The Witches of Merribay (The Seaforth Chronicles) (8 page)

Chapter
Eleven

When we walked in to Izadora's, she was in the living room where the big tree grew up through the floor, with all of its hanging bottles and various items displayed on the limbs. She sat by the fireplace, using an end table to write a letter on.

“I'll be with you in a moment.” She stuck the letter in an envelope and sealed it with wax from a candle
. Then she stamped it with the foot of a dead animal—it looked as though it were a bird’s foot—and put it in the pocket of her blue robe-dress.

“Would you like me to mail that for you, Izadora?” I asked
, thinking I was being helpful.

She just looked at me
. She pushed herself up after a few tries, using the arms of the chair, and walked to the fireplace. She held her hands over a small pile of kindling and recited some words, and a fire blazed. She retrieved the letter from her pocket and tossed it into the fire, mumbling a few words under her breath. It slowly burned to nothing.

She certainly had a way with fire
; I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Then again, it was Izadora. If I had my doubts before, they were banished from mind, and at this point I was certain she was some sort of witch. It made me feel almost nervous, but in a way it exhilarated me. She'd be the one to get my father back.

Confused, I asked, “Why would you do that?”

She sighed. “I am sending a letter to my brother, Izaill. I've threatened his very existence. He should not bother you during the day, when I am…awake. However, you are more or less on your own at night. There is only so much I can do during sundown and sunup. Be extra careful when you enter Magella's houseboat tonight. ”

“Your brother? H
—he is your brother?” I stammered.

“Of course
. The old fool,” was all she said.

Al
l right, things had just gotten too weird for me. What the hell kind of family was this? I set the thoughts aside, and tried to stay calm. It wouldn't do for me to have a breakdown in front of everyone.

“How
, um…you just sent him a letter by burning it in the fire?” I asked.

Drumm snickered
. “Ivy, that's how they do it.”

“You have a lot to learn
. That much I am certain of,” Izadora said as she waddled to the kitchen, leaning heavily on her cane. She appeared much older than she had yesterday. Perhaps she hadn't slept well the night before.

“You can't stay here long
. It will be sundown soon. But I will tell you what I have learned about Izaill and why
he
had your father,” Izadora said.

My mouth dropped
. “Izaill took him? But why?”

“He's opened a can of worms, he has
. He could never leave anything alone. Always has to be prying in others’ affairs…just like Magella. Two peas in a pod, they are,” she said.

“How so?” I asked
.

She stood at the stove, over a pot of water
. She didn't turn the stove on; she just held her hand above the pot and, voilà, the water was brought to a boil. Several opened glass bottles sat upon the counter. She took a pinch from each one and added them to the water. An earthy smell filled the kitchen.

Drumm leaned back on the front door,
his arms crossed. I sat in a single wooden chair and waited for her to tell me about Izaill.

“Izaill has one interest.” She stopped speaking
. I noticed she didn't say his name in a hushed tone like everyone else did.

I had to ask
. “Why don't you say his name in a whisper like everyone else does?”

She looked at me as though I were daft
. “Why would I do that? If he wants to show up for the mere fact that I spoke his name aloud, let him. I do not fear Izaill. I'll put him in his place.” She stirred the contents of the pot. “Now, do you want to hear what he wants or not?”

“I do.”

“He has taken an interest in you and your sister. You are Seaforths. You are allies with the McCallister family—true, loyal friends. It has always been that way, and it will always be that way. The families are tied like a knot. The older generation of Seaforths is aware of all McCallister secrets.”

“I don't understand what that has to do with anything.” I knew the McCallisters and Seaforths had always been neighbors
—and of course, they were good friends—but how good, I didn't care.

“McCallisters own the woods in these parts
. The whole thing. Seaforths have always catered to them, worked for them, helped them. Izaill wants the woods for himself. He wants to turn the next generation of Seaforths against the McCallisters. That would be you and Zinnia. And what better way to get under your skin than by stealing your father? If he can own you, he will have the upper hand. As you know, your grandparents grow old. You will one day take their place, regardless of your own wishes.”  She removed the pot from the stove, dumping the contents through a cheese cloth and into a clay mug.

