Wicked Casters

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga.

For anyone who has read my stories, I like to change things up and remove the main female character and replace them with an OC. So meet Eleanor Rivers and Ginger Ives, which who go by the name Casters. So you know there is going to be a mix of American Horror Story: Coven and Beautiful Creatures . . . just because I'm bored.

Summary: There is another world filled with magic that is slowly reduced, as Casters become a dying breed. Eleanor and Ginger are one of few witches alive as they move into Forks Washington to control their magic. Little did they know they would be encountering their kind most dangerous enemy, let alone the mysteries in the Olympic Peninsula?

Chapter 1: Welcome to Forks

Eleanor POV

Two men dressed in black suits escorted me through the airport dragging my luggage along the entrance. One gentleman was albino as the other dark skin whiles both wearing sunglasses. The past weekend has been a stressful after the death of my mentor, my grandfather. Our kind takes mourning seriously as I wore black as well. The weather cold in Massachusetts as the sky is clouded, practically flurry on this afternoon.

Yet there is another reason why I have to move. I was not visiting Massachusetts for my grandfather's funeral. In fact, I live in this state in the most notorious city that is known for dark history. If you can figure it out and answered correctly, I live in Salem Massachusetts. And yes, I'm a witch. We prefer the word Casters.

Your life could change overnight or a single breath. When a child of a Caster family turns thirteen they are given a test to prove if they have the gene. A test of three tasks that are telekinesis, pyrokinesis, and jinxes. If a child manages to accomplish any of the tasks then they separated from their biological parents and handed over to eh council where they are decided who would be the casters mentors. Sometimes the council will return the child to their parents if the parent is well trained, other times to their grandparents, but some are not so fortunate.

I was one of those children who got separated from their parents. For the past four years I've been living with my grandfather in Salem learning the art of witchcraft to find my prime abilities. Luckily my family lived in the next state over and saw them every other weekend, holidays, and summer. Yet I pity for those who are sent across the entire country or worse sent abroad to master their powers.

The magical genetic affliction has been fading the past century. It is uncertain what is causing the pandemic, other than the belief of cross breeding with normal people, or as in Harry Potter societies labels it, muggles. Some believe that it's the lack of belief in the world and centuries before that we were worship that of priests and priest to the gods. Then came monotheism, oh let's not forget the witch hunts as well. As of now it runs nearly a thousand families, but apparently in every other generation, or in every boy and girl.

We read about the Salem Witch Trials, like it was the Holy Bible. I paid more attention to it, compare to the normal students in my class. Those people who were trialed weren't even witches. The real witches were cunning and careful not to be caught. In fact after that they got the hell out of sacred ground for the second time. They fled. As far south as they could go, rekindling ties with brethren from the French covens, that is how New Orleans became the new Salem. Before the Salem coven migrated south, before Salem, the New World in general, their coven originated from England. However an Anglican pastor in London knew the secrets of our society and hunted down Casters like vermin in the 1600's. Yet it wasn't entirely the Casters he was seeking.

It was another race of creatures that go lurking in the night where nightmares feast upon. Like any human Casters despise these being as the next pope. Vampires. There was a time Vampires and witches coexisted, but once werewolves got involved the balance between the sun, moon, and stars diminished. So far I haven't seen a vampire and I prey to the gods I don't.

Anyway, back to the main point. With my grandfather now decease the Council is sending me away to live with another Caster in some logger/ fishing town in Washington. From the information the Council gave me, this small town is under a near constant cover of clouds and rain, called Forks. Forks located in the Clallam County in the Olympic Peninsula. Population, 3,120 people. Number of soon to be Castors . . . three. I, another pupil, and our new mentor Madame Zelena Bishop.

Great gossip is spread throughout the world of Madame Zelena, having seven of the supreme abilities and more. She would have taken place in the hierarchy representing the United States; instead she chose a solitude life in isolation. She makes an accepting to participate in the Caster community by taking young girls and train them to successors. An honor and disappointment to be farther away from my family.

Once getting baggage settle, tickets checked and on board the plain, the two body guards lead me to center front of the first class. I obediently sat in the middle seat while both men sat on the aisle chairs. No words were exchange other than gestures when the flight attendant asked if we like to drink or complimentary meals. Let me say seven hours is pure torture. Luckily I manage to bring a book and my iPod as Mr. Black and Mr. White stare into the monitor or checking their watch. In case you are wondering these two men are not Casters, they are guardians. None magical casters; who sole purpose are to protect young witches and wizards when transporting them to their destination.

The reasons are taken seriously from the Vampire Coven in Italy taking interest in gifted mortals.

After seven hours and thirty minutes we arrive to Seattle, there we took a rented car on another three hour drive to Forks. Mr. White drove as Mr. Black kept silence in the passenger seat. I sat in the back staring out the window connecting the elements around us. The scenery held a misty eerie tone. Everything was green, from the trees covered in moss, untamed grass, and the somewhat algae clinging to any surface. So much life in this damp temperate deciduous forest. Just taking a deep breath you can smell the rain, the evergreen, and my favorite mist.

The one thing about being a caster is the spiritual connection with the earth.

