Oculus

by S. E. Akers

  I picked up the vile of togwort, inspecting the tiny glass container with several tips and turns. Togwort, according to one of Beatrix’s grimiores, was an herbal brew that blocked psychic attacks. Luckily I remembered the funny name from when I’d packed up her potions, though I had no idea at the time that I would be venturing a sip this soon. I knew stopping the diamond from pulling me into a vision was a long shot. All I wanted was a little more control in getting out of them, like a panic button. Preferably something that didn’t result in my emotions shaking down the house with any more rowdy bouts of thunder.

  I twisted off the cork and then made the horrible mistake of taking a preliminary sniff. “YUCK!” I gagged, nostrils flaring. It smelled like an old snuff spit-cup the guys at the coalmine would leave lying around. Same nasty mask of mint too. This wasn’t going to be pretty. I hardened my lips around the rim before I lost my nerve and threw back the potion with a jerk. The swig didn’t shoot straight down, not with it clinging to my throat with the roll of cooking oil. I jumped to my feet on my last forceful sup, preparing for the worst. The togwort’s creep was cringing enough, but its gut-leveling splashdown had me sprawled out on the floor in a gagging fit. The vile had slipped from my grasp on my way down. Fragments of glass now lay on the floor, glistening within a puddle of the syrupy-looking brew. Suddenly my body felt feverish and then sweat started streaming from my brow. I beat my hands against the hardwood planks, hoping that would help me fight off its impending rise. Clawing my nails into the floorboards couldn’t keep it down either. As soon as I’d caught a decent enough breath, I wrestled myself up and blazed a feverish trail to the toilet. I retched over the bowl for several minutes, praying I’d ingested enough of it before my refund. Surely some of it had to have stuck as thick as what it was. I needed my attempt to count for something, especially after daring to down that mess in the first place. As hard as what I’d heaved, I thought my stomach was going to pop out of my ears.

  Once I was back on my feet, I shuffled a path over to the sink. I cupped my hand close to my mouth and eased out a puff of air. In that brief moment, I totally lost all rights to bitch about the balegore’s breath ever again. Now all I needed was a three-layer run of Colegate and a tall glass of mouthwash to get the ball rolling on some serious de-skunking. Breaking the vile may have been a blessing in disguise. I didn’t care how well it worked. I couldn’t stomach that nasty stuff ever again!

  I was ready within the hour—showered, dressed, and mouth sanitized—but I was hardly set to greet the day. That was evident from my “dragging in the dawn” reflection the mirror was casting. My eyes were so puffy and bloodshot I looked like I had a double-dose of pinkeye, and I’d seen football players wearing eye-black who sported lighter lines under their sockets. It was painfully obvious that more than a little exhaustion was at play. I could literally see the strain of my pent-up tension throbbing the whites of my eyes. Good thing a quick detour downstairs could rectify those dead-giveaways before I headed up to breakfast.

  I bent down and began rummaging through the mess of books scattered all around, searching for the list I needed to take with me. With the vile of togwort good and gone, this was now my one and only line of diamond-defense.

  Hopefully…

  One of Beatrix’s grimoires contained instructions for making your own dreamcatcher, a magical device that promised to keep a person safe throughout their slumber and fill their head with pleasant dreams. Of course I didn’t think for a second that it cemented any watertight guarantees — not with the diamond’s willful involvement. But it might serve as a dam in some way, allowing only a trickle of the startling stuff to pass instead of a flash flood of terror. That was pleasant enough in my book.

  I ran over the list again. The things it called for seemed attainable for the most part. I actually felt like I was embarking on a witchy scavenger hunt, minus the fun. First, I had to make a hoop out of some sort of plant. That wouldn’t be hard, not with all the trees and shrubs surrounding the grounds. The yarn I needed for weaving the web wasn’t a problem either. Tanner kept miles of it downstairs since so many “scientific formulas” called for it as one of their ingredients. I’d already checked off my personal stone contributions, which I would be carving out and whipping up this evening. Since the diamond was the culprit behind the visions, I had to tie one onto the center of the web. Then I needed some anchoring stones to go around it. Those were supposed to trap the “bad stuff”. The spell actually recommended using black onyxes to bind all the wicked inside the web and keep it from escaping. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. But it also went on to say that any black stone would work and suggested tourmalines of the same hue as an alternative. That made my decision easy. Then came fashioning the “spectral channels” that would allow only happy-thoughts to flow from the web and spill into my head. That, I feared, would be the iffy part. Again, I wasn’t banking on any rainbows, simply overcast skies in lieu of any torrential downpours. Two things were required to make them effective: any air stone and fresh feathers from a fowl. I figured it couldn’t hurt using both my golden topaz and lapis lazuli stones. If one is good, two had to be better. The feathers were a no-brainer, knowing they needed to be “fresh”. I just had to wait until monster feeding-time to pluck those. My only concern was finding the last crucial component — something that symbolized my fears. My suspicions pointed to the creatures being at the root of my worries, so that entailed figuring out something that went hand-in-hand with those baddies. After all, the dreamcatcher’s magic couldn’t work its charm if I didn’t round up something monster-related to attach to the hoop. That one was going to be a toughie.

  I gave my shoulders a shrug. Too bad I flushed the finger…

  So it looked like I had some craft-time slated for my weekend, under my camp counselor’s radar of course. He didn’t need to know. The big-girl was on top of the situation. I still knew where his totem was if I needed to give him a shout. I mean, it wasn’t like the diamond had broadcasted anything monumental, only what amounted to the makings of a B-Grade horror movie. There wasn’t a thing he could do about the visions anyway, except sit idly beside my bed until they had finished playing out. And besides, Tanner was keeping secrets from me too. Where he went at night? What he was doing? Who the heck he had stashed me away from and his reason why? Yeah, that last one was still stuck in my craw pretty tight. I was actually surprised another finger didn’t crop up out of the blue last night — the one lying dead center in the row on my right hand. It sure was itching to.

  I snuck downstairs to the library, invisibly and undetected. First, I collected a hefty skein of yarn, granting another check to my list. Next in line was rounding up some tourmalines — a handful of black ones to thread through the web and a green one to give me that pick-me-up I was desperately craving. The power inside just one little green tourmaline could snuff out my case of the drowsies, spackle over my dark circles, hose the red from my eyes, and give my lids enough energy to keep them standing at attention so my mentor would be none the wiser. Tanner kept the tourmalines housed in a glass canister the size of a cookie jar, and there were oodles of them in every color. In fact, there were so many crammed inside that thing it reminded me of a jellybean container — the kind where you had to guess how many it held. Not a one of them would be missed.

  My hand stopped shy of lifting off its glass lid. The canister that was always filled to its brim looked a good quarter low today, for some odd reason.

  I suppose he could’ve been down here playing “scientist” late last night. My confused stare drifted to his worktable. It looked the same as it did yesterday. Absolutely nothing appeared missing or out of place. A nagging feeling forced my foot into a steady stream of taps. Tanner didn’t require tourmalines to stay youthful-looking. The preservation powers of his amethyst afforded him that ability on its own. And that was basically what the coveted air stones did in a nutshell, enhanced your appearance and gave your body a blast of vigor. Suddenly a sour thought swelled
in my head, puckering my lips quicker than the punch from a lemon. I jerked back in a snap, my hands clenching my waist, while my mind erected a tower of speculations based on the stone’s more virile effects and last night’s female guest.

  Exactly what physical attribute was he boosting? That’s what was blaring in my head like a bullhorn. I sized up the jar again. After taking a good second-look, the damn thing looked closer to being down a full third.

  My frame sagged on the spot. Shit… Now I felt sick. Maybe she needed them? Maybe that’s why she came by? I couldn’t peel my eyes off the empty space left inside the canister, feeling just as hollow. My head rocked with several somber shakes. No… He didn’t use them. Not for THAT… Then more doubts surfaced. Tanner wouldn’t give a bunch of charged tourmalines to someone he didn’t trust. So if he trusted them, then why was he so intent on keeping me out of sight? Frustration had my foot stomping the floor. I couldn’t question him about why they were missing, at least not right now. I had to wait until we were both down here together and make some “innocent comment” about them, and that was if I mustered enough balls to even broach the subject. A good hunk of my heart didn’t want to know.

  I snatched off the lid, collected the black tourmalines I needed for the web, and then fished out a green one for myself. I crushed the stone in my hands with a feisty “crack” and threw its dusty magical remains straight at my face. I may have started feeling better within a matter of seconds—physically, that is—but my head was still churning with crazy thoughts. I was going to need padding on the walls of my bedroom if I didn’t get some clarifying answers soon.

  I headed back up to my room where I stashed away my list and supplies. I was really dreading the climb to the main house. What if the extra wards are still sealing the doorway? That would only mean one thing — “she” hadn’t left. How was I going to cross that bridge? Hell, I could probably slide under the damn threshold I felt so low, with or without it being spelled.

  My worries began to wane after passing through the doorway effortlessly — thank goodness. Now all I had to do was put the finishing touches on my ruse of being in a good mood and pray his radar wasn’t working overtime.

  I arrived at the dining room to find Tanner waiting patiently beside my seat…and every inch of his presence looked suspiciously hotter than ever. Talk about some incriminating side effects. I’d never seen his eyes sparkling any brighter, or his skin looking so irresistibly damn dewy.

  The Amethyst Talisman’s eyes narrowed like the point of a pin. “You’re looking particularly refreshed this morning,” he remarked and then pulled out my chair.

  “So do you,” I lobbed back as I sat down, unable to resist. “You must have gotten plenty of sleep last night.” I’d hoped my comment would segue into him admitting something about his unexpected guest, but the only response I got was a slicker sheen coating his seductive grin.

  Typical…

  Those tight lips of his didn’t stay locked for long. Quite frankly, the last time I’d heard a motor cranking nonstop like his mouth was running, I was driving a boat back to Catemaco. However not one word about who he had “entertained” in his study last night was mentioned. Was I surprised? No. Annoyed? You betcha. But my irritation swiftly faded, basically because I found myself blindsided by what had quickly turned into one hellacious locker room pep-talk.

  He started off by extending a steady stream of compliments about how well I was retaining everything he had been throwing at me, even in spite of my unsuccessful memory snatches. Then he praised my speed and proficiency when it came to wielding all the weapons down in his arsenal. He even made a flattering remark about my bow shooting. That’s when I first started smelling smoke. I didn’t have to check my seat to know which way it was blowing. I should have known right then it was about to take an uncomfortable turn for the worse.

  Sure enough and with the most delicate of transitions, my mentor brought up every time I’d faced a creature — all the way back to Silas’ sneaky showing with the imp on Day One. It was bad enough that all of my screw-ups had scarred my brain cells to the point where they coiled in my head like a twisting stream of bad reruns, but hearing him recount them out loud and at considerable length was like listening to nails screeching down a chalkboard that dove straight into the dark and dismal depths of Hell.

  Tanner took a deep breath and then continued, “I don’t want you getting discouraged. Every Talisman has had their fair share of stumbles along the way . . . even Adamas. True courage cannot exist without pain. The most important thing is to press onward, no matter the challenges. There’s not a soul throughout history who hasn’t achieved their victory without some form of struggle. I know how things can often seem impossible until they’re done, but when you do banish your first creature, it won’t be because of what you did in that moment, but because of all the times you tried before.”

  Encouraging words about perseverance was one thing, but his tireless delivery had me wondering who he was trying to convince more…me or himself?

