The Witch's Journey

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  As they stepped outside, Angelique turned and looked around. “Do you feel that?”

  “What?” Faolan asked.

  “Something unusual.”

  “You must permit me to take my sword,” Faolan said. “You can barely move in that gown much less do karate.”

  “We’re nearly ready,” Tristan called through the upstairs window.

  “I’m happy to have everyone attend with me, but do you really think I need five bodyguards?”

  “Let me get my sword,” Faolan pleaded.

  “Fine; five bodyguards it is,” Angelique said, placing her arm through his.

  “Don’t you all look grand?” Mrs. Boyle said. “You’re gorgeous, Sammy, the fairest in the land.”

  “Yikes! Another Snow White reference,” Angelique said.

  Glancing up at the attic, she thought she might see Wolf, but instead two faces appeared at the window. Their eyes glowed red. Her pendant burned.

  “Maybe your sword wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Angelique whispered, pointing upward.

  Faolan’s heart thudded. “What, by all that’s holy?”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing holy about them.”

  Danhoul, Tristan and Timothy joined them and Angelique gestured to the window and the glowing eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” Danhoul said.

  “We’ll stay behind, eradicate the beasties, then hustle over to the shindig for all the hullabaloo,” Tristan said.

  “You talk really weird sometimes, Tristan!” Angelique replied.

  “Yes! Tristan for the win. That’s all four transcendent witches who’ve said I talk oddly, peculiarly or weirdly. Woot woot!” He did the strangest dance.

  “You don’t just talk weird,” Angelique said.

  “Have to make things fun and laugh in the face of danger.”

  “You go ahead; we’ll catch up,” Danhoul said. “You look great, by the way.”

  “Thanks,” Angelique replied.

  “Danny-Boy’s the serious one of our dynamic duo, well terrific trio now with Timothy.”

  Faolan was happy Angelique seemed mostly unaffected. He felt about ready to jump out of his skin.

  “How do you kill demons?” Faolan asked.

  “Salt and sage slows them down,” Tristan said. “Tasers too. A charmed sword or one made of steel decapitates them. Fire kills them; sulfur burns them. Same with most baddies, except vampires—they do need it through the heart and werewolves…”

  “Are there vampires or werewolves here?” Faolan asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Tristan replied.

  “Please offer no more information than necessary.”

  “Okeydokey; understood.”

  Faolan opened the door for Angelique, and got in the car beside her with Newt on the other side. Newt smiled at Timothy before they drove away.

  *

  They walked in with people staring, phones and photographers’ cameras flashing. Faolan tried to appear unaffected with Angelique on his arm. It annoyed him how the men stared at her. Probably because he well knew what most of them were thinking. Angelique didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, just wore an ingenuine smile and walked in without delay. Newt waved to a few, clearly liking attention more.

  They were led in by a young woman who stared at him as intently as the men ogled Angelique. They were shown to what must be the table of honor. She squeezed his hand as they sat down, then smiled at him with a beautiful, genuine smile.

  The dinner was peculiar. Unlike feasts back in Faolan’s time with plentiful food, music and general rowdiness, they ate reservedly. Several small servings of unusual foods were brought to them over a long period of time. Then they listened to many people speak. Faolan was admittedly relieved seeing Tristan, Timothy and Danhoul by the door. Angelique asked the server to tell them to join them.

  A few women, one in particular, kept giving Faolan the eye. She made a bawdy suggestive gesture with her tongue. He hoped Angelique didn’t see. A server passed him her phone number on a napkin. Angelique saw that, but only rolled her eyes.

  “Nice eye candy, Angelique,” a woman in a gown revealing far too much cleavage for her mature age whispered when walking by.

  “Eye candy?” Faolan asked.

  “Someone nice to look at; sweet to the eyes.”

  “In a degrading way?”

  “Sometimes,” she admitted, her expression strained as though fearful he’d take offense. “We’ll leave soon, I promise. My feet hurt and I’m tired of acting like someone I’m not.”

