When Destiny Calls

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 4 (v.1)

Submitted: January 09, 2010

Reads: 302

Comments: 2

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Submitted: January 09, 2010

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Chapter 4

The next few days I felt beside myself. I had constant mood swings, I had outrageous thoughts, dreams, and nightmares, and I couldn’t concentrate properly. It was like I was spiralling out of control.

Even Keith noticed. We were eating at the diner once and he cleared his throat and said, “Vivian, honey. Is anything wrong?”

Note: At that time I was in a really good mood.
“Nope. Everything’s perfect!” I threw my hands around his neck and squeezed joyfully.
“Vivian.” He sounded a little strangled.
“Yes, Daddy?” I said, releasing him.
“Uh, nothing. Never mind.” He looked alarmed.
Suddenly I lapsed into sadness.
“You don’t trust me anymore?” I started crying. God knows what the other diners thought of me then. “Is that it? You want to get rid of me?” Looking back, my words made no sense, but at that point in time, I felt it was the right thing to do to wail words that had no meaning.
“No!” My father cried out, horrified. “Of course not! Why would you think that?”
I stopped crying. I looked at him with a very severe look.
“Are you trying to imply that I’m crazy?” I said. I was furious.
“No!” Keith said, alarmed. “Not at all!”
Needless to say, he didn’t talk to me much after that. He regarded me with wary glances, but other than that, he tried to keep out of my way.
It wasn’t like I knew the way I was acting was mad. In the back of my mind, I knew I was wrong. I just couldn’t find enough willpower to control myself.
I was petrified.
It got so bad that one day I actually approached Morgan.MORGAN! Of all people. I could have went to Anthony, or something, since he and I were closer because of his secret.
But no. I had to go to Morgan.
It started out weird enough. I saw her, walking in with her clique, and I got up from my seat and started walking towards her. Leah practically killed herself lunging for me, but she was too late. I had gotten too far for her to reach. It was like I knew what I was doing (even though, honestly, I bet I didn’t). It was like it was right to approach her.
Yeah, right.
“Morgan.” I said, giving her a very sombre nod. “Jean, Rosalie, Danielle.”
She looked at me curiously. “Yes?”
“When the winds of destiny blow, they don’t exactly blow in the direction you want.”
Wait. Did I actually say that???
With a brief nod, I turned and went back to my table.
“Are you crazy? Have you lost it?” Leah shrieked shrilly at me as I sat down. “That’s like, social suicide!”
“Vivian,” Sandra said, concerned, “Is everything okay? You seem out of sorts lately.”
Suddenly I was very tired. I felt like I had just swum a hundred kilometres, carried two elephants for an hour and then running back all the way. That tired.
“I need to step out for a minute.” I mumbled, scooting back my chair. I walked out of the cafeteria with curious stares boring through my back.
When I managed to get outside, I sat down. It was like I was too tired to stand.
Then I realised I was scared.
Not scared like, I was going around, wailing, “I’m terrified! I’m terrified!” But more of like I was scared of what was happening to me. Was it because of Anthony and his secret?
I was scared, confused, lost, and helpless.
I didn’t know what else to do but cry. All the feelings buried deep down in my subconscious came rushing out.
I sobbed until no more tears came and I felt numb. I felt dazed, really. I think some kind people helped me up when lunch was over. So nice. You definitely can’t find this kind of people in New York. The best they can do would be to murmur comforting words at you as they pass.
“Shh, stop blubbering.”
Was I saying all this out loud?
“Yes, now shut up.”
I shut up. I looked at the people carrying me. There were four of them, trying to drag me to someplace.
I was instantly alert.
“Let go of me!” I yelled, struggling in their grasps. “HELP!”
“Shut it, will ya!” one of them hissed. “You’re gonna make us drop you!”
“There, there.” Another cooed comfortingly. She patted my head and squeezed me slightly. “It’s okay, we’re taking you home.”
I relaxed, but then realized I knew that voice. It was Morgan.
