Fall was drifting into winter, and the first snowfall had turned the ground white. A kind of peace settled over the woods and the town, the broken only by occasional howling. Demarco found herself increasingly walking in the snow-shrouded woods. Often, she found herself wandering across the bridge to hang out with Etta and little Freddie.
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"'Arco, ahhwwoooo," Freddie howled a greeting.
"Hey Cub," Demarco smiled as the little werewolf pulled her into a fierce hug.
"'Arco, Etta," Freddie babbled cheerfully, gesturing toward the old log that made a seat at the edge of the Collective's garden where he was playing.
Accepting the boy's firm - if not entirely clear - instructions, the pair of them took a seat. Freddie continued to explain his, obviously very detailed, plan before returning to joyfully tossing handfuls of snow into the air.
"Well, he's happy," Demarco chuckled.
"I like watching him play," Etta said, a little sadly. "He just gets to be a little kid and have fun."
"You OK?" Demarco asked. In the time they'd been friends, she'd come to expect moments of gloom, topics avoided and sentences left unfinished from the other woman.
"Yeah," Etta lied.
"You sure?" Demarco pressed gently.
"I'm thinking about my mom," Etta admitted.
"Oh," Demarco said cautiously. Etta's family was one of those unspoken topics.
"When I was young, we used to play together all the time," Etta mused with unexpected openness. "We lived out in the mountains... actually over there a-ways... a place called Forgotten Hollow. There weren't really other kids my age. Father... he had his Great Work and he wasn't to be disturbed. So, for a while, it was just me and my mom."
"Are they witches, your mom and dad?" Demarco asked gently.
"Mom isn't," Etta said, bitterness in her voice. "Her family, the Blackwoods, are one of the Lost Families... that's what they call the witch families whose magic has faded over time. I'm the first Blackwood daughter born with magic in generations.
"Father is a powerful warlock but he wasn't born with magic. Like some werewolves are born and others are bitten, some witches are born to our magic and others get their power... in other ways. Thinking about it now, I guess he married her because her family was an old and respected one... and because there was a good chance that their children would have power."
"I remember the day he told mom he was going to start my training. It was the first time I remember seeing them argue. She said I should have more time to just be a child, more time to play. I remember I was angry with her for saying that. I was so much in awe of Father and I wanted so badly to be part of his Great Work."
"The next day, he started my training. Mom never objected again. Once my training began, she and I never played or even really hung out together anymore. It was as if she was gone, but I know she was there... in the background, like... cooking meals or cleaning the house. Looking back, I remember she was so pale and quiet that I hardly noticed her anymore. I spent most of my time with Father."
"Etta..." Demarco wasn't sure what to say, especially in light of the creeping sense of horror she felt.
"Like I said, Father was a powerful warlock... but he wasn't born to magic," Etta continued, her distant eyes focused on some point in the past. "You have to understand the importance of the magical bloodlines... the power and prestige of the Old Families - the families who trace their heritage and their magic back to the days of the First Empire. The Council of Sages and the Old Families are the leaders of the Magic Realm, and between their magic and the timeless Otherworld they rule, they are practically immortal.
"My father taught me that they are tyrants... oppressors who decide what is and is not acceptable based only on preserving their own grip on power. He said they conceal themselves and the magic world from mortals, all the while pulling strings from the shadows.
"But there are other powers in the shadows - like the Dark Court, the master vampires who are ancient enemies of the Council and the Old Families and his allies in his Great Work to oppose them.
"My father presented me at the Dark Court and to his other allies among the shadows. I was his apprentice, his student, heir to his knowledge and power... his weapon against the Council. That's what he trained me to be. Not just a witch, but a soldier, a spy, a weapon in a secret war."
"Oh Etta," Demarco breathed.
"In the end, I threw it all away," Etta sighed. "I told you I seduced, betrayed and kidnapped a friend... all done on my father's orders. It was my first real mission in his shadow war. But I couldn't do it... I couldn't let him hand my friend over to the vampires, who would have killed her. I helped her escape and I turned myself over the justice of the Council I was raised to despise. They took my magic... and now I'm here."
"Oh Etta," Demarco repeated.
"Watching Freddie play... it reminds me of my mom sometimes," Etta sighed. "I miss her. I miss being young, an innocent and not knowing about any of this. Damn, there you go, I guess ... my dark secrets laid bare - the wicked life of Etta Blackwood, ex-witch and criminal."
"Hey, don't talk like that," Demarco said. "It sounds like your dad is a real piece of work. He messed you up but you're free of that now... and you've got me and Freddie. So let me tell you, Etta Blackwood, what you are is my friend."
"Etta, 'r'end!" Freddie agreed with a smile.
"Thanks, Lux," Etta smiled sadly.
