The Memory Witch (12 page)

I gasped and was surprised by the display. It was the first magic I had seen up close in weeks. As days passed, I had talked myself out of truly believing that Stella was capable of manipulating the world around her. It was unsettling to witness further proof of her supernatural abilities. Her voice broke into my thoughts. “Quinn, you may turn the lights back on.”

“Wow, that was…” I was lost over what adjective to use. Scary? Amazing? Unbelievable?

She saved me from my loss of words. “While I closed my eyes, I pictured the growth of the child coming from the acorn. I could see him growing, his limbs protruding first followed by the rest of his body. I visualized a strong heart beating in time with his mother’s.” Stella walked over to where I stood and grasped my hand in hers. I sent her a questioning look. “It’s not the words that matter the most in a spell. They are merely a way to help you get into a state of mind where you’re able to tap into the magic. It is what’s inside of you that will make it work.” Gently, she moved my hand until it rested over my heart. “You must believe in the magic in order to give it the power it needs.”

Her penetrating gaze told me that she already suspected what I knew. My belief in myself would be the major barrier in performing any of the spells she taught. My tendency to overanalyze things would have to be diminished. “I’ll do my best,” I promised. I didn’t want to fail. Being a witch may not be in my future, but I had enlisted in her service for a year. For twelve months, I would do what she asked and try to harness the abilities that were seemingly dormant inside of me.

I groaned as I came back from the bathroom and fell back into my bed. My entire body was exhausted, but my brain would not shut up. As much as I loathed admitting it, Tanner was not so easily forgotten. I had so many questions and it was killing me to not demand answers from him.

I looked at our relationship through a microscope and began to question everything. Did I miss longing glances between him and Amber? When had they started sleeping together? Was it before I left for Chadwick House?

Amber’s betrayal was almost worse than Tanner’s. We had been best friends since freshman year and she had been the champion for my relationship with Tanner. When she got together with Mark, she was ecstatic. She explained how amazing it would be that we were dating two best friends. Her frequent questions about my sex life with Tanner now made me squirm. Were they asked because she had a personal investment in my answers? Every detail I had given her now made me wish back my confessions. Had she used my virginity as means to seduce Tanner?

A car door slammed outside my window. I drew back the curtains and crouched down low to peer out. It would be embarrassing if Mason caught me spying on him. Looking at the clock, I saw it was just after two in the morning. Mason must be just returning home from a night out. I was still unsure of his age, but I inferred that he was likely at least old enough to go to a bar.

His exterior lights were on which gave me a good view of him as he walked across the front of the truck. “What the hell?” I voiced aloud as he walked over to the passenger door and opened it. A petite brunette slid out of the truck and into his waiting arms. The witching hour made it hard to see what her features looked like, but I could see that she had an amazing body. Curves in all of the right places and toned everywhere else. Her black dress fit snugly, highlighting her perfect form. The light from the moon seemed to glisten off of her shiny mahogany hair and her soft curls reached past her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Stella barked from behind me. The woman had a knack for startling me and I jumped at her voice. I looked towards the doorway and realized I must have forgotten to close my bedroom door when I returned from the bathroom.

“Nothing,” I lied.

She tsked in response and turned the light onto my room. I cringed and hoped Mason was already indoors and had not noticed the light coming on in my room. Stella glided over to the window and peeked outside. Her guffaw indicated that I was wrong and the couple was still making their way into Mason’s cottage. She pulled me to my feet and I forced myself to look through the window. Mason was ushering the unknown girl into his house. Her back was turned, but I saw him stare in the direction of my window. After a long second, he heralded his guest inside.

“Great, now your nephew is going to think I’m stalking him,” I complained.

“Weren’t you?” Stella laughed. She pursued her lips and stated, “The funny thing about Mason is that I’ve seen plenty of girls making the walk into his house. But it seems as though the same one never makes that trip twice.”

So, Mason was a player, I thought. I wasn’t overly surprised by this information. He was devastatingly handsome with a body perfected through daily labor on the estate. I was sure that anytime he went out for the night, he had girls throwing themselves at him left and right. Hell, I’ve had a few fantasies of my own about him.

Stella was studying me, so I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me what your nephew does.”

Stella laughed heartily as if I was saying the funniest thing she had ever heard. “I’ll pretend I believe that,” she said before adding, “Believe me, I’m only looking out for you when I warn you…don’t fall for Mason.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could give them forethought. “Why? What’s wrong with your nephew?”

Stella looked out of the window sadly and I wished myself a mind reader at that moment. “He’s not a bad person, but he’s…damaged. You’ll end up getting hurt if you get too close to him.”

Before I could question her further, she marched out of my room. I closed the shades and turned off my light. More sleeplessness was destined for me. Yet, this time, Mason’s blue eyes would be sure to haunt me in place of Tanner’s brown ones.

***

I could hear my father’s voice in the distance. He was calling to me, begging for me to return home. I turned around, but I couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from. I attempted to call to him, but my voice only came out in a soft whisper. The harder I tried to yell to him, the lower the pitch of my voice sounded.

Distressed, I walked deeper and deeper into the familiar woods of my nightmares.

