Ula

by J. R. Erickson

"I'm sorry, Abby, I hate to pester you right now, but I think I should hear this," Elda looked troubled.

  "Yes," Abby said as Sebastian lowered her to the bed.

  "Max told me that you came to the Training Room while he was giving Lydie lessons," Elda continued.

  Abby nodded. "He told me that I could use one of the chairs and try to travel in my astral body."

  "And you did?" Elda asked, taking one of Abby's hands in her own.

  "Yes. I… I returned to the cave. I've visited it before." Elda nodded and Abby continued. "But this time, instead of taking the tunnel to the right, I went to the middle. I felt as if I needed to. I came to this underground lake with light shining down on it from an opening above." She paused, a lump forming in her throat as she imagined Sydney's face. "I started toward the water and then something scared me. I didn't want to go, but I was pulled toward it and then I fell in. Sydney. My aunt, Sydney, was dead in the water. Her corpse was in that pond."

  Sebastian did not make a sound, but his face fell, followed by a flash of anger.

  "Could it have been a dream?" Abby asked hopefully, but she could see in Elda's face that it was no dream.

  "The center tunnel is a place of truth. The lake reveals things. I have never met a witch who visited that tunnel and did not receive very difficult news. You see, the tunnel draws you because there is something for you to see, some truth that you are denying or that you have not yet discovered." Elda squeezed Abby's hand as she said this, as if trying to reconcile the hard reality that she had to deliver.

  "The raven?" Sebastian asked after a long silence.

  "Yes, I imagine so," Elda told him sadly.

  "Then, where is Oliver?" Abby asked, her heart aching as she remembered the raven's beating wings.

  "We have had no contact. Faustine has been in the tower all night, but he has not been able to connect to him." Elda did not look frightened as she said this. Instead, she appeared to stand a bit taller, her faith in Oliver unwavering.

  "Do you think Tobias…?" But Abby couldn't finish the question, couldn't say, “murder”, because then it meant that it was her fault. That Sydney was dead because of her.

  "I don't know that, Abby," Elda consoled.

  "Of course it was Tobias," Sebastian broke in angrily. He looked like he might continue, but stopped at the stricken look on Abby's face. "I'm sorry," he told her.

  "I think," Elda proceeded, "that we should assume that Tobias is behind this and that we should prepare accordingly. However, first we must see to it that you are fully healed, Abby."

  "What happened?" Abby asked. "I remember the cave and then surfacing in the room, but nothing else."

  "Well, you gave Max and Lydie quite a start. When you came to, in the chair, you flung yourself out, and, remember, you don't have much control over your strength yet. You jumped clear across the room and hit the opposite wall."

  "Was it really bad?" Abby asked, knowing that it was, knowing that without these new powers and the help of the others, she would probably be dead.

  "Yes, it was very bad. But before we even got you to the Healing Room, you were healing on your own. It was remarkable. I don't think your body could have healed completely without the tonic that Helena created, but many of your wounds were already closed when we got you here." Elda looked mystified.

  "Can't all witches heal themselves?" she asked. Elda had never mentioned this as a power, but surely she wasn't the only one.

  "No. Some witches can heal themselves, but usually only minor wounds and abrasions. Abby, your bones were mending themselves." Elda held her gaze steadily.

  "I had broken bones?" Abby was incredulous. She didn't feel as if she had broken any bones.

  "Yes. It is a wonderful gift," Elda told her.

  Abby considered this and, more, considered the glint in Elda's eyes.

  "Well, then," Elda added finally, giving Abby a stern, but kind, look. "That is a revival bath." She pointed to the candlelit bath that looked more like half a swimming pool. "It will help to calm any inflammation left in your body. You'll need to fully submerge at least once, head and everything."

  "Okay," Abby replied tentatively. Could she walk to the bath? Would she stand up only to realize that her newly mended bones snapped immediately under pressure?

  "Can I walk?" Abby asked, staring at her pale, skinny legs.

