Chapters Four & Five
IV.
Now.
Natalia stood in front of the mirror assessing herself. She had picked a dress that was black, full length, lace and that clung to every curve. Completely impractical for the occasion and absurdly sexy. It was sheer enough to show the lingerie she wore underneath. Everything had to be perfect. She studied the bottle of potion she brewed, now sitting on her bed side table. It had taken the whole month to brew and utilized precious ingredients that would have been able to sustain the whole coven’s magics for months. The crimson swirls of the liquid called to her and beckoned her to use it.
She picked it up. She didn’t need to be convinced. She had decided that night on the floor of the mirror maze she would take revenge. She had been made to wait in the filthy mixture of semen and blood until her magics replenished enough for her to conjure a mending charm for her clothes. After finally finding her way out of the maze and she searched for her coven only to realize they had taken her broom and left her behind- useless witches. So, with her only option being to walk, she made her way back home on foot.
By the time she reached their Hollow, the sun was rising and she was furious but as she walked through the night, she made her plan. How dare he humiliate and try to intimidate her? She had been caught off guard but she vowed to never let it happen again. By any means necessary she would make him pay. She took her anger out on the first witch she saw, hexing her and threatening to report her for abandonment. And she could, with quite an impact, being the Matron’s daughter and rightful heir. Usually there was no need for such threats or reminders of her power- the coven had been in survival mode for some time now, focusing so much more on day-to- day needs than long term inheritance plans.
She stormed into her quarters, throwing every item of clothing she took off into the ever-burning fire. She bathed, scrubbing her skin raw and rinsing off with near scalding water, but it did nothing to clear her mind or rid her of the sick feeling deep in her gut. She wrapped herself tightly in her robe, whispered an energizing charm and opened her Tomb of Magics, getting to work.
So here she stood, faint smile playing on her lips as she doused herself in the potion’s contents. She applied on her neck, breasts, wrists, thighs and hair for good measure, emptying half the bottle. She stood on her small balcony, broom in hand, observing the sky. The sun was blinking out of sight beyond the forest that lay at the horizon- it was almost time. She had been conserving her magics for days now, a day before the full moon and almost a month of preparation. Magics thrummed through her veins begging to be used reminding her of her conviction. She straddled her broom and jumped, her cloak swishing behind her as she made her way back to the carnival grounds.
V.
She had heard no mention of werewolves over the last few weeks. No word about sightings from any of the witches on the raid with her, and the Mothers, the sitting counsel of witches who focused on maintaining order throughout the coven, had brought up nothing abnormal. It’s as though it never happened; life in the Hollow continued as normal. Although, the Matron did seem to be looking at her differently, like she could see through her clothes to the marks marring her skin- like she could smell it. Natalia was determined not to mention a word. Mortification and shame silencing her, afraid what the coven would think. And she as angry. Angry enough to enact her plan in secret, defying the Matron and secretly stowing away precious ingredients for her potion.
The Matron, her birth mother- although such titles were typically meaningless their communal coven where witchlings were raised by all-, had defied the norm by asserted her opinion on how Natalia should be raised. Traditionally, when a witchling was born, she went straight to the nursery and became a child to all. However, since Natalia was groomed to rule from a young age, she was made to live a more sheltered life. A life focused on education and learning rather than survival and defensive skills. She supposed the Matron got away with it because she was, well, the Matron, the Matriarch of the coven who acted as a ruler and had final say on the machinations of the coven; an oligarch. But, even with her total power, she was fair and kind and loved by all.
She had never been jealous that she wasn’t made to endure grueling trainings with the other witchlings, it all seemed like too much hard work. She preferred to read and lounge and drink witches brew, something similar to what the humans call coffee. And this is how she grew up- privileged and fancy and doted on. Yet, in the last few years, when the coven began experiencing financial strain due to the dwindling magics, these niceties had disappeared. They couldn’t afford the human servants, the cooking staff- everything that was non-essential had to end. Her life of wealth changed to living in near squalor in a matter of months.
They had been living this way for the past two years. Raiding, scrounging, scraping by. No one blamed the Matron, but Natalia did. When the witches had lost their political foothold in human society, rather than fighting and demanding justice, the Matron took her coven and quietly disappeared in to the night. She didn’t believe in violence or riots- Natalia thought those acts were sometimes justified.
She had learned more practical magic, by necessity, over the past years but defensive was rarely needed when you were governed by a Matron who cowed to the demands of others. Who never raided lived-in locations and had never sought to understand why the magics of the land had turned on them. Her mother had simply accepted this as though it was the natural order of things. She had treated Natalia as though she were an ungrateful child, a nuisance to deal with, when she had questions about their change in status and disconnection from magics.
She would try everything from subtly weaving questions into casual conversation to outright begging for answers only to have her mother wave her off. She would tell her daughter to not be so absorbed in her own suffering and to find ways to help the coven. It was agonizing for Natalia, to have her whole life change in a matter of weeks and have no understanding as to why.
Her anger had grown and grown for the Matron, and the Mothers who did nothing but agree with her. And as she was riding her broom, flying back to the carnival grounds to hunt the werewolf, she blamed her mother for all of it. Maybe if her mother at fought back, she wouldn’t be here right now. Maybe if her mother hadn’t coddled her, she would have known how to fight. This is why Natalia had taken her fate into her own hands. She realized that she could only count on herself now to get done what needed to be done.
The sky was fully dark now, with only the light from the moon to guide her, and there it was: the entrance to the carnival. As she descended, her thoughts drifted to the one hiccup in her plan: not being able to find him. What if she landed, stood out in the field or even called out and he didn’t come? Her plan was contingent on him being there. She didn’t know how to find him so she hoped it was enough to trespass on the territory he threatened her never to enter again.
“Just a little luck, please, and I’ll take the rest from there”, she whispered to the heavens.
She landed, unmounted the broom and before she could even look up to survey her surroundings, she realized that her worries were unnecessary. She wound’t need to know how to find him, because he had already found her. She could tell by the pulsing ache she felt from the teeth marks that had punctured her shoulder. They were thrumming in warning, as clear as if she had heard the words, saying “LEAVE. NOW.”
Natalia realized she should have felt relief- the one hiccup now not an issue. But she didn’t. She felt the slow, steady drip of dread pinching her spine and settling into her belly. He was out there, in the trees, watching her. She knew it; she could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin. She took a deep, steadying breath, straightened her clothing and lifted her head to the tree line and took a step forward.
