The witchs apprentice, p.13
The Witch's Apprentice, page 13
I’m expecting him to say something deep, but Vonn just shrugs and says, “We all have a role to play.”
Vonn’s been around for hundreds of years and I haven’t even lived a whole decade. Maybe the Supreme Council should be listening to Vonn instead of me. But he’s not the one who witnessed what Sis did that night back in Brooklyn. It was me.
“If you were in my position, what would you do?” I ask Vonn.
“If someone wanted to know what I thought, I’d speak up. I’d use my words to fight for the world I want to live in.” Vonn eases himself off the bench and brushes traces of popcorn off his khaki ensemble. “Ready?” he asks.
“Ready,” I reply, hopping off the bench. I offer Vonn the rest of the popcorn, but he tells me to keep it. I roll the paper bag shut and unzip my knapsack. The phoenix pokes its head out and chirps at me. I transfer it to my pocket, pack the popcorn, and sling my bag over my shoulder.
“Follow me,” Vonn says as we take the path that leads out of the park.
12
It looks like we’re heading to the L, but Vonn stops before reaching the stairs that lead up to the train’s platform. Instead, he takes me over to an old brick building that’s clearly under construction. There’s scaffolding all along the front, and the entrance is boarded up with plywood. Torn sheets of black plastic cover the tall windows, and trash has gathered along the curb. Weeds poke up from the cracks in the sidewalk, and the elevated tracks rumble as a train pulls out of the station next door.
Near the top of the pointed roof is a small round window, and beneath that is a smooth stone block with the words the forum chiseled into it. People walk past the building, but no one stops to read the posters that plaster the walls. This place might have been important once, but it’s clear this building hasn’t been a destination in a long time.
I look at the three arched windows on the building’s facade and ask, “Was this a church once?”
Vonn shakes his head. “The Forum is one of the oldest assembly halls in Chicago. Folks gathered here for concerts and lectures. Every important meeting happened here back in the day.”
“Okay, but why are we here now?” I ask, trying to hide my impatience. I don’t want to miss my chance to see the Supreme Council.
“Thought you said you wanted to check out the trial.”
I look from Vonn to the dilapidated building before us. “THIS is where the witch convention is being held? I thought it was at the convention center downtown.”
Vonn shakes his head. “Our kind prefers to keep a low profile. We keep ourselves to ourselves, if you know what I mean.”
“I get that, but…couldn’t they find a nicer place to meet?”
Vonn grins. “What you know ’bout glamour, Brooklyn?”
“Glamour? Not much. My mom likes to watch movie stars wearing their fancy clothes on the red carpet. Is that what you mean?”
“Kind of. Sometimes the clothes a person puts on can disguise who they really are inside. But when it comes to magic, glamour is a type of spell that makes something ugly or just ordinary look dope. The illusion’s so good you think it’s real.”
I take another look at the Forum. “So…this building just looks like a dump?”
“See for yourself.” Vonn leads me around to the back of the Forum. He pries off a loose sheet of plywood that’s been nailed over the door. We squeeze through and find ourselves in a dark room that smells musty. The carpet squishes beneath my feet, and I think I hear mice squeaking and scurrying around. Vonn takes out his phone and turns on the light. I do the same, and after a moment my eyes get used to the dark.
“Watch your step,” Vonn warns me.
I avoid the broken milk crates and soggy cardboard boxes that litter the floor as I follow him over to a wide staircase. When I grip the railing, it pulls free from the wall. I stagger backward, but Vonn quickly turns to grab hold of my arm.
“You good, Brooklyn?” he asks.
“I’m good,” I say as I steady myself.
Vonn turns back around and continues climbing the stairs. I follow him, casting the light from my phone over the walls. The gilded sconces once had dangling tear-shaped crystals, but most are broken or covered in a thick coat of dust. Layers of mismatched paint and water-stained wallpaper peel away to reveal cratered, crumbling plaster. When we reach the top of the staircase, Vonn points to a stage at the far end of the hall. The high-ceilinged room is so cavernous that our voices echo, even though we’re whispering.
