The Wiccan's Curse

by Gemma Jace

Stella’s head jerked up from the book. Her gaze went from Luna to Rusty, then back again. “Which spell did you use on him?”

  “I used the spell to grow his hair back.”

  “She sure did,” Rusty said, running fingers through his curly red hair, “I had a condition that made my hair fall out. No medicine could help me, but Luna made me handsome again.”

  Stella smiled at him, “I knew there was something different about you. Your hair shimmers.”

  Rusty’s cheeks turned almost as red as his hair. “It does?”

  “No it doesn’t,” River interjected. “It’s bright, but it doesn’t shimmer.”

  “It does,” Luna said.

  “I see no shimmer in his hair,” Max said.

  Luna wrinkled her nose, “So Stella and I can see the shimmer, but River and Max can’t? Why?”

  Stella scratched her head, “I believe you inadvertently gave him some of your powers.”

  “She what?” Rusty said, rubbing his fingers through his hair again.

  “How?” Luna asked.

  “I guess you’re stronger than you realize,” Stella said.

  Luna thought for a moment before responding to Stella. She wanted to laugh out loud at the thought of her being so powerful that she cursed herself even more than what she had been. Some powerful wiccan she turned out to be.

  “I want to search the grimoire to find a way to turn myself to my original color.”

  THAT NIGHT, THEY SEARCHED through all the books in the extensive library. Uncle Max left when the clock struck 3:00 a.m. stating he had some business to attend to. Luna wondered what kind of business could be conducted that time of night. Nothing legal. He probably really was a pirate.

  They searched until the sun peeked through the high arched stained-glass windows perched atop of the oak bookshelves. It would have been beautiful if Luna wasn’t so exhausted.

  “I think I found something,” Stella called out, shuffling to the brown leather chair Luna was slouched in.

  Luna sat up, toppling a grimoire from her lap onto the floor with a thud, “What is it?”

  Stella kneeled in front of Luna and placed an open book on her lap. “I read about an ancient coven of wiccans who live on a small island in the Eastern ocean. By the looks of this map, it’s not too far from where we are now.”

  Luna picked the book up to inspect the map. “Does it say anything about a potion to cure my curse?”

  “No, but it says there are other wiccans there who are part of our coven.”

  Luna sighed, handing the book back to Stella.

  “Don’t you see? We can go there and find the other wiccans and build up our strength. That way we can perform any spell we want.”

  “You just said they were a coven of ancient wiccans. That means they’re all dead.”

  “It says here that they are immortal. They could still be there. At the very least, we could find more grimoires or artifacts that could help us build our coven back up.”

  Luna still didn’t care about building up the coven and wished Stella would stop talking about it. All she could think about was finding the cure and starting her new life with River and Uncle Max.

  River interrupted her thoughts of discontent. “We could sail there. Uncle Max could take us.”

  Stella stood, “That’s a wonderful idea. We should go find him now and ask him.”

  “I agree,” Luna said. Anything to figure out this cure and get away from Stella and her grand coven ideas.

  CHAPTER 11

  “THERE’S NO ISLAND THAT far east. This map has to be wrong,” Uncle Max said, scanning the map in the book.

  Stella went on explaining to him it was a secret island cloaked by magic and that only a wiccan of the island’s descendants could use the map to navigate there and find the island.

  “I don’t think that’s how islands work, Stella,” Max said.

  “Maybe not islands, but that is definitely how magic works.”

  Max took a swig from a crystal chalice that was already sitting on the dining room table before they sat down. “I’m not the kind of person who likes to waste my time sailing into the middle of the ocean. I have too many better things to do with my ship.”

  “Come on, Uncle Max,” River said, “Luna came all this way to find a cure for herself just so she could be a family with us.”

  Max took another sip of his clear drink and pondered for a while. He glanced at Luna and then to River. “You have until I finish my drink to convince me.”

