Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Curse
I watched from outside the circle of smoke while Rosary added herbs to the cauldron set in the deep fireplace in her business's main room. More sandstone, this time sheathing the climbing hearth to the twelve foot ceiling of the old manor house, now a bed and breakfast.
"Rosary Divine," she said, dark auburn hair a match for her deep red skirt, the flowing pale silk blouse she wore as witchy as they come. "Leader of the Victoria Coven." She tossed a handful of aromatic leaves into the pot, stirring it twice with a faint smile. "I've been a member since I was a child. Becoming leader after my mother has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life." Her green eyes met mine, some kind of message there I was unable to decipher.
Of all the witches I'd met so far, Rosary felt the most authentic, though she was as much bohemian as she was magical.
"How so?" No way was I admitting she intimidated me.
"Sisterhood," she said, voice dropping to conspiratorial, confidence embracing her in an effortless cloak all her own. And she said that word like it should mean something to me. "Family." Ah, right. "Beyond the call of blood ties." She paused then, smelled a handful of leaves she selected from a basket next to the fireplace and added them to the pot. "Witches are sisters to each other, no matter where we might find ourselves. No matter where our paths might lead us. And the health and power of the Island is as important as the health and power of every single witch who lives and works here."
Interesting and totally foreign to me. Sure, I'd had the odd girlfriend I could confide in over a beer, but no one really close to me. No one I could truly trust. I fought a wave of sadness on what I'd missed out on even as I pushed forward.
"Can you expand on that?" I glanced at her through the viewfinder so she wouldn't see my sadness. "The Island's magic, I mean."
Rosary didn't comment, though the level and knowing smile she shared before she spoke went on long enough I knew she'd seen and decided to keep her own counsel. "The Island has a magical core that is only as strong as all its members." She looked down into the cauldron, the surface popping softly with fragrant bubbles. What was she cooking? Funny, it was the first time I even thought to wonder. As long as it was just herbs and not body parts, we'd be fine. "Thanks to an... unfortunate event," it sounded far more weighty than that word suggested but I didn't interrupt, "we're missing one."
***
I paused the footage and pondered, staring at my notebook and the name I'd written down earlier. Missing one. Was she talking about this mysterious Lilith everyone kept mentioning? Had to be. So much more to this story than I anticipated. Could Lilith be the line of inquiry that made this documentary work?
I'd just have to see about that.
***
Piper finally spoke up as Vine leaned back, the green backdrop casting a faintly eerie glow around her black hair and clothes, pale skin transparent, dark eyes lined so thickly she seemed otherworldly. If Rosary intimidated me, Piper made me think of the Grim Reaper and fate.
"Piper York," she said, slowly and with grace, "leader of the Richmond Coven. We're pretty creative, thanks to the downtown Charlottetown core supporting our artistic endeavors.
Especially in the summer when the tourists are here." "How long have you been leader?" I sat back, thinking I already knew the answer and nodding when she confirmed it.
"Just this past Samhain," she said, "the same as Vine. I'm so honored my coven chose me after my mother."
"I bet," I said, wincing inwardly at the forceful way that came out despite my need to be cool and collected. There was something about Piper that made me feel like I had to work to make her like me. As if that was an important goal. And yet, I wanted her to like me. Took me this long to admit she was everything I'd wished I could be. "Must be cool to be elected." Cool, yeah.
Classy, MacDonald. Idiot.
But Piper smiled, the first time since we'd met, her deep purple lipstick making her teeth super white in comparison. "It's not that," she said. "Now that some of the younger witches are guiding the way, it feels like we really have a chance to bring the Island into the 21st century, if you know what I mean."
The door to the studio slammed at that exact moment, making me jump. I spun around and watched the short, round woman with the short, round bob and the bright red dress and lipstick screaming NOTICE ME stomp her way toward me, huffing like a furious bull charging at a target.
"The Island Witch Coalition," she said with arrogant disdain, the nervous form of Isobel appearing at the door as if she'd somehow summoned this woman to take out the trash-me-"needs no such 'update'." I dug the air quotes she added to augment her statement. Isobel, at least, seemed to agree with her.
As for me? Well, this was my bread and butter, wasn't it? All the kindly witchiness was a bit much. But getting a chance to confront this woman about her beliefs without having to worry about hurting her feelings-I had a pretty clear impression she didn't have any, not judging or anything-was exactly what I'd been waiting for.
I stood, freeing the camera from the tripod and turning it toward her. Only then did she seem to notice what I was doing, pulling herself upright and visibly sucking in her cheeks, thin red lips pulled downward as she tipped up her chin as if trying to find height advantage when I had her by inches.
"And you are?" I stuck the camera in her face, smiling my best fake smile. "Constance Cooper," she said, absently patting at her bob before dropping her hand back to the handle of her matching red purse. "Leader of the Charlottetown Coven." She glared at the witches seated in front of the green screen. "The most powerful coven on the Island."
That raised protests and I turned quickly to the others, catching their vocal cries against their leader's statement.
"That's not true," Piper's deep voice broke through. "The Witches Cupboard coven is the most powerful. And you know it."
Nods of agreement, quiet sorrow from Agnes.
"Maybe when Lilith led it," Constance said, enough venom in her now too cheerful voice I needed a shower. "But Agnes barely has enough magic to get her cauldron to boil."
