Chapter 12 #2
T he air that fateful evening had been mixed with an odd, energetic pulse as I neared her home. A psychic, prodding energy speared my mind as if it were attempting to decipher my intentions. However, it did not ward me off.
Through instinct and experience, I knew she had set up a protection barrier on her land.
It was weak, but present. Had I trespassed with the intent to do her actual harm, I imagine this pulse would have been accompanied by a slight feeling of trepidation meant to discourage the pursuit of my plans.
Perhaps a person unfamiliar with magick would have been easier to influence into retreat.
As I crossed that energetic line of defense, the feeling transformed to something more magnetic . At the time, I had attributed it to my own desires of gaining entry to her home and carrying out my plan to gather intel on Keegan’s little Achilles’ heel .
The lock on the old back door had been easy enough to pick, and I entered her humble abode…and I do mean humble . The old farmhouse was in desperate need of quite a few renovations and repairs.
Most of the downstairs consisted of an eat-in kitchen, a half bathroom, a small seating room, and a large foyer with a staircase leading to a single bedroom on the second floor. I suspected she moved into the place fully furnished.
There was no mail to be found lying about…nothing easily identified as personal. No bills, no bank statements, no photos of family. It was merely a somewhat rundown, fifties-time-capsule of a home that was far from being hers . She was clearly hiding from her past.
The desire to know more intensified beyond the need to weaponize what I could about her. I had found that feeling… peculiar.
The sitting room housed a curio cabinet, which she had filled with her herbs and oils.
One in particular, labeled Seduction , had caught my eye.
After twisting off the vial’s cap, I inhaled the contents, taking in heady notes of sandalwood, amber, styrax, and an acutely feminine musk which had immediately stirred masculine desires.
The label was handwritten, a concoction of her own crafting.
I lifted the small vial to examine it further, noticing a chip of carnelian resting at the bottom of the oil, a stone which amplifies sexual energy, among other things.
Paired with these oils commonly used as sacral energy stimulants, it was evident our little witch was clear in her intentions for this potent potion.
I removed a red bandana from my pocket, dabbed a few generous drops of Seduction into the cloth to take with me, before I placed the vial back in the cabinet among the rest of her collection.
When I stepped out of the room and stood in the foyer, taking in the place, a black cat descended the steps, vibrant green eyes scrutinizing me with bold suspicion.
Of course, a little witch would reside in an old house with a black cat…
“Hello, friend,” I greeted him with a smile.
The handsome creature moved closer, jumping onto the foyer table beside a small closet under the stairs.
Tail held high, tip hooked to the side, he had signaled a friendly curiosity.
I stepped closer to stroke his sleek back.
With a robust purr, he rubbed his face against the sleeve of my leather jacket.
“Well, aren’t you a lousy guardian . Here I am, intruding upon your mistress with less than pure intentions, and you …
” I began to say, when he suddenly jumped off the table, quickly moving toward the closet beneath the stairs.
With his front paws against the door, he stretched his body, gazing back at me, then pawed at the door. “ Have something to show me?”
I wondered if perhaps a few useful skeletons might topple out…
And did they ever…
Among some boxes of old tools and plumbing supplies was a shoebox containing what appeared to be some sort of binding spell.
A wicked grin stretched my mouth when I removed the contents to examine them…
Two poppets, bound together…one dressed in a leather jacket with a red scarf wrapped around its neck.
Had she been working baneful magick on Keegan?
I laughed aloud to myself at the way he pined for her, like a man obsessed!
Not that I blamed him in the slightest. Giovanna Vettriano was an enchanting creature, to say the least. I’ve always appreciated a woman who was clueless about the influences she held over the male species.
Women are dangerous. Vanna is no exception, especially with her esoteric practices.
There was a tarot card wrapped in the parchment paper upon which she had written her spell.
I’d examined that item first. Manufactured in a local town, by one Marie Delai …
the artwork depicted a dark Knight upon a black steed, red banner waving, a morning star held high in his hand.