Eventually we arrived to Madame Zelena's cabin on the far side of Forks isolated from the townspeople by a mile. A cabin lake house, about two stories with a separated garage. The wood practically weather worn and damp as the cobblestone portion invaded by vines, while on the roof fallen leaves and vines decorated it. Rosemary by the garden gate, lavender for luck, and wind-chimes hanging around the porch. Very whimsical and deviant in a certain way. Just how a Casters would like her wicked home.

I got out of the car and headed to the front door. The moment I got on the front step a taxi pulled into the driveway. I stood there wondering if it was Madame Zelena, however it wasn't she. Instead a young girl about my age came out. She was petite with tan pretty teenager, having a light complexion with dark blue eyes and poppy red hair that could have been dyed recently. Dressed in a army jacket, cargo pants, and some printed beater that held the wiccan pentagram. She must be the other pupil as she wore the castor style.

"Hey, I'm Ginger." She greeted, having a preppy attitude even if her attire screamed punk.

"Eleanor," I replied shaking her hand.

.o0o.

Ginger POV

I stared at Eleanor in surprise. She looked much different than I would have expected of a witch. All the witches I have met dressed sophisticated or in some vintage attire, then again I was in New Orleans. But Eleanor is completely opposite, physically tall, fair skin, and brunette hair. What creeps me out were her eyes being hazel in a starburst pattern of greens and brown trapped in a black ring. Let alone her attire of a black lace-up sleeve jacket, grey tank, slim black jeans, and boots. If she goes to Hottopic then I like her already. I guess what you read about witches is utterly stereotypical.

Then again I discovered I was a witch last year and been in training in New Orleans at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. Sadly the school had to close temporarily from the lack of students . . . aka I'm the only one. And this supposes Council assigned me to merry old Rainy Ville. God, I miss New Orleans already. I'd miss the heat. I'd miss the sun. And most importantly, I'll miss Mardi Gras.

"So um, you are a real witch or did you just find out?" I asked sheepishly.

Eleanor stared at me strangely, "Late born?"

Late born, a term used for witches if their magic does not appear of coming of age. I nodded, "That and I was adoptive."

She nodded not putting much question into it, "House of Rivers."

"Oh," I said surprised. This would be a first to meet a full blood, if not raised witch. "Eleanor Rivers, kinda catchy."

She snorted, "Well, you keep up to your name."

I chuckled, "What can I say, I'm a rebel."

We share a giggle before the two guys who came with Eleanor set her luggage, and surprisingly my luggage on the curve. The taxi driver was gone; follow by the two guys who simply drove away. Are they seriously leaving us in the middle of nowhere? I look at Eleanor in question, which she simply shrug knocking on the Victorian doorknob. Um . . . what's wrong with the bell?

A moment later a woman in her mid-thirties answers the door. She was pale to the bone, hair blonde in curls, and vibrant green eyes. She corrected her glasses, "Can I help you two?"

"Zelena Bishops," Eleanor said.

"That would be me," she confirmed.

"Sun, moon, and star," my new friend said.

Zelena Bishop stood up straight removing her glasses looking completely different than a moment ago, "I've been expecting you two. Come in."

Whoa, just like that? I thought as we gather our luggage and enter the cabin.

It took two trips to get our stuff upstairs. I got the east side of the house that faced gravel road that lead to civilization. The room seemed character, as the previous witch took better care if not taste in the romantic appeal. The dark hardwood floors, one wall painted red while the others in grey with black trim. The full-size bed pressed against the red wall with iron framing. There was a desk and a dresser too, also a few accessories of golden accent lamps, mirror, and other things. Funny how witches can be these days.

There were two bathrooms upstairs. Zelena having the master bathroom in her private courters while Eleanor and I shared the family. I prayed to god she is not all fashion of makeup and hairstyles. But for meeting the girl she seems less into girly stuff and more into basic. Hardly a trace of massacre.

I don't know what it is, but ever since finding out I am a witch . . . things turn for the better. Better as in growing up as a foster kid after my dimwitted mom got into a horrible relationship with her boyfriend who was abusive. One punch in front of the neighbors and social services came knocking on the door, discovering the hellhole I lived in for thirteen years. The next two years I've been house jumping from different family, some were okay, but others were down right horrible. You know, the foster family taking the kid in for the support funding, the money that is supposed to go into food, school supplies, and clothing, not smokes, drugs, and alcohol.

I don't know what I would do, at fifteen I was considering of running away. Until one day I had an accident in lighting a person on fire. Here's the catch, there was no lighter or flammable igniter on me. Still being the unfortunate person after releasing an irritated huff, I was sent to police state waiting for whomever to pick me up. Instead of a foster parent or social working, a man dress in sophisticated clothes comes in and bails me out telling me my story.

Turns out the sperm donor was a wizard.

Any who, my life has gotten better and living out of my favorite fiction novel with a modern twist. To discover you are a witch changes things. How I am able to manipulate the paranormal that defies the laws of physics. Sad part is no flying broom that is all media there.

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What do you guys think?

I know it's something new and I might continue doing it once I finish on my other story "Midnight Howl".

Please leave a review and tell me what you think.