Blood Ties

by Gina Whitney

My first training session was scheduled with Aunt Evelyn for the morning of the new Aries moon.

  As soon as I stepped out of my room, I was greeted by the aroma of freshly baked blueberry scones. And they actually smelled like Aunt Evelyn had done a decent job of baking them. She was becoming a real Ina Garten.

  The scones were a welcomed change from the new refreshment Aunt Evelyn had been forcing me to drink since that day I’d collapsed at the pond. It was a vile solution of unidentifiable red chunks floating in a cottage-cheesy, putrid liquid. I asked about the contents, but Aunt Evelyn went all secret agent on me—if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you kind of shit.

  I was practically running down the hall on my way to grab one of those scones, especially since my appetite for carbs had made a vengeful comeback. However, I came to a sudden halt, causing the floor runner to slide and bunch up under my feet.

  The mysterious door next to the attic had caught my attention once again. By then I was really tired of Aunt Evelyn’s evasiveness about what was behind that freaking door. I looked around to make sure it was all clear, and turned the doorknob. But Aunt Evelyn was totally on point when it came to keeping that one door in the house locked. Pissed, I grabbed the knob tighter and tried shaking it as quietly as possible. I could hear jangling. Something was hanging off it on the other side. Then I heard a TINK. The hidden object hit the floor. Its hollow clang reminded me of tiny sleigh bells.

  What was Aunt Evelyn hiding in there? Hansel and Gretel? An S&M chamber? KFC’s eleven herbs and spices? Really, what?

  I swore she must have had supersonic hearing because she appeared at the top of the stairs like two seconds later, all wide-eyed and breathless from her sprint. She proceeded to wipe a dust storm of flour off her old-lady-in-lingerie themed apron. “I thought I heard something. Are you okay?” she said while trying her best to put on a smile.

  I gave her a sklent. “Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Alright then. Breakfast is ready. Come on down while it’s still hot.”

  Though Aunt Evelyn was already on the stairs, she didn’t go down. Instead she skirted to the side and waited for me to go first, but I wasn’t about to move. So we kind of just stood there looking at each other with weird smiles on our faces.

  She ended up being the one who flinched. “If we’re going to have a session, we need to get on it. No time to waste.” She went back downstairs, but kept looking over her shoulder to make sure that damn door was still secure.

  Aunt Evelyn and I had our session in her store. She shut it down temporarily so no wayward customer would catch sight of the magical happenings going down on the property. Though it never failed that some determined, self-proclaimed magus would ignore the big-ass “CLOSED” sign at the end of the driveway and show up anyway.

  I was seated at a small, round, abnormally tall table similar to one you’d see in a bar. As my feet freely dangled about a foot off the floor, I saw colorful mounds of what looked like sand on the tabletop.

  “This is pixie dust,” Aunt Evelyn said.

  “No, really, what is it?”

  She poured another mound of dust out—silver this time. “Really, it’s pixie dust. Every color has a magical correspondence. Take blue for instance. It is used to bring about tranquility, truth, and good fortune.” She presented the rest of the dust like a game show hostess. “Go ahead. Pick some up.”

  I went for the pink. It wasn’t hard and gritty like I expected. The texture was fine, and it was warm to the touch, and it smelled predominantly like vanilla and sweet apples.

  “Pink is for love and romance. Why am I not surprised you chose that one? Toss it up,” Aunt Evelyn said.

  I hopped off the stool and threw the powder up and away from me. The particles suspended in the air and sparkled like rubies against a beam of sunlight streaming through the window. Slowly they came together like granular puzzle pieces. The result was a life-sized, pink effigy of James.

  “The powder has the capability to concentrate the energy of whatever color, rather emotion, it represents. To do battle with Catherine, we obviously won’t be using pink. Black and red will be our colors—the colors of courage, power, and destruction.”

