Witch's Cat Page 3

  “I don't know what trick Georgia has taught you, but I am sure she wouldn't appreciate you using it in public like this,” Ath cut her off. He was mad. Real mad. The whole thing was quite bizarre to Anita. As far as she was concerned, she'd looked a bit sleepy over her scone. He was acting as if she'd whipped off her clothes and sacrificed a bunny on the nice white tablecloth.

  “Right, okay, fine.” Anita wiped her mouth and stood up. There was no point hanging about if she was being weird and she wasn't aware of it. That was how you got yourself committed by well meaning folk. Unfortunately that wasn't enough for Athelstan. He followed her out of the coffee shop, pestering her with annoying questions that made no sense. She finally managed to lose him by blaming the entire affair on her period. She wasn't on her period at all, but the mention of menses always made men uncomfortable and Athelstan was no exception. She left him blushing in the village square and made her way back home before he recovered from the shock of her rather lurid description of menstrual blood.

  When she arrived home she noticed that there was a pile of dishes still sitting by the sink waiting to be done. Apparently the great witch Georgia didn't have it in her to get her hands sudsy. If Anita hadn't already been in a bad mood, seeing the dishes left undone would have irritated her. As it was it sent her into deeper, darker places in her moodscape.

  “Where have you been?” Georgia walked out of the bedroom. A frown was settled on her features, making itself at home as it always did when she eschewed meat. She was wearing a neat blue jersey that showed off the color in her eyes, and a pair of black jeans that clung to her thighs, highlighting the femininity of her body. She was, as usual, entirely gorgeous.

  “Out,” Anita said sulkily.

  “Don't take that attitude with me.” Georgia was immediately on edge and Anita knew why. It wasn't her tone, or the ongoing argument they were having, it was the fact that Georgia was low on animal protein.

  “Oh for goddess' sake, have something decent to eat. The celery is making you cranky.”

  “Something is making me cranky, but it's not celery.” Georgia frowned furiously. Anita faint the faint crackle of her power. For years Georgia had kept it hidden away. That took effort, hiding energy was a drain in its own right. She didn't bother to hide it now though, and Anita felt it almost constantly. It wasn't a taste, or a smell or a sound, it was something that lurked behind all three of those things. Ordinary folk didn't feel it the way she felt it, they experienced it only as a kind of charisma.

  “I'm going upstairs,” Anita scowled. She trudged up the rickety stairs to the attic, wanting nothing more than to get away from Georgia's foul mood. The attic was a warm refuge at the top of the house and had been fitted with floor boards, cupboards for storage and a little couch where Anita often retreated to read.

  It would not serve as a retreat that day however. No sooner had she thrown herself on the couch than she heard Georgia's footsteps as she made her way up the stairs. There was to be no rest or escape for the wicked. When Georgia had ascended the stairs she stood at the top of them, glaring at Anita. “This is about the magic, isn't it? This little attitude you have going?”

  “What if it is?” With her lower lip pushing past her upper lip, Anita looked as petulant as she sounded.

  “You want to know one of the reasons I didn't tell you?”

  “Yeah, I'd really like to know,” Anita said fiercely.

  Georgia made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Because of this. I knew you wouldn't react well to the news.”

  “How do you know? If you'd told me back then I'd have had a chance to make a choice. Now I have no choice.”

  “No,” Georgia shook her head. “I know you too well to believe that. You're talented, but your ego is stronger than your talent.”

  Anita's jaw dropped. “That was mean.”

  “It's true.”

  “Fuck you, Georgia.”

  They were fighting now for real. The gloves had come off. Anita was on her feet, her hands clenched at her sides, her body drawn up to its full height, meaning she came all the way up to just under Georgia's shoulder. “And now you resort to swearing like a child,” Georgia observed. She'd crossed her arms over her chest, it was a closed position, one that kept her power in tight around her. In Anita's eyes she was humming like a power pylon.

  “In response to your patronizing attitude,” Anita defended her choice of words. “You think you're so much better than me.”

  “I think I'm older than you. More experienced.”

  “You're not that much older.”

  “Seven years can be a long time. One can learn a lot.”

  “It's seven years, Georgia,” Anita said, her voice dripping with derision. “Not seventy.”

  Georgia simply shook her head. The gesture said what she would not. That she didn't expect Anita to understand, that Anita wasn't old enough, or wise enough, or talented enough to understand. It made Anita almost boil with rage. “What the bloody hell do you want from me?”

  The answering look was cold. “You can stop speaking to me that way for starters.”

