by Amanda Paris
“Emily, you’ve had these dreams, and everyone doesn’t have them. Only certain people dream about their past lives, and those people usually have powers.”
“Well, I can assure you, I have no magical powers,” I said, starting to feel a little hopeless.
“No, I didn’t say that, though it’s possible. You’re what, sixteen?”
“Yes.”
“That’s just about the time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time for you to begin to know.”
“Sorry, I’m still not following.”
“Emily, I think you’re a witch,” she said bluntly.
“Excuse me? I didn’t float, remember? How can I be a witch when I drowned?”
“That’s of no consequence. The ordeal doesn’t signify anything; it was just a way to get rid of troublesome women and create fear as a tool to control others. It’s entirely possible that you’re a witch, and I think you’ve come from a long line of wise women—the good witches, for lack of a better word.”
“But none of the things Lamia found belonged to me.”
“True, but that’s not the kind of craft you would have practiced. Likely you didn’t even know you were a wise woman then. You’d have been very young. But Lamia obviously saw something in you and feared it. You were one of the pure ones, a wise woman who helped others…or would have done, had she left you alive.”
“So how did she know?”
“Because she was a witch too.”
“Let me guess—the evil kind.”
“Right. You’re catching on,” she said, laughing. “You would eventually have discovered yourself and would have known that she was a witch too.”
“Yes, but everyone suspected that she was a witch.”
“But you would have known it.”
“How?”
“Call it a wise woman’s intuition.”
“How do you know so much about it?”
“Because I’m a wise woman too,” she said quietly.
“You’ve known about me all along!” I accused.
“No, I didn’t, Emily, honestly. I suspected as much, but I couldn’t feel you at first. You have to know it within yourself to create your aura. I still can’t feel you; I might be wrong.”
But I knew she was right. She might not be able to get a clear read on me just yet, but I’d definitely felt her when I first walked into the store.
“What do you mean ‘feel’ me?” I asked.
I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t mistaken the chills I’d felt for an overzealous ceiling fan.
“There’s a tingling sensation you feel in the presence of another witch—it’s her aura,” she said.
“Aura?” I asked hesitantly. It all sounded bizarre.
“It’s indescribable. The fact that I don’t feel it from you indicates that maybe I’m wrong. On the other hand, it takes some time to develop, to grow. Not everyone has it right away from their birth.”
I fell silent for a moment. I knew inside that she was right. The feeling was indescribable, and I’d even felt it in my dream whenever I came near Lamia. I just couldn’t put a name to it then. But what did it all mean? How was it going to help me resolve my past? As intriguing as my newfound identity was, what was really the point? I had no interest in occult practices or exploring my inner witch.
“How is this going to help me save Damien?” I asked, still frustrated.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Ramona, how does a witch’s power work exactly?” I asked, suddenly curious about the nature of this aura.
“Probably not the way you think. All that hocus pocus stuff is just in the movies.”
“Then what’s with all the stuff out there?” I asked, jerking my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the front of the store.
“Oh that,” she answered, looking sheepishly at the crystal rings on her fingers. “It sells well with tourists.”
“Then what do witches do?”
“It depends on the witch. Some are more powerful than others. Some, like me, have the power to see the future. We can cast spells, of a sort. It’s more related to our power of concentration. If you think hard enough, you can change an event or person. But every witch’s power is unique. You’ll have your own unique aura to discover in time.”
“So I could change someone I don’t like into a toad?” I asked jokingly, thinking of Angela Rossi. It was easier to swallow this if I could take it lightly.
“Emily, you’re not taking this seriously. If you’re powerful enough, you could drain their life force and kill them,” she said sternly.
My eyes must have gotten bigger because she softened, putting her arms around me.
“Don’t worry. Only evil witches use their power for harm, and they can’t kill another witch like that,” she assured me.
Of course, if that had been the case, Lamia would have killed me on the spot, not bothering to go through the ruse of throwing me in the water.
“That still doesn’t answer my question. How can we help Damien?” I asked, wanting to return to the more pressing question at hand.
“I’ve only known one witch who did it, and she was very experienced,” Ramona replied distractedly.
“Do what?” I asked, exasperated.
“Time travel.”
I forgot to breathe for a moment.
“You can do that?”
“I’ve only seen it done once and that was by a very powerful witch.”
“Well, let’s go,” I said, setting down my cup on the table with a bang and rising.
She looked at me, puzzled.
“Go where?” she asked.
“To find this woman.”
“No. You don’t understand. She traveled through time and pulled someone from her past life. If it’s to be done, it will have to be you.”
“Oh,” I said, deflated.
I sat down again and felt despair wash over me. I had no idea how to pull anyone from a past life.
“You see,” she explained, “for our powers to work, we have to concentrate on the person we’re trying to affect. It’s through our minds that we change people or events.”
