The Stargazers

by Allison M. Dickson

  “What happened to him?” Aster was fascinated. Finally, she would learn of her grandfather.

  “Why, he went back with her of course. After he begged her enough. Of course, he ain’t worth a much anymore from what I hear.”

  Aster’s jaw fell open again. “Quercus? I knew it!”

  “Most everybody does, I wager, but she’d never admit it out loud. It’s why she struck him mute. Quercus ain’t his real name, though. You’d never find a name like that in these here parts. His born name’s Benjamin. What Lily wants to do, she does. Ain’t never been another woman who was more of the ‘do as I say, not as I do’ type.”

  Aster wondered how Quercus must feel to know two of his daughters had turned out the way they had. Did he miss his home? His name? His voice?

  Ivy continued. “Anyway, I married his brother and we raised a family together too.”

  “Did you go through the transformation when you had your babies?”

  “Oh darlin’, no. That only happens when you give birth on that Givin’ Altar. What you see here is years of hard livin’ and the results of a bout of skin cancer. My little piece of the Old Magic stayed with me. Not that it ever amounted to much. Lily was the twin with all the power. I had me three babies, two of ‘em boys. They’re long grown, with grown kids of their own. I’ve lived a good, long life here. But my dear Henry died two years ago. I miss him somethin’ awful.”

  “Do you ever miss Ellemire?”

  The old woman shrugged. “Oh, here and there. The air’s cleaner and folks got a more innocent way about ‘em. But they only got one way of thinkin’ there, and it’s all about the magic. Strange thing is, with all that power at their fingertips, not a one of them really live. They’re spoiled by how easy they’ve made things for themselves. A lot like this world’s turned into, I s’pose, but it’s a bigger world, and there are pockets of it that ain’t been lost yet. Like this one.”

  Aster got up on her knees, almost in a posture of begging. “What am I even supposed to do here? I came with simple directions, but they’re impossible, and things have gotten more complicated than ever. Can you tell me what to do?”

  “No one can tell you that, darlin.’ There’s all sorts of folks tryin’ to tell ya what’s what, and I ain’t gonna be one of ‘em. But you oughta know one thing. You got a gift that nobody else does. Soon as you realize what it is, thing’ll start to get better for you. Maybe not easier, but better. Oleander’s also goin’ her own way, I suspect. But anything she does is for her benefit only. She’d let the whole damn world burn if it meant she was sittin’ on top of the ash pile. That’s the risk of independence, I guess.”

  Aster drained her water and placed the bottle on the table. By the position of the sun, she knew if she hoped to meet Bryon on time, she’d need to get going soon. A large part of her regretted it, because she could have sat and talked with Mama Iris through the night. “Thank you for the water. And everything else.”

  Mama Iris leaned forward, gesturing toward the flats of strawberries on her table. “I was wonderin’ if you wouldn’t mind givin’ these berries a little pick-me-up before ya go. This heat’s been murder on the poor things, and I can’t do much for ‘em once they’re out of the ground.”

  “I’m not sure I can either. I mean, I’ve never tried anything like that on picked fruit.”

  The woman smiled. “I’ve got a good feelin’.”

  Aster took a breath and looked down at the strawberries, which had indeed grown dull and mushy in the heat since she’d arrived. She didn’t know how she could fix them. Once separated from the mother root, fruits and vegetables began to die and were beyond her reach. It was the way of all things. She could no more resurrect drooping flowers in a vase or a dead body than she could rotting fruit.

  Still, the old woman’s intent stare was forcing her to at least try something, and it would have been rude to refuse her request. Reaching out her hand, she ran her fingers gently along the fruit, using the same incantations she did whenever she worked in the garden. She didn’t think it would work, but it was the only applicable spell she could think of. She’d invented it herself when she was just a child walking the garden’s rows with her mother.

  As she expected, nothing happened. “I don’t think this is going to work,” Aster said.

  Mama Iris didn’t take her eyes off the strawberries. “Be patient, darlin’. Watch.”

