In the meantime, Tom leans against a pillar in the cafeteria where he drinks a coffee and nibbles on a sandwich. He’s actually starting to feel better. His thoughts race through his head and don’t make any sense. He watches the people getting food and drinks. It seems to calm him a bit. After a while he feels human again and pushes away from the pillar and makes his way to the rare book room.
At the same time, Cal pulls up in front of the Library and jumps out, rushes around the car and opens the door for Lucy. She has managed to tame her scorched hair and eyebrows and looks like a dignified old lady. Cal offers his arm but she waves him away. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m done and you can pick me up here again.’
‘I’ll be right here if you need me.’
Lucy has already walked away.
Bridget found a promising book and takes it down to the reading table in the middle of the room. It’s an old grimoire and packed with old knowledge and drawings, texts and symbols. She should come here more often; the things she could learn from this. For a moment, she totally forgets she swore off magic. This is too exciting! Then she turns the page and sees the Dagger. This is it! She compares her drawing. Wow, it really is. She bends forward to try to decipher the text next to it when she hears a small cough and glances up. An old lady had entered the room. She is back to her drawing when the realization of whom she just saw sets in. Her head snaps up and she meets Lucy’s eyes. Lucy smiles. This girl must be family; she has our eyes. Bridget is baffled, is this Grandmother? She looks different, she feels different. ‘Grandma?’ Lucy doesn’t hesitate. Her hand shoots forward and she says a quick spell. Bridget is too late, but in a flash, Tom shields her from whatever comes her way. It hits him square in the chest and he falls to the floor. Lucy already has another spell on the way. This time Bridget stands protectively over Tom’s body, like the lion in her tarot card. The talisman around her neck lights up and the spell slides off her protective shield. Who is this woman? It’s not her grandmother, that’s for sure. Lucy turns around. Bridget wants to run after her but remembers Tom. She can’t leave him. Lucy turns around one last time before she disappears out of sight and smiles a wicked smile. Jesus. It’s like Grandma’s evil twin, this is too weird. She kneels next to Tom and starts to examine him. She looks around for the librarian who is frozen in place. ‘Call 911. Yes you! Call 911, quick!’ The librarian snaps out of it and is on the phone. Tom has no visible injuries and he starts to snore. Bridget shakes him in the hope of waking him up. ‘Tom. Tom! TOM!’
PART 2
SEVEN OF PENTACLES ‘CONSEQUENCES’
‘Sooner or later everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences.’
—Robert Louis Stevenson
NEW ORLEANS
The sun sets and a last ray of sunshine hits Tara, who’s working in her herb garden. She’s not in her traditional colorful dress, but in black linen, which flows around her while she weeds and picks some herbs. The smell of tansy is strong in the air. Their bright yellow flowers light up in the last sunshine of the day. A wicked smile crosses Tara’s face and on closer look, all the herbs in this garden are toxic. Her gloved hands carefully touch the plants to determine if they’re ready for harvest. The night is falling and there’s the feel of dark magic in the air. Tara startles when Bridget seems to appear out of nowhere. Her face darkens and she weaves her hand quickly through the air. Bridget tries to enter the garden through the gate but she seems to hit an invisible wall. The gate won’t open she pushes and pulls. She starts to yell at Tara, but she’s back to her weeding and has turned her back on her. Bridget starts to move around the garden with her hands flowing over the invisible force field in the hope to find a weak spot. This annoys Tara, but she pretends to work. She follows Bridget out the corner of her eyes. Bridget starts to chant, Tara turns on her and points her wand at Bridget. The invisible wall disappears and Bridget loses her balance and falls forward straight into the leadwort. Tara doesn’t hesitate and slings a spell at Bridget. Bridget screams! Her screams are drowned out by loud music and the image morphs into the homey Madigan’s kitchen.
Maeve is handing out cookies. Their enchanting smell fills the air. Her food is downright irresistible. Luna sits at the kitchen table and has a discussion with her older sister Freya, a sour-looking witch. Maeve sighs as they never seem to agree on anything and she hands them a cookie. Even Freya can’t help but smile when she bites into the cookie. She closes her eyes to take in the still slightly warm chocolate and the hint of sea salt. When she opens her eyes again the kitchen is full. It looks like the whole family is gathered in the kitchen and they’re all shouting. Maeve moves around trying to calm everybody down. Sparks fly in the air. The sign of witches in heated argument. Freya starts to sweat. ‘Isn’t it hot in here?’
