[center][hider=Cast][center] [img]http://i.imgur.com/50eMiVQ.jpg?1[/img][/center][/hider][/center]
[center][i][h1]The Witch-Mother’s Charge[/h1][/i]
[i][h3]Serpent in the Water, Part I[/h3][/i][/center]

[center][b]Location: Franklin Mountains – El Paso, Texas
Time: 3 p.m., One Day Before Satellite Attacks[/b][/center]
[hr]

	The sweltering heat of the summer sun coupled with miles of open, arid land began to take its toll on Marie. Delicate drops of perspiration pooled on her brow, falling occasionally into her eyes before being swiftly wiped away to alleviate the sting. Wearing black in the desert, it turned out, was a poor decision, but Marie hadn’t planned this flight. Despite her discomfort, she was determined to arrive at her destination at a reasonable hour, giving herself enough time to regroup and make a dent in her next stop. 

	Holt remained largely silent during their journey, allowing Marie to adjust to her latest impulsivity. He couldn’t possibly understand the depth of her emotions, it wasn’t his way. The anger she felt at herself for dragging Benjamin and his friends into her problems, the fear she held for their lives and wellbeing, the guilt she felt in leaving them behind. All Holt truly knew, what he could [i]feel[/i] most palpably, was Marie’s ambition. The spark that once drove Joseph was present in Marie, different to the cunning-flame, but fueled by something equally as primal. Given their bond, Holt couldn’t help but feel energized by this passion. Whether or not he agreed with her methods - though in this case, he was entirely in agreement - the power Marie wielded, granted by her desires, was apparent, and he stood to gain just as much as she.

	The peaks of the Franklin Mountains slowly grew as their flight brought them ever closer to their goal. In a low valley, just off the beaten path, there lay a collection of old homes and buildings dotted neatly behind the mountains, the rest of El Paso several miles south. They were more akin to stone huts than full houses, though some bore signs of modern architecture. All were muted tones of brown and beige, a few of the more eclectic looking homes sporting splashes of white and birch wood to keep the interior cool. A general store, aptly named “Franklin General Store,” sat near to the largest home in the collection. 

	[color=ffe4b5][i]This looks about right,[/i][/color] Marie thought, matching the coordinates from the small journal given to her by Genevieve with those on her phone. Holt could easily have helped navigate, but Marie liked the novelty of flying with only a set of numbers. 

	[color=ffe4b5][i]Do you know anything about the witches of this area?[/i][/color] 

	Genevieve’s notes regarding each of the covens Marie needed to visit contained little to no actual information. All she was given were coordinates and little tidbits of knowledge about people of interest. Marie silently wondered why this regent for the Five Families had ties to these specific covens. There were certainly more in the entire state of Texas than two. Perhaps through familial or initiatory ties? 

	[color=90ee90][i]I know only that witches in this corner of the world take influence from both the Old World and their neighbors to the South. They are quite skilled at transforming themselves into animals, so I hear. Owls, foxes, hares, and horses are their favored forms.[/i][/color] Holt’s response was prompt, maybe even a little inquisitive. His knowledge of the craft, though quite deep, was still limited to older traditions, those stemming from Europe and the British Isles. 

	[color=ffe4b5][i]Genevieve's notes say that the two covens of El Paso are rivals, only about eight to ten strong. Says here that they’re lead by two sisters, Caroline and Josephine Ramirez. Wonder why they split up . . .[/i][/color]

	[color=90ee90][i]I suspect we’ll soon find out. Look there.[/i][/color] Holt, in the guise of great raven, pointed with his head at two foxes tumbling and jumping over one another, kicking up loose dirt in the shade of the mountains. As Marie and Holt approached, invisible as they were to the naked eye, the pair of foxes froze, looking up at their descent. 

	[color=ffe4b5][i]Must be the welcoming committee,[/i][/color] Marie thought cautiously as she and Holt touched down, taking a moment to enjoy the shade, even if it only brought a moment’s reprieve from the heat. Meanwhile, the foxes made a strange whining noise before one rushed off and the other stepped forward. It growled at Marie as it drew closer.

