Healing Hands (The Queen of the Night series Book 2)

by Laura Emmons

  The wig was necessary, but I’d supported him in other decisions. Instead of pumps he wore an old pair of Fiona’s flat-heeled knee-high boots. I’d also nixed the need for pantyhose or make-up, but we’d forced him to pull on one of Rose’s old knit dresses. He also wore an old winter coat. At least he stayed warm. I thought we were pretty lucky. Mom had said several times his voice would change by Spring. It wasn’t Spring yet.

  He grumbled non-stop about the whole thing. We’d even invented a cover story to go with the disguise. If anyone stopped by the house and asked, Corey was now Hailey, a friend from California who visited me for the holidays to offer support during my time of grief.

  ***

  When we arrived, Rose drove down the street so we could see the house from the front first. The neighborhood sat a couple of blocks back off the main commercial strip. Stately old trees lined the road, now barren of leaves, and the sidewalk looked as if it hadn’t been altered since the fifties.

  My heart swelled when we parked in front of our new home. It sure beat apartment living. The inviting, sunny yellow, two-story house was classic Americana; reminiscent of Victorian architecture. Stairs rose up from the street level to the wide porch, which wrapped the length of two sides of the house. The house had lots of windows. I liked a lot of windows. We drove around the block. The garage looked more like a large shed in desperate need of a paint job, but the old doors had been replaced with a new garage door. Rose clicked a remote and it opened. The car barely fit. We squeezed ourselves out of it and walked into the back garden. Corey followed instructions and kept his mouth shut while we were out in the open.

  Once inside, though, he stripped off the boots and threw them in a corner with disgust. Since I followed right behind him, I didn’t get a chance to check out the back yard.

  “Girl’s shoes suck,” he complained.

  “Pretty much…” Rose entered behind me carrying large box of cleaning supplies. Ginger and Rock brought up the rear. We closed the back door and I felt a little safer. I took a look around the kitchen. Clearly, it had never been renovated. The ancient refrigerator and stove had curved edges like those from the World War Two era. The double farm sink was made from that really old, thick porcelain. Instead of a kitchen island a small pine farm table with two benches sat in the middle of the space. As we walked through the house, Rose pointed out the basic features. The powder room, foyer, and three other rooms made up the first floor besides the kitchen. All of the floors were bare hardwood. A fireplace dominated the living room. A huge newel post decorated the bottom of the staircase.

  As we went upstairs, Rose said, “There are three bedrooms. All of them are the same size so it doesn’t matter which one you pick. One faces the street, one faces the side and the last one faces the backyard. Grab a broom or a floor sweeper, choose a bedroom and get to work. There’s an inch of dust on everything so try to do the best you can. We have an hour and a half before the truck gets here. Don’t forget to sweep the cobwebs off the ceiling. Oh, and Corey, you should put on an apron so you don’t ruin that dress.”

  Corey mumbled under his breath, “What I should do is take off this fire-trucking dress and put on real clothes…like I need this sherbet. You can take your apron and…”

  I gave him one of Mom’s ‘you’re pushing it’ looks.

  He put on the apron.

  “Okay,” said Rose, satisfied, “Ginger and I will work in the kitchen. Rock, the entrance to the basement is in the garden. Can you go down there and light the pilot for the furnace so we don’t freeze? Thank you.”

  ***

  After nearly an hour, we’d cleaned all three bedrooms, the living room, foyer and the dining room, which Rose intended to use as her home office. Ginger was finishing up the kitchen by herself. Rose came upstairs with the box of cleaning supplies. She and I set out to tackle the bathroom.

  “Oh my gosh,” I gushed when I saw it. A real, old-fashioned claw-foot tub dominated the room. A pedestal sink and an old-fashioned toilet completed the ensemble. The only storage, a tall, narrow, free-standing cabinet, sat in one corner. The radiator was exposed in this room and the pipes clanged. Rock must have gotten the heater to work.

