The witchs apprentice, p.9
The Witch's Apprentice, page 9
The girl smiles and proudly says, “It’s K’iche’, pero yo también hablo español. I’m Itzel.”
“Mi nombre es Jaxon,” I tell her, hoping my Spanish is correct.
Suddenly, her grandmother sways, and Vonn steps forward to steady her.
“Grandmother!”
“Let’s find your grandmother somewhere to sit down,” Vonn suggests. He guides the weary woman over to a nearby bus shelter. Itzel holds her grandmother’s hand. I grab the cooler and wheel it over. Another man there is already fast asleep and snoring so loudly he can’t hear the bus pulling up to the curb. I look at his clothes and see the telltale white flakes on his jacket. There are some on Itzel’s grandmother’s clothing as well.
“Is there a park around here?” I ask.
Itzel nods, though she looks confused. “Washington Park is just a few blocks that way.”
“Do you live far from here?”
When Itzel shakes her head, I turn to Vonn and ask, “Could you help them get back home?”
“Sure. What’s your plan, Brooklyn?”
“I’m going to see if I can find some silver root growing in the park,” I tell him. Then I remember what Vonn said earlier about being a waiter. I turn to Itzel and explain my idea. “My boss showed me how to find a plant that will help your grandmother stay awake. Would it be okay if I brought you some?”
Itzel nods eagerly and points to a nearby apartment building. “That’s where we live.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I assure her. Then I hurry up the block and scour the park for the familiar purple triangular leaves. It takes a while, but after twenty minutes of searching, I find a couple of plants growing near a big oak tree. I pull them out of the ground gently and shake the dirt loose just like Ma taught me to do. Then I race back to Itzel’s building. She’s watching for me at the window and buzzes me in.
When I reach their studio apartment, Vonn is nowhere to be seen, but Itzel has made her grandmother comfortable in bed. The phoenix stirs in my pocket, so I pull it out. Itzel smiles and tells her grandmother to look at the beautiful little bird. She responds in K’iche’, so Itzel translates for me.
“My grandmother says it looks like a quetzal, the national bird of Guatemala.”
Itzel’s grandmother holds out her hand, and the little bird flies over to her. I wonder if I should tell them it’s a phoenix, but instead, I leave the bird snuggled against the old woman’s neck and join Itzel in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Making my grandmother some chocolate. I can grind up the root and mix it in. That’s how I always take my medicine. My grandmother told me that in Guatemala, long before the conquistadores invaded our land, the people turned to the hechicera when they were ill.”
“What’s a hechicera?”
“A sorceress who could heal the sick or use magic to solve people’s problems. The hechicera often used chocolate for her potions, since most people in our country drink it every day. Want some?”
I nod eagerly and watch as Itzel breaks apart a bar of thin, dark chocolate. She places the squares in a saucepan and adds water. Then she carefully turns on the stove and stirs the mixture with a whisk until the chocolate has dissolved. She pours in some milk and then reaches for a bottle of cinnamon.
“I’ve never had hot chocolate with cinnamon,” I tell her, “but it sure smells good.”
“Sometimes we add a chili pepper, too,” she explains.
Itzel keeps stirring until there’s foam on the thick brown liquid. Then she turns off the burner and carefully pours the chocolate into three mugs. She hands one to me and then starts grinding the silver root with a mortar and pestle for her grandmother.
Before I can take my first sip, the phoenix flutters over to the rim of my mug and dips its beak into the hot chocolate!
“Hey!” I cry.
Itzel and her grandmother both laugh. After a few more sips, the phoenix abandons me and flies back over to the elderly woman now that she, too, has a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. The little bird takes two sips and then watches approvingly as Itzel’s grandmother drinks the rest herself. I wonder if the silver root will also make the phoenix more alert. It sleeps a lot when it’s with me, but right now the bird is listening intently as Itzel’s grandmother softly sings it a song. I can’t understand the words, but I think maybe the phoenix can.
“Thank you for helping us, Jax,” Itzel says with a shy smile. “Sometimes I feel like we’re invisible. Things happen, and people just walk on by or look the other way. But you didn’t.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure what to do at first,” I admit, “but Vonn taught me how to be a good waiter.”
Itzel looks confused. Then she cries, “Oh—I almost forgot! Your friend said to meet him at the Fountain of Time.”
“The Fountain of Time?”
Itzel explains that it’s a sculpture at the far end of Washington Park. “It’s where the Midway begins,” she says.
I already know how to get there, so I thank Itzel again for the delicious hot chocolate, wave to her grandmother, and pocket the phoenix as I head off to find Vonn.
9
“You found me,” Vonn says with a grin. “You’ll know the neighborhood better than I do by the time you leave.”
I step into the fountain and sit next to him on the ledge. It’s more of a shallow pool than a fountain, really. The water has been drained, so our feet rest on the dry concrete.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, pulling the paper bag of tamales out of my knapsack. Vonn accepts two, and we don’t say much while we eat. Itzel didn’t put any chili peppers in my hot chocolate, but her grandmother definitely put some in her salsa! Vonn doesn’t seem fazed by the heat, but my eyes start to water, and I need more than a few sips of water from the bottle I carry in my bag. I have to wonder if I really did make that bully choke on his tamal. Maybe I just wanted to believe I had the power to punish those boys. Maybe Ma was right only to teach me about foraging for healing plants.
