Anaïs looked around frantically. How had he got here? She thought he was gone forever. She needed a distraction, anything, something to slow him down. A gust of wind whipped up a piece of paper and blew it across the street. It hit the Inquisitor in the leg and flapped around his boot. He stooped to pull it off. Then the thought struck her. She had something. She had recently played with it in Amsterdam. The weather there was perfect for it. There was always a breeze whipping across the flat plains in the Netherlands. She reached deep into her beret and pulled out a child’s plastic windmill.

  Why hadn’t she thought of it before?

  She pulled the beret down snuggly around her ears. She spread her legs, widening her stance. She leant forward slightly and set her weight against the windmill and gripped it with both hands. She blew softly through the vanes.

  The windmill slowly began to turn. She blew again and it sped up. It began making a whirring noise. The blades of the toy became a solid circle and she could no longer make out the individual vanes. Little sparks of light started to flicker on the circumference until there was a completely stable ring of light.

  She turned her attention to the man and his dog crossing the road towards them. She adjusted her stance and directed the toy at them. The first indication of its effect was when the dog’s fringe parted on its snout. The fur flapped back up over its broad skull and exposed its bright red eyes. She ignored them and focussed on the toy in her hands. She willed the windmill on. The whirring sound amplified as its velocity increased. It emitted an almost hypnotic drone. A halo of light grew around it.

  Loose rubbish lying on the road between her and the Inquisitor fluttered. Flapping first at the edges, it soon became airborne. A plastic bag flew at the Inquisitor and wrapped itself around his face. He tore it off and didn’t break stride. More rubbish levitated into the air. Caught in the unseen wind it flew towards the Inquisitor. Each piece that struck him, he wrenched from his body and discarded, until an entire movie poster extracted itself from a nearby fence and soared across the street. It hit him, covering him from head to foot, stopping him in his tracks. The edges of the poster shredded and wrapped around his legs, torso and head. He fought vainly to rip it off but the paper was too thick.

  More and more discarded wrappers, paper bags, bits of plastic and other packaging added to the coating around his body. Eventually the Inquisitor was completely wrapped in refuse. He continued the fight to free himself, thrashing his arms until they too were pinned to his body. The heavy bulk of trash forced him backwards. He took one step and lost his balance, his legs tangled in a mass of rubbish. He fell.

  He slid along the ground away from her, packaged like a colourful Christmas present, dragging the dog with him. It too struggled, its claws digging deep into the asphalt. It could not compete with the invisible wind and the added weight of the Inquisitor. The wrappers drove them back to where they had first stood and then beyond, towards a high, metal fence surrounding the basilica’s building site.

  A movement halfway up the closest steeple caught her eye. A figure, dressed entirely in black, in a long coat and sporting a fedora, stood on an exposed staircase. It held onto a railing and leaned out of the tower. It watched the scene play out below. Its attention was focussed solely on the Inquisitor. Above the church a thick, dark cloud was forming. Its blackness dominated the sky. Anaïs heard the rumble of thunder. Then something else distracted her. A hand gripped her shoulder.

  She tried to shrug it off but it held her firm. She took one hand off the windmill. It was more difficult to control and wobbled erratically in her hand. It took almost all of her willpower to keep it aimed at the Inquisitor. With her free hand she tried to pry the fingers off her shoulder. She dared not look away from her target and what she was doing for fear the magic would falter. She fought to maintain her concentration.

  The hand pulled her backwards, guiding her around a corner and into the neighbouring side street. The last she saw of the Inquisitor, he and his dog were a great ball of paper plastered against the metal fence.

  The hand spun her around. She looked at the face of its owner. Her initial irritation melted and turned to joy. A broad smile lit up her own face. It was one face she was more than pleased to see.

  LA FARMÀCIA

  ‘Wow! You have a great setup here,’ said Anaïs.

  ‘It’s ok, I suppose,’ muttered the Apothecary. ‘But I miss my sound system.’

  ‘Why don’t you get a new one?’

  ‘I will, once I can work out how to ask for one in Spanish.’ He scratched his head. ‘I only just got here.’

