Chapter Text
The door slammed behind Lapis, the rusted hinges screaming as it snapped closed like a mouse trap, startling Peridot.
Peridot shot her a scathing look which Lapis only vaguely regarded. Even if she had been mindful and hadn’t slammed the door (it had, like most things, slipped past her fingers), Peridot would have woken up all the same. The familiar was a light sleeper. Peridot’s tail twitched irritably and she cracked one eye open, watching the young witch enter the den with scrutiny.
“You’re up early.”
“It’s past noon,” Lapis said smartly, taking off her sodden coat and throwing it somewhere.
“Early for you.”
The scent of the previous night was thick on Lapis, and there was a faint layer of morning dew over that, bright and sunny on her skin. Her hair was wet and sticking to her forehead and the nape of her neck. She was never dry, but out of habit she wrung her hair out anyway.
“I didn’t sleep,” she answered, then went to the kitchen counter, which was sloppy with jars of jam, salted meats, biscuits, and dirty plates mixed in with the clean dishes.
Peridot followed after her and perched next to the stove expectantly, but gave a yowl of disdain seeing Lapis pick up two biscuits instead of the pan hanging overhead or the lard sitting there, nestled between a jar of blackberry jam and a jar of honey.
“Oh, come off it!” Lapis snapped. There were dark circles under her weary grey eyes and her body felt like a disjointed bag of bones.
“You woke me,” Peridot insisted stubbornly, trying the knob to the stove.
“You don’t even need to eat,” Lapis muttered.
“But I enjoy it,” Peridot pressed.
Lapis glared at her from the corner of her eye, and picking up an extra biscuit, shoved it in Peridot’s fanged mouth. “There’s no time to make breakfast. Scarf down that biscuit– we’re going out.”
“Mmmph– ou, mmph…” Peridot decided to finish the rest of her biscuit first. “Out?! But you just got back.”
“Exactly.”
As she shoved her simple breakfast in her mouth, Lapis trooped through the quaint hovel, picking up things as she passed and shoving them into the pouch tied to her waist: a handful of coins, two large stones the size of silver dollars, and a scrap of parchment. The final item was too large to contain in the pouch: a broom that felt just right in her hands.
Peridot was waiting for her at the door, licking her paws impatiently. Lapis met her there, hand wrapped around the knob. Peridot braced herself to jump to her shoulder, then fell backwards as Lapis moved unpredictably, making a U-turn.
“Lapis!” Peridot groaned.
“Just wait, will you?” Lapis scowled. She stopped in front of a broad wall, the space surrounding it oddly uncluttered. There were small straight lines starting from the top, ending at Lapis’s eye level. Sitting in front of the wall was a rickety table. Eventually, the table would be in the way of the tally marks on the wall and Lapis would have to move it. The table only contained a sharp, arrow-shaped rock. She picked it up and dragged the pointed edge through the wall next to the scratch she left yesterday. Amidst the fatigue, she tried a small triumphant smile, but couldn’t find it in her and gave up, picking the broom up once again and meeting Peridot at the door.
X
The mid-afternoon air was cool. On previous days, it had been warm and balmy, but now it finally felt like October. “Fine weather for a witch,” Peridot had remarked.
The sun shone, but did not warm Lapis’s shoulders as she took to the air, the layers of her ruffled skirts flapping wildly around her feet until she found a calm current of wind. She relaxed her grip on the broom, allowing it to guide them, the hovel and the sea grotto behind them.
Peridot clung to her neck during takeoff, and Lapis winced as she retracted her claws. “I hate flying. Can’t you just take the boat?”
Lapis didn’t say anything, ignoring Peridot, closing her eyes and relishing the wind blowing freely around her. The feeling ran deeper than the familiarity of flying. A memory not quite her own made her warm in spite of the wind chill. She embraced it, this shadow of a former life, remembering her predecessor, who had owned the broom before her. Her hands moved beyond her control, stroking the broom handle, thumb tracing the cursive script carved into the curvy willow wood. And then, suddenly, she remembered herself and her hands stilled.
