He had wanted to discuss the events at the party the night before. No doubt, Chad had already told him about the ghostly figure in the haunted house, and again about the spider decoration coming to life and trying to eat me. At least, that was my recollection. The idea that someone from my biological family was looking for my mother, who was supposed to be dead, was hard for me to swallow. They hadn’t looked for her the entire eighteen years they thought she was dead. Why would they be looking for her after all that time?
Chester explained that there was a spell used to hide me from my mother and father’s families, and it had worn off once the storm died down. The dress I wore actually had belonged to my mother, Gwendolyn Crawford, and had been donated to a thrift shop with a few other of my parent’s belongings.
After the fire in their home destroyed everything, including the house, a property management team was hired to remove the rest of the contents from the detached buildings, as well as the burnt structure. Chester said the dress must have been a part of what was stored in the shed behind the house.
He also explained how he had come to know my parents were alive. He was traveling with Chad at the time, and my mother went to find him. She had been afraid that she and my father were being tracked by my father’s family, and said they were going to go into hiding. At the time, she was still pregnant with me. She had asked him not to go looking for them, just in case anyone was watching him in hopes that he would lead them straight to my parents. It was a year later when he heard from them again. Gwen had sent him a letter, which told him I had been put up for adoption in his town. She asked him to look after me, and told him about the spell that would hide me from anyone magical.
I still wasn’t sure how much I understood about my mother and father’s family being at odds, and then coming together to have them both killed. My mother and father’s coven members helped them hide their relationship from the two families. There was not a feud between their two covens, but between the two different blood lines. It was her family against his. Light against dark.
Eventually, once my parents had been married by another High Priestess, they joined their two covens together and made them one. It was believed that someone in my father’s coven hated the idea, which led him or her to speak with my mother’s father about the couple. Once my parents fled to stay alive and together, the members of the coven only practiced within their original groups, but they never practiced together again. Their power would never be whole, since their priest and priestess were still alive. So they were free to go their separate ways. All of these years, they were untraceable, and so was I . . . until my eighteenth birthday.
I came to the realization on my own that Michael and Helen Andrews, my adopted parents, had no knowledge of the world I came from. I always had an interest in everything supernatural from an early age, but the thought of them being okay with the knowledge of witches and shapeshifters didn’t seem likely. They were very traditional Catholics, who didn’t believe in magic.
About an hour passed before Chad and I were seated in the little blue Cooper, heading out of town and into Dublin. Chad said there were some shops in the area that sold everything Wicca, from spell books to altar tools and trinkets. We could even find crystals and magic balls. Apparently, they were used to locate witches.
My parents never asked questions whenever I left the house with Chad. They always thought he was a “good boy,” as Helen would say. So I didn’t even bother mentioning where we were going. As long as I was home by ten o’clock on school nights, I was good.
The stores were all the same as any I had been in before. They were just your average book stores with information on witches wearing pointy hats and warts on their faces, riding broomsticks in the sky. I thought it was interesting that ‘normal’ people would be so open to selling spell books to the masses. Chad explained to me that none of those books were actual spell books and we should try a shop he thought would be a better choice. I let him get behind the wheel to take us there, since following his directions from the passenger seat was becoming taxing. Had I known it would have been an hour and a half ride of him screaming “Turn now!” I would have offered him the driver’s seat to begin with.
The little shop he brought us to was not even close to the busiest part of town. It was on a winding back road, out in the middle of nowhere, and secluded by a thick wooded forest of sorts. I could hear the faint sounds of water trickling downstream, coming from deep within the trees. The house, itself, was more like a cabin, set on top of a small hill with a long, winding drive. It was all logs, with the exception of the roof. There were ferns planted out front and a small wooden sign that bid any customer welcome. I could see the soft violet of window treatments through the glass, and that the bottom of each window was covered by shutters in the same tone of wood as the exterior of the building. Off to the right of the three steps that led to the door was what looked like a tire, which had been painted purple, with a fern planted in the center. The door was fairly large, and when Chad pushed it open, I could tell it was also very heavy.
A bell chimed overhead as we stepped inside. A small-framed woman appeared from behind a purple beaded curtain, hanging just on the other side of the small counter, which held an old style cash register.
“Welcome to Spirit. Take a look around and I’ll be right here if you need anything,” the small woman said while struggling to hop on a tall barstool, situated behind the counter. The countertop was solid, but when I looked down, I noticed the case below. There were small, smooth, multi-colored rocks, and what appeared to be crystals. I didn’t imagine the arrangements of them held any significant meaning, as everything looked as though it was dropped inside without care. The chains that held a few of the crystals looked as though they were tangled beyond belief, but the small carousel on top of the counter had similar ones that hung neatly for all to see.
I wandered through the store, taking note that every tabletop was covered in a black velvet material to showcase all sorts of trinkets. I noticed a set of ruins in a small glass dish as I let my hand slide across the velvet on the table. There was a table against the far right wall that held only snow globes, or at least that’s what they looked like to me. I picked up the smallest one and tipped it upside down in my hand, but nothing moved inside the clear glass.
