by Trinity Crow
I found a plastic bowl under the sink and filled it with water. Corky lapped it up enthusiastically. I watched those dripping jowls with apprehension. One of my foster homes had had a Great Dane. You didn’t want to stand next to that after they'd guzzled a bowl of water. But Corky just licked his mouth neatly with the world’s longest tongue and then looked up at me expectantly.
“Right,” I muttered, “breakfast.”
I staggered over to the fridge and leaned exhausted against the counter. Sayre stood up and dragged a chair over.
“Sit,” she ordered.
I should have been upset at someone else in my kitchen, telling me what to do, but I sat down in relief.
Sayre opened the cabinet and snagged a can. “Corned beef hash, pup?” she asked.
Cork panted his interest in her offering.
“Can opener?”
I pointed and she pulled the drawer open.
“Aha!” She opened the can and dumped it on a tray she snagged from under the counter. Corky sat politely until she nudged it with her foot and said, “Here, dog.”
He looked at me and I nodded, then he bounced over and began chewing with relish.
“First meal in how many years, I wonder?” Sayre murmured in awe.
I nodded, swaying a little. I felt like I hadn’t eaten in years either. Sayre looked at me and pulled open the fridge.
“I feel like crap,” she said, “but you look like crap times ten.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. I wished she'd go away so I could lay down on the floor and sleep.
“Hey, all this supernatural woo hoo takes it out of you. You’re supposed to eat up before you start casting the entire spirit world.” Sayre tossed over her shoulder as she pulled out ham, cheese, and butter. “Bread?” she asked.
I pointed to the cupboard. Sayre pulled out a loaf of Mrs. D’s challah bread.
"Mmmm, egg bread, right?"
“Right.” I smiled. Most of our customers asked for egg bread, not wanting to risk mispronouncing the Jewish name. No matter which name you called it by, Mrs. D’s bread was a revelation. I watched her putter around, slicing and buttering bread. After a bit, it was too much trouble to keep upright on the hard kitchen chair and I slid boneless to the floor to join Corky. He made an excellent pillow.
Fifteen minutes later, Sayre had produced grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and a staggering amount of dirty dishes. She thumped on the floor next to me with her own plate of sandwich and chips and slid the carton of orange juice between us. For a while, there was only chewing and loud gulps of icy juice. Funny that it didn’t bother me to drink out the same container, usually it was definitely a not happening.
"Oh." Sayre paused in her chewing and went out to the porch. "This was left for you by that old lady." She spilled a handful of crystals on the table and then blinked as she caught my glare. “Mrs. Evans.”
“Evers,” I said, but not as mean as I would have before the food. “Mrs. Evers.”
“Evers!?” The word exited her mouth as a high pitched yelp and her face goggled at me unpleasantly.
"Dammit!" I snapped, “What is wrong with you? Can you ever just have one emotion?”
Sayre burst out laughing. She ripped off a huge mouthful of sandwich and poked a few chips in around the edges.
“Warda wunce,” she told me earnestly, chewing and talking at the same time.
I just eyeballed her steadily until she chewed and swallowed. Being Sayre, my evil eye did not put a dent in her.
“Okay!” she said mock repentant, once she swallowed. “You seem back to your cranky pants self. No more hugs for Auntie Sayre?”
My patience fled rapidly and I made a move to get up, forcing a protesting grunt from the sleeping dog beneath me.
“Okay, okay.” She flapped her hands at me to sit back down.
“First,” Sayre said, “for the crunch. The mouthful is so much better with a few chips to crunch.” She frowned at my unimpressed face. “Shut up and try it.”
"Mrs. Evers?" I asked impatiently
“Try it?” she said sarcastically, exaggerating my tone.
Heaving a giant sigh that made Sayre’s lips twitch, I took a smaller bite of sandwich and delicately tucked a few chips in beside it, chewing quickly.
Whoa. This was seriously good.
Screw it! I thought and said out loud, “WORDA WUNCE!”