Maeve opens the windows and air gets sucked in. A strange noise seems to come from upstairs. The room falls silent.
At the end of the hallway, smoke appears under Seamus’ old atelier. The door bangs open and the room is in flames. On his worktable lays a drawing, hold down by his wand and his reading glasses. The figures in the paintings, stacked along the wall, move. Desperately they try to escape the canvas while tongues of fire lick at the edges of the painting. The whole room seems to scream.
The Madigans are all outside on the lawn and watch powerless while their family home goes up in flames. The orange glow flickers on their tear stained faces.
Diane gasps and shoots straight up. Sweat pours down her face and she breaths hard. The vision still playing in her brain, as if she can even smell the smoke. Never ever does it seem to get easier. She hates her gift. What does it all mean? She puts her head in her hands and sobs. Next to her, her wife, Alice stirs. A fellow witch, she has been Diane’s rock for the last fifteen years. Diane tries to stifle her sobs, but Alice turns towards her. ‘A vision?’
Diane just nods, she can’t find the words yet. Alice opens her arms and Diane doesn’t hesitate to find refuge in her lover’s arms. Alice makes soothing noises and caresses her back. Slowly Diane calms down. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Whispers Alice.
‘You would think that after my whole life full of this shit, I would understand it better. It made no sense. Mom did something utterly evil. Our family home burned down.’ Diane gasps ‘All Seamus’ work up in flames. We were powerless.’ She starts crying and Alice just hugs her. ‘And Bridget was there. Something is going on with her.’
‘Oh honey’ Alice draws her in for a kiss. She always seems to be attuned to her needs. Diane doesn’t want to talk about it. It was too crazy. But should she try to do something about it this time? That generally has mixed results. The future doesn’t like to be meddled with. Sometimes by solving one problem, you create another. After all, there is a balance of things. Who is she to judge what’s right or wrong? And then again, why would she have this gift? Alice’s hand travels down the curves of her belly. For now, she lets her self-be distracted and all the questions and doubts are silenced with love.
BOSTON
Bridget leans against the wall in the hospital, checking her phone for the umpteenth time. Still nothing from Wes. How she hates the smell of disinfectants and the feeling of people dying. She usually avoids hospitals like the plague, it’s not all fun being a witch, and there are some things you just can’t turn off. But she doesn’t care about any of that right now, she’s so worried about Tom. Please, Goddess, let him be okay. She keeps replaying the moment of that ‘Grandma like woman’ slinging a spell and the feeling of inevitability, and then… Tom was there, getting hit in the chest, tumbling to the ground, which seems to happen in slow motion. It’s the worst moment of her life. He saved her. Her inability to jump into action makes her feel totally and utterly disgusted with herself. She should have gone after that woman. She should tell somebody she looks like her Grandmother. Hell! For all she knows her Grandmother has gone rogue. Talking of which, time to get some answers. She pushes herself off t
he wall and turns her back to the waiting room.
She can feel the glances and unasked questions of her friends. They know she was inadequate; Tom is a well-loved cop, and his friends and colleagues rushed to the hospital to show their support. Nobody, however, seems to want to talk to her, she could actually really use a hug right now. News had spread fast through the department of the strange circumstances in the Library. Cops might not be witches, but they do have a sixth sense when it comes to trouble and Bridget, right now, is trouble with a capital T.
She dials her Grandma; she picks up on the second ring. ‘Bridget! Are you okay?!’
‘Yes, yes.’ Relief floods through the phone. ‘Thank Goddess for that.’
‘You have some explaining to do Grandmother. My partner is in some sort of coma. He got hit…’ Bridget lowers her voice even more. ‘By a spell, from your… your— ’
A doctor walks into the waiting room. All the cops around her get up, eager for news.
‘Shit. I have to call you back.’ She quickly ends the call.
