Of Curses and Charms

by Nyx Halliwell

  “Toasters,” he says, totally serious.

  I make a face. “Riveting, I’m sure.”

  “For some, it is. I recently came across a guy in California with quite a collection. There’s one 1960s vintage Smeg he’s missing and guess what I found on my last expedition north?”

  He often heads into Canada to look for unique items. Other times he heads east to Wyoming, or Idaho, and occasionally as far as the Badlands. He’s always on the hunt, and I think that’s what keeps his life interesting. I envy all the traveling he does.

  “Never heard of such a thing, but I hope the guy is willing to pay a pretty penny for it,” I say with a grin.

  “He is, but I want to do a segment on it for my fans before I sell it to him.”

  It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact Hopper may be a millionaire because of his antiques obsession. He doesn’t talk about his family or past, and although he was in the military for a while, he doesn’t strike me as the type to go to war.

  I don’t really care where his money came from, or what he does with it, but I do love seeing the modern metal sculptures he makes in his workshop in the barn behind his store. They’re raw and beautiful, and they litter his property. He doesn’t sell them, claiming they’re for his enjoyment only.

  When we finally get back, it’s late. We sit in his truck a moment, and he takes a phone call. A customer is at his place, wanting to buy something. As he talks to the guy, and assures him he’ll be there in a few minutes, I see a vision.

  Hopper leaning across to kiss me.

  Okay, maybe it’s just my active imagination, but I like believing it’s the future.

  I let it play out, not surprised when I see myself return the kiss, then crawl into his lap to do more.

  “I can walk you in.” He snaps me out of my day dreaming. Apparently, his call is over. “We may have to do the jewelry thing tomorrow, though. I forgot I promised this guy I’d stay open late so he could buy an antique dresser for his wife’s birthday tomorrow.”

  I feel like a teenager on her first date. Heat rises into my cheeks at the fact I want to ravish him in his truck. “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He jumps out and rushes over to open my door. I climb out, feeling that awkward embarrassment again. “Thank you. I…you know, for everything. It was awesome. Amazing.”

  I press my lips together, so I quit talking. Why can’t I be cool and casual like Autumn is? She seems to always find the right words to say.

  He grins and puts his hands in his pockets. “Are you sure you don’t need help with the kittens tonight? I can come back later.”

  We’re putting off saying goodbye, and again I’m reminded of teenagers. I want to reach out and touch his arm so badly, I nearly do it. Godfrey appears and lets out a loud meow that sounds like, gross humans.

  It’s all the distraction I need. I keep my hands to myself. “I’ll call if I need help, I promise.”

  This seems to appease him, and he nods.

  “Goodnight,” I say and start to walk away.

  Hopper grabs hold of my elbow and pulls me back to him. He stares into my eyes for a long moment and I know what’s about to happen.

  Score one for this vision.

  But I sense his hesitation, his worry I might freak out if he does it.

  Shyness gone, I reach up and slide one of my gloved hands behind his neck, bringing his lips to mine.

  I make it a point to leave no doubt in his mind that I do very much want to be kissed.

  7

  Lips still buzzing, I ditch my stuff and take over for Autumn.

  Hopper and I made plans to meet tomorrow after my last appointment. That way he’ll be able to keep his store open for customers and get his video done.

  I bring back the leftover pizza to share with my sisters and thank them for filling in for me.

  Spring is holding a class, but other than that, there are few customers. Godfrey makes himself at home in the center of the crafting table to the women’s delight. The kittens are sleeping in the office where Winter is working on the books.

  “Thank the goddess you’re here,” she says when I enter, then she points at the kittens. “I’m not cut out for this mothering thing. I had to change the blanket three times. They’re peeing and pooping machines.” She gives an exaggerated shudder.

  “Did you know there’s a black magick sorcerer in Raven Falls? A dark wizard?”

  She eases back in the padded office chair. “I’ve heard rumors, but never confirmed it. From the sounds of it, he must keep a low profile.”

  “His name is Kaan Fontaine. His wife died a week or so ago, but there are things about her death that don’t add up.”

  She swings a leg over the other. “Did you see him during your episode this morning? Is that how you figured it out?”

  “Sort of. The necklace belongs to his wife, and I saw him when I touched it. At least I think it was him. He was quite a bit younger than the man I met today. I think he and Mariel have been around a lot longer than they appear.”

  I tell her about the ward and the painting, as well as the protection ward she had under her bed. “Do you think you can help me find out if magick killed her?”

  “Dangerous stuff, Summer. Are you sure you want to go there?”

  “Hopper’s bringing two boxes of Mariel’s jewelry over tomorrow. I’m going to see what kind of hits I get off them. That’ll determine if I take it further.”

  “Well then, I best throw up some extra protection,” she says. “I don’t want this Mr. Fontaine paying us a visit.”

  “Thank you. I was also wondering if you could reach out and contact Mariel’s ghost. Maybe she can tell us what’s going on.”

  My sister doesn’t look all that excited about contacting the woman’s spirit, but then again, Winter doesn’t look excited about anything. “Do you still have the necklace?”

  “Yes, do you want me to get it?”

  “I need to finish the books right now. Let’s meet after closing in the kitchen.”

  The crafting class runs over by ten minutes, and I help Spring clean up as we see everyone out. We retreat to the kitchen where Winter is waiting. She has the kettle heating on the stove, knowing Spring will want a cup. Honestly, after the day I’ve had, I could use a gallon of coffee, but some of Spring’s organic peppermint tea will have to do.

  Autumn is watching the kittens in her client room, and Spring retrieves a few of the leftover bakery items from the front case for us to munch on.

  I carry the bowl with the necklace to the table and put it in front of Winter. She’s reading a book Hopper brought.

  “Did you know one of the lost native tribes actually had a book made from animal skins with stories written in it?” We both shake our heads and she goes on. “This journal references it, but claims no one could read the thing because the language was lost with that tribe. There was a woman in the colony who seemed to have the ability to translate, but the man who wrote this journal didn’t believe she knew what she was doing. At the time this was written, the general consensus was that it was some type of instruction manual on how to deal with an angry spirit.”

  She smiles, that subject close to her heart.

  After everything that’s happened today, I have trouble shifting my mind to the underlying subject matter she’s referring to. The monster imprisoned on the land deep inside the earth is always a topic of conversation between us these days. We believe our mother is somehow bound to it. Spring has been on a quest to break that binding and destroy the thing.

  I don’t understand how this piece of trivia could help, but since we have no solid leads as to what to do about “the master,” I guess everything feels like a piece of hope. “What happened to this manual?”

  She flips to a particular entry and taps the page with her finger. “He referenced it as the lost tribe’s Book of the Dead. I looked it up on the internet, but the only mention I could find was to something in one of the natur
al history museums in Eugene. They don’t call it that, but they reference it by number, and it might be the same thing.”

  I eat one of the oatmeal raisin cookies Spring placed on the table. She brings over a teapot and pours each of us a cup. Winter ignores hers—she prefers coffee—but I blow on the hot tea and enjoy the uplifting smell. Spring always tells us peppermint tea can solve any problem, but so far, it hasn’t solved the one with our mother’s soul.

  And I’m worried there is no solving that problem if she was dabbling in black magick.

  “Too bad it can’t help us with Mom,” Spring says, as if she’s reading my mind.

  Winter ignores her but snatches up a cookie. “If only someone could read it. It may reference our demon and give us a clue on how to get rid of the thing.”

  “Wait,” I say, “What your reading is a diary?”

  Winter shows me the inside page. “It belonged to a naturalist named A. Henson. He explored the coastline in the 1600s. It’s full of notes and drawings. Looks to me like this should be in the museum, too, since it contains so much information about this area at that time.”

  I gingerly touch the edges and don’t get any weird hits, so I flip through it, seeing what Winter is talking about. The man’s beautiful script, along with various sketches of fauna, insects, and animals, looks like a natural history book in and of itself.

  Winter takes a hairband off her wrist and rakes her crazy curls into a sloppy ponytail. “Okay, let’s get started.”

  Spring and I watch as she pulls the bowl toward her. She takes off the protection bracelets of hematite and onyx I made for her, and sets them on the table. Closing her eyes, she breathes deeply. I know she’s working on retracting her wards that keep the spirits at bay. If she didn’t protect herself, she’d see them everywhere, and have them constantly chattering at her and demanding her help.

  After she’s opened the channel to the other side, she reaches for the necklace, hesitantly touching the garnet and metal. I stare, willing it to be the conduit between Winter and Mariel.

  As my eyes focus on the gemstones. I feel that tugging in my breastbone. I’m not even touching it, but I can feel the magick beginning to roll off the snake.

  It seems to shimmer and for a brief second, I swear the garnet eyes come alive. The head tilts slightly and zeros in on Winter’s hand. I jump up, knocking it to the table. “No!”

  Tea splashes over the edges of our cups, and I knock my cookie to the floor, the pieces going in all directions. Winter looks up startled. Spring grips the table that’s still shaking.

  “What is it?” Winter huffs.

  “Didn’t you see it?” I say. “It… it turned into a snake.”

  My sisters look at me as if I’m the one who’s grown a snake’s head. “It is a snake,” Spring reminds me, gripping my hand and giving it a squeeze. “But it’s not real. Do you think your nerves are getting to you?”

  “I…I saw it come to life.”

  Winter glances at the necklace and back to me. “I didn’t see it change.”

  I rub my eyes and slowly resume my seat, as Spring grabs a dishtowel to mop up the tea.

  Once she’s done, I ask Winter, “Did you have a connection to Mariel?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ll try again, okay?”

  “What if it’s cursed? Will it hurt you?”

  She gives me a lopsided grin. “You’re the expert on those, sister. What do you think?”

  I think my oldest sibling is one tough cookie, but black magick is nothing to fool with. “We need to be extra cautious.”

  “I agree,” Winter says. “What do you suggest? I don’t have to touch it, but it would help.”

  I’ve already held that thing, maybe that’s why I can see the magick suspended in it now. But Winter touched it too, and she didn’t see anything other than a piece of costume jewelry with a couple gemstones in it.

  I’m tired, and it’s been a long day. Maybe Spring is right about my nerves. “Try it without touching the necklace. I just don’t trust it.”

  Winter and Spring exchange a look I ignore. Spring holds my hand as Winter once more does her thing and reaches out to the spirit world.

  Silence falls over us and Winter seems completely at ease, but I feel like grinding my teeth. I want to know what happened to Mariel, and if there’s something I need to do to help her. On the other hand, black magick scares me and I want nothing to do with it. I certainly don’t want to put my sisters in danger, and I’m already worried I’ve done that.

  That Mom has done that.

  Minutes pass, and Winter closes her eyes. That quiet calm she always gets when interacting with the spirit world comes over her and I can’t help but relax somewhat myself. I try not to stare at the necklace, and trust that Winter won’t do anything that’d put herself in danger.

  Usually crossing the veil and connecting with a certain spirit comes easy to her, and I wonder why it’s taking so long tonight.

  Worry and doubt continue to creep in, a layer of fear riding my skin. I’m about to tell her to quit, to return to our side where I can protect her, when she opens her eyes.

  She’s staring across the room, but I can tell she’s not seeing Spring’s collection of pie birds on the shelf. “Is she here?” I whisper.

  Winter doesn’t answer, doesn’t even blink. “Not exactly.”

  Even though neither Spring nor I can see or hear spirits for the most part, we look behind us.

  “What do you mean?” I ask Winter.

  “I can see her, but she seems to be behind a wall. She’s talking and trying to get through it, I just can’t understand what she’s saying.”

  “What kind?” Spring wants to know.

  Winter heaves a sigh. “A wall of magick.”

  Winter finally releases Mariel’s spirit, and the three of us spend the next twenty minutes discussing what the wall might mean and how to deal with the necklace. We decide to bury it in one of Spring’s gardens to see if we can release the negative energy.

  I bring the kittens home with me, Cinders flying overhead as I walk the path in the growing darkness. At my cabin, I give him his evening meal and take the kittens inside to feed them.

  The runt, Mozart, seems less vocal than the others tonight. I fall asleep in my rocking chair holding him, and dream of fighting a man in a hooded cape surrounded by snakes.

  I get up at one point and go to my private collection of crystals, pulling out all the black tourmaline, placing it around the doors and windows. I take my selenite wand and run it over myself and the kittens. I hear Godfrey prowling outside, and make him come in. I run the wand over his aura as well and endure his criticism about how unscientific crystal healing is.

  Around two a.m., I can’t get Mozart to eat, and fear grips me. I try everything—including a few spells—pacing the floor as I cuddle and talk to him.

  As if Autumn senses my mental anguish, she shows up at my doorstep. We take turns rubbing the little guy’s belly and back, chant charms over him, and Autumn even sings as she carries him around my house.

  Her voice is so much like our mother’s, I sit and listen, memories of my childhood putting me to sleep.

  We take turns with the kittens, and by five, we’re exhausted, but Mozart is eating again and we’re relieved. My sister and I sleep for a few hours before we have to get up and start our day.

  8

  The next evening, I move the kittens behind the counter and take Autumn’s place. Hopper will be by in an hour.

  I confirm my appointments for the next day, feed the kittens, check for comments on the blog and YouTube channel, and update the website with the new crystal necklaces that came in over the weekend.

  At nine on the dot, closing time, Hopper appears with his boxes. I close up and we carry everything to my cabin. The evening air is thick with humidity, the sound of toads and crickets filling the air. Nothing is moving, and I sense a thunderstorm coming in from the Pacific soon.

  Cinders sits on his pe
rch, head tucked under one wing as we arrive, and I’m suddenly self-conscious about Hopper seeing my cabin. He’s never been inside, and I can’t remember its condition, quite honestly. When you live alone, you don’t worry much about appearances, and even when my friends come over, they’re lucky if I’ve run the dust cloth around.

  “Nice place.” Hopper says, and I see he means it, putting me at ease.

  I don’t have air conditioning, so it’s quite warm, but I open several windows to the cooling evening air. Amazingly, no matter how humid it gets during the day, it drops considerably at night. I believe it has to do with the fact we’re surrounded by pine trees. Between the forest and the hot springs, the temperature is usually fairly moderate from spring through fall.

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  He declines and I’m slightly glad, since the most I have is tap water and a couple tins of Spring’s tea blends.

  I have plenty of crystals, and odds and ends of furniture, but not a lot else. Out of us four, Spring is the homemaker, and we usually meet at her place or in the Conjure kitchen for family gatherings. I’m a little more bohemian, and not prepared for company.

  I collect several scarves and a deck of my oracle cards off the sofa and offer Hopper a seat. He pulls the coffee table close and puts the box on it. I carry the two shoe box size containers of jewelry and set those next to it.

  “Is it safe to do this here?” he asks. “Maybe you should lie down before you try to get one of those vision thingies.”

  It’s a good idea. “I will. First, I want to look at what you brought and see if anything stands out. We appreciate the books, by the way. Winter was looking at one earlier—it’s a journal—and there’s some amazing natural history about this area in it.”

  He seems pleased. “I kind of wanted to save that for myself, but figured I could borrow it once you guys are done reading it.”

  Such a generous soul. I stare at him, lost in those gray eyes and handsome face. I suddenly want to be better in the homemaking department, like Spring. I want to share my cabin with someone, discuss what we’re making for dinner, do things couples do.