Morina & the Switching Spell Ch. 01

Morina and the Switching Spell Ch. 01

Foreword:

This is a work of fiction set in Southern England in the Spring of 1944. All the main characters in the story are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. However, the names of some of the peripheral characters are real and included with the intention of honoring the real pilots who sacrificed their time and lives so that we can enjoy the freedoms we have today. Those characters are denoted with a star (*). Apart from that, the usual disclosure remains: All characters in this story are over the age of 18 and written as consenting adults.

This is written for the purpose of entertainment and is mostly, but not entirely, historically accurate. I hope that the relatively minor deviations from historical accuracy will not take too much away from your enjoyment.

Two attachments have been added to the end of the last chapter: an acknowledgement, and an afterword. The acknowledgement identifies and publicly thanks the individuals who have edited, offered character and plot suggestions, and translated some of the text into 1940's German. The afterword identifies those places where I have strayed from historical accuracy.

I owe a great deal of gratitude to other writers who have helped me with this story: Roce, TwentyNineSnow and KachinaDoll. As mentioned, their contributions will be explained in detail in the acknowledgement section at the end of the last chapter.

***

This is a prequel to "Mollified Magic," taking place some 80 years prior, and details the adventures of Molly's grandmother, Morina Spellman, during World War 2. Although it's not necessary to read "Mollified Magic" in advance of this story, doing so may give you some added insight into some of the characters. Oddly enough, the main female protagonist, Morina, doesn't appear in the first three chapters. I can't explain that except to point out that when it comes to witches, the only thing you can count on is their unpredictability.

Chapter 1: An American World War 2 pilot is a warlock.

17 April 1944, Monday around 1900 hours.

Capt. James Browning raised his glass. "Here's to Morley Eldridge-" he began.

"Captain Morley Eldridgsh!" Joe Fitzgibbons corrected, slurring his words.

"Right. Captain Morley Eldridge, for making the first kill of the 5-1-2 Fighter Squadron and the 4-0-6 Fighter Group!" Browning continued, "Well done, Lee!"

"Cheers!" "Congratulations!" "Well Done, Lee!" "Go Yellow Squad!" Reverberated from the pilots around the table.

"Captain Lee, itsh Captain Lee," Fitzgibbons insisted. He was both the skinniest pilot and the fastest drinker in the squadron. The strong ale had obviously gotten to him.

"Oh, fuck off, Joe, we're all captains here, no need to get your panties in a bunch," Martin exclaimed.

"I'm jusht giving the boy hish due, Mike. He'sh the firsht one of ush to down an en-emenity plane," Fitzgibbons retorted.

"Thank you, gentlemen," I said, modestly, "But I'd wish you call me by my legally adopted name of Spellman."

"Spellman?" Spinner questioned, "Not Eldridge? What's that all about?"

"It's an old family tradition on my mother's side from Salem, Massachusetts to follow the last name of my maternal family. Unfortunately, the recruitment officer on the draft board was the father of a high school rival of mine and out of spite, he put my father's last name down after I enlisted. I've spent my whole time in the Army trying to get that corrected," I explained.

The airmen of 5-1-2 Army Air Force Fighter Squadron around the table laughed as they downed their ales.

"You've already had your first kill in only a week," Browning said, "Keep that up and everyone will know your first and last name."

"Wait till they read about it in the papers back in Salem," Spinner added.

"Salem," Mike Martin said contemplatively, "Isn't that where they had the witch trials way back when?"

"Gentlemen, your glasses are empty," I said quickly, changing the subject, "Let me buy the next round."

I quickly got up and moved to the bar.

"Hey! No way, Spellman!" Spinner said, "You're our honoree, you don't buy the drinks."

"Oh, but I insist!" I retorted, "I wouldn't have made that kill if it wasn't for the RAF having my back. Besides, I was only up there because it was my turn."

"But we all agreed that--" Fitzgibbons began.

"And let's not forget RAF Squadron Leader Cummings' formation plans in the event of an attack," I added as I edged to the bar, "Sorry guys, but this one is on me."

I ordered two more rounds of ale. While the barkeep was pouring, I heard a pleasant, woman's voice behind me.

"I understand congratulations are in order, Captain," the woman's voice said.

"Spellman," I replied, turning around, "Morley Spellman. But my--"

She was beautiful. Her shoulder-length blonde hair perfectly framed her pretty face and soft lips. Her breasts were prominent but not overly large and filled out the top of her uniform nicely, making the unflattering Royal Women's Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) uniform she was wearing look attractive, commanding the eyes of every man in the room. She wore the double stripe of Flying Officer.

"--friends all call me Lee," I murmured nearly inaudibly, completing my sentence.

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain," the young woman replied, "I'm Agatha Brewster with the RAF 6-5 auxiliary."

"P-please call me Lee, Officer," I said shyly.

"Only if you call me Agatha," she responded, laughing.

Her crystal-blue eyes seemed to smile and twinkle at me. That casual laugh eased my nervousness and raised my curiosity. With her looks, she could easily have any man in the pub, so why was she talking with me? I wanted to see where this would lead.

"All right then, Agatha," I said, looking her in the eyes, "Since you're associated with the 6-5 can I assume you're also stationed here at RAF Ashford?"

"Most of the time, yes," Agatha said, "But the administration has me doing some courier work as well, so I'm only here part-time."

"Hey, Spellman! What'sh taking sho long with thosh alesh?" Fitzgibbons called out.

"Can I buy you a drink, Agatha?" I asked.

"From what I overheard, maybe I should be buying you one, Captain Lee," she replied, smiling.

"Just Lee," I said, "and where I'm from, the gentleman always buys the--"

"I'll take those," Browning said, suddenly appearing behind me and taking the tray of ales out of my hands.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll back away now," Browning warned in a low voice, barely audible above the din of the pub, "I hear she's dating British Squadron Leader Porter. We just got here, and we want to stay on good terms with those guys."

"It's alright, Captain," the attractive lieutenant said to Browning, "I just wanted to welcome the newest American hero to England."

She looked in my eyes and dropped her voice.

"I was wondering if I might have a word with you in private?" she asked, while casually pulling out a small pendant from under her uniform. The pendant was a black cauldron with three small diamond chips at the top, giving the appearance of a bubbling cauldron.

"Browning, tell the guys that I'll see them later," I said without taking my eyes off the pendant.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Browning said, walking away, "But call me if you need a wingman."

"What do you have in mind, Agatha?" I asked quietly, redirecting my eyes into hers.

"Follow me," she said, smiling seductively as she turned. She wound her way through the crowded pub. The pub was the only one open on an otherwise quiet night in Ashford, England. I kept my eyes on the back of her tight, blue skirt, as she headed towards the door. She ignored the various whistles and catcalls as she made her way through the crowd.

I was halfway across the room when I heard my name called.

"Hey, Spellman!" Spinner shouted, "Where do you think you're going?"

"With the lady. Don't wait up for me," I said smiling.

"I don't be-believe it," Fitzgibbons said, "L-look at that lucky bashturd go!"

"Don't forget about the Major's curfew!" Martin shouted, "Or your butt won't be worth a plugged nickel."

I quickly caught up with the curvaceous blonde just as she reached the door and held it open for her.

"Thank you, Lee," she said, smiling as she stepped outside. She walked past the transport lorry we borrowed from the airfield and opened the door of a nearby military staff car and told me to get in.

After we were seated, I pulled out my own pendant from underneath my uniform. Agatha smiled when she saw the black cat with green eyes made of emerald chips. The emeralds seemed to glow in the fading sunlight coming through the windshield.

"I'm sorry for being so forward, but I needed a way to pull you out of there without anyone getting too suspicious," she said in a business-like tone.

"I've only been in England since Wednesday; how did you know?" I asked, looking her in the eye.

"I overheard you say that you've adopted your mother's last name as a family tradition," she replied, toying with her pendant, "As you can see, my family has the very same tradition."

"My mother told me about the bubbling cauldron and the London Coven," I said, "I'm happy to meet you."

"And you," Agatha replied, "I find it interesting that your eyes are the same color as the black cat on your charm. Is that a coincidence?"

"You might call it a family tradition as well. How long have you been a full witch?" I asked.

"Shhh. Not here. We need someplace a little more secluded," she said as she started the car, "Don't worry, I'll have you back at the airfield in time."