  "Oh, yes, you are fully healed now," Elda said in her grandmotherly way, as if she were not just telling, but thanking some divine entity for Abby's healing. "Besides, you didn't break any bones in your legs."

  This made Abby feel better and she sat up, feeling a slight dizziness as the blood rushed to her head. She swung her legs over the side, and Elda handed her a pair of feather gray satin slippers.

  "To keep your toes warm."

  Abby smiled her thanks and dropped them to the floor, stepping into each one slowly as if testing cold lake water.

  "Dafne brought you some more clothes." Elda pointed to a pile near the bed. "I will leave you now, but do take your time, no rush, let the bath do its work."

  Elda left the room, her long black skirt trailing over the shining wood floors.

  “Need to lean?” Sebastian asked, offering his arm. She took it and trudged to the bath, pressing on him heavily, though her body felt fine.

  Sebastian turned his head and Abby slipped off her robe, foregoing the brick stairs and climbing over the edge. The water rushed up to her waist and then chest as she stepped fully in. The pool was over four foot deep, the water hot, but not scalding. She sat on a marble bench, water reaching almost to her neck. Submerged jets forced a current along her spine.

  Sebastian turned and sat on an edge, letting his fingers slip into the water. He made small circles on the surface and Abby stared at his reflection.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he started.

  Abby blew a long breath out of her mouth, cupped some water in her hands and splashed it over her face.

  “There’s nothing to say,” she said, leaning her back against the brick edge. “Sydney is gone.”

  “Gone,” he repeated.

  “It never seems real, death.”

  “Yeah, I know, believe me.”

  Abby caught his gaze in the water and held it. He moved along the brick edge until he sat just behind her and lowered his hands to her shoulders, massaging gently and scooping water onto her neck and back.

  His hands felt good, she needed touch and she bent her head forward as he pushed his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull.

  She turned and tilted her face and he leaned down to meet her, his mouth pushing into hers. They kissed, and she felt the cold of the room when her wet body lifted out of the bath. She pressed against him, soaking his t-shirt, and he swung his legs over the bath edge, ignoring his pants as the water crawled up his shins and over his knees. She did not mind her nakedness against him, his hands roaming from her shoulders to her breasts and then back to her buttocks. Her grief wanted him as much as her body did. His fingers made her skin feel alive, and she knew that she was healed completely and tugged him towards her into the water.

  He sat on the marble bench, the water above his chest, and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her ears, her neck and her collarbone. She leaned back, his hands holding her waist, and let his mouth sweep over her shoulders and arms.

  She stood in the bath and reached beneath the water, fumbling with his pants. Wet, they would not come off, and they laughed as he kicked and struggled out of them, finally shoving them off with a splash. He pulled her back, and, as she lowered onto him, she gasped and bit his shoulder to muffle her moans. They rocked in the water, and she tilted her head back, feeling him inside her, but also feeling the warm caress of the water and the strange pulses as her body continued to heal.

  They made love, and they did not think of death or witches or evil.

  * * * *

  “Ahem.” The interruption startled Abby and Sebastian, who stood draped with towels, walking idly arou
nd the healing room.

  Faustine stood in the doorway, apparently indifferent to their practical nudity.

  “This is for you, Abby.” He set a small amber colored bottle on a long table. “And Sebastian, Elda had hoped to retrieve the Book of Shadows in your possession.”

  Faustine waited.

  “Right now?” Sebastian asked, clearly annoyed.

  “Yes, right now.”

  Abby felt chastised, but when she looked at Sebastian he grinned.

  “Until we meet again,” he whispered, his socked feet squishing as he left the room. Faustine turned on his heel and followed him out.

  * * * *

  In her bedroom, Abby watched the dark lake crashing far below the castle walls. It looked turbulent and unsettled, the way Abby felt. The storm blacked out the stars and sent shrieks of thunder into the night.

  Her body felt strange, her muscles like very firm jelly. She could almost feel atoms silently connecting inside her, bounding together to create an army of strength. A body that would take less time to heal when the next injury occurred and even less each time after that.

