Girl's Guide to Witchcraft (22 page)

“That’s enough,” David whispered, and his words startled me back to consciousness.

I hadn’t been dreaming, precisely. I hadn’t fallen asleep. No. I’d been meditating. I’d been harnessing the power of my mind over my body, as if I were mastering my yoga instructor’s Corpse Pose.

I opened my eyes and stared at the crystal on my palm. “What is it called?”

“Aventurine. It’s a quartz, as well. But one that focuses healing.” David reached into the wooden box and pulled out a velvet drawstring sack. “Here.”

I was exhausted. I had no idea what he expected me to do with the sack. Neko finally took my hand and tilted it gently so that the stone rolled into the bag. As my familiar tightened the silk ribbons, David nodded. Neko tucked the sack into a pocket that rested over his right breast.

“You can give it to your grandmother tomorrow.”

“No.” I tried to protest, but I could barely manage a whisper. “She’s sick. She needs this tonight. I’m family. They’ll let me in.”

“It’s practically morning, anyway, and she has Western medicine for now. The IV they put her on is doing more than even this crystal can. When you give it to her tomorrow, it can start the long work of healing, of strengthening.”

I shook my head and tried to get to my feet. I only succeeded on the third try.

I was as weak as a kitten. I felt as if I’d run a marathon. As if I were a single pat of butter spread over an entire baguette.

A baguette. Melissa should bake baguettes for Cake Walk. She could call herself a bag lady.

I giggled at my own joke. I felt drunk, as if I’d downed an entire pitcher of mojitos without benefit of any food.

Come to think of it, a mojito would be good about now. “Neko!” I said. “Mix some drinks! The magic wand is in the drawer!”

Neko looked disconcerted, but David only pursed his lips. “Come on, Jane. It’s time for you to get some sleep. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

I took a step and started to stumble. I covered really well, though, by catching myself on the sofa. I folded my hands in front of me, trying to project an image of determined innocence. Dorothy Gale bound to confront the Wizard of Oz. When I spoke, however, my voice cracked, and I came off more like Margaret Hamilton, the Wicked Witch of the West. “Is that an invitation, big boy?”

I’m pretty sure that Neko snickered, but by the time I swiveled my eyes toward him, he was studying his fingernails. David shook his head and said, “Just doing my job.”

It took both of them to walk me down the short hallway. My legs didn’t want to cooperate—my feet kept dragging against the floor. It was a good thing I still had my bunny slippers; I could have ended up with some terrible splinters otherwise.

When we got to my bedroom, David took my key and unlocked the door. The three of us started to stumble forward, when I saw the moonlight glint off of Stupid Fish’s aquarium. “No!” I said. I flailed around to push a hand against Neko’s chest. “You can’t come in here!”

David followed my line of sight, and he turned to look at Neko. My familiar shrugged elaborately, as if it had never crossed his mind to invade the piscine privacy of my bedroom. David said, “I’ve got her from here.”

Neko’s disappointment would have made me laugh, if the room hadn’t suddenly started to spin like a Tilt-A-Whirl. Somehow, Neko disappeared. David got me over to my bed. I collapsed backward onto the mattress, closing my eyes as calliope music filled my skull.

I felt David’s hands on my feet, slipping off my precious bunnies. He sat beside me on the bed, and I sensed his fingers untying the knot of my bathrobe around my waist. He eased me into a sitting position and slid the robe from my shoulders. I was vaguely glad that I was wearing my faded men’s pajamas—top
and
bottom.

Somehow, he got me underneath the covers. My pillow was perfectly centered under my head. The sheets were cool against my bare arms, and the comforter was heavy across my body. “Go to sleep,” he said, and he passed his hand over my forehead.

There must have been something magical about the motion, because I was suddenly unable to open my eyes. “David?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened?”

“You used new powers. I let you go deeper than you should have. I felt the strength of your love for your grandmother, and that swayed my judgment. Get some sleep. You’ll be fine when you wake up.”

“David?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re different now.”

“Different?”

“Than the first night. You scared me then.”

For a long time, I thought that he wouldn’t answer. I thought that I had fallen asleep, but my brain didn’t quite know it. I thought that I was imagining our entire conversation. But then he spoke.

“That first night, I didn’t know who you were. I came here as a warder, trying to protect resources that were in danger.”

“And then?” It took all my strength to pull out the two words.

“I met you. I did some research. I became the warder you wanted me to be—you
needed
me to be. So that you would listen. And learn.”

There was something wrong about that. Something that didn’t quite make sense. I started to put more words together, to ask another question, but David passed his hand over my forehead one more time. “Sleep, Jane. We’ll talk more later. Sleep.”

And I did.

Gran was staring listlessly at the television set when I arrived at the hospital. Her bed had been cranked up so that she was sitting upright. Her pillow, which had probably once been situated to cradle her head, had slipped down her back, making her look cramped and uncomfortable. Oxygen flowed through tubing that nestled under her nose.

“Good morning, Gran!” I pasted a cheery smile on my face.

“Hello, dear.” She sounded cranky and tired, and if she were a toddler, I would have prescribed a long nap. I was a bit surprised that I wasn’t more tired myself, but I had awakened refreshed and recharged, completely energized by my working with the crystals.

I tried not to let my good mood get burned off by Gran’s frown. “How are you today?” I asked, in a voice that might have been appropriate for a grown-up on
Sesame Street.

“I hate it here,” Gran said.

“You’ll be home soon,” I reassured her.

“I can’t get any sleep because the nurses constantly come in to take my temperature, or adjust my oxygen or read my blood pressure. The man next door was moaning all night, and the woman on the other side of that curtain had her grandchildren visiting until ten o’clock. Grandchildren! In a hospital!”

I reminded myself that Gran didn’t mean me. She was only complaining about someone else’s brats. I renewed my smile. “I’ve brought you a present!”

Gran seemed about to make another tart observation, but then curiosity got the better of her. Her hazel eyes, so like my own, even if they were bloodshot just now, looked inquiringly at me.

I handed Gran a small box. Neko had helped me to find it in the basement. It just about filled my palm, sitting high, with a row of hinges on one wooden edge. It looked ancient and delicate, but solid at the same time, the sort of box that Romeo might have used to give a ring to Juliet.

“What’s this?” Gran asked. “You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble. Not for me. Not just because I have a little bug.”

“Open it!” I urged. I wanted to see her reaction. I wanted to see if my crystal would work.

Still fussing, Gran lifted the box’s lid. For just a moment, she didn’t know what to make of the contents. I’d nestled the aventurine on a bed of soft velvet. “What’s this?” Gran asked again, but now her voice was filled with tetchy curiosity.

“Just something that I found. Something that I thought you’d like. Maybe you can use it as a worry stone, rubbing it when you feel stressed.”

Gran looked at it dubiously. “Your mother has always been a big one for worry stones.” I stored away that interesting tidbit of information.

“Well, Gran, maybe I got more from her than I knew,” I said.

Gran drew in a deep breath, as if she were going to reply, but she only triggered a coughing fit. Like the others, this one shook her entire body, turning her face purple, and clenching her fingers into claws. Helpless, I handed her a Kleenex, but then all I could do was wait. And wait. And wait.

When over a minute had passed, and she was still hacking painfully, I threw caution to the winds. I snagged the jewel box from Gran’s sheets, where she had set it when the spasm began, and I upended it onto her withered palm.

Her fingers curled around the stone by reflex. Her eyes closed as she sucked in more air. But she stopped coughing.

She sank back on her pillow, eyes still shut, as she breathed shallowly. Perspiration stood out on her forehead, but I did not want to disturb her by wiping it away.

“Do you want me to get a nurse, Gran?” I asked, when it seemed certain that she had completely conquered the cough. This time.

“No, dear. Not right now.”

Surprisingly, Gran’s voice sounded stronger than it had when I arrived. She must have heard it, too; her eyes flew open. “No, dear,” she said again. “I’m actually feeling a little better.”

I helped her to sit up straighter in bed, and I adjusted her pillow so that she no longer looked like Quasimodo’s frailer cousin. When she was settled, she smiled at me, and it was the patient smile I remembered from my childhood. My heart quickened, and I glanced at the aventurine, only to find it still hidden in her fist.

“There is one thing, dear, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“What, Gran? Anything!”

“I wasn’t hungry for dinner last night, but some applesauce would be lovely now. Some applesauce, and maybe a hard-boiled egg?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, moving toward the door. When I stepped into the hallway, I glanced back and saw that Gran was absentmindedly rubbing the aventurine with her thumb. Color had come back into her lips, and her breathing was easier. I almost skipped down the corridor in search of a healing woman’s breakfast.

“You are totally falling for him!” Melissa’s amusement over the telephone line was so extreme that I looked up to see if any of the library patrons could hear her.

“I am not!” I whispered into the handset.

“You are. You used to talk about Scott exactly the same way. You were going to wear the such-and-such dress to please him, you were going to see the whatever-it-was movie because you thought he’d like it.”

“That’s ridiculous! I certainly didn’t wear my faded plaid pajamas because I thought David would like them.”

“You know what I mean.”

I did. But Melissa was totally, completely, one hundred percent wrong.
Jason Templeton
was my Imaginary Boyfriend. I mean, Boyfriend. No longer Imaginary. Jason. The man I had watched for the past nine months. The man I had dreamed of. The man I was going to lunch with in less than an hour. Just to clarify my arguments one more time, I said to Melissa, “I do not have feelings for David Montrose. He’s like my
boss.
”

“And you’ve never heard of interoffice romance?”

“He’s my
mentor,
” I said priggishly. “He has a moral and ethical obligation to show me the way toward being a proper witch.”

