Jingle Spells

by CyberWitch Press

  He heaves a final sigh before he finishes. “When the time is right and the wizard has found his match, the shoes make their appearance. The first time I saw these shoes was this morning.” He’s not looked away from me since he started talking. It’s easy to see the frustration on his face as he continues to fight the knot. “Mother pointed out to me that we don’t always get to choose when we find our match, but if we listen and follow the guidance we are given, then we will realize the power given to us.”

  As if he’s given up on the knots, his fingers grip my ankle. There are so many questions swirling through my head. Surely, I should be able to ask a few questions. He can’t just expect to appear and have me follow him off. There’s no way to know if these are, in fact, my shoes, or if they were possibly left over from someone else he took home.

  “Exactly what power are we talking about?”

  Holding up a single finger as if he’s about to exclaim Eureka!, he offers up a dazzling smile.

  “It’s the allure of the shoes. To most, they appear as just another pair of pretty shoes, something to accessorize your outfit. To us, however, the allure will bind us to each other and unlock a power that only we will understand. It’s different every time.”

  Needing more, I continue to dig, “Your father didn’t have shoes for your mother?”

  With a look of defeat, he hesitates at first, shaking his head. “It’s not available to everyone. My aunt said he didn’t wait and chose on his own. That could be true, but they’ve been happy together.”

  “Why these shoes?”

  That sounded ungrateful, but I need to know. If these shoes are to represent something, well, I should be told. If they’re just random or assigned somehow, maybe they will give me some understanding of what is expected.

  I want to reach for the shoes as I look down at them on the floor below. The shoes glitter from the bright sunlight as if calling me, making me long to run a finger across the curves, to know the touch of them. As if I’ve developed a shoe fetish, my attraction grows to the shoes that are calling my name.

  Brogan rattles off the facts on why these shoes like he’s reciting the days of the week. “It’s easy enough to understand, really. The power is held in the allure. They have to have something you desire to draw in your attention. It doesn’t matter the size. They will fit you perfectly from the day you put them on until your last. They will fit no one but you. They also can’t be borrowed. The coloring of the shoes is the most desirable to you; they won’t seem as appealing to anyone else.”

  I smile as if I’ve found the release button. Then the laughter begins. He couldn’t have made me happier; I have found my way out of this. Inside, I feel a bit of sadness. Being with Brogan wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me. I might have even been secretly looking forward to it.

  It doesn’t matter now. It’s easily confirmed that these are not my shoes.

  As to offer my sympathy to him, I reach out, placing my hand flat on his shoulder. Our connection is instantly felt, and my traitorous insides offer up heart-burn for me again.

  “I’m sorry to tell you, Brogan, that green isn’t the most desirable color to me. I’ve always loved…”

  CHAPTER 8

  Brogan

  Interrupting her, I say it as she does. “Yellow.”

  The look of astonishment on her face says it all. She thought a technicality like her favorite color would put a stop to all of this?

  “Yes, your favorite color is yellow. That doesn’t mean your shoes would follow along.” I stare deep into her eyes, looking for the answer she needs. She hasn’t been told that I can read her thoughts or plant them in her mind, just like I did with my name. If there was anything I wanted last night, I wanted her to remember my name. I just wanted to hear my name from her lips.

  I find the answer and push for more. There can be no doubts left over the fact that she is my witch.

  Just like finding myself beside her here, not of my own free will, the words tumble from my lips. It’s all she will need to hear; it’s the final words that will draw us together.

  “You like balance in your life. Dependability is important to you. If given the choice, your preferred way to spend time is in your garden. Even the inside of your house is filled with plants. With your hands in the soil tending to your plants, your soul is nourished. When you have a choice to make, most often you will choose the green option.”

  Mesmerized, she listens as I tell her who she is. She nods as I continue to talk, agreeing with me. I see that hidden away is the truth she has known all along. It’s time to tell her that her worst fear is about to be realized. Only to be rewarded with something that she never thought possible.

  She doesn’t need to be told; she knows it’s coming to her, and she turns to her mother. I offer her my strength as she takes a cruel blow even I can’t keep from her. As if she knows this is the time to tell her, Arwen’s mother plays her cards.

  “The sisters of your coven have released you. You will no longer be able to meet with them. The shoes are a gift, and I hope that in time you will realize it.”

  The realization of the news delivered by her own mother is devastating. Silently, tears fall down her face; this is her time to mourn.

  Offering more strength to her, I squeeze her hands in mine. Someone else has joined us; I just can’t take my eyes off of her. I hear a voice and know that my own mother is here.

  Just as fast as they appeared, Arwen’s tears dry up. She offers a final smile to her mother and pulls her hand from mine to pat her mother’s hand, quietly accepting all that she has been told. She offers a nod to my mother and then turns to me. For the first time, I have no idea what she’s about to do. There are so many thoughts in her head that I can’t clearly hear her desire.

  Waiting for her decision takes an eternity, but she finally reaches down and slips off her shoes. Nothing could make me happier until she says, “I accept, Brogan.”

  As is custom, the next solstice will be our joining. With only a few days to prepare, we will need both of our mothers together. Magically, we have everything we need.

  Author Sidonia Rose

  Sidonia has a long love affair with books. She started early by memorizing her Dr. Seuss books read to her, so she could read them to her parents instead. She is often found with a book in her hands or a couple of books so she can lend to a friend. You can catch up with Sidonia at www.sidoniarose.com for updates.

  If you enjoyed The Witch’s Shoes,

  check out LOVE SHOTS

  Kyle Pierce used to know what she wanted. At the top of her list was the perfect boyfriend. She found him in Lance Making her senior year in high school. She was the head cheerleader and he was the new star quarterback. Even going to separate colleges was no problem for them.

  It was perfect until the weekend it all changed for Kyle. She has new priorities that include her own education, making new friends and most importantly NO DATING!

  That is until Nicholas Richards moves into her world. He’s not taking no for an answer. He’s her friend and he wants her to date him.

  Kyle isn’t going to date Nick. She doesn’t mind hanging out or running errands. She tells him and everyone else they are friends.

  Can they really be just friends?

  Available online where books are sold.

  Molly

  Brittany White

  Molly Spring was a somewhat ordinary girl, made somewhat ordinary grades and had somewhat ordinary ideas. She loved playing in the dirt and mud, she loved being outside and she loved being alone.

  That had a lot to do with her home life.

  Her mother was mentally unsound and abusive, her father long dead in an auto accident. He had made sure Molly’s mother took her medications. After his death, no one remained to keep her in line, and she lashed out at her daughter.

  One night when things got out of hand, Molly ran away and never looked back.

  She took to the streets of New York and became invo
lved in drugs. First, cocaine; then crack; and finally, heroin.

  Four years after she left home, she lifted herself away from the drug habit that almost claimed her life. Despite that, she still spent most of her nights under bridges or in shelters.

  One snowy evening, close to Christmas, she hadn’t made it back to the shelter before nightfall. Cold and hungry, she had been forced to a corner of an alleyway. At almost twenty years old, her body felt like it was ready to expire from the freezing temperatures and malnutrition. She found herself praying that her end would come quickly, and closed her eyes for what she was sure was the last time.

  In the quiet of the night, two men approached, startling Molly awake. One man grabbed her roughly, holding a sharp blade to her neck as the other rifled through her pockets, looking for any cash or drugs. Molly had neither, so they began to beat her without mercy.

  In that moment, a man appeared out of nowhere and scared off her attackers. His dark features and thick Spanish accent were all she could focus on as he scooped her up out of the rat-filled alley and carried her away.

  *

  Molly awoke warm, lying on a futon with a cup of hot broth by her side. Afraid, she attempted to sneak out, making her way to the door before she stumbled and hit the floor with a thud. Her legs shook so badly she couldn’t get out without help.

