by J. E. Lezah
“I see.” Giles pulled his hand from her. “Did you know?”
“About your parents? Not until today.”
Quiet took up residence between them. She leaned back, trying to ignore the heat radiating between them. It was odd, yet comforting, and she wondered if their closeness affected him in the same way or anyway for that matter.
“Did my parents tell you about me?”
Giles adjusted his position forcing her to do the same. “They told me you weren’t feeling well.”
“That’s an understatement,” she mumbled.
“What?”
She hesitated with an answer. Admitting the truth to Giles was going to be hard since she found it difficult accepting the truth herself. “I’m losing my powers.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. My powers are fading. Well, actually being sucked away by some type of energy leech, but leaving none-the-less. I’m already having problems casting spells and soon, I will completely lose the ability to do so.”
He took a few steps from her, leaving his back toward her. His shoulders began to shake and from the sounds he was making, she was unsure if he was laughing or crying.
Oh great, she thought. I broke him. I broke Giles.
He turned to face her, breaking into raucous laughter.
“What’s do funny?”
“How crazy is it that you lose your witching powers, and I gain mine.”
“Yeah, it’s a freaking laugh riot,” she snarked.
“You don’t think it’s a bit odd?” He tried to quell his laughter.
“Not at all. Without being about to do spells, Enchanted Events is over, and without that, I have nothing.”
Giles’s demeanor sobered. “You really think you have nothing but that company?”
“I don’t know.” She dropped her hands to her thighs. “I fought to be the best I could. To prove to myself and my parents I was my own witch.” She wiped away an errant tear before it got too far. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” her throat clinched as she burst into tears, and ran from the room.
“Aldara wait.”
She heard Giles call after her, but she refused to stop. She was about to have the ugliest cry she had had in years, and for that she needed to be alone.
19
With a groan, Giles pulled a pillow over his face. His sleep had been fitful at best. He had spent most of the night worrying about Aldara, and how his new found knowledge would affect not only his life, but hers as well.
He flipped onto his side, trying to doze off. In his estimation, some sleep was better than no sleep. The blare of trumpets followed by whoops and shouts sent him upright in the bed. “Don’t witches ever sleep?” he groused, throwing back the covers.
Shuffling to the window, he pulled back the curtains. The sun had begun to crest the mountains, lending a hint of light to the scene below. Multiple campfires dotted the landscape. The longest banquet table he had ever seen sat at the center of it all, with no seat left empty.
Giles could hear the rumble of conversations along with an occasional burst of laughter. He stood there for the longest watching until the sun brightened the sky enough for him to make out individual faces. A pang of sadness grew within him. At the realization this was now a part of history. A part he knew nothing about.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten much since yesterday. After his conversation with Aldara he had little to no appetite. Aldara had taken to her room, declining the tray of food her mother had sent up to her. Since it was obvious sleep wasn’t in his future, Giles decided to wash up and go find breakfast, and possibly Aldara, but first he needed to find his clothes.
A knock at the door took him from the window. In his heart he hoped it was Aldara, but his intuition told him different. Opening the door, he was shocked to find his shirt and pants, cleaned, pressed and hanging in the air. He stepped aside, allowing them to float into the room, and place themselves at the foot of his bed. His shoes, newly shined, marched to a nearby chair, turned around and stopped.
“Now all I need is underwear.” Giles slowed his speech when a folded set of undergarments, complete with socks, followed the path of the clothes to end up on the bed. “This witch thing, might not be so bad.”
Giles poked his head out of the doorway to see who might be behind the parade of clothing, but no one was there. Still he couldn’t shake the feeling Aldara had something to do with it.
After dressing, he made his way downstairs. He stifled a groan when the twins came into view. They blushed and giggled at the sight of him.
“Hello Aldara’s pool boy,” they said in sing-song unison.
“My name is Giles.”
“We know,” Zoe said. At least, he thought it was Zoe.
“But we like pool boy better.” The one he thought to be Zerlina added.
“Do you know where Aldara is?”
“No,” the maybe Zoe answered.
“She left for her interview with Tempest.”
“How do you know that?” Zoe turned to her sister.
“I overheard her tell mother when she left.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Giles drug his hands down his cheeks. “Ladies,” Giles tried to break into the argument he sensed was brewing. “Ladies,” he barked. The twins snapped their heads around, their black eyes pinning him to his spot. “I’m sorry, but where can I get some breakfast.”
The mood between the two sisters switched abruptly. “Just follow your nose,” Zerlina said.
“I don’t smell anything.”
Both twins blew a kiss in his direction, cackling while they walked away. “I don’t care what Aldara says. Those two are scary.” Shaking his head, he walked on. Giles found the twins suggestion to follow his nose a bit silly, but what did he have to lose? Taking a deep whiff, he caught the scent of bacon and coffee. Okay, follow my nose it is, he mused.
He wandered the labyrinth of halls within Shadowfield, sniffing the air every few moments. He found it comical that he now had something in common with Ismarelda when it came to the hunt for food. Turning the corner, he discovered her laying half-in, half-out of the dining room door. Her tail began to wag at the sight of him. It warmed his soul to know someone was happy to see him.