  ‘Why did they transfer you?’

  ‘They thought it would be good for me. A change of climate, I guess. Nice weather and all that. I couldn’t care less. I hate the sun.’

  Anaïs grinned at him. ‘Yeah, a lot of good that does you now. It’s the middle of winter. I'm not sure you'll get much sun right now.’

  ‘Good, I hope it stays that way, although I’m not holding my breath. It’s gonna get hot, really hot.’ He sighed. ‘That’s what bothers me the most. At least there’s air conditioning. That is, if I can find the remote control.’

  ‘Shall I help you look?’

  ‘Nah, it’ll show up. I hope.’ He flicked his head over his shoulder. ‘What was going on out there by the way? Who was the skinny dude with the dog?’

  Back out on the street, the Apothecary had been the one gripping Anaïs’s shoulder. By chance his new post was hidden beneath the building they had been standing in front of. In the side street the Apothecary had ushered the group through the entrance of a real pharmacy. The shop was closed for the midday siesta and vacant. They were therefore not disturbed by the owners.

  Hidden at the back between tiers of drawers in a storage room was a lift. It was similar to the one in Amsterdam. They had been transported down several floors. Anaïs, the Apothecary and Immi had practically frozen to death, crammed into the small lift with the two shades. Even now their body temperatures were fighting to return to normal levels.

  Anaïs shivered involuntarily and not just from the cold. ‘I honestly don’t know who it is. We’ve met before. He first showed up in Amsterdam and has been chasing me ever since.’ She thought for a moment. ‘There was a sort of showdown in Cornwall and he disappeared. I assumed he was gone for good. Clearly, I was wrong.’

  ‘Geez, Cornwall? You have been getting around.’

  She flashed her eyes at him. ‘I know. Tell me about it!’

  ‘Well, you’re safe now. They’ll never find you here.’ The Apothecary winked at her. ‘I had enough trouble finding the place myself.’

  Anaïs smiled. ‘Good to know.’

  The Apothecary turned his attention to her companions. He scratched his head again and looked at one of the shades.

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking, who’s the cross-dresser?’

  ‘Cross-dresser?’ Anaïs was confused for a moment and then realised he was talking about Marilyn. ‘Oh, her, ahem, him? Guess.’

  ‘What is it? A him or a her? Give me a break. Why can’t you just tell me?’

  Anaïs was unmoved. ‘Nope, guess.’

  The Apothecary pursed his lips and ran his eyes over the shade. ‘Conchita Wurst?’

  Anaïs snorted. ‘C’mon, you’re not even trying.’

  He cocked his head. ‘Madonna?’

  Anaïs blew a raspberry. ‘Madonna? How could it be Madonna? She’s still alive and kicking! So is Conchita. How many shades have you actually met?’

  ‘Not a lot,’ he said. ‘It’s not my department.’

  ‘Fine, if you’re not going to take it seriously I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Good,’ he said and folded his arms. ‘I hate games.’

  ‘It’s Marilyn, Marilyn Monroe,’ said Anaïs proudly.

  The Apothecary’s jaw dropped and he stared wide-eyed at the shade. ‘You’re kidding!’

  He straightened his lab coat, bowed and doffed his baseball cap. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, Miss Monroe. I’m a big fan.’ He shuffled his feet nervously. ‘I hope you don’t mind me prying, but what was the whole deal with the Kennedys? I mean, did they really knock you off?’

  Marilyn cleared her throat. ‘Who is this imbecile?’

  ‘Don’t mind him,’ said Anaïs, shooting a glance at the shade. ‘He’s actually quite cool once you get to know him.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘What did she say?’ enquired the Apothecary.

  ‘Oh nothing,’ said Anaïs. She hissed at him. ‘I think it would be better if you didn’t ask those sorts of questions.’

  The Apothecary screwed up his mouth and pulled in his chin. ‘Why? What’s the problem? What did I say?’

  ‘I don’t think you should talk about the you-know-whos.’

  ‘The you-know-whos?’