I spun my head so fast I accidentally sprained my neck a little, but I didn’t care. I realized the four girls were Morgan’s clique members. I was surprised. Leah had made them out to be cold mean cheerleader types.
They tucked me into a backseat of a car and Jean sat beside me, patting me occasionally when I struggled a little.
I had no choice but to let them take me home. Besides, I suddenly felt exhausted again. I slept the whole ride home.
*****
“Are you awake?”
I rubbed my blurry eyes in confusion. Where was I? I thought I was in a field of daisies, feeding deer.
Oops.
I still felt dead tired. I tried to sit up but failed and flopped back on a soft surface.
It was my bed. I was home.
“It’s okay. I felt the same way too when I first started.” The voice said. It was high-pitched, and had a whispery sound to it. I forced my eyes to open long enough for me to see who the owner of the voice was.
It was Rosalie.
“Rosalie?” I gasped, but it came out as a croak.
“Here.” She offered me some water. I gulped it down gratefully. I was incredibly thirsty.
She smiled at me in sympathy. “I know.”
I finished the whole glass. “What happened?”
“You fell asleep in the car, so Danielle and Jean had to lug you up the stairs to your bed.” She smiled at me again. It was a little unnerving. “You’ve been sleeping for two hours. We took you out of school with permission, don’t worry.” She added hastily.
“Well, thanks.” I said. I had a feeling there was more than that.
She smiled at me. “Come on. You need to eat something.”
Slowly but steadily, I wobbled down the stairs. “Are…..uh….Morgan and the others downstairs?”
She looked at me intently. “Vivian. I’m sure you’ve come across rumours about us. I know we may not seem very friendly, but I assure you, we’re totally harmless. Morgan has no mean bone in her body.”
“Uh, okay.” I blushed.
“Hey! Are you okay?” Jean greeted me. She supported me as I sat down in the armchair.
“Yeah, I feel better now.”
“You, like, totally freaked us out when you came up to us in the caf, you know.” Jean said, laughing.
“I’m sorry about what I said, I haven’t been myself lately –”
“Oh, no need to explain.” Morgan assured me nonchalantly. “Everyone has a breakdown once in a while.”
This was weird. Really weird.
Danielle plopped a tray on my lap. “Eat,” she ordered.
In a daze, I obeyed.
“Look,” Morgan started, looking a little unsure of herself, “I know that you may have some assumptions about us, but we think you’re cool. So……can we hang out?”
I choked on a piece of chicken.
Danielle slapped my back hard. “Easy there.”
“Sure.” I said, in response to their question, when I regained composure. This is insanely bizarre. “I mean, if you really want to.”
“Oh, we do.” Morgan said, exchanging glances with Jean, Rosalie and Danielle. “We think that you have such an amazing personality. I mean, showing Brad who was boss? So awesome.”
In spite of myself, I swelled up with pride. “Really? You noticed that?”
“Yeah, we noticed!” Danielle said with a grin. “That was so cool!”
“Thanks!” I flashed a grin at her. I felt more assured about being friends with them. “I guess it’ll be okay if you want to hang out.”
“Great.” Jean said. “Did you hear about the McQueen’s?”
And just like that, I was friends with the most popular and feared girls in Forks High.
*****
“Sorry, Vivian.” I could barely hear the freshman girl speak as she hurried out of my way.
“There you go, Vivian.” A junior hastened to move away.
It had been a week since Morgan accepted me into her clique and I still hadn’t gotten used to being popular.
Or at least, feared.
When Ashley, Leah and Sandra saw me walking through the front doors of Forks High with the notorious four, they naturally freaked. When they saw that all the hype around the clique was way overrated, they calmed down.
We hung out for two days. It was awkward, to say the least. I guess Ashley wasn’t really used to sharing her territory. Neither was Morgan.
Needless to say, they soon went back to their old table. At least I knew Sandra was reluctant to leave. She still threw me apologetic glances once in a while. I knew how she felt.
Morgan began controlling every single inch of my personality. “Wearthis today.” “No, never do THAT.” “Let’s all buy this shirt.” “I think we should eat the salad today.” “Vivian, do not eat that.” “Vivian, you should start exercising more.” “We should go shopping today.” “Vivian, never say THAT.” “No, I’m right. Vanilla is the best flavour.”