  “Are you still in pain?”

  “Discomfort from a miscarriage can last a while.”

  “I’m sorry, my angel.”

  “I know.”

  “Now we’ll call upon Ms. Angelique Kavanaugh. Her and her family’s generous donations have made this new hospital wing and research center possible to honor the memory of Ms. Kavanaugh’s mother, Genevieve,” an important-looking man said.

  Angelique stood and Faolan touched her hand.

  “You’ll do well, Angel.”

  “Break a leg,” Newt said. “It means good luck,” he added to Faolan.

  She looked nervous. Faolan wished he could go stand by her, but that wasn’t his place. Maybe being in her life wasn’t his place.

  “My mother wasn’t one for extravagance or commotion,” Angelique began. “She was steadfast, always kind and caring. She thought the best of people even when they didn’t deserve it. Money didn’t change her; status didn’t change her. Even a disease that left her incredibly weak and vulnerable to infections didn’t change her. She still wore a smile, was bright and optimistic and she still loved me unconditionally.”

  She stopped for a bit, blinking back tears.

  “Genevieve Kavanaugh would be very pleased this fancy new hospital wing and research facility will help many people and hopefully save numerous lives. But Genny Kavan would be even happier…for saving lives ensures families can stay together and love one another, which is all she ever wanted.”

  Her demeanor changed. There was a hint of bitterness in her tone and then Faolan saw why. Her father was here. He went to stand with Angelique. She nodded, but Faolan could see her coolness.

  “I’m sure my father, James Kavanaugh, would like to say a few words before the ribbon’s cut to officially open the Genny Kavanaugh Center for AIDs and HIV treatment and research.”

  Her eyes went to Faolan like she’d rather be in his arms. By God that made him proud and he fought the feeling of unworthiness. He didn’t even hear what Jim said; he was simply focused on Angelique, her beauty and grace, her specialness that couldn’t be accurately described.

  “Hello, Faolan.” The voice made his skin prickle. “A little out of your element and your time.”

  He looked around trying to find her, but couldn’t spot her. Clodaugh had to be close enough for him to be able to hear.

  “Are you bedding the witch, out of curiosity? She’s not really your kind of woman. Is she diddling the unacceptable man to get her father’s attention? Not that I blame her. I know what it’s like to share your bed. I can testify to how deliciously gratifying that is. You didn’t understand, but you had a feeling that was me in the apothecary shop, didn’t you?”

  He looked around thinking he was going mad, for he couldn’t see her.

  “Am I perplexing you, Faolan? When you’re affiliated with those with dark magic, much is possible. Although my hex didn’t end her life, she looks pale and unwell. The smile doesn’t hide her sorrow. Was it yours? Or was it the Druid’s child?”

  There was no denying that made Faolan furious. He’d seen the attraction between Danhoul and Angelique. She’d told him they’d once gone for dinner and drinks, but was that all? He didn’t doubt the baby had been his, but had there been more between Danhoul and Angelique? Perhaps that night he walked her home? Why was he questioning this now? Because a malicious woman had planted that noxious seed in his mind? He didn’t feel well. He was too hot. He pull
ed at his tie, now too tight. He glanced at Angelique standing by her father. Faolan needed air.

  *

  Angelique wanted to be anywhere but here. Tired, weak and dizzy, she certainly didn’t want to deal with her father, too. She longed to sleep in Faolan’s arms, if her father would ever quit speaking. As a doctor he had to elaborate on the medical benefits of the hospital wing but he liked to hear himself talk.

  She glanced at their table but Faolan wasn’t there. She couldn’t see Danhoul, Tristan or Timothy either. Maybe there was more trouble or they’d all stepped out; this was boring. Newt looked drunk. Maybe he’d stay to talk with her father.

  “Time to cut the ribbon, honey,” Jim said taking her arm.