She gave a contemptuous sneer at the script carved into the wood: a gaudy love poem that Lapis had read only a few times, written by the one who had made the broom for her predecessor.
Two together hand in hand
Even far across the land
Take this willow big and strong
It will take you to me where you belong
Over prairie, sea, and land
No course will disband
No wall, no tide, no thin veil
My heart, your keep will prevail
Sometimes, the words changed, but the theme and the purple prose were recurring. The poem made Lapis uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why and chalked it up to her distaste for the one who penned it. This clashed with another, deeper feeling within her that actually liked the poem, the witch who was her, but wasn’t. The witch before her. Lapis felt surly and in love all at once. She shifted awkwardly on the broom, questioning who she was. It was draining.
Peridot placed a cold paw against Lapis’s cheek. “We should have taken the boat,” the familiar insisted again.
Lapis shook her head. “Too slow– and the broom knows the way.”
Peridot nearly fell off. “You’re seeing her?!” she shouted, flabbergasted. She nearly fell off, claws clinging into Lapis’s shoulder.
“Oh, don’t make such a big deal of it!” Lapis scowled. With one hand she extracted Peridot’s claws from her shoulder, one by one.
“You hate Pearl!”
“Don’t make her sound so special, Peri. I hate everyone.”
“But you love me.”
Lapis shot her a look.
Peridot dared to roll on her side, exposing her belly. “Look at me. I’m great. I’m lovable.” Her mouth hung open in a smile, waiting for Lapis to encourage her. Lapis sneered, shoving her off.
The yellow tabby cat floundered, stout legs cycling through the air in a moment of surprise, and then, realizing she could, she took the form of a canary and recovered in the air.
“I’m sorry, did that ruffle your feathers?” Lapis remarked.
Peridot’s chest puffed out in reply. Out of habit she hovered over Lapis’s lap, contemplating it as a perch, but quickly reconsidered.
“What do you want from Pearl?” Peridot asked, a safe distance away.
Lapis’s frown tightened. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business!” Peridot’s feathers puffed out and she flew in Lapis’s face, sputtering. “I’m your familiar, Lapis! We’re partners.“
From below, the blast of a ship horn sounded. They had been so invested in their teasing to notice the large ship approaching. It was large enough to be a cruise liner, but too dingy to hold such a grandiose title. There was red rust crouching up the stern and barnacles the size of acorns clung to the underside. It was a fishing rig, holding empty nets in the breeze and fuller ones on deck that the crew crowded around, eager to unveil the riches they had caught.
Lapis was eager to escape Peridot’s questions. She brushed her hand against the broom and reluctantly it lowered them to the deck of the crowded ship. The sharp smell of fish surrounded them before her bare feet met the slimy deck. A fish flopped against her ankle until Peridot descended upon it, all fur and claws.
The fisherfolk looked up from their full nets to stare. Her broom and the shapeshifter at her feet picking apart the fish were evidence to what she was. The captain saw her too through the broad and filmy windows of his quarters. Lapis watched him jump from his seat, disappear from view, and then storm out the door to greet her. He nearly slipped on the wet deck.
Lapis stiffened when he took her hand and quietly nodded at all the stiff formalities. Lapis wondered if this was worth evading Peridot’s nosiness. Perhaps it would have been simpler to bribe her familiar with a fish. She was busy gorging herself on the fisherman’s catch. The fisherfolk were working faster than when they had met them– they had to to compete against Peridot’s voracious appetite. They were five fish less in under four minutes. Yet none dared to shoot Lapis a dirty look or politely ask her to tell Peridot to stop. To test any witch’s temper would bury them, and as the current sea witch she had a hold on the prosperity of the captain’s business and by association, their pay.
And what was five or ten or twenty less fish, if they could curry the sea witch’s favor? Maybe if they were kind, maybe if they let the familiar eat, they would find oysters amidst the fish bearing pearls. And what if they filleted one of these fish and found a gold ring? Wouldn’t be that be something worth a few missing fish and a very full familiar?
Once the captain had finished the full formality of introducing himself and giving Lapis a tour of the ship, he asked a favor.
