by Michele Hauf
She plopped onto the couch and picked up a basket of flowers she must have been sorting before he arrived, for she began to pinch off the petals and place the centers in a little copper bowl.
“So?” She looked up to him with a sweet smile.
Dane sat next to her, and her skirt wisped up onto his lap. He toyed with the soft fabric then leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto his knees. “So. I, uh... I do believe you, Eryss. I haven’t been completely honest about my work.” She cast him a searching gaze. “Before I get into that, can I have a look around in here? I mean, to make sure all the glass got swept up and—because you walk around with bare feet and—”
“Go ahead and verify whatever you need to verify, Mr. Scientist. I’ll sit here, preparing these hibiscus petals for tea.”
“Do you, uh...bewitch the tea?”
“Sometimes.”
Right. And yet he was not going to insist on the impossibility of that, after what he’d witnessed. But he did indeed want to verify a few things. He slid a hand in his pocket and curled his fingers about the covellite. He wouldn’t mention that. Yet.
Dane wandered to where the glass pane had landed and shattered on the moss floor. Squatting and gazing about the tight, loamy earth, he couldn’t spy any slivers or shards of glass. And overhead he didn’t see any strings or wires, nothing that may have facilitated raising the glass pane back up into the conservatory ceiling. No smoke or mirrors, for that matter.
The plant closest to him was a sansevieria with thick stems that he’d seen completely broken because the glass had hit it. He stroked his fingers over the glossy, wide leaves, which were intact and looking healthier than ever. Had she had time to replace the broken plants with new ones since he’d left this morning? Surely there were plant stores in the area.
No. There would be no purpose in Eryss putting on such a show to prove to him she had magical powers. Because really, she knew he was a skeptic. Or rather, she thought he was.
He was not. He believed in all of it. But he’d kept that truth from her, which could be construed as a lie. So now he had to get to his truth.
“Does it all check out?” Eryss asked, setting the bowl of flower petals aside and rising. She stretched out her arms as she yawned. “I did lose quite a few plants to frostbite. But I was able to save some for drying and to create some tinctures. I said a blessing to Airmid, goddess of plants and healing, as well.”
Dane glided his palm over a glossy frond. “Shouldn’t that have been a curse for not watching over your plants?”
“I would never curse nature. The falling window was meant to happen. I am thankful for everything I own, know and experience. The trees, flowers and grass? I am merely sharing this earth with them and I would never want to curse their vita.”
Dane nodded. “You are forgiving, and your kindness is genuine. And...like I said earlier this morning, I do believe you are a witch.”
With a careful smile, she approached him, though she held her arms crossed under her breasts. She wasn’t quite so ready to welcome him with open arms.
“So what prompted this sudden belief?” she asked. “You, the diehard scientist who debunks my kind? Who makes a point of telling others that what they think is real is not?”
“You should sit again.” He gestured to the couch. “And whatever you do, please hear me out. I’ve only ever kept details about my job and certain beliefs from you because I didn’t feel it necessary to reveal as much. We are required to not spill the beans. That’s why our organization exists and how we manage to make it work.”
“I’m not understanding,” she said with a nervous laugh, teasing the ends of her hair. “You’ve lied to me?”
“Not at all. I just didn’t explain everything.” He gestured to the couch once more and she sat, tentatively. “I debunk the paranormal using science. And ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, whatever job or mission I’ve been sent on is nothing more than false beliefs and misunderstandings. Someone trying to be something they are not. Or someone believing in something that isn’t at all what they want it to be.”
“What about the other point-one percent?”
“The paranormal weapons, entities and/or creatures I encounter are real,” Dane said calmly. He stood before her, unsure about sitting next to her. A confession would be given very soon. “And I know it’s real because I’ve witnessed what real is. Trust me, I came to this job as skeptical in fantastical and mythological creatures as the next scientist. But once you’ve seen, you do believe.”
“So why debunk something and go to all this trouble to prove that it isn’t real?”
He splayed a hand before him. “You should understand that it’s not wise for your kind, or vampires or werewolves, to be exposed. The less the public knows, the better. So if there is a vampire attack that leaves behind a victim with a suspicious bite mark, then the Agency’s job is to swoop in and take care of matters.”
“Like spin doctors?”
“Exactly. The founder of our organization actually started out doing spin work for a vampire slaying group. I’m not really allowed to speak of it, so don’t ask.”
“Would that be the Order of the Stake?” she asked slyly.
Dane gave a vague shake of his head. The woman knew her stuff. There was little need to expound on it.
Arms crossed over her chest, Eryss asked, “So you’ve come to Anoka to debunk witches?”
“Not at all. I’ve been truthful with you. I’ve come after a dagger. Actually, it isn’t even a job. It was a curious weapon I discovered while going through some old files. It intrigued me because the former owner was listed as Edison Winthur.”
“That’s your last name. A relative?”
“My father.”
“Oh. I...hmm...this is...a lot of information to take in.”
“I’m sorry, Eryss. I didn’t mean to deceive you. But you must understand that I am trained, first and foremost, to err on the side of humans being misled by false beliefs, and to protect them. You said you were a witch? There are many who believe as much and are no more than humans playing with mirrors and crystals. Kitchen witches.”
