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Second Chance, By Armond "I come bearing gifts," she said, holding up a white sack. "We had a bunch left over, and I hated to see them go to waste." "Chocolate chip scones? Gina Strega, you are sinful," Marita said, peering in the bag. She grabbed the one with the most chips and bit in; crumbs tumbled down her white blouse. "You don't have to stuff us with yummy bribes, dear, we ARE changing you back." "I wasn't trying to bribe anyone," Gina said, "I thought you might like some, is all." "A peace offering?" Marita's eyebrow arched. "Is the war finally over?" She let out long sigh. "I ... I was trying to be nice." Marita noticed the dulled blue of Gina's eyes. "Sorry. Long day for La Tazza Nera's bella barista? I so love saying that, it makes me feel like Isabella Rossellini." Gina rolled her eyes; she made espresso drinks at a coffee bar whose name meant 'the black cup.' It didn't seem terribly exotic to her, especially the way her feet were murdering her at that moment. She had worked there for most of her three month 'sentence'. "Yeah, Tony called in sick with stomach flu, so I did two shifts. Sounded like Chicken Wing Flu to me," Gina said, "...but, I owe our manager, so I was glad to help." "Chicken Wing Flu?" "Hangover, the wimp," Gina said, and turned to go up the stairwell to her bedroom. "Well, see ya-" Marita grabbed her arm; she'd noticed several dark bruises. "Hey, what happened here?" Gina looked away. "Accident at work ...listen, gotta go, I have class now." "Class?" "The *ahem* dance class you guys are forcing me to take ...body movement," Gina said. "That's right," Marita said, "Tuesday and Thursday nights. Body movement isn't so bad ...hey, we hoped you'd take a Ballroom class, or better still, Pole Dancing." "Whatever. I have to go change-" "Change?" Marita couldn't resist. "You mean into... a dance outfit?" "I have to..." Gina mumbled, lowering her head, and as she did, her silky black hair draped over her face. "Leotards and everything?" She nodded. "I bet it thrills you to hear it..." "Honey, don't be ashamed of your body. We designed you to be a knockout; I bet you look great in one," Marita said. "Do you need a ride?" "Thanks, no, I'm a big fan of the Transit Authority," Gina said, starting up her stairs again. "Come down and talk to me later, won't you?" "Is that an order?" "No ...I ...look, your time's almost up and I'm guessing we'll never see you again. It would be nice to spend time with you." "I ...I'll think about it." Her answer surprised Marita; while far from a yes, it was also not the 'hell no!' Gina had given every other time she'd asked. *** "We've got a situation," Sarah announced, as she burst into their ritual room. "Jean's sick." "Is she hemorrhaging blood? If not, then get her ass in here," Patricia said, looking up from the altar. "With Carol gone and Anne away, we have no plan B." "That's going to be a bit of a problem," Sarah answered, "since she can't get more than a few feet from the toilet." "I don't fucking care! Have her bring a puke bucket; we can't complete a circuit without her. It's been weeks since our last invocation, and the wards are drained!" Patricia's voice had taken on a panic twinge. "It's not like we can grab any woman off the street." Marita stopped her candle lighting. "Then get Gina." "This is serious! Our metaphysical ass is so exposed." Patricia said. "Why not her? She knows about us, definitely knows what we can do," Marita continued, "she should be back from dance, and-" "Help us?" Beth snorted from the storage closet where she was fetching their Grimoire. "She'd kill us in our sleep if she didn't need us to change her back." "Stop projecting," Sarah said. "Do you even talk to her?" "Everyone shut up!" Patricia looked miserable when she turned to Marita. "Fine, get her, dammit; we're out of options. Tell her ...tell her if she cooperates, maybe we'll shorten her sentence by a couple of days. Early parole." *** Gina wore a lop-sided grin as she followed Marita into their ritual room. She'd changed from dance clothes to jeans and sweatshirt, her black hair was swept back in a ponytail, and she wore a baseball cap. "Where is it?" "Where is what," Patricia said. "The hidden camera. You're screwing with me, right?" "Not one word from you," Patricia said, pointing her index finger. Then she motioned with it to the empty seat next to her. "Sit, take my hand and Sarah's, and keep your mouth shut." "You're welcome," Gina said, taking the seat. She glanced around the table; it was rare she saw them together, and she was struck by how different each looked. Next to her sat Patricia; she was the leggy one, her body was slim but strong, and her short red hair and high chipmunk cheeks gave her a sweet face. Gina had her exact cheeks, and more than once already someone had pinched them, saying how 'cute' they were. They were the perfect disguise for Patricia, because their 'cuteness' masked her steel spine. To her right sat Marita, her skin a spicy contrast to lily-white Patricia. When they cast her spell, they'd each given Gina aspects of themselves, but she thought she'd gotten the most from Marita; they were both barely over five feet tall, had olive skin tone, and rich black hair. Gina had wanted to cut it short, but they'd refused to let her cut it at all. It stretched to her waste now, and managing it