…and unintentionally sprayed Sayre with sandwich. She shrieked and lunged for me, but Corky was too quick. He had been pretty patient so far, but if we were going to play with food, it was on. He leaped on Sayre and swiped her face enthusiastically.
“Ahhhhh!” she yelled, falling over under his attack, “CORNED BEEF BREATH!”
Now I was laughing and Corky barked in response. He leaped off Sayre and ran to lick me.
“Nooooo!” I shrieked, surprising myself, not ever having been the shrieking kind. It was no use, I was treated to a hot corned beef face wash and it was disgusting. Sayre laughed hysterically until Corky bounced in her direction again.
“RETREAT!” Sayre screamed happily and buried her face in her hands. I lay on the floor, laughing uncontrollably, watching my dog slobber on what could only be called my friend, and, just like a freaking Disney movie, there were sunbeams and they were dancing.
Chapter 20
When they finally quit, Sayre flopped contentedly down to watch the sunbeams with me.
“Miss Evers?” I asked, nicely.
“Oh God!” She popped back up again. Corky raised his head and barked. “Eeek!” she muttered and lay back down, stifling her enthusiasm. “The name Evers is pretty, well, huge in, you know, woo-woo circles.”
She stopped. “Okay, wait” Sayre reconsidered. “The name Evers is like, quietly huge.”
“Quietly huge.” I should have known she wasn't capable of having a real conversation.
“Yep, the Evers go way back, but quietly,” she said. “You have to know really serious people to even know they exist. They used to be the Darveauxes. But marriages and stuff…." She shook her head. "They kind of ran this town for years.”
She rolled over and stared at me. Even looking up and not at her, I could feel her intensity. I didn’t say anything.
“What are the chances?” Sayre asked worriedly, “that someone like you, and you have no concept of how rare your strength is, would move into the garage apartment of an Evers?”
"Well, they’re not evil, are they?” I said, rather pointedly. I was annoyed that she was pointing fingers at Miss Evers, and annoyed I cared so much for the old lady.
Sayre hesitated and I turned my head to stare at her.
“It's not always as simple as good and evil.” She shrugged at my aggravated look. “They're powerful, and sometimes people with power do things, I don’t know…in the interest of the greater good."
“And?” I said, confused why the greater good wasn’t so good.
"Um, because sometimes the little people are expendable, and because they were known to keep the balance in their favor,” she said pointedly.
“Oh.” I thought about this. “Am I the little people?”
“Your talent makes you a threat. Within our hallowed woo circles, people will want to know where you stand, good and evil, light and dark. You know?”
"I know.” I said."I mean I sort of know."
I looked at Sayre.
“No, I don’t know." I shook my head, "What does that even mean?”
I scooted to face her better, picking up the remnants of my sandwich that Corky was a little too interested in. No point in letting it get cold. The second half was as good as the first.
“Can we just start with a little basic woo culture?”
Sayre laughed. “I love it, woo culture. The culture of the woo. Woolture! I mean…sure.” she said, getting mock serious seeing the look on my face. “Should I start talking or do you have specific questions? I mean, you can't tell me you haven't noticed how seriously weird LaPierre is?"
I nibbled the crispy edges of the crust, thinking.
"I didn't,” I admitted, my words coming out slowly as I thought about it. For years, I just lived here. I wasn't really a part of this “woo” town. "Now…I think I am seeing it differently.” I waved a hand towards Corky, who sat up so fast he should have gotten a head rush. Apparently, a hand wave indicated treat in his doggy mind. Reluctantly, I gave up a bite of sandwich and was rewarded with his smile.
“Yeah, but you've lived other places. You didn't notice all the hex signs? The spirit trees with bottles and ribbons? The protection gardens? The crazy colors of the houses and all blue doors?” She looked at me for some flicker of a clue. “Seriously, no?"
“Sayre, for someone who has never seen a hex sign or doesn't know what a spirit tree is, it just seems like more Southern yard art.”
“But…” she spluttered amazed, "all those chicken bone windchimes?"
“Mobiles.” I corrected with exaggerated patience. "Windchimes make noise."
