Ethereal Magic

Prologue:



It really was the fault of the Miller boys that she was in trouble again, Erin thought to herself. Really, there was no reason for her to be sent home like they were. No reason at all. She had, however, gotten Rotten Gordon square on the nose.



His perfect face and his perfect shirt were now red and spoiled. She smiled in delight. He had looked such the silly sight, bawling like he had.



“I don’t know what I am going to do with you, young lady,” A voice called from outside her school room.



“I do. You are going to make me do the washing up again. For a month,” She said in a very matter-of-fact tone.



“Erin! Really, people are starting to think you weren't brought up right!” Her Aunt Donna said in exasperation.



“Oh, Auntie! It’s not your fault! It's not my fault either! It's those Miller boys! They said I act this way because my parents are dead, they called me an orphan!” Erin cried in horror. Surely her aunt did not think it was her fault!



“Erin of the Wells! You know very well that this could have been avoided if not for your fell temper!” Her aunt scolded, pointing out the door of the school room. Erin slunk out, head down, murmuring a demure goodbye to her school master.



“I assume everything is meet now, Mistress Donna,” An unfamiliar voice enquired.



“As meet as it’s ever going to be with that miscreant of a niece. Erin, stand up straight and stop all that pouting. This is Mistress Juniper of the Towers. Greet her proper,” Her aunt really was in a scolding mood, thought Erin to herself, very sure that the world was out to get her this day.



“Pleased to meet you, Mistress Juniper,” She murmured dutifully, dropping a surprisingly graceful curtsy, considering she was wearing pants. She did not think too much about calling the lady 'Mistress' because she had heard many people call her Aunt such. No one else in the village was called Mistress, however. There was the Mistress of the Bakery, but it was not done to call her Mistress Wellesy. There was a Mistress in every village, town and city. Sometimes more than one. The common people called them Witches, Erin knew. But she was to call them Scholars of the Fold, as all those with the Blood should. Erin did not really know what having the blood meant, but she knew it made her much more important than the Miller boys.



“The pleasure is all mine, Erin, I’m sure,” She is making fun of me, Erin thought indignantly.



“Well, if you’re sure,” Erin mumbled, sticking the nail of her thumb in her mouth and chewing. The two ladies started a leisurely walk down the street, Erin following quietly behind.



“Really, she is a good girl, but sometimes I just don’t know what to do with her. I wish I could just confine her to the manor, but I know she would just get out one way or another. I am going stark mad, I tell you,” her aunt was bemoaning to her friend.



“I think you are doing a far better job then some people do,” she shuddered in a way which made Erin wonder what Mistress Juniper wasnt really saying. “I cannot imagine her growing up elsewhere and she seems stable enough. It’s just a phase we all go through. I think if you go back far enough in your memory you might find that time where you terrorized your mother.”



“Well now, I do suppose you are right. I just wish she were over it. She does not think a single thought for others. She needs a good licking, that’s for sure,” Her aunt said with fervor.



“I am sure that is not necessary. In a few years she will be out of your hair, and will come back to you as a one of the Fold. You’ll see the difference then,” She was going away? Her aunt really was sending her away like she always threatened? She took a deep breath, and shoved her whole thumb in her mouth, biting down.



She would not cry about it. Really. She was a big girl now; Mistress of the Bakery always told her so when she collected their bread. She always said she was a good girl, helping out with the chores.



Erin was ten, going on eleven, and she was most definitely aware that she wanted to be independent. For the last year, Auntie Donna had become almost unbearable; though she was almost sure she had not changed in the least.



She was well aware that she was adopted. She never really knew where her temper had come from. Her aunt called it fell, unnatural, and she wondered the same. Sometimes it was as if she had enough anger inside of her for everyone in her class room.



She could control it, mostly, but sometimes it built up too much, like the play dams she made in the stream out the back of the manor, it got too full and started to spill around the edges. The dam was still in place, but water was getting through. Tomorrow, she would apologize to Rotten Gordon, she thought with sudden conviction.



“Auntie?” she asked, almost too quietly for Donna to hear her. But hear her she did, and stop and turn to look at her niece. She stood with her dewy eyes and her thumb in her mouth. She looked as if she was going to cry any moment.



“Oh, Erin,” She swept forward and picked her up, running her hands down her hair, soothing the girl. Donna had never once seen the girl cry, not since the first day when she had arrived on her doorstep in the arms of Mistress Juniper.



“Don’t worry, honey. You don’t have to go away for years yet, and then you will be having the most exciting adventures. You will do things I could never hope of doing. And you will have friends there with you,” her aunt said, almost choking on the words. She really did love the little monster, and it would be hard sending her off to one of the towers for teaching and training in the arts.



“I don’t want to leave you all alone though, Auntie. Who will get the bread?” she asked tremulously.



Donna laughed, startled, “I think I can manage the bread, dear heart.”