Sins of a Witch

by J. J. Neeson

  “Yeah, he’s really upset.”

  “I can imagine.” She glanced briefly at her kids, momentarily unreadable, then she turned back to Reigh. “So your date isn’t with Thorston?”

  “God no. Leaving the library today, I ran into my friend Calder from Vegas.”

  Lu was confused. “Really? A friend from Vegas out here? That’s…”

  “Weird. I know.”

  “It does seem unusual. Do you know him well?”

  “Well enough. We’ve been friends since I graduated from high school.”

  “Forgive me for saying it, but are you sure he didn’t follow you from Vegas?”

  It was a valid question, but the truth was, even if he had, Reigh wouldn’t have cared. She missed him. “He doesn’t live in Vegas. He only drops in when he’s on business. He wasn’t around when I left. So no, I’m pretty sure he didn’t follow me.”

  Lu accepted this. “This town does have a way of pulling people together. Does he live here?”

  “No, he lives… I don’t know where, actually. But he travels a lot. He works in property management or something.”

  “You’ve been friends all this time, and he’s never told you where he’s from?” she asked doubtfully.

  “It’s Vegas. Most of the city is from somewhere else. And to be fair, I don’t think I’ve ever asked,” Reigh realized with shame. Had their friendship really been so one-sided? It was yet another rag to throw in the fire of her past. Tonight, she would be much more attentive to Calder. “I have no clue what he does when he’s not with me.”

  “Reigh! He might have a wife hidden away somewhere. And kids!” Lu exclaimed.

  She shrugged. “Not my problem.”

  Lu was appalled.

  “I’m joking,” she quickly amended. “I know Calder, and I am certain he’s not tied down. Anyway, this is our first date. We’ve never slept together or anything. If I get any sense he’s hiding something—which I’ve never felt—I’ll make sure it stays that way.”

  “You better, for your sake. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She was touched, but Calder deserved to be defended. “Honestly, he’s a good guy. When we were teenagers, he used to be such a nerd, but I liked that about him. He was different. He was himself. Now, he’s all suits and ties, but he still keeps me safe. I haven’t had much of that in my life.”

  “Well, I won’t fault him for that,” Lu said, relaxing. “You clearly care for him.”

  “I do,” Reigh acknowledged. “It doesn’t bother me that he’s a little mysterious.”

  “Mysterious is not the same as being evasive.”

  “I’m the one who never asked where he lived.”

  “True, but wait here,” Lu instructed. She rose from the porch and disappeared into the house.

  Reigh sat next to the blueprint and watched over the kids. They were remarkably similar to their mother, laughing with the same warmth Lu emitted, even when she was displeased. She knew how fortunate she’d been to land on Lu’s doorstep at the garage. It was hard to believe only days had passed since the storm. Vegas, the parties and the drugs, felt like it was a lifetime ago. Broken Ridge was more than a new beginning. It was sanctuary from her bad decisions. And Lu was a part of that sanctuary.

  “That was fast,” Reigh noted when Lu returned with a necklace, a silver chain with a chunk of white quartz hanging from it.

  “I know where I keep all my precious stones,” she said, placing the necklace over Reigh’s head. “Even those we care about can have secrets. Wear this at dinner tonight. If Calder lies to you at all, the quartz will go warm against your skin.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  Reigh held the quartz up to the sun, admiring it. “Now who’s being mysterious?”

  “Evasive,” Lu said, smiling. “I’m being evasive.”

  “You know,” Reigh began, dropping the quartz, “I haven’t always been truthful in my life. People lie for many different reasons. It’s not a sin.”

  “Actually…”

  She stood and headed back to her convertible, calling over her shoulder, “You knew what I meant.”

  ***

  “This is wonderful,” Reigh told Calder as the riverboat cruised down the bayou, a tunnel of green cascading around them, shading them from the setting sun. It was otherworldly, as if she’d stepped away from the confines of all she knew and entered something she never could have imagined. But it was real, a beauty that was inherent to the earth, inherent to her.

