Chapter 54
The Waters
By the time we pulled up outside BJ’s house thick clouds, black and heavy, rolled menacingly above. As Dahlia predicted, the rain would hit soon. BJ’s mother, Vanessa, opened the door as soon as we pulled up.
“This should go well,” BJ muttered.
We climbed wearily out of the car. BJ’s jeans were now officially sheans; one leg still full length whilst the other was cut above his thigh where two rectangle bandages covered his stitches. Doctor Page had given him some pain relief, but it was beginning to wear off and he walked with a limp.
“BJ! Are you alright? I have been calling you all afternoon, what happened?” she demanded.
“Yeah, Ma, fine. I fell over.”
“Don’t you dare lie to me, young man.”
He sighed loudly. She launched forward and hugged him.
The deprivation of my mother’s loss reignited a flare of pain, I looked away.
“What happened?” she asked again pulling away, her hands on his forearms.
“Vanessa, I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” I said, stepping forward.
She let go of BJ and turned to face me with a scowl. I told her what happened. I watched, grimacing, as her face moved from shock, to fury, to bitterness.
She cursed under her breath, glancing at Karson with a sharp look. “Did you have to kill them?”
“They had daggers, inches from both Amelia and Benjamin,” he clipped, “Benjamin was bleeding. Jefferson’s injuries were hot in my mind. At that stage I was unaware it was one of Caron’s pathetic plans. I did not wait to see what they had planned to do with the knives next.”
Vanessa nodded slowly, seeming to come to some degree of acceptance. She drew a deep breath and looked at me. The anger dispersed, but not entirely. “It’s not your fault, Amy, we have been waiting for this day since you arrived.”
Confused, I glanced at BJ.
He sent me an apologetic smile. “We knew ever since you walked into the cafe that day. Well, Ma did.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, blinking behind tired, sore eyes, feeling exhausted and well and truly overwhelmed.
“Come inside, Amy, we have someone who wants to talk to you,” Vanessa said kindly, as she wrapped her arm around BJ and guided him in.
I risked a glance at Karson. His face was unreadable. He indicated with his head to move forward.
“Who?” I mouthed.
“You will see,” he answered, non-committal. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I rounded the corner.
Abruptly, I stopped and stared. My breath caught in my throat.
My brain struggled to make any sense of what my eyes were seeing.
Were they even real? BJ’s family were witches, was this some witch conjuring effect?
The seconds ticked past. I drew in a breath.
The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted up my nose.
The fire popped. It had to be some kind of witch thing, because they were dead.
Burned so violently—or so the report said—nothing was left to find but ashes. And yet they were not dead.
Seated in the lounge, breathing, and very much alive, were both Albert and Wendy Miller. Albert stood up and smiled tentatively. I felt the back of my eyes burn.
“The kids?” I asked on a faint breath.
He nodded. “They’re fine.”
The kids flashed in front of my eyes. Not dead. Fine. Relief and perhaps sheer exhaustion trembled through my knees. I fought to control the tears, but it’d been a hell of a day. The last of my strength drained out of my body like sand tumbling down a funnel. Streaks rolled silently down my cheeks.
Wendy came over and put her arm around my back. “We are so sorry, Amy, we had to let Cole and Jefferson think we all perished. It was safer that way. The fire was deliberately lit.”
I turned to Karson. “This whole time, you knew?” I asked simultaneously annoyed and manifestly relieved.
He nodded, moved his gaze away in a show of guilt. “I did, but it had to be kept quiet. We couldn’t risk anyone finding out about it. If it comes to the crunch over the development they can reemerge and stop proceedings. Until that time we need to make sure they’re safe.”
He’d held me while I’d sobbed into his arms over their deaths. Right before I threw myself at him.
We locked eyes. I’m fairly sure he knew exactly what I was thinking about. Light flickered in his eyes and the day was brighter.
“Did you know too?” I demanded, looking at BJ and wiping quickly at my tears with my sleeve.
He grimaced, “Sorry.”
“Sit down, Amy,” Vanessa indicated a space on the couch. My whole body ached like it was bruised. Page gave me Tylenol for my headache, but I was ridiculously tired.
I flopped to the couch. Karson sat beside me. Close, but not close enough.
The mantel place held a picture of an elderly lady with the same warm brown eyes shared by BJ and Vanessa.
I assumed it was BJ’s grandmother. A raw cut amethyst crystal glinted pleasantly on the other end of the shelf.
The house was older but meticulously clean.
With dark hardwood floors and soft yellow walls.
Vanessa brought out tea in a floral green pot with matching dainty teacups. I took a cup gratefully.
Albert took a loud slurp on his and settled back into an armchair.
“What do you know about the waters, Amy?”
“Bob told me a story about a boy who claimed they had healed him but no one believed him. He said the boy fled and died in the mountains.”
He nodded and took an audible breath, as if he were preparing himself for a stage production. He leaned forward, his eyes lit with an uncharacteristic odd excitement and spoke in deep, drawling voice.
“The story of the boy is partly true. The water the boy found buried deep in the cave had been well known for years to the Native American people for its special powers. Injuries would heal faster. People who drank it became stronger. Quicker. For them, it was sacred water, a gift from the spirits. The waters gave them the edge in fierce battles. They swore never to tell anyone other than their own people about it. It remained a secret for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years.” He paused and straightened.
“The boy who fled to the mountains didn’t die.
He was taken in by the Natives, and treated as one of their own.
He lived as a part of their tribe for years.
He fell in love with the Chief’s daughter, Hialeah, and they were to be married.
” He took a sip of tea and swallowed audibly.
“The boy wanted the best for his bride-to-be, he snuck into town to find her a gift. Despite the years, one of the world’s most powerful witches, Salam Crowe, recognized him.
Salam convinced the boy to show him where the sacred waters lie, telling him if he showed him where they were, he could spell the waters, and make him and his new bride immortal.
So that when the battles raged between the natives and the settlers, she would be always be safe.
Wanting that for the love of his life, he agreed.
He said he would show Salam as long as it was just Salam who came, and no one else.
But the witches had been persecuted for years, relatives burned alive on stakes, for no reason other than that they were born a witch, and Salam wanted to convert as many witches to immortals as he could.
He wanted to build an almighty coven. They planned their spell to fall on the next full moon.
When the Native Americans finally learned of the boy’s betrayal they arrived to fight, but it was too late.
The spell was already being cast and some of the witches had drunk from the waters already.
A great battle ensued. The witches used magic and their newfound strength.
Many Native Americans lost their lives that night. ”
Albert shook his head at the thought. “In the battle, the young man who had betrayed his people fought hard for them, but he was severely injured; stabbed by one of the witches he’d led there.
Hialeah managed to grab some spelled water and gave it to him as the battle raged around them.
She was crouched over him, feeding him the water when a sword pierced her back.
It drove into her heart and she died instantly.
The spelled water worked, and he survived.
Shattered at the loss, and engulfed by rage, he fought hard against the witches; killing quite a few and driving the rest away.
He saved many lives, but the Chief, devastated at the death of his daughter, banished him forever.
It is said it is her spirit who roams the woods and she kills anyone who dares enter.
” Albert leaned back and took another sip his tea.
“What happened to the boy?” I asked.
“No one knows. Stories of an immortal man killing witches mercilessly from all over the world have emerged from time to time. But no one knows if it was him, or someone else.”
“Oh, I of all people, am the one that is well enough versed to be judge, jury and executioner of your kind.”
Was it Karson? A chill crawled over my skin. No, I dismissed the thought, he said he was born a vampire, it can’t be him.
“Someone else—perhaps one of the immortal witches?” I suggested.
He rested his tea down on a worn wooden side table and nodded.
“Maybe, but there were more than just witches who drank from the waters.” Albert’s thin hands clasped together in a low praying motion.
He leaned forward onto his elbows. “Rumours of the battle spread quickly. A small group of townsfolk flocked to the site. The natives fought hard to keep them out, but with the help of a few immortal witches, and without the boy, they never stood a chance. Many died, the rest fled.”
“Why didn’t the natives just drink from the water and become immortal too?” I asked, unable to comprehend why such a simple solution would be overlooked.
“They believed it was a sin against the spirits, that they would be punished if they drank from the water now that it was tainted.”