“Hello! We’re home!” Ren shouted cheerfully as we strolled down the snaking hallway toward the greenhouse door.
Without waiting for a response, he threw open the foggy glass door and bounded inside, simultaneously motioning for me to follow him.
“Hello, hello. Welcome back Eliza.” Nan shouted from the recesses of the greenhouse in response to our arrival.
I searched the crevices of the room for Nan and finally found her tangled up with something large and bushy.
“You’ve caught me in the middle of repotting this beast. It might take me a few minutes. Please, wander, won’t you?” Nan muttered distractedly, her arms sunk elbow deep into a dense mass of leafy branches belonging to a wild looking plant.
I nodded, absentmindedly, enjoying the loamy scent of earth mingling with the pungent aroma of flowers.
“Nan, have you heard of any witches passing through town lately?” Ren asked.
Nan’s paused with her arms wrapped in the plant’s clutches to appraise Ren’s face before answering.
“Amelia Light came through a couple of weeks ago with several novice witches she’s taken in but they’ve long come and gone. Why do you ask?” She asked distractedly turning her attention back to the rustling plant.
“Eliza thinks she saw another witch at school today but maybe it was just someone passing through.” He said hopefully in response.
“Ah well, if anyone passes through they are supposed to notify me. I am the area Service Agent, after all. Of course, if they don’t want me to know they’re here.” She said pausing again abruptly. Her face pinched in from all sides with annoyance.
“If either of you see her again, tell me immediately.” She snapped and resumed her work.
“Well, I’m going to take off now.” Ren said with a wink and shuffled backward in retreat. He leapt down the stairs out of the room and pulled the door shut behind him.
There wasn’t much I could do about the rogue witch, so I decided to push my worries aside. To distract myself, I set about exploring a section of the greenhouse I’d missed the first time I’d been invited in by Nan. I snaked through the narrow verdant passageways, following the trail of a seemingly endless blooming vine that was growing along a suspended wire, until my path dead-ended in a corner.
The creeping vine draped on the aerial wire stretched out across the wall forming a fluffy living lattice from ceiling to floor. A weathered blue cistern sat above a lacy iron pedestal, nestled in the crook of the room. Miniature orchids and vanilla vines decorated the pedestal and edges of the bowl. A small fountain of bubbles erupted from the center of the blue water.
I inspected the sight with confusion because there didn’t appear to be any piping visible that could explain the fountain. I peeked into the center of the tub, searching for an explanation. Instantly, the bubbling fountain dissipated and the water became still. I continued to stare into the flat water, searching for the source of the bubbles but my mind wandered as I noticed my reflection staring back at me in the still water. The image stirred, as if moved by a gentle breeze and soft ripples rolled along the surface of the water.
When the water grew still again, the reflection floating on its surface took my breath away. There staring back at me where my reflection should have been was my mother’s face. For a moment I was overcome with emotion and longing. Tears sprung to my eyes and I hungrily soaked in the face that I missed so dearly. She was smiling.
As I studied the image on the water, I noticed her hair floated airily around her face, like seaweed in a current. Her eyes were a beautiful deep brown just as I remembered them but they looked vacant and hallow. The smile on her face was fixed as if melded out of plastic.
The face in the water was a shell, a mockery of my pain and longing. I forced my eyes shut against the repugnant image and took a step back. When I opened them again, the reflection was gone and the soft bubbling fountain had resumed.
“You’ve found my wishing well.” Nan said softly, stepping close to my side. I hadn’t heard her approach.
“I found the cistern in a flea market years ago when I was still working for the Service during an assignment in the Mediterranean. It was crafted by a small tribe of fairies, oh maybe five hundred years ago or so. Their crafts are quite the collector’s item now. You know that I’m not a big fan of fairies but they do create beautiful things. Human art and music can’t hold a candle to that of fairies. The woman who sold the cistern to me only released it to my custody after discovering my ability to appreciate it.” She said emphasizing the word appreciate and gestured meaningfully.
“It’s meant to reveal desires yet occasionally one might find truth. A simple illusion but I find it entertaining. Sometimes people seem to be surprised by what they see.” Nan’s tone had been light but as she studied my face, her eyes creased with worry.
I took another step back from the cistern just far enough away to prevent a view of my own reflection. With my eyes trained at the edge of the bowl, I responded.
“I saw my mother’s face but it wasn’t the way I’d like to remember her.” My voice cracked.
Nan’s hand settled lightly on my arm and she pressed against it steering me away from the cistern down one of the narrow aisles lined with shelves of succulents. Without a word more, I shuffled down the aisle still reeling from the image of my mother’s face, found in such an unlikely place.
“Don’t mind what you saw in the water, Eliza. The well means to pick something from your life that will please you. I’m sorry if you found something unpleasant.” Nan said apologetically as she continued to usher me from behind down the narrow aisle.
Why of all things would the fairy well show me a hideous impersonation of my mother’s face? Why would it think that would please me? I shook my head to force back tears. Why did my mother’s absence haunt me?
My feet continued to shuffle in response to Nan’s gentle prodding despite the fact that I was so absorbed in my thoughts I barely paid attention to the direction. Nan’s subtle shake of my shoulders pulled me out of the caverns of my mind.
