by Moni Boyce
She hurried along behind him. “You still haven’t told me who we’re going to see.”
He slowed his step, so they were walking beside each other. “Cora, the Chief Elder requested a meeting with you. I’m taking you to her bedchamber.”
“Glad I dressed to impress.” She smoothed the front of her shirt and touched her hair, wondering if she should have spent more time on it.
“You look great.” He reassured her.
“Thanks.” It was hard to keep his compliment from making her blush. “It’s not every day you meet the Chief Elder of a Coven of Witches.” She chuckled and avoided looking at him.
They hadn’t fought, and he hadn’t rejected her since the drive here. She didn’t want to question why he was being so nice. She’d just enjoy it. Hopefully, it would stay this way.
In a corner of the square, there was a door that looked much like the other ones. He opened it. They stepped into a marbled hall with a few columns. A winding staircase led up to a landing. Neither of them spoke as they ascended the steps. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. Her nerves were getting the better of her. Cora was just a woman.
At the top of the stairwell, a small area held a wooden bench. There was one large ornate door. Eli pushed it open and ushered her inside. The chamber was dimly lit.
“I’ll be out here.”
She turned startled. “You’re not coming in with me?”
“She didn’t want to see me. Just you... don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.” He whispered the last part and shut the door.
Her feet wouldn’t move further into the room until her eyes adjusted. A giant four-poster bed was one of the few pieces of furniture. She squinted towards it.
“Come closer child. Let me get a good look at you.” The ancient, weathered voice croaked from the bed.
The unexpected sound nearly caused Willow to jump out of her skin. If Cora was as old as she suspected, how was she going to see her in this lighting? As she edged closer, a warm glow bathed the room. Where it was coming from she didn’t know, since she hadn’t noticed an overhead light or any lamps.
Once she was at the foot of the bed, she could see Cora propped against the pillows. Lines and wrinkles aged her pale face. Her wispy, snow-white hair hung past her shoulders. She wore a white nightgown that had long sleeves with ruffles on the ends and buttoned at the neck.
Cora patted the side of the bed and Willow felt compelled to honor her request. Everything she’d been taught about not staring went right out the window. She found the old woman so fascinating. Neither of them spoke for long minutes. They just regarded each other.
“You’re the spitting image of your mother.”
The statement made tears spring up in her eyes.
“You met my mother?” Her voice quivered.
“I did child. When she came to the coven we chatted at great length.”
Willow drew closer. Hoping the woman would drop some crumbs of information regarding her mother. Even though it had been seventeen years since her death, she missed her every day.
“Tell me about her.” She whispered.
The elderly woman patted her hand. “Let me start from the beginning, with your history... so you can understand who you are.”
Cora looked at her so direct, like she was peering into her soul. It made her want to turn away, but she held the woman’s gaze once she began to speak.
“Your are a descendant of the Pythia which dates back to 8th century BC. The Pythia were the high priestesses of The Temple of Apollo in ancient Greece. If you’ve studied history, you might know them as the Oracle of Delphi. The women in your family have all been Oracles.”
When Cora paused for a breath, Willow couldn’t help, but be skeptical. Plus she was impatient to hear about her mother, not a history lesson.
“So you’re telling me I’m descended from some ancient Greek whatever?” She stared at the woman wondering if she could see. “You do realize I’m black?”
The old woman cackled in a way that Willow didn’t think she was capable of.
“I may be old, but my eyes are not failing. I’m very aware of what color your skin is.” Once the levity passed she continued. “There were regular trade routes between Greece and ancient Egypt that date back to the Bronze Age, my dear. It is not a stretch of the imagination to believe that many Grecians that came for trade might have stayed, found wives and procreated. You are a descendant.” She said the last sentence in a tone that brooked no argument.
She coughed. “Could you please get me some water?” Her bony fingers rubbed her throat.
Willow found a pitcher sitting on a side table nearby the bed. She was eager for the woman to continue and hurried to fill the glass. After Cora quenched her thirst she continued. “When your ancestors became slaves and were shipped to America, the gift was forgotten and was no longer discussed from generation to generation. It was lost to you. However, there were those that did not forget the great power of the Oracle. They searched for her. It was years after the Civil War ended that the search turned fruitful when a freed slave, a fortune-teller in Louisiana, turned out to be a true seer. Once the Council investigated, they realized they’d found the Oracle and they must protect her. If the knowledge got out that the Oracle hadn’t vanished, but was merely dormant, some would seek to control her power. Thus the Protectors were born.” Cora adjusted her position against the pillows.
“Are you okay? Are you comfortable?” Whatever she needed Willow would take care of it. This couldn’t end, not yet. She was intrigued and curious. Learning about her history and where she came from felt like it was filling spaces and gaps within her she didn’t even know existed.
“I’m fine, dear. Where was I... oh yes... The Walker Coven created The Protectors in the late 1800s. A few select witches trained, bound with the duty to protect the Oracle at all costs. They started rumors to discredit the Oracle. It was important to draw attention away from the truth of her visions. Because of this, somewhere down the line in your ancestry, they stopped believing in the gift. It was always there, but the women remained unaware... until your mother.”
When Cora ceased talking at that point Willow wanted to shake her. “What about my mother?” Frustration gripped her in its clutches. “Please, tell me about my mother?”
“Come again another day, child. I’m tired now. An old woman needs her rest.” There was no urgency in her to finish her thought or continue with her story. Her eyes closed before she rested her head against the pillow indicating she was done for the time being. The cliffhanger would remain until she felt she was ready to tell it, which could be at least twenty-four agonizing hours.
Reluctant to leave, although she knew she wouldn’t get anymore today, Willow walked to the door. Repeatedly she looked back over her shoulder, hoping Cora would suddenly experience a second wind or a dose of energy and be ready to keep going.
When she stepped out of the room and closed the door, Eli was waiting, right where he said he would be. “Are you okay?” He rose and came towards her.
Her mind was swirling with her past and thoughts about what Cora would tell her about her mother. “I’m okay.” They walked down the steps.
“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten anything in hours.”
She was positive she should be famished, but her stomach was in knots. There was no way she could eat. “I just want to go back to my room, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.”
The trip to her room was silent. Waves of curiosity were coming off Eli like someone with bad body odor, but he kept quiet and didn’t ask about their conversation. She was grateful. Right now she wasn’t ready to share.
“I’ll have Mathilda pick you up for training tomorrow.” He told her when he dropped her off.
“Thanks.” She was still too distracted to focus.
“Good night.”
“Night.”
CHAPTER 18
Eli
What did Cora say to her?
; He couldn’t help, but wonder what had Willow so lost in her thoughts when he left her at her room last night. Usually she was so talkative, so it was odd to have her at such a loss for words.
Sparring with Phaedra and Max early this morning worked up a sweat. Even though they were witches and had magic he believed that they should have combat skills, should the need ever arise when they could not use magic. He mopped his brow with a towel and flipped through a spell book waiting for Mathilda to arrive with Willow.
“Yeah, I spent yesterday with Morgana, mixing potions and learning new spells.” Mathilda was excited when she entered. It made him happy to see her smile, but when she didn’t mention her mother, it concerned him. Now that they were back at the coven, he needed to speak with his uncle and have him get involved.
“I hope you got something to eat this morning, Willow, because we have a long day ahead of us.” He stood from his stooped position and discarded the towel.
Her eyes started at his sneaker covered feet and traveled up his sweatpants to his wife beater. He couldn’t read her expression.
“So you do own a pair of sweatpants. I was beginning to wonder if you were born in dress pants.” She smirked.
He shook his head. “I hope you learn as quickly as your smart mouth comes up with witty things to say because we have a lot to cover.” The smirk he sported widened, when she lost a little of her bravado. “We’ll start with advanced combat training today. First staves and then knives, you need to master how to properly use that dagger.” While he spoke he picked up a staff and twirled it expertly with two hands.
Phaedra and Max entered the room wearing workout gear as he demonstrated some moves with the staff.
“Perfect. You’re just the person I wanted to help me.” He tossed a staff to Max who caught it with one hand.
“This is known as Bojutsu. Watch and then you‘ll practice before you choose either Mathilda or Phaedra for a sparring partner.”
Max stood in front of him. They bowed to one another and then both sprung into action. The wooden sticks flew through the air at blinding speed as they swung them at each another. The ‘thwack’ of wood smacking against wood reverberated around the room. Max was a great opponent. He moved with grace, effortlessly defending himself against Eli’s attack. After five minutes of sparring, they ended in a draw.
His hair was now slick with sweat. He pushed it back out of his face and approached Willow. “Okay, let’s go through the moves so you can understand how to hold it and swing it.”
For the next hour and a half they trained her in the basic movements. It impressed him that she picked up the maneuvers quicker than he thought she would. It was also obvious that she often let her frustration get the better of her. He knew this from trying to teach her to meditate. It could end up being her weakness if she wasn’t careful. “Who do you want for your sparring partner?”
Her eyes darted between Phaedra and Mathilda. “Mathilda.”
It was impossible to keep the smirk from his face. She thought she was choosing the easier opponent, but she was in for a surprise. They each pulled a staff from the rack and squared off against each other. The grin Willow sported when they first began was wiped away as Mathilda came at her hard and unrelenting. Most of the training she’d just learned went out the window as she tried to defend herself against Mathilda’s vicious assault.
Just as she ended up flat on her back with Mathilda pointing her staff in her face, Zoriana and Morgana arrived.
“Nice of you to join us.” He didn’t keep the irritation from his voice. They were late.
“You didn’t warn her that Mathilda is as good as Max?” Morgana tried to deflect his comment.
Willow turned accusing eyes on him.
“No, I didn’t because I wanted to teach her a lesson in underestimating your adversary.” He addressed Morgana before turning to Willow and helping her up from the mat. “You chose Mathilda because you thought she was the weaker of the two, but remember, size and strength don’t always win a fight. Speed, agility, dexterity and heart are things to keep in mind.”
“Sometimes being underestimated can work in your favor.” Mathilda grinned at her like the Cheshire cat.
“Let’s go again. Ease up a little.” He warned Mathilda.
While they sparred, he pulled Zoriana and Morgana to the side. “What happened? Why weren’t you guys on time?” He crossed his arms over his chest and awaited their explanation.
Zoriana looked over his shoulder at the sparring match. Without her having to say anything, he knew her focus was on Mathilda.
“It’s my fault.” Zoriana began. “Ever since our fight, I noticed that Mathilda was at least talking more to Morgana and I was hoping she could help me figure out how to make things better.” She looked lost and helpless as she spoke, her eyes constantly returning to her daughter.
Eli was about to ask her what his uncle had to say regarding the matter when she continued. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “Alistair said she’s a teenager. She’s just going through a phase but...” Her dewy eyes looked up into his. “She’s never held a grudge this long.” Morgana rubbed her back.
“It’s okay. Why don’t you take a day?”
She allowed Morgana to lead her to the door. It was unlike Mathilda to be this unforgiving with Zoriana. They had one of the closest mother/daughter relationships he’d ever seen. Usually within twenty-four hours they made up. It was killing her. He had to talk some sense into his cousin. She’d punished her enough.
After she left, Phaedra and Morgana trained together while he and Max monitored Willow’s training.
Wisps of hair were matted to Willow’s reddened face. It was their eleventh match. She was sweating and panting as she wildly swung her staff and charged at Mathilda, only to get knocked down, for what must have been the hundredth time if her punching the mat in anger before returning to her feet was any indication.
“Don’t expect to be amazing right away. It’s a learning process.” He called out to her.
She flipped him the bird and got in a ready stance to fight with Mathilda again. Most people would have been offended, but if he was honest with himself he found her temper a turn on. When she was fiery, he wanted to kiss the anger right out of her. The thought snuffed out like someone blows out a candle flame. Those thoughts and feelings had to be squashed or he would find himself in a world of trouble. He took a moment to collect himself before focusing on the sparring match.
You didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know Willow would get taken down again because she was fighting in anger. He let the inevitable happen before he stepped on the mat next to her where she lay supine.
“We’ve talked about this.” He referred to a conversation he had with her during her first session against Phaedra and reached out his hand to help her up, but she pushed it away and got up on her own.
“Okay. Let’s take a break. Work on hand-to-hand combat with Max.” He motioned Max over. Plus, now was a good time to talk to Mathilda.
You coward. You’re trying to escape her.
His inner voice may be right, but space from her was what he needed. Once Max began instructing Willow he pulled Mathilda across the room.
“I know what you’re going to say.” Mathilda looked away from him and put her hand on her hip.
“Then why haven’t you?”
She shrugged.
“She’s hurting you know.” He tried to get her to look at him, but she evaded him. “She apologized so why can’t it just be done.” He’d barely finished when she exploded.
“She humiliated me.” The hurt, angry expression that sprang up in her eyes felt all too familiar. “I would think of all people you would understand how that feels.”
His cousin was right. He understood her pain. How many times had he endured his father’s criticism in front of others and seethed with rage? Zoriana’s actions that day had belittled her. She was a Protector and her mother had reprimanded her like a child, even though she would
turn eighteen before the year was over. Still, it was uncharacteristic of Mathilda not to extend forgiveness. He wasn’t sure how to reach her.
“Could you just...” Whatever else he was about to say was forgotten when a flash of white light erupted out of his periphery and Max flew back against the wall with great force. Both he and Mathilda turned to see Max sliding down the wall and Willow’s extended fist glowing a bright white.
What the hell?
CHAPTER 19
Willow
Her heartbeat hammered in her ears. She couldn’t stop looking at her hands. They appeared normal. They trembled, but they no longer glowed with an iridescent white light like they had a few seconds ago.
Max lay in a heap against the wall. The others surrounded him. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled and kept looking from his crumpled, unconscious body to her hands. “I’m so sorry.” Her whole body trembled. “How was I able to do that?”
Eli left the semi-circle they’d formed around Max and approached her cautiously. “How did you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. The quiver in her voice grew. “Is he going to be all right?” She was going into full on panic mode as her breath stuttered in her chest and her words came out choppy. “I... I... don’t...”
His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her into his chest. “It’s okay.”
“No!” She pushed and shoved against him, trying to free herself. Any other time, she would have welcomed his touch, craved it in fact, but Max was hurt and it was her fault. It wasn’t going to be all right. After a few more seconds of her struggling against him, he released her, and she ran from the room wanting to be anywhere else. She was suffocating on her fear. It was threatening to choke her, unless she got away.
Out in the hall she tried to get her breathing under control.
‘WILLOW?’ Eli pushed into her mind.
She shook her head and tried to extricate him from her thoughts. Her eyes returned to her hands. No one ever told her she’d be capable of something like that. She flipped them over repeatedly expecting a revelation. Nothing.