Novel Hearts

by Rebecca Boucher

  “Her stomach seems to be ailing her today,” Abigail replied, looking at Elizabeth sympathetically. “Might ye have something that will help her?”

  Lucia looked at the girl suspiciously, then replied, “I think ye should go home and ask thy mother.”

  “But it’s a bit of a walk,” Abigail said, as Elizabeth held her stomach, not knowing what to do. “Please, can ye help her?”

  Lucia reached for an herb out of the garden, when I stepped out onto the porch. “Lucia, I don’t think we should be entertaining guests today,” I said, concerned. “I need thy help inside.”

  “I’ll only be a minute …” Lucia said, picking the herb, as Abigail sneered. Elizabeth’s eyes darted back and forth between us, obviously afraid to stand up to her friend.

  “No, my love,” I interrupted, then stepped closer to Elizabeth. “I’m sorry, but I need for thee to go home now and forget what ye saw.”

  “Forget what I saw …” Elizabeth repeated as her eyes glazed over.

  “What form of sorcery is this?” Abigail asked, her eyes open wide as she took a step back. “Witches! Ye both be witches!” she said, then ran down the road toward town.

  Quickly, I looked into Elizabeth’s eyes and said, “It’s time for thee to go home.” Then, she obeyed, turning around to walk back down the road.

  Once the girls were gone, Lucia turned to me and said, “What have ye done? She was my friend!”

  “Lucia, she is not thy friend,” I said, taking her shoulders to look into her eyes. “I have to go after Abigail. I shall be right back.”

  “Fredrick, she’s only a child …”

  “Lucia, she saw thee in the garden … with the herbs. She knows ye are a witch,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I have to catch her before she reaches town.”

  I darted after her, leaving my stunned wife at the house, knowing the implications of my words. If the girl reached town before I caught her, the whole town would think she was a witch. The wind brushed by me as I darted down the woods toward the girl, but I was too late. Abigail was already standing in the town square, shouting at the top of her lungs to anyone who would hear, “Mrs. Lee … down the road … and her husband … are witches!” she screamed, doubled over, trying to catch her breath. Then, Elizabeth reached the town square, walking slowly, with a dazed look in her eyes. Hysterical, Abigail grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around to face the growing crowd. “See? Look in her eyes! She’s been bewitched! Mr. Lee spoke to her, telling her to forget and … and … look at her!” The crowd gasped as a gentleman with a top hat stepped forward to Elizabeth, “Is this true, Elizabeth?”

  “Is what true?” Elizabeth asked, as I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, I thought maybe I’d pushed her mind too hard in my haste. Care must be taken when using mind control. If I pushed her mind too hard, she may have spent the rest of her days without any memories at all.

  “Are Mr. and Mrs. Lee witches?” the man asked, as his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

  Elizabeth looked over at Abigail with fear in her eyes. Abigail nodded to her and she closed her eyes, warring with herself, trying to decide what to do. “Aye, she be a witch,” she finally said, as Abigail smiled and the crowd gasped.

  I cringed, remembering the night Lucia’s parents were killed, knowing it would be just a matter of time before they came after us. I was so angry that I would have slaughtered the whole town, but I thought first of Lucia. “She was thy friend, Elizabeth!” I yelled, walking purposefully toward the girls, as Elizabeth began to cower behind Abigail. “And ye betrayed her! How could ye?”

  Suddenly, the girls started screaming and rolling around on the dirt pulling at their hair, and the crowd started shrieking “Look! He’s bewitched them!” “He must be a witch, too!” “Let’s get him!” I snarled and ran straight toward the girls, when a wooden arrow shot me in the back. I kept running, when another, then another shot me, then I fell helplessly to the ground when one shot me between the eyes. They left me for dead when my eyes slowly began to close, and my last thought was of my Lucia … my forever love.

