The Memory Witch (19 page)

Mason nodded. “It’s just a theory,” he said and I could tell he wasn’t going to push it. He added, “But I don’t want you going to see him again. It’s dangerous and I don’t trust that your father won’t hurt you in some way.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but honestly I had no desire to return to the spiritual plane. Although I didn’t feel in my heart that my father had abused me, it didn’t mean he was a good guy either. He had deserted my mother and me in our time of need.

“You’re nice to let me vent like this. You must think I’m a complete shit show,” I said half-jokingly.

“No, everyone has crap in their lives,” he countered.

“Oh really? Even you?” I asked.

His blue eyes turned stony and I realized I touched a nerve. “Sure I do.”

“Like what? I poured out my heart to you. Shouldn’t you share something about yourself? I barely know anything about you,” I claimed.

Mason lifted up the blanket and climbed out of the bed. After stretching his arms above his head, he put on a pair of jeans that had been left on the floor. I watched him with a shocked expression. I whispered, “Are you seriously going to shut me out right now?”

His expression was resigned when he turned back to face me. “I don’t do this stuff.” He gestured back and forth between us. “I don’t share my past. It’s not something I want to revisit.”

“But I just told you everything about me.” Even the most humiliating parts, I added silently.

“Maybe you were right about what you said on Christmas. We’re too different and it’s probably best if we kept a distance,” he stated flatly. His expression was at odds with what he was saying. He looked pained to say the words. I felt like I had whiplash from how quickly his mood had changed. “I can’t give you the relationship stuff where I share my
feelings
,” he said with disdain,
“and you can’t give me what you want.” He looked over my body meaningfully.

“Go to hell, Mason,” I seethed and jumped out of bed. I felt wobbly for a second, but pushed through it. There was no way in hell I was going to stay another moment in his presence. “If this is your pathetic attempt at pushing me away because you don’t want to talk about your past, I feel very sorry for you.”

My words seemed to rankle him. “I don’t need your pity.”

I shook my head at him with disgust and left without another word. I had to wonder how the mere mention of his past made the connection we had developed completely dissolved.

Mason and I went back to our avoidance dance. His aunt had given him a list of things to fix inside the house. This meant I had to constantly dart out of rooms to steer clear of him. I had so much to be grateful to him for and yet he had tainted it by putting up impenetrable walls. I had trusted him with my entire sordid history and he couldn’t reciprocate. It hurt more than I was willing to admit.

The nightmares worsened after the visit with my father. I would see things in my head that I couldn’t be sure were real or not. In my nightmares, I would see him take a handgun out of the safe and put it in his mouth. He did not hesitate as he pulled the trigger. The scene after was the most gruesome—my father’s crumpled form on the bathroom floor, blood soaking the floor tiles. Then, there would be screaming. In the end, I realized it was my screaming as I came out of the dream.

After a week of nightmares, Stella entered my bedroom one morning. Mason had picked her up the day after the snowstorm. She had believed our concocted story about food poisoning and didn’t press the issue. I was thankful. I didn’t need another conflict to add to my growing list.

She handed me a coffee cup. Steam billowed out of the top as I took a whiff of the contents. It definitely was one of Stella’s witchy concoctions. “You expect me to just drink this? What is it?”

“I’ve heard you screaming all week and figured you could use something to help you sleep. Nightmares?” Stella sat on the side of the bed and looked over at me. If I didn’t know the old witch better, I would swear there was concern in her expression.

“Yes…about my father,” I admitted.

Stella nodded in understanding. “Drink this. It will stop the dreams.”

I gave a hesitant smile and lifted the beverage to my lips. “What’s in it?”

“Some thyme, bay leaf, and sage. It should have a mild taste,” she replied.

The tea went down easily. I was desperate to rid my nights of the bad dreams. They were leaving me exhausted each morning. I needed to concentrate on getting through my training and finding out the truth before I left Chadwick House.

“Your mother called last night. She said you didn’t call her on Sunday and when she tried to call your cell phone, it was turned off.” Stella’s gray eyes watched my face. It was an effort to keep my expression neutral.

