by Sam Schenk
“It’s more than that, isn’t it? You’re not in balance.”
Compared to the feeling of the house, anything would be out of balance. Greg felt as though he couldn’t help but be putting it out of joint. His own house was out of sync with the world and the veil. He could never make a place like this, a proper witch’s house, contributing to the harmony of the whole neighbourhood. He was an outsider even here. At least if he was focusing his efforts in the graveyard, he could make sure he was making a difference.
She must have seen him flush because she frowned with concern.
“Sorry. Since that night, I’ve not been able to focus. I’ve not felt confident in my abilities, even though I was making progress. I was hoping you could help.” His teacher’s house was always a place of warmth and stability, even through the bad times. He’d always felt at home here.
“I could always do the cleansing, instead?” Lisa asked brightly. “The bush is always open to you, but since you’re here, I can make sure it goes well. You should plant a couple of cuttings at home, too.”
Greg gave her a pained look.
“It never gets any better unless you try!” Lisa protested. “In any case, I picked some fresh sage the other day. It should be dry enough. There’s no such thing as coincidences.”
“That might help. I’m grateful, teach.”
“We’re brethren now.” She nodded towards his right hand where a blotch of grease had stained his wrist. She always managed to spot it. “Still, cleansing the area after your separation might go some way to making it feel like home again.”
Greg pulled down his shirt sleeve. “I’d be grateful. There was something else I wanted your advice on, too.”
“Of course!” Lisa bustled over to him to retrieve her bowl, and there was a second clattering in the kitchen as pans were put into the oven. Greg smiled. He was sure he would never be able to find anything in this house, but Lisa could navigate to anything as though she had marked each of them with a homing device.
“Well, get up!” She said, wandering into the lounge with her skirts full of jars and two under her arms.
“Do you want me to help you with that?”
“Nonsense. I want you to stop staring into the other-space and get cleansed. And tea, straight away.”
Greg wandered to the kitchen where the kettle was starting to squeal on the stove. He flicked off the gas and poured hot water into the prepared ceramic cup next to it. He blew the steam away and took a few cautious sips.
“This is good, what is it?” He asked.
“Bit of this and that. I threw in some kawakawa. There’s a tree just down the road, and the native plants have this spark about them when it comes to tea — well when it comes to anything really. Go sit down in the conservatory. I’m not going to get herbs all over the carpet.”
Greg did as she asked. There was a circle cleared out in the centre of the conservatory, amidst all the pot plants and garden decor. Knowing Lisa, the knotted rug in the centre was her work: a pentagon with sun streaks reaching out to a more natural star skyline. He knelt in the centre and sipped his tea, watching her deliberate activities, a spoonful of this and that, a dab of water or honey. The clouds reaching out from the veil wove themselves in with each ingredient she combined effortlessly while she hummed her familiar discordant melody.
There was such a sense of peace in this house. Why hadn’t he reached out earlier?
He heard the conservatory door slide close, and Lisa’s soft footsteps behind him. She touched his shoulder. The soft energy of her craft flowed down his back, up his neck.
“Everything happens for a reason,” Lisa said gently.
Without another word she wove around him, softly drawing shapes with her movements, more of a dance than a spell. She placed the leaves in his hair, sprinkled them over his shoulders, around the rug where he sat. When the spell was completed, she lit a candle and placed it between them. “Mother, help Greg to find his centre again. As Helios bathes you in his light, let this candle warm him and help him to turn in sequence.”
She waved the candle in front of him, disorienting his vision before placing it back on the table. Greg allowed his eyes to close. For a moment he did feel like Gaia was among them, helping to centre and stabilize him through his teacher’s magic. They waited for a moment, allowing Lisa’s cultivated energy to weave in and out through their breath. Finally, Lisa whispered, “Thank you for visiting us, Mistress. May we add our footprint to the circle, always travelling the path, always forward.”
