by Julia French
As she looped it around her neck she noticed the small imperfection where True had bent the broken link back into place to mend the chain. He had smoothed over the rough edges of the broken link with a file, and she marveled at the care he had taken with such a tiny thing. It seemed to her that True took meticulous care in everything he did even though his manner was laid back, relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world. Last week when she came for her lesson he had been braiding onions from the garden, and he had started to teach her without missing a beat. She remembered his long fingers flashing in and out of the tubular leaves, and how when a bulb had separated from the mass he was braiding he hadn’t cursed or thrown the onion, but simply tossed the loose bulb onto the table and gone on braiding and talking.
She knew Mark wouldn’t have reacted that way, and Mark would have gone absolutely apoplectic if he had seen her yesterday afternoon with the needle and thread.
Could True have hidden the ring under the rug on purpose? A magnet concealed in his hand could have accounted for the strange behavior of the needle, but she couldn’t believe he would stoop to such underhanded tactics. However, the thought that the needle had been influenced by-she might as well use the word-magic-was as outrageous and impossible as the thought of dishonesty from True Gannett. It was a thing that simply couldn’t happen.
Her lip was swollen where Mark had split it, and there was no way it would be healed by Friday. She would have to call Don and tell him she couldn’t attend their first face-to-face meeting. She would tell him she had the flu, because revealing her real reason was out of the question. The last thing she wanted was to drag her boss into her problems, but her reasoning wasn’t so much altruistic as practical. If Don knew Mark had hit her, would he think she deserved it? And what would True think if he saw her like this? Would he believe she’d brought it on herself? Was something wrong with her that she couldn’t see, but that made Mark want to hurt her? One part of her mind knew that wasn’t true, but another part of her wasn’t so sure.
On top of that, she still couldn’t get away. The direction of her life was determined by economics, her future controlled not by spiritual courage or personal bravery, but by dollars and cents. This much money for rent and food, that much money to buy a mattress to sleep on…if only she could learn to nourish herself with air, or sleep upon it…! It felt as though the light at the end of her tunnel was receding to a tiny pinpoint of cold brilliance, like a star in winter.
The room rocked. Rachel drew her feet up onto the bed and lay down until the dizzy spell passed. Had Mark given her a concussion? Her head was throbbing, stuffed full of cotton. She had to do something to stop the pain. Wading against the pain and faintness like a deep sea diver, she pushed up off the bed in slow motion and went into the bathroom. Leaning against the sink for balance, she pulled open the door of the medicine cabinet. Something rattled and fell into the sink. She scrabbled in the basin for the pill bottle and squinted at the scuffed label. She couldn’t remember when she or Mark had been prescribed purple capsules and they might have been for pain, but she couldn’t recall. When she opened the bottle most of the capsules bounced off the sink and landed on the floor or in the toilet, but seven of them found their way into her shaking hand. The paper cup dispenser was empty. Her mouth crammed with pills, Rachel turned on the faucet, put her face down to the cold stream, and sucked. One of the moistened capsules burst too early, flooding her mouth with sickening funk. The sticky mass of gelatin, dissolving in her saliva, plugged the back of her throat. She swallowed again and again, trying to force the fetid lump down, but the motion made it slide backward. It wedged itself across her windpipe and she fell against the sink, gasping for air.
There was a warmth between her breasts, and something jerked her head sharply downward. Her forehead banged against the edge of the sink so hard that she saw stars. The impact dislodged the chunk of purple gelatin, and it flew from her mouth and plopped onto the tiles.
Exhausted, Rachel leaned over the sink, bitter white powder mixing with the saliva that dribbled from her open mouth. A rhythmic tapping against the tip of her nose roused her. She grasped the amulet to stop it from swinging, and felt the unusual warmth of the metal. Her head hurt worse than before and the chain of the amulet was rasping against the raw place on her neck where some force had tugged upon it, but she welcomed these sensations because it meant she was alive. The all-seeing eye had seen danger coming and saved her.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was as if Rachel had said to him, “I believe pigs can fly.” What had changed her mind about magick? Had she thought more about the needle and thread? Was it something else he’d taught her? Whatever the reason, True was glad she’d gotten over her irrational attitude. Now her real education could begin.
Much as he’d wished and hoped for this, her change had caught him by surprise. There was so much for her to learn, and it didn’t help that some of the things he wanted to say to her had nothing to do with magick at all: Rachel, why are you with that fool? Do you love him? Could you ever love—
“Is something wrong? True?”
He realized he’d been staring at her. “Nine kinds of magick,” he repeated, recovering himself. “The first is Healing. Then there’s Foretelling or Prophecy, like you read about in the Bible. Then there’s Rituals, meaning spells and curses. Magic of Objects means charms, talismans, and amulets. Power Over Nature is another kind. Then there’s Hidden Knowledge or Secrets Revealed, and dowsing is part of that. Number seven is Arcane Knowledge.”
“What does arcane knowledge mean?”
