11. Witches Roller Derby
Chapter 11
Witches Roller Derby
“ H azel? Hazel!”
“What?” I lift my eyes from my phone. From the text I’ve looked at fifty times since I woke up.
Noah: Good morning beautiful. Have an amazing day.
I’ve been daydreaming about my kiss with Noah last night since I saw that text. And apparently Grandma talking to me isn’t enough of a distraction to pull me out of my musings.
“Your head is full of fireflies, sweetheart. What has you in the clouds?” Grandma asks, leaning against the counter.
I swivel to face her in my little chair behind the cash register. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet. But it’s good.”
She smiles, lavender and smoke filling my nose. “Every woman is entitled to her privacy. I’m glad you’re finding things that bring you joy.”
“I am, too.” I take her hand, the bangles on her wrist jangling. “Have I thanked you lately for doing all this for me?”
“There’s no need to thank me. I would do anything for you—for all three of you. However, if you wish to do something kind for your Grandma, I have an errand that needs doing.”
Sometimes I wonder how fiercely grandma loves mom. That’s her daughter, but I’ve never met two more different people. Two people who enjoy riling each other up as much as they do.
They’d do anything for each other—except fix whatever it is that broke them.
“Whatever you need.”
“I have a few orders that need to be delivered. Luckily, I have a few items that are ready for pick up at the witches’ farmers’ market, so I was going to go there to make my deliveries. I was wondering if you’d want to accompany me and make the deliveries so I can do my other tasks.”
“The witches’ what now?”
Witches have gatherings like farmer’s markets and I’m only finding out about this now? Do we have fashion shows? A bowling league? A roller derby team? A book club?
“Close your mouth, sweetheart. You’re a beautiful girl, but not when you gape,” Grandma says.
I promptly shut my mouth. “I’d be happy to join you, Grandma. Will we close the shop for the day?”
She nods. “We leave in an hour.”
With that, she turns on her heel and heads for her office.
“Wait!” I have to ask; if I don’t, I run the risk of being murdered. “Can we bring Laura?”
Grandma laughs. “If you can convince your mother.”
The fact that we’re in our twenties and have to convince our mother to let us out is ridiculous.
Screw it. I’m not going to continue catering to my mother’s control issues. I’m going directly to Laura.
Hazel: Wanna do something witchy with me?
Laura: I don’t even need to know what you mean. I’ll be there. When?
Hazel: One hour. Come to the shop.
Laura: Thank you.
“So, where are we going?” Laura bounces up to me and Grandma right as Grandma’s locking the front door of the shop. It’s a seasonably warm afternoon and my belly is full of You’re Good in Bread.
Life is good.
Grandma raises a brow as she gives Laura a hug. “Hazel didn’t tell you?”
“I apparently didn’t need to. Laura dropped everything and came running.”
Laura sighs. “I’m not that desperate, Hazel!”
“You had me fooled.” I laugh at the way her eyebrows crease. She deserves the ribbing after all I do for her.
“Let’s get going, girls. Into the car.” Grandma shepherds us into her car, waving her hands.
Laura scoffs. “We aren’t going by broomstick? How lame!”
I snicker from the passenger seat as Grandma narrows her eyes. Being the favorite is so much fun.
We drive to an abandoned field in the literal middle of nowhere. There is nothing, not even a stray haybale or bouncing tumbleweed. Just space.
“Are you sure you have the right place?” I ask, eyes raking over the emptiness.
Grandma raises a brow as she parks the car. “Do you really think magical creatures would meet somewhere that allows anyone to stumble upon them?”
Okay, so that’s a good point. Humans wandering into a witches’ market would probably be very, very bad. Horrible. Salem horrible.
We exit the vehicle and Laura comes up close. I’m her safe space, always have been. We follow Grandma as she confidently strides forward.
“Here. Follow me.”
And she vanishes.
“Did she just—?” Laura grasps my hand in surprise. “So fucking cool.”
Hands clasped, we follow her exact path and step directly into the market. The sounds and sights are almost disorienting in their immediacy. Like walking through a soundproof door.
There must be at least fifty stalls surrounded by all types of people in all manner of outfits ranging from distinctly human to...what I can only describe as witchy. Flowing muumuu-type numbers that are oddly enchanting.