was an epic daily battle. Beth was slightly shorter than Trish, but heavier set, and busty. It was her eyes though, that mesmerized, the deep blue of sky just after sunset. The very color Gina saw in her own now, when she looked in a mirror. Oh, yeah, and the breasts, she'd definitely gotten hers from Beth. And last there was Sarah, the classic 'blonde'; her hair near platinum in color, dark red pouty lips, 5'8" tall and well endowed - she perfectly fit the modern beauty clich?. Like 'sweet' Patricia, people often underestimated her -Gina had, before she had been a she- but Sarah was the polar opposite of shallow; her empathy and soulful emotions ran deep. The only thing Gina figured figure she'd gotten from Sarah were puffy lips. The absent Jean was different still; brown-haired, 5'6"ish height; she lacked the perfect beauty of Sarah. Yet she was considered the sexy one, and Gina had been able to work out that it was not how Jean looked, but how she moved that was so sensual; the flick of her hair, the lick of a finger, the way her eyes would track you. And her voice had a soft resonance that melted anyone in earshot. That was what Gina had been 'gifted' from Jean, a velvet arousing voice. Then it hit her; it was in this room that Gina was 'created', and John's life ended. This was Frankenstein's laboratory. Beth watched Gina's face as she glanced around the room; saw her expression pale at the end. "That's right, honey, this is ground zero; we cast your spell from this spot." "This is where ...you..." Her mouth went dry. "Relax." Patricia squeezed her hand and her voice softened. "We didn't bring you here to torment you; we need your help. It takes a minimum of five women to make a circle. You don't have to 'do' anything, except hold our hands and complete the circuit. Close your eyes if it makes it easier." Gina did, and didn't remember much after that. With two full shifts at the coffee house, and a dance class on top of that, she was beyond weary, and the flickering candles and incense made her eyelids droop. Once the chanting began, she fell into a trance. The next thing she knew, Sarah was shaking her. "Gina? We're done. You want something? I can get you one of your scones. Sometimes it's best to take in food after a session." Gina shook her head, her voice made even softer by fatigue. "Must. Go. To. Bed." Marita helped her up. "Do you need me to-" "Nope. Bed." With that, she staggered out the door. *** "Holy shit! That was unexpected," Patricia said, her rosy face flush with the after glow of power. "My God," Beth burst in, eyes flashing, "the surge was amazing! So, she's got the Gift." "Ya think, Sherlock?" Sarah was practically glowing. "We were at full power for the first time in months!" "Is this some kind of weird karma going on," Marita asked. "We've had so much lousy luck, with Carol quitting, Anne's mother getting ill, and now this thing with Jean. Then by chance, Gina sits down with us and she's charged like the Energizer Bunny." "Her power level is amazing, and she's untrained," Patricia said. "It's got to come from somewhere; what do we know about John's mother?" "I saw a picture of her at John's place; older woman, elegant, Italian," Marita said. "She lives in town, I think, though they don't speak much; I got the impression she was pissed at him." "Surprise surprise," Patricia said. "It would be more interesting to find someone not pissed at John. However, this opens up ...possibilities. How has Gina's attitude been these last few weeks? Is she still bitching and moaning?" "Not for a while now," Marita answered. "Oh, she let's you know she's not happy, but otherwise carries around herself with a kind of resigned fatalism. She treats what we did to her not as punishment but an ...injustice to be trudged through." "Ha! That's rich," Beth said. "Conveniently forgetting how John slept with EACH OF US, running from one bed to the next - literally, as it turns out- and dumping us the nanosecond the relationship started to become something more. And Gina's never said she's sorry." "True," Marita said, "in the world of bastards, John was King. But isn't it interesting we were all drawn to him? Scrumptious as our Sicilian Studmuffin was, it has to be more than looks that attracted us." "Well, of course, he handled all our taxes," Sarah said, and sighed. "What a full service he provided; tax returns were never so fun." "Enough; we could speculate all night," Patricia said. She walked to their large pane window and looked at the moon over city skyscrapers. "What's clear is we'll have to delay changing her back." "Even if she hasn't apologized, she's served her time and done everything we've asked," Sarah said. "What reason will we give her?" "The truth maybe?" Patricia turned from the window. "Without Jean, we physically can't do it. I don't know what it all means, why our coven stayed strong for years, but now is falling apart. One thing's certain, her power is a shot of espresso; we need her." "And you expect her to cheerfully volunteer to help us," Beth asked. "Are you crazy?" "Always, but what's that got to do with it," Patricia said. "So, who breaks this to her," Beth said, in a tone that clearly implied 'not me.' "I'll drop by that coffee place she works, um..." "Our bella barista works at La Tazza Nera," Marita happily supplied. "...er, thanks ...and chat with her," Patricia said. "Yeah, a public