“Those are crystal balls,” Chad said with a snicker.
“Oh.” I turned it upright in my hand, marveling at the detail of the silver dragon holding onto the small orb within its talons. The dragon’s tail wrapped around the bottom, giving it a solid base to stand. The others on the table were similar; all were silver. Some had dragon bases and others had simple bases with no decoration at all. One in particular, the largest on the table, was of a dragon and a wizard. The long beard of the wizard flowed down and around the orb, meeting the dragon’s tail, and led up to the dragon’s body as if they were one entity.
Further inspection of the shop showed me caldrons, chalices, athame’s, and a multitude of candles in an array of colors, shapes, and sizes. Of course, there were books. All sorts; big, little, old, new, and even the blank-paged books we could use as our own individual Book of Shadows. I chose my book. It was purple leather with the imprint of a skull on it. The skull had a monarch butterfly resting on top of it, colored in different shades of purple, pink, and some blue. The skull was engraved with a variety of Celtic knots, and there were hoops that hung from the nostrils.
Chad picked out a plain brown leather book for himself and then pulled me towards the athame’s on a neighboring shelf. They were neatly on display behind a sheet of glass and also situated on top of the black velvet material. One in particular rested on a stand, being held at the hilt and the end of the blade. It was curvy, like the one Chester had shown us, and the etchings on it were also a variety of Celtic knots.
“I like that one,” I said, pointing to the one on the stand.
“Figures you would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I asked jokingly.
“E, you have never gone for anything plain, and that one is definitely not plain.” He waved the small woman over to the case. “She’d like to see that one.”
“Nice choice.” The woman produced a large ring of keys, opened the case, and handed me the athame.
The hilt looked silver as it sat under the lights in the case, but then looked purple as I held it in my hand. There was some weight too, but not too much that I thought I would drop the thing. I was surprised at how comfortable I was holding it.
“Yup, this is the one.”
“Interesting story behind that one . . . it used to belong to a very powerful priestess. Some say she received her power from the tools she kept. I have a few more pieces that went along with that set, if you’d like to see them?”
I nodded to the woman, who led us to the rear of the store. Behind what I thought was the last bookshelf in the small space, there was another. Its shelves were not lined with the same black fabric, but a dark purple silk.
The woman reached into a corner and pulled a ladder from the shadows, sliding it in front of the case’s end. She climbed the steps to the topmost shelf and pulled down two items, handing them to Chad. One was a wooden wand. Its handle was dipped in silver and engraved with the same Celtic knots, holding a crystal orb at its end. The second item was a silver chalice, and the third was a white candle, which had been carved into. All of the pieces held the same insignia and looked like a matching set.
“Why wouldn’t you display these together? Seems like it would be kind of a waste if you had sold them separately.” Chad held the items, studying them and holding them up for me to see.
“Well, I’d never been okay with parting with the entire set. You have to be careful who you sell powerful relics to these days,” she explained, while pushing the ladder back into its rightful place.
“Why would you be okay selling them to us?”
“I’m not . . . I’m selling them to her,” she said, taking the three items from Chad. She motioned for me to follow her to the counter, where she rang up all of my items and packed them neatly in a silk lined, black velvet case.
“Okay, so why are you alright with selling them to me?”
“I read auras, and yours is very strong. Somewhere between blue and purple, which means not only are you trustworthy, you’re also a form of royalty.”
“That must be some mistake.” I casually looked at the black box.
“Well, the witch that owned these tools had the same colors about her. I think they will be put to good use with you. Regardless of what you may think.”
She placed the box in a white plastic bag labeled “Spirit” and handed it to me. Chad paid for his tools and the woman placed them in a brown leather box, put it in a bag, and wished us well. Once we were back in the car with Chad behind the wheel, I took the box from the bag and opened it. Each piece was set in its own place inside the box, as if the box itself were made for them. I didn’t notice the Celtic knot on top of the box until the lid pulled loose from my hand and snapped shut.
“Well, that was strange.” Chad maneuvered in and out of traffic as we hit the highway.
“What . . . the way she was acting?”
“Yeah . . . E, she was acting like she knew you.”
“Yeah, I guess that was strange.”
We drove the rest of the way home in silence, and somewhere on I-71, I fell asleep. It wasn’t until we reached the gas station just inside Pleasant Ridge that I woke to a strange noise. It was coming from the speakers in the dash. I looked at the driver’s seat to see Chad had gotten out of the car to pump gas, and the keys weren’t in the ignition. I was just about to start playing with the knobs and buttons when Chad knocked on the passenger window. I jumped and smacked my head on the ceiling of the little car.
“You want a drink or something?” he yelled through the glass.
I pulled the lever to open the door a bit, and the noise stopped. “Sure, a vitamin water please.”
“Sure thing.”
