Soul Inheritance

by Honey A. Hutson

  “Now, we have representations of earth, the pot, fire, the candles, water, the holy water – which means it’s been purified with sea salt and blessed – air, the incense and spirit, all of us. All of these are the basic elements of magic. One by one we’ll each come forward and add an ingredient to the pot and the incantation for it to do as we ask. Then we’ll use it to anoint you and proceed with the ritual. Ready?”

  Katherine nodded.

  Quietly she sat on the floor of the gazebo, her skirt flowing over the edges of the purple pillow with her legs crossed. She swallowed as she watched Margaret step forward and she listened to each of them as they petitioned the goddesses and gods they called upon for assistance. When the last one had performed her task they all drew the circle in with her as the center and Dora facing her at the pinnacle.

  Words unfamiliar to Katherine flowed around her. They closed in, caressed her skin as if they were animate objects, hands that touched every inch of her, fingers that gently combed through every strand of hair. While she did not know the language she knew the meaning. The goddess was called to let the lives lived converge, the memories known in this time of need. Each voice was part of a whole, forming one sound, one melodious cord as they converged into a chant that lifted her to their goddesses and gods.

  Katherine felt a cool tingle run from the top of her spine to the very tip. A mist began to form outside the boundaries of the gazebo. Thin and gauzy it listed like an ocean current from side to side. She felt relaxed, secure inside their circle, sleepy with the rhythm of the voices and the waves of mist. Her eyes faltered, she fought it.

  “No, let it take you. Follow it. It’ll show you what you want to know,” Dora spoke low, not interfering or taking away from the chants.

  Katherine let go. Her eyes closed and she floated away. Turning she looked back at herself sitting in the gazebo. The candles flickered and were gone. She stood alone in the cool mist, completely at ease. Something stirred within the white folds. The sound of footsteps in the distance drew her attention to the left. She turned and waited calmly as they came closer. As the sound approached another began from the right and then another from behind. Katherine began to grow anxious; as she became surrounded she fought to keep her attention on the one that was closest.

  A form began to develop in the mist. In moments a woman walked out of the curtain of moisture. Katherine was speechless. The woman was shorter, slightly smaller in frame with almost no bust and tiny feet. She was dressed in a green and white gingham dress to the mid-shin with a fifties style bun pinned up on her head. It was not this that startled her. It was the face. They could have been mistaken for mother and daughter.

  From the other directions came more female forms. The first wore a belle style dress from the early eighteen hundreds, her hair pulled up and cascading down her back in ringlets. She didn’t look comfortable in her attire. The gypsy in her was imprisoned in the properness of the age and class to which she obviously belonged. She stood staunch and serious. A woman enslaved in Victorian times.

  The next form wore the twenties style. A one piece dress that stopped just below the knees, a belt snuggly fastened round the waist of the grey material. Her wavy hair bobbed with her movements, giving her a less than formal and very comfortable appearance. They all had one thing in common. Each face reflected back her gaze.

  The last to emerge was known to Katherine, from the last encounter with Greystone. She noted that her dress was not torn, her hair not in disarray. She did carry a scar, deep and long across the left side of her pretty face. She smiled in a knowing way, reached out and offered her left hand. There was hesitation as she looked down at the fine, thin hand. The lovely ring was not there.

  None of them spoke, but moved forward, reached out. A hand on each shoulder, one on her back. A feeling of security and knowledge washed through her like a flood through a canal. She reached out, took Miranda’s hand. The electrical charge that ran through her was so strong she nearly pulled away. Each of the forms moved into her where they were absorbed like drops of water in a pond.

  Finally all that remained was Miranda, holding tight to her hand. She looked deep into the brown that felt like her own eyes. In a moment of profound understanding they stepped forward together. Each absorbed the other until only one being stood in the mist.

  Katherine was whole in a way she had never been before. Now she knew what had been missing. Quite literally a part of her. Half to be exact. She felt herself being drawn back into the circle, into the gazebo and into her body.

  The gazebo and the women there slowly filtered back into existence. Her head ached, there was something else there. Someone else. Dora had her arm. The chants were finished, the circle disbursed. Someone laid her back on the wooden floor, put a pillow beneath her head.

  “Katherine, are you alright?” Dora hovered, Margaret and the others only a few steps back.

  “Uh, yea. I think so. My head hurts.”

  “You’ll probably be tired. What happened? What did you find?”

  Katherine scrunched up her face, tried to sit up. Had to accept lying there, looking at the roof beams. She remembered it all very clearly. More importantly she felt the same as she had after she and Miranda had joined.

  “Oh, I would say that I found more than I was looking for.”

  Dora grinned, “How many were there? How many did they give back?”

  “Four. And they all joined me.”

  Everyone fell eerily quiet.

  “Are you sure? They were all joined with you?” Dora looked concerned.

  “Yea, I…uh…absorbed all four.” She thought a moment. “Well, no. I absorbed three.”

  Dora looked sideways at Margaret. “What do you mean? Was Miranda one of them?”