	Marie took a single step back, setting down her bags and placing a free hand in front of her as a friendly gesture. She couldn’t blame this witch for being suspicious, especially if he or she was locked in a feud with another coven in the same town.

	[color=ffe4b5]”We’re not here to cause trouble,”[/color] Marie spoke calmly and slowly, [color=ffe4b5]”Genevieve Lachance sent us on behalf of your Regent.”[/color]

	Immediately, the fox stood quietly, its ears perking up attentively. It stood there for several moments before turning its back and walking toward the collection of buildings up ahead, stopping once and turning back, as if bidding them follow.

	Holt and Marie knew they were expected, at least, [i]someone[/i] bearing protective tokens was expected, so they were far more trusting than they might have been otherwise. They followed the fox to the smallest home in the lineup, a simple wooden house with a brick foundation and light brown roof in desperate need of shingling. The fox pawed at the back door before scurrying off toward the mountains. Moments later, an older woman, somewhere in her mid to late sixties, opened the door. She wore a smudged apron over a simple green blouse, long khakis, and flat house shoes. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, silvery grey with hints of brown here and there. She held a pan in one hand and a ragged washcloth in the other, cleaning in circular motions in between suspicious glances.

	“Whatchu need, girl?” the woman’s voice was low and sharp, bearing a distinct Texan twang with hints of something else. 

	Marie removed the pouch given to her by Genevieve from her smallest bag. She held it up like a badge of office, hoping this woman would understand by the sign stitched into the front. 

	“Hmph,” the woman grunted, “Lydia’s sending me younguns now?” 

	Marie couldn’t tell if the old witch was irritated or curious. Her voice was dreadfully inexpressive, as was her face. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”I was sent on Genevieve Lachance’s behalf . . . well, on behalf of your Regent.”[/color] Marie maintained a pleasant disposition despite the lack of hospitality and how dreadfully humid it was. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”The witches of Vegas are putting on a ritual tonight. Genevieve asked me to hand these tokens - pieces of the blessed vessel - to the covens here, among others.”[/color] 

	“I see.” the old woman took a step back, opening the door fully. “Well don’t just stand there lookin’ lost, then. Come on in and close the door behind you. Don’t want the cold air gettin’ out.”

	Marie nodded, stepping up a cinder block that acted as a makeshift stair up to the door. She left her broom and bags propped next to the door, following the stranger further into her home. For its small size, it was strangely spacious. There seemed only two or three other rooms, one of which Marie assumed was the bathroom. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were all connected, divided only by a change from carpet to tile. The décor was dated but in good shape. It all felt very “lived” in.

	“Name’s Caroline Ramirez,” she yelled behind her, fumbling about in her tiny kitchen with a stack of clean pots and pans. There were plants and herbs hanging down from the ceiling on drying racks, some for cooking, others for magic. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”I’m Marie,”[/color] she answered, taking a seat in the dining area just next to the window AC unit. 

	“And your friend there?” Caroline called back, pointing to Holt who stood on the table, still as an ethereal raven. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”Uh . . . Holt, his name is Holt.”[/color] Marie was caught off guard, though she should have expected a witch of Caroline’s age and experience would see Holt no matter his corporality. 

	Caroline snickered as she sat opposite Marie, sliding over a glass of ice water that Marie happily drank almost instantly. 

	“So you from one of them Vegas lines too?” 

	Marie shook her head. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”No, not Vegas. I’m from Boston originally, though I don’t come from any specific witching tradition.”[/color]

	Caroline nodded slowly, looking Marie over once or twice before speaking again.

	“First of your line, then? Quite the feat. Helluva lot of responsibility, too. Genny tell you anything about us, then?”

	[color=ffe4b5]”Not really, no. I know that you and your sister, Josephine, are the head of your respective traditions, but that’s about it.”[/color]

	Caroline only nodded.

	Marie wasn’t sure what she was hoping to accomplish here. In her mind, her only mission was to give the witches their tokens and leave. It was nice to take a moment to relax and she was thankful for Caroline’s hospitality, but was there really time to chat with the Hounds mobilizing, not to mention her own personal quest. 

