Of Witches and Warlocks: The Trouble with Spells

by Lacey Weatherford

  Chapter 13

  I forced myself to stay away from Vance for one evening so I could have a girl’s night out with Shelly. I noticed she was beginning to feel sorely neglected. It wasn’t like I could break out and tell her all the things happening in my life. She wouldn’t even come close to understanding. I wanted to tell her, though. I missed having her as a confidant. It was hard keeping secrets from her.

  Even now, Vance was out there, lurking somewhere on the grounds of The Fountains at Fontane. I couldn’t stand to be too physically separated from him still. It was hard enough to drag my thoughts away from him, let alone my body.

  I plopped in the middle of Shelly’s four-poster, queen-sized bed, crossing my legs underneath me so I could look at pictures of her and Brad from their homecoming date. Shelly had been upset with me when Vance and I had declined to go on the group date to the dance. Actually, the two of us avoided homecoming completely. They’d held it during the early days of our binding spell, and there was no way we could’ve attended the party without drawing attention to ourselves. We probably would have clawed the clothes right off each other in front of everyone.

  Of course, there was no way to explain this to Shelly. She took it as a personal insult since she’d been in charge of the decorations for the event. And, to make things worse, in the weeks following, I’d only seen her at school and ditched her at every available opportunity to be with Vance. I had a lot of making up to do.

  I turned my full attention to Shelly as she explained each picture in a tired, sort of dejected tone.

  “It would’ve been way more fun if you’d actually been there,” she said with a sigh, casting me a sideways glance. She gathered the photos and went to place them on her dresser.

  “I don’t know how else to apologize,” I said softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t feeling well.”

  That at least was the truth. I just couldn’t tell her I’d been going crazy with desire.

  “I know,” Shelly replied. “I’m trying to be understanding and adjust my way of thinking. I had all these ideas of how we were going to spend this year together, and then Vance came along, and well . . .”

  I intensely studied my fingernails, not knowing what to say.

  “You really like him a lot, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t like him a lot,” I said with a short laugh, looking her straight in the eyes. “I’m in love with him. I can’t imagine my life without him.”

  Shelly paused for second, then laughed and waved her hand to the side.

  “You don’t really mean that. Girls our age always think they’re in love with someone. Then a week later they’re mooning over someone else.”

  “That may be,” I replied, feeling a bit hurt by her dismissal of my feelings. “But it isn’t true in my case.”

  She looked at me with skepticism.

  “I love him to the center of my being. No, he is the center of my being.” I let my stare bore into hers, even adding a little magical push to it for emphasis.

  Shelly shrank back, as if nervous from the intensity of it.

  “Oh, sorry.” She turned away from me. “You know, I don’t really feel up to the movie tonight after all. I kind of feel like I have a headache coming on. Besides, Angie Wilhelm told me it was dumb.”

  I nodded in complete understanding. I didn’t need to remind her she’d been looking forward to seeing this movie for weeks, and nothing Angie said to her would’ve stopped her from going. She was trying to get rid of me politely.

  Sadly, it was actually a relief because it meant I could get back to Vance. Still, I felt bad with the way things were, and I wished I could tell her what was really going on. I wanted her to understand.

  I headed to the door, turning around to say goodbye. I waited there awkwardly for a moment, hoping she’d make eye contact with me, but she never did.

  “Well, ‘bye,” I finally said, and I quietly slipped out the door.

  Vance was at my side the instant I was out the front door.

  “That didn’t go so well. Sorry things are rough because of me.” He put his arms around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

  “It isn’t your fault,” I said, pausing for a second to look through the window as we passed it.

  Shelly was on the phone, and I could hear her clearly.

  “Hi, Mrs. Anderson. Is Brad home?” she asked, and after a short second she began speaking again.

  “Hey, Brad. My plans with Portia didn’t work out. You want to go to the movie with me tonight?”

  I turned away, not wanting to hear anymore.

  Vance and I walked down the hill to where he had parked his motorcycle. We climbed on, and I instinctively knew he wasn’t taking me home. After a short drive, we pulled in front of his house. He helped me off the bike, and we went inside.

  “This is a surprise!” Marsha exclaimed, looking up from the movie she was watching on the television. “Come in, come in!” She came and gave me a hug, acting as if she’d never entertained company.

