The Memory Witch (9 page)

Stella’s dressing down of me in front of the client was my punishment for not following her rules. I simply nodded and headed out of the room. As I left, I heard Stella’s voice, “I accept your offering. I’m going to write down the spell for you now. Say these words exactly as I write them.”

I hurried through the corridors of the house. Reviewing the list, I was relieved to find most of the ingredients consisted of oils that Stella stored on the shelves in the workroom. She had labels attached at the end of each shelf and had yet to remove them.

I set out the last ingredient just in time as Stella breezed through the doorway of the workshop. She looked over each of the objects and announced them, “Lavender oil, sweet orange oil, lovage, cinnamon bark, lodestone, and lemon flowers.” Nodding at me, she stated flatly, “Good job.” I stayed glued to the spot and waited for her to speak. “You can go to lunch now. I’ll take things from here.”

“Can I watch you cast?”

Stella had never cast a spell in front of me since my arrival at Chadwick House. I suspected she was holding me at arm’s length. I don’t know if it was because she didn’t trust me fully or didn’t feel I was ready to witness her casting. “For someone so afraid to come here, it’s good to see you eager to learn.”

I flushed at her praise. Stella usually treated me with indifference and it felt strange to hear a compliment pass her lips. When I didn’t reply, she started, “I don’t want you to know how to cast a spell just yet. Magic is dangerous and an exacting science. A poor cast can have detrimental results for you and the person you’re casting for.” The disappointment must have been clear on my face. “No worries, my dear. When you leave this house, you’ll be one of the most powerful spellcasters the world has ever seen.”

Her proclamation made me grimace and I thought of my mother’s warnings about being seduced by magic. I felt in control and assured that I could walk away from magic at the end of the year. I had a life that I was eager to get back to.

Another week passed by and Stella permitted me to sit in on two more of her meetings. One of the requests was for a woman who needed help finding her deceased mother’s lost jewelry box. An elderly man had come to Stella for a cure for his arthritis. Stella offered up her potions and charms and sent each of her clients happily away from the estate. After the man paid his debt with the only photograph of his mother, I asked Stella about what she did with the objects offered to her.

“Come with me,” she told me and led me down into the basement. After unlocking another door, we entered a storage room. There were metal shelves along the perimeter and at least a dozen of storage bins toppled on top of each other. Without her prompting, I walked over to one of the bins on the floor and opened it. Inside was an odd assortment of knick-knacks and photographs.

“Anything worthwhile, I sell. I have an estate sales agent that comes once a month and gives me a quote on the objects that have been given to me. This is my sole income and how we live in such lavish luxury.” She cackled as if she was laughing at her own private joke. “Anything else, I keep down here.”

Tears prickled my eyes and I couldn’t fully explain this sudden rush of emotion I felt over seeing people’s keepsakes collecting dust in the basement. These mementos were meaningful to someone and I wondered that maybe I did have a certain level of naïveté that I had to cast off if I was going to be a practicing witch. Magic was enticing and people were willing to part with their cherished things to possess a piece of it.

Stella was speaking. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the offering made by the client. It can be sold, stored, thrown out, burned…” Stella’s voice trailed off. “The thing that’s important to keep the balance is that a sacrifice must be made. It doesn’t even always have to be a tangible thing. Instead of an object, your mother put you in my service for a year.”

“How do you make the judgment call on what’s enough to settle the debt?”

“If someone gives me something worthless, the spell isn’t likely to work. I’ll let them know this and make suggestions on what else they can give. If a spell does work, despite the lackluster offering, nature will take the rest of its payment in one way or another.” Her voice was grave and I shivered involuntarily.

“Like what could happen?”

“Anything really…” Stella’s thin lips pursed as she mulled over my question. “My sister was also a witch.” I nodded without adding that Mason had already divulged this information. “She ensnared her husband using a love spell and paid the debt with a diamond necklace given to her by a client. Since she offered nothing of hers in exchange, she was forced to pay the debt. She woke up the morning after the casting to find her two favorite mares dead in her stables.”