The sun shines on dirt paths and the scent of herbs and smoke fills the air. Someone has a fire going and—oh, is that pork?
“Holy. Balls,” Laura gasps.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Girls.” Grandma calls our attention. “This is the market. Witches and wizards who have wares to sell will set up a stall, just like any farmers’ market or art show in the human world. There are markets like this all over the world, and this one services all of Northeast Ohio. You can expect anywhere from forty to one hundred and fifty booths depending on the time of year. As it’s fall, we’re starting to get into the slower months.”
We nod at her, my sponge brain absorbing any and all information she’s willing to give.
“Now, you will be making deliveries. Throwing you in the deep end is the best way to get you to learn your bearings. If you have questions about where someone is—ask! Maybe you’ll meet someone new. Here is your basket. I have my own errands, so you’ll be on your own. I trust you both to represent the shop, and the family, respectfully. I’ll meet you back here in three hours.”
Without waiting for a response, Grandma turns and glides off in that way only Grandma can. I’m a little surprised she didn’t disappear in a cloud of smoke, to be honest.
“Who’s first?” Laura’s practically bouncing as I lift the blanket off the top.
The basket is filled to the brim with wrapped packages, each labeled with a person’s name. I peer at one. “Someone named Lucinda Vale.”
“Badass name. Do you think there’s other things in the world? Not just witches. Like, vampires, werewolves, leprechauns...?”
“Leprechauns?” I chuckle. “That’s where you go after vampires and werewolves? Leprechauns?”
We walk leisurely through the booths, dirt soft underneath our feet. Grandma’s right, it gives off major art festival vibes. That pork scent only intensifies as we wind further into the maze of artists, farmers, and clothiers.
“I always liked the idea of leprechauns. Just doling out luck and happiness.”
I wrap my arm around her, the basket securely looped around my other elbow. “Let’s find Lucinda.”
I can’t help spending too much time at each booth. With every delivery it’s like I’m discovering something new. Even if it’s just lettuce.
I’m thankful I chose to wear sneakers today. I cast a glance toward Laura’s ruined high-heeled boots with a wince. The dirt is solid, thanks to the sunlight, but it’s still getting everywhere.
“I can try to fix them with a spell later?” I ask. Half of our basket of deliveries are gone.
She stops walking. “You could do that?”
I can’t quantify the look on her face. Is it...jealousy? No, Laura has never been jealous of me in her entire life. “Probably.”
Part of me—a dark, twisty part that I almost don’t want to give voice to—enjoys that maybe she is jealous. Just once.
“Anyway.” The look disappears from her face just as quickly as it arrived. Another of her famous talents. “I didn’t know witches gathered like this. Mom made it seem like something to be ashamed of, that everyone was ashamed of it. But all I see is pride. Who’s next?”
I nod, digging through the basket for the next delivery. “Ash Cedar.”
“That sounds more like a scented candle than a person.”
“Brutal.”
Laura laughs. “Although not the weirdest name I’ve heard since being here.”
A dark, decidedly male, voice chuckles. “It’s a family name.”
Laura and I turn toward the speaker. Ash Cedar leans casually against the side of his booth, a subtle smirk on his young, handsome face. Jet-black hair hangs over his bright green eyes. Standing to his full height, he rolls his large shoulders.
He’s built like a dramatic lumberjack—if the giant house crest ring on his hand is any indication. No man without a flair for being extra wears a ring that big.
I smile. “Sorry about that. We’re a bit new to the magical world. I have your delivery from The Cat’s Cradle.”
“Lucky me.” He walks around the table toward us, gaze bouncing between me and Laura. “I can’t say I don’t prefer you both, but you’re not Elizabeth. New employees?”
“We’re her granddaughters,” Laura snaps.
I raise my eyebrows. Laura usually loves hot guys with the dangerous lumberjack vibe. Her instant distaste is surprising.
He grins, teeth glinting in the sunlight. “Now I see. You’re the elusive hermit grandkids. Anyone else would know the Cedar family.”
Laura snorts. “Someone’s far up their own ass.”
