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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
2932 Ross Clark Circle, #384
Dothan, AL 36301
Believe The Magic
Copyright © 2006 by Melani Blazer
Cover by Scott Carpenter
ISBN: 1-59998-007-X
www.samhainpublishing.com
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2006
Believe the Magic
Melani Blazer
Dedication
For the magic of friendship and those who believe in me. Jaci, Shan, Mandy and Angie, you all give me strength, support me and refuse to let a day go by without making me feel loved. May all the magic of love find you.
Chapter One
I am a sucker when someone needs my help.
I’d gotten better about being talked into doing “favors” for other people, but in this case, I couldn’t let my niece down. It was Halloween and she decided, last minute of course, that she wanted to be a gypsy. Since I was the one escorting her on her trick-or-treat dash, she asked me to help her put the costume together.
I agreed. After all, how hard was it to dart into the antique shop around the corner from where I work and grab some gaudy costume jewelry? At this point in my life, my sister and her kids were all I had for a family. My job certainly wasn’t something I’d call a career—it was something I did to pay the bills until a better option came along. Days like today made me philosophical about approaching thirty and having little direction in my life. That, in turn, made me a little cranky.
I’d never been in this place before, but someone had dropped off a few fliers at the office a week or so ago announcing the store was under new management. The advertisement said they had Halloween costumes and props, so here I was.
The overhead bell announced me as a customer as I pushed open the squeaky door. The tiny storefront was jam-packed with stuff. It probably all had names and places associated with it, but I’d never gotten into old furniture. I was busy staring at a very strange looking green chair, trying to figure out why someone would consider it valuable when a man stepped into my line of view.
He wore a cloak, a long one that immediately made me think of a magician or a wizard. He didn’t say anything, not right away, just stared at me.
Too weird. I blinked and shook my head. When I opened my eyes, the same man stood there, but the cloak was gone. He looked like a respectable enough shop owner, dressed in a perfectly normal burgundy sweater and gray pleated slacks. And he was looking at me with a raised eyebrow as if I was crazy.
“Needing a costume, eh?”
“Oh, s-sorry,” I stuttered. I wondered if I had spoken out loud while trying to figure out why I thought he was wearing a cloak. “Um, no. Not exactly.”
“It’s Halloween. That’s been what everyone wants today.” He swept his hands wide. A holographic image of a waterfall and well…paradise, appeared between his fingers. The backdrop to this weird vision was the brown cloak. Was he wearing it or wasn’t he? But just like that he dropped his hands and the image faded and the robe disappeared.
What was going on here? “Huh?” I blinked, and then blinked again. It was the same man, the same store. He wasn’t wearing this cloak my mind insisted on imagining. Heck, I was really seeing things. Was I sick? Ill? Allergic to antiques to the point of having hallucinations?
“Sam Nelson, proprietor. Tell me then, if not a costume, what’s your fancy today?” He led me along with a hand at my elbow. In truth it felt more like he had me in a headlock. He didn’t give me the choice to smile and take three steps backward, then turn and run.
“Uh, jewelry. Costume jewelry. But not for me. My niece wants to be a gypsy.” Do it for Jess. Don’t let her down.
“Gypsy? Well, I’ve got some nice scarves and a belt you might want to look at for her. But I’ve got something for you, too. One should be rewarded for doing favors for others.”
His blue-jean eyes faded to black and back again before he turned and disappeared behind a rainbow-colored curtain.
“Bizarre,” I muttered, prowling through the banged up furniture and moth-eaten tapestries. This was a mistake. Or else this guy was way into Halloween and making people’s eyes bug out.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when I caught movement to my right. When I turned, I saw myself in a half-hidden mirror. Instead of the jeans and T-shirt I’d worn into the store, I was dressed as an Indian. With braided hair, painted face, buckskin, feathers and beads. I had it all.
“No way,” I said. I saw mine—hers—someone’s lips move. Oh God, that was me. I shook my head, closed my eyes, and counted to five. And checked again. There stood plain ole Ella. With an Indian headdress in the background. My imagination was obviously on overload. Or else I needed a vacation worse than I thought.
“Ah, there you are. Finding yourself around okay?”
Why did he say it like that? This Sam guy was getting odder by the moment. The way he watched me, intently studying my reaction, made me feel way too self-conscious, like I was being sized up or something. I needed to get out of this place. “Uh, yeah, just waiting on you.”
Sam passed over a half-dozen or so silky scarves. They looked about as antique as my college sweatshirt. And I wasn’t that old. Yet.
“Buck for two. And here’s some wide hoop earrings and a belt.” Now the belt I liked. Had to have it, even if it was just for me. Gold, wide-linked chain, not too far from the kind that holds a screen door from flying off the hinges. The links held charms and bells. I loved the bells.
I snaked out two red and blue scarves and snagged the belt. “That’s it.”
“You don’t want the earrings?”
I studied them again. They looked more like bracelets. “She’s twelve.”
“Ah.” He snatched them back.
I dug out my wallet and presented him with my debit card.