She drove to a nearby wooded area where she parked the car.

She turned to me. "If you must know, I've been with the LC since 1940. Did you ask me that to find my age, Captain?" she asked. It was hard to miss the icy edge to her voice when she called me by rank, rather than name.

"Not intentionally. I was wondering why you were in the RAF. With your abilities, I'm sure you could have found methods for staying out of harm's way. But now that you've asked me and if I must be honest, I might have been thinking on a more personal level. Please forgive me if I was being too forward, Flying Officer," I replied deferentially.

Her icy glare softened.

"I should be the one asking for forgiveness, I shouldn't have taken offense to your question. After all, I was the one who approached you. Can we go back to using first names, Lee?" she asked. She looked like she was holding something back.

"Of course. In case you were wondering, I've been a full warlock a little more than 4 years," I volunteered.

She smiled, "I wasn't wondering that at all. Given your rank and appearance, I assumed we were about the same age. I am more interested in learning why you put yourself in harm's way by joining the air service. Surely with your abilities as a warlock, you could have avoided all this."

"I suppose it may sound corny, but I wanted to learn how to fly and serve my country, and I couldn't do that back in Salem," I answered.

"I see," she said, looking at me curiously. Agatha was suddenly quiet. There was something else.

"Why did you approach me and bring me out here? What's going on?" I asked.

She hesitated before she spoke.

"You asked me why I put myself in harm's way," she began, "have you seen what the Nazi rockets and bombers have done to England? No one in Britain has the luxury of sitting on the sidelines, not even the LC or AWC. We all have to do our part if we're going to survive," she replied.

"LC and AWC? What are you talking about?" I asked.

At first, she looked surprised at the question, then annoyed. "How could you not--" she stopped herself and gave a short laugh. "I guess I've been in the RAF too long. I've been using codes and acronyms for so long I've forgotten how to talk intelligibly. 'LC' is the London Coven. We are the largest of the three covens on the British Isles. The other two covens are in Ireland and the Scottish Highlands."

"Most of the witches and warlocks back in the states are fairly ignorant of the magical organizations here in England," I explained.

"The AWC is the Albion Warlock Council, and they preside over the British Isles. The name dates back since before the Romans," she continued.

"I might have guessed that over time but thank you for bringing me up to speed. However, you still haven't told me why you brought me all the way out here," I noted.

Again, there was a hesitation before answering.

"You're no doubt aware that the Allies are getting ready to open up a second front in northern France. After all, that is why you've been stationed here in Ashford," she said quietly.

"I haven't heard any official word about that, but everyone in the squadron guessed that's more or less the reason we're here. It also explains why the Army had us up and operational last Monday, just a day after Easter," I responded.

"In order to be successful, absolute secrecy is necessary," she reminded me.

"Of course. We heard what happened to the Canadians at Dieppe. The Germans were waiting for their landing force, almost as if they were tipped off," I noted.

"That's right. That's why the LC has been engaged in a massive counterespionage operation here. We've been able to use our spells and potions to not only locate German operatives, but turn them into double agents working for us," Agatha explained.

"That's impressive," I remarked.

"But we've hit a bit of a snag. We have reason to believe the Jerries have sent over some magical operatives as well. Some of them might even have been here before the war started. Until we can locate and neutralize them, the whole operation could be in danger," Agatha warned.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

She paused and took a deep breath, clearly preparing for what she was about to say.

"We could use you in intelligence," she replied, "Are you interested?"

"Intelligence? British or American? Do you mean giving up flying and work for OSS or MI-5?" I asked.

"No, you're too valuable for that," Agatha said solemnly, "I was wondering if you could help us in the CIM."

"The CIM?" I asked, "I've never heard of it. What is it?"

"You wouldn't have heard of it," she answered, "It's the Coven Intelligence Ministry, the counterspy network of the LC. We're the outfit that was tasked with the counterintelligence operation, except unlike MI-5 and the OSS, we've focused on Nazi witches and warlocks. We could use a good warlock like yourself."

"You're serious, aren't you?" I asked.

"I'm very serious, Captain," she replied.

"But if this is a coven organization, why would you need a warlock like me? I'm neither a witch nor British," I noted.