The doctor looks young and a little overwhelmed by the overpowering presence of the police force, she scrapes her throat ‘Is Mrs. Walsh here?’ Bridget moves forward ‘He’s not married, and his children don’t live in Boston. I’m his partner.’ The doctor looks uncertain.
‘Please. What’s wrong with him?’
‘Nothing.’ The cops start asking questions all at the same time. Bridget makes eye contact with the doctor and waves the rest of her colleagues down. ‘What do you mean nothing? Is he awake?’
‘We ran a lot of tests and Mr. Walsh is in excellent shape for his age.’
‘So why doesn’t he wake up?’
The doctor actually looks embarrassed. ‘We don’t know. We can’t explain it. For now. We will run some more tests in the morning. I’m sorry.’
‘Can I see him?’ The doctor looks around as if she’s looking for some form of permission.
‘Just for a minute.’ Bridget follows the doctor out. Escaping the buzzing noise of the other cops, no doubt they’re speculating what is wrong and what really happened. When the hallway door closes behind her, she feels the tension leave her shoulders. Down the hallway, the doctor opens a door. ‘For a minute, we want to keep him quiet as long as we don’t know exactly what is wrong.’ Bridget nods and goes in.
Tom seems so small in the big hospital bed. For that, there is nothing wrong they hooked him up to a lot of equipment. To monitor him she guesses. Slowly, she moves closer and touches his hand. Nothing happens, he looks pale. ‘Hey, buddy. How are you doing?’ What a stupid question, couldn’t she come up with something better? Tom in the hospital and all that had happened shakes her, and for the life of her, she had no idea what she should say. For at least a minute, she stares at him and listens to his quiet breathing. Peaceful breathing? Sleep! She snaps into action; how could she be so dense?! Slowly, she moves her hands about six inches above his body, with her eye closed she opens herself to her witch’s sixth sense. There, she moves back and forth; here it is, a spell clings to his chest. It feels complex, not familiar, undoubtedly made by an accomplished witch. She needs to pick up her wand and her spell book. It helped her with Wes, so it must be able to help her out this time. No more time to waste she sneaks out the back and goes home.
Bridget parks across the street from her home, it’s dark, and now she’s home she doesn’t want to go in. Wes didn’t respond at all to the message she left him about Tom, it’s not like him. He’s always very considerate. Maybe he already went… Lights are still on in the house though. The front door opens and Wes struggles to get out with six dogs on leashes, he’s like a spider with uncontrollable legs, they twist and turn around him and mummify his legs in no time, it takes him several minutes to organize them and walk down the street. Despite everything, this makes her smile. Hiding feels like a coward’s act, but she can’t bear to see his disappointment again. Tears well up in her eyes while she waits for him to disappear around the corner. It takes her less than a minute to go inside and grab her wand and spell book. She opens the door, and the dogs are all over her. They lick her hands her face, she crouches down and snuggles them.
‘So, you thought you could sneak in and out without us noticing?’ Bridget stands up and finally looks at Wes.
‘I thought you never wanted to see me again.’
‘Who said that?’
‘You never responded to any of my messages.’ Bridget tries to hide her wand and spell book behind her back.
‘How is Tom? What’s wrong with him?’
This is not the way she wanted the conversation to go. Here we go again. She takes a deep breath. ‘He’s in an enchanted sleep.’
‘He’s what?!’ Unconsciously Wes takes a step backwards. ‘Did you do that?’
‘Of course not!’ She tries to hide her irritation but fails terribly. ‘It was my… uhm… another witch.’
Wes sizes her up. ‘So now you’re…’ It’s hard for him to find the right words. He’s still not sure what really happened to him this morning. It’s not every day that you find out that your girlfriend is a witch. And accepting that… a whole different story. ‘Un-spell him, or something?’
‘Or something. Right.’ Bridget clutches her spell book and wand now against her chest.
‘Are you coming home when you’re done?’
Bridget doesn’t dare to hope. ‘Do you want me to?’
