Chapter One: Following the Magic

I have arrived.

Newcastle is much like any other sleepy suburban Simerican town. In my travels, it feels like I've seen them all. Same well-manicured lawns. Same clean parks and roads. Same strangers staring out their windows as I pass, telling me without ever needing to use words what I've known all my life as a gypsy: I am a stranger. I don't belong.

But, I tell myself, it is different this time. This time I am not simply passing through. I am here to stay. The visions have directed me to this place, this tiny little dot on a map. Here is where they have shown me I will begin my work. Here is where I must settle. I must give up my Roma ways, forsaking a life of freedom and wanderlust to accomplish my purpose: to find a partner who will help me bring in the Chosen One, who will lead our people into an enlightened era of peace with those outside The Family who oppress us, who look on us as filth and force us out of lands we call home so that they can steal our belongings and take our children.

I have seen it happen, time and again. It happened to me. My parents were killed in a police raid on a gypsy camp in France. The police said they had weapons. My Nona says they were merely carrying food. In any case, I was an orphan, and my Nona raised me, training me in the arts she had mastered over a lifetime: magic.

I am a witch. One of only a few left among our people. Nona spotted my talents early and began training me before I was even old enough to spell my own name. The visions began as I tapped into my powers, hazy at first, but becoming clearer as Nona helped me channel the magic. By the time I was of age to marry, the visions were as clear and captivating as the stars in the night sky. They dominated my dreams at night and directed my steps by day. Sometimes they were simple: remove a bucket from Grandma Halda's porch so she would not trip upon it and break her hip. Sometimes they came when I called them: my best friend, Ellani, wanted to know the name of the man she would marry, and I told her. She was pleased: he was handsome and she had been looking his way for months. Most of the time, they were neither simple nor convenient, though. When Uncle Dom called me to his house to tell me I would be married, I knew it was wrong. I had seen myself leaving in several visions, and never with anyone like Cousin Andre, whom he had in mind for my husband. I tried to reason with him, but eventually my Nona was the only one he would listen to. She was the wise woman for our Family, and she affirmed from her own visions that I must leave the Family and strike out on my own, a wanderer. The magic willed it. Uncle Dom relented then, and allowed me my freedom. I left a week later, after bidding Nona a tearful goodbye. I have been traveling ever since, sometimes by foot, usually riding my broom. I occasionally write Nona, or call, when Andre happens to be around and have a cell phone for her to use. Mostly I just dream about the day when I can cease my lonely life.

Oh it's not too lonely, but traveling through towns like this as both a Roma and a witch makes me a double outcast, and I can feel the hostility in the way others look at me as I pass them. I didn't even bother trying to find a place to stay here. The town is too small, too close knit. Strangers are never welcomed with open arms in places like these. Instead, I walked until I found the highest point in town, on a cliff overlooking the sea and a lighthouse. There I bought a piece of property with the money I had saved from panhandling and “borrowing”. I built a small shelter with three walls and the basic necessities. As I lay down my bag and looked around the neighborhood, I could feel eyes on me. Despite the deal I got on this empty property, the neighborhood is fairly well-to-do, and I imagine they don't like the looks of someone like me moving in next door. Ah, well... they'll come around.

The first thing I did, of course, was find work. The shelter and property had cleaned me out, and I figure there's no time like the present. The visions had warned me I would be in this place for a long time, possibly the rest of my life, and if I was going to continue living here, I had to have something to survive off of. Imagine my surprise then, when I ran into a fellow Roma living right here in town!

Beau Andrews isn't exactly faithful to the Family, mind you. He left his Family years ago because of an arranged marriage to a girl he couldn't stand, and has been living like a normal Simerican ever since. Well... mostly normal. He runs a psychic service out of a colorful old wagon in the park very near to my land. Apparently the richer residents of the town pay good money to be told their fortunes and have their palms read. “They're so gullible they give you money to lie to them,” he laughed. I like Beau very much. He is jolly and carefree, everything a Romano should be. He is married to an outsider named Victoria, but he seems very happy. He gives me hope for my own life among these outsiders. I thank the magic for choosing a place where I will not be totally alone without my People to keep me company and watch my back. I expressed that I was looking for work, and he immediately offered me a job.

“But I haven't even told you if I have the Gift or not,” I protested.

He shrugged. “Doesn't matter. You look the part, and that's all our customers care about, so it's all I care about.”

Nevertheless, I confided in him about my powers. He nodded indulgently, but I could see in his eyes that he didn't believe me. He really has become an Outsider then, one who doesn't even believe in the magic wielded by so many of our people. This saddened me somewhat, but then he gave me instructions for coming to work the next day, and I immediately felt a little better.