  She laid her head against the pillow and watched as rain pelted the window, sending fat drops racing down the glass. Flashes of thunder sent white streaks zigzagging across her eyes, and she pulled the comforter up snugly beneath her chin.

  Rainstorms in Abby's previous life were greeted with anxiety and distress. Searching out her slicker and umbrella, driving down rain slicked streets, fighting the steering wheel against the dreaded hydroplane. All to sit at her cheap metal desk, the sky a black mirror of her mood, while her boss, Doobie Duvall, paraded the office in some clingy, new, velvet bell bottoms, circa 1969. The rain was different now - it charged her.

  Energy buzzed beneath her skin, a gyrating sheet of electricity as powerful as the lightning outside.

  She forced her eyes closed and concentrated on sleep, which of course was useless. After leaving the infirmary, it had taken almost twenty minutes to find her bedroom. Twice she stumbled into strange green rooms, hot and sticky, and filled with enormous plants basking under giant fluorescent lights. Luckily, she ran into Bridget, who guided her back to her bedroom and asked her a million times if she felt okay to walk.

  She had wanted to find Sebastian, but then she also wanted to lie in bed and remember every kiss and caress. She felt overwhelmed by her desire for him, but torn by all of the other thoughts vying for her attention. Sydney was dead and Oliver was missing.

  Her thoughts bounced wildly around until, finally, she leaned to her nightstand and pulled open the drawer. Helena had told her about the stash of herbs that Bridget placed in every nightstand, tinctures for ailments of all kinds.

  Abby fingered the small glass bottles, each labeled with black marker: 'Headaches,' 'Nausea,' 'Cramps,' 'Full Moon Neurosis,' 'Nightmares.' She couldn't believe the supply; she'd never have trouble sleeping again. Choosing the bottle labeled 'Brain Overload,' she squeezed a single drop onto her tongue. It tasted like cinnamon and cherries, a strange, but pleasant flavor.

  The results were instantaneous. Abby's mind slowed, as if it were a train approaching its destination, the wheels grinding more slowly as the platform came into view. A long, slow sigh erupted, but Abby barely heard it, already disappearing into her dreams.

  * * * *

  She awoke to darkness, and her mind buzzed with some unseen force that had yanked her from sleep. Despite the black sky outside her window, Abby could see clearly. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, the lightning and thunder long faded into the dark. She sat drowsily, pushing the covers down and staring around the room. Something had woken her, she could feel a presence, but could see no one.

  "Hello?” Abby asked the room, afraid of what, she did not know. The mere cutting of silence made her jump in her bed and she laughed at her own cowardice.

  "Hello," a voice spirited to her from the darkness, easily dismissed as a rustle of the wind, but Abby knew better.

  She was not alone.

  Chapter 23

  "Who's there?" she asked, straining into the shadows.

  For a moment nothing stirred, not even a breeze to trick her distressed ears. She waited, her inhale caught in her chest.

  "Abby," it came in a breath, a whoosh of cold air across her face.

  Abby reeled away, pushing herself with her palms until her back was flat against the wooden headboard. Still, no person jumped from the shadows.

  "Please, just go away," she cried out, wanting to dive beneath the covers and hide. Her mind careened. Why should she be afraid? She was a witch!

  But then the face appeared, gradually, as if gathering dust particles to create some image of solidarity.

  Abby watched the pale white cheeks, the wide set green eyes, the mass of red tendrils as they came into view, each curl fighting to appear. Devin's body was slow to take form, her long, slender shoulders outlined beneath a purple cloak. She hovered beside Abby's bed, a small smile on her slightly parted lips.

  "Abby," Devin whispered again, and this time Abby saw the breath crystallize around Devin's word, as if she exhaled frigid air from her dead lips.

  Abby shook her head in disbelief, her eyes like saucers in her sleepy face.

  "Yes," Devin said. A nearly transparent hand drifted out from her cloak and hovered over Abby's own, which instantly grew cold. "I've come to help you."

  The “you,” was almost lost, as if Devin were stealing the air to speak and the air was fighting back.