place, that's a great idea; less chance she'll kill you there," Beth said. "Just to be safe, make sure there are no sharp objects nearby when you tell her." *** Patricia walked in, to gleaming black and white tiled floors and art deco tables. Gina had motioned her to an open booth, and after a few minutes, brought her a latte to drink. "This place is really nice, Gina." "Look in your cup." "What?" "Look down, Trish." Patricia looked at her latte. "The froth's shaped like ...an apple! Cool! How'd you do that?" "It's nothing, a little latte art," Gina said, scooting into the booth seat across from her. "I started doing it a few weeks ago. It's great for tips. I'm trying to do a leaf pattern but they're a bitch. Ah well, looks like I'll never master it; in a couple of days it's back to the thrilling life of a CPA." "I bet you're excited to see your mother again," Patricia asked. "She lives here, right?" "I do want to see her, but ...I've been kind of a disappointment to her. I've done great as an accountant, but apparently she expected something more from my life than making money. I think her last words to me were, 'I don't think there's a more selfish, self-consumed person on the planet.' I'm guessing she hasn't missed me much." "That's sad to hear, Patricia said, 'but exactly right,' she thought. "Hey, this is off the wall, but did your mother have a hobby like quilting or bridge or something?" Patricia was playing a hunch; she knew Gina's mother came from a generation of the Gifted that used such clubs as covers for their coven meetings. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, she was crazy mad abut her Bridge Club. It was so annoying; their meetings trumped everything else, and happened at the strangest times. Odd that you should mention though..." Gina cocked her head then. "But I'm sure you didn't come to talk quilts or card games. Why are you here?" Patricia tilted her head and smiled. "My, but you've become direct. I remember a time when you and I used to make hours of small talk." "You've confused me with someone else. John did, not me. And that was when you and he were on a date. 'We' aren't on one, or are you into women now?" "You look so damn cute in your little black tuxedo shirt, you know, I just might be." "Mm-hmm. That may work for Jean, but not, I think, for you, so cut the crap." Patricia sighed, and pushed her red bangs out of her face. "Fine. Obviously things at our cozy brownstone became a little strange yesterday." "A little strange?" Gina picked up a salt shaker from the table and tapped on it. "Hel-lo, is this thing on? Sound check." She slammed it down on the table. "Things have been 'strange' for the last three months." "That's fair. From your perspective, it's all been bizarre. What happened yesterday was a different level of strange; a new dynamic. You're temporarily part of the coven now." Gina's voice softened. "Thanks. I don't know how to take that exactly, but I hope it means you trust me again. I'm on loan though; I can't wait for you to change me back." Patricia leaned back in her seat. "It hasn't been all bad, has it? I'm mean, what a unique opportunity-" "I didn't think so at first," Gina said, "I felt like my entire existence had been ripped away by my fickle ex-girlfriends." "Fickle? You're the one that flitted like a bee from flower to flower. You fucked with our hearts! We all loved you, and you only wanted sex." "I know ...I know what I did." Gina couldn't meet Patricia's eyes, so she looked away, at the cars whizzing past the large glass window of the coffee shop. "Speaking of, there's something I've been dying to ask you," Patricia said coyly. Gina turned back. "What?" "Is it true you did three of us in one day?" Gina reddened. "No that's not true-" "Are you sure," Patricia interrupted, "cause we were putting two and two together and kind of figured that out." "-I did four. April 14th." "Oh. My. God. And where was I in the queue? "You remember I scheduled your tax review after everyone else's." Gina gave a lop-sided grin. "I saved the best for last." Patricia couldn't help but laugh. "Still smooth as ever." "I not proud of it, at least, not anymore." Gina lowered her head. "Anyway, at first I felt like this entire 'lesson' nightmare was designed to humiliate me." There was truth in that, Patricia thought. They compelled her to participate in the world as a young woman; made her learn how her body worked, fought with her to wear ultra-feminine clothes, and ordered her to take a job where she served people. So, yes, there was a large dose of humiliation involved, but they also wanted her to learn, to feel, as a woman. Oh, but she'd fought them! "You've said you felt this way 'at first'; has something changed?" "I don't know... something happened the other night that..." Gina put her arms under the table. "It's not important. Now tell me, why are you here, Trish?" "No reason to beat around the bush; we're postponing changing you back." Gina exploded with a scream. "NO! You HAVE to! You promised!" "Shhhh! It's not that we don't want to. With Jean down we can't make a circle to cast the reversal spell." "Well, hell, I'll hold your hands again if that's all it takes-" "Uh-uh. You have to be outside the circle for it to work." "Then get someone else to fill in, dammit! You've got to change me back!" "It's not that easy! There aren't any Rent-a-Witch listings in the Yellow