Chapter Sixteen

Bewitchments

“I have a feeling you'll be more comfortable upstairs with me, anyway,” the Witch said in a high, musical tone when Valek finally left.

The two of them started walking down the stairs until they met the second floor of the house, which seemed like a different house entirely. The landing had a living room of its own, complete with several cushy, green chairs and a brick fireplace, and another small hallway Charlotte suspected led to separate rooms.

This was like a house that belonged in that one British fairytale with the girl and the “drink me” bottles. It just seemed to extend on and on. She looked at the indigo-colored apartment walls encrusted with what looked like bits of moonstone and jade spiraling in a complicated mosaic. She scanned the numerous oak bookshelves stacked high with volumes and scrolls of things enchanted.

“Stay here,” Sarah chirped. She bounced out of the small living room and around the corner.

Charlotte walked over to one of the sagging, velvet armchairs and sat down, sinking deep within its cushion. Despite the nightmarish ordeal she had just been through, she felt strangely at home in this curious labyrinth house. Sarah emerged from the small kitchen with two mugs of hot drinking chocolate, smiling politely, and handed Charlotte a mug.

“Drink this. You’ll feel much better.”

Charlotte smiled, wondering if the first sip would have her shrinking or growing. Shyly, she took a small sip and felt the sweet, hot liquid run down the back of her throat. Within only a few moments the emaciated, weak feeling virtually disappeared, and she could almost feel the new life replenishing in her veins. It was an odd, warm, pulsing sensation that seemed to flare specifically near her throat and wrists. “Thank you.” She smiled and sipped at it again.

“The licorice and chocolate beads between feedings doesn’t help as much as that stuff does, but it takes a lot longer to make,” Sarah explained.

A small fire crackled in its place as Charlotte apprehensively sank backward into the dark green cushions, her eyes shifting wondrously around the room. Shelves that held grimoires and jars of unrecognizable things hung haphazardly from the walls. Charts of moon phases and star patterns covered the other flat surfaces entirely. Spiders and their captured prey clung to the cobwebs, and there were even several trinkets Charlotte guessed the Witch used to communicate with the dead scattered on the floor in one corner. Charlotte’s eyes slowly moved back to Sarah’s cheerful face.

“Do you love it?” The Witch beamed. “I decorated it myself.”

“It’s fantastic.” Charlotte smiled, gaze still wandering.

“I’m glad you like it. Now, give me your right hand.”

“What?”

But before Charlotte could get an answer, Sarah had already grabbed it, analyzing her hand over the crooked coffee table between them, held up by small wooden gnomes.

Charlotte watched the Witch trace the lines in her palms. Sarah looked no older than eighteen. She wasn’t anything like the two-faced Witches she knew from the Bohemian Occult. She decided Sarah looked a lot like a doll she’d once owned. It had the same brown curls, petite nose, and rosy cheeks. She remembered how she’d been playing with it when she was around six or so and had dropped it, smashing the face to pieces on the floor.

“Curious.” Sarah’s voice shattered Charlotte’s reverie.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sarah grumbled, still clutching Charlotte’s hand. “Your lines are not matching with any of my human charts.”

Charlotte peered into Sarah’s lap at the crumpled pieces of paper.

“Human charts?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Sarah let go of her hand and stretched out the parchment in front of her face. “Every type of person has a different way of reading the patterns in their hands.” She continued to study, looking for an answer.

“Every type of person? But I thought everyone’s palm looks different, anyway,” Charlotte said, analyzing her own hand.

“Well, yes. That goes without saying. But do you see how there are absolutely no lines in your hand, except for that silly criss-cross in the middle?” Sarah explained.

“Yeah?” Charlotte brought her hand really close to her face, making her eyes cross.

“Well, every other human being has a lot more than that! I mean, where’s your life line? Your love line? Your line of success?” Sarah prodded, as if Charlotte were personally insulting her.

“My what?”

“And have you ever looked at Valek’s palm?” Sarah lifted an eyebrow indicating Charlotte was missing something obvious.

“No.”

“Vampires have a different pattern than humans altogether. They don’t have a lifeline, because their lives are continuous. They only have one line to signify when they will meet their eternal mate. You know, like the bride of Dracula, or however you recognize the legend. But that’s only exclusive to certain Vampires,” Sarah continued, without taking a breath. “Elves and Witches just have little stars and X’s.”

“Oh.” Charlotte cocked her head. “So, why does mine not match a human pattern? It looks good to me,” she said, finally letting her hand drop back into her lap.

“I don’t know. Perhaps I’m just tired.” Sarah sighed and pushed the graphs to one side. “I'm only halfway through my training. Let’s do tea-leaves instead.” She grabbed a silver teapot from the center of the table and got up to hang it on a hook over the fire.

“What exactly are you trying to find out?” Charlotte inquired.

Sarah turned to face the girl again. “I just wanted to know stuff about you, I guess.” She shrugged. “You’re very interesting, Charlotte.”

“You could just ask me.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s way more fun to do it this way.”

“Oh.” Charlotte leaned back again in the armchair.