“So I could change the past.”
“And the future.”
I was getting excited again.
“I can bring him here? To the present?”
“I’m just not sure. But even if you could, it would be very dangerous.”
“How? Could he be killed?”
“No, not unless you wanted it.”
I felt a small chill creep down my spine. Did I have the power of life and death over others?
“Then what’s the catch?” I asked.
“If Lamia thought you were a witch, she also likely knew that killing you wouldn’t be the end.”
“Why not?”
“We’re here, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but…”
“If you can pull Damien through before she gets to him, then you might be able to save him,” she interrupted.
“Not to mention that we can finally be together,” I mused. “What could Lamia do?” I wondered aloud.
“If she put a curse on him or you before you died, then that could potentially follow him.”
“It’s a risk I’d be willing to take. After all, I’m not going to pull her through too.”
“Likely not. But remember, curses are powerful; and there’s no guarantee that she wouldn’t be able to come through along with him.”
“Do curses work on other witches?”
“Yes and no. If you’re prepared for it, you can block your mind. Otherwise, you leave yourself open for an attack.”
“So this is all a mental game.”
“Yes, but it has far-reaching consequences outside the mind, as you saw in your dream.”
“I can handle her or whatever she placed on Damien,” I said determinedly.
“I hope so. Just know that she’s evil and likely very powerful if she bewitched your father.”
&
nbsp; “But isn’t she dead now?”
“She won’t be if you open up the past.”
“Haven’t I already opened it? Isn’t Damien trying to get in touch with me?”
“I think so, but the past cannot touch you unless you want it to be part of your present or future.”
“So tell me. How can I bring him forward?”
“It will require concentration.”
“Okay, what else?”
“What time of year did you die? Do you remember?”
“Well, it was cold, but not bitterly so. It must have been warm enough for a tournament. March, maybe?”
“How do you know?”
“Just a feeling I have.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes. This all depends on your relying on your intuition. Try not to think. Clear your mind of rational thought. Let the impressions sweep over you, and try to channel them. Focus on Damien’s face, on your connection to him. The magic will work more strongly if you can go to a place where you were together.”
“The church ruins?”
“Yes, or the castle.”
“But how will I find it? The chapel was in ruins in the thirteenth century. Who knows what kind of condition it’s in now or if I’ll be able to find the spot. I’ll bet the ruins are long gone by now.”
“What about the castle?”
“Yes, that’s a possibility, but I feel more strongly that I can bring him here through the chapel. That’s where we sealed our love and then became separated. And besides, I read that the castle was destroyed, so it’s likely just ruins too.”
“It would help if you had something of his.”
“But I don’t. How could I?”
“If you could remember something that he held and then find it—not the thing itself, precisely, but something that would help to channel your aura as you cast the spell,” she said.
I thought back to what I’d experienced and tried to recreate everything he wore or carried in my mind. Besides the sword and hammer, I couldn’t think of anything.
And then I did.
“He carried a small rosary of red, glass beads,” I said excitedly.
“That’s perfect. Find one of those, and carry it in your hand as you concentrate.”
“Should I say anything special?”
“Call his name in your mind. It’s as simple as telling him what you want him to do. You’ll also be able to give him what he needs when you bring him forward. The hardest part is the concentration.”
“What do you mean ‘what he needs’?”
“He won’t be speaking the exact same language as you,” she answered.
That was true. Most of what we said was in Middle English, translated in my mind, I guessed, to modern English. But that was under hypnosis, when I was Emmeline. My knowledge of Middle English in this life extended to having memorized the opening lines of The Canterbury Tales last year in my English class. I was only able to understand my dream, I thought, because I’d lived it. But that was the least of my worries.
“What if I’m too late? What if she’s already killed him? What am I talking about…we know he’s already dead!” I could feel another sob rise up.
“Maybe not. If you can remember the day you died, you might be able to channel him then, before she had a chance to harm him. Keep yourself focused on his face and that day.”
“My class is going to Europe this March. Perhaps I could try it then. But I’ll have to get a bus or train from London,” I said, already making plans in my mind.
“I hope you’ll be strong enough,” Ramona said worriedly, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it for reassurance.
“Can’t you see it?” I asked.
“Remember, I said that I saw two futures for you. One holds danger, the other happiness. I thought that seeing your past would help me to peer into your future, but it’s still hazy. Much depends on what you decide.”
I thanked her, promised to call again if I needed help and then left, climbing into the Saratoga. The small clock I’d duct-taped to the dash said seven o’clock.
“Oh no!” I cried. I’d totally forgotten Ben.
I cranked the car, hoping that today wasn’t the day when it she’d decided to die on me. I felt relieved when it started. I shook my head to clear it before putting it into reverse. I still felt disoriented. Ramona came out of her store, and I rolled the window down.
“Why don’t you let me drive you home? You can pick up your car tomorrow,” she said.
I started to decline but thought better of it.
“Alright,” I agreed, holding my head in my hands.
I shut the Saratoga off, and Ramona brought her pink Cadillac from around back. I looked at her, surprised.
“I sell Mary Kay too. On the side,” she said sheepishly.
I laughed, amused despite my headache.
“Oh, just get in, Emily,” she said impatiently. I climbed into the passenger’s side, disbelieving that this psychic-hypnotist-witch helping me to save Damien was also a Mary Kay lady—and a very successful one by the looks of it.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Not too far. Actually, I can walk and get the Saratoga tomorrow,” I said, starting to get out. I’d troubled her enough today.
She caught me by the arm.
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your vision may still be blurry tonight, and it’s unsafe,” she explained.
“Can’t you predict it?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “I see you getting home just fine because I drove you,” she said, starting the car.
I gave her directions to Aunt Jo’s house, feeling a little ridiculous that she’d driven me since we lived just a few blocks away. I could have walked, but admittedly, I did still feel strange.
We arrived in less than five minutes.
Aunt Jo was at the door, and it looked like Ben was with her.
“Remember, Emily. I’m here if you need me,” Ramona said before I opened the passenger’s side.
“Yeah, I’ll remember,” I said, climbing out and shutting the door.
Ben was already coming down the front steps.
“Hey, Em. Where were you? And who was that?” he asked when Ramona had driven off.
“Nobody. Just a friend,” I said evasively. My head throbbed.
“Which is it?”
“What? Oh, sorry,” I mumbled.
He stood waiting for an explanation.
How could I tell him I’d dreamed of my past life and a medieval lover who was trying to get in touch with me? Hi Ben, how was your Saturday? Mine was filled with hypnosis, in which I’ve discovered that I drowned in a former life. I’m going to England to try and bring back my true love. Oh, and by the way, I’m a witch.
Instead, I settled for, “Ben, it’s been a long afternoon of researching the past. I’m pretty tired.”
That was the truth, sort of. I felt horrible and wished I’d asked Ramona for more of her soothing tea before I left.
“Wait a minute. I thought we were going out,” he protested, catching my arm as I went by him.
“I have a splitting headache. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
He looked hurt, and I felt bad.
“Okay. I was just worried, that’s all. I hope you feel better,” he said and turned to go.
I watched him get into his truck and then looked down at the emerald ring he’d given me. The tears began to form in my eyes.
I slowly climbed the steps, and Aunt Jo waited for me at the top.
“Everything okay, Em?” she asked.
“Yeah. I just have a headache.”
“Annie called.”
“Oh yeah? What time?”
“About thirty minutes ago. Where have you been? And who was that?”
“The lady who owns that weird shop a few blocks from here,” I said, not wanting to explain. I was too drained for this. I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d seen that afternoon. They would’ve
thought I was crazy. Even I wasn’t totally convinced that what I’d experienced was real.
“How about some dinner?” she asked gently. I loved that Aunt Jo didn’t ask too many questions. She knew I’d talk when I was ready.
“Not tonight, Aunt Jo. I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
The Duchess eyed me suspiciously, as if she’d known what I’d been up to. She followed me up the stairs and into the bathroom—odd behavior for her. Like me, she didn’t much like water and usually avoided this room altogether.
I decided to take a hot shower before going to bed, despite having drowned that day. I felt too drained even to feel much fear of water, for the worst had, after all, already happened.
My thoughts circled round in a tailspin. How was I going to know where to find Damien? What if I couldn’t concentrate enough for it to work? And the scariest question: what if it did work? What would I do with Damien once he was here?
I mentally shook my head. Part of me knew that this was completely ridiculous. I stroked the Duchess’s back, and she purred. What do you think? I asked her without speaking.
As if reading my thoughts, she nudged my jeans, which I’d taken off and thrown to the floor, with her paw. What? I asked her.
She put her head into my jean pocket and pulled out the permission slip I’d gotten from Mr. Dean after school on Friday.
She knows, I thought, shaking my head.
What if I can’t do it? I wondered.
She dropped the slip at my feet and pranced away, but before she slipped around the door, she looked at me one last time as if to say, I’m not a scared-y cat!
Chapter Eight
"Torn"
Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”
Damien and I ran, holding hands, but this time, we didn’t try to escape from Lamia. We laughed together, wearing different, more modern clothes. I recognized the place, the clearing just in front of the chapel ruins, where the woods opened to allow sunlight to filter. But the place held no danger for us. We stopped and stood facing each other; he bent down to kiss me and then started to lick my face, his furry face nuzzling mine.