“How dare you!” Sayre said, trying to look offended, but she ruined it by laughing.
I figured I'd better direct this conversation, or she would just rattle on about assorted crap all day.
"Can we just stick to the questions?" I said, "I still don't get are people born with woo or infected or take it up like…knitting?"
"Yes," Sayre said, looking pleased with herself for not rambling. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for the next question.
"Umm…" I paused trying to decipher this, "all three?"
"Exactly." she nodded, wise old owl at me.
"Mmhmm." I was not amused. "And people either decide to study it or it just wakes the hell up in the presence of woo and then they deal with it?"
"Yeah, well, about that," Sayre said slowly, as she looked at me consideringly, "some don't deal, they decide it isn't real," she mugged a pointed stare at me, then grew serious, "and some kind of lose it."
I shivered, remembering the very real feeling of my sanity being stripped away from me. I had been an idiot to look down on Chloe. The thing is you could decide a tornado wasn’t real and it would knock your house down just the same. Sometimes just because you decided to leave all this alone, didn’t mean it would leave you alone. And the thought of this following me around my whole life was pretty grim.
“So are you born good or evil, or can you pick?” Something occurred to me. “Or does it depend on what is attracted to you?”
“Gods, no!” Sayre looked shocked. “Yes, you can be born evil.” she paused “Well, maybe it's born with an affinity or enjoyment of evil, which you weren’t.” She treated me to that annoying single eyebrow. “You can be born neither and raised evil. You can be raised good and go evil. You can decide to learn evil, or you can be good and have evil, I mean, dark energy drawn to you.” She tugged an amulet out of the neck of her shirt “But there are protections.”
I pulled my own amulet out and Sayre widened her eyes, looking freaked. I followed her eyes to the amulet around my neck and saw the center stone was shot through with veins of metal from the surrounding silver setting.
“Weird,” I said
“WEIRD?” Sayre burst out. “That is so… You are so…”
“So what?” I snapped, insulted. Was she seriously going to sit in my kitchen in a purple kilt with matching eyeshadow and fingerless suede gloves and call me weird?
“SO CHILL!” Sayre yelled and then laughed helplessly, pointing at my expression.
What the hell did she mean 'so chill'? What the hell was wrong with being chill?
Corky leaped up barking, thinking it was playtime. I swatted uselessly at him. “Go lay down,” I told him, trying for stern.
He woofed and plopped down on my lap. I grunted from the weight of his non-ghostly ass.
Sayre pointed to the amulet resting against my chest. "Just everything! You materialized a spirit! And it's like…what's for breakfast!”
“I don't think I did that..” I tried to interrupt.
“And that is like some serious woo. It’s elemental,” she said, her tone too close to awe for my comfort. She widened her eyes and waved her hands to make her point. “And you're all …um, weird," she said the last word in a flat voice that I could only assume was suppose to be an impression of me. Only, I sounded nothing like that.
Seeing me about to evil eye her or possibly resort to physical violence, she added hurriedly, “Sometimes it’s like forces of nature work for or with the woo. Good and evil. Something besides Corky and your power protected you last night.” She pointed. “Mineral and stone, those are earth forces and were on your side. At least,” she frowned, "last night and here in this place.”
“Okay, so can you learn to control these forces?”
“Control? No…but you can ask for help.”
“And that is something I can study?”
Sayre looked amused. “Do you approach everything like a math problem?”
“I hate math,” I told her. “I just like to know what to do. How would you approach this?”
“Oh,” she looked thoughtful, “I would probably get naked, roll around in some really tall grass, and try to feel the earth’s heartbeat.”
I goggled at her. “No way.”
Then I saw her mouth twitch.
“Very funny.” I let my eyes roll.
And she gave it up in a fit of hysterics,
“I can’t imagine what you are like after coffee,” I told her
“Oh, I can’t have caffeine,” said Sayre. “Or alcohol, makes me act all hyper.”
I snorted. When wasn't she hyper?
“Oh, haha,” she said, catching my thought.