  Everyone started chattering all at the same time. Uncle Max shook his head and put up a hand. “One at a time.” He pointed to Rusty, “You go first, since you’re the one who talks the least out of this bunch.”

  “Well...,” Rusty said as he shoved up his glasses, “I know magic is real and believe that it is very plausible that the wiccans could cloak the island. Not to mention, I would love to explore an uncharted island.”

  Uncle Max nodded, “Ok... good point. River, speak your peace.” Max took another sip.

  “Grandma’s going to be pissed when I tell her you didn’t help.”

  Uncle Max glared at River for a moment, then took a giant gulp of his drink, leaving less than half a glass and dragging a moan from everyone.

  “Stella, do you have anything more to add to your argument?” Max asked.

  “Yes. If you take us to the island, you will not only be helping to restore a great coven of good wiccans who will benefit the world, but you will go down in the history books as a hero.”

  “That’s not a bad argument. Max the hero of the Eastern Islands. Has a nice ring to it.” Max took another sip, “Your turn Luna.”

  Luna sighed. This was her one shot to convince Uncle Max. The others hadn’t completely convinced him, and it was all up to her. She cleared her throat, “I don’t want to look like this for the rest of my life.”

  “I think you look just fine,” Max said and took another swig of his drink.

  “So do I,” Rusty chimed in with a smile.

  Stella rolled her eyes at Rusty.

  River nodded his head in agreement.

  “But this is not how I’m supposed to look.”

  Max drank the rest of his beverage. The others waited with bated breath, hoping they had somehow convinced him.

  “You all have made compelling arguments, but unfortunately, you haven’t convinced me.” Max set his glass on the table and stood.

  “There’s treasure on the island,” Stella said.

  Max stopped mid-stride and looked at Stella. “Why didn’t you start with that? Now you really have my attention.” He sat back down and ordered one of his servants to pour him another glass of white rum. He took a sip and continued, “Now, tell me more about this treasure.”

  “In the book, it says our coven gained great wealth from healing men and women of great riches... even kings and queens. The wiccans always requested payment in gold, silver, or precious gems, knowing their value would stand up throughout time. Once a year, the wiccans would ship all the riches they had acquired to their island. That’s one of the reasons they used their magic to cloak the island. Apparently, they had been doing this for centuries, thus amassing a great treasure for any coven wiccan to use.”

  “Wow, there’s actual ancient, buried treasure there?” Rusty asked

  Stella flipped her hair back and smiled at Rusty, “It’s not buried. According to the book, the treasure is stored in a temple in the middle of the island.”

  “Even cooler,” River said. “When do we leave?”

  Uncle Max pondered for a moment. He scanned around the table at the eagerly waiting four. “We leave in the morning.”

  THEY FOUND THE ISLAND with no problems. The map led them straight there. Uncle Max couldn’t stop talking about how he sailed those waters for thirty years and had never seen the island before. Stella reminded him that two wiccans were on board this time looking for the island, so the island would show itself to them.

  The bright yello
w sun shone on one side of the sky, and a silver full moon shone just as bright on the other side of the sky. Silver and yellow rays cascaded down onto the island, making the green foliage and white flowering trees shimmer and gleam in their wake. A constant breeze caressed, carrying the scent of lavender and honey over the churning turquoise water.

  Snow white seagulls flew out to meet the ship, circling its mast and calling out, but soon lost interest when a school of colorful fish swam from under the haul, darting this way and that way, hoping to avert the diving birds.

  A crewman dropped anchor, scattering the fish even more. Another crewman shouted, “Land ho!” before dropping the small boat from the side of the ship into the water.

  THE NARROW RED SOIL path cut through the thick brush of the jungle. Luna was thankful for the black boots Uncle Max provided her before they left the ship; although now, after trudging through the jungle, the boots looked more like Rusty’s hair than their original color. Max insisted that wearing all black would help them blend into the scenery, just in case they had to hide from trouble. Luna and Uncle Max argued because she refused to leave her bright white backpack on the ship. There was no way she was leaving the book behind.

