The rosy-tipped fingers of dawn stretched across the living room, and I could smell bacon.
That was enough to get me out of sleep. I opened my eyes and looked around the room, at the books and papers piled into nearly every corner. If Brian cleaned things, he did a pretty crappy job doing it. The room, like the rest of the house, was cozy and lived in – and she never met a book she didn’t like. However, even with all her talking, I was curious about the cancer, about why she took in strays like me.
I finally got up, my bladder screaming at me to do something about it, so I took care of that. I went into the kitchen and saw two places set.
She was dressed in the typical matronly outfit that my mother called “mu-mu dresses”; a sleeveless thing with huge bright-colored flowers all over it. Her other dress was at least black. “How do you like your eggs?”
“I think I need a shower first,” I said.
She stopped cooking and stared at me for what seemed like a long time. Was a shower a foreign concept to her? Then she looked down at her dress, as if something occurred to her. “If – if you don’t mind, I’d like to go first.”
“It’s your house, Dottie,” I said, calling her by her first name for the first time. “I can call you Dottie, right?”
She had put the frying pan down. “Of course, of course, do excuse me.”
“Yep,” I said, and watched her leave the kitchen and go to the bathroom. She didn’t bring a change of clothes with her. If she was going to come out wrapped in only a towel, I didn’t want to be in the same room.
I heard the shower go on, and found my way into the living room – not without scoffing a couple of pieces of bacon on the way. I started straightening up – not moving anything, just making the piles look less like leaning towers. I heard someone yell, “Mike?”
I knew it. I put my head down and avoided looking up, heading back into the kitchen. “Mike? I’m sorry, be a dear – you can look up at me, I’m still in the bathroom.” Her voice held a chuckle, and I did look up at her. Only her head stuck out of the bathroom. “Dear, I forgot to get some clothes. Can you just get my robe? It’s in my bedroom hanging on the door.”
“Your room is upstairs?”
“Last room on the right.”
I went up the stairs and into the last door on the right which was also the first door. It was a closet. All right, my –other – right, so I turned around at the top of the stairs. The stairs split the second floor into two parallel short hallways, guarded by a railing that came up to my mid-shin. I wondered if the railings were as old as the house.
I followed her directions and found her room – definitely her room. Again, the ever-present books. It was warm in this room, no air conditioning but the window was wide open to a yard in the back – and the porch. Something tugged at me to check the locks on the screen – it was an old-fashioned window, with wood framing and weights and pulleys.
Shaking my head in real disbelief – I thought they forced everyone to get replacement windows – I found her robe. It was a huge man’s robe, threadbare, but soft. I brought it downstairs and handed it to her with a smile.
I had a nice hot shower for about two minutes, and then the hot water disappeared in a flash. Good thing I only had to rinse my head and then I jumped out, shivering. It looked like it was going to be a warm day, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
At breakfast, the backdoor opened and Quintin came in. Dottie was happy to see him, and he kissed her good morning. “Any for me, honey?”
“Of course!” she cried, and made him a huge omelet.
I picked up my dirty dish, and Dottie’s, and went to wash them. She protested. Quintin said, “Let him. His mother raised him right.”
I gave them both a small, hurt smile. They didn’t know my mom had died just about a year before. How could they know?
But Dottie noticed, and put her arm on my forearm. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said.
“Thanks,” was all I could say, and turned from them both before I burst into tears.
“I was going to take Mike to help me look for driftwood over by the bay. I know you can’t navigate the rocks, dear, and I saw some nice pieces the last time that needed two people to bring back.”
“That’s all right, I have a scrapbooking class today with Maddie and I need to see Dr. Kris.”
“Do you need me to drive you there?”
“No, Maddie can bring me. I’ll buy her lunch.”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad you remembered you have these appointments.”
“They’re on my calendar for today. It’s July 8th, isn’t it?”
His face fell. “No, it’s June 13th.”
“I could have sworn we celebrated the Fourth.”
“You must have dreamed it, honey.”
She smiled, though I could tell it was forced. It worried her that she didn’t know the date. It worried me, too.
We found out that she did have something planned for the day, and Quintin made sure she called for a ride to bring her there. He packed me in the car and we drove off.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked when we were far enough away from the house.
“She was in very bad car accident a few years ago. It’s addled her. She’s forgetful over the simple things. Brian, if nothing else, made sure that she shut off the stove and put out candles – she’d forget things like that.”
“Is it dementia?”
“Of a sort. The doctors aren’t sure. She’s been getting worse over the years. Her memory is so bad that some of the things she thinks are her memories aren’t her own.”
“Did she really have cancer?”
“No. I have no idea who did.”
We rode in silence, and I noticed we were heading inland, and heading north according to the route signs. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere. I don’t trust you enough to bring you into my life, so I’m going to check you out first.”
“Magically? Are you going to test me?”
“Oh, I’m going to test you, all right.” Then he fell silent.
For the entire ride, it was silent. I tried to put on the radio but he slapped my hand away, and gave me a look.
We stopped at a rest area. He got out of the car without even looking at me, and headed inside. I sat at the car, not knowing if I should go with him, or stay there. I stayed, as he didn’t lock the door. I needed to go to the bathroom, but I didn’t dare leave. Finally, he came back, a soda and a bag of chips in his hand. He leaned against the car, eating the chips and drinking the soda.
I was confused. Was this the test? How long before he ignored me and I ignored him? Well, two could play at that game. I got out of the car, slamming shut the door, and stormed into the rest area. When I finished what I needed to do, I came out.
The car was gone.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t panic. My heart leapt into my throat and I couldn’t breathe. I went to the place the car had been, thinking maybe he was hiding it, but no – it was gone. I walked around the parking lot. It was truly gone.
A spell came to mind to summon the car back to me, and I bent to the ground, getting ready to do it. But I wasn’t in Salem right now. I didn’t know where I was. If I did magic here, more than likely, something somewhere would know, and Ritter would be right on me.
This was probably part of the test, I thought a little angrily. This was worse than the damn mages. Did I really need his knowledge? Not if I had to go through this crap every time.
I sat at a bench and waited. Time went by and I watched people go in and out of the place. They’d probably think I’d be loitering, and then get the cops after me. I was able to avoid the last cop-encounter; I didn’t think I’d be able to today.
I happened to see something move out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look at it, but it was gone. It was a flash of light, like a dust mote hitting a ray of sunlight. I turned away and saw it again. Then I saw many others, all moving out of the corner of my eye, all lighting onto leaves and nearby.
I put my hand out, and saw the light brush against my hand. I felt something pointy touch the palm of my hand, like a pinprick, and I pulled my hand away.
“There you are,” said Quintin. He had somehow showed up right in front of me.
“Hell, there you are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been here all this time, waiting for you.”
“It’s twilight now, all what time?”
“Yes, that’s when the pixies come out.”
“Pixies?” I was able to see little bits of light now. “Those are fireflies.”
“Not all of them,” Quintin said. “Some pixies ride the fireflies.”
“One poked me, I think.”
“Could have.”
I watched Quintin for a minute. “So what was all this about?”
“All what?”
“The silent treatment.”
“You know how to ask questions, but do you know how to listen?”
“What do you mean?”
Quintin shook his head. “Again, you want it handed to you. Magic is right here, right in the world, if you just stop and listen.”
“You’re gonna get all Zen on me?”
Quintin glared at me. I think I insulted him.
“Get in the car.”
I got in the car, angry at him, angry at myself. I got the silent treatment again. I folded my arms and stared out the window.
Whatever knowledge he had, was definitely not worth this.
5.
We got home, and I stormed into the house. It was full dark now, way past 8 p.m. Dottie was sitting on the porch, a few candles and a couple of cats around her. The cats scattered when I came onto the porch.
I headed to the couch in the living room and flopped onto it. King of Swords. A tyrant. He sure as heck was.
The screen back door opened and then the heavier door shut. I got up, thinking about the candles on the porch, if they were still going. I bumped into Dottie as I headed into the kitchen.
“What happened, Mike?”
“Quintin wouldn’t talk to me,” I said, and I know I started to whine. “I need – the candles – “
“I put them out,” she said, but I risked a glance outside. “I know what he told you about me.”
I closed the door, and turned back to her.
“He’s right,” she said, and leaned against the back of her recliner. “I have a lot of memory loss. I have problems.”
“Don’t we all,” I said.
“You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because the person who hit me was Alicia Stewart.”
I had to think about that name, it was familiar… “Oh, that ‘witch of Salem’,” I said, using airquotes.
“She was drunk.”
My fury rose and I know I looked angry.
“She broadsided me. We think she was going 50 in a 20 zone. If anything got in her way she would have flattened them. It just happened to be me.” She smiled a bit. “Well, I sued her, and got enough to pay off the medical bills and the lawyer, and to even pay off my house with a little left over to live on while I waited for SSI. They say she cursed me.”
“That’s bull.”
She sighed. “That’s the Witch of Salem.”
“I…I’d know.”
“Are you a witch?”
“I’m a…I’m a magus.”
“A mage?” she asked, and looked me over. “You’re young for that.”
“I’m a prodigy. Where I’m from, they’re jealous of that.”
“Can you lift the curse?”
From what Quintin said, it was more a physical reason than a curse. Maybe this is how she was explaining it to herself. I looked her over, and she looked at me with such hope.
“I’ll try,” I said quietly.