Pages. And more importantly, we need you working with us until Jean is well. Did you know you've got an astonishing amount of natural magical talent?" Gina grabbed Patricia's hands. "Don't do this to me! Is there some last shame you want to inflict, stripping in a nightclub or something? I'll do anything-" "It's not like that-" Gina gripped Patricia's hands harder. "Please please please don't keep me like this." "What's wrong with you?" Gina seemed genuinely frightened about something. Patricia gently pried Gina's hands from hers and reached in her purse for Kleenex. "Stop making such a scene! Everyone's looking, and your mascara's starting to run." A tall sandy-haired man, dressed in a black tuxedo shirt similar to Gina's, walked over to them. "Hey Strega? You okay?" "Yeah ...fine ... all peachy here..." "Is this about the other night," he asked, the intensity of his eyes showing concern. "No no, I just got some ...bad news ...from my friend is all. I'm okay; I'll be off break in a few minutes and-" "No hurry; things are slow." He looked at Patricia. "Let me know if you need a refill." He started to walk away, but stopped. "I know it's why you're quitting and I can't say I blame you. If you'll reconsider, I'll make sure you never work weekend closing shifts." "Oh, Roger, thanks, but-" "Just think about it, Strega, I don't want to lose you," he said, and walked away. "Other night? What's that about," Patricia asked. Gina looked down. "Oh, it's just my manager. I think he has a ...crush on me? How funny is that?" "It's not all that 'funny,' part of your spell was to make you attractive to -and attracted to- men." "Yes, thanks SO much for the lessons in bi-sexuality-" Patricia cut her off. "But the look in his eyes wasn't puppy love. Something happened. Tell me." "What does it matter?" Gina sighed. "A couple of nights ago, just before closing, this huge drunk asshole stumbled and wanted coffee; I guess he thought an awake drunk is better than a sleepy one. Anyway, I was the only one out here, and when I brought him his drink, he yanked me into a booth, started ripping off my clothes. Somehow his alcohol soaked brain convinced him I wanted it and I wanted it right there. He was a big man, and I couldn't do anything to stop him, except scream." "He ...assaulted you?" "It was amazing how quickly he got hard ...or maybe he got himself worked up watching me froth his milk in my cute little outfit, as you say. It's so weird to think things like this. Anyway, Roger came running from the back room and stopped him before he did too much damage. He pulled him off before the creep could ...get inside me. Then he pretty much beat the crap out of the bastard." Gina looked over at Roger and smiled. "My hero." Though her words were light, Gina realized her fists were balled tightly. She slowly spread them out on the table and let out a long breath. "I promised myself I wouldn't dwell on this." Patricia grabbed her hand. "Sweetie, why didn't you tell us?" Gina pulled away. "What would you have done, turned him into a woman too?" "No, we would have supported you, comforted you-" "Right! You cheer every time something rams home my new femininity; hell, you broke out the champagne at my first period. I figured you'd applaud this. And you did say you made me attractive to men-" "My God, Gina, this was NOT part of the spell! We would never have-" "How long," Gina asked, all emotion drained from her voice. "What?" "I know I can't talk you out of this, so I have to stay in this body how much longer?" "Until Jean's well; a week, no more than two, I promise." "Roger will be thrilled to know he's got me that much longer. Speaking of which..." Gina stood. "...I've got to get back to work." Patricia's words were rushed. "We'll need you to take part in our rituals, too. I think you'll find working magic an amazing experience; it's an entirely different world-" Gina raised her hand and smiled sweetly. "I'll do what ever you tell me. I have to be a 'good girl,' or you'll keep me like this." "It won't be like that! We'll- "Two weeks." Gina said, walking away. *** The women gathered at dusk in the ritual room again, setting up for another session. Jean had only worsened during the day, and they were starting to worry. "I noticed Gina was awfully quiet when she got home," Sarah said. "Yeah, I forgot to ask earlier, how did she take it," Beth said to Patricia, as she set out the element bowls. "Not well. This has been a lot harder on her than we'd planned," Patricia said. "Oh c'mon! Do her wittle feet hurt from high heels? Wind blow her skirt up, or-" "Someone tried to rape her the other night at work." Sarah and Marita spoke simultaneously, Sarah exclaiming "oh God no," and Maritia, "the bruises!" "You said 'tried,' right? Tried but failed," Beth asked. Patricia nodded. "Her boss stopped it in time." "Well ...okay then. Another lesson in the fear we live with." "Beth! You don't really mean that," Sarah asked, her eyes narrowing. "As long as it didn't actually happen." "She said this would be our reaction, it's why she didn't tell us," Patricia said. "You know, even if John was the King of Bastards-" "Emperor," Marita offered. "Fine, the Emperor of Bastards. Even so, did he ever do something like this? To any of us?" "No ..." Beth said, looking down "...never." "I remember once I was completely hammered and begged him to sleep with me, and all he