The teapot started to whistle after a few moments, and Sarah gracefully slipped it off the hook and flounced back to her seat, her emerald skirt bouncing around her knees. She started to pour the steaming water into two small cups, adding the leaves as Charlotte watched.

“So, how long have you been studying?” Charlotte asked.

“Fortune telling? Since I figured out that was my niche. Most Witches prefer healing. Not me.” Sarah shook her head. “I’ve been studying for around one hundred years to perfect it.”

Charlotte blinked. She had no idea the rate at which a Witch was supposed to age. She thought about Evangeline then.

Sarah sat back in her chair, staring expectantly at Charlotte who stared back. “Well?”

“Drink it.” She pointed her finger at the teacup.

“How much of it?” Charlotte quickly picked up the little mug.

“All of it. Until the liquid part is gone. But don't eat the leaves. You'll be throwing up for months.” Sarah smiled.

Charlotte winced, and she started to carefully sip at the now purple water. When she realized the taste, she immediately pulled away, forcing herself to swallow what was already inside her mouth.

“Gross!” she blurted. “What is this?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s tea fortuna, used only for leaf readings. You have to drink it all. Come on,” she urged, and got up from her seat to Charlotte, and pinched her nose, forcing the rest of the tea down her throat.

Charlotte squirmed and gurgled until the tea was gone.

“Great!” Sarah clapped her small hands together and walked back over to the fireplace.

“That was unnecessary,” Charlotte grumbled.

“Hush!” Sarah spat. “Come here.” She beckoned her to stand beside her before the crackling little fire. Charlotte did so apprehensively, all the while shooting slightly dirty looks at the Witch.

“What are we doing now? ” Charlotte folded her arms.

“Quiet,” Sarah shushed again. She closed her eyes, gripping the small cup in both of her hands. She chanted something Charlotte suspected to be Latin, and chucked the leaves into the fireplace.

The flames exploded, billowing all the way up into the lower parts of the chimney. The fire hissed and whirled as purple and green electric sparks flew from it, some fizzling out on the carpet. The firelight seemed to come to life as the flames formed into recognizable shapes, unfolding its prophecy before the two.

“Is this supposed to happen?” Charlotte lifted an eyebrow, and Sarah batted a hand at her to quiet her again.

The fire morphed into several things. The first was a figure holding a small infant child. Then, it took on the shape of a Fairy, and the frightened face of a little girl.

“What is it doing?” Charlotte’s eyes grew wide at the images.

“It’s reading your past,” Sarah whispered. “That’s how it can predict your future.”

The fire continued to dance, taking on the shapes of various memories Charlotte possessed as the two continued to watch in amazement. Sarah even whispered the word “interesting” a few times, causing Charlotte to glance curiously over at her. It continued to do this until the flames turned from orange, to black with gold rimming.

“It’s predicting your future now,” Sarah whispered.

It showed several interesting things. First, there was the image of Charlotte and Valek together. Shortly after, the image of Valek seemed to disappear and then reappear again.

“What did that mean?” Charlotte asked.

“Shh.”

Then, the fire turned into the shape of what appeared to be a lion with two tails, and then another one, this one a mirrored image with the color of the flames reversed. Gold with black rimming. The last thing the fire displayed was Charlotte’s face before it slowly fizzled out, smoke filtering up the chimneystack into the night. Sarah turned around to face the room, her hand clasped to her chin as she made her way back to her chair.

“Very, very interesting,” she mused.

“What?” Charlotte urged, still standing before the fireplace, searching the dying embers for an answer.

Sarah brought one hand up to her forehead. “Nothing. It was just very vague. I hate ambiguous premonitions.” The Witch seethed, getting up again and walking over to a row of shelves. She started to skim over a stack of books, fingering each spine until she found the one she was looking for. She yanked it off the shelf and started flipping through its pages.

Charlotte slowly made her way to the Witch’s side and peered over her shoulder. Sarah searched for different symbols in a chapter that explained tealeaf predictions.

“Hmm…that’s even more interesting.” She squinted at the page. “It says here, if an image is mirrored back to itself, it either means death or extreme change.” Charlotte drew in her breath as Sarah turned another page. “But, the weird thing is it doesn’t mention anywhere here what it means if the flames change color. Odd.”

Charlotte sighed. “How long did you say you’ve been studying this?”

Sarah rolled her eyes and closed the book, a small cloud of dust puffing out from between the tattered pages. “Come on.” She started down the hall. “Let’s get you looking like something other than a drowned cat.”

“Excuse me?” Charlotte hurried after the house Witch.

“Blood dolls are supposed to look presentable at all times. And looking presentable is my specialty. Besides, Valek is going to be coming back up for a visit any time now. That much I can predict. And you don’t want to keep looking like that, do you?”

Charlotte looked down at the torn, bloodstained over-shirt from Valek and dirt encrusted jeans. “No. I guess I don’t. You know, Valek would never even have me be one of those awful things if it weren’t for your Francis.”

“Sure,” Sarah said lightly as her eyes scanned Charlotte’s clothes.

