Scent of A Rogue

Chapter 1 - The Coven of Vengeful Witches

36 hours before the Alpha Bite

Riva

The tiny room felt hotter than usual, with thirteen young witches crammed in the space. Each one wore a black sleeveless tunic over tight black leather pants. Our ages ranged from eighteen to twenty-four.

I was one of the oldest. I was here before. Nothing should surprise me on my second attempt at the initiation. A witch could only officially become a member of the Coven if she passed all the tests. I was so close last time, but I choked at the final test. The final test decided everything.

It took me six years to get back to this stage, to feel like I could be worthy. The Coven head, Madame Lidia, told me that usually, witches would not be allowed to make a second attempt several years after the first. She did not say it in many words, but I was getting too old.

During the years that I waited for this moment, I trained hard on my own. I still lived in the Coven’s quarters only because I was considered special, at least that was what they said. Even though I graduated from college with honors, I did not feel that special. The accountancy job that followed further blended me in with the rest of the mortals of Oak City. Human. Fragile.

 Madame Lidia said that I would not be allowed to stay if not for my late mother’s heritage. She was a witch whose ancestors could be traced back to Medieval times and even to an alternate world. What the Coven head could not seem to say was that my mother had left too much money to the Coven for me not to matter.

Yet, I knew that I was at my final attempt. If I fail again, I could be banished forever. Vengeful witches did not choke. They were assassins who did not flinch and could kill when needed. After all, the Vengeful Witches only killed those considered the poisons and dredges of society. We cleaned up. If we could not do that, what were we then? A long ordinary life seemed to taunt me. Passing the test was a matter of survival.

The witch trainer had arrived. She was tall and slim, with short, cropped, almost-white hair. She could not be more than forty. We all greeted her in unison.

“Good day, Madame Sonika.”

“Good day. Position one,” she commanded. She liked getting right to it. She was never wishy-washy, and we liked it about her.

A non-witch would think of us as a strange dojo doing martial arts. We were made to do kicks and punches for the first few minutes. Madame Sonika went around to see how we were doing. When she said “stop,” it meant stopping at precisely the position we were in. Then, she would stretch a leg here and adjust an arm there.

The trainer screamed for us to do a roundhouse kick. Then, she followed it quickly with a “stop.” She went around agonizingly slowly as we all kept the position as well as we could. I saw one girl start to tremble in her stance in the corner of my eye. Soon, the leg positioned slightly to her back wavered, and she had to set it down.

“You’re out, Lola!” Madame Sonika barked.

The young witch, all of eighteen, started sobbing. She should not have. That sob had solidified the trainer’s decision to take her out of contention. Lola seemed not to care. She was still crying when she rushed out of the room.

The tension increased. We all knew what would happen to any of us if the stance wavered. Madame Sonika moved slowly around the room, checking each witch. It was a stroll, almost, in the park, where she could have well been watching the flowers.

I saw her make slight adjustments everywhere. She passed Forrest, the only other witch about my age in contention for a place in the Coven that year. She made sure that I knew she was sick that last time. She would get the place this time. Forrest also held a special place in the Coven. Her family was not nearly as generous as my dead one, but her mother, Marana, served at the Witches’ Council.

Finally, Madame Sonika reached me. She made a low, humming sound. Then, she cried, “Down!”

Relief washed over me. I was also pleased with the way she passed me and hummed approvingly. She did not make any adjustments.

The first part went through for a few more minutes. Two more witches were sent home. Ten of us waited apprehensively for whatever else was to come. Even Forrest wore an anxious look on her face. Her blonde braids were now in disarray, making her look less than perfect. She always managed to pull off a calm veneer. This time, I saw a slight furrow on her brows. She was not as unaffected as I thought she would be.

The next round was a head-to-head fight, like in a regular martial arts dojo. I was assigned opposite Liza. She was twenty and was the tallest among the witches, at six feet tall – six inches taller than I was.

With each of us having a partner, only five of us would move on to the final part of the initiation. Forrest was partnered against Doris, who was one of the smallest. It looked like she would have an easier time than I.

The trainer blew the whistle, and we immediately grappled. Unlike in a martial arts dojo, anything went in these fights. You could do anything as long as you could make your opponent fall and not get up for ten counts. Deaths were not unheard of. The last time I did it, I almost killed my opponent, Triska. I heard that she had decided not to try again. She had married soon after. She now had three children and lived a white picket fence dream in Oakspell, in the suburbs.

Liza pushed me off the wrestling grapple. Then, she punched me in the jaw. It smarted, and I staggered back a little, but I would not fall. Nope. I did a front kick, my foot reaching her chest. She stumbled and fell. However, she was able to push herself quickly enough to launch at me. I dodged to the left, and she almost fell again with her face forward.

My opponent ran towards me once more as soon as she regained her balance, making my heart hammer in my chest. The fury on her face showed that she would not let me have it easy. It was also difficult to fight her when she got too close. She was taller and more muscular, easily twenty pounds heavier than I was. Perhaps more.

She pulled at my ponytail in one quick motion, almost lifting me off the floor. I could not do the same thing to her. She was taller, and her red hair was closely shaved on her scalp. I flailed, legs kicking and hands holding on to the ones holding my hair. My senses became more intensely aware that four other pairs were fighting in the same room.

Then, I found an opening. I attempted a roundhouse kick and hit Liza’s knee. Her hands let go of my hair. It was what I was waiting for as I twisted my body to face her again. Then, I made as high a sidekick as I could, my foot hitting the side of her face. Then, I shifted legs and gave her another kick while she was still swaying, out of balance.

