They returned to the house to find Dottie passed out on the couch and Anona moaning in the bathroom. Mirabelle tucked a blanket around Dottie and checked on Anona who insisted she was comfortable on the bathroom floor. She dragged a pillow and her comforter into the bathroom, set a large glass of water on the vanity, and left her sister to her retching.
“Are the elder witches comfortable? I am almost done wrapping up the leftovers,” Matthew whispered.
“I’m sure they will both feel like shit in the morning, but for now, they are both fine-ish. Anona’s going to need some ginger ale or Tylenol, or some witch version of either of them that I am sure she is familiar with.”
“Then, I will be leaving. It will be strange to go home tonight. None of this exists there.” He said wistfully. He pulled Mirabelle against him. “See you tomorrow.” And he kissed her, without holding anything back, even though they both knew nothing more would be happening tonight. They had a lot to learn about their powers, and how to control them. Plus, Anona was vomiting twenty feet away.
Chapter 3
“Rise and shine, party animals!” Mirabelle called out. “The animals are fed, breakfast is on the table, and the shower is accepting guests!” Her cheeriness was met with two groans.
“Is there a Bloody Mary on the table for me?” Dottie asked, straightening her sweater. She had slept all night in panty hose. Mirabelle was impressed.
“No, because I have no idea how to make one of those. But, there is a screwdriver; it’s hard to mess up orange juice with vodka. Also, bacon, sausage, and cheesy eggs. Should help absorb the alcohol.”
“I think I am going to live in the bathroom from now on. You don’t need to use it. The farm will be fine without me.” Anona murmured.
“Get your ass up and eat something. Then you can go get in your bed like a normal hungover person.”
“Anona, come have a few sips of your, what did you call it? A screwdriver? It will help.” Dottie said in between bites of sausage. “Also, I thought of something quite important last night in all my stupor, for which I do apologize.”
“What did you think of?” Anona said, dragging herself into the kitchen, falling onto a chair next to Mirabelle. “Did Matthew sleep here?”
“No. I don’t think his mother would approve. Also, listening to my older sister throw up and my seer snore is not exactly romantic.”
“Are either of you curious about what I thought of? Because it is a good idea.”
“I want to hear all about it as soon as this vodka does the trick.” Anona took another sip of her screwdriver. “Okay, go.”
“Mirabelle and Matthew should go through the portal.”
“No.” Anona said immediately. Mirabelle still sat with her mouth slightly ajar, not yet processing the idea.
“Listen,” she continued. “We know Mirabelle is a Traveler, and we know the portal is going to the Elven Realm. The Elves adore witches, and they will probably either close the portal for us, or tell Mirabelle how to do it herself on this side. She can meet valuable allies if she continues to jump into other realms, and it will be a much better experience than the Fae Realm.”
“It’s too dangerous. We only think that it’s the Elven Realm. What if she walks into a world inhabited by Dragons, or worse a realm we don’t even know exists?”
“That is why we send Matthew with her. The two are clearly linked, and the more I think on it, he must be a Traveler as well. It’s the only way to explain that portal opening in the first place. Who knows, maybe there is a ritual they must do together to close it.” Mirabelle sat silently through the entire argument, unsure what her stance was. The Elven Realm sounded nice and less scary than the Fae Realm, and she liked the idea of exploring a new place with Matthew. If she was a Traveler Witch, she was going to have to become comfortable with traveling at some point.
“Matthew is not some sort of inter-dimensional knight; he’s a twenty-year-old farmer. He can’t protect himself, let alone Mirie, from a Dragon or Vampire or Troll.” Anona continued. “And the portal might not accept him. Then Mirie would be through by herself without anyone to help her at all.”
“I don’t expect Matthew to slay any Dragons. But he could probably hold his own against any Elven man. They are a relatively slight people, as far as I’ve read.”
“Let’s do it.” Mirabelle interjected. “Matthew will be over soon. We can talk about it.”
“What?! Don’t jump to conclusions. You need to think this through for more than, what, a minute?”
