Charlotte was a witch. She had used her powers to make herself more beautiful, more attractive, more successful. She was making good money as a model, and she used her powers to see that nothing got in the way of her career. People always treated her well, rolling out the red carpet for her.
     She always got the fee she asked, and she was always in the ads that paid the best and got her the best exposure so that she might charge even more in the future. She treated men like door mats and saw that they loved every moment of it. She treated other women like dirt and saw that they didn't interfere.
     She lived in luxury in a high rise in New York, having the entire top floor as her penthouse with a view that most people in New York envied. The floor below she kept for throwing parties at other's expense. It was an honor to be able to bankroll one of Charlotte's parties, at least after the fact, after she had woven her spell over the financier.
     Those that gave her trouble quickly changed their tune once she turned her powers upon them. Those that were difficult to manage suffered. Those that were easy felt reward at being able to serve a goddess. People meant little to Charlotte except in what they could offer her. She could buy and sell most people, though she never wasted her money in such a fashion. In fact, she seldom spent any of her wealth except at the advice of her tax accountant. Her persuasiveness with other's wallets and accounts was her currency .
     She had graced just about every magazine's cover at least once. Only one on her list on which she wanted to appear remained beyond her reach, and the fact stuck in her side like a thorn. So far, High Fashion had shown no interest in her despite her efforts to get on the cover. She had gone through five agents with no luck, and she was perplexed as to why. Publicly she had stated that she hadn't given the magazine any consideration as of yet. She could never be seen as wanting. That would hurt her image as a super model.
     She worked at the challenge for over a year, cringing at the images of what she regarded as inferior models month after month that took the place she considered her own. She finally decided to be her own agent and handle the problem directly.
     She went to the office and spoke to the Jason Bard, managing editor, plying her power on him until he agreed that she deserved a lavish series of covers. She signed the standard contract without reading it through, happy to finally remove the one stumbling block to her fame. She was told to report to the studio on the following Monday for her first session.
     She threw a party that some rich man was glad to fund. Ice sculptures adorned the center table, the food was lavish, and the guest list was the who's who of New York society. The centerpiece of the table was a mounted photocopy of the contract. She bragged to all with whom she spoke about how she had finally decided to complete the circuit of the top rated glamour magazine covers. Champagne flowed like a river and a wild time was had by all, even after she excused herself to take one handsome stud upstairs for the evening in a private celebration.

     Monday rolled around, and she went to the studio ready for the shoot. She took her usual crew to the dressing room after announcing that she was there. She had been aggravated by the cab driver's drivel, since he had not shown her the full respect to which she was accustomed. The cab driver was now calling for a tow truck, the engine of his cab having died of total failure to all working parts, from the bearings to radiator. She sat in the make-up chair having her hair done, griping about men in general, one of her favorite topics.
     "Men are such pigs, you know. Slobs, every last one of them. You'd think that there could at least be one that had some class. But all they want is the same old thing, and they want it without paying for it. They have no respect for women. They all want them in their prime and beautiful, not realizing that a woman has only so few years to make it off her looks." She glanced in the mirror to see Devlon Shires, the photographer. "I hope that you are in good form today. I don't expect to be wasting my time here today. You'd better be ready to get it right the first time."
     "There is not going to be a first time, at least not for you. Gather your things and report to the office for your check. It'll made out for the minimum amount for reporting to the studio to cover your travel expenses."
     "What! How dare you talk to me that way?"
     "As publisher and controlling editor, I make the decisions about who gets into my magazine. I do the sessions because I also happen to be the best photographer in the firm. I chose not to use you, now or ever."
     "Why not?"
     "Because I don't like you. In my opinion, you are a loathsome pig. You may possess the physical features to fool some people, but you don't fool me. I photograph beauty, and you possess no beauty."
     "I possess no beauty? Are you blind?"
     "Hardly. My vision is highly respected in the business. I see no beauty in you at all. All I see is a selfish, contemptible, ugly pig. Now get your things and get out and don't ever come back to bother us again. I will never photograph you for a cover shot or story, and neither will any other photographer on my staff while they work for me. Be gone, you are not welcome here." Devlon turned around and walked out of the dressing room, a string of curses thrown at his back.
     Charlotte turned to her cringing crew and shouted at them to gather her things. She set off after Devlon, furious at not getting the last word. Steaming heavily under the collar, she marched out and shouted, "Where is that creep?"
     The managing editor came forward. "What is the problem?"
     "What is the problem? I signed a contract with you. I expect this magazine to honor it."
     "Is there a problem?"
     "That idiot Shires refuses to photograph me. He is under contract to put me on the cover."
     "Uh, actually, he isn't. The contract states that the magazine has the right to select any photographs they want to use, even if it ends up being none. The magazine is under no obligation to even photograph you. That is the way Mr. Shires set up the standard contract."
     "Then I'll see you in court."
     "The contract is quite legal, having been tested before. You signed over all controlling powers to Mr. Shires in regard to any photographs taken and the right to use them. You signed the release granting that. A court case would gain you nothing."
     "You worm! You deceived me into signing it!"
     "I did no such thing. You were eager to sign it. You never read it, though. You should have read it through before signing. It's unusual that you didn't use an agent to get you the assignment."
     She was about to explode in rage, but she noticed the crowd standing around watching her every move. These people dealt with beautiful women every day and knew tempers, and her looks were no buffer or excuse from their observations. She decided that revenge had better be cold if she were not to be blamed. Her anger was for Devlon, not this pip-squeak Jason.
     She knew that she'd have to suffer the humiliation of explaining why she would not appear on the cover. A story of her refusal to finish the session came to her mind as she turned and stormed out of the studio. She gathered her crew and left.

     After spreading the word that she refused to do the cover because it would have required submitting to the casting couch, she started looking for a way to get even with Devlon Shires. She started asking those models that had posed for him. This was easy to do, since she had kept copies of High Fashion for some years, researching who had posed for the magazine and questioned them previously. Yet it was difficult, since her story didn't hold water with them. Her excuse to them was, "Well, there is always a first time." But such questioning gave her little to go on. Devlon had no known lover, no illegal habits or quirks, no weaknesses that she could discover by inquiring.
     In time, she ruled out blackmail and decided to take a direct approach and use her powers to ruin his life. She just had to figure out what would cause him the worst pain in the long run. He had no attachments over which he would suffer seeing hurt or ill or shamed. He seemed healthy, so she couldn't aggravate any physical condition. He was very careful in business, well insured in all phases, so that ruled out fire. He would only rebuild. She had to find a way to fix him.
     She learned all she could about him, and that was very little that did her any good. He was a man that stuck to business, and he ran his business well. Too well. His magazine's structure had no weak spots. She either had to go after him or after those around him, and everyone had been warned to be on the lookout for her. Everyone in the organization turned a cold shoulder to her when they met her in seemingly spontaneous meetings.
     It so frustrated and angered her that she was given no chance to have the time to work her powers on them. She was not able to use the powers to work her way inside his structure. So instead of using direct application of her power that took time in meeting, she started to devise remote spells. She did not like this method, since she was not able to directly observe the results of her work, but it was all that she could see that would work on this situation. Her work in this area was hampered by not being able to get personal possessions from those she targeted.
     She figured her plan and started concocting the spells on the people on his staff first. She wanted Devlon to be worried by the time she turned her attention on him personally. Preparations took time, nearly two days to get the spells into play. She was exhausted by the time that she finished, but she felt a strong sense of satisfaction that she had begun her revenge.
     She rested, since the effort, both physical and magical, had taken its toll on her appearance. She slept long hours, then rose and repaired what the strain had weakened in her beauty. Then she went to work for six days in a row, having to make up appointments for photo sessions that she had missed. She claimed to have been mildly ill as an excuse, but her radiance removed any concern over her well being. During the rough schedule, she had little time to observe the effects her spells were having.
     When she had finished the make-up photo sessions, she turned her attention back onto her spells. Discrete inquiries showed that nothing untoward had happened to those on which she had focused her powers. This puzzled her, since she should have heard of some troubles, even from the outside. She created more spontaneous meetings with those she had targeted and found that none of her spells had worked as hoped.
     This perplexed her. Never before had her powers failed to work. She began to suspect that a rival power was working against her efforts. Devlon Shires obviously had protection from the supernatural. She then realized why she had had such a difficult time getting anything on him. She wondered if he had been forewarned about her, even before she made her appearance in his studio, and if it was the reason he refused to photograph her. She breathed easier, knowing that he hadn't photographed her, giving him direct images of her that could be used against her. Then she wondered if that was the case, if he had possibly had her image on hidden security cameras. She began to worry. Her whole focus of research shifted from offensive to defensive. She began to set up extra safeguards against an attack from his agent of power, in case she was to become a target.
     After she felt that she was sufficiently shielded, she began to search out the powers that surrounded his office, wondering why she had not noticed them before. It was true that she had not been looking for them before, but she was looking at this point in time and saw nothing. There were no traces of power shields or other barriers against magic. This perplexed her further. She felt were no emanations of any kind.
     That left only one possibility, that the defense was passive, acting as a power sink, absorbing whatever spells were cast toward them. But that presented a problem of her understanding why she had such ease in persuading the managing editor to let her sign a contract and set an appointment for a shoot. From the new perspective, she began to believe that it was planned that way, since the contract was full of loop holes. Maybe they had spotted her before and led her in for closer examination. If that was the case, she had been very foolish in her previous overconfidence. There was no telling what hold they may have had on her. She realized that none of her magic had actually shown sure signs of working since she had been to the studio.
     She began to feel panicked, understanding why she had had no results from the spells, in her research, or in any of her endeavors except those concerning her immediate physical condition. She had been able to remove the signs of stress in her beauty from the week of heavy schedule, but then again, that just might have been normal focus and attitude control.
     She set about immediately to test her powers. She cast several spells that would show firsthand results, and all failed to produce any effect. She had willfully walked blindly into a trap. She burst into tears that grew swiftly into a fury. She vowed revenge with a much stronger hatred than before. She grew calm and looked for a way to retaliate.

     She waited outside the office in a rented car until he came outside for lunch. He got into a cab, and she followed it to a restaurant where she had heard he favored lunch. It took her several minutes to find a parking spot and make her way to the eatery. She was asked for a reservation, and she told the maitre' d that she was expected by Mr. Shires. She was led to his table where he was sitting alone, dismissing the escort before they reached the table. She sat down across from him, placing her purse in her lap, unseen under the tablecloth. She pulled out a revolver and pointed it toward him.
     He spoke first, catching her off guard. "It won't work. Give it a try if you like. Go ahead, pull the trigger. Nothing will happen except for a click, and it won't attract attention." She was stunned by his words. "Yes, it was me, personally. You see, I am much stronger than you are, but I chose not to use my powers in the same way that you did. Granted, I did use a little to assure my success. Everyone embarking on a business venture wants it to succeed. But I didn't use that much, and I never stepped on anyone's toes like you did, except maybe for those such as yourself. I like to keep my usage on the positive side. You obviously don't care about the consequences of treating people with impunity and disrespect. You have made a great many enemies. I, on the other hand, have only a few, and they are too weak to confront me.
     "You see, I have the knack for absorbing the power levels of others, adding the strength to my own, after I dry clean it of nasty attitudes, of course. And you are not the first. This business of fashion is bubbling over with ego and vanity. Quite cut-throat. The exposure is also quite useful to those with power. It seems to draw them like flies to honey. Wealth, travel, recognition, social power. It gets you into circles that you might not otherwise penetrate without a great deal of effort. No, you are by no means the first that I've drained.
     "I did leave you your appearance and a little ability to enhance it, though you will have to start being more careful with your lifestyle, like the others that are slave to routines that preserve their beauty. No longer will you be able to party all night and then go to a session early the next morning. But with care and the minimum powers you retain, you will be able to last several more years, maybe a decade if you are very good about it.
     "But your days of ruling over people have come to an end. No longer will you be able to use people like stepping stones unless they wish to be treated that way. For some, it's their only way to fame. But you will have to start learning to live with rejection like the rest of the world. It won't be easy."
     Charlotte started to rise and leave, but she found herself unable to do other than sit and appear to be pleasantly attentive to Devlon's words. She tired to shoot him, but the bullets were all duds.
     "You did intrude upon my lunch, so the least you can do for the moment is play by my rules until I've had my say. Now that you got that out of your system, let me tell you why I do this. You see, I didn't know that I had powers until I was in college a couple of decades ago. I was driving with a couple of friends to another town for a party. I had just finished sipping half a soft drink, with half of it still left. I was surprised at how little it had done to slake my sense of thirst, which it should have done. I wasn't particularly dehydrated at the time. For some reason, I offered the remaining part of the drink up for grabs. It was taken by a friend who was very grateful for it. He didn't have money at the moment and couldn't buy anything when we made our stop where I bought it. You know how poor college students can be. When he finished gulping it down, the sense of thirst went away.
     "With that as inspiration, I was soon answering the phone before it rang, knowing who was calling, calling people that were thinking about me within the last few minutes, saying the same thing at the same time with the same inflection as someone with me, answering questions that weren't asked, doing all kinds of telepathic things on an everyday basis. I also noticed people doing these things without reacting to the stimulus.
     "I came to realize that there are strong transmitters and sensitive receivers that stood out from the crowd of the masses. Strong transmitters were people that live very intense mental lives, emotionally explosive, so to speak. They were easy to identify, such as yourself. The receivers were more subtle and harder to spot, but once recognition came, there was no mistaking the wordless understanding. The easiest way to spot them was that they avoided mental explosions in some manner, leaving the room, turning away their focus, something to cut off the overflow.
     "Then fate put me in touch with a lot of mental explosions as I became a photographer. Visual images create strong emotions within people, and the making of them often involves the highly volatile. I was often called upon to soothe nerves and get attention back to the task at hand. The more I did this, the more I became aware that I had the ability to absorb the mental forces and calm people down.
     "Then I ran across my first witch. No, I won't tell you her name. I make that a policy, not out of fear, but out of regard for you. If I told each of you the names of the others, you'd just get together and create a mutual mourning and hatred club that would just keep you from adjusting and getting on with life without power.
     "But anyway, she grew angry at an assistant of mine for being clumsy when he took the light readings. It was an intentional act of his to touch the models while holding the meter up to them, and this witch recognized that and took offense. I started absorbing her anger, talking to her off to the side in the equipment room to calm her down, and along with it came her powers. I was quite shocked to see her turn quite plain and considerably overweight before my eyes, then I realized that I had powers I never knew existed. She was a very powerful witch, far stronger than you were. She didn't know what was happening until she split the dress that she was wearing in a number of places.
     "She grew furious at me after looking in the mirror, and I responded naturally by trying to absorb her anger. She nearly died, and I had to act fast to keep her alive, restore her body and dress, and calm her down before some of the others came to see what the fuss was about. I was as stunned as she was after that, and she stormed out in tears. I didn't try to hold her. I knew that neither of us could work a session after that.
     "I was very careful in using these new powers. I experimented away from people, dropping photography for almost a full year. I mean, photo seemed so trivial in comparison. But I was careful not to abuse people with it. It just wasn't in my nature to be around pain that I had inflicted, since I was such a sensitive receiver, made more so by the powers I gained. But I had learned in time to take the powers in stride and developed a code for using them. I used them to ease suffering, much as I had done with the absorbing powers I had already gained. It made the suffering around me less, and that made the racket in my head grow weaker.
     "I returned to photography and decided that I wanted to start my own magazine. Upon my return to shooting, people noticed a change in my work. It was far more sensitive and revealing of the nature of the people that I was photographing. People would look at my work and say, 'Oh yes, that is her.' Or him. I was suddenly in very big demand, and it mushroomed. Suddenly, it was very in to be photographed by me. I used my sensitivities in my work and my powers to protect myself from legal problems. Turns out that I really didn't need it that much until I encountered my next witch. Actually, there were five in a row within a period of a month, shortly before I started the magazine.
     "The egos of witches such as yourself are quite drawn to things like portraits by a popular artist. Your kind seems to need the status, or at least not be left behind. None knew each other. I was suddenly a very powerful man, both socially and magically. I didn't need to use my powers to get good backers to start the magazine. But I was careful to keep the offers as loans and not give a share of the business decision making to them. They got the principal, interest, and a cut of the profit until the loans were paid, but the business has never been shared in ownership or control. I was never afraid to ask for advise on business affairs, and I hired good people that knew the business well. They were easy for me to find and keep happy.
     "I remained the principal photographer, though I hired others because the workload was too much for me to handle while I also ran the business. But I did the covers and main stories and spreads, since it was that that sold the magazine. I've never strayed from that. First, because it keeps the sales up. Second, because the witches come to me for the status. You are the nineteenth so far, the thirteenth I've stripped and refused to photograph at the magazine office.
     "Actually, there were two others that I recognized but didn't strip of power because they were good women, white witches, so to speak, using their powers much as I do. I only strip those that use their powers selfishly without regard for the feelings of others. In fact, I increased their power by a small percentage that they didn't recognize right off. Sort of a time release giving of power so that they wouldn't look to me as the source.
     "So, those are the pertinent facts, as I've explained them before. I have learned to avoid stripping the false appearance of those I drain so that they don't realize what is happening until later. Like you, the others have come to me privately later, seeking revenge. But I'm far too powerful for any of them to succeed. Charlotte, forget revenge. It just won't work on me. Not that you won't try again. I expect more attempts from you, like the others did. But none of them succeeded, and there is probably less chance for you than for them, since most of them were more powerful and more resourceful. I expect that you will hire someone to kill me, but be aware that I am beyond such attempts. My protective spells can not be easily broken by anyone with normal witch's powers, since I am that twenty fold. Not even a coven can match me now.
     "What I see for you is that you'll try until you get tired of beating your head and finances against the wall. It's the way the others have gone, and I see you as being no different from the others. You are now normal, and adjusting will take some time. You are going to get your fingers burned where they weren't burned before. That will be the factor that will stop you from trying to get revenge on me. Now I won't be doing anything to make you suffer except thwart your plans to hurt me. You'll be doing that on your own by making mistakes.
     "You've let a lot of your judgmental skills go unused because you could get yourself out of trouble with your powers. That is now gone, and you will have to relearn how not to offend people, especially those with social and business power, and especially with the criminal elements you might seek out for revenge on me. Be careful. A number of the witches that I have drained since starting the magazine have had their looks ruined or went into white slavery to pay off the debts incurred while trying to get even with me. Again, I didn't do it, they did it to themselves. So watch your step.
     "I guess that all that is left to discuss is that vague question that you've yet to ask, being why I do this, leaving you nothing. Well, first, I can't return the powers. Second, as to why I took all that I did, it goes back to an incident in my past that I didn't understand at the time.
     "I had a good friend named Tony in college. He was a pretty popular guy on campus, the sort that attracts friendships with ease, a guy people just naturally like. He was open, friendly, fair, witty, sensitive to other's feelings, smart enough to understand feelings. He honestly cared for people. It wasn't a put on, it was genuine. He lived down the hall in the dorm from me, and we spent a lot of time together between classes and cracking the books. We had a lot of classes together and helped each other study when one of us got stuck on something. He was a very good friend. We grew quite close, always up to something together.
     "Then one day in our junior year, he met a gorgeous girl named Lenora. Overnight, he was swept off his feet by her. I, on the other hand, didn't care for her at first, until I caught her attention, and suddenly, I felt that she was okay. No special interest, but okay. I never spoke against her. She talked Tony into moving off campus and renting a house that he shared with her. He was then too busy to see me, doing the housework that was beneath her. She never lifted a finger. He got her into circles that had been closed to her. Once in, she started cheating on him with whomever caught her eye, and he was never aware of it, even though it was as plain as day what she was doing. None of his friends, myself included, were able to bring ourselves to tell him about it. To put it simply, she used him as a doormat until he was of no further use to her, then she dropped him and moved in with a jock with good looks. Does this sound familiar?
