9. Iris
Iris
Igo to knock on my grandma’s door, but she answers it before I can get the third knock in.
“Iris, honey. Sweet tea?” she asks.
“Please,” I say, taking off my shoes at the front door and following her into the house.
Her home hasn’t changed since my first memories of it. We all lived under this roof up until my mom passed. Then it was just me and her. It was hard at first, but the older I got, the loss became more of a scar than an open wound.
I run my fingers over the spines of her books, wondering if there are any that might help me with what’s happening in my life. She brings us both glasses of sweet tea and we sit in her sitting room together.
She lightly drags her nails over her smooth head, before clasping her cane and looking in my direction. She’s blind, but she doesn’t miss a single fucking thing. Even without her vision she knew exactly when I was about to do some bad shit, and even now she knows something is wrong.
“Have you had any visions about me recently?”
She swallows thickly, her head turning to the side showing off her sharp features. Mamaw has always been a beautiful woman, her skin a flawless rich mahogany, and her eyes glimmering gold; my mother looked just like her.
“Mamaw, are you hiding something?” I ask.
“I don’t know, Iris, are you?”
“I’ve been having visions, dark ones, nearly impossible to decipher. I…well, I went to Izora.”
Her pissed off expression still has me shaking in my boots even as a grown woman. “You did not.”
“I didn’t know what to do!” I exclaim, standing up and walking around. “You’ve been so secretive about any visions that pertain to me and I needed more answers.”
“Let me guess, you did not get them,” she says plainly, like I got taken advantage by some average human at a circus claiming to be a fortune teller.
“I wouldn’t say that. She pulled the two of swords. She said specifically that I was blind to something in my present, something ancient.”
Her breath hitches as I pause in my pacing to stare at her. One of her tells is tapping her fingers against her cane, and she does that now before speaking.
“There has been one vision, but I refuse to believe it.”
“What is it?” I ask, approaching her, getting down on my knees against her and holding her thighs. “Please, Mamaw, these visions. I can’t sleep. I’m losing my fucking mind.”
“Now watch your damn language.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I say quickly and her throat bobs before speaking again.
“The vision was you, carrying our coven upon your shoulders while you stepped over spots of blood. You have an ancestral burden, Iris, but I don’t know what it is.”
“My last card was the death card,” I mumble and she shakes her head.
“The cards are as vague as visions, you know that. The death card does not inherently mean death, just as my vision of you does not mean actual bloodshed.”
“How will I know what it is?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, like she hates the idea before even speaking it.
“We could try to contact them on the other side, see if we could get a message through. I guess we could call Daisy,” she says her name with a slight irritation.
Daisy is Violet’s great aunt, she’s a medium, and for the past three decades, she was spelled to not speak by her evil sister. While she’s a great coven member, most mediums go a little mad speaking to the dead all the time.
“Whatever we have to do, I’ll do it.”
“Then let’s go see the old witch.”
Daisy is out on her porch, looking to her left, not even acknowledging that we’re approaching.
I hold the crook of my mamaw’s elbow, leading her up the stairs.
Daisy is wearing a muumuu with ghosts all over it, which would be hilarious if I wasn’t in such a mood.
Her skin is pale and weathered, and her graying blonde hair is braided down her back.
“Miss Daisy,” I say her name, trying to break her stare.
She turns slowly to us and the smallest smile takes over her face. “Iris, Delphine. They told me you were coming.”
“Of course they did. The big question is, did they tell you why?” my mamaw asks.
Daisy sighs and shakes her head.
“They’re being very secretive,” Daisy replies, just rocking in her chair, likely surrounded by spirits or ghosts.
I think I’d lose my mind if I had to deal with that; maybe my screwed-up visions aren’t so bad after all.
“Daisy, please. Can we try and communicate with them?” I plead with her.
She looks away from me, seemingly having a conversation with someone I can’t see.
“They likely won’t cooperate, unless there’s someone specific you think we could make contact with.”
My heart hammers in my chest like a drum and my mind goes back to the vision of the past I saw. I can’t put my mamaw through that pain. I can’t and won’t call upon the one person I think would give me a straight answer.
“I’ve been having visions about something bad coming for the coven. None of them are clear enough, but we know there’s a secret the ancestors of the coven have been keeping from me.”
“Likely so old we’d need to go multiple generations back,” Mamaw adds in.
“There’s one spirit who gets rather lonely and visits me frequently. Maybe I can call upon her. Come inside,” Daisy says, leading us inside the home.
It’s strange being in here without our former High Priestess, and I can’t imagine what it was like for Daisy to live under her sister’s reign of terror in silence. We’re a better coven now that she’s been dealt with and that Violet’s mother Lavender is now the High Priestess.
Though part of me wonders if the previous High Priestess would know about this secret, it doesn’t matter, her punishment was banishment and having her memories wiped.
The only coven members who can possibly help us now are beyond the veil.
Daisy leads us to the kitchen, where she provides us with drinks and urges us to eat the cookies on the counter like any respectable southern witch would.
