New Orleans, LA  2003

"C'mon Bree, hurry up! It's time to get ready for church!" Tara shouted towards upstairs where her daughter was procrastinating. "I don't wanna be late because sitting in the back gets hot and I'm not trying to sweat out my curls!"

"Alright! I'm almost done!" Briseis leaned over the banister holding a curling iron in her head. She ran back to the bathroom to carefully release it and in the mirror, she frowned at the frizzly mop on her head wearing her little training bra her mom bought her this week. "Mama!" Briseis shouted to the mirror.

"What!"

"My hair looks like crap!" She pulled and fluffed the curly mess until she blew a raspberry at her reflection.

Tara put her wallet in her purse and frowned at the ceiling.  "Now what have I told her about that language, Bree?"

"You told me not to say sheeeit."

"Girl!"

Sorry! You said not to use it?" Bree shouted to her mother still looking in the mirror. Tara ran up and pushed her way into the bathroom, looking in the mirror as well.

"That's right, you little smart ass." Tara took the curling iron and unplugged it. "Swearing comes with mortgage, rent or bills, so until you get those things, you clam up with the street talk, you hear?"

"Yes ma'am." Bree shrugged then gasped at her mother's actions. "You unplugged the curling iron?  I want curls! Look at my hair!"

Tara smirked. "We're gonna be late you little diva 'cause I want curls'?" She mocked her daughter's child-like tone, going over the top with the hand gestures.

Bree frowned at her mother through the mirror and folded her arms.  She decided to do some roleplay herself. "You say I'm always like a tomboy.  You say 'Bree, how come your earrings aren't in your ear? Bree, learn to wear dresses and look like a young lady'. " She switched back to her young voice. "So now I got boobies and try to look like a lady and stuff and you call me a diva! It's not right, mama."

Tara giggled and kissed her daughter's head. "Girl, you are ridiculous. Okay, I'll finish up the curls, but it's gonna be for nothing if we have to sit in the back. Ain't no air conditioner back there so your curls are gonna fall. Alright?"

Breseis looked in the mirror and grinned at her mom. "Thank you," she said in a sing-songy voice.

"Oh, whatever you little brat." Tara plugged the curling iron back in. "And hey, don't go around bragging about them boobies, cause ain't everybody blessed like us.  Annnd you ain't dating till you sixteen anyway, so boop to that."

"Awwww mom!," Breseis groaned at her mother's decree, her shoulders dropping at the news.

"Don't 'awww mom' nothing. Now c'mon let's get these curls in so we can go."

Tara and Briseis stood in the back clapping along to the gospel songs as church went on.  Tara tucked her stringy hair into a bun and pinned it under her hat.  Briseis, who had no back up plan, just frowned as her floppy, damp, wanna-be curls stuck to her cheeks as she moved.  Tara gave her a smile and a playful nudge as they listened to the reverend conclude his service.

While her mother was talking with the reverend, Briseis was distracted by the voices of kids on the far end of the church grounds. Leaving her mom behind, she walked closer to where kids gathered around in a circle, looking at something on the ground. Pushing her way through, she saw a boy poking a dead cat with a stick. He laughed as he brutally poked at the animal corpse. Mixed sounds of disgust and laughs prodded the crowd. The scene was so potent, Breseis bit back tears until she finally grabbed the stick and pushed the boy. "Stop that! What's the matter with you?"

He staggered back, aghast. "Don't you push me! I was just playing around. It's dead so I'm not gonna touch it! It's gross!"

"Good, then leave it the hell alone!" Briseis kneeled down next to the cat's body and felt her eyes water.  It couldn't have died not too long ago. Most likely crawled to the grass after being struck by a car as the street was only a few feet away. The cat's fur wet and spikey with blood, its brown tabby stripes barely recognizable.  Its eyes were partially rolled up into its head and mouth slightly open, showing blood stained sharp teeth. It probably was a beautiful cat, but now it's here, but gone. 

I always wanted a cat. Her heart rung with sadness, no matter how often her mom explained death, she'll never in a million years understand how something or someone could be alive, breathing and happy one minute and lifeless the next. The world just didn't make any sense at all.

Briseis gently picked up the cat and cradled it in her lap. Hearing the jeers and disgusted groans of the children spectators, she found the voices to softly fade as she continued to focus on the cat. A thick silence washed over her, blocking out everything except her heartbeat. She wanted that heartbeat to belong to the cat. All she could think about is how badly she wanted to see its stomach rise and fall, taking breaths. Hearing it meow or yawn. Briseis wanted it to live. 

Rocking and focusing on the cat's body, a shock drove through her body like a lightning rod. Warm heat that flowed out from her toes to her fingertips. She gasped at the surprising jolt of energy and some kids backed away, spooked by her actions. Briseis looked down to witness the soft rise and fall of the cat's stomach, signaling breathing. The cat lifted its head and shook it, flinging little specks of blood on Briseis' blue Sunday dress. Frightened, she turned it loose, which landed on its feet and ran off through the crowd of children who parted the circle as it disappeared into the bushes. Some of the children stood in shock, others in awe on what they had just seen.  Even Breseis sat still on the grass as she watched the once dead cat spring to life and run off into the field. What was gone is here again.

