by Berinn Rae
She stood staring blankly at backdrops while fixating on the handsome sweep of his cheekbones and how appealing he looked in glasses, how amazingly hot he would look without them. Had she ever seen Daniel without his glasses? His eyes were magnificent, rich, warm, fringed with thick lashes that had no business hiding behind poly frames. They were eyes that dominated his expressive face, lively and captivating. Most women went ga-ga for a guy with a well shaped ass. Not Lily. Beautiful eyes got her every time. More than her palms began to sweat.
His mouth had looked so … kissable. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that about him? She was famously unable to keep her fingers off things, so of course she’d touched him before, shoving about, friendly hand clasps, casual hugs. Why couldn’t she remember what his skin felt like under her fingertips? Gods, what an oblivious dolt she was!
She should have followed her impulse the night before and knocked on his door, all worked up and horny, straddling him then and there in the middle of his living room floor. Would he have shoved her aside offended or eagerly slipped his hands inside her shirt and —
Sam, the photographer, popped his head through the door to ask if she wanted coffee, jerking Lily out of her fantasy. “I’m perfectly capable of getting my own coffee,” she snapped.
Sam’s face fell.
Lily dropped an armful of velveteen throws. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry. It’s just … I’m horribly cranky today. Let me get my coat, I’ll walk along, help you carry.”
While Sam moved room to room collecting orders from the other artists, Lily stood back to scrutinize the backdrop of forest green she’d chosen. Even with the white dresses stark and shining against the bold color, she felt the contrast held no dramatic appeal. Pulling on her coat, she closed her door on the problem, the only thing to do under crabby circumstances.
• • •
As she and Sam walked the six blocks to Jolt of Java, he pointed out how the trees were already dropping leaves and it was only mid-October. When Lily didn’t respond, he bumped her with his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Lil? Got an itch you can’t scratch?”
Lily turned on him in astonishment. “I do, yes. And an unbearable itch it is too, with scratching not an option.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s my closest, very best friend! That ever happen to you? Falling for a friend, but afraid dipping a toe in to test deeper water might drown a perfect relationship?”
Sam laughed. “Not with a woman, no. With my career, yes.”
“Really?” Lily stopped, intrigued, and Sam hooked her elbow to propel her inside the coffee shop.
“A couple different times, actually,” he spoke above the noisy afternoon crowd. “I studied photography in school, but got a degree in accounting. After graduating, I set up a small studio, did weddings, graduation portraits, sports team photos mostly. And failed miserably. So I gave up, grew up, and made the hard choice. Abandoned the dream.”
“But — ”
They reached the head of the line and Sam read out the order to the barista before moving to the end of the counter to wait. Jolt of Java seemed especially busy today and Lily got sidetracked studying the variety of footwear on the people around them. Watching her, Sam grinned.
“So what happened?” Lily picked up the conversation as, each carrying a tray loaded with cups, they headed back to the studio.
“I went to work at a bank, became a loan officer, got married, had a kid, then another. Got a mortgage, two cars, you know. Anteed up. Made myself get serious about life.” He stopped talking as leaves swirled around them in wind dervishes. Flocks of raucous gulls swarmed to the north. Pigeons, sparrows, and an occasional black crow swooped to earth seeking tidbits before flying back to roost on ridgepoles and trolley cables.
The new high-rises of downtown scraped the sky, connected to each other by a crisscrossing mesh of glass-enclosed bridges hundreds of feet off the ground like some Escheresque space station. The walkways were lined with shops and apartments, every space efficiently used. Older buildings that had somehow survived the destructive riots looked as out of place as covered wagons. These historic remnants of a by-gone era wore their granite and brick facades like aging soldiers in proud uniform.
Sam inhaled, as if the breeze from the lake smelled like a blooming garden instead of barge sludge and moldering fish. He looked at Lily. “But the itch never went away, you know? In fact, it got worse. I became short tempered, depressed, my wife threatened divorce. She’s ballsy, my wife, and finally confronted me, said the wisest words I’ve ever heard.”
“Please tell them to me,” Lily cried. “Save me from my wretched self!”
Sam laughed. “She said, ‘Life is like a Twinkie. If you only nibble the outside, you never get to the creamy filling inside.’”
“Ah … ”
“So I quit as a loan officer, went to work for Ellen. I want as much filling as I can stuff myself with, Lily. You know what I’m talking about. My God, you live knee deep in the stuff, and it didn’t take a mid-life crisis for you to get there. So scratch your itch, for pity’s sake. With my blessing!” Sam swung open the door to Faces In Time and climbed the stairs.
Lily followed. “But you only see me at work, Sam, where I have at least a modicum of professionalism. The rest of my life is a disaster. I’m spacey, forgetful, get distracted by the oddest things — ”
“Like people’s shoes?”
She blushed.
“As I said, Lily, you live knee deep in delicious, creamy filling. Every minute.” He flashed her a beatific grin and headed down the hall with the coffees.
• • •
The first sitting with the Wilson girls did not go well. Both girls picked unhappily at their scratchy, frilled dresses while Lily snapped digi-pics of them standing and sitting in various poses against the forest green background and draped maroon velveteen. Then she let them change into their own clothes for the headshots. Asking them to sit quietly while she sketched today was out of the question. Instead, she took them to the costume room.
Lindsay, nine years old, and Carmen, seven, stared in open-mouthed delight at the room full of exotic clothing of every size, shape, and color from all periods in history.
“Who wears these?” Lindsay asked reverently.
Lily smiled. “You will, during our next sitting. So get busy picking out your favorite. The children’s sizes are back here, but if you absolutely fall in love with an adult costume, I can make adjustments. Your mom will be here soon, but not to worry. If you don’t find something today, we’ll take time later. And during our next session, we’ll spend half the time in the white dresses — ”
Both girl’s groaned and rolled their eyes.
“ — and half in the glam-goody of your choice. I always work up several rough oil sketches so people can get an idea of how a final painting will look. With a bit of luck, your parents will decide on the composition with you wearing what you love.”
“Right,” Lindsay grumped, “and how often does that happen?”
“Almost always.” Lily dropped an arm around each shoulder and strolled them down aisles of sensational dresses done up in brocades, velvets and satins. “In a portrait, what you feel shows on your face and in the way you hold your body. I paint what I see in you. If you’re sad and miserable that’s what shows, big time. When you’re happy and having fun, a painting glows with vitality and beauty.”
“Why don’t grownups get that?” Lindsay asked.
Lily bent to whisper, “They’ve forgotten about Twinkies.”
Carmen nodded. “Yeah, the creamy filling.”
• • •
Working late, Lily missed the e-trolley and decided to walk the two miles home. She didn’t mind. Inhaling, she smelled yet another storm in the air and looked up to see that clouds had once again slunk in low and thick over the city. Cold rain by nightfall and, with the rain, a wind to strip the last glorious color from the trees. Another fall passing, she thought glumly, with yet another d
epressing, damp winter to follow.
She hated the way time spun its unyielding passage on and on and yet here she stayed, forever single, forever yearning and alone. Leaving the business district of downtown behind for the clustered neighborhoods, Lily walked down tree lined sidewalks littered with children’s bicycles, wagons, a broken doll stroller. Maneuvering around a scooter, she looked up and saw a familiar sign swinging above her head.
Madame Bagasha’s Magicke Shoppe! It was the same building, the same roof line, same sky lights but nesting now on a strange new corner beside a neighborhood grocery. Only half believing her eyes, Lily darted up the walk to grab the dragonhead door handle and step inside.
“Lily!” Nila called from behind the counter where she was unpacking a box of books. “I’m glad you got here, I was just about to close. Tell me, have you got a gaggle of guys following you everywhere yet?”
Lily glowered at her. “Very funny. Except I’m not laughing. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen my disaster in your magic crystals?”
Nila looked up, startled. “Disaster? The potion didn’t make you sick, did it? Hasn’t your guy found you yet?”
“Depends on how you define ‘my guy.’”