“Own us? And I don't plan on living in Maine for much longer.”

She chuckled and exchanged a knowing look with Drumm.

“He has your father already
, but I shall have him returned. My sister has already tried to get her hooks into Zinnia, on Izaill’s behalf. But you—you have turned to me. Wise choice. I will protect you until my last breath. I would rather die than have him own these woods. He would do terrible things with the power this land holds.” She looked me in the eye. “But one thing is for certain: I need that rolling pin.”

The pressure was on
. I had to get the rolling pin, no matter what.

I barely listened to her about how the land had power
; I didn't care. After I had my father back, we were leaving Maine. But when she mentioned my sister, I felt uneasy.

“What do you mean? Magella has tried to get her hooks into my sister, to do what?”

“She has offered her what she considers a good deal. Whether she has accepted, I do not know yet.”

“A good deal?” 

“Extension of life.” 

I watched Izadora furtively, doubting what she said
. Sometimes I wondered if she were senile, despite her ability to make the water boil on command. But when she snapped her fingers and made a saltshaker appear, I relinquished my thoughts.

“You doubt what I say? I myself could give a person
two thousand years of life, added to their own life. But it is playing with fate. I will not do it.”

Thinking of the night before
, I told Izadora about Zinnia possibly putting something into my tea to make me sleep.

“It is as I feared
, then. I believe she has fallen for my sister’s offer.”

I began to chew my nails, my thoughts becoming fuzzy
. I couldn't lose my sister to a pair of old crazies. Izaill and Magella had to be stopped. I looked to Izadora.

She took a needle out from her pocket
, and I knew what was coming. She pricked her finger and held it over the mug, letting a drop of blood hit the contents.

I wrinkled my face
. “Not again.”

“Do you want to be protected or not? Drink
. This concoction will enhance the protection that already exists within you. As I have stated before, if you are in trouble, I will know. But like I said, help is scarce during the night hours.” And then she added, “For now.”

I didn't know what occupied her during the evening
, but I would do as she said. I would have to be so careful when entering Magella's boat. I would be on my own.

I took the mug and drank the liquid, holding my nose so I wouldn't taste the bitter contents
.

“There
. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked.

“Blah
,” I said.

“We will go now, before the sun sets
,” Drumm said.

***

On the way back to Ian's gate, I asked Drumm where he slept at night.

“Sleep? I don't sleep much
. But when I do, it's on the steps of Izadora's tree house, with the dogs. We must continually guard Izadora. While I am away, they always stay alert and on guard.”

“I see.” I pictured him l
aying his head on one of the dogs for twenty minutes a night, and the rest of the time, his bow and arrow was ready to shoot trespassers.

“Who would bother her?”

“There are a few that wish her harm. It's hard to explain. Maybe another time. You must get to your aunt's café.”

Surprisingly, Ian was not at the gate
. Drumm let me through. After all, he was privileged enough to open the McCallister gate, and I was not.

“See you tomorrow
,” I said.

Drumm nodded his head
.

I walked through the path of death and onto
the cherry tree lane. A smooth, calm breeze swept through the path, bringing blossoms with it. A
whoosh
sound carried throughout the treetops, and the limbs swayed. The sun set a pinkish hue, creating an enchanting atmosphere.

I had begun to jog to Ian's
, but I slowed to a walk. My skin prickled, and I felt as though I were being watched. After a few more steps, I heard a
tap-tap-tap
of feet behind me, as though someone were on the path. I turned to see no one. A gust of wind blew through the trees again; my hair blew across my eyes. I pulled it back, preparing to use the elastic I kept around my wrist, but I was sorely shocked to see someone standing in the path blocking my way.

My stomach tightened, causing it to hurt for a few seconds
. I let out a breath that I sucked in too fast. Ian's sister stood before me. Her face was alight with a sunny smile. S
he wore a yellow sundress, and her feet were bare.