Sarah led Charlotte back into her adopted bedroom. Charlotte gazed around at the fresh, white linens—no longer blood-splattered—and crisp curtains. The whole room smelled of jasmine and lilacs. Pretty green vines twisted in spirals in one of the corners by the ceiling, and what looked like real stars twinkled above the black-iron spiraling bedposts.

“How are they—are those real stars?” Charlotte watched in wonderment at the tiny, twinkling spheres while Sarah was busy rummaging through the large wardrobe against the wall.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “No, you silly thing. Of course not. Those are just little bewitchments I place around the house sometimes to make it pretty.” She turned back to the open wardrobe. “I love nature. There isn’t enough of it in this city.” She pulled out several flouncy articles of clothing and folded them over her arm. “Here, you’ll like these. I can’t wear them anymore since I lost all that weight.”

Charlotte sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

Sarah stopped in her tracks and frowned. “What? I can put these back and you can continue to dress like that if you want.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and unfolded her arms. “Fine. Sorry.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sarah smiled. “Besides, I wasn’t calling you fat. Not a bit. I’m still going to have to take these in for you.” She threw the clothes on the bed and turned quickly, tearing off Charlotte's blouse.

“Hey!” Charlotte grasped for the top to cover herself.

“Oh please.” Sarah snorted, rolled her eyes, and pulled out something pink from the pile. “Put this on.” She threw it at Charlotte, who caught it in a flailing fist. “There is a bathroom right there since you’re so embarrassed.” She indicated a white door behind her.

Charlotte’s cheeks flushed as she breezed past her and shut the door.

“You know, because we don’t have the same parts or anything!” Sarah called after her.

Within a few moments, Charlotte reappeared wearing a clean, pink dress that fell just above her knee, with lacey details around the empire waist and hem. She looked down at it, fiddling with corners of the fabric that hung a little too far away from her waist.

“Well?” Sarah lifted an expectant eyebrow.

“I love it.” Charlotte smiled. “But it’s a little big around this part.” She stretched out the openings under her arms.

Sarah went back over to the wardrobe and yanked open one of the bottom drawers. She pulled out a tiny, silvery needle and turned back.

“Thread?” Charlotte asked, still with the sides of the dress stretched out. “For what?”

Sarah held out the needle, tip pointed at the dress and chanted, “Smael.” Fibers of the dress immediately pulled in tighter to fit more correctly around Charlotte's bust and middle. Looking behind hers, she marveled at how well it fit now.

“Thank you.”

“No problem at all, my dear.” And in a Fairy Godmother sort of fashion, she waved the needle through the air toward the other dresses still left on the bed. Sounds of fabric pulling reacted from the second incantation. Sarah turned and placed the little bodkin back in its place, continuing her conversation. “I should leave now. You have a visitor.” The Witch cheerfully skipped out of the room with a swift wink at the tall shadow that loomed in the corner.

Charlotte turned to see him, and blushing, she greeted him with a faint smile. “Hi.”

He looked down at her, eyes bright from the silvery-blue moonlight streaking in through the frosty window. He slowly slinked past where she stood and opened the window, sending the cool harvest air through her curls.

She walked over and sat on the cushioned window seat beside him and, wrapping his arms around her middle, he breathed in the clean smell from her hair.

Charlotte thought back to her conversation with Sarah then, and taking his palm fast in her hand, turned it over. Just as Sarah had said earlier, there were no lines in his hand. Not even one that marked when he would find his soul mate. Disappointed, she released it.

“What are you looking for?” he asked, examining his palm himself.

“Nothing.” She pouted and crossed her arms.

“What? My mating line?” He chuckled. “I write with my left hand. That’s the one you have to look at.” He held up his other palm to show her the small, indented crease that ran through the left corner.

“Oh.” Charlotte traced it. “So, what does this mean?”

“I don’t know. Ask your new enchantress friend.” He got up from the window seat.

“Where are you going?” she whispered, shifting to sit on her knees. “You just got here.”

He glanced toward the window. “I should leave.” He sighed. “I just wanted to stop in and wish you a good morning. And anyway, we were just in the middle of forming some kind of plan when I snuck off. They’ll wonder where I’ve gone.”

“They are going to know as soon as you go back downstairs.” She smiled, tapping her forehead with her index finger.

“I know. But you really need to try and go to sleep now. You’ve had a very long night. So have I.”

“Stay.” A fusion of sadness and panic swirled inside her. She never wanted him to leave her side again after all she had been through that evening. She bit her lower lip and blinked up at him with the most doleful gaze she could conjure. “Stay with me.”

He chuckled. “Enough, Lottie. Maybe tomorrow evening. Go to sleep now.”

She pouted, but he was already on his way out. He opened the door, and before leaving, turned back to look at her. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she said quietly back. He smiled, closing the door behind him.

She padded back over to the bed, her head hitting the pillow, the joy crawling up through her skin and seeming to explode out of the tips of her fingers and the top of her head. If she had to suffer so much, at least she owned this—his love. Once and for all it was hers. She pulled the covers around her, continuing to beam as she thought about him. She might have chosen to think about all the awful scary things she had been through that night, but why should she, when she had finally gotten what she wanted for so long.

Eternity with him would never be enough.