  “Well, yes, but… that was different. We absorbed each other. It was very clear. We both knew it had to be that way.” Katherine attempted to sit up again. Succeeded.

  The women around her immediately began to mumble amongst themselves. Dora looked hard at Katherine. Her hair had taken on streaks of silver and her eyes were now a dark brown, almost black. Katherine smiled.

  “It really was necessary if she’s going to fight. I know so much that will help her. Don’t worry Dora; we’re one in the same. I would hardly hurt myself.”

  “But your time has come and gone. She’s… You’re not the same person. I mean, you’re both the same person literally, but your lives are not the same life. Oh… I’m not making sense even to myself!”

  “I know what you mean. I wouldn’t hurt this life… or steal it if that is what you’re afraid of. How can I steal what is technically mine anyway? The past can only help guide the present. It cannot be changed or relived. It cannot replace the person I’ve become. I’m only here to insure that my existence does not get trapped here, with him. That they don’t get me or the power that I yield. I hope that will be the case, anyway.”

  Dora helped her to her feet and the others gathered round.

  “Well,” Margaret said authoritatively, “This wasn’t something we expected. She was just supposed to gain the knowledge of the other lives, not the personalities who lived them.”

  “You know Bess, I’m standing right here.” Katherine spoke with certainty and spunk she had never felt. Her green eyes sparkled, her personality overtaking Miranda’s. “I feel great.” She stepped forward, faltered, took Dora’s arm. “Well, a little dizzy, but otherwise good. It’s like the part of me that was always missing is suddenly there. It’s like Miranda was half of me or something.”

  “The part you feel’s missing is that part of you that is the family. The part that belongs to them.” Serena’s eyes bore into Katherine, as though searching.

  Katherine’s eyes darkened to the brown shade again. “I don’t belong to anyone. I’m a liquid part of this world and that’s the way it’s going to stay. I was a fool once. Never again.” Mi
randa saw Serena’s statement as a challenge, rose to it, though Katherine completely missed the reasoning.

  “Okay, Katherine, you’re going to have to be sure you keep control of the new half, integrate her and fast. This is your life; she’s just your past. Your personality’s changed with all of the lives you’ve lived, your outlook is different. Those changes happened for a reason. They’re your strength. Let that go and you’ll loose your fight for sure.” Dora’s grip had tightened.

  The dark eyes studied her for a few seconds. The brown clouds dissipated like a drop of mud in a clear pool, becoming foggy then clear, allowing the green through.

  “Yes, I suppose it would be too easy to let her take over. I think I’ll go rest. I’m feeling wiped out.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Wait a minute, what about the protection spell?” Bell stepped forward.

  The new, reassured Katherine turned, looked at Serena and then to Bell. “I think I’ve got all the protection I need. More than this group can give, no offense. I can feel the knowledge building in me now. It’s only a matter of time. I’ll be able to protect myself as well as any spell can,” Miranda’s cool tone returned and she looked again at Serena. “Thanks for the concern, but I think it’s going to be okay,” she smirked, reached out and squeezed the shoulder of the young witch.

  Serena sneered back, “No offense taken. Just make me a promise.”

  “Okay, if I can.” Her eyes danced between green and brown.

  “When this’s over you’ll come back and teach us what you’ve learned.”

  “I’ll be sure to. Thanks for all you’ve done. I feel like a new person.”

  Katherine turned and walked with Dora toward the house, leaning on her arm for balance. The others watched her leave, cleaned up and headed out in their different directions. Serena was the last to go. She said goodnight to Dora as she came down the stairs from Katherine’s room.

  “Good night Dora. Wish Katherine luck for me when she leaves in the morning.”

  “I don’t think she’s ready…” Dora’s face was soaked in concern.

  “Oh, she’s more than ready.” The girl was calm, self assured.

  “Empathic, sorry, almost forgot. I didn’t think divining the future was an empathic thing. For that matter I didn’t know your gift was as strong as it’s seemed tonight.”

  “Just call it a hunch. She’s got what it takes. On top of that she’s confident and she thinks she’s ready.” Serena shut the door gently and walked cheerfully down the steps. Looking up at the sun catchers over the arbor she tapped one with a finger, sending it spinning. “Piece of cake,” she smiled opening the gate and letting it slam shut in her wake. Black eyes glinted and glowed as she walked toward home.

  Dora went to the back porch and sat watching the lightning bugs and worrying about Katherine. She had done all she could. Now she wondered if it had been the wrong thing. She’d never seen someone who did more than absorb the knowledge they were already privy to. Never had she heard of anyone doing this and coming back with two personalities in the same body. Especially two with so much time in-between them. They were one in the same, but the personality of the one in the present, in this case Katherine, had developed over time from the others. The life experience of her past lives made her who she was. To let an earlier personality take over in any regard could not be good. That would be like regressing instead of progressing. An individual was meant to move forward with knowledge and experience, not return to an earlier, more vulnerable state. Still, Miranda had advantages, memories, wisdom in the ways of magic Katherine was denied. She also possessed the history of the lake, of Greystone and what he wanted.

  Katherine slept easily. She dreamed, but not like before. These were detached memories, as if she were watching from a distance. They gave her information of a basic sort. Miranda’s clan, her childhood, her time traveling with the gypsies. She saw campfires and heard music, watched lively dancers around the bright flames. They moved from place to place, collecting information from some, offering it to others, hawking magical remedies and cures. There were scenes where they endured ill treatment; name calling as they passed, thrash thrown at them. At night people gathered round to watch the fire eaters, dancing, storytelling and buy the herbal concoctions that were used to cure this and that. The same people who ridiculed them by the light of day came to call on them for their eccentric pleasures at night.

  Miranda had grown weary of the road, of the hypocrites and their two faced behavior. She grew tired of being ogled and propositioned and touched by men who had no honorable intentions, but saw her as just another product to be bought at the gypsy tents. She wanted no part of it, danced away, out of their reach and disappeared into the night when the music stopped.

  Until she came to the little town in Maine. It had felt different. Exciting in a way she had not felt before. They weren’t looked down on, but welcomed as they passed through. Not one foul eye was thrown their way, but smiles and even an occasional wave and welcome. The air nearly tingled around her and he’d come to the edge of their camp before they’d gotten the first fire built.

  Charles had presented himself, inquiring if they possessed, among their numbers, one who held a special talent for dancing. There was a celebration being held at the Mansion on the lake and he would pay well if the dancers could come.

  Charles caught her eye the moment he rode from the edge of the forest. Tall and debonair atop the red roan. He was dressed in dark pants and a white shirt with a ruffle at the throat and wrists, but no jacket that she could see. His dark hair was shoulder length and wavy. His dark eyes were deep pools with a view into an old soul. Drawn to him she introduced herself as the dancer he sought. She would bring several others. When asked what the occasion was he said it was the summer solstice. Their first real group celebration of the holiday since their coming to the new world and building the house on the lake.

  It warmed her heart to know she was among pagans, though she was surprised. The gypsies were not long removed from sneaking through puritan country in the south. Charles was warm and welcoming. He did not ogle or make any inappropriate move at all. He spoke to her father with respect, to her as a respectable woman.

  Miranda was spellbound from the first meeting. The group extended their stay in the small town to rest where they were welcome. She danced at the colorful festival, stayed for the rituals and was pleased when Charles sat and talked for a long time before they left that evening. He wooed, with her father’s permission, every evening until it was time for them to leave.

  That day was different. He came to the camp in disarray, declared his love and begged her father to let her marry him. After consulting with his daughter the old man agreed and a wedding took place that night in the camp of the gypsies, in their tradition. Charles took her home and presented her his room to sleep in, but did not spend the wedding night. Instead he insisted that they should also celebrate their union by holding a ceremony at the lake with all the family present. A proper ceremony would be expected.

  Charles bent and gently kissed her goodnight, pledging to hold the hand-fasting, quickly. In two days it took place by the water. There were many scenes of their happy times. Walks on the lake’s edge at dusk, the stained glass windows reflected in the cove as they strolled together and stopped to kiss in the darkness. Their love had been genuine, from both sides. Charles had once made a deal to save his people, to get them across the ocean safely where they could start a new life. At the time nothing else mattered. Now she was all that mattered and he was careful to tell her everything in hopes of saving her when the time came.

  The natural magic was strong in her. At first Charles hoped deep inside it would be enough to save her and their children from what was to come. But as time moved on his love for her grew into obsession. A fire that burned deeper than his body, deeper than his soul, fueled only by her presence. A fire he wasn
’t willing to relinquish.

  Chapter nine

  Nigel woke up from his nap, sat on the edge of the bed and stared out the window at the darkening world below. The street lights had already come on and there ribbons of light laced between them, moving in opposite directions. He stretched, dug through his bag. After selecting casual clothes he headed off to take a shower. Walking into the bathroom he stopped to assess the Jacuzzi.

  “I think I’ll save that for later, when I have company.”

  The nightclub of choice tonight, The Jumping Jack, was in downtown Bangor. He circled the block until he found a parking spot, checked his appearance in the mirror.

  The music was loud as he made his way to the bar, checking out the available goods scattered throughout the club. One girl in particular drew his attention. She looked very young, maybe too young to be allowed in. He took a seat several chairs down, ordered a vodka and orange juice.

  Nigel watched her closely. Once he was satisfied that she was alone he motioned to the bar tender.

  “Send the lady a white wine on me.” He said, slipping a bill across the counter.

  “Yes, sir.” The elderly bar tender gave him a wily smile.

  Once the drink had been delivered he smiled and raised his glass. She smiled back, moved down the bar to sit beside him.

  “Hi, I’m Nigel.”

  “Francis, but people call me Fran.” She was small and blonde. Plenty of bust and butt with a tiny waist in-between, just the way he liked them. Fran rambled on so long that by the time she paused he knew her life history. Not a lot of relationships, her parents were several states away and she’d come to Maine to attend college near her grandmother. She lived alone. A cheap apartment in a bad neighborhood.