‘Bridget, I just found out you’re different. Even more different then I thought. That doesn’t mean I stopped loving you. I need some time to… process this. We need to talk.’ Bridget doesn’t hide her relief. She quickly hugs him and gives him a kiss. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
At the hospital, she doesn’t hesitate and takes the back door, it’s getting late, so there are definitely less personnel around. A nurse hurries past her and only quickly glances at her badge; it sure has its advantages being a cop sometimes. When she approaches Tom’s door, she looks around; it’s quiet as she sneaks inside. The beeping and the glow of the monitors make it a bit creepy. Again she looks around and listens, absolutely nobody around. No more stalling, she plops the book on the end of the bed near Tom’s feet and starts to leaf through it.
‘Et suscitabuntur lacerantes te tantibus de pop consurgant.’ Nothing happens, she shakes Tom. Nothing. Maybe her Latin is a bit rusty. She tries again ‘et suscitabuntur lacerantes te tantibus de pop consurgant’ Hmmm, let’s try another one. She leafs through the book again and comes upon an old language spell. It says life, but she doesn’t know what the words mean. Ah well, no time to be a chicken. ‘Lavi, M ‘ap di lavi, lavi etensèl.’ Still nothing. She stands up straight points her wands and really exert her will ‘LAVI, M’AP DI LAVI, LAVI ETENSEL!’ Sparks fly from the electoral sockets, Bridget jumps back and smudges the circle. The light flickers and dies out. The monitor start to beep. She shakes herself and walks up to Tom, by the flickering light of the candle she tries to see if he’s awake. ‘Tom. Tom? Are you awake?’ Nope, he’s still snoring away, and there are running footsteps in the hallway. She quickly blows out the candle, gathers her stuff and hides behind the door. Nurses run in and start to work the machines, but the power in the room is fried. Bridget quietly sneaks out the door while the nurses discuss how to move Tom.
In her car, she finally takes a deep breath. Such a fuck up. She’s no use as a witch, what was she thinking? She’s totally out of practice. What is she going to do now? She could try to employ a local witch. Or better, she should nail that Grandma look alike. It seems like all the answers are in New Orleans. She can grill her Grandmother, and her family could help her create a spell to wake up Tom for sure. Damn. It’s the last place on earth she wants to go. To see everybody again will be... painful. No, there must be another way. She leans back in her car seat, closes her eyes and thinks. But all roads lead to New Orleans, she needs to go. She owes Tom.
NEW ORLEANS
Tara sits on her windowsill bench and stares over the garden to the sky as it very slowly becomes lighter. Dawn is her favorite time of day, the light, the smells, the promise of a new day. But today doesn’t fill her with hope but actually with dread. What is she going to tell the kids? How much is wise? It sucks getting old, she used to be able to sit like this for a long time, now her legs ache and her body complaints. It makes her shift her position constantly. She’s also still a bit off from last night. What the hell caused such a disturbance in the balance of the elements. She tries to shake off the feelings of foreboding and slowly gets up from her seat, she moans. Seamus his portrait stirs. ‘Yes, yes, I know. I’m old and slow.’ Seamus gives her an encouraging smile and blows her a kiss. ‘I miss you, sweetie. To see you everyday is great, but I miss your advice, your guidance. You had such a calming presence. Ah well, it is what the Goddess gives us, right?!’ Seamus shrugs. Tara walks over to her desk and gets out her regular tarot deck. She grabs the Ace of Swords from her alter and shuffles the cards while she thinks about today. She draws a card. The Seven of Pentacles, a laugh escapes her. You reap what you sow. The fruits of your labor. Bees are busy on a honeycomb; the seven pentacles show their hard work. The excess honey drips down. Consequences, karma, well, let’s see what her choices will bring her today. Good or bad?
BOSTON
Bridget waits for the cab driver to get her bag out of the car. This day is not off to a good start. When she woke up, Wes and the dogs were not home, and she couldn’t wait for him to come back and say goodbye. They had a talk last night when she got back, but they didn’t get far as she needed to book her flight and then, she was so tired. She had fallen asleep. Poor Wes, it must be so confusing. Finally, the driver pulls her suitcase out of the trunk, she tips him and barely stepped on the sidewalk when a minivan comes to a screeching halt in front of her. ‘Hey! What are you thinking!?’
The Dagger Page 7