First Born

It’s started the moment he met Stick.

“So why did you choose me?” He asked him. 

“Because your mother made a stupid decision, but was smart enough to divert attention from the assholes up top. You know about witchcraft, kid?” Stick didn't turn to look at him.

“Yeah,” Matt took a generous lick of his ice-cream. “They take people’s souls don’t they?”

“Well, that’s occasionally part of the deal,” Stick chuckled. “More often it’s something physical. Your mom made a deal with a Witch, and she owed em’ her first-born. She wasn’t magical, they didn’t think her kid would be magical…but surprise, surprise your father was and he laid a pretty good enchantment on you that kept you safe from us. If he wouldn’t have died, maybe we’d have never found you.” Matt thought Stick sounded impressed.

“My dad was a Witch?” Matt furrowed his brow, “No. He couldn’t have been, he would’ve told me. Witches are girls anyway, right?” 

“Witches, Warlocks- semantics don’t matter…but your dad was not officially a Witch. In order to be a Witch, he had to be part of a coven. He’s what we call a Matchless. The Matchless are naturals with magic, but haven’t been claimed by any coven or formally taught. ”

“So if my dad was a Matchless…what am I?”

“You’ll be a Witch soon. That’s what we do for Claimed first-borns who are lucky enough to have magic.”

And so Matt was trained. Sure, Stick taught him a lot more than magic. All kinds of fighting styles, how to use his senses…but magic was also part of the deal.

“After we’re done training you’ll be assigned a charge,” Stick dodged a blow from Matt and hit him with his cane.

Matt fell to the ground and groaned. “A charge?”

“Claimed first-borns are used for charges. It's pretty much part of the deal: if a Regular gives up their kid, then the Witches take them.  If you’re not given some kind of job they’ll hunt you down and give you one,” Stick continued to talk as Matt got up. “Regulars have a habit of summoning Witches and somebody needs to do their dirty work.”

Regulars, Matt had been taught, are simply people without magic. Matt didn't like the term very much, it made it seem like they were separate than him- lesser, somehow...but he knew just because he had magic it didn't make him any better than people who didn't.

“What do you mean?” Matt rubbed at the newly formed bruise on his side.

“Well, a really long time ago some asshole Regular discovered that Witches could be summoned with a kind of ritual. It has to do with how magic works when you’re part of a coven...Witches like to stay together, they create a very clear magical imprint that's easy to take advantage of when you know how to do it. Witches had to choose people responsible for certain areas, give them their charge…and so there’s usually some poor Witch who deals with whatever a Regular wants in a certain area. The New York coven is separated into a number of different charges, they try to keep it within a few blocks so it's not chaos for whoever has the job... That’s what Claimed first-borns are for.” 

“Do I have to do that?” Matt didn’t like the sound of it...being called at random to do the work of somebody who he doesn't know.

“That or they lock you up for avoiding work. Magical prison isn’t the same as Regular prison, kid. It’s significantly worse.” Matt thought it sounded like Stick spoke from experience.

When Stick left him Matt had thought that meant he didn't have to be a Witch anymore. Maybe, he could be normal, or a Matchless like his dad- but only a day after Stick abandoned him somebody else came to him at the orphanage…somebody part of the New York coven. They told him Stick had gone off the map, but taught him enough that he could start his job. They gave him work in Hell’s Kitchen.

Well, Matt actually begged for work in Hell’s Kitchen…he couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. The New York coven agreed it was a small enough area that he could handle it on his own.

It was rare he was summoned at first, not many people summoned Witches in Hell’s Kitchen. The first time he was called it was somebody who wanted to find out if their wife was cheating on them. It was a simple truth-finder spell, not too hard for him. He had a few repeat clients, people who always had something they wanted to ask for- but it didn't happen often.

There are some limits to what Regulars are allowed to request. Killing people, bringing people back from the dead, physically manipulating people’s emotions or actions etc. There's a very long list of things that were banned. Matt had read every bit, careful to make sure he wasn't going over any boundaries. For the first few weeks he had his charge, he remembered constantly letting his hands brush over the Braille rules that had been provided to him. There were so many rules and conditions...the New York coven had done a good job trying to cover all their bases. Anytime somebody was caught requesting banned spells Matt immediately reported back to the New York coven and they would be dealt with.

There's also a price for Regulars whenever Matt had to do his work. Magic had a habit of wanting retribution when used for those who didn't have it. If Matt did a spell of his own (he rarely did, but usually they were simple spells like getting food or endless hot water) the magic didn't mind...he was gifted it, it was part of his soul and thus did not have a price. But for Regulars? Magic was a very complicated thing, the rules of the universe say they need to pay a price for taking advantage of powers that had not been given to them. Regulars who wanted information had to give a piece of their memory. People who wanted riches had to give their eyesight.

(“What if I was a Regular and wanted riches, I’m already blind.” “It doesn’t work that way, Murdock.”) 

It was a complicated exchange system, and depending on the exact request and the particular person Matt had to adjust the price.

One price was pretty constant though: if you’re saving a life that would otherwise die, they owe you their first-born.

It didn't take long for Matt to start hating his work. The people he met were often crass and inappropriate- they were unkind and rude. Every bit of magic somebody else took from him always left him feeling wrong...He tried to avoid doing his work, once. Some man had requested he do a sexual spell.

"Endless blowjobs! Anytime I want a good suck I want to feel the lips around me. Come on kid, get it done. Make sure it works too."

He was only 14 at the time and very disgusted with the request. It wasn't as if it was him doing the work, it was just his magic- his spell...but it felt wrong and violating. He refused. That resulted in a long conference with some leaders in the New York coven and a heavy warning that if he tried to avoid a job again he would be ‘severely punished’ as they had put it.

They also didn’t give him pay for a whole month.  

He learned to keep a low profile. Most people really disliked Witches…a few of the nuns had magic but none of them dared to let it spread around the church. He didn’t let any Regulars know he was a Witch, and when he met other Witches he was careful to not let them know he was Hell’s Kitchen’s ‘Claimed first-born.’ The people of the covenwere often really snobby about their family lines…and people like Matt whose family line ‘gave him up’ as a Claimed first-born were especially looked down upon. He wasn't of 'pure' magic as one Witch he met had put it. He met a few Matchless though, they were often very secretive, as well and disliked the coven almost as much as he did.

Matt didn’t want to work with Witches much, even though he technically was one. He didn't choose to be a part of a coven, he was forced into it because his mother made a deal. He liked Regulars and Matchless, he felt more at home with them- more normal. He wanted a normal job too…something where he could help people. 

He wanted to become a lawyer. It was rare that a Witch chose a 'Regular's job', but he knew it happened. His witching job paid, money just like anything else, but it wasn't a large sum and he didn't feel like he was really helping anybody with his job- he felt like he was doing other's dirty work.

So he used the money he made as Hell’s Kitchen’s Claimed first-born to get through undergrad and he worked especially hard to get great grades. The work came easy to him, he was a remarkable student and a natural at standardized tests. A few of his professors knew he was a Witch (for those few times he was summoned in the middle of a test) and distrusted them- but he made it clear it was against Witching law to cheat with magic in a normal University...and he didn't have any advantages over the other students. 

(Save for his senses, but he couldn't help those. In fact, they were only distracting when taking tests. He soon figured out that none of the New York coven knew he had super-senses...it was still his secret to keep. He supposed all he learned from Stick through fighting and controlling his senses...was something else entirely.)

After graduating he applied to Columbia law school and got accepted. Things didn’t feel complicated, they felt good, he could deal with his magical work and his work in law school at the same time. No problem.

Things didn’t have to be complicated.

He was wrong.

A familiar tug pulled at his finger tips and he sighed. He hadn’t had a call throughout the month, and he was expecting to get one soon- but it was still frustrating. He had been packing his things to go to his dorm in the morning. His first day at Columbia was tomorrow why did somebody need to call him now. His spell work was usually fairly fast, but depending on the exact request it could get complicated.

