“And what a lovely shawl, where did you get it?” Aeoife asked feeling the powerful pink shawl the baby was wrapped in.
“Owen had it sent, a present for the baby in case he didn’t make it back in time.”
The baby began to cry and Jennifer became flustered.
“There are certain things you can’t learn just by reading a book,” the older woman said to Jennifer and picked up the baby from her mother’s arms, “go clean yourself up for tea,” she ordered, “I’ll change the nappy.”
Baby Heather looked up from her pink wrappings at the old woman’s wrinkled face, she was still confused and couldn’t process all the information her new body was giving her.
“Don’t worry my child, you are safe here,” the old woman told her.
The baby smiled her first smile and fell asleep.
The next few weeks were a confusing array of new experiences
for
both mother and daughter, Mrs. Crow stayed with Jennifer for a whole month, but one day she said she had to go back to her cat and her garden and left.
Jennifer felt lonely and afraid, it took her less than a week of living alone with her baby in that large empty house to make the decision to go back to her mother’s house.
Her mother had come to visit
twice now, just for the weekend. S
he wasn’t at all angry,
and
she seemed to love Heather as much as Jennifer did.
She had also said to come home.
Once her decision was taken she phoned Mr. Johnson to let him know she was leaving the house, so he
could
find another housekeeper.
Mr. Johnson didn’t sound too pleased about her decision to leave the house and had insisted on her staying, offering Jennifer more money than she could ever have imagined, but her decision was taken.
If Owen returned she would reconsider, she told Mr. Johnson.
But until then she would go back to her mother’s house in
Ireland
.
As soon as she put the phone down she felt the dark old house closing in on her.
She had never realized how old the house was, how full of history, stories. Sometimes in the afternoon, while her baby slept she thought she could hear Owen walking in his study, but of course that was impossible.
Still, she would sometimes go and listen at the door, just to make sure.
Rio de Janeiro had never greeted Owen the way it had this time.
As the plane circled over the jungle a great racket thundered, making his ears ache. Owen thought it was the engines malfunctioning, but none of the other passengers seemed bothered by the noise so he looked out into the morning sky to try to identify what was making the terrible noise.
What he saw took him completely by surprise.
The forest was alight with life. I
t was a sea of multicolored splendor.
The city, the sky, the sunrise, looked dark and foreboding in comparison.
He closed his eyes, “it’s not real” he said to himself and opened them again, the lights were gone, and so was the sound.
The essence of life could usually be seen in the Astral, but due to the lack of ears and eyes the intensity could be regulated to an acceptable level.
Not so in
Rio
, it only took a moment of relaxation and there it was again.
The sound was a mishmash that could drive
the imagination into overdrive. I
t was like a thousand didgeridoos, a million birds, a chorus, waves crashing against the rocks, pipes of every description.
For a moment he thought he could hear the vegetation growing, talking, spinning, whistling.
He closed himself off, shutting away his new perceptions.
He had left
London
two months earlier.
He had gone to Santorcaz, but the loneliness had gotten the better of him, so he had decided to go back to
Rio
, it was the only house he had permanent staff in
.
If left to its own devices the house would simply be reabsorbed back to the jungle, even though there was hardly any jungle left near it.
As the taxi drove him to the house, which had once been well outside the city, he felt the hum coming from the hidden gardens around him.
His house was the only one not surrounded by a six-foot metal wall topped with razor wire.
He walked through the gate and touched one of the water lilies floating in a large pond that one of his previous gardeners had decided was the latest trend in gardening. As his fingers touched the soft petal, thousands of years of lillihood flowed through his body, making him shudder.
The Way of The Witch.
This was what witches did, he thought.
They toned into the essence of everything around them.
But how on earth did they keep their personalities integral? How did they keep sane? But more importantly, when had he started on the path of witches?
He had made a promise to pr
actice it if he passed the test and
Aeoife had told him he had passed it.