“Hello
,” I said uneasily.

She did not reply with words, but waved.

“How are you?” I said, not knowing what else to say.

She looked pleased but did not say anything
. She moved to the side and I slowly walked by; the hair on my arms stood up on end.

“Have a nice evening
,” I said as I passed. I walked swiftly once I passed, turning once to look over my shoulder. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, swinging her hips from side to side, watching me as I sped away.

Creepy
. The girl was downright creepy. She looked young, too—younger than Ian by several years. I guess Old Sam had kids well into his fifties. He had to be in his nineties by now.

I had to wonder why she wouldn't speak to me
. Maybe she was just shy. Regardless, she gave me the willies, and I hoped I would never run into her again.

Chapter Twelve

Aunt Clover insisted Aunt Cora stay and hang out with us for the evening
. I thought for sure she'd decline, with all those new books she'd purchased today. Surprisingly she accepted.

We
started out the evening making raspberry meringue pie and peanut butter cheesecake in the modern café kitchen. My aunts could cook, especially Aunt Cora. Everything she ever made, that I tasted, could be presented to the proverbial gods. Both aunts never used a cookbook for guidance, and they only had one giant book that they recorded their recipes in. It sat in the corner of the café kitchen covered in dust.

Aunt Clover suggested that we sit at a table in the dining area
. I agreed. “Let's light some candles out there for a soft ambiance,” said Aunt Clover. We proceeded to do so.

I took a piece of peanut butter cheesecake and sat at a table by the window
. I had seen Magella's boat there when I'd arrived, and I wanted to keep an eye on it for a bit. From the few times I had been able to watch, no one had entered and no one had left.

Aunt Cora poured herself a generous helping of red wine into a large wine goblet and sat beside me, setting her recorder on the table
. She hadn't complained of any ailments all night, and I hadn't heard her document anything.

Aunt Clover soon followed and sat across from me
. She had brought a platter with teacups, boiling water, and loose tea.

“Let's have us a good tea reading tonight
,” she said.

A single light in the kitchen over one of the stoves remained on, leaving the candles as our main source of light
and giving the place a cozy, relaxed atmosphere. The candle flames cast shadows upon the walls, flickering back and forth as though they were dancing.

The thought of a tea
-leaf reading added a sense of the mystical and mysterious. Had it been any other night, I would have enjoyed myself.

But circumstances wouldn't allow it
. I knew what I had to do soon. I had to steal a rolling pin. The thought of theft bothered me—it gnawed at me—but I had to do it. My father's return depended upon it. Besides, Magella shouldn't have stolen it from Izadora to begin with. I still didn't like it.

“When it cools down, drink the tea
, ladies,” Aunt Clover said.

I hoped that by one o'clock
, Aunt Cora would have left and Aunt Clover would be sound asleep in bed. If not, I'd have to insist that I wanted to be alone to take a short walk and stretch my legs. It wasn't much of a plan, but I'd have to get to Magella's boat regardless.

A short while later, after they chatted about buying a new oven for the
café, and me staring out the window at Magella's boat, Aunt Clover said, “Let's drink the tea now, girls, leaving a tiny bit in the bottom. Think about something that is on your mind as you are drinking it. Otherwise it doesn't work well.”

She was a master of all things occult
. Tea readings, tarot card readings, angel readings, aura readings, palm readings—you name it, she did it. She never claimed to be psychic; however, she had an uncanny way of reading the signs, and being pretty accurate about it.

“You girls are right
-handed, so hold the cup with the left hand, put your right hand over the top, and twirl it twice to the right and three times to the left. Then tip the cup over onto the saucer and let the remaining juice drain, then turn it back over and set it on the table,” said Aunt Clover.

We did as she told us
.

“Who goes first?” asked Aunt Clover.

“You go first, Aunt Cora,” I said. I could tell by the way she sat on the edge of her seat that she couldn't possibly wait. She pulled her brown hair behind her ears.