“Oh, come on. Let me make my own decisions,” Mirabelle retorted.
“Well, you aren’t leaving before tomorrow night. It’s Imbolc and you need to be on the farm to celebrate. Matthew probably should, too. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. We’ve barely scratched the surface of researching how to close the portal. We could find some other way to do it.”
“I think I kind of like the idea of entering a new realm of my own volition. I can’t be chased by an evil Fae every time I want to use my skills.”
Dottie went home, and Anona took a nap. Mirabelle was still a little overwhelmed by the events of the last two days, and decided some good, old-fashioned work would clear her head. She replaced the hay in the barn, chased the dogs around the farm, brushed Hedgie, pulled a few stray sticks and burrs out of the sheep’s coats, and walked to have a look at the maple trees. The harvest would be coming up soon, and if she and Matthew were in the Elven Realm for more than a few hours (which was a risk), Anona and Michael would be without their help. No new snow had piled up around the cleared trunks, and the weather was slowly warming. Very slowly. It was in the thirties now, so the ground hadn’t had a new layer of ice in over a week. Mirabelle had no idea what else to do to prepare for the harvest, as she had never participated in anything like it. She had a vague idea of there being a tap, which she remembered from a second-grade field trip. Other than that, she was lost.
“The sap won’t come out by staring at it.” Matthew interrupted her thoughts.
“Well, I didn’t think it did. I am searching my brain for any information my 8-year-old self stored away about maple syrup.”
“I can show you,” Matthew got down on his knees next to one of the trees and pointed to a small mark on the bark. “Here’s where we put the tap last year. That’s how we collect the sap. Then, we bring the buckets into the kitchen, where we boil it down to syrup. Next comes the straining, to get out any rough pieces, or crystals, and lastly, we pour the boiling syrup into the glass bottles, seal them shut, and then sell them at the indoor markets. We don’t have a huge harvest with so few trees, but Anona makes a few extra bucks during the otherwise quiet winter.”
“This winter is hardly quiet.” Mirabelle commented.
“True.” Matthew looked out over the trees. “I think life will be much more complicated than planting and harvesting from now on.”
“Yes.” Mirabelle paused. “I want to go through the portal and I want you to come with me.” Silence. Matthew’s gaze stayed out at the trees, his expression unchanged. Mirabelle wondered if she was asking too much of him. He hadn’t really adjusted to being a warlock, and his Traveler status was not yet confirmed. Plus, they hadn’t been dating that long, and realm hopping seemed like a big commitment.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Mirabelle threw in, trying to give him an out.
“It’s not that.” Matthew scratched his face. “I have to figure out what on earth I am going to start telling my mom about my long absences.”
“Then, you’ll come?”
“Course. Can’t have you wandering into a realm by yourself again. What if there is some Elven prince that wants to marry you who isn’t quite as annoying as Blondie?”
Mirabelle walked back to the barn, and waved goodbye while Matthew pulled out of the driveway. He was hopefully going to think of something to tell his mother during the drive home. Mirabelle went into the back room to rummage around, and noticed
a new feature. Or at least, a feature Mirabelle had never seen there before.
A broom. A beautiful, homemade, branches and twine and sticks broom. It looked almost twin to the one she had ridden home from the Fae Realm.
Maybe it was that broom? She hadn’t taken the time to scour the forest floor for her broom after she landed here. Maybe Hinrik had put it here for her? He had given it to her, after all, and made it clear that he could travel between realms, in his own way.
Her hand itched to pick it up. She was dying to know whether she could fly in the Human Realm. What a trick it would be! It would be like she was a real witch. Flying a broom across the full moon on Halloween, or Samhain. Wicked.
She gave into her desires and grasped the broom. As soon as her hand touch the wood, she knew it was the same broom she had flown. Perhaps this would be her broom, the one she would ride between the realms to truly embrace her Traveler nature. Mirabelle brought the broom outside, holding it like some fragile artifact, nearly bursting with anticipation. She walked into the emptiest part of the field, unsure how her steering would be.