     "That broke his heart, and he dropped out of school in mid-term. He was failing his courses anyway, applying all his attention to her when she wanted it and doing errands for her when she didn't. She used him up and threw him away. He went off and went on a drinking binge for ten years, spending the last seven of them living on the street. Those years weren't kind to him. He had been rolled a number of times, suffered brain damage from one beating he took. When I found him ten years later after gaining my powers from the five in a row, I didn't recognize him. He didn't care for himself, much less others. He was a dry shell of his former self. Nothing of his goodness remained. He didn't even remember me. All he remembered from college was Lenora. He still loved her.
     "It was only then that I realized that Lenora was a witch. I put Tony in an institution and cast a spell on him to recover under treatment. I gave him some of his mind back that the brain damage had removed before he went in. It wouldn't have done to have him go in as he was. That would have been too much to have the doctors believe. But it was a good institute and they got him back on his feet in a couple of years, most of that as an out-patient. Today, he is once again a caring man. He's productive and now has a fine wife and three kids, and he is once again happy to be alive and sharing with people.
     "As for Lenora, she was the first witch that came to my magazine. Like others, she wasn't happy being a rich nobody. She wanted to be a face that all recognized and admired and desired. She didn't recognize me either until she came around for revenge as you are doing today. Today, she has been living on the street for some seven years. She is the one witch that I didn't leave her false appearance. Once out of the building, she lost her looks and ability to charm others. She squandered her money trying to get even with me and found that she had no skills for making more except selling her body for next to nothing. She lost everything she owned, house, car, jewelry, clothes and furs, everything except the poor clothes on her back. She hadn't had it easy. She's been rolled, beaten, cheated, and treated like dirt. In another three years, I'll put her in an institution like I did Tony. I wanted her to know the pain she caused just one of the people she stepped on. Not all of them. One is enough.
     "I know it sounds cruel. I guess it is. Eye for an eye and all that. I never was one for that, except in her case. She made me angry, more angry than I would have been had I never met her. It's partially what she did to Tony, but it's more what she did to me. I never really hated anyone until after she dumped Tony and I fell out from under her spell. I'd never known hatred until she gave me reason. She robbed me of one of the best friends I had ever had. She put pain in my heart where there had been a joy. She used Tony, but I suffered more than he did in ways. He stayed in love, I lost a caring friend. And she didn't want him, she just wanted what he could give her. He was popular, and she wanted that without giving back. I'm teaching her the meaning of a price tag.
     "I'm not going to dump you on the street. You will end up doing it to yourself if you don't mend your ways, or maybe a friend of someone you hurt will get even with you. You're just beginning to learn what true resentment is. Think about the way you resent me because I used my powers on you. Realize that you have left a trail of this same feeling behind you and that you no longer have your powers to insulate yourself from them. Now that you understand the power of bitterness, you had best be thinking about how to save yourself and quit thinking about getting revenge on me. If you focus on me, your past will hit you from behind without your ever seeing what was coming.
     "You have reason to feel hatred toward me, but others have even more reason to feel it toward you. After all, all I did was strip you your ability to perform transgression with ease and without consequence. You, on the other hand, have selfishly walked all over people. My only motive is to make the world a less painful place to live for people in general. You were not nearly so noble. The hatred of you by those you abused is bound to be far more personal and intense. The hatred for you is also bound to come from those now more powerful than yourself.
     "My advice to you is to retire from modeling, drop out of the public eye, and find a nice quiet productive life away from those that you abused. You still have the wealth to do so. Don't let your hatred for me be your doom. Now you are going to walk out of here to face the rest of your life. Don't be stupid."
     Charlotte got up and walked out the door. She no longer felt the desire to hurt Devlon. She was too scared, knowing that his words had been quite true. Thus she became the first witch to take his advice right away. She still had her looks and plenty of money; and other women she knew had done well on just that. She knew that it wouldn't be easy, and she didn't like Devlon any better, but she didn't want to bring herself down in the process of going against a superior power holder. She had seen enough of the results of that in her own work in the past.
     She walked to the car, paid her parking fee, and returned to the rental office to return it. She went home, called a travel bureau, her landlord, a moving company, and started to pack for a warmer clime.