  He passed her the scissors. She cut the iconic ribbon, smiling politely, then stood with her father and the hospital administrator and the head of the research team. After numerous photos, she went back to the table wondering where Faolan was, for Tristan, Danhoul and Timothy had returned. She quickly drank a glass of wine. Her father joined them and she introduced him to the others.

  “So where’s this man of yours, Angelique?” Jim asked.

  “Faolan must have stepped out. It’s stuffy in here.”

  “Your speech was good,” Jim said.

  “You should’ve told me you’d be in town, Dad.”

  “I thought I’d surprise you.”

  “I’m not staying. After the auction starts, I’m going home.”

  “You look pale. You feeling okay?”

  “Just tired.”

  She was inexplicably relieved when Faolan returned.

  “You’ve met Faolan, Dad, well through a video chat.”

  “Good to meet you,” Faolan said, shaking his hand.

  Her father eyed him closely but rudely didn’t reply.

  Faolan took her hand. She held on, needing his strength. Her father always sapped her energy or maybe she absorbed his negativity.

  “Angelique, I’d like you to explain.” He gestured toward the painting Newt had done. She swore the nipple was even more prominent.

  “I didn’t pose nude for some magazine like lots of women do. You’d prefer me to be popular. That might gain attention if your daughter did that.”

  “The painting was all my doing, Jim,” Newt said. “Angie didn’t even okay it. I did it from a photo.”

  “It’s going to be auctioned; hopefully it’ll bring in money for another charitable cause,” Angelique said.

  Jim looked perturbed. “I had a call from a real estate agent. He says you’re selling the properties here.”

  “I don’t need them and…”

  “You’ll just give that money away, too,” Jim disapprovingly said.

  “Oh my God, Dad! You of all people should understand. Selling the properties would help a lot of people.”

  “And animals, let’s not forget the thousands of dollars you donate to animal shelters.”

  “I could be spending it on clothing and jewelry, fancy sports cars, drugs or plastic surgeries—maybe buy an island in Greece. Mom left the properties to me to do with them what I like.”

  “You’re just like her, always thinking of others.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Dad.”

  “If she’d been a bit more selfish, she might still be here.”

  Though attacked in her home, it was believed her mother had been targeted by someone from the homeless shelter where she’d helped out. That was never proven, but still, Jim was bitter and disapproved of Angelique’s charity work and donations.

  The table began to rock ever so slightly and the drinks vibrated. Angelique closed her eyes and inhaled. Faolan held her hand tighter and glared at Jim.

  “I’d prefer you not upset Angelique,” Faolan said.

  “I could tell her something about you that might upset her more,” Jim replied.

  “Leave Faolan out of this. What do you plan to do with your money, Dad? Gamble it away, spend it on your new wife—maybe your new mistress?” she quietly said. “Can’t keep much from a witch!”

  The voice of the man standing at the podium interrupted the conversation.

  “Ms. Kavanaugh has generously donated the first item for auction. This remarkable painting by the up-and-coming Bostonian artist Newton J. Granger. We’ll let the bidding begin, keeping in mind all monies will go toward the pediatric cardiology and oncology wings.”

  Angelique joined the man near the microphone.

  “Before the auction starts, I’d like to say a few words. Likely everyone here has the means to purchase this painting. I realize tickets to this event were expensive. I just want to say, don’t think misfortune can’t happen to you. Just because you presently have wealth or material assets, don’t presume that’ll always be the case. Life circumstances can change in an instant and it’s the people and experiences we have in life that truly enrich us.

  “Money affords you choices, but it can’t buy love, health or even safety. My mother refused to change when our family’s finances soared. She didn’t want expensive security systems or bodyguards. As my father has often pointed out, she paid the price when she was attacked. She suffered not only that night, but also months and years afterward, for it left her with AIDS, which eventually took her life. Yet my mother remained the kindest, most generous soul…and I should know. She adopted me, a fifteen-month-old child, and loved me as her own, unquestionably.

  “I’d also like to remind you outward appearances can be very deceiving.”

  She saw her father’s face tighten. He looked at her in warning, squirmed a little.

