Water Witch (9 page)

I started to protest, but couldn’t find an argument. Was he a distraction? He was certainly a mystery.

“I will know if you need me.” He blew a kiss to me, and I suddenly found myself standing a few feet away from him in the mossy forest. “Call me when you are ready.” He blew another kiss, and I snapped back into my body on the sand, opening my eyes to the sparkling bay before me.

***

What a jerk. Not much better than Scott, when it came right down to it. Sure his intentions may not be selfish, but it was the same decision making without discussion. Fuck him. I stood and cleared my circle, irritated at the little dismissive kiss-blowing he’d done to push me back into my body. ‘Call me when you are ready,’ my ass. I wouldn’t be calling him any time soon.

CHAPTER NINE

But damn, the next week I wanted to call him at least a dozen times. I realized then he was right, he had been influencing my actions. Not that I would give him the satisfaction of calling him to tell him, but to myself I had to admit it.

I fell into a routine: meditating and Journeying in the mornings, followed by interpreting. I had purchased a small journal, similar to my grandfather’s, and used it to record my thoughts and progress. The afternoons usually meant work for me, a massage or two, three on a good day, and then home in time to help with dinner. I hung out with Jasper or Maxwell at night, or I’d attend the coven fires, though I never left with anyone. Not that I was being faithful to Salil or anything like that.

I was managing my dream visions well. None came that I didn’t control, and most of my nights were peaceful. I still dreamed of Salil, though—erotic flashes and memories that I half-suspected he might be encouraging. But every morning I woke well rested, without clear memories of the night. It was possible they were just normal dreams.

Mabon was coming soon, and in our coven it was celebrated more elaborately than most. Both my mother and Liliana felt a strong connection to the holiday, and since they pretty much ran things, that meant we had a big Mabon ritual. I offered to help, eager for the opportunity to reconnect with the coven and make up for my long absence.

Since I was “social” as my mom put it, I was in charge of coordinating donations for the food baskets and working with the local charities where we’d be donating them. It was actually a lot of work, but it got me back into the community and I was able to chat with a few people I hadn’t seen in years. As a bonus, my business cards were in half the stores in town.

A week before Mabon I was dialing the local food pantry when the scene from my living room window made me hang up the phone: my mom, standing by the shore in her bathing suit, Noni in a beach chair, one hand resting on her head.
I’ve seen this before
. I sucked in a breath and rushed to the wooden cabinet. The door was locked, thank the Goddess. Turning around, several wet footprints on the floor made my heart race again.

I jogged to the beach. “Mom!”

She turned to me, only mildly concerned.

“Mom, you have your key to the cabinet?”

She hooked a thumb toward the pile of folded clothes on the other chair. There, on top, was her silver necklace. And among the crystals and trinkets attached to it, was the skeleton key to our old cabinet. I snatched it and ran back inside.

Everything was gone.

All the things I’d seen him with in my visions, and everything else, all our heirloom ritual stuff, was missing. The only items left inside were some candles and a few charcoal tablets. I sat down on the floor, too stunned to move, or cry, or even say a word when my mom and Noni walked in.

“You still seeing him?” My mom planted a hand on her hip and scowled down at me.

“No. I haven’t seen him in almost two weeks.”

“What do you propose we do about this?”

I just shook my head. I had no idea. “I’ll figure it out.”

She snorted and walked away.

Noni said nothing, just sighed at me and sat in her favorite chair. She looked tired.

“I will figure it out, Noni.”

“I know, Vincenzo. I know.”

After that I spent my morning meditation time focused on finding those objects. I would catch glimpses of them, but never enough to see where they were. The only clue was the vision where Salil had thrown the incense stone into the bay. I suspected the items might all be in the water, but I didn’t have the skills to pinpoint exactly where, and there was a lot of bay out there.

A few days after the cabinet incident, my mother found her favorite charm book missing. She had been planning to photocopy a recipe from it, or the loss might not have been noted for weeks. She knew all those charms by heart.