  After thirty minutes of walking, the thick foliage thinned, showing grass huts nestled in a circular clearing. The aroma of dried lavender and smoke swirled through the air. A melancholy flute played in the distance, pulling on Luna’s heart, as if the musician knew of all her woes. How could a simple, sad flute make her feel this way?

  “Can you hear that?” she asked.

  “Hear what?” River replied.

  “All I hear is that screeching bird up in that tree over there,” Uncle Max pointed. “I wish it would pipe down already; I’m getting a headache.”

  “There’s music playing,” Luna said.

  The others stopped and listened.

  “I don’t hear it,” Stella said.

  Max, Rusty, and River agreed. No one else could hear the music.

  Luna began to walk again, being pulled toward the sound like a sailor to a siren. She went around the outskirts of the village to the other side, being sure to stay far enough in the woods to not be seen.

  Sitting in the back of the village was a small hut situated farther away from the others. That was where the music was coming from.

  “There,” Luna pointed to the hut, realizing that the others had instinctively followed her. “That’s where the music is coming from.”

  The song was louder now, more somber, and beautiful. She took a step and stopped short when she saw a young man step out of the hut. He looked like a male version of Luna and Stella. His hair was pale yellow, short and curly. All he wore was a pair of blue shorts and a gold necklace with a dark purple gem hanging low from it. His piercing blue eyes looked out where they were standing as if he could see them from their crouching hiding place.

  “It’s ok. You don’t have to hide from me.” His deep voice was smooth and calming, like a babbling brook on a cool spring morning.

  He was magnificent. She popped up from her crouched position and moved toward him, ignoring the whispers and warnings of her friends. She knew she had nothing to fear from this man.

  “Tell your friends to come. They have nothing to fear.”

  Luna turned to see that the others had stood from their hiding place and followed her. The man never took his eyes from Luna as she approached him. He was even more pleasant looking up close.

  “Were you the one playing the flute?” Luna asked.

  “Yes, it was me. I played it for you. Did you like it?”

  “Yes, I did. Why was I the only one who could hear it?”

  “Because you were the only one I wanted to hear it.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes became stormy waves of blue. “Because I have been waiting for you.”

  There was a moment of silence between them. Luna opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. All she could concentrate on were the ripples in his eyes. She had never seen eyes look that way. She tried to understand, but all understanding left her. She was being pulled into them, floating, then sinking. Uncle Max’s voice spoke to pull her out of the depths like a lifeline.

  “Hello sir, my name is Max.” He put his hand out.

  “Hello everyone. My name is Snowy,” he said and bowed to them, not acknowledging Max’s hand-shake gesture.

  “Snowy, huh? You’re too good to shake a man’s hand when he extends it to you?” Uncle Max’s eyes narrowed on Snowy.

  “I apologize to you, Max. I’m not accustomed to your ways. I meant no disrespect.” He bowed to Max once again, his eyes sparkling with something other than sincerity.

  Uncle Max sniffed, still showing his disdain for what he considered an insult. “We came a long way to find this place. Are you the wiccan we need to talk to?”

  “I believe I am. Please, come inside.”

  INSIDE, SNOWY’S HUT was spacious and mostly bare, with brown fur rugs around a small fire pit in the center. It smelled of vanilla and blackberry, almost like the perfume Uncle Max gave her.

  “Please, have a seat by the fire. You’ll find it very cool there.”

  They sat down on the rugs around the fire, which turned a cobalt blue and began to circulate cool air. Luna took the white backpack off her shoulder and set it next to her. The cool air from the amazing blue magic fire was refreshing after walking in the hot, humid environment. Luna’s face tingled as it cooled. She could only imagine how flushed it must be from all the sun exposure, which made her even more anxious to get the cure she needed from this mysterious man.

  “Amazing,” Rusty said, taking off his glasses to clean them on his shirt. “How is the fire emitting cold air?”