I look across the empty pool at a long line of stone figures. They are crouching at the start of the line, and standing tall in the middle, but by the end, they’re crouching or crawling once more. This seems like a strange place to meet. Next to us, staring at the line of people in the distance, is a tall, hooded figure who looks kind of sinister. He’s holding some sort of staff under his stone cloak, but it doesn’t have a blade at the top.
“That’s not the Grim Reaper, is it?” I ask, nodding up at the statue.
“Father Time,” Vonn replies. “And those folks,” he says, pointing to the stone marchers, “are supposed to represent humanity. There’s a hundred of them altogether.”
I take another bite of my tamal and search the wall of people for a face like mine. There are old folks and little kids, couples embracing, soldiers marching, and one man on horseback. Not one of the figures looks like somebody in my family.
“Why’d you want to meet here? Is there something special about this place?”
Vonn picks up the paper bag and puts his banana leaves inside. He holds it out to me, and I do the same with mine. “This sculpture was inspired by a poem, ‘The Paradox of Time.’ Ever heard of it?”
I shake my head and wonder what all the stone people across the pool have to do with time.
“People like to say ‘time flies,’ but this poet says it’s the other way around: ‘Time stays, we go!’ ”
“You don’t. If you were here when DuSable was around, then you’re pretty old, Vonn, even if you don’t look your age.”
Vonn smiles, but his diamond-encrusted teeth don’t sparkle like before. If he took his sunglasses off right now, I suspect the light in his eyes would be dim.
“As a Watcher, I’ve lived more lifetimes than I can count. I’ve watched the world change around me without ever being able to change it myself.” Vonn pauses to heave a sorrowful sigh. “It wears on a body, seeing so much but doing so little.”
I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never really thought about immortality, but in most of the stories I’ve read, the person who thinks they want to live forever winds up changing their mind in the end. Like Sis said last spring—death is part of what makes us human. Would we value our lives if we knew they’d go on forever?
“I want you to know something, Jaxon. No matter what happens, I want you to know that meeting you has given me hope. I’d almost forgotten what that feels like….”
Vonn gets up, but when I try to do the same, he puts his hand on my shoulder and gently pushes me back down.
“Are you leaving me again?” I ask. I know how to get back to the rooming house, but Ma won’t be happy if I show up alone.
“There’s someone I want you to meet. Actually, it’s someone you already know—someone from Brooklyn.” I’m not sure if I look anxious or confused, but Vonn gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he steps out of the dry reflecting pool. “I hope you’ll give him a chance, Jax. I hope you’ll hear what he has to say. It’s important.”
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
Vonn shrugs. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you decide after you talk to my friend.”
I have other questions I want to ask, but Vonn just pulls up his hood and walks away. The wind picks up, and I shiver as dead leaves scrape across the empty pool to form a bank against the distant wall. Time stays, we go! I glance up at Father Time and then check the actual time on my phone. Ma said to be home by five p.m. I’ve got less than an hour.
Five minutes go by, then five more. Finally, I sense someone standing behind me. My hand instinctively slips inside my pocket and curls around the sleeping phoenix.
“Remember me, kid? I remember you.”
I know that voice. Even without turning around, I know that Ma was right—Blue is in Chicago. But Vonn said I would be meeting his “friend.” He couldn’t have meant Blue—could he?
“Mind if I sit down? It’s been a long day.”
Blue groans as he takes Vonn’s place beside me on the ledge. I don’t want to, but I turn to look at him and see that he hasn’t changed much since the last time we met. Even without his signature tattoos, Blue looks as devious as ever. I remember those cold gray eyes and the silver loop resting just above lips that seem permanently twisted into a sneer.
“What do you want?” I ask in a voice as cold as the wind.
Blue pretends to be offended. “Is that any way to greet an old friend from back home?”
I glare at him and say, “We’re not friends.”
“We could be.”
I look around, hoping to find Vonn watching us from a distance, but he seems to have vanished.
Blue pulls a white paper bag from his coat pocket. Even before the sugary scent wafts my way, I know he’s brought doughnuts. He holds the bag out, but I shake my head.
“You sure? They’re paczki.”
“Pouch key?”
Blue laughs. “Close. Paczki are Polish doughnuts.” He sinks his teeth into one and, with his mouth full, says, “Heavenly!”
Powdered sugar flies out of his open mouth, and red filling spills out of the doughnut onto his white T-shirt. I shift farther away from Blue and say, “I don’t have all day, so just say what you came to say.”
Blue wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and chews quickly so he can speak more clearly. “Right—I want to respect your curfew. Ma keeps you on a tight leash, huh?” I just scowl at Blue, so he hurries on. “Let me start by saying how much I appreciate this opportunity to share my point of view.”
“I’m only here because Vonn asked me to give you a chance.”
Blue nods and says, “Vonn’s a good guy—and a true ally. Which is what we all need in these trying times….”
