Lydia climbs into her car and drives away.
I watch Vince, who’s still on his phone. He’s waving an arm around. It’s cute how he talks with his hands sometimes.
Gavin blocks my view. “Have you talked to Father Joseph?”
“No. I was thinking maybe tomorrow, after Mass.”
“That’s good.”
“Why do you care so much?” I ask, my tone light.
He shrugs. “I think religion is important. Faith is important. You are what you believe.”
“Interesting philosophy.”
“If more people genuinely believed in religion, there would never be war. No more world hunger.”
“And all cancers would be curable?” Geez. Bitter much?
“Maybe God will one day enlighten someone to the cure cancer when He feels that the world deserves it.”
It’s refreshing to talk about religion and faith with someone my age. “How do we know God hadn’t already picked someone to cure cancer and the child was aborted?”
“I hope that isn’t true.” He shakes his head. “Each child is a miracle, and miracles are magical.”
I blink. Did I really hear that? “Now that’s even more interesting. I didn’t think many religious people believed in magic.”
He laughs easily. “It’s not as if I believe in witches. Magic, yes, though. There’s too much in this world that’s unexplainable.”
“Give me an example.” I cross my arms and tap my foot.
“Fortune tellers.”
A scoffing sound escapes my lips. “Frauds.”
“Not all of them. Some have the ability to see the future. Have you ever had a dream that later came true? Or a vision?”
I clamp my lips shut, not wanting to lie, but unwilling to share the truth.
“I had a dream about you before we met.”
This is getting to be too much. Uncomfortable, I step closer to the restaurant so I can see Vince. “I think I better be going.”
“I know you’re with Vince. I’m not trying to steal you away, but please let me tell you about my dream.”
Despite myself, I’m curious. I stare at the concrete and nod.
“You were at a mountain. Tears streamed down your face. You looked so sad. Like you had lost everything.”
“Was anyone there?” Even though the slight breeze is warm, a chill makes me shiver.
“Several people. Four, five maybe. I didn’t pay attention to them.” He rubs his neck and shrugs. “I don’t want you to get hurt. That mountain, it’s not a safe place for you.”
I swallow hard. Just how much does Gavin know? Four or five people or witches? Sapphire Belladonna had gone off to talk to other covens. If she brought back a few…
Vince walks over. “I gotta go. My mom needs to rest, and she’s refusing to. I’m gonna make her since Dad’s doing more roadwork. Want me to give you a lift home?”
“That would be great, thanks.” I don’t want to seem clingy, but I hug him tight, not sure if it’s for him or for me. Both of us, maybe.
He rubs my back. “Are you ok, babe? You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.” I breathe in deeply. He feels so strong, and I relax against him.
Vince steps back, holding my hand. “You need a ride, Gavin?”
“No. I’ll walk home.”
A weight lifts from my shoulders. I don’t want to spend more time than is necessary with Gavin. He’s beginning to scare me. I don’t want to think he’s cute or talk to him about religion or dreams about mountains or magic. Definitely not magic.
Vince and I climb into his car. He holds the key in his hand, poised to put it in the ignition, but he lowers his arm. “Driving here was hard,” he admits. “I’m not supposed to be driving without another licensed driver present, but with Mom having to take it easy, she told me just this once… It was the first time driving since… since the accident.”
“You didn’t have to.” His house isn’t a super far walk from here.
“I wanted to see you, and I thought maybe a short drive wouldn’t be so bad.” He gives a forced laugh, and his jaw muscles tighten. “I told you the scariest part of driving was other drivers. Just give me a minute.”
To give him time to compose himself, I root through my purse for my chapstick when I see the letter from my father. With an unsteady hand, I pull it out.
“What’s that?”
“The doctor Lydia and I saw? He had a letter my dad had written.” I flip it over and over. Another letter. The last one I read compelled me to investigate witches. Will this one be as life altering?
“That’s a little strange. I mean, it’s great, but… I don’t know. Why…”
“Why didn’t he seek me out and give it to me years ago? I don’t know.”
“Have you read it?”
“No.”
“What are you waiting for?” He leans against the driver side door.
“I don’t know.”
“Sometimes not knowing is easier.” A faraway look dims his eyes.
I glance around the unfamiliar car. “Whose car is this? Your dad’s?”
“My grandmother’s. She’s letting us borrow it until we can get another one. Mom’s is totaled.” He taps the wheel with nervous energy. “Shortly after my brother died, I found his journal.”
“Did you read it?”
“No. Like I said, sometimes not knowing is easier. A month before he was diagnosed with cancer, we got into a huge fight. It was stupid. I can’t even remember what it was about.”
“Tommy looked up to you. He loved you.”
“I know that. But you love and hate your siblings. It’s just how it is.” He slumps forward a little, knuckles white on the wheel.
“If you want… if it wouldn’t be stepping on toes… I could read it and let you know what it says,” I offer.
He stares at me. “You would do that? For me?”
“Of course.”
“Step away.” Light brightens his eyes.
I giggle. I love making him happy.
