We followed her into the living room, a tiny space stuffed with an oversized floral-print couch and matching chair. There was a low coffee table squashed between them and a taller table stood against one of the walls, its surface covered with candles and pottery, and small bunches of dried herbs and flowers. The butter yellow walls were papered with several paintings: oils and watercolors depicting fairies and unicorns and other mythical creatures.
“This is pretty.” I pointed to a small oil painting of a woodland scene, a grove of trees filled with sparkling light. Upon closer inspection, those tiny lights were fairies, their wings and faces barely visible.
“Thanks,” Fanchon said. “That’s one of my favorites, too. It took me almost three months to finish.”
I turned to stare at her. “You painted this?”
“She painted all of these.” Geoff sounded like a proud father. Or boyfriend.
Fanchon swatted his arm. “Stop,” she said, embarrassed.
“Wow. You’re good.” They were all whimsical, magical pieces and I was once again reminded of my own sore lack of artistic ability.
“Is Geoff here already?” a voice called from the back of the house. A woman appeared in the hallway, a woman who looked like an older version of Fanchon. She was slightly taller with the same slim physique and hair the same vibrant shade of red.
She gave Geoff a hug. “Hi sweetie,” she said. She turned to me. “And you must be the friend Geoff was telling us about. Valerie?”
“That’s me,” I said. “Thanks for having me over.”
“My name is Hope.” She gazed at me with interested eyes, blue like Fanchon’s. “Geoff said you had some questions about Celtic myths.”
She sat down on the upholstered chair and gathered her long purple skirt in her hands, spreading it as she tucked her legs underneath her. She reminded me of a gypsy with her flowing skirt and black peasant shirt, with the large silver hoop earrings she wore and the armful of shiny silver bracelets that clinked together every time she moved.
“Sit down,” she invited. “Tell me what you want to know.”
I positioned myself on the couch. I was at a loss, unsure of where to begin. Fanchon disappeared around the corner; into the kitchen, I thought, though the room wasn’t visible from where I sat. Geoff stood where he was, arms folded, and looked at me.
He spoke first. “Val and I had some questions about the Celtic cross. We were wondering if you know of any rocks that might be engraved or otherwise marked with one, and what that might mean.”
I smiled gratefully at Geoff. It was the perfect opening.
“Are you talking about monolithic structures?” Hope asked. “Or smaller stones?”
“Smaller stones,” I said.
“Hmm…” She thought for a moment. “Well, almost any stone can be engraved with a power symbol, or have one painted on its surface, provided its smooth enough. The Celtic cross is definitely considered a power symbol. And any rock can be programmed—given powers to protect, for example. If you’re asking if I’ve seen or used an amulet with a Celtic cross…well, no, I personally haven’t. But I’m sure many people have.”
“So rocks are used for protection?” I didn’t feel protected with my particular stone in my possession; I felt vulnerable, like some predator’s prey.
Fanchon reappeared with a drink for her mom, a tall glass filled with a milky pink liquid. “Want some?” she asked. “My own special recipe.”
Geoff said yes and she disappeared back into the kitchen.
Hope continued. “Rocks absolutely can be used for protection. But they can be charged in other ways, too. For healing, for love or luck, for centering. The possibilities are limitless.”
“How do you program a stone?” I asked. The only image I could conjure was programming a computer.
“Well, for the most powerful amulet, you find a stone that speaks to you --”
I raised my eyebrows. “Speaks to you? Literally?”
She sipped her drink. “Yes and no. Some people do hear voices in the rocks they find. But other people are drawn to their stone by something else They may find it particularly beautiful, or they might be able to see the rock’s aura. Some people select a rock but they don’t know why…they feel possessive of it, as if it belongs to them. These are all ways a stone can speak to you.”
I thought of my own reaction and didn’t know if I should be worried or feel relieved. On the one hand, rocks were apparently speaking to me. However, according to Hope, this was a normal occurrence for some people. It was the first time it had ever happened to me.
“Anyway, once you find the right rock, you cleanse it of any prior programming or negative energies it might have picked up. Rocks have an amazing capability of picking up and storing energy, you know. Different people cleanse stones in different ways—the sun is a good cleanser and so is the moon. You just leave the rocks out in their respective lights. Some people use salt water. I usually smudge mine. Once the stone is ready, you speak your intentions and visualize the energy you’re seeking…you visualize your stone absorbing and holding that energy. And it’s done.”
“Smudge?”
She nodded. “I use dried herbs, usually white sage. I light it and then pass my rocks and crystals through the smoke. Purifies them instantly.”
“So…we’re talking magic here, right?”
“Magic is one way to describe it,” Hope said. “I prefer to call it Creative Power.”
“And do you…” I faltered. “Do you do magic? Or Creative Power?”
She laughed. “Of course! Didn’t Geoff tell you? Probably not, now that I think about it. In layman’s terms, I guess you’d call me a witch.”
My mouth fell open in disbelief and I had to force myself to close it. No, Geoff hadn’t mentioned he kept company with witches. I peeked at her. She didn’t look like the witches of my imagination, women garbed all in black, dancing in circles around a blazing bonfire, chanting at the moon. Apart from her wild red hair and New Age-y clothes, she looked perfectly normal.
“I want to show you something,” she said. She disappeared down the hallway.
“You could have told me,” I whispered to Geoff. “I feel like an idiot.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know if you’d come to meet her…if you knew.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some people freak when they find out, especially if they’re really religious or something. She runs into that a lot, especially in the homeschool community, so she and Fanchon try to keep it on the down-low. But I wanted you to meet her, at least. You know, talk to her for a while.”
“I’m not freaked out.” A week ago, I might have been. But after seven days of glowing stones and boys with strange powers and mysterious agendas, meeting a witch seemed relatively tame. No, I wasn’t freaked out. Especially if she was willing to help me.
Hope returned then, carrying a small earthenware pot. She sat down next to me on the couch.
“Hold out your hands.”
After a moment of hesitation, I obeyed. She placed her own hand into the pot and withdrew a couple of rocks: a blue and gold tinged one and a brown bumpy stone with chunks of clear, quartz-like bits interspersed throughout.
“This blue rock is azurite and the other is chalcedony. Put one in each hand and close your eyes,” she instructed. “Do you feel any energy?”
I concentrated on the feel of the stones in my hands. The blue one didn’t do anything but the chalcedony warmed my hand, emitting wave after wave of calming energy.
My eyes flew open. “This one,” I said, extending my right hand. “I can feel this one.”
Hope beamed. “That’s good. You’re perceptive. And you’re very receptive to the stone’s energy. Tell me, how did it make you feel?”
“Calm. Peaceful.”
“Good,” she said. “That was my intention. I just charged it…a few minutes ago.”
I smiled in awe. “That’s amazing.”
“It is,” she agreed. “But it isn’t nearly as amazing as the other rock in your possession.”
She looked pointedly at my jeans pocket.
Chapter 28
I eyed Geoff accusingly but he looked as surprised as me.
“How did you know?” I finally asked.
She laughed. “Oh, Valerie, I could sense that thing the minute you walked in. The energy that stone emits is more powerful than anything I’ve ever charged.”
I was still too stunned to respond.
“You have something extraordinary, you know. I can take a look at it, if you’d like.”
I hesitated. I remembered my conversation with Noel only hours ago, his comment that there were other seekers who also sought the stone. Could Hope be one of them?
“Valerie, I want to help if I can,” she said softly. “Fanchon told me about the boys you were with last night. They weren’t boys, honey…at least not like any boys she’s ever come across. Please, let us help you.”
Fanchon reappeared then, making her way toward the couch, toward me. She sat down.
I had questions for Hope, questions about witchcraft and what it meant to be a witch, questions for Fanchon. But those questions would have to wait. I wanted to hear her thoughts on Leo and Noel.
“What do you mean they aren’t boys?”
“It’s hard to describe,” Fanchon said. “Remember when I told you about their vibes?”
I nodded.
“Well, it was more than that. Their auras—the energy field surrounding them—were different. Almost as if they weren’t human. At least that’s what I picked up.”
I shifted on the couch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I know they’re…different. But auras? I’m totally lost.”
“It is kind of out there, isn’t it?” Fanchon smiled. “Let me see if I can explain it. Mom, will you jump in if I miss something, mess something up?”
It was Hope’s turn to nod.
“OK, every thing in the world—every living thing and every object—has an aura, an electromagnetic field that surrounds them,” she began. “There are layers to this aura, layers that represent different energies. The colors of these layers can indicate different things—a person’s mental and emotional state, their physical health and their spiritual well-being. Stuff like that.”
“OK…” I still wasn’t getting it.
She sighed. “OK, maybe it’s easiest if I describe your aura first.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “You can see my aura? I have one?”
Fanchon laughed. “Yes, silly. Everything has an aura, remember?” She looked at me, her eyes focused on me but…not. She seemed to focus more on the space around me, the space I occupied.
“Your aura is mostly good. I see deep red which, to me, indicates you are grounded, realistic. But there are layers of yellow, very pale, which can indicate a couple of things, Perhaps optimism and excitement or some emerging psychic awareness. Considering what you’ve found and whose been hanging out with you lately, I’m thinking the latter makes more sense. There is a dark green tinge, too.” She looked at me directly. “Are you feeling insecure or upset about something? Something that’s happened to you, maybe something that you considered unfair?”
I thought of Jessica’s move, of my physically distant dad and emotionally detached mother. I said nothing.
She continued. “Anyway, there are some other colors, too, but those are the strongest I see. And they are clear, not muddy, so that’s good.” She leaned back against the couch.
I felt exposed. I had no idea I was walking around with a visible aura, putting all of my emotional baggage on display to anyone attuned enough to look for it.
“And Leo and Noel?” I asked. “What did you see with them?”
“I don’t know if I can tell you in a way you’d understand.” She struggled for a moment. “See, when I saw them and really looked at them, looked for their auras, I couldn’t find any earth colors…any grounding colors. Their auras were completely spiritual. Divine.”
“What?”
“There were no individual colors in their auras. I saw white, which represents angelic qualities. A higher dimension. Not of this earth.”
“So they’re angels?” I could not hide the sarcasm in my voice.
Fanchon shook her head. “No. At least I don’t think so. There were also sparkles—rainbow-like sparkles or stripes…or something—that surrounded them.”
“Well, what does that mean?”
Fanchon looked at her mom.
“We’re not really sure, honey,” Hope said. “Most people don’t have this in their auras. We did a little reading last night, trying to figure things out. Seeing a rainbow aura can mean a couple of things: maybe that person is very spiritual, very creative…really in tune with all aspects of their lives. Someone destined for great things. Or it could mean that the person has multiple personalities, that the competition between these personalities and their conflicting auras create a rainbow effect.”
“But you don’t think this is what’s going on with Leo or Noel.”
“No, I don’t,” Fanchon admitted. “The combination—the rainbow stripes and the blinding white—those are sending a clear signal. To me, anyway.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “So who are they? What are they?”
“I don’t know for sure, of course…but if I had to guess, I would say they are spirits. Or gods.”
Spirits. I thought back to the only reference I’d found in regards to stones like mine, how they supposedly housed the spirits of the dead. Maybe that’s what Noel and Leo were, spirits that I had somehow brought back to life when I’d found the stone. It seemed more plausible than the other option Fanchon had mentioned.
I said as much to her. “God?” I repeated doubtfully. “As in Creator of heaven and earth?”
“No,” Hope said. “Think in a different context. You’ve found a stone with a Celtic cross. The Celts worshiped many gods. As for the boys, well, I didn’t see them, of course, but I trust Fanchon’s interpretation. That information—coupled with the stone in your pocket—leads me to believe you’re dealing with something…different. Unique. Perhaps even otherworldly.”
I told them what I’d read. “But the stuff I read online…it said that some stones could house the spirits of dead people. Doesn’t that seem more likely than gods? Gods are myths, right? You know, meant to explain things people couldn’t understand thousands of years ago. Right?”
“Some people think they’re very real,” Hope said. “And, truthfully, I don’t think you’re dealing with spirits, Valerie. I really don’t.”
Tentatively, Fanchon reached her hand out and touched mine. “I’m pretty new to all of this—the aura readings and stuff. I just started a couple of years ago. I could be wrong.”
I nodded in acknowledgement. I didn’t know what to make of this surreal conversation. A deeply sensitive, intuitive girl had just told me I was being stalked by ancient gods. Her mother apparently agreed with her. Part of me wanted to laugh, to call them on the practical joke they were playing on me. But deep down, something stirred…a sense that, maybe, just maybe, she was right. There were too many unusual things about Noel and Leo. Their penchant for disappearing. Their magnetic personalities. Their ridiculously good looks. I thought of the snippets of conversation I’d overhead between them and my own conversation with Noel last night, the strange words he’d spoken and the things he’d hinted at but wouldn’t disclose. Yes, there was definitely something otherworldly about them. But godly?
I stood up. “I think I should go.”
“There’s no need to leave.” Hope rose from the couch. “We—Fanchon and I—we want to help. If you’ll let us.”
“I know, I know.” I said. “I just…I need to think for a little bit. Digest…”
“It is a lot, isn’t it?” She reached out to me but I backed away. “Wait, honey. I wanted to give you this.”
I looked at her outstretch
ed hand and noticed a charm attached to a black silken cord. “What is it?” I asked warily.
“It’s a charm. An amulet,” she said. “I took the liberty of making one for you this morning, after Geoff called.”
Hope held it out to me and I took it. I studied the pendant. It was circular with a strange, jagged design engraved within a smaller circle. On the outside of this was an inscription I could not read. “What is it for?”
“It’s an arch-angel amulet. For protection. The engraving reads: ’Before me, behind me, to my right and to my left, I am surrounded by protection.’ I don’t know how much help it will be but I wanted to offer you something.” She sounded so sincere that I instantly felt bad for doubting her and her intentions.
“Thanks.” I said. I didn’t put it on, though. I stowed it in my other pocket, the pocket that didn’t contain my stone.
“I know we’ve given you a lot to think about,” Hope said, almost apologetic. “I hope you know that you’re welcome back here anytime…with or without the stone. And, if you ever feel like showing it to me, sharing what you know…well, my offer still stands to take a look at it.”
I thanked her again and moved to the door. Geoff followed behind me. I was anxious to get home, to park myself at my house and search for answers on my own. I had a lot of questions, I realized…questions I knew, without a doubt, that I desperately needed to answer.
Chapter 29
There were voices coming from the kitchen when I got home and I tried to slip up the stairs unnoticed.
“Val? Is that you?”
“Yeah, Dad.” I poked my head in. He and Mom were at the kitchen table with Fiona, more design books spread out before them. With Mom, the remodeling process was endless.
He munched a cookie. “How was your morning? You and Geoff get a lot done on your research project?”
“Kind of. I’m actually going to go work on it now.”
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