Of Light and Darkness

by Shayne Leighton

  “Lottie!” he called out, but there was no response back. She couldn’t hear him.

  He was shocked to see the small, dirt-packet room had been ransacked. It was completely dark, the little fire burnt out in the hearth, dead soot where it used to be. Most of the upholstery was torn, a few chairs missing arms and legs. The splintered wood on the ground suggested they were bitten off.

  ***

  A few hours had gone by, and Valek remained crouched on the floor in the center of the basement. He did not release his face from his hands because he did not want to see his reality. His other senses showed him enough as he stayed fixed, listening to his Lottie’s mind. She was talking to him from two stories up. Reassuring him. She was not happy, obviously, but she was being cared for. In the deeper parts of her thoughts, he felt the slight amount of blame she held for him. He put enough blame on his own shoulders for the both of them, anyway.

  Someone touched Valek’s back very softly, though it still startled him. He looked up to see whom the touch belonged to. Sarah stood there meekly.

  “Valek—”

  “What?”

  He hadn’t noticed Sarah come to join him in the basement. He peered up from his hands to see light filtering down the tunnel from the house above. The door had been opened.

  “Valek, she’s okay. She is resting now but she’s asking for you.” The Witch looked at him with pity in her bright, brown eyes. “I-I wanted to get started on her…but I figure it’s best if I wait.”

  Valek averted his focus from her, his face blank and distant, like he had just witnessed a house burning down with the family still inside. He slowly, fluidly rose to his feet. He regarded the Witch again, nodding at her with a faint smile, before he slowly began back up to the higher parts of the house. He had been drained as much as Charlotte had.

  He rounded the corner to her bedroom to see her lying there peacefully. Her hands rested delicately on her stomach, her face away from him, gazing out the window.

  “Lottie?”

  “Yes?” she answered quickly, sitting up in the bed. “What are you doing here? Don’t they need you downstairs?” she whispered a little bitterly. Her pretty mouth contorted in a slight grimace.

  He knelt to the floor, grasping one of her hands in his, seeing that while she had been cleaned up, the bedclothes had not. The sight of her lying in the middle of all that drying blood was both tantalizing and horrifying, a reaction he had never experienced before. “Yes. But I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  She lowered her gaze, her eyebrows mashing together. “I am now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I’m all right.” Her tone was slightly flat.

  Valek thought for a second. “Charlotte?” He wrapped his giant hand around both of hers.

  “Yes?”

  “Lottie,” he began again nervously. “This isn’t…wrong…is it? The way we are now?”

  Tension began to fill the space. She pulled her hand away from him, and he heard her mind begin to race again, the frown returning to her face. Images from the night before when she had kissed him, flashed before him again, though she stayed silent.

  “I only mean....” He continued to search for words. “Lottie, you know I love you more than anything. You’re my world, my angel on Earth. I want you to be happy. I had no other choice but to make this agreement with Francis, lest he kill you. You know our world is a dangerous one, but you could still have a normal life. It is not too late.”

  Charlotte sat up, worry creasing her forehead. How could he be talking like this, Valek heard her think. She started to panic.

  “Lottie.” He sighed and stood up. “I am only concerned about you. I would hate to think I am doing the wrong thing, or taking advantage of some situation in which I should be acting like a father.”

  Charlotte winced at the word “father”.

  His eyes widened and he knelt beside the bed again. “I love you more than anything. What do you want me to be?”

  She stared at him, searching through his eyes for what he was thinking, but came up empty. “I want you to be whatever you want to be,” she said simply, looking at him again.

  He thought about this, climbing next to her on the bed. He rested her head on his chest. Holding the rest of her secure to him, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  He opened one eye, peeking down at her and smiling. “I think I like the place that you have put me in most recently.”

  She nuzzled her cheek against him. “Good.”

  His claw rested over a patch of dried blood left over on her clothes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bewitchments

  “I have a feeling you'll be more comfortable upstairs with me, anyway,” the Witch said in a high, musical tone when Valek finally left.