I closed the door and returned to the inspection of the stereo, but the noise didn’t return, so I sat back against the seat and closed my eyes. The next time I woke, we were pulling into my driveway. My parents were standing on the front porch, as if they had been waiting for us to return for hours.
“Are you in trouble?” Chad asked with a giggle.
“I don’t think so.” I nudged the door open and slid the black box under the passenger seat in one fluid motion.
I hadn’t ever had to tell my parents where I was going on a Saturday afternoon before, so I couldn’t imagine why I would be in trouble for disappearing on a drive with Chad. Helen came down the steps of the front porch first, with Michael a quick step behind, as Chad and I stepped away from the car and walked the last four feet up the driveway.
“Where have you been? We’ve been trying to call you all day.”
“Sorry mom, we decided to take a drive up to Dublin for lunch,” I lied to my mother. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal, honey, we just need to speak with you,” Michael said as he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“E, I’ll catch ya later. Bye Mr. & Mrs. Andrews,” Chad yelled at us as he walked backwards down the driveway, his box securely behind his back. My guess was that he wouldn’t turn around until he was safely out of view of my parents.
“Good-bye, Chad. You can have her back tomorrow.” Michael glared at Chad over his thin-rimmed glasses, then pushed them up on his nose properly. “Elyse, let’s go inside.”
Before saying anything, Michael and Helen both settled themselves in the kitchen by getting two fresh cups of coffee and sitting opposite me at the kitchen table. They made me feel a little on edge until Helen started asking me tons of questions about the car, and if it would do.
“Yeah mom, it’s great . . . Thanks again.”
I meant it. After all, the little Cooper was comfortable enough, and if need be, I could get five people in it. Well, four other than me. I had already come to the conclusion that Chad would be the only one to drive it. He’d had his license since he turned sixteen, and all in all, he’s an okay driver. Michael wouldn’t let me get my license until I had my permit for a full year and clocked three-hundred driving hours. Helen always thought that was overkill, but since she spent most of her days at home or doing her various volunteer duties, she was eager to let Michelle and I drive her around to get our hours. When she didn’t need the family’s mini-van after we got our licenses, we got to share it.
That reminded me. “Hey, do I have to share the Mini with Michelle?” It was hardly an important question, but still one that I wanted an answer to.
“No honey, your mother and I got that for you. Your sister can continue to take the van when your mother doesn’t need it.”
“Do I have to give her rides?” My mind started to swirl at the never-ending possibility of having to spend the next six months chauffeuring my sister and her friends around.
“No, you don’t. That’s your gift. Besides, if her grades don’t improve, she won’t be allowed to leave the house.” Helen made rings on the table with her cup, then smoothed them away with her hand.
We sat for another minute in an awkward silence before Michael started to speak, coughed a little, and then tried again. I was starting to get worried.
“Well, the thing is . . . we got a call yesterday, and we didn’t want to say anything and ruin your party.” He pulled Helen’s hand into his and squeezed.
“Well . . . what?” I couldn’t take it; they had never acted so coy with me before. My parents didn’t know what ‘subtle’ or ‘beat around the bush’ meant.
“We received word from the adoption agency . . . your birth family is trying to make contact.”
“My birth family? As in, not my birth parents?”
“Elyse, you know your birth parents died in a horrible accident. No, this is an uncle on your mother’s side; Barnaby
Crawford . . . I think that’s what the woman said his name is. Anyway, we were just wondering how you would feel about meeting him?”
“No! I don’t want to!” I yelled at them, running out of the room and up the stairs. My legs felt like they were burning, as well as my chest. I felt my pulse quicken, and it wasn’t from the physical exertion. I could feel a full-on anxiety attack hitting me as I reached my bedroom door.
Once in my room, I did the first thing I could think of. I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket. My mother had tried to call me several times, which would have worked had I turned the ringer on, but I couldn’t think about that. I flipped through my contacts and pushed the call option once I found who I was looking for.
When Crystal picked up, I could tell she was busy. There was a heaviness to her voice that said not only was she busy, but she wasn’t alone.
“Can I call you back? Thanks!” she said with a click in my ear, without even waiting for a reply.
I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, except for the only other person I always called. Whenever my life seemed to be spinning out of control, I knew all I had to do was ask, and Chad would be by my side in just a few minutes.
I held my phone out and retrieved his number. I watched it appear just as my mother peeked her head into my room. She just stood there with her arms across her chest, leaning on the door frame.
Everyone in school knew I was adopted. One look at my parents and me standing side by side, and strangers could figure it out. Helen was about five foot three with straight, baby-fine blonde hair and blue eyes that I swore looked just like the ocean. Michael was taller, more my height, but his hair was an ash blonde color and his green eyes resembled emeralds, if only a bit fainter. Anyone who ever looked at my height, long and curly dark brown hair, and dark brown eyes knew I couldn’t have been a product of those two. When I look at Michelle, I see them in her hair and facial features. I wondered what it would be like to look at someone I resembled that much.
Immortal Slumber (The Crawford Witch Chronicles Book 1) Page 5