“I know I’m good at what I do, Goldilocks. It’s just a fact.” He turns to me with one last wink in Laura’s direction. “Thank you for bringing my package.”
I shake off the tension and hand him the carefully wrapped bag. “Of course.”
My gaze is caught by the wood carvings on the table before me. They’re all different shapes and sizes—animals, buildings, everything.
“My family and I carve wood. Everything from talismans to altars,” he says with pride.
“Wait.” Laura snorts. “Your last name is Cedar and you work with wood? Really?”
A flicker of annoyance mars his face for a moment, but he quickly relaxes. “And what is it you do, Goldilocks? Prance around judging others?”
There’s no way I’m sticking around for whatever this is. I squeeze Laura’s arm and walk toward a woman spinning wool on an old-school spinning wheel.
“What are you making?” I ask, mesmerized by the soothing rhythm of her actions.
“It will be a cloak. I make clothes for the colder months ahead.”
My eyes trail along her wares—some scarves, hats, and gloves—as the sound of the wheel spinning continues along.
She sighs, a sound full of emotional fatigue. “Mostly I’m distracting myself.”
It’s not until now that I notice the pain in her face. The creases in her forehead, the partially dried lines of tears on her cheeks.
Without invitation, I sit on the ground next to her. “Are you all right?”
“My son was injured in a daemon attack last night.” Her fingers never waver in her work. “He should be okay—eventually. But, it was close.”
A daemon? Those are real? Why haven’t I read about them? Why hasn’t Grandma mentioned them?
“I see the confusion on your face. As with all things, there is good and bad. It’s what balances the universe, despite the pain the bad causes,” she says.
“Are altercations with daemons common?”
She shrugs. “It depends. Some of us like to hunt them, like my son. Some of us may live our whole lives without facing one.”
“Why does your son hunt them?”
“They do a lot of harm. Tear families apart, and my son is one of those people who can’t let that stand. He’s a good boy, if not a bit reckless.”
My blood burns. Could it have been a daemon that killed my father? Killed my family’s chance at a life together? “How do you find one? How do you hunt them? Who was it that your son fought?”
Her face hardens. “You are best not to ask such things, girl. Go home to your family and leave daemons like Botis to those who know how to handle them.”
I won’t learn anything more from her. But a name is all I needed.
Botis.
He might not be whatever killed my father, but he’s a daemon who hurts people. Breaks apart families. Causes damage that lasts for generations. And I have no problem training up for the specific purpose of getting rid of creatures like him.
And if one day I meet the thing that killed my dad...Well, then I’ll be ready.
I stand and brush the grass and dirt off my jeans.
Laura and Ash are still...I don’t even know how to classify what they’re doing. Staring at each other. Dick measuring. Eye fucking. Whatever. But our three hours are almost up and I don’t need to stare down the wrath of Grandma.
“Laura! We’re leaving!” I call to her.
Her head whips to me, blonde hair cascading around her face and shoulders. The surprise on her face is evidence enough that she’s lost herself in conversation with Ash. With a pointed glare in Ash’s direction, she huffs and joins me.
“Not a word,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.
“Yeah, yeah. I won’t mention whatever that was.” I chuckle at her pouting. “Let’s go back to the entrance. Grandma should be there soon.”
“Don’t tell Grandma about Ash! The last thing I need is for her to make assumptions and ask a bunch of questions. He’s obnoxious and I have no intention of ever seeing him again.”
“My lips are sealed.”
We walk in silence through the rest of the stalls. Thoughts of Botis overwhelm me. Any other day I’d be poking and prodding Laura about Ash, but I can’t clear my head. It’s like a puzzle piece that I’ve been missing.
I can help people. I can have a purpose. I can use that knowledge to find whatever it is that killed dad.
Maybe someday I can even bring closure to my mother. To myself. To Laura. Is this closure what’s been preventing us from connecting as a family all these years?
If I avenged my father, would Mom embrace magic again? Could she heal in a way that could open a real door to us for a relationship?
That’s the question. Do I have the opportunity to fix my family?
Even if I’m not sure of the answer, the possibility is enough of a reason to try. I may get hurt in the process, but as Grandma says: I’d do anything for my family.