by Fuller, Tara
“One of who?” I asked, slightly offended but more curious than anything.
“You know. One of those people who have watched The Blair Witch Project one too many times and then come here looking for some freaky mystical explanation to it all.”
I laughed.
“Salem gets a lot more of them than we do. But we still get a few. Especially the ones who really research their stuff and make the connection,” she said sarcastically.
“What connection?”
“They may have been called the Salem Witch Trials but some of the witches were from Ipswich. And Andover too if I remember correctly.”
“Oh. I never knew that,” I said, surprised. “How do you know all this?”
“Well I don’t know what you people from Colorado call it, but around here we call it American History and it’s mandatory for all juniors.”
I laughed again. “I know. I just don’t remember my history teacher going into that much detail about it.” My American History teacher from back home was content most of the time to put on a video and take a nap while the rest of the class passed notes.
“Well, when you live in a town like this you get a double dose when it comes to local history,” she said dryly.
She looked up and squinted at me. “So why the sudden interest? In your defense you don’t seem like the type.”
“I’m not. I just found this book. It’s really old. Grams says it probably belonged to a witch or something,” I said as I pulled it out of the drawer. “I just wanted somebody to take a look at it who might know something. It’s pretty cool. Like a really old journal. More than anything I guess I just want to know more about the girl who it belonged to, since she used to live in this house.”
I slid it over to her, but when she opened it she looked confused. “How do you expect anyone to be able to read this?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s just a bunch of weird symbols Rowan. There aren’t any words in this thing.”
I grabbed the book and flipped through the pages. The entries jumped out to me instantly. There were no symbols. Just hand scripted words. Sure some were faded, but for the most part it was all readable.
“Have you been drinking or something?” I said.
“No. Have you?” She sounded annoyed. “You’re telling me you can read that?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know if she was messing with me but Paige was starting to get on my nerves.
She eyed me suspiciously for a moment, like I was crazy before replying, “Never pegged you as a big history buff Rowan, but what do I know? If it doesn’t pertain to boys or shopping I really don’t pay much attention. I’m not ashamed of that. I embrace my petty girlishness.” She hopped off the bed and added, “You should too.”
“So?” I said. “Do you know anyone or not?”
Paige groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine!” She stopped at the door and closed her eyes. “This is so humiliating.”
“What?”
“My cousin Noel owns a little occult bookstore in Salem. She’s kind of a freak-show but I’ll bet she could help you.” She cringed as soon as the words slipped past her lips. It was obvious that Paige didn’t like being associated with someone like Noel, let alone admitting she was family. But I wasn’t willing to let that stop me.
“Great! “ I said. “Let’s go then.”
“Me?” Paige backed up. “No way. I’m not going to her voodoo shop of crazy. I’ll give you directions, but that’s it.”
“Please, Paige.” I clasped my hands together. “I’ll let you make me go shopping after. I’ll even buy something pink.”
Paige rolled her eyes and groaned. “I swear if anyone see’s me there I’m telling them you kidnapped me and held me hostage,” she said and slung her purse across her shoulder.
A big smile stretched across my face and I grabbed the book and shoved it into my bag.
“So why do you say she’s a freak-show? What’s her deal?”
Paige stopped at the door and sighed before she turned to face me. “Because…she thinks she’s a witch.”
We stood hesitating outside the door of the bookshop. It was sweltering hot outside and I was eager to go in but Paige wasn’t quite ready. A hot-pink neon sign hung in the front window that read: “psychic readings”. The buzzing sound that emitted from it reminded me of the bug zapper that Dad would hang on the back porch during the hot summer months back home. Above that was an old sign with the bookstore’s name carved artfully into wood. The Magic Circle.
Paige looked over and met my gaze. To say she looked annoyed would have been the understatement of the century.
“If you tell anyone that I came here I’ll kill you.”
I held back a giggle and placed my hand over my heart. “I swear.”
“Let’s get this over with.”
The door had a bell similar to the one at my grandparent’s store that rang loudly when we entered, causing Paige to flinch as if it had alerted the entire town that she was there. My eyes scanned the dusty old shop. We were the only people in sight. I couldn’t even locate an employee. Rows of antique bookshelves towered over us no matter where we stood and it smelled old and musty like a basement. A colorful beaded curtain covered a doorway that looked like it led to the back half of the store. As I inched closer I could make out the glow of a black light through the beads and I was nearly overpowered by the smell of incense. I scrunched up my nose at the unpleasant aroma.
“Hello?” I called, hesitant to cross the curtain without permission. The sound of a chair scooting across tile filtered through the beads so I took a step back to stand next to Paige. Finally a girl emerged that looked like she might be in her mid twenties. She looked nothing like Paige. She had a pale complexion and freckles dotted her cheeks. Her jet-black hair was cropped short in the back and jelled into spikes but her green eyes were nearly covered by long razor-slashed bangs. She was wearing a black dress that matched her hair and a dark red choker. She brushed back her bangs to get a better look at us. Her eye makeup was smoky and dramatic, only upstaged by her blood-red lipstick.
“Paige?” She sounded surprised.
Paige gave her a half-hearted smile and a small wave. “Hey Noel.”
“So what brings you here?” she said, folding her arms across her chest and eyeing the two of us like we were a couple of kids up to no good.
“My friend Rowan found this book and I told her you might know something about it,” she said, pointing to the book I was holding tightly to my chest. I could feel its energy vibrating through my lungs.
Noel held her hand out for the book and I handed it over reluctantly. She laid it on the counter after inspecting its condition and gingerly flipped through the pages. After a moment she turned to look at me. Her eyes were piercing and dark, almost accusing.
“Where did you get this?” Her voice was cold and severe as if I’d broken some rule.
“I…I found it at my grandparent’s house,” I said, taking a step back. The way her eyes flashed frightened me and I could tell that Paige felt the same when she stumbled back against the door jostling the bell.
“You shouldn’t have this,” she said and turned back to the book, the bottom of her dress twirling with her swift movement.
“Why? What is it?” I asked, taking a step forward, regaining my courage and the full use of my legs.
“It’s a book of shadows,” she said as if I should know what it meant.
“We’re not fluent in weirdo Noel,” Paige said and rolled her eyes.
Noel shot her a sharp look. I half expected Noel to kick us out right then but when she turned back to the book and continued I breathed a sigh of relief.
“A book of shadows is a book that belongs to a witch. It holds all of her innermost thoughts, spells, rituals, laws. It pretty much serves as a guide, to put it mildly.” She paused and turned back to face us. “And it is supposed to be destroyed when she dies. No exceptions.” She slammed the book shut and
looked at me.
“So what am I supposed to do with it now? Destroy it?” I said, knowing that there was no way in hell that was happening.
She ran her fingers over the book in thought for a moment, and then began to drum her long black nails against the cover.
“Do you know how much this thing is worth?” she said, her face intrigued now.
“No. I’m not interested in selling it. I just wanted to know more about the girl.”
She rolled her eyes, obviously disappointed that I wouldn’t sell her the book. She flipped through the pages once more.
“There’s not much to tell. I’m not really familiar with the name Rebecca Foster. Alexander Foster on the other hand is a whole other story. If this had been his book we would really have something to talk about.”
Time seemed to grind to a halt in that moment. My heart stopped and I could almost hear the blood rushing through my veins and pulsing behind my ears.
“What? How do you know Alex?” I asked bewildered. Is it possible that I had gone this long, desperate to know something about him and he was some kind of local celebrity?
Her face twisted up like she was confused and then she laughed. “I seriously doubt that we are talking about the same person. Unless you know many witches from the seventeenth century.”
“Oh.” I breathed and my heart began to pick up a normal rhythm. “I wonder if Alex is related to him?” I suddenly realized that I was thinking aloud.
“Who’s Alex?” Paige stepped in, looking curious.
I didn’t know how to answer. Were we dating? It didn’t really seem like it in some ways, but in others it seemed like we were so much more.
“You know the guy I saw in the store a while back?” I asked to jog Paige’s memory. Her eyes immediately widened.
“We’ve been…hanging out,” I admitted, my face flushing.
“What? How could you not tell me this until now?” she said, looking thoroughly annoyed. I was afraid I had pushed poor Paige too far for one night.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just didn’t want to jinx it. He’s kind of flighty. I wasn’t sure it would last until…” I trailed off. Was I sure it was going to last now? I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen him in three days. That couldn’t be a good sign.
Noel cleared her throat, a disgusted look crossing her face. “If you’re done, could you two gush about boys somewhere else? I have a store to run.”
Paige laughed. “Yeah it really looks like you’re booming with business. Come on Rowan. She’s probably got somebody lined up to sacrifice later or something.”
Noel stormed across the store and held the door open. “That’s it. Get out.” I started to follow Paige out in a hurry but went back to grab my book from the counter. When I brushed past Noel she grabbed my arm. Her long black nails dug into my skin and her eyes rolled back in her head like she was having a seizure. The sudden burst of energy passing between us was enough to make my stomach roll. Her emotions were rushing into me in such a frenzy I couldn’t even identify what any of them meant.
“Hey!” I screamed, trying to pry her fingers from my flesh. She held tight for a moment and then finally let go. Gasping, she stumbled back against the door.
“What the hell is wrong with you Noel?” Paige shouted as she inspected my arm. Her nails had left swollen red imprints in the shape of tiny crescents; the only thing separating the blood from air was a thin layer of skin that hadn’t been broken.
Noel rubbed her hands over her face and slowly stood up as if she’d just fainted. She still looked a bit wobbly, but worse than that she looked terrified. I could barley think through the thick haze of shock and terror swirling around us. Once she had regained her balance, she took a step back from me, her face turning a lighter shade of white.
“How…you’re one of us?” she whispered in horror.
“One of who? What are you talking about?” I asked. What was this girl’s problem?
“He’ll die because of you. All because of a stupid little girl who knows nothing about who she really is.” She sounded disgusted. “What a waste.”
I took a deep breath and bit my lip trying not to remember the nightmare, but it came rushing back regardless. The feel of Alex’s lips, hard and smooth against mine. Alex wilting into a pile of ash as he pushed me away.
