章節 12: Chapter 12: Zephira
I may have been struggling these days with my choice to come here, but even I had to admit in a bad mood or good, it really was beautiful on Prince Edward Island. I sat on Victoria Row, the historic stretch of street the city shut down in the summertime to pedestrian traffic, enjoying a cold beer and a snack of nachos outside one of the multitude of restaurants. The barest breeze carried the scent of delicious food and fresh salt air, as patio decks strewn along one side offered up a variety of yummy fare.
While on the other side stood the tall bulk of the Confederation Centre of the Arts, a behemoth of concrete blocks that dominated the center of the city. It loomed in modern design amid the old, stone buildings that made up the rest of the core. The home of big theater and art, one of the cultural hubs of the Island, it felt a bit out of place amid the tall maples, hulking over the much more archaic Province House.
But I wasn't here to judge, or to sight see. I'd come instead because I'd been invited. By the tall woman in the black dress sitting on the music stage perched in the Confederation Centre's shadow. She was the focus of my attention.
Piper really did have a lovely singing voice, a deep and kind of throaty sound, folksy and yet without that annoying twang that I associated with such a label. Her hands cradled her large, black guitar, the hard case laid out on the ground before her, exposing the deep purple fur within, and I found my toes tapping to the rhythm of her music.
Star light, crystal moon. Cat fight, electric mood. All the power in your veins
We have descended from and ancient flame
Starlight, harvest moon Dark night, darker mood All the power in your veins
We are the Autumn air playing wicked games.
I took a sip of my beer as Piper finished her song to a hearty round of applause from those who gathered on the street watching, not to mention many of the restaurant goers. She had to be a local favorite, a small cluster of wannabe teens dressed like her with their black clothes and matching dark makeup clapping for her with great enthusiasm.
The sun beamed down on me, just warm enough and not too hot, blue sky empty of clouds, a perfect, peaceful and delightful day. It was times like this I could almost imagine that this place really was magical.
"Thank you so much everyone," Piper said into the microphone. "You guys are awesome." Her dark eyes met mine and her smile broadened, though it was more a stage expression than a real smile. "I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. Right over there." What was she doing? I sat rigid as I realized she was, indeed, singling me out without warning. She gestured toward me with one elegant hand and all eyes turned to me. Well, that was uncomfortable. "Reese MacDonald. She's a filmmaker from the big city. We're excited that she's here. Give her a hand."
There's something hideously discomforting about being pointed out to strangers by someone you barely know for reasons you're positive you don't yet understand. Even more so when, to your utter dismay and horror, there's absolutely no response.
Yeah. No response. Like crickets.
Piper didn't seem to notice how awkward the moment was, or how ridiculously insignificant she'd made me feel. I was sure it wasn't on purpose, but that didn't ease the sting any. Instead, her fingers strummed the strings of her guitar once more and she smiled her carefully composed stage smile at the crowd who turned back to her as if they were a line of robots mesmerized by her music. "Okay, for my next number..."
I sank down into my seat, anonymity regained with gratitude and a bit of disappointment, doing my best not to feel like I was invisible. Piper had meant well, obviously. In fact, all the Lovely Witches had been trying to make me feel welcome. With the exception of Constance Cooper, but I guess I couldn't expect any less from the leader of the PEI covens who decided I was at best an inconvenience and at worst public enemy number one. Our initial meeting had been our last, but she made it very clear to me she wasn't interested in seeing me stay or participating in any way in the documentary I was trying to make.
I still hadn't decided how I felt about this whole situation. It was confusing and frustrating and these women really seemed to think they were witches. I liked and respected them already. They were pretty cool people. And in fact I was starting to get the sense that PEI had this magic to it all its own, whether it was real or perceived. I really rather liked it here. And as much as I was a big city girl, if I had the chance to stay in PEI, I kind of thought maybe I'd like to.
