Bloodstone (Talisman)

by S. E. Akers

  I pressured Beatrix into tagging along to put me somewhat at ease, even though she wasn’t a “family friend” per se, or one of the Stowells’ loyal customers (Katie still held a little ill will towards Bea over that fact). But to be fair, Bea wasn’t exactly a big fan of Katie’s or this whole debacle either. She felt Katie would be a major distraction to my training, what with having to constantly converse with her so she wouldn’t feel “left out”. I think if Bea had her way, Katie would have stayed in her velvet pouch or locked away in a trinket box the most part. That way, I wouldn’t feel compelled to constantly entertain her. Not to be cruel or unsympathetic by any means, but Talismans were extremely secretive. Katie would be privy to everything about my new life as long as she was hanging around my neck or within range of our voices, unless we conducted our conversations on a telepathic basis (and that proved to be incredibly challenging at times). Talismans have kept a close guard on their legends and lore throughout the centuries. I still didn’t know everything about this mysterious clan of supernaturals, nor about the other “creatures” that supposedly “roam the earth”. Bea claimed it was for my own protection and that in due time, all would be revealed. That was frustrating. Patience wasn’t my strongest virtue, especially when it came to my welfare. Neither was hiding things from those closest to me. All this secrecy didn’t come naturally either. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief after I’d finally confessed my supernatural status to Katie and Samuel, though he was already on to me. Thankfully, they still knew the truth, unlike two other individuals walking around Welch, unaware that their mental slates concerning “my abilities” had been wiped permanently clean.

  Since Katie’s service was held on a Sunday, most of our classmates were able to attend. I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Ty Smith and my other amnesia victim, Mike Riverside, in attendance, though Mike was there mainly to tend to some last minute preparations for his own father’s service scheduled for later that evening. With Welch being such a small community, both guys had known Katie since kindergarten, and me too, rightfully. But at first-look, their eyes passed over me like the last person picked to play dodge ball. They simply saw a girl — a girl with a random name and an unfamiliar face. Kara Leighton came along with Ty, of course. She knew that I’d be there, and what would be more fitting than driving one more nail in my coffin at a funeral. My redheaded antagonist had the same gloating smile plastered on her face that she did at the hospital. She may not have been truly overjoyed about procuring her former boyfriend back, but at least one thing was certain — I didn’t have him. Bitch. That was all that mattered to her. Ty was nothing more than another trophy or one more crown placed on her dusty shelf. I didn’t have to resort to reading her mind to pick up on that little tidbit. I did catch Ty shooting a few bewildered stares my way. He had to be wondering “why” he could remember every one else around town, but his memories concerning me or any moment we shared together were a big blank. His doctor suggested his alleged “food-poisoning” could have possibly triggered his “memory loss”, and that sometimes it can occur “selectively”, but that it would most likely return over time.

  Ha! Fat chance of that happening! I’d sealed our fate with a kiss while healing his body from what truly ailed it — a lethal batch of poisoned cider, courtesy of one evil Talisman named Lazarus Xcavare, and his wickedly potent stone, the lapis lazuli. Since I was responsible for Lazarus lying on the iron railroad tracks when the coal-carrying locomotive came whizzing by, I now claimed his stone, so only I could reverse its deadly attack on Ty. What I hadn’t realized at the time was that when you heal a human, they lose all memories of you — permanently. It was a necessary defense mechanism, though an unfortunate one in this case (I’m still wrestling with the irony of that). Nevertheless, if there was something inside him that made his stare linger just a second longer when he looked my way, even if it was only out of utter confusion, I’d take it — without question or the slightest hesitation — just to have his eyes solely on me.

  The circumstances surrounding Mike Riverside’s failing memory of me were more difficult for certain individuals to grasp. Well, most of the school really, but namely Chloe, and eventually Charlotte, as soon as she snapped out of her “doting-mother” daze. The news of the town’s wealthy, strapping “golden-child” not remembering the girl who and I quote, “handed his ass to him on a silver platter during gym class”, spread through our small-town like wildfire. No one could believe it. Then rumors started flying around that I’d possibly given him brain damage. Mike’s mother ended up taking him to Charleston Medical Center for a battery of tests. He ended up seeing a shrink over it. The final ruling was, “Post Psycho-Traumatic Stress Disorder”, resulting from finding his father fatally shot, right between the eyes, in the study of their guesthouse.