Was that all it needed?
To be told he passed the test and his life would open up
to the Way of the Witch?
He shouldn’t have tapped i
nto that energy flow in
Ireland
. I
t was probably what activated it.
Now what?
He asked no one in particular.
He half expected Aeoife to jump in with an answer, but she didn’t.
He
stood back
up and went into the house.
On the mante
l
piece he found an envelope addressed to him, he opened it and found a letter from Harry.
Owen Junior’s baby had been born, both well, very confused young lady and the important question, were there any illegitimate O’Neils named Sean running around the place?
Owen smiled.
He felt a pang in his heart.
“Master Owen, welcome home, if only you had told me of your arrival I would have had a welcome breakfast for you.”
It was Raul.
“Just a sandwich will do Raul, thank you.
How are things here? It’s so nice to see you again,” said Owen going up to Raul and giving him a hug.
The old man was taken aback with his employer’s warmth, but smiled and hugged him back.
When he first met Owen Junior a few months back Raul thought he had been brought up too much like his grandfather.
But some
thing had changed the young man. S
omething had made him more human.
“A sandwich then, I’ll be right back,” he answered and went off to the kitchen to make the nicest chicken sandwich he had ever made in his life.
Owen went to his room and lay down, sweat pouring down every inch of his body.
He would have a shower then he would have his breakfast, catch up on the latest news of the city, visit some of his old haunts, or maybe he would just lay in bed for a while.
The birds sang, millions of them sang, all ready to mate, or ready to fight, or ready to eat.
He thought maybe coming so near a jungle was not so clever after all.
Raul knocked and ent
ered his young master’s bedroom. T
he boy lay on the bed, fully dressed, his face pale and eyes glistening.
“Oh dear,” he said putting the sandwich and iced tea on the bedside table.
There was only one reason a young man ever behaved like that.
“A woman.”
“Sorry?”
“Oh, I was just thinking to myself that you have a bad case of love sickness.
I take it the young lady doesn’t return your affections?”
“I beg your pardon?” Said Owen, trying to look surprised, but he was tired and couldn’t pull it off.
“First you eat, then we make a visit to Tía Rosario, she will sort you out in no time.
Don’t worry, it’s not what you think, she is a healer, she’ll give you a tea that will put you right back to your old self again.”
“I don’t want to see anyone Raul, just leave me be.”
“Very well sir, bu
t I will call her none the less. S
he is old and wise on the matters of the heart.”
Twenty minutes later, having been forced to eat his sandwich, and having promised to see the healer, Owen was finally left alone to dwell on his loneliness.
He had to admit that he felt much better for the attention, but the feeling was quickly thwarted by his pride.
As he drifted to sleep he dreamed of being covered in mud, plants all around him, every plant told him its secrets, medicine, poison, invisibility, he was part of them, part of the essence of the jungle. But there was a shadow, an evil presence, and it was advancing, getting closer, killing, and destroying.
Owen shook himself awake, his heart thumping and
his body
covered in cold sweat.
The Shadow, he thought.
It was close.
He showered and went downstairs to find Raul.
“This healer, where is she?”
“A small town North of the city, an hour by car.”
“We leave as soon as you are ready.”
Five minutes out of the city the road disappeared to give way to a very bumpy dirt road.
Owen wished he had stayed in bed.
The town was run down and poor.
Small children played naked in the street among stray dogs and mud.
One of the old colonial houses was considerably less run down than the rest, Raul stopped in front of it, paid a young boy to keep an eye on the car and they
walked
into the house.
“No one would touch the car anyway, but the kid will be showing off his coin for days before he spends it.
They don’t have much use for money here.”
A large black woman came to greet them, she stared at Owen and gasped, she took a step back, then found her voice and stepped forward again, “Raul, welcome. This must be your master’s grandson Owen?”
“Mrs. Rosario?” Asked Owen before Raul could answer.
“No, that would be my grandmother.