“Sayre, what did you mean everybody felt it?” I asked, sometime later. We were sitting outside in the morning sun watching Corky do his doggie thing in the yard. I was saddened to see, and smell, that his doggie by-products no longer disappeared. I wrinkled my nose, hoping the breeze would shift.
She wrinkled her nose back at me. “By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,” she quoted in a high, eerie voice. “It's that spider web effect Aren was talking about.”
“Yeah, I don't get that.”
“You know when you get the creepies? Like something is there or watching you?”
I nodded, that I understood.
“It’s like that, but not as personal, more like…” she waved her hands around, “a bigger awareness.”
She studied me. “Haven't you felt that?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even know I could or,” I shrugged, “anyone could.” I half smiled. “I’ve just been dealing with my personal creepies.”
Sayre frowned. “Last night,” she paused, weirdly serious for her, “that wasn’t just personal creep. You kind of yanked opened a door and yelled…anybody home?”
I winced in horror at her description.
“And a lot of anybodys answered your call,” she continued, “Look.”
She turned and pointed at the carriage house. The doors had been stripped of paint. Chips of blue lay scattered three and four feet out from the door and drifted under the circular stairs.
“That paint exploded off the door,” she said quietly. “Just scoured off in a storm of psychic energy. What were you doing?”
“It was …” I trailed off, aware of how stupid this was gonna sound. “It was a meditation exercise,” I said lamely, “to increase my awareness.”
Sayre stared at me, her brown eyes wide in disbelief and then whooped with laughter, making Corky leave the pile of leaves he was sniffing and dash over, barking and leaping to join in the fun.
“Well,” she gasped, “you are more aware!”
I couldn’t help laughing, even if I was cold inside at what I was now aware of…and what was aware of me.
“I think,” said Sayre, when she had regained her senses, “we better do those kinds of exercises with Aren and Chloe and maybe Mase.”
This was not what I wanted to hear or even somethi
ng I would consider. The memory of those licking, hungry energies made me shudder. Even the sunshine seemed cold when I thought of it. Corky nudged my hand picking up on the panic inside me.
“Not me,” I said flatly, maybe a touch desperately. “I’m out.”
Sayre shook her head. Too late, her face said.
“Even if you don’t want to be a part of this, it’s a part of you.” She went quiet for a rare moment. “What you can do,” she offered, “is do the protection and blocking exercises. Being ignorant can kill you."
What the hell? What happened to actual harm was rare? Those things had tried to swallow me alive. My heart beat crazy fast as the terror of last night flooded me. Suddenly, I was angry and from the sudden wariness in Sayre's eyes, I knew it showed. “You could have told me that. All of you.”
Sayre shook her head, looking surprised and upset at my anger.
“It’s not that…” she stopped and then started over. “I mean, you were in little physical danger. It’s your head, your spirit.” Sayre shrugged. “What makes you, you and alive. You can lose that, go nuts, suicidal, even become irrational or violent." She stopped, hearing what was coming out of her mouth. Her eyes met mine. "You are right. You should have been warned. But you are definitely a strong-minded person, and you seemed to have no desire to 'dabble'. And truthfully, no one’s met anyone like you. Still,” her face was sad, “we should have warned you. I’m sorry.”
I stared at her, not ready to give in. What had happened was my fault, but they had some responsibility as well.
“I am sorry.” Her voice was small and guilty. “There is no excuse, but it’s hard to tell people the whole truth when they are skeptical to start with. But,” she hesitated. “I should have…”
I started to say forget it when she interrupted. Now she was angry and upset
"Me, of all people…and Aren.” She looked away. “We were raised by our grandmother, you know. Our mom? She went crazy from not knowing how to protect herself. My grandfather took her away as a baby. He really lost it when he found out my grandmother was a witch. He didn’t want his daughter 'corrupted'. My mother grew up in a supernatural hating, God fearing household and had no idea what was happening to her. She spent her life terrified. She repressed everything, and that was her protection. She made it invisible and not real by the force of her will.