	[i]Wait,[/i] Marie thought to herself. She couldn’t rush things, especially when she had no idea where Gwyneth’s next item would appear. Perhaps she should be focusing on making the sort of allies she’d gained in Vegas, ones like Genevieve who could provide her with, if nothing else, a place to rest. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”So your sister,”[/color] Marie began, taking a quick sip of water between words, [color=ffe4b5]”Why do the two of you work separately? Genevieve’s notes on El Paso say you two are rivals. What happened?”[/color] 

	Caroline turned her head, looking Marie over a few more times.

	“What’s it to you? Don’t look like you intend to be here long,” she curtly responded. Marie could see it was a tender subject. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”I hadn’t planned on it, you’re right. But it’s the middle of the day and I don’t have anywhere else to go right now. Unless you want me to leave,”[/color] Marie stood up, hoping she could offend Caroline’s sensibilities just enough to get more information.

	[color=ffe4b5]”If you could just tell me where Josephine is, I’ll give her one of these tokens and be on my w . . .”[/color]

	“Sit down, girl.” Caroline cut her off. “I might be old but I’m not a fool, and you ought to be careful what you wish for. Josephine ain’t someone you wanna just stumble into.”

	Marie did as asked, taking her seat with a subtle grin. 

	[color=ffe4b5]”So the two of you had a falling out, then? A difference of opinion, maybe?”[/color]

	Caroline sighed, standing up slowly and walking to an antique cabinet that held, among other strange novelties Marie associated with witchcraft, a large saddle. Marie recognized it as a witches saddle, one that, according to legend, witches would mount sleeping persons with, transforming them into horses that would be ridden to the sabbath. She assumed they must exist but had never seen one herself, not even among Puck’s collection of artifacts. 

	“Me and my girls,” Caroline spoke loudly, perhaps forgetting herself, “we aren’t like Josephine. Not no more at least. I tend to the folks in town when they get desperate. When they need healin’ or the like, a blessin’ or gift for their newborns; things like that. It’s just me and my three daughters. Two of them’s got kids of their own, three more girls in total that we’ve been teachin’ the ways to. Then there’s a girl from in town, a little younger than you I imagine. We give the folks in the city what they want. They know there’s a price, but it ain’t much.”

	[color=ffe4b5]”All women,”[/color] Marie remarked. 

	“We don’t discriminate or nothin’,” Caroline replied, “just the way it worked out. You want all kinds of diversity, though, you speak to Josephine. She ain’t got no kids of her own. Takes in a bunch of strays though, all wantin’ some kind of power from her. They're all real dramatic compared to us. When folks want a remedy they come to me and my girls. When they want anything else, they head to Josephine’s bunch.”

	[color=ffe4b5]”But I’m guessing that wasn’t always the case,”[/color] Marie noted, pointing at the saddle on display. Hag riding, as it was known, wasn’t a benign affliction. Men and women who’d been ridden by witches were horribly shaken by their experiences, always fatigued and sore beyond comparison, and those were only the physical effects. 

	“Not like we don’t get up to mischief every now and then,” Caroline seemed to reminisce, taking her seat near Marie. “My girls and I aren’t quite so frivolous as Josephine, but you’re right, it wasn’t always that way. She’s five years my senior, the first of our line, taught by a devil from the desert. She and I got up to all kinds of trouble back when we were kids, but Josephine was always a little more . . . malicious than I was. She didn’t know when to stop. One day she poisoned a watering trough for a rancher not far from our little valley. He hadn’t done nothing to her that I could tell. I got fed up with her causing problems for everyone, so I stood up to her.”

	Marie was thoroughly intrigued. She’d heard plenty of horror stories about wars waged between witches over the years. History and legend were littered with examples, and Puck had a few stories from his days in France and Spain, but Marie had never seen the aftermath of such a conflict.

	“After that, Josephine challenged me to a test of skill. She said, ‘Caroline, how dare you speak to me that way, your own sister, the one who gave you everything. But I’ll tell you what. If you can raise a bigger storm than me, I’ll step down and do as you ask. If you can’t, then you leave me be’.”

	Caroline shook her head, laughing to herself.

