The Witch's Journey

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  A low rumble of thunder was heard above.

  “The first two transcendent witches had gods for guardians. When Aine infuriated the third witch, she rebelled, causing all three witches to be hidden by her magic. They’ll return to this time and realm as you leave it today, but when your quests are done it’ll ensure all four of you will meet and plan the steps to win the battle against Lord Odhran and his forces of evil.”

  “Must we discuss this on our wedding day?” Faolan asked.

  “Was there something else you’d rather be doing, Captain?” Wolf asked.

  Faolan only grinned.

  “But aren’t we to learn about the first journey?” Angelique asked.

  “Come back before midnight. Wear clothing appropriate for the time period.”

  “How will we know what that is?”

  Wolf picked up a scroll, unrolled it, frowned, then shook his head.

  “I’m certain you’ll be delighted about this! What witch wouldn’t be?”

  “Even I recognized that as sarcasm,” Faolan said.

  “You wear the clothing you arrived in, Captain. Ginger, a long dark gown considered proper and a cloak, probably linen. No fancy shoes or garments that would look out of place. No luxuries beyond a hairbrush that could be centuries old.”

  “You have me worried now,” Angelique admitted.

  “I’m certain your new husband can take your mind off it.”

  “Yes, Husband; distract me.”

  He pulled her to him and kissed her well and thoroughly.

  “Not here!” Wolf huffed.

  “As if you couldn’t find some other place to be. You weren’t here last night when two demons were in this attic.”

  “Demons?”

  “Danhoul, Tristan and Timothy dealt with them.”

  Wolf waved his hand and an unusual green pattern formed on the floor and the doorway.

  “Demon blood. You’ll read about demons in the book. But not today.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her over the threshold.

  “Since rings are customary in your time, perhaps we can select rings when we’re out findin’ garments,” Faolan suggested.

  “I’d like that but first I’d like to consummate this marriage, Husband,” Angelique said.

  “Are you adequately recovered? I wouldn’t wish for you to think I’m a demandin’ husband.”

  “I’m okay. I intend to be a very demanding wife. Let’s share a bath and a bed and then—a lifetime.”

  He didn’t even touch her in the bath. When in the bedroom, he seemed uncertain.

  “Faolan, I want you,” she said kissing him and caressing his chest.

  “I’ll be gentle, then,” he said. “What of those damnable condoms?”

  “Damnable. My thoughts exactly,” she said.

  “But we should…”

  “I can’t believe I’d conceive so soon after miscarrying. It’s our wedding day; I want no barriers between us. Just love me.”

  He complied, but his movements were uncommonly tender and she stared into his eyes.

  “Is that good for you with so little passion?”

  “By all that’s holy, Angelique. I’d die for one moment like this with you. Slow and gentle or wholly untamed. Is this not pleasurable for you, then?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s very…pleasurable,” she gasped as she loudly climaxed and he smiled.

  “Is it like this with other women, Faolan, as it is with you and me?”

  “That’s not a question I’d expect just now,” he said. “No. There’s never been anything like this with any other woman, Angel, nothin’ even measurably close to what I feel for you, in my heart or any part of me.”

  This time they met their release together. Again, he stared into her eyes.

  “I’ll never betray you, Angelique. I promise.”

  “Nor me, you,” she said.

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  “No. There was only pleasure, as always.”

  “Is that why you agreed to marry me?” he asked.

  “It wasn’t the entire basis of my decision, but it may have had a little to do with it.”

  “I suppose if we’re to be together for decades, compatibility beneath the bedsheets would be preferable.”

  “Mmmmm, I agree.”

  “If we weren’t governed by time and me not worried of your condition, I’d like to spend the entire day in this bed, but we must be mindful of your recent trauma. We should select suitable garments and wedding rings. I promise I have coin to see you compensated and gems you could select to be made into rings, but I prefer you to wear my ring on this our wedding day.”

  “I have a ring that belonged to my birth mother. It was given to Mom when she adopted me.”

  “If that pleases you, sure it would be special. Perhaps we could get matching wedding bands.”

  “I’d like that,” Angelique said.

  When she moved he stared at the trace of blood on the sheet.

  “I have hurt you.” He looked distraught.

  “I promise, you haven’t. It’s only a trickle, Faolan. As a married man you’re bound to sometimes see that especially if we go back in time when only rags are used for women’s periods.”

  “We should have waited. I was too eager…”

  “Faolan!” she said, hoping she sounded formidable. “I was equally eager. You haven’t hurt me, so chill!”

  “Chill?”

  “Calm down; don’t fret.”

  “I’m not fretting. I’m merely being considerate of my wife.”

  She went to the washroom, came back with a towel and covered the blood.

  “Better?”

  “You think because I can’t see it I won’t…”

  “I think if you don’t stop making a flummery of it, I’m going to become annoyed. I’d prefer not to be annoyed with my new husband.”

  He exhaled. She went to the dresser, pulled out a tiny box, opened it and passed the ring to him.

  “It’s lovely. It certainly looks Irish.”

  Angelique looked at the tiny green stones set in a Celtic design. He placed it on her finger.

