by S. E. Akers
Talk about shining a light on something. “So it glowed and told you she was going to die in six months?”
“Not exactly,” Bethesda said and bit her lip. “I needed to gauge its accuracy, so I took it to my grandmother’s nursing home about a year and a half ago. I recorded how faint the glass glowed and then counted the days until she passed.” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip even harder. “And I may have gone around to some of the other patients too . . . and kept up with their obituaries.”
Morbid or not, at least she’d found an accurate indicator. “So you knew Beatrix would die in—”
“Five months,” she admitted and placed her hand on my arm. “I’m truly sorry.”
I couldn’t be mad at her. Knowing wouldn’t have changed anything in the end, not with fate playing the role of game master. I couldn’t take my eyes off the mystical medallion now that I was fully aware of presentiment powers it held.
Bethesda lifted the copper necklace over her head and laid it on the counter. “You can put it on if you’d like,” she smiled.
As gun-shy as what I was in regards to emeralds and their intuitive visions, I was surprised her offer didn’t have me grabbing my bags and running out the front door lickety-split — but it didn’t. Curiosity had my rear firmly rooted where I stood, pleading for relief. With only one simple touch, this shaman’s stone amulet had the power to reveal if I would physically survive the rest of my monster-matches this summer — whether I successfully banished them or not. Fear was a deep-seated struggle I’d been grappling with for weeks, especially after my last almost fatal run-in with the chimera, and my diamond shivving the other day had only cemented its stifling hold. And as statistical averages went, “dying” was a huge possibility and the odds weren’t leaning in my favor. An answer could go a long way in relieving some of my worries, and then again, it could possibly drop me to my knees in a devastating cringe.
My hand hovered over the copper medallion for a moment. With my final decision rendered by way of a firm, Screw it, I slowly lowered the tip of my finger and stroked one of the curly lines on the medallion’s surface. All of a sudden the metal scrollwork started to shift around, bending and twisting like fluid streams until all the lines had reconfigured themselves into the elemental symbol that represented “earth”.
I looked up at Bethesda nervously. “Does it always do that?”
“Do what?” she questioned. Her inquiry had me rummaging through her mental-drawer like I was trying to find a missing sock. She hadn’t seen a thing, nor witnessed the design on the metal changing any other time before.
“Oh, just the way the copper shines,” I said.
“It looks the same to me,” she smiled. “Though it is pretty, and it never tarnishes . . . which is unusual for copper.”
I nodded and returned my focus to the magical medallion, now more edgy than ever. This thing had a definitive answer—the stake-your-life-on-it kind—I just knew it.
Bethesda placed her hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to do it,” she assured.
“No,” I said, forcing down a gulp. “I need to.”
“All right,” she muttered and took a step back, giving my hesitation some extra space.
Not wanting to waste another second I reached for the medallion, closed my eyes, and flipped it over. Now came the hard part — mustering enough courage to open them back up.
The gasp that shrieked out of Bethesda scored my ears like razorblades. Now I really couldn’t stomach a look.
Bethesda patted my back. “No, no, Shiloh — You’re good,” she insisted. “Well, for six months. The glow just surprised me. I’ve never seen it shine that bright before.”
I threw open my eyes to witness a blinding green glow radiating in the palm of my hand. I could have hit the ceiling if I didn’t feel so utterly weak in the knees from relief. This was one time I hoped destiny held true to its unchangeable plans when it came to a person’s fate. At least now I could go into a chamber knowing I would walk out of there, no matter how badly those beasts kicked my tail. I’d hoped this would serve as a pivotal turnaround, at least mentally, and in a weird almost auspicious way, I felt like it had.
I laid the medallion down on the counter and wrapped my arms around Bethesda. “Thank you, Bethesda. You’ll never know what this means to me.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, squeezing me right back.
Bethesda’s grin spread with amusement as our embrace broke. “It’s natural to be a little skittish to find out something like that,” she assured with a light laugh. “If you think checking that thing for the first time is hard, try putting it on every day. It’s like wearing a bomb that you never know when it’s going to detonate. I don’t know how I’ll react the day I see it fading for me.”
I still needed a few more answers, knowing its power came straight from a Talisman’s stone. That alone explained why it muddled up her brainwaves and blocked me from compelling her mind. I remembered that it was a gift from her former coven/roommate, Sabra. So with that starting point considered, I dove in head first from there.
“Do you know where Sabra got it?”
“It was a family heirloom,” she revealed. “Sabra came from a long line of witches. She let me borrow it from time to time. She knew how much I loved it. And then I found it lying on my bed this past March with a note asking me to hold on to it for her while she was away. I haven’t heard from her since.”
That seemed awfully weird. “She’s never tried calling you?”
“Oh no,” Bethesda replied with a casual wave. “She didn’t believe in phones — especially not cell phones.”
My head fell into a questionable tilt. “And you’re not worried?”
“Not at all,” she assured with a smile. “Sabra was known to disappear for months at a time. She was a geomancer. She could see things in nature that others couldn’t. Her visions came from everywhere. The way water moved or what evidence it left on land in its wake . . . Images she would see in rock formations . . . How raindrops struck a leaf . . . Sabra could even sense things from a scent she caught while sniffing a patch of earth. I think she was nature-blessed from birth,” Bethesda sighed with a whiff of envy. “She was always very secretive about what it told her, but she unfailingly followed its calls . . . sometimes for weeks at a time. But this is the longest she’s ever been on one of her sacred pilgrimages. I think she left her medallion to make up for ditching me with all the bills.”
I stroked my fingers across the enchanting green glass shielding the shaman’s stone, still euphorically hypnotized. I couldn’t peel my eyes from its comforting glow and honestly didn’t want to. I was rocking too much of a high.
Bethesda leaned closer. “You know, I really wish you would seriously consider joining our coven. I think you’d be a perfect fit. You have such a powerful presence, Shiloh. I truly think there is magic hiding in your soul.”
I really didn’t want to hurt her feelings with a flat-out “NO”, not after she’d shared her shaman’s stone with me. “I don’t think I’ll have enough time for anything other than studying once my classes start. I’ve signed up for a full eighteen hours and most of them have labs.”
Bethesda simply issued me a kind smile, which drove my warped sense of guilt straight into checking her brainwaves to see how she’d really taken my polite brush-off. She was a little disappointed but seemed more determined than ever to land my name on her dotted line. However something else spoke to me while I was wading through her brainwaves. At first it came across like a bunch of white noise lingering in the background until I homed in on its teetering vibe. I’d never heard someone’s thoughts come across so back and forth before, like I was sitting through a never-ending tennis match of doubt. Despite her assertive persona at Katie’s funeral, the queen of the coven questioned herself about EVERYTHING. Her appearance… Her daily decisions… The way others perceived her… When conducting her spells… Even her most secret and treasured aspirations… Nothing was off limit
s. Her worst fear was someone snatching her reins and taking over the coven she’d started. Bethesda was the most insecure and paranoid individual I’d ever stumbled upon…well, aside from Kara. Though in all fairness, Kara’s self-conscious bugaboos were strictly limited to guys and desperately needing their approval for validation. But Bethesda’s encompassed everything, and yes, in the witch-world one’s faith was key — total belief in The Craft, as well as a witch’s own personal abilities and convictions. Katie being a little more sensitive would be a good start, but Bethesda’s damage stretched all the way back to her parents and their constant criticisms. Everything had to be perfect — their version of perfection, that is. Bethesda could never do anything to suit them, right down pulling a decent enough cake out of her Easy-Bake Oven when she was five. Some self-assurance would help her tremendously. And then it hit me, literally, like a stone to my noggin. What she really needed was a boost from a blue aventurine. The mental and emotional powers that particular water stone bestowed upon a person’s inner-perception could supply Bethesda with all the confidence she needed by validating her beliefs and staving off the chill of others harsh sentiments like a warm & snuggly security blanket wrapped around her psyche. Unbeknownst to the struggling witch, her random act of generosity had restored my faith tenfold, so I was going to make sure she got a hefty dose for herself.
Payment in full, I grinned.
The sound of the toilet flushing filtered through the door. “Shiloh, can you keep the medallion just between the two of us?” Bethesda asked. “I’ve never told anyone else what it does.”
I couldn’t help but grin immodestly. “Bethesda, believe it or not, when it comes to keeping secrets, you’ve hit the jackpot,” I assured. Now I was more convinced than ever that I was a daggone magnet for the things. Get rid of one and pick up another… Regardless of my firm decision not to amass any new ones, the cosmos simply wasn’t going to let me free.
And in this case, I really felt obligated.
Katie strolled towards us. “What did I miss?”
“Not a thing,” I grinned and then issued Katie’s head a down-low plea to be a little nicer to Bethesda. And I may have shored it up with the tiniest threat that she’d never see my new credit card whizzing through another machine ever again. Whatever works…
Katie and I were heading for the futon when I realized I hadn’t seen my canine-casualty from last night running around this morning, let alone heard him bark.
“Where’s Tux?” I asked Bethesda.
“He’s in my room,” she replied. “He crawled under the bed as soon as I woke up — probably from all the pounding.”
“Sorry,” Katie remarked, batting her doe-eyes.
“Is he okay?” I asked uneasily.
Bethesda shrugged her shoulders. “He seems fine. I tried to get him to go outside earlier, but he didn’t want to.” She motioned me towards her door. “You can check on him if you want,” she said and gave the knob a turn.
To ease my conscience, I did just that and followed Bethesda into her bedroom. The late afternoon light streaming through the windows opposite her bed was borderline blinding. She noticed me squinting.
“Sunlight is good for the soul,” she assured and lifted up her bedspread. “Come out here, boy. Come on, Tux,” she commanded, patting her leg.
We stared at the sunny patch of carpet for a good bit, however Tux never extended the first paw.
Bethesda glanced at the two bowls she had placed beside her nightstand — one contained water and the other held what looked like chopped up tofu. “He hasn’t touched his food.”
I honestly couldn’t blame him. I bent down and peeked under the bed. Sure enough, the cute little pooch was under there, wide-awake.
“Sorry about last night,” I said and slowly reached under the bed. Tux inched towards my hand and licked my fingers. I gave his snout a quick rub and hopped back up feeling much better.
I grabbed the handle of Bethesda’s bedroom door to close it as we were leaving. “Leave it open,” she requested. “Maybe he’ll come out.”
“Okay,” I smiled.
Katie jumped up, ran to the front door, and grabbed the knob. “I can leave this one open for him too,” she smirked, itching to give it a turn.
Bethesda started to say something when two abrupt “knocks” struck the door that sent Katie jumping towards the center of the room and had all of us shoving our hearts back into our chests.
Still laughing, Katie turned to open the door.
“Wait! Don’t answer that!” Bethesda cried out.
My BFF threw her hand on her hip. “Why not?”
“Because they only knocked twice,” Bethesda chided.
Katie’s eyes narrowed. “So?”
“You never answer a door unless someone knocks three times,” Bethesda huffed and then turned to me. “It’s a bad omen.”
Katie threw her hands in the air, wiggling her fingers. “Oooooo,” she moaned, all creepy.
“I’M SERIOUS! Something bad might happen to you,” Bethesda insisted. She fiddled with her hands nervously. “It could be Death calling.”
“Well then it’s a good thing you can bring me back,” said the smartass who’d been there and done that. Katie hurled a smile my way, along with a telepathic message. “See — I can be encouraging.”
My brazen BFF threw open the door dramatically, only to find no one standing there. Katie stepped out into the hall and then leaned back into the room with a pucker, looking completely puzzled. Suddenly she went flying out the door with a jerk, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Bethesda and I rushed towards the door as she popped her head back into the room. “Just kiddin’,” she giggled. “It’s just a delivery man.”
“That’s not funny!” Bethesda snapped.
My bosom friend turned to me for a ruling. “Half-funny,” I grinned.
Katie disappeared into the hall and then shortly returned carrying a long and slender white box, bound with a crisp red bow.
“Special delivery from Vintage Floral,” Katie announced. “They stopped by yesterday, but no one was home.”
Bethesda sprang towards Katie like a jackrabbit. “Who are they from?” she asked, arms stretched.
