Ringing the bell at my parent’s house is a must. You never know what you might find inside and finding my parents in a compromising position isn’t something you want to do more than once. Lesson learned, I ring the bell when I arrive.
A brisk breeze blows past as I wait for the door to be answered. Feeling that someone is watching me, I turn to find Brogan standing behind me.
I peer out to the street, but I don’t see his car anywhere. It seems as if he has just appeared. I didn’t even hear him arrive. He seems as surprised to see me as I am to see him standing here. He’s not saying anything, so I break the silence first.
“Ah, Brogan, what are you doing here?”
CHAPTER 4
Brogan
Having my mother explain the family curse to me wasn’t how I wanted to start my day. She didn’t like that I called it the family curse, either. She liked to think of it as of an honor or even a gift. Some honor it’s turning into for me. My one-night stand is now the one and only girl that my family thinks I should spend my days with.
If that isn’t a bonus, I also get to tell her all about it, and she has to agree. If for some reason, the girl that I one-nighted doesn’t want to spend her days with me, then the honor changes to a curse. Just like I said, but there’s no escaping it.
I’ve been trying to catch her since she left this morning. It wasn’t easy trying to find her house. Since she wasn’t there, I had to rely on the shoes to find her.
Even to me that sounds ridiculous. Shoes finding girls — what is this, a fairy tale? Sure enough though, my mother told me all I had to do was wish for Arwen, and the shoes would take me to her. I found her a short time ago outside of what looked like an abandoned building. She seemed spooked and rushed to get in her car to leave. By the time I pulled myself together, she was already gone.
So I find myself here on a porch with her. It’s good that she’s out here; I can’t just appear in someone’s house, and I would have to ask for permission to enter. Looking up at the house, this is definitely a witch house if I ever saw one. As a kid, we were taught to recognize them and would drive around for hours making a game of finding the witch houses. It’s important to avoid the witches.
My situation is much different today. There is no avoiding the witches; instead, I have to convince this witch, Arwen, to spend her days with me. Mother used the “M” word, but really it’s a bit soon for that, even if she’s wearing the shoes. We won’t have a choice, though. With the holidays coming and solstice in particular, we won’t be able to avoid the joining ceremony that will definitely leave me wedded.
To get this out of the way, I hold out a shoe and watch as she backs away from me. “Arwen, you need to listen to me. These shoes!” This is going terribly; the shoes are even affecting me at this point. Using as much restraint as I can gather, I calm myself, and lower my voice, before I try again. “You need to accept them.”
I watch with a smile. She can’t take her eyes off of the shoes. They must be calling to her, because they have her full attention. Maybe this will be easier than I thought.
She doesn’t sound convincing as she tries to make her point. “I… really… I’m not sure, but you see… I can’t… but surely you must know. This isn’t… but what I mean… I can’t…”
In typical witch fashion, she’s as clear as swamp water. If I could get her to go with me, we could talk this out. I’m afraid that someone is going to answer that door, and I just know it’s going to be her mother.
I offer the shoes to her again. “They are for you. You have to accept them and put them on.”
She doesn’t seem convinced yet. Maybe if she knows why, that will help her decide.
“It was my great-grandmother many times over who first gifted this to my family. It didn’t happen to my father, you see, so I thought it was broken.”
I’ve been carrying these shoes around for a few hours. Only she can control the power the shoes possess. Even as strong as I am, the shoes are testing my strength. With these on her feet, she will become a perfect match for me.
She must see the power, because she says, “You’re trembling.”
Behind her, the door opens, and it’s easy to see that Arwen gets her looks from her mother. They both have the same long dark hair. It’s hard to tell, but I think her mother’s eyes are the same color of green.
She gazes at me cautiously. “Well, hello, Arwen. Did you bring a friend?”
She’s talking only to Arwen, but her eyes are on me. She can’t miss the shoes in my hands. Her eyes drop to the shoes, and I hear her sigh. She must know what’s about to happen. I just don’t know if she will try to stand in our way.
She’s nervous, and I need her to stay calm. I don’t want Arwen to be upset and run from me again. “I apologize, ma’am, but I’ve found myself here not of my own free will.” She’s being more obvious now; I can feel her power trying to move me. Luckily, I’m strong enough to deflect her. “I can feel you trying to move me, but it can’t be helped just yet.”
This needs to end before anyone else appears. I search Arwen for a sign that she knows what’s about to happen, but she still seems to be struggling. This wasn’t part of my plan, either, but it’s all happening for a reason. My gaze falls to her feet, and she shuffles, moving forward to me.
Making progress. I hold out my hand for her, keeping the shoes tucked into my chest. I need to know she trusts me. I can feel it, but does she recognize it?
Encouraging her, I ask, “Can we talk? I’d like to tell you a story.”
“Hold on right there, young man! Just who are you, and what are you doing with those shoes?”
Thinking I must have misjudged the woman, I turn and push Arwen behind me to shield her. She shoves at my arm, but I can’t let her go, not yet. She needs to hear me; she needs to make her choice while she still can.
“Please, just give me a moment.”
CHAPTER 5
Arwen
“Ah, Brogan, what are you doing here?”
That sounded so much better in my head. Out loud, I sound like a scared little ninny or something. He doesn’t seem to be put off by my words, but he doesn’t seem happy to see me, either. After I left him this morning, I didn’t think we would see each other again. He didn’t ask for my number, though I’m sure he could find it if he wanted to. It was obvious that he had some powers.
Since he was standing in front of me, I guess he wanted to find me.
The warm feeling in my chest reminds me of heart-burn. I hope that’s my problem. With my luck, it probably goes along with the nervous chatter in my brain telling me to seize my chance and keep him. If he stays, I know he will ruin me.
He holds out a shoe to me, and I attempt to back away from him as he speaks. “Arwen, you need to listen to me. These shoes! You have to accept them.”
There in front of me, sparkling as bright as the vampires from that movie that made women lose their minds, are the shoes from this morning. If only women understood that vampires don’t possess the glitter; only a wizard can use its power. The movies left women enchanted; I could only shake my head, knowing the truth that those weren’t vampires. Wizards everywhere celebrated their hoax.
He never admitted to anything this morning. I wanted him to tell me, but he never did. I think I know what this means, but until he tells me, I still have hope. He would have to be a wizard for all of this to be happening.
The shoes, though, I keep looking at them as they sparkle green with large thick soles under the toes and a tall spike heel to match. I want to reach out and touch them, but something holds me back. They seem like the most desirable shoes I’ve ever seen, but they are green. Surely, it’s a mistake.
My voice falters as I look from the shoes to Brogan. As if mesmerized by their beauty, I can’t form a whole thought. “I… really… I’m not sure, but you see… I can’t… but surely you must know. This isn’t… but what I mean… I can’t…”
He advances on me, still clutching the sho
es, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed I didn’t spit out a coherent thought. I examine his hands as he moves closer. I don’t see any glitter on them, but surely the shoes would give off something. These must be authentic; the glitter would be everywhere unless he could control it. That’s it! I gasp, knowing that it’s true: they can, in fact, control the glitter.
Extending a shoe to me, he starts talking slowly, as if he’s trying to lure me in. “They are for you. You have to accept them and put them on.” Like the feathers this morning, the shoes seem to vibrate before my eyes. “It was my great-grandmother many times over that first gifted this to my family. It didn’t happen to my father, you see, so I thought it was broken.”
It wasn’t obvious before, but now I can see that he’s trembling. He’s shaking as if he’s being restrained somehow. I can’t see where there is anything holding him; it’s just the shoes in his hand.
Without holding back, my thoughts pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You’re trembling.”
From behind me, I hear the door finally open, and then my mother speaks, taking away his attention. “Well, hello, Arwen. Did you bring a friend?”
He’s still clutching the shoes, almost like he’s guarding them. As a child, we were told stories about shoes and wizards. I always thought the stories were tales, or at least myth; admittedly they were my favorite stories. Like the fairy tales told to young girls, they tell of a prince charming looking for the fair maiden who fits the glass slipper. Surely that alone should caution girls about shoes, but it seems to do quite the opposite. It’s impossible to imagine how many shoe shopping adventures I’ve been on. If I can escape this one, I promise to follow my mother’s advice and shop only online for shoes. It is the safer method for witches like us.
He glances briefly at my mother to greet her, but he’s keeping his attention fully on me. In my attempt to keep away from him and the sparkly shoes, I’ve moved too far from the door. He’s now standing between me and the door. I wish I could cast a spell to move him away, but my studies haven’t given me that skill yet. Instead, I must rely upon my mother, and she doesn’t seem to want him to move.
With his eyes on me, he speaks to my mother. “I apologize, ma’am, but I have found myself here not of my own free will. I can feel you trying to move me, but it can’t be helped just yet.”
His eyes search me until they land on my feet. I look down, expecting to see something out of the ordinary, but nothing — just my feet in the shoes I put on before leaving this morning. Nervously, I shuffle my feet, and I’m surprised as they propel me forward. I wanted to back away, but it’s as if I can only move towards him.
Smiling at me, he holds out a single hand for me to take. I hesitate at first, but something inside of me encourages me to trust him. “Can we talk? I want to tell you a story.”
My mother looks cautious as she eyes the shoes still firmly in his grasp. “Hold on right there, young man! Just who are you, and what are you doing with those shoes?”
He takes a single arm and pushes me behind him; it almost looks as if he’s protecting me. I don’t need protection from my own mother. I try to move away from him, but he turns and tersely says, “Please, just give me a moment.”
Standing behind Brogan isn’t the worst place to be standing. I let my eyes rake over him, and I’m reminded of why I found myself dancing with him last night. Of course that also led to eventually going home with him, a fact that I hope he isn’t about to tell my mother.
The man in front of me, although most definitely nothing short of spectacular, is also the opposite of anyone I’ve dated before. I’m not prone to going home with someone I hardly know; there was just something about him. Something so alluring that I couldn’t say no to him.
Taking my time, I let my eyes roam from his boot-covered feet to the fitted jeans that hug him. I inch backwards and allow more space to settle between us.
At the club, it was his hair that first caught my attention: a slight curl and inky black, the same color as the soil in my garden at home that I like to run my fingers through. His pitch-black eyes almost match his hair. I got lost looking into his eyes on the dance floor, but they didn’t give anything away.
His stance is defensive, but it’s just my mother here with us. He should know that this can be worked out. With great effort, I reach my hand up to touch his shoulder. His body, at first, goes rigid to my touch. As if he’s transferring energy to me, a rush of heat travels from the very tip of my fingers, moving up my arm where it radiates through my body.
That heart-burn feeling is confirmed; it’s not heart-burn.
As if we had been choreographed to dance together, our bodies move as one until, with clasped hands, we are facing each another, just inches apart. Although I can hear my mother’s voice, her words can’t penetrate us in our embrace. Lost in his eyes, I foolishly stare, never realizing that our closeness is able to cause a glamour effect to take hold on us.
As the fog filtering through my thoughts begins to clear, I can hear his voice. “Your eyes are stunning.”
He leans in, offering only a quick kiss before our embrace is broken, and he steers me to a chair, encouraging me to sit. It’s rare to find me sitting on my mother’s porch. I want to go inside the house, but for some reason I don’t think Brogan is welcome inside. He doesn’t take the chair next to me; instead, he kneels at my feet.
Without his touch, I’m aware of my surroundings. Taking the chair next to me, my mother pushes him. “I don’t like this. Arwen, where did you find him?”
“Club Zdrasti.”
“That Tierry is going to hear about this. Taking you to that place! She should know better.”
There kneeling in front of me, Brogan is all I can see. Inside, it feels like I’m softening, as if too much exposure to Brogan has had some effect upon me.
He places his hand on my knee, and his eyes plead patience from me. Smiling softly, his voice wraps me in soothing comfort. “My name is Brogan Michaels…”
His name, that name, I remembered it or maybe I gave it to him. I’ve never known a Brogan before. Where would I have gotten that name?
I interrupt him, because I have to know. “How did I know to call you that? I never asked for your name, yet I heard someone call you, and it didn’t seem like the right name for you. I told you I would call you Brogan? How?”
He doesn’t hide his amusement, chuckling he says, “Sweet Arwen, that is what I wanted you to call me, so of course that was the only name you knew.”
CHAPTER 6
Brogan
It’s time to put an end to the distractions. The time is running out for the greatest gift to my family to become a curse upon me. Arwen won’t be the first witch in the family, but she is the first for many generations.
The history of my family is long. There have been countless stories created from the journals of those who have come before me. My story will be recorded and told for generations to come. Some would wish me luck, hopeful for the happy ending to finish off the story. Others would listen with greed, all the while cheering for my demise.
My story is up to me. It can only move forward if Arwen is by my side. Who knew one night could have such an effect on the rest of your life? Obviously, my mother did, as she took great pride in schooling me on the remainder of my days.
“As you asked, Arwen, I am a wizard. These shoes are just as the legend tells. They are made for you. With these, you and I will become a matched set, if you will.”
If only the vibration of her body could be mistaken. She doesn’t know, but the fear she feels is nothing more than the allure of the shoes. They’re calling to her, as close as they were to her in my room earlier, they are already a part of her. She just needs to accept it to make it be.
With her mother here, I expect to hear her protest. It’s natural, really. Instead, she sits back in her chair with a sly smile that tells me she knows more than she’s told her daughter.
“I’m sure, like most children in
the witch collective, you have heard the stories. Even as a young wizard, we were taught to avoid your kind.”
Ending her silence beside us, her mother speaks out. “Our kind? We’re not the ones running around trying to change people. You would do well to remember that.”
Listening to her to prattle on, I begin the task of removing Arwen’s shoes. The laces are knotted in a way that is making it near impossible to untie them. It’s as if she knew to make this the most challenging task of my life. They are only shoe laces.
CHAPTER 7
Arwen
He hasn’t taken his hands away; the constant contact is leaving me conflicted. His touch is soothing to me, much like his voice. Yet something inside of me screams there’s danger ahead.
After my mother interrupts for at least the third time, he patiently waits until she has given her say. She’s not objecting to what’s about to happen. She’s just delaying it.
The realization that this is moving forward has begun to settle in my mind. There is a part of me that wants to throw myself at him and call for a cab to pick us up. A repeat of last night could set all of this right for me.
I hold myself back. He’s fiddling with the laces of my shoes. It’s not as if they are a complex knot; I didn’t even double knot them this morning.
He tells the story of the shoes. It doesn’t escape me that he leaves out some of the best parts of the stories we were told as children. Every story was steeped in layers of magic. There were the stories with dragons, others with a unicorn. All of them had a fair maiden and her prince charming. Some might have called her a siren, calling out to only the brave, requiring their service. The magical creatures were endless in the stories told to children. As we got older, the creatures would grow up with us, each one just a little more powerful. The wizards though, they were the most powerful. Even in the movies, they are known as the great and powerful, but their magic doesn’t always solve the problem. It was the witches who could fix things, whether that was to make things right or to use their power for evil — depended on the witch. Just like people, there are good and bad everywhere.