“It means doing magick to learn things you shouldn’t rightly know. Then there’s Warding, to protect folks from evil. The last one is Necromancy, calling the dead back from the other world.”
“That’s a lot to learn. Did your great grandfather teach you all those things?”
How did she know about his great grandfather? Then he remembered the interview he’d given her.
“Mostly,” he answered. “Some of the things I read in books. We’ll start with objects, because that’s the simplest.”
Rachel settled herself on the sofa, and hidden in the shadow of her bosom True caught a glimpse of silver chain. Had something happened to convince her of the amulet’s power?
“Charms, talismans, and amulets,” he recited. “A talisman draws good things to you, an amulet sends bad things away from you, and a charm makes one wish come true. To make a charm you have to know what you want before you start, so you can use the right things to make it.”
“So, a rabbit’s foot isn’t a good-luck charm, it’s a talisman.”
“There’s no luck in a rabbit’s foot. Rabbits get eaten every day.”
“All right, rabbit’s feet are out. What other things do you use to make talismen—talismans—a talisman?”
“Whatever would be a help to that person. The wolf protects them, the bear gives them strength, the eagle makes them alert, the owl makes them smart or at least smarter than they were, and the turtle gives long life.”
“So, you choose an animal according to what quality that person wishes they had.”
“Plants and insects, too. An oak tree makes a man or woman strong in times of trouble, a butterfly makes them happy and joyful, and ivy makes them stick to whatever they do.”
“What’s next?”
“You take a piece, a token, from that animal or thing. Not like that,” for Rachel’s eyes had grown large. “A token from an animal like a feather or some hair. From a plant you can take a leaf, a twig, or a seed like an acorn. If you don’t have a token you can use a picture or a drawing to draw that energy into the talisman. For an amulet, now, you’re choosing the best thing to drive the bad away, so you want to fit the token to the job. Like an all-seeing eye, to see evil coming.” He spoke the last one deliberately, and waited for her reaction.
Rachel’s han
d twitched upward toward the amulet, and his gut contracted. Something bad had happened with her husband. “Like an eye,” he continued smoothly. “When you make an amulet you have to tell it what to do in a special way, like a prayer.”
“But not a real prayer, like to God.”
“Almost like a prayer,” he amended. “But, Rachel.” Here his voice sunk almost to a whisper, as if the walls could hear him. “If someone’s giving you grief, you can do more than make an amulet. There are other things. I can teach you.”
“To hurt them.” She drew a little away from him as she spoke.
“Only if they deserve it.” Mark Jeffries, as surely as anyone True had ever met, deserved it.
If she realized he meant Mark, she didn’t let on. “That’s bad magic, True, black magic. I know you didn’t mean it, and as far as nasty people, there’s always a better way than doing them harm.”
And so the subject was closed. True decided it was best to go back to charms and amulets.
“What a charm does is draw like to like. If a woman came to you wanting to have a baby, you’d use a baby tooth from a little child. If a man came to you asking for good hunting, you’d use a claw or a piece of horn or bone from the kind of animal he wants to hunt. If someone asked for their hens to lay more eggs you’d use a hen’s egg, or something that’s egg shaped. Like draws like.”
“You said charms are only good for one wish. How do you know if the charm works?”
“The person gets their wish. To make the best talismans, amulets, and charms, you should know the strengths of things. What does a deer do best?”
“A deer…oh, I know! A deer moves quietly and can jump high.”
“So a talisman or amulet with deer hair or a piece of antler would help a person move quiet, and maybe jump high if they had to. Now, what does a clam do?”
“Clams…they…honestly, True, clams don’t do anything.”
“If somebody wanted you to make something to help them keep a secret, you’d use a piece of a clam shell because clams shut up tight. If I came to you and said, Mrs. Jeffries, my boss wants me to learn how to work this new machine but I think I’m too dumb, what could you use for a talisman to make me smarter?”
“An owl?”
“Close, but tell me, which birds are the very smartest?”
She thought a moment. “Ravens.”
“That’s right, ravens and crows. You’d make me a talisman using a crow or raven feather.”
“They’re very curious, too. There’s a tame raven living near my house. I think it used to be somebody’s pet. Whenever I go outside it likes to watch me.”
“It likes to watch you?” he repeated, a thrill of anxiety running through him.
“Every time I go outside it’s waiting for me, probably because I’ve been feeding it.”
“Its beak is crooked on one side, like it’s snarling,” he stated, and she gaped at him.
“How did you know that?”
“Last week it followed you here.” It was a pity his stone had missed the bird. “There’s got to be a reason to make that bird follow you so far away from his home.”
“I don’t know what it is. I’m sure my crackers aren’t that delicious. I can’t have this thing following me all over Massachusetts, it’s too weird. What should I do?”
“I could drive it away. Mayhap I could try…” his voice died away of its own accord as his thoughts turned to frightful things. He came to himself when he realized that Rachel was looking at him oddly.
“True, in the garden after you gave me the parsley you looked like you were a million miles away. Like now.”
