Apex Book Company

The oldest witch in the world liked to sit on her front porch glider every afternoon to read the paper and do the crossword puzzle. Sometimes she found the headlines depressing, but today the main item was about a UFO sighting.
right here in town.

“Balderdash,” Evalor said to herself. “These stories are all hokus. Why would aliens be interested in this planet? We don’t have anything they haven’t already seen or invented.”

The old witch noticed that of late she had been talking to herself a lot. It was her age, of course - - she was one hundred and ninety-eight years old. She didn’t plan on living beyond two hundred. That was a long enough span for this time around. She longed to join her Sisters of the Coven in the Sky, where she would be preserved until her next reincarnation, which was scheduled for the year three thousand. She grinned toothlessly. “It’ll be nice to see you all again, Sisters,” she murmured, just as a football hit the porch railing and rebounded into the hedge.

Three small boys scrambled across her front lawn and through her flowerbeds. One snatched the ball out of the hedge and they all ran back toward the road, tramping across her precious herbs and potion plants. Little monsters!

The old witch stood up and shook her fist at them. “Hey - - you bratty kids stay outta my mollywort! Keep away from my peridoxia!”

They turned, giving her the finger, sniggering. One called out, “Go to blazes, you rotten old witch!”

It was getting too much. This wasn’t the first time they had trampled over her mollywort and peridoxia plants. They sometimes sneaked into her back garden fishpond to try and steal her toads and frogs. Whenever they felt like it, they rode their bikes across her creeping spider-leg vines and Satan’s Weed, or climbed her apple tree. And they were always so noisy, hollering and often calling out swear words. Evalor never liked children, but these boys especially irked her. Something had to be done. She tore a narrow strip from a page of the newspaper and wrapped it around three of her withery fingers. She dipped her hand into some skeleton dust that she always kept handy in her pocket, murmured some hex words, and then blew hot breath over the powdered newspaper. It disintegrated into thin air.

That evening, the fathers of each boy came home with wonderful news. Each received a promotion at work and a large increase in salary. They were transferred to another city, and their homes were sold to childless, retired couples.

The neighborhood seemed nice and quiet for a while, and Evalor read her paper in peace, and sometimes dozed on the front porch swing. But then she began to notice the sound of the birds, chittering and trilling in the apple tree. Sometimes it jangled her nerves.

“Hssst!” she said, aiming her crooked fingers at the tree. After that, there were no more bird songs. Next, the neighborhood dogs who barked all night suddenly disappeared.

Another thing that annoyed the old witch was the cars that passed her house with their radios blaring music full blast. She couldn’t understand the words, and the heavy bump-thump beat drove her crazy. One midnight, she went down to the corner and sprinkled a fine line of Devil’s Powder across the road. After that, if any car going past was playing loud music, the radio stopped dead, right at the corner, with five or six glitches in the system that the repairman was never able to fix.

Finally, the neighborhood was still. Evalor could sit on her porch from dawn to midnight without hearing one single twitter, drumbeat, or sound of a human voice. After all, at her age, she deserved some peace and quiet.

As time passed, the old witch grew bored. She read the many stories on the front pages about the theory that aliens were amongst us, but she didn’t have enough interest any more to say balderdash. It was like she had sealed herself from the outside world. She had no telephone, radio or television. Those confounded contraptions hadn’t been around when she went through her first century, so she surely didn’t need them for her last hundred years. She had no need to go into town for anything, either. She raised her own vegetables and brewed her own dandelion wine. Once in a while she treated herself to a frog-leg dinner or a tadpole stew. What more could she want? The question knotted her hairy brows.

She wandered through her silent, empty cottage and down into the shadowy basement, where a circle of seven black candles burned constantly in honor of the Sister of the Coven in the Sky. “What’s wrong with me, Sisters?” she asked.

You are lonely.

“Lonely?”

Yes, lonely. Get a companion. An assistant. An apprentice.

“An apprentice witch?”

Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time in history. Besides, all your knowledge, your hexes, your incantations, your potions and powders - - who will watch after them when you are gone? Find someone young. Someone who will preserve your legacy. Someone you can sponsor into the Sisterhood. And while you are teaching her, and entrusting her with all your invaluable wisdoms, you won’t be lonely any more.

“But where will I find such an apprentice witch?”

Where does anyone go for anything in your modern day and age?