“Eliza? Shall we get started?” She asked nervously. Her large owl eyes blinked rapidly into my distracted gaze.
I squeezed my eyes shut to refocus then scanned the contents of a long narrow table that Nan had obviously set for the lesson. Two rectangular glass cases rested on the table. Each case had been lined with a layer of rock, sand and soil and contained one plant. The plant in the second case looked like a small weed but the object resting in the case at the head of the table was very strange.
“Yeah, let’s get started.” I mumbled stepping closer to the case at the head of the table, drawn by curiosity.
The object in the case looked like a loose tangle of crimson yarn. Nan remained silent allowing me to study the bright stringy knot. The strands looked stiff but pliable and curved and looped around each other in varying degrees of density. The surface of the top strands gave off a slick glare below the overhanging globes. I wondered whether they were wet or slimy and suppressed an urge to reach in and run a finger along one of them.
“What is it?” I asked shifting my gaze to Nan’s watchful eyes.
Nan took a step closer to the table and bent down to peer into the case along with me before answering.
“This is called a dodder. I’d like to show you something, Eliza.” She said.
Rising, she slipped on a pair of gardening gloves and tossed a pair to me. Then she sauntered down to the middle of the table and waved for me to follow. She reached into the second case, loosened the soil around the small plant inside and carefully freed it, roots intact.
“Take this plant and replant it into the case with the dodder. Make sure you plant it on the opposite end of the case for this experiment.” She instructed and carefully handed over the small leafy seedling to me, its wispy roots fanned across my palm.
“Ok.” I responded hesitantly pondering the goal of the experiment.
I set the plant on the table top nex
t to the case while I dug a finger sized hole into the potting material at the bottom of the dodder’s case. I retrieved the small plant and lowered it carefully into the hole. Something about Nan’s pensive expression made me feel like I was placing a mouse into a python’s den. Despite the uneasy heat on my cheeks, I stuffed the little plant’s roots into the hole and tucked the remaining soil around its base pressing firmly around the stalk to secure it in its new home.
The dodder’s response did not take long. Almost immediately after I removed my gloved hands from inside the case, the crimson strands closest to the little green plant stirred as if awakening from slumber. With the speed of a caterpillar, one of the strands stretched out from the tangled ball toward the plant and proceeded to slither up its stalk until the stalk and leaves were entirely entombed in shiny red string. I observed the process with fascination and mild disgust feeling guilty for my role in the little plant’s suffocation.
Nan lowered her face to the glass surface and peered into the case watching the dodder’s movement.
“Come closer Eliza.” She said with excitement.
I bent my head to rest next to hers and stared at the creeping motion of the dodder.
“Amazing, isn’t it? You see dodders are somewhat of a half-breed. Flora by definition but they harbor some distinctly fauna-like qualities. Of course, a dodder’s hunt is generally not this swift. I cast a speed spell on this one for demonstration purposes. In nature, they have no reason to rush since their prey can’t run.” She added flippantly with a flutter of her hand before continuing.
“Notice how the dodder lacks leaves? If we had a magnifying glass, you would see that each strand is covered in scales. They identify their prey by scent and then drink from the plants much like a spider sucks the contents of an insect.” She explained with an air of academic fascination.
I squinted at the shiny red strands tightening their grip on the tiny green plant. They definitely appeared more reptilian or insectival than plantlike. The purposeful way the tentacles consumed its defenseless prey was unsettling. I wasn’t used to thinking of plants as predators and it made me a bit uneasy considering my surroundings.
“Why is this important to us?” I asked, earnestly wondering how or why I would ever use the knowledge.
Nan stood and squinted down at me pursing her lips before answering.
“It’s all important or not important at all if you don’t use your creativity to apply it to your craft.” She snipped.
I frowned, surprised by Nan’s tone. I may have been trying my best to put the cistern experience behind me but my emotions were still raw and her disapproval stung more than it normally would.
Nan must have felt guilty for hurting my feelings because a look of remorse pulled at the corners of her eyes. She laid a hand on my arm.
“I didn’t mean to sound cross, Eliza. My point is just that you must expand your perspective when it comes to the craft. Think of the elements of witchcraft as branches on a tree. Your innate gifts are one branch, which you will learn to stretch and strengthen through practice and concentration. Your primer will guide your journey to maturity in that respect. The art of herbology, spells and casting is an entirely separate branch. These disciplines are entwined and dependent upon each other. The mastery of these arts is a creative and academic process. Here, take a seat and I’ll explain further.” She urged and pulled two chairs from against the wall allowing us to sit at the table.
Nan dipped her hand into a deep pocket on the front of her gardening apron and retrieved a pocket sized hardback book. She laid it on the tabletop.
The title of the small book was embossed on the cover in bold silver letters, The Herbologist Field and Garden Guide. The pristine booked looked new and the binding creaked when Nan opened it, revealing bright white, untouched pages.
“This is for you, and believe me, this manual will become invaluable to you over the course of your career.” Nan instructed before licking the tip of her finger to shuffle through the pages.