	“It was foolish of me to think I could beat her, but I had to give it a shot. Naturally, I agreed. So I raised a fine storm, lots of rain and wind, thunder and lightning, dark clouds that would linger for days. But Josephine, she was as smart as she was wicked. She called down from the mountains and the valleys a dust storm to rival any there’s ever been. It blew through El Paso and covered it in sand, ruined people’s gardens and farms, killed livestock, dried up water wells, the works. And she was pleased with herself.

	“So I did as I said, I let her be, but I also left her by herself. She and I had done everything together for years, but now she’d be alone while I raised a family in the valley and taught my girls what I wanted them to know. We hadn’t spoken to one another in almost twenty years until Miss Lydia Velis came to town a little while back.”

	[color=ffe4b5]”Lydia Velis?”[/color] Marie questioned, [color=ffe4b5]”You mentioned her name earlier.”[/color]

	Caroline nodded. 

	“Mmhmm, she’s that ‘Regent’ you talked about, the one what made my sister and I see how childish we’d been. She invited us to a party in Nevada, her annual Walpurgis Night celebration. Me and Josephine hadn’t ever celebrated it before, but we went up, me with my girls, Josephine with whomever she’d managed to round up that year. After that, we’ve been going every April. I still don’t much care for that twisted bitch, but at least we’re talking again.”

	Marie couldn’t help but laugh at that last comment. Caroline had so much character. She was very much a no nonsense type of woman, which Marie could appreciate. 

	Caroline also laughed, happy to have entertained her guest.

	[color=ffe4b5]”I still need to find Josephine to give her one of these tokens. Do you know where I can find her? Does she live in the valley or in town?”[/color]

	“No,” Caroline shook her head, “Josephine’s been up in the mountains for a while now. There’s some old caves out there used by the natives. Josephine witched some workers from the city several years back and had them clear out one of the caves, carve out more rock to make space for her to work. Don’t none of her folks live in the caves, nor does she. They come up from town on occasion when she needs ‘em for somethin’. She’s got a cabin out there that runs on a generator. No real address for me to give.”

	A loud bang interrupted them. 

	“Caroline!” a man’s voice came from beyond her front door, followed by several loud knocks with his clenched fist. “You come out here right now, Caroline, I mean it!”

	“What in the hell,” Caroline stood up, walking around the table to peek through the drawn blinds of an adjacent window. Outside was a tall, middle-aged man in tattered overalls, work boots, and a white, flat brimmed cap. He continued to bang on the door until Caroline finally answered.

	“What?” Caroline yelled as she swung the door wide open. The man’s face was red, possibly from the sun, but more likely from his angry knocking. 

	“You wanna tell me why I found my son wandering around in them caves this morning?” 

	A thin boy with dark hair stood a few paces behind the older man, a blank stare etched on his face.

	“I don’t know, Jeff, why don’t you ask him yourself instead of knocking down my door in the middle of the day?” Caroline raised her voice. 

	Jeff took a step forward, a dirty boot stomping on the living room carpet.

	“Don’t play games with me you old witch, I know you’re up to something.”

	“Don’t you forget who’s house you walked up to, Jeff Bayley.” Caroline threatened, placing her arm across the doorway to halt him from moving further. 

	Jeff huffed, taking a step back. He looked over to see Marie just barely visible from outside.

	“That one of Josephine’s whores?”

	Caroline took a free hand and struck Jeff with an open palm, the sound echoing through the quiet valley. 

	“You take your sorry ass home, Jeff, you and your boy. You’re lucky a smack in the face is all you get. Go on!”

	Jeff stood back, mouth open in shock. From the look of him, Caroline had never been physical before. Maybe the two had a pleasant relationship before today, or at least an amicable one. He took his son’s arm and walked off, turning back once he’d put some distance between them.

	“You know them Hounds of Humanity have the right of it! I hope they send you all to hell!”

	Caroline slammed the door behind her, mumbling something to herself before sitting back down. Marie wasn’t sure what to think of that little transaction. Something strange had obviously transpired in Caroline’s sleepy little town outside of El Paso. Maybe it was best that she come here first.

	[color=ffe4b5]”What was all that?”[/color]