Evalor had seen many ads in the newspapers for a place called the Mall. “Of course! The Mall. I’ll go tomorrow.”

The next morning she awoke with an excitement she hadn’t felt in years. She went through the house, tidying, dusting, sweeping the kitchen hearth, making ready for the young person she would bring home today. She had no doubt of finding her. Hadn’t the Sisters of the Coven in the Sky given her the sign?

When the old witch opened her closet, she saw she had nothing to wear. Luckily, an old piece of black gauze lay in a heap in the corner. Evalor shook it free of spiders and mouse turds, and tossed it into the air above her head. It came back down around her as a fairly modern dress. She chose a pair of high-top pointy black shoes and painted her three inch fingernails with the juices of the bloodroot vine. Carefully she arranged a wig over her bird’s nest hair and touched a sprig of Sweet Ibis behind each ear for scent. In her vanity drawer she found a pair of dice, and when she rattled them together, they turned into a set of dentures, which she thrust into her empty jaws.

“Not bad,” she said, smiling at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look a day over one-fifty.

Evalor had no car so she’d have to go the old-fashioned way. Broomstick tucked under, she spun herself three times south and three times west, and found herself sitting on a stone bench near a fountain in a mall. No one noticed her sudden appearance - - they were all too busy shopping the sales or standing in line for hamburgers. “So this is what the hoopla is all about,” she commented to herself.

Almost immediately a young girl of about twenty sat down on the same bench. She was wearing jeans, a white tee shirt, and had closely cropped black hair. Evalor hardly had time to appraise her further when the girl burst into tears.

“Oh my,” the old witch said. “I suppose it’s only polite to ask you if there’s anything I can do.”

Through misty eyes the girl looked over at Evalor. She shook her head. “No. There’s nothing anybody can do.”

The girl was extremely thin. Maybe she was hungry. Evalor scrabbled around in her pocket for some raven’s eye cookies. She found one and offered it to the girl.

As she accepted it, the stranger smiled wanly. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“You looked hungry.”

“If only hunger were the problem,” the girl said, her tears beginning to bubble forth again.

“Don’t cry,” said the old witch, moving just a tad closer. “What else could be wrong at your young age?”

“What else? Let me tell you what else,” the girl said angrily. “I lost my job when the firm went out of business. I have no money. I’m behind on my rent. I came over here to apply for a job in that hamburger shack but someone else beat me out just before I got here.”

“You poor child.” This was the one, Evalor knew, as she raised her eyes heavenward. Her Sisters in the Coven in the Sky had been busy, creating all this turmoil so the girl would come here at this moment in desperate need. Edging another inch toward the girl she said, “Perhaps your parents will give you a loan until you find a job?”

The girl dropped her head and sobbed into her hands. The cookie was lost in the drowning. “I have no parents. I’m an orphan.”

“There, there,” Evalor said, patting her hand. “It turns out I can help you after all. I came here today looking for an assistant.”

The girl looked skeptical. “Doing what?”

“Oh, just a few things around the house, tending the garden, brewing potions, grinding medicinal leaves, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, I see. You’re an herbalist.” Her face relaxed.

“Yes, I raise many herbs.”

“That sounds cool. But - - I don’t have any experience.”

“I will teach you everything. What’s your name, child?”

“Myl.”

The old witch smiled. “Myl. Short and sweet.”

The girl smiled back. “What’s yours?”

“Call me Evalor.”

Myl extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Evalor.”

The old witch shook hands, then reached down to retrieve her broomstick from beneath the bench. “Shall we go home, then? I’ll make you some turtlefoot soup. Just hold on to this.” She gave her the end of the broom handle and the next moment they were in the cottage.

“Wow!” Myl said, blinking her eyes. “I’m a little dizzy. How did you do that?”

“I’m a witch.”

“Awesome,” Myl said. “Can you show me how it’s done?”

“It’s an advanced specialty,” Evalor replied. “I’ll teach it to you eventually. Now make yourself at home and I’ll fix our soup.”

While Evalor was in the kitchen, Myl wandered through the cottage and out onto the front porch. She sat down on the glider and spoke to the inside of her left wrist, where a dime-sized titanium micromitter was implanted beneath her skin. “Agent Myl calling Mother Ship Celex One. I made contact easily. I have gained access to subject’s quarters, at her own request. Mode of transportation very basic, yet faster than ours. No formulas observed yet. Will investigate further. Over.”