  The two of them started walking down the stairs until they met the second floor of the house, which seemed like a different house entirely. The landing had a living room of its own, complete with several cushy, green chairs and a brick fireplace, and another small hallway Charlotte suspected led to separate rooms.

  This was like a house that belonged in that one British fairytale with the girl and the “drink me” bottles. It just seemed to extend on and on. She looked at the indigo-colored apartment walls encrusted with what looked like bits of moonstone and jade spiraling in a complicated mosaic. She scanned the numerous oak bookshelves stacked high with volumes and scrolls of things enchanted.

  “Stay here,” Sarah chirped. She bounced out of the small living room and around the corner.

  Charlotte walked over to one of the sagging, velvet armchairs and sat down, sinking deep within its cushion. Despite the nightmarish ordeal she had just been through, she felt strangely at home in this curious labyrinth house. Sarah emerged from the small kitchen with two mugs of hot drinking chocolate, smiling politely, and handed Charlotte a mug.

  “Drink this. You’ll feel much better.”

  Charlotte smiled, wondering if the first sip would have her shrinking or growing. Shyly, she took a small sip and felt the sweet, hot liquid run down the back of her throat. Within only a few moments the emaciated, weak feeling virtually disappeared, and she could almost feel the new life replenishing in her veins. It was an odd, warm, pulsing sensation that seemed to flare specifically near her throat and wrists. “Thank you.” She smiled and sipped at it again.

  “The licorice and chocolate beads between feedings doesn’t help as much as that stuff does, but it takes a lot longer to make,” Sarah explained.

  A small fire crackled in its place as Charlotte apprehensively sank backward into the dark green cushions, her eyes shifting wondrously around the room. Shelves that held grimoires and jars of unrecognizable things hung haphazardly from the walls. Charts of moon phases and star patterns covered the other flat surfaces entirely. Spiders and their captured prey clung to the cobwebs, and there were even several trinkets Charlotte guessed the Witch used to communicate with the dead scattered on the floor in one corner. Charlotte’s eyes slowly moved back to Sarah’s cheerful face.

  “Do you love it?” The Witch beamed. “I decorated it myself.”

  “It’s fantastic.” Charlotte smiled, gaze still wandering.

  “I’m glad you like it. Now, give me your right hand.”

  “What?”

  But before Charlotte could get an answer, Sarah had already grabbed it, analyzing her hand over the crooked coffee table between them, held up by small wooden gnomes.

  Charlotte watched the Witch trace the lines in her palms. Sarah looked no older than eighteen. She wasn’t anything like the two-faced Witches she knew from the Bohemian Occult. She decided Sarah looked a lot like a doll she’d once owned. It had the same brown curls, petite nose, and rosy cheeks. She remembered how she’d been playing with it when she was around six or so and had dropped it, smashing the face to pieces on the floor.

  “Curious.” Sarah’s voice shattered Charlotte’s reverie.

 
; “What?”

  “Nothing,” Sarah grumbled, still clutching Charlotte’s hand. “Your lines are not matching with any of my human charts.”

  Charlotte peered into Sarah’s lap at the crumpled pieces of paper.

  “Human charts?” She lifted an eyebrow.

  “Yes.” Sarah let go of her hand and stretched out the parchment in front of her face. “Every type of person has a different way of reading the patterns in their hands.” She continued to study, looking for an answer.

  “Every type of person? But I thought everyone’s palm looks different, anyway,” Charlotte said, analyzing her own hand.

  “Well, yes. That goes without saying. But do you see how there are absolutely no lines in your hand, except for that silly criss-cross in the middle?” Sarah explained.

  “Yeah?” Charlotte brought her hand really close to her face, making her eyes cross.

  “Well, every other human being has a lot more than that! I mean, where’s your life line? Your love line? Your line of success?” Sarah prodded, as if Charlotte were personally insulting her.

