The Witch and the Englishman (6 page)

I smiled and said, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Chapter Ten

I was in my Spirit Chair.

Everyone needs a Spirit Chair. Or a Prayer Chair. Or a Meditation Chair. Whatever you want to call it. Stick it in the corner of your bedroom, living room, yoga room, basement, attic, garage...just wherever you can find some peace and quiet for about a half an hour.

My Spirit Chair was just an old recliner that was about as comfortable as comfortable gets, which was sometimes a problem. Sometimes, during deep meditations, I tended to nod off. Not a good thing.

Now, it was just after noon, and I had already showered after my session with Ivy...and after our long talk, too. I had a lot to process, including what to do about Billy’s imminent death, his murderous daughter, and his haunted house.

In each hand, I held an object. In my right was a stone that was important to me, a stone I’d collected at Mount Shasta on a recent trip. It had been a trip where I had deeply connected with Mother Earth. In my left hand was a run-of-the-mill crystal that one could find in any New Age shop.

I loosely held both the rock and crystal, my hands in my lap. My legs were crossed as I sat comfortably in the Spirit Chair. Yes, it was also called a Lazy-Boy by those with less imagination.

Anyway, my head naturally lolled forward, my chin lightly pressing against my chest. I knew that the “proper” meditation technique was for my head to be straight. Screw proper, this was more comfortable.

More importantly, it worked.

At least, for me.

If nothing else, it was where I unwound, where I centered myself, and where I found peace in a very stressful world. In fact, right outside my bedroom window was the hustle and bustle of Beverly Hills where big deals were made every day, and spending a lot of money was the norm. Out there, life was stressful.

In here, within my Spirit Chair, was pure bliss.

The crystal and rock were there for a reason, and not because I was into all that woo-woo New Age stuff, although a lot of that woo-woo New Age stuff was kind of fun, too. Whatever it took to connect to Spirit. My thing happened to be the Spirit Chair and meditation. Someone else’s thing might have been a prayer mat, a church, a walk in the woods, a yoga class, or watching
Late Night with Jimmy Fallon
.

Personally, I liked peace and quiet...and holding crystals. Crystals, for me, tended to raise my energy levels. Or, as Millicent called it, “raising my frequency,” although I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. All I knew was that crystals—and, in particular, the Mount Shasta rock—helped me to connect faster and deeper to the spiritual side of life.

That was what I was doing now.

I closed my eyes and held the stones loosely in my lap, wrapping my fingers around them just enough to have a good grip, but not so tightly that I wasn’t relaxed. It was always a delicate balance to be relaxed enough to commune with the higher energies, but not so relaxed that I found myself snoring softly. Or loudly.

Now, I was determined to stay awake, to truly connect to Spirit; or, in this case, one particular spirit.

A very big spirit.

Mother Earth, in fact.

There was, of course, no guarantee I would make the connection to her, although of late, she had taken an interest in me.

Yes, lucky me.

I took long, slow breaths, breathing in for two beats, and out for one beat. Always longer in than out. Drawing in the breath of life, as many traditions believed—and I thought, accurately—that our breathing connected us to the spirit world. Control of breath, control of thought, control of body...yes, that was the gateway into the unknown.

As always, I had done a small prayer of protection and guidance, letting my intentions be known. And my intentions were to contact peaceful spirits, loving spirits, and, if possible, Mother Earth herself.

In and out, in and out.

Stray thoughts appeared...my new witchy client, killers, blood and death, Russell Crowe’s smile. I lingered on Russell Crowe’s smile...then let that go, along with all the other stray thoughts.

I sought complete emptiness.

I sought complete release from this world, so that I could be untethered...and drift into the next.

Time passed. I wasn’t sure how long went by. I didn’t think it had been very long, but I had been wrong before. Sometimes when I thought only minutes had passed, whole hours, in fact, had passed.

Now, I was only vaguely aware of the passage of time. Mostly, I was aware that I’d slipped
out of time
. Yes, my body was sitting there on the Lazy Boy, experiencing time, but my mind had gone to a place that was both timeless and eternal.

It is peaceful here, although I am not sure where I am. It is peaceful and relaxing and I wonder if I am asleep.

Yet, I was aware of my body, of peace, of easy breathing. I was not snoring lightly, or even loudly. I was breathing easily.

Peace and eternity and timelessness...it was all here, wrapped in something that was beyond what I could comprehend, at least in my physical state. I was still too grounded to know, exactly, what was happening. But that was okay. I was not supposed to know all. That was the message I always received. Leave some mysteries for after Earth. Mysteries were a good thing. The mysterious compelled humans to search and expand and grow and evolve.

Now, I felt another presence nearby, and from this presence emanated a great love...but not just for me...but for all of the world,
for
all of
her
world.

The amorphous shapes that had been swirling around me began to take shape, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, and then I found myself sitting on the crest of a massive mountain chain. One crest connected to another peak. On either side was a steep decline. One false step here, and one would fall seemingly forever.

Except, the mountain didn’t quite feel real, or solid. In fact, I could see straight down through it, and down through the many strata of rock and sediment. Down there, I could see something glowing, pulsating, throbbing, alive. It was, I knew, the soul of the mountain itself.

No, I thought, it’s
her
. It was
she
who was pulsating and vibrating and crackling everywhere, through rock, dirt, plants, the driest desert, or the richest soil.

She was everywhere.

For now, I continued sitting on the mountain. Whether real or not, I didn’t know, but the strong wind that buffeted me felt real enough. Few, I suspected, had seen this place, wherever I was. I was aware that there were many places on this Earth that were rarely experienced by humankind, and that was a good thing. The Earth needed a break from humankind.

I blinked...and discovered Mother Nature sitting directly across from me...legs crossed as mine were. She smiled at me.

“Good afternoon, Allison.”

Chapter Eleven

A mountain goat watched us from nearby, chewing idly on some sparse grass that grew from under a cluster of boulders.

“It can see me?” I asked the woman sitting before me.

“
Of course. Animals have no difficulty seeing into the higher realms. Their eyes are open. Only man is closed.”

“
But why?”

“
It is as it should be. For now. But there will come a time when man can see further and deeper and higher. But now is not the time.”

I had met her before, a few times now. She was Gaia, the spirit of the earth, the soul of the earth. She was Mother Earth, or Earth Mother, or the Divine Mother. Each time I was with her, it felt like the first time. She had long, red hair, and long, white fingers, which were now interlaced on her lap. She wore a satiny robe that hugged her body and flapped as the wind blew.

“You choose this form for my benefit,” I said.

“
It makes it easier to relate to me.”

“
What would you look like otherwise?”

“
My form is the mountain you sit upon, the earth you walk upon, the river you swim in, and the oceans you traverse.”

“
Why do you speak with me?”

The woman in front of me, whose hair lifted and fell, but not necessarily in conjunction with the blasts of cold air that hit us, tilted her head and looked at me sweetly. Correction: lovingly.

“Your question implies that it is a great privilege to speak to me.”

“
Is it not? You are Gaia. The earth spirit. You are our mother. You are so...important. I’m just me.”

“
Do you not feel special, child?”

I thought about that. “I do. But doesn’t everyone?”

“Some more than others. Do not mistake great size, or great success, or great beauty, for importance. We are all equal in the eyes of the Creator, including me.”

“
But surely you are...” I couldn’t say the words.

“
More important than you?” she asked.

“
Well, yes. You are home to billions of humans, trillions of animal lives, to our history...and our future.”

“
But do you humans not create the history and the future?”

“
I suppose so. But there are billions of us. You are one. You are a rock star,” I said.

The woman before me smiled at my silly pun. Was I really sitting here on a mountain crest, at the back of beyond, joking with the spirit of the spinning rock which we called Planet Earth? I thought I was. Either that, or I was dreaming.

“We are all equal in the eyes of the Creator, Allison Lopez. We all have different jobs to do. Each job is as important as the next. Even the animals around you have their purposes.”

“
Surely they are not more important than you.”

“
You are giving value again where no value exists; at least, there is none in the eyes of the Creator.”

“
Well, in my eyes, you are...awesome.”

“
And in my eyes, you are equally awesome.”

I smiled at that...and was suddenly deeply touched. That Gaia, the spirit of our earth, even noticed me was almost too much to bear.

She reached out and took my hands in her own. They were so warm, so loving, so comforting.

“
Why have you chosen to speak with me?” I asked.

“
I speak to all my children. A few are ready for a deeper connection, as you are now.”

“
Why are they not ready? And why am I ready?”

“
Those who honor the earth move closer to me.”

A long time later, after sitting quietly for many minutes or perhaps, hours, I opened my eyes and looked up, and again found myself in the Spirit Chair, with tears on my cheekbones.

Chapter Twelve

I wasn’t a detective, but I was curious by nature, and it wasn’t a fluke that the Englishman, Billy Turner, had come into my life.

What, exactly, was going on, I didn’t know, but I decided that I needed more answers....which was why I found myself in Detective Smithy’s office in Beverly Hills.

Detective Smithy was a good cop with a bad mustache. Today, it looked even more askew than I remembered. He said, “You’re back.”

“
I’m back.”

“
Let me guess. You’re still a psychic?”

“
Good guess.”

Detective Smithy was a believer in my talents. Maybe not at first, but by the end of my last case, he had come full circle. That I made him nervous, there was no doubt. That he masked his nervousness by being a hard ass was obvious. Then again, he was a hard ass when I’d first met him, too. So, scratch that last.

“And you’re here about Liz Turner,” he said.

“
Maybe you’re the psychic one.”

“
Or maybe I listened to your voicemail.”

“
That, too,” I said.

“
Well, Liz is being charged with a slew of offenses, not the least of which is murder. I’m not at liberty to discuss the case with you further.”

“
I have just a few questions—”

“
Like I said, I’m not at liberty to answer them.”

“
But you are at liberty to act like a dick?”

His mouth dropped open. His mustache twitched. Then again, his mustache often twitched, the way a dying rat’s whiskers might. He thought long and hard about what to say next, then got up from behind his desk, crossed the small office, and shut the glass door. He came back to his desk, sat across from me, and said, “You can’t call me a dick.”

“I can if you’re acting like one.”

“
Look—”