I came to a stop in front of a boarded up house at the edge of the forest. Ivy coated the siding and overgrown shrubs and weeds surrounded the long abandoned colonial-style house. The interior of the house was consumed by darkness and warning bells were ringing in my head, warning me to turn around and forget I’ve ever come to this place. Yet, my father’s voice was still beckoning and I was horrified over the thought that he was leading me to this house of horrors. Heading up to the front door, I pulled on the brass knob. It wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, I banged my fist against the ancient oak to no avail.

I rounded to the side of the house and noticed a storm door. My limbs felt heavy as I meandered over to the door. My heart was leaden with fear as I gripped the handles and hoisted the door open.

I clutched my throat as a silent scream slipped out of my mouth. A hand shot out of the darkness and yanked me into the pitch-black nothingness of the basement. I tried to pull back, but the hands were rough and insistent. The sensation of falling overtook me as I was released from the hold. Comprehension dawned as I waited for impact. I had been lured here and now I belonged to the darkness.

***

“I was up thinking last night,” Stella explained the next morning, “and I believe you may be ready to try a few simple spells. This will help foster your belief in the magic that lives inside of you.”

Despite my fatigue from my nightmare, I almost wanted to do a happy dance in the middle of the room. Almost two months of reading about witchcraft had my fingers itching to try a spell. Spellcasting was something I was equally awed by and afraid of. Stella was powerful enough to wipe away the first eight years of my life from my brain. What would my capabilities be like after months of training under her?

“That would be great,” I enthused.

Stella frowned at me. “Magic isn’t for your own personal gain. You must remember any spells you cast for your own benefit work the same way as spells for others. You must pay your debt.”

“Yes, I got it, boss,” I cracked. Stella made an irritated sound in her throat and walked to the far end of the worktable.

She handed me a tincture. “This is the healing ointment I had you put together last week.”

“Who am I using it on? Are you meeting with someone today?”

Instead of replying, Stella grabbed a paring knife off of the table. Alarmed, I watched as she sliced a gash across her hand. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

The blood poured at a steady pace from her hand. I gasped in horror as she held out her hand and the blood dripped onto the floor. The cut was deep enough that she would probably require several stitches. A scar was more than likely to appear even after healing.

Stella barked, “Stop standing there like a complete moron and
do something
. Is this what you would do if someone is bleeding in front of you and you have the power to heal them with the touch of your hands?”

“A complete moron? I should let you bleed a little longer, you old witch,” I snapped. Stella laughed and I shook my head at her. As my eyes caught sight of the steady rate her hand was bleeding, I blanched.

“I left the spell out for you,” she said and tilted her chin towards one of her spell books. I took a deep breath and read the directions as speedily as possible.

I grabbed the tincture and moved to place some of the herbal concoction on her wound. Stella held up her uninjured hand to stop me. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh crap, what do I do for the offering? God, couldn’t you have warned me before you sliced half of your hand off?”

“What would be the fun in that?” Stella asked dryly. “I left a love letter in the spell book from a paramour I had years ago. I want you to destroy it as part of the offering to heal me.”

“Fine,” I mumbled and tried to divert my attention from her bloody limb. I felt silly and awkward as I held the letter in my hands and whispered, “I present this letter in exchange to heal Stella.” It sickened me to tear the brittle paper into thin strips. I could visualize this young man in love and pouring out his heart to a younger and lovelier Stella. The witch was an old battleaxe now, but maybe the years of casting had taken its toll on her. Perhaps, in her youth, she had been capable of love and affection. To teach me, she was giving up a precious memento. I shoved the remnants of the letter into the pockets of my khaki shorts.

I poured five drops of the healing mixture into my hands and rubbed them together. I tried to quell my queasiness as I massaged her injured hand with the potion. I read the words of the spell, “Stem the blood that flows through this wound. Seal the wound and bring forth skin anew. Since I command it, it shall be.”

I felt the urge to cry as I saw the blood still flowing over our conjoined hands. “Don’t look at the blood. Instead, see in your mind that the skin is healed and as good as new. Believe in the words as you say it.” Stella’s intense stare kept me from throwing in the towel and telling her that I was right all along. I didn’t come from a line of witches. I was just a normal girl who was supposed to be studying elementary education at Lehigh.

I closed my eyes and brought up a visual of her hand in my head. The blood was drying up and crusting over. The cut closed and the skin sutured itself together. The hand was now perfect with no semblance that a cut had been there earlier.

“Stem the blood that flows through this wound. Seal the wound and bring forth skin anew. Since I command it, it shall be.”

An electric feeling raced through my body. I felt feverish and dizzy as the heat swelled through my limbs and seemed to exit out through my hands. The sensation only lasted a few seconds and I was left with feelings of emptiness and loss. For several minutes after the warmth vanished, I kept my eyes closed and still concentrated on healing her hand.

“Quinn, look,” Stella said softly.

I dared a peek and felt lightheaded. I let go of Stella’s hand and felt the sticky remnants of blood on my palms. Picking up a hand towel from a shelf, Stella wiped at the blood that had spilled out of her hand. After using the towel to sop up the blood, she held out her hand for my inspection. I gawked at the blemish free skin laid out before me. If I hadn’t seen her stab her hand with my own eyes, I would’ve never believed it had happen.

“I did that…” I breathed.

“Yes, my dear,” Stella said while squeezing my shoulders, “you did that.”