She reached out and thwacked his arm. ‘I am not lying.’ Hella turned the corner, storming off alone to start a job that should have kept her excited and bubbly all day. Now she was furious. Hella stalked up the last stretch of path in time to see Remy hanging what appeared to be a homemade sign out the front of the store. It read, Witches’ Wares. With a few deep breaths after her walk, Hella reached the old woman.
‘Witches’ Wares?’ Hella asked.
Remy turned with a bit of a start. ‘Oh! Oh, it’s you. Hello. What?’
‘That’s the name of the bookstore?’ Hella felt like she was roasting in the afternoon sun.
‘Oh, yes dear. It is, yes. Very good. Come on in then, oh look at you you’re all sweaty, how nice. Very warm today, isn’t it?’
Mercifully, the store had an air conditioner. Hella dabbed at her forehead self-consciously, glad she wasn’t wearing any make-up to smudge. ‘So, is this okay for me to wear?’ Hella took the jacket off from around her waist to reveal her plain jeans and black shirt.
Remy, in her contrastingly bright and flamboyant attire, peered over her. ‘Hmm, yes, yes. Fine.’
Hella rolled up her jacket. She could never pull off clothes so bright as Remy’s. The old woman wore a shawl of deep purple, with a matching bandana and swinging necklaces that glittered in the sunlight streaming in from the high window above the front door. She was something to look at, that’s for sure. Hella twisted the end of her braid as James opened the front door.
‘Hella, can we talk?’ he asked.
‘Oh, you. Young man, I know you. What do you want?’
The old woman did not lack for blunt language, Hella noted.
‘Sorry, Remy. This is my friend, James, remember?’
‘No socialising during work hours, young lady.’
‘Right, of course. James, go away.’ She made a shooing motion.
For a moment, he looked crestfallen. He held the door open, unsure. ‘Uh, okay. But, text me when you’re finished, would you? I want to talk to you.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. But leave. Before you get me in trouble.’
He smiled, then nodded, closing the door behind him.
Hella finally noticed that the store was filled with cardboard boxes, the double doors now open to show the large room beyond, also littered with boxes and loose books. ‘How did you get all these in here since yesterday afternoon?’
Remy paused rifling through a box. She turned, standing up straight. ‘I’m old, but I’m not useless, you know. Here,’ she waved Hella over to the front counter, handing her a small box. ‘I hand-make jewellery, like I told your pretty friend. Set these things out in this glass cabinet, would you?’ The front counter by the register held three display shelves.
Hella nodded. ‘Yeah, of course. Um, Remy?’
The old lady paused. ‘Hmm?’
‘That sign out the front, Witches’ Wares, what does that mean?’
Remy smiled. ‘Well, dear, I’m a witch. And these’—she gestured to the entire store—‘are the wares that witches need. And tourists love things like this. This is a lovely little town.’
Hella smiled. ‘Right, sure. Yeah, we get a lot of tourists, but there’s not really a lot to see in Mill Valley.’ Hella thought of her pagan mother, wondering if she would get along with her new boss. A witch, obviously, just meant owning a black cat and some tarot cards.
Remy nodded. ‘Well, there will be when we’ve set this place up. You get started with that, I’m going over the street for coffee. Would you like one, dear?’
‘Oh, yes please. Latte.’ Hella smiled up at her. It was never too warm for coffee.
Remy bobbed her head, gathering up her purse from the counter. ‘Latte. Good girl. I knew I liked you. Be back in a jiffy. If you finish with those, you can start on the others.’ She indicated the rest of the store, filled with dozens of books.
‘You know I have to go home tonight, right?’ she called after the old woman. Hella dumped her things behind the counter and re-tied her sweaty braid in a mirror she found already hung on the wall. ‘Great.’ She sighed. ‘Another “witch” in town.’ Hella laughed when she turned to find three different packs of tarot cards.
Chapter Eight
Meele
Seeing the future is an art. Only the Family of Scire possess the ability; to see the strands of time that change in the aftermath of events or decisions being made. A truly gifted Scire can learn to anticipate the shifting patterns, like an opponent’s tactics in a boxing ring. Getting to know a pattern, the feel of the way things move and how to react… Seeing things shift, however, can be terrifying; an unexpected and jarring uppercut can change everything.