Greg opened his eyes to see Lisa opening hers too. He was clean — whole, no thoughts of Maddie, no thoughts of Elizabeth. The back of his neck felt clean and healthy. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“You don’t need to ask.” She grinned. “Now, have some more tea and you can tell me what you’ve been doing to have such dark magic floating around you.”
“Dark magic? I haven’t been doing anything beyond the norm.” Greg was puzzled.
“You’re steeped in it. Didn’t you notice?” Lisa held up one of her jars.
Greg leaned down to scrutinise it. True enough, it was filled with misty, tumultuous clouds, not unlike the mist that had settled over the graveyard.
“I’ve been working in the Bolton Street Graveyard to learn the histories of the ghosts and help them cross over,” Greg explained. “In the past week, the veil has been…strange. The ghosts think that some spirit has been disturbed — I don’t know if it caused the mist, or if the mist caused it. But the only thing that I’ve done is help a ghost — Elizabeth — cross over. She was losing herself, but that’s…natural for ghosts who have lost their way. I know how that sounds.”
“There is obviously some instability in the area.” Lisa nodded thoughtfully. “The question is whether it has passed, and we can go about repairs, or whether there is still a presence disturbing the peace.”
“I don’t think this will go away by itself. One thing’s for sure, I didn’t cause it. It corrupted the glyph I’ve been using for months.”
“Then it was calm before the disturbance. It should be able to be calmed or even dismissed altogether. There is no reason for it to stay there, and we just have to convince it of that. Your research is the right idea. If you can find out what might have facilitated their entombment, you will make progress, the same as you did with Elizabeth.” Lisa scrutinised the magic in her jar. “Poor dear, I’m sure she’s in a better place.”
Lisa paused for a moment to contemplate the contents of the conservatory. She began to gather bits of this and that and place them in the now vacant jars. “I’ll give you some herbs for purification. Spread it liberally around the affected area. It won’t solve the problem, but it might make the source more clear, just in case it’s not the spirit you’ve told me about. Make sure you have enough candles when you attempt to talk to them next time, too. In saying that, this is new moon work, Greg, you should know that. I don’t want to see you interacting with the graveyard for another few days at least, or you’ll exacerbate the problem.
“I didn’t pay enough attention, but I guess it was the full moon.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d like to head back to the city soon. Thank you for all of your help.”
“What are teachers for?” Lisa smiled through arms entangled in plants.
He had another cup of tea while Lisa gathered all of the ingredients she thought he needed. She labelled them according to instruction — burn in candles, spread on an afflicted area, enhance glyph, protection… she put them all in a supermarket tote bag and handed them over.
Greg slung the package over his shoulder as he got ready to leave on the threshold, feeling through the construction of the glyph there.
Lisa watched. “What does my magic look like, to you?” she asked.
“Like the veil energy, hardened into biological shapes - chemical carbon shapes, rods and cells,” Greg replied. “It’s something that I think I could try...but I think I would need more than high school science to dup
licate it.”
“That’s interesting. I’ve never met a witch that saw it that way.” Lisa smiled. “Will it be the rain or a ride?”
“The rain,” Greg said definitively. “Your magic always makes me feel like embracing the elements. As long as I’ve got the ingredients sealed tightly, I’ll be fine.”
She hugged him. “Do drop by again soon, Greg. I want to hear that all of this is over. If you aren’t able to take care of it yourself, we should do it together,” she said softly.
“I’ll try to get it sorted.”
He pulled his hood up and stepped out into the rain, feeling quiet and refreshed. For once, he didn’t feel like checking his phone. The rain felt life-giving after leaving Lisa’s house. The splash of water on his hood, on the ground, and on the growing puddles at the side of the road drowned out the world and gave his mind freedom to explore the thoughts that it came across. Maddie wasn’t among them.
On the train ride, he emailed several lawyers he found online, price checking, and by the time he’d arrived home, one had contacted him (shocking, given how late it was), and they arranged to review the manilla folder, now damp and wrinkled in the bottom of his gym bag.