“I get that.”
“You do?” He exhaled in relief.
“But you do understand that I was born this way? That the spells and craft I perform are real and not silly things I’ve learned on the internet or in a book?”
He nodded. “After what I witnessed this morning? Oh yes. You most definitely are a witch.”
She nodded. Uncrossed her arms. She seemed to be thinking deeply, then asked, “So how does that make you feel? Do you have encounters with the paranormal all the time in your work?”
“Rarely. I can count on one hand how many nonhumans I’ve come across. You are my first witch.”
“There’s Mireio and Valor, as well.”
He held up a few more fingers. “So that makes three. Are you angry with me?”
She shrugged and let out a sigh. “I don’t see a reason to be angry. You’ve come clean with me. I appreciate that. But now I wonder what this means for my safety.”
“Meaning?”
“Are you going to report me to your agency?”
“No, not at all.”
“Do you hunt witches?”
“No. Never. Not me, anyway. Like I’ve said, my job is weapons. Interacting with another species doesn’t often occur. Though I once went after a nasty chimera growling from high atop a redwood tree. It wasn’t what I expected it to be.”
“And what did you expect of a witch?”
He shrugged and winced. “Evil. Maybe a cackle or even green skin.”
“Seriously?”
He again winced. “I’m kidding.” But he wasn’t. Not entirely.
She stood and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck and stepping her bare toes onto his shoe tips. “I do have a pointy hat somewhere. It was a costume. Mireio is always insisting we be witches for Halloween because it’s the one time of year we can be truthful with
people.”
“I admit I am at odds with all this. I never expected the woman I find occupying my thoughts would be—”
“I think you’re focusing too much on the label. Come here.” She grasped his hand and tugged him over to the couch. Once snuggled beside him, she tilted her head onto his shoulder and again held his hand. “I was born this way,” she said. “My mother was a witch—who never used the craft. She was trying to fit in with the humans. But she died about ten years ago from skin cancer.”
“Shouldn’t she have been able to cure herself with some potion or charm?” he asked, and then immediately saw the error in that question. “I’m so sorry. That was cruel. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s all right. You wouldn’t be a very good scientist if you didn’t ask the hard questions and seek the truth. It’s what you do with that truth that determines what kind of man you are.”
“I’m trying to handle your truth carefully and respectfully. I am sorry about your mother. Were you alone after that?”
“Yes, because my father went off traveling and found someone new immediately after that. I’ve been living on my own since I was fourteen. Well, under Mrs. McAlister’s watchful eye. I knew Valor from grade school, so we’ve always been besties. She helped me through a lot. She’s an old soul like me.”
“Souls,” Dane said, and then quoted one of his favorite lines. “‘You do not have a soul, you are a soul. You have a body.’”
“Attributed to C. S. Lewis, though it was never proven he actually wrote that.”
“It’s a lovely sentiment, though.”
“It is. Even more so coming from you. Did I tell you that when we first met, my soul recognized yours?”
“Really?” More of her witchy weirdness. Dane clenched a fist, but then released it. He was just going to go with it, remember? Because he had no choice but to believe now. “How so?”
“It’s an inner feeling. A deep knowing.”
“Is that to do with the reincarnation thing? Do you really believe we were once lovers?”
“Anything is possible. We have lived lives before and we did know one another. But in what capacity, I can’t be sure. I have dreams of a long-lost lover. But I never see his face. So many times I dream of reaching for his hand and our fingertips touch, and yet we can never quite clasp hands. I know we loved without question and with our souls completely.”
“That sounds romantic. It can’t be me.”
“It could have been you.”
“Do you often dream of lovers?”
“Yes. But only the one.” She smiled and tapped his chest, but retracted her finger quickly. “But lately I’ve been having the nightmares, too.”
“I witnessed that. I could feel the tension in you even as I lay there, still in a reverie.”
“I didn’t want you to notice.”
“Yes, well uh...” He dug out the stone from his pocket. “Did you place this here? Is it under a spell?”
She nodded. “It’s for remembering things. Like past lives. But no spell, just the stone’s own energy.”
“I see. So you wanted to see if I would remember us together in the past?”
“Always worth a try.”
“I wish you would have just asked me instead of being sneaky about it. I prefer truth and forthrightness.”
“This coming from the guy I thought could never believe I am a witch.”
“Yes, well, what is it they say? Seeing is believing?”
“Believing allows you to see.” She touched the covellite. “It’s just a stone to you, anyway. Something pretty.”
He swallowed and held it up before him. “Pretty, yes. Capable of making me have visions?”
“You had a vision? Dane, seriously, tell me.”
“No, I did not. I rented a hotel room again. Didn’t want go into the brewery after...you know. Anyway, I did a little research on witchcraft with hopes of debunking your window thing. To no success.”
She stood and ran a hand through her hair. “So...the dream that woke me the other morning?”
“Yes. Will you tell me what it was about?”
“I dreamed I’d been stabbed. And in turn had stabbed my attacker. We’d killed one another.”