There was a crack. Then, my opponent’s body fell on the mat with a heavy thud. There was clapping from all over the room. I looked around and saw that there were four other initiates left. Judging from the fact the rest were not there, it seemed that the others were sent home. It was only I who had knocked out an opponent. The fight seemed to have gone longer than I thought it had.

I panicked then. I checked Liza on the floor. She was still motionless, not even one limb stirring. Her eyes were eerily open, staring at nothing.

Madame Sonika took her mobile phone and called somebody. I could not hear what she was saying, but a couple of burly men came and carried Liza out of the room a few minutes later.

“Don’t worry, hon,” the trainer said. “Congratulations. You have won that fair and square.”

I shook the feeling of guilt. I knew what I was getting into. The last time I went through the third part of the initiation, that same wave of guilt stopped me from getting into the Coven. I could still remember the face of my target. He was terrified. Then, he begged for his life and talked about his children.

The target would never get through me again. I hardened myself and stood with my chest out and my back straight. The five of us formed a line. The room now felt bigger than it was, with seven witches sent home and one dead.

Madame Sonika bowed and left the room. As soon as she stepped out, Madame Ella entered. She was a petite, almost fairy-like woman. She was about Madame Sonika’s age but looked even younger. She wore her brown hair long, reaching her waist. Part Two of the initiation was about to begin. Spells. I was strong at physical fighting, but my spells were natural. I was an elemental. I could kill with weapons and physical combat, but I was better with spells.

Part Two was less strenuous. There were no head-to-head battles. We were only expected to know our spells, but Madame Lidia knew that I did not need words to make things happen. I could wield fire, water, earth, and air simply by visualizing my desired effect. Madame Ella was aware of it, so I knew she would give me a more challenging time than the rest of the initiates.

I was right.

Madame Ella started with the young initiates, teenagers who were going through the whole process for the first time. Good for them! I could already see that only one of them seemed primed to do the killing, Daisy. It was such a lovely floral name for someone who had a ruthless look on her face. The other two seemed like they would go the same way I did, but I hoped not. I wished them the best.

Most of us were orphans. We were witches that Madame Lidia had handpicked. A few lucky ones like Forrest had belonged to this world since birth. However, even she had to pass the tests. If she did not, she would still be around because of her mother’s position, but she would not be doing anything coven-related. She would be treated like any other human guest.

Forrest had some elemental powers. Her name was a dead giveaway that she and her mother did herbs and earth. According to the stories, she was born in the Forbidden Forest. It gave her some street cred, forest cred, or whatever. She was supposed to have been born there, not too far away from where the Wolfless Pack had their hideout.

“Okay, Forrest, make some fire out of your palms,” Madame Ella ordered.

“Why fire?” she asked.

During her first initiation, she failed in the second round. She struggled with her powers.

“Because fire is destructive. You can use it as a weapon just in case your target manages to take what you have,” the trainer explained patiently, although the expression on her face said everything. She thought that Forrest should know better.

Forrest held out her hands, palms up. She closed her eyes and concentrated. I could almost imagine what was in her head at that moment. She was thinking of fire. Its beautiful colors went from orange to yellow and red. The way it danced was graceful, but its heat seared and burned. In my hand, I saw a red flame dancing. I heard the other three initiates gasp. Forrest lost her concentration then, only a little swirl of smoke coming out of her palms. She glared at me.

“It’s not your turn yet, Riva. Let Forrest focus,” Madame Ella warned.

I calmed myself. It took Forrest a couple more minutes to produce a little flame, but at least she seemed to have passed this time. She had to do a couple more tricks until she was declared to have passed.

Madame Ella finally walked over to me. Shorter than I was, she looked up to me. Still, she could be intimidating. Her hazel eyes did not reveal any emotions.

“Create a fire in one palm and water in the other. Do not let the water trickle down to the ground.”

I knew she was going to make it hard for me. She knew how easily I could do each at a time. So, I closed my eyes and focused on my left hand. Again, I thought about the lovely colors of a flame, how it could dance with the wind, fighting off being extinguished. I came from a long line of witches, many of them fire ones. Fire witches were rarer in other families, but they seemed to thrive in my bloodline.

The fire shot up from my palm. The other initiates gasped. My eyes remained closed as I thought of cool water in my other hand. The liquid should remain in my palm. So, I thought of quiet ponds until I felt wet coolness swirl on my right palm.

Success!

I kept my eyes closed. I knew I had to hold them for at least ten counts. I counted ten in my head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine.

Each number was stretched out further. Slower. Taunting. Madame Lidia had often talked to me about my frequent jibes at authority. She said that I was a quiet rebel. Maybe she was right.

Ten.

I shook my left palm, wiggled the fire out of it. Then, it was extinguished. I opened my eyes and saw a little smoke swirling on my palm. That part there was pure showmanship. Then, I wiggled my other hand, and the water was gone. Not one drop fell on the floor. The water was just gone.

The room broke into loud applause for the second time that day. I finally allowed myself to smile.

Madame Lidia finally entered the room. She had a broad smile on her face. Soon, though, it was gone, and she was back to her usual sternness.

“Passing all three levels meant one thing. You all know this. Only one level separates you from becoming a fully-fledged member of the Coven of Vengeful Witches.”

There were restrained applause and nervous giggles.

“Each one of you will get a folder. Everything about your target will be in that folder: name, location, possible strategies, etc. Each of you only has 48 hours to finish off your target.”

A young witch, possibly newly initiated a year or two ago, gave out folders. I excitedly opened mine.

My breath caught.

It was not going to be an easy task. Mayor Hotchkiss was located in the Forbidden Forest, and he had wolves for bodyguards.

“Are you alright, Riva?” Madame Lidia asked pointedly.

“Yes, I am. I will give you the mayor’s head,” I said, but even the hand that manifested fire a few minutes ago turned cold.