Chapter 8
Manipulated
When my eyes opened, a dozen faces hovered above mine, each suddenly relieved. “Oh thank goodness,” said one of them.
I was back in my room. I recognized Darren’s grandmother in the group huddled over me. She smiled and touched my hand and then stepped away. With my eyes, I followed her over to another group. This one included my grandmother and Helena, and a very tall woman with long jet-black hair, among others. They were very animated in whatever they were discussing, that is, until Darren’s grandmother arrived, at which point they each turned to face me. The tall dark haired woman strode over quickly and the group surrounding my bed parted to give her space.
“Well hello there,” she said, smiling. “Pushed our self a little too hard did we?”
I just stared. What happened to me?
“Anastasia, would you mind if you and I have a few words?” she asked sweetly. The woman had a kind face, and an accent haunted her words, reminding me of my French teacher back in Pelion.
“Okay,” I answered.
The woman turned from me and nodded at the others. Each of them began to move toward the door. My grandmother watched me with concern as she moved with them, lingering an extra moment before passing through the doorway.
The woman took a seat on the bed next to me. She smiled again once everyone had left the room. “My name is Genevieve. I am sorry that I could not attend your welcome party yesterday, I had urgent business in Prague...“
She paused when she noticed that I was staring at her eyes. “We have something in common, do we not?”
“You’re…like me,” I managed.
“Indeed. I am the heir of the Merovingian line of witches. As you may have guessed from my accent, my native safe haven is located in France. Have you ever heard of Marseille?”
I shook my head.
She laughed. “It is all right. When you are feeling better, perhaps you would like to visit. On the other hand, perhaps I shall accompany you in your first official visit to your family’s native haven, in St. Petersburg. The witching community there was especially fond of your aunt.” She was still smiling once she’d finished speaking, but there was something more than friendliness behind her eyes now, a strange intensity that made me uncomfortable.
“I-I’m just getting used to being here,” I muttered. Since I was not entirely sure how to respond, I had said the first thing that came to my mind. Anything to break that painful stare.
“Now, now, you mustn’t neglect them. It is like choosing one child over another.”
“You make it sound like they belong to me,” I replied.
“Of course,” she said with a surprised tone. “Have they not made you aware that this haven is your inheritance? When you are twenty five you will be made lord of the witching community both here and in St. Petersburg.”
“Oh,” I said in astonishment. “I thought it was just for show like they do in England. I didn’t know I’d really be like a queen or something.”
“Do not let it trouble your mind. It feels overwhelming to you now, but you will be more than prepared to assume the responsibilities of your title when the time comes. Shall we come to the reason why I am here tonight?”
“Okay,” I replied nervously. I sat up a little in my bed.
She stood up. “You are at an age where you are still maturing, Anastasia, not only physically but mentally as well. As we speak, your mind is undergoing the changes necessary to become more attune to the rhythms of nature. Soon, you will be able to manipulate it—simply put, magic. As a grey-eyed heir, you will find yourself extremely competent in one area of witchcraft—your affinity. My affinity, as it has been for most of my ancestors, deals in the restorative properties of nature. The art of healing.
“Like a doctor?”
“Very much. Only not a doctor, think of me as the doctor. It is in this capacity that I visit you now. For some, the transition from child to adult witch can be more difficult than other transitions. Your grandmother contacted me in regard to your acting strangely. Are you aware of the behavior she’s referring to?”
I shifted nervously in my bed. I had been acting strangely? Is that how I ended up here? I tried to focus on the events leading up to now but could only find bits and pieces. It was like a shroud had been thrown over my brain, and I was forced to move around inside my own mind in total darkness. The only thing I remembered was that I was running—but why? “I honestly can’t remember much,” I said. “I don’t even know how I ended up here.”
She bit her lip and then became quiet for a moment. “What is the last thing that you can remember?” she asked.
I ignored the blank spot in my memory and looked back to the last thing that was clear. “Darren,” I replied. “He’d called about…um, about school. Wanted to know if I needed a ride. I told him that I wasn’t sure about school yet.”
She nodded her head. “Was the prospect of going school something that caused you anxiety in your old life?”
I lowered my head and nodded. “Before all of this, I was wondering if I’d get to go to high school with my friend Jasmine. We were always moving, so when school let out, I wasn't sure if I’d ever see her again. I’ve never had much luck with friends, so it was a big deal I guess.”
“I understand. It makes sense then that that is your last memory,” she said, sitting down on the bed again. “Tell me, during the time that you can remember, did you hear any voices? Or feel emotions that you didn’t understand?”
Had her expression not been so serious, I might have laughed. Voices? Seriously? “Not that I can remember.”