It’s cool and dank in the empty ballroom. I shiver and glance up at the three arched windows high above us. The torn plastic covering the broken glass flutters as wind whistles in from outside. Once upon a time, the Forum must have been a fancy place to meet, but not anymore. “There’s nothing glamorous about this place,” I whisper to myself.
“Wait here,” Vonn says.
I do as I’m told and watch as he moves through the shadows. Vonn stops when he reaches the stairs that lead up to the stage. “Ready?” he calls.
I nod and then realize he probably can’t see me. Just as I call out “I’m ready,” Vonn flips a switch, and the ballroom comes to life! Suddenly, there is light blazing from glowing wall sconces and a massive chandelier. Covered in glittering crystals, it hangs from a ceiling painted with beautiful frescoes. I look up and see chubby brown angels floating on puffy white clouds. Then I look again and realize they aren’t paintings! The cherubs are laughing and stuffing themselves with every kind of delicious food—tacos, cannoli, egg rolls, cheese fries, and red velvet cake.
Vonn taps my shoulder, and I finally pull my gaze away from the ceiling. He leads me across the crowded floor of the ballroom. Folding chairs have been set up in rows with one main aisle down the middle. The trial obviously hasn’t started yet because people are mingling and chatting over cups of coffee.
A trio of musicians plays mellow jazz softly onstage. Or maybe the music just sounds soft because the ballroom is buzzing with anticipation. Clearly, I’m not the only one who’s nervous and excited about the trial. I don’t see any other kids here, but there are all kinds of different adults. There are some people who look older than Ma, and plenty who look closer to Quayesha’s age. Some look quite plain, and others have elaborate hairstyles, lots of makeup, and flashy jewelry. At least two people move about the room in chairs that hover above the floor instead of rolling on wheels. It looks like anyone and everyone can be a witch!
Folks seem to have come from every part of the world. Each person is wearing a unique outfit, but whatever they have on is color coded. As people mix and mingle, I start to feel like I’m looking through a kaleidoscope!
“Each coven has its own colors,” Vonn explains.
Before I can ask him about Brooklyn’s colors, I see a familiar face—it’s Quayesha! I wonder if her beautiful dress is real or just an illusion caused by the glamour. Made from African fabric, her bright orange shift has large purple fish swimming through golden waves. Her long black locks are piled high atop her head and cascade down the side of her face.
I weave my way through the crowd to stand next to Quayesha. She pretends not to notice me at first and then acts surprised to see me.
“Jax! I didn’t expect to see you here. Glad you could make it,” Quayesha says with a sly wink.
“Thanks for helping me,” I tell her. “I hope you won’t get into trouble with Ma.”
“Don’t you worry ’bout me, Jax. I’ll be all right. Look—there’s Dutch,” Quayesha says, nodding at a corner of the room.
Once I see Dutch, it’s easy to figure out the Brooklyn coven’s colors. Under her black pinstripe suit, Dutch wears a purple shirt with a bright orange tie. A matching silk handkerchief pokes out of her jacket pocket. I wave, and Dutch nods back as she lifts her pinstripe fedora. Judging by her smile, I think she’s happy to see me, too.
I look down at my own blue jeans and black hoodie and wish I’d worn something else. Then I remember what Mrs. Benjamin said about me not belonging in their coven. I guess it doesn’t matter what colors I wear.
“What you doing here, boy? Thought I told you to stay home.”
Ma’s voice sounds stern but not as angry as I feared. I take a deep breath and turn around to face her. She’s with Mrs. Benjamin, and both older witches seem annoyed by the excitement in the room.
“Vonn brought me,” I say.
“That so?” Ma asks, still facing me but shifting her dark eyes to Vonn.
He nods confidently and loops his arm around my neck in a protective, brotherly way. “Jax wanted to come—and he was summoned by the Supreme Council.”
Mrs. Benjamin sucks her teeth but says nothing. She’s wearing a dark purple wool skirt and an orange turtleneck. Ma is sporting a black velour tracksuit, but her voluminous white Afro is pushed back by a bright orange scarf dotted with purple flowers. Like Ma, Mrs. Benjamin has on sensible black shoes. Everyone else here might be going to a party, but these two look like they’re ready to get to work.
“Do you know what a proxy is, Jax?”
I shake my head, and Ma offers me an explanation.
“It’s someone who speaks or acts on your behalf. I’m here as the proxy for Sis. And I hoped you’d let me do the same for you.”
“I can speak for myself,” I say with more confidence than I knew I had.
Ma just grunts and turns away to speak to a short, round man with an important-looking badge on his suit jacket.
I didn’t realize Dutch had joined us, but she puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “You got guts, Jax. I don’t know too many people in this room who would stand up to Ma like that.”
I feel a bit shaky inside, but I’m more nervous than afraid. “I’m not her apprentice anymore,” I say to myself as much as anyone else. “Ma can’t tell me what to do.”
“No, she can’t,” Quayesha agrees. “But just because you’re not part of our coven doesn’t mean Ma no longer cares about you. Try to remember that, Jax.”
Someone rings a bell, and the room grows quiet. The musicians take away their instruments, and three heavy wooden chairs are brought onstage. With their elaborate carving, they look a bit like thrones, but the three people who cross the stage to stand before them look surprisingly ordinary. Unlike everyone else in attendance, the three members of the Supreme Council wear plain black robes and simple silver hats.
They wait a moment for everyone in the ballroom to find a seat. I follow Dutch and Quayesha over to a row of chairs near the stage. There are seats left in our row, but Ma and Mrs. Benjamin choose to sit on the other side of the aisle. Dutch discreetly points at the council member on the left and says, “That’s Judge Osaka. Her grandmother was a powerful shaman in Japan.”
Quayesha fills me in on the other two councillors. “In the middle is Judge Wa Ehi Hoci—he’s a respected elder and skillful Ho-Chunk healer—and last but not least is Judge Akpo. They say she’s descended from the last king of Dahomey.”
All three sound like important people, and yet their faces look kind. Maybe I’m just hoping that’s how they’ll be when it’s my turn to stand before them. I expect to hear a gavel banged as the three judges call for order, but the room is already silent. The three Supreme Councillors have our undivided attention. I quickly check my phone to ensure that it’s silenced. The phoenix stirs in my pocket, so I pull it out and let it sit on my shoulder for a while.
There are no microphones and the speakers don’t raise their voices, but everyone in the room can hear them.
Judge Wa Ehi Hoci begins. “As practitioners of magic, we acknowledge that we stand on the traditional unceded homelands of my people, the Ho-Chunk, as well as the Ojibwe, Odawa, Bodewadmi, Miami, Menominee, Sac, and Fox.”
Judge Osaka speaks next. “We humbly thank our hosts for permitting us to hold these proceedings on their ancestral territory.”
Judge Akpo smiles and concludes, “We recognize that their magic is ancient, forming a protective circle around all those gathered here today.”
Dutch nudges me with her elbow, and I turn to see representatives from each American Indian tribe standing near the stage. They nod at the councillors, who bow solemnly in return and then take their seats.
“We are ready to proceed,” Judge Osaka says. “Where is the complainant?”
Blue stands up and faces the three judges. “I’m here and ready to present my case, Your Honors.”
“Take the stand,” Judge Wa Ehi Hoci says with a wave of his hand.
Blue walks up the center aisle and steps onto a wooden box that has been placed before the stage. He doesn’t look as laid-back as he did yesterday in the park, but Blue is clearly determined. He wears a black leather jacket over a white shirt and black jeans. I remember how he cowered in the corner the night his friends were taken, but Blue stands tall and proud now that Sis is far away in Palmara.
He clears his throat and begins. “The balance between the two realms has been upset. Sis, the self-appointed Guardian of Palmara, has blocked the flow of people, creatures, and ideas that has for millennia allowed this world and the world of magic to coexist peacefully. I’m sure many of you have noticed that the climate has taken a turn. Many elders across the country have succumbed to a worrisome sleeping spell. And the children who witnessed Sis’s theft have developed certain…complications. So it is not only for myself that I raise this grievance. The future of magic is at stake.”
