by Lana Melyan
I felt the vibe again when Connie and I walked to the parking lot after class. I stopped and ran my eyes all over the place, but the guy was nowhere around.
“Nicky?” Connie called.
“Huh?” Apparently, she had said something, and I’d missed it, being distracted by this inexplicable little whirl of anxiety in my stomach.
“I was saying, it’s too early to go home,” said Connie. “Let’s go to the Grill, have some coffee.”
3
Sam’s Grill was the most popular place in town. It was big but cozy, with brick walls, dark wood furniture, and a riverstone fireplace. It also had the best cheeseburgers.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Connie asked when I refused to order one.
“Not right now.” I turned to the waitress. “Coffee, please.”
“Are you okay?” asked Connie as the waitress left. “You seem distracted. What’s up?”
“I don’t know. I have this weird feeling.” I told her about the guy from the parking lot. “And I felt that same vibe after class, when we were getting into the car. But I looked. He wasn’t there.”
“Maybe it has nothing to do with him?” she suggested. “Maybe it’s your magic trying to break through.”
“Ugh, I wish. Sometimes I feel things, but when I describe it to my mom or dad, they always say that it has nothing to do with magic. I wish I already had my powers, like you.”
“Powers?” Connie scoffed. “Yeah. I can light candles without matches. Woohoo.”
“You can do more than that. You can read people's minds.”
“Only when I hold their head in my hands. How many will volunteer for that?”
“Not always. You found out that Leia doesn’t really love Dave by only touching her arm.”
“True. But it wasn’t a mind-reading. I sensed it. I can read people’s feelings in close contact. At that moment, Leia was holding Dave’s hand. Her physical connection to him didn’t reflect warmth; it meant nothing to her. When I touched her, I felt it. The cold. The indifference. But I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.”
The waitress came with the order. She put the plate with the cheeseburger in front of Connie and filled up my coffee cup. When she moved to the next table and opened the view to the bar, I saw the familiar blue jeans and black shirt. The guy threw the money on the counter and grabbed the beer handed to him by the bartender.
My eyes followed him as he moved to the corner. He looked straight at me when he sat at the vacant table, and the whirl of anxiety came back. He put his hand on the table then lifted his fingers and waved at me like I was his twelve-year-old neighbor who had a crush on him, then put the bottle to his lips.
I glared at him, wishing I had my powers so I could hex him, make him choke on each sip.
“Are you okay?” asked Connie, dipping her french fry into the ketchup. “You look like you’re about to bite someone's head off.”
“Don’t look,” I said, barely moving my lips. I picked up my cup and took a sip.
“Who is it?” Connie sent the potato into her mouth.
“No one you know.”
“Wait, it’s not that guy, is it?”
I nodded. “And he’s acting like an ass. Can you set his pants on fire?”
“No. Because it’s wrong,” said Connie, like a parent who was teaching her kid to behave. “We can’t abuse our powers, you know that. Besides, he’s just a dumb guy, who . . . ” Despite my warning, she glanced back. Connie’s face changed. “Okay, I take it back.” The lecturing parent tone vanished, and she suddenly turned back to a normal flirting teenager. “He’s probably bored.” She straightened her back and ran her fingers through her long black curls. “You didn’t say he’s hot. I think he’s trying to annoy you.”
“Why? I don’t know him, and I didn’t do anything.”
“Ah, Nicky, don’t be naive. He likes you.”
I glanced at the guy. He was busy with his phone, and I used the moment to study him, to find something, a hint that would explain that vibe I felt in the parking lot.
I looked at the silver chain on his neck. Whatever hung on it was hidden beneath the shirt. There were no tattoos I could see. He had three silver rings, two on one hand and one on another, and there was something around his wrist. My eyes moved up. Short brown hair, straight nose, and those gorgeous lips, like they were––Snap out of it. That’s not what you're looking for.
His fingers still on his phone, he looked up from the screen and pierced me with his gaze. My eyes darted to the large painting hanging above the table next to his. And penetrating dark eyes, I made a note in my head.
Connie chortled. “Yep, as I said—hot.”
“That’s not what I . . . I swear, there’s something strange about him. I just don’t know what it is yet. Give me a few days and I’ll find out. Or . . . Connie, you have to touch him. That could really speed up the process.”
“Oh, I would love to touch him,” she said in a dreamy voice, then added with sarcasm, “Or, I’ll go drop into his lap and grab his head. Then apologize: ‘I’m so sorry. I fell, and there was nothing else to hold on to. By the way, since I’m already here, sit still, I’ll read your mind.’”
“You can make fun of it, but I know what I felt.”
“Let it go, Nicky. He’s older, and to be honest, looks a little dangerous to play games with.”
I looked back when I heard familiar voices. It was Leia and Dave. When I was dating Jess, the four of us came here a lot. I often noticed Leia’s lingering look on Jess. Mostly when the two of us laughed, when we kissed, or when he held me in his arms. I wondered if that was the reason Leia kept dating Dave, so she would be close to Jess.
“I think she’ll break up with Dave, now that Jess is free,” Connie said.
“So you noticed that too.”