"That is precisely why we need you, Captain," Agatha replied, "We have strong reasons to believe there are spies within our organization. As a warlock, you would be outside the usual restrictions on witches and as an American, you'd be the last person anyone would suspect working for a British Intelligence agency."

"But I already have enough to do as an Army Air Force pilot," I argued, "When would I find the time for interrogating potential enemy spies?"

"I can help you with that," she explained, "In addition to civilians, British Intelligence also has reason to believe that there are spies among the armed forces. MI-5 has been combing the ranks among lower-level officers and the CIM has been working behind the scenes to assist them. You would be part of our eyes and ears within the Allied Air Forces at Ashford."

"Don't get me wrong," I said, "I would love to help, but I'm still new here and I don't know how I can be of service to you. Even if I find something suspicious, how would I let you know?"

"Leave that part up to me," she said, "I have a few connections in that area. Will you help us?"

This was all so sudden and unexpected. I joined the Army to help win the war, but spying was never on my to-do list. In the two years since joining the Army, I've had to hide my magical powers and use it surreptitiously to gain my position as captain, but here was a chance to use it in defense of the Allied powers. Being an airman was dangerous enough, but this would increase the dangers ten-fold. I was about to turn it down, but then I thought about Agatha's long pauses and hesitations.

"I - I'm already committed, aren't I?" I said, "You've revealed your secret organization to me, what would happen to me if I refused?"

Agatha didn't say a word. She just looked at me. I detected a slight tremor in her lower lip in the fading light.

"I see," I said, without waiting for her reply, "In that case, how can I help?"

Agatha broke into a smile, I thought I also saw a sigh of relief, but in that dim light, I couldn't be sure. She reached into her purse and brought out a small, cylindrical metal tube.

"I will contact you later in the week," she said, opening the tube of lipstick. She began to apply it.

"I guess you already know where to find me," I replied.

"Captain, I mean Lee, do you find me attractive?" she asked, after the lipstick was applied.

"Miss Brewster, I -"

"Agatha," she said, softly, "call me Agatha."

"Agatha, you are one of the most beautiful women I've ever met," I said honestly.

"May I kiss you?" she asked, smiling.

I couldn't believe my ears or my luck. Maybe it was the war, but things were moving quicker than I could have imagined. Before I could answer, she leaned forward and suddenly, her lips were all over mine.

Perhaps because it was starting to get dark, she didn't quite hit the landing field of my mouth, although she was close. She quickly moved her lips over mine and slipped her tongue briefly into my mouth and made a satisfying "mmmm" sound.

Then, just as quickly, she withdrew before I could reciprocate, but not before planting a peck on my right cheek. She reached up and rubbed my cheek slightly where she kissed me. Then she mussed up my hair.

"Don't wash it off right away," she said as she started the car, "I want your fellow pilots to see the lipstick on your face when you get back. That way, they'll assume we spent the time making out, rather than talking about espionage."

I felt disappointed.

"You mean that kiss was just a ruse?" I asked.

"I have to get you back to base before your curfew," she said smiling, "But if you must know, I find you attractive as well."

After 20 minutes of awkward silence, we were nearly back at Ashford when I finally posed the question I had been contemplating for the last fifteen minutes. "Are you seeing someone, Agatha?"

"You mean Nigel Porter?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the road ahead, "We've known each other since childhood, but there has never been any formal declaration, if that's what you're asking."

"Well, that," I said, "As well as the rumors that are likely to circulate about us."

"Nigel," she began before correcting herself, "Squadron Leader Porter knows nothing about our organization or the work that I do. In fact, he's under suspicion himself. Since you mentioned the catastrophe at Dieppe, he was a part of that operation."

"I didn't know," I replied.

"You couldn't have known. Nigel was in the squadron that was supposed to soften the defenses at Dieppe before the Canadian forces landed, but most of his squadron was decimated by the Luftwaffe before they got there," she said, "His was one of the few planes that survived. The Canadians, as you know, were not so lucky."

"But you've been seeing him?" I asked.

"Yes. We were in the early stages of making plans before the war broke out. I've kept up the relationship as a way of keeping an eye on him," she said with a tight lip and keeping her eyes on the road ahead.