The Familiar (2 page)

As Claudia washes the dishes her red lacquered nails chink on the ceramic plates. “But then I wouldn’t have time to make cookies for you two,” she says while watching us devour the whole plate. When Andy reaches for the cookies cooling on the counter, she swats him with a kitchen towel. “Andres, leave some for the rest of us!”

Claudia is the only one who still calls Andy, “Andres,” even his dad stopped several years ago.

“Okay, Mom,” he says, rolling his eyes without really meaning it.

I chug down my cold glass of milk, feeling too anxious to hang out. “Sorry, but I have to go. Mom asked me to help her with some things around the house… Thanks for the cookies, Claudia, delicious as always.”

Claudia takes a plastic container out of the cupboard and carefully places several cookies inside. “I know your mom forgets to eat sometimes. She gets so caught up in her paintings,” she says, as she gives me a hug.

“Later, Andy,” I say, waving before exiting through the back door. Andy waves back with a mouth full of cookies, crumbs escaping from the corner of his lip.

Once outside, I stick the cookies into my backpack. The late afternoon sun is mellow, so I decide to go to my favorite place for some sketching before heading home. I pass through town, then climb uphill till I reach the cliff, where a cozy forest overlooks the bay. I pick-up my board and walk down my usual trail, the pine needles and gravely stones crunching under my sneakers. After only ten minutes at a brisk pace, I arrive. For a few years now, it’s where I go to have some solace while reading a book, sketching, or just listening to music while watching the birds catch fish. The clearing is small, but offers an idyllic view of the bay and surrounding town from high up on the cliff. The old weathered tree, with a smooth trunk and a mossy base, welcomes me as I lower myself and sit. I take out my sketchbook and my favorite pencil, and begin drawing. The sun is just starting to set, the orange glow reflecting amber on the water as the fishermen are cleaning their boats at the dock. Birds glide and swoop around them, hoping for some leftover fish.

As I sketch, my mind drifts. Though I try not to think about this morning and what may have happened to me the night before. I can’t help but wonder if I should try to backtrack and find the house with the yellow kitchen. Maybe seeing the place and the people who live there again might make me recall part of what happened. A face suddenly appears in my mind, almost as if someone imprints a picture in front of me. I quickly turn the page of my sketchbook and start drawing. I visualize him with a broad smile, dark wavy hair peppered with gray, and friendly green eyes. The face is not in focus, but somehow my mind remembers it. When I finish, I stare at it wondering – where have I seen this man before? Does he have anything to do with what happened to me? It crosses my mind that he might be my kidnapper, but something about him seems so kind and familiar.

I slam my sketchbook, frustrated by the multitude of possibilities wafting in my head. As the orange glow is slowly replaced by a dusky shadow, I decide to make my way home. With every step I take, that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach just gets worse and worse.

2

When I arrive home, Mom is in the kitchen singing along to Billie Holiday, swaying her hips while holding a glass of red wine. She doesn’t see me at first, and I spy on her while she tosses all the ingredients for my favorite broccoli pasta salad into a large ceramic bowl. I peek over her shoulder and steal a cube of feta cheese. Mom clucks disapprovingly, and swats my hand with a spatula.

“Ouch!” I complain dramatically. I’m suddenly distracted by the smell of cinnamon and my mouth waters when I spot an apple pie cooling by the window.

“Hi honey, it’s all your favorites tonight,” she cheerfully announces.

I dump my backpack by the coat-rack and steal another piece of cheese from the bowl. “I see that, is it some special occasion or something?”

“Every day is a special occasion sweetie,” she says. “And please go take a shower before dinner. You’re going to be too tired later on.”

“Okay, okay,” I grumble.

I run upstairs, leaving a trail of creaky sounds behind and then almost trip on a pile of dirty clothes by my bedroom door. I undress, and then head into the bathroom, where I step into the tub and pull the shower curtain closed. While I stand under the extra hot water, relishing the foggy steam that wafts in the air, I wet my body and let the pulsating stream soothe my sore muscles. My hands slip across my slippery skin, lathering the fragrant suds all over. When I reach for the shampoo, I cringe, as a small cramp travels from the base of my back up my spine. I turn and see nothing but suds falling down my bandage covered legs. I shrug it off, and continue with the shower, rubbing the shampoo into my long hair, rinsing, and running copious amounts of conditioner through in an attempt to get some of the knots out. Again, I feel a pinch. This time just above my butt. I whip my head around, now feeling kind of paranoid, and this time, a long black furry tail hangs behind me, outstretched like a curly question mark. My heart stops and I scream while frantically getting the last of the conditioner off my hair and face. I jump out still screaming and almost slip on the tile floor while running to the full-length mirror in my bedroom. I stare at my backside, but see nothing. No tail, just my wet pale butt and legs. Mom runs into my room, her face is white with fear.

“Hazel! What happened?” she asks, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my sopping body. I’m crying hysterically, unable to even explain to her what’s going on as the tears gush down my already soggy face. We sit on the bed and she embraces me while I continue crying, cradling my head on her shoulder like she did when I was a little girl. She just waits it out, patiently hugging and soothing me, until I begin to calm down. I glance at her through my clumpy wet lashes and see that she’s genuinely worried.

“Mom… Something strange happened to me, and I don’t really know how to explain it.”

She cups my hand. “Sweetie, whatever it is, it’s better that you tell me. We can sort it out, I’m sure.”

I shift my eyes down and slowly pull the large towel away from my legs, exposing all my bandages. She gasps. “I don’t know how it happened… I was reading my book and I guess I fell asleep. This morning, I was lying on someone’s floor naked and like this,” I say pointing at my wounds.

She looks surprised, but not as shocked as I expected.

“Mom?” She flinches and then looks me in the eye.

“Can you tell me what happened just now? Why were you screaming?” she asks with a firm and steady voice.

I fixate on my hands, feeling a bit silly, but I know I have to tell her the truth. “I was taking a shower and I felt a sharp pain here at the base of my back,” I explain, pointing to the spot. “At first, I ignored it… But when it happened again, I turned to see what it was and when I looked, I saw… a black tail behind me.”

I expect her to either be horrified or laugh as if I’m joking, but instead, she sits still, her eyes welling up with tears. I’m confused by her reaction. “Mom? What is it?”

She shakes her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I never thought this would happen.”

I sit back defensively, wrapping the towel around me. “What are you talking about, Mom?”

She gently uncovers my legs and examines them intently. I squint and scrutinize her actions, unsure of what it is exactly she’s doing. Her eyes are focused on my wounds; she sweeps both her hands slowly over each and every bandage, barely touching me. I lean in and meet her eyes. They stare back at me, glowing like embers in a fire. I’m stunned and flinch when a hot flash travels from my thighs to the tips of my toes. The sensation lasts only a few seconds. When I look down, all my bandages have vanished and my legs are smooth and pale. Every wound, even every scar I have accumulated over the years, is gone. All that’s left is my perfectly unblemished skin.

I lurch and my towel falls to the ground. Mom calmly stares at me from my bed. “What the hell was that?” I scream at her accusingly.

“Hazel, try and relax… I know I have a lot of explaining to do.”

I stomp over to the bathroom door and yank my bathrobe off the hook, putting it on angrily. “I’d say that’s a bit of an understatement!”

Mom opens my bedroom door and motions for me to follow. “Come. Let’s go downstairs… I’ll make us some tea and explain everything.”

As much as I want to slam the door in her face and crawl into bed, I reluctantly traipse downstairs to the kitchen, my curiosity getting the better of me.

She puts the shiny copper kettle on the stove and carefully arranges her special roots and herbs into her favorite Japanese teapot. Anytime Mom makes one of her special teas, it’s a sure sign something momentous is going on. She places the mismatched teacups on the table. Once the kettle whistles, causing the angry steam to shoot out of the spout, she carefully pours the boiling water into the teapot. The earthy smell of roots and herbaceous plants fills the air.

As she pours me a cup, I dump two teaspoons of sugar in and slowly stir. “Okay, Mom, you’ve got my attention now. What’s going on?”

She pauses and takes a small sip of her tea. “Hazel, there are some things I probably should have told you a long time ago, but I was just waiting for the right moment. Somehow, that time just never came...” I am perplexed, but say nothing. She grabs hold of my hand nervously and whispers, “I guess I just wanted you to be a happy, normal child. I didn’t want to burden you with any secrets… I suppose, I hoped that this day would never have to come.”

I cautiously swallow my piping hot tea, and glare at her defiantly from across the table. “So, what’s this big secret? Because I know I didn’t imagine what just happened.”

She fiddles with the large silver and alexandrite ring on her middle finger, the gem magically changing colors in the light. “A long time ago, before you were born, I used to live a different life. It involved a lot of mystical things… Things many people do not believe in or understand.”

“So, what are you saying exactly?” I demand.

She grips my hand a bit tighter. “Hazel, I’m referring to…witchcraft.”

I pull my hand from hers. “Witchcraft? You’re trying to tell me that you’re a witch?” I feel my face getting hot as I listen to the words coming out of my mouth.

She looks away, taking respite in her teacup, mumbling as she pulls her mouth away from the rim, “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” She stares up at me, her eyes transformed into a stormy swirl of violets and greens.

“So, the stuff you did upstairs, that was a spell or something?” I ask, gasping for air with every word.

She nods and replies, “Yes, it was… Many witches of light possess the power to heal.”

Everything is starting to slowly sink in and as I take another sip of tea, I feel my nerves calming a bit. “Witches of light?”

“It’s good versus evil. Like everything else in life, there is the light and the dark that keeps everything balanced in nature. The Chinese describe it as the yin and the yang, contrary forces that are somehow interconnected. So, in the world of witches and wizardry, there are those of us who strive to do good in this world and then there are those who wish to cause death and destruction,” she explains.

“Does this mean I’m turning into a witch?” I blurt out, waiting for her response with bated breath.

She grasps my hand again. This time I can feel static charges coming from her fingers. “No, I don’t think so,” she says shaking her head. “All these years I’ve been watching you, looking for any signs that you may be inheriting some of my powers. But I couldn’t see anything, so I thought maybe you might have taken more after your… father… or possibly that it even skipped a generation and that you were completely devoid of any powers, just a normal human being.”

“What do you mean you thought I took after my father? I thought he was just some casual fling you had when you were in college?”

She pours more tea into her cup. “No, Hazel. That’s not the truth. I’m so sorry I lied to you. He disappeared before you were even born, and to this day, I don’t know what happened to him. We loved each other very much and we shared a special bond, one that most people will never experience in their lives… Your father was my familiar…”

My brain feels like it’s about to explode with everything that is suddenly being thrown at me. “Familiar? Am I supposed to know what that is?”

Mom is suddenly flushed, embarrassed by her callousness. “No, sorry. You’re right. Of course, you wouldn’t know what that is. Hazel, a familiar is a shape-shifter that a witch or wizard forms a special relationship with. Usually, the witch chooses her familiar and they are bonded for life. The familiar is often a submissive, but that was never the case with your father,” she gulps as if she might shed a tear, but she doesn’t.

I gawk at my hands, arms, legs, and feet. “So… What you’re saying is that you think I’m a shape-shifter? Like a werewolf or something?” I see her nod in slow motion, and at that moment my vision tunnels and everything goes black.

3

I wake with a start, the crumpled white sheets tangled around my limbs, and my t-shirt bunched up around my armpits. It feels like I’ve slept for days, and I wonder when was the last time I ate something as my stomach grumbles. I swipe my phone, glancing at the date and time. Somehow, I’ve managed to sleep an entire day. The haze slowly clears and everything that happened the day before tumbles into my mind. Could it really be true? Or had I imagined it all in some fantastic dream? I slip on some jeans I find thrown on the floor, messily run my fingers through my hair, and apply some lip balm to my cracked lips.

I take the stairs two at a time and find Mom putting the uneaten food from the night before on the kitchen table. She points at a plate with her spatula. “Sit down and eat Hazel, you must be hungry.”

I serve myself a big heaping plate of pasta. “So, I’m just going to assume that everything I remember from yesterday is all true, unless you tell me otherwise.”

Mom puts some salad on a small plate in front of me, then sits and serves herself. I can’t help but dig in without saying a word. Mom watches me while I eat, leaving her plate untouched. “Okay, you’re probably wondering why you slept for so long. Before you say anything, I want to apologize for adding a few extra ingredients to your tea… I know you’re going to be angry, but I did it for your own good. You needed to rest so your mind could process it all.”

I spear a piece of broccoli on my plate. “It’s fine, I understand. I’m actually glad. I honestly don’t know if I could have taken any more.”

She seems taken aback by my casual response. “I should mention that you’re not a werewolf by the way. That’s the last thing you asked me before passing out.”

I finish my food and help myself to a generous slice of pie. “Go ahead and come out with it, you might as well,” I say with dread.

Her eyes gleam like illuminated crystals. “Your father was a powerful familiar. He could shape-shift into any animal he wished, but his alpha was a cat. It was the animal he related to the most, the one he considered closest to his human form.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow I expected something a little more dramatic. “A cat? Like a regular old house cat? Not a tiger or a lion, or anything like that?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Hazel.”

I finish my pie and wipe the gooey apple juices from my mouth with a napkin. “I’m not
really
disappointed, Mom… You know I love cats. You’re the one that never let me get one.”

“I know. Maybe I thought having one would remind me too much of your father, but to be honest, it’s not really normal practice for us to have any pets. I think we just find the concept way too confusing,” she admits.

“Mom, why didn’t you tell me any of this until now? Wasn’t I was mature enough to handle it?”

She sighs apologetically, the creases around her eyes deepening. “I’m sorry, Hazel. Retrospectively, I would have done things differently… I was selfish and it made me act foolishly. I promise from now on, I will try and make it up to you.”

I look at her face and see that she really means what she says. “So, what else is going to happen to me? Because blacking out and waking up in a strange place is something that I don’t
ever
want to do again.”

Mom helps herself to some pie, and picks at the crust with her fingers. “Your body is going through some changes right now, just like when a human goes through puberty; there will be some things you’ll be able to manage and some you won’t. Blacking out, and transforming uncontrollably while awake and asleep are things that normally happen when a shape-shifter is developing. When you woke-up in that strange house, it was because your body’s desire to transform was too strong for you to handle. That’s why you don’t remember anything... With some help, you’ll learn how to deal with it all.”

I am relieved and at the same time distressed. “How can I make sure nothing happens while I’m at school?

She meets my questioning gaze. “I can give you something, so you won’t have any accidents. But you’ll have to make sure to take it everyday. In a few weeks, when summer vacation starts, you’ll go to a place where you can learn how to use and control your powers.”

I can sense a note of sadness in her voice. It’s then that I realize we have never been apart, except for school and the occasional sleepover at Andy’s. It will be the first time I’ll be away from her watchful eye. “What kind of place is this?”

Her face lights up and she bites her lip while contemplating her response. “Hmmm… I guess it’s part school, part camp. Lots of kids your age from around the country will go there… People like us try to blend into regular society, live unassumingly, go to regular schools, and hold jobs. It’s part of the role we play so that our world remains secret from humans. But at the camp you’ll be free to be who you are, and you will love being around people who accept you openly.”

“So, the other kids… Will they be like me?”

“Yes, for the most part, except most of them will be of pure shape-shifter lineage. It means that both their parents and their ancestors were all shape-shifters,” she explains.

I sit back, my stomach and mind both full. “Hmmm… So, I’m still going to be a freak in
freak
school?” I say, half joking.

“No, sweetie, you are not a freak. In fact, it’s considered to be pretty special, and you should hold your head up high no matter what.”

I sigh and grumble, “Is it
really
necessary that I go to this camp though? Can’t you just teach me what I need to learn? I mean this town is practically my whole world Mom… I don’t want to leave.”

She holds my hand reassuringly. “Hazel, I can only teach you so much… You need to learn from your people. Only they can help you reach your full potential.”

I put on a brave face, swallowing to get the lump out of my throat. “I just can’t help but be nervous about this whole thing. It’s just too sudden, having to leave everything I know, accept a new reality, and be fine with it? I’m trying to be open-minded, because I want to believe you. I want to trust you, but this is crazy…”

“Hazel, I would never lie to you about something like this, you know that.”

“I know. It’s just that…”

“Trust me
Hazel
.”

I give it a moment to sink in. She’s right. She would never insist on something unless it was totally necessary. In an instant I decide: trust my mom. My mom, who has never hurt me, only loved and cared for me. If she’s vouching for this place, then I’ll go.

I nod my head.

She squeezes my hand, soothing me with gentle hushes before replying, “Don’t worry, Hazel, everything is going to be fine… Tonight, I want to give you a little gift, something I have wanted to give you for a long time.” She stands up and places both of her hands on the sides of my head.

“Mom? What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not going to hurt. I’m going to hold your head between my hands for a few minutes. You will feel warmth and some mild vibrations on your temples… I’m going to give you the gift of memory, when you go to sleep tonight and on other nights, you will dream about your father and me. You will experience him, just as if you had been there. Then maybe you can get some of the answers you are looking for.”

I sit still as she clasps my head between her open hands. As the seconds pass, her palms begin to radiate heat, the warmth penetrating my head with such intensity, that I feel faint. I expect pain or discomfort, but surprisingly, I feel only a soothing sensation as a vibration radiates from her fingers across my skull. After a few minutes, her hands drift away, leaving my head feeling heavier. I yawn, and succumb to sleep’s embrace.

Mom kisses me on the forehead. “Goodnight, honey… Sweet dreams.”

When I get to my room, I fall on my bed and sleep deeply, so deep that it almost feels like I’m weightless. I can’t feel the mattress or the blankets, even my pillow. Little fizzy explosions materialize in my mind. A sudden burst of color, then a clear, crisp image comes into focus.

A young, teenage version of my mom stands in a room. She is among other kids her age, wearing simple white garments, as they stand in rows, bathed with a golden glow. Their hands are outstretched in front of their chests, and they’re holding their wands on their upturned palms. The wands look hot, almost like molten metal, but the hands holding them stay cool. At the front, standing on a circular podium made of gleaming marble is an older woman, a witch with cascading ebony hair and a singular white braid down the side of her face. She is dressed in glittery white and wears a golden robe around her shoulders.

“Today, as you move forward to being full-fledged witches and wizards of light, it is necessary for you to choose a familiar who will assist you in your missions and stay by your side. You will all take turns based on rank; when your time comes, please select wisely. Take your wand and meet eyes with your chosen one. If it’s a suitable match, your wand will accept,” she says as she looks at Mom. “Maven, please begin.”

A wooden double door opens, and one by one, animals begin to enter. Slowly, the room is filled with horses, lions, tigers, foxes, wolves, deer, birds, cats, and dogs. Mom looks confident and poised as she scans the room. She locks eyes with several animals, as if reading their minds. With each one she rejects, the tension in the room grows. Finally, she spots a large Russian blue cat, whose eyes are a bright pale green and whose silvery fur shimmers in the shadows. They stare for a few minutes, then she lifts her molten wand with one swift movement – a static electric stream hits the cat in between the eyes. The wand cools turning to a solid gold rod, while the cat transforms into a handsome young man, now naked before all to see.

Not once did she break the gaze with him, and at that moment, I realize this is my father. He is tall, with lean sinewy muscles, and dark wavy hair, which is already sprinkled with silver strands despite his youth. His striking jade colored eyes are speckled with bits of metallic copper.

The older witch appears proud and extracts her wand from beneath her robe. “You have chosen well. You may now proceed to the greeting room!” She waves her wand and zaps them both till they disappear into thin air.