She is expecting you, follow me please,” she said smiling up at him.
At any other time Owen would have been quite taken by her, but now he hardly noticed she existed.
He felt for the surrounding vibrations, there was no Shadow here.
“Evil can wear many masks young man.”
It was an old matriarch, she stared at him through her large dark eyes, her face wrinkled, her smile warm.
“You are not mage,” he answered, turning to leave.
“Arrogance is one of those masks.”
This stopped him in his tracks, arrogance
was indeed one of his failings;
thinking he knew more than anyone
else, which in turn made
him underestimate the enemy. He looked around. T
he house was well kept and beautiful.
“How is it that you live in such comfort while outside children play naked in the street?”
“Most people who visit me don’t have money to pay, they bring gifts, some repay with their skills.
What I need comes my way. T
hose who need me also come my way.”
Owen sa
t down and closed his eyes. It was hot and humid. There was also another vibration. It was golden and bright. It
was a rudimentary form of protective spell, very effective for a mortal.
“Who taught you this magic?” He asked the old woman.
“My people have had these wisdoms for many generations. I can see that you are one of the God Children, those among us who carry the power of the Gods.
But I also see that there is something troubling you.”
“Raul said you had some tea to cure it.”
“The love you feel is the least of your troubles.
The forces of the Devil always find out your weak point.
Fear, anger, greed, loneliness, misplaced compassion.
The Devil will find it and use it against you.
When he comes to you in the form of another human it is easy to combat, the difficulty lies not in others but in yourself.
Just like a virus can kill the strongest man, evil can destroy even the Gods when he enters their body and mind.”
“I feel the Shadow near,” said Owen as his awareness grew to encompass the entire region.
“Oh, that one
is not after you in particular. His goal is t
he
destruction of the entire world. H
is name is Greed.”
“Why do I feel like it is after me personally?
I have never been wrong before.”
The old wom
an got up and went to her altar. S
he kneeled before it and prayed.
Owen waited patiently, wondering what prayer had to do with all of this.
“My guides tell me you have changed your path, a new road opens before you.
A road that is not so much something you walk upon but what you are yourself.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It is difficult for my guides to communicate with words when there are no words to describe it.
They say, the Way of the Witch is not a road, it simply is.”
Owen frowned, he suspected the healer’s guide to be sitting comfortably in her kitchen in
Ireland
having a cup of tea with milk and honey.
But why would Aeoife go to all the trouble of bringing him here, why not just talk to him directly?
“What about the love thing?”
“It is not a curse, not a binding of any sort.
It is real and pure.
You have to let it flow, become one with it, become one with your loved one.”
“But she loves someone else.”
“Nonsense.
Besides, that is not important.
True love should flow, don’t think of what you can have in return or you will poison the love.
Just let it flow, less control is in order.”
As though reading his mind she got up and went to get one of her jars, she then opened an envelope and filled it with the herbs.
“Here, take it three times a day, Raul knows how to prepare it.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“The town needs a medical centre.”
Owen smiled.
On the way out the younger woman came toward him and handed him a flower, their hands touched for a split second, long enough for the woman to stop smiling, disappointment written all over her face.
Owen thanked her for the flower and said goodbye, not noticing her changed mood whatsoever.
Raul did and felt sad.
On the way back
to the house
Owen realized what the Shadow was doing, the rainforest was dying.
Evil wears many masks, the old woman had said.
Not all were as easy to recognize as this one.
Raul stopped the car and called him to follow him into the forest.
Only a few yards into the forest they saw a group of men, they were dressed in normal clothes, but their language was ancient, not a language Owen knew.
“What are they doing?” he whispered.
Raul hushed him and signaled to watch them.
They each drank from a bowl made of leaves and began to chant.
It was a deep-throated chant. I
t resonated on the earth and the trees around them.
Then he saw it, a light grew within each one, and then joined a
bove them, the light got bigger
then flew up and away.