  ‘My god, I didn’t think you were that thick.’ She stepped close to him and lowered her voice. ‘The Kennedys.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Don’t talk about it. It’s insensitive.’

  The Apothecary tried to process the information. ‘Ok, suit yourself. I was just curious.’

  ‘What a moron!’ Marilyn exclaimed.

  Anaïs grabbed the shade’s arm and spun her around. ‘Maybe you better wait over there.’ She indicated a couch positioned against the wall next to the lift doors. ‘This won’t take long.’

  Marilyn hesitated and then obliged. She stomped across to the couch and sat down, simmering at the Apothecary.

  He looked disconcertedly at the shade before turning to Anaïs. ‘And what’s up with the other cross-dresser?’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Her.’ He pointed at the librarian.

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Immi. ‘Cross-dresser?’

  ‘Oops, sorry sister,’ said the Apothecary, grinning. He raised his hands in defence. ‘I was just having a bit of fun.’

  The librarian regarded him with disdain.

  He turned to Anaïs. ‘I’ll just shut up, shall I?’

  ‘That might be wise,’ said Anaïs. ‘There is someone here you do know.’

  Anaïs turned to her caretaker. ‘This used to be Nan.’

  ‘No!’ The Apothecary shook his head in disbelief.

  Anaïs looked at him sternly. ‘Yes,’ she said and nodded.

  The Apothecary was genuinely upset and covered his mouth with his hand. ‘I’m so sorry. I really liked her. She was hot,’ he said through his fingers.

  Anaïs glared at him. ‘Are you trying to insult everyone in the room?’ She shot a sideways glance at Nan.

  ‘Sorry, that came out all wrong.’ He was genuinely upset and sniffed. He avoided looking at Nan and took Anaïs by the arm. He pulled her close to him and whispered. ‘That’s terrible. What happened?’

  ‘An accident,’ said Anaïs flatly.

  ‘Anaïs, I’m really sorry.’ He turned to Nan. ‘Are you all right?’ There was a moment of silence. Getting no response from the shade he directed his attention back to Anaïs. ‘Is she all right?’

  The little witch didn’t respond and stared at the floor.

  The Apothecary took a deep breath, eyed the women and exhaled slowly. ‘Sorry, stupid question.’

  There was a pregnant pause.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ said Anaïs, deadpan.

  The Apothecary took another deep breath and tried to break the impasse. ‘By the way, you’ve really grown. I barely recognised you.’

  The little witch’s face clouded over. ‘Yeah, don’t remind me,’ she said with hint of sadness.

  The Apothecary removed his cap and rubbed his head. He kneaded the cap in his hands apprehensively and his eyes flicked over the small group of women.

  He took another deep breath and straightened his back. ‘So, enough chit-chat. Is there anything you would like? It’s all pretty unfamiliar here but I’ll see if I can find what you need.’

  Anaïs shook herself out of her sullen mood and attempted a half-hearted smile. ‘Thanks, we could use your help.’

  The Apothecary brightened and beamed at her. ‘Excellent! Your wish is my command. Always willing to be of service.’

  ‘Good,’ said Anaïs. ‘Get us out of here.’

  ‘That’s a bit beyond me, but I have a solution,’ said the Apothecary. ‘I’ll call my mother.’

  ASSISTANCE

  Anaïs was taken aback. ‘Son of a witch?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Apothecary.

  Anaïs was surprised and a little dismayed. The sudden news of the relationship had floored her. She temporarily forgot their present predicament. ‘Why didn’t you mention this earlier? That your mother was a witch.’

  ‘It never occurred to me,’ replied the Apothecary sheepishly and with a tinge of guilt. ‘There was no reason to tell you, I suppose. Besides, how often do we see each other anyway?’

  Anaïs considered him for a moment. Usually, the only contact she had with him was through email. They did have something in common. They both shared a passion for music. But when she thought about it, she really didn’t know much about him. He supplied her with potions and such, but was more an acquaintance than anything else. She realised she didn’t even know his name.

  ‘I thought the Organisation would’ve told you,’ said the Apothecary.