The Knight of Wands… I’d found the entire scenario interesting…
Though in that moment, an unsettling feeling began to nag me.
Unfolding the spell, I’d stepped back from the closet to read her words in the sliver of setting sunlight beaming through the narrow window beside the front door.
As I scanned the words scrawled on the paper, I became aware of my pulse quickening. What I had wrongly suspected to be an amateur’s love spell wasn’t anything of the sort.
It was a petition for protection . One that clearly stated she had no desire to conjure feelings of love from her protector, nor did she want to form any feelings of love for him …
It wasn’t until I noted the date on which she had worked this Knight summoning spell that my heart truly began to race.
Nearly three years ago… on the full moon of a significant May’s Eve.. . The same night I had worked a spell of my own, one that had inevitably led me to North Carolina… to standing there , slightly unnerved in her foyer…
The loud rumbling of a motorcycle pulling up her driveway had snapped me out of the odd trance, and I’d hurriedly placed the spell’s contents back in the box, shut it away in the closet, and quickly darted up the stairs.
The dead bolt on the front door unlocked just as I slid beneath her bed.
I listened intently to the goings on downstairs.
I had been certain there was no way she had returned with Keegan already. I’d have received advanced warning.
The one they call Viper had come to look in on her feline friend.
The clattering sound of kibble pouring into a food dish emanated from the kitchen.
Viper grumbled something about grunt work, then the front door shut and locked once again.
I waited for the roar of his bike to recede as he departed the driveway before sliding out from beneath her bed.
Three years ago… What were the chances we had both worked magick on the same night? Magick that would land us here , in this little shit town, together .
I wanted to believe the darkness set us on a collision course in order to grant me the ability to crush Keegan through her … That she would be the final nail in his coffin, the grand finale in this whole scheme to destroy everything he cared about.
That’s what this was , I’d told myself over and over.
That’s all this was...
Though as the strange sensation swelled in my chest, I knew this unfamiliar feeling was more than a desire for revenge. A deep conflict began to root itself in my subconscious.
She’s a pawn…a tool…a means to an end! Don’t fuck this up! I’d chanted to myself, damn near incessantly over the following months, and wished on more than one occasion I’d never laid eyes on that spell…
Yet even as the darkness shouted in my mind, I had made my way back down to her closet and rummaged through the rest of her belongings, only to discover the prison letters from Jack Nero.
I read through a few of his threats, and that conflict shoved itself closer to the forefront of my mind.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I cursed myself, I cursed her , and shoved his letters back into the closet, then left the way I’d entered.
By the time I made my way through the woods behind her house, back to my stashed bike, I had the address of the New York state prison on my cell, and a flight booked to LaGuardia…
A n angelic laugh rings out from beyond the tree line of the forest, instantly pulling me back from regret-ridden memories of the past. My body instinctively twists in her direction, as if some phantom cord connecting me to her had been jerked. Hard.
Emerging from the woodland trail behind the farmstand, I stare at the radiant smile gracing her features as she crouches with her arms outstretched. A little dark-haired boy bounds toward her in the pumpkin patch, a baseball-sized gourd in his hand.
Her son...
She wraps him in a warm embrace, his little arms circling her neck. With an excited squeal, he insists that his mother look at his find. I watch as she spends a moment, happiness undeterred, untangling the gourd’s stem from the long, wavy black tendrils of her hair, before inspecting it.
There is something different about her…something I cannot quite put my finger on yet. Moving slowly to stand beside the oak tree towering over the Keegan Family Farmstand, I continue to watch them. Halloween is only days away, which means the boy’s birthday recently passed.
Her words elude me from this distance. Holding the gourd between them, she inspects it with a glee that matches her little boy’s. The smile on his face broadens with pride, and I’m nearly as convinced as he is over her excitement at his find.
A painful knot forms in my throat, and I attempt to swallow it down… I knew she would be a good mother…
Her toddler places the gourd into the grapevine-woven basket at her side. While looping her other arm through the twisted handle, she takes his hand and they begin their walk together toward the farmstand, and unbeknownst to them, toward me.