She then placed her wrist close to her ear. “Captain Wyd of Mother Ship Celex One responding. Good work, Agent Myl. Keep us posted on your progress. Over and out.”

Two weeks later, the two women were standing in the basement near the floor-to-ceiling shelves of bottles and jars. The old witch held a pointer, and tapped one of the jars.

“Peridoxia leaves,” Myl said. “For ensuring the victim’s teeth fall out.”

“Excellent. This one?” Evalor tapped another jar.

“Skeleton dust. For ensuring the death of the victim within twenty-four hours.”

“And this?”

“Mollywort. A beneficial herb. When drunk as a tea, it will produce an easy childbirth. Mixed with the saliva of the tree frog, and rubbed on the head, it will cure baldness,”

The old witch smiled. Myl was a genius. All you had to do was tell her once, and that computer brain of hers had the concoction nailed. “That’s enough today, Myl. Let’s take our afternoon break and read the paper on the front porch.”

As they passed the furnace, Myl pointed to a large, locked cabinet, half hidden in the shadows. “What’s in there, Evalor?”

“Old shoes and hats,” the old witch lied. The cupboard held the powers of darkness - - formulas for earthquakes, typhoons, plagues, forest fires - - any and all disasters known to man. There was a recipe for making the world spin backwards on its axis, and one for a flood such as had not been seen since Noah’s time. “Nothing of interest to you at all,” Evalor said, leading the way upstairs. But she did notice that Myl lingered a tad too long at the base of the stairs, studying the thick lock on the cupboard. She had seen her staring at it several times before this. A shiver of suspicion twitched at her mind. She was glad she hadn’t yet shown Myl the secret hex words for breaking and entering.

During the next few weeks, Myl learned how to make charms, poultices, and talismans, both beneficial and harmful. The old witch taught her how to spin north for the most evil curses, and how to spin east for playful jinxes.

They shared berries and fruits from the garden, and together planted spices for next year’s salads. They painted each other’s nails with the juice of the bloodroot vine, and Evalor amused herself by throwing rags into the air and watching Myl’s pleasure as they came down around her as designer jeans and famous label shirts. Evalor hadn’t felt so young in years. She might even postpone leaving this world at two hundred, and hang around till age two-fifty.

“Evalor, you are just so wicked!” Myl giggled one evening as she found herself wearing the latest Donna Lauren clothes.

“I know. I’m a witch.”

The two burst out laughing.

“You’re spoiling me,” said Myl.

It was true. But the old witch had never been more content. She had found the perfect apprentice, in spite of that bad little habit Myl had of pestering her about revealing the blackest secrets of witchlore, the Lucifer formulas.

“Calling Mother Ship, Celex One, Agent Myl reporting. Have located the secret formula we are pursuing. I’m sure it’s locked in a basement cabinet, but don’t know what sort of furies and demons would be unleashed if I broke into it. Request further instructions.”

“Captain Wyd of Mother Ship responding. Try cajolery, a bit of circumlocution, and flattery. Questions?”

“I’m afraid to broach the subject outright. She can kill with her fingers, you know. She turns them into snakes. She showed me once.”

“If you’re in danger, tap code Red and we’ll beam you up.”

“Okay, but she’s fast, so be ready. Over.”

“Agent Myl?”

“Yes?”

“Remember, time is short. Life on the entire planet depends on the formula. It must be found. Soon.”

“Understood. Over and out.”

In her cozy attic bedroom, Myl tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Her thoughts kept returning to her home on the planet Celesius, where her parents, and her younger brother, Dyt, were living in terror, where her friends and all the citizens of the planet were living in a frenzy of fear. Myl visualized her parents and Dyt, trying to sleep in their beds, not being able to, tossing and turning just as Myl was.

Once more she turned over and gazed through the small window nearby. The stars glinted brightly in the heavens. Out there somewhere too, was the Mother Ship, poised to rescue her immediately if anything went wrong. What could go wrong?

Evalor had the formula tucked away in that cabinet, Myl was certain - - the formula that the wise council of Celesius had proclaimed the only hope of steering the meteor away from their planet. Even thousands of years ago, the Celesian council had known of the problem, but the meteor was so far away in those days they did nothing. Now, in the final months before impact and total destruction, they had dispatched her on this mission, to pry the formula from the wisest witch on earth. Myl had been ordered to succeed, at any cost, even to the point of killing the witch to get the formula.

