The Skinwalker's Apprentice by Claribel Ortega Page B

Priestess’s words from her first day, “I will cancel this apprenticeship and notify the entire Coven of the transgression. You will most likely be stripped of your right to practice magic as a free witch. It would be an utter disgrace upon you and your family.”
    Rules, expectations, what was proper and what was not. Those were the things that reigned over Margo’s life. There was no room for debate or misunderstanding. It was black and white in her world, with the villagers, her parents, and now The Priestess. Margo felt sick, as if her entire head were being submerged under water. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. And then, in an instant, the world around her fell black.
    She stopped. The sun, which was growing furiously over the horizon a moment before, was gone. The crisp wind, which had been biting at her face as she ran, was now a gentle breeze, still cold, but much stiller. She looked around, and the forest all around her was empty. Had she run into some enchanted area of The Priestess’s house without noticing? But then she realized she hadn’t gotten that far. No, she was still on the dirt path towards the stone house. She turned on her heels and started walking home in a daze, breaking into a run after about ten steps. When she reached her front door and pushed it open, she found her entire family asleep. Her father was rubbing his eyes sleepily as he sat up in bed.
    This was most unusual. She had seen her father begin to ready himself for work. And now here he was, in his sleeping dress, lying next to a still slumbering Elisabeth at his side.
    “Father, why have you gone back to bed?” asked Margo, still frozen in the doorway.
    “Back to bed? I have not been out of bed since last night,” he said in a surprised tone.
    “But this morning we spoke … ”
    “Perhaps it was a dream. Or perhaps you are overtired, child,” said Nathanial as he swung his long legs out of the bed. He looked at the clock on their fireplace.
    “Why, it’s only five a.m., Margo, why are you up so early? And dressed already?”
    Margo swallowed hard. She was sure that she had left the house at exactly seven forty-five.
    Had her father turned the clock hands back as a joke? She couldn’t imagine why he would, and that wouldn’t explain the sky turning black suddenly.
    “Since we’re both up,” said Nathanial sleepily, “may I have a word, Margo?”
    The same words he’d spoken this morning, or whenever that conversation had taken place. In her dreams, maybe? Margo was stunned silent, and she stumbled towards a chair, plopping herself down and putting one hand on her forehead.
    The disappearing sun, the clock, her father still asleep; no, it had not been a dream, for she could feel her face still warming from the cold of the outside, the hems of her skirt covered in thistles from the forest. She had run out of the house this morning in a rush, and her father had spoken to her. There was only one other explanation, but she didn’t want to believe she was capable of it. She didn’t dare.
    “What’s the matter, darling?” her father asked with a concerned tone in his voice.
    “I … think I’ve just reversed time, Father.”
    Nathanial walked towards his daughter and sat down in silence. He took her hand in his and the two sat like that until the sun began to rise again.

Chapter 13
    New York, NY
    October 5 , 1984
    There was only one more place Emerald could think of to go. She said goodbye to Charlie, promising for the twentieth time that she wouldn’t forget what they’d talked about as he walked her to the Dekalb Avenue subway station. She boarded the B train and hurtled through the dark tunnels towards Hell’s Kitchen.
    Emerald reached her stop and pressed play on her Walkman. She had been so wrapped up in thinking about Charlie’s suggestion, she’d completely forgotten she’d had her headphones on the entire thirty-minute train ride over. The thought of having something to look forward to made