did was tuck me in his bed," Marita said. "And *he* slept on the couch." "Exactly. So why would you..." Patricia looked at Beth, "...why would we want her to learn this hideous lesson?" "I guess I've taken this too far." Beth's face flashed concern. "Is she okay?" "Not really. As best I can make out, her master plan to deal with it was to pretend it didn't happen, get changed back, and never think of it again. She's pretty shaken; if we didn't need her so badly, I'd say we change her back tonight." Patricia shook her head. "Something's changed in her. I'm not saying we embrace her as a sister, but, let's lay off her, okay? Marita, go bring her down; we'll need to explain what we're doing with Jean." *** "Sit where you did last night," Patricia said. Gina nodded and took her seat. She couldn't place the looks she saw on their faces, somewhere between sad and guilty. "What? What are you staring at?" "Patricia told us what happened to you the other night," Sarah said. "Oh ...that ..." Gina looked at the table. "Can we not talk about it?" "Sure, it's just ...I know how you feel." Gina looked at Sarah, but stayed silent. "It was Prom, and I was asked by Chad Horner, our quarterback. I know this sounds so trite, the hot blonde dating the class stud, but I swear it's true. All my girlfriends were jealous, and honestly, I didn't think life got much better." Gina still wasn't speaking, but a slight smile had formed on her lips. Sarah was right; it sounded more clich? than mom and apple pie. "Later," Sarah continued, "after he and his buds passed around their flasks, Chad decided to detour to a secluded park instead of taking me home. I figured out what he was doing a little too late." Gina's smile vanished. "You mean he..." "Almost." Sarah stood, and walked over to Gina. "I was barely able to get away and hide in the bushes. He finally gave up looking for me and left me there. I walked five miles to my house; I never felt so helpless or humiliated in my life." "Yeah, that's how I felt," Gina's voice quivered "...helpless..." Sarah knelt and pulled Gina's head close to hers. "I'm sorry we put you in that position. Sorry you went through that." Gina looked around at the others; the regret and compassion was plain on their faces. "I was wrong, I should have told you." "I don't know who was wrong," Patricia said, "but we intend to reverse your spell as soon as we can. Until then, you'll be on equal footing with the rest of us, okay? No games, no more 'lessons'. Can you live with that?" Gina was silent for so long, Patricia feared an irruption was building in her, like she'd seen at the coffee bar. But what came out of her mouth, in the softest velvet voice, surprised them all. "I'm sorry ...for what I ...how I used ...all of you..." "You're ...apologizing? Now? I can't believe this!" Beth was incredulous. "We told you Day One you didn't have to go the full three months, that all you needed to say was 'I'm sorry,' and we'd change you back, but you've been as stubborn as a catfish! And now ...with only a few days of your sentence left, when we *can't* change you back, you say it? God, your timing sucks." "But I didn't know I was wrong until after that man..." Her words died away. Then she looked at Beth. "I could have lied and said the words, but it wasn't until I was hurt that I started thinking about those I had hurt-" "We never meant for something like this to happen to you," Patricia said. "EVER!" "I know, I know, but it did, and it got me thinking, about how I wormed into the intimacy of each of you, and all I wanted was to ...to ...I mean, isn't what I did in worse than what happened to me? You trusted me...I don't even know why you liked a shit like me in the first place... I'm so sorry..." As Gina spoke, she closed her eyes, and splutters of tears started, becoming progressively worse until she couldn't speak at all. When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by them; their eyes weren't dry, either. Sarah took Gina's face in her hands. "Oh, honey, that's the mea culpa we've been waiting for. I think I speak for everyone when I say we forgive you." They confirmed it by embracing her en mass, though it looked more scrum than group hug. *** "Thanks," Gina hiccupped, when they let her come up for air. "I hate to be the cruel task mistress," Patricia said, hand on hip, "but I have to cut the moment short. We have work tonight, so take your seats, and we'll start the purging." "Purging," Gina asked. "A precaution, really; Jean's been sick for a couple of days now. More than likely it's food poisoning or bug, but in case it's something else." "Something else? Like what," Gina asked. "A sending." "Sending?" "Specifically, shadow energy, intentionally directed at Jean." "Is that what happened to me? This ...shadow energy?" "We transformed you with a sending also, but with a different energy mix, a blend of Maiden, Trickster, and a touch of Shadow too, and we did it during a new moon, the time of creation," Patricia said. Gina blinked, then pointed at the ancient tome next to Beth. "I thought you used a spell from your book." "Our Grimoire." "Yeah, I thought it was something out of that." "It was." "But you just said it was a sending." Patricia nodded. "Look, a spell is just a series of time-tested words that trigger power. But the power comes from us, and from our ability to draw in the power that surrounds everything." "I'm