“We’re a bit behind schedule,” he said, twirling his mustache around his index finger.
“Of course.” Lapis faked a smile and handed him the broom. “Hold this.”
Her hands free, she motioned up towards the sky. The ocean responded, the tide rising, pushing the boat forward like a child on a swing. The captain and the crew were unprepared and fell over like bowling pins. Peridot had felt the sea fluctuate under her paws and formed wings. This time she retained the rest of her preferred feline form. Lapis was the only one left standing in spite of the slick deck and rolling tide. Water passed over the deck, over the captain and his crew, the nets, and though Peridot tried flying out of the way, sea spray hit her backside.
When Lapis’s hands fell back at her sides, the captain and crew picked themselves up and Peridot’s sodden wings shrank into her back. The front of the crew’s shirts were damp and opalescent, slimy. The captain had lost his cap.
“That should make you ahead of schedule.”
The captain coughed. “Yes, that will do. Thank you.”
Lapis lingered, but after a steely silence and another awkward cough from the captain, she could clearly see no one would offer her compensation and ascended to the air. They waved. Lapis waved back. Not for formalities, but to summon another wave over the deck. The nets, already loose, fell open and the quarry of fish fell back into the sea, happy to be alive.
“Guess they thought what you ate was tribute enough,” she remarked tersely.
“Don’t blame me for this.” Peridot replied, furiously licking her fur, drying herself. Then she yawned, rolling on her side, precariously balanced on Lapis’s shoulder. She was fat and content and fell asleep soon after, and Lapis decided that was her compensation: to make Peridot too sleepy to ask prying questions.
She didn’t want to hear anything. The silence and ocean breeze was cool and pleasant. It wasn’t often that she could toss her worries to the rising tide.
X
Peridot woke just as they landed in town. It was difficult to find a spot to land; the bustle of the early evening crowd was so dense that Lapis had to land on the mayor’s statue and slip into the crowd. Peridot clung tight to her. Lapis winced at the pressure of claws, of elbows knocking into her side and feet accidentally stepping on hers.
“I should have just flown until I reached the shop.”
“What are you doing?” Peridot hissed.. “This isn’t Pearl’s place.”
“It’s on the way,” Lapis explained, weaving through the unexpected throng of people, clutching her broom. “I just have to buy something.”
They smelled the bakery before they saw it, a little corner shop tucked between a house and a boutique. As they walked inside, they saw business was just dying down. There was a small line at the register and a few scattered customers browsing the bread baked that morning and the sales bin. There was one child at the cake display, face pressed to the glass.
Lapis knew what she wanted and took a place in line, her steps damp where she tread. The floorboards of the shop were warped from her previous visits.
Other customers stared at her, at the water damage she was creating, standing there. They looked between her and the owner, expecting the owner to reprimand Lapis. But the owner never minded the warped boards, seemed blinded to the damage Lapis had done.
The owner was tall and broad with a heavy demeanor that had initially scared Lapis. The war was twenty years past, but Lapis still had memories of growing up after the war, when the soldiers still donned uniforms and had lingered for too long.
“Miss Witch!” The owner was boisterous in her greeting, rattling the windows of her shop and startling Peridot.
“Hello, Jasper,” Lapis replied, running a hand over Peridot’s head to calm her.
Jasper leaned over the counter, the largest counter in town that more resembled a judge’s stand than a shop counter, constructed to hold her weight. The last twenty years had been peaceful ones. There was no need for soldiers. Jasper’s gut could attest to that. Yet, her arms were still firm, body strong. Jasper would often boast about how much strength it took to knead dough or squeeze stubborn pastry bags.
“What can I get for you today? The usual?” She started for a loaf of french bread.
“Not today.” Lapis crouched down, peering through the glass case. She pointed at a golden brown rhubarb pie. “I’ll take that one today.”
“Fine choice.” Jasper nodded, sliding the glass case open. “Anything else?”
Lapis watched her box the pie up, shaking her head. The box was then wrapped in brown paper packaging tied up with string. For Lapis there was a little extra flourish: a little red ribbon, tied in a perfect bow. Lapis wondered how Jasper always managed that. Her fingers were the size of bratwursts.
