by Wendy Wang
Would she still like him? Still think him cool? He couldn’t say why it mattered what Rachel thought, but it did.
“Come on, Evan.” Evangeline tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s go get what we need.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Evan grinned and followed her toward a door that had a sign on it that read:
No Entry. Employees Only.
Which, from his brief experience of places like this, was really code for Witches Only. He glanced over his shoulder at Rachel. She bent over a glass display in front of Diana, flicking her hair away from her face to look at the stones.
The pert-nosed witch looked up and smiled at him before signaling that he should get a move on with a slight turn of her pointed chin. He nodded and followed his aunt through the door.
Dust tickled Evan’s nose once the heavy door closed behind him. The scene felt familiar. Shelves lining the walls held large glass jars filled with everything from tree bark to bones, from dried herbs and flowers to stinky yellow sulfur powder. The collection also included small jars with more unusual ingredients such as desiccated insects. Several large aquariums were home to salamanders, frogs, and even a snake or two.
“Magda? What are these for?” He pointed to several bright green frogs sitting in a shallow pan of water.
“Different types of spells or sometimes familiars,” Magda said.
“Familiars? You mean like pets?” Evan moved his gaze to a pale yellow snake wrapped around a tree branch in its cage. He gently tapped on the window.
“Please don’t do that, sweetie,” Magda said. “You’ll upset him.”
She glided across the room and stood in front of him.
“Familiars aren’t really pets, although most of our customers come to love their familiars very much.” Her intense dark gray eyes pinned him in place. “A familiar will pledge to protect its master or mistress. It can absorb magic — especially if it’s malicious magic — aimed at its master. Some, like those frogs, can act defensively to protect its master.”
“What do you mean?”
“They will kill for their master if it means protecting him or her. They will also die for their master.”
Evan’s chest went cold, and he shuddered. “My mom has a new kitten. She said it’s her familiar. That the kitten chose her.”
Magda tilted her head and shrugged. “Your mother’s very lucky.”
“But that means Poe could die, right?”
“Perhaps. But she could also save your mother’s life,” Magda said.
“Right,” he said. “Of course.”
Magda smiled and started to turn away. Evan reached for the sleeve of her sweater. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Magda?” His gaze cut over to his aunt, who seemed preoccupied with a jar of dried flower petals.
“Do you have any Powdered Rue or Tonka beans?”
Magda’s green eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head. “Why would you need that?”
Evan glanced at his aunt again for any sign that she’d overheard. Magda stepped closer. “What are you up to, young man?”
“I have a spell, a potion really, and I need some Rue and Tonka beans to complete it,” he whispered.
“What sort of potion?”
“A lucky day potion.”
Magda’s mouth opened as if to say ‘ah,’ and she nodded. “Is your aunt going to help you with it? Luck potions can be very tricky.”
“Yes, she’s going to help me,” he nodded.
Magda scanned his face as if she were trying to determine whether he was lying or not. His mother sometimes did the same thing, and while he rarely got away with lying to his mother, other people were different. It sometimes shocked him how easily he could play with the truth, how easy it was to make people believe whatever he told them as long as it wasn’t too outrageous. And what did it hurt really? He would pay her for the ingredients and they’d both get what they wanted.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll add it to your aunt’s order.”
“I’ll pay for it. It’s my spell. And, you know, my aunt doesn’t have a lot of money.”
Magda looked over at Evangeline. “I see.”
Evan flashed his smile, and Magda immediately smiled back. His grandmother had once told him that people mirror what they see.
“If you want people to smile at you, honey,” his grandmother had said, “then you must smile first. And with such a handsome face, the girls won’t be able to resist returning your smile. You can get away with an awful lot with that smile, just like your daddy did when he was your age.”
Magda gestured for him to follow her to the work table. “Are you finding what you need, Evangeline?”
“Yes, I think so,” Evangeline said, placing a jar marked Crushed White Sage on the worktable. “I also need some black candles, and that chamomile tea looks wonderful. Could I get some of that, too, please?”
“Of course,” Magda said. “I’ll get the ingredients for Evan, too.” She flashed her eyes at Evangeline. Evan’s face flamed, the heat stretched from his cheeks to his chest.
“What ingredients?” Evangeline asked. He’d seen that look before on his mother’s face. A mixed look of suspicion and disappointment.
“For his luck spell, isn’t that right, honey? You did say it was a luck spell?”
“Um.” Evan shifted his feet. “Yes, ma’am.”
“He said you would be helping him with it, which is the only reason I would ever sell these ingredients to a minor witch. Because… well, you know how luck spells can go.”
Magda cocked one eyebrow and curled her lips into a snarl. “And I don’t need the DOL breathing down my neck about what I’m selling to minor witches.”
“Oh, of course. Please add it to my order. Evan and I will definitely talk about the consequences of certain spells, like luck or love.”
“Okay, then,” Magda said. “As long he has some supervision.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. He will definitely be supervised.”
“May I see the spell?” Magda asked.
“Why?” Evan asked.
“So I know exactly how much you need,” Magda said.
