Act2

Faith awoke at once and sat up in her bed. She felt a little disoriented as her gaze focused slowly and she took on her surroundings. Beside the window, Tara had given up her reading and curiously looked at her.

 

“Are you feeling better?” she asked kindly.

 

It took Faith a second or two to realize she lay in the bed in their Trillium hostel room and not under a willow tree in some magnificent grass field.

 

“I’ve just had the weirdest dream,” said the Slayer. “You were in there.”

 

“Really?” asked Tara, frowning at the thought. “What was it about?”

 

“There was this field. Just grass and trees as far as the eye can see. You were there, with your family I guess. You were a kid. It felt so real.”

 

Tara turned pale at this and she closed her book and put it away on the dresser.

 

“You’ve dreamt of me as a kid?” she asked doubtfully. “What else?”

 

“You were getting reprimanded about doing magic or something like that,” went on Faith.

 

Tara looked astonished for a moment, and then she asked again:

 

“How was that field?”

 

Faith described the place as she remembered it the best she could and did not notice Tara turning even paler than before.

 

“What’s wrong with that?” finally asked the Slayer, as the blonde remained silent and thoughtful.

 

“It really looks like a place I was living near when I was a kid,” answered Tara.

 

“So what?” commented Faith, annoyed. “You must have talked about it at some point.”

 

“I sure haven’t” replied Tara dryly to Faith’s own surprise.

 

An awkward silence followed, during which both women looked anywhere but at the other.

 

“Whatever,” said Faith. “It’s just a dream. A weird dream, but a dream”

 

She got up and stretched her arms and legs.

 

“What time is it?” she asked, searching for a wall-clock but finding any.

 

“Too soon for patrolling,” answered Tara while taking a look at her watch.

 

Faith went by the window and opened slightly the curtains to look outside. As indicated by the sun’s position in the sky, the afternoon was about to reach its end.

 

“Too late to leave today, isn’t it?” asked Faith absent-mindedly.

 

“I guess so,” responded Tara. “Especially when we still haven’t decided where to go.”

 

“I thought you wanted to go down the coast up to San Francisco?”

 

“That was a possibility,” explained Tara. “But if you feel like doing something else, it’s not a problem.”

 

Faith just shrugged.

 

“It’s not like I care that much,” she said. “We’ll see tomorrow what we do.”

 

She turned round to look around the room, obviously looking for something. Spotting her jacket laying on the floor beside the bed, Faith went to it, rummaged into the pockets and retrieved her pack of cigarettes and her lighter. Then, she came back to the window, opened it, leaned on the nearby wall just behind the witch and lit one cigarette without a word or a glance for Tara. The blonde looked annoyed but not surprised.

 

“Are you forced to act like I’m not there?” asked Tara after a moment pondering if she would say something or not.

 

She turned to the Slayer with a raised eyebrow but Faith just dragged another puff and smirked knowingly. Tara sighed but did not insist.

 

“So, I guess you’re feeling better? No more headache?”

 

“I’m better,” replied Faith. “Still feeling a little dizzy though.”

 

She fell silent and dragged some puffs but not without casting discreet glances at Tara from time to time.

 

“D’you think I owe this to that Kira bitch?” she finally asked bitterly.

 

Tara was taken aback by the question: she had not thought about that possibility.

 

“Well…” she hesitantly began. “I don’t know. Your headache could be a side effect of her spell. But it could just be a simple headache. You know, with the fight and the cold and all, it wouldn’t be that surprising.”

 

“It’s not just a simple headache,” protested Faith. “There’re the dreams and the little girl too.”

 

“The little girl?” Tara asked, frowning.

 

“Yeah, the little girl,” repeated Faith in an evident tone. “’Told you about her.”

 

“No, you didn’t,” replied Tara, shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”

 

Faith looked at her with annoyance, convinced she had already told the blonde about her vision.

 

“I saw her twice,” she nevertheless answered. “By the lake and at the restaurant, during lunch.”

 

“You haven’t told me before,” said Tara.

 

“Whatever,” grumbled Faith. “I just did.”

 

Silence fell again between them, Faith finishing off her cigarette while Tara stared curiously at her. Faith eventually grew uncomfortable under Tara’s scrutiny, and as she stubbed out her cigarette butt, she could not help barking:

 

“What? D’you think I’m nuts or what?”

 

“No, no, of course not,” refuted Tara hastily. “Of course not.” She added more softly, putting more certainty in her voice this time.

 

Faith’s expression softened at the kind tone and after a brief hesitation, she asked:

 

“So, what do you think? Still Kira’s work?”

 

“It’s hard to tell,” answered Tara in a wavering and unsure tone. “Could really be but…”

 

“Crap,” grumbled Faith, now angry that Tara could not provide a proper answer. “You’re a witch or not?”

 

Tara bit her lip to restrain herself from sighing very loudly.

 

“I don’t want to make a mistake Faith,” she tried to explain a moment later. “I didn’t see anything like that when I tried to cure the first spell but it doesn’t mean Kira didn’t conceal another spell within the first one. Some witches can do things like that. But…”

 

“But you don’t know. I get it.” the Slayer interrupted. “So, I guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens?”

 

“I can go and see Mrs Applefresh and ask her or borrow some books or…”

 

“Right. Let’s just do that.”

 

Faith stood up straight and reached out at Tara’s shoulder.

 

“Let’s go now.”

 

As the precise moment her fingers brushed Tara’s collarbone, Faith had the distinct impression that her friend vanished in front of her to be replaced by a young blonde girl, who tentatively asked her:

 

“Ri-right now?”

 

 

***

 

Faith looked around her. Tara was not here anymore, nor was the hostel room. She was alone at the back-door of a silent wooden house. Behind her was a narrow corridor leading to what looked like a living-room. To the right of the door, was a window showing a faultless backyard bathed in the sweet yellowy light of the end of the afternoon. To the left, was a small laundry room looking out onto the backyard as well. Here, resting against the laundry little pane, was a woman Faith had not noticed at first. The Slayer approached her cautiously, taking very slow steps, scrutinizing her.

 

She had very long blonde hair, falling straight in her back and at her side, sweet womanly curves concealed in a too large and long dress. Her nose pressed against the pane, she was looking out the window and Faith glanced out to look at what the woman was watching.

Two kids were there and the brunette did not need to recognize the children of the family she had witnessed a little earlier to know it were them. They were both kneeling in the grass, looking closely at something Faith could not quite see from where she stood. The boy was chatting while his sister listened and occasionally nodded. They looked peaceful.

But for some reason, Faith knew there was much to that little scene than a brother and a sister playing together. Turning again to the woman standing beside her, the brunette searched for her face behind her blonde locks and realized she was softly crying, or at the very least she had been crying. Traces of long tears could be seen on her cheeks but she was not sobbing. Faith looked out again, trying to understand what made Tara’s mother so sad. Now, the kids were under a high and knotty tree and the boy started to climb it. Tara just looked at him doing so, hands folded in front of her.

Faith turned to the mother again: she had not moved in the slightest.

 

“So, here you are,” said a male voice.

 

Faith jumped at the sound and turned round sharply. Halfway the corridor stood the father of the family. His hands folded in his back, he stared inquiringly at his wife. She hastily dried her tears from her face and tried to put herself together before turning to him.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, arching a questioning eyebrow at her.

 

“I’m just watching over the kids,” she answered quietly.

 

“Do they need being watched over?”

 

“Not really,” replied the mother, almost whispering, like this was the only way she was used to talk. “But maybe they do all the time.” She added thoughtfully the second after.

 

The man did not answer and moved closer to get a view of the outside. They both looked out the window silently for a moment. The man glanced from time to time to his wife, and Faith was sure the woman had noticed and was trying her hardest to look as casual as possible. As he was unable to restrain himself, the man finally spoke up:

 

“You know I am right”

 

The woman hesitantly turned round and gazed at him quietly for a few seconds, probably making up her mind about what to answer.

 

“She’s so young,” she eventually said, looking away again.

 

“If we don’t pay attention now, she’ll grow out of control before we realize.”

 

“She doesn’t have any friend,” resumed the woman, turning her head to him. “She never gets the chance to have some fun like kids her age. You could take her to the fair with you and Donnie.”

 

“She does not need friends.” Replied the man, his tone intended clearly that he was not to be contradicted. “You know she would have to quit them later anyway. It was hard enough for you, wasn’t it?”

 

She looked away at this and watched the kids outside again. The boy was now higher in the tree and apparently tried to bombard his sister with pine cones.

 

“Wasn’t it?” insisted the man.

 

“It was” she breathed absent-mindedly in the distance, as remembering said time.

 

“She’s better here to help you than anywhere else” he resumed. “I want her to help you with the house.”

 

“I don’t need her today, you could…”

 

“I won’t.” Tara’s father interrupted, without turning to his wife. “She’s staying here.”

 

Saying this, he grabbed the doorknob of the backyard door, opened and stepped outside.

 

“Donnie!” He called. “We’re leaving.”

 

The boy instantly jumped down the tree, stuck his tongue out to his sister and ran happily toward his father. He was welcomed by a slight slap on his head and looked sideways with incomprehension shining in his brown eyes.

 

“Don’t tease your sister,” explained his father severely in a reproachful tone. “I don’t want you to act like this again, understood?”

 

The boy nodded pitifully, and cast an angry glance at Tara before following his father inside the house. They both left, leaving the blonde girl alone with her mother. The kid crossed the backyard up to the woman and her mother drew her close and kissed her forehead.

 

“So, how is your day?” the mother asked gently. “Was Donnie nice to you?”

 

Tara nodded slightly but her heart wasn’t in it.

 

“He’s younger than you are,” Tara’s mother tried to explain as they were coming inside the house. “He probably needs to assert himself. It’ll pass when he grows up.”

 

Tara nodded again and remained silent. Her mother kissed her forehead again, which made the kid smile shyly.

 

“Father told me the-there was a lo-lot of th-things to do wh-while they were away with Do-Donnie.”

 

“I have a lot of clothes to iron and fold. You can help me with this if you wish. But you’re not forced to Tara.” Answered her mother quietly. “If you prefer playing in the backyard, just go, I don’t absolutely need you.”

 

“I’d rather help you” Tara replied at once.

 

Her mother smiled at her and took her hand to drag her with her toward the living room. Indeed, a very large basket full of freshly clean clothes was waiting for them. Tara’s mother quickly installed the ironing board and got down to the job. The kid waited patiently, standing still at her mother’s side, until she was done with a piece of cloth. Then, she cautiously grabbed the cloth and folded it with great care and only put it away in the empty basket when the cloth was as perfect as possible. The woman and the girl repeated the same scenario many times in comfortable silence before Tara looked up at her mother and tentatively asked:

 

“Why hasn’t Dad taken me at the fair with them?”

 

Tara’s mother did not stop her ironing at the words but turned to her daughter with a reassuring smile.

 

“I think he wanted you to help me with the house.”

 

“He never takes me at the fair when they go. Some girls at the school go to the fair with their family. I’d like to go at the fair sometimes.”

 

“I know, Tara. Your father prefers that you help me. He says it’s more important.”

 

The kid looked down again and played distractedly with the cloth she was folding. Her mother watched her discreetly for a moment. She opened her mouth to ask her daughter what she had on her mind, but finally decided against it and kept silent.

 

“I… I know it’s bad…I know it’s selfish to wish I could go to the fair instead of helping you with the house.” Tara resumed hesitantly. “Is… is that the demon in me talking?”

 

This time, Tara’s mother stopped ironing and put the iron away for the time being. She tried to say something but the words choked in her throat. She took a deep breath, looked briefly away before turning again to the blonde little girl.

 

“No, Tara, it’s not.” She answered in a tone she wanted firm. “It’s perfectly normal for you to prefer going at the fair. It does not make you a demon at all.”

 

“So… I’m not a demon yet?”

 

Tara looked expectantly at her mother now, and the woman felt too uneasy for her daughter not to notice. As her mother kept silent, the crooked smile on the kid’s face vanished as she breathed:

 

“Am I?”

 

“No, no, you’re not,” hastily denied Mrs Maclay. “Believe me Tara, when I look at you, I see anything but a demon.”

 

“But…” the girl resumed, following her train of thoughts. “Dad keeps telling me that…”

 

“I know what your father keeps telling us,” the mother interrupted, in a harsher voice than she intended.

 

Tara’s face instantly crumpled at the tone, her shoulders slumped and she looked down again. Her mother bit her bottom lip with regret at the sight.

 

“No, no, I’m sorry,” she said, looking away to conceal threatening tears at the corner of her eyes. “What I mean is… you are not a demon baby girl. But your father… He knows – and I know – that you can never know what might happen… We… Magical beings I mean… You must be very careful with magic…”

 

“I shouldn’t perform magic?” Tara cut her short, a hint of panic in her voice. “I like doing magic! It doesn’t feel evil but if…”

 

“You can perform magic Tara. You HAVE to perform magic.” Mrs Maclay contradicted firmly. “It’s in you. But magic can turn people into demons, it’s…”

 

“It’s about magic then?” the kid asked, defeated. “So, if I completely give up on magic, I won’t become a demon, right?” she added in a more hopeful tone after a brief pause.

 

“You can’t give up on magic Tara…” whispered Mrs Maclay, looking away again. “It’s part of you, of us. You have to learn how to use it, to control it. You have to learn the rules that come with magic.”

 

Having finally managed to chase the tears away, the mother turned again to her daughter and kneeled beside her. She tenderly traced the girl’s cheeks with her hand and offered a sweet smile.

 

“Do you understand Tara?”

 

The kid nodded thoughtfully and her mother’s smile widened.

 

“So, if I obey to the rules, I might not become a demon?”

 

The smile on Mrs Maclay’s face weakened but she nevertheless breathed “You might” while she drew her daughter in her arms to embrace her. The kid let her do so and wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

 

“You promise?”

 

Only the silence answered.

 

 

***

 

 

 

An attic. Faith looked around to confirm her first impression and nodded. She was in a dark and rather dirty attic. A young girl was kneeling in the corner of the room opposite to the door. Her long blonde hair, her clear blue eyes and her large worn flowery dress immediately told Faith who she was. Near the girl, two short candles were burning and gave off a strange perfume of fruits and flowers.

The Slayer was not surprised to end up there: for some reason, she had always imagined Tara practising magic, hidden in an attic. She got closer to take a better view and observed the blonde girl carefully reading instructions in an old book whose pages were partially torn up. She might be around eleven or twelve years old; she was tall and developing very feminine curves for her age. She was already becoming the woman she would be later.

 

“Whatcha doing?” Faith asked after a moment.

 

“Magic.” Tara answered without turning to her. “I’m practising”

 

“Why are you hiding?”

 

“Fa-father doesn’t like it when I’m practising magic”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because it’s dangerous”

 

“And that’s why you’re doing it anyway, uh?” Faith said, cracking an amused smile. “You’re into dangerous things, kid, aren’t you?”

 

“No, no, no!” Tara protested so vehemently that Faith was taken aback by the sudden burst of panic in her voice. “I’m not doing anything dangerous! I’m not dangerous! I don’t want to be dangerous!”

 

“Hey, easy girl,” Faith tried. “I’ve never…”

 

“It’s just very little things,” Tara resumed, not listening at Faith’s attempt of comfort. “Mum tells me that magic is not dangerous if you’re careful and respect the rules. I am careful. I respect all the rules she teaches me.”

 

Faith opened her mouth to try to comfort her again but she gave up when her eyes met Tara’s wild gaze.

 

“Okay kid,” she simply said. “I believe you”

 

Tara stared at her for a moment, then, as if she had finally decided Faith was telling the truth, she looked away and returned to her book.

 

“So, what are you trying to do?” Faith asked and sat near the girl.

 

“Nothing big,” the blonde answered. “A locator spell” she clarified as Faith frowned. “I can locate objects; I’ve done it many times before. I can even locate animals, I did locate Mr Simmons’ dog once but…”

 

“Who’s Mr Simmons?”

 

“Our neighbor” Tara explained. “He lost his dog once, and he was very sad and Mum and Father went to help to find him but they failed. So I tried the locator spell and it worked and…”

 

“Have you ever really been so chatty?” Faith interrupted. She could not help herself: Hearing so many words flowing from Tara’s mouth was kind of fascinating.

 

Tara’s face crumpled a little and she looked away.

 

“No,“ she answered darkly before Faith could apologize for the change in her mood. “I never was. But it’s not like you’re real.”

 

“Yeah, right.” The Slayer admitted. “So, what’s special with this locator spell?” she asked after a short pause, hoping somehow that getting back on topic would cheer Tara up again.

 

“I’m trying to locate a person. It’s more difficult with a human being, the flows around humans are different, moving and…”

 

“You can spare me the details y’know,” Faith cut her in. “I really don’t get all this magical stuff”

 

“Magic doesn’t have to be ‘gotten’,” the blonde quietly replied. “It has just to be felt.”

 

“Yeah, whatever” Faith grumbled, rolling her eyes.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“Why I’m here?” the Slayer repeated the question ironically before answering dejectedly: “I’m here because of you. You messed up with your spell is my guess. Or maybe it’s still that Kira bitch.”

 

“Dark magic is dangerous”

 

“You need to tell Kira this instead of me”

 

“She already knows. She was very careful.”

 

“Careful?” Faith asked curiously.

 

“Yes,” Tara confirmed, while Faith leaned against the wall behind her. “It was not just about hiding her power. She was careful.” She paused. “Or very very powerful.”

 

“Great,” Faith scoffed. “Either she’s careful because she’s not too used to dark magic or she’s so much into it that she’ll kick my ass just snapping her fingers! Make your choice Faith!”

 

Tara did not answer. She returned to her spell, and did not pay any attention to the Slayer anymore, giving her the distinct impression that this conversation had never happened. She was just getting annoyed with Tara’s indifference when the door barged open so briskly that Faith jumped to her feet all at once and stood in fighting stance, ready for anything that might be at the door.

Indeed, it was Tara’s father. He looked around the room and when he spotted Tara surrounded by candles with an old book at her feet, his inexpressive features turned to fury while Tara’s became utterly terrified. Mr Maclay marched on her and her daughter blew the candles out hastily, as if it could be enough to deny they had ever burned. She closed the book and tried to push it aside under an old sofa to her right but she did not have time. Her father had reached her and he grabbed her carelessly to put her to her feet.

 

“What were you doing?” he asked her harshly. “Answer!”

 

“I…I…” she stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.

 

“Answer!” he shouted, shaking the girl like a rag doll. “What were you doing?”

 

“I…I…” Tara tried again while looking frantically around, as if looking for an escape.

 

“Do I really need to ask?” he said dejectedly when she failed again to respond.

 

He bent over the still smoking candles, knocked them over with the back of his hand and grabbed the half-hidden book, never letting go of the girl.

 

“Magic! You’re doing magic again!”

 

He turned her to him, squeezing her shoulder until she grimaced in pain.

 

“What have I told you Tara? What have I ordered you? What have I…”

 

He was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and laboured breathing. The man and the girl turned to the door where now was standing Tara’s mother. She addressed a quick smile to her daughter and Tara felt immensely relieved at the sight.

 

“What happened?” she asked quietly, slightly bending her head as she approached.

 

Tara’s father stopped to shake the kid but did not release her.

 

“Magic again. She’s got to be punished”

 

“Donald, I’m sure it was nothing”

 

“Magic is not nothing.” Mr Maclay snapped angrily. “I’ve told you many times she should never get into this. You know how dangerous this is. Haven’t we told you Tara?” he added, turning from the mother to the kid.

 

Tara slightly nodded with her eyes fixed on her shoes.

 

“Then why are you doing this anyway?”

 

“It… it was nothing… it was harmless… Just a loc-locator spell…”

 

She looked up and met her mother’s eyes. The woman discreetly nodded at her in encouragement.

 

“Really it’s nothing Donald…” Mrs Maclay repeated.

 

“It’s not nothing. Don’t you see it? She’s hiding to practise magic alone. You said she needed to practise the basics to have a little control over it before it takes control of her and I listened to you. But it’s not okay for her to do spells all alone in the attic, especially when I clearly forbid her to.”

 

Mr Maclay eyed her wife from head to toes and the woman remained silent. Then he turned again to the girl:

 

“You intentionally disobey to a very clear order Tara, though knowing how dangerous and irresponsible your conduct was. You will be punished consequently to your actions. Come with me.”

 

He grabbed her again and took a step toward the door. A terrified glimmer shone in the kid’s eyes and she looked at her mother for support.

 

“Donald, please,” the woman tried to interfere. “It’s just a stupid spell, nothing big. She probably just tried to do again a spell I taught her before.”

 

He stopped and turned to her, his icy gaze falling upon her. Without thinking, she took half a step back.

 

“A spell you taught her? Did you teach her spells recently? Did you allow her to practise those spells?”

 

He looked at her severely and mother and daughter exchanged an anguished glance. Mr Maclay somehow missed it but Faith did not and it told her for sure what the answer was.

 

“I have been really clear and specific about this.” He went on as his wife remained silent. “No more spells, no more magic. She’s too old now. It’s way too dangerous. So, I’ll repeat my question: did you allow her to practise magic recently?”

 

As she still did not reply, he almost yelled the question once more:

 

“Did you?”

 

Mrs Maclay was now looking at her feet and trying to master her trembling body. The man released the girl and approached her, almost menacingly:

 

“Did you?” he said again in a calmer, icier, scarier voice.

 

As he was now inches of her, she shook her head.

 

“Good.” He concluded. “I’d rather have to punish her than you.”

 

“But…” the woman tried weakly.

 

“But what?” Mr Maclay interrupted. “What are you trying to do here? Are you with me or against me?”

 

It was not exactly a question and his wife knew better than answering.

 

“You know what the stakes are here. I’m not doing all this out of pleasure. But she’s our daughter and we have to deal with her problem, even if we don’t like it. You don’t want her to turn into a demon sooner than expected, do you?”

 

Mrs Maclay still did not reply but just slightly shook her head.

 

“You know I have to punish her to keep control over the demon, don’t you?”

 

Again no words, but just a slight nod of her head.

 

“Don’t you know it?” insisted the man. “I want to hear it. Don’t you know it?”

 

“I know” she whispered, staring at her feet.

 

“We have to keep her under control to protect her from becoming a demon this soon, you know that. She needs to be severely punished for disobeying. She deserves to have her demon part severely punished if we want it to back off.”

 

The woman nodded again.

 

“You know I am right. Don’t you?” he insisted in a pressing tone.

 

“Yes, you are.” She gave in. “She should never practise magic. She really deserves to be punished.”

 

“Good. I knew you were with me on this.”

 

With that, he turned to Tara and grabbed her again carelessly and dragged her behind him out of the room, not noticing the blonde’s frantic looks at her mother who did not dare looking up and refused to meet her eyes. The door banged loudly and Tara’s father dragged her along the corridor and the stairs up to a door on the ground floor.

 

“Father, please…” Tara begged when she saw where her father was leading her.

 

He did not answer and took a key out of his pocket and opened the locked door. Behind it, were narrow stairs leading to the basement.

 

“Please….” Tara tried again, sobs starting to choke in her throat.

 

But he did not mind more than previously and pushed her in the stairs. The blonde went down the steps while her father locked the door behind them. The basement was a rather large and completely empty room, save for a lonely bench. The only light came from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Tara stepped back up to the back wall and waited, terrified, sobbing helplessly.

 

“Please…”

 

Her distress did not appear to soften her father at all. He crossed the room and stopped just two feet away from her.

 

“Take off your dress,” he ordered icily.

 

Tara’s sobs intensified and she did not move, seemingly nailed to her spot. Faith’s heart jumped at the words and she looked frantically between the two of them.

 

“What the hell?” she exclaimed.

 

“Take off your dress,” Mr Maclay repeated, moving his own hands to his belt. “Now.”

 

Tara did not seem to be able to stop crying and Faith could not help thinking it was the first time she was seeing the blonde sobbing so openly and so noisily. The girl started to fuss at her dress with trembling hands, knowing she had no other choice than obeying her father.

 

“No, no, no,” Faith cried, coming to her side. “You don’t have to. I’ll beat the crap out of him before he can lay a finger on you”

 

Tara did not stop her action and she took her dress away.

 

“You know you can’t” she choked between two sobs.

 

She was now in underwear, with her arms wrapped around her, trying to hide her generous breasts.

 

“Face the wall now” Mr Maclay ordered.

 

Tara complied, still weeping convulsively.

 

“He won’t touch you, I promise,” Faith hastily said, clenching her fists.

 

“Don’t promise something you can’t do” protested Tara. “You can’t prevent this.”

 

“I’m the Slayer. Why couldn’t I?”

 

“Bend over now,” came the next order and Tara just did what she was told.

 

“Because it already happened.” she said, turning her blurry blue eyes to the brunette.

 

Faith remained stupid for a second or two, just staring at the blonde’s face, dripping with tears. She turned round and saw Mr Maclay just behind Tara, his long leather belt, folded in two in his right hand.

 

“I’m going at least to fifty,” he announced. “But I doubt it will be enough to tame that growing demon in you. Be prepared to count for more than that. And I want to hear you count out loud. Each blow you do not count will be repeated until you count loud enough. When I’m done with you, you’ll be locked here as long as needed for you to understand how important it is to obey my command. Understood?”

 

He did not wait for her answer and his arm rose above his head and started his descent toward Tara’s naked back. A glimmer of pure hatred shone in Faith’s eyes and she tried to seize the belt as it went down. But it passed right through her hand and she could only hear the dull sound of the leather on the naked skin and the choked cry of pain.

 

“Count!” Mr Maclay ordered.

 

“One!” Tara yelled.

 

Faith pounced on him without a second thought, ready to beat him to death if she had to. But again, she passed right through him and heard the blonde’s anguished exclamation.

 

“Two!”

 

She turned round and tried to grab his collar to get him away but did not meet more success.

 

“Three!”

 

She put her hands around his neck and squeezed but no effect.

 

“Four!”

 

She rained down blows and blows on him. Still nothing.

 

“Five!”

 

She pushed him, pulled him, hit him with all her might. But it was useless.

 

“Six!”

 

She tried again.

 

“Seven!”

 

And again.

 

“Louder!”

 

“Seven!”

 

And again.

 

“Eight!”

 

And again.

 

“Nine!”

 

And again.

 

“Ten!”

 

And again…

 

“Louder!”

 

“Ten…”

 

 

***

 

 

Faith blinked once or twice and then opened her eyes wide. She put her hands onto her ears, the desperate sobs of kid Tara still ringing in her head.

 

“Faith, are you okay?”

 

She looked up to see the Tara she knew standing over her, her face full of concern, wide-eyed, terrified, and Faith understood that the blonde knew what had just happened.

 

“Goddess…” she breathed.

 

Faith looked around: she was back in the hostel room in Trillium. She felt dizzy and her head hurt more than ever. She felt the need to sit and fell to her knees when she failed to find something to sit on at immediate reach. Tara kneeled beside her and held her hand tentatively toward her face but did not dare to actually touch her.

 

“How is this possible?” Tara whispered. “Why do you have those… visions?”

 

Faith could not reply: she did not have an answer. But she did not care about the why. Every time she closed her eyes, half-naked young Tara appeared in front of her, looking at her with a terrified expression and Faith couldn’t shake away the cries of anguish and the sound of the leather belt.

 

“I don’t care what it is and why it happens!” she suddenly yelled angrily. “Whatever it is, make it stop!”

 

“Okay, okay,” Tara replied hastily, thinking hard about what to do. “I’m going to Mrs Applefresh’s. You stay here and try to rest. I’ll be quick.”

 

Faith wanted to protest but when she stood, her head span and she would have fallen to the floor if it was not for Tara supporting her.

 

“Lay in the bed,” the blonde ordered. “I’ll be back in no time.”

 

Faith did not protest this time and let the witch guide her to the bed. She lay down there and tried to keep her eyes opened and her mind focused on the room.

 

“I’ll be back in no time, okay?” Tara repeated.

 

Faith slightly nodded, and Tara left. She hurtled down the stairs as quickly as possible and nearly ran along the streets until she reached the esoteric bookshop. She bolt into the shop and felt relieved when she spotted Mrs Applefresh standing behind her counter, giving a customer change. She said her goodbye and gestured for Tara to approach.

 

“Is something wrong my dear?” she asked with concern. “You look terrible”

 

“It’s about Faith,” Tara explained quickly. “She’s having visions. Visions of me. Visions I can feel.”

 

The blonde found her explanation stupid and unclear but she could not add anything else for the time being. She really needed to catch her breath.

But the bookshop owner did not look surprised or confused. She even appeared to understand what Tara was talking about.

 

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Come with me.”

 

Tara followed her behind the counter like she had already done when searching a cure for Faith after Kira’s spell. In the storeroom where the woman kept her private collection, the bookseller retrieved again the volumes of “Healing magical wounds” and quickly flipped through the pages up until the annex.

 

“There’s an annex about common and uncommon side-effects of healing spells,” she explained out loud for Tara. “I had a look after you left to perform the spell last time.”

 

She finally found what she was searching and pushed the book aside for Tara to read.

 

“It’s explained there,” commented the woman. “She’s experiencing a rebound of the spell you cast.”

 

“A rebound?” Tara repeated. “Oh, Goddess…”

 

“It happens with mind spells when the caster fails to close her mind properly. Her own memories and feelings are imbued into the spell which results mostly with a rebound of the spell in the mind of the person receiving the curing spell in the first place.”

 

“It’s more than that,” said Tara, while reading what the woman was explaining to her. “She’s suffering. It’s not supposed to hurt. I didn’t hurt like that when I performed the spell.”

 

“It’s not really surprising my dear,” replied the woman kindly. “You performed the spell, you know magic, and you were prepared for something to happen. It’s not her case.”

 

“Yeah, right, it makes sense,” the blonde admitted. “So, what can I do to make it stop?”

 

“Not much I’m afraid,” the woman replied while turning over the page of the book. “It’ll pass within 24 hours.”

 

“Yes,” approved Tara, reading what the woman was showing her. “It’s written here: ‘the most obvious and incapacitating symptoms of this side-effect often disappear within 24 hours at most after their first appearance. If they do not, possible other spell or cause must be researched. The reader will note though that some symptoms may persist after the initial 24 hours for unpredictable time but they should not be incapacitating: shared dreams, shared memories, minor visions.’”

 

Tara turned another page over for more information but found none.

 

“Nothing else?” she asked, a little disappointed.

 

The woman shook her head and offered a reassuring smile.

 

“You shouldn’t be worried. She should rest while it lasts. Tomorrow, it will be over.”

 

“But it’s written that some symptoms might last longer than 24 hours. I don’t want to share more dreams or memories with her. I can’t stand more.”

 

“Don’t worry like this, dear. It might last longer, but it might not. Make her rest as much as possible and most probably, everything will be over by tomorrow morning.”

 

“Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry. It’s really kind of you to help me. I’m going to get back to the hostel and take care of her until she’s fine.”

 

“Don’t be sorry my dear, I’m gladly helping you. But you can’t do much this time.”

 

Tara nodded and reluctantly closed the book.

 

“Thank you very much,” she said, getting away. “I’m going now. Have a good evening.”

 

“Come over tomorrow to keep me informed please”

 

“I will,” Tara replied as she reached the door. “See you tomorrow.”

 

The door of the bookshop closed behind her and Tara went away toward the hostel, slightly defeated at the news.