  “Why don't I just stop speaking completely? I obviously don't have anything of value to say.” Anita tossed herself back down onto the couch. There was no point getting aggressive with Georgia. They weren't going to fight physically. She turned her head and looked out the window, staring out over the rolling farmland around the village. Tears threatened to fall, tears not of anger, but of betrayal. She loved Georgia more than she loved anyone on the planet and yet Georgia thought of her as nothing but a weak witch. She hadn't even trusted her with the truth of her true nature.

  Georgia sighed. “I don't want to fight with you Anita. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

  Anita glanced back towards her bitterly. “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that doesn't change what you think about me, does it? You look down on me.”

  “I don't look down on you.”

  “Yes you do. That's why you like this domestic discipline idea. It gives you the chance to treat me like the idiot child you think I am.”

  “Is that what you think I think?”

  “Yes that's what I think you think,” Anita grumped.

  “What do you think?”

  Anita turned and looked at Georgia incredulously. Had they devolved into petty nonsense now? “What?”

  “What do you think?” Georgia repeated the question. “Do you think you're behaving in a mature, responsible way?”

  “Yeah,” Anita lied.

  Georgia shook her head. “I'd like nothing more right now than to take you over my knee and thrash your bottom.”

  “Which only goes to prove my point.” There was more than a hint of smugness in Anita's tone.

  “I'm not going to coddle your ego, Anita,” Georgia said firmly. “I am older than you, I am more experienced than you. My powers are more developed. You can accept that, or you can sulk. It's up to you, but either way, I'm taking this out on that ass of yours tonight.” With that said she turned and went back downstairs.

  The definite way she'd spoken left Anita with a queer feeling in her tummy. Georgia had given up all attempts at being apologetic or sorry, she'd simply stated her position as dominant and left it at that. There was no doubt she'd follow up on her promise either. Anita started to get the trembling feeling that she was in serious trouble. Georgia had never forced anything on her, not really, but she was beginning to get the idea that wasn't because it was out of her power to do so.

  Three years. Three years of loving one another, being together, making a life together. Three years and it was now being turned upside down by the discovery that Georgia was much, much more than just a pretty face, she was a very real power to be reckoned with.

  A sudden sturdy knocking at the front door boded even more ill for Anita. She peered over the banister and heard Athelstan's deep baritone, then his heavy footsteps. Georgia had invited him in. Perfect. Just perfect.

  �
��So sorry to intrude,” he was saying. “But I thought you'd want to know.”

  “Of course, I appreciate you taking the time to inform me. Care for tea?” Georgia was the consummate hostess. There was always tea ready for any visitor who dropped by. Anita used to think it strange that Georgia seemed to know when people were on their way, but now the reason for her ability was obvious. She didn't seem to know, she did know.

  “She was in the cafe channeling so much power the teaspoons were rattling. I put a stop to it and she acted like she didn't know what she was doing!” Athelstan's gruff voice conveyed surprise and doubt.

  Anita caught her breath as Georgia and Ath passed below the stairs and went into the kitchen. That was one mystery solved anyway. She must have been drawing much more power than she'd thought in the tea shop. No wonder he'd been so annoyed. Rattling teaspoons were bad for business. Even in this enlightened, cynical age it didn't do to scare the villagers. Their homes might be bright and airy with open plan living spaces and satellite television, but there were still torches and pitchforks that could be taken up in times of need.

  “That doesn't sound like Anita,” Georgia said thoughtfully. “I wouldn't have thought her capable of channeling that much power.”

  Anita went from being scared to smugly outraged in an instant. So nobody thought she was powerful. Well, weren't they just entirely wrong. Couldn't they just all go suck it. Yes they could. Athelstan and Georgia were still talking, but she wasn't really listening. She was putting all her energy into fuming as effectively as possible.

  “... always been an admirer of yours,” Athelstan was saying. “Would be honored if you would join us.”

  “I'm not of the Alexandrian tradition,” Georgia replied carefully.

  “Well perhaps you would do us the honor of attending a gathering as a teacher? We honor and embrace all facets of the craft.” Ath was in full sycophant mode now. Maybe Anita had underestimated his ability to spot real power. Or maybe Athelstan just liked tall blondes.

  Before Georgia could reply, Anita took the opportunity to stamp down the stairs and glare at both of the occupants of the kitchen. “Well hello,” she said as snidely as possible.

  “Anita,” Ath said gruffly, nodding at her.

  “What's all this then? A little bit of a bitch fest, hmm?”

  Athelstan's eyebrows drew together like a malformed caterpillar. “Now there's no need to get testy, Miss Anita.”