Myl shut that thought out, and turned again to face the wall. She had grown fond of Evalor, and had begun to like witchcraft. Learning the formulas was interesting, and fun. Myl smiled in the darkness. “If you run out of mustard seed,” she whispered, “Spit three times into a circle of pebbles, and over night a mustard plant will spring up and bloom. To cure the gout, make a poultice of mollywort mixed with beetle larva, and apply between two grape leaves at midnight.”

Myl had been looking forward to becoming a full-fledged witch. She was only a few days away from obtaining Evalor’s final approval. But she knew that Evalor wouldn’t let her into the locked cabinet, even when she was an authentic witch. There must be some very dark mysteries locked in that cupboard, some that Myl didn’t ever want to know. But just this one - - to save Celesius, and her parents, and her brother - - if she could just persuade Evalor, and not have to harm her….

Myl rose from her bed and went to look out the window. She was already becoming proficient in witchery. As she looked over at the apple tree, concentrating all her thoughts, she murmured, “Ossan, burmatafor, drapheggi.” She spit on the back of her right hand, and rubbed it with the pinky of her left. Immediately the apple tree began to shake violently, even though there was no breeze. “Azpac toh loma!” she whispered, and the apple tree stood still again. It was easy, once you knew the right words, and how to focus your thoughts.

If only she knew what to say and do to save Celesius. If only she could continue living here in this little cottage with Evalor and still be home with her family. Sadly she shook her head. “You can’t have it both ways,” she told herself.

It was two A.M. on the bedside clock. Myl went back to bed to try to sleep. She had to get some rest if she were to persuade Evalor to give her the formula for diverting the meteor….

The next morning, as they pickled scorpion eggs in the basement, Myl said casually, “You know, Evalor, I once heard that it was a witch who whispered the atomic formula into Einstein’s ear. Do you think that’s true?”

“Balderdash.”

“And that it was a lovelorn witch who was spurned by Napoleon that put a hex on him at Waterloo?”

“Hokus.”

“And that all witches possess the secret formulas for erupting volcanoes, or making planes crash, or spinning planets out of the solar system.”

“Old wive’s tales, made of chimney smoke and night fog. Where did you hear these wicked stories?”

Myl shrugged, rinsing her hands of vinegar in the laundry tub. “I really don’t remember.”

Evalor snapped down the seal of the Mason jar. “But you are curious. You keep poking and prodding and pestering me about disaster formulas. Why?”

The two women faced each other across the pickling table. Myl took a deep breath and said, “If I am an apprentice witch, and you will soon sponsor me into the Sisterhood as you have promised, I think I should know all the formulas - - not just the little piddly stuff like how to kill children or put a hex on car radios or cure baldness. I should be given knowledge of the great catastrophes of the universe and how to divert them.”

“For what?” the old witch snapped angrily. She was fed up with Myl’s persistent probing. “You will never have use for the Lucifer formulas, for that is what they are called. The world needs no demon-caused catastrophes, and if disaster takes place naturally, we don’t interfere any more. We try to keep a low profile, ever since Salem. I am the most powerful witch in the world, and I have been given possession of the Lucifer formulas to guard until I go, and they will go with me. It is all arranged. And you, you pathetic little newcomer, how dare you snoop about and question my authority and that of my guardianship? Who do you think you are? Traitor!” Her eyes blazed fire and she could see she was scaring the Beelzebub out of Myl. But she had reason to be mad. Nobody but the Sisterhood had any right to interfere with the old witch’s domain. “I see I’ve made a mistake picking you for my apprentice.”

“You picked me? Ha!” spat Myl, suddenly showing temper. “I don’t suppose you’d understand that I have good reason for wanting to know about the Lucifer formulas. I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you a planet will soon be destroyed if I don’t accomplish my mission. I don’t suppose you’d care if all the Celesians are blown to kingdom come because a huge meteor is headed for our small planet. I don’t suppose - - ”

“Stop talking and back up,” Evalor commanded. “What planet? Destroyed how? What mission?”

Myl sank down onto a corner of the pickling table. The fire seemed all gone out of her. “Oh, I should have just taken my chances and broken that damn lock.”