  Crap… And here I thought I couldn’t feel any lower after Silas’ bomb-drop last night, discovering that the diamond was riding roughshod over my dreams, and then finding all those missing tourmalines this morning. My mistake. I only hoped that my eyes weren’t the size of saucers and my mouth wasn’t cracked open throughout his eloquent spiel. I was just that dazed.

  We’d just finished our meal and were about to head downstairs when Tanner announced a modification to my schedule. Monster-matches were on hold for a few days. But the reason for the change wasn’t as disappointing as I’d initially thought. He simply wanted me to accrue a little flight-time before heading back into the ring. That was music to my ears. His confidence seemed firm enough on the surface, and as a bonus, I was getting a roundabout breather from the beasts and their beatings — Silas included. My humiliation was embracing the break the most. I couldn’t take any more washouts, especially after digesting that honey-coated powwow back at the dining table. Things had to turn around at some point. This afternoon was as good a time as any.

  I wouldn’t say my morning lectures breezed by. It was kind of hard not to think about the unmentioned guest that Tanner knew I was well aware of. Being down in the library proved even more distracting. The container and its missing tourmalines kept tugging my eyes to it like a magnet. I was itching to say something, but I never did. I just hoped a little wind on my face this afternoon would putt some fizz back in my spirits.

  I didn’t eat much at lunch on purpose. I had no idea what soaring around up there would do to a full stomach. I’d reached my toilet-hug limit for the day and simply couldn’t fathom the embarrassment of dropping any accidental puke-bombs. Better safe than sorry, I thought. And admittedly, much more attractive.

  Tanner motioned me towards the front door. “Bea was such a master at controlling the wind. She made it seem like she was actually flying,” he raved. “I think this will serve two purposes. Help you connect with her memories and give you a leg up during your bouts . . . a more lofty one, so to speak.”

  I’d been looking forward to giving my newly acquired wings a stretch, less the feathers of course. Though I’d only played around with changing my form, nothing had ever come of it. Some of the problem had to do with how I was still road-blocking myself with guilt and grief, but the majority stemmed from the diamond itself. It liked to be in control and after all, the ability to summon any of my adopted stones’ “full power” rested with it. Shape-shifting required summoning A LOT of Veil magic. Even though the diamond amped-up their energy, they weren’t officially “birth-stones”. Any successes of that magnitude would ultimately be the result of a focused head, a clear heart, and the blessing from a shiny hunk of magical carbon.

  See, I knew it was finicky.

  Silas stopped us as we were stepping outside. “Shall I prepare a parachute for the daredevil?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Tanner replied, coming to my aid. “A fall won’t crack a single
one of her limbs.”

  “Thanks,” I called back as I strutted outside. It wasn’t an outright dig, but it sure-fire didn’t strike my ears as a compliment either.

  We headed around to the side of the house that faced the woods, well away from the ocean. Avoiding any chance of a wet landing sounded A-Okay with me. The next full moon was a little over a week away. Knowing Lorelei’s determination, she was probably camped out under the surface putting the finishing touches on her next plan of attack. Between reinforcing the wards around the perimeter and dragging her butt back into the sea the last time she’d dropped by, the moonstone-mad sea-bitch would have to tighten her game in some way.

  “Ready?” Tanner asked.

  I nodded, somewhat nervously. I wasn’t sure exactly how to go about “fake-flying”. I took a deep breath and gave my muscles a preparatory shake. If I can whip up a tornado on command, how hard could it be?

  “How should I go about it?” I asked.

  “Concentrate on moving the air at your feet first,” he directed. “Let it lift you off the ground.”

  I eagerly summoned a gust without thinking about its initial intensity. That was a major “my bad”. The force I’d commanded shot me like a rocket all loosey-goosey up in the air. My crazy & crooked path ended on an even rougher note when I conked my head on the limb of a massive oak. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to conjure any cushioning gusts for a landing pad either, so I ultimately smacked the ground like a sack of bricks. Now I had an aching ass to go with my head.