  Aunt Evelyn started to cross the room. She stood next to “James” and shook her head, amused that I had conjured him. She lay her index finger on the figure, and it instantly disintegrated into a mound of dust on the floor. She then glided over to a rolltop desk and raised the tambour. She pulled a pair of startling-white cotton gloves out a drawer and slipped her hands inside. Out of another drawer, she retrieved a rectangular box made of pure ivory.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  “It’s your wand,” Aunt Evelyn said, sliding the box to me across the table. “From now on no other hands should touch it—witch, human, or otherwise.”

  I lifted the box’s heavy lid and saw what would become my lifeline. It was an expertly crafted rod of three twisted woods: hornbeam, makore, and wenge. It was about seven inches long with a thick, cherrywood handle attached to a tapering shaft. I was afraid to pick it up at first. The power emanating from it seemed too intense for me to deal with.

  But then the pendant my mother gave me lit up in some sort of symbiotic response to the wand. A sense of calm came over me, and I took the wand in hand. The powerful energy surging through it made my hand involuntarily do a swoosh or two.

  “Though it is your companion, you must learn to control your wand,” Aunt Evelyn instructed.

  The wand released little bursts of lights as I pointed it at various items in the room. “I’ll be able kill a whole bunch of protégés with this bad boy.”

  Aunt Evelyn teetered around me like a mother waiting to catch her baby as it took its first steps. “That’s not your job.”

  “But they’re coming after me.”

  “That’s not their job. The protégés are for us, your helpers. They are interference. As they attack us and occupy our attention, Catherine will try to kill you. See, Catherine is banking on a confrontation before your powers fully kick in, leaving you absolutely vulnerable. And even if you get your powers, she is an awesomely formidable opponent.”

  The wand discharged a violent burst of fiery light that exploded a vase. Aunt Evelyn motioned for me to lower it. “We won’t be talking about Catherine anymore today.”

  Hari was up next. I had no reason to believe that spending time with “Hang Loose” Hari would be anything but fun. The most work I anticipated was a little light jogging, swimming in the pond, and maybe getting some pointers on nutrition.

  I figured there was no need to dress the part of an athlete in training. So I pulled my hair into a messy bun and put on a pair of ratty, cut-off jeans, like I was about to spend the day at Coney Island. I should’ve known something was about to go down when I saw Hari fully decked out in a military-style white T-shirt and BDU pants.

  And I was right. Somewhere between the house and the boot camp he’d set up, gentle Hari turned into Gunnery Sergeant Hartman. We spent hours on repetitious hand-to-hand combat, calisthenics, and gymnastics. Then he continued to torture me with a ten-mile jog and thousands of push-ups and sit ups. He started calling me cute pet names like worm, loser, and maggot turd when I did nonsensical shit like trying to catch my breath. I swore if he yelled at me one more time, I would go all Private Pyle on him.

  After what seemed like a millennium, my session with Hari mercifully ended. He then went all Sybil on me and switched back to his old self, as if his drill instructor alter ego hadn’t made an appearance. And that was a good thing, because I had been planning a nice blanket party for his sadistic ass.

  I taped some ice packs to my thighs and went on to my next teacher. Addison was a welcomed relief after enduring Hari’s brutality. She was the magister of glamour, so I was all geeked up for a trip to the MAC makeup counter at the mall, or at least at Ulta. Wrong! Apparently witches have a different dictionary, and glamour doesn’t mean the same thing as it does in the human world
. I was once again stuck in Aunt Evelyn’s den.

  Addison started to teach straightaway. “Grace, glamour isn’t about making you appear beautiful or sexy. It merely assists you in appearing however you need to in any given situation. The point is to use the illusory power of image to tap into a person’s greatest motivation, whether that is sex, fear, greed, bigotry, or what have you.”

  “So if I want to scare someone, how do I do it?” I asked.

  Addison motioned with her head for me to follow. We quietly went outside and stood a ways from a flock of wild birds that were busy pecking at the grass.

  “Focus your gaze on them. Project into their group mind. Become one of their thoughts and you will become it,” Addison said.

  “It? Seriously, right now I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s the wonderful thing about glamour. You don’t have to know what the it is. Their thoughts control the image you become—the it.”

  I did exactly as Addison said, and the birds abruptly flew away. If that was all glamour could do, I wasn’t impressed.