lost." "I bet; I'll start over. Marita, go get Jean while I'm giving Gina Magic 101." Over the next few minutes, Patricia detailed a power source not taught in any science class, an energy field that surrounded all life, ebbed and flowed with moon phases, and coalesced around the archetypes of the collective unconscious. She told Gina of an ancient order of women called the Gifted, who draw upon this power and direct it with intention. She spoke of a secret tradition passed from mother to daughter, for millennia. Finally, she explained how spells, chants and incantations were the tools the Gifted used to activate and work with the archetypes and their many permutations, such as the Maiden, the Great Mother, the Hero, the Trickster, the Crone, or the Shadow. As Gina listened, with bewildered expression on her face, she started to form the view that the practice of magic was something like one part Jungian psychology and two parts Chi (or rather, the 'Force' from Stars Wars, she thought). "So, *I* now have this Gift, the ability to draw this force, and direct it?" "Very much so," Patricia answered, "though we can only guess why. Your mother must have had it too, and it's been latent in you, until your gender change. Ain't it cool?" "Not sure that's how I'd describe-" The ritual room door swung open, and Marita and Jean hobbled in; Jean had an arm draped over Marita's neck and was using her for support." "Jesus, Jean, you look horrible," Beth said. Jean barely mustered a nod; her hair was limp-wet with sweat, and her face was sallow and gaunt. Marita led her to a chair in front of the ritual table, which Jean slumped into. "She needs a doctor, she looks dehydrated" whispered Gina to Patricia. "We'll get her to one after we do this," Patricia whispered back. "This is a simple and routine cleansing ritual, and should take no more than a few minutes. Nothing to worry about." Sarah had brought a sage bunch and an earthen bowl from their store room. Gina watched as Sarah lit the bunch and put it in the bowl. When smoke began curling from it, she started walking slowly and anticlockwise around Jean's chair, gently wafting smoke on Jean with her hand. When she finished, she sat down and they gathered hands. Beth looked at the open Grimoire before her and began chanting in a language Gina had never heard. Patricia leaned to her. "She's saying 'By our will we banish all Shadow and let in the Light.' Close your eyes and see it, Gina, draw from it, and let it flow to me. Gina nodded and when she did, the white in her mind built so quickly that she almost panicked. The grave tone of Patricia's voice pulled her back from the brightness. "There's something seriously wrong here." Even Gina sensed a presence that was ...malevolent. When she opened her eyes she saw *it*: A blackness, a thing, pouring from Jean's body, coalescing into a solid dark shadow before them. Gina didn't need an interpretation from Patricia; the entity was vile and evil, and tendrils started snaking from the dark mass towards the women. "Shit, it's a class one Shade! It was a trap, the purging triggered it," Patricia shouted. "Give me all you've got, or we're toast!" Gina didn't know what any of that meant, but through her connection with the others, she felt a wild panic. Immediately, a stream of white energy surged through Sarah's hand into hers. She also felt a feathery blackness brush her forehead, and an oily whisper in her ear: *you*are*mine* The tendrils of darkness had wrapped tightly around her face now, and in her mind, the scene from the other night at the coffee bar began to replay, only this time there was no Roger to stop the man. The urge to run for the door became suffocating. "Don't break the circle," Patricia screamed to her, "If this thing takes us, death will be a blessing!" Gina nodded grimly and suppressed the flight instinct; she'd stand with these women or die trying. She closed her eyes tight and reached for light, and again found herself surrounded by blinding whiteness. She didn't hesitate; she dove for it. *** Light surrounded her still, but this time she saw it with open eyes; it took her a few moments to figure out it was the morning sun, pouring through her window onto her bed where she lay. A figure outlined by the light walked to her. "Wake up, dear." Even in her half-conscious state, Gina recognized the voice, the black- gray hair and the familiar wry smile. "Mmm, hi, Momma." Gina stretched and yawned. "When did you get here?" Her mother sat on the bed. "Word is you pulled down way too much power for a novice and it fried your circuits a bit." That jolted Gina wide awake; she sat up. "Wait! This ...isn't a dream ...you know that I'm ...uh-" "I know that you're babbling, darling," Marcella said. "And that you used to be my Johnny. Everything's fine, by the way; Jean's well now, and you are great." "But you know that I'm me ...your son ...I mean daughter ...er ...that's not right..." Marcella laughed. "Of course it is! I'd not be a very gifted Gifted if I didn't know the aura of my own child. I have to say it's brightened considerably." "How bizarre is this? I'm a woman now, and my own mother isn't weirded out by it." Gina slumped back into the bed. Then her eyes popped wide again. "You're one of them? A witch, or Gifted, or whatever?" "One of them?" Her mother laughed again. "Better to say 'one of us.' You're the one who