#witch!triad

part 2

Lucy was sitting against the wall under the window with a black panther head in her lap. She scratched at the chin and jaw exposed to her. “Mags, your bonsai are anchoring the four corners of a shield keeping ill intent from entering our home.”

“Individually, I understand those words. But all together like that, not so much.” She motioned to her cat. “Not that Bagheera being a real leopard isn’t awesome, but this means I can’t have a nap with a purring cat on my belly.”

For @majordetectiveagent who started this whole mess and @avidreaderffn who encouraged continuing it.

Triad witches continuing the witch!Lucy tag. Post Maggie getting her memories back. They track down the ancestral farm to make a plea for her magic. Based loosely of the accurate rules for abandoned farms floating around tumblr.

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"Turn here." 

Maggie's voice is soft but sure. It's a drive like any other drive way they've passed in the last handful of hours lost in corn country. 

"Drive slow. Stop." Maggie breaths deep. Exhales. "Give me your hands." 

Alex and Lucy comply with barely a thoughts hesitation. This is Maggie's time now, Maggie's magic not theirs. They are out of their depth here. 

"Ancestors here the plea of your forsaken heir. You know that which I seek. You know my chosen coven. Protect us in our quest that we may leave this land as undisturbed as we found it." The impulse to throw a sarcastic "amen" on the end is strong, but no other words are spoken. There is no sarcasm in magic. 

"Wait here."

Before either has realized what she's doing Maggie is unbuckling and getting out of the car. She leaves the door closed but unlatched and the action feels important somehow, for all neither of the other two understand it. She steps in front of the car and holds her hands palm out at her sides, gaze on the dirt drive in front of her. 

"I know not the laws of this land. I come in peace with my coven in search of something that was lost. We seek to leave with only this and nothing more. I implore your forgiveness as we bumble along your land on our quest."

Alex and Lucy exchange a glance. Well then. And common folk say the folk tales about abandon farms are just fiction to keep the kids occupied.

Words spoken Maggie quietly gets back in the car. 

"We can go in now." Alex exchanges another glance in the rear view with Lucy. "There's always a boundary line." Is Maggie's quiet answer to the unspoken question. 

It isn't until they're driving over it that Alex and Lucy recognize the drainage ditch that runs the length of the road for what it really is. For what the broken bits of fencing on one side of the ditch really represent. It would almost be appropriate to mutter "we're not in Kansas anymore", but both of them knew better than to tempt fate at this point.

Maggie directs Alex to park in the return end of the loop the drive way makes. Several strides from the closest building. She also reminds them once again to stay close to either her or the car. The farm house is on the far side of the loop so they begin the slow walk through overgrown tire tracks.

"Alex." Maggie's hand suddenly gripping her bicep startles Alex. 

"Your humming." 

"I am?" Maggie's grip flexes. Her other hand clenches tightly onto Lucy's. 

"Yes. Now finish the song and don't respond to anything else. Try not to start another either." 

There's a tension in Maggie as she says this. Alex knows the last line was meant to be more lighthearted and reassuring, but as she starts the nameless tune up again it doesn't take long for her to understand.

Something else is humming with her.

She nearly freezes but years of experience overcoming shock keep the tune going to its end. When she hums the last note a stillness settles over them. For a moment the air shifts around them. Then it seems to sigh against them before something shifts, appraises them longingly, and departs.

For a moment none of them move. 

Alex opens her mouth to ask. A glance at Maggie's tensed form has her snapping it closed again. From that point on she's careful that no matter how much her mind wanders she doesn't start humming again.

Once they reach the farm house, Maggie stops two paces from the edge of the decaying porch steps. She sits cross legged and enters what both of the others can immediately tell is a meditative state. What she’s doing while meditating neither is quite certain. 

But they have ideas. 

Curtains flutter from the windows in front of them sending a chill down both women’s backs. A door creeks behind them and it takes tremendous will power not to look. They keep their eyes focused close, on the car, on Maggie, on each other or the ground around them. Neither comments on seeing blurry shapes in the tree line over the other's shoulders. Neither mentions the hyper awareness of being watched. Of the itching feeling that comes from knowing and being helpless. Both of them jump at a thud from in front of them.

Glancing towards the farm house the front door has slammed open. A shadow is cast at an odd angle from it. Hands twitch towards missing weapons. The feeling of being trapped, surrounded, overwhelmed begins to close in on them. They shift closer together. Closer to Maggie. Mental times and routes are calculated. 

Another creak, another small shuffle. 

Knees make contact with shoulder blades and they freeze. Awareness over takes them. An awareness that is both terrifying and fascinating.

The shadows and whispers and impressions suddenly have more weight, more shape, more substance. Maggie seemed to have been mid debate with a spirit in the house when the other two touched her, bringing them part way into the plane reserved for this place bridging time. The shadows in the house stare them down with distaste. 

Maggie’s hackles rise in defense of her girls and both feel her magic come up around them in this place that both is and isn’t. She speaks but not with words. They understand not what she says or how she says it, just that she does. 

Alex and Lucy are not to be touched. They are Maggie’s. They are coven. They are family. 

The Other appraises them. Behind and around a symphony of wind and chimes and creaks and rustles rise and fall as others on the farm look on. Clearly what ever lives in the farm house holds some sort of sway over the others.

Time stretches around them. 

None of the triad will be able to tell you how long, exactly, they were in that half state, as even their best internal clocks don’t match the one in their watches. And those no longer match the car’s clock. In the end they are once again broken from the moment by a loud thud. 

This time it’s of a small melt box dropping into being in front of Maggie’s crosses legs, exactly one pace from her and one from the house. 

When they look back both the light defying shadow and the oppressive feeling are gone. They can still feel the rustles of curiosity and temptation all around them - their senses heightened as they remain in physical contact with each other. But now that the Other has passed judgement the rest seem content to let them be.

Maggie shifts, stands. The others back away and immediately their awareness drops. 

Maggie grabs the box and turns towards them. It’s a rusted, dented, metal tin. Dirt is still cracked around it as though it’d only just been dug up. It very well may have been. 

“Let’s go.” Maggie’s voice is soft, reserved. Scratchy as though she’d been talking for hours without water. 

Alex and Lucy nod and head for the car. A hand grabs Alex’s bicep while the other makes contact with Lucy’s forearm.

“Check your pockets first.” 

Even as she says it Maggie’s hands return to her sides and begin checking her own. Alex and Lucy exchange a look but do as told. Their hands do not come back empty. Between the three of them they some how collected two unusual rocks, an arrow head, a piece of broken pottery that looks suspiciously stained, and some plant stems woven into a braid. 

All of it is placed on the ground where the tin can was. 

Back in the car Maggie comments on how that was quite an unusual amount to be gifted. How they must have attracted a lot of attention. The moment she says the last word the hairs on Lucy’s left side stand on end. She just starts turning her head to the empty seat when Maggie's voice snaps out, firm and sharp. 

“Don’t. They always hitch a ride. The more attention you give them the longer they want to tag along.” 

Lucy swallows. Breathes a soft “okay” and does her best not to look out the window either. Just in case. 

She still sees the blurry black figure in the woods. But she doesn’t move. It doesn’t move either. Then suddenly they cross the boundary line and it’s as though Lucy blinked. The blur is gone. The tingling awareness is gone. The eyes on the back of her neck are gone. 

Alex let’s out a breath no one knew she was holding. 

Maggie’s grip stays white knuckled on the tin. Her girls may be relaxing now, but Maggie knows the truth. The hard part has only just begun. 

One never truly leaves the farm alone.