  ‘Unfortunately, they don’t tell me anything!’ Anaïs retorted.

  The Apothecary pulled a long face and eyed her forlornly. ‘That’s a pity. What’s wrong with them? I’m sure it would help if they kept you in the loop.’

  Anaïs wrung her hands and stared glumly at a black speck on the wall. She stiffened. ‘Yes, it would. It would help a lot.’ She looked down at her feet and sucked her bottom lip.

  Nan moved across to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Anaïs didn’t feel the chill. She was already numb.

  ‘They wanted to protect you, Anaïs,’ said the shade gently. ‘It wouldn’t help to tell you everything. Not right away, anyway. I tried to give you as much information as I could. But with some things, you first need to learn for yourself before you’ll be able to understand what you’re being told.’

  Anaïs sighed. She wasn’t convinced. ‘They could have told me this.’

  ‘They could have, but would it really matter? Would it make a difference?’ She knelt down beside the little witch. ‘You have to know you were never alone. There was, and always is, someone watching over you.’

  Nan bent forward and tried to put her head in the witch’s line of sight.

  Anaïs stared past her at the floor. She refused to look Nan in the eye. She considered the caretaker’s words. It occurred to her that what Nan said was true. In more ways than one she was not alone. She thought about the car that had followed them on the highway. She thought about the feeling she’d had after it had disappeared. The feeling she was being watched. She thought about the dark figure she had seen outside on the basilica’s steeple. She was certainly not alone. What bothered her was not knowing what or who was watching over her. And whether they were there to protect or attack her.

  Nan spoke softly. ‘Trust me, Anaïs. You will know everything in good time.’

  The witch straightened and turned to her caretaker. Their faces were centimetres away from one another. So close Anaïs could feel Nan’s icy aura.

  ‘That’s good to know, Nan,’ she said, almost in a whisper. ‘But I still think it’s a bit strange. Like they don’t trust me.’ She ran her eyes around the underground room. It was a large, long space and not well lit. There were dark recesses in the walls and she couldn’t make out the far end of the room. It was pitch black. The feeling she was being watched returned. It was palpable. She shivered. Nan retracted her hand from the witch’s shoulder and stepped away from her.

  The Apothecary crouched down on his haunches in front of the little witch.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘She can help. I’ll call my mother. She’ll come. She always does.’ He smiled at her. ‘I don’t know about the rest of them but she’s dependable.’

  Anaïs stopped eying the room over the Apothecary’s shoulder. She looked at him morosely. ‘But I can’t get close to another witch. It’s dangerous.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ he said. ‘We’ll work it out. There are ways around that.’ He stood, pulled out his phone and unplugged the headphones which were slung around his neck. ‘I’ll call her straight away.’

  A voice sounded in the darkness. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  Anaïs looked past the Apothecary. A tall, thin woman, decked out in an air hostess’s uniform, stepped out of the shadows in the far corner of the room

  ‘I am already here,’ she said.

  CHILDREN

  Anaïs Blue was fortunate to have a rare gift that is only bestowed on children. When you are young, more magical things come to you. Anaïs had second sight. She could sense and feel things others could not. Naturals have this too but the skill is rarely retained and developed. Often it is lost completely. This was not the case for Anaïs. She was still learning. She had an advantage. Even though she was mentally in her late teens, her physical form still influenced her. Like all small children, a part of her had not yet been fully indoctrinated into the adult world.

  If we, as adults, could recall the inner beauty of childhood and not be forced to conform to the false lessons our counsellors have taught us, the world would be a far richer place for all concerned. There is much to be said about this influence. The wisdom of age is a useful thing. Unfortunately, it utterly destroys innocence. This innocence, which some may call naivety, is required to maintain an open mind. Most adults have lost this to their own detriment.

  Small children are not given the benefit of intelligence. They are not trusted with knowledge. Yet they are far more resilient than they are given credit for, and they are clever. Although filters are put in place to ensure their education does not have a long term derogatory effect on development, these filters are poorly implemented.

 

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