“There you are, Princess,” he said, stooping to scruff the top of her head. “I guess I can’t be too upset you didn’t greet me. The lure of bacon overrides everything.”
“Good morning, Giles,” Magnie chirped motioning for him to join her. “Please, help yourself.”
Giles looked to the sideboard laden with more food than he and Aldara consumed in a month. He rubbed his stomach in and effort to soothe its growling demand for food. He heaped spoonful after spoonful onto his place, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It all looked delectable and he was famished.
“Coffee or tea,” Magnie asked, her wand poised over an empty cup.
He took a seat next to hers. “Coffee, please,” he answered, placing a napkin in his lap.
She tapped the cup with the end of her wand. It began filling from the bottom up. As he watched, he questioned if Aldara had done such when he wasn’t looking.
“What are you looking for, dear?” Magnie asked.
“The cream and sugar.”
Magnie took a sip from her own cup. “you don’t need those things. The coffee was brewed to fit your individual taste.” The look on his face must have read of total skepticism. “Try it and see,” Magnie continued. “You won’t be disappointed.
With reluctance, Giles tasted the coffee. As Magnie had promised, the coffee had the perfect amount of cream and sugar. Giles took a long drink, savoring its flavor and warmth. He and Magnie sat in silence as he ate. Occasionally she smiled in his direction, while she drank her tea.
He half expected Ismarelda to join them. Ever vigilant, she continued to lay in the doorway. Her ears twitching at the various sounds throughout the house. Every
so often she would check the hallway, looking both directions.
“She’s probably watching for the ferrets,” Magnie said.
Giles nodded his agreement, even though he wasn’t convinced. The scraping and clanking of cutlery against china clattered against his ears. Holding out a piece of bacon, he called to Ismarelda. The dog, lifted her nose and sniffed the air, but held to her position. “She might be listening for Aldara,” he uttered. Magnie merely smiled at his statement.
The quiet of the room forced him into conversation. “So,” he began. “Aldara left for her interview.”
“Yes.”
He had hoped for a bit more information than that, so he tried again. “Seems a bit early.”
I’m told that’s not uncommon for things such as this.” Magnie smoothed down the hair behind her ear. “Giles, may I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“What are your feelings about Tempest and this interview?”
Giles paused his knife in mid-slice, flipping the handle over and over in his hand. He was unsure whether his answer called for diplomacy or honesty. “Why do you ask?”
Magnie gave a polite smile. “Some witches have the gift of discernment. I was wondering if that was one of yours.”
He took a bite of apple, and mulled over his answer. Placing his silverware next to his plate, he leaned back, giving Magnie his full attention. “I don’t trust her.”
Magnie seemed surprised by his answer. “Really? Why do you think that is?”
“I guess you could call it a gut feeling. The woman makes my stomach churn.”
Ismarelda growled and scrambled to her paws. She stood there barking for a moment, before taking off.
“Ferrets,” Magnie smirked.
On this he would have to disagree with Magnie. Ismarelda ran back into the dining room. Giles’s eardrums rang from the percussion of her bark. The little dog huffed and stomped her front paws, before leaving, only to return a few moments later, huffing all the more.
“Come her, Marelda,” he coaxed to no avail. In fact, he was pretty sure the dog gave him the same exasperated look Aldara often had. He looked to Magnie for guidance unsure of what to do. The moment their eyes met, he knew they were thinking the same thing. “Aldara,” they said in unison.
Giles sprang from his chair. “Okay, Marelda. Let’s go,” he said, taking off after the dog. It may have been rude for him to leave Magnie without excusing himself, but Aldara needed him, and that was more important than formality.
Keeping up with Ismarelda proved to be a bit more challenging than expected. The dog zipped along the corridors at a speed he hadn’t know she possessed. Giles made a mental note to take up running once he made it back home. From time to time, Ismarelda would stop, to bark at him before taking off again.
Making the final turn, he found both Ismarelda and Magnie waiting on him in front of the mirror he had fallen through the day before. He scratched his original mental note about running and replaced it with apportation. Placing his hands atop his head, Giles worked to replace the oxygen he used while running. “What’s going on?” he asked between breaths.
“I don’t know,” Magnie answered.
Giles’s movement toward the mirror was all the encouragement Ismarelda needed. The dog backed away as he approached, and with a wailing “Barooo” ran full force into the mirror, and disappeared.
Giles stared gape-mouthed at the mirror.
“I think you need to follow.” He felt the pressure of Magnie’s hand on his arm.
“What? I can’t do that,” he stammered.
“You have to.”
He racked his hands through his hair. “I’m not a witch. I mean, I am, but I don’t know how to do any of this stuff.”
“Just keep the image of Ismarelda and Aldara in your heart and mind. You’ll be fine.”
Giles wrapped his arms about his body. “How do you know Marelda is with her?”
“Ismarelda is her familiar. It’s her job to serve and protect Aldara. Please Giles,” she pleaded.
“You’re wasting time, boy.”
