. I was scared. But, once I was out of the bar and we were out of site, I could use my magic.

"Leave her alone!" A voice called out from behind us. The man stopped dead in his tracks. "Let her go, and nobody has to come to any harm." I knew that voice. It was so familiar. Where did I know it from? "I said, let her go!" The man tightened his grip on my arm, before throwing me out of the way into a wall. My head hit the solid steel stool before I fell down onto the ground, blacking out.

The misty plane I found myself in was a lot like mortal limbo, except it was where witches and warlocks went after they had died. This meant that the impact from the fight in the bar had resulted in me having my neck snapped on impact and killed me instantly. This wasn't a worry though. Uncle Blaise had cast an immortality spell on me when I was around five years old. While I still had my ties to the mortal world, I could of course die. But I would be bought back in a matter of minutes. When I turned eighteen however, it would become permanent and I would be almost invincible. I'd have to claim the dark though in order for this to happen.

The wind in the plane was icy on my skin. I started walking around, waiting for the spell to bring me back. All I could think about was that voice. It was so familiar, so sexy and husky. Where did I know it from? All of a sudden, a twig cracked behind me like something had stood on it and broken it in two. I turned around slowly.

The figure now in front of me was almost a reflection of myself. She seemed different though. Mature. Wiser. "Gwendoline?" she spoke. Her voice was similar to mine, but not identical. Then it hit me.

"Mom?"

The air felt warmer, and it was stuffy again, which meant I was now back from the dead. My eyes still weren't open, but I could feel somebody leaning over me, stroking the side of my face. "Are you okay, miss?" I slowly fluttered my eyes open and focused my gaze on the figure above me.

His curly hair sat upon his head like a mop. He had eyes I had already known once before. "Are you okay? Do you need help to get up?" His voice was somewhat husky and sounded sultry to my ear. My eyes widened.

It was the fucking mortal.