  Post psycho-traumatic stress disorder — My ass! If he thinks “finding” his father like that was bad, he should have actually “seen” it happening just a foot away from him, like I did. I doubted if I would ever forget the image of Harper Riverside’s pupils fixating when the last glimmer of light had faded from them. Not to take anything away from Mike, but that was a traumatic sight to witness!

  Everyone around town eventually bought the far-fetched theory the psychiatrist had concocted. But I knew the truth. Mike had caught me in the act of killing the man responsible for his father’s death, red-handed on his mother’s hush-hush security cameras, or should I say, “lightning-handed”. I had to make sure that all the evidence was destroyed, and not just the recorded kind either. Granted, I’d already resigned myself to healing his injuries from our little tussle out of guilt (I did rough him up pretty good), but I was none too thrilled about the manner in which my task of “sponging his brain clean” was carried out.

  “Yuck!” I gagged as a creepy-crawly tingle ran down my spine, causing me to swerve slightly as I veered around a sharp bend. With the screech of my tires rattling my ears, I refocused my attention to the dangers of the steep and curvy road ahead. After a thoughtful check of my surroundings, I realized I was halfway there. My destination — Roselawn Cemetery.

  I hummed the tail end of Waterloo as my mind drifted back to Katie’s funeral service. Mainly, the odd experience I had when meeting one of her many relatives who’d flown in from up north to pay their respects. Five aunts, four uncles, and at last count, seventeen cousins. I met so many members of her family that day, too many to remember all of their names, but one in particular definitely stuck out.

  You couldn’t miss this chick. As soon as she entered the room, she whisked off her ankle-length, black wool coat theatrically like a magician. Her appearance alone commanded your attention. She looked to be in her early twenties and attractive in a striking sort of way. She was wearing a long-sleeved, clingy black dress that rose up to hug her neck and flared like a trumpet down around her feet. It was a perfectly appropriate color mind you, but the retro-style of the ensemble, combined with her cascading black curls kissed with harsh burgundy highlights that framed her heavily-painted pale face made her look like a modern-day “Goth” princess. Even her two-inch, perfectly manicured and pointy black-lacquered claws made you wonder if she used a fork or just stabbed her food. Very edgy and definitely out-of-place for a small-town wake. And the lengthy copper necklace she was sporting seemed a bizarre choice. The flat, circular medallion on its end plunged so low that it rested right about where her crotch would be. It was entirely too long (and oddly vulgar, in my opinion). Surely it would hit the inside of a toilet bowl when she sat down to pee. She smiled and hugged everyone she came in contact with, even rank strangers (a little too affectionately). When it came my turn, Julia Stowell introduced the young woman as her niece, Elizabeth Connelly. However, Elizabeth corrected her grieving aunt respectfully with a doe-eyed gaze and announced that she went by “Bethesda”.

  Julia Stowell’s reaction to her kooky mandate was simply to flash an uncomfortable smile as she nodded her head, followed by a hasty getaway. That lef
t me holding the “strike-up some conversation” bag. I really didn’t know what to say, but Katie swiftly came to my rescue and started filling me in on her, as she put it, “screw-ball cousin”.

  “So… You’re the cousin attending Boston College… Is that right? Majoring in…um, Biology?” I asked, hoping Katie’s intel proved correct.

  “I used to,” Bethesda replied. “But I found my interests lay elsewhere. I’m apprenticing with a group who seek the true meanings behind the laws which govern our earth and guides us through its realm.”

  “Oooh,” rolled off my tongue ambiguously.

  “What the heck does that mean?” Katie questioned, forcing a curious grin to creep across my face. Even I needed some elaboration, and I (of all people) should be the most open-minded to crazy assertions.

  “So you’re into…Philosophy?” I guessed. Bethesda seemed tickled by my assumption. Her hazy, moss green eyes lit up as she let out a carefree giggle.