Blue pauses, and a murmur ripples through the audience. It’s hard to tell whether people agree with Blue or are shocked by his accusations. I wait to see if he will take responsibility for the sleeping spell and our new mutant abilities.
“Sis cannot be allowed to disregard the laws that our union has agreed to follow and that you, the Supreme Council, have vowed to uphold,” Blue argues.
The councillors whisper among themselves before Judge Akpo says, “These are serious charges. The Guardian of Palmara is revered by our kind, but no one is above the law. Is Sis here to refute the claims against her?”
Ma grabs everyone’s attention by pounding the hardwood floor with the tip of her cane. The three judges recognize her with a nod of their heads and Ma makes her way to the front of the stage. Dutch meets her there and helps Ma climb onto a second box. I quiver, knowing it should be me helping Ma right now. But I am not here as her apprentice—I am here to testify.
Blue faced the Supreme Council as he spoke, but Ma turns so that she can address everyone. “I have been asked to speak on behalf of the Guardian of Palmara. The charges made by this charlatan are false and designed solely to increase his own personal power. The sedation spell affecting the human population is not a result of Sis’s actions—Blue himself cast the spell in order to create a climate of chaos and fear.”
A second wave of sound washes over the assembly. It’s still hard to tell whether the union members are impressed or shocked, but Blue just smiles and shakes his head dismissively.
Ma points an angry finger at him and yells, “The delicate balance between realms has indeed been upset, but not by Sis. The creatures in her care were duped by Blue and trapped upon his body in the form of tattoos. Sis liberated them and restored them to their home in Palmara. Had she not acted decisively, this snake oil salesman would have continued to exploit the creatures by extracting their magical properties for profit.”
The room crackles with energy, and this time I can tell that the crowd is turning against Blue. Those seated nearest his box push their chairs back so that it’s clear he stands alone against Ma. Blue is no longer grinning, but he doesn’t seem worried. He even looks over his shoulder to wink at me. My cheeks burn, and the witches seated around me shift their chairs as well as if to avoid contamination. Even with Vonn and Quayesha on either side of me, I feel vulnerable and alone. Maybe it was a mistake to come today. Maybe Ma was right to order me to stay at home.
Blue lifts his head defiantly and says, “I am not on trial here. I am here to demand justice for the creatures who were in my care. I consider them my friends, and they were cruelly wrenched from me without their consent. The Guardian must be held accountable for the laws she has broken.”
“Sis did what was necessary to fulfill her sacred duty,” Ma insists.
“How would you even know, old woman?” Blue snaps. “You weren’t present that night. If I recall correctly, you had succumbed to the very spell for which you now blame me—a condition you brought upon yourself by removing three infant dragons from their birthplace.”
“Is this true?” Judge Osaka asks.
Ma frowns. “It is true, Your Honor, that I was not present at the emporium on the night in question but—”
Judge Wa Ehi Hoci rudely interrupts Ma. “Then what evidence do you have to support your claims against this man?”
Before Ma can answer, Blue spins and points at me. “I have a corroborating witness! I ask that the council call Jaxon to the stand.”
My stomach flips as all eyes in the room zero in on me. But somehow I manage to stand and walk up to a third box placed between Blue and Ma.
Without even looking at me, Ma begins to speak on my behalf. “This is—was—my apprentice. I ask that he be excused on account of his age and status as an uninitiated member of the community. He’s just a boy….”
I stand up taller and clear my throat. “I was there that night, Your Honors!”
Ma turns to me and shakes her head sadly. “You don’t have to do this, Jax.”
“I want to testify,” I tell Ma. Then I turn to address the Supreme Council. “It’s true that I don’t know as much about magic as the rest of you, but this is my world, too. It’s my friends who have been affected—and they’re changing because they went to the emporium that night. But they only went there because I lost one of the baby dragons. I wanted to make things right, and they offered to help me. So I’m here to speak for them as well.”