  “Portia’s feeling slightly blue this evening and needs to get away from everything for a while. I thought maybe we could entertain her,” Vance said. He gave Marsha a peck on the cheek. “Sorry I didn’t call first. It was sort of a last-minute decision,” he explained, while I stood there feeling dumb for intruding.

  “No need for an apology.” Marsha smiled. “Why don’t you two flip through the channels and see if there’s something on you want to watch while I make some popcorn?”

  “I don’t want you to miss your movie,” I said, still feeling overwhelmed by her warm welcome.

  “I’ve seen it already,” Marsha called back as she entered the kitchen. “No worries.”

  Vance checked the guide on the television, and we finally decided to order a comedy none of us had seen yet on pay-per-view. Marsha soon reappeared with a steaming bowl of buttered popcorn and a handful of napkins. We all settled on the overstuffed sofa and began watching the movie.

  Surprisingly, I began to feel better almost instantly. We snuggled close together, laughing at the funny situations the guy in the movie kept getting himself into. The time passed quickly, and soon the popcorn was gone and the movie was over. I didn’t realize until sometime later that I was actually feeling happy thoughts Vance was subtly sending my way. I didn’t mind, though.

  “Boy, I’m tired!” Marsha suddenly exclaimed, a little too obviously, running her hand through her short blond curls. “I’m not used to staying late. I guess I’ll leave the partying to the two of you and head for bed.” She gave us a quick wave and left the room with a smile.

  “She’s sweet,” I said to Vance. “I like her.”

  “I do too. Marsha’s like true family. She’s always treated me well, and even though we aren’t related, I’ll always have a special place in my heart for her.”

  “She must be a spectacular person to take care of someone she didn’t even know.”

  “That’s true,” he agreed, becoming quiet. “But let’s not talk about it here, okay?”

  I nodded in understanding, quickly thinking of something else I’d like to do.

  “Can I see your room?” I bit at my lower lip in anticipation.

  “My room?” He gave me a quizzical look.

  “Yeah, your room. This is the first time you’ve ever brought me here.” I nudged him with my elbow. “I want to see where you live.”

  “How have I managed to not bring you here in all these weeks we’ve been together?” He smiled at me with a slight shake of his head. “It must be because I always feel so at home at your house.”

  He led me down the narrow hallway to a plain, wood paneled door at the end. He opened it, reached inside to flip on the light switch, and stepped aside. He gestured for me to enter.

  The room was a moderate size, and I was surprised to find it very clean as well.

  “Not much to see—twin bed in the corner. Notice how the lovely blue denim bedspread and white sheets accentuate the plastic mini-blinds
in the windows.”

  I giggled. “I had no idea you were so décor oriented,” I replied.

  “It’s all about décor with me.” Vance grinned. He waved his arm toward his desk where he’d piled several schoolbooks and motorcycle magazines next to a few tools. “Over here we have some,” he paused to examine the items piled there, “classroom/garage chic going on, accentuated by this handsome leather jacket slung casually over the back of the chair.”

  My giggles burst into laughter. “Classroom/garage chic?” I raised an eyebrow.

  He folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “You really should pay more attention to fashion trends, Portia. It’s very popular these days.” His serious stare caused me to laugh even harder. Pointing to the Aloe Vera plant sitting on the desk, he continued, “It’s the plant that ties the whole look together, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, for sure,” I tried to reply seriously, stepping back and holding a finger to my chin as if I were contemplating things. “It definitely brings out the leather in your jacket.”

  He smiled then, giving a grand sweeping gesture with his arm. “Exactly. That was the whole thing I was going for.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure you were.”

  My gaze wandered to his closet door, which was open slightly, revealing a very organized space. His Levis were hanging nicely in one section, t-shirts on the other side, and he’d thrown his shoes casually on the floor underneath. I was impressed.

  I turned the other direction and observed a large wooden wardrobe on the opposite side of the room. Making my way over, I touched the handle of one of the doors.

  “May I?”

  “Help yourself,” he replied, scrutinizing my every movement.

  I opened the cupboard, surprised at what I found inside. It was an altar of sorts, a shelf covered in purple velvet, and it contained all of his magical belongings.

  My fingers ran over the twisted, black handle of his athame, which I had to admit was a bit wicked looking in its design. It had pointed, gold embellishments around the hilt, and the metal on the blade looked dark and pitted, except for around the edges where the silver gleamed brightly. There were three strange curved notches with sharp points in one side of the blade. I’d never seen this on an athame before.