She exhaled and gave me a big smile. “Give me a moment.”
She stood up again, and started for the door.
Her questions had made me anxious. “Am I alright?” I asked.
My inquiry stopped her in her tracks. She turned around with another big smile. “Oh, yes. You have experienced drastic changes in the last couple of days. I can only imagine the stress you must be dealing with. I am sure that you just lost your head for a moment. It must have gotten to be too much for you. You needed a break so you ran.”
“Lost my head? You mean I went crazy or something?”
“Only as a reaction to stress. Everyone deals with loss in their own way. It also accounts for the fact that you don’t remember, your conscious mind was not in control.”
Her reference to my mother’s attack had sapped all the fight from within me. “And that’s why you asked whether I was hearing voices?”
She laughed. “No, no. That part is quite ordinary. When you inherited your aunt’s eyes, you also inherited a small part of who she was. Her thoughts and emotions were passed onto you, to be preserved in your subconscious. As you enter into maturity, these thoughts and emotions can sometimes rise up to the surface. Do not worry yourself, after a while everything settles out, and they are buried deep into your psyche as is intended. I-I was just relieved that you did not have to deal with that right now. You have already got so much to—”
“You’re lying,” I interrupted. I don’t know how I knew, but I was certain. It was as if it was written on her forehead in bright red ink. “That’s not why I remember things or hear voices. That is not ordinary...You know about me, and you’re afraid that history’s going to repeat itself. You’re trying to make me forget him.”
Having been visibly astonished during most of my rant, her entire body tensed at my reference to him. However, that was only for a short time, she quickly regained her composure. Lifting her hand toward me, she spoke a couple words under her breath. As I watched my grandmother step into the room, I began to feel woozy. Weakness flooded my limbs and the next thing I knew, the back of my head had crashed into the pillows behind me.
“What are you doing?” I heard my gra
ndmother shout. I was still conscious, but barely.
“I am sorry,” Genevieve replied. “What you said on the phone, it’s all true. I would never have believed it possible, but there’s more. Being here has somehow triggered her maturation too. Her mind was fighting off my memory spell without her even telling it to. It was literally effortless—I have never seen anything like it. She has not learned to control them yet, but her abilities are already present.”
“But how? She’s only fifteen.”
There was a pause before Genevieve spoke again. “Katarina, she’s…”
“What...? What is it?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I did the tests three times as we spoke and all three times came to the same conclusion. She’s a conjurer, Katarina.”
“Im-Impossible!” my grandmother squeaked.
“We must keep a calm head about all of this—how else did you think her capable of—“
“A calm head?” my grandmother interrupted. “It is practically a death sentence! I won’t lose her too!”
“Shh! The others are just outside!”
“I only just got her back, Genevieve. She could be all that I have left.”
“Then you must be strong for her. We are friends before anything else, you know that. Your granddaughter’s secret is safe with me but we must make the difficult decisions. You called me here because of him. You were afraid that she might end up like Aleksandra. That should be our first priority. However, this will call for more potent magic.”
“You mean to suggest that you have more experience with that kind of magic?”
“It seems we all have our secrets, do we not? All witches have the ability to tap into the unnatural magic to some small degree—what are rare, are those witches with significant access, those which we consider to be “conjurers.”
“All witches? But aren’t we bound by the laws of nature, by what is naturally possible?”
“Do you think it natural that a witch can forcibly calm another by reciting a few words…? Precisely. It is so common a spell that we don’t even think to realize that it is drawn from whatever power fuels unnatural magic. Instead of running from this truth, I have chosen to accept it—to explore the ways in which I can utilize it to my own benefit. I am no conjurer by any stretch, but I’ve learned a great deal during my private sessions. I have the ability to shield her further from her memories of him. After that, I will go about suppressing her abilities—the powers she will wield are not meant for a child. It should give us some time to formulate less drastic solutions.”
“What you’re suggesting, that’s possible?”
“It is unnatural magic, Katarina. Nothing is impossible. Even still, you must be careful to keep an eye on her. Her abilities may still pop up from time to time, particularly during times when she feels emotional. Tell her something to sate her curiosity and use whatever means necessary to keep him from telling her the truth about who she is. Her being a conjurer is enough of a problem without adding that complication.”
“It’s just…It’s just that I promised myself that this time would be different. That I would not jeopardize my relationship with her for anything. If she were to discover that I did this…”
“Better angry and alive, than fond of you and dead,” said Genevieve.
There was quiet after that. My grandmother finally spoke. “Do what you must.”
Then I felt nothing at all.
Grey Eyes (Book One, The Forever Trilogy) Page 12