gave the coven the power to overcome a Major League Shade. And standing by them in the face of that evil took courage." The pride was thick in her voice. Gina shivered at the remembrance of its touch. "Is it ...gone?" Marcella took Gina's hand and squeezed it. "Not to worry; with your collective energies flowing into her, Patricia took control of it -very few covens can master direct physical control of such a thing, by the way- and she returned to sender." "So that's all? We sent it back?" Marcella nodded and smiled. "It was no longer in their control and it was pissed. I don't imagine the coven that sent it exists anymore." "We killed them?" Gina's face looked stricken. "Not you; they did it to themselves by sending it. But dead? No, much worse; I expect they're shade-possessed; their freewill gone, slaves to the perverted desires of..." It was Marcella's turn to shiver. "Let's not talk of such things." "Okay by me. Now that Jean's well, I can change back and leave this insanity behind." "Yes, right, you can." Gina had heard that tone in her mother's voice so many times before. "But?" "Let me ask you this, 'daughter' have many people have missed you since you've been gone?" "Not many, but that's because I sent an email around saying I'd taken a short term audit assignment with KPMG's Hong Kong office." "How many called you?" "Well..." "No one, right?" Gina stiffened. "Not even my own mother." "Kind of makes you wonder if anyone would show up at your funeral." Gina eyes showed her hurt. "Your point?" "That you haven't left much of a positive mark on the world as John, and that you've been given a second chance, to live a meaningful life... as Gina." "Stay like this? Why? I could change the way I live as John." "Why did you pick the name Gina?" "We both know why-" "Say it." "I know I've always been a failure in your eyes-" Marcella took Gina's chin in her hand and pulled her close. *SAY* *IT* "If I'd been born your daughter, you'd have named me Regina, after Nonna; you've always said so." "And you picked it, you named yourself." Marcella put her arm around her daughter. "I've always loved you, even as I hated the shallow person you'd become. If you change the way you live when you're John again, well ...I'll love you all the more." That tone again. "But..." Marcella stroked Gina's soft black hair. "How lovely you turned out! Even given that you are a 'composite' of each of the coven members, you still managed to look more Strega than anything else." Gina didn't know why, but she had an overwhelming urge to hug her mother; it had been so long since she had. Marcella held her tightly and rocked her gently, whispering, "I have so many things to teach you, so many family secrets that were passed to me by Nonna. "But Momma, I have no driver's license, no birth certificate, no identity, and ...how can John just disappear?" "Mere details for ones such as us." Gina pulled away from the embrace just a little, so that she could look into her mother's eyes; it was as if she was seeing her for the first time. "All those Bridge Club meetings weren't meetings at all, were they?" Marcella kissed Gina on the top of her head, and murmured, "I hate Bridge." *** All of them, Jean included, were waiting around the breakfast table when Gina and her mother came into the kitchen. "You hungry? Sarah brought a baker's dozen from Panera," Patricia motioned to the self-explanatory carton of bagels, "and there's a fresh pot of coffee, though you're probably sick of the stuff." "Did you brew it with the Ethiopian Peaberry I brought home?" "We did, AND we used filtered water, just like you like it," Jean said, slowly brushing through her hair with the back of fingers. The sensual way Jean moved had mesmerized John, and when Jean had realized it had the same effect on Gina, she flirted with her mercilessly. "Umm, then, yes please," Gina said, sliding into her chair, still staring at Jean. "How about you, Mrs. Strega?" "I'm not a coffee snob like my daughter; I'll take anything you've got," Marcella said, frowning at Gina. "Dear, straighten your skirt." Gina looked down at her -bunched up- tan cargo skirt. "Shit! I'll never get used to this." She smoothed it out. "And no cursing, Gina." "Yes, Momma." The snickers were loud, until Marcella glared around the room. "You all would do well to mind your language, young ladies." "We're impressed, Mrs. Strega," Patricia said, still smiling, "we fought tooth and nail to get her to wear a skirt, and you pop her into one with no trouble at all." The laughter snorts rose again when Marcella gave them her 'I AM her mother' raise of the eyebrow. "I was told yesterday there'd be no more public humiliation," Gina whined. "That's true, no more as punishment," Sarah said, "but we never said we'd stop heaping loving abuse on a close friend and hopefully ...sister?" Gina cocked her head. "Is that why everyone's hovering around?" "And being nice to you," Beth said. "I even resisted eating the last cinnamon crunch bagel, so you'd have one." "That IS serious," Gina said with a grin. "Does that mean you'd want me to stay Gina? Even after what I did to you as John?" "We forgave you yesterday and we owe you big time for last night. If you hadn't been with us..." Marita's hazel eyes darkened at the thought of what had been narrowly avoided. "We all feel the same way," Patricia said. "Please don't leave us, Gina." Their