by Freya Darcy
What?
The woods grow darker. Things hang from the trees. Bells, ribbons, black burned dolls hanging by their necks.
I keep running.
Where am I going? Where can I go?
You’re nobody. Useless. Nobody will notice when you’re gone. Nobody will care that you’re missing. Nobody will search for you.
Why am I running?
It’s raining again. Cold icy rain making the branches and leaves dance, the ground slick, dissolving my tears.
Mirrors. Hanging from the branches, engraved into the trunks of trees, lining the path, seeming to light the way. I turn and face one. Pale face, dark hair, wide puffy eyes.
It’s me.
It’s not me.
Who am I here?
I stop running. My breath catches in my throat and it’s like a hand is crushing my heart.
The pain, the shock, the betrayal. It’s too much.
I’m nothing. I’m nobody.
At the end of the path, a ladder grows like a tree before my eyes. I take the first rung, then the second. The waiting noose feels welcoming as I climb closer...
I SIT BOLT UPRIGHT in bed my ears ring with my own screams. I’m still screaming when I slap a hand over my mouth to stop the sound.
Barry will be angry, my mother will be disappointed. I get a flash of memory from the last time this happened when I was still with Craig.
“Seriously? Again?” His tone hadn’t been annoyed or angry, it had been disgusted. He’d looked at me like I was the most pathetic bug he’d ever seen, before rolling over and pulling the pillow over his head.
The words from the dream sting even as the nasty memory of my ex curls and lashes out at me.
You’re nobody.
I bury my head in my hands and just breath as the dream relaxes it’s hold and the old memories fade back into the fog.
What the hell was that? Usually my dreams are intense. Like I can hear snippets of thoughts and feel the emotions or at least some, but that was something else. I’ve never been inside the person I’m dreaming about.
Maybe it was just a regular dream. It did feel more personal, certainly more jumbled. Usually my dreams of the present are straight forward, like watching a movie. This was more like an actual dream.
“I guess I just had a regular old nightmare.”
It was bad enough playing out in my own head, I hate to think of it actually happening to someone.
I remember climbing the rungs of the ladder, the feeling of relief seeing the noose.
Shuddering, I groan and drop back into the pillows. It’s this house, it’s these last few months. Frankie was right, I need a break to get my head on straight.
“Okay, don’t freak out,” a soft, slightly high-pitched voice says. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
I freeze, my eyes still shut, my hands over my face. When I’d gone to bed last night, this house had been empty. Hadn’t it? Why was there some strange woman in my house? Was she a squatter? Were they even a thing anymore?
“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” The voice says. “Don’t freak out. I’m here to help. I’m good I swear.”
Oh, my goddess. A crazy squatting stalker is in my house, had probably been watching me sleep all night.
“Stop freaking out! Just open your eyes and you’ll understand everything. I promise. I’m sure your aunt would have told you about my coming in her letter.”
I don’t want to open my eyes.
“I didn’t get any letter from my aunt, just the solicitor telling me that she’d left me pretty much everything. Please go away. I swear I won’t call the police, just leave now.”
“I can’t leave, silly, we’re bonded.”
I hear a whimper and I’m pretty sure it comes from me.
“Just look at me and you’ll understand.”
Is she my long-lost twin that I never knew about? Unlikely. Slowly, I raise my head, eyes still closed, hands still covering my face.
“That’s good, now open your eyes.”
I open my eyes and very slowly spread my fingers.
And scream!
There, perching on the end of my bed - the bed I slept in all night - is the single biggest SPIDER I’ve ever seen! It has long legs, a round bulbous body, and a little head with many, many eyes, all peering at me like I am the one with the problem!
“Hi!” The spider says and waves one of her legs. “I’m Jaz, your familiar.”
At least, I think that’s what she’s saying because I’m crawling up the bed, pressing myself into the headboard, whipping the pillows out the way and throwing them at the spider.