“That’s awful…”

She didn’t let me finish. “You’ll gain an instinct about whether the offering fits the spell. It will take practice, but I’ll help you make the tougher calls.”

After taking one last grim look at all of the stuff crammed into the basement, I sighed. Being a witch was becoming more and more complex every day. Stella gestured for me to follow her and we proceeded into the workshop. After sorting through her books, she pulled out a small thin book and handed it to me. I sifted through the pages and saw it contained the formulas for different spells.

“This is my potion book for love spells. As you’ve probably guessed, love and money are what most people come to me about. I’m leaving for two days to visit a client who’s too ill to travel. While I’m away, I expect you to study these spells while also keeping up with your chores around the house and in the greenhouse.”

Inwardly, I was celebrating over this news. Stella’s watchful gaze left me little free time. I looked forward to a couple of days without her unnerving presence. I asked, “Can I have my phone back while you’re away?”

Stella’s laugh was humorless. “What? So you could be talking to your boyfriend all day instead of working? I don’t think so.” I could’ve told her that Tanner was barely speaking to me and I had no idea where the future of our relationship was headed. The past two weekends, he could only spare fifteen minutes to talk to me.

“But, what if there’s an emergency…” I countered and stopped speaking when I detected the whine in my voice. My instructor demanded steel from me and resented when I reverted back to what she called a “bratty teenager.” Her rules were finite and my begging never budged her.

Stella kept the house phone locked up in her bedroom and office. It was even more doubtful that she would leave me with a set of keys while she’s away.

“Mason will be here. I’ve asked him to keep an eye out for you,” Stella retorted. I forced myself not to roll my eyes. I had tried to start a conversation several times with Mason with no luck. Although we lived on the same property, the majority of glimpses I had of him were from my window when I heard the turn of his truck’s engine. He left the estate most nights and I was fast asleep before he returned. I was interested in where he disappeared to, but never had the opportunity to ask him.

A few hours later, I waved to Stella from the porch. The client had sent a limo to take her to the airport. As I watched her drive away, the tension in my neck and shoulders eased. Stella was my puppet master and it felt good to have cut the strings—albeit temporarily. I headed back inside to crack open the spell book given to me.

Stella had left the workshop unlocked so I passed most of the day in there. As the sun began to descend in the sky, I closed the book and traveled to the kitchen to look for something to eat. A banging to the rear of the house grabbed my attention and I hurried to the kitchen window. Pulling apart the curtains, I saw Mason putting away the lawn tractor in the shed. His black t-shirt and torn jeans were dusty and sweat glistened off of his skin. The August heat grew more stifling each passing day.

Mason lifted the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the perspiration from his forehead and I tried to avoid swooning from the sight. Every inch of him was formed of lean muscle. His chest was broad and his abs ripped. His body betrayed his strength and masculinity. The hard work around the estate had obviously paid off more than a gym membership ever could.

I tried to talk myself out of approaching him, but ignored my inner voice. Before he could make it inside his front door, I hurried out back and called out to him. Turning at the sound of my voice, he gave me a lazy grin. His smile was disarming and he was handsome in a way that could lead a lamb to slaughter.

“Hi, what are you up to?” I could hear the eagerness in my voice and wanted to kick myself. My desperation for companionship may end up being my undoing, I thought as I returned his smile.

“Um…going to shower,” he said and gestured to his filthy clothing before saying, “and then probably eat dinner and watch some TV.”

“Can I join you?” His eyebrows shot up suggestively and I coughed to hide my embarrassment. I sputtered, “Oh god, not in the shower…I meant to eat dinner and watch TV.”

An awkward moment passed, as he seemed to give the question careful consideration. He rubbed his chin, bringing my attention to his sensual mouth. My heart belonged to someone else, but it didn’t stop me from fantasizing over how it would feel to kiss Mason.