house phone rang, and Jean answered it, then handed it to Gina. "Hello? Hi, Roger ...what's up? ...mm? Dinner? Well, sure, I guess, when? ...tonight? Really? Okay, I mean, I gotta eat ...What do I feel like? Italian, I always feel Italian. Heh heh, a little Italian humor- ...Aliseo's? That's kinda pricey ...no no, you don't have to pay for- what? At eight? ...well okay, see you then." She hung up the phone. "Well done, Gina, I liked the way you downplayed it," Sarah said. "Downplayed?" "Yeah, the way your voice sounded so nonchalant, it was sexy," Jean said. "What are you talking about?" "You ...don't know ...you really don't know," Marita said, her eyes wide with amazement. "Know what?" Beth had the biggest shit-eating grin on her face. "Our little Gina's going on a date." "What? No it's only dinner." Her hands went to her mouth. "Oh my God! Are you saying he wasn't just asking me out, he was asking me 'out' out? What am I going to do?" She turned to them all, pleading with her hands. "HELP ME!" "We could indeed save your cute little ass," Patricia said, "help you get your hair done, take you shopping for an outfit, coach you, so you won't look as totally clueless as you are. But that's an investment of time and energy. We'd be happy to do that if we knew we were doing it for ...our sister." The room grew silent; they were all staring at her. "Well ...I'm not in a huge hurry to change back..." "Not good enough," Patricia said. Gina looked at her mother, who held up an open hand. Gina sighed, and nodded. "I'll give it a try for ...five years?" "Minimum," Patricia said. "Minimum," Gina confirmed. The women began buzzing around Gina then, discussing hair, clothing, makeup and strategy, until Marcella cleared her throat. "Ladies, I've waited all my life for this moment." She held a credit card in her hand. "Go crazy with her." The buzzing became a swarm. *** Marcella was able to pry Patricia away from the group to talk with her in private. "I've noticed you haven't asked anything about my coven." "Some things are best not explored. I figured you'd tell me if you wanted to." Marcella smiled. "You're very wise for one so young, dear. You make a good coven leader. Now if I can just get you to stop inviting powerful shades through your wards..." Patricia turned red. "That will NEVER happen again." "I'm sure it won't. But someone went to a huge amount of trouble to set up that trap; putting a Shade to sleep and embedding it in an unsuspecting coven member is a highly sophisticated maneuver. Even if the coven that did the sending is gone, I'm sure you've not heard the last of it." "The attack reminded me of the stories of the Shadow Wars between the covens; the deceptions the Others used..." "It was a tactic of the Others for sure; it appears they are moving again, in spite of the Treaty. We must be ready to answer." Patricia put it all together then. "Oh ...you're THAT Strega; I should have guessed. You're one of the Stregheria Coven!" There was awe in Patricia's voice, and she started to kneel. Marcella caught her, and shook her head. "By the terms of the Treaty, the Stregheria were disbanded, its members barred from practicing the Craft, and forbidden from giving birth to female heirs. It is unlawful to even speak of them." Patricia nodded and was silent a moment. Then the broadest grin crossed her face. "A loophole!" Marcella grinned back. "Oh, you are a clever one; you grasp it immediately! Yes, it is true, I did not give *birth* to Gina." Patricia chuckled at the irony, then grew silent as she considered something. "I'd always heard the Stregheria were far more powerful than ordinary witches, but thought it was an urban legend. Last night, though, as that thing was attacking us, when Gina switched on," Patricia shook her head. "The raw energy pouring from her was indescribable. She's Stregheria too, isn't she?" "Again, let us speak no more of them. I really shouldn't even be seen with you after this; I am still watched periodically. And I must find a way to train her in secret," Marcella said quietly. "I will say that after she is trained by the two of us, I cannot imagine a more potent coven than yours." "The way that the -group that we shall not speak of- was screwed in the Treaty, I bet this is especially satisfying to you." "I'd be lying if I said 'no,' but that's only part of it, a smaller part..." Marcella looked back into the kitchen at Gina, surrounded by friends, sisters, laughing. Her aura was the purest white she'd seen for her child. When she turned back to Patricia, her eyes glittered. "...She's my daughter. She's my..." The words choked in her throat. Patricia took her hands and bowed her head. "We understand each other. She'll live here and work the Craft with us, and train with you when she's not here. She should probably quit her job to give her more time to- "No, have her cut back her hours, but keep her job. It's grounding for her." "Very well," Patricia said, and then gave a coy smile. "And any ...um, tips, or tidbits of wisdom you may have ...on any subject ...oh ...for example ...how we defend ourselves against the Others ...you can pass to me through her." "We understand each other perfectly," Marcella said, giving a sly smile of her own. "The Chinese have an ancient curse, 'May you live in interesting times.' Have everyone buckle up, Patricia, things are about to get very interesting indeed." ***