“That’s morbid. I was a catalyst to such a dream?”
“I’m not sure. I went to a soul seer and she was able to interpret the dream for me. That was the first time I’ve dreamed of being stabbed by a man. Blood was everywhere. I can never see his face, but I instinctually know it has happened many times. The soul seer was able to tell me that it’s happened every time I’ve been reincarnated.”
Dane looked directly at her. “That’s scary. And strange. But you know, it could have been a recall from some detective murder show you watched late one night.”
“Dane, I don’t own a TV. And you don’t have to believe anything I say, but I have to tell you this. So you know where I stand.”
He spread out his hands, gesturing for her to go on.
“The soul seer said I have never made it to my thirtieth birthday. That this man I’ve dreamed about always manages to kill me before then. And in turn, I kill him.”
“That’s crazy. Your thirtieth is in just a few days! As is mine.”
Eryss shook her head. “And in my dream, or nightmare—whatever you want to call it—the man who stabbed me said he wouldn’t stop until I burn.”
“Why would he say such a thing?”
“Because he’s a witch hunter.”
Dane opened his mouth to speak, but nothing rational came to mind. So that’s why she’d asked if the Agency hunted witches. “But in your dreams he never does burn you?”
“No. Burning a witch brings her final death. I mean, you can kill us in other ways, but our souls survive and live on. You know that, yes?”
He splayed out a hand. “Basically. I haven’t done a lot of research on your kind. Your souls live on?”
“Reincarnation, don’t you know? Sometimes even spontaneous regeneration. You need fire to ensure a witch’s death is permanent.”
“Interesting. As I’ve said, you are my first. I’m not up on witch lore.” He tossed her the stone, not wanting to have the thing in his hands any longer. Spell or not, it was weird. But since she was spilling everything to him, he might as well step in deep. Any opportunity to learn must be taken. “I guess you walk a wide circle around fire?”
“I do. Fire magic is not something I’d ever try, but there are witches who have mastered it. Anyway, to get back to my dreams, I then say to the man that my soul will live forever, thanks to our love.”
“Love?”
She nodded. “Apart from the recent nightmare, I’ve had a recurring dream for years. About a long-lost love. My soul mate.”
“Whom you have implied could be me.”
“Yes. I recognize your soul, Dane. It came to me as a feeling that first night at the ball when we danced. You don’t have to accept that, but I do.”
“But this soul mate man and the man who stabs you are not one and the same?”
“I don’t believe so. I mean, I certainly hope not. That would imply...” She gestured toward him, but snapped her hand back to her chest. “I have lost a lover that has been with me in many lifetimes. Possibly you. And then there’s this other man, who basically kills me in every lifetime. Maybe that’s the reason I keep losing the lover? Because I’m dead? This is confusing. I know you’re not a witch hunter.”
Dane’s muscles stiffened. He’d just been thinking, as he’d sat in his hotel room searching the internet for information on witches, that he’d become a sort of witch hunter. But that was contained to research. He was not a person who armed himself with weapons and malicious intent against another.
The witch must die. Why had he said such a thing when he was just a child?
“No, I’m not,” he said. “Do you know who this witch hunter is?”
She shook her head. “Haven’t a clue. You don’t have the desire to hunt me, do
you?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.
“Absolutely not! Eryss, I would never. Historically, it’s all a lot of false accusations and a patriarchal exercise of power. Witches do not...” He fisted his hand and rubbed the knuckles. It was a little harder to profess such a belief now when his convictions were being tugged every which way. “Do you really believe—”
“No.” She tugged his hand into hers and leaned over to kiss him. “I don’t believe that about you. And I know you’re not a witch hunter. On the other hand, debunking witches is another way of hunting them, yes?”
“Hunting, to me, implies debunking rather than condemning or even killing. The sort of hunting the Agency does is always ultimately focused on protecting.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Yes, but I haven’t lived before, Eryss. I know that. And yet—I’m questioning that belief now.”
“There might be a way to find out. I can do a sort of past life regression on you.”
“No, thank you. That’s pushing it. You wouldn’t learn anything, anyway.”
“I thought you were a scientist. Aren’t you the one who will leave no stone unturned to learn the truth?”
“I know the truth.”
“Do you?”
He sighed heavily. The truth was far more dangerous than he’d ever believed. “What does it require?”
“Trust. And whiskey and fire.”
Dane lifted a brow. “I’m intrigued. Damn me, but I am.”
She kissed him. “Then let’s do this.”
Chapter 14
Red smoke swirled about Dane’s head, imbuing his senses with sulfur and sage. It tickled his nose. The swallow of whiskey no longer burned, yet the alcohol warmed his chest. Eryss’s chanted words blurred into nonsense as his eyelids fluttered. He felt as though he were falling backward...
* * *
He caught himself against the iron streetlamp and hissed when a dusting of soot sprinkled his cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and then realized he’d smudged it over the ruffled hem of his white sleeve. Fool. And he’d taken an inordinate amount of time preparing for this meeting tonight. Had even bathed and slicked pomade through his light, curly hair, and trimmed his beard.