“And he’s really, really hot.” I could imagine her grinning, leaning against the counter in Cake Walk.

Well, that’s what I got for calling my best friend in the middle of the workday. I should have known that she’d give me a hard time. And I did
not
need to be traumatized today. It was time for me to leave, to meet Jason for lunch at La Perla. I said, “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” Melissa only laughed. “I’m hanging up on you now! I’m going back to work!”

I was laughing, too, by the time I returned the phone to its cradle.

Sure, David was a viscerally attractive guy. But he was totally off-limits. I mean, it would be one thing if we were peers, if we were walking into the relationship on equal footing, both understanding who we were and how things work.

But he was light-years ahead of me in the witchcraft department. He understood all of that magic stuff; he knew how to harness powers that I could only imagine. Exhibit A was the healing crystal that he had guided me in making for Gran.

Besides, a nagging voice whispered at the back of my mind, he had changed himself to be with me. The more I thought about that, the more creeped out I was by the information. I mean, how many times had I changed myself to be with Scott? And had it worked out well?

I mean, had I really thought that I was going to develop a love for Italian cinema just because Scott had one? And what had I been thinking when I’d started in on the collected works of Tolstoy? Just because Scott said that they contained the sum experience of the human condition, why had I thought they would speak to me? And we wouldn’t even begin to talk about my professed love of ice hockey. There were some things no girl should ever be forced to pretend.

And yet, things were different with David. He had readily
admitted
changing himself to be with me—a clarification that I’d never made with Scott. And David actually seemed happy to have done it. He seemed…content.

Before I could twist myself into any more emotional pretzels, I dug my purse out of my desk. A quick check in my compact mirror for makeup flaws, a dash of lipstick, confirmation that nothing terrible had sprouted between my teeth…. I popped a mint into my mouth and headed to the library’s front door.

That was one thing I could say about working at the Peabridge. The pay might be terrible, and I had to listen to way too many choruses of “Marian the Librarian” when I told people where I worked, but I had freedom when it came to my personal life. That morning, I had mentioned to Evelyn that I had an appointment over the lunch hour, and she had merely nodded, telling me to make up the time whenever I could.

And Jason Templeton was certainly worth making up a little time.

I smiled as I got to the doors, thinking of the date that awaited me. I could actually call it that.
He
had.

I looked down at the outfit that had taken an ungodly amount of time to assemble that morning. Black wool skirt. Formfitting cashmere sweater (of course, also black). Black tights. High-heeled pumps. A necklace of chunky green beads that I knew set off my eyes. I tried not to think of the mounds of clothing on my bed, the rejects from the morning’s dressing marathon that would only have to be returned to their hangers.

I also tried not to think of my colonial costume, crammed into a garment bag and hanging over the chair beside my desk. I’d have to change back as soon as I returned from lunch. Even now, I suspected that Evelyn would give me the evil eye if she saw me out of uniform. I took a deep breath and headed out into the autumn chill.

“You look beautiful today!”

Dammit.

“Thank you, Harold.” I had hoped to sneak out without encountering my lovestruck friend, but he was holding the door for me with all the formality of a Beefeater at Buckingham Palace. I slipped outside so that the fallen leaves on the doorstep wouldn’t blow inside the lobby.

“It looks like you have an important meeting,” Harold said.

“I have a d—” I stopped myself. I’d been cruel enough, binding the poor man’s love with that cursed spell. I didn’t have to rub in my lunchtime destination. I searched my mind, frantically trying to find another word that started with
d,
something other than
date.
“A dentist appointment! Yes!”

“You seem really excited about it.”

I did, didn’t I? “Oh, no. It’s just that I thought I was going to forget it, and I’ve had it written down on my calendar for months, you know, since the last time I went. I filled out the little postcard thing, and they sent it to me as a reminder, but it seems like I always have to reschedule anyway.” I heard myself rushing through my explanation, trying to justify my enthusiasm and digging myself a deeper and deeper hole. “I really hate the fluoride treatment, but I love it when I get a new toothbrush. The last time, all they had were orange toothbrushes, so I’ve been stuck with that, but this time, I’m going to get a good color. Like purple. I love purple. It’s my favorite color.”

Oh my God. I had gone insane. I was standing here outside the Peabridge Library, babbling about purple toothbrushes.

“Mine is blue,” Harold said.

“Blue!
Great
toothbrush color. Second favorite! Gotta run! Don’t want to keep the dentist waiting!”

Someone should just shoot me now.

Jason was waiting for me when I finally arrived at the restaurant. He had managed to secure a table in a corner, tucked into the back. I was a little disappointed. I liked the idea of sitting behind the restaurant’s lace curtains, of watching the traffic go by on Pennsylvania Avenue. Maybe someone would see us, someone I knew. They would wave and smile as they realized I was on a lunch date. They would call me during the afternoon, to ask about the absolutely gorgeous man who had been eating with me, