The Memory Witch (2 page)

I dreamed of the forest. It was far from an enchanted forest with singing bluebirds and bright, joyous flowers. It was the forest of nightmares. Dark and angry clouds swirled above. The wind picked up and blew a few remaining dead leaves off of the majestic oaks that rose tall with their branches reaching towards the foreboding sky.

I ran through the forest and my terrified screams cut through the sanctity of the quiet woods. My blood red leather jacket became tangled in the bramble as I moved clumsily towards my destination. I refused to slow as the jacket became tangled and fell from my shoulders. Branches scratched at my pale arms as I escaped the clutches of the shrubbery. Blood slid down my skin, but nothing abated my need to flee.

I plunged into a clearing. My dark tights were a map of rips and runs. Dirt was caked onto my hands and had eased its way beneath my fingernails. My breath stopped as I heard a sound behind me. It was chanting. The words were old and unrecognizable. They moved closer and closer to my body locked in fear. The sound blocked out anything else. The forest was still and silent as the oaks listened along to the ancient chants.

Dark smoke moved towards me. The chants seemed to live within the smoke, and the murmurs grew in urgency as they circled my body. The shadows toyed with me. Nipped at my ankles and then moved away when I turned to face it. Soon, the dark tendrils tired of the game and enveloped me completely. I felt myself suffocating. The evil living within the smoke had a claim on me. They wanted me as one of their own.

***

I sat up straight. It took a moment for me to completely escape the nightmare. My heart slowed as I took in the familiar surroundings of Tanner’s bedroom. However, my alarm returned as I saw sunlight streaming through his bedroom windows.

“Tanner! What time is it?” I asked in a panicked voice. I shook his arm violently as he mumbled something incoherent as a reply. Without waiting for him to get up, I hopped out of his bed and slipped on my shoes. I had left my purse with my cell phone in the hall closet downstairs.

Tanner made a fumbled attempt for his phone and muttered a curse when he looked at the screen. “It’s just after eight.”

“My mom is going to kill me!” I moaned. I’ve been the perfect daughter up to this point. Maybe she would go easy on me for my first indiscretion. Not to mention, my eighteenth birthday was the next day and I would be away at college in the fall. Maybe she would see my night away as a type of preparation for what things would be like when I lived on campus.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Tanner asked sleepily.

“No, it would only make it worse if she saw you. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you,” I said in a rush.

“I’ll let you know our plans for tomorrow. Love you too.”

I was unsure if my trepidation was visible, so I forced out an enthusiastic smile. “I can’t wait.”

The lie was heavy on my tongue, but I gave him another kiss before hurrying out of the house. I grabbed my purse and scrolled through the calls and texts as I quickened my pace over to my car. The Ford was ten years old and always seemed to be on its last legs. Being hard up on cash encouraged my resourceful side. I taught myself through online auto training videos how to work on cars. I wasn’t an expert, but had learned enough to keep it running. Many of the man of the house duties had a tendency to fall on my shoulders.

As I cranked the engine, I was shocked to only find a few missed texts and calls from Amber. My mother had been home from work for at least two hours. Why hadn’t she been trying to frantically reach me? It’s not like I was known for spending nights out and not checking in. I figured maybe she was stuck at work and I would luck out on my one and only transgression.

I raced across town and made it home in record time. As I pulled into my spot, my heart sank. My mother’s car was parked in the driveway. I guessed this meant one of two things. Either she zoned out and didn’t notice the missing Ford before crashing or she was on the phone now with the police department asking to file a missing persons report.

I attempted to creep through the front door noiselessly. If I could tiptoe upstairs, maybe my mom would be none the wiser. As I shut the door with care, I was startled to hear my mother call from behind me. “Quinn, is that you?”

She didn’t sound angry, but that didn’t mean much. My mom’s moods were volatile. She could be fine one minute and sink into a deep depression the next. A calm exterior would sometimes accompany harsh and angry words. I had many of the same traits, so I didn’t blame her for her erratic moods. We understood each other probably better than anyone else in the world.

I made the walk of shame into the living room and I expected instant recriminations. Instead, I was surprised by the appearance of an old woman sitting across from my mother on the flowered loveseat. My mother was still dressed in her scrubs and was holding a teacup. I noticed the tremor immediately in her hands as the tea sloshed over the sides. I sent her a questioning look, but she refused my attempts at eye contact. I turned my attention to the elderly woman instead.

The unfamiliar woman sipped her tea calmly. She looked at me with unabashed interest and I immediately felt like I was being closely inspected. I guessed her age to be in the mid-seventies or perhaps even older. She had white hair that was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her frame was petite and it was accentuated more when compared to the height of my statuesque mother. The woman’s mouth was set in a tight line as her gray eyes turned away from me and looked at my mother. Expectedly, I waited for someone to speak.

My mother cleared her throat and set her tea on the mahogany coffee table in front of her. She seemed upset, but I had a feeling it had nothing to do with my sleepover at Tanner’s house. “Quinn, will you sit with us?”

“Of course,” I agreed. If it meant staying out of trouble, I would willingly perform a juggling act to appease my mother.

I sat on the sofa next to my mom and volleyed my head between the two women. My mother spoke first. “Quinn, this is Stella Corey, she’s an…old friend of our family.”

I jumped back as the woman cackled at my mother’s introduction. I gave her a startled look, but the woman addressed my mom instead. “Bridget, you haven’t told the girl anything?”

My mother tucked a piece of her blond bob behind her ear. A brief look of guilt passed over her expression before she gave the woman a murderous look. “How the hell was I supposed to explain any of this? I was hoping it would never come to this.”

“Meaning you were hoping I’d be dead by now,” Stella replied dryly before calmly taking another sip of her tea.

My mother’s lack of response seemed to confirm this sentiment. I knew my jaw must have been on the floor over this exchange. Stella smiled at my shock. “I have to say, Bridget, I never imagined she would turn out so beautiful. When I met you, you were skin and bones and a tangled mess of blond hair.”

“She’s smart too,” my mother admitted. She said pointedly to Stella, “She has a scholarship to Lehigh in the fall.”

“Well, that’s not my fault, dear. You knew the terms when you came to me.” Stella waved her off dismissively.

I was tired of the mystery surrounding the exchange and took my mother’s hand in mine. She looked regretful as she examined our intertwined fingers. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“Where do I begin?” she asked rhetorically. She looked to Stella for help. The old woman simply shrugged her shoulders and leaned back further into the loveseat.

My mother’s eyes were moist when she twisted back to face me. “Quinn, I’ve never told you the entire truth about your childhood.”

My breath hitched. I wanted to take in this moment because I had a feeling my entire life was about to change. For years, I begged and bargained with my mother in order to convince her to tell me why she thought I lost my memory. It seemed surreal that it could actually be happening. Whenever I brought up my father or the reason behind my select amnesia, she said that we have to stop living in the past. He was dead and talking about it wouldn’t bring him back.

My mother began, “I met Stella when you were eight years old. I had heard about her from a cousin of mine. It was believed by my family that Stella was from a line of very powerful witches.”

“What?” I choked out. I waited for my mother to deliver the punch line. It was unnerving to see both Stella and my mom as somber and as still as statues.

“At this time, I was desperate. Your father had just died and you seemed to retreat into yourself. You wouldn’t eat and you refused to speak to anyone. The nightmares were the worst. You would scream for hours at night and thrash like you were possessed. One morning, I woke up from your screams and found a chunk of your own bloody hair in your hands.” My mother swallowed audibly and I could tell this was difficult for her to talk about. To me, it didn’t seem real. It was as if she was talking about another Quinn and not the girl sitting next to her.

“I had no idea what to do and I was so afraid I would lose you too. My cousin told me to contact Stella to see if she could help in some way.” The elderly woman was impassive as my mother told her story. As if they were talking about the weather and not witchcraft.

My mother continued. “I met with Stella and told her everything about your…past. She agreed to perform an enchantment that would erase your memory. It would be as if your first eight years of life never existed. None of the pain or the horror of that year would haunt you.”

Stella cut in to answer my unspoken question. “The enchantment wipes away everything in the person’s head to that point. The magic doesn’t heed to a specific timeframe.”

“Stella came to our home while we still lived in New Jersey. She gave you a potion to drink that promised to give use the fresh start we desperately needed. When she named her price…I hesitated,” my mother mumbled, “but I thought it was best to accept the terms for the greater good.”

“Not that I’m buying any of this, but what exactly were the terms?”

My mom didn’t seem to hear me. “After you drank that potion, I never felt so blessed. It was like you were reborn. You turned back into an eight year old kid again. We moved and you made new friends and we both could forget about all of the awful things that had occurred.”

Tears were falling freely down my mother’s cheeks. She said in an urgent whisper, “Quinn, you were dying. I just wanted my little girl back. I swear to you, I would’ve never made the deal otherwise.”

“Your mother seems to lack the backbone to break the news to you, so I’m guessing the honor falls to me,” Stella said crisply. “When someone makes a deal with a witch, there must be a payment of some sort. It has to be something of great value—otherwise the spell upsets the balance of nature. You can’t just hand over a bundle of cash and expect that to be enough.

“What I asked for was a year of your life,” Stella explained.

“What?”

“You are to come to my estate and live with me for one year. During that time, I plan to teach you everything I know about my craft,” Stella elaborated.

I felt a whoosh of air leave the room. As my mother began to openly weep, I realized that the two of them were serious. My mother believed this woman was a witch and I’d be living with her. I couldn’t explain my memory loss, but I was certain it hadn’t resulted from drinking some sort of magical potion.

“And if I refuse?” I prompted. One thing was certain, I wasn’t going anywhere with this woman. The next year of my life would feature me leaving Harveys Lake and starting my freshman year at Lehigh. I hadn’t stay up hours each night studying in order to spend a year with a deranged woman. When I got my degree, I was hoping it would mean an easier life for my mother and me.

Stella gave my mother a sly smile as if she anticipated my response. “Well then your mother would be responsible for paying the debt.”

“You would make her leave her home and job to train with you as a witch?” I asked with unmasked disbelief.

“No, I want someone young that can carry on my work for years. I have no children and my sister and niece both died years ago. I have a nephew, but only female descendants can perform the craft. You probably don’t know this, but your family is from a long line of spellcasters dating back almost thousand years. They haven’t practiced since your great-grandmother passed away, but the power is still there. I’m certain you’ll have the skill to learn everything I know.”