  “My what?”

  “And have you ever looked at Valek’s palm?” Sarah lifted an eyebrow indicating Charlotte was missing something obvious.

  “No.”

  “Vampires have a different pattern than humans altogether. They don’t have a lifeline, because their lives are continuous. They only have one line to signify when they will meet their eternal mate. You know, like the bride of Dracula, or however you recognize the legend. But that’s only exclusive to certain Vampires,” Sarah continued, without taking a breath. “Elves and Witches just have little stars and X’s.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte cocked her head. “So, why does mine not match a human pattern? It looks good to me,” she said, finally letting her hand drop back into her lap.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps I’m just tired.” Sarah sighed and pushed the graphs to one side. “I'm only halfway through my training. Let’s do tea-leaves instead.” She grabbed a silver teapot from the center of the table and got up to hang it on a hook over the fire.

  “What exactly are you trying to find out?” Charlotte inquired.

  Sarah turned to face the girl again. “I just wanted to know stuff about you, I guess.” She shrugged. “You’re very interesting, Charlotte.”

  “You could just ask me.”

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s way more fun to do it this way.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte leaned back again in the armchair.

  The teapot started to whistle after a few moments, and Sarah gracefully slipped it off the hook and flounced back to her seat, her emerald skirt bouncing around her knees. She started to pour the steaming water into two small cups, adding the leaves as Charlotte watched.

  “So, how long have you been studying?” Charlotte asked.

  “Fortune telling? Since I figured out that was my niche. Most Witches prefer healing. Not me.” Sarah shook her head. “I’ve been studying for around one hundred years to perfect it.”

  Charlotte blinked. She had no idea the rate at which a Witch was supposed to age. She thought about Evangeline then.

  Sarah sat back in her chair, staring expectantly at Charlotte who stared back. “Well?”

  “Drink it.” She pointed her finger at the teacup.

  “How much of it?” Charlotte quickly picked up the little mug.

  “All of it. Until the liquid part is gone. But don't eat the leaves. You'll be throwing up for months.” Sarah smiled.

  Charlotte winced, and she started to carefully sip at the now purple water. When she realized the taste, she immediately pulled away, forcing herself to swallow what was already inside her mouth.

  “Gross!” she blurted. “What is this?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s tea fortuna, used only for leaf readings. You have to drink it all. Come on,” she urged, and got up from her seat to Charlotte, and pinched her nose, forcing the rest of the tea down her throat.

  Charlotte squirmed and gurgled until the tea was gone.

  “Great!” Sarah clapped her small hands together and walked back over to the fireplace.

  “That was unnecessary,” Charlotte grumbled.

  “Hush!” Sarah spat. “Come here.” She beckoned her to stand beside her before the crackling little fire. Charlotte did so apprehensively, all the while shooting slightly dirty looks at the Witch.

  “What are we doing now? ” Charlotte folded her arms.

  “Quiet,” Sarah shushed again. She closed her eyes, gripping the small cup in both of her hands. She chanted something Charlotte suspected to be Latin, and chucked the leaves into the fireplace.

  The flames exploded, billowing all the way up into the lower parts of the chimney. The fire hissed and whirled as purple and green electric sparks flew from it, some fizzling out on the carpet. The firelight seemed to come to life as the flames formed into recognizable shapes, unfolding its prophecy before the two.

  “Is this supposed to happen?” Charlotte lifted an eyebrow, and Sarah batted a hand at her to quiet her again.

  The fire morphed into several things. The first was a figure holding a small infant child. Then, it took on the shape of a Fairy, and the frightened face of a little girl.

  “What is it doing?” Charlotte’s eyes grew wide at the images.

  “It’s reading your past,” Sarah whispered. “That’s how it can predict your future.”

  The fire continued to dance, taking on the shapes of various memories Charlotte possessed as the two continued to watch in amazement. Sarah even whispered the word “interesting” a few times, causing Charlotte to glance curiously over at her. It continued to do this until the flames turned from orange, to black with gold rimming.

