by Anna Lewis
“Just honey, please.”
“Alrighty,” Dora replied, wrinkling her nose as she concentrated on her spell. She stared into my cup for a moment, whispering beneath her breath. She then sighed, smiling, and handed me the cup.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. She had added just the right amount. Witches are good like that. Dora fixed her tea as she liked it and sat down across from me.
“Am I allowed to know where we are?” I asked.
“Arizona,” she replied. “It's best if you don’t know the name of the town, though. Demons, they can get inside of your head.”
“Do you know much about demons?”
“Not as much as you need me to,” she said sadly. “I am not as powerful as my sister. I am, for the most part, a kitchen witch. Hence, the B&B. There is an herbalist in town who has quite the library. Perhaps he may have what you are looking for.”
“There’s a coven here?” I asked hopefully. Dora shook her head, smiling.
“No. He’s a dragon shifter.”
I looked at her with wide eyes.
“Those are super rare!” I said. “Aren’t they dangerous?”
“They are when you make them angry!” she chuckled. “There are two of them here in town. They are both very kind.”
I looked at her, squinting.
“Are they the reason why the safe house is here?”
“No. They came after, seeking a safe haven, as well.”
“What happened to them?”
“I’m going to let them tell you that,” she replied. “It’s not my story to tell.”
I nodded. I was nervous to meet not one, but two dragon shifters. Dragon shifters are a tricky race—they tend to be rather temperamental, and they usually live alone or in very small groups; five, at most. Any larger, and they tend to get into fights that end in massive, fiery destruction.
Dora and I sat in silence for a bit.
“So do I have to come up with a cover here?” I asked.
“That would be best,” she replied. “It is a small town, after all. Everyone is all up in everyone else’s business here.”
I sighed, thinking.
“Then, my cover is that I am a relative of yours,” I said. “Adopted. Visiting for a bit.”
“And where are you from?”
“The East Coast,” she nodded. The farthest away from my city as possible. “Maybe Boston?”
“Okay,” she agreed. We finished our tea, talking about ourselves. I felt calm, calmer than I should have felt in the situation. Suddenly, I realized why. I narrowed my eyes.
“Dora—Are you an empath?” I asked. She nodded.
“Yes!” Her voice was bright, glad that I had spotted out her talent. An empath is a witch who has the ability to feel other’s emotions. They can then use their powers to influence emotions. Empaths tend to be very kind as well as easily upset, since they often can feel the emotions of every person who is near them. “It is easier for me to live in a small town, rather than a city. The crowds really get to me, you know.” I nodded.
“Is that why my mother chose you?” I said.
“It may have been a factor. I loved your mother and would have done anything to help her,” she said. “But I also needed to get out of the city. For my own emotional wellbeing.”
“Well, thank you,” I said gratefully, knowing that the level of my own upset may have caused her discomfort. “For calming me.”
“Not a problem,” she replied, nodding her head. She looked at the cat clock, which read something after three in the morning. “We should get you some rest. I have a room all fixed up for you upstairs.”
I slept well that night, feeling the protective wardings of my coven all about me. In the morning, I ate a large breakfast of eggs, ham, toast, and coffee before heading out to go to the herbalist’s shop. I needed a good supply of herbs, and I needed to gain access to his books on demonology as soon as possible.
The hot desert sun beat down on my skin. The ground was absolutely baking. I wished that I had known I was going to the desert in Arizona, or I would have packed more appropriately for the climate. I was dressed in skinny jeans and a t-shirt that clung to my skin, already soaked in sweat. I made the short walk into town, which was nothing more than one main street with a few smaller streets off of it, with a rows of houses neatly arranged. I passed a pharmacy, a post office, a grocery store and a book store. I found the herbalist’s tucked in between the book store and an antiques shop. It was a tiny old house that had been converted into a shop. It looked to have been built long ago, with a forest-green paint job on its wooden shingle-type exterior. It had a covered porch on the front, with a yellow door. The sign out front read: Herbs and other Magickal Elements.
