Water Witch (3 page)

CHAPTER THREE

The dreams came anyway. Not truly visions, but disturbing nonetheless.

I was crying, sobbing like a baby, while the Fae held me close. I didn’t fear him, but neither did I love him. It was as if he was irrelevant to me, just a body to hold. Grief consumed me and I clung to him, only marginally aware of his silky skin and tight muscles around me. No words passed between us.

I woke confused and exhausted.

On the highway, I talked to myself out loud in the car, trying to work through the things I knew. After an hour of repeating the same few facts like an idiot, I was no closer to understanding anything. I knew one thing: he was a lot more powerful than me, or any other witch I knew. A fact that both intrigued and terrified me. It might have only terrified me, but the crying dream had actually given me some comfort. If I trusted him enough for that, even in a vision, it probably meant he was okay.
Probably.

The highway flashed by in long straight stretches with nothing to look at, no turns to make, no traffic. Yawning again, I rolled my window all the way down for some fresh air. I never slept great in hotels, and the weird dreams hadn’t helped. I pulled off for lunch and a strong coffee. I would have taken my time, done some sightseeing or shopping, or just checked into a hotel early, but the memory of that Fae walking his wet feet through my house had me back on the road quickly. I was still a day away, even if I pushed myself. I considered driving through the night, but it was too dangerous. I needed to get home in one piece, and preferably without any traffic tickets.

Scott called that afternoon.

“You said you’d call.”

I cringed. “Sorry. I’ve been preoccupied.”

“Did something happen? Are you okay?”

I flushed with guilt. Scott wasn’t a bad guy, and I knew he cared about me, maybe even loved me in his own self-centered way. “No. I’m fine, just some drama at home, nothing serious.” His relieved sigh made me wince. “I’m sorry I left so fast.”

“Yeah, well, I understand. I knew you’d be pissed about the Phoenix thing. I should have treated you better.” His voice cracked, and he let out a little cough to cover it, a harsh sound made louder since I had him on speaker.

“We both made mistakes. I don’t regret our time together, though. It’s just…over.”

“Yeah.” He was silent a few minutes, and then let out a deep sigh. “Where are you?”

“Just crossed into Oklahoma.”

“Okay then. I guess I’ll let you go.”

“Okay.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Hey, Scott? I really am sorry about how I left. That was shitty of me. I mean, I was pissed about Phoenix, but I still should have stayed to talk it over. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know how you are, you’ve always been like that. You turn the other cheek for a long time, but when you’re done, you’re done. I knew it would happen eventually, I just…thought I had more time. I should have told you up front I was never going to move back east.”

“Well, yeah, you should have.”
Fucking prick.
Suddenly I didn’t feel guilty at all. “Good luck in Phoenix.”

“Thanks. Bye, Vinny.”

Well that was a clean break, at least. I turned up the radio and lost myself in the endless string of country songs. I’d never been a fan of country music, but I started paying attention to the lyrics somewhere before Amarillo that morning and found the sad stories matched my mood.

I rolled in to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania the next day at five, exhausted. No way could I make it on the road another six hours. No way. I ate a huge dinner, found a hotel, and called home.

“Hey Mom, I won’t make it home until tomorrow. I don’t think I can drive any more today.” I was embarrassed to admit it, as if I’d failed her or something. Which was stupid because I hadn’t.

“I told you twelve hours is longer than you think in the car.”

I rolled my eyes. She’d never driven farther than Boston. “You were right. I think I’m going to get a room here for the night.” I sat on a couch in the hotel lobby. There must have been a wedding or something nearby, the only people I’d seen walking through were in evening gowns and suits. I hoped there’d be a room for me, because the thought of driving even five more minutes to find another hotel was horrifying. “Okay, Mom. Well, so, you’ll be all right tonight then?” I winced, knowing how it sounded.

“Sweetie,” she laughed, “I think I’ll survive.”

“Sorry. I know you will.” My mom was a powerful witch. Not much could scare her, especially while she was on our home soil.

“Did you have another vision?”

“No.” No way was I telling her about the weird crying dream. Plus I had no idea what it meant, and I didn’t need any guilt about respecting my power or studying my craft tonight. “I’m just worried. I’m not sure why.”

“Okay. I’ll be careful,” she promised, her voice soft and serious. Her faith in me was flattering.

“Mom, do you know anything about the Fae?”

“I talked to Noni.” She sighed, and I pictured her sitting on the old wood chair in the kitchen. “No, I don’t know much. Your grandfather knew more. He said he’d met several Fae once, years ago. He’d never talk about it, though.”

“Okay, so, what do you know?”

“I know they have a lot more power than we do. Real power.” She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “What we have, as witches, is elemental power. Even the strongest witches—those of us who move objects, or see glimpses of the future, or affect fire or air—essentially we’re just manipulating what’s already there. But Fae can actually change things. They can create new matter, some of them. Or pass between planes of existence.”

“Like other dimensions? You think that’s real?” I’d heard that too, but it was hard to believe. Even with all the magic I’d seen in my life, I couldn’t fathom anything so outside of the laws of nature.

“Yes. And your grandfather thought so, too.” Something in her tone told me she was holding back. Whether my insight was premonition or just that I knew her so well, I couldn’t say.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

She sighed, and there was a scuff of the chair on the wood floor, as if she’d stood suddenly. “When you were little he came home all shaken up one day. I don’t know if it was a vision, or a real thing, but he said he’d seen another plane. When we asked him to tell us about it, he clammed up. Wouldn’t say another word, not even to Noni. And he wouldn’t even let us mention it in front of you.”

“Like he was keeping it from me?” My grandfather was like a father to me, and I thought we’d shared everything. He taught me how to handle my visions, how to dive to the bottom of the bay, how to play Bocce. But I’d been young when he died. Probably my memory was skewed.