  Aster continued the incantation, wondering how much longer she’d have to do it before the woman was satisfied. She was about to stop again when she noticed a glossier red popping out through the dull maroon of the parched fruit. The sheen was like that of berries picked at the peak of harvest time.

  It wasn’t an instant effect, but the magic had worked. She just couldn’t believe what she had seen. No one had ever told her she could do such a thing, and she’d never thought to try. It would have been considered a waste of magic. “That’s… impossible.”

  “No, darlin’. It was impossible. You’ve made it possible. You’re the Great Mother. You got more control over the Old Magic than anyone else. Why, I bet somebody’s gonna eat that piece of fruit and have a year of good luck.”

  Aster shook her head. “I just don’t understand how…” Then she felt a twinge in her hand and looked down. Just below her left index finger, she saw a mottled brown spot that hadn’t been there before. She rubbed at it, thinking it a speck of dirt, but it was in her skin. “Oh.”

  Mama Iris used her magnifying glass to inspect the spot, which resembled the ones on her hands and those of the other women in their family. “Uh-huh.” She let the hand go. “Now you know what you can do, and the cost of doin’ it. Those are two things you didn’t know five minutes ago. All you gotta do now is figure out what you’re gonna do with that information.”

  By healing the strawberries, her body had aged just a tiny bit. It wasn’t unlike what had happened to her mother or the other Stargazers who had given birth on the Giving Altar, only she’d just done it here. In another universe, and to a common strawberry.

  Another doorway opened in her mind. Maybe there was a way to return the Old Magic to the world without having to have a baby. Elation filled her, and she wanted to grab the old woman and dance with her. “How did you know I’d be able to do that?”

  “You ain’t gonna like the answer.”

  Aster frowned. “So? I haven’t liked any answer they’ve given me. I don’t think yours could be much worse.”

  “Careful what you wish for, dear girl.” She didn’t break her cloudy gaze from Aster’s face, and Aster appreciated that. “Truth is they always knew you could do that. Everyone did. ‘Cept you, of course. There’s a lot of writing on the legend of the Great Mother, but my sister controlled a lot of that information. When you were born, she destroyed most of it, in case you ever got curious enough to go lookin’. You’re playin’ her ballgame now.”

  Silence followed as Iris’s words echoed in Aster’s head.

  Her legs let go all over again, and she plopped onto the ground in a puff of dry dirt. The world seemed to be spinning out of control around her. If Lily knew, then that meant that Dahlia knew as well. How could she not? No wonder she always looked so pained. All of them. “I… I don’t know what to say.” The words came out in a croak, her throat dry all over again. She wanted to cry, but she was exhausted by the tears she’d shed already today.

  Iris grabbed another bottle of water from the cooler, spun off the cap, and handed it to her. “There ain’t nothin’ harder to control than somethin’ that knows its own power. I guess they figured if you played everything their way, it would be easier. And it would have been, for them anyway.”

  “Easier how?” She sipped at her water but didn’t really taste it.

  “If it wasn’t your child dyin’ on the slab, it would’ve been you. Instead of comin’ through the Tree of Doors on your eighteenth birthday, you’d be bleedin’ out instead. Ellemire would probably be celebratin’ right now, in fact. Their Old Magic r
estored to balance, their world saved. This way, the world still gets saved, but the ones who love you most still have you.”

  “I…” She trailed off, suddenly unsure what to say. Her tongue felt numb and heavy. She was the one who was supposed to die? She wanted to be furious at them. They knew how impossible her choice was, because they’d been given the same task and had failed. They expected her to be stronger than they had been. A lump ached in the back of her throat, but she swallowed it back. If she was supposed to be the stronger one, she wasn’t going to melt into a puddle of tears in front of this old woman.

  Iris reached down and helped her up. “You got lots to think about, I imagine. Come back and see me again soon. I ain’t gonna tell ya what to do, but I think it’ll help havin’ someone here to bounce things off of.”