  “In this century, you’d say, with this ring I thee wed.”

  “With this ring, I thee wed,” he repeated.

  “There’d be to have and to hold, for richer and poorer, better and worse, yada, yada, yada—as long as you both shall live.”

  “When we purchase our rings, we’ll repeat those words.”

  “Let’s walk to the shops, find some rings, some antiquated clothing, have something to eat, then come back to this bed?”

  She arched her eyebrows suggestively but his eyes went to the towel.

  “Fine, we’ll discuss that later.”

  *

  “They’re lovely,” she said looking at her white gold wedding band.

  It looked perfect next to her family heirloom ring. He held his beside hers.

  “I like being your husband, Angel.”

  “I like being your wife,” she replied as they stopped on the snowy sidewalk to kiss for probably the tenth time, then took a picture of the rings and a selfie of them on their wedding day.

  *

  “It’s nearly midnight; we should go to the attic.”

  “I admit, I’m reluctant to leave,” she said looking around her house.

  “We’ll be back one day.”

  “Maybe,” she said glancing down at her dark dress. They’d gone to a costume shop. Luckily there were several in Boston. The saleswoman looked at them oddly when she’d taken Faolan in the fitting room with her. Angelique joked he knew far more about women’s historical undergarments.

  She’d opted for one that resembled a corset without the boning that made it restrictive and uncomfortable. She purchased a bonnet-style cap and a linen cloak in pretty blue.

  “May I finally have my sword back?”

  “Aye, matey!” She giggled. “I’d forgotten how heavy it was.
”

  “When it fell and I first heard you cuss.”

  “Here’s your hat, too.” She placed it on his head. “I love you, my husband, even if you look like a fearsome pirate now.”

  He stared in the mirror not sure he recognized himself. He only knew he wasn’t the same man he’d been weeks ago when she’d summoned him.

  “I’m glad Tristan, Danhoul and Timothy stopped by to say farewell. I suspect we’ll see them again. I’m happy we were able to say good-bye to Newt and Fiona, Mrs. Boyle and Mr. Nivens. Newt and Fiona promised to visit them. They’ll water my plants, feed my fish and the stray cat, too. If we’re away a long time, or don’t return, they’ll find them a home.”

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Good-bye, my wonderful house,” she whispered.

  *

  “I thought you mightn’t come,” Wolf said.

  “We’re here, let the bells ring out and the banners fly, we’re here.”

  Both men stared.

  “It’s a reference to an old cartoon.”

  “Wasted on us,” Faolan said.

  “Never wasted, my love. Your expression in trying to determine if you should know what I’m talking about, never gets old.”

  “You’ll need to leave those infernal gadgets behind. They’d be a sure giveaway you’re from another time,” Wolf said.

  Faolan handed over his phone without hesitation, yet Angelique clutched hers. She claimed she wasn’t as dependent on technology as many. Yet…on this phone were her contacts, her connection to Newt and Fiona whom she’d miss very much. Her treasured texts from Mom. There was her carefully selected music. It comforted her after her mother died and often played when she and Faolan made love.

  There were years’ worth of pictures of Mom, Sylvie and Newt. All the photos she and Faolan had taken in Maine and several in Boston, when they were dressed up the night of the hospital event and today after they were wed and smiling happily on the snowy streets of Boston. She sighed a deep sigh that probably depicted her uncertainty.

  “May I leave it with you for safekeeping, Wolf?”

  “I’ll keep it here,” Wolf said putting both phones in the magical trunk.

  “Okay,” she said. “Unlike you, Faolan, who had no say in being pulled through time, we’re making this decision to embark on this journey of the unknown.”

  “It wasn’t even the most important or life-changing decision we made this day.”

  They stared at the window where they’d spoken their vows and he jumped.

  “You saw the echo of our wedding without me directing it?” Angelique said with a surprised smile.

  “I did.”

  “I expect you’ll be seeing a lot of unusual things, Captain. You’re connected to your transcendent witch, by love, marriage and a blood vow now. That will deepen your connection. As her guardian and her husband that’ll bring joys and responsibilities, but perhaps unpleasantness you didn’t bargain for.”

  “Are you trying to frighten my new husband, Wolf?”

  “Making life interesting,” he said. “If you want something that’ll scare the living daylights out of you, Ginger, take a look at your first-time jump.”

  He passed her the scroll, but as he did a magical, swirling, colorful light filled the room and a peculiar ringing noise from below was heard.

  “Ah, the other three witches have returned,” Wolf said.

  “Really?” Angelique excitedly said. “Could we go meet them before we leave?”

  “Can’t be done. If you don’t do the quests first, you’ll never meet them, for they’ll never return to this time or perhaps never live to see this time.”

  “You just said they’re here.”

  “True, but if you disrupt something or don’t complete the quests they won’t be. It isn’t something easily explained or understood.”

  “Yes, Yoda,” she said.

  “I’m nothing like that green creature but as I was saying…”

  “We can’t disrupt the space-time continuum,” Angelique said.

  “What?” Wolf asked.

  “I know that one,” Faolan said. “It’s from Back to the Future.”

  He smiled proudly and Angelique grinned.

  “This is back to the past,” Wolf said. “Now, a few important rules. Talk to as few people as possible. Say nothing that would make them question you’re not from that time. There may be demons or others who know what to look for. Do nothing that would disrupt history.”

  “Won’t our being there disrupt it?” Angelique asked.

  “You must be there; therefore just do as I say. You mustn’t deliberately change history. I’ve already explained no items from the future can be taken to the past—no luxuries, even what you might deem as necessities, no toilet roll or toothpaste. I’ll look in your satchel, Ginger.”

  She reluctantly passed it to him.

  “The toothbrushes I’ll permit because they’re made of wood, but I’ll confiscate this.”

  He took the small tube of toothpaste.

  “Use sodium bicarbonate or herbal concoctions for cleaning your teeth,” Wolf said.

  She puffed out her cheeks and sighed. He passed her the first scroll and as she opened it, Wolf stepped back.

  “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me? No freaking way!”

  “I did say you wouldn’t be happy.”

  “Where is it?” Faolan asked. “When is it?”

  “It’s here, well I suppose it’s not far from here.”

  “How do you know? It’s not a town any longer or one ever known to have existed.”

  “It’s freaking 1692 Massachusetts; I don’t have to be Einstein to know it has to do with witches and Puritans.”

  “And witch trials and persecutions. Behave, Ginger; draw no attention to yourself; get into no trouble. Deliver this book to the second witch without her seeing your face and without touching her.”

  “Cake walk, I’m sure,” Angelique said.

  “So this second witch?”

  “Arianna,” Wolf said.

  “Arianna will be in this Wyndham Village?”

  “Well that’s where she was when this scroll was written. You may have to do some investigative work.”

  “Do I look like Nancy Drew?”

  He ignored her comment.

  “Guard your witch and be careful, Captain. There were only a few men recorded killed during the Salem pandemonium. Of course a whole lot more men and women went missing and were killed than what was mentioned, but we maybe won’t discuss that. If you should be killed, Ginger…well let’s just say the fate of the world likely rests in your hands.”

  “No pressure then! What do we do for money? I’m presuming we’ll need money.”

  “It’ll be in the satchel when needed,” Wolf assured them.

  “And what about…?”

  “What?” Wolf asked.

  “Never mind. I was going to say what about condoms. I don’t intend to be back in these dire, dangerous times with my new husband without having—fun, but if we can’t take items that don’t belong, prophylactics might be suspicious.”

  “You’re discussing our sex life with an…?”

  “Elgnorf.” She smiled and Wolf exaggeratedly bared his teeth.

  “Take the book and the scrolls. Only read the parts of the book indicated. Keep the satchel with you. You can’t read the second scroll’s task till the first is completed—and so on.”

  “Why? Will the sky fall in?”

  “Guardian, you must make your witch take heed. She apparently doesn’t understand the precariousness of times past.”

  Faolan looked steadily more uncertain.

  “How do we make this jump through time?” Angelique asked.

  “Your guardian will hold the satchel; you take his hand, then touch your pendant. Don’t lose that either or you may be stuck in 1692 Massachusetts. Repeat the location and the year together. That should be all you need to do.”

  “Should? That doesn’t
fill me with confidence,” Faolan said.

  “It’s your witch who has the transcendent ability.”

  Angelique could feel the powerful combined magic of the other three witches now. She looked into Faolan’s eyes and they read the words together.

  “Wyndham Village, Massachusetts Bay Colony, September 1692.”

  “Fuck!” she added.

  “Not part of the spell, Ginger, nor liable to take you where you must be.”

  They repeated the words without her expletive. Angelique was suddenly indescribably dizzy and disoriented with brilliant pink, blue and purple colors swirling around them.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “You’re pale, Angel.”

  “I’m okay, and you?” She reached up and touched his cheek reassured by his warmth.

  “I’m well enough. Do you suppose we’re in the correct time?”

  She observed the street.

  “Grey wooden early-Colonial-style buildings, muddy streets, general feeling of oppression and dark suspicion—yes, I’d say we’re in the right place.”

  She opened her locket, took out a pill and popped it in her mouth.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something Tristan said would calm me.”

  Faolan narrowed his eyes disapprovingly.

  “There’s a pillory,” Faolan said.

  “Yes and at the river there’s likely a ducking stool, too. If we find the witch-house I imagine there’s torturous tools used to prick the skin to absurdly determine if a woman’s a witch. There’s likely a witch-dungeon, too.”

  “Like the one we saw in Salem when we visited during your time,” Faolan said.

  “Yes.”

  “Arianna’s supposed to be in this village?” Faolan asked.

  “I wouldn’t count on it being that simple,” Angelique said.

  “There’s an inn. Maybe we could take a room, wash our faces and rest. I know it hasn’t been long but I feel unusually tired,” Faolan stated.

  “I suspect time travel’s hard on the body.”

  “Do we need to talk like Puritans?” he asked.

  “Do you think you could?”

  “Probably not,” he replied. “Who should speak when we go inside?”

  “Not me. As a woman, I’m to say very little, be subservient. I doubt I’m ever supposed to look you in the eyes.”