Giles jumped at the sound of Keene’s voice. “But…”
“Forget who or what you think you are. The girls need you. Now go.” Keene thrust his open hands toward Giles, letting fly a burst of energy so strong it pushed Giles into the mirror.
This was the second time he had been pushed through a portal, and he hated it. He had no point of reference and no idea of what to expect, but if the churning in his stomach was any indication, it couldn’t be good.
Giles landed on his hands and knees with a muffled thud. “That’s gonna leave a bruise.” He sat back on his heels, waiting for his mind to clear. Ismarelda stood in front of him. Although the wagging of her tail said she was happy to see him, the look on her face said, “it’s about damn time”.
The dog pawed his arm hard enough to leave a thin, red mark. “Dang it, Marelda. Give me a minute.” He was still dizzy from his tumble through the mirror, and found it difficult to focus. Ismarelda pawed harder this time, drawing blood. Her insistence made him realize, there was little time for him to do so. “Okay, pup.” His legs wobbled beneath him when he rose to his feet. “Take me to Aldara.”
20
Aldara’s foot twitched back and forth, causing a rhythmic squeaking of her chair. She was so ready to get this final interview over that she didn’t even question Tempest’s request to change the venue from the studio to a more historic location. Why Tempest had chosen the Almost Forgotten Tower was beyond her.
There were much older and more architectural buildings in Hexestadt than the Tower, but who was she to question a reporter with such outstanding credentials as Tempest Storm?
Aldara watched in the mirror as Xena put the finishing touches on her make-up. The stylist had been waiting on Aldara when she entered the tower. She led Aldara up the stone staircase to one of the empty rooms Xena had turned into a make-up/wardrobe room.
There was little conversation between them other than Xena giving commands to “look up” or “pucker your lips”. The quietness gave Aldara time to think. She had done a lot of that over the past couple of days. Despite her father and Delano’s efforts, the culprit behind the power syphoning leeches had yet to be discovered, and she could sense time was fast running out to save her.
The clicking of stilettoed heels alerted Aldara to Tempest’s approach. “There,” Xena said in her quirky squeak of a voice. “Just in time.”
Aldara studied her image in bright lights of the mirror. She hoped it was just glare from the un-frosted bulbs that made her look so gaunt.
“Wonderful, you’re here,” Tempest gushed as she entered the room. “I’m so excited to get to this last part of the interview. What about you?”
“I think….” Aldara was unable to finish her sentence since Xena all but pushed her from the chair.
“That’s wonderful, darling,” Tempest said. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Anger flashed behind Aldara’s eyes. She hated having her opinions be dismissed by anyone, witch or diamage. How anyone was rude and self-absorbed as Tempest ever became the darling of the witching news, was beyond her. Aldara decided walking away for a moment would be best. She needed to cool off and center herself before the interview. If not, there was no telling what might come out of her mouth, which meant there was no telling what could literally happen.
Taking a right out of the room, she wandered along the corridor. The abandoned rooms had very few windows in them, making the rooms and hallway of the second floor perpetually dim. The sound of muffled voices floated to her ears. She followed the sound to the last room at the end of the hall.
Peeking inside she saw the cameraman, Jacob, arguing with Tempest’s assistant, Euphenia. Not to be one to eavesdrop, Aldara tried her best to hear what the couple was saying, but they weren’t talking quite loud enough.
The pair glared at Aldara when she stepped in the room.
“Oh, don’t mind me,
” she said. “Please, go back to your conversation.”
Euphenia grabbed her oversized tote and shook it at Jacob. “This is wrong,” she over heard Euphenia hiss. “And I won’t be a part of it.” With a sharp “pop”, Euphenia disappeared.
Aldara cut her gaze to the ceiling pretending the peeling paint was a great work of art to be studied. She could hear the heels of Jacob’s boots thump across the floor and out the door. With a sigh, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Okay,” she said to herself, and wandered over to the make-shift set.
The set was a recreation of the one used in her first interview with Tempest. No detail was left out including a replica of her grandfather clock. Seeing elements of her home in such an odd situation placed Aldara on edge. The fine hair at the nape of her neck stood at attention. Without realizing what she was doing, she began to slowly back her way toward the door. She needed to get out of there and do it now.
Aldara squinted her eyes together, when she realized she had backed into the solid form of someone. She did her best to calm her breathing, but fear was steadily taking her to the point of hyperventilation.
Strong hands gripped her shoulders spinning her to face their owner. “Aldara?”
Aldara cried out in relief at the sight of Giles. “What are you doing here?”
“Ask Ismarelda. She brought me here.”
“Ismarelda?” she questioned. “Where is she?” Aldara looked to either side of Giles, but didn’t see the dog.
“She’s right…I don’t know.” Giles’s brow knitted together as he looked for Ismarelda. “She was right here.”
“Well, well,” Tempest sneered upon entering the room. “If it isn’t the faithful assistant. It’s so lovely of you to join us.”
Aldara placed herself between Giles and Tempest. “You know Tempest, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think I want to do this anymore.”
“Why not, darling? You’ve come this far. You need to finish it.”
“No. I’m good. Really.” She pushed back against Giles, trying to steer him away from Tempest.
