Chapter Eight #3
“But, of course, the most famous gemstone in Maine is tourmaline,” Juniper continued, gesturing to a small display shielded by a dome of glass.
There were tiny pedestals topped with cut gemstones, half pink and half green – just like a watermelon.
Surrounding the main display were dozens of other cut and uncut stones.
Tourmaline seemed to come in every color of the rainbow.
At the end of the display, my gaze fell on several round, jet-black beads. I pulled the piece of black tourmaline Juniper had given me the day before from my pocket, holding it up to the display.
“Black tourmaline is my favorite,” Juniper explained as she hovered over my shoulder. “Even though it’s one of the most common varieties. Something about the color is so enchanting.”
I lowered my hand and slipped the piece of tourmaline back in my pocket. I felt a question burning in my brain, humming in my skull and buzzing on the tip of my tongue. But I struggled to force the words out.
“That necklace Rowena wears, that’s black tourmaline, isn’t it?”
Just as I expected, the question seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the air. I could feel Juniper’s breath quicken as she stood behind me, and we spent several seconds locked in a long, tense silence.
“Um, yes, it is.”
“Did she buy it from your shop?”
I bit my tongue as soon as the words escaped my mouth. I was digging an ever-deeper hole, but I couldn’t help myself.
Juniper was silent behind me, but I could hear her boots clicking on the wooden floors as she walked away and returned to her seat. When I turned around, she was sitting in her chair by the register, her back stiff as a board and her glassy gaze locked straight ahead.
“My mother gave it to her,” Juniper explained, her eyes still locked on the far window. “When we were kids. Before she passed away.”
I nodded, lowering my head. From where Juniper sat in her chair, her right cheek was facing me, and the deep gouges in her skin seemed more pronounced.
I was suddenly very aware of how dangerous it was for me, a werewolf, to be masquerading as a witch in this town. I didn’t know Juniper’s story, or how she got that scar, but I could see the way mentioning her mother’s death made her face tighten and her eyes glaze over.
I decided I’d worn out my welcome, and didn’t ask any more questions. I used the last of my money to purchase a small amethyst cluster, partially because I was curious about its anti-anxiety properties, and partially to make up for my prying questions.
I kept the cluster in my pocket as I walked home, my arms full of paper bags and my cloak hood pulled tightly over my forehead.
I wondered if the amethyst needed some sort of spell or ritual to draw out its anti-anxiety effects.
Or maybe it only worked on witches. Because on the entire walk home, despite having the little crystal in my pocket, I could feel my stomach churning and my pulse hammering in my throat.
And once I could see my run-down cottage in the distance, it all became too much. My ears and tail popped out, and this time, so did the faintest hint of claws.
I bit my lip, pulling my hood tighter over my head.
I had a lot of secrets to hide.
And apparently, so did this town.
The rest of the afternoon and evening were quiet.
I unpacked my groceries, stacking the produce on the lopsided shelves in the kitchen.
I tried placing a jar of tomato sauce on the shabby countertop, but just as I finished putting the rest of the food away, the rotting wood gave way and the tomato sauce plummeted onto the floor.
I cringed, expecting it to shatter and spray red sauce everywhere. But to my surprise, it bounced on impact and rolled, finally settling against the wall.
I’d bought a lot of food I’d never heard of before, and as I read the boxes, I realized they required either a stovetop or an oven. I checked the wood-burning stove next to the counter, and while it looked like an animal had made a nest in it at some point, it was still usable.
Then I realized I’d forgotten to buy matches. And firewood.
I need a fire elemental, I concluded as I sat cross-legged on the living room floor, munching on a bag of potato chips. Maybe I can find one somewhere. And an ice elemental would be nice. That way I can keep refrigerated goods.
I tossed another potato chip in my mouth. I’d never had them before, but they were delicious, and judging by how oily and salty they were, I knew they couldn’t possibly be healthy.
Beats eating a candy bar for dinner, I reasoned as I scarfed down a final handful of chips and set the rolled-up bag on the counter. Unlike the tomato sauce, it was light enough to not cause another countertop cave-in.
By the time I finished eating, the light in the cabin had significantly dimmed, and the sky had morphed from a bright blue into a rapidly darkening indigo.
I tugged on the rusty windows, finally pulling them shut after several minutes of effort.
The temperature was already starting to drop, and now that Aria had cleaned the dust out of the cabin, I didn’t need the windows open to get fresh air.
I set up the two faerie fire lanterns I’d purchased from Adrian’s shop, and they bathed the little cabin in a soft baby-blue glow. The general store didn’t have a mattress, but I was able to purchase a proper blanket and a little plush pillow shaped like a witch’s hat.
In addition, I used the clothes-cleaning potion – just a few sprays, as Adrian instructed – and not only did my clothes smell fresh and clean, but they felt clean, as if I’d just pulled them off the clothesline.
I smiled contentedly to myself as I settled in the corner with the pillow, blanket, and a small stack of books – another purchase from the general store.
I thumbed through the colorful hardbacks, tracing my fingers over their metallic lettering, until I settled on a book about Wiccan mythology.
I mean… I need to learn more about witch culture, right?
The book’s interior was beautiful, full of sketches and illustrations interspersed between chunky paragraphs that took up nearly half the page.
The faerie fire lanterns gave off just enough light for me to read, and I was engrossed in a section about the Horned God and the Mother Goddess when exhaustion began creeping into my bones.
For the first time since I’d stepped into this dilapidated little shack, I was content. Happy. It was still far from feeling like home, but at least with the dust gone and a few material comforts added, it was no longer an unpleasant place to live in.
I gave a long, deep sigh as my eyelids grew heavy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been able to read without my sisters squabbling over my shoulder. I wasn’t used to having such peace and quiet, and while I missed my family, I decided to cherish the independence while I had it.
And as I fell asleep, with the Wiccan mythology book still splayed open next to me, I wondered if this was true freedom. The ability to simply exist, reading a book in a quiet cabin, without a looming pile of responsibilities to others.
I still longed to travel the world.
But moments like these were nice, too.