This is impossible. She looked at her dirty, blood smudged hands and looked at them with amazement.  Is magic real? Holy sheeeit!

Suddenly, Briseis snapped back to reality as a forceful jerk of her arm pulled her up to her feet. It whirled her around so she could stare into her mother's shocked face. 

"Bree! Bree, what have you done?!"

"Nothing, mama." She stared into her mother's frightened hazel eyes. She looked around as she heard some kids shout at her.

"Bree saved the kitty!" One little girl yelled. "Bree brought the kitty back to life!"

Horrified, Tara pulled Bree away from them and the church. "Come here!"  

"Mama, I'm sorry, but did you see what I did?" Bree ran to keep up with her mother as they fled across the street. She never saw her move so fast, as if the devil himself was on her heels. "It was dead, mama. It was dead, but I saved it!" Bree had an air of pride and wonder in her voice. This was way cooler than getting another 'A' on a test.

When they finally got to the other side of the street, Tara grabbed Briseis by both arms and faced her. "Keep your voice down!"  She looked around, noticing some onlookers staring at them. Tara choked down her fear and realized it was she who needed to lower her voice. "Hush now. You have no idea what you've done.  You can't ever do it again, do you hear?" Not ever!"

Briseis frowned. "But why?  I saved it."

"It was supposed to die, Bree. It was its time to die. Do you understand?" Tara sighed as she stared at the confusion in her daughter's eyes. "That's life, baby. That's nature.  You can't go around upsetting it! It isn't right." 

Leary of the onlookers, Tara propelled Briseis further down the sidewalk towards home.

She didn't think something like this would happen. She prayed it wouldn't. Every night she prayed hoping that the bloodline of witches ended with her and not her daughter. She tried to do everything right, but somehow God saw fit to curse her anyway.  To give her daughter a gift He dares her to ever use. Most gifts she could have dealt with, but necromancy? Being able to raise and heal the dead?  Hell, she still heard of women being burned in the South for that suspicion and a lot less. Believers or not, people feared what they didn't understand and raising the dead wasn't natural or normal.  

She had to teach Briseis to never use it, lest they would be running from much more heinous things than religious zealots.

She pulled back to stop Tara from walking. "No mama! Stop!"

She turned around and proceded to dragged her. "C'mon baby we have to go!"

"No! I saved it!  I didn't do anything wrong mama. You told me the Lord loves good deeds, and I have a gift to do good deeds! You can't stop me from helping!"

"Ohh, yes I can!" Tara turned and grabbed her arms again. This time Tara's eyes were dark and they watered with not tears, but blood.  The look of it made Briseis scream until Tara shook her silent. "You hush now, you'll cause a scene." 

Briseis was shaking, seeing such a sight. "Mama? What's happening?"

Tara pulled her close. "Little bird, you have to listen to me.  We are all each other's got, baby, so I would never lie to you. Your gift, our gifts are not gifts, Briseis...they are curses, sweetheart. When we bring back a life when it's supposed to die, we upset a very old, very delicate balance. Nature's balance, God's balance. Whatever you wanna call it. We are not gods baby, we cannot challenge this. We are cursed witches, Briseis. We are feared and we are hunted. If it's not unhinged Bible-beaters after us, it's demons, or worse, angels.  We have to walk a fine line and play by the rules or we face their wrath." A bloody teardrop trailed down Tara's face as she told her thirteen year old daughter the horrible truth. 

"It's not fair, mama. It isn't!" Briseis shook her head in disbelief.

"I don't want you to bring anything else back. People are watching and people talk. You want a normal life? You want to live long and get married, have babies? Then you have to do what our kind has always done. You bury your gift deep inside you and you keep your mouth shut, you understand?"

Briseis, tears running down her face, took her dress and wiped her mother's face, seeing the red streak turn to only a light stain on her mother's pale face. She kept staring at her mother and saw the pain in her eyes. The sadness so deep, she felt it crest over her as well. Briseis broke down crying into her mother's arms.

"I'm so sorry! I just don't understand! I just wanted it to live. I didn't mean anything."

Tara gripped her daughter tight, as if she feared someone or something would carry her off from her forever. She should've been prepared for this. She should have been ready. Maybe she figured the sense of normalcy she projected would somehow protect them both. The one good thing she ever had in her life was destined to suffer and there was nothing she could do about it. "I know baby. It isn't your fault.  Necromancers are drawn to death, you couldn't help it, okay? But to keep us protected, you have to promise me that was the last time."

Briseis looked away.

Tara shook her. "Bree! Promise!"

Briseis finally faced her mother, at first with spite, then quietly nodded. "I promise."

Tara kissed her cheeks and stood up. "Good." She sighed. "Let's go home and get you cleaned up for Sunday dinner." She put her arm around Breseis and gave a soft smile. As they walked, she saw the cat staring at them across the street until it disappeared again into the shadows of the trees. She wasn't dreaming, it was true. She had the power to bring back the dead. Think of all the good she could do?

Despite her vow to her mother, she knew it wouldn't be the last time. In fact, Briseis was now determined to prove that her gift truly was a godsend. All angels and demons be damned.

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