Jaz, the giant spider, jumps deftly out of the way of the thrown pillows, then jumps again and settles on one. Now she’s even higher, looking down at me with her spidey eyes. Her many spidey eyes.
“Will you stop that!” she snaps and weirdly her voice matches her form. “I told you, I wasn’t here to hurt you. I’m here to help and guide you. I’m your—”
“SPIDER!” I screech. “I don’t want a spider. I want to wake up now. I’m going to wake up now and you and all your spiderness is going to be gone.”
“You are awake!” The spider backs up a pace on its many legs and then crosses the front two almost like someone might cross their arms. “You know your dream didn’t look like it was the funnest place to be either. Do you think I want to be here getting yelled at and having stuff thrown at me?”
If possible, the spider looks hurt. You have got to be kidding me.
After a moment the spider seems to relax a bit. “Okay, so as I was saying, I’m your familiar. Every witch is bonded with one when they accept their power.”
“Accept their power? I don’t remember doing that. I don’t have power. I’m not a— a...”
“Witch?” The spider says. “Yes, you are, and yes you did, otherwise I wouldn’t have been summoned and bonded to you.”
“Summoned? Like a demon?”
“No not like a demon!” Her mandibles snap at me and I whimper and pull back.
The spider stops, backs up, and lowers her head. She actually looks sort of contrite.
“Sorry,” she says. “I guess you really are a newbie. I’ve never been sent to a complete newbie before. I’m not doing a very good job.”
Great, now I feel bad. I feel bad for the spider.
“You— um —said there was supposed to be a letter?”
“When I was summoned, I was told that you were taking the place of your aunt. She should have left you a letter.”
I shake my head.
“I heard she died sort of suddenly,” the spider says. “Maybe she thought she had more time. Still, it’s very irresponsible to not even teach you the basics.”
“Aunt Judith sort of locked herself away after her twin died. I’m pretty sure she only left me her estate because I was the only blood relative she had left.”
“No,” the spider says and lays a tiny hand on mine. “I’m sure she loved you.”
I cringe but force myself to stay still.
“Okay, well, I guess this is your first lesson,” The spider says, standing to attention, and pacing from one end of the pillow to the other. “I am Jaz, your familiar. I can take on any shape I please, but most of us tend to pick one and stick with it unless it’s necessary to change.”
That gets my attention. “You mean, you don’t have to be a spider? You could be like a cat or something?”
The spider stills, sighs, and slowly morphs into the shape of a sleek black cat. The cat looks at me and tips her head to the side. “Better?”
“Much.” My whole body relaxes and when I reach out a hand, Jaz lets me pet her.
“Most witches prefer the traditional black cat. I feel more myself in the form of a spider, but I am your familiar so I will be a cat.”
“Thank you,” I say, and really mean it.
I feel like this should all be more shocking to me, but at the same time, I’ve been dreaming the present since I was te
n. In a weird way, sitting here with the talking cat that used to be a talking spider, a whole bunch of stuff starts to make sense. I wonder if Frankie is a witch too? Was she about to receive a strange letter from an aunt or a grandmother or a visit from an unexpected talking animal?
“So what happens now?” I ask.
“I suppose we begin your training.”
“Training?”
Jaz nods. “Accepting your powers is just step one, you still need to learn how to use them safely and respectfully. This isn’t Harry Potter, you can’t just wave a wand and say some nonsense words.”
“Wait, you’ve read Harry Potter?”
The cat sniffs and flicks her tail. “I’ve read many things. It’s been two decades since I was last bonded to a witch, what should I have done in that time?”
“I’m sorry,” I say feeling both guilty but also kind of irritated. “I’ve never met a familiar before and until this very second I didn’t know about any of this stuff.”
The cat lets out a sigh then tips its head up and says, “I sense an alter above. We should go take a look. Her Book of Shadows should be up there too and if she did write a letter, I guess that’s where it might be.”
