I glanced sideways at Nan as she bustled around
the table sweeping the wilting leaves of plants into a small basket.
“Nan, can I ask you something?” I ventured
hesitantly.
“Sure, what is it Eliza?” She responded without
looking up from her task.
“You don’t seem to be all that involved in town.
Why is that?” I asked delicately. I didn’t want to offend her with my line of
questioning.
Nan shrugged and I noticed her eyebrows rise with
surprise, though she never stopped moving.
“Oh well, I suppose old prejudices die hard.” She
said softly without glancing up at me.
I stared at her busy form for a moment before
deciding to press the topic further. “What do you mean by prejudices? Do you
think people in town are prejudice against you?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound
rude.
Nan paused and sighed, dropping her gloved hands
to her sides. “No, it’s not that anyone in town, at least these days, would
have any reason to hold a prejudice against me. I’m ashamed to admit it but
it’s me who holds the prejudice.” She wrinkled her brow and tweaked her lips in
a manner that made her look apologetic.
“What do you have against the people around here?”
I asked surprised.
Nan’s expression hardened in response to my
question and she met my curious gaze head on. “Eliza, did it ever occur to you
why in this enlightened day and age witches are still underground? Magic the
stuff of fairytales and ghost stories?” She asked and waited with her hands
neatly folded at her middle for my response.
A prickling heat crept up my neck and fanned
across my cheeks. The answer to her question was, no, I hadn’t thought of that,
though it was such an obvious thing I was embarrassed to admit it.
Nan read my response on my flushed face. Her
expression softened and she pulled out a chair to sit, gesturing for me to do
the same.
“Eliza, has Ren told you about the history of our
family?” She asked calmly.
I slid into the seat opposite Nan at the table.
“He told me that your family has lived in Port Rune for a long time and that
his great-great grandfather built this house. I saw his portrait in the sitting
room. Ren looks a lot like him.” I said, recalling the large oil painting and
the luminous eyes of the man immortalized.
A tight smile spread across Nan’s face. “Yes, that’s
right. Our ancestors immigrated to Massachusetts from England oh around three
hundred and fifty years or so ago. They came as part of the British
colonization effort looking for more freedom but also believing they could use
their magic to help keep the settlers alive.” Nan shifted in her chair,
stretching her back and sucked in a breath before continuing. One of her hands
kneaded the other tenderly, probably working out an arthritic spasm.
“At that time, without science or medicine to help
explain natural events and physical ailment, people attributed most negative
forces to the presence of evil. My ancestors worked within their small
community for years as ordinary citizens. However, when an occasion rose where
they could exercise their talent to help heal a sick person or intervene with
the elements in order to save a crop, they stepped in for the good of the
community.” She explained, her face a palette of frustration.
“But a time came when people grew suspicious of
them despite the fact that they had reaped the benefit of their efforts for
years. You have heard of the Salem Witch Trials, haven’t you Eliza?” Nan asked
pointedly, her tone dire.
Taken aback, a shocked chirp escaped my mouth. “Of
course, I’ve heard of them. Were your ancestors killed during the trials?” I
asked without thinking, only realizing afterward how insensitive my question
sounded.
“No, no. I wouldn’t be here if they were
murdered.” Nan retorted. “My ancestors left town and went underground for a
number of years until everyone who’d known of my family had long forgotten the
association with witchcraft and the trials. It was at that time they settled in
Port Rune. Of course, they never openly used magic again. For safety, they
always cast an amnesia spell over the family residence to ensure that no one in
the community would pay attention to the goings on in their household. The
spell my family has always used is quite benign really, it’s attached to a home
rather than our bloodline.” She said with a sigh.
“Amnesia spell?” I asked with one eyebrow cocked.
Nan stretched her fingers wide and began to rub
each one individually in a distracted fashion as she continued.