Chapter Seven
Greg barely checked his phone at all on Sunday. He hadn’t been in the right state to hit the clubs, even when “The Alternatives” came up on his playlist a few times. By Wednesday, he’d finished the Merc, and had received some information to review from the lawyer.
There were a few texts from Donny which he hadn’t seen. The weather was great, and he could use some air. He’d texted Donny in the morning to arrange an after-work climb to the lookout. It was met with an earnest noon response.
Greg dressed casually and headed down the hill. He planned to arrive later than Donny because Pidgeon Park was another of those central locations where the veil was out of joint. The propensity for drunks to wander unannounced into the square, and disturb his meditation, meant Greg had quickly discounted it as a place to investigate.
When he arrived, he ducked over to a nearby cafe to wait.
There was a quiet “Hey!” from behind him as he was ordering coffee. Greg turned to see Donny, flush and happy in the daylight. He looked different, somehow. Did he wear makeup during his gigs? Maybe it was just remembering him being so drunk.
“I thought you flew away into the night.” Donny took his arm.
“No, just busy,” Greg said. Donny had on a nice cologne today. Without thoughts of Maddie hanging over him, Greg hoped he could enjoy himself today. “Hope you weren’t too lonely.”
“I found ways to occupy myself, as you do when you’re waiting for someone. But I’m still glad you called, even if your suggestion involves…exercise. I’ve found a way to make it more interesting if there’s a place for a picnic along the way.” Donny held up a water bottle. “See, I’m a good boy today.”
Greg smiled. “Sounds like you’re ready to work.”
He led Donny through Courtenay Place, past the cinema, and up a steep road. It dead-ended in a town belt pedestrian access — one of the many dirt roads that made their way across the hills of Wellington. The trek up to Mt. Vic was one of his favourites in the CBD — tough but skirtable if you took the city roads. Greg led Donny mercilessly straight up the hill through a mini pine forest. His long strides led Donny up and up towards the lookout, one of the tallest spots in the city.
Donny sighed dramatically and slid down a tree into a bed of fallen needles and cracked his bottle of water.
“What? We’ve barely walked anywhere?” Greg teased. He did accept a sip from the bottle, though. Truth be told, his calves were burning from the pace.
“We’ll get going in a minute.” Donny gasped, snaking a hand in for the bottle.
Their arms entwined, and Greg pulled Donny towards him for a kiss.
Donny gasped as he fell off balance. He was positioned so close, now. Electricity surged through him, and Greg couldn’t resist sliding Donny further onto his lap.
Thoroughly exhausted in the leaves, Greg brought a resistant Donny to his feet. They both giggled as they nearly tumbled back over.
“Come on, you. If we don’t get up in the next hour or so, we’re going to miss the sunset,” Greg protested.
Greg dug in his anchoring foot on the hillside. He brought Donny closer to him for support and straightened him up like a puppet. “At this rate, you’re not going to see anything of what New Zealand has to offer before you go home.”
“I’ve already seen enough.” Donny grinned, patting Greg’s face lightly. He leaned in for another kiss.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Greg chided. He slipped the empty bottle into his bag, along with the picnic leftovers while Donny used a tree to stabilise himself against the incline. “We’re going to get there if I have to carry you.”
Donny jogged to the nearest tree up the hill. “Only if you promise I get to sleep at your place tonight.”
“Sure you’re up for it? It’s an even longer climb than the lookout,” Greg teased, slinging the bag back over his back. “I think you’ll collapse halfway there.
“I can make it! Or…we could always take a cab, too.”
Greg grinned. “Your shout?”
“I’m a poor musician. I can barely afford my plane fare.”
“Then I guess we’re walking,” Greg countered.
Donny’s face was misery. “Alright. I’ll do it, but you’d better make it worth my while!”
