by Sara Stone
“No, you assumed without the glamor that the cemetery wouldn’t be here. I was merely telling you that with your powers, the compulsion would be gone.”
“Ugh! You’re infuriating!” I stomped off ahead of him, ready to get back to the truck. The sooner I was in the truck, the sooner I would get home. Home. Was this the place I wanted to stay in? That was a thought for another time.
I mumbled to myself about men and their loopholes as I went, trying to watch where I was walking and still get the hell out of there before I had a ghostly visitor or ten. Judson caught up to me in a few easy strides, so I ceased my man-hating mumblings. I was so caught up in being mad at his omission we reached the truck quicker than I thought we would.
I was physically feeling the effects of using my power, even a little bit, in the candle debacle, but my mind raced with thoughts of the dying witches. I knew that I had some kind of power, but would it be enough to help?
Judson insisted that if I were to use the book or any magic that he would stay. When we got to my house, he followed me upstairs into the witchy room.
All right, all I had to do was find my focus. Rose hoped that if I got the book open, I could start searching for a spell to help. She had faith that despite a lack of leads, the power my gram claimed I had would spark enough to help solve this. No pressure.
Judson sat at the desk in the chair backwards as if he would need to hop up and help at any moment. He was watching me hesitantly pick up the grimoire.
The ride home should’ve been filled with a long talk about what he had to do with all this. But all I got from him was that he wasn’t in the coven, but a friend of it. Gram had a feeling about him and made him aware that he was supposed to be here to help in any way he could. I would have put a restraining order on him if I didn’t slightly think any of this was true. I couldn’t say I was a full believer, but I wasn’t in denial as vehemently as before. Taking it all in meant that everything I had known was never the whole truth, and that was a fat bitter pill to swallow.
The book still wouldn’t open. Judson threw ideas at me on how to center myself, grab for my inner spark again, how to trick the book into thinking I was ready, and by the time all ideas had been exhausted, hours had gone by. It was so late that it was getting early.
I sat on the chair, leaning my head back, utterly dead to the world. My mind was fuzzy, and my eyes watered with my lack of sleep.
“I can’t do this tonight, or today. I need sleep like now,” I said groggily. I threw the book into the chair as I stood and left the room. Judson walked out, closing it behind him, hesitating in the hallway.
“I should get going anyway. I have work to do tomorrow.” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair drawing attention to his arms and chest. I scolded myself to knock it off.
“Don’t be silly! It’s 3 am, just sleep in the other bedroom. It’s no big deal.” I insisted although I didn’t really know him enough to invite him to sleep in my house. Didn’t stop me from saying it, though.
“It’s fine, I don’t live far, and I couldn’t sleep in Mabel’s room,” he said, brushing off my invitation. A tingle of his emotions brushed down my arms, causing goosebumps until he rubbed them away.
“Okay, so take the couch, seriously it’s no trouble.” Why was I so adamant that he stay?
“Are you sure?” he asked, raising his eyebrows showing off that line between his eyebrows. The brush of emotions was fleeting and not strong enough for me to figure out what it was.
“Yes, let me just grab you a blanket.” I walked downstairs to grab one out of the closet under the stairs, my delirious brain making a joke about a house-elf popping out of it. I set the blanket on the edge of the couch, suddenly incredibly nervous. I started walking back up to my room.
“Goodnight.” I was struggling with what to say to him. Nothing seemed quite right. My nerves were going haywire, reminding me I had met him only days ago, and now he was going to be sleeping in my house. It wasn’t the same room, but you would have thought that it was by my reaction to the thought. This handsome man was going to be just a few feet away as I slept. I was not trying to think of him doing anything but going to sleep on the couch.
“Goodnight, Lia.” I turned to acknowledge his response only to find him standing by the couch, stripping off his shirt then starting to unbutton his pants. Holy mother of God! They were more perfect than they looked under his shirt. I stood staring at him until he looked up. Something raw blazed in his eyes. I felt the heat travel over me, so hot it almost took my breath away.
“Um...err...uh...see you in the morning,” I blurted out as I booked it up the rest of the stairs to my room. I didn’t even bother going into the bathroom for my nightly routine. I was just too flustered that I plopped myself onto the bed and hid my face in my pillow. I am officially proved to be an idiot to the man downstairs. I could have painted desperate on my forehead, and it would have been a lot less noticeable.
Now lying on my bed after such a long day, I couldn’t get to sleep. My mind was reeling everything back, so I died of embarrassment in a slow, agonizing movie of my own personal torture. My cheeks resembled the bright red tomatoes Gram had planted in her garden. I pulled a peeping tom on him and stood there stupidly while he caught me. Is it still considered peeping at him if I wasn’t really peeping? I was more glued to his physique as if I had never seen a man in my life. That was worse. Way worse. My brain slowed to a crawl as my eyelids grew heavy. I welcomed the sleep.
I woke up, and my groggy brain decided to remind me he was downstairs. I bolted up and rubbed my eyes. I knew I had to look like a hot mess since I slept with my hair up and clothes on. I rushed into the bathroom with an arm full of clean clothes. The hot shower did wonders to untighten my muscles and clear away any remaining thoughts from the night before.
Brushing out my hair and adding a bit of makeup, I felt more confident to face him. If he brought it up for some reason, I would blame the lack of sleep and stress from the last few days. It sounded weak, but that was even if he decided to bring up the mess that is me.
I steadied myself, faking it until I made it to walk downstairs. I looked down before taking the chance of glimpsing him in his underwear or waking him up. The blanket and pillow that he had used were nowhere to be seen. I ventured a bit farther down, straining to hear any signs of him in the house. It was silent. I walked into the kitchen, and he wasn’t there either.
I noticed a to-go cup with the Roast’s logo on it with a paper bag next to it. It couldn’t be! Had he really run out to get a coffee for me to wake up to? Damn, this guy was good. I took a sip of the hot latte and sighed. I needed it to start the day. The sweet hazelnut danced on my taste buds as I opened the bag. He had bought a cheese danish. I took a bite of the warm pastry and almost moaned out loud. It was flakey and delicious. I leaned on the counter as I inhaled the pastry and finished off the coffee, happily thinking of how I could thank him for my breakfast. It wasn’t the breakfast of champions by any means, but waking up with a couple hundred calories to start my day was exactly the thing to put me in a good mood.
I went to toss the bag and cup in the trash when I noticed a note pinned to the fridge. I tossed the garbage, wiping my hands on my jeans, and took it down. His handwriting was a hot mess of slanted cursive.
Lia,
Enjoy the coffee.
Thanks for letting me crash here last night. I have work to do, and I will swing by later to help you with the book. I called Ulric to help.
Don’t try to use your magic on your own!
Jud
I was kind of irritated at being told what to do. I didn’t understand why I wouldn’t be able to use my powers without supervision. All of this had happened and flipped everything on its head, and now I was supposed to be a good little student, which meant following orders. Nope, not going to happen.
I thought about going right up into the room and trying to get the book to open again, but wondered what the reasons as to why I shouldn�
�t could be. I guess in the worst-case scenario Rose would have to come over and help clean up a mess. Who was Judson to tell me I couldn’t? A stranger I had let stay the night at my house for one. He didn’t seem to have any magic himself, or at least hadn’t shown it to me.
I decided that I would clean the house before hurting myself with whatever magic I conjured. I was still wondering how that would work anyway. Gram would be upset at the lingering dust. I took out all the rugs, hanging them on the clothesline and whacking the heck out of them, using them to vent my frustration at being told what to do. After that, I vacuumed them up and got to work at dusting all the pictures and knickknacks. It didn’t take me as long as I thought, so I headed outside to prune the garden.