  “I do hope you will at least try to eat something.”

  The voice had an almost musical quality to it. She turned to face the stranger who had saved her. He was tall, with dark skin, dark eyes, and the smallest trace of a well-trimmed beard.

  “I did go through the trouble of making you something to eat. Not to mention, I busted my knuckles punching those two guys who were trying to rob you, and carried you up to my apartment.”

  He helped her off the floor and back onto the futon, which was soft and warm. At that moment, she didn’t care if he had nefarious plans for her; she was comfortable. Molly sipped the soup, which was surprisingly tasty, and looked around the room.

  The walls needed a good coat of paint. Dead — or dying — plants crowded around the windows near faded curtains. She reached over and touched a dried leaf, thinking about how pretty it must have been once.

  Molly glanced around. She thought the man seemed to be some sort of collector of weird figurines and books. Some of the statues looked Greek, and decorative crosses hung on the walls. All in all, it was odd. It wasn’t much in the way of an apartment, but she couldn’t complain, seeing as how the alternative was the street. Some sort of Hispanic song played on the radio, but she didn’t know enough Spanish to be able to say for sure what song.

  The man returned cradling a mug in both hands.

  “How did you know I wouldn’t steal your stuff or kill you or something?” Molly asked. He smiled, handing her something that looked like hot tea. She preferred cocoa but didn’t think it would be appropriate to say so. He was just some fool who took pity on her and felt like playing the hero. Heroes didn’t marry former addicts or homeless girls. She shook her head at that thought. She wouldn’t live to see her next birthday; she certainly wouldn’t live long enough to get married.

  “I noticed you have a cut on your arm. It doesn’t look infected, but it does look deep. It must have happened when those guys tried to mug you. I have bandages, if you want them.”

  He gestured to a box emblazoned with the classic red first aid symbol. She noticed what looked like a pair of scrubs folded up on a chair next to the door. A doctor then, she thought. Surely, he had to see the signs that she was just some homeless girl. She watched him stir something on the stove, seemingly unfazed by her presence. He wasn’t even watching her. She could steal something. Make a break for it. His stuff looked expensive, despite the appearance of his apartment, and she could use the money. She could pawn something. Her hands shook so much she had a hard time holding on to the tea cup. Her nerves proved too much, and she dropped it. The pearl white cup covered in blue violets crashed to the hardwood floor and shattered. She froze as he looked up.

  Molly fell to her knees and tried to gather up the broken bits. “I’m so sorry. I swear it was an accident. I…I’ll pay you back! Please…”

  He placed a hand over hers and waited until she had calmed down. The way he looked at her puzzled her — like she was a lost puppy he wanted to take in. She pushed such thoughts away. No one wanted her and no one ever would. Her own mother didn’t even want her, for crying out loud. Her eyes stung with tears she refused to shed when she thought of the hurtful things her mother had said to her on her last night at home.

  He took the pieces out of her hands and threw them away. “It’s just a tea cup Miss…. uh…?”

  “My name is Molly.”

  “Miss Molly. My name is Jack, and you are welcome here for as long as you need somewhere to stay. Anyway, you shouldn’t handle broken pieces with your hands. You could cut yourself.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you would like to clean up. There are fresh towels and a shower down at the end of the hall. Take all the time you need. You may find that you have more of an appetite after. I also laid out something for you to wear. It’s just a pair of scrubs, but they should do.”

  “Why are you doing all this? You don’t even know me.”

  “I know you’re tired, hungry, and would probably like a hot shower. I don’t need to know anything more than that right now.”

  *

  Jack watched as Molly started down the hallway to the shower. After a few steps, she leaned heavily against the wall. Clearly, she was having a hard time walking.

  Jack took her by the waist, which he noticed was abnormally small. He would wager she was more malnourished than he had thought.

  After leaving Molly in the bathroom, Jack returned to the living room to straighten up. He retrieved the soup bowl, now cooled, and put it in the sink to be washed. As he did, he glanced at the lavender plant she had touched and stopped mid-stride, shocked to see it had been brought back to life.

  The plant’s leaves were a deep green, and he could smell the scent from where he stood on the other side of the room. He had no talent with plants, but was persistent even in his failure. One touch from Molly, and suddenly, it was as if the lavender had never wilted.

  This could only mean Molly was an elemental: a group of powerful witches who could manipulate the water, earth, fire, and air around them. There weren’t many of them left. The last one he had let himself get close to had been kidnapped and presumably murdered in an effort to save him. The guilt of that sacrifice haunted him still, though he held out hope she was alive.

  Bounty hunters bent on destroying the elementals were always on the lookout for those just emerging into their powers. They believed the elementals to be dangerous and blamed the problems of the world on them — or at least natural disasters. He had to admit, even to himself, that it was possible, but he also knew the elementals on the council. The few he knew personally were not the sort to kill thousands in mudslides and twenty-foot walls of water.

  Molly had to be an elemental. There was no other way she could have brought that plant back to life like that. She might not even be aware she had the power. He had to know for sure before he broached the subject with her. He only knew one person who could verify he was correct, but he rolled his eyes at the thought of that conversation.

  He reached for his phone and dialed the number.

  “Mom… yeah. Look I… I think I found her…the fourth one. Can you get over here? You’ve got the highest sense of any of us. I’m sure you will be able to tell… Trust me, it’s worth it.”

  He heard the shower turn off and waited a bit to give Molly time to dry off and get dressed. He knocked on the door, letting her know that she could leave her clothes in the hamper, and he would have them washed. He thought he heard her mutter an okay.

  “Are you all right? Oh, I’ve got a spare toothbrush under the sink. You… you can use it. Take your time and don’t push yourself. I don’t want you to get
hurt. You still haven’t got your strength back.”

  “Thanks.”

  A few minutes later, he heard the door open. Molly padded barefoot into the living room, as he hadn’t thought to get her shoes or house socks.

  Great, he thought, just let her feet get cold, you thoughtless oaf.

  Her skin glowed and her cheeks were rosy from the heated water. Her long, wavy hair matched her mahogany eyes. He realized that she reminded him of her. The girl he had lost to the bounty hunters.

  Molly was beautiful, in a way that made his heart skip a beat. He found himself staring longer than necessary. She starred back at him, her eyes wide. She was studying him, as much as he was her. It was surreal moment, the silence broken by her voice.

  “I like your necklace,” Molly said. “Is that a Celtic knot?”

  Jack touched the pendant that always hung around his neck and nodded. He could tell she had questions about the strange phrase engraved on it, but was too polite to ask. He didn’t offer an explanation. Not yet, in any case.

  All he wanted in that moment was to take her in his arms and clear away anything that made her unhappy. He couldn’t resist tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She blushed a shade of red he found adorable, but he reeled his emotions in. He had to maintain control and not lead them both into a situation he would regret later. She was frail, scared, and had likely suffered some form of abuse. He wouldn’t do anything to make her afraid of him. His clan had been looking everywhere for an elemental with her abilities. He couldn’t risk losing her. She was too important.

  “I want you to take it easy for a few days,” Jack told her. “You’re certainly in no shape to be outside, and you need your rest. I’m a doctor, so that makes me your doctor for the time being. Have some tea and take a nap. Please.”

  Molly nodded and laid down on the futon, closing her eyes. But not before Jack thought he saw a look of disappointment on her face.

  *

  Sylvia McKenny was a headstrong woman who had always gotten her way with most things. Like most headstrong people, she hated to have her plans interrupted, but today was different.

  A call from her son about finding an earth elemental witch was important enough to throw all her plans right out the window. It irked her that Jack wasn’t taking the necessary precautions, like moving the girl to the safe house, especially considering that any scent of a new elemental would draw bounty hunters.