The old witch stepped closer and glared down at Myl. “If you don’t start talking sense within one minute, I’ll turn your hair into worms.” She lifted her skinny hands over Myl’s head.

Myl cringed. “No - - don’t! Get away from me!” She raised her left wrist to her lips.

“Then talk!” Evalor said, backing off.

Myl relaxed, putting her hands back into her lap. “Okay, I’ll start from the top. I’m an alien.”

“Alien?” snorted the old witch. “You’re as American as I am. Balderdash!”

“I wish you’d stop using that archaic word, Evalor, it shows your age. Can’t you use a modern expletive?”

“Such as?”

“Crap. Horse cakes. Shoot.”

Evalor kept staring at Myl, wondering why they were mad at each other, why they had been friends one minute and now were spitting nails. She felt betrayed, forsaken. An alien! Balderd - - crap! She raised her eyes heavenward. “What kind of ghoulish hoax are you playing on me, Sisters?”

Listen to the girl’s story. It will interest you.

The old witch sat down next to Myl. “All right, how come you’re not speaking alien language?”

Myl smiled. “I don’t have to. We speak all earth languages fluently. We are descended from earthlings.”

Evalor rubbed the space between her hairy brows. “This is a lot to try and swallow all at once.”

“We are descendants of the brilliant men who designed your Egyptian pyramids. They built a space ship and landed on Celesius, a planet so far beyond Neptune and Pluto that your scientists haven’t discovered it yet. It’s similar to earth, with the same atmosphere and vegetation. Now, after all these centuries, we Celesians are threatened by a meteor which is hurtling toward our planet from the farthest reaches of the galaxy.”

The old witch absorbed all this as best she could. She was having trouble accepting that there really were aliens and space ships. But her Sisters had said to listen. “Go on,” she told Myl.

“We need your help, Evalor,” the girl said, reaching out and taking her hand. “We need the Lucifer formula for repelling meteors, to spin it away from Celesius before it crashes into our little planet and destroys it. My family lives there in terrible danger.”

In her mind’s eye the old witch saw a planet much like earth, being demolished by an explosion worse than nuclear energy. “But you mean to tell me that anyone capable of sending a space ship to earth can’t just shoot the meteor down?”

“We’ve tried. Lasers, missiles, every type of destructive device known. We sent in a satellite probe and found out nothing we have will destroy this meteor. It requires black magic.”

“And you have no witches on your planet?”

“No.” Myl smiled sadly. “We don’t have baseball, yogurt, or witches.”

“But what is this meteor made of that nothing you shoot at it will blow it up?”

“Od.”

Evalor shivered. “The Odyllic force?”

Myl nodded. “Maybe a few tons of krypton around the edges, but that’s it, according to our probe.”

“Oh my.” Evalor got up and wandered about her basement, gently touching some of her bottles and jars, finally pausing near the locked cabinet. She remembered reading about Odyllic force when she was young, studying witchcraft. Darkness fell across her mind. “I have it in here,” she said. “Nothing can destroy Odyllic force. But it can be sent off in another direction.”

“That’s all we ask. Do you agree to let us have the formula?”

The old witch shook her head. “Not yet. I have to think about this for a while. It raises some ethical questions.”

Myl slid off the table and came over, standing close. “Evalor, there isn’t much time. Calculated by your earthly calendar, it will smash Celesius to smithereens in less than two months.”

The old witch frowned. “You have lied to me already, about being an orphan and out of work. I must decide if this is more trickery. Leave me alone, alien, so I can think.”

“Two months,” Myl repeated as she started up the stairs.

Evalor reached down into her deepest pocket and brought up a large, corroded key. As she unlocked the cupboard and opened the creaking door, a thousand spiders skittered across the shelves, and many sleeping moths flew about in panic. “Forgive me for disturbing you, my ancients,” Evalor said, searching through yellowed notebooks and old pages that had come unglued from their spines.

At the bottom of the heap, her hands touched something hot, and she pulled her fingers away quickly. “The Lucifer formulas,” she whispered, staring at the title. “Lucifer, grant me one final peek as a tribute to my loyalty all these years.”