“Stay away from that book,” she said. “And if you’re smart, stay away from him.”
She slammed the door in my face leaving me stunned. Paige put her arm around me and guided me to the car. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I was shaking so badly that my teeth were chattering.
“Don’t listen to her Rowan. She’s a freak,” Paige said as I slipped into my seat. “You are nothing like her.” But even I could hear the doubt that dusted her voice. She was just as freaked out by the whole thing as I was. I stared down at the book in my lap unable to speak. Unable to breathe. One of them? Who the hell was I?
Chapter 13
Aunt Marion has made it nearly impossible to get back to Rowan this week. She found me digging through mother’s books and now is suspicious. And with the midsummer sabbat on the horizon she has kept me busy with preparations for the celebration. She claims she is still ill and cannot find the strength to tend to them herself, but I know the truth. This is just another way to keep me contained. Then of course around every turn Annabel is there. Today she appeared while I was gathering herbs in the forest. She was in a pretty yellow dress that matched her hair, and giggled like a schoolgirl at my every word, touching my shoulder and smiling. But even with all her magic and all her charms, my eyes only see Rowan. Beautiful Rowan. Annabel is just a pawn in Marion’s game and I won’t play a part in it.
~ Alexander 1692
***
The nightmares were getting worse. The latest one had sent me careening back into consciousness screaming at around three thirty a.m. I’d been awake ever since. I glanced at the digital alarm clock across the room and calculated how much sleep I’d gotten in the last three nights. The grand total: five hours. Insomnia sucks, but nightmares have a way of sucking the life out of you, more than simply not getting enough sleep ever could. It was morning now and the sun was just beginning to filter in through the transparent yellow drapes that Grams had hung there the day before. The upstairs remodel had officially begun. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was just trying to drive me out of my room, but I wasn’t budging. It had been a full week since Alex had almost kissed me here in my bed. A full seven days with not so much as a phone call. But then again, he had never asked for my number. Or given me his for that matter. I felt silly and embarrassed for being so depressed over a boy whose phone number I didn’t even possess. I didn’t mean to sit and wallow alone in my room, but I couldn’t help it. The dark abyss was closing around me and the icy emptiness was filling me up once again. It didn’t help that I hadn’t heard from Dad or Cam all week either. Bevin’s texts had turned frantic. After the second day of her threatening to call the FBI if I didn’t respond, I finally sent her a quick message indicating that I was fine, just busy. She didn’t like that, but I was too empty to come up with something better. If I told her the truth, if she heard my voice she’d know. And I couldn’t have her worrying about me like that. The bright light pouring through the window was almost blinding me, leaving my vision blurred with dark black spots blooming across my eyes, so I rolled over and buried my face into my pillow. It was damp like my hair. I felt sticky and hot as I kicked the blankets away trying to get some air. Why was it so freaking hot? I could barley breath. I peeked up at the curtains. It was like they were intensifying the sunshine as it spilled mercilessly through the glass. I felt like an ant roasting beneath a magnifying glass in the summer sun.
I groaned and rolled out of bed to head to the shower. Grams was pounding on the other side of the wall with a hammer. Probably hanging some more of the knock-off artwork she had picked up in town the day before, then spread across my bed demanding my opinion. She let me choose one for my room
so I picked a reprint of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Grams didn’t protest because it matched the drapes. I left the rest of the paintings of cherubs, floral patterns and half-naked couples wrapped in warm embraces to be scattered through the rest of the house. I stared at the painting that was now hanging above my bed. The night sky littered with swirling clouds, blazing stars scattered all around. The big crescent moon. Below the horizon a peaceful town was tucked away beneath the hills. The cool dark colors illuminated the fiery windows, making it seem like a place you might want to run away to. The houses looked welcoming in the uncertain mystical night. It was beautiful and dark. And it fit everything I was feeling inside.
Even my shower had ceased to be a place of refuge for me. As I worked the vanilla scented shampoo through my hair, all I could think of was Alex. How he had touched every surface of the tiny space I was in. The feel of his fingers in my hair. I started to imagine him there with me, but quickly dismissed the thought when my innocent cheeks began to burn. Bevin was right. I was too innocent for my own good. If I couldn’t even get through a fantasy how was I ever going to get through the real thing when it happened? If it ever happened. To be honest I was starting to have my doubts. I wiped my palm across the condensation-covered mirror to get a glimpse of my reflection. Blah. It was the only word I could think to describe myself. My face looked pale and sallow and the dark circles gathering under my eyes were becoming constant evidence of my sleepless nights. I placed my hands on either side of my face and stretched my skin back to hide the imperfections. If only I could sleep. Even just for a few hours. I’d thought about asking Grams for some sleeping pills but I didn’t think she’d go for it. She was still very much a hippy at heart and didn’t believe in anything that wasn’t organic. Mom didn’t believe in sleeping pills either. That was another reason I seemed to be shying away from the idea. But now as I looked at myself in the foggy mirror I threw everything to the wind. I would get dressed and go into town to a pharmacy to get some mild sleeping pills. Grams wouldn’t have to know. And Mom…well she would just have to be mad from wherever she was up there.