A bell tinkled merrily as I opened the bright door. As it opened, a woman pushing a baby stroller was just leaving. She was balancing a large bundle of sage on top of the stroller. The baby sat, its foot in its mouth. He wore a bright blue onesie.
“Oh, excuse me,” I said. The woman smiled. She looked exhausted; obviously a new mother.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“He’s adorable,” I commented, leaning down to look at the baby. He smiled at me around his tiny foot.
“Actually, it’s a she,” the mother explained, laughing. “We’re trying to trick the sidhe.”
“Ah,” I replied, understanding. It was a common practice for witches to trick the sidhe, or fairies, so that witch-children were not stolen and exchanged for changelings. “Well, enjoy your day.”
“Thanks, you too,” she said, and I held the door open for her. The door closed behind the pair with a loud jingle. I looked around me.
It was as packed inside as McKenna’s townhouse. Bundles of herbs were hanging from the ceiling, and displayed on different shelves. Tiny bottles were everywhere. There was a shelf stocked with various tarot packs, and a whole wall filled with books. Different crystals were arranged here and there, not seeming to have any type of organization whatsoever. They might have, but I didn’t see it.
There was a thin, handsome man leaning on the natural wood counter that was right across from the door. An old-fashioned metal cash register sat upon the counter. The man was studying me with his bright green eyes which seemed to glow a bit. I knew, even if I hadn’t been forewarned by Dora, that he was far more than he looked. He smiled, and I saw that his canines were a tad more elongated than that of the average human. My skin tingled, and my heart raced a bit. I was nervous to meet a dragon for the first time.
“Hello,” he said. His voice was soft and smooth. I noted that he was dressed in a well-worn plaid flannel shirt. Strange, for desert-garb, but I supposed that he was stuck inside in the air-conditioning all day. He had long hair, which he wore pulled back in a ponytail, and he had an ample beard.
“Hello,” I replied, uncertainly. I realized that I was looking for scales and a set of reptilian eyes. He was in human form, I reminded myself.
“Can I help you with something?”
“Yes,” I whispered. I cleared my throat, then said a bit louder: “I am looking for a few basic herbs. For spell work.” He nodded.
“Okay. What are you looking to do?”
“Protective spells. Cleansing. The usual,” I shrugged, not able to tell him that I knew that he was and that I desperately needed a look at his supposedly well-stocked collection of demonology books. One thing at a time, I told myself.
He smiled, baring those canines. But his look was, to my surprise, kind. He had a wide smile, but it was clearly meant well. He stepped out from behind the counter, placing his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, which definitely looked as though they had seen better days. He led me over to the shelves, where he began gesturing toward bundles of herbs.
“We’ve got some sage,” he said. “Obviously a necessity for cleansings. I have some sea salt in the back if you need that.” He stood very close to me. I could smell his scent. It was clean, like laundry detergent, with a warm, masculin
e skin smell. I felt butterflies in my stomach—strangely, not from fear of this guy’s true nature.
“Definitely,” I replied, grabbing a few of the bundles of pale gray sage, which were wrapped in white string. “Do you have any books on demonology, by any chance?” I tried to say it in an off-hand manner, but I suppose any mention of demons is pretty hard-hitting. He looked at me in surprise.
“Is this for fun reading or do you have a demon problem?” he asked, suddenly very interested. He leaned in towards me as he spoke, and I found myself imagining what it would be like to run my tongue over those elongated canines. I shook my head a bit to clear it—I had just gotten out of a relationship, one that I hadn’t known was bad, and here I was, thinking about jumping into something else. He took the shake of my head as a response to his question, exhaling in relief.
“Oh, um. Actually, I do,” I blurted out, for reasons that I couldn’t understand. He looked at me, those warm green eyes wide. “I do have a demon problem.”