He waved me off. “Cash or check only. But I haven’t given you what’s yours.”
I glanced at my watch and jammed my wallet back in my oversize bag. I rummaged through the collection of receipts, bills, my notepad, my cell phone with eternally dead battery and two paperbacks I’d started but never finished, looking for the checkbook that was undoubtedly lying next to the phone on my dresser. Geez, I was running so late. “I don’t have time to shop for me. No offense, but I’ve never really understood the appeal of antiques.”
I looked up to find Sam again dressed in that wizard’s get up, holding out a strange necklace. I swear to God, he floated over the table and fastened it around my neck before my tongue hit the roof of my mouth to say, “No, I’m not interested.”
I could stake money all he did was tie the choker-looking necklace on—he didn’t even touch me—but I felt different—all the way through. Almost energized. Was this some new fangled drug seeping in through my skin? “How did you do that? And what did you do to me? You can’t just go around looping nooses around your customer’s necks. They won’t come back.”
He tilted his head as if I was the crazy one. “I gave you a necklace. No charge.”
With even more desperation, I rooted around in my purse until my hand
connected with my checkbook. Thank God. I scribbled out the check as quickly as I could. I was coming down with the flu or something because I was totally hallucinating some strange things. No, I didn’t see myself as an Indian in that mirror. No, he wasn’t wearing a weird cloak and he couldn’t have floated over the table. Speaking of, whatever he’d stuck around my neck was coming off, I decided. As soon as my butt hit the seat of my car this “free” choker would be gone.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Do what?” I frowned. One hand held the checkbook, the other the torn off check and a ballpoint pen. My feet were solidly on the ground and my bag wasn’t threatening to sweep precious breakables from a shelf. So what wasn’t I supposed to do?
“Take the necklace off.”
I slid my checkbook into my purse before I reached up to do just that. And was promptly rewarded with a violent shock. “A freaking shock collar? You’ve given me a shock collar? Is this your idea of a joke?” I slid the check onto the desk and scooped up my purchases, tossing them in my bag. “Trick or treat, right? Funny trick.” I wasn’t laughing.
I’d concede my life was pretty dull and I had been looking for a way to spice things up. This, however, was not what I had in mind. And despite my attempt to be utterly disgusted, a little charge of excitement raced through my veins. Or was it the necklace causing that?
So instead of threatening to call in the vice squad, bomb squad and the National Guard, I chalked this up to one of those “You’ll never guess what happened to me today,” moments and planned to get home and rip it off. Frankly, I was scared to stay here another moment, even if it was for him to take the necklace off. I could handle the removal. Maybe. If I could find the “off” switch.
“The pair of gems will protect you. Others will try to remove them, or use them. They are very valuable and powerful. You will learn about their secrets later. Do not try to take them off. You wouldn’t want to find out what happens if they fall into the wrong hands.”
“Candid Camera, right? You’re gonna turn around and point out the camera and tell me I’m the subject of a real humorous practical joke.”
Not a twitch on his face. His steady stare made me shudder. Scared? More like creeped out. No way would I set foot in this store again. Ever.
“Sorry buddy, I just don’t buy it. Thanks for the scarves and the cheap rawhide and glass beads.”
I turned and walked out of the store. Heck, I was ready to run, bolt before he had lightning come down and split me in half.
“That could happen,” he called after me.
I laughed and kept going without looking back. I wasn’t that much of a sucker.
In my car, however, I contemplated my choice of words. I’d walked out of that shop with some weird beads around my neck. With them came a strange prophecy I still didn’t understand. It being Halloween and all, I might be able to blow off the rest of the very abnormal events I experienced. But something in my gut told me there was a little more to it.
Did I really believe this Sam character bestowed a necklace on every one of his customers? My head didn’t feel warm. No fever to blame for thinking he floated. Yes. Floated over the counter. None of it made sense. Especially the warning about the beads, gems, whatever they were.
I reached up and touched the necklace and felt the electricity crackle. Getting shocked while driving was probably not a good idea.
It was nothing more than a trick or treat stunt. I drove toward my sister’s house convincing myself of that. I was overanalyzing and certainly over-dramatizing everything because I was having one of my re-assess-where-I-am-in-life-and-not-liking-it moments.
“Whoa, bitchin’ necklace.” Jess, the twelve-year-old gypsy wanna-be snagged my offerings to her and reached up to touch the necklace. I’d hoped not to think any more about it and the weird experience at the antique shop, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen.
“Is that any way to talk to your aunt?” I handed over the scarves, then pushed past her and dropped my aching body onto the sofa. “Where’s your mom?”
“Damnit, Karl, get your shoes on. Jeeeesssss?” Jeannie came rushing out of the room and nearly bowled her daughter over.
“She’s right here. Relax, Jeans. I’ve got her taken care of.”
My sis ignored me in standard fashion. I picked up the TV Guide to see how I would be spending my dateless Friday night. After this trick or treating adventure, that is. Jeannie’s voice faded to a sound straight out of the Peanuts cartoons when the cover on the mini-magazine started swirling. Sam stood on the cover and smiled up at me.