After a few moments of flipping she tipped her head back to better view the pages through the lower bifocal section of her glasses.
“Mmm, this is a new addition, it’s organized differently than my copy. Now where is it?” She mumbled.
Finally giving up the search, she flipped hastily to the back of the book to consult the index.
“Ah, here it is, Dodder, page 134.” She smiled and turned to the page.
The top of the page was decorated with a black and white sketched picture of a dodder in the process of strangling a plant.
“Now, Eliza, you asked how knowledge of a dodder’s behaviors and characteristics could be of use to you.” She said.
“See here in the book is a listing of the dodder’s properties.” She said tapping her finger at a list below the sketch.
Properties:
- Smooth
- Scaled
- Acute sense of smell
- Strangulatory
- Predatory
- Stubborn
- Voracious
Lifting her gaze from the book, Nan focused on the talisman dangling from my neck and reached out a finger to tap the satchel of herbs with a knowing smile on her lips.
“Now, can you imagine how you might utilize the dodder’s characteristics to your advantage?” She asked solicitously.
My brain swelled with understanding and a smile spread across my face.
“We use plants to cast spells with the same characteristics? Is that what you mean?” I asked, wondering if I was on the right track.
Nan bobbed her head from side to side.
“Well, that is one way of looking at it. Rather, you can use plants to activate or strengthen spells. Think witch’s cauldron, Eliza.” She emphasized with an amused laugh.
“The power of plants is leveraged extensively when working spells.” She said nodding again toward the talisman against my chest.
Nan’s eyes darted down to the book on the table again and she began scanning the next couple of pages.
“Here you see this book provides a few examples of simple spells that utilize dodders. Because of the unique qualities dodders possess they can be useful in both offensive and defensive spells.” She explained with her nose in the book, studying the spells outlined.
A series of questions swirled in my head.
“What do you mean by offensive and defensive?” I asked.
“Well, for example, the spell I cast upon you to protect you from the Shadow would be considered a defensive spell because it offers protection against an attacker. But here…” She said, drawing out her words as her eyes scanned the page before her.
“This is a fairly simple offensive spell utilizing a dodder.” She said.
I looked down at the page displayed before me. The instructions for the spell were written like a recipe in a cookbook.
Stop a Gossip
This easy spell will stop gossip by strangulating the vocal cords of the speaker before nasty comments escape. The spell can be applied to one person or attached to the gossip item itself thus affecting any person who attempts to spread it.
I looked up from the page and gave Nan a concerned look.
“Strangulating? That sounds painful.” I said, scrunching my nose. My hand instinctively gravitated to my neck.
Nan waved her hand dismissively.
“The spell won’t cause permanent damage, maybe just mild laryngitis for a day or so.” She said dismissively.
“Now, should we give it a whirl?” She asked, her eyes brightening.
“Umm, I don’t know. I don’t know anyone who’s spreading gossip.” I mumbled hesitantly. I was worried about the side effects such a spell could cause if it stuck a person too hard.
Nan threw her hands up and expelled an exaggerated sigh.
“Eliza, you will never learn to utilize herbology, spells and casting if you don’t practice.” She chided with forced patience.
My cheeks flushed red and I shifted un
comfortably in my seat under the pressure of Nan’s suggestion.
“Well, I really don’t know anyone who has a problem with gossip so I wouldn’t know what to do with this spell.” I stammered quickly in defense.
Nan leaned back in her chair, her lips pressed in a pensive line.
“I do. Think about it for a moment. I think you do know at least one or two people in your life who occasionally emit some troublesome chatter about you.” She turned her head to the side and gave me an owlish look again.
I stared at my hands for a moment then cast my eyes to the glass ceiling. The light had faded as evening approached turning the clouds from steel gray to a dusky purple. Suddenly two names appeared glowing orange like hot branding tools on the face of the clouds beyond the glass. My eyes flew open in shock and I jerked my face from the ceiling to stare at Nan.
She shrugged innocently and casually folded her hands in her lap.
“Absolutely not! Bryn is my friend and I am not experimenting on her!” I stammered though my cheeks burned and my head pulsed painfully with the memory of my previous experiment on Bryn’s mind.
“Alright, calm down, Eliza. I think you misunderstand my intentions.” Nan stated firmly lifting her hand in a stop motion.
I inhaled deeply trying to calm my bubbling emotions.
“Your friend Bryn has a loose tongue and she spends quite a bit of energy prattling to your other crony, Pete, about Ren and your activities. The only reason I suggested Bryn was because I thought it might make everyone’s lives easier considering the fact that you will never be able to tell her the truth and her curiosity will only grow. This spell would nip a growing problem in the bud.” She said with conviction.
I shook my head and frowned. Nan had hit a nerve. I knew my relationship with Bryn was in danger and I didn’t know how I’d explain myself the next time she demanded answers but putting a spell on her was definitely not the solution.
“Nan, I just can’t do it. Bryn is one of my closest friends and she has a right to be curious. Besides, I’ve already made one mistake with her and I couldn’t live with myself if I made another. When and if her speculation becomes a problem, I’ll deal with it as a friend not a witch.” I responded.
Eliza's Shadow Page 18
