“Yes, but it is the exact smell. I smelled something similar at your shop, and it reminded me of my dream a little bit. But your house smells exactly like my dream,” she said.
His lips pouted into a thinking expression. “That is really interesting,” he said.
“And in the dream there’s an altar. A pentagram sitting in the middle of cups and statues and candles and smoke.” She was looking at him directly in the eyes now.
“That does sound pretty damn witchy,” he said.
“What do you know about it?” she asked. “About witchcraft?”
A small smile appeared in the corner of Jeremy’s mouth. His beard might have hid it from Emily but the sound of his voice gave it away that he wasn’t being completely honest. “I know a bit,” he said. “A lot of people in this country think witchcraft is all hocus pocus and Puritan scare tactics. But witchcraft has been around for as long as humans have been. Like I told you in the store the other day, every culture has some form of witchcraft, they just call it by different names.”
“What do you mean, exactly?” she asked.
“Well when I say witchcraft I guess I should clarify that I’m using that as a catchall term for magic. Real magic. Not pulling bunnies out of hats, but using your will to effect the energies that exist all around you. If you go to a Catholic Church you’ll see magic during mass. The symbolism and the process is all there. They just market it differently.”
Emily felt confused, but intrigued. “Okay, so what kind of magic is in my dream?” she asked, becoming impatient and eager to learn if he could help her at all.
“Well if you saw a pentagram on what sounds like an altar, I’d say that’s good old European witchcraft.”
They heard a door open upstairs and steps approach them from the hallway above. Claire came down the stairs in a robe with her hair tied up in a messy bun. Emily saw her for a brief moment as she walked around the foot of the staircase and down the hallway into the kitchen.
“That is my roommate, Claire,” Jeremy said. “Ignore her if she’s rude, she hasn’t had her coffee yet. Are you sure I can’t get you anything to drink?”
Emily’s mouth was dry, and she felt much more comfortable now that she saw he had a female roommate. “Um, sure, I’ll have some water. Thanks.”
Jeremy got up and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Emily attempted to process what he said, and it still didn’t make any sense to her. Even if witchcraft is real, why was it showing up in her dreams when she knew nothing about it?
“We have company, sleepy head,” Jeremy told Claire as he walked up behind her in the kitchen.
She jumped and almost spilled her coffee. “Oh my God don’t sneak up on me like that!” she yelled.
“What is with people today? I’m scaring everyone,” he said. “How did you not hear me? Every floor in this house creaks.”
“I guess I was zoning out,” she said. “Who’s here?”
“That woman from the bookstore that I told you guys about. She has a pretty interesting issue going on. You should come meet her,” he said.
“Coffee,” she said. “Then people.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbled as he walked back into the living room.
“Here you go.” Jeremy handed the water to Emily, and their fingers lightly touched. He felt a shock travel from his finger and up into his head as images began to flash in his mind like a strobe light. It was circle. It was their circle. He saw the outlines of Claire and Olivia and Allison and Tanner and himself. It was too fast to see their faces, but he knew it was them. He saw their altar and he heard their Sabbat script. Almost as quickly as it started, he tried to pull his hand away and he saw one last image of Claire and Emily together in bed. He pulled his hand away and almost dropped the glass. Emily caught it in time with her other hand and looked up at him with concern.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look… scared.”
“Yeah yeah. No I’m fine,” he replied, stumbling backwards and leaning against the chair. “I just got a little lightheaded I think.”
“Okay. Thank you for the water.” She took a sip. “So what can you tell me about European witchcraft?” She set the glass down on the side table.
“Ohh who’s talking about witchcraft without me!?” Claire said as she walked into the room. “Jeremy are you okay? You look pale.”
Emily heard Claire’s voice and her stomach leapt into her throat. She knew that voice. That voice had whispered in her ear.
“I’m fine, I just got lightheaded.” He shot Claire an I’ll tell you later look and gestured to Emily. “Emily, this is Claire. Claire, this is Emily.” He looked uncomfortable, like he was somewhere he wasn’t meant to be.
“Nice to meet you, Emily,” Claire said. She walked over and reached out to shake Emily’s hand. Emily stood up and slammed her hip into the side table knocking the glass of water over.
“Oh my God I’m so sorry!” She frantically tried to wipe the water off, and realized her hand was doing nothing.
“Don’t worry about it,” Claire said. “I’ll go grab a towel.” She left the room and Jeremy and Emily were alone again.
“I’m so sorry for making a fool of myself,” she told him. “I’m feeling extra clumsy today I guess.”
“It’s just water. No trouble, really,” he assured her.
Claire arrived with a towel and bent over to soak up the water from the rug. Her scent wafted towards Emily and she closed her eyes, breathing it in. She was brought back to her bed and her and Claire were in each other arms, sweaty and out of breath.
I need to get out of here , she thought. “Well um, it was really nice meeting you Claire. And Jeremy thank you so much for having me over to discuss this stuff, but I just remembered I have an appointment I need to get to.” She knocked her hand to her forehead and rolled her eyes. “I totally forgot. So I have to go.” She picked up her bag and started walking towards the door.
“We didn’t really get to finish talking,” Jeremy said after her. “Are you feeling like you got a handle on your dream?”
“Um, yeah. A little bit. I’ll call you and we can finish this conversation another time if that’s okay?”
“I hope you do. I really do want to help,” Jeremy said.
Emily smiled and nodded at him, making sure to avoid any eye contact with Claire. She made her way out the door as quickly as she could.
The door closed and Jeremy turned to Claire. “You aren’t going to believe what just happened.”
“What?” Claire said. “With her? What did I miss?”
“I think she’s a witch,” he said. He saw Claire’s expression change and before she finished rolling her eyes he said, “Just hear me out. She came over wanting help with this dream she’s having. She said she thought witchcraft was involved, and she didn’t know anything about it and had questions.”
“Why do you think she’s a witch? What do you mean her dream had witchcraft involved?” she asked. This was quite an assumption to make of what seemed to be a short interaction. At least for someone who didn’t know anything about witchcraft. Claire wanted answers.
“She said in these dreams that she was dancing naked with a group of people. There was an altar in the middle of them with a pentacle in it, and that’s what led her to the shop where we met.” He walked back into the living room and sat down. “But it gets much weirder than that,” he said.
“Okay?” Claire said. “I’m listening.”
“It was our circle in her dream. It was here.”
“How do you know that?” she asked. Only a small number of people had been in their circle. And that woman was definitely not one of those people.
“I touched her hand when I brought her the glass of water, and before I knew it flashes from her dreams shot into my head,” he said. “I couldn’t control it and I saw so many images so fast.” He was waving his hands around his head.
“But you didn’t mean to?” she asked. “Usually that takes qu
ite a bit of work.”
“No, Claire. It just flooded my brain.” He shifted position and was leaning forward now with his elbows on his knees and his hands in his beard. “And I don’t even feel drained.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“I think it means she’s a witch,” he repeated.
“We don’t need to jump to any conclusions. Plus, it still doesn’t explain how you know for sure that it was our circle,” she said.
“Well it was our altar. And I saw myself,” he said. “I saw my back and my tattoo.”
Claire shook her head. “I just don’t understand. How could that be? We've never met this woman.”
“I know,” he said, frustrated. “I don’t know. And I was thrown off guard, and then she freaked out and bailed. I need to find out why or how she’s having those dreams.” He sat thinking silently for a moment. “She doesn't know what’s going on, but she recognized the smell of our house. I’m not sure how much longer before she starts putting more pieces together.”
“So how should we handle it?” Claire asked.
“I think I need to talk to her more.”
“Should we tell the coven?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe we should wait until we have a little more to tell them,” he said.
“One of them might have some idea about how this could be happening,” she added.
“That’s true. I still think we hold off for now. I will give her a little space and then try to meet up and talk with her this week.”
They sat in the quiet room and each thought about what was to come. Wild and unbelievable things were not new to either of them, but usually they happened under their direct control. There weren't as used to the unexplainable happening to them without their knowledge of the source. They had been lucky that way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
EMILY CLOSED THE door and struggled to hold back the urge to run to her car. She felt like she was running away, but she didn’t want to look like she was. She sat in her car, staring at the dash.
“Oh. My. God,” she said out loud. Her heart was racing, and she looked down at her hands to see they were shaking. “It was her. It was actually her.” She held up her hands and watched them quiver. “What am I going to do?” She tried to decipher what she was feeling. Was it embarrassment, or lust? Maybe both. Her insides felt like they were on fire. When she met Claire, she had to stop herself from reaching out and touching her. From pressing her lips against hers and losing herself in Claire’s arms. Emily turned and looked back at the house. The sun had almost set, and the windows on the house glowed with amber light. The building appeared ominous in this light, looming over the street like a gargoyle. She felt like she had been in that house before. That smell was definitely the smell from her dream. It could just be the same incense so maybe that’s nothing. But that woman had to be the same woman. She knew that voice. And her hair and figure were the same as the woman from her dream.
“It was just a crazy coincidence, Emily,” she said. “It isn’t possible.” She rubbed her face and tried to snap herself out of it. Her hands were ice cold. She hadn’t noticed she was freezing. She turned on the ignition. A song blasted through the speakers and she winced and lowered the volume. She surfed through the channels, stopping on a news station, and started driving. Rain drops began tapping on the windshield, so she turned her windshield wipers on.
Her mind drifted to Claire. She was a pretty average build, and her long blonde hair was nothing out of the ordinary. Her face was beautiful, but she hadn’t been able to make out the details of her face in the dreams she had. It was her voice that she couldn’t get over. She could explain away her figure, and her hair, and it could just be a coincidence that Claire matched those characteristics. But her voice was the voice Emily heard. She could remember so vividly how the sound of that voice made her mind go blank and completely lose herself in the moment. It made her legs weak.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “She’s just some woman,” she told herself out loud. She thought about memories being sneaky and unreliable things. She was lacking sleep, and maybe her head was trying to connect this stranger to her dream. Latching onto the possibility that this person who provided her escape from the strange and smoky dreams could give her an escape in real life as well.
The rain picked up, pouring heavier and making it much harder to see the road ahead of her as she drove. Emily just wanted to be home. She hated driving in the rain at night. Her attention turned to the radio when she heard something about a local homicide.
“June Dawson, a fifty six year old business owner, was found dead in her home after she was reported missing. She suffered from damage to her skull and multiple stab wounds. Her home was attached to her small business near the 4000 block of Chicago Avenue South, and police believe that is how the killer gained access. Medical examiners estimate she was murdered six days ago. Her body was found by a concerned friend. The police are not naming any suspects at this time and they report that the investigation is ongoing.”
Emily had chills. Minneapolis was a big city, but it wasn’t the kind of place where people were left stabbed and murdered in their own homes. Not so close to Emily’s neighborhood. Shootings happened frequently, but they weren't usually unexplained murders. Lighting lit up the sky in front of her and thunder seemed to erupt immediately following. Emily crouched reflexively and turned the radio off. She was almost home and she hoped she was going to be able to find a parking space relatively close to her building. She had to drive around two blocks in a circle, but a spot opened up at the end of her street. She pulled in and turned her car off. The car was silent and the rain beat down on the roof of the car, getting louder as she sat there. The windows were blurred with rain and she couldn't see outside of the car. She thought about the woman who was murdered, and about how far she had to walk to her apartment.
“She wasn’t murdered on the street,” she said to herself. “She was murdered inside her home. So I should be fine walking to my building.” She knew the justification was completely ridiculous and she didn't even fully believe herself. She took a deep breath and opened her door. Running down the sidewalk all she could think about was how she should have zipped her coat and grabbed her umbrella on her way out the door earlier. She made it to her building and unlocked the security door. Her hair was soaked and it stuck to her face and neck. Inside the small lobby water poured off of her, creating a small puddle while she stopped to check her mail. She walked up the worn and oddly shaped limestone stairs the half level to her first floor apartment and unlocked the door. She turned around quickly, locking the deadbolt and the chain as fast as she could. Eli meowed and she jumped.
“Eli! You scared me you cute little jerk!” She leaned over and picked him up, but he wriggled out of her hands in an attempt to get away from her soaking wet clothes.
She peeled off her layers and threw them in her laundry hamper. She put on a set of flannel pajamas, and they felt warm and dry on her cold skin. Nervous and on edge, she peeked in her bedroom and hall closets, and then behind her shower curtain. She was used to living alone, but she still got scared from time to time. She needed something to keep her mind occupied. She turned on music in the living room and began cleaning the apartment. She hoped it would be a better distraction than a bottle of wine.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JEREMY PULLED UP to the cottage, and struggled to hold both his coffee and the box of donuts he was carrying as he unlocked the front door of the shop. He walked in and turned on the lights, placing the box of donuts on the lower desk behind the counter. It was 9:30 am, and two other staff members would be arriving between now and 10:00 am when the store opened. He turned music on the speaker system, and lit incense. He had worked at the shop for 6 years now, slowly taking over more and more responsibility as the owner of the shop had gotten older and wanted to focus more on his family. Jeremy, being a bachelor with no kids, was the perfect person for the job. Sheff, the owner, knew
about Jeremy’s coven and the amount of time it took up. But with how dedicated and knowledgeable a worker he was, he was willing to work around schedule issues as they came up from month to month. And as much time as Jeremy put into the coven, it was slightly less time than someone with a partner or a family. Sheff was getting less involved with the day to day tasks of running the business, and Jeremy enjoyed taking over when responsibilities were handed off to him. As time went on, he was beginning to take the initiative to shift things onto his plate himself.
In the back corner of the house, there was a room that served as the employee break room. He flicked the light switch and the light flickered on loudly. He scooped some coffee out of the bag of ground coffee, and poured it into the filter. He filled the machine with water and clicked the power switch. Nothing happened. He hit the machine with his hands twice, before pausing to see the red power light glow on and the machine began to brew.
“Piece of junk,” he whispered. He walked back to the front desk and the computer was booting up. The clock on the desk read 9:58 am. He turned the open sign on, and the red light illuminated the front window of the house. The dark foggy day made the light appear to glow brighter than usual.
Ryan walked in the front door. Jeremy was already stationed at the front counter and he looked up when he heard the bells jingle.
“Sorry I’m late, Jeremy,” he said. His hair was a mess and his jacket was falling off of his shoulders. The straps of his tote bag were twisted, and he struggled to detangle them and set his bag behind the counter. Jeremy noticed that the buttons on his shirt were buttoned one off, leaving his shirt hanging lower on one side with an extra button sticking out under his collar.
“It’s okay, man.” He gently patted Ryan on his back. “Coffee is hot in the break room.”
“Thank Gods,” Ryan said, and left the room without looking up at Jeremy.
He came back in holding a large ceramic mug that was covered in thick hand carved leaves. He stood at the counter opposite from Jeremy, who noticed his eyes were red and puffy.
When Witches Wake Page 6