“That’s got to be awful,” he said, concerned. He folded his arms and began to stroke his beard as he considered something. He bit his lip, furrowing his brow. “May I…may I ask what happened?” I nodded. I suddenly wanted to tell this stranger everything. Dora had said that I could trust him…didn’t she? I needed access to his library. I owed him some truth.
“I…I was dating the demon,” I began, watching his face take on another wave of surprise. “For two years. He was…he was planning on using me for my powers.” I bit my lip, unsure of how to go on.
“Your powers?” he coaxed kindly.
“I’m a Necromancer.” This seemed to be the most shocking bit of my tale. He glanced at the sage in my hand.
“I’m guessing that you don’t actually need my help in finding your necessary materials,” he pointed out.
“Ah,” I began lamely. He held up his hand, giving me a kindly smile.
“I am also guessing that Dora sent you,” he went on. “And that she told you about my rather well-stocked library.” I smiled and shrugged in a way that I hoped was the tiniest bit endearing. As the daughter of a High Priestess, I wasn’t used to having to ask for things. Things were, typically offered and given to me freely. He nodded, looking around his shop. He laughed a little. “You are…really going to need that salt.”
I hesitated. Was he not going to help me? He noticed my look and laughed, a release of air from his lungs.
“Oh, of course I will help you, Necromancer,” he said. “But you are definitely going to need salt.” He left, briskly walking through a doorway that had a bead curtain which made a clicking sound as he passed through it. He came back out holding a large glass bottle filled with large grains of pure white sea salt. He handed me the bottle. “Free of charge. I don’t typically get anything more dangerous than a wayward ghost hanging out in the kitchen witch’s attic.”
I laughed, relieved, and accepted the salt.
“Thank you,” I said. “You have no reason to help. But you’ve already been so—” He held up his hand.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, then offered me his hand to shake. “I’m Ben.”
“Samara.”
“It’s lovely to make your acquaintance,” he said with a sigh. “I wish it were under better circumstances, but…” He shrugged and smiled at me. I smiled back. He seemed to burst into a flurry of movement. “We’d better get going!” He began closing up the shop.
“You don’t—”
“Oh, it’s fine!” he replied brightly. “I don’t actually need the money. I have had a few hundred years to build up quite an adequate nest egg. I just do this to sell the herbs from my garden. Put it to good use.”
“You have a garden in the desert?”
“Oh, yes! Well, it’s a greenhouse,” he explained. “I’ll show you.” His quick movements were dizzying in their speed, reminding me that this was no ordinary human, but a dragon. Although, I should be quite used to this by now, I thought. But then, how much of his true nature had Lex been hiding from me?
“Ready?” Ben asked me, waiting for me beside the door. I nodded, clutching the bottle of salt and bundles of sage in my hands. He opened the door, holding it open for me. The perfect gentleman, I thought.
***
AURORA:
“I won’t tell you a thing,” Meroe spat, although she sounded exhausted. She was breathing heavily, her face in pain. Blood spatters covered the white tile floor. Of all the rooms in Lex’s fancy penthouse, this was my favorite. It was almost clinical in nature, with white walls and tiles, and none of those huge windows. It was…hidden. The fluorescent lighting buzzed loudly above us.
I licked the fresh blood off of my finger. Meroe saw, looking a tad sick. Her face was bruised and beaten almost to a pulp. The colors were bright and beautiful—deep, visceral red, purple so deep as to be nearing eggplant. I grinned at her, and she looked down at the ground. She was seated on a chair.
Lex paced at the far side of the room as I went to work on the witch with my talons. I kept up a steady stream of constant motion, disappearing and then reappearing at another angle. The little witch had long since given up following my movements, giving in, letting my blows rain down upon her. Her cries of pain were glorious.
Lex suddenly walked briskly across the room. I stood back, happy to let him have a try. He placed his hands over hers on the arms of the chair. His skin was turning bright red; a sign that he was physically heating up. Meroe screamed in pain, her voice hoarse.
“TELL ME,” he roared. She shook her head, tears streaming down the destroyed flesh of her face. “TELL ME WHERE SHE IS.”
“Never,” she said, in the voice of someone who is entirely calm. Surprised, I looked at her face. She stared Lex down, a look of complete calm. I had misjudged her, I realized. At her core, Meroe was strong in her convictions. She was ready to die before giving up Samara, and Lex, looking her directly in the eyes, knew it. He screamed, reaching forward with his hands, pushing them into her chest and pulling out her heart in a fantastically bloody motion. I stood there, spellbound. My mouth dropped open.
* * *
MEROE:
Dying was the easy part, to be honest. When Lex killed me, I just kind of…floated up and out of my body, the pain slowly fading away. I sighed in relief. If I was, supposedly, the weakest in the coven, then they had another thing coming. I might have been dead, but my work was far from over. I needed to warn Samara. For a ghost, finding a Necromancer is a cinch.
I let myself drift, looking for the correct path. I let the scene of my gory death fade away as I concentrated on finding the silver path that led to Samara. I could sense it. It was almost like listening for a bell that sounds at the proper pitch. I reached out in the darkness, grabbing hold of the glowing silver thread, and letting myself go.
It was daylight. Samara was sitting inside, and through the window, light shone through, brightly. The room was enormous, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stuffed with old leather books. It seemed clean. Just really, really packed with books. Samara sat in a green velvet armchair with wooden claws at the ends of the legs. There was a large, sturdy wooden table at the center of the room and several more green velvet armchairs scattered about. I placed my hand on Samara’s shoulder. She gasped, feeling my presence, then looking right at me, terror-struck.
“Meroe, no—” she began, but I stopped her. She was already beginning to cry.
“Samara,” I said. “They are looking for you.”
“They killed you!” she said, filled with rage and hate. I nodded. “Was it—”
“Awful? Yes,” I replied. “You have to focus here, though. I will get my revenge. I will keep an eye on them. But you have to hurry. It won’t take them long.”
“How are the others?” she asked, hurriedly brushing away tears. She rearranged her features, ever the High Priestess’s daughter. I reached out, touching her cheek with my now not-solid hand.
“McKenna was injured,” I replied. “She’ll be
fine. She was able to escape. But Lex had you watched all of the way out of town.” Samara nodded. I looked around.
“What is this?” I said.
“The library of a dragon shifter,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“A dragon shifter!” I sighed. “You always get the good adventures.” She looked at me sadly. I shrugged.
“You need someone on the inside,” I reasoned. “Who better than your bestie?” She was about to cry. I held up a hand. “Don’t. I don’t want to find out if my tears are as weightless as I am.”
Samara nodded, but her tears came anyway. I honestly did not feel sad about my death. It seemed…a thing of the past. I had too much to do now to think about my death.
“I’m so sorry,” Samara sobbed. I placed my hand on her shoulder and accidentally placed my hand through it. I needed to get accustomed to being not-so-solid anymore.
“Just promise me something,” I said solemnly, taking my hand away. She nodded. “Do not date a demon. Ever. Again.”
She nodded, beginning to sob even harder. The door opened, and I let myself go invisible. A very good-looking young man walked in. No. Wait. I narrowed my eyes. He was ancient. He didn’t look it, but I could see through to his core. It glowed; a vast, bright thing. It was something that had burned for ages. I could see it like I could now see Samara’s core, which was bright, but new and somewhat faint. I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. She placed her hand there.
Satisfied that Samara was in far more capable hands than my ice-cold dead ones, I left, letting go of the path and returning to Lex and his nasty henchwoman. I had reconnaissance to do.
***
SAMARA:
“What happened?” Ben was panicked. When he had left me in the library, I had been fine. Not happy, but definitely within the spectrum of hopeful. When he returned, I was sobbing.
“My boy—the demon,” I explained. “He k-killed my b-best friend.” I bent over in the chair, placing my forehead on my knees. “Sh-she died because of me.”