“There’s some bad blood between me and a man. It’s not a big deal.”
“If it weren’t a big deal you wouldn’t be thinking about it so much.” Rachel fumbled in her blouse. “There’s also my raven, and this amulet.”
“No! Don’t take it off!”
He moved to stop her and she took a step backward, clutching the disk in her hand. “I will take it off, unless you tell me what’s going on.”
“All right! Just keep that on. The raven knows about you, and it knows where I live too. Now the man knows that we’re friends and because he’s a witch man that makes it worse.”
“So, your man—another witch man, are you kidding me?—so he and my bird know each other. Is that bad?”
“That thing waits for you outside, it watches whatever you do, and it goes where you go. I think Crooked Beak’s his spy.”
Rachel made a wry face, but he wasn’t offended. He realized it took an effort of mental courage for her even to speak of such things.
“True, if that raven is a spy, then I’m already involved in whatever’s going on between you and that man. You must know it too, because you gave me the amulet and came all the way to Yarwich to make sure I had it. Am I in danger? Are you?”
“You’re not in danger so long as you stay away from him and that wicked bird.” And from himself, True thought bitterly. Now that the witch man had found out her connection to him, he didn’t know how well he would be able to protect her. The all-seeing eye only went so far.
“What about you?” she asked again.
“I’ll be all right as long as I watch my step.”
“You’re lying to me, I can see it in your face, and you’re not a good liar either.”
At any other time he would have been delighted for Rachel to read his mind and his heart, but not this moment. “I don’t need your help!” he said sharply. “I told you I can handle it. You don’t know anything anyway, and you’ll just be in the way.”
She flinched at the outburst, but stood her ground. “We’re friends, True, and friends help each other in times of trouble. At least I thought we were friends. Aren’t we? Don’t you trust me? Or were all these lessons just to show me how little you really think of me?”
True knew right then that he had to tell her, or tell her to leave. He wasn’t used to confiding in people so at first he repeated himself, hesitated often, and once or twice even stammered, but when he was well into his story the words came more easily. Starting with the waitress he told her everything, his thoughts on what was happening and why and even his feelings, and when he finished she said nothing, but quietly laid her hand on his arm. The innocent gesture of sympathy gladdened him, but it also disturbed him. Until he knew for certain whether she loved that worthless husband of hers, he had to keep aloof from her and make sure that he didn’t start something he couldn’t finish, for her sake and his.
“It’s snowing.” He got up from the sofa, away from her touch, and went to the window. Large, fluffy flakes were drifting lightly down, clinging to the branches of the rowan tree in the yard. “They’re big flakes. It won’t last long.”
They watched the snow for a while, Rachel from the sofa and True at the window. After a while Rachel spoke. “I should go home. It’s almost four.”
He didn’t turn around, but he could hear her putting on her coat.
“What should I do if I see the raven again?”
He considered this. “Act like you didn’t know. If you act different it’ll tell its master that we’re onto him.”
“All right.” Behind him, he heard her open the door. “True, isn’t there anything I can do to help you?”
“You can wear your amulet and stay safe.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t fret about me. Remember, I’m a witch man too. If this man is spoiling for a fight I can give him one,” he said with far more confidence than he felt.
In the doorway, she hesitated. “I can be more of a help than you think. I have a computer and I can get information for you that way. I’m also a good listener, which you already know. True, will you please look at me?”
He did turn around then, and regarded he
r sternly. “Thanks to his bird spy the witch man knows where we are, but I don’t know where he lives. I don’t like his advantage and I need to make things even. If you want to help me you can find out where this man hangs his hat.”
“You think I can’t do it.”
“Well, Ma’am, if you could find it in your heart to do me that favor I would find myself greatly obliged to you.” It came out of his mouth before he could stop it, and he instantly regretted it.
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m sorry. I wish you were a thousand miles away from here, away from him. It’s my fault.”
“It isn’t your fault, and I will do what you asked. I’ll find a way. Be careful, True. Don’t let that man hurt you.” Then she was out the door and he was alone.
True leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He could have used some time to think things through, but because of what the raven and therefore the witch man knew, there wasn’t any more time. This time he would have to do the man some real damage. Rachel wouldn’t like it, but nothing short of damage would persuade the man to leave her and the good folks of Raleigh County in peace.
Unless he was planning to conduct this war entirely in a trance, it was imperative to find out where the man lived. Despite his earlier prediction the snow was coming down thicker, but if he hurried he could get to Maddington and back before the roads got too bad. Maddington Garage would be closed by the time he got there, but he knew the owner.
Maps. He needed maps.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The snowfall was growing thicker, and as Rachel rounded the bend of the highway past the junkyard, the beauty of the scene moved her to stop on the shoulder of the road. She got out of the van and held her breath to listen to the pattering of snowflakes like tiny feet upon the fallen autumn leaves. A sense of peace stole over her. Whatever would happen in the future to True, Mark, or her, this moment was hers alone.