After meeting Beau and taking care of my financial needs, I decided to take a stroll around town, trying to tap into the purpose for which the vision had led me here to Newcastle. I met a nice young man named Michael, and then stepped into the local gym where I introduced myself to another named Cycl0n3. Odd name, but he was a nice enough person. Nevertheless, I received no confirmation from speaking with either of them, not even when I shook their hands. The sky was beginning to darken as I hopped on my broom to take one last ride around town.

Bam!

It hit me, just as I turned the corner into a quiet little neighborhood near the outskirts of town. That electrically-charged feeling that always lets me know I am close to something I am seeking. I got off my broom immediately and rang the doorbell of the first house I came to. A young lady with pigtails came to the door and introduced herself, but when I asked if there was a man at home she told me her husband was out at the moment. Realizing I must have the wrong house, I apologized for my rudeness and excused myself. She followed me to the door and seemed genuine about her invitation to come back anytime. I was surprised by her friendliness. She said her name is Dorie and gave me her number.

“You must be new in town. If you're staying, just call me anytime you need something. Gus and I are always happy to help new neighbors!” she said brightly. I returned her smile, made a mental note to reward her for her kindness with a charm of some sort, and left.

There was only one other house in the neighborhood with the lights on, and it was across the street, so I walked over and once more rang the doorbell. An elderly woman answered the door and looked at me suspiciously. “You one of Xander's friends?” she asked. Not knowing who Xander was, I merely nodded. She gave me a cursory examination, rolled her eyes, and opened the door to let me in. As I crossed the threshold, I heard a man's voice coming from the living room.

“Bessie, who is that coming to our door at this hour?” he demanded.

“Just one of Xander's friends,” she replied, shuffling off and leaving me in the foyer. I heard the man snort.

“Boy, hangs out with all the lowlifes in this town.”

“Oh, leave it alone, Buster, you'll just get your blood-pressure up again,” Bessie chided him.

I looked around, and spotted someone moving in the kitchen. The electric charge feeling immediately spiked, as did my pulse. For the first time, I was nearly there. The object of my years of travel was within sight, and I found myself rooted to the floor for a moment with indecision. Somehow, though, I overcame it and walked toward the kitchen door.

A young man in a tank top and crooked baseball cap sat at the table, shoveling forkfuls of salad into his mouth. His back was to me, so I couldn't see his face at first, but then he turned. He had blue eyes and the stubbly growth of a blonde beard on his face. “Who are you?” he asked around a mouthful of lettuce.

I just looked at him for a moment. “I'm...” I suddenly felt like I couldn't catch my breath. “I'm... Moriah.”

“Moriah, huh?” he echoed, looking me over in a mannerism nearly matching his mother's. Unlike her, though, he didn't roll his eyes afterward, but smiled. That smile was like a dagger; it cut clear through me until I felt the almost painful realization that I would be with this man for the rest of my life. The magic willed it, and, even knowing no more than his name, I gladly accepted.

Xander and I stood in that kitchen chatting for over an hour. His last name was Clavell, I found, and he lived in the house with his mother and father. He got along with his mother alright, but his father and him were nearly at each other's throats most of the time. Mostly their issues stemmed from Xander's choice of career. “I'm a Decoy,” he said. “Work for some guys who run jobs out of the Organization's warehouse downtown.” He looked at me for a moment after saying that. “You're not from around here, are you?”

“What makes you ask that?” I asked, smiling.

“Most people don't like me too much. You know, cuz I'm basically a criminal.”

I shrugged. “We don't make such distinctions where I come from. Money is money, whether it's yours or mine. The one who has it only deserves it if they can keep it.”

Xander looked at me wonderingly. “What kind of place are you from?” he asked. So I told him. I told him about my people, the Romas, and our way of life. I told him about my Nona and my Family I had left behind. I told him about my parents and their deaths at the hands of police and about growing up with magic and visions. At the end of it he was looking at me strangely. Not the way Beau had, or even how most people looked at me. He was looking at me with... interest.

“What?” I asked.

“That sounds... freakin' amazing!” he said, taking off his hat and running a hand through his short-cropped hair. I smiled, pleased at his reaction. I was about to reply when his father, Buster, came barreling through the door.

“It's almost midnight!” he ranted. “Get your lowlife friends outta my house, and get to bed before I call the cops on you, you good-for-nothing mooch!”

Xander glared at his father, but the old man started for the phone, and he hastily took my arm, showing me back to the door.

“Sorry about him,” Xander mumbled. “He's a real jerk. Listen, can I have your number?”

I beamed, and gave it to him quickly, before stepping through the door and out into the night. He waved goodbye, and smiled before shutting the door, abruptly cutting off his father's angry ranting coming from the kitchen.

I was filled with hope and wonder the whole way home, and I barely noticed the dark or the cold. Those were things I was used to from my years of wandering. But this... this sense of belonging and peace from my constant search... this was new.

I went to bed under the stars with Xander's name on my lips, and when I closed my eyes, all I saw was his face. I am home.