His hands still buzzed, he felt the magic in his fingers anytime someone called. As if there were strings tied to them, pulling him somewhere. He pressed his hands together and said his word, “Accipio.” (I accept)

There was a faint hum around his ears and he braced himself before his body was thrown to the job. It took a while to get used to when he first accepted a job (the sudden change in atmosphere and area messed with his senses) but at this point he was used to it. He was in a different place, somebody’s home. It smelt like cinnamon and old books. He could feel the warmth in front of him and identified the objects around him. Candles. Incense. Chalk. He took in the heartbeat in front of him, it was slightly faster than average- either due to fear or health. Perhaps both. It was a man. He had…long hair. He could hear the way it swished around the man’s ears.

“You called?”

The man jumped, “Y-yeah. I need some…um…” The man had a beard as well. The hairs made a certain sound around his mouth when he spoke.

Matt frowned. He always hated this. These people were always so desperate. What was this man calling him for? Did he want to discover his true love? He needed to scare his nemesis? So much of them motivated by greed, “Spit it out.”

“I need help.”

Matt rolled his eyes under his glasses, “What kind?” He wanted to get this over with. He needed to finish packing and pre-populating his classes for tomorrow.

“You’re a witch?” The man asked. Matt could tell he moved towards him, there were no buzzing lights. Matt was probably bathed in shadow...save for the candles he could feel around him.

“I am.”

“But you're a man.”

“I’ve been told. Now what do you need.”

“Help…with…with my mom," his heartbeat picked up and Matt could taste salt in the air. The man had started crying. "She’s sick. Really sick and the doctors say she can’t be helped. She’s so young I can’t- I have to start school and I don't want her to be gone when I come back...I just want her to be healed.“

Matt tilted his head and had senses fold over the home. There was a room, another person in the house…a women. Her lungs sounded- wrong. There were multiple masses, “Lung cancer?” His voice was softened. It wasn't very often he got jobs like this, most people were motivated by greed, but Matt could tell this was motivated by love. 

“How did you?” The man shook his head, “Never mind. You’re a witch…why should I be asking a witch questions. I want you to help her, to heal her so her cancer won’t come back.”

Matt furrowed his brow, “I can do that, but before you do this you need to know it has a price.” Matt could already tell this was a one life for another deal. Very powerful magic, this woman was going to die soon. 

“How much money?” The man obviously hadn’t done this before. Sometimes Matt forgot that the the New York coven was fairly secret about their work, not many people knew that much about Witches. Hell, this man obviously had assumed most Witches were women.

“Not like that. It would be something important…special. In order to complete my work I need to claim your first-born.” Matt heard the man’s heartbeat speed up significantly.

“M-my first-born? I don’t have any kids.” 

“Your first-born child. If you have a child. In order to save your mother I have to acquire another life. They won’t be killed, but they won’t be yours anymore.”

“Wait…then whose will they be?”

Matt felt the man’s presence. He let his magic reach out and touch him…this man didn’t have any magic. Their first-born wouldn’t become a Witch unless he had a child with somebody magical.

“A Witch from the New York coven would take them. They’d be given a job like all the other Claimed first-borns. You can still meet them. They'd still be officially under your parentage, but a Witch will have to take care of them,” The New York coven wasn’t entirely cruel. The original parents were still allowed to visit their children…but not live with them. A Witch has to train the first-born for their purpose, and only Regulars make these kind of deals.

“What if I don’t have kids?”

 Matt tilted his head and gathered the mother’s age. Forty.

“The magic will find a way to get paid…If you don’t have children by the time you’re 40 then you’ll probably gain the cancer your mother currently has. However, magic is a fickle thing…I can’t tell you the exact results.” Matt had heard of a few people who didn't pay their price...Magic got angry then, it had a habit of somehow killing whoever had made the request. 

The man frowned but nodded, “So if I don’t make any kids within the next 19 years…I'll probably get incurable cancer.” Matt frowned even more, this man was his age, only 21. “Anything to save my mom. Do your work, I’ll deal with the consequences.”

And so Matt did his work.