Being an attractive thirty
-eight-year-old woman, you'd think Aunt Cora would have a husband by now, a fiancé, or even a boyfriend. For as long as I could remember, she'd had none of those. The town was small, but there had to be men here and in the surrounding towns. Tons of people came to the café. It never occurred to me that there could be a good reason for her lack of interest in finding someone.

“Okay
, if you really want me to.” She smiled. She wrung her hands in anticipation, as if this tea reading would answer all of her questions. And then she wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt and leaned in toward the teacup.

“I see here”
—Aunt Clover tipped the tea cup one way and then another—“a turtle. That usually means success is slow but sure to come.”

“Yes, go on
. Continue,” Aunt Cora said.

“I see the symbol for good fortune
: a horseshoe. And, well, look right here…”

She held the cup up to Aunt Cora
, and a big smile spread across her face.

“It looks like a man's head
,” said Aunt Cora. “Maybe he'll change. Maybe he'll come back to me.”

“Oh
, Cora. You need to let him go. He's gone,” said Aunt Clover.

“There is always a chance they will let him return.”
Aunt Cora's face turned as red as her wine.

Squirming in my chair, I asked, “Who?”

Both aunts turned to me as though they had forgotten I was there. “Your aunt Cora lost someone about twelve years ago. He was—” Aunt Clover said.

“Taken away
. He was taken away,” Aunt Cora interrupted, her eyes glazing over as she stared at a candle flame.

Not wanting to bring up too many memories of the past, I asked, “Who took him?” 

Aunt Cora let out a long sigh, not answering me.

“It was a long time ago
. We don't need to discuss it any further,” Aunt Clover said firmly. Then a smile spread across her face. “Your turn, Ivy.”

It explained a lot
. My aunt Cora pined for a man that was taken from her by another woman. I felt sorry for her, but if he had been taken by another woman, why not let him go? She should just get over him and move on.

Picking up
Aunt Cora's teacup, I did in fact see the turtle. Turning it to the side, I saw the horseshoe, and slightly turning it more, I saw the outline of a man's profile: the nose, the lips. There was something else that caught my eye at the rim, and I started to say as much. “There also looks like a—”

“Put the cup down now, Ivy
. Never mind—” Aunt Clover whispered.

Aunt Cora, t
aking a long haul from her wine glass, didn't miss the exchange. “What? Is there something else you see in there?”

The ends of her mouth sagged
, and I felt the pressure to tell her. “It looks like a plant…like a daisy or something.”

She looked at Aunt Clover and said, “What does that mean?”

Aunt Clover gave a long sigh and said, “It means you will reap what you sow. But I didn't want to say anything—”

“Oh, holy hell! You weren't going to tell me? I knew it
! They'll come for me too.” She smacked herself on the forehead.

I had no idea what she could be talking about
, but I gripped the edge of my chair as though I might fall out of it.

“No one is coming for you
. Just relax,” Aunt Clover said, waving her hand to dismiss the conversation.

“Never
mind, the past is the past. I'm all set.” Aunt Cora tipped her wine glass and drank, and then she said, “And to me, the flower means I should pay more attention to my lilies. They are being attacked by the morning glory vines. I can't have that, now can I?” Another sip of wine.

Confused, I wanted to ask who could possibly be coming for her
. I decided against it; I didn't want to upset her further.

“Let's read yours now.” Aunt Clover smiled at me
. She peered in the cup, leaning in then back out. She wrinkled her nose up and set the cup back down.

“Yours doesn't look so promising
, but this is just for fun, after all.” She gave me a reassuring smile.

“Just lay it on me
. What does it say?” I sighed.

“Well, this here looks like linking circles
…signifying a chain, or chain of events.” She turned the cup sideways. “And this adjacent symbol goes along with it. A dagger or knife—probably a knife, which means a hidden enemy. But I can't imagine that you would have any enemies, Ivy.” She stopped to squint and observe the next symbol. “The dots you see here might symbolize a journey of sorts. Anyway, then we have what looks like…well, I don't know…” But I knew she did.

