Rachel and Quinn: Witch Hunters!

Prelude

When the Witch Accords were signed among the great magical Houses following the massacre of so many innocent women and girls in Salem due to the actions of only a few, a solemn oath was sworn to ensure that any witches found to be in violation of the Accords would be hunted down and imprisoned, no matter what or how long it took. The document had been signed in Witchblood, sacred and inviolate, binding upon the whole of Witchkind. Any witches foolish or arrogant enough to break the laws set forth in it would be declared pariahs and renegades, subject to any and all efforts required to subdue, capture and remove them from society. It was the unanimous will, therefore, of the Witch Council that the daughters of the two greatest Houses would be honored with the task of bringing to magical justice any witches who refused to abide by the Accords. The Houses to whom this most solemn and sacred task was entrusted were those of the wisest and most powerful witches in the world: House Berry and House Fabray. And so it was that their daughters, and their daughters' daughters, would be known forevermore, as...Witch Hunters!

chapter one

Lima, Ohio, is a small town that contains a lot of weirdness in it. Of course, most of its residents are unaware of that little fact, and that's a good thing. It wasn't always this way, though. It used to be that the weirdness was concentrated in larger, more sprawling places like, say, Cleveland or Cincinnati or even Dayton. But more recently it's been found to have moved to the smaller, bucolic suburbs of places like Belleville, Carmel and now, Lima.

Which is not a smart move for any denizen of the dark to make.

Quinn Fabray wakes up before her alarm clock goes off (yes, she still uses one of those; she's kind of an old-fashioned girl that way), eyes wide open, senses cast out in search of any unusual forces or vibrations in the etheric sphere. She feels just the tiniest bit of something, but can't quite pinpoint just what it is. Well, no matter. Whatever – or whoever – it might be, she'll figure it out soon enough. And then she'll deal with it.

You mean we'll deal with it, a sweet, lilting voice in her mind reminds her.

Quinn laughs at the musical sound. Yes, of course. Good morning, Rachel.

How are you? Did you sleep well? Rachel's disembodied voice asks.

Could you put yourself on visual, please? You know it makes me feel weird to be talking to you without seeing you.

What, and let you see me before I've gone through my morning hygiene ritual?

I've seen that before, Rachel. And may I say, I wouldn't exactly be opposed to seeing it again in person?

Duly noted, Rachel laughs. And neither would I. We'll have to make some plans. That is, if our mothers ever let us out of their sight again.

Well, how was I to know that...well, that would resonate so strongly on the etheric plane?

Quinn blushes. It had been so worth her mother's ire, and the punishment that followed.

As much as I hate to admit it, I wasn't aware of that inconvenient fact myself. Although I think maybe it wasn't so much the one time that did it. I think it was the fact that there were so many, so quickly -

Okay, okay. Whatever the case, I'm lucky my mom lets me out of the house to go to school or, you know, hunt evil, these days. Quinn pouts. It really has been too long since they've been able to get together for anything else.

She has to get over it eventually. After all, she knows that you can't be what you are and be grounded and have a curfew. I get that she wants to treat you like a normal teenager, but you're anything but that.

Quinn frowns at the sound of her mother's voice calling her downstairs for breakfast. Groaning, she throws off the covers and sits up in her bed. Just once, she'd like Judy Fabray to sleep in and just let her daughter fix herself a bowl of cereal or something instead of the "complete and balanced breakfast" she insists on making every morning.

She opens her bedroom door and yells through the opening that she'll be down in a minute.

Well, Judy's up and cooking, so it's time for me to go. Meet me at my locker?

Of course! I still need to shower after my elliptical workout. You know how sweaty I get after that.

God, Rachel! You can't say things like that this early in the morning. Now my shower will have to be cold. Thanks a lot.

You're welcome. See you soon!

Quinn feels Rachel's presence vanish from her mind and immediately misses the contact. She smiles, thinking about how they'll soon see each other in school. Her mother calls again. Sighing, she jams her feet into her slippers and half-walks, half-stumbles, still slightly sleepy, down the stairs to greet Judy Fabray in her glory: plate of pancakes in one hand, spatula in the other, smile on her face. Her strawberry-blonde hair is bound up in a perfect bun; a spotless white apron is draped over her simple pink dress.

"Good morning, mom," she says. She kisses her mother on the cheek, takes the pancake-laden plate from her and places it on the kitchen table. The chair scrapes at the floor when Quinn pulls it away from the table, and Judy frowns at the unpleasant sound.

"Good morning, Quinn. Did you sleep well?" Judy asks, gesturing with a nod of her head to the stove. Quinn absently waves her hand, and the flame under the pan vanishes. "It seemed like cheerleading practice tired you out pretty badly yesterday."

"I'm fine, Mom. Yes, Coach Sylvester makes us work hard, but that's because she just wants us to be the best," Quinn replies. She pours a generous amount of maple syrup onto her pancakes. Ah, the benefit of Witchkind metabolism. "It's nothing I can't handle."

"Mm-hmm. I don't know - it seems that being involved in both cheerleading and the Glee Club is an awful lot to deal with, on top of your class work and...other responsibilities."

"Oh, just say it, Mom. You don't want me spending so much time with Rachel. I know you're not entirely thrilled that I'll never date the star of the football team the way you did with Dad, but she makes me happy. I wish you'd just accept that already."