  “Fifteen years ago there was a family—mother, father, little daughter. The mother worked in a diner, the father on the docks. Their power was disconnected when the father was laid off. To pay rent, they went without food and spent that Christmas at a soup kitchen. Wearing her beloved purple witch’s hat their daughter caught the attention of an affluent man who’d brought his family to serve Christmas dinner as a reminder of how fortunate they were.

  “Because that little girl made many people smile who didn’t have a lot to smile about—or so the story goes—that very wealthy man paid for the family’s heat to come back on, lent the little girl’s father money to finish medical school and eventually even bought them a lovely little home in a nicer part of Boston.

  “Of course years later, that wealthy man disappointed the little girl very much when he disinherited his grandson because of his sexual orientation, but that’s another story. I’m just saying that simply because a person appears to have means, that doesn’t indicate it’s always been so or that it’ll remain that way forever.

  “My father encouraged me to wear jewelry and an expensive gown tonight to fit the persona of this absurdly wealthy woman, but inside, I’m still the little girl in the purple witch’s hat. And so…I’m donating more than this painting, painted by my very dear, talented friend Newton Granger. This hairpin with diamonds and emeralds,” she said as she unpinned her hair and let it fall midway down her back, “would probably feed a family for a couple of months. Let’s auction this for the children’s wings.”

  She passed it to the startled-looking master of ceremonies, who hastily gestured to one of the assistants to take it and put it on the auction table.

  “This necklace and earrings—I don’t know how much they’ll bring in, but I’m thinking a lot.” Angelique took them off and passed them to the two eager assistants. “And this gown—well it is studded in emeralds,” she said unzipping it and boldly stepping out of it.

  “Angelique!” her father reprimanded with a hiss. Faolan’s eyes were as wide as her fathers. Danhoul, Timothy and Tristan clearly waited to see what she’d do next, and Newt just grinned.

  She stood behind the podium in her green strapless bra and matching panties.

  “These costly shoes can be auctioned, too, but I warn you, they aren’t comfortable.” She took them off. “Just let me retrieve my ID and phone and you can have this exorbitantly expensive
handbag, too.”

  Faolan stood, walked toward her and she smiled.

  “Since you’ve seen this painting,” she said pointing to the large painting, “you’ve already seen pretty much everything.” She pretended to undo the bra. “But this lingerie really isn’t expensive, so I won’t bother.”

  Her father looked furious but relieved.

  “I’d like to encourage you to donate tonight not only to the children’s wings, but also for the Christmas hampers and soup kitchens because there are many families who’ve experienced misfortune this year.”

  She thought Faolan might react jealously, but he smiled proudly as he took off his suit coat and wrapped it around her, which brought a lot of hoots and cheering. He looked incredibly handsome in his white shirt. He questioned her with his eyes and she nodded. As he began to sensually unbutton and untuck his shirt, she saw the complete mortification on her father’s face and the delight on most everyone else’s. When Faolan passed his shirt to the young assistant to be auctioned, too, she looked like she’d faint. Angelique knew the children’s wings wouldn’t be long in happening.

  There were whoops and cheers like it was a strip club and not a fancy formal function, but Angelique shook her head as the women there, supposedly so refined, called out for Faolan to take off more.

  She spoke into the microphone. “Sorry, folks, he’s my man. I like to be generous, but I won’t share him.”

  Faolan took her hand and they walked out together, him shirtless, her barefoot and wrapped in his suitcoat. She smiled and he took her in his arms and kissed her so thoroughly, she felt dizzy.

  “I’m goin’ to marry you one day, Angel.”

  “I’d like that, Captain Mahoney,” she said, “but for now Joe’s waiting for us.”

  “Joe?” he said uncertainly.

  She pointed to the taxi. “Our friendly neighborhood cabbie. His first night back since his lung surgery.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lying with Faolan, her head resting on his chest, she inhaled his enticing scent.

  “By God, I want you,” he said.