Zoe frowned at the clothing she was wearing. A plain sweater, a collared shirt, slacks and loafers... it looked like an outfit better suited for Bill Cosby than a practicing witch. Of course, this was not the first ill-fitting outfit she had worn that day, in her two-dozen odd jumps so far; if she had survived a few hours as Bill Meadows, she could handle a few minutes as a conservative family... man? Probably a man. She just longed for her normal clothes; she put up with a lot of criticism and nasty looks for wearing her goth clothes but for Zoe it was worth it to be able to express herself. To have that ability to express herself taken away... it was worse than all the other indignities she'd had to put up with that day.
Looking around at the rather old-fashioned decor of the room, she caught sight of a reflection in the glass pane of a kitchen hutch. Walking to the hutch, she tried to get a better look. It was a little difficult to make out her current appearance; the reflection in the class was faint, and it was obscured by the dishes, the photographs, the ornate bible, and the other assorted knick-knacks inside the hutch. She was able to make out a head of greying hair and a beard, though, and the tall, thin figure of a man. He looked stern, even with Zoe's own personality shaping his expression, and she found herself feeling a little uncomfortable with his eyes on her.
"Zoe?"
Zoe turned and saw a conservatively-dressed woman who had just stepped into he kitchen. Between her clothing an her appearance she looked every bit as stiff and imposing as the man in her reflection; this was not someone Zoe would normally associate with. And though the woman had a clear look of recognition in her eyes, Zoe couldn't recall having ever met this woman. But Zoe knew by now that appearances, in the town's current circumstances, were typically deceiving.
"Do I know you?" Zoe asked the woman. And then a much more pressing question came to mind: "And how do you know I'm Zoe? Don't you see me as an old man?"
"No," the woman said, approaching her. "Zoe, it's me... Rachel Harris."
Zoe's eyes went wide. "Rachel? Oh my goddess, Rachel, thank goodness." She ran up to her friend, and the two of them hugged. Then Zoe pulled back and looked Rachel over. "Look at you, all good Christian woman on me."
"Look at you," Rachel said, with a smile that looked out of place on Rachel's current face.
"Touche," Zoe said. "Rachel... how did you know it was me? How did you see me instead of the man I've jumped into?"
"I've trained myself to see past the physical, Zoe. You know that."
"Yeah," Zoe said, reflecting. "Wow, that must be really useful right about now."
The two of them took seats at the kitchen table. Zoe looked around her at the Christian imagery decorating every corner of the room. "Jeeze, what have we jumped into, Rachel? A televangelist's heaven?"
"Close," Rachel said. "You're Jacob Foster... you're a Baptist preacher. Crazy, huh?"
"Oh, wow," Zoe said, a little taken aback at the irony of that. "Sure is..."
Rachel frowned. "Zoe... just a few minutes ago there was someone else in your body. Not Jacob Foster... a woman named Katie. According to the news, there haven't been any confirmed cases of anyone switching more than once. So how are you here?"
Zoe sighed. "I... cast a spell."
"A spell?" Rachel said. "What spell?"
"It was supposed to slow down the switches temporarily," Zoe said. "But something happened. I was interrupted and I botched the spell. And since then, I've been switching nonstop. I've lost track of how many bodies I've been in over the last couple of hours. It's... exhausting... and I'd wanted to find you and the rest of the coven, because I think I might have found a way to stop the switches, but I haven't been able to stay in one person long enough to even start looking for you."
"Oh, honey," Rachel said, stroking Zoe's hand. She was silent for a moment. Then, "Actually, I think I know a spell that might be able to help."
Zoe's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"I think so," Rachel said. "A binding spell would probably do the trick. Binding spells are normally used to bind familiars, or to tie down a wandering spirit to one physical location. Once I used a binding spell to force one of my old boyfriends to sit down and talk to me." She chuckled. "But... I think it could also be used to temporarily bind your spirit to a particular physical aura... that should stop you from switching, at least long enough for us to find the coven, meet up, and cast this spell of yours."
"Great," Zoe said. "What's the spell? How do I cast it?"
"I know the spell," Rachel said. "I can cast it for you. But I would need supplies from my shop. I don't know how long you think you'll be in Jacob's aura..."
"Not long," Zoe said.
"Okay. Then get to the shop when you can. I'll work on preparing the spell, maybe see if I can find the other girls. Goddess willing, we can lock you down."
"Okay," Zoe said. "I'll see you s--"
But her words were cut short by a blinding flash of light.
Athena took off the awful skirt and blouse she'd been wearing for the last couple of hours. Looking through her closet, she found a much more suitable dress and corset and slipped into them, finishing off her outfit sit a pair of boots. Looking in the mirror, she wasn't quite satisfied with her look. The dress and corset fit the girl in the mirror poorly; she was shorter and a bit skinnier than Athena, and so they drooped a bit on the mirror-girl's body, even though the corset was laced as tight as it would go on Athena's own figure. And the girl in the mirror wasn't wearing any makeup at all, much less the dark makeup Athena favored. Athena had more pressing concerns than applying makeup, though, and she wasn't sure she even had any makeup that would suit this girl's much darker skin tone. At least she didn't look like she belonged in a convent anymore, thugh, and for that at least, Athena was grateful.
She was certain her parents wouldn't approve of her putting her goth clothes back on. Athena's parents had never been happy with her lifestyle. They were conservative Christians; they weren't exactly burn-the-witch types like that crazy woman who had been preaching outside the church where Athena had first jumped into this girl, or the cheerleader who had pestered her relentlessly and kept calling her "Angie" until Athena had shaken the girl. Her parents did have firm values that Athena simply didn't share, however; and that conflicted with the life that Athena preferred to live.
It had amused her endlessly, then, to come home and find her mother as a green-haired, mohawked boy with more piercings than even Athena had herself. He was the sort of boy her parents would have frowned upon, so seeing her mother looking like that had been well worth the time she'd spent as Angelina Rodriguez. Athena's sister, meanwhile, had traded up; she'd turned from a shy, awkward twelve-year-old to a gorgeous twenty-five-year-old. Athena was happy for her sister; unlike her parents, her sister had always been pretty cool about the goth stuff and the witch stuff. Athena's father was still MIA, though she was sure he would turn up eventually.
Content that she at least didn't look like a bible-thumper anymore, Athena went around her room and gathered up a few of her magic books and supplies. Tossing it all in her bag, she hoisted her bag over her shoulder and headed downstairs. Her mother, catching sight of Athena as she passed through the foyer, began to nag her about her clothing, as Athena had expected; but Athena strode right past, slamming the door shut behind her. She didn't have time to put up with her mother's garbage right now. She needed to get to the occult shop to meet up with her coven.