“Yeah. Didn’t it bother you?” Connie took a bite from her cheeseburger.
“Nope. Didn’t care then, and I don’t care now.” As I said it, I realized what it meant. I never had real feelings for Jess. We were good friends, and we had a good time together. But his feelings for me weren’t enough to keep us together.
The tension I’d felt from the moment we walked in was gone, and when I turned to look at the guy, the table was empty.
4
The guy didn’t show up for the next two days. He disappeared, and so did my anxiety.
“See, all good,” said Connie as we walked into the school cafeteria. “Vibe-shmibe. Nothing to worry about.”
While we stood in line, I watched a confused freshman girl with a tray in her hands look for a vacant seat. When she was passing by a table with three seniors, two guys and a girl, one of the guys stuck out his leg and tripped her. The tray flew out of her hands, and she fell on the girl at the table before her.
“Watch it, moron,” the girl shouted and pushed her off.
The freshman fell on the floor, landing on the broken plate and splattered salad. Her face red from embarrassment, she jumped to her feet and ran out.
I got so angry that I wanted to beat the crap out of the guy. I glared at the three of them, and in that second the juice boxes on the seniors’ table exploded, the orange liquid splashing on all three of them. I heard gasps and then laughter. When I turned my eyes to the girl who called the freshman a moron, I felt pain in my arm.
“Stop it,” hissed Connie. “Look at me.”
“Aw,” I jerked my arm out of her grip. “What?”
“We need to get out of here,” she said through her teeth, pulling me toward the door.
I felt dizzy, but as soon as we got outside, my head cleared up.
“That was cool.” I beamed at Connie. “See, you do have powers.”
“Shh.” She looked around, then pulled me away from the school front yard, toward the trees. “I didn’t do it.” Connie stared at me as we stopped. “Nicky, it was you.”
“Huh?” I frowned. I tried to remember what happened, but all I knew was what I saw.
�
�How do you feel?” Connie asked.
“Nauseous.”
“It’s okay, it’ll pass.”
“Connie, it couldn’t be me,” I said, still confused. “Is that how it . . . all I know is, I got very angry and I wished . . .”
But then I remembered what my mom told me: “It might happen when you’re angry, or stressed, and you wouldn’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh my God,” I shrieked. “Connie, I’m a witch.”
“Yeah,” she smiled, nodding. “You can thank those three morons later.”
It was probably from excitement, but at that moment I felt a wave of energy go through me. My fingers vibrated, and I panicked.
“Nicky?” I heard Connie’s alarmed voice. “You can control it.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath. I know this. Dad told me how. I had to calm down, clear my head from the thoughts that caused the problem. I took another deep breath, but it was too late. I couldn’t get rid of all that energy storming through me, and I had to let it out. The best I could do was to aim it at something. I pointed my hand at one of the trees, at its long, low branch. The sudden gust of wind shook it, then it cracked, fell on the ground, and ignited.
“Holy—” Connie gaped at me with an open mouth. “You need to go home.”
“I feel better,” I said, staring at the burning branch.
“NOW! Your grandma will know what to do.”
I headed to the parking lot. I was about to get in the car when I saw him. The mysterious guy. He stood in the same spot I’d seen him in the first time. He gazed at me, but he didn’t look arrogant or smug like before. His gaze was serious, even angry. He put his sunglasses on, got in his car, and drove away.
I got in my car too and took off.
My head buzzed with thoughts. He hadn’t shown up for two days, and I thought he was gone. But maybe he'd been here all the time, and I couldn’t see him because he didn’t want to be seen? It was clear now that he didn’t come here for some friend, or a girlfriend. He was here for me. The question was––what did he want? He looked angry. Why?
I was still dizzy, and he was one thing too much to think about right now. I had just triggered my powers, and I was overwhelmed. Part of me was happy: I was finally a witch, and my magic was powerful. But another part was terrified: I performed magic in the middle of the cafeteria and didn’t even know it. Could that happen again? I was about to hurt that girl who pushed the freshman. What if Connie hadn’t been there to stop me?
I stopped the car in front of the porch and hurried inside.
Gran was in the living room. She was on the phone.
“Then you must hurry,” she said, turning to look at me. “I’ll take care of it.” She hung up.
“Gran, something happened. My powers. They—”
“I know, honey,” she said in a sad, quiet voice.
“You know? How?” My cheer was fading.
“Your Dad just told me.”
“Dad knows? How could he? He’s hundreds of miles away.”
“You have his blood. He can feel you, sense your magic.”
“You have the same blood. Did you feel something?”
“No. But you know that your father is different.”
“Different how? All I know is that he’s very powerful.” I was getting the feeling that something wasn’t right. My family was hiding something from me. My breathing became deeper and the tingle at the tips of my fingers stronger.
Gran came closer.
“Let me help you,” she said, taking my hands in hers. “Close your eyes.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“Sometimes, the first wave can be too strong. I can tell this is one of those times. I’ll take some of your energy to unload you before you blow the house to pieces.” She smiled, but she looked worried.
“You think I could . . .” I threw a quick glance at the walls. Afraid that it could actually happen, I squeezed her hands. “Okay.”
We both closed our eyes, and she began chanting. A few seconds later the tension left my body, and my breathing became lighter.
“Gran,” I said, “I just realized how little I know about us and about witchcraft.”
“That’s not true, Nicky. You know a lot.”
“Growing up with a Dad like mine, and with two powerful witches like you and Mom, I should know everything by now. But none of you wanted me to learn. Why?”
“Honey, I gave you my grimoire––”
“You did. You gave me the one that has a few spells in it, teaches how to brew some potions, and I’ve read it a hundred times. But I’m sure you have other grimoires, and so does Dad, but he never showed me one. I’m a witch now, and I want to know more.”
“All right. How about we start from our history?” She went to the hallway and picked up her car keys. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” I followed her outside.
“I want to show you something. It’s in the woods,” she said as she started the engine. “So, tell me what happened at school.”
As I recounted everything that happened in the cafeteria and the school yard, I watched my Gran’s frown grow deeper.
“Don’t worry, Gran, no one knew I was the one who did it.”
“Well, the important thing is––no one got hurt.” She sighed.
“Maybe I should ditch school tomorrow. Just in case.”
“There won’t be any need for that. If it were necessary, I’ll take away some of your energy in the morning like I did now, and you’ll be okay.”
It wasn’t a long ride. After we past the YOU’RE LEAVING RIVER STONES sign, we drove for a few more minutes before Gran stopped the car on the small, unpaved opening at the edge of the woods.
We walked between trees, in the shade of their green branches stretching toward each other. The soft blanket of green grass covering the ground muffled the sound of our footsteps.
We came out to a small clearing. In the middle of it stood a big, old oak.
Gran stopped and ran her eyes up the tree.
The place was extremely quiet. There were no chirping birds. Nothing moved. There was no grass around the oak. Its trunk was wide and cracked in several places. It didn’t have a crown. Instead, the top of its twelve-foot-tall trunk was split into several other thick, long branches, spreading its crooked arms to the sides. Even though the tree looked dry, along most of the branches it had fresh, green leaves.
“Is this it?” I asked. “You wanted to show me the tree?”
“Yes.” Gran moved closer. “This oak was planted by your ancestors nearly three hundred years ago. It was enchanted by a few powerful witches. This tree represents your bloodline.”
“You mean, like a family tree?”
“Yes. And no. I mean, it works differently. The family tree grows when someone new is born. This one grows when someone dies.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
“This place is protected. Not everyone with supernatural powers can get close to the tree. Come here.” Gran stepped closer to the oak, and I followed her. “Put your hand on the trunk.”
I obeyed. As I pressed my palm to the bark, I felt something. Like I had stepped into someplace deep, dark, and cold. Like a well. No. Like a grave. Another shiver ran down my whole body, and my hand weakened.
“Don’t take your hand off, and don’t be afraid,” Gran said. “You’re safe.”
Suddenly, the bark shimmered. A few seconds later the shimmering stopped, and an exact, golden imprint of the tree appeared on its trunk, branch after branch stretching up from the bottom.
I released a quiet gasp.
“Now, look at it closely,” said Gran.
I did, and what I saw stunned me even more. All the branches consisted of words; written in gold, the first and last names of our ancestors, along with the date of their birth and death.
“Then grandpa should be here, too,” I said, looking for his name at the ends of the name chains.
“He is.” Gran
pointed at the last name of one of the highest branches.
My heart squeezed as I stroked it with the tips of my fingers. Then I heard something. Like an echoing whisper. At first it was only one voice, then a few more. My heart hammered, and I stepped back, looking up at the tree.
“Do you hear it?” I asked Gran, swallowing my fear.
“No,” she said quietly. “Your father is the only one who can. Or he was. Until now.”
“Gran, I don’t understand. What does this mean? What is this place?”
“Think of it as a family crypt.”
“The tree is very old. What if someone cuts it down?”
“It can’t be cut. Many have tried, but the spirits stopped them. If someone tries to ax it, or put a chainsaw to it, they will feel pain, strong enough to change their mind. But unfortunately, people can be very stubborn.”
“And if they are? What happens then?”
“Then,” Gran sighed, “they end up using their tools on themselves.”
I gaped at her. “You mean they end up injuring themselves?”
“Injuring, or sometimes . . . yes. There have been a few tragic accidents here during those three centuries.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. That meant this place was cursed.
“I thought we were good witches, that we use our magic to help people, and we’d never hurt anyone.”
“We are. But no family is perfect.” She pointed at the golden tree. “There are hundreds of names there. Hundreds of witches and warlocks, and we can’t be responsible for the choices they made when they lived. Some of them couldn’t resist the temptation and used their powers for selfish, evil purposes.” She took me by the arms. “Honey, it’s all about choices. Remember that.” She put her arm around my shoulders and led me away. “Let’s go. You had enough for one day.”
5
I had a restless night. In my dreams, I was surrounded by the spirits of my ancestors trying to tell me something. But I stood in a circle of fire that created a soundproof wall around me, and even though they were only a few feet away, I couldn’t hear anything.