Nila lost all interest in her unpacking. “I mean your perfect man, as you well know. Something went wrong?”
Lily told her story, choking against guilt as she finished with, “And then he just dribbled into nothing! I didn’t mean to melt him, but I’m not sorry I did. How psychotic is that?”
“Holy saints!” Nila sat down on the stool, stunned. “I don’t understand. The potion was simply a glamour. I’ve never heard of one reshaping reality before. Your own magic might have interfered … which means your power is more complex than I thought. Gosh, what fun you and I will have experimenting, huh?”
Lily gave the girl a seriously pained look. “Painting that man was delicious fun, but his aggression and the fact that he’d become a distortion of my pitiful emotional state was terrifying. I mean, I am lonely and desperate, but all I want is love and companionship.”
“And sex,” Nila waggled an eyebrow, “obviously.”
“Yeah, well. So what went wrong? Will every person I paint now come to sudden life? Because at the moment I’m working on a portrait of two little girls who are adorable, but heaven forbid duplicates of them stepping off the canvas!”
Nila ducked down behind the counter and came up with a fat book so heavy she half dropped it on the countertop, raising a cloud of dust. Placing her palm flat on the thick, ancient tome, the young witch closed her eyes and whispered a string of unintelligible words. Carefully opening the cover she began flipping through pages, a frown of deep concentration on her face.
Lily took the opportunity to wander, the day’s frustrations already dissipating in the hushed, aromatic quiet. She bent to sniff a pine-scented candle, toyed with an oddly shaped dream catcher. Her fingers, hungry to feel everything, splayed across a beautiful geode with its cavern heart sprouting tiny purple and rose colored crystals. At her touch the stone blazed to life with sudden, hot light. The crystals inside began to pulse.
Nila snapped upright. “Gods afire, you do have power! And that particular geode now belongs to you.”
At Lily’s mortified look, Nila elaborated. “You woke it, Lily. It’ll never work for anyone else.”
Gingerly, Lily hefted the good-sized rock to check the price and flinched.
“I’ll give you a discount,” Nila said. “I owe you, after all. I mean, one can’t guarantee magic obviously, but the potion I gave you should have summoned potential lovers. That’s all. I think Madame Bagasha would agree that your own magic, not insignificant as you’ve just proven, somehow changed the philter’s properties.”
“And what does your big book say?”
“Not much. Without knowing the true nature of your power, whether you are a Sensitive or an Elemental, I’m pretty much guessing. I do know I underestimated you, to put it mildly. And there will be hell to pay when Madame hears about it. But yesterday when you threw the dice, I didn’t get a pre-cog vibe that you possessed magic strong enough to wake a geode. They don’t come to life for just anyone. Oh, yeah, the Madame will be all over my ass.” Nila’s grin was more excited than worried. “Yours too, Lily Barnett. Because right now you have enough magic, and enough ignorance, to be very dangerous.”
The young witch reached to take Lily’s hands, then hesitated. “Before I touch you, I’d like you to try holding your magic inside, keep it from spouting outward. Can you do that?”
Lily nodded, thought of the energy she possessed when she painted, and focused that energy in towards her gut before she reached for Nila’s grasp. No lights flared, no lamps flickered.
Nila let out a whoop. “Not just a powerful magic but a powerful will, as well. Good for you. I’m beginning to feel sorry for this perfect man of yours.” She saw the pleasure fade from Lily’s face and gave her hands a squeeze. “I’m teasing, of course. Whoever is lucky enough to fall in love with you will be strong enough to handle you, believe me.”
“And why should I believe a girl who can turn me into a toad?”
“I would never!” Nila flashed her wicked grin. “Besides, a witch’s most sacred creed is do no harm.” She was suddenly serious. “Lily, it’s imperative that you learn to understand and control your magic. Soon. Madame Bagasha and I will help. That’s one reason we have the shop, I suss out new magic potentials so Madame Bagasha can teach them.”
“Why couldn’t I find you this morning?”
Nila shrugged. “I can’t tell you how or why the shop shifts from place to place like it does. It’s part of Madame Bagasha’s magic and, like her, is eccentric. I do know that when the time is right, you will always find us.”
