Chapter 6 #2
‘And how people still knock three times on the wishing post,’ Rayenne added. ‘And that flowers bloom earlier here than in other places?’
‘For some people,’ Ophelia added.
‘Right. Some people.’ Rayenne smiled.
‘This is really real?’ Aiden felt the hum that had been buzzing through him increase, leaving goosepimples over his skin.
‘My hand to the goddess, yes.’
‘By the moon and waters I swear it,’ Rayenne murmured her own oath.
‘Huh.’ Aiden sat back and folded his arms across his chest.
‘Are you OK?’ Rayenne asked softly.
‘I think so… just processing…’
‘We’ll give you some time, OK? Unless you have any questions?’
He looked up. ‘The day we first met, you were yelling at Mist for bringing in brownies again…?’
‘They can be incredibly helpful – in the right homes. But they don’t really like cats. Especially ones who catch them.’
I don’t hurt them. If Aiden didn’t know better, he would have said the cat sounded miffed. Just play with them a little.
‘They still hate it,’ Rayenne chided. ‘And as helpful as they can be, when they put their minds to it, they can be destructive little pests and cause a huge amount of damage.’
‘Brownies are real?’ He let that thought sink in and settle, threading itself through everything and every part of him.
It should have been impossible, yet it gathered up all of the loose ends that he’d been trying to explain away for so many months.
The knowledge that had rooted in his gut bloomed outward, a slow, spreading warmth that soothed and steadied him as it set the world back right side up.
‘Huh. So brownies are real, Mist can talk…’
‘Not just Mist. Most animals, if you’re willing to listen, can talk to you if they choose.’
‘Right. So brownies are real, animals can talk, and magic isn’t just in fairy tales.’
‘Precisely.’
‘You probably have a lot of questions,’ Rayenne added.
‘Just a few. Does everyone else know?’
‘On some level, probably,’ Ophelia answered.
‘But it varies. Like, if you were completely honest with yourself, you’d probably admit that you’ve always known Hudsbury is a bit different.
It’s the same for everyone: people who want to listen, who can look with an open heart and mind, who are willing to see… they know.’
‘That’s not really an answer.’
‘I’m afraid it’s the best we can give you.’ Rayenne pulled a face.
‘Is that…?’ He took a deep breath. ‘Is that why you didn’t tell me sooner? Because you didn’t think I was ready to hear?’ He dragged his hands through his hair. ‘Actually, never mind. When you offered to tell me, I always found an excuse…’
‘But you’re ready now.’ Rayenne smiled. ‘And now you know.’
‘I do.’
‘What about Katie, and Mia?’
‘Katie is obviously aware of things, but I don’t think Mia’s really open to it.’ Ophelia looked to Rayenne, who nodded. ‘For all that she uses complementary approaches, she’s clinical first in her thinking. And neither are naturally gifted. Not like you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, Aiden, you. The shop recognised it the first time you walked through the door. We all did. The way you blend herbs and spices, the effects your blends and bakes have… it’s more than talent.
You’re gifted. Strongly. And like with most people, your gift appears to be skills-based.
You draw the magic out of things, and influence the magic inherent within things that you work with. ’
‘Wow.’
‘Specifically, I believe you’re a kitchen witch: your magic comes from the herbs and spices you blend – and the way you mix your ingredients, and the intentions with which you bake. You should be mindful of that.’
‘Are you saying I’m magicking’ – he laughed – ‘is that even the right word? I’m magicking my bakes?’
‘Yes.’ She looked to Rayenne, who nodded. ‘Just be aware, and keep picking your herbs and spices with clear, good intentions, and keep mixing in your desire to help with every stir of your spoon. You won’t go far wrong.’
‘Because now I have magic?’ He shook his head, still not quite believing it.
‘You always did. Now you just know about it. Which brings responsibilities.’
He nodded seriously. ‘I understand. So, does this mean I can really heal? With magic?’
‘To a certain extent. Magic isn’t a cure-all,’ Ophelia explained. ‘It can accelerate normal repair and stimulate the strengths already within the body, but it can’t alter fate. For example, you couldn’t heal someone already dying – or impregnate someone. The rules of biology still apply.’
‘What about… like a genetic disorder?’
‘I’m afraid not. Magic can’t change someone’s innate being. It can help restore health, but not change someone’s make-up. You also can’t use magic to change someone’s mind, or influence them to do something they otherwise wouldn’t want to.’