Except thoughts like that, of course, made me want to leap out of my seat and run to Carol my car and drive back to that big city and stay there, and never ever think about Prince Edward Island ever again. Because obviously they were in the process of brainwashing me into their freaky way of life. And it was working.
Irritation made me drink my beer maybe a little bit too fast. I choked on a droplet that went down the wrong pipe just as a waft of heavily mixed perfume with the sickly sweetness that reminded me of someone's grandmother assaulted me while I coughed out my hastily swallow drink.
"Reese McDonald." I looked up, doing my best not to spit my beer all over this intruder's flowy and flashy garment, as she spoke again. "I know why you're here."
Could she not see I was dying? I finally coughed away the rest of the fluid from my windpipe and took a clarifying sip-just for the punishment of it-before shrugging at her.
"That makes one of us." The only reason I didn't laugh in her face-in her garishly made up face surrounded by gigantic black curls tied back in a bright red scarf hanging over her heavily bangled ears, neck, and wrists, brightly painted fingernails, flowing long skirt and, might I say, witchy blouse-was the fact I'd almost died just then.
"I want you to know, I'm here to help." She winked slowly, long lashes unglued in the corner of her left eye, flapping slightly in the faint breeze.
I glanced at the stage-all around me, to be honest-for help, for rescue, knowing no one was going to save me from whoever this woman was, staring at me like I was dinner, and shrugged.
"Really."
The woman offered me her hand, her wrist jangling with a multitude of bangles and beads and sparkly things that screamed costume jewelry and fakery. "Indeed." She grasped my hand without asking, sitting next to me in an empty seat, pulling me toward her with enough force that I almost tipped over what was left of my beer. That would be a tragedy, because I had a feeling if this conversation was going to continue, I'd be needing it.
She peered down at my palm, one pointed fingernail painted very bright red tracing a line down the center of my skin, making me shiver. "Look at that lifeline." I tried to pull my hand away, but she jerked me back again, hard enough this time I did spill a drop of beer. "So much pain and confusion for one so young. Tsk, tsk. There's hope for you though."
Okay, clearly she was a nut job. Some kind of soothsaying, over the top, phony gypsy psycho. And yet there was something oddly appealing about how blatant she was, such a change from the Lovely Witches I'd been dealing with. The innate frustration I'd been struggling with the last few days surfaced like an happy groundhog only leaving her den to inform me there'd be six more weeks of nut job.
"You don't say." Yeah, I know I came across less than enthusiastic despite the lure of a story I might be able to tell after all. No apologies.
"Oh yes, my dear." Her large, dark eyes met mine, thin arching eyebrow rising like a cresting wave, lining her tall brow, full lips painted the same shade as her fingernails. "But it requires a great deal of faith and belief in those things someone of your life experience might not be willing to accept." She had no idea what my life experience was like, but I didn't get to say that. She tapped my palm with one sharp nail I reflexively close my fingers in response though she refuse to let me go. "It's all written out in your flesh, darling."
Yup. Nut job. Okay, she totally creeped me out, but the best I could do was act amused, right? Because if I showed this woman any kind of fear, surely she'd see it as a chance to snap and go for my jugular. I finally managed to retrieve my hand, but only with a great deal of effort. She had a grip like a construction worker. To keep her from grabbing me again I clutched my beer in both of mine and sat back as far as I could in my chair, faking nonchalance in an effort to make her leave.
"Can I help you with something? Or are you just hanging out looking for a free drink in exchange for insulting people?" Because I hadn't just insulted her. "Just so you know, not a good strategy." Well, it wasn't.
She leaned toward me, her low cut blouse showing the top of her black lace bra, layers of necklaces jangling across her pale bosom. Any second now a demon was going to leap out of her and attack me, I was sure of it. Either that or this beer was really getting to me.
"I'm wrong then?" Her voice dropped to a sibilant half whisper that I'm sure they heard three tables away. She'd gained a sort of accent, nothing identifiable, clearly an affectation. "Are you ready for the truth, Reese?"
The truth, sure. Wait. "How did you know my...?" Oh, yeah. Piper. Lovely of her to point me out in the crowd like that. No wonder this crackpot was all over me. "Got it. Listen, I don't know what your deal is, but I'm not in the market." Not even a little bit. Shudder.
Her smile went from creepy to mysterious to just plain yuck. And, as if knowing what I was thinking, she turned toward Piper who was still playing. Though now I noticed the Lovely Witch was staring in our direction with her own frown on her face.
When the woman turned back, there was a decided twist of bitter resentment mixed in her vindictive smile.
"Perhaps I should be more blunt then, since subtlety seems lost on you." I think I should have been insulted, considering there was nothing subtle about her, but I let that go. "I understand how you might fall for the half-truths and misleadings of the frauds who call themselves the Lovely Witches Club." Now that was a laugh and a half. They were frauds? Okay, sure, I had been thinking that, but had she looked in the mirror lately? Like, when she left the house today? "They can be convincing. I'll give them that."
Maybe I shouldn't have been so excited at the chance for some controversy, but honestly?
Honestly, I think I was looking for a way out. And as creepy as this woman was, she just offered me the opportunity to escape, possibly. Yeah, coward. So sue me.
"And you are?"
"Forgive me, dear." She reached out and took my hand again, this time with gentler force.
Barely a slight squeeze before she tilted her chin down in a coquettish show of eyelash fluttering that made me queasy. Partly fed by the fascinating flutter of the edge of her loosened falsey.
"Zephira, dear." Spoken like I should recognize her name. When I failed to react, she went on. "And I'm here to offer you a chance to encounter and record some real witches."
Real witches, huh? I sipped my beer while I thought about the offer, about the Lovely Witches. About Constance Cooper and being singled out and my crappy life back home, waiting for me when I failed at this. Larry. Missy. Zombie slaughterhouse scenes.
How depressing was my life? "Right. So you're a witch too, I take it?" She was offering, I'd see where it went. I had to make this film work.
Zephira nodded, curls shining in the sunlight, jewelry jangling with every motion. "The leader of the only real coven in Prince Edward Island." I coughed on more beer, but only so I didn't snort a giggle. "I can help you, you know. Connect you to the truth."
Maybe I would have sent this woman packing. Perhaps I could have resisted the urge to go darkside. But I chose that moment to look up and catch Piper's eyes. Her growing frown despite her singing, paired with her subtle head shake, set me off like nothing else I'd ever experienced. I'd come here on their behest to make a movie about witches. And so far? I'd had very little luck in getting their secrets out of them. In fact, if anything, they were more than happy to show me their silly soap making and food assembly and music ability and all those other things that went along with being a normal person. Aside from the theatrical first meeting with Agnes and her ridiculous cauldron scene in the back of her shop, I had as yet to see anything witchy, thank you very much.
Not to mention the fact the discomfort of the growing feeling of connection inside me just made me want to run for the bridge. I grinned at Piper, telling myself it wasn't vindictive, and tipped my glass to her before leaning into Zephira again, knowing it was a terrible idea, but my mind made up.
"Since it seems I'm here to waste my time on a bunch of crackpots who think magic is real, why not? At least you're a stereotype an audience will understand." And how.
Zephira didn't flinch at my description. If anything she appeared amused. She reached into her blouse and pulled out a business card, handing it to me. I almost didn't take it, considering where it had been-did I even know where it had really been?-but I grasped gingerly by the corners as she spoke again.
"Excellent dear. Do get in touch and soon. We have a gathering this very eve and would love for you to attend. To witness what true magic looks like."
Her likeness peered up from the glossy black rectangle, artfully created photo and her name on the front, the back side blank but for her phone number. How freaking pretentious. "Wouldn't miss it."
Zephira stood in another waft of heavily applied perfume, jangling and tinkling as her multitude of jewelry announced her departure. She swayed off, the crowd's attention drawn from Piper to her as many of the music appreciators watched her exit.
Real witches, huh? We'd just see about that.
***
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