  “Something like that,” Bethesda stated with a mysterious grin. “I see it as more of a practice which involves an awaking to the world and all the delights it has to offer… An enlightening ideology where science and the stars reveal their true purpose.”

  “Well, at least you found your calling,” I blurted, still as foggy as car window on a frosty morning. Unbeknownst to me, my physical companion for the funeral, Beatrix Sutherland, had sidled up beside me.

  “So you study mysticism within nature,” Beatrix interjected. “Witchcraft, I believe,” the silver-haired fox stated slyly to Bethesda, arching her eyebrows slightly over her wandering, aimless eyes and playing her blind-act to a T. My mouth cracked open just as Katie’s laughter howled in my head.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Katie chuckled. “Elizabeth… Oh, excuse me, ‘Bethesda’, a ‘witch’? That’s hilarious! Hey — Ask her how the trip down here was on her broom!” she added, barely able to construct her words.

  Bethesda merely flashed a cool smile, neither fully confirming, nor denying Bea’s ballsy speculation. I turned my head towards the Golden Topaz Talisman to my left, who was standing there expressionless, propped up with her white cane. Her nonchalant act didn’t fool me. I knew my cunning mentor was secretly sizing her up with a discriminating eye. A well-concealed “golden eye” that is, which resided invisibly in the center of her softly wrinkled brow.

  “So, my dear… Are you just into the romanticized study of witchery or do you like to get your hands dirty?” Beatrix probed with a kittenish smile. My mouth flew open, but not near as quickly as Bethesda’s did.

  “Bea!?!” I asked her telepathically as I concentrated on the golden topaz in my ring, taken off-guard by her candor. She didn’t respond to my scolding tone.

  “What I mean, child, is basically…are you any good? Any successes?” Beatrix cross-examined with an escalating fervor. You could tell the elderly woman’s facetious line of questioning was getting under Bethesda’s skin by her stern stance and the hollow glare in her eyes. “Whipped up any potions? Talked to any spirits? Foreseen anyone’s future? Eh hem — Accurately?” Without further ado, Bethesda’s eyes narrowed into a sharp V.

  “How dare you mock my beliefs you—you, ignorant old woman!” Bethesda bellowed, loud enough to turn more than a few heads.

  Clearly, Beatrix seemed to be enjoying pushing Bethesda’s buttons. However, I didn’t think this was the time, nor the place to be insulting a grieving relative that had just traveled hundreds of miles.

  “Bea!!!” I pleaded to her psychically.

  “Okay! Okay!” Beatrix replied swiftly. She pretended to feel around for Bethesda’s hand and once located, gave it several consoling pats.

  “Oh, my. It seems I may have insulted you by mistake. My sincerest apologizes, dear. Don’t take any offense to my asking. I’m just curious. That’s all. If you’ve chosen this over a traditional college schooling and this is to be your path in life…I just want to see how committed you are,” she added sharply with a slight twinkle in her eyes.

  Bethesda ripped her hand from Beatrix’s grasp and scowled at the now innocent-eyed woman, who looked the epitome of a “sweet little old lady”. I found myself speechless as soon as I caught the side-view of Bethesda’s heated glare. I knew Beatrix had an aggressive side, but her brash behavior towards Katie’s cousin had me baffled. Feeling enough guilt about her lack of manners for the both of us, my body locked itself into a rigid stance while my eyes remained wide, unable to blink. I stood there as nervous as a spotlighted deer waiting for the inevitable pull of a trigger. Like a shot, Bethesda spun around on her heels.

  “Excuse me, Shiloh. As much as I would like to stay and illuminate your dear, old friend here about the true ways of the world, I think it would be best if I joined my family and paid my respects. That’s what we’re all here for, correct?” Bethesda added in a sugarcoated yet condescending tone. I simply nodded to her with a reassuring smile.

  Bethesda had no sooner turned around and began walking up the aisle headed straight for Katie’s casket when Beatrix called out, “So mote it be,” in a honeyed, though blatantly sarcastic pitch. I wasn’t a hundred-percent certain what Bea meant by her phrase, but Bethesda sure did. Katie’s cousin whirled around combatively, but regained her composure on the spot.

  “Like I always say…There’s none so blind as those who will not see,” she shot off like an arrow at Beatrix and walked away. Even though Bea had given Bethesda a fierce teasing, I had to admit her zinger hit below the belt.

  Who goes around insulting someone’s disability? This “Bethesda” doesn’t know she’s not really blind!

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk… There’s nothing sadder than a squirrel somewhere missing its nut.” Beatrix’s crack was directed to me, but most certainly loud enough to scorch Bethesda’s ears. Katie’s cousin paused for only a second to clench her fists and then proceeded up the aisle. I guessed she chose to be “the adult”. Now, I was left to question the intentions of the child standing to my left.

  “Bea? What was that?” I criticized. “I’m sure Katie heard every crack you made about her cousin.”

  “I sure did,” Katie snapped. “I’ll be the first to admit she’s always been kind of ‘out there’, but she’s still a member of my family! She came down here to see me! Not to be made fun of…by a stranger. If anyone is going to talk about her, it’s going to be me!” Katie fumed.

  “See now… Katie’s pissed. Are you happy?” I asked my supernatural sidekick.

  “Oh for Pete’s sake! That wasn’t my intention,” Beatrix insisted, though not very apologetically. “I wanted to feel her out. Sometimes you need to give the melon a few hard knocks to see if you’ve gotten your hands on a rotten one,” she quipped coolly. “I love witches and anything that has to do with the occult. I truly do! I happen to be an avid collector of the craft’s paraphernalia. After all, they’ve sought out our magic for years,” she grumbled. “Playing around with our stones like reckless fools. Some exploiting them wickedly! But they’re not all bad.”

  “Wh—What?” I stammered, shaking my head in an attempt to clear my ears.

  “It’s about time you know… Real witches do exist, dear,” she revealed telepathically with a casual sigh.

  As soon as the receptors in my brain unfroze, I processed Bea’s most recent chunk of info. I felt almost as dumbfounded as I did when Tanner Grey told me that I was a supernatural of my own right, down in the cave hidden underneath Shiloh Ridge. My head shot towards the front of the viewing room, where Bethesda stood over Katie’s body, and commenced with a heated stare.

  “You mean she’s an actual…witch? For real?” I posed mentally, knowing she wouldn’t want Katie to hear.

  “No… It takes a lot more than playing dress-up like your friend’s cousin over there. True witches are born with powers that have been granted to them by the earth. Nature must bestow its ‘spark’ on them. Blind faith can drive any old human to think they have special abilities because they can feel traces of magic in stone
s or artifacts. Luck can also fool them into thinking their spells and potions work. I’m afraid she’s nothing more than a common poser,” Beatrix groaned. “If she were wrapped in bandages would you call her a mummy?”

  “There are mummies?” my mind blurted nervously.

  “Shiloh, there are no real mummies. Except in museums, of course… If a mummified body were to rise up and roam the earth, you’d have to call it a zombie,” Beatrix added with a snicker.

  “What?” I countered again, almost exploding into a panic. Bea let out a few chuckles under her breath, sensing my anxiety.

  “Kidding. Can’t you take a joke, dear?” Beatrix laughed. Still picking up on my confusion she reiterated, “No mummies. No zombies. Are we clear?”

  “So just witches…Talismans and witches,” I posed. “Right?” The only response I got from my supernatural mentor was an evasive humming sound and an impromptu request to “take our seats” because the service was about to start.

  “Uh, Bea? Are you going to answer me?” I pleaded once we’d found a spot on a nearby hardwood pew. The Golden Topaz Talisman remained quiet, oddly quiet. As I sat beside her, scrutinizing her deliberate disregard of my question, I soon realized it wasn’t because Beatrix was outright ignoring me. Not in the least. Her attention was now held captive by of all people, Bethesda, who was pacing frantically beside Katie’s casket.

  “This isn’t right, Aunt Julia! There’s something…JUST NOT RIGHT!” Bethesda pleaded to Katie’s mother. Julia Stowell looked shell-shocked, unable to say a single word back to her niece.

  “Who’s screaming?” Katie asked. Alarmed, I turned my gaze back to Beatrix.

  “What’s going on?” I questioned Beatrix psychically.