‘But it can be a good nudge, sometimes.’ Rayenne smiled. ‘To encourage people to take the path they are supposed to be on. Or to take the leap they might be too scared to make.’
‘Right.’ Aiden didn’t know how he was feeling – to find out magic was real in one breath and have hopes of healing his ma dashed in the next had his head spinning.
You need to warn him, Mist added.
‘Warn me about what?’
‘Aiden.’ Ophelia leaned forward and squeezed his hand. ‘You have to be careful with this information. You can’t talk to people about it who don’t totally understand or appreciate it.’
‘What? Why not?’
‘The magic protects itself.’
‘You asked why we didn’t tell you sooner. We did try… or at least offered to have the conversation… but how many times were we interrupted? Or as soon as we tried to talk about it, you would find yourself compelled to do something else and you’d be distracted?’
‘Now you mention it, there may have been a few moments that come to mind.’ He stroked his beard. ‘You’re telling me that was deliberate?’
‘Not on our behalf!’ Rayenne hurriedly added. ‘But the magic can and will protect itself.’
However it needs to, Mist added, somewhat ominously.
‘What does that mean?’
‘That you really can’t discuss it with people who don’t know for themselves.’ Ophelia pulled a face. ‘Not without risking consequences.’
Aiden gulped, suddenly feeling nervous.
‘How are you feeling?’ Rayenne asked gently.
‘Like I’ve got a lot to think about. And like I want tea.’ He laughed – a strangled sound that caught in his throat. ‘Which will apparently be magicked.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Ophelia offered.
‘It’s OK.’ Aiden stood. ‘I think I need to do something that feels a bit normal right now. Even if it’s really not.’
‘But…’ Rayenne started, but Ophelia caught her wrist and shook her head.
Aiden stumbled to the kitchen, his head overflowing with information he didn’t know how to process.
Automatically, he filled the kettle and set it to boil, then stared at the jars and packets of tea he’d blended over the last five months – each one of them shimmering with that subtle light that seemed to swirl and hide as he looked at it.
Staring at it there, he couldn’t believe he’d missed it for so long. It was so obvious.
Mist’s warning – because apparently talking animals was now a thing he had to get used to! – echoed in his mind alongside the one from Ophelia: magic would protect itself however it needed to.
He stared at the kettle that was starting to hum on the stove… Of course it was, because it was probably a magical kettle too! He slammed his hands across his mouth to keep the hysteria from bubbling out. What. The. Actual. Fuck?
He stared at the kettle again and made a decision.
He’d give himself until it finished boiling to freak out, and then figure out what he wanted to do.
It wasn’t long, but that was the point: he’d learned long ago that turning decisions over and over in his mind rarely did anything other than cause stress and anxiety – and almost never changed his mind in the long run.
Like Rayenne had said, his instincts were good.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe it was the magic.
The thought made him laugh aloud.
Magic? Him? It was ridiculous. This wasn’t a movie franchise or streaming series with a huge special-effects budget based on the latest hottest-selling fantasy series; this was the real world with boring jobs, illnesses, bills and bikes and cars that broke down at the wrong moments. Or maybe the right ones?
And, apparently, talking animals.
He scratched his shoulder then reached for his favourite calming tea blend, but hesitated when he realised one of the other jars was glowing more brightly.
Curious, he picked it up. It wasn’t the de-stress one he’d planned on brewing, but maybe there was some logic in the idea of a changeling tea today.
As if approving of his decision, the spoons rattled cheerfully.
He realised he’d heard that noise before, but always ignored it.
Just another one of those quirky Hudsbury things he’d somehow managed to miss.
He pulled open the drawer to look at them, but they were innocently still.
Too still. Especially the teaspoons that seemed, somehow, to be waiting for something.
A ridiculous idea, but no crazier than a talking cat.
‘It’s OK. I know.’
The air softened for a moment – almost like a lover’s sigh – and the spoons clattered happily together for a few seconds before one jumped out, waiting for him to grab it. He wasn’t surprised that it was warm and hummed slightly between his fingers.
He spooned out the blend – heavy on butterfly pea flower – into the teapot, and sliced up a lemon.
The subtle, fresh tea would be delicately floral, right up until he added the hit of citrus that would awaken the senses and turn the heavy blue tea into the bright, energetic purple that made it so popular.
Just a few drops of something new could change the pleasant into the spectacular.
Just like a little new knowledge could change a person’s world view.