  “Okay, so. The birds flew away. Big whoop-de-do,” I said as I faked a yawn.

  Addison broke into hysterical laughter. “Big whoop-de-do indeed.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a compact, and handed it to me. “See?”

  I saw my reflection and let the compact crash to the ground. “What the hell!?” I yelled in total horror. The glamour had transformed me into a principal cast member of Cats.

  Addison gawked at me in utter amazement. “Now that’s how glamour works. You obviously tapped into their thoughts of what they feared the most.”

  I picked up the compact and stalled for a moment, then slowly moved it back in front of my face.

  “Whew,” I said. I had transitioned back into my plain-Jane self. I gladly handed the compact back to Addison.

  “Glamour is a wonderful tool, but it must be used in moderation. It has a tendency to exhaust the user. Let’s go in and I’ll show you some more,” she said while checking herself out in the mirror.

  As we made our way back into the house, I felt a sudden urge to belt out a chorus of “Memory.”

  Adrian had scheduled a daytrip to New York for our session. Needless to say this did not go over well with James. Me? I just tried to lay low for the impending fireworks.

  “Is it necessary to drag her to the city to teach her what you know?” James said. I could tell by Adrian’s flared nostrils that he didn’t take too kindly to James’s condescension.

  Aunt Evelyn, who had been sitting in the corner with her needlework, noticed Adrian’s reaction too. She looked over her glasses. “James, we are all Grace’s teachers. And if Adrian believes it best to take her New York, so be it.”

  “I’m going too then,” James insisted.

  “No, you are not. You’re going to stay here and help me take care of some loose ends. Capiche?” replied Aunt Evelyn.

  No matter what James wanted, he understood that Aunt Evelyn was running the show. He clenched his teeth and said, “Capiche.”

  Adrian drew his lips across his teeth in a Mr. Grinch type of smile. He made no effort to disguise the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed making James uncomfortable. Then he turned to me. He caught me off guard with a happy, genuine grin. “Grace, you ready to go?”

  I could see the wavy motion of feverish currents engulfing James’s body like heat rising off cement. I tried to hug him, but his body was so stiff, so rigid, I knew to withdraw. He was a sauna, and I broke into a light sweat just being next to him. I backpedaled and tried to make a fast break to my bedroom. “I think I’ll go to upstairs and get ready,” I said while patting the wetness off my forehead and easing out.

  James came to my room as I was putting the finishing touches on my hair.

  “You look good,” he said. “Too good.”

  My cheeks turned the loveliest shade of crimson. Over the course of my life, I had never really gotten any compliments. James gave them to me all the time, and I was still getting used to it.

  “Thank you kindly, sir. Your sentiment almost brings tears to my doe eyes. Do you have a handkerchief ?” I said like an antebellum debutante.

  My comedic act made James belt out a hearty laugh. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you. You always bring a smile to my face.”

  I looked at my watch and saw it was time for my appointment with Adrian. “I gotta go. Walk me to the car?”

  His laughter instantly ceased. “Whatever you do, don’t look into Adrian’s eyes too much. He’ll spellbind you.”

  “I think I can handle Adrian.”

  “Actually you can’t. Just be careful. He’s not to be played with.”

  I luxuriated in the passenger seat of the Bolingbrokes’ Lexus LS. The car screamed “big baller shot caller.” Platinum body, pitch-black interior with espresso-wood trim. The super-black limo tint darked out the windows so much, it wouldn’t have been a stretch to think a dignitary—or drug dealer—was riding inside. I couldn’t help but moan as I sucked in the factory-issued new-car scent, as my ears filled with the classical music wafting from the premium surround sound system. And to think I’d thought Julie’s jalopy was the shit.

  James leaned into the car, breaking the spell like a record scratch. “Remember what I told you. Don’t look too deeply into Adrian’s eyes.”

  I gave him a reassuring kiss on his pillowy-soft lips. Peripherally I could see Adrian strutting over to the car with his cocky attitude in tow.

  “What? Still saying your goodbyes? Don’t you worry, James. I’ll take good care of Grace.”