A LONG TIME AGO
Sitting by the river close to the village, Meele played with a group of faerie children who were dancing just above the river, their toes skimming the water. Their small wings glistened in the setting sunlight, the horizon awash in hues of pink and orange.
Cabins were sprawled through the forest, their community close and protective. Meele lived with her mother, just over the rolling hill by the berry bushes. The little faerie girl was jumping on rock after rock, playing tag with another fae, when she saw it. For the first time, Meele’s eyes glazed over. She froze on the rock. As if she were standing right in front of her, Meele could see her mother instead of the river. Her long pale-golden hair swayed as she moved about the cabin, cooking their supper. She was humming peacefully when someone broke the door in with a bang, splintering the wood.
A mist of darkness crept inside. Meele gasped, almost slipping off the rock into the river. She steadied herself, eyes still glazed, watching. In the cabin, her mother turned with a frown. The darkness had yellow eyes. It transformed into a human-like body, but instead of hands, it had sharp claws. The darkness seemed to drip off the creature’s figure like melting candle wax.
‘Demon,’ Meele’s mother breathed, her delicate golden wings flapped anxiously.
With a disjointed movement, its face twitched, cracking into a smile. Before either of them could move, it growled a low throaty sound and murmured, ‘Supper.’
And then it leapt for her. Meele’s mother screamed as the creature ripped at her, shredding her wings, raking bloody claws down her arms. Meele cried out as she watched the creature rip her mother apart. Her eyes welled with tears, but it did nothing to stop the vision. Teetering on the rock, unable to move, Meele watched on in horror as a blinding white light crashed down into the cabin from above, shattering the wooden beams, raining chips into the cabin. Meele briefly saw a golden halo and white blazing wings.
An angel.
The angel hauled the demon off Meele’s mother, then whipped razor-sharp wings across the creature’s body. He then reached up, plucked a feather from his wing and drove it through the demon’s middle, sending a spray of black blood along the cabin wall and up the angel’s arm. The demon vanished in a bubbling liquid. The angel regarded Meele’s mother with a crooked smile, as if proud of himself. Then he noticed her wings, torn and bloody. A look of dark anger passed across his pale face. He raised the slicked feather. ‘You’re one of them,’ he said as a matter of fact.
Meele’s mother frowned. ‘Them? No. I’m not a—’ The angel plunged the feather into her chest, sending a wild spray of golden blood down the feather, mingling with the black. Golden blood dripped from her mouth. ‘—demon.’ She finished.
The angel stepped back, looking down at the body as she fell. The faerie didn’t vanish. The angel frowned. ‘Huh. Different kind of demon. Interesting.’ He spread his wings and flew out of the hole he’d created in the roof.
Meele was back on the rock in the middle of the river. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘Mother!’ she screamed, startling the other faeries playing along the riverbank. She hurtled for her cabin. Skidding up and over the small hill, around the berry bushes, Meele halted at her front door. It was ripped off the frame, a light spray of b
lack blood welcomed her home.
Meele had seen the future, and just as she arrived, she saw the angel. She scrambled up the stairs, stepping inside. The angel took up most of the cabin. He was bigger than any man Meele had ever seen; his wings towered over her. The walls were bloody. Her mother lay dead on the floor. The angel smiled at her mother, looking down at the faerie woman curiously. After a moment, the angel frowned. ‘Huh. Different kind of demon. Interesting.’ His raven-black hair was slicked back, his eyes were like emeralds. Meele frowned up at him as he spread his wings wide.
As he flew up into the air, she screamed at him, fire in her heart. ‘You killed my mother!’ Meele fell, sobbing, to the floor. She crawled over to her mother, sliding on the golden pool, cuddling up close as if being hugged.
The day her mother had told her what she was, a faerie, she had made a point to emphasise that even though they carried demon blood, it did not mean they were demons, or evil. Faeries were Cambions, she had said, a special mixture of magic and humanity. A faerie, like the rest of their town, her mother had been a respected woman.
Meele’s own wings flapped sadly, erratic as her heartbeat. She looked about the cabin, unsure what to do now she was alone. Breathing hard, she couldn’t look at her mother. She stood, furious, and began to take apart the cabin. The home she had known all her life. Until she found a scroll with her name on it, laying amongst the debris of broken wood.
It was penned in her mother’s writing, the paper edged in both black and golden blood. Meele unrolled the scroll with numb fingers, her whole body shaking.
Meele,
We live in a dangerous world, my child, despite the harmony in our village. This earth is not a safe place. In case anything should ever happen to me, there’s something you must know. By now, you know about Cambions. That I, your mother, am a faerie. Meele, someday your powers will reveal themselves, and you will have the ability to see what few others can. Use these gifts wisely. Do good, and help your kind.
I love you,
Merceilia
Meele rolled up the scroll. Her heart boiled in her chest. In a great wave of agony, she screamed.
Chapter Nine
Hella
Hella took a deep swig of her coffee. Standing in Café au Lait, she picked up the other coffee for her new boss, then crossed the street over to Witches’ Wares. The early morning air was brisk and fresh on her face. Today would be her second shift, this afternoon after school, but she just couldn’t wait that long to see how the bookstore was coming along.
Keeping the coffees steady, she jogged across the street. She used her elbow, then her shoulder, to open the front door, and gasped. There were rows upon rows of books on the shelves now, with the sunlight streaming in from the high window. They looked perfect. She turned to see the old woman bent over a box in the side room. ‘Remy?’ she called. ‘It’s me, Hella.’
The old woman perked up then turned around with something like a smile on her face. ‘Oh, hello there. What—what time is it? It’s not afternoon yet?’
‘Oh, no. No, Remy, it’s half past eight in the morning. I’m on my way to school. I wanted to see the place, and it looks great.’
Remy looked around. She was wearing swaths of red and purple today, large hoop earrings dangled from her ears. ‘Hmm, yes. Yes, it is coming along rather well.’
‘I brought you this.’ Hella handed over the other coffee.
‘Oh, well aren’t you a sweet thing. Would you like a biscuit before you head off to school, then?’
‘Well, yeah. Sure.’ Hella smiled, her eyes falling back to the books. She would have a lot to do this afternoon. She could hardly wait. ‘So, when will you open the store?’ she called as Remy went to fetch a biscuit tin.
‘Soon, hopefully. With your help.’ The old woman returned with a small metal tin and an array of shortbread biscuits inside. ‘Help yourself, dear.’
Hella scooped one up and took a nibble. It tasted perfect with her caramel latte. She smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you for letting me work here,’ she said, still in awe.
The old woman did not look kind when she smiled, but there was something akin to warmth in her deep-set blue eyes. ‘Well, you certainly seem to like the place, that’s good. Now go on off to school. I’ll not have that mother of yours getting on at me for you being late.’
Hella turned, smiling, as Remy snapped. ‘Take another biscuit.’
She took one with a chuckle. ‘Thanks, Remy. I’ll see you later!’
Hella walked to school with a spring and bounce in her step. She took great swigs of her coffee, the caffeine buzzing through her veins, munching on the delicious cookies. She was so caught up in her bubble of happiness that when someone called her name from right behind her she yelped.
‘Jeez, Hellhound, relax. It’s me.’ James looked a little startled but laughed it off. As he always did.
‘I forgot to text you when I finished my shift,’ she blurted out, nearly spraying cookie bits on him. ‘I’m sorry. I was at the store half the night. There’s a lot to do to set up.’
James waved her apology away. ‘Oh, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry.’ He stuck his hands in his jean’s pockets, looking down at the pavement as they walked.
‘What are you doing sneaking up on me like a stalker?’ she asked, her heart still beating a little too fast.
‘I am not a stalker. I just… I wanted to make sure we were okay, is all. We did used to walk to school together all the time.’ He pointed up the street. ‘We’ve always lived on the same block,’ he laughed, as if she could have forgotten.
‘No, I know.’ Hella munched her biscuit to give herself time to think. She wanted to confront him again, but she was having such a good start to the day. No good would come from ruining it now. ‘So,’ she said jovially. ‘What do you think of Alexa’s new tattoo? It’s her biggest one yet.’
‘I think it’s hot,’ James muttered slyly.
Hella spat out her sip of coffee with a laugh. ‘You do not!’ She slapped his shoulder lightly. ‘You can’t! She’s your friend.’
James smiled, almost shyly. ‘You know we dated, right?’
‘That was in grade seven, does not count.’
‘Does too. We kissed,’ James said with a hint of a smirk, as if he were thinking about it right now.
‘You kissed once.’
‘She was my first kiss,’ he said. Now he was definitely smiling at the thought.
‘Really? I always thought Valerie was your first kiss.’ Hella took another sip.
James made a face. ‘Valerie is hot, but she’s awful. I wouldn’t kiss her.’
‘Yes, you would,’ Hella said as they rounded the corner onto school grounds as the first bell rang out.
‘I might,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘But she’s still awful.’
Hella nodded. ‘Very true. Good taste. Don’t tell Alexa you think her tattoo is hot, though. Before you know it, she’ll have another five.’
James grinned as they walked into class, and their faces fell. ‘No,’ he whispered in horror. ‘Hella, help me. No, you have to get me out of this. Fake a stroke. Have a stroke. Not again.’ He groaned, pulling the hood of his jumper down over his face.
Hella put a hand over her mouth to stop from laughing, but it still echoed in the chamber of the gym. ‘What, you don’t like PE?’ she said, then burst into a cackle of laughter. James looked as if she had abducted his puppy.
‘Oh, come on. It was funny!’ She nudged him with her elbow playfully.
He took her by the upper arm, dragging her into a corner. ‘I was the laughingstock of the school! I am not doing PE again this year. You can’t make me.’
‘You have to, or you won’t graduate.’
‘Fine. But I’m not playing badminton.’ His cheeks flushed red.
The PE teacher, Mr Sheppard, stepped up from the sidelines, holding a badminton racket. ‘Okay, guys, welcome back from your break. I’m sure everyone here
is excited to work off that extra weight you might’ve put on over Christmas.’ This earned him several glares from the gathered sixteen-year-olds. ‘Anyway, to start off today, we’re going to have a friendly game of badminton. Go on and change in the locker rooms then divide into pairs and find a team. Oh, and Mr Wilson?’
James flushed. ‘Yes?’
‘I trust you remember how to play… without tripping over your own shorts, taking out a teammate, and giving yourself a concussion?’
The entire gymnasium burst into a raucous cacophony of laughter, including Hella. James’s usually easy-going, composed face turned tomato-red. He turned on Hella, who threw her hands up in innocence. ‘Hey,’ she said defensively between laughing breaths, ‘I’m the teammate you took out, and I can still laugh.’ She patted him on the arm. ‘It’ll be fine, don’t worry.’
‘I think that went well,’ Hella said, holding a spare shirt from her locker over James’s bleeding nose.
He mumbled a response, muffled by blood and fabric.
‘What?’
He leaned his head back, removing the makeshift rag. ‘I said, I fucking hate PE.’
Hella’s mouth quirked in sympathy. ‘We should get you to the nurse.’
James stood up quickly. ‘No, no nurse. I’m fine. Is there blood on my face?’
Hella looked at the rivulet of blood that had poured from his nose down his lips, past his mouth to drip off his chin and onto his shirt. ‘No, you’re fine.’ She tried to keep a straight face. Hella smiled reassuringly as Alexa rounded the corner.
‘Oh shit! What happened to you?’ Alexa asked, then glanced at Hella, whose eyes were wide with warning. Alexa looked back at the startled James.
‘I mean, um, how was PE? You look great. Normal. You look awesome.’ She patted him awkwardly on the shoulder then took off for next period without waiting for Hella.
‘There’s blood on me, isn’t there? Hella!’ James’s grey eyes widened. Hella tried to take off after Alexa, not wanting to deal with hysterical-James today. It was still a good day. Still a good day. His voice rose exponentially. ‘Hella, you know I can’t stand the sight of blood! Hella!’
Feathers, Tails & Broomsticks Page 3