Soon after that, we all began missing things: Noni’s best earrings, Mom’s photo albums, my journals. My mother was dangerously quiet. I think she blamed me for Salil being in our lives, and I wasn’t sure she was wrong. The only thing that held her anger in check was the reminder, from Noni, that Salil was a precognitive Fae, and likely had a good reason for the thefts.

I worked nonstop on locating the lost objects, and finally caught a break with a very clear vision of our gold chalice, underwater, near a cluster of rocks that looked familiar. I had spent my whole life diving into the bay, and exploring the seafloor below. The rocks I sought weren’t far from the low rocky cliff on the north side of our property.

Unfortunately, the weather had turned against me. If the weather channel could be trusted, we were due for some summery warm weather next week, but I was afraid by then the chalice might be somewhere else entirely. The tides were strong here, and an object like that could move thousands of feet in a day if caught in a swift current. I stripped off my sweatshirt and walked to the rocks, determined to get at least one of our objects back.

The late September wind whipped around my bare legs, raising each hair in a goose-bump. Clouds sped across the sky, periodically blocking the light and heat. It was downright cold. Even if it were clear it wouldn’t have been a good swimming day. A shadow fell across the rock where I stood, and I raised my eyes to the sky. A cloud in the shape of a giant wave covered the sun, and seemed to crash down as it pushed eastward.
What does that mean?
I looked back down at the waves, their surface rippling from the wind. I should get in there. Every moment spent waiting made it harder to take the plunge.

Five, four, three, two, jump.
The water still held summer’s warmth, and at least the wind couldn’t reach me while I was submerged. Unfortunately, neither could the sun. It was too dark to see much, and I knew the chalice would be in some deep crevice, possibly covered with sand by now. The flashes of it in my visions were of a shadowy place, wedged between seaweed-covered rocks. But the rim had been clearly visible in every image I’d seen, and so I focused on finding that.

I can hold my breath longer than any human. My affinity with water helped with that, as did my almost daily practice sessions. So I had time to adjust to the dark and get my bearings. I hadn’t been under here in years. Things looked different, and I doubted if I even had the right area. There were way more rocks than I remembered. I followed the first line of rocks to the end, then swam to the next cluster. Finally, the rocks from my vision came into view. A glint of gold in the dim water had my heart racing, and I reached out for the chalice.

I touched it, solid and smooth under my fingers. My lungs were burning, but I ignored the sensation. I could swim up as soon as I grabbed the chalice. My fingers wrapped around it, I started to kick toward the surface, and found myself stuck. The chalice was barely touching the sandy bottom of the bay, but it wouldn’t move. I pulled. I dug around the base with my fingers. I rolled it a few inches to one side. Nothing was holding it there, but I couldn’t lift it.
Fuck.
I sped to the surface, giving my quarry one last glance.
Fuck fuck fuck.

Above the waves the wind chilled my face instantly, and I took deep lungfulls of air. Damn. The thing was spelled, or charmed, or cursed, or some shit. I dove again, not willing to give up. Maybe if I focused as I touched it, I could get some insight into whatever spell was holding it there?

I located the chalice easily. This time I was able to roll it quite a ways, but no matter how far I moved it sideways, it would not move up off the sandy ground. I tried to read it, like when I did a healing, to see if I could identify the spell holding it, but it felt empty, like any other inanimate object.

My mother had listened as I recounted my battle with the chalice without saying a word.

“What do you think I should try?”

“Nothing. Leave it. If you see him again, ask him.” She seemed distracted and not at all worried enough.

“I thought you’d be a little more fired up about this. What’s going on?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Just a lot on my mind. Is everything all set for tomorrow?”

I didn’t buy that. Mabon was tomorrow, but I knew she had all her charms made and the decorations ready. “Yes, the baskets are done, they’ll be picked up in the morning. Liliana said it was the best year yet for donations.” Okay I was tooting my own horn a bit there, but it did snap my mom out of her funk.