Vince clears his throat. “Do you want me to read your dad’s letter?”
I hesitate. Marian had been the one to seek out the witches’ help. Had much had Daniel known?
Better not to risk it.
“I’m not ready.”
“If you want me to be there when you do read it, say the word.”
“I will.” I smile shyly. Yes, of course I want him to be there when I do read it. Just might not be able to let him peek over my shoulder like Lydia had. “We better get going. You need to get to your mom.”
Vince sighs and mouths something.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”
His cheeks turn red. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Praying. He was praying. Warmth spreads from my heart to the rest of my body. Although my relationship with God is a little rocky, I want Vince to believe.
The ride should have only taken seven minutes, but it takes twenty. This time, I don’t tease him about his overly cautious driving.
I lean over and kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to walk me to the door.”
He loosens his deathgrip on the wheel, and color returns to his knuckles. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Tell your mom I said hi and to not overdo it.”
Vince winks.
I climb out and wait until his car turns off the street before entering my house. “Mom?”
No answer.
She’s still in her room when I open her door, same position on her bed, too, although a different book is in her lap.
“Have you eaten, Mom?” I grab the nearest book. Witchology: A Study of Herbs and Spells.
“No.” She closes the book with a thud. “I didn’t learn much. Witches live in covens. They don’t have to use objects to perform their magic, although some spells do require them. They use magic to alter reality in some way. Only the most powerful of witches can control the weather.”
“Alter reality. Interesting. Anything about sh
amans?”
“They usually live in communities. They can fly and shape shift into animals. As for the weather, they can make it rain, but that’s it. They always have to use objects to use their magic. They’ve mastered the magic of trances, and most of their magic is to further their journey of mind and soul.”
“Journey of mind and soul.” The witches mentioned that. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Shamans believe there are layers to life. With each step in the journey, they become closer to the person they were always meant to be. They grow stronger with each step, each level. Their magic also grows, and that’s where the danger lies. The stronger their magic, the more they crave, but when they only desire magic for magic’s sake, they move backward in their journey.”
Which is why they want me. They can use me to gain more magic and reach higher levels of self, without backtracking on their journey.
“If I find anything else out, I’ll let you know.” She opens the book again.
An obvious dismissal so I go into my room. It’s great to finally be able to talk to Mom about the witches and magic, but will I ever be able to tell Vince? I better be able to protect him first. Once the shamans realize how much he means to me, he’ll be a target.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I’m a believer.
Both frightened and excited, I try to levitate different items. I manage to lift a pencil a few inches before it falls. Books are too heavy, but I’m able to elevate a mini notepad before my head aches.
Not wanting to overdo it, I work on organizing the memorial service for Tommy for the rest of the night.
I am magic. I know that now. Accept it. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to save someone from cancer. I will learn to master myself, to do whatever I can to help those who need it.
I finally know what I’m meant to do with the rest of my life.
Chapter 19
THAT NIGHT, I’M restless, unable to get comfortable. When morning finally comes, I wake from a disturbing dream where several women gather together, their purpose dark.
Are the women witches? Is the dream a premonition? Or is the dream just because I feel both empowered and guilty over ignoring the witches’ request that I come to the mountain?
I go to Mass even though I don’t know if I belong anymore. Vince’s parents come, but he doesn’t. At least, he’s praying. Progress.
I pray for Vince, that he’ll find peace.
I pray for Mom, that she can forgive herself.
I prayed for myself, that I’ll be able to use my power for good.
After the service, I wait in line to talk to Father Joseph.
“Hello, Crystal. I heard about the accident. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Do you think we can talk today?”
He nods. “Go ahead to my office. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
I thank him and leave the church for the rectory next door. His small office is located in the back. Many pictures of parishioners dot the walls. One picture brings tears to my eyes. The Fullers, all four of them. Vince and Tommy are so young in it. Even then, Vince was a cutie.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Father Joseph enters the room and sits at his desk. “What do you want to talk about first? Your real parents?”
“Father Joseph…” I take a deep breath. “Do you believe in magic?”
“Magic? As in witchcraft?” He furrows his brow and clasps his hands on top of some papers on his desk.
I squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze, my heart hammering in my chest. “My mom was infertile, but she had me.”
“She prayed for many years to have a child, and God answered her prayers.”
“Did you know she sought the counsel of witches?”
He lowers his head. “We discussed that matter often. She was torn. It wasn’t that her faith was lacking, but she was desperate to make her dream of becoming a mother a reality.”
“So you did know.”
“I only knew she thought about it. But that would explain why she ducked me after Mass for months before you were born.” He leans forward. “Some do believe in magic and witchcraft. That path leads to darkness. I caution you not to follow it.”
My stomach twists in knots. “All magic is evil?”
He straightens some papers on his desk.
“Because if magic is evil, and I was conceived through magic…” I can’t go on.
Father vocalizing my biggest fears makes me want to crawl up into a ball and die. But I can’t die. I’d go to Hell. Or maybe not. Maybe I don’t have a soul, and I’d just stop existing.
I gulp and wring my hands together.