The book cooled, and Evalor removed it to the table near the light of the seven candles. The smell of old mold went up her nose as she turned the pages. Finally, she came to the section she was seeking: Od. Odyllic force. Squinting her eyes at the antiquated printing, Evalor read:

By these portents be it known to thee, all chyldren of Hecate, of a force which plucketh itself from the far spaces of the unyverse long before tyme began, and gathereth itself into a ball of magnetism stronger than the darkest devastation of Armageddon or the brightest hellfires of Satan, and it be known as Od.

This invysyble, intangyble force traveleth in all eternity within the ball, dispensing ye powers of Od to all who read men’s minds, and mesmerize their thoughts, and to those who divine water by dowsing sticks, and to those who walk the fyne lyne between the unyverses by astral means, and to those who move objects with the mind’s energy, and to those who see clearly into the future.

This Odyllic force which traveleth eternally about the heavens is that same which disperses to all ye faithful of Hecate the potency for the flourishing of ye wytchcraft. Like the monster who riseth from the sea, or the brutal mammoth who walketh unseen in the shadows, or the dragon who breathes fire into eternity, Od cannot be destroyed. Only its path can be altered, if the reasons are of importance. To spin the ball of Od into a new circle of destiny requireth the blackest conjure of all known. To counterbalance the pull of Od, the most powerful magnetism within ye craft of whytchery shall be offered up to make way for a new opening of Odyllic force. And so be it, ye death of ye most mighty daughter of Hecate is this sacrifice.

Be it known to thee, all chyldren of Hecate, that at the moment this offering is accomplyshed, the ball of Od will alter its course and continue on in another magnetic orbit until the end of tyme.

Evalor shuddered, then closed the pages and stared at the circle of candleflames. “Me?” she whispered. “Am I the sacrifice for a planet I never saw or even heard of? How can I be sure it’s out there? I have only Myl’s word, and she has already tricked me.”

The flames burned calmly, in unison. There was no comment.

“Balderd - - horse cakes! Even if it’s true, that Myl is an alien from another planet that is in danger from the Odyllic force, why should I do anything about it? It’s not my problem.”

The candles held steady.

“You give me no sign, Sisters. I am finished with it. I’m going to send Myl back to the mall. Let her look for some other fool to save her planet.”

All seven candles flickered and curled into a great smoke-shroud of voices that surrounded Evalor.

Myl is one of us, Sister. That is why she learns so quickly. That is why the conjure words fall from her lips with such ease. Thousands of years ago, a ship sailed across the Mediterranean Sea from Greece to Port Said, Egypt. On this ship was a daughter of Circe. She was so beautiful, so magnetic, that a great Pharaoh kidnapped her and kept her for his own. This daughter of Circe was among the Egyptians who went on the space ship to Celesius. She is Myl’s ancestor.

Evalor frowned. “Myl said there are no witches on Celesius.”

None that are known. This ancestor died before she had a chance to pass on her craft to her offspring. And now Myl is the only hope of the planet.

“I see,” said the old witch, understanding more than she wanted to. Hecate, Circe, the Coven, even Lucifer himself had kept this hidden from her, and from Myl. Apparently she and Myl were to work it out between them. They had been brought together briefly for a solution - - either Celesius would be destroyed and never a witch to know, or - - the planet would be saved, and Myl would no longer be an apprentice, but an authentic inheritor of her true ancestry. “What a terrible burden you place upon me, Sisters.”

The decision is yours. The smoke-shroud lifted and the candles burned cleanly again.

Evalor stared at the flames for a long time, then finally went upstairs to make spider-leg tea.

Myl was waiting at the kitchen table. “Did you find it, Evalor? Was it in the cupboard?”

“Yes. It is locked away again.”

“But you know the formula by heart? You will cast the spell to keep the meteor away from Celesius?”

“I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“You - - what?” Myl almost screamed. “You have the formula to save my planet from extinction and you hesitate? What sort of a person are you?”

“I’m a witch.”

“That isn’t funny any more, Evalor. This is as serious as it gets.” Myl turned her back and went to put the kettle on.

The old witch read the omen that lingered on the air: she and Myl would never laugh together again, or have the closeness they once shared. The good times were gone. “Listen, alien,” she said roughly, “In a few days time, I shall decide. As soon as I do, you’ll know. Until then, we have a lot of work to do to raise your status from apprentice witch to a member of the Sisterhood. Now, for two days, you’ll study and learn the remainder of your lessons. For two days we have a truce - - you don’t bug me about the Lucifer formulas, and I don’t try to be funny. Now curl your little finger against my nose while we twirl three times, and the pact is sealed.”