Rose had once told her that everyone, not just witches, had their own special magic. If she believed that, Lapis would say that the bow and baking were Jasper’s gifts.
“Thank you.” She slipped two coins in Jasper’s hand.
“Pleasure as always. And here– you almost forgot this.” She placed a brown paper bag on top of the boxed pie. Lapis already knew the contents: two cookies and occasionally a dinner roll, gifts Lapis noticed, the baker gave to children. Lapis wondered how old Jasper thought she was but she wasn’t about to turn away free food.
"You can share with your little friend.” Jasper pointed at Peridot at her heels.
Lapis smirked, patting Peridot’s round belly. “Oh she’s already had her fill, thank you.”
Peridot’s ears flattened, frowning. Her tail twitched and before Lapis made a move to leave she was at the door, impatiently waiting.
Outside the bakery, the streets were bare and the windows in houses were warmly lit. Dinner wafted from the homes. Lapis’s stomach twisted, gurgled, and she ate both of the cookies before she took to the air again.
X
The cookies and dinner roll did not sate her hunger and as Pearl’s home came into view, Lapis hoped the other witch had made dinner. Loathe as she was to admit it, her head was pounding.
The broom sensed her fatigue and took full reign of the course to Pearl’s. Peridot stirred in her lap but strangely said nothing. Lapis wasn’t sure what to make of that.
The air was thinner here, high in the mountains. Wedged into the cliffside was a three-tiered house, each floor connected to the next at an angle that suggested the steps in a staircase. Covered in vines and flowers, fringed by tall thin trees, it nearly blended into the landscape. The first time Lapis had come to Pearl, she’d spent hours looking for the house until she relented and let the broom guide her completely. That was the day after she came into her powers, during those early days when she felt like she was learning to walk again, when she was still afraid to tread into deep water.
She landed on the hanging platform. It swung under her momentum. She waited until it settled and hopped forward to the front door. It was open. Did Pearl expect her? Lapis shook her head. Pearl didn’t believe in divination, and it was rare for her to have visitors. Witches rarely did. Their residences tended to be in places difficult to reach. It was pointless to lock their doors. And Pearl did like the fresh air.
Still, Lapis took the common courtesy to knock before letting herself in, Peridot running ahead of her, stopping occasionally to sniff a corner or spot, looking for someone too.
“Hello?” She knocked on one of the walls, fully furnished in floral wallpaper. Vines and willow branches hung from the tall ceiling like chandeliers. The plants stirred when Lapis spoke but Pearl remained unseen. Probably in the further reaches of the house, in the cave working on a car, Lapis thought. That was how she had found her the first time.
This time, she found her in the greenhouse, surrounded by orchids and filling a watering can. Near the entrance where Lapis was standing, lounging on an empty shelf, was a plump and fluffy silver-grey cat that lifted her head up, and opened one eye, yawning.
“‘Sup,” the cat drawled lazily.
“Amethyst…?” Pearl asked, watering the orchids. “Is someone there…?” She sounded surprised and a touch anxious. Pearl always did dislike unexpected guests. Pearl liked to plan, to clean, to be prepared and bring out the fine china.
“Sure is.” Amethyst stretched. “You’re going to flip when you see who it is.”
Pearl paused in her watering, back still turned. “…Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Lapis replied.
Pearl quickly turned around in disbelief, holding the watering can awkwardly by the handle and the spout with pinched fingers.
Lapis, she mouthed, but instead, she said, “You’re here.”
Lapis rolled her eyes and nodded. She just wished this part– everything– would be over with. “It’s been awhile,” she said as conversationally as she could.
“It has been.” Pearl set the watering can down and walked forwards to meet her. “Too long.”
Her eyes fell on the broom clutched in Lapis’s hands. “I see you’ve been keeping good care of it– and it’s good to see you too, Peridot.” Peridot had joined Amethyst on the empty shelf, and as cats did, was smelling her, reacquainting herself with familiar scents and discovering new ones, learning where Amethyst had gone since they last saw each other.