“Right.” Evan frowned, dropped his book bag to the ground, and retrieved the book. He handed it to Magda.
She flipped through to the dog-eared page. “Is this the spell?” she asked, holding the book wide open. Evangeline moved right behind Evan and looked over his shoulder. “Evan, I thought we discussed this. No potions,” she whispered into his ear.
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
“Do you still want the ingredients?” Magda asked.
“Yes,” Evangeline said. “We’ll take them.”
Magda nodded and laid the book on the table next to her scales.
Evan hunched over and watched as Magda measured out the powdered Rue and Tonka beans into two small paper bags, then handed them over to Evangeline, along with his chances to beat Saint Peter’s on Saturday.
Chapter 12
The skin on Charlie’s forearm stretched tight, and the ache spread from her wrist up to her shoulder and into her chest. The heaviness made breathing hard, and she didn’t push away the oxygen mask when the nurse covered her face with it.
The stricken look on Tom’s face worried her more than any of the medical banter flying around her from the doctor and nurses. She couldn’t hear Tom, pale-faced and wild-eyed, argue with the doctor just outside the ER room where they’d brought her, but she could see him. He waved his arms and stomped his foot.
Will stood nearby, watching the argument unfold, not saying a word, his face stoic. She’d been so mean to him, so impatient. So unfair to him for not being Jason. Why should he care if she lay dying? They’d only known each other a couple of days.
Ben rushed up to Tom and the doctor. The line between Ben’s eyebrows grew very deep, along with those on his forehead, and for a second, she could see the old man he would become. He and her cousin Jen would age gracefully together. She wasn’t sure though, bas
ed on the weight sitting on her chest, if she would be around to see it or not.
A different pain filled her chest. A pain of fear and sorrow mixed together. What would happen to Evan? Would she become a ghost? These thoughts swam through her hazy consciousness while she watched Ben tap the doctor’s chest and then point at her through the glass of the small ER room. The sound of the machines around her droned, and she barely felt the cuff of the blood pressure machine as it auto-inflated for a reading. She sensed the darkness edging toward her, waiting to swallow her whole like a whale in the deep blue-black of the ocean.
What waited for her there? Maybe a better question would be who waited for her there? She’d been in trouble before, had left her body only to be told by her grandma Bunny to get back in it because she wasn’t done yet. Was Bunny going to show up today and give her that instruction again? Sweet goddess, please let it be so.
Charlie’s eyelids drooped beneath the weight of the darkness threatening to take her.
When she could stave it off no more, her eyes closed, and she slipped beneath the surface of the here and now into the blackness of some other place.
The darkness pressed in on her, warm and stifling like a sultry southern night, only no stars appeared to light the way. Only a sense of the heaviness remained. It threatened to smother her. Something brushed past her, and she screamed, only the sound didn’t come out of her mouth.
Or did it?
It echoed through her senses in a way she’d never experienced before, shuddering through every fiber of her consciousness.
“Charlie, do not be afraid,” a warm, silky voice said. It sounded familiar but unexpected.
“Joy?” It was Tom’s sister. His reaper sister. Charlie reached for her lips, unsure if they were moving. Her own voice sounded strange to her. Louder and internal.
“Yes, I’m here.” The rustling of Joy’s robes stopped, and she appeared in the darkness, wearing her human glamour. Her sleek, dark hair hung down her back and blended into the black silk blouse she wore.
“Where is here?” Charlie asked. “Am I dead?” Charlie looked around her, her eyes scanning the thick darkness.
“Not yet. You are in a coma. A reaper’s scythe cut you, and that’s a fatal wound for a human. Now you’re on the brink, as the humans sometimes say. Somewhere between here and there.” Joy lifted her long slender arm and pointed to her right. As if on cue, a bright white light appeared in the distance. It reminded Charlie of the headlight of a train traveling through a tunnel. It struck her as strange that all the fear and worry she’d felt up until now melted away. She could hear the light. It beckoned her with warmth and safety. Underneath the whispers of “Come, Charlie,” soft folk-rock music strummed on a guitar.
“Is that James Taylor?”
“It’s different for everyone. Some people hear heavy metal. Some hear Beethoven. It’s usually whatever your favorite is,” Joy explained.
“It wants me,” Charlie said.
“Yes, it does,” Joy agreed. “But you should know, the choice is yours. You can go or you can stay and fight.”
“What will happen to Evan if I go?” Charlie heard the words in her voice and could hardly believe them. How could she even think about leaving Evan? He still needed her.
The whispering intensified. “He’ll be fine,” and “Do not worry,” were added into the mix of beckoning words. Her anxiety dulled at the edges, smoothed by the warmth of the light. If she were in her body, and not in this strange place between the physical and spirit, she knew she’d wonder if she’d been drugged.
“I have so many questions,” Charlie whispered.
“I know. You’ll get all the answers you want, in there.” Joy pointed to the light again.
“I know,” Charlie muttered. The darkness seemed to move around her, and the light drew closer. “I’m not ready yet. I need to know that Evan will be cared for, and I have to know what happened to the Cochrans. They have a little girl, and she is dead and all alone in that house, too frightened to get to this place.”
“Some people will always be too frightened. That’s why I exist,” Joy said.
“Where’s Tom? I need to talk to him.” Charlie closed her eyes trying to slow her movement toward that light.
“He’s sitting by your bed in the DOL Hospital, holding your hand, talking to you. He’s not here, because he’s not your reaper. I am.”
Charlie’s eyes flew open, and she stopped moving. “You are?”
“Yes,” Joy said.
“How long have you known?”
Joy smiled, and her dark, brown eyes filled with sympathy. “I’ve always known.”
“So, you always knew that I was going to die now?” Charlie asked.
“No. This is not your assigned time. I didn’t wake up this morning knowing you were going to die.”
Charlie felt the darkness begin to move again.
“Wait, wait, no, not yet,” Charlie called out. She reached for Joy, grabbing on to her hand. Once again, she stopped moving. She pivoted so she no longer had to look at the light. “If it’s not my time, then why am I here?”
“Every soul is assigned a date and time of death when they are born, but you humans have free will. Nothing you do is truly predestined. Your actions can affect the date of your death. Accidents. Interactions with other people, some resulting in murder, for example. Or even your choice to take up smoking in your teens. All the choices can change the date.”
“In your book, right?”
“Yes. Every reaper is given a book when they’re born with all the assigned dates,” Joy said.
“Names, birth dates, and death dates,” Charlie muttered. “Covered in leather and embossed with a tree.”
“Yes,” Joy said. “How did you know that? Did Tom show you his?”
“No. No. Tom would never do that,” Charlie said. “Could someone take a reaper’s book? Someone not a reaper?”
“I… I don’t understand the question.”
“Could someone steal a reaper’s book?”
“I…“ Joy shook her head. “I have never heard of such a thing. It would be very dangerous. There are protections on our books.”
“So, touching a reaper’s book would kill a human?”
“I don’t know. As I said, I’ve never heard of such a thing. It might kill. Or it might just drive someone mad.”
“Could a demon touch it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. They’re not as fragile as humans, even when they inhabit a human’s body.”
“Will I remember any of this when I wake up?” Charlie asked.
Joy sighed. “Are you choosing to stay?”
“You said it was my choice.”
“Yes, but the body must be able to support life. Right now your body is shutting down. Once it’s unable to sustain life, your choice goes away. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do.” The light behind her warmed her back and tickled her neck, still beckoning her, still wanting her. It tugged at her shoulders and Charlie fought to stay put, tightening her grip on Joy’s hand.
“There has to be a way to heal my body. A spell. Something.”
“All this worry can be gone. If you just let go. There won’t be any pain. Evan will be fine without you. And your case will fade away.” Joy opened her hand, and Charlie felt her fingers slipping.
“No, no. Stop. I’m not ready,” Charlie said clutching at Joy’s arm. “You need to heal me. Or find a way to do it. Now. I’m not ready to die.”
The light behind her vanished, plunging them both into total darkness again. Charlie held onto Joy’s hand with every ounce of strength she could muster.
“Dammit, Charlie. You just made everything much harder on yourself.”
“I always do,” Charlie said. Joy tugged hard on Charlie’s arm, drawing her deeper into the darkness.
The scream vibrated through Charlie’s body, making her bones ache. The pain seared through her left arm and into her pectoral muscles. Her eyes flew open,
and she gulped in air, before letting out a groan.
“Charlie?”
She blinked and let her gaze follow the familiar voice.
“Oh my god, Charlie, you’re awake. They said…”
Charlie reached for Tom’s hand, and when she found it, gave it a tight squeeze.
“Where’s Joy?”
“Joy? She’s at the funeral home in Palmetto Point.”
Sweat dripped down her forehead and stung her eyes. Tears pushed over her bottom lids and streaked down her hot face. She gritted her teeth and took her left arm and pulled it across her body, hugging it to her. In a flash, medical staff pushed their way past Tom. A young woman wearing a white coat and holding a small penlight appeared.
“Hi, Charlie, I’m doctor Pierce. How are you feeling?”
Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but a fresh wave of pain went through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Can you tell me what your pain level is? Zero being no pain and ten being unbearable.”
Charlie moaned and choked out, “Unbearable.”
“Okay, we’re going to get you some pain meds to help you manage it,” Dr. Pierce said. Something in the young woman’s eyes made Charlie’s stomach go cold and she shivered.
“I’m dying, aren’t I?”
“We’re doing everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen. All right? I need you to stay positive.”
A nurse dressed in dark purple scrubs stuck a needle into the injection port of her IV bag, and within a moment, the pain in her arm and chest dulled.
“No, wait,” Charlie whispered. “I need… I need to talk to Joy.”
Her lids grew heavy, and before she knew it, she was plunged into darkness again.
Charlie roused slowly, the pain dull but persistent. Tom sat by her bed in an uncomfortable-looking chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and his eyes were closed. She glanced around.