“I’m sure he had a reason,” she offered, her gentle tone proving she knew the path my thoughts had taken.

“Yeah.” And maybe he’d have told me eventually. “Okay, well, I’ll be home tomorrow sometime. Love you.”

That night I thankfully had no dreams, and when I woke I checked out and got on the road without delay. The usual congestion near New York, and then some roadwork just after New Haven, extended my trip from five and a half hours to more like seven. Just after four o’clock I pulled into the driveway. My tires crunching on the crushed oyster shells and the familiar glinting of sun on the water just beyond our lawn comforted me.

Our house was low, a one story cottage hugging the earth and surrounded by herb, flower, and vegetable gardens. Its silvered cedar shingles and white wood trim meant home to me, and I took a deep breath of tangy ocean air as I got out of the car. The wind-chimes blowing in the breeze played the song of my childhood, and together with my mom’s Stevie Nicks album drifting out from the open windows, it dissolved any lingering stress from my long drive.

My mom was at the kitchen island, chopping herbs. She looked up when I walked in, gave me a huge smile, and rubbed her hands together to clean them of basil pieces. “Vinny! Get over here!”

I tried to “get over there,” but she met me more than half way, wrapping me in her strong arms and squeezing me. Kind of embarrassing that my mom was almost my height and could probably take me in an arm wrestling match, but I’d mostly gotten used to it. She always said I was built like my father, though I wouldn’t know as I’d never met him. Apparently he had been slender and wiry. My mom, on the other hand, was curvy and muscular, with wild hair, kind eyes, and an obnoxiously loud laugh. 

“I missed you, Mom.” I spoke into her hair, which I noticed was now more than half silver. I hadn’t been gone that long, had I?

She pulled away and held me by the shoulders, examining me. “You okay? Any regrets about leaving him?”

“No. It was the right thing.”

She smiled thinly and nodded, her eyes still searching my face for possible signs of heartache. “Doesn’t make it easy. How’s he doing with it?”

“Seems fine. I think he knows it was the best move for both of us. I’m really okay, Mom, I promise.”

Finally she let me go. “All right.”

I gestured to the piles of herbs on the counter. “You need help?”

“Just going to put it all in the freezer for winter. Here, put the sage in this.” She handed me an empty mason jar.

I stuffed it with the herb, as she did the same with the basil. Even though the job was minor, it felt nice to be in the kitchen with her again. The old knotty pine cabinets, topped with shelves of trinkets, reminded me of all the happy years I’d spent here as a kid.
Home
. Last time I’d been here was for Yule, and it was a rushed visit, full of laughter and gifts and wine, but not much quiet family time. Now the pleasure of just being here, safe and secure and loved, filled me with contentment.

She wiped the counter clean of the tiny herb pieces that were left behind, while I stacked the jars in the freezer. I turned back to her as she was folding the dishtowel over the edge of the old porcelain sink. On the counter near her was a small pile of seashells and two dirty coffee mugs, waiting to be washed: one a souvenir I’d brought back from the trip Scott and I had taken to Mexico last winter, and the other a junior high school ceramics project. I smiled at seeing it. “You still use the mug I painted for you?”

“Of course.” She ran her fingers over the edge of it reverently. “I love it.”

I shook my head and scoffed.

She turned to face me. “I do!” A few steps and she was wrapping me in a hug. Again. “Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay about leaving Scott? You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know, Mom. I’ve told you everything already. I’m fine, really. You know, on the way home, my blood sang to me the whole way. This is the right thing for me. I’m sure of it.”

Her smile then was genuine and dazzling, and I laughed out loud. What a relief to be back in this kitchen with her, and to have made her so happy.

She pulled away and slapped my chest lightly with the back of her hand. “Come on, Noni’s out in the yard.”

We found my grandmother in a lawn chair pulled up close to the herb bed, leaning over pulling weeds. “Mom, Vinny’s home. And he’s ‘perfectly fine’ with the breakup, so don’t bother asking.” She elbowed me as she said it, and I laughed.

“Hey, Noni.” I leaned down and hugged her delicate shoulders.

“Vincenzo, ah, my sweet boy.” She stood, using my elbow to support her. “Finally home.” She kissed my cheek and then pinched it, just like when I was a kid. “You must be hungry after your trip. Let’s eat.”

After a late lunch of leftover gnocchi and an hour of conversation, I stood and stretched my arms to the ceiling. “I think I’m going for a swim.”

My mom laughed. “Surprised you waited so long.”

I dug a bathing suit out from a bag of clothes in the trunk of my car, changed quickly, and jogged to the water’s edge. I noted the water level and smiled.
High tide
. Fifty yards into the bay, only the tip of the dark gray boulder was visible. I’d swum to that rock almost every summer day of my childhood. I’d missed it.

I waded in thigh deep, absorbing the energy of the water, the nourishing minerals of it, the pulsing throb of tidal push and pull. I reached out my awareness to the fish and crustaceans around me, their lives like little sparks of fire in the water, filling me with happiness. Then I dove forward, swimming toward the boulder.

Half way there I flipped over and floated on my back in the water, moving just enough to stay afloat, and stared at the clouds drifting in the blue August sky. Damn, being home felt great. I did miss Scott a little, even though I knew he’d been an ass. Maybe I’d go out tonight? Find someone to screw around with and take my mind off him.
Good plan
. I got a little excited just thinking about it, and arched my hips back in the water so the seam of my bathing suit stretched over my cock.
Nice.

A sound behind me, like a soft sigh, sent my pulse racing. I turned quickly to the boulder, and splashed back, startled. “You!”

The Fae. Sitting on the rock,
on my fucking rock
, with his knees drawn up to his chin, watching me.