  "Help me?" Abby asked. She glanced toward the door to her room, quietly willing someone to burst in.

  "Don't be…." Devin breathed and Abby knew that she wanted to say, “afraid,” but the word died before it could form.

  "Help me with what?" Abby repeated, her fear ebbing away, but not entirely. Devin would not hurt her, right?

  "With your life…" Devin shimmered; her body disappearing and reappearing like a television losing its connection.

  "I don't understand," Abby whispered, moving onto her knees in the bed.

  "Danger." Devin's voice was faint, almost gone.

  "Who's in danger? Me?" Abby leaned toward Devin's faint shape.

  "Hold my hand." Abby barely heard it, but she felt the cold just above her fingers. She reached her hand up, and the air thickened and froze like she had dipped it into ice-cold water. The cold moved along her wrist, her forearm, slowly seeping into her torso and neck. When it reached her head, she let out a single, strangled breath.

  She was no longer looking at Devin's transparent spirit. She was inside of Devin looking back at herself. Her own body was statue still, her skin ashen, and her lips nearly white. As she watched, she faded with Devin, falling back through the castle wall and into another place and time.

  * * * *

  Devin sat on rotted driftwood, her toes sunk into the wet sand, the tide floating up and cooling her feet and ankles. She stared out at the lake, at the sailboats and jet skis, the sun looking down merrily on all of the happy tourists. She herself did not feel happy. She was changing and felt it on the surface of her skin, in her limbs, even deep inside of her. She had wondered if she had cancer or been stricken with some horrible disease that slowly consumed her from the inside out, but then it had begun to change. It stopped feeling like death and started feeling like life.

  First there were visions and then strange abilities.

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out her lighter. It was a tiny bronze goddess with exquisitely crafted features. The goddess held a sword that, when pushed, released a sharp blue flame from the goddess’s head. It was old, very old, and Devin had stolen it from her adopted father. Technically, it was hers. She found it in a stiff white envelope that contained her birth certificate, a single photo of her biological mother at the hospital, and the lighter. It was the goddess that instigated her search for her birth parents. She wanted to heal, to be strong like the miniature warrior, and they would help her do it. Or might have, if they weren’t dead.
>
  A week earlier, she'd been absently clicking the fire on and off when it had suddenly leapt out and raced across her apartment floor, igniting a picture of her and Tobias. Before Devin could put out the flames, Tobias's face had been singed to a deep black, the photo curling in. Somehow the fire had not touched her face, but had completely snuffed out Tobias. She had cried, feeling overwhelmed by the changes and frustrated by the picture.

  Tobias hadn't called her in two weeks. He had been her entire life and then suddenly vanished as if they hadn't been madly in love. She had called the number that he had given her, but it was disconnected. And worse, she thought she saw him, only days earlier, driving around with a beautiful blond woman.

  She stood from the driftwood and kicked it brusquely, angrily. Continuing down the beach, she bubbled with resentment for all of the teenagers enjoying the beautiful summer day. They leaned their tan faces back, laughing and showing off their dentally straightened teeth. They were on summer vacation from high school or college; they drove expensive leased cars and looked forward to beach bonfires and lakefront house parties. What did she have to enjoy? No family, no Tobias. And now she was turning into some kind of mutant that would probably be sprouting scales and tentacles.

  Devin turned back, heading for her car, which was over two miles down the beach, parked at a campground. It was Friday, and she had no plans, no friends and an empty apartment occupied by her cat, Sam, and a few goldfish that managed to stay alive despite their very dirty tank. She thought about calling her adoptive brother, Danny, but decided against it. Since she had begun the search for her birth parents, her adopted siblings had given her the cold shoulder. They'd never been close, but she was lonely and suddenly wished that she had put more effort into the relationships.

  She left the beach and cut through the woods. Behind her the sun was setting, the orange burning into the back of her head with ferocity, as if in warning. She stopped abruptly as she came upon her old, pea green Volkswagen. Tobias was leaning against it, a sly smile on his perfect face. He wore black slacks and a charcoal polo, his skin the same ivory porcelain that she loved.