“Do you think I can get dressed first?”
“Fine,” she replies and slinks out of the room.
Damn, she got an attitude fast. As I decide to risk the ensuite, another thought niggles at me. She was trying pretty hard to be nice to me before I made her turn into a cat.
Crap.
“Congratulations, you’re officially Barry.” I cover me face with my hands and groan. “Crap, crap, crap.”
I yank open the door. “Jaz.”
Her kitty head pokes around the corner.
“Be a spider.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Why?”
“Because you want to be a spider. You said, you feel most yourself when you’re a spider and I know what it’s like living in a place where you’re not accepted. Be a spider.”
“Are you sure, because this isn’t going to work if you’re constantly freaking out and throwing stuff at me.”
“I won’t be doing that, I promise. And I’m sorry I did that before. I guess I don’t do surprises very well.”
Before my eyes it’s like the cat becomes a shadow before taking shape again in the form of a spider. She looks kind of like a black widow only more a purply colour. It’s actually kind of pretty.
“Thank you,” Jaz says and we kind of stand there in awkward silence before she adds, “Hey, do you want to see something cool?”
“Sure.”
She angles her body and shoots webbing from the pointy end of her back up to the ceiling then swings up. My spider fear shivers down my spine but I’m determined not to be a jerk. I’m pretty sure my fingers are indenting the doorframe though.
Jaz spins more webbing across the wall over my bed, swinging and almost dancing as she weaves the thread. As I watch I feel my fear ebb away at the hypnotic way she moves and the glittery pattern in the web she’s creating over my bed.
When she’s done and stands to the side, all I can do is press my lips together, my eyes stinging with tears. It’s a plaque like the one in my old room, only it’s made with the most intricate webbing, all silvery and so delicate, spelling the name, KISMET.
“Welcome to your new home,” Jaz says with a slight bow.
And I burst into tears.
“Oh! Oh.” The spider steps about awkwardly, looking from the web to me. “I’m sorry.”
“No!” I wave my hands, pointing at the web then at her then at the web. “It’s beautiful.”
Now I’m crying even harder.
“Are you sure?” she says. “Because it seems like you’re pretty upset.”
“No—” I sniff and make a frustrated noise. I hate that I cry so easily. “I’m happy. The last person to do something so nice was my aunt. Thank you. It’s so nice and after I was such a Jer—er—erk.” And I’m crying again.
“You weren’t a jerk,” she says quickly, dashing back and forth across the room, not knowing how to deal with a grown woman bawling like a child. “I was a jerk. We were both kind of jerky. But we worked it out because really neither of us is a jerk.” She stops and smiles triumphantly at me with her spider mouth.
Now I’m laughing.
“I’m going to have a shower.” But as I turn, another thought hits me and I turn back, frowning. “This isn’t one of those lessons where I relax then you swoop down, wrap me in webbing, and hang me up in your den to eat slowly, because: ‘That’s just your nature,’ is it?”
Jaz blinks at me. “That’s disgusting. What kind of sick freak would even think something like that?”
Chapter Three
I EMERGE FROM THE STEAM filled bathroom to the sound of someone ringing the doorbell and knocking like they were being hunted by wild dogs.
“Coming!” I yell but it’s ridiculous since I’m on the third floor and no way could they hear me over all the knocking and banging they’re doing.
A quick look around reveals that Jaz is gone.
Was it all a freaky dream after all? That thought comes with relief but also a sliver of disappointment.
But there’s no point getting sad over something I didn’t have in the first place, so instead I run down the two flights of stairs, frown at the space where I’m sure I left a wet towel last night, and swing open the door.
“Okay, okay, enough with the banging and the chiming,” I say. “It’s Saturday morning, for all you know I could be nursing a massive hang-over...” I smell it before the hand holding the bag of baked good lifts higher and waves it. “Are they donuts?”
“See?” The man says to the woman. “Baked goods are the way to everyone’s heart.”