“What the—” I tried to let go but found it might as well been glued to my fingers.
“Well, still unbelieving aren’t you?”
“Oh my God, I’ve gone and lost my mind.” Could I just check myself into the funny farm? No one in this family would doubt the necessity of my stay, I was sure. Telling the doctor about the man on the TV Guide talking to me should guarantee a room for a long visit.
“You aren’t crazy. But now you are magic.”
“Great. I’ll tell them that when they come running at me with the strait jacket.”
“Who you talking to, Aunt Ella?” The much too bright adolescent walked over to bust me and my brilliant conversation with a book.
“No one.” I caught her eyes with what I thought was a don’t-tell-a-soul-or-you-won’t-see-thirteen look.
“Aunt Ella’s talking to the TV Guide, Mom.”
So much for my glare. I couldn’t even do that right it seemed. Guess that’s why I wasn’t a parent. “I was not. I was…um…thinking out loud as I pondered the…uh…outfits these guys are wearing.” Where the heck had I seen Sam in the faces of the hottest new boy group?
“Have a long week?” Jeannie wrestled her three-year-old to the ground and twisted on his Winnie-the-Pooh sneakers without breaking the rhythm of her voice. “After five days of Karl in eight hour stretches, I talk back to the TV.” She turned to her daughter. “Aunt El’s just got some stuff on her mind. She was thinking.”
I eyed the gypsy. “You ready?” I didn’t regret giving in to Jess’s pleadings that I accompany her and her girlfriends on their rounds through the neighborhood. I rather liked the almost-teenager and her sarcastic wit. Plus it was so uncool to walk with Ma and baby brother while trick-or-treating. I liked to be considered the “cool” choice.
I shrugged at my sister. She winked back. I would have my revenge. I’d give birth to twins who’d be spoiled so rotten milk would curdle when they walked in the room. And I’d make her baby-sit them every day while I worked. And I’d feed them Sweet Tarts for breakfast. Just to get back at her for days like this.
“Where’s the Joker?” My pet name for her husband. He was one, and I didn’t mean in a funny way.
“Bowling?” She lifted her shoulder but kept her hands on the wriggling child. I didn’t see their marriage lasting six more months. But I’d said that a couple of years after Jess had been born and Jeannie had proven me wrong. Guess she tolerated crap better than me.
“Why aren’t you dressing up?” Jess asked me as we pounded down the wooden steps and down her driveway.
I pulled my hair out to the sides and stuck out my tongue. “Dere, dat bedder?”
She giggled and I dropped my hands. Heck, I figured I was dressed up enough; I had clothes on. And makeup. My hair was stick straight so I had limited options. I smoothed it down. “I’m me, that’s scary enough, isn’t it?”
She rolled her eyes. “So where’d you find these scarves, and this belt? It is so cool.” Jess skipped through the door I held open.
“The belt is mine after this, cheeky one.” I reached out and pinched her still plump face. She hated when I did that.
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“You gonna let me wear your necklace?”
“This one?” I reached up to touch it. I jerked back as soon as my fingers grazed the beads, but it didn’t zap me senseless
that time.
“Whoa, El-la, you have got to let me have it.”
“What, why? And it’s Aunt Ella to you, squirt.” I arranged my hair to fall over my shoulders and hide the necklace.
“When you touched it, the beads changed colors. Like it’s a mood necklace. That’s what it is, right?”
Changed colors? I could have sworn the stones were a milky white when Sam had held it up. “What color are they now?”
“Blue.”
“Blue? You sure?”
“Yeah.” Her voice was breathy. “And when you touched it, they turned lilac.”
“Lilac?” I repeated. Beads that change color? What had that psycho given me anyway? Maybe it was electric—sure would explain the jolt I’d taken earlier.
“Do you know what the colors mean?”
“Not a clue. Now let’s find Marisol and Jenny and get this candy snatching show on the road, gypsy girl.”
Chapter Two
I was barely awake when I climbed into the shower the next morning. I would have given my eyeteeth to sleep in. As I contemplated if being worn out from traipsing no less than five miles through suburbia qualified as a reasonable excuse for calling off, my fingers connected with something…foreign…on the back of my neck, just under my hairline. I thought a spider had landed on me. I nearly took off soapy and naked to the neighbor’s while beating at the back of my head with my loofa.
But after whimpering and clawing at my neck until the worst of the hysterics faded, I kicked up the hot water and hid beneath it. I’d listened long enough in science class to remember insects were cold-blooded. Get them hot enough and they’ll explode. Well, I wasn’t keen on the idea of spider guts, but I was in the shower, right? Dead bug parts would wash down the drain.
When I reached up again, I realized I must have simply felt the ends of the leather string that had been tied together. I explored the knot with my fingers to make sure that’s all it was.
I breathed a sigh of relief and half laughed at my panic. I reached for the razor I must have knocked to the bottom of the tub, but didn’t even need to bend down. When my fingers extended for it, the pink disposable just floated up to them.
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