Signal to Noise(36)

Sebastian groaned and hugged himself. He saw Meche bending down, also touching her midsection.

“Ouch,” he muttered. “What is that?”

Suddenly the room seemed to grow too cold, even for autumn and even for an abandoned factory. It was as though someone had opened a refrigerator door. Sebastian felt tired. He licked his lips and sat down.

“Man, it’s like I just ran a marathon.”

“It’s so... odd.”

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Meche said. “When I did that first spell by myself I slept for a long time and it was also very cold. But it hasn’t happened again.”

“Maybe it’s easier when we are all together,” Sebastian said. “Maybe we shouldn’t ever cast spells by ourselves.”

“Maybe that’s the whole point of the Witches’ Sabbath,” Meche said. “We are stronger together. Like a bunch of batteries in a remote control.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, teeth chattering.

“Come,” Sebastian said. “You can have my jacket.”

“I don’t want your jacket. I have my jacket.”

“I don’t want it,” he said, taking it off.

Meche hesitated. Then she sat down next to him, the jacket around her shoulders. She still shivered.

Sebastian’s eyelids felt like they were made of lead. His muscles ached.

“I need to rest,” Sebastian whispered.

He lay flat against the hard floor and though it was uncomfortable, he was too exhausted to care.

“You’re going to fall asleep here?” Meche asked.

“I can’t reach the door.”

“Okay.”

She lay next to him. The floor felt as cold as a block of ice. The only source of warmth was Meche’s body, curled up against him, as she hummed a tune he didn’t know. Sebastian rested his chin upon her head and closed his eyes.

He had this dream about a woman who was looking at him. She was standing on the other side of the street, and the sight of her made him very nervous, half-afraid. Her hair was short, her eyes dark and cold. Slowly he recognized her as Meche. An older version of Meche. He tried to open his mouth and say hello, but she walked away and he said nothing.

When Sebastian woke up it was dark. The factory looked spooky when it was shrouded by shadows like this. Light trickled through some of the window panes, creating puddles here and there. He looked down at Meche and for a moment he was afraid she had changed, that she changed into that strange woman with the short hair. But it was still his Meche, still a teenager, still the girl with the very long dark hair and the resolute mouth.

He stared at her, wondering if one day she might become that other Meche who did not seem to know him.

Meche opened her eyes slowly and stretched her arms.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Sebastian checked his cheap plastic wristwatch. “Past seven.”

“Ugh, we better head home.”





“SO WHY ARE witches always in groups?”

“Is it time to talk about spells again?” her grandmother asked.

Meche had Miguel Bosé’s Aire Soy on the record player and a glass of milk with her. She sat next to her grandmother, watching her as she knit.

“Yeah,” Meche said.

“A circle is the most perfect shape, isn’t it? A witches’ circle uses this perfect arrangement. It is wholeness, persons joining and connecting.”

Meche thought about records being essentially circles. Power harnessed into the right shape.

“But you can have lone witches?”

“You can. If they are powerful enough.”

“Did you know any lone witches?”

“Well, one hears a lot of things in a small town.”

“What did you hear?”

“I heard there was a girl in town who could talk to the stones.”

“That’s useful,” Meche snorted.

“It was. Every stone has a story. Imagine speaking to the stones in a house and learning the secrets of the people who live there.”

Meche decided that was actually a useful skill. She wondered if what they were doing with the records was something similar. Like listening to what the records were really saying while regular people could only hear the songs.

“Did you ever try to cast a spell?”

Her grandmother did not reply.





DANIELA WOKE UP feeling... odd. Not bad, as she had been feeling all day, but odd. The pain was gone but its absence was strange. She touched her lips, pressed a hand against her forehead. The skin felt cool. No trace of a fever.

This had never happened before. Curious, she tiptoed into the bathroom, careful to not wake up the girl sharing the hospital room with her. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin was normal. No telltale marks, no ‘butterfly’ rash across her cheeks. Daniela looked whole and healthy, as though she had not had a bad flare up.

Impossible. And yet theirs was now a world full of impossibilities.

Daniela smiled.





“IT’S AWESOME!” DANIELA said. “It looks great!”

“Duh. Did you doubt it would?” Meche said.

Meche and Sebastian had strung streamers around the room. Balloons dotted the floor and were taped to the walls. There was a big sign that said ‘Welcome back Dani.’ They had even baked a cake and frosted it pink.