“You’re so wrong. Strawberry is disgusting.”
I was slowly being absorbed into the clique.
I decided before I became a total clone, I had to confront them.
“Look, guys,” I started. We were in Jean’s house studying, and there was a sudden lull in conversation. I took the opportunity to talk to them.
“I totally love hanging out with you, but………” I took a deep breath, squeezed my eyes so I didn’t need to see Morgan’s expression, and blurted before I could have second thoughts, “I don’t like the fact that Morgan keeps making all the decisions.”
“What?” Morgan said, clearly offended. “I so do not!”
“Yeah, you do.” Feeling braver, I opened my eyes and narrowed them at her. “All the time, Jean, Rosalie and Danielle follow your lead. And I don’t like it. We all have different opinions.”
She stiffened. “I know what is best for everyone.”
“No you don’t!” I yelled. Rosalie looked frightened. By now, Jean, Danielle and she had stopped their conversation. “We all should make our own decisions, not just accept your decisions and opinions. We’re like your followers.”
“No we’re not.” Jean said. I threw a confused glance at her. Of the four girls, I was closest to Jean, probably because she reminded me of Sandra. I knew she sometimes was uncomfortable with being Morgan’s second all the time. I had expected her to side with me, not with Morgan.
“Morgan DOES know best.” Jean said. Rosalie nodded solemnly. “We trust her opinion.”
“What?” I said spitefully. I was hurt that she wasn’t backing me up on this. “Morgan knows that vanilla is the best flavour? And that we’re wrong to like strawberry? Stop kidding yourself, Jean. You’re just another follower of hers. She might call you her best friend, but you’re no different from the many other girls she would pick up in the future.”
“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” she yelled. I instantly regretted my words. Jean started crying. “Morgan is a good friend.”
“So just because of that, you let her walk all over you?” I demanded.
“Stop.” Morgan said. She held out one hand to silence me. And in time, too. Pretty soon I would have started hurling even worse words at her.
“I think it’s time you know,” Morgan said solemnly.
“She’s not ready.” Danielle growled menacingly.
Ignoring her, Morgan said, “You need to know why I’m the leader of this group and why I DO NOT let any of them make a decision without me knowing.” Gesturing to the living room, she walked out without another word.
I settled in a comfortable armchair and folded my arms to tell them I still wasn’t satisfied.
Morgan did not notice my body language and sat down gracefully, her legs tucked neatly under her, on the couch, and Rosalie stood up.
“Centuries ago, Sidonie Benefice, the greatest witch in history –” Whoa, whoa, whoa. Witch? What was going on? I straightened up and listened intently. “– was plagued by the townspeople, who condemned her as a demon, and they bound her to the stake in the centre of town, so that she may be burned in the morning.”
I shivered. I’ve heard of these things before. In medieval times innocent people were accused of being witches and burnt at the stake. Even though these stories weren’t uncommon, they never failed to scare me.
“Once a witch is burnt, her power is lost forever. Therefore Sidonie released all her energy into the air, and begged it to disperse and find new owners to bless with their ability.” She took a seat, and in place Danielle stood up.
“Nowadays every female harbours a part of her energy, incorporated in her own spirit. But only the ones who carry a special energy, called ma-kai, can utilize that part of her energy.” Danielle sat down. What is up with taking turns to tell a story?
Morgan stood up and walked over to me. “In modern times such as this, few people know about the ancient traditions Sidonie passed down. Witches usually gather in groups of four to six, and offer spiritual and emotional support to her spirit sisters.”
“Uh……that’s a great story,” I started out cautiously, in case one of them blew up at me, “but…..I don’t get it.”
Morgan smiled at me somewhat pitifully. “You, Vivian Jonathas, daughter of Keith Winterman and Madison Jonathas, carry ma-kai in your blood and soul, and are our spirit sister.”
Okay.
“You don’t believe us, do you?” Morgan gave me a suspicious look. “Think about it. Only when you arrived in Forks – the centre of witch activity in Washington – you start to feel different. People treat you differently, you feel and react differently.” That was true. If a guy in my school in New York confided in me that he was a vampire, I would have hightailed it out of there before he could say Dracula.
“And you start to act irrationally.” That caught my attention. “You do things you don’t understand, you feel like you’re losing your mind.” Morgan said. Tears started forming in my eyes, blurring my vision. She was right.
“This is when a witch usually finds her spirit sisters. The ones that can connect with you and help you unleash ma-kai to its fullest potential.” Morgan said. Her expression changed, and her voice was softer. “Why do you think you’re lashing out at us now, over such a trivial matter? We are here to help you, Vivian. Please let us.”
I looked at the four concerned faces. Something they said spoke to me. Something told me they were right.
This was crazy! How could I be a witch?
There was no harm in trying, though.
“I am a direct descendant of Sidonie Benefice, and her blood flows in my veins. I have the birthright to be the head of this coven.”
So, for reasons I can’t really understand, I said in the smallest whisper, “Okay.”
They smiled. “It’s gonna be okay, Vivian.” Jean patted my shoulder. “I forgive you for your words. We’ll help you through this.”
*****
“Okay,” Jean rubbed her hands together. The five of us were standing in Morgan’s house (since her parents were the only ones that knew) the next day. Morgan had announced that my “training” – that’s what they call it when they’re trying to teach a new witch – was to start immediately.
“We’ll start out with the initiation.” Jean declared.
I widened my eyes in panic. Initiation! No one told me about an initiation!
In New York, any initiation at all was a blatant excuse to humiliate and prepare the newbie to the group. It was also to teach the newbie his or her place in the group. I wondered what I had to do to get into a coven of witches.
Right. I was dead.
“Relax!”
The next few days were torturous and fascinating, at the same time. The girls helped me “train”. And believe it or not, I was one.
To prove it to me, Morgan let me go through a simple test. “Look at that pen.” She said. “Imagine it moving upwards, its weight being lifted by the air.” I had to concentrate for half an hour before it managed to levitate a centimetre off the ground. I was covered in a sheet of sweat by then. But that convinced me that I was a witch.
Morgan helped me learn spells. “You need to learn them, Vivian. When you’re more experienced, you don’t need them anymore. They’re a bit like training wheels.” She said. “Try this one,” she suggested, pointing to one in the book of spells (I tried to paste back a page that had fallen out and they all acted like I tried to assassinate the President, claiming no foreign materials must be added to the sacred book), “It levitates objects. When you master it, you only have to imagine the object levitating to make it happen. The spell only makes you focus and create atmosphere and feeling to summon your ma-kai.”
Jean assisted me in potion making. “A potion helps to make a spell more powerful,” she explained. “It’s just like chemistry,” she assured me, “only if you get it wrong it might result in the end of the world.”
Rosalie frequently accompanied me into the forest to try to connect with the plants and sometimes animals. “We are all connected in a circle of life. You must learn to utilize that circle to reach out to others, and feel as they feel.” It was quite amazing. All I had to do was to put my hand on the ground and transfer my scent through the ground to disperse throughout the forest. In a matter of minutes I had the entire forest’s population of deer around me.
Danielle taught me how to survive in harsh situations. “Sometimes we might be separated from our spirit sisters,” she said, “and in times of desperation you must know what to do, who to contact, and when to contact.” Some situations were more common than others. “Even in modern times, some idiots think we’re freaks, so if they try to slug you, always go for the throat.”
But in other ways, it was cruel and agonizing because part of the process involved confusing and scary dreams that symbolized “my coming-of-age to accept the power destiny has granted upon me – sort of like puberty from hell”.