  For the occasion of their first date, Reigh had traded in her cut-offs for a short teal romper, the fabric as light as the breeze that brushed past them. Appropriate for a near-summer evening, the romper was the dressiest thing she owned, but she was not sure it quite lived up to the romantic setting Calder had chosen, or the designer labels worn by those who dined on the riverboat with them, their candlelight growing brighter as the day aged.

  “How did you manage this on such short notice?” she asked him with awe.

  He chuckled. “I can be persuasive.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  She thought back to a night early in their friendship when she and a few of her friends had flaunted their goods to get into a VIP club. Calder had been with them, following her, her champion amongst those who preyed on young women, who devoured them. The girls had found their way to a table of wealthy gentlemen who predictably bought them drinks all night—expensive ones like champagne. It was a nice divergence from the cheap margaritas she usually drank. She boldly flirted with the men in their suits while Calder, still a boy in his baggy jeans and flannel, sat at the bar, paying for his own drinks, watching to make sure the men behaved themselves.

  As the night wore on and the champagne continued to pour, Reigh completely forgot about Calder, not until she felt the hand of a man snaking up her thigh and beneath her dress. Before she had time to object, Calder was there, pulling the man away from her.

  “Play nice,” Calder warned, holding the man by the throat. Then he returned to his spot at the bar, sipping his beer as if nothing had happened.

  She’d gone home with the man that night, who treated her like a queen, a large part of that thanks to Calder’s warning, she was sure. Calder left town the following day, but he returned four months later wearing a suit, the first she’d seen him in. She’d never made the connection between the two events before, she’d been too self-involved, but she did now.

  “You know, in all these years, we’ve always talked about the most abstract things we could think of. Like how old people never ask about your career or your bank account, only if you’re happy. Or why abbreviation is such a long word. Or whether the heads on Easter Island were created by baby giants.”

  Calder laughed. “The last is one of my favorites.”

  “But we never really talk about you, Calder. I have been so self-centered, and I’m sorry for that.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do, but you’re being too damn polite to say it. You’ve been so good to me, but I haven’t always been so good to you.”

  “Reigh, I know you left Vegas to find something better, but don’t go changing everything you are. You have a good heart, but you don’t apologize to people.”

  “That’s because there’s never been anyone worth apologizing to before. But you—you may be the one person who deserves it.”

  “Well, don’t.” He seemed uncomfortable with the conversation. “We were young when we met. We’ve grown. There’s nothing to apologize for. Let’s just enjoy tonight. I won’t be in Broken Ridge long.”

  “And where will you go then?”

  “Home.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Far away.”

  “Tell me about it,” she persisted.

  He took her hand, his touch warm and familiar. “I can show you, if you like.”

  It was an honest invitation. She was moved by it. And freaked out. It served her right for doub
ting him.

  “Careful,” she said playfully. “I might take you up on that someday.”

  “Someday soon, I hope. Reigh, I—”

  His speech was cut off by the sound of motorcycles revving their engines from somewhere nearby. For a full minute, the engines cried out in sorrow along the bayou, but in the final seconds, only one engine could be heard. And then it stopped, forever.

  “It’s a salute,” she told him. “A biker died here a few days ago. They turned his engine off last, one final time.”

  “Tragic,” Calder said. “But death is only a transition. People still exist.”

  She was intrigued. “I never took you for a man of faith.”

  “I don’t exactly speak with faith. I know what exists beyond.”

  “Go on.”

  “Another time,” he consented. “The boat will dock soon. I would prefer to spend this time talking about something less cumbersome. Tell me what pushed you to leave Vegas.”

  “I thought you said something less cumbersome,” she rebutted, but she proceeded to tell him how, for months, she had felt a need to shed her skin of the repetition. She was tired of one empty day after the next. Drugs no longer interested her. Neither did the parties where they were handed out like candy. She wanted something more wholesome. A true existence, not one that revolved around a quick fix to drown out the glare.