  Aster set off with heavy legs, but she’d need to walk fast. Bryon would be waiting for her, and she really needed to see his face right now.

  -17-

  Oleander stirred some honey into a cup of tea while a houseful of worker bees earned their keep. Four of them were scraping the siding on the house in preparation for painting, three were scrubbing and buffing floors, and the rest were out in the gardens digging out beds for Oleander’s new herb garden. She relished the shovels-in-dirt and bristles-against-tile notes of the hard labor symphony coming from every corner of the house.

  None of them were too thrilled to hear about Aster’s willful absence, and Oleander made sure to stress how hard she’d tried to get the girl to cooperate. “Apparently she has a new boyfriend and can’t be bothered to keep up around here.”

  The red-headed one named Tonya rolled her eyes. “I knew that girl had prima donna written all over her. She shouldn’t even be allowed to stay here if she’s not going to work like the rest of us.” The others muttered in agreement and Oleander soaked in the spite rolling off the other girls in waves. The first part of her plan, to close off Aster’s only other avenues of friendship, was going very well.

  But it wasn’t done yet. There was still the one called Ruby to deal with. Oleander watched throughout most of the day as the girl moped around or glared at the other ones who complained about Aster. It was clear she was strongly loyal, but it wouldn’t take long to break her and remold her in her image. She certainly had enough anger and defiance in her. All Oleander needed to do was redirect it a little. This would be especially easy without Aster around to get in the way. Right now Ruby was lounged in the porch swing with a garden shovel leaning against one leg.

  Oleander took a seat beside her. “Too high and mighty to get your hands dirty?” she asked.

  The girl stared forward. “Did you say something?”

  “Why aren’t you working?” It took some effort to keep her voice from rising. She wasn’t used to bearing such insolence.

  “Maybe because I think what you’re doing is bullshit.”

  I could make you pay for that, little cunt. You’d be begging me for mercy. “Bullshit how?”

  “You’ve been a stupendous bitch since you took off yesterday. It’s like your rag is on the rag. What happened to you?”

  This would be harder than she thought, and this dithering about the point wasn’t going to make things easier. She decided to go right for the little tramp’s heart. “You’re in love with Aster, aren’t you?”

  Ruby jumped as if she’d been goosed, but she still didn’t look Oleander in the eye. “What the fuck ever.”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, girl. I can sniff your type a mile away. You’re like a bitch in heat.”

  The girl’s face flamed bright red, but she cast her eyes downward and said nothing. Oleander pounced.

  “You have to know she doesn’t feel the same way about you.”

  “You don’t know that!”

  Finally, a struck nerve! Oleander proceeded to squash it like a little bug. “Oh, but but I do. She’s out there right now being courted by a boy, isn’t she? She’s not like you. She was born her way just as you were born yours. A bird can never lie with a fish.”

  “You don’t know her.” Furious tears stood out in the girl’s dark eyes. “She’s just confused. I was confused like her once too. It’s not like I never did things with boys either, you know. Eventually she’ll—”

  “She’ll what? Come around?” Oleander snorted laughter. “Aster is spineless. She’s not like you—confident and self-aware. You’d just as soon find love from her as you would a tree stump.”

  “Shut up!” Ruby hopped to her feet, panting, tears painting black streaks of mascara down her cheeks. She leaned over Oleander, fists bunched and raised. “Don’t talk about her that way! I’m so sick of the way everyone’s talking about her around here, and it’s all because of you!”

  Oleander looked up at the infuriated girl as one looks at fluffy clouds. Ruby had danced into the palm of her hand. Now was the time to deliver the crippling blow. “What if I told you I could make Aster love you?”

  “What… What are talking about?” The anger drained from her voice. All that was left was a weak warble.

  “I’m talking about using the powers I have to make her love you.”

  Ruby stared for a moment before cackling cynically. “You remind me of my mom with that talk. She thought she was a witch and that she could make people do whatever she wanted. Turned out great for her. Maybe she’ll still be able to convince the governor to keep her off the gurney.”

  Oleander sighed and stood up. “All you need to understand is that you’ll never have Aster as things are. You can either live with that fact, or you can let me help. When you decide to stop being a dumb cow, I’ll be waiting. Meanwhile, if you don’t get back to work, I’ll see to it that she’s removed from this house permanently. Your insolence is killing my generosity.”

  Ruby snatched up the gardening shovel again and stomped off the porch. At the base of the steps, she turned around, shadows hooding her face. “You’re not Ivy. I don’t know who or what you are, but you’re not her. Miss Ivy used to always drop the g’s in her words. And she always smiled. Whatever you are, you didn’t spend much time learning the accent. I’ll keep your secret for now. If you keep mine about Aster.” Ruby turned and stalked off toward the backyard leaving Oleander stymied.

  It had been many years since someone had played her in such a way, and the sensation was similar to having snakes crawling on her skin. Perhaps it would be easier just to kill her and have it done. A simple sprinkling of belladonna in her food would do the trick, though Oleander would get more pleasure using the knife on her as she had on Ivy. But this method was more elegant. Driving her to madness and perhaps suicide would be the thing that finally broke Aster in two.

  First things first, though. The girl had thrown down a gauntlet. Oleander went in the house and upstairs to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Her knapsack hung on one of the posts of the four-poster bed, and she grabbed it. Inside were several vials of essential herbs and other potion ingredients. She muttered to herself as she selected the ones she needed.

  “Fly wings… yes yes. There’s the hookworm powder. Now where’s my minced snakeskin? Ah yes, there you are, my lovely. Oh drat, no frog’s toe fungus. No worries, I can use my own and increase the temperature.”

  There was also a miniature cast-iron cauldron, which she pulled out and placed on top of a portable electrical burner she’d found in the kitchen earlier. She’d marveled over the contraption and wished she’d had dozens more for her potion room back home.

  She began throwing items into the cauldron one after the other in precise measurements that required no spoons or gadgets. Oleander measured her ingredients only by instinct, and it was her sharp instincts that made her exceptional. A keen sense of smell was also necessary, and when Oleander took a sniff, she realized the need for something more. Something essential. A few of Ruby’s tears. Yes, that would do it.

  She cursed her luck for not having collected some in a tissue when the pathetic wench had been weeping out on the porch, but
then her eyes flitted to the lap of her dress and a fireball of triumph exploded in her belly. Three black smudges surrounded by faint moisture, left when the girl had been leaning over her in a feeble gesture of threat. Grabbing a pair of scissors from the vanity table’s drawer, Oleander cut away the section of the dress containing Ruby’s tears and dropped that into the cauldron as well.

  Soon, the room filled with the heady aroma of doomed love.

  -18-

  Aster arrived back at the Quick Lube when the clock in the shop read 4:35. Her hair dripped with sweat and her clothes clung to her body like a second skin. It was not how she would have preferred to look for a date, but there hadn’t been time to sneak back to the house. Not that she would have anyway. She didn’t plan on creeping back into Oasis until well after dark, when everyone was in bed.

  She stopped just outside the glass door and peeked inside through the painted lettering. Bryon was standing behind the counter handing an old man a piece of pink paper and a set of keys. As they continued to talk, Bryon smiled, looking truly engaged in whatever the two were talking about. Aster’s heart quickened as he smiled. He wasn’t as traditionally handsome as some of the boys back in Ellemire with their dark hair and prominent chins and magical riding beasts, but his shyness and kindness disarmed her.

  The old man turned around and shuffled toward the door, and Aster stepped aside to let him out. His eyes, already made huge behind his magnifying spectacles, widened even more. “Gaw dang, that’s some pink hair. You kids these days, I tell ya…” He shook his head and climbed into his big silver car. After starting it up, he nearly drove it up onto the curb. Aster jumped back to avoid being hit, but the old man didn’t seem to notice as he sped off up the street.