With two firm hands on the handle, Mirabelle swung the broom between her legs. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Fly.” She spoke.
Nothing. Maybe she needed to command with more authority.
“Fly!” She shouted this time. Still nothing. What was she doing differently? She had both hands on it, a clear mind, and she was using a commanding voice.
“Fly!” She tried again.
“Mirie!” Anona shouted from the porch. “Witches can’t fly in the Human Realm! Stop screaming in the middle of the yard! What if a neighbor happened upon you? Stacy is dropping off eggs in an hour; stop acting crazy.” Anona walked back into the house, the door slamming behind her.
Huh. So, she couldn’t fly here. Oh, well. It was a fun thought.
Chapter 4
“Mirie,” Anona whispered into her dark room. “Get up, we need to greet the sun.” Mirabelle pulled her quilt up to her chin, rolling closer to the wall. The air outside of her bed had a distinct chill, and she was not thrilled at the prospect of not only leaving her bed, but also going outdoors.
“Do you ever wonder how witches before, I don’t know, the 1940’s managed to greet the sun on Imbolc? Without an alarm clock? Maybe nature wouldn’t mind if we greeted the sun at say, 8:30 am.”
“I didn’t use an alarm clock, and in a year or two, you won’t need one either. Your body will just know to wake up.”
Mirabelle dragged herself out of bed, peeling her covers off with a huff. Her room felt cold; she couldn’t imagine what the yard had in store.
“Does this holiday involve a special outfit I need to wear?” She asked, yawning.
“Oh, you can throw on something blue if you want.” Mirabelle rummaged through her drawers finding a baby blue long sleeve with her high school’s name plastered across the front. It wasn’t exactly robes, but it would do. Maybe one day she would be independently wealthy and have a closet full of gorgeous witch-themed clothing, but for now, jeans and a t-shirt would have to do. Her hair got a quick comb through with her fingers; her teeth would have to wait. She layered on a protective scarf as well as a regular coat and some boots.
Mirabelle hurried through the house to catch up with Anona who was already walking out the front door. Hedgie followed close behind her owner’s feet, looking eager to take part. Anona walked straight to the barn, opened the door and rustled out the animals. Elsie and the sheep scattered out, glad to have a moment of freedom. The air was cold, but with hints of moisture and spring.
“Good sign,” Anona muttered. “I can smell spring. We’ll be having an early one this year.” They trudged on through the melting snow, both looking forward to an early spring and putting the heavy snow of late winter behind them.
Anona led Mirabelle to the same fire circle they had spent last Halloween. The snow had been cleared away and a pile of dry wood was ceremoniously lain in the center. Mirabelle admired the preparation her sister had done in the dark of night. Bundles of dried lavender were set in the center of a clean stone. Anona picked them up, handing one to Mirabelle. Without direction, Mirabelle brought the herbs to her nose and breathed deeply. Anona must have saved these bouquets for months to use on this very morning. They smelled like spring, renewal, and all being washed clean.
“Whatever or whomever might be listening,” Mirabelle began, surprisingly herself, “I will be traveling to the Elven Realm tomorrow, I think. Watch over me, if that is possible, and Matthew. And any clues as to how to make my relationship with Matthew work without opening portals would be very helpful and appreciated.”
“Courage. I come before you, humbled, asking for a push to overcome my fears.” Anona added. Mirabelle had no idea what her sister needed courage for, but she was a little peculiar about her personal life.
After a day spent tending to the sheep (“It’s really their holiday,” Anona insisted), which included lots of favorite foods and a massage for each of the citrus girls, Mirabelle helped her sister make a traditional meal for the two of them, plus Matthew. Dottie would be celebrating at home; she had several other witchy friends who kept her company on these holidays. Anona had gone to a few of these functions and called them, “a wild, raucous bunch.” Mirabelle learned that Imbolc was especially important for those who dabbled in divination, so Dottie would be honing her gifts throughout the day, before heading to her coven’s rambunctious party.
Dinner was a turkey breast, roasted sweet potatoes, turnips, and rutabagas, seed bread, and for dessert, milk pudding. Mirabelle found a lovely rhythm in the preparation of food this day. She methodically chopped the root vegetables with a well-sharpened knife, then tossed them all in olive oil, salt, pepper, and crushed garlic, the aroma intoxicating. Anona took care of the meat. Mirabelle was not quite sure when she would feel comfortable cooking poultry, but it was not this day.
As soon as Matthew arrived, Anona apologized for her drunken behavior.
“Every once in a while, I need to act like I am twenty-one again. That should take care of the next year or so.”
“I am not one to judge. I helped open a portal in your front yard.” Matthew answered, handing Anona a bouquet of blue and white flowers. “I did a bit of googling and blue seemed to be the color of choice for this holiday.” He turned to Mirabelle and handed her a white lavender scented candle. “I couldn’t bring a gift for your sister and leave you out.”
“Thank you, dear.” Mirabelle said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hopefully you still feel this thankful after you eat a dinner I helped prepare.”
Dinner was less awkward than Mirabelle expected. Anona was perfectly polite and did not mention anything other than normal farm talk. Once plates were cleared and cleaned, Mirabelle brought up the impending realm jump.
“Matthew is coming with me, to the Elven Realm.” She began. Anona started to protest, then nodded. “Any tips?”
“Elves like witches, provided you end up in the Elven Realm. I have never met an Elf, that I know of, but I have heard they value knowledge above all else. It might not be a bad idea to bring some books to barter with them, if need be. They have some magic, but I am almost positive it is limited to healing.” Anona started to clear the table. “I have a botany textbook you can bring. It’s heavy but a scientific book about plants seems very Elven.”
“What time should we go?” Matthew asked. “Is there an opportune time to realm jump?”
“Not that I am aware, though like any trip, getting an early start is probably a good idea.” Anona answered.
“What are you going to tell your mom?” Mirabelle cut in, curious what sort of tale Matthew had woven.
“Visiting one of my friends at school. He goes to school in Massachusetts, said I was visiting for five days, just in case. I told him that I was going on vacation with my girlfriend and needed an alibi, which technically wasn’t lying. He’s ready for emergency phone calls, and I g
ave him Anona’s number to contact me if needed. I can just crash here if we get home early, right?”
“Of course. Though, I am not sure if the Elven Realm will really feel like a vacation.” Mirabelle laughed.
“This is serious,” Anona said, sharply. “Even if you get to the Elven Realm, you have no idea what it will be like.”
“We’ll be fine,” Mirabelle complained. She was ready to do this! She wanted to travel of her own volition.
“Hopefully,” Anona answered quietly, moving to tidy the kitchen.
Matthew stayed for a little while, the three of them talking of things other than realm-hopping and fears over tomorrow. He went home around 10 to pack and surprisingly, Mirabelle fell asleep quite soundly quickly.
The lack of nerves the night before were made up for the morning of her departure, and Mirabelle suddenly began to feel like entering another realm was the stupidest idea she had ever had. Well, technically it was Dottie’s idea, but she had agreed. And then she had insisted. And sort of fought with Anona about it. So, she really couldn’t go back on her plan without proving Anona right. She had been unable to eat anything for breakfast, but Dottie assured her that eating food in the Elven Realm would do her no harm. Better to go in with an empty stomach and not vomit as soon as she got there.
Mirabelle had a backpack strapped tightly to her body with Anona’s botany book inside, Johannah’s travel guide, and two peanut butter sandwiches, on the off chance they were dropped off days away from civilization. She also tied her broom against her back, in case they needed to leave without using a portal.
Matthew arrived at 7:30, overnight bag in hand. He had walked, telling his mom Mirabelle was driving him to the train station in Lancaster. His nerves were beginning to show as well, with an onslaught of questions for Dottie and Anona.
“Should we be bringing weapons? Not that I have any, like, sword experience, but I am not terrible with an ax. Or is there another kind of protection we should be bringing? Like herbs or something?”
The Traveler Witch (Sister Witches Book 2) Page 2