  Star

  Stunned, I listened to Rick’s tale of his love, Lucia, as we neared the city limits of Cooperstown, and I couldn’t help thinking of my forever love, Zac. What would I do if the same thing happened to him? Now, I knew why the vampire community kept their existence secret from humans. Although we didn’t live in the Stone Age any more, mass hysteria could happen at any time, as it did in WWII with Hitler, and with Lucia and The Salem Witch Trials. I knew I should let the tale stop there, but I had to know. “What happened to her, Rick?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

  “When I woke up, I was still laying in the street. I pulled the arrow from my head and as many from my body as I could, but no one noticed. Everyone’s eyes were on a figure in the center of town,” Rick said. Tears started falling from my own eyes, for I knew what he was going to say. “And when I looked to the center of town, my Lucia was hanging from a rope, like a common criminal. I caught her eyes just before they closed, silently telling her that I loved her, willing her to do a spell so she could live, but she shook her head no. Then, I knew that she had been waiting for me. She did a spell that would keep her alive long enough to tell me goodbye. I have no idea for how long she hung there … alive … before I woke.” Rick took a deep breath and wiped away tears from his own eyes.

  “Did you try to save her?” I asked.

  “Yes, I did,” Rick replied, “but it was too late.”

  “Why didn’t you turn her into a vampire?” I asked, truly curious, needing to know the whole story now.

  Rick took another deep breath and I knew that, even after all these years, it was still difficult for him to talk about. “Lucia and I had talked about it in the past, but Lucia didn’t want to become a vampire. She always felt bad about what had happened to me. She never felt bad about saving my life, but had always regretted turning me into a blood drinker. She never wanted it for me. At the time she turned me, she knew there would be consequences, but she never knew to what extent.”

  “But you’re a good vampire …”

  “Yes, I am, but there are many others who are not,” Rick replied.

  “Why didn’t she try to save herself?” I asked, watching his face. “After all, she was a powerful witch.”

  “She didn’t want to lose her soul,” he said, shaking his head. “For each time she killed, she felt the darkness enter her heart. She knew that if a witch continued to kill, then she would become evil, something she never wanted to become. Throughout her whole life, she only wanted to save people … to heal. She never wanted to take life … from anyone … even stupid little girls accusing others of witchcraft. That’s where the true danger lies. People begin to believe lies when they have no explanation for something they don’t understand.”

  I nodded, understanding. Lucia was a great lady … perhaps a martyr, representing victims throughout the centuries who suffered and lost their lives at the hands of ignorance. “I’m sorry, Rick. I had no idea that Lucia died in the Salem Witch Trials.”

  “Actually, she never even got a trial. They lynched her right in the street, just on the word of two little girls,” Rick said with a faraway look in his eyes.

  Deep down, I was glad that Rick told me the story of his Lucia … of his forever love. Now, as we pulled up into the driveway of our two story stone cottage in Cooperstown, New York, I was glad that after all these years, he had finally found Annie.

  “Love you, Rick,” I said, much to his surprise. On this Valentine’s Day, I was reminded that there are many kinds of love out there … romantic love, the love of parents for their child and a child for her parents, and the love of friendship.

  “Love you, too … daughter,” he replied, teasing me, breaking the spell of the moment. To Cooperstown Central High School, Rick was my father, and in many ways, he really was.

  Suddenly, Annie ran from the house and Rick stepped out of his Mercedes GL4
50 SUV. When he saw her, his eyes lit up, then he looked over at me. “Go,” I said, and he smiled and gently squeezed my hand. Then, he quickly jumped from the car and scooped Annie into his arms, spun her around and crushed his lips onto hers. I watched them as I got out of the car, hoping that he and Annie had many more years together … even more than he had with Lucia. After Lucia’s death, he waited a long time before he and Annie finally found each other. They both deserved every happiness in the world.

  Then, I looked onto the porch, and out stepped Zac. A strand of his sun-streaked hair fell lazily over one eye, but he quickly flipped it back, revealing his beautiful green eyes. He smiled watching me, and I ran quickly across the lawn and into his arms, much quicker than human speed. “What’s the hurry?” he asked.

  “No hurry,” I replied, looking into his eyes. “I just missed you.”

  He brushed away a strand of my long brown wavy hair from my eyes and asked, “Are you okay, love?”

  Then tears sprang to my eyes as I thought of the story … and of everything we’d been through so far in our short lives together. Then, as his full lips descended upon mine, I knew I was home … safe in the arms of … my forever love.

  Be Mine

  By: Jennifer Paquette

  The characters in this story are based on the book

  The Awakening of Agnostos

  By: Jennifer Paquette

  The man looked like a Greek god.

  No, she thought. She knew what a Greek god looked like, and this man was even more perfect. His eyes had the sweetness of a cherub, yet his cheekbones looked like they were chiseled from the finest Italian marble. His hair was spun gold and she knew if she closed her eyes the softness would be like a warm wind through her fingertips. He sat serenely on the balcony of a modest whitewashed stone house, staring into the shimmering blue Aegean as if he were waiting for her. Her lips ached to touch his.

  Aphrodite leaned farther out of the window of her glorious temple on Mt. Olympus to gaze at the perfect mortal man. Apollo had nothing on this guy. She sighed deeply as she thought of her fellow Olympians. Zeus was off somewhere with Hecate, Goddess of Magic, thinking they were fooling everyone. Aphrodite didn’t know why they thought their affair was a secret, since it was obvious everyone knew. Everyone but Hera, that is. Zeus’ wife and queen was too busy pampering her silly, precious peacocks and bossing around cloud nymphs to even notice what her slick husband was up to.

  Aphrodite dismissed her thoughts and focused on something she could control. This man was hers for the taking, but at the same time, she sensed something special about him. He exuded a certain sensitivity and radiance that she had not seen before in a mortal. She sensed that he had much love to give, but no one to share it with. Aphrodite turned to gaze at her image in the mirror. Instead of sending him a woman to love and cherish, she mused, perhaps I will send him me, Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty.

  She studied her delicate features again in the mirror, thinking of what look would please the perfect mortal man most. Her buttery curls framed her heart-shaped face and cascaded over her shoulders. She piled her hair high on her head and posed a bit. Too sophisticated. She transformed her hair into a shimmering chestnut brown color and fluttered her eyelashes playfully. Her eyes then changed from a deep violet to a piercing sea green. She played the ingénue and changed her eyes again to a sparkling baby blue and gave a sultry wink in the mirror. Which one would he prefer? She pouted her lips, changing the color into a coral pink, then ruby red. She stamped her sandaled foot and flung the folds of her dress aside as she marched across the stone floor in frustration.

  Her husband, Hephaestus, would think she was totally nuts. Hephaestus, dark and moody with his misshapen figure and large hands, was actually the kindest of the gods. She had been flirting forever with Ares, when Hephaestus walked up to them and bellowed, “Make love, not war!” Ares was furious. As the God of War, it was obvious Hephaestus was mocking him, but Aphrodite was delighted. She had “make love, not war” engraved on the back of her chariot right after she married Hephaestus.

  But Aphrodite had tired quickly of the unsightly Hephaestus, who spent his days forging metal and iron among the hottest flames of Olympus. She tried to visit him once to get involved in his work, but her hair was singed and she was immediately covered in soot, so she never went back. Now, they kept separate temples and only saw each other at Council meetings. Aphrodite was aching for a new man.

  Back to the task at hand, she pondered how to woo the magnificent mortal. She did not want to appear directly in her godly form, as it was usually too overwhelming for mortals to bear. She walked to the far side of her temple and gazed out the east window, which showcased a craggy decline down the mountain where Aphrodite had planted her famous rose garden. The air exploded with the heady scent of thousands of roses, creating a rainbow of colors from creamy white to soft peach to brilliant red. A gust of wind blew across the garden and several supple petals were plucked from their blossoms and danced in the air before floating downward. She had an idea.

  Aphrodite carefully stepped through her rose garden, skirting around the thorny branches that reached out to her. She peered deeply into each rose bush, analyzing the color and texture of the flower. The rose she chose, must be perfect, she thought as she continued down the mountain. She then came upon a small bush, the newest of them all, as it only had a handful of blooms. The sunlight warmed the petals of the rose and brought out their brilliance in a manner that made Aphrodite stop in wonder. The color was magnificent. The rose was a deep crimson at the base and a warmer hue near the top, the color of a sunset. She very gently caressed the petals and found them to be so soft she was afraid they would shred beneath her touch. She bent to smell them and was rewarded with the sweetest of scents, light and perfumed. I will send him a gift of rose petals from the Garden of Aphrodite.

  She knelt beside the bush and spoke softly. “Forgive me, my lovelies. I promise you will grow back more brilliant than before, but for now, I need your help.” Then, she gently blew into the rose bush, multiplying the petals and sending hundreds of them soaring into the sky. She watched as they formed a loose whirlpool shape, then cascaded down Mt. Olympus, as if riding a mighty wave.

  Moments later the sunset colored rose petals wafted around the mortal on the balcony. He slowly looked up in amazement, as if the petals from the sky were falling stars. He gently picked a petal off his sleeve, studied it, then placed it on the ledge of the balcony and walked inside the house.

  Aphrodite stared at the empty balcony littered with the petals from her precious rose bush. How dare he? Her eyes turned a stormy blue as she tried to keep her temper in check, staring at the sad little bush, now just a jumble of branches and tiny thorns. She was just about to march back to her temple to mix a sleeping potion for her most unfavorite mortal, when he came back out onto the balcony, but she gasped when she saw what he was holding: an elegant, sleek vase, made of heavy crystal. He carefully picked up the petals and placed them into the vase. As the vase was filled with the petals, he smiled. After every single petal was in the vase, he held it up to the sun to catch the light. Caressing the vase against his chest, he walked inside.

  Aphrodite clapped her hands in delight and ran back up the hill.

  ***

  The next morning was February 1. Usually, Aphrodite didn’t pay much attention to the calendar—she would just look at the moon or the tides every now and then—but it was her wedding anniversary and she wanted to do something special for Heph. She put on her darkest dress so dirt wouldn’t show as much and changed her hair color to a warm cinnamon. Then, she accented her look with amber eyes and her favorite apricot tinted lip gloss. She even sprinkled glitter across her face and neck. She went back to the rose garden and gathered an armful of roses tinted in bright yellow, deep orange and fire-red. Thinking her husband would appreciate her attempt to honor his name with the colors of fire and warmth, she headed down to his workshop, but immediately upon her arri
val she knew something was wrong. It was freezing and no light glowed from the fires.

  “Heph?” she called out in her sweetest voice. She waited for a minute. Receiving no reply, she threw the flowers onto the floor. “I spend half of my morning fixing myself up for this man and today is the day he decides to take off?” She turned on her heel and marched back toward the sunlight.

  ***

  Aphrodite knew she should have tried to find her husband, but she really didn’t have the patience. Plus, she wanted to see what the perfect mortal man was up to. So, she hurried to the window and was not disappointed. He was standing on the balcony, staring out at the sea again, with the vase of petals setting next to him on a small decorative table. She decided to send him another gift, but what would be worthy of him? What could possibly be better than a vase of a hundred rose petals the color of a sunset? Suddenly, it hit her. She turned and ran down the circular steps in the middle of her temple, almost tripping over her dress. She hadn’t been down here in months, because the temptation was so great. Just the smell was enough to make her crazy. The last time she was here she stayed a week and gained eight pounds.

  Luckily, she remembered the combination of the vault. As the door creaked open she almost passed out as the scent of luscious chocolates wafted to her nostrils. She steadied herself against the door, willing the craving away. This is for the perfect mortal man, she reminded herself, not for me. She gazed upon the rows and rows of high shelves with their tiny symmetrical cubbyholes. Each row was carefully labeled in beautiful, curlicue handwriting. Aphrodite started on the left, at the very first row. She would take samples from each section, taking the best of the best. With a flick of her wrist she produced a beautiful, ornate box with a cover inlaid with sapphire chips to place them in. She approached the next row of cubbyholes labeled “Creams” and gazed lovingly at the contents. Each tiny cubbyhole held a morsel of the finest, richest chocolate, with creamy centers of strawberry, vanilla, citrus and mint. She delicately plucked the choicest squares and gently placed them into the box, fighting the urge to grab a handful and stuff them into her mouth. Then, she moved to the next row labeled “Caramels”. Here were the chocolates with the gooiest, sweetest and stickiest of centers, luscious caramels, nestled into each square of heavenly chocolate. Her mouth watered as she continued choosing the finest pieces for her perfect mortal. She continued down the main aisle to “Nuts,” then “Fruit,” (her least favorite) “Truffles,” “Cherry Cordials,” “Peanut Butter,” “Marshmallow,” and finally “Coconut.” Each row also had a section of dark, white, and milk chocolate. Zeus also wanted her to add a sugar free section, but she refused. She smiled at the memory as she lazily made her way down each row, looking carefully through the wide variety. Finally, the box was so heavy she could barely carry it. If this didn’t get his attention, nothing would. Aphrodite stumbled out of the vault, drunk from the smell of chocolate, but proud of her willpower, as she hadn’t snatched a single morsel.