  I lifted the knife, glancing at him. “What are these for?”

  “They’re called gut hooks.” He chuckled.

  “Oh,” I replied, taken by surprise. “That’s kind of self-explanatory, isn’t it?” I turned the knife in my hands, wondering why he could possibly need these.

  “They’re just for show,” he said, reading my mind. “That knife was custom made for me by a local craftsman I met. I happened to come across his store one day and was admiring his work. We struck up a conversation about how he made his knives, and he showed me an old, pitted chainsaw blade he’d found. I thought the pitted metal looked cool, so I commissioned him to make me an athame out of it.”

  “Really? That’s awesome. It turned out very nice, though it does look kind of lethal.”

  “It is,” he replied. “So be careful.”

  Smiling at him, I replaced it in its spot. I noticed a small chalice, a few crystals, and his Book of Shadows. Running my fingers across the worn leather cover, it was as though I could feel his essence emanating from it.

  It was then I noticed the bent corner of an old photo hanging out of the book. Curiosity got the better of me, and I pulled on it slightly without removing it completely, so I could see what the image was. There was a beautiful woman in the photo. She had brown curly hair, a soft, pretty smile, and held a toddler on her hip.

  “That’s my mom and me,” Vance said from the doorway. “It’s the only photo I have of her.”

  “She’s very pretty,” I said, continuing to look into the eyes of the woman who had given up her only child to protect him. My heart constricted tightly. “I hope she’s all right.” I slid the picture carefully back into the book.

  “Me too,” he replied, a hint of sorrow echoing in his voice.

  I closed the doors quietly and turned to walk back toward him, but my eye caught something else, another book sticking out from under his bed. I pulled it out, surprised to see last year’s yearbook with bookmarks in several of the pages.

  I opened the annual to the first place marked and found myself staring at a picture of me. It was the same for every page marked after that. Class pictures, candid shots, club photos, anywhere I appeared in the book had been flagged. I looked at him expectantly.

  “I’m sorry if it seems a bit stalkerish, but it’s the only pictures I have of you. I couldn’t very well follow you around with a camera snapping photos of you all the time.” He shrugged. “I still look at them every day, but it used to be a lot more before you got your powers.”

  “I guess I’ll have to get ahold of a camera and give you some new ones then.” I closed the book, sitting down on his bed and sliding it back underneath where I found it. “Besides, I'd love to have a few pictures of you too.”

  Vance pushed away from the door and crossed the room to sit next to me.

  “You didn’t find my biggest secret,” he said with a sly grin and leaned over, reaching farther under the bed. When he straightened, he was holding a guitar in his hands.

  “You play?” I asked in amazement.

  He nodded. “A little. My mom taught me while we were on the run. I think she thought it would help take my mind off things.” He began strumming quietly on the strings, tuning them.

  “Do you sing too?” I asked.

  “Only to myself.” He laughed, adding, “And usually very quietly. I wouldn’t want to scare anyone.”

  “Play something for me,” I said gleefully, delighted he would share this part of himself with me.

  “What do you want me to play?”

  “Anything,” I replied, my smile wide.

  Vance stared off into space for a moment and then began playing a soft, unfamiliar melody. It was a beautiful, haunting sound filled with longing. He'd grossly understated his talent. He was very accomplished.

  I let his music and the mood he was creating wash through me as he played, leaning back onto his pillow and closing my eyes so all my senses were tuned into only him. Here and there he would quietly hum along with the tune. The sound was enchanting. After several minutes, he stopped and placed the guitar on the floor next to the bed, and lay down next to me.

  “Why are you crying?” he asked in surprise, wiping a single tear from my face. “It wasn't that bad was it?” He smiled slightly.

  I shook my head. “No. It was beautiful. I’m sad because I can’t imagine how lonely you’ve been,” I replied. “I’ve always been surrounded by friends and family. I was loved, nurtured, and cared for.”

  “I’ve had those things too—just not in the traditional sense. True, most of my memories of family come from my past, but Marsha has taken good care of me, and we have a healthy kinship that’s been born out of the things we’ve faced together. It hasn’t been all bad.” He stroked his hand across my hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel sad.”

  “No, I loved it. It was wonderful. It was you.” I nuzzled my face into the space between his head and shoulder, loving the smell of him . . . fresh air, leather, and some cool-scented aftershave. I inhaled deeply as he held me.

  “Thank you for caring about me, Portia. It means a lot,” he said softly.

  “I love you.” My eyes brimmed slightly with unshed tears. “I want to be part of your family.”

  “You already are my family,” he corrected me. “More family than I’ve had in a long, long time. I’ve missed having an intimate connection with someone, the kind where you can share everything. You’ve given that back to me.”

  We didn’t speak at all after that, only relished the feel of being in each other’s arms, holding each other for the better part of an hour, and it was magical.

  “Do you think your parents would mind if we slept here toni
ght?” he whispered softly to me.

  I shook my head. “Dad knows I’m with you, and I’m sure he’s filled Mom in on everything by now. I’m positive they trust Marsha.”

  “Do you need to call them?”

  “No, they’re both gone again tonight. Though, maybe I’ll leave a message on the machine, in case my mom comes home from work early.”

  Vance pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it to me. I got up, walked toward the door, and leaned against it.

  “Hey, Mom.” My throat suddenly felt dry. I couldn’t manage to drag my stare away from Vance as I watched him get ready for bed, removing his shirt to reveal his incredible physique, and bending to unlace his shoes. “I’m at Marsha and Vance’s tonight,” I added quickly and ended the call.

  I swallowed hard when he stood and pulled the covers back. I slowly began removing the clips from my hair as I moved toward him, placing them on the nightstand.

  “Vance,” I whispered, and he looked at me. “Will you sleep with me tonight? Under the covers, I mean.”

  He stood still, staring for a mere moment before joining me, sliding into the bed and pulling the covers over us both. Moving against me, he cradled me in his arms so we were spooning.

  “You forgot to turn out the light,” I whispered, giggling slightly.

  With a snap of his fingers the light turned off, leaving us in darkness except for a soft glow through the window.

  “I love you,” he whispered into my ear as he hugged me tightly.

  “I love you too. Thanks for bringing me here tonight.” My hand searched out his under the covers, and I laced our fingers together.

  “Was it everything you imagined it to be?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “No.” I laughed. “Your room is much cleaner than I expected.”

  “I’m glad I can still surprise you.”

  “I’m surprised by you every day.” I gave his arm a squeeze.

  “How so?” he asked, sounding curious.

  “Every day I wake up to find you’re still here, and you still want me.”

  “That’ll never change, but I don’t see why it surprises you.”

  “I just feel so unworthy of your attention sometimes, let alone your love,” I whispered.

  “Don’t ever talk like that.” Tightening his grip, his lips brushing my hair as he spoke. “You’re worthy of so much more than me.”

  “Vance. I don’t want anyone but you.” I tried to turn so I could kiss him, but he held me firmly in place, not allowing me to move.

  “Don’t, Portia, please. We’re so close right now, and this feels so intimate. I don’t think I could stop if you kissed me.” He was silent for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “I’ve dreamed for a long time about when I would finally be able to hold you next to me in my own bed. Only, I’m afraid my version wasn’t quite as chaste as this.”

  “I understand,” I said, laying my head back onto the pillow, facing the wall.

  I really did understand him. I’d had similar dreams. They came the moment I closed my eyes at night, drowning me in the promises of future pleasure, and I relished them. Even now I could easily picture myself tangled in his arms in the heat of passion. It was something I longed for, even though I really wanted to respect his wishes too.

  “Portia,” he growled at me through gritted teeth. “You can’t even think about it. The temptation is too much for me.” He started to move away. “I’m going to have to go sleep on the floor.”

  “Don’t leave.” I grabbed at his arms before they slipped away from me. “I’ll be good. I promise.” I immediately pictured myself in my bunny pajamas.

  “Nice try,” he laughed, capturing the image of my thoughts. “But you’re still in your pajamas. Think of something else.”

  I imagined bunnies romping through a field together.

  “Got anything besides rabbits?” he asked.

  Immediately, lions in a fierce fight jumped into my mind.

  “Nope. Too carnal.” He laughed. “Can’t handle the bloodlust.”

  I sighed in exasperation and imagined my grandma making out with her mailman.

  “Ugh, that’s working. Please stop, though, you’re killing me here,” he said. “Now I need to have my mind wiped completely.”

  I laughed and tried my best to think of nothing and slowly drifted off to sleep.