I walked into the little fenced area surrounding the plants, taking in the tomatoes’ spicy smell mixed with the flowers’ sweet scent. I went about picking the ripe, plump tomatoes, seedless cucumbers, yellow squash, and crisp snap peas. Crunching on the snap peas, I squatted down to start snipping fresh herbs to bundle and dry in the kitchen. Freshly dried herbs were better than anything you could buy jarred at the store. By the time I had hit every plant ready to be pruned, I had a basket full of fresh berries, ripe veggies, and lots of fresh herbs.
I twined up all the herbs, hanging them over the sink on the line between the cabinets that Gram always used. At a young age, she had made sure I knew how to do it correctly so the herbs wouldn’t mildew. I realized that my stomach was rumbling, so I cooked up some thick cured bacon strips, pairing them with one of the thick beefsteak tomatoes and some fresh lettuce. I slathered on a good helping of mayo on some toasted sourdough and was impressed with my lunch. I sat at the table enjoying every bite while sipping freshly brewed sweet tea. Not the kind you got in a jug at the store but the kind you made outside in the sun in a glass container. It always tasted better that way.
Once I finished lunch, I went about cleaning up my mess. I washed the dishes and then rinsed out the sink, taking my time wiping down the counters then the stove. I stood in the doorway, taking in the spotless kitchen. I had avoided thinking about the book for all of two hours.
I grabbed my laptop, settling into the couch to skim-read some manuscripts. After I previewed two out of three that I had, I sent off emails regarding which ones we should keep, what should be fixed before editing, and which one wasn’t entirely ready for us to take over. I emailed my boss, letting him know I was available to preview a few more and that I was still unsure of when I would be back in the office. I sent another email to the human resource department informing them as well. I was coming to the end of my allotted time off and had to start thinking about what I wanted to do. I was really hoping to be able to work remotely until I decided.
When I closed my laptop, satisfied with the day’s progress both with house chores and work, I decided it was time to go up and see if I could get that blasted book to open. I climbed the stairs and walked in. The book was still sitting on the chair where I had thrown it early this morning. You’d think with only six hours of sleep after staying up into the early hours of the morning, that I would be exhausted, but the coffee and tea were helping.
I grabbed the book and started pacing.
“Okay, book, I have accepted that I have magic.” Nothing happened.
“I am a witch.” Still nothing except me talking to a book. Good thing I was by myself, or I would be committed.
“Open you stupid thing before I bust your lock.” I was growing impatient.
I put it back down and walked into Gram’s room, determined to find the damn key. I carefully went through Gram’s jewelry, delicately fingering the ones she wore all the time. I opened the small draws to see she had everything laid in its own spot. Some of the pieces were costume jewelry, black hills gold, and petite diamonds on studs or dainty rings. I pushed the drawers back in and found a knob that didn’t connect to a draw. That’s odd. I pulled it, and the bottom of the jewelry box popped open, revealing a small black velvet pouch. I pulled it out and opened the little drawstrings, sure that I had found the key. I dumped it into my hand, instantly discouraged as a polished stone on a silver chain sat in my palm.
I had never seen it before. Its look was unimpressive, but something about it had me putting it on. The chain was long enough that the stone sat on my chest bone. I tucked it into my shirt and went about looking for the key after putting the little bag back in its hiding spot and closing it up. After searching her room and making sure I put everything back in its place, I had found only the necklace.
Chapter Four
I walked back into the other room. I stood in the doorway, looking around it, hoping to catch a clue about where it could be. I would find the key, even if it took me all day. I walked in and started rifling through the desk. When it came up empty, I took everything off the bookshelf, each shelf at a time, making sure to put everything back in order. Gram wasn’t here to tell me I had done it wrong or be upset with me for making a mess, but I could still hear it and felt compelled to make sure it was in an orderly fashion. I even stood on the chair to check the top and only found some dust bunnies, which I promptly dusted off with my hand. I turned on the chair, standing on my tiptoes to see if it was on top of the door frame. Nothing. By now, my frustration had morphed into angry impatience. I grabbed up Gram’s letter reading it out loud, trying to see if there were hints in her message where it could be. That was my final hope at finding it.
“It will stay locked until the fire within you burns its brightest. Then and only then will the key find you.” I read it over and over until the thought finally hit me.
Rose had me try to light a candle as soon as she thought my powers had returned. Maybe if I tried it again, the key would show itself. I grabbed a white candle, not wanting to deviate from what we did at her house, and set it in the middle of the floor. I made sure it was far away from everything and not on the rug if I made a mess of it. I avoided the etched circle, not understanding how to use one yet.
I focused my center, calming myself of all thoughts except the candle. I took a few deep breaths and then concentrated on the image in my head of the candle being lit. I saw the picture clear in my mind then opened my eyes. I stared at the wick of the candle, willing it to light.
With a crackle and a puff of smoke, the wick lit up with an intense flame. I was so impressed with myself. I laughed and whooped it up. I did it all on my own, and nothing terrible had happened. I carefully picked up the burning candle and set it on a metal tray meant to catch the dripping wax on the little wooden table. I picked up the book, thinking if I held it, the key would appear to finally open it since I had lit the candle. I sat there as my excitement ebbed away. Still nothing. The candle trick had nothing to do with it.
I blew the candle out and sat there, thinking about what to do next. Fire within me is what she had written. Not one I create with my magic. Did she mean my spark? I sat on the floor again, holding the book to my chest, feeling the heaviness in my arms. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to focus again. This time using what I had done at Rose’s like a map to finding my spark.
“Please let this work. Please.” I whispered to myself as I pushed all thoughts out of my mind. I focused for a long time before my mind seemed to catch up to what it needed to find. I searched within myself around the place I had seen it before. It was a dim light the size of a lightning bug. I hesitantly touched it, and it responded by slowly growing in size. As it grew, the purple haze became brighter. As I wrapped my metaphysical hand around it, I felt a similar feeling in my hands as the night before. I opened my eyes and lifted my hands up to look at the power glowing in them. There was no way this wouldn’t be a surprise every time I did it. The magic brought my heart beating faster with excitement coursing through me, with a sharp edge of fear along with it. I wasn’t sure of my strength, let alone anything that could happen to myself or those around me. It felt like I was wielding a weapon.
I noticed I had inadvertently sat in the circle in my ha
ste to get the book open. Oh crap! Even I knew I had messed up. Rose had said the intention was the most significant factor in spells, not words or anything else, although I had spoken. I didn’t invoke the elements or salt the circle as Rose had, but it seems that it didn’t matter. The surrounding ring started to glow a soft white. No, no, no. This was the exact reason Judson had warned me not to use magic alone.
The glowing intensified around me. I stood up to walk out of the circle but paused. If some kind of spell was actually happening, I could send things haywire by stepping out, right? But who knows what I just started? I jumped out without thinking twice, backing up to the chair and sitting down. The air in the circle waved like heat coming off the sand in the desert until I couldn’t see the bookcase behind it. As it wavered, black smoked spiraled up from the bottom filling the tunnel created by the closed circle. A slender woman appeared, her body hovering a foot off the ground. I thought at first that she was a ghost, but she was completely solid.
“Holy snickerdoodles!” I yelled, cowering into the chair. I said nothing about summoning someone. I would not even know where to begin with something so complicated. How did I mess this up so royally? The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt her eyes bore into mine.
“Calm yourself, child,” she commanded, the woman’s voice filtered through the circle, sounding like she was in a cave.
I shut my mouth and stared at her in awe. From her hair to her clothes, her whole appearance was immaculate; not a hair stood out of place.
“I am Hekate, Goddess of witches, and you, my child, are looking for a key,” she announced proudly. She dressed in dark flowing silk that stopped just above her knees, tied off with a dark green sash at her hips and gold bangles on each wrist. Her black as night hair piled on top of her head, cascading in curls with intricate gold weaved in. She had black strappy leather sandals that crossed over her calves, the kind you would expect to see on a goddess.