Myl did as she was told and as soon as they sat down to tea, the old witch began teaching her the rest of the conjures she had to know to achieve witch-hood.

“Agent Myl calling Mother Ship Celex One.”

“Come in, Agent Myl.”

“She has the formula, but hasn’t yet decided if she will cast the spell. She says she’ll let me know in a few days. Day after tomorrow she’s going to perform the ceremony of my initiation into the Sisterhood, and after that, if she won’t save Celesius, I’ll be able to do it alone. I’ll break the cabinet for the formula and do the conjure myself. Over.”

“Good work, Agent Myl. I’ll convey the good news back to the wise council and the citizens of Celesius. They’ll be overjoyed, and very proud of you. Over.”

“Give my love to my parents and to Dyt. Tell them I miss them and hope to see them soon. Over.”

“We’ll be waiting to beam you aboard as soon as your mission is completed. Congratulations on a job well done. Over and out.”

Two nights later, at exactly midnight, Myl went down the stairs into the basement for her initiation ceremony. It was pitch dark, and the smell of incense was very strong. Evalor’s voice called out, “Apprentice, are you ready to swear service to Hecate and all her dominions?”

“Yes, I am, Mistress,” Myl replied, stepping into the ring of seven black candles, according to the sacred rites. As the candles flared into a blazing circle around her, Myl felt the ceremonial black robe placed upon her shoulders.

Next, Evalor handed her a mug of cloven-hoof tea, and while Myl drank, the old witch placed her hands against her throat and murmured “Tahania metsabi hexanto.”

A polished human skull appeared, floating in the air, and Evalor instructed Myl to stare deeply into its eyeless sockets. The old witch began a chanting and a dancing while Myl looked into the bottomless eyeholes. She felt herself being drawn into the skull, drifting through a black void toward some ancient place. Then suddenly, a bodiless face as old as time itself loomed up before her, its withered lips opening, its hellfire hot breath enveloping her. “I am Hecate!” the voice said. “Do you swear allegiance to me, faithfully and eternally?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Myl forced her drugged voice to reply.

“I christen thee Valada, true daughter of darkness. Welcome, Sister Valada.”

And then Myl was outside the skull again, watching as a necklace of chalcedony beads spilled from its mouth, floated in the air toward her, and fastened itself about her neck. The skull then disintegrated into a tiny whirlwind of dust that flew about the room and vanished.

Myl’s head cleared slightly as she saw the candles burning with less intensity, and Evalor motioned her to come out of the ring. Myl felt a strength and zeal within her body, as though the hellfire breath of Hecate lived within her, plus a feeling of fulfilled destiny that had been hidden from her and was now being brought forth. It almost dimmed everything else in comparison. It didn’t blot out her mission concerning Celesius, but it seemed somehow less urgent.

“She has given you chalcedony,” Evalor said. “You are destined to be one of her favorites.” From beneath her robe, Evalor showed Myl the necklace at her own throat. It was a duplicate. “I congratulate you, Sister Valada.”

Myl was filled with the memory that reached back inside the skull. As she looked into the old witch’s eyes, she found something else glistening there - - a longing, a nostalgia.

“I remember my own ceremony,” Evalor said. “I am at the other end of the road now.” She reached out and touched Myl’s arm. “One thing, Sister. Remember that all black magic is witchery, but all witchery is not evil. Go up now. You look tired.”

Myl turned to go, then paused. “Evalor? Thanks. For teaching me. For sponsoring me.”

The old witch smiled thinly. “Perhaps we have each taught the other something. Now go. Your eyes are drooping down to your new designer boots.”

Myl looked down and found herself wearing the latest shoe fashion. “You are still a wicked old witch,” she said, grinning warmly, and ran up the stairs.

At dawn, Myl awoke and stretched luxuriously. The drug had worn off and her mind was clear. Her first thought was Celesius. Last night Evalor hadn’t said one word about casting the spell against the meteor. Myl wondered if maybe she ought to go down to the basement and break open the cabinet to get the formula herself.

While she dressed, she became aware that something had shifted in the air outside - - the stillness was gone. A dog was barking, and some birds were chirping in the apple tree. How odd that she’d never heard those sounds before.

Just then, the voice of her commander summoned her. “Captain Wyd of Celex One calling. Come in, Agent Myl.”