Judy's smile thins into a tight line. "Now, honey. You know I like Rachel. She's a very sweet and talented girl. I just think that maybe this is kind of a phase, like the time you wanted to be a firefighter and an astronaut when you were little."

Quinn groans around a mouthful of pancake. "For the millionth time, Mom, it's not a phase. It's not some kind of experiment, either. Rachel and I...we have something really special together. I feel it every time I'm with her."

"But she's..." her mother pauses, searching for the right word. She wants to say this carefully, not wishing to upset her daughter further. "You know."

"Jewish? Yes, I know, and I don't care. Honestly, mom. Give me a break."

"No, not that. She's...she's a Berry, Quinn. You know what a Berry did to one of your ancestors."

"The Betrayal?" Quinn rolls her eyes. Not this again. "You're seriously going to hold that against her? Mom, that was 250 years ago. Are you actually going to keep that grudge going? It's old news. Time for the family to get over it already. I trust Rachel. I like being with her. I might even be in love with her, Mom. Please try to respect that."

Judith Fabray's face darkens, and her lips twist with anger. "Because you're my daughter and I love you, I'll respect it, Quinn – but I don't have to like it. One day, though, mark my words – the Witch Council will change the Accords, and then our family can be avenged!"

Quinn jumps up from the table, furious. Her mother flinches back, startled by her vehemence.

"Which means what, Mom? You'll have one or both of Rachel's fathers killed? Or her mother? Or maybe even – goddesses of the Witchblood, forgive me for even thinking this – Rachel herself? Well, let me tell you something: I will die before I let that happen!"

Her mother's voice sounds far older, far deeper than Quinn has ever heard it when she speaks next, in a slow but deadly cadence, steeped in menace. There is a dire warning here. When the old blood speaks, it is wise to listen, the ancient Witch proverb says.

"You would choose a Berry over your own kin, daughter? Truly? Consider this carefully. The Fabray blood is slow to rise, but quick to strike. You forget who you are. We were meant to rule Witchkind. Power shared is power diminished. The Accords will be the undoing of us all, one day. Heed these words, and know their truth, Lucille Quinn Fabray. Dismiss them at your peril."

Quinn is shaken, but she'll be damned if she lets the hateful thing inside her mother see it. She knows it's not really Judy spitting these baleful words at her, but can't help but be stung by them all the same.

"Great-grandmother.," she says, her voice dripping with disdain. "How...unpleasant it is to hear from you again. Let me give you some words to heed: GET - the - hell – OUT - of – my - MOM!"

She raises both hands in fury and summons her power, focusing it on the entity using her mother's mouth to give voice to its centuries-old hate. A soul-tearing shriek rips forth from her throat, and the entity howls in impotent protest as Quinn banishes it back to the corner of Judy Fabray's mind that serves as its prison.

Quinn slumps back into her chair, and instantly she feels Rachel in her mind once more. Strength flows into her, freely shared. It's okay now, sweetie. Your mom is safe now. You're safe. One day we'll get this curse lifted from her, I swear.

"Yeah. One day," Quinn whispers. Her mother moans, and her head snaps up as though she's just been awakened from a deep, deep sleep by a jolt of electricity.

"Quinnie? It...it happened again, didn't it?" her mother says. It's not really a question. "I'm so sorry, honey. You know I didn't mean any of it...right, sweetheart? You know I didn't."

Quinn Fabray, scion of the Witch House of Fabray, wearily rises from her chair, T-shirt and loose, billowing lounge pants singed by magic unleashed, and gathers her mother into a strong embrace. A single tear tracks down her cheek.

"I know, Mom," she whispers into her mother's ear. "I know."

Long seconds later, she releases Judy from her arms. "I have to get to school, Mom. Will you – will you be all right?"

Her mother gives her a tired smile, meant to reassure. Quinn steps back to allow Judy to rise from her chair. "Yes, I'll be fine. I just need to rest for a little while. You go get yourself ready for school now." Quinn watches her with concerned eyes. "I'm all right, Quinn. Get going. You don't want to be late and keep Rachel waiting for you, do you? Go."

Rachel's voice, calm and strong, speaks in her mind. Quinn feels it wrapping itself around her like a soft, warm blanket, and she revels in the sensation.

She's all right, Quinn. It's asleep again - and after the way you blasted it, it will be a good long while before it wakes up again.

"Okay, Mom," she finally says, still eyeing her mother gravely. "But if you need anything – anything – just call me, and I'll be here. And I don't mean on the phone."

Judy is already re-tying the apron she's wearing, and gestures a hand in dismissal. "Yes, yes, yes, of course, Quinn. Now will you please get going? I'm the mother here, not you."

Come on, Quinn. Leave her be. You know how it is...after. She needs some time.

Nodding warily, Quinn turns on her heel and climbs up the stairs, heading for the shower. She knows the water's already running before she gets to the bathroom.

I'll warm up the water for you.

Quinn smiles. You always know just what I need.

Downstairs, Judy Fabray cleans the sticky plates in the sink, humming an aimless, nameless tune as she does. And in a deep, dark corner of her mind, bound in darkness, a crone's voice mumbles faintly, ever so faintly, speaking in its sleep, dreaming of vengeance.