I used the avoidance technique with my mother as well. I had all intentions of confronting her and demanding answers. Why didn’t she share the true circumstances surrounding my father’s death? However, when the time came, I chickened out. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her over the phone that I met my dead father on a spiritual plane and he revealed his suicide. I didn’t want to hurt her by bombarding her with the truth. I also worried she would call Stella and tell her of my extracurricular activities.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I asserted. Stella may control some aspects of my life, but part of the bargain didn’t involve me having to confide in her.

She didn’t reply for a long time. “I’m not your enemy, you know.”

I laughed mirthlessly. “Well, you’re not exactly my friend either. I’m here to learn your spells and then I’m out of here in a year. You do realize that your legacy will be lost with me.”

I had been trying to get a rise out of her. Instead, her look was full of sadness. “Your fate is to continue practicing after I die.”

Her tone was certain. With an irritated sigh, I slammed down the teacup on my nightstand. “The deal was
one year
. Yes, magic is fascinating,” I acknowledged, “but I also don’t need to be in service to people’s wants and desires for the rest of my life. I see what magic can do to people. Sometimes it can bring temporary happiness, but most of the time it only brings misery.”

“That’s how you feel?”

“Of course because it’s the truth. Think about it. Even if we cast a love spell, do you think that’s going to make the person permanently happy?” I asked rhetorically before answering, “No. Because the entire time they’re together, the person will know the truth. Her lover is only with her because of magic.”

“We’re witches, Quinn. Once the client leaves here, we stop caring. Everyone has free will and it’s their choice to ask for our help.” Although Stella’s expression was cool, I saw her hands wringing her blouse.

“But where do we draw the line? Do you refuse clients who wish to hurt another person? Because many of these spells could ruin lives,” I countered.

“I never do a spell to kill someone,” she said steadily. “There are rules for our craft. I haven’t talked to you about it, but there are witches that govern us. Keep an eye on our activities to make sure we don’t step out of line.”

“And if we do?”

“They kill you,” she said shortly.

“What else aren’t we allowed to do?”

“Anything that goes against the laws of nature. Murder, rape, incest, and torture are a few examples,” she said casually as if she was speaking of the weather. Stella stood up. “What I’m offering you isn’t a bad life. I’m very wealthy from my years practicing and you have the abilities to be just as successful.”

“I don’t want to be a witch. I just want to know the truth,” I gritted out between clenched teeth.

Stella leaned over and grabbed my hand. It was a rare sign of affection and I was shocked by it. “Is it that important to you? Don’t you realize how much pain it will bring you?”

“I rather have the pain than the not knowing,” I insisted. “I run these scenarios in my head and I sometimes suspect that these ideas are much worse than the truth.” Her mothering was my gateway to convince her to return my memories. “Please, give me the choice to know the truth. I’m strong enough to handle it, you know I am…”

Stella patted my hand and left me without a reply. I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands until I drew blood. I was resolute. I didn’t anyone to help me to uncover the lies that have been spoon fed to me. I was sick of being underestimated and I would prove everyone wrong. I wasn’t a weak little girl who needed to be coddled. I was a smart and resourceful. Before long, I would take back control of my life.

***

February came and I began to grow despondent. I had less than five months left at the Chadwick House to retrieve my memories. As time passed, my opportunities to unearth the spell were slipping away. I wished Mason had remained my ally—it would’ve helped to have him aid in my search.

Many of the clients we were helping started to irritate the hell out of me. I had no qualms offering my help to those who were sick and in pain. Many of the other complaints came across as whiny and superficial. One woman traded her dead mother’s journals in exchange for a charm that would make her appear ten years younger. Another client signed over his 401K in order to get an attraction spell for a neighbor he had been lusting over.

This was not going to be my future.

I sat in her office waiting for her to bring in our latest client. I had spent the morning trying to mix together several ingredients to make my own potion to recovery my lost memories while Stella met with a client. I hadn’t been successful yet, but if I kept trying, I hoped I would find the right mixture on my own.

My attention was diverted as Stella entered with a middle-aged woman with soft brown hair and arresting emerald eyes. This woman’s eyes reminded me of my own mother. Since the discovery of her deception, I had limited contact with her. I talked to her on Sundays, but kept the conversations short, claiming I was too busy to talk for long. I heard the hurt in her voice and it tore at me. Yet, it was hard to have a real conversation when I knew we were both lying to each other.

I was slouched in the chair and trying to not let my dark mood get the better of me. I felt alone and unhappy. Stella had told me more than once to snap out of it, but it was hard when I felt like I was stumbling through the year with no clear destination in my mind.

The woman gave us both a tight smile and sat down. She introduced herself as Marie. She had a grace about her that screamed good breeding and money. Her three-piece suit and stiletto heels were designer and costly. I was curious about what she wanted that money could not buy her.

“What is it you would like us to do for you?” Stella asked after the woman was done gawking at us. We were quite the sight to the outsider.

“It’s not for me…it’s about my daughter Celia. She’s ten and I have my concerns about her.” I sat up straighter in my chair and leaned forward, curious to hear this woman’s request.

Her lips pursued. “I thought with time she would come into her own, but she’s failing in every way. I want a smart and beautiful daughter who will be successful like her parents. Instead, she’s twenty pounds overweight, a C student, and does not excel at any of the extracurricular activities I’ve paid good money to put her in.

“I want you to do a spell that gives me the daughter I deserve. Make Celia a lovely and talented girl.”

Before she could continue, I shot out of my seat in rage. “You despicable human being!” The woman cowered back as I glared at her. “How dare you try and change your daughter? Just because she’s doesn’t fit in your perfect little mold!”

“Quinn!” Stella snapped and grabbed my forearm. “Remove yourself this instance. I’ll deal with you later.”

I spun on her and growled, “I’m sick of you trying to change me too. I’m fine just as I am.” I grabbed the headdress and flung it across the room. It grazed by Marie and broke into small pieces as it landed roughly against the wall. The only sound in the room was the crystals rolling across the wooden flooring.

Spinning on my heel, I ran out of the room. I crumpled up my cape and tossed it on the floor as I motored through the hallways. Stomping up the stairs, I made my way to the bathroom to splash water on my face and try to ease my rage. I skidded to a stop as I came upon Mason on the floor under the sink. He rose up onto his elbows at my noisy entrance and held a wrench in his hands.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped.

His voice remained cool. “Stella said the sink was draining slowly. I was fixing it,” he explained and added, “I thought you were working.”

“Well, I’m not, so why don’t you leave? Come back and finish it later,” I commanded.

He stood up. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Just go. You’re Stella’s lap dog, so why not be mine? You know if I wanted to, I could make you do whatever I wanted,” I threatened.

Mason towered over me. “I’m nobody’s lap dog and I’m not afraid of a bratty witch.”

I wanted to hit him. I knew it was illogical to be this angry with Mason, but he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. All of the rejected feelings that I had hidden since the early morning at his cottage were rearing their ugly head.

I pushed him hard against his chest. The wrench clamored to the floor as he fell back. His hand encircled my wrists and he pulled me to his body. I tried to scramble out of his hold as his hands moved around my waist and lifted me up.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

As he carried me to my room, I scratched and punched at him. I was completely irrational. I wanted to inflict as much pain as possible on him. He shut the door behind him with his heel and dropped me onto my bed. “You need to calm down. You’re acting batshit crazy,” he said in a low and dangerous voice. He placed his hands on the outside of my thighs and moved within inches of my face. “Get your crap together or…”

I didn’t let him finish. With my adrenaline still pumping, I forcibly grabbed him by the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He didn’t hesitate by the switch in mood and kissed me back just as hungrily.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him onto the bed with me. His kisses grew more explosive as he pressed against me. My mouth felt naked and exposed when he moved his away. He nibbled on my ear before running his tongue slowly down my neck.

“God, I hate you,” I breathed.