But the upside of it all was that since, as Rosalie put it, I “knew and accepted my destiny, everything becomes clearer”. So school work seemed less tedious, and I could finish it easily. Sure, there were mistakes here and there, but I was doing better than I ever did before.
And some days I suffered excruciating pains so bad I begged Keith to call in sick for me to the school, with the excuse of having “feminine troubles”. How embarrassing.
The girls (or rather, my spirit sisters, as they like to refer themselves to) came over frequently to help me through the pain, and on the days I was fine, Morgan (who was ostensibly the leader of the coven) brought us to her house and we would “train” for hours.
Keith noticed that I was extra tired and spent extra time at Morgan’s house. “Everything okay, Viv?” he would ask sometimes as we ate breakfast at home.
“Everything’s great, Dad.” I would reply.
“I see you’re hanging out with the Landry’s daughter,” he would comment.
“Yeah,” I would say.
“That’s good,” he’d say. “It’s good that you’re making friends. Does her father watch football?”
I didn’t really mind hanging out with my spirit sisters, since they understood me and supported me when I was on the verge of flinging myself off a cliff and give up. They knew what I was going through.
Each of them had their own daemon. It was the most basic name to call it, since it is technically part of their spirit. Rosalie once explained it to me as, “Each witch has one daemon: a part of her spirit that fluctuates dangerously. Releasing her daemon will allow her to perform more powerful spells as the release improves concentration. A daemon – it’s usually an animal – changes form freely, depending on your needs.”
“Do they have names? How do you even decide its name?” I asked in awe. Come on. You don’t see a walking part of your spirit everyday.
“Yes, they have names, for convenience and identification purposes when separated. When a witch first sees her daemon, she must name it the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why,” she looked apologetically at her meerkat, “I named mine Animal.”
They released their daemons in a private place, so no one would see an animal coming out of their body in a less-than-normal way. Morgan’s daemon was Magic. It was always this otter; it followed her everywhere and sat perched on her shoulder. Jean’s was a cat named Silk. It was kinda cute, but like Jean, don’t underestimate it. Seriously. Don’t.
Rosalie’s was a meerkat. It was an exceptionally good climber, and was helpful in retrieving ingredients on high shelves for potions. To avoid having to call, “Animal! Animal!” all the time, Rosalie shortened it to Ann.
Danielle’s daemon was a Tasmanian Devil. I’ve heard of these animals but never seen one up close, so let me tell you, I was pleasantly surprised. Apparently a witch’s daemon takes on some of the characteristics of the witch, so Rascal wasn’t as bad as I thought he would be. He allowed people to pet him and all, and he was more than willing to play rough, but he did not – and I repeat, did NOT – let people hurt Danielle. Once, I accidentally messed up a spell, and Danielle almost got burnt. Rascal nearly bit my head off if it weren’t for Danielle and Jean’s combined restraint. You could tell he wasn’t taking any risks when it came to protecting his witch.
I was closest to Jean, I guess, since Morgan is pretty much the leader – and everyone knows you don’t be good friends with the leader unless you wanna become the second-in-command, like Jean was – and Rosalie and Danielle were often together. Jean and Morgan had a complicated relationship – Morgan respected her but she had to do her bidding as second-in-command, Morgan made important decisions; she only offered advice.
“Do you like being a witch?” I once asked her when we were taking a break.
She thought about this for a while. “I do, sometimes,” she said truthfully, “It makes me feel like I belong to somewhere, and being a witch is one of the few things I’m good at. Before Morgan found me, I was one of the invisible wall-flowers in school, you know?”
Didn’t I know it.
“Why do you even let Morgan be in command?” I wanted to know. In spite of knowing that this subject was sensitive to her, I still was curious. “Aren’t you tired of being second banana?”
She smiled, as if she was harbouring a secret only she knew. “Morgan has issues. And being in charge helps her cope with them. If that’s what it costs to make her happy, then I’m perfectly fine being ‘second banana’, as you say.”