“But that’s not necessarily when I need you?”
“It isn’t and I’m sorry. Like life, magic will force certain discoveries, confrontations, choices, and actions. Finding answers through adversity is part of the process. Now bring me that geode and I’ll wrap it up for you to take home.”
Holding the rock’s hefty weight against her chest, Lily felt a rush of comfort knowing it would sit inside her apartment where she could see it, touch it, every day. As the witch wrapped it in newsprint, Lily asked, “What does one do with a magic geode, anyway?”
“See the hollow inside full of crystals? Very womblike, wouldn’t you say?”
Lily snorted.
Nila hefted the geode to let light refract off each angular facet. “Pretty, too. Geodes are very personal. You’ll need to experiment, see what this one does for you. Most people use them as a focusing tool, a way to center energies. I’ve heard they can trap negative magic as well but that seems a waste of beautiful space to me. Here, I’ll throw in this booklet on the mystical properties of rocks and minerals to get you started. You wanted wizard lights, too, didn’t you?”
Lily looked disconcerted. “I didn’t say … but, yes. You are scary, despite that sweet-as-apple-pie face.”
“Scary works for me. Much better than sweet ever has.” Nila handed Lily her parcel and the receipt. “See you soon, Lil.”
“You’d know that better than I.”
Nila laughed. “Oh, one more thing, Lily. When dealing with magic it’s wise to keep in mind the saying, ‘There is lightning … and there is a lightning bug.’”
“And ‘hindsight’s worth a bird in the hand?’” Lily misquoted glibly.
Then the bell above the purple door jingled and Daniel Harris strolled into Madame Bagasha’s Magicke Shoppe.
Chapter Eight
“It’s you!” Daniel’s face lit up at the sight of her. Lily’s mouth gaped open. Gods, but he looked good with his easy, long-legged grace and big grin, and dark hair tumbling above eyes warm with laughter. A sudden heat filled her chest and her heart momentarily stopped beating.
“You’re here … ” she stammered and then, ridiculously, blushed. How much of their conversation had he heard? A quick glance at
Nila’s shrug and blank face only increased her embarrassment.
“So you found Madame Bagasha’s shop,” Daniel was saying. “Amazing, isn’t it? I never pass up a chance to stop in.”
For some reason Lily seemed rooted to the floor. “You … you believe in magic?”
Daniel looked around the astonishing room. “Why not? I am surprised to find you here, though.”
“Oh,” Lily waved a vague hand, “sometimes a girl needs a bit of this, a bit of that.”
Nila laughed from where she leaned on the counter. “Nice to see your face again, Daniel. It’s been ages. But I’m about to close up.”
“Did those books I ordered come in?” he asked.
Nila turned to pull two faded, dog-eared books off a shelf behind her. As Daniel stepped around Lily, she unfroze with a gasp, spun toward the door, and was gone before he could blink.
• • •
“Way to go, handsome,” Nila snipped. “You know what she’s thinking, don’t you? But, of course you do … better hurry up and catch her, she’s embarrassed as hell.”
“Why?” Daniel asked in surprise.
“So you don’t know? Glad to see you respect some privacies.”
“Give it a rest, Nila. You were, what, eight years old? And if I hadn’t learned you were a witch, you’d never have studied with Gran. I did you a favor.”
“So you keep telling me. Then it’s you, is it?”
“Me, what?” Distracted, Daniel tossed two twenties on the counter and hurriedly crammed the books in his jacket pockets. “Keep the change, Nila-crocodila.”
She stuck her tongue out at him as if she were still eight and he laughed. “Give my love to Noreen and Gilly when you see them, will you?” Then he, too, raced out the door.
Daniel saw Lily already two blocks ahead and moving fast. His resolve to keep away from her vanished as he sprinted to catch up. She still wore the dark schoolgirl stockings he’d spent the day fantasizing about. Watching her skirt twitch madly about her legs, Daniel had no trouble guessing her embarrassment was about more than getting caught in a magic shop.
