True Witch

  Damien was quiet for a moment, maybe considering what to say or maybe lost in thought. I couldn’t tell. “My sister and I ran away from home,” he finally said.

  “Oh wow. Why’d you run away from home? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have brought it up.” He sighed, paused. “My father, mother, sister and I are Witches. Where we lived, there were many of us. Whole Covens. It was almost like a… like a compound; a really closed community.”

  “I take it you don’t mean to say that your parents and community were simple Wiccans.”

  “No, I mean real Witches with real power. They played these games, toyed with people’s souls and the forces of nature. Things got intense. I couldn’t handle it. My sister and I made the decision to leave so we packed our bags and headed for San Francisco one night.”

  “Why did you go there?”

  “A friend of my sisters moved to San Francisco after his two dads decided they wanted a more comfortable place to live. I knew his dads. They were cool. They took us in and helped us find jobs.”

  “I had no idea. What happened with your Parents? Did they come after you?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t seem happy about that.”

  “I don’t know. Part of me wishes they’d done something to show they cared, but the other part of me says I’m better off without them.”

  “With parents like those, you’re better off. Trust me.”

  “You’re right. I don’t think about it anymore.”

  Though he was thinking about it now, so what did that say?

  The path at our feet twisted and turned. Owls hooted up above and the trees whooshed with the night wind, shaking off leaves and dropping them on us like lazy little missiles.

  “How was it living in San Francisco?” I asked, eager to lighten the conversation.

  “Nice,” he said, “I enjoyed the break from Astoria. San Francisco’s huge, loads to see and do. There’s a huge Witch community out there also, bigger than back home.”

  “I take it this one wasn’t like the one back home?”

  “No. This was better. Accepting of all types of people from all walks of life.”

  “Sounds like there’s True Witches everywhere, so why have I never met one? Why are there no Witches out here?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it has to do with ley lines and places of power. They go wherever the Currents are strongest.”

  “I’d say they’re pretty strong out here from what I’ve seen.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think this place has come up on anyone’s radar yet.” Damien paused and scanned the ground around his feet. “Don’t we need firewood?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, we’ve got plenty in the basement. So, do you call yourself a Warlock or a Witch? I haven’t asked that question yet.”

  “Do you know what the word Warlock means?” he asked, “Where it comes from?”

  I grinned. “You realize we’re in the same class, right?”

  “I do.”

  “The word was given to sorcerers in the past. It translates to ‘oathbreaker’ in Old English.”

  “I don’t think the title applies to me.”

  “Because you keep your promises?”

  “Because I don’t break oaths, and because I’m not a Warlock. I’m a Witch.”

  “Evan calls himself a Warlock.”

  A sly smirk spread across Damien’s lips.

  “What?” I asked, smiling.

  “How’d you get into Witchcraft?”

  “Technically Eliza brought me into the Craft. I learned everything from her, and then from what I read.”

  “Why’d you get into it?”

  “Because it made sense to me, you know? It wasn’t a fad or a phase. I legitimately analyzed all of the available religions and made a choice to get into Wicca. I thought about being a Buddhist you know.”

  “Really?”

  “Totally. But something was missing. I guess now I know what it was.”

  I’m a True Witch, not a True Buddhist.

  We came to within earshot of the river. The waters flowed quickly in this area, but still not quick enough to cause it to froth. When we stepped to the riverbank we were greeted by a blanket of mist concealing the entire length and breadth of the Geordie River.

  “Jesus,” I said, gaping at the puffy white fog, “I swear there’s a river in there somewhere.”

  Damien smiled. “I’m sure it hasn’t gone anywhere.”

  “Say I believe you,” I said, after a pause. “About everything. About being a True Witch.”

  “You still don’t believe?”

  “Oh, trust me; I want this to be true more than anything.”

  “It is. Every strange thing that’s happened to you is because you’re a True Witch; because you attract change and weirdness.”

  Explains why you’re here, then I thought.

  “Then show me something,” I said, “Show me anything. I know I believe what you’re saying, I can feel it, but I have to see it.”

  Damien’s hand rose to meet my face. A raging monster replaced my heart and thrashed around inside my chest. His cold fingers grazed the warm skin of my cheek and my flesh turned into a prickly mess. When he turned my head toward the river my jaw dropped. I heard a whisper at the edge of my senses, incoherent and quick, and watched as the blanket of fog covering the Geordie gently parted as if blown away by a breath.

  “How… did you do that?” I asked.

  “I thought it,” said Damien. He removed his hand from my face and I regained the ability to breathe.

  “Can your sister do that too?” I asked.

  “My sister’s a much more powerful Witch than I am.”

  “I’d like to meet her sometime.”

  Damien fell silent. His mouth opened but no words formed, then he clenched his jaw and looked across the river. Oh Gods, no.

  “Damien?” I asked, treading cautiously around his feelings.

  “My sister’s dead,” he said.

  My hands rushed to my mouth to contain the gasp. “Oh my God,” I said, “Damien, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  “It’s okay.” He swallowed hard. I could see him fighting with himself.

  A pool of glistening liquid forming at Damien’s eyes signaled the fall of his epic composure. In an instant I glimpsed a kind of vulnerability I thought lost in all men. Tears fell and his lip quivered, but he bravely fought the rush of emotion visibly trying to break out of his skin and held it back.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. Throwing care into the wind, struggling with my impulse to make calculated decisions, I hugged him tightly. “You should have just told me.”

  “I wanted to,” he said, wrapping his arms around my back, “But this is the kind of thing that’ll ruin a person’s day.”

  By now my own eyes also threatened to fill up and spill over. “Damien, it’s okay. We’re friends. You can talk to me.” I tried to pull away but Damien held me more tightly.

  “The bracelet,” Damien said, “The one you found in the river. It’s hers.”

  “What?” I asked. All manner of color drained from my face.

  “I don’t know how it wound up in the river, but the bracelet is hers. I know it is.”

  “You mean… she’s the girl that died in the river? Here? In Raven’s Glen?” I swallowed but no saliva came—only rough air.

  Damien nodded, although it took a moment for him to gather the strength.

  I pulled away from him and stared into his eyes, but then I became immediately aware of the bracelet. It suddenly felt like rough wire-mesh against my skin instead of smooth stone. “How do you know that… the girl in the river was her? Didn’t she live with you in San Francisco?” I asked.

  “She moved here to get away from the city,” he said, “A few weeks ago she called me up, told me something bad had happened to her and that she wasn’t feeling great. So I made the bracelet for her and sent it in the mail.”

/>   “Damien,” I said, starting to peel the bracelet off, “I can’t keep this.”

  “No,” Damien said, quickly stopping me and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I think she wanted you to find it. I’ve been wondering why you were the one who found the bracelet and why you’ve been wearing it but… I don’t know.”

  “If this belonged to your sister I can’t—”

  “Amber, please. Don’t.” Damien stared at me with seriousness in his eyes. “If she wanted you to have it then I want you to have it as well.”

  I nodded and rubbed my cooling arms.

  “It’s getting cold out,” said Damien, wiping his eyes with his forearm. “We should head back, but we can talk more there if you want.”

  I nodded and lead the way, although what I wanted to do was get more answers. But Damien’s face had lost its brightness, and it didn’t feel right to grill him for information. So I reached for his hand and took it, then led him back up the path toward the house. By the time we reached the tree line just beyond the riverbank the fog had returned to consume the trickling stream and I wondered if I had imagined it all.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  That night, before bed, I said a prayer for Damien’s sister—Lilith Colt—during my own quiet veneration of Mabon. I couldn’t believe I had been so casually discussing her with Eliza the other day. The thought made me go cold inside. I couldn’t sleep. Like a twitchy child, every couple of hours I would wake and find trouble getting back down.

  Then I remembered the bracelet, my dip in the river, the Raven and even the strange way Damien came into my life. I didn’t believe in coincidences and I wasn’t superstitious. Fate truly did have a habit of interconnecting things. But Fate didn’t dwell on these connections, nor did it need to worry about getting enough rest. I, however, did; and I was not faring well in that department.

  I wasn’t sure how much sleep I had gotten by the time the early birds came to warn of daybreak’s approach. Sitting upright, I rubbed my eyes and slipped out of bed. The fog was gone and a fresh layer of dew had condensed on the window. Dawn was breaking through the trees casting a honey glow over the world. Even through the closed window a sweet scent of wet morning flowers found its way in to greet me. I drank it in and smiled, letting go of the previous night’s dramas.

  Figuring I was probably the only person awake given the quietness of the house, I wrapped myself up in a thick grey robe, stepped into some fluffy boot slippers, and crept my way downstairs to the kitchen. It seemed, as I walked down, that yesterday’s gloom had left the house. Somehow, the corridors were brighter, the old man smell was gone, and the floorboards didn’t creak as much. But I ignored the potential omen and headed for my target.

  “Coffee,” I said to myself as I entered the kitchen. “Wait, no… can I have coffee?” Today was Mabon. We were meant to eat off the earth, so coffee was out of the question. Wasn’t it? I decided to forget coffee, just to be sure, and opened the cupboards to look for something to wake up with and found an assortment of teas; green, lemon, mint, herbal. I put the kettle to boil over a gas stove—rustic style—then dropped a packet of green tea into a mug, and unlocked the back door to the orchard while I waited.

  Stepping outside I expected a fresh morning breeze, leaves sweeping away and dropping from nearby rustling trees, and withered old trees devoid of life. Instead what I discovered outside was an orchard rich with saturated colors. Red, ripe tomatoes; full green apples, more than I could count; lettuce heads, carrots, oranges, and even strawberries. Strawberries! I stifled a gasp and took in the sight.

  Did I imagine the dead orchard last night on my way in with Damien? Or was it perhaps so dark outside I simply didn’t see the fruits and vegetables waiting to be plucked from the earth? As little white flakes—dandelions, I think—floated down from on high I could think of no other explanation for the bountiful harvest in front of me besides the most obvious one; Mabon was here, and the Goddess had blessed us.

  I rushed back into the house and summoned the others, returning with Eliza in tow draped in a dressing gown. She hugged me from behind and pressed her cheek against mine when she saw what I was seeing.

  “It’s so beautiful,” she said, squealing.

  “How did this even happen? We didn’t plant any crops!” I said.

  “Don’t try and explain it, Amber. We’ve been blessed.”

  “I feel… like I could cry.”

  “Then cry! This is the Goddess’ gift to us.”

  Eliza let me go and stepped into the orchard barefoot, flitting between trees and bushes like a butterfly. Damien and Evan arrived at the sound of the commotion, but they halted their brisk advance at the door to the orchard when they saw. Evan slowly made his way into the wood, his eyes wide with utter bewilderment. Damien waited. As I glanced up at his face—perfect, despite having just woken up—I found I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Damien?” I asked from a few feet away. “Aren’t you coming out?”

  He shook his head, then nodded, and smiled. “This… is amazing,” he said, approaching. And while that’s all he said, he didn’t have to say anything else for me to understand what was going on. This whole thing had something to do with the presence of two True Witches up here. I just knew it.

  After retrieving a few baskets from the kitchen, Damien and I began picking and plucking rich, ripe fruits and vegetables from out of the ground. Evan and Eliza—who I caught making out as dandelions fell on them—eventually joined in with baskets of their own and assisted us in the harvest.

  None of us wanted to try and explain what had happened for fear of spoiling the magic. Instead we simply got to work picking it all up, but the yield was huge. It took all four of us nearly an hour to transfer everything into the kitchen, but the workout invigorated me. I even forgot all about the cup of green tea I was about to make.

  When we were done, Eliza came into the kitchen holding a single pomegranate as if it were a glass chalice or the Holy Grail. Damien, Evan and I stared at her, waiting for an explanation, but then it came to me.

  “Don’t tell me that’s—” I started to say.

  “This is it, Amber,” Eliza said, cutting me off. “Proof that tonight the Dark Mother comes. We have to prepare.”

  I smiled. “Blessed be, huh?”

  “I’ll go set up the altar for tonight.” Eliza handed me the pomegranate. “You wash fruits and make sure this doesn’t break.”

  Eliza spent the remainder of the morning buzzing around the house while the rest of us handled things in the kitchen. Damien was in charge of washing the reddest and ripest tomatoes you ever saw. Next to him, in the same long sink, I washed equally delicious looking lettuce heads while Evan took stock of exactly how much of what kind of vegetables we had. The idea was that we’d give away what we didn’t eat, but we wanted to distribute the crop evenly and also feed ourselves tonight.

  “So, I never asked you,” Damien said as he washed tomatoes.

  “Hmm?” I asked, cocking my head.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  He seemed to have cheered up, so I decided to open up to him. “No,” I said.

  “Really?”

  “Surprised?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “And why’s that?”

  Damien smiled, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t want to answer that?” I asked.

  “I don’t think I have to.”

  “Is that so?” I smiled too.

  “An intelligent, beautiful girl with a sick sense of humor and a natural redhead? A girl like you wouldn’t be single in San Francisco for long.”

  A lettuce head slipped out of my hands and into the sink, then it decided to bounce around and splash around like a fish. Water got all over my shirt and arms.

  “Sorry, shit, did I get you?” I said.

  “No,” Damien said with the cheekiest grin.

  I hid my rosy red cheeks behind my hair and smiled as my composure returned.
br />   “That’s what happens when cheesy lines get thrown at me,” I said, grabbing the broken lettuce and continuing to wash it.

  “Cheesy? What was so cheesy about it?”

  “Nothing,” I said, smiling. “Anyway, I used to have a boyfriend.”

  “Used to? What happened?”

  “He cheated on me,” I said, point-blank. “More than once.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “I’m worse.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I took a deep breath. “His name was Kyle,” I started, “We had been going out since high school. It started with an alright scene, y’know? But then I came into my whole introvert thing, stopped going out with his friends, and kind of retreated into myself. He cheated on me during this funk I was in.”

  “You know that?”

  “I suspected,” I said. “Then I went to Europe after college. I asked him to come with me but he told me he didn’t have the money to go. A lie, since a few days after I left I heard he’d bought himself a car he wanted to fix up for about as much as his plane tickets would’ve cost. We still kept the relationship going while I was away. I’d call him whenever I had Wi-Fi access and stuff. I could have hooked up with European guys but I decided to be good, you know?”

  Damien swallowed, but nodded.

  “When I got back,” I continued, “I started to hear rumors about Kyle, his car, and some girls. Things got weird between us. We were together for six years, but when my parents left me my house Kyle didn’t want to move in with me because he said he liked his space.”

  I wasn’t sure whether Damien’s sigh was sympathetic or whether he thought I was a moron for believing in Kyle. Both would have been acceptable.

  “The final straw was one night about eight months ago,” I said, “I went out with Eliza and he went out drinking with his buddies. About half way into the night I got a text message from a friend of mine telling me he had been seen disappearing into the toilets with a girl I used to babysit.”

  “Babysit?”

  “She was seventeen. She was young and pretty and I was weird. When I got the message my heart dropped. So I made an excuse, ran home, and put a curse on him—because that was totally the right, mature way to deal with the problem.”