  At a quarter to twelve we took a break. Rose ordered pizza and soda delivery from her cell phone. The movers were late and the pizza delivery was fast so the truck and the pizzas arrived at the same time.

  “Oh, hello Kyle, how are you? Thank you dear, I’ll take them. Here, keep the change.” Rose spoke briskly so she could finish with the pizza guy and deal with the movers, but Corey must have smelled the pizza, because he chose that moment to bound down the stairs, barefoot, and still wearing the wig and apron. He stopped to take in the scene on the bottom step.

  I watched events unfold in slow motion. I scanned Kyle, and sensed gold in his aura. This meant he had magic and obviously belonged to the clan. He had tomato red hair, blue eyes and lots of freckles. When he saw Corey, a look of pure rapture graced his face. It was a match of freckled people made in heaven.

  Inwardly, I groaned.

  “Hailey, are you finished upstairs? The pizza is here.” I jerked my head toward Kyle to try and give Corey a clue. Thankfully, he caught on quickly.

  “Uhm, yes, I just finished.” He tried to sound dainty. I almost blew our cover by laughing out loud.

  “Hi,” said Kyle. He couldn’t take his eyes off my brother.

  I followed his gaze.

  For a second, I thought Corey was going to deck him, but then he did something surprising. He offered the back of his hand out to the love-smitten delivery guy.

  Kyle took the proffered hand with great care.

  Corey batted his eyelashes and said, “I’m Hailey, Maggie’s friend from California. How do you do?”

  Pizza-and-freckles nearly fell over his own feet. He stammered. “Uhm…uhm…I’m g-g-good. Are y-you m-m-moving in?”

  “Unfortunately, no…I return to Los Angeles in a few days.” Corey pouted. He actually pouted. Where the hefalump was my camera phone when I needed it? There, I found it, capturing the moment in digital eternity.

  Corey slowly raised his gaze to meet mine. His eyes snapped like piercing blue daggers. He really did have fantastically long, thick eyelashes. With the wig, I understood Kyle’s infatuation.

  To Corey’s great relief, the movers needed to get in the door with the couch. Everyone had to get out of the foyer.

  Rose escorted Kyle back onto the sidewalk. Corey and I took the pizza and soda into the kitchen. Then I laughed until my sides split.

  “You’d better hope he’s as dim as he looks. If he recognizes you without the wig, you might just have a date for the prom. I think I’ll just post this on the Internet.”

  “If you do I’ll put a whole family of frogs in your bed.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “I bet I can find a lot of frogs around here.”

  I’d spent a good bit of time last summer walking around streams and brooks. There were a lot of frogs here. I knew they were in hibernation now, but there’d be even more in the Spring. Corey would not forget. I relented.

  “Still,” I said, “that was a heart-warming scene.”

  “Shut up.”

  Chapter Seven

  A Quiet Christmas

  I woke up to complete silence. I’d never experienced such quiet. Fiona’s cabin had no street noises. Because of winter snow, it had no animal or bird noises, either. After a moment, I realized it was Christmas morning.

  On a typical Christmas, Corey would be up before me. I would hear the sounds of wrapping paper being torn asunder and gleeful noises as he’d discovered what he received from Santa.

  No sounds came from Fiona’s office. He must still be asleep. Maybe he needs the extra downtime. Yesterday we’d set up all the major pieces of furniture, but didn’t have time to unpack any boxes. Rose worried about being outside after dark, because Arianrhod’s spies worked mostly at night, so we quit working at 4 PM. At dinner, everyone seemed b
urned out by the emotional highs and lows we’d experienced. We barely talked at the table and afterward we tried to entertain ourselves. Corey played videogames. Fiona worked on her quilt. Rose caught up on paperwork in the home office. I tried to read a book but I couldn’t concentrate and ended up going to bed early. Apparently I was the first person in the house to wake.

  Fiona came out to the kitchen soon after I’d finished making a cup of hot tea. She set up the coffeemaker, and said, “Good morning, Maggie, how do you feel?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Not really…I’m worried about Corey’s safety. I keep thinking about how much I miss Mom.”

  “I understand how you feel. Since we’re not opening presents today, what do you say we look through my old journals for some protection potions?”

  “Yeah, I’d like that.” I wanted to do something proactive.

  “Unfortunately, we have to attend church service first.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because it’s important the clan members see us out in public. We want them to think we have nothing to hide.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought we were Wiccan or something. Why would we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ?”

  “Well, it’s complicated, but I think Corey had the right idea during the Night of the Mothers recitation. We refer to the Creator as the Grand Designer of the Universe. Many religions call him God. We tend to be careful about assigning gender to the Creator. But the belief in one all-powerful force that created the universe is the same. Corey called the minor deities angels or archangels. The terminology doesn’t really matter.” She poured herself a mug of freshly brewed coffee and walked to the dining room table.

  I grabbed my tea and joined her.

  She continued, “I like to think of it this way. Most monotheistic religions address how humans should interact with other humans. Our coven focuses on how we interact with nature and the other creatures in the Universe. These religions don’t contradict each other. It’s possible to believe in both at the same time. A long time ago, our people realized this was true. When our forebears immigrated to America, laws forced people to attend church. They didn’t want to be accused of Satanism or witchcraft so they did. They practiced the Anglican faith in town and the coven traditions in the forest. We still do that today. Only the church changed the name of their faith from Anglican to Episcopalian.” She looked pensive for a moment.

  The she mused, “The whole clan will be at Holy Trinity in Berkeley Springs this morning. I’m not sure what to do about your brother.”

  “Can’t he dress as Hailey again?”

  “No, it won’t work this time. Anyone with Seer gifts will be able to see the magic in his aura and know Hailey isn’t a friend from California.”

  “Okay, so Corey stays home and the rest of us go to church.”

  “What do we say when people ask questions about your friend? I’m sure Kyle told many clan members about his encounter with her. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here.”

  “We’ll tell them Hailey’s a Jehovah’s Witness,” I offered.

  She gave me a stern look. “Do you always lie this easily?”

  “I do when my brother’s safety is at risk.”

  “Good point…Jehovah’s Witness it is, then.”

  ***

  An hour later we arrived at the little Tudor-style church. I wore my favorite periwinkle dress with Rose’s winter coat and Fiona’s boots. The pretty little courtyard outside looked sad without its colorful array of summer flowers, but once inside the nave it was crowded. Undaunted by all of the people, Fiona headed straight for the front pew. I followed her and Rose trailed behind me. Evan sat halfway down the aisle with his family. I gave him a small wave. He smiled and nodded in return. When I reached the front, I took my seat next to Fiona. It had been a long time since I’d been in a real church service as I didn’t count the wedding.

  I took a look around the inside of the beautiful church. The stained glass windows on both sides depicted scenes of the apostles. Jesus was articulated in the round window behind the altar. The tall pulpit stood to one side with a disturbingly realistic wood carving of Jesus on the cross hovering over it. The ceiling was painted with a mural of the sky. Clouds dotted the landscape. At each edge of the mural, the sky darkened to a deep navy and stars twinkled. I thought it interesting that even this Christian church in Berkeley Springs balanced the images of Day and Night against each other.

  Rose leaned over to me. “Do you see the sign over there?” She pointed to a wooden sign built into the right wall opposite the pulpit. Four rows of tiny shelves were built into it, and individual letter and number tiles rested on the shelves. The shelves were labeled: Hymns, Lessons, Psalms and Rite. Today’s Christmas service would contain Psalm 111, lessons from Luke and Matthew and would follow Rite One. Rose grabbed two books from a slot built into the back of the pew in front of us. One book was titled The Book of Common Prayer. The second book was simply called Hymn Book. She opened the hymn book to the number listed on the wall.

  I recognized the song, Handel’s “Joy to the World.” I sang in the choir at Santa Monica High School so I even knew the harmony for that song. Rose started using comment cards and donation envelopes to mark the pages of the hymns. She opened the Book of Common Prayer and found the beginning of the “Holy Eucharist: Rite One.” I was pleasantly surprised that the book gave specific instructions on what to do during the service. It said things like “the people stand” and “the people say.” I felt less self-conscious about not being familiar with the rituals.

  The choir entered the church through a narrow little door at the front on the right side and took their places in special pews set up on a rise between us and the altar. The heavy wooden doors closed behind me. The reverend emerged from a door on the left side. Everyone became quiet. I noticed special chairs were placed next to the choir’s pews. A couple of people dressed in robes like those of the minister, but not as fancy, sat in those seats. One seat remained empty and I assumed it belonged to the reverend himself. He was about Fiona’s age. I took a quick scan of him with my Healer vision. He had no magic but his aura contained a lot of pink. Evan’s mother, Jenny, had explained that pink represented qualities like nurturing and compassion. It was unusual to see this much pink in a man’s aura, but I liked the fact that this holy man was also a good man.

  “Let us rise and sing a hymn of welcome.” From somewhere I heard an organ begin to play the opening strain of “Joy to the World.”

  At one point after the minister’s Christmas sermon I was surprised to hear my mother’s name. He intoned, “For all who have died in the hope of the resurrection, and for all the departed, especially our daughter of the Church, Shannon MacDougall Stewart, let us pray to the Lord.”

  Silent tears slipped down my cheeks as I responded with the rest of the congregation, “Lord, have mercy.”

  Afterward Fiona asked if I had been christened. I had, so she took me with her and Rose to the altar for communion.

  The service ended with a rousing, if out of tune, chorus of “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” Before we could exit the pew, the reverend greeted us. He told me he was sorry for my loss and had a few words with Fiona about the funeral scheduled to be held in three days. We made our solemn way down the aisle. Once we entered the vestibule I became confused. It was very crowded with happy, excited people. Little kids ran around their parents legs and bumped into each other, laughing. I didn’t feel happy or excited. It didn’t help me that strangers kept walking up to me saying how sorry they were. Somehow, I became separated from Fiona and Rose. I tried to find my way out into the sunshine, but there were so many people. Just before panic set in, a familiar and warm hand slipped into mine. He squeezed, led me through the crowd and back into the courtyard. I exhaled in relief. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. I have to join my family but I’ll drop by tomorrow, okay?”

  “Sur
e…of course.”

  “Hang in there.” He squeezed my hand again and left.

  I spotted Rose waiting for me and made a beeline to her.

  She put her arm around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.”

  Chapter Eight

  AURA CAMOUFLAGE

  “That’s it!”

  I jumped out of bed and ran to the dining room, where I knew I’d find either Rose or Fiona.

  They both sat at the table, mugs in hand, looking surprised at my exuberance.

  “We’ve been looking in the wrong place,” I explained, taking a seat. “We don’t need to protect Corey from harmful intentions. It’s impossible to anticipate all of the different ways a person or creature could hurt him if they wanted to do so. What we need to do is make it so no one wants to hurt him in the first place.”

  Rose followed along with my train of thought. “How do we do that?”

  Fiona was more concerned with my appearance. “Honey, where are your slippers? You’re not wearing your robe. Aren’t you cold?”

  I ignored her. I’d warm up later; they needed to start working on this idea first. “The legend says all children born of both Healers and Seers are non-magical, except for the Destroyer, right?”

  They nodded their heads slowly.

  “So if Corey was non-magical, he’d be what everyone expected him to be. He wouldn’t be a threat. He couldn’t become a threat.”

  “But Corey is magical,” Rose countered.

  “How do we know? How does anyone know he’s gifted?” I challenged her.

  “Seers can sense it in his aura.”

  “Exactly,” I concluded, “we don’t need to protect him from harm, we don’t need to take away his magic, we need to take magic away from his aura. Auras have layers. The layer closest to a person shows their personality traits. The next layer shows their mood. The third layer shows their magical gifts. We need to camouflage his magic layer!” I was very proud of myself for figuring this out but Rose was skeptical.