“Agent Myl responding,” she said into her wrist.

“I have good news, Agent. Celesius is saved. The meteor has altered its course and will pass two billion miles to our south. Its new trajectory will take it completely out of our solar system, with no harm to any planet. Your witch did it, Agent Myl. Tell her we are very grateful and the citizens of Celesius send their deepest appreciation. Over.”

Myl’s brow wrinkled. Evalor must have cast the spell while Myl slept. “Yes, Captain, I’ll relay the message. Over.”

“And to you, Agent, congratulations. Your mission has been successful. The wise council has voted you the Medal of Greatness. When do you wish to be beamed aboard?”

Myl was putting on her new designer boots. They were nice, but they made her sad. She regretted having to leave Evalor, even if it was to go back to her home and family. She wished she could stay a little longer. “I’m not sure yet, Captain. I’ll let you know.”

“Very well. We’ll await your call. Over and out.”

When Myl passed Evalor’s bedroom, the bed was already made. Or - - a shiver of premonition brushed Myl’s heart - - perhaps the bed hadn’t been slept in.

“Evalor?” Myl called, entering the kitchen. There was no pot of tea brewing on the stove. The house was unnaturally quiet. Maybe she was out in the back garden. But Myl didn’t find her there, either. “Evalor?” Myl called again, opening the door to the basement. As she went down the stairs, she got the feeling that something was wrong. There were no flickering shadows from the circle of seven candles. They were the candles that would stay perpetually lit all of Evalor’s lifetime - - why had they gone out?

With panic tingling in her fingertips, Myl flipped on the light switch, and found Evalor at last.

“Oh no,” she whispered, transfixed at the sight of the dead body lying unsupported in mid-air. The old witch was resting halfway between the floor and ceiling, with nothing touching her anywhere, in a condition of perpetual levitation. As she looked at the closed eyes and the withered old face in peaceful repose, Myl’s heartstrings shattered and the tears flowed. When she went closer, she saw that Evalor’s folded hands held an envelope with Myl’s name printed on it. She drew the envelope from the old witch’s fingers and opened it. Inside was a heavy, corroded key, and a handwritten letter that read:

Dear Myl, I hope your planet is safe now. When you read the Lucifer formulas you’ll understand why I did this. I am drinking griffin bane, which as you know, is an easy death. Instead of taking them with me, I have bequeathed to you all the Lucifer formulas, and I hereby give you guardianship of them until you die. In the cabinet you will also find my will, deeding this cottage and property to you. If you choose to live here, I wish you two hundred years of as much pleasure as I had here. I’ve restored the birds and dogs, and the radios in the cars will again blast the heavens. I think I’ve put all things in order, but if not, conjure up whatever I have missed. I’d like to see you living here in my cottage whenever I look down, if not, we shall meet again. Your true ancestor is Circe, sister of Hecate, and their circle of destiny is now complete. Your powers will grow stronger with time, and you’ll hear my voice amongst our Sisters of the Coven in the Sky.
When you finish reading this, I will be on my way to join them. Do not mourn for me, Sister Valada, but do remember me - - a wicked old witch. Evalor.

As soon as Myl finished reading, Evalor’s body began to spin. It whirled faster and faster until it became part of the air, and then disappeared. Through her tears, Myl murmured, “I miss you already, Evalor.”

Myl read the Lucifer formulas. She knew that Evalor had sacrificed her life to save Celesius. Or perhaps - - to please Myl by saving Celesius. She’d never know.

For a week Myl wandered about the cottage, weeping, touching the designer clothes Evalor had conjured, pulling weeds from the spider-leg vines, shaking jars of peridoxia leaves to keep them fresh.

At last she called Celex One. “I’ve decided to stay here for another month or so. The old witch sacrificed everything for us, and I want to tend her place a little longer. She’d like that. Over.”

“Very well, Agent Myl. We will remain on surveillance and are ready to transport you home when you are ready. Over and out.”

The word home stuck in her mind. Which was her home now?

It would be a difficult decision.

---

Vera Searles lives in St. Petersburg, Florida. Over three hundred of her short stories have
appeared in small press publications, including TALEBONES, PENNY DREADFUL, EPITAPHS ANTHOLOGY, and BLACK PETALS. She recently completed a fantasy novel and is working on the sequel.