  “I knew you weren’t happy,” he said when she finished, “but I didn’t realize it was so severe. You were always so free-spirited, Reigh. It’s one of your many qualities that have drawn me to you over the years. But there was always a sadness about you, like you were despondent to any degree of joy. I would say it was poetic for someone as beautiful as you to live in such cold, someone who could make a stranger feel the sun, but it would be an insult. You’re more than poetry.”

  “I didn’t live in the cold,” she professed. “It was worse. To me, Vegas was hollow. It was nothingness—those I surrounded myself with, my lifestyle choices. The one exception was you. You were my watchman, Calder. You kept me sane.”

  “With blueberry pancakes,” he joked.

  She sat back, smiling. “With blueberry pancakes.”

  The conversation drifted from there, slow and easy, like the riverboat until it pulled into the dock, rocking slightly. Reigh was disappointed. She didn’t want the date to be over, to leave his company. It upheld her.

  Back on land, Calder walked her to her convertible. “Thank you,” he said. “Seeing you has made my trip here entirely worthwhile.”

  She had worried their date was a mistake, that she was risking her last friendship. But if the day had proved one thing, it was that Calder was inescapable. Exploring her feelings, she leaned forward and kissed him, knowing he was too much of a gentleman to do so first. It was a tender kiss, quieted by complex emotions, some long withheld, some new.

  She shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, pulling away.

  “A little,” she professed. The quartz Lu had given her, which had stayed neutral the entire evening, was like frost against her skin. She moved it outside her romper, suddenly overwhelmed. “I should get home.”

  “Can I see you again?” he asked.

  “I would like that. I have work and a pottery circle tomorrow, but maybe Tuesday? Will you still be around?”

  “I will be now,” he said as he opened her car door for her. “Meet me outside the library. Same time.”

  “I’ll be there,” she promised. “Until then.”

  “Until then,” he echoed.

  Reluctantly, Reigh drove away. When she glanced into her rearview mirror, he was gone.

  She put a hand to her chest where the quartz hung. If it was meant to warm when a lie was told, did the cold mean her kiss with Calder was truth?

  ***

  More than ever, Reigh wanted to understand the meaning of the rune that had guided her to Broken Ridge, its ordinance so strong it had seared itself into the town sign. Was it for Calder? Was he the reason for its appearance, a man who was loving towards her? Or did the rune have something to do with her ancestry, as Kaylock had indicated?

  As soon as she returned home, she grabbed the book she’d gotten at the library, along with a few candles, and went out to the porch where the air was much cooler than in the shack. It was late. Darkness had settled across the bayou. Flicking on the fairy lights that lined the railing, she sat on the hard, dirty wood of the porch and set the candles around her, lighting them so that the flames created a soft glow against the yellowed pages of the book.

  Unsure of where to begin, she opened it to a random page. It told of female fates called Norns who were responsible for weaving the destiny of mankind, but as Reigh started to read, a breeze turned the page for her, landing on a story entitled Gerd and Freyr. Curious, she leafed through the pages of the story, scanning the text.

  Nine worlds existed in Norse mythology, each containing a specific race of people—beings of dark and light, giants of ice and fire, humans and gods. The nine worlds were woven together, each a branch of the Yggdrasil tree. As such, it was possible to cross between the worlds, and to love one who was forbidden and distant, as was the case with Freyr, a god, and Gerd, a giantess.

  From his throne, Freyr pried upon the nine worlds. In Jotunheim where the giants roamed, he discovered a woman named Gerd with hair as golden as the sun and a beauty worthy of a god. Worthy of him. Stricken with desire for the woman, he gazed upon her endlessly, his need for her great, his thoughts only of her. And so he sent his servant Skirnir to deliver to Gerd a message of his love and a proposal for her hand in marriage.

  Skirnir traveled on horseback between the worlds to Jotunheim, riding through the wild fires that surrounded Gerd’s house to fulfill his master’s request. But Gerd refused Freyr and the gifts he offered, preferring her independence over the infidelities of a god. Skirnir was outraged, and so he threated Gerd, warning that should she turn away from the god who loved her, he would cast her to the frost world where she would live a life of sorrow and isolation, deprived of all love, even that of her family, until she was crushed like a thistle at the end of a harvest.

  Helpless, Gerd conceded. She would be Freyr’s wife, but only because she had no other choice, unless she should endure the wrath of the gods.

  The sound of Thorston’s motorcycle interrupted Reigh from her reading.

  “Hey,” she greeted as he approached the porch.

  “Hey,” he returned, his devastation evident. He stepped around the candles and went into the shack, returning a few minutes later with the six pack of Magic Ale-Chemy she had yet to drink. He opened a bottle of the microbrew and handed it to her then opened another and leaned against the doorway.

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Nope. I just want to drink.” He closed his eyes and took a long swig of his bottle, and then he looked down at her. “What’s that?”

  “A book.”

  “On runes?”

  She placed a hand on the center of the page, afraid of losing her place. “You’ll be happy to know I took your advice.”

  “Glad someone has. Learn anything interesting?”

  “From Kaylock, yes. My tattoo is of the Othala rune. It means inheritance and ancestry. Nothing yet from the book, but something wanted me to read this story.”

  “Creepy wind ghost?”

  “Creepy as hell.”

  “Yeah, that gets annoying. It’s why most of the town sticks to the electronic tablets. So what’s the page about?”

  “A story about a god who was love-struck by a giantess, enough that he coerced her into marrying him, though she did not want to. How can that possibly relate to the rune?”

  “Damn if I know. I’m sure you can guess by Lu’s reaction to me being here that I don’t know much about love.”

  “Neither do I. But I know you loved Dodger. And I’m sure you loved Lu’s sister.”

  His face tightened in regret. “Not enough.” He downed his bee
r, holding tight to the other bottles. “I think I’m going to take these inside. You mind?”

  “Go for it. Drink to your buddy.”

  Nodding, he retreated back into the shack.

  Reigh remained on the porch, re-reading the story of Gerd by candlelight while the bayou played its midnight song. The misfortune of the giantess enraged her. No woman should be forced to sellout her heart for the sake of her own wit and well-being. She didn’t understand the relevance the story had to her own life or the appearance of the rune, but she knew it did have relevance.

  Damn the Norns, she thought vehemently. My life will not be weaved so recklessly.

  Chapter Four

  “My goodness, girl, if your shorts were any shorter, you’d be mooning everyone from here to New Orleans,” Mrs. Florence remarked from the front counter as soon as Reigh stepped through the door of Odd Wonders. The bell to the door chimed, creating a sweet melody that filled the room.

  Reigh glanced down at her cut-offs. The shorts were hardly hot pants; the length was entirely appropriate, much longer than the shorts she wore as a teenager. “No one will be seeing my ass anytime soon,” she protested, walking to the backroom where she assumed the cleaning supplies were kept.

  “I’m looking at it right now!” Mrs. Florence shouted after her.

  Reigh kept walking. Being her first day of work, she wanted to do a good job. That meant taking charge of her duties so that Mrs. Florence didn’t feel she needed to supervise. The backroom was tiny, containing only a countertop and a table that could barely fit two people around it. Another door led to the bathroom, where Reigh seized a dust rag from beneath the sink. Then she returned to the front and began polishing the home wares, which had a thin coat of dust from Sunday, when the store was closed.

  “Don’t you have a loading dock or storage room?” she asked as she worked.

  “This place was a house before it was a shop,” Mrs. Florence told her. “There ain’t no loading dock, not that I have need for one. Nothing goes into storage. People bring their donations through the front door, I cleanse the items, and then they go straight to the shelves.”