They struggled the rest of the way up to Mt. Vic lookout. It was a short enough hike, no more than twenty minutes, but by the time they reached the ridge, Donny was puffing.
“Ok, I know what I said, but…” His voice petered out when he looked out over the city. The sun was trailing over the hills to the east, blooming a golden aura that trickled and discoloured the clouds. Greg watched Donny enjoy the view. He bounced to the highest point of the lookout over the city, to stare at the lights, at the distant street lamps on the Petone waterfront. He traced the shoreline with his eyes to Eastbourne peninsula, then across the harbour and back towards the airport. Mt. Vic was great. You could see it all from here. But Greg hadn’t really…appreciated it like he saw Donny doing. Maybe this was why Maddie told him that he needed to travel all the time. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
By the time Donny wandered back to Greg’s side, his step was lighter, and his smile had returned. He wrapped his arms around Greg’s back. “You took me to the most romantic spot in the city, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” Greg hadn’t thought of it that way before. “When I’m out running after the gym, I often find my way up here.”
“All by your lonesome?” Donny sighed. “I’m starved. Let’s get down this mountain and find something to eat.”
“Sure.”
Kebabs it was, as promised. Donny wolfed them down like he hadn’t eaten in months, Then they started making their way up the hill to Karori.
Donny practically dragged Greg forward. “Is it far?” he asked again.
“You’re like a dog.” Greg moaned. “It’s half an hour yet.”
“Hey, a graveyard?”
Greg froze. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t realised where they were. By the time he had opened his mouth, Donny had already dashed past the church at the entrance to the Memorial Park.
By the time Greg caught up, Donny was standing still, facing the tiered staircase. Greg tried to call the power of the crystals to draw a protective glyph around them, but the connection was broken, severed by the ones he’d removed. Greg reached into his pocket. He was met by the welcome sharp edges of quartz, the smooth hematite. He tried to call up some energy from them, but his mind was too disjointed. He was too desperate. “Donny, get away from there!” he choked.
But Donny didn’t move. He stood there, transfixed while the veil erupted around him. The corridor shot out from the ground around his body. He raised an elbow to shield his face and planted his feet against the force like he coul
dn’t even see it.
The crystals finally drew some veil energy towards Greg’s hand. He twisted it, gathered enough to form a glyph in the shape of a shield, and held it in front of him. He wasn’t sure that it could withstand anything that the ghost could control. He didn’t know what the ghost could do to him. It made him feel better, anyway. When Greg was able to look up, the walls of the corridor had cracked around Donny’s outline.
The physical world seemed to fall away from them. Where the tiered seating should be, the ghost from the night before stood in front of the shadowy door. It was still transparent, but it looked solid enough for the handle to be turned, similar to other entrances to the veil that Greg had seen. Everything seemed stable this time. The atmosphere was thick and humid. The suspended energy within shifted position without any will or animosity.
The shadowy figure was still there too, barely visible through the door except for two red eyes which pierced into the veil. Just as Greg reached forward with his senses to try and work him out, the door cracked open.
Shadowy atmosphere slipped through, and an old man stepped through it and into view, a straw hat on his head, and a cane at his side. His red eyes turned mirthfully to the ghost, who fell to his knees, whispering, “I am strong enough. I will take a body back again. Then I will be home, then I will break the veil in two and we can all do as we please.”
The old man smiled, jagged teeth in a saggy old mouth. “I think I have entertained this long enough. Come through the door.”
The ghost got to his feet, shifting away. “No, you can’t force me.”
“Who do you think I am, exactly?”
Greg shielded his face with a hand just in time for stagnant energy to be hurled through the fog. It cut towards him. Donny. Donny wouldn’t have the means to protect himself.
A flash of golden light echoed through the veil.
Where had that come from? Greg lowered his arm to try and see what was going on.
Donny moved forward, leaving the plaster of the corridor crumbling behind him. “Gran?”