The man is tall and lanky with wavy brown hair that looks like, without stringent brushing and product, would probably sit in tight adorable curls. The woman is slightly shorter with long ash-brown hair and wide blue eyes that twinkle when she smiles.
They are both grinning so brightly it’s like they are the sun.
“Okay, it is too early for anyone to be this chipper,” I say. “If you’re Uber Eats, you’ve got the wrong house.”
“We’re not Uber Eats,” the woman says. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“We’re your welcoming party,” the man says with a flourish, waving the bag of wonderful smells under my nose.
“My welcoming party would have come with coffee.”
This time the woman smiles even wider and brings up a cup tray holding three large coffees.
“I’m Payton,” she says. “This is Derick.”
“How did you even know I was here?” I looked behind them, afraid they might have brought others, it’s just them. “I arrived last night, during the storm of the century.”
“Oh, city girl,” Derick says with a sympathetic smile. “You have much to learn.”
They’re both watching me with expectant expressions and I know I’m being rude leaving them on the stoop. Quickly I peak behind me and seeing no big talking spider, I open the door wider, so they can come in.
After a second of awkward silence I remember my manners. “I’m Kizz, short for Kismet —Silverstone.”
The two laugh and we shake hands before Derick asks, “So you’re Miss Silverstone’s Niece? Granddaughter?”
“Niece,” I reply. “I don’t think Aunt Judith had any children, at least none that we knew of.”
Payton hands me the coffee then takes a long look around the room. “This foyer is enormous!” She tips her head. “And those stairs just go on and on.” She opens one of the doors, then another, making excited sounds as she goes. “Have you seen any action yet?”
“Ah, Payton,” Derick says with an apologetic smile at me.
“Not sure what kind of action you’re implying,” I say. “But I arrived alone, and my eyesight is twenty-twenty, just so you know.”
They both turn and blink at me like I’m the one who�
��s crazy. I point in the direction of where I think I remember there being a small guest sitting room and lead the way.
Opening the door to check, I smile when I see a pretty little table circled by four chairs.
“I was sure this was here.” Once we’re sitting I add. “I haven’t been into this house since I was ten so it’s going to take a while before I know where anything is.”
“So, you never visited? Ouch!” Payton glares at Derick and he gives her a look that is clearly equal parts amused and annoyed.
“No,” I say. “She and my mum had some kind of falling out and we moved away. Growing up Mum wouldn’t let me talk to her, and when I was old enough to reach out myself...” I shrug, refusing to open the door to the memories. “She’d completely cut herself off from everyone.”
“That sucks,” Payton says, and I nod in complete agreement.
“Yeah, but this coffee is awesome.” I take another sip and groan. It’s hot and sweet and rich.
Derick grins and twin spots of pink appear on his cheeks. Payton laughs and nudges his shoulder with her own.
“Derick’s mum owns the shop. Rich Brews. It’s the best coffee and bakehouse in town.”
“It’s the only coffee and bakehouse in town,” Derick adds.
“Well,” I say, selecting a donut and breaking it in half, watching the steam expel from inside its still hot interior. “I know where to get my coffee and carbs, what else do I need to know?”
Derick’s eyes light up. After sitting up straighter and performing a dramatic cough he begins. “Radcliffe Wood was founded by German settlers in the mid 1800s—”
“I need to stop you there,” I say, already feeling tired. “You know this is my first coffee of the day, right?”
Payton gives him a smug smile and says, “There are two bars. The Lamb ’n’ Flag and the Mutt Rut. The Flag is the one we go to. They have meals, okay priced drinks, and sometimes bands.”
“The Mutt Rut sounds like a biker bar,” I say.
“Yup. Owned by our very own biker gang, The Dingo Boys.” Derick takes another donut. “It’s open to the public, but the cops are there usually a couple nights a week. The council have been talking about closing the place down for years. Nothing ever comes of it though.”