The elder witch lights candles with a flick of her wand and she sits at the head of the table, reaching out for both me and my grandmother’s hands, forming a triangle of magic between us.
Automatically, we close our eyes, funneling our power to Daisy, giving her the strength to summon the spirit she has in mind.
She’s pleading with her to come forward.
The only indication I get that her request has been accepted is the small breeze whipping unnaturally inside the home.
“Hyacinth,” Daisy greets the spirit, as I look around and see nothing.
Our hands are still connected as Daisy listens to what the spirit has to say.
“Iris, ask her your questions.”
“Um…hello Hyacinth. Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions,” I say politely. The last thing I want is to leave this house with a five-stage clinger ghost. “I’ve been having visions, dark visions, and I’m hoping that you could help me figure out what they mean.”
“She says that she’s dead, not a seer,” Daisy says in a monotone voice, almost as if Hyacinth is speaking through her.
“Of course, it’s just two witches have now brought up that there might be an ancient curse or spell that might be the reason for these visions.
Daisy said that you’re incredibly knowledgeable about the coven and I wanted to see if you know anything about it.
” I play to the spirit’s ego, hoping it helps my cause.
There’s a long pause before Daisy speaks.
“There were talks about a deal that was made.”
“A deal?”
Daisy hums, nodding her head, like she’s trying to memorize every word given to her from Hyacinth.
“Fire. Death. Eternity. Deals had to be made and you are the price.”
I want to rub my temples. I’m so sick and tired of cryptic ass witches.
“What price do I need to pay?”
“We may never speak about it. But you must pay it or the cost only rises. What’s created can easily be taken away.”
“But how will I know what I need to do?”
Daisy is quiet for a long time, almost like Hyacinth is trying to figure out the best workaround to tell me what I need to know while still being tied to her own promise.
“Eyes that are vast, dark, and all seeing. Eyes older than the trees. When you see the eyes of the everlasting, you will know.”
Before I can ask another question, Daisy gasps, separating our hands and looking around at the table at each of us.
“Did you get what you need?” she says casually, like being the voice box for a spirit is no big deal.
“I don’t know?” I say, looking at my grandmother.
“Thank you for your assistance, Daisy,” she says, tipping her head toward the door. I take her elbow and lead her out of the home.
“Mamaw. What do we do?” I ask, feeling like a child all over again, needing her to protect me.
She runs her fingers over her head, something she does often when she’s thinking through something.
“We put protections in place. We ward the shop away from bad intentions. Anyone who comes there to do you harm or anyone you care about won’t be able to enter.”
“So, I’m just not supposed to leave?”
“We’ll work on some other protective magic to have on your person as well. Now, stop your worrying and let’s get to work.”
The rest of the night is spent warding the apothecary, our magic easily works together with our blood relation, making it impossible for anyone to come in if they have bad intentions toward me or anyone I care about.
I’m getting Mamaw a glass of water, and bringing it downstairs. The steps up to my apartment are too much for her. When I slide it over to her, there’s one question that lingers in my mind. Something that Hyacinth said that stuck with me.
“What do you think she meant if the price is not paid that the cost rises?” I ask.
“You know magic is give and take. Sure, daily magic doesn’t have a cost, but the big spells? There’s always something you have to give in order to make them happen. If the agreement of the magic is broken there’s likely a loophole that something worse will happen.”
I toy with one of the pieces of jewelry on my hair and I swallow thickly.
“Do you think the cost is my life?”
She sits there for a long minute before shaking her head.
“Our coven might have a dark history, but we always stuck together. Even during the witch hunts, or when we were hiding, we always protected our sisters. I can not imagine a witch ever making a deal that sacrifices another coven member’s life.
It would be against everything this coven went through to become a true sisterhood after our rocky foundation. ”
“Then what could it possibly be?” I complain. My anxiety is on level ten and I just want answers: if I at least knew what was coming I could prepare myself.
“I don’t know, my dear Iris, but I will be here whenever you need me. Take this,” she says, unclasping the thick golden cuff bracelet off her wrist and handing it to me.
There hasn’t been a day of my life that I remember her ever taking it off as she slides it across the table.
“My mother handed this down to me, just like her mother did to her. It’s time for me to give it to you.”
I glance down at the cuff. It’s old, the tone of the gold more worn and it’s not as smooth as jewelry made today is.
“Wear this at all times and it will protect you no matter where you are.”
“What does it do?” I question, still in disbelief that she gave it to me.
“It’s charmed with old magic. A type of power that’s been diluted over the years since we started procreating with humans. If anyone tries to harm you, and you have this bracelet on, it will incapacitate them for thirty seconds. Enough time to portal away or use your own offensive magic.”
“But what about you?” I ask, not sure if I can take this away from her. She’s a powerful witch, but she’s also not as young as she used to be.
“I’m not worried about me. Now, if you have another issue, you come to see me,” she snaps at me, and I give her a quick nod of agreement. “Alright, goodnight baby.”
I give her a kiss on the cheek and like the magic is effortless, she portals out of the apothecary.
With a deep sigh, I look around and hope that the wards are enough to keep me protected.