The minutes dragged on as I waited for Mason’s reply. Was the suggestion of my company that revolting? I almost turned on my heels to hide back inside of the house. Finally, he nodded and said, “Okay, I guess you know what they say. Why the cat is away…”

I laughed and followed him into his cottage. Unashamed, I began to wander around and take inventory of Mason’s cozy living space. The cottage was small, but had a large living room attached to a modest sized kitchen. The microfiber couch was in an L-shape and centered in front of an impressive entertainment center. The shelves were overflowing with movies, game consoles, and video games. The eat-in kitchen had an even smaller table than Stella’s and only two wooden chairs pushed against it. I spied through a doorway and noticed a sparsely furnished bedroom. The room was dominated by a king size bed covered with an aquamarine comforter.

Mason smirked at my snooping. “Will you be asking to use my bathroom next so that you can snoop through my medicine cabinet?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that your aunt deprives me of human contact,” I said and breezed over towards the entertainment center. After browsing through the titles, I let out a snort.

“What?” he asked coming up behind me. I tried to focus as I felt his body heat against my back. I hoped he didn’t notice the stiffening of my joints at his nearness.

“You must be a big
Lord of the Rings
fan. I see you have all of the special collector’s editions of the movies and the books,” I observed.

“So what?” he demanded defensively. “It’s a good series.”

I turned to face him. “It’s just sort of geeky. You come across as the mystery man of the manor and you’re actually probably just sitting home and saying things to yourself like…” I paused and said in a deep rattle, “
Filthy little hobbites. They stole it…my precious.
”

“And I’m the geek?” Mason scoffed. “Who is the one quoting Gollum?”

“Good point,” I conceded. I noticed a laptop on a small corner desk in the room. I tried my best charming smile. Mason frowned in my direction. I asked, “Do you think I can use your computer?”

Mason shook his head in disbelief. “You’re going to get us both in trouble. Did you know my aunt put a hunger curse on me for a week after I ruined one of her crops?”

I squirmed over the admission, but begged, “Please. I won’t say anything, I swear.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. I’m going to take a shower.”

Once he left, I quickly logged onto my email and Facebook accounts. I frowned when I noticed that most of it was junk mail. It felt like the longer I was away—the more my friends were erasing me from their memories. I scrolled through pictures on the feeds of my social networks and sighed as I looked at several photos taken at Tanner’s house. I was worried about my boyfriend. In every picture, he appeared intoxicated with a devil may care look on his face. His usually shorn blond hair was wild and blond curls looped around his ears. It was hard to remove myself from the role of the girlfriend who always had the job of reining him in.

When I saw Tanner was online, I composed a quick message to say hello and that I missed him. After a minute of no response, I sent another message to let him know I was borrowing a friend’s computer to write him. Without a reply, he logged off. I gasped in surprise.

I hadn’t heard Mason come up behind me. I was very aware of his closeness as he leaned down to look over my shoulder. I breathed in his scent and was surprised to feel desire coil in my belly. His scent was natural and woodsy and utterly captivating. It even had the ability to make me momentarily forget my annoyance with Tanner.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Mason questioned pointing to the picture of Tanner I had up on the screen.

It wasn’t the most flattering picture of Tanner, which made me hesitate. Tanner and Mark were both sweating and holding cans of beer in their hands. Their eyes were blurry and unfocused as they laughed at the camera. I didn’t know why I cared what Mason thought, but for some reason I did.

“Yes,” I replied and after a brief pause I admitted, “I just wrote him on Facebook and he logged off.” When Mason didn’t say anything, I asked, “Can I use your phone?”

“For what?”

“To call him,” I responded. “He’s been weird the past couple of times we’ve talked and I just want to get to the bottom of what’s going on.”

I understood I was pushing it with Mason, but I was pleased when he handed me his cell phone. I texted Tanner to let him know I would be calling from a weird number. Soon after, I dialed his number. I waited as the phone rang several times. At a mid-ring, his voicemail came on.

I disconnected the call and gave Mason a look of utter disbelief. “I think he just screened my call.” I tried his phone number again and this time it went right to voicemail. By the end of this call, I was fuming. “What the hell?”

Mason gently removed his phone from my hands. “I really don’t want to get involved in your relationship problems.”