  “It’s the magic of the moon, of course,” Stella answered him, casually flicking her hair behind her shoulder and batting her eyes at Rusty. “I read it in the book with the map.”

  Rusty completely missed her gesture, even though he was looking directly at her. He put his glasses back on and nodded to her before turning his attention to Snowy to take the wooden cup of tea presented to him.

  “She’s right. Our coven’s magic comes from the moon. In fact, this entire island is magical under the moon’s light. That’s why we make sure it always shines here,” Snowy said, while passing out more cups to the rest of the group.

  So that’s how they were able to cloak an entire island, and why the moon shined just as brightly as the midday sun. That was the reason no one could find it unless they were magical themselves.

  Luna took a sip of the sweet-honeyed tea.

  “Blackberry tea? Do they grow here?” Luna said.

  “Mine is orange and ginger,” River said. “How did you know it’s my favorite?”

  “I’m tasting a hint of apple and cinnamon in mine,” Max said.

  Stella and Rusty were the only two that hadn’t tasted their drink yet.

  “Go ahead, you two. What flavor is your tea?” River said.

  Stella was the first to eagerly take a sip from the steaming cup. She closed her eyes and sighed as she swallowed.

  “It’s mint with a hint of chocolate. It tastes amazing.” She took another sip and nodded to Rusty, encouraging him to taste his.

  Rusty took a sip, “Mmm. Tasty.” He took another sip.

  “Well... what’s the flavor?” Stella prodded.

  “It tastes like nutmeg. The same kind my grandpa used to make for me.” His eyes filled with tears. Luna, who was sitting beside him, reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her and wiped his eyes under his glasses.

  Snowy sat down next to Luna, filling the space between her and Stella.

  “How did you know what flavors we liked?” River asked.

  Snowy chuckled; his blue eyes danced. “I told you that this is an island of magic. The tea is just plain unflavored tea. It took on the taste of what your taste buds most wanted to taste.”

  “That’s an impressive trick,” Uncle Max said. />
  “I assure you, it’s no trick. Moon Phase Island is a true miracle. The magic here is very strong. In fact, the island is where all of our coven’s magic radiates from.”

  That was the opening Luna needed to tell Snowy why they had come to the island.

  “That’s the reason we came to Moon Phase Island. I’m looking for a way to undo a botched spell and do it right.”

  Snowy nodded. “Yes, I figured that was the reason you came here. That’s the main reason most wiccans come to this island... out of sheer desperation.”

  Just as the words finished leaving his mouth, the room began to change. It became bigger and lighter. The walls of the meager hut became walls of a house painted white with decorative pictures hanging on them. The cool blue fire they were sitting around turned into a fireplace and they were now sitting on two fur covered couches on either side of it. The hut transformed into a living room full of expensive looking furniture. The once wooden cups they were holding turned to silver.

  The next thing to appear were several white skinned, pale-haired people dressed in white and moving around the space as if going about their everyday life.

  “What’s happening?!” Uncle Max shouted, jumping up with one hand on the hilt of his sword, and throwing the silver cup to the ground with the other.

  “There’s no need to be frightened. The tea I gave you allows you to see the truth. The grass huts you saw were just an illusion. We have to be sure that anyone who comes here is who they say they are.”

  Luna looked around the room with wide eyes, trying to convince herself this all wasn’t just a dream. “But why? I thought only people of your coven could find their way here.”

  “That’s true, but not all wiccans in our coven are good wiccans.”

  “I thought all wiccans were good. At least that’s what my grandma told me,” River said, running tense fingers through his curls.

  “My grandpa told me the same thing,” Rusty said, still eyeing his surroundings.

  “I was told the same,” Stella chimed in.

  “That was true once upon a time, but not anymore. There are evil wiccans in the world now. They call themselves the Enchanters. They were once just like us, doing good with their magic to help mankind, but became increasingly bitter after people refused to accept them and the gifts they bestowed on them. They turned on them instead and made their life’s work with magic to only help themselves and to use against non-magical humans.”