I sigh loudly and check the time on my phone. Blue takes the hint and finally gets to the point.
“When I saw you last, I told you I’d be back. I told you I wasn’t the only one willing to stand up to Sis. There’s going to be a trial, you know. The Supreme Council has agreed to hear my complaint.”
Blue did say something like that the last time I saw him at the emporium. But Trub said not to take him seriously. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Do you know what a subpoena is, kid?”
“Sure. My mom’s a paralegal.”
“Is she, now? No wonder she took that terrible landlord of yours to court. There’s going to be a trial here in Chicago at the witch convention. You should have been served with a subpoena weeks ago, but my sources tell me you haven’t responded. I’m here now because I want to make sure I’m going to see you in court tomorrow.”
I need a moment to take in everything Blue has just told me. Why didn’t Ma mention a trial, and why didn’t I receive the subpoena? “Are you suing Sis?”
“Not quite. But she has to be held accountable for that stunt she pulled back in Brooklyn. She’s holding those creatures—my friends—hostage in Palmara. It’s not right.”
It almost feels as if Blue is speaking another language. “Palmara?”
Blue blinks with surprise. Then he frowns and shakes his head like he’s disappointed. Yet his voice is surprisingly kind when he explains, “Palmara’s the realm of magic, kid. What’s Ma been teaching you?”
“Not much,” I mutter, and then immediately feel guilty for talking bad about Ma. She taught me how to find silver root, and that helped Itzel’s grandmother. If Ma has kept other things from me, she must have a good reason.
“Why don’t you have a doughnut, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
I figure it’s safe to sit with Blue just for a little while, though I resist the urge to scarf down a jelly doughnut.
“Ask me anything,” he says with a straight face. “Unlike some people, I’ve got nothing to hide.”
I ignore his dig at Ma and ask, “Why do you think Sis is holding your ‘friends’ hostage? Isn’t it her job to protect all the magical creatures?”
Blue scoffs. “Protect them from what—freedom? A hostage is someone who’s being held against their will. Think back to that night in Brooklyn, Jax. Did those creatures look like they wanted to leave with Sis?”
I think of the way Sis peeled the living tattoos off Blue’s body. I recall their cries of protest and shake my head. Vik’s aunt was the only one who seemed ready to go. “But if they’re hostages, that means Sis is only holding them until she gets what she wants—like a ransom.”
“Exactly. You’re a smart kid, Jax. I can see why Ma wanted you on her team.”
Blue’s compliment makes me blush, but this time I manage to bite my tongue instead of saying what it’s like to be the only member of Ma’s team who gets benched all the time.
Blue leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Sis wants to change our world. It’s happening already.”
He pauses to dramatically sweep his hand across the drained pool, with its piles of dead leaves. I look across the meadow at the flame-colored leaves on the trees and the pedestrians bundled up to keep warm, though it’s the middle of summer.
“All these changes are caused by one person who thinks she can keep all the magic to herself.” He pauses for effect and then asks, “Did you know Sis has a brother?” The surprise on my faces says it all. “Surely Ma told you about Ranadahy. He and Sis are twins. They used to rule Palmara together.”
“What happened?” I ask, somewhat ashamed of my own curiosity.
“Her brother dared to disagree with her, so Sis locked him up in a tower and threw away the key! That was a thousand years ago, and Sis hasn’t changed a bit. She’s just as stubborn and selfish as she was back then. You know why? Because no one’s ever stood up to her—except Ranadahy. He’s a powerful wizard, and he’s our only hope.”
“I thought you said he was locked up.”
Blue nods but avoids looking me in the eye. “He is—he was. It’s complicated, but I managed to get a message to him.”
“What did you say?”
“That Sis no longer has the support of the union. Ma’s never told you about that, either, huh? I’m not surprised. The witches had their own federation and still hold their own convention each year. But over time they aligned themselves with other practitioners like me. I was a gatekeeper before—”
“Sis fired you,” I say, remembering what L. Roy told me about Blue.
Blue frowns and says, “Technically, I was demoted, but she would gladly have fired me if she thought she could get away with it. That’s why people join unions, Jax—to make sure that bosses respect workers’ rights. I wanted Ranadahy to know that most of us have lost faith in his sister’s ability to serve as Guardian of Palmara.”
I think about that for a moment. I haven’t met anyone besides Blue who feels that way about Sis, though L. Roy probably made her mad by sending the three baby dragons to Brooklyn. Ma’s definitely loyal to Sis, and Vonn never mentioned having a problem with her. Yet he called Blue his friend.
I’m starting to feel confused, which makes me kind of angry. “Why should I believe a word you say?” I demand. “If Ma were here—”
“Ah, your good friend Ma. How’s she liking the convention?”
I open my mouth to answer but realize I don’t know what to say, since Ma hasn’t told me anything about the convention.
“Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you can’t say because you don’t know much about the secret meetings Ma’s been attending. She made sure of that, right? She brought you all the way to Chicago and then kept you out of sight. Almost makes you wonder why Ma bothered to bring you at all.”
I get up and grab my knapsack. “I’m not listening to you. You may have fooled Vonn, but Nate said you couldn’t be trusted.”