“That’s because you’re such a charmer.” She placed her palm on my cheek like she’d done when I was little and smiled as she gave it a soft pat. “I’m going to have dinner with Ren and Dana. Make sure Noni eats something?”

“Sure.”

Noni had heard there was a frost threat, and insisted I go harvest anything in the garden that was even remotely ready. Then, upon seeing the six fat glossy eggplants I brought in, she decided we would make fried eggplant. Of course, by “we” she meant me. She supervised while sitting at the counter and sipping tea, offering plenty of suggestions to improve my breading and frying technique. I would have been insulted, but Noni was Noni. Bossing people around was her usual, and it felt nice to hang out with her.

“Eh! Too much!”

I laughed and dipped the eggplant (which I had cut too thickly and not salted enough) into the egg batter anyway.

“You won’t be laughing when all that flour turns to glue!”

“You said the last one didn’t have enough flour. Which is it?”

“Both! You need to do just the right amount.”

I laughed again and purposely dredged the next slice (cut too thin, of course) so lightly there was hardly any flour on it.

“Bah! Now you’re just being fresh.” She shook her head and sipped her tea, but snuck her hand out to take one of the already fried slices from the paper-towel lined plate in front of her.

I watched her nibble it and waited for a judgment. “Well?”

“Not bad. You must have done this one right.”

“I need some wine.”

“Get more oil while you’re in there. The pan is too low, they’ll all be dark if you don’t add more soon!”

I pulled a bottle of wine and the oil jug from the pantry. No wonder my mom spent so much time with Ren and Dana.

When the kitchen was clean and we’d gorged ourselves on greasy fried eggplant slices and fresh tomato salad, Noni shuffled off to the living room to watch television, and I went to my room to write in my new journal.  

I’d carefully avoided thinking too much about whatever tragedy I was going to endure, only directing my meditations to safe subjects. But now I tried to make sense of everything, and allowed myself a few moments of worry. I thought of Salil as well, and his thieving. Was that related? I knew nothing of the Fae, really. What if he was the tragedy? Was I wrong to trust his intentions? Were there other Fae to worry about? Was that why he didn’t want to kiss me? Was the bond I had sensed between us a dangerous one?

When I’d been with him, in life or in vision, I’d trusted him completely. But now, I wasn’t sure. Had I fallen for some sort of trick or glamour? Would he be responsible for my family’s downfall? I wrote my worries in my journal, drained the last of the wine, and went to sleep. Unsurprisingly, I dreamed of Salil. Not a vision, not a dream-meeting, just a run of the mill erotic dream. Same as I’d had almost every night for the past few weeks.

Mabon went perfectly, except for the chill in the air. But it was a beautiful ceremony, and I felt more connected to my coven than I ever had before. I sat with Maxwell by the bonfire and ate leftover apple cake, ignoring the flirty looks I got from the dark-haired guy a few benches to my left. Was his name Ray? Roger? Something like that. More people showed up for Sabbat Rites like Mabon than for the lesser Esbat Rites, so there were a lot of faces here I only sort of recognized.

“You know that dude is checking you out, right?” Maxwell mumbled before taking a long swig from his beer.

“Yeah. Not interested.”

“Saving yourself for the Fae?” He teased.

“Hey, where’s Myra?” I asked with mock sincerity.

“Touché.”

We both laughed and drank, but I noticed him glance around the fire until his gaze landed on her, sitting alone on a bench across from us, huddled under a thick cloak.

“She looks cold over there, man. And lonely. You should go chat her up.”

He scoffed and took another long drink, but his eyes stayed on her.

“Seriously, go sit with her. Don’t wait until your parents set it up. Or hers. And call me tomorrow to tell me how it went.” I stood and slapped him on the shoulder.

His mouth twisted into a reluctant smile, and he nodded. “All right. But if she’s crazy I’m blaming you.”

“Good enough.”

I left, careful not to walk past R-something with the dark hair. If he was going to follow me, he’d be disappointed anyway. I went straight to my car and drove home.