“Can I see it?” She handed me the cup
. I picked up a candle to get the best light I could. I looked at the cup in different angles. I could see the circles, the knife, and the dots, and then I looked at what she must have seen. Wax dripped on my hand, but I didn't even feel it.

“That symbol is a coffin
,” I said blankly. “What does it mean?”

“Well, I don't know that it's a coffin
, but that would mean…death of something. Perhaps the death of something to allow something else to begin.”

“And this next picture looks like a cobra
. What does that mean?”

“Danger
, to you or someone you know.”

“I have all warning symbols
,” I stated.

“Ohhh.” Aunt Cora sighed as though life were such a bother.

“Just take it easy, and don't do anything out of the ordinary. Everything will be fine. Besides, it is just a tea reading. Nothing is ever written in stone,” said Aunt Clover.

“No
. Nothing ever is, is it?” I said sarcastically, knowing that I would be doing just what she warned against: something out of the ordinary.

“Anyway
, let's go play the piano upstairs.” Aunt Cora and the wine bottle both disappeared into the kitchen and up the stairs to the apartment.

“C'mon. We might as well do what she wants or she'll sulk all evening
,” Aunt Clover said.

Taking one last look out the window
, I couldn't believe my eyes. The wind had picked up, it had begun to rain, and the houseboat swayed on the water. But what really got me was that a girl was coming out the door of Magella's houseboat. By the time she climbed onto the dock and stepped on the asphalt, I knew who it was. My sister.

I ran to the front door, unlocked it
, and peered out. She had disappeared. “Zinnia!” I yelled. Rain splashed my face.

Aunt Clover walked back into the dining area
. “Zinnia is at Becky's, sweetheart. Lock the door and come on upstairs.”

“But I just saw her!” I yelled
. “And she is not at Becky's!” I wiped my face on my shirtsleeve.

My aunt looked at me funny, making me feel like a fool
. “It's not too late. Let’s just call over there and see.” She dialed the phone and handed it to me.

Becky picked up on the fourth ring
. “Hello?”

“Becky, this is Ivy
. Have you seen Zinnia tonight?” I thought I knew exactly what she would say. I was wrong.

“Yeah
, she's, um…she is here, but you can't talk to her. She’s, um…taking a bath.”

“Oh really?” I said.

“Maybe she can call you back, but I don't know how long she's going to be in there.”

“No thanks
. I'll see her later. Bye.” I smiled at Aunt Clover as though everything were just fine.

“Bye
,” Becky said and hung up the phone.

I handed Aunt Clover back the phone and said, “You were right
. She's at Becky's.” Nothing I could do or say would convince her otherwise. If she called Becky herself, she'd get the same answer.

“See, I told you!” She turned and ran up the stairs
.

I had no idea why just this morning Becky complained of not seeing Zinnia for over a week
, but all of a sudden she was covering for her. I had just seen my sister; I knew she wasn't at Becky's. So, why all of a sudden did Becky feel the need to cover up for her? And what was Zinnia up to?

She had been acting funny lately, barely eating
. She looked gaunt and pale all the time, almost sickly. She had put something in my tea to make me sleep, and now she had a new “friend,” Magella.

Izadora had been right
; they were in cahoots together. Ivy had accepted some sort of offer from her.

I ran upstairs to Aunt Clover's apartment to find Aunt Cora banging away at the piano keys
. Her head swayed, and she belted out the words as though she were at a concert of her own. Then she stopped to laugh.

She made me and Aunt Clover sit on the piano bench and sing for a
while. At one point Aunt Cora almost fell off the bench.

Then she decided to share a lovely story with us
—one I could have done without.

“Imagine taking three ex-lax in the evening and waking up to nothing
. You get called in to work, even though it's your day off. On the way there, you get into a car accident. Just then, it hits you. You have to use the restroom, but you’re stuck there with the person you hit, and a cop. Imagine that. Wouldn't that be awful?”