Katie pulled the box back. “Don’t you mean who are they for?” she countered and then pitched the box straight to me.
I caught the container, rightfully stunned. “Me?” I questioned. I opened the tiny envelope straightaway and slipped out the card.
“Tanner?” Katie probed with a whisper, eyebrows twitching.
My lids fell over my eyes like a lead blanket. “Not hardly,” I replied tapping the card in my hand. This had the man-trapper’s fingerprints all over it and totally explained her crazy “12 shots” text. A dozen long-stemmed red roses. Bridesmaid or not, I still wanted to whip the hopeless romantic’s hind end.
I mentally whispered my suspicions to Katie, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Bethesda. I could feel myself cringing having to cop to one of the oldest tricks in the book. Ugh… Too humiliating.
“They’re from someone back home,” I fudged and whipped out my phone to confirm my hunch. After all, I needed to personally thank the redneck Cupid for the scheming arrows she’d kindly hurled.
A full five seconds hadn’t passed when Naomi shot back a text, proving my suspicions.
“I’m NOT taking these with me,” I mumbled to Katie.
“Oh yes, you are,” Katie piped back, trying to contain her giggles. “Hey — At least she didn’t have them write, ‘From Your Secret Admirer’.”
“That makes me feel much better,” I gruffed.
Another “swoosh” sent our eyes back to the screen.
After the pity roses, I didn’t even want to know.
Suddenly another round of knocks struck the door, which had my bosom friend’s eyes exploding with delight. “Hark!” Katie cried out, hand cupping her ear. “Could that be more sentiments of LOVE?”
“I hope not,” I sa
id flatly. Our stares fell on Bethesda, who looked oddly aglow to the point of incriminating. I sure didn’t get the feeling Katie’s theatrics had lent a hand in igniting her smile, nor thought for a second that it had been triggered by hearing those “three” piece-of-mind knocks booming from the metal door this time. She’d no sooner rushed to answer it when Katie and I started mentally swapping our guesses.
“What a surprise!” Bethesda exclaimed as she opened the door. “Please come in!”
Well, crap… I should have known what little luck I’d had avoiding this situation was bound to run out.
Katie licked her finger and used it to securely tack a few of my lingering strands behind my ears. “Let’s git you lookin’ purdy,” she simpered and then gave my butt a playful smack. “Is that southern enough for ya?”
“Cute,” I smirked and turned to the door. Now I really felt like a prized filly about to hit the judges’ tent.
One by one, Bethesda’s covenmates traipsed into the room, taking off their shoes and respectfully lining them beside the door. I’d never seen a more diverse-looking band of buddies. I doubted there was a soul alive who could successfully tag these four as friends in a police line-up, strictly going off appearances — a preppy, a surfer dude, a funky bohemian, and a walking Muscle-Milk endorsement. But despite their polar-opposite appearances, the warm gleams brimming in their eyes hinted at how accepting and easy-going they were (and possibly big huggers too). Well except for the steroid-infused jock-type in the track pants & white tank top hanging by the door with his Air Jordans still on. If anything, he looked less than enthused to be here. My money was on him being the infamous “Donnie”.
“Everyone,” Bethesda began, “This is Shiloh. She’s the girl I’ve been telling you about.”
The guy who looked like he’d come straight from a round of 18-holes at a country club stepped forward first. “I’m Fergus,” he announced, radiating a pearly-white smile. I got the immediate impression that he was super-smart. The frameless glasses magnifying his gray eyes may have prompted my theory, but it was the gentle confidence he exuded that sealed my assessment. He honestly reminded me of Ty in that way. Of course I was still bowled over by his attire. The only crest I expected to see embroidered on a male witch was a Hogwarts emblem, not a big ole Ralph Lauren crown the size of my fist. His hair had me questioning his age, weighing his youthful face with the flecks of gray dusting his black tresses. After a quick mental peek, I found out he was only twenty-three and had achieved a perfect score on his SATs when he was only fourteen. Damn. And if that weren’t impressive enough, he’d graduated from Harvard with a B.S. in Chemistry by the time he was eighteen.