“Geez, Peri. You could just ask me what I’ve been up to.”
X
“So,” Pearl started, once she had brewed a pot of tea and Lapis had finished eating the lamb stew leftovers. “To what do I owe this visit?”
“She means: what do you want?“ Amethyst translated.
Lapis tinkered with the spoon, scraping at the empty bowl as she procrastinated an answer. Pearl had taken out the nice china and a tea set with hand-painted hydrangea flowers on each side.
“First, I would like us to be alone,” Lapis requested, looking pointedly at Peridot. Pearl nodded, then gestured with her chin to Amethyst and the door.
Amethyst stood up, giving a longing look at the pie, still boxed up and wrapped in brown paper packaging. “Can’t it wait until after we open Lapis’s gift?”
“Amethyst,” Pearl said tersely.
“What? I smell pie.”
“We’ll open it later, when we’re done talking,” Pearl said, putting on her teacher voice.
Amethyst rolled her eyes, tail waving agitatedly in the air as she strode out of the dining room. Peridot stayed behind, however, stubborn and curious as ever.
“Peridot,” Lapis began testily.
Peridot stood still, tail flicking from side to side.
“Peridot,” Lapis raised her voice and drummed her fingers on the table, much to Pearl’s chagrin. Peridot flinched under the added glare and spun to catch up with Amethyst.
“So,” Pearl said, a few minutes after they had left, when they were sure there were no eavesdroppers. “What did you want to talk about?”
She set her cup down but clutched the thin handle, shaking slightly. She seemed to expect Lapis to throw a fit like she had done before, or to throw objects. But she also seemed to hope and expect the best from Lapis too.
Lapis traced the hydrangea on the teacup, unsure how to put this, at least, in words that Pearl could be persuaded by. Her hand fell from the teacup. Palm flat on the oaken table, she decided she could only tell the truth.
“If a witch wanted her soul to go dormant… could she?”
Pearl’s eyes widened and she released the teacup. There was concern flickering in Pearl’s eyes that Lapis squirmed under.
“Well?” Lapis said, “is it possible?” Diverting the question from herself, wording it as a challenge, asking if Pearl knew.
Pearl could not resist and after a hesitant pause, she answered, “Yes.”
“How?” Lapis pressed.
“Why do you want to know?” Pearl asked.
“There are over a hundred souls roaming inside my body. Maybe one of them can take over.”
Pearl was quiet. She stirred sugar into her cold tea and swallowed. “You’re the water witch now,” she finally managed to say, staring at her cold tea, sugar granules floating to the surface.
“You said it was possible.”
“Their individual role has passed. Now you are the torch that carries on the flame of their existence.” Pearl sighed, fingertips pressing into her teacup, a dozen roses painted onto the porcelain. “A witch cannot come back…” Her throat tightened, as if the thought was choking her. “No matter how much you will it to be.”
“I had hoped,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and looking at Lapis sternly across the table, “that you came back to resume your training.”
“You say that as if it was my decision,” Lapis said, trying to bite her tongue.
“I’m sorry.” The apology was quiet and honest, but too late. Lapis watched Pearl shrink under her contemptuous gaze with a shade of pity, but her anger was stronger, and she stood up slightly to seize the moment.
The vines overhead swayed as if reacting to the mood of the small den. A frigid air slipped in from the windows, stirring the wind chimes, the sound like frozen fractals.
“You stormed out,” Pearl said, looking into her cup.
“Only because you–!”
A crash came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of claws clicking and scraping against tile. A flash of yellow and silver crossed the hallway, taking turns chasing each other.
“Amethyst!” Pearl squawked as glass shattered in the study. The bleak mood broke and the tears had stopped in the corners of her eyes, sorrow replaced with fury. She glanced at Lapis, but before their conversation continued, another crash sounded from another room followed by the skittering of tiny feet with claws.
Lapis was left with her tea and the reverberations of ten years past. The urge to toss the cup aside and leave came over her. She picked up her broom and soon dropped it, the poem warm under her fingertips.
No matter what, it seemed she would never be free of Pearl.