  James’s face tightened. “Adrian, can I talk to you for a moment?”

  “Grace and I have a lot to do. We’ve really got to get to it.” Adrian winked at me in a successful attempt to provoke James.

  I could see that James was trying with all his might to maintain his composure for my sake. “Grace, if you’ll excuse us,” he said in a low tone. He yanked Adrian aside and dragged him behind a large oak tree. James knew I was watching; so he put on a sober face. Adrian smirked as usual. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could read their lips.

  “I’m not going to let you push me in front of Grace. I will not give you the satisfaction. But, as kin, I offer you a fair warning. Don’t try anything with her,” James said.

  “Afraid of a little competition, brother?” Adrian asked. “Hardly. But you are not to infringe on her will with charisma. It is forbidden.”

  Adrian chuckled arrogantly. “You’re not scared that I’ll use charisma on Grace. You’re scared that I won’t have to.”

  I could see Adrian ever so lightly bump into James as he headed back to the car. I almost chewed a hole through my lip as I waited for James to give him a supernatural smackdown. James closed his fists, his blue veins bulging. I knew if he opened those fingers, something bad would happen. I called out to him: “James!” It didn’t work. He still glared at Adrian.

  “James!” I yelled again. “Please. Please.”

  He heard me that time. He relaxed his hands and headed to the car.

  Adrian moved smoothly into the driver’s seat while James stuck his head in the passenger-side window. “Remember what I told you,” he said to me. But before he could give me an adequate kiss, Adrian pressed on the gas. The car accelerated, and we went from zero to eighty just like that.

  Thank goodness James had reflexes like a mongoose, or else he would’ve been decapitated.

  Times Square was nearly impenetrable with tourists. From what I could gather, most were middle-aged Ohioans crossing New York City off their bucket lists. They rabidly swarmed Broadway and Seventh, scooping up “I Love New York” T-shirts, videoing the giant ‘M’ of the McDonalds, and jockeying for the best position to see the Naked Cowboy.

  Adrian and I got comfortable on the TKTS bleachers. I wondered how the crowd would react if they knew there were a couple of genuine witches amongst them—one of whom was going to save them from
becoming part of a human buffet.

  “The technique of charisma is actually quite easy,” said Adrian. “You’ve heard photographers telling models to make love to the camera? Well, that’s basically all you do with humans. You must visualize your target falling in love with you. Pretend with your mind’s eye that you’re making love to them. And be the best sex they’ve ever had.”

  “So I just close my eyes and imagine someone crushing on me.”

  “Not exactly. You have to be adept enough to visualize it with your eyes wide open. No matter what or who is physically in front of you, disregard what you really see. Instead see them making you their lover, savior, whatever. You will basically become the erotic projection of their god. Watch.”

  Adrian directed his glance at an old woman. There was no doubt she was a tourist. Her ill-fitting Velcro sneakers aggravated her bulging varicose veins, forcing her to take a break on the bottom bleacher. She took off her sun visor—yellowed from an overabundance of facial oil—and wiped her brow. Then she rifled through her fanny pack and pulled out a small map of the city. As she read the directions to her next stop, Adrian uttered a spell through his smile like a ventriloquist: “Know who I am. I’m passion’s key. You can’t help it. You want me.”

  “That’s fucking corny as hell,” I said.

  “Maybe, but it works.”

  “Do spells always have to rhyme?”

  “It helps, because nature likes rhythm.”

  The old lady looked back as if someone had called her name. She searched the crowd with her eyes and deadlocked on Adrian’s. In the throes of a hypnotic trance, something drove her to climb the bleachers. She pushed the heads of random people out of her way as she let her internal homing device lead her. As if something clicked in her head, she plunked down right in front of Adrian and leaned back on his knees. Adrian’s charisma was driving her subconscious impulse to touch him in any way she could. Finally she turned around. I was freaking out at how she just stared at him.

  Adrian puckered his lips and gently blew like he was blowing the seeds off a dandelion. The old woman simply got up and went back to the bottom bleacher. She snapped out of the enchantment and was left scratching her head with a befuddled look on her face.