  “I disagree,” Anita said pertly. “I think there's quite a need to get testy when you go running to my girlfriend, complaining about me and begging her to come along as a guest teacher.”

  “Anita, go to our room.” That was all Georgia said. Anita was going to refuse, but she made the mistake of looking Georgia in the face and the expression she saw there was so fierce, so determined that she thought better of mouthing off again. Cold power washed out of those blue eyes and gripped her with clammy fingers, pushing her back towards the bedroom. She went reluctantly, walking backwards and keeping her eyes on Georgia's face as she did. It was the one bit of defiance she could muster in front of Athelstan that wouldn't embarrass her further.

  Once in the bedroom, she felt silly. She'd been sent to her room. She was too damn old to be sent to her room. Why was she letting Georgia push her around? Was it just because of the shock of finding out she had power? Or was it because they were both starting to take the kinky games a little too seriously? Months ago Georgia had introduced the idea of having a dominant and submissive dynamic in their relationship. Anita had resisted at first, but Georgia could be very persuasive. She knew just what buttons to press to get what she wanted. At first the dominant and submissive role-play had been just that – play. But it was quickly becoming obvious that Georgia took the whole thing very seriously indeed. She'd positioned herself as the authority figure in their relationship and now she was throwing her weight around. Anita did not approve.

  Anita knew that witches were individualistic creatures that did not bend easily to authority. She considered herself entirely a witch by nature, but she was being forced to bow before Georgia. It was yet another assault on her perception of herself as a witch, another assault on her ego. But what could she do? She was helpless. Whatever source Georgia was drawing from seemed endless. She'd never be able to resist her. Unless... A smile spread slowly over Anita's face, a slow, devious smile. Maybe there was a way to keep Georgia's influence at bay after all.

  Outside, the rain had stopped and shafts of sunlight were flitting in through the window. Sitting cross legged on the woven rug in a small pool of sunshine, Anita closed her eyes and drew her power around her, creating a shield. It was a basic tool of the trade. A shield kept you safe when you practiced magic, kept any psychic beasties at bay.

  In her mind, Anita constructed a solid brick wall, complete with mortar. She laid the wall in her mind's eye, taking all the care of a master brick layer to ensure that it was solid and sturdy. The visualization was just a tool of course, but it helped focus the power, helped build it strong. Anita felt it growing around her, solid and secure. On a whim she added some additional protection to the very top of the shield, tossing circular coils of razor wire around liberally. It wasn't the prettiest psychic shield that had ever been created, it looked more like the wall of a prison actually, but it was solid and it would probably work. Hopefully work. She breathed out and relaxed, feeling the shield as if it were a real thing, something she could have reached out and touched.

  When she opened her eyes, Georgia was leaning against the door frame, smirking. She hadn't felt her come into the room. That was a good thing. A very good thing. It meant that the shield was working, protecting her from Georgia's power.

  “What are you doing, witchling?”

  “You're the great dominant power, why don't you tell me?” Anita smirked right back. The electric tingle was completely gone. Her shield was holding very effectively indeed. Georgia couldn't touch her now, not with power anyway. Anita might not be the most powerful witch in the world, but she had a few solid tricks up her sleeve.

  Georgia pushed off the door frame and took a step into the room. “Athelstan says you caused quite a commotion in town today.”

  “Athelstan exaggerates,” Anita said simply.

  Georgia's smile became rueful as she shook her head. “You're so much trouble, you know that? This would be so much easier if you'd just behave yourself.”

  “It would be easier if you treated me as an equal and told me what was going on,” Anita replied snidely.

  To her surprise, Georgia nodded. “Very well, what do you wish to know?” She walked into the room and sat down on the bed, forcing Anita to swivel around on her ass to look at her. Their relative positions put Georgia physically above Anita in a way that grated, but she couldn't be bothered trying to find a higher vantage point. She'd only end up sitting on the dresser or something silly. She was somewhat surprised by Georgia's offer of knowledge, but she wasn't going to turn it down. There was no point sulking because Georgia had secrets if she didn't ask questions when she had the chance. She asked the question at the forefront of her mind.

  “What are you?”

  “What am I?” Georgia's head tilted as if she didn't really understand the question, or as if the question might have several answers.

  “What sort of witch are you?”

  Georgia smiled. “What do you think?”

  “Well you're not a ritualist, I know that much. You don't have any of the paraphernalia.”

  Georgia nodded, lacing her fingers together around her knee. “That is true.”

  “But you know magic.”

  “I know power,” Georgia said. “Your coven magic is quite different from mine. Mine is more elemental.”