Jean was a good friend.
Rosalie said I was a natural witch; connecting with other living things was easy for me. “You have a gift, Vivian,” she once said to me in her high-pitched voice. “You’re able to bond with others’ easily.”
I liked her too; we’d always talk about life and living things and nature stuff like that. We both believed in appreciating animals and plants, and their significance to the world.
Danielle said since I came from New York, she didn’t really need to teach me anything. We always discussed fighting techniques and strategies for improvement. She was the one who taught me how to punch properly. “Keep your thumb out of your fist,” she advised me, “so it wouldn’t get sprained when you sink it into someone’s face.”
Overall, I liked my spirit sisters. In a lot of ways, I could relate to them. It was sad that people in school thought they were mean.
Then again, before they told me I was a witch, I thought they were mean.
When I wasn’t with the coven, I hung out with Anthony and his family. Of course, I couldn’t tell them I was a witch just yet; I had sworn to secrecy when I became one. I didn’t really feel bad about not telling them. I mean, they were keeping an even bigger secret from the rest of the world! Who were they to judge?
I found out that he let the jocks beat him up sometimes because it makes him less likely to be a vampire. But I pointed out laying low didn’t include being a pushover. He agreed, and toughened up a little. You could never sneak up on Anthony; he had highly sensitive hearing. We had fun trying to trick his hearing, and he and I used to hang out in his room and discuss songs. He had an excellent taste for music. We’d argue about whether rap is counted as music, or rhyming (like poetry).
Natasha was a great shopper and always knew exactly what to buy for everyone. She got me beautiful trinkets, and loved seeing someone happy not because of her ability, but because of her. She was quiet, though, and we seldom talked.
Pierre was like the brother I never had; he taught me how to fix things and a little about how to fight. Since I had coaching from Danielle, I could land a few lucky shots, but mostly he won the fights that ended with me in an uncomfortable headlock. After all, he was a vampire, and had that whole super-strength thing going for him. He was also a good person to talk to; given his ability to feel someone’s emotions. When I was sad, he cheered me up, when I was angry, he left me alone, when I was tired, he asked Anthony to drive me home.
Marilyn and I were best girlfriends; she was cheerful and happy all the time, except for the time I cut my finger and she had to hold her nose and run out of the room to control herself. “I’m sorry, Vivian. I need to go.” And she apologised profusely for the rest of the day.
Carleigha was a vampire full of love. She reminded me so much of my own mom that I found myself doing things with her that I used to do with Mom. We cooked together sometimes and she would watch with abject anticipation as I sampled her latest experiments. “It’s been so long since I last cooked for anyone,” she’d always sigh.
Richard was a gentle vampire. Years of practice led him to show not even the slightest reaction at anything pertaining to blood. I could tell he loved his “adopted children” very much, and was sad that Edmund, his eldest, refused to interact with me. He would excuse himself from the room when I came and lock himself in his room to sulk. Anthony told me he would climb out and walk in the forest surrounding their home by himself. I guessed Edmund had a lot of things going in his mind, and something against me.
I didn’t take it to heart. In a family of vampires, there was bound to be one that didn’t like the idea of being friends with a human. The others knew I wouldn’t snitch on them, so they were fine with it. Edmund didn’t trust me.
I was loving my new life as Vivian Jonathas, teenage witch and family friend of vampires. Everyday as I went through school, I would smile to myself sometimes, looking at the oblivious people who surrounded me, not knowing what I was capable of, what I knew and had seen.
It made me feel powerful.


© Copyright 2019 JenniferATLX. All rights reserved.

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