“You are not evil, Crystal. Even if witches did have a hand in your being conceived, God still had a hand in your birth. Magic, as with everything in this earthly realm, is ultimately controlled by God.”
My body stops trembling. My breathing comes easier. My heart stops pounding so fiercely against my chest it felt like it was bruising my ribs. “Thank you, Father Joseph.” I stand. That’s all I need to know.
“Do you want to talk about your parents?”
“I have enough to think about right now.”
“My door is always open.”
I nod and pass through the threshold when he adds:
“I’m worried about you, Crystal. You are in my prayers.”
I leave without saying anything. The breeze feels wonderful, and I enjoy my walk through town, refusing to dwell and magic and Hell. Just living in the moment.
Down the street is Pullman’s Sweets, and I head toward it.
“Crystal.”
I slow to a halt. My throat closes, my mouth grows dry, and my palms become sweaty as Gavin approaches, a large dog by his side.
A dog I saw before.
A dog that looks very much alive and normal despite having a fireball thrown at it and disappearing.
“You have a… dog,” I manage to say after a long moment.
“Yeah, it’s my dad’s. Why? You a cat person?”
I ignore his teasing. “You said your dad’s in business, right?”
“Yeah.” Lines form on his forehead as he frowns.
“What kind of business?”
His laugh sounds fake. “It’s boring.”
I cross my arms. “Gavin, is your dad a… shaman?”
“A shaman?” The confusion in his blue eyes seems genuine.
“Gavin, please tell me the truth.” I inch away to put more distance between myself and the dog.
The dog sniffs and whines before growling deeply. It lunges toward me, and I shriek.
“Down, Calder. Easy, boy.” He yanks back on the leash. After the dog relaxes somewhat, he runs a hand through his blond hair. “You really want to talk about this now? Here?”
“Yes.” I don’t like the gleam in Calder’s piercing eyes. He looks too intelligent to be an ordinary dog. He can’t be just an ordinary dog.
But if he isn’t the shape shifter form of a shaman, what can he be?
Gavin steps close to me, keeping the dog away. He glances up and down the street. “My dad’s a witch hunter,” he whispers.
My jaw drops. “That’s a far cry from a businessman!”
He smiles, dimples visible. “I guess you could say he’s in the business of magic.”
“And him?” I gesture toward the dog. Calder curls his upper lip at me, revealing huge teeth.
“He’s a witch hunter too.”
“Are you one?” I frown. “But that dream you had…”
“I told you, I’m not interesting in Dad’s business. I’m not training to be a witch hunter. I like to pretend that Calder here is an ordinary dog who needs to go out on walks.” He shrugs, his shirt tight against his shoulders.
“A dog witch hunter. I saw him disappear the other night!”
His eyebrows rise up enough up on his forehead to hide beneath his hair. “He may hunt witches, but he has some enhancements and spells = to keep him safe. Fight fire with fi
re.”
Calder growls again and leaps toward me.
Gavin struggles to keep him back. “He’s reacting to you for some reason.”
“Your dream,” I insist, refusing to cower even though I want to run away like a scaredy-cat. “Do you do magic?”
He kneels down and pets Calder. The dog doesn’t seem to like the gesture but leaves me alone. “I’m not a witch. Or a… What did you say before? A shaman? I’m just a guy.” His dimpled smile makes another appearance.
I snort. “Or you’re a witch and you just don’t want your father to find out.”
“I’m not a witch!”
“So you lied about the dream?”
He straightens. His face, it’s more open now. I hadn’t realized how guarded he was before. “Did my dream come true?”
I bite my lower lip and stare at his sneakers.
“You stayed away from the mountain. You trusted me.”
“More like I don’t trust the witches,” I mumble.
He nods vigorously several times. “Good. You can’t believe anything a witch tells you.”
All of my energy drains away, and I rub my forehead. Another headache is brewing. I don’t want Gavin to know what I am. I don’t want to be talking to Gavin right now. I want Vince.
Who also doesn’t know what I am. At least Gavin knows about witches. It wouldn’t be such a huge leap for him to learn and accept that I’m magic. But Vince? How can he possibly understand?
“I have to get going.” I brush past Gavin.
Calder snarls and jumps toward me.
My legs tremble. The dog is huge, made of pure muscle, its teeth long and sharp. It doesn’t need magic to harm a witch, or anyone else for that matter. How Gavin can walk around with that monster as if it’s an ordinary pet baffles me.
The dog leaps forward, and the leash flies out of Gavin’s hand. He runs toward me, his teeth bared.
Although I instinctively want to shy away to protect my face, I hold out my outstretched hand.
The dog stops and whines, clawing at the air.
Gavin stares at me then touches the air where Calder is blocked. “Why does he want to attack you? Why can’t he move? There’s nothing there.”
“Of course not.” I whirl around and hurry to the bakery, praying they don’t follow.
Mrs. Pullman is serving several customers. Once she’s done, I approach the counter. She greets me with a warm smile. “Crystal, I was going to call you, but the weekends are so busy.”
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