  “It’s predicting your future now,” Sarah whispered.

  It showed several interesting things. First, there was the image of Charlotte and Valek together. Shortly after, the image of Valek seemed to disappear and then reappear again.

  “What did that mean?” Charlotte asked.

  “Shh.”

  Then, the fire turned into the shape of what appeared to be a lion with two tails, and then another one, this one a mirrored image with the color of the flames reversed. Gold with black rimming. The last thing the fire displayed was Charlotte’s face before it slowly fizzled out, smoke filtering up the chimneystack into the night. Sarah turned around to face the room, her hand clasped to her chin as she made her way back to her chair.

  “Very, very interesting,” she mused.

  “What?” Charlotte urged, still standing before the fireplace, searching the dying embers for an answer.

  Sarah brought one hand up to her forehead. “Nothing. It was just very vague. I hate ambiguous premonitions.” The Witch seethed, getting up again and walking over to a row of shelves. She started to skim over a stack of books, fingering each spine until she found the one she was looking for. She yanked it off the shelf and started flipping through its pages.

  Charlotte slowly made her way to the Witch’s side and peered over her shoulder. Sarah searched for different symbols in a chapter that explained tealeaf predictions.

  “Hmm…that’s even more interesting.” She squinted at the page. “It says here, if an image is mirrored back to itself, it either means death or extreme change.” Charlotte drew in her breath as Sarah turned another page. “But, the weird thing is it doesn’t mention anywhere here what it means if the flames change color. Odd.”

  Charlotte sighed. “How long did you say you’ve been studying this?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes and closed the book, a small cloud of dust puffing out from between the tattered pages. “Come on.” She started down the hall. “Let’s get you looking like something other than a drowned cat.”

  “Excuse me?” Charlotte hurried after the house Witch.

  “Blood dolls are supposed to look presentable at all times. And looking presentable is my specialty. Besides, Valek is going to be coming back up for a visit any time now. That much
I can predict. And you don’t want to keep looking like that, do you?”

  Charlotte looked down at the torn, bloodstained over-shirt from Valek and dirt encrusted jeans. “No. I guess I don’t. You know, Valek would never even have me be one of those awful things if it weren’t for your Francis.”

  “Sure,” Sarah said lightly as her eyes scanned Charlotte’s clothes.

  Sarah led Charlotte back into her adopted bedroom. Charlotte gazed around at the fresh, white linens—no longer blood-splattered—and crisp curtains. The whole room smelled of jasmine and lilacs. Pretty green vines twisted in spirals in one of the corners by the ceiling, and what looked like real stars twinkled above the black-iron spiraling bedposts.

  “How are they—are those real stars?” Charlotte watched in wonderment at the tiny, twinkling spheres while Sarah was busy rummaging through the large wardrobe against the wall.

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “No, you silly thing. Of course not. Those are just little bewitchments I place around the house sometimes to make it pretty.” She turned back to the open wardrobe. “I love nature. There isn’t enough of it in this city.” She pulled out several flouncy articles of clothing and folded them over her arm. “Here, you’ll like these. I can’t wear them anymore since I lost all that weight.”

  Charlotte sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Sarah stopped in her tracks and frowned. “What? I can put these back and you can continue to dress like that if you want.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and unfolded her arms. “Fine. Sorry.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Sarah smiled. “Besides, I wasn’t calling you fat. Not a bit. I’m still going to have to take these in for you.” She threw the clothes on the bed and turned quickly, tearing off Charlotte's blouse.

  “Hey!” Charlotte grasped for the top to cover herself.

  “Oh please.” Sarah snorted, rolled her eyes, and pulled out something pink from the pile. “Put this on.” She threw it at Charlotte, who caught it in a flailing fist. “There is a bathroom right there since you’re so embarrassed.” She indicated a white door behind her.