Ironic Justice – Part 2

If you haven’t read part one of Ironic Justice, you can find it here.

…

Luna helps me pass the days spent in my cell by teaching me more about familiars. Fairies, she tells me, are perfect for mischievous tasks because of their invisibility. Plus, I can tell they have the personality for it. When I tell this to Luna, she just sticks her tongue out at me.

Rats are good at spying. They can hide in tight places and no one seems to notice them. Toads are the most effective at helping with potions. Cats are perfect for convincing people to do things they don’t want to, and knocking things over. Dogs are great for delivering items and sending messages. They also make loyal protectors, especially when you don’t want another witch’s cat familiar trying to trick you.

Her lessons give me an idea.

“How would I call a familiar here?” I ask.

“Oh, what a lovely idea! Let’s have one come to visit us. Where should we start?” she taps a tiny finger against her chin.

“I was thinking I could send a message to my parents.”

“We’ll summon a dog then. Just be careful. They like to use their tongues to cover you in slobber. Last time I saw one, my clothes were dripping the rest of the day and I smelled awful.” Luna crosses her arms and frowns at the memory.

“I don’t think I have anything to worry about,” I reply with a laugh. Luna glares at me. “But I’ll keep the dog away from you,” I promise her.

“Fine, let’s begin. Most familiars will come when they sense that you need them, just like I did. Some are more intuitive or cooperative than others. Dogs are actually the perfect familiar to start with. They usually come at the first whiff of a summons. Cats on the other hand, although very in tune to your needs, tend to come whenever they please.”

I nod my head, thinking of our stubborn tabby back home.

“First you need to lift your arms above your head,” Luna tells me. I follow her instructions. “Close your eyes and think of what you need.”

I think about how I want to let my parents know that I’m safe. I know my mother must be worried sick. Father is probably trying to find a way to break me out.

“Now, twirl in a circle three times.” Again, I comply. “Then, stick your thumb in your mouth.”

I open my eyes and glower at Luna. She is fighting not to laugh, but once she sees my face she lets it out.

“How much of that was actually necessary?” I ask.

“You only have to close your eyes and focus on what you want. The rest was just for my enjoyment.” She flashes me a sparkly grin.

I look for something to throw at her. Just then a scruffy black dog bounds into the goall. In his mouth are parchment and a graphite pencil. He trots right up to the bars of my cell and drops them in front of me. Then, he sits and stares at me with wide eyes, tail wagging back and forth along the ground.

“Good dog,” I tell him.

I reach through the bars and give him a few pets and a scratch behind the ears. He jumps up and licks my arm vigorously. I laugh, but I hear Luna make a sound of disgust behind me. I pick up my utensils and begin writing a note to my family. The dog stretches out along the floor as he waits for me to finish. When I move back to the bars, the dog jumps up and comes to take the message.

“Deliver this to my parents,” I tell him, unsure if he even understands me.

He sits very still. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. The dog pushes his nose against my hand. I reach out and give him a good petting with both hands. When I stop, he bounds out of the goall and disappears. Now, I wait.

After a few days, I begin to think my loyal companion has disappointed me. I hear no word from either of my parents. I had begged them to seek my release from this place, but still, I languish here. Another thought occurs to me; maybe it’s not my familiar that has let me down.

…

I hear footsteps coming down the steps and I sit up to eat my meager breakfast. Instead, my mother comes rushing forward. My father and a guard follow behind her.

“My baby!” my mother exclaims with tear-soaked eyes. She reaches through the bars to grasp my hands so tightly I think she might crush them. But I don’t care. I squeeze back as a sob escapes my throat.

“You release her, this instant,” my father demands. “She’s been locked in here long enough.”

The guard shuffles forward and mumbles under his breath. He shoves the key into the lock and opens the door. I stumble out to embrace both my parents. My father is the only one holding up both my mother and me.

“I’m sorry it took us so long,” my mother tells me, “but we needed time to come up with the money. And we weren’t exactly sure how to reach back out to you.” There is a questioning look in her eyes, but we can’t say more in front of the guard.

My father leads us back home, where my mother brings me a basin of warm water for a sponge bath. It’s the first I’ve had since I was thrown in the water that day. It seems like a lifetime ago. I went from a terrified girl, thinking I would drown at the mercy of the witch hunter, to a witch who stood up for herself in open court. I still wait to find out whether I made the right decision.

After I’m clean, my mother sits on a stool behind me and brushes my hair, something she hasn’t done since I was a little girl. I explain everything to her, and then I hold my breath. She runs her fingers through my hair as she tells me that it will all work out. It’s only then that I allow myself to completely relax.

When we leave my room, my father has a heaping breakfast prepared for us. I eat a plate full of codfish cakes, with an extra side of fried ham. My father keeps telling me to have some more and adding food to my plate. I laugh and eat until I finally have to surrender to my bursting stomach. It’s only then that I look around to realize that my fairy is gone.

That night in my bed, I call to Luna. She appears to tell me that I don’t need her anymore, at least not at the moment. She will always come back whenever I do need her, though. I ask her to stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone. She doesn’t answer me but just looks to the door before she vanishes again. A second later, my mother opens the door to my bedroom with our tabby cat in her arms.

“I thought I might sleep with you, just for tonight,” she says quietly.

I nod my head, unable to speak over the lump in my throat. My mother climbs into bed with me, and our cat curls up between our feet. I fall into a deep restful sleep at last.

…

The couple of months until my fate will be decided drag on endlessly. I’m glad to be back home, but the fear still nags at the back of my mind all the time. Whatever the decision, I just want this to be over.

On the morning we are set to hear the pronouncement of my guilt or innocence, my family is silent at the table. The wooden trencher of corn mush is hardly touched. Eventually, my father pushes his chair back from the table and walks over to open a cabinet in our small kitchen. He returns with a bottle and three metal canns. He clunks the bottle down on the table in front of us.

“George, is this really the time for rum?” my mother asks.

“’Tis exactly the time,” my father answers.

He passes us each a cann and the matter is settled. He pours me the same amount he pours himself, serving my mother less. When I raise the cann to my lips, the sharp sting of alcohol fills my nostrils. I take a gulp, and I feel the rum burning down my throat and into my stomach. It settles there before spreading warmth throughout my body. I finish the rest before reaching for my glass of cider to wash away the taste. We look around at each other and my father nods.

Just before we leave the comfort of our home, my mother stops me with a light touch to the shoulder. She pulls me into a fierce embrace that puts a lump in my throat. When my father wraps his arms around us both, tears well up in my eyes. We stay that way for a moment before we dry our eyes and open the door.

The second we step outside, I’m glad I had the rum to warm me. I pull my cloak tight against the brisk winter air. We walk through town, clustered together against the cold. I notice something flit around the edge of my vision.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go through this without me, did you?” Luna asks.

I just smile at her as she floats up to stay by my shoulder. We continue on, finally reaching the courthouse. My parents squeeze my hands before we enter. Luna just sticks her tongue out at me. My lips pull up into a smile for a moment, but then the doors open.

My heart starts pounding, and my palms are sweaty despite the cold. When the witch hunter and the attorney enter the courtroom, I turn to face them. The witch hunter’s eyes are wide as he watches me carefully. Mr. Hawthorn steps forward and presents the charges against me. Although I am a witch, I have committed none of the acts that he accuses me of. The foreman then stands to proclaim the verdict. I hold my breath.

“Ignoramus,” he says.

For a moment, I stand in shock. I didn’t expect to be cleared of the charges. I collapse into my parents’ arms, and we all cry tears of joy. My body is shaking, but I turn to bow my head to the jury in thanks. Our exit from the courtroom is a blur.

Once outside, one of the jurors approaches me. My parents are off speaking with friends, so we stand alone.

“Good day,” she greets me before turning to my left. “Good day,” she says again.

“Good day to you, Martha,” Luna replies. I look between the two of them, jaw hanging open.

“You’re a…witch?” I whisper.

“I am, and I knew you were too the moment I saw Luna in the courtroom.”

“You two know each other?” I ask.

“Oh yes, I love to come to visit Crystal and Juniper,” Luna exclaims with a twirl.

“Juniper Hollyrose is my fairy familiar, and Crystal Moonbeam is my daughter’s,” Martha explains.

“Luna Willowvale doesn’t sound so awful now, does it?”

I roll my eyes.

“Is that why I was found innocent?” I ask. “Because you knew I was a witch?”

“Well, that’s why I tried to convince them to let you go, but it wasn’t hard. People around here are sick of all the panic and hatred being stoked up by those two.” She nods toward the attorney and witch hunter across the courtyard. “People are sick of being afraid for themselves and their families. They’re tired of neighbors accusing neighbors of witchcraft, just because of disagreements. Or worse, because they stand out or refuse to conform. Mostly though, they liked that someone finally took a stand against it and revealed this whole affair for the mockery it is,” Martha pauses. “I personally think it’s an ironic kind of justice, that the first actual witch they catch is set free,” she says with a grin.

…

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