“An amnesia spell prevents people in town from
remembering things associated with a house. So, for example, if they see
something strange around the spellbound house they’re not able to remember it
long enough to form an opinion or talk about it. Consequently, it tends to make
the home’s residents rather unmemorable too.” She explained with a mild shrug
of her shoulders.
I gazed around the room with a new appreciation.
“So this house still stands under an amnesia spell?” I asked.
“Yes, it does. I know it may seem pessimistic of
me that I’ve never removed it and given the good people of Port Rune the chance
to overcome hundreds of years of history…” Her voice trailed and she cast her
eyes about the room fretfully as if she was mentally wrestling with unpleasant
thoughts.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides
occasional bouts of loneliness, it really doesn’t bother me that people tend to
forget my name or details about conversations we’ve had. People are friendly
enough around here, it’s not like I walk around always feeling like a
stranger.” She said decidedly resigned.
Then something occurred to me and I shifted in my
seat feeling hot and uncomfortable at the thought. “As long as Ren lives here,
the amnesia spell could have the same effect on how people react to him, too,
right?” I asked.
Nan pursed her lips. “Well yes, it could, but he
hasn’t been here long enough for it to take effect, you see. I’ve lived here
all my life.” She responded dismissively.
“I’m immune from the spell, right? Because I’m a
witch?” I clarified.
“Yes, Eliza. You are immune as is any witch who
enters the area. The spell assumes there is no need to shield our behavior from
our own kind.” She conceded with a nod. “Now, when can you come back for your
next lesson?” She asked brightly forcibly changing topics.
“How about Thursday? I have a school project due
that day so I’ll be spending most of my time on that until then.” I offered.
A relieved smile lit Nan’s face. “Thursday it is
then.” She concluded, slapping her open palm on the tabletop for emphasis.
A subtle vibration sang through my system as I
detected Ren’s approach.
“Nan, one last question. If I read this book
alone,” I said gesturing toward
The Herbologist Field and Garden Guide
. “Is
there any chance I might find myself in mortal danger?” I asked anxiously.
“Absolutely not. It’s not that kind of book, just
black print on plain white pages.” She smiled sympathetically and patted my
forearm before pushing back her chair to stand.
“Hello!” Ren shouted cheerfully as he bounded
through the door of the greenhouse.
“Hello dear!” Nan responded warmly.
“Are you ready to go Eliza?” Ren asked crossing
the room.
“Almost.” I said before turning back to face Nan.
“So, on Thursday, can you show me your clean flame
trick?” I asked hopefully.
Her eyebrows lifted in amusement. “I’m surprised
Ren hasn’t already taught you. It’s one of his favorite party tricks.” She
exclaimed.
“No… but I will.” He said with a roll of his eyes.
“That’s an easy one.” He said flashing a grin at Nan before towing me through
the door.
17
The last remnants of the late
autumn sun vanished below the tree line leaving a clear dark sky pierced by a
crescent moon. Ren leaned against the passenger side door of his car waiting
for me.
“Would you like to give it a go tonight?” He asked
solicitously, his breath leaving frozen clouds in the air.
I met his mischievous gaze with a grin. “Do you
really need to ask?” I quipped nudging him aside and hopping into the passenger
seat.
Ren dashed around the front of the car and jumped
in beside me.
“It’s bloody cold tonight, where do you think we
could go where no one would see us? It’ll be too windy on the beach.” He
muttered, thinking aloud as he fumbled with the controls and cranked up the
heat in the car.
I sank back into my seat, wracking my brain before
settling on a spot.
“Just drive to my house, I know where we can go.”
I said.
* * *
My damp palms slipped on the cold metal rungs of
the ladder. I paused cautiously to calm my throbbing heart taking care not to
glance down.
“Almost there,” I whispered to myself, fighting
back fear.
“Are you alright up there Eliza?” Ren asked
anxiously from below.
“Uh, yeah, I’m just a little scared of heights.” I
responded shakily.
I blinked rapidly steadying myself before
scampering the last few rungs heavenward toward the door. With one hand
clasping the ladder, I freed the latch on the heavy metal door and shoved it
open. Cold air poured through the open door. I hungrily sucked in a breath
before climbing through the opening onto the roof.
Moonlight glittered on the shiny silver pipes that
curved and coiled along the flat industrial roof. I scanned the angular roofs
of the buildings and the scruffy bare limbs of the treetops across the street.
“Come on up!” I called down the chute, my words
echoing against the concrete walls.
The only response I heard from Ren was the sound
of his feet tapping against the metal rungs as he climbed up the ladder.
“No one can see us up here and at least it’s not
as cold as the beach.” I said with a shrug watching Ren scan the perimeter of
the building.
“Genius. Let’s get started.” He responded
satisfied.
He crossed the rooftop and settled next to a
cluster of piping that would shield the wind. I traipsed after him and sat
down. Ren cocked his head studying me for a moment, obviously contemplating how
to begin.
“Eliza have you ever plugged a lamp into an outlet
and noticed a spark shoot off the metal tongs?” He asked.
I nodded and tucked my hands into my lap for
warmth. “Sure.” I answered patiently, waiting for him to elaborate.
“That spark is a current of electricity, right?
And suppose you happened to be holding something like a piece of paper as you
encountered the spark, it’s likely the spark might jump to the paper and grow
into a flame.” He added as if he was feeling more confident in his analogy.
I frowned. “Yeah, I guess that could happen but
what does this have to do with conjuring a clean flame? The fact is I don’t
have an electrical outlet or paper, or matches for that matter. That’s the
point, right?” I asked.
Ren rolled his eyes impatiently. “Right. My point
is that, ordinarily, you must have some sort of catalyst to create a fire. When
we make a clean flame, rather, one originated from magical means, we also must
use a catalyst it’s just not one you might think of naturally.”
He chose his words carefully. “Your nerves
communicate with each other through bursts of electricity. When your brain
gives your hand an order, a current of electricity runs from nerve to nerve
through your arm carrying the command until it’s executed. So, just imagine…
you have a spark running through you too. To create a clean flame all you need
to do is set a spark free.” He added simply.
I sighed. “You make it sound easy. How on earth am
I supposed to set a spark free? And even if I can free the spark somehow,
what’s going to turn it into a flame?” I asked.
“Ah, that is where the magic comes in. If it’s a
spark from you, it doesn’t need tinder.” He said and a knowing smile spread
across his face.
Ren stretched and flexed his hands. “Here, why
don’t I walk you through it once and then you can give it a go.” He offered.
He laid his hands palm up on top of his thighs as
if he was entering a mediation pose. His eyelids closed and his face went
blank.
“I’m imagining the spark bouncing around the top
of my head. Now it’s dashing down my arm, leaping through synapse after synapse
toward my fingertips.” He said evenly.
His arm lifted from his side and his fingers
curled into each other.
“As it reaches my fingers, I command it to jump!”
He said sharply.
As he spoke his fingers snapped together and he
flipped his hand up as if to catch a falling ball.
I never noticed the flame on his fingertips but
there it was flickering madly in the palm of his hand.
Ren smiled triumphantly. “See? It’s easy! Now your
turn.” He said encouragingly.
I stared at the lively flame on his palm and felt
my eyebrows creep together in an expression of determination.
“Ok, sure, looks easy enough.” I said, wiggling to
sit up straight.
I folded and refolded my legs. My arms fidgeted
and flopped around as I struggled to find a comfortable position.
Ren laughed. “What are you doing? Just sit still
and focus, why don’t you?” He urged impatiently.
I pressed my crossed ankles together and my arms
to my sides. “Ok, ok. I’m ready.” I stammered.
I forced deep measured breaths until the cold air
stilled the nervous bubbles bobbing around my head. My hands stretched around
my knees and I flexed my fingers imagining the flame leaping from the tips. I
turned inward imagining the spark growing inside of me. My mind’s eye examined
the small dot of electricity and watched it glow in the caverns of my mind.