She drove down the twisting street, curving around hills and bends. The landscape was so different here than at home. In the Midwest, any hill was considered prime sledding territory, and curved roads were dangerous. Everything was laid out in straight, flat lines, with no room for creativity. Mirabelle wondered if her magic would be different at home. Did it depend on being in such a magical place?
She passed Tommy and Ashley’s house; a family of mostly melted snowmen still lined their driveway. She traveled past the woods where the Will-o-wisp lived, smiling to herself remembering the first day of camp. She wondered how all the campers were doing; were they having a good school year? Would they come back this coming summer? Would Mirabelle still live with Anona then? Maybe this visit with Dottie would provide answers to some of these questions.
She putted along, driving slowly. She had left with ample time to get to Philadelphia, and saw no need to speed. She enjoyed the gray, mid-February day, and thought about the warmer days to come. She passed through the small town, picking out little places she wanted to come back to, and then got onto the highway.
The drive down the turnpike was oddly relaxing. It was midday on a Sunday and it appeared that no one decided to drive into the city at that time. She was shocked by how one great song after another played on the radio, and for a little while, she forgot about Matthew… and the Elven Realm… and Blondie… and being a Traveler… and she was just driving.
On a gray winter day, the OPEN sign in Dottie’s window was visible down the block. All the Christmas decorations were down by now (with the exception of one house, that looked abandoned. Maybe those decorations had been up for years?) and Dottie had a beautiful white and purple wreath on her door. When Mirabelle got closer, she saw it was made of fake snowdrop and crocus flowers, both early bloomers. She smiled to herself, then walked in.
The front room was empty, but she could hear Dottie in the back room talking to someone. It was a woman, and she sounded pretty upset. Mirabelle looked at her watch. 3:00. She was early. She ducked back out, and decided to get to know Dottie’s neighborhood.
Both sides of the block were rows of well-kept brick townhouses. They didn’t look expensive, but everyone had curtains, or a pot for flowers, or a welcome mat on their stoop. It gave Mirabelle a good feeling. She wondered if any of the neighbors knew Dottie was an actual seer, and not just a run-of-the-mill psychic trying to scam people out of a few bucks. Before her introduction to witchhood, Mirabelle had been a true skeptic of anyone claiming to know the future. She had her tarot cards read in high school, and the reader had told her to prepare for a divorce in her family. Not one aunt, uncle, or cousin had gotten divorced, and obviously, her parents were still together. The whole affair had thrown a damper on “believing.” Little did she know, that a mere two years later, she would meet a real, live seer, who would have visions about her, personally.
There were small things about being in a city that were really convenient. First off, Mirabelle was walking down a completely shoveled sidewalk. Better than that, she had no part in shoveling said sidewalk or listening to her sister complain that she shoveled the sidewalk alone. Another great thing: she could see a drugstore down the street. It was going to take her a total of three minutes to walk in and buy whatever she wanted. At Anona’s, it was a good twenty minutes in the car to get to the closest grocery store. Mirabelle decided it was a good time to treat herself, and went to the drugstore to pick up a candy bar, a copy of Cosmopolitan, and some new eyeshadow. She had no idea when she would next wear it out of the house, but she would have fun putting it on in the house.
She walked a little further, keeping in mind where Dottie lived, enjoying passing by strangers. She hadn’t see a (human) she wasn’t immediately introduced to in months. The anonymity was nice. None of these people knew she was a witch. None of these people knew witches even existed. She spotted a store with a wrought iron sign swinging in the wind a few yards ahead.
“Waxman,” she mumbled, and decided to go in. She pushed into the offbeat candle store. The large open room was full of tables, shelves, and amazing candle displays. The walls were covered with cupboards overflowing with candles of all colors, heights, and shapes. She was in heaven.
“Afternoon,” the clerk said. Mirabelle looked up.
“Good afternoon,” she answered. He was a really good-looking twenty-year-old. She found herself just staring for a minute. He was definitely more of a James than Matthew; his hair was hidden under a gray beanie, his shirt had the name of an obscure band on it, and his jeans were skinny legs. But his face was handsome. Really handsome. Orlando Bloom in 2003 handsome.
“Anything I can help you with?” He said slowly, noticing Mirabelle hadn’t broken her gaze. She shook her head.
“Just browsing.” She hurried to one of the sides that had a display of pastel blue candles. These would have been perfect for Imbolc, she thought.
As she continued wandering around, she noticed hundreds of candles that would be ideal for their witch rituals. She risked another longer gaze at the clerk, wondering if she would be able to sense if he was a warlock. She decided on no, though there really wasn’t any way (she was aware of) to tell. She collected a few candles she thought would be perfect for the coming spring holidays (lavender, pale yellow, sage green), and grabbed a beautiful glass holder with a crescent moon etched on the side.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” The clerk asked, ringing up her items.
“Yes, thank you.” She paused. “This is a beautiful shop. Have you worked here for a while?” Ugh, she sounded like an idiot, but she couldn’t help blabbing on.
“About two years. I run the candle making workshops and make a lot of our inventory.” He answered, reaching behind him for a flyer. “You should come check one out.”
“Thanks, maybe I will.” She tucked the flyer into her purse. “I’m Mirie.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Huck.”
“Like Finn?”
“Yup. My full name is Huckleberry Jones.” He handed her the bag of candles. “I hope you come back.”
“Thanks. I think I will.”
Mirabelle walked up to Dottie’s door just as a young woman was leaving. Her face was streaked with tears, and she quickly pulled her scarf up to hide herself from Mirabelle. Mirabelle turned to ask her if she was okay, but she hurried down the street and turned the corner.
“Hello?” Mirabelle pushed open the door.
“Mirie! How are you? Healing well?” Dottie motioned to her broken arm.
“I guess. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, so that’s nice.” Dottie gave her a quick hug.
“So, my dear, what are we looking into today? Past lives?”
“Whoa, none of that yet.” Mirabelle laughed, looking over the bookcase quickly, “I’m overwhelmed enough with this life. More like, a general reading. Where to go from here.”
“Ah,” Dottie pulled out two chairs and motioned for Mirabelle to sit. “Some guidance. Almost everyone that comes in is looking for guidance.”
“Is that what the crying woman wanted?” Mirabelle asking, sitting down.
“No, she’s a regular. We are working through some things right now.” Dottie pulled out two decks and two bags, just as she had during Mirabelle’s first reading. “Pick your tools.”
Mirabelle reached out and grabbed a deck and a bag.
“Traditional tarot and Runes, again. Maybe you have a little Norse blood in you.”
“Don’t most people of European descent have a little Viking blood in them?” Mirabelle retorted.
“Good point. Let’s get started.” Dottie set the Runes aside and shuffled the cards three times. She handed the deck to Mirabelle, who cut it, then handed it back. “I’m going to do a traditional Celtic Cross spread.” Dottie flipped over the first card. The Hanged Man.
“Holy shit, that can’t be good.” Mirabelle blurted out.
“No, no,” Dottie laughed. “It doesn’t mean what you thin
k it means. Basically, you are at a crossroads right now. Which makes sense because you came for some guidance.” Dottie closed her eyes. “You can choose right now; close yourself off to your power, or build with it, learn with it, tend to it as if it is a garden. You hold the tools to becoming a powerful witch, or shutting off your gifts forever.” Dottie flipped over the next card, laying it over The Hanged Man.
“The Magician, reversed. You are doubting your power. Are you?” Dottie asked.
“I mean, yes. All I know how to do is walk through portals. I’ve never done anything without the help of a spell or herbs, and I really can’t do anything of use.” She complained. Dottie closed her eyes again, and reached over to touch Mirabelle’s hand. Her voice sounded distant and deeper than normal.
“You’ll get answers. Before the Spring Equinox, you’ll know what you can do.” Dottie shook her head. “Well, that happens sometimes. And Ostara isn’t too far away, so that’s good news!” She flipped another card, “Seven of Cups. Duh. Sometimes the cards are just super straightforward. This means you are confused.” She quickly flipped the next card. “The Chariot. Oh, good! You’ve got what it takes to follow this path through. You just need to focus your energy, something that might be easier now that Matthew has gone away to learn about what it means to be a warlock.”
“Anona told you?” Dottie nodded. “What does it mean to be a warlock? Why is it so different from being a witch? Anona said you knew a bunch of warlocks.” Dottie giggled, clearly a little flustered by the question.
“Now, it might be hard for you to imagine, but I was a bit of a wildflower in my younger days. The early eighties were very exciting for me. Anyways, I fell into a crowd of witches and warlocks. We had some fun, we did somethings that were not well-advised, but we all escaped unscathed for the most part, as did the realm. I will say one thing on the matter; witches tend to embrace the sisterhood of it all. We are a coven-based species, if you will. Warlocks are not. By nature, they are solitary creatures, competitive, and do not always have the best interest of the realm in mind. That isn’t to say that Matthew will change from his sweet and adoring self, only that he is now part of a community very different than yours.” Dottie flipped over the next card.
“The Hermit. Ah, alone time. So, you will be alone for a little while. But not alone in the sense of lonely, just solitary in your work. It’s a good place to be when you are trying to grow.” She pulled the next card.
“The Moon. Use your intuition. Time to start meditating or praying, whichever word you prefer. That’s how you are going to learn more about your powers; you need to look within.”
“So I’m pretty much going to be spending a lot of time by myself for a while.” Mirabelle bemoaned. She didn’t hate alone time, but she was already alone quite often since coming to the farm. Maybe she would be able to spend more time with the animals. She could at least talk to them without seeming too crazy.
“You’ll figure it out.” Dottie flipped over another card. “Reversed Five of Pentacles. Soon you will feel much safer than you do right now. That’s good, considering you’ve recently returned from a war-zone.” Dottie closed her eyes. “You won’t travel to another realm before the Equinox.” What a relief, Mirabelle thought. So at least she wouldn’t accidentally run into one until at least the end of March.
“Queen of Wands. Why hello, Anona.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Queen of Wands is Anona. I’ve read dozens of cards for her; she’s always the Queen of Wands. And this spot is reserved for those around you. The Queen of Wands is a very fertile card, but before you jump to conclusions, Anona’s fertility has to do with her farm. She’ll have a good crop this year.”
“I’ll let her know.” Mirabelle laughed.
“The next card will tell us your hopes and fears. Strength.” Dottie smiled. “You are looking for the highest possible good for as many people as possible. And you are afraid you won’t deliver.”
“You don’t know what I saw. Those… things were destroying the Elven Realm, and I couldn’t do anything. I hid in the shadows and abandoned them.” Mirabelle swallowed to stop herself from crying. Dottie closed her eyes and reached her hand across the table.
“You were not ready. One day, you will look back on the Elven Realm and see how innocent and unexperienced you were, and know, there was nothing more you could have done. You survive to help them later.” Dottie shook her head and popped open her eyes. “Well. Interesting.”
“What do you mean, I survive to help them later? Do I have to go back?” Mirabelle could feel her heart in her throat.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Dottie answered calmly. “You aren’t going anywhere for at least six weeks, so just focus on that. Maybe you’ll go back in five years when you are a very powerful witch, and the war will be over, and you’ll help rebuild. That wouldn’t be bad, right?” Dottie patted her hand. “Last card. This one represents you.” Mirabelle twisted her hands together.
“Queen of Swords. Now I am not one to swear, but that is pretty bad-ass.” Dottie giggled. “Trust your instincts, because they are right. You are a strong, powerful witch, my dear. And I think you’ve found your card.”
Mirabelle thanked Dottie, and left without any new books or crystals, having spent her money at the candle shop. She did make plans to come back and see Dottie at the end of March to get another reading. By then she would be nearing the end of her guaranteed time in the Human Realm, and she wanted another look into the future, especially if she was going to be heading back to the Elven Realm soon. She raced through the cold to the car. It was staying light out a little later now, but she would still be getting home in the dark. She blasted the heat, flipped on the lights, and pulled out of her spot.
Traffic was pretty light on the way home, and she realized she was going to get home a bit earlier than she had told Anona. Now I can help her with dinner, Mirabelle thought, and maybe try a spell or two before we eat.
She pulled up straight to the door, too lazy to pull the truck into the garage and walk back to the house. She could move it after dinner and check on the animals. More likely, she could guilt Anona into doing it for her, so she didn’t have to wrestle her coat back on over her broken arm.
Mirabelle held the railing with her right arm and slowly ascended the stairs. She could smell something delicious cooking and immediately got very excited about dinner.
“I’m home early!” She called, pushing open the door, and peeling off her coat and scarf.
“Oh, hi,” a man answered. “You must be Mirabelle.” She looked into the kitchen. Standing in front of the stove was a man she had never seen before. But her instinct went crazy. He was a Fae. In her house.
“FUCK!” She screamed, grabbing her protection scarf and backing into the living room. “ANONA! A FAE!” She looked for something, anything to protect herself with. She grabbed a lamp and threw it in his direction, hoping to buy some time.
“Oh, no-” he started, then yelped, diving behind the counter. Did Blondie send him? Was this a rogue Fae come to drag her back to the High Court? Had Blondie overthrown his sister somehow? She slid behind the trunk. Her dried chamomile leaves were still out. She quickly grabbed a handful, and spread them on the floor in front of her.
“Banish those who wish to harm me!” She commanded. Hedgie shrieked and went flying across the room. The door opened, and the cat flew outside; the door slammed.
“What the fuck!” Mirabelle screamed. What else?! She needed a cleansing stick, or basil, that was a protecting herb. But the Fae was in the kitchen. She crawled to the bookcase, and grabbed a few small hardcovers. She got to her knees and began chucking them in his direction. Her knife-throwing practice had given her insane accuracy, and she hit him over and over again. She searched the room for something else to use.
“Please stop!” He yelled. “I am not going to hurt you.”
“Screw you!” She screamed back. She flipped open the trunk to search it. She
threw a few more books to keep him occupied, hitting him at least once. Anona’s bag of crystals was on top. At least one of them had to a protection crystal. Mirabelle had no idea which one so she threw the entire bag.
“What the hell is going on?” Anona announced. She was dripping wet, wrapped in a towel. Mirabelle dove towards her grabbing her sister around the waist and pulling her into the bathroom.
“There’s a Fae in the kitchen!” She shrieked. Anona rolled her eyes and led Mirabelle back into the kitchen.
“Mirie, this is Sam, my boyfriend.”
I hope you enjoyed The Traveler Witch and Mirabelle’s adventure in the Elven Realm! Watch for the third book in the Sister Witches series, Playing with Fire, coming in April 2017!
The Traveler Witch (Sister Witches Book 2) Page 13