Again with the protests. I found myself flipping back and forth in manic need to catch all of the action, wishing desperately for two cameras when Piper spoke again, standing from her seat, towering over all of us in her Amazon Gothness.
"Well, at least she found-" She stopped. Stared at me. Looked back at Constance. "You know who." Um, what was that? Secrets to uncover? Why were they keeping secrets when they asked me to do this stupid film in the first place? A tingle of irritation woke as Piper forged on. "To help with the... you know what." She made a face, as if struggling for words, anger clear in her expression, the tension in her body, the hem of her long, black dress shivering from it. She seemed to collect herself again before returning to the conversation at hand like she'd never diverted into secrecy. "The Lovely Witches Club would be nothing without Agnes."
Murmured reassurance, though the Witches Cupboard leader didn't look all that comforted. If anything, she seemed distracted, unhappy, but not because of Constance's accusations. She looked at the floor, hugging herself, staring at nothing.
"I begged Lilith to rethink her campaign." Constance might have thought she sounded sincere but if she layered on more sugar I was going to gag from it. "This need to enlighten the world about witches." So it had been Lilith who wanted this to happen? "To expose her power like that, all of our power. Well. She was just inviting a curse on all of our houses. It could have happened to any of us."
A...what did she say? "Curse?" I blurted the word as a question, regretting interrupting the argument but unable to stop myself. "What curse?" And wouldn't you know? I'd done the damage I feared because I couldn't keep my damned mouth shut. Isobel rushed forward, hand on Constance's arm, eyes flickering to me.
"That's private business," Isobel said. "Not for public consumption."
"I disagree," I said, knowing I'd lost the battle but having to try anyway. "I'm here to tell your story. The good and the bad."
Isobel, her eyes moist with unshed tears, looked away, Constance grim and furious, glaring at the others. Like she willed them to silence too, and won.
I couldn't help the giant sigh that escaped me. I sank into my chair, returning the camera to the tripod and asking, almost absently, "Why a documentary now if witches have kept quiet all these years?" I really wanted to add why didn't Lilith just do it then, but the awkward silence got to me, too.
"The point is," Piper broke it, sitting down slowly, nodding to me as I did my best to ignore the hovering and angry witch beside me, her perfume a hideous cloud around us, "the curse, we discovered, broke Lilith's line. It cut off the family power she carried, ended it. Or, so we thought for a long time." Her dark eyes locked on mine, held me still and focused and erased my frustration. "That's diminished all the power here on the Island. We've lost so many of our young people to other territories because our magic has been declining since Lilith died."
I swallowed, heart pounding. "Is this decline endemic of all witches, then?"
Agnes shook her head, coming out of her dazed trance state. "The mainland covens have had their eyes on the Island for years."
Vine snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, frown tugging her brows together. It was the first time I'd ever seen her anything but bubbly happy. "They are the ones that cursed Lilith. I just know it."
***
I sat up straight suddenly, attention drawn from the drama on the screen and to the window.
A woman walked past the glass, staring in at me as she did. I knew her, had seen her in the bathroom the day I arrived, in her period costume and her face that looked like mine.
Without thinking, I leaped from the bed and rushed to the window, looking out after she'd already gone. "You mean," I heard my own voice say, "there are other witches aside from the Island?" Rosary's familiar voice spoke. "Of course. The world is full of them. But the Island is our home."
I froze at the sight of two laughing people, a man and woman in steampunk attire, leaving their own room and getting into a car.
"Must be some kind of convention in town." I bit my lower lip as I spoke out loud. "And now I'm talking to myself. Awesome."
And yet, despite my easy explanation, I found myself uncomfortable all of a sudden, like a black cloud passed over me.
"Excuse me," my voice spoke from the bed. "I need to get a battery for your mic. I'll be right back."
With shaking hands, I pulled the curtains firmly shut and went back to work with a heavy darkness hovering around my heart. As I approached the laptop, I realized the reason I heard speaking wasn't my craziness, just that I'd failed to turn off the feed. I stopped short when I heard the voices continue, tinny but clear.
"We can't let our magic die if the curse can be broken." That was still Rosary. But I didn't remember this conversation. I'd gone to the other room for batteries. Did they know the camera was still running? Apparently not from their hurried whispers as Constance answered in a hiss.
"She has no magic, it's obvious."
She? Who she? I stared at the empty screen, the four silent chairs and green screen, action happening out of view of the lens but clearly audible.
"We have to try," Piper said. "Where's the harm?"
"You'll bring destruction to us all," Isobel said, faint wail in her tone.
"I won't allow this to go on." That sounded like a threat. "Get rid of her. Or I will." "Here we go." That was me, returning with batteries. I remembered then, Constance and Isobel storming from the room, the other four taking their seats again, but nothing much else getting done, no further questions answered, their quiet, their reserve. How dissatisfied I'd felt when they'd finally left, one at a time. Agnes hugging me with a sorrowful smile instead of a joyful one, Piper silent and grim. Rosary kissing both my cheeks, staring into my eyes a long time before letting me ago. And even Vine barely mustering a short laugh, a squeeze of my hand.
I sat back on the bed, jaw aching from clenching my teeth against the frustration of their secret keeping, clueless and now angry they were hiding things from me that could help this stupid film they wanted me to make.
Well, we'd just se about that, wouldn't we? But one thing was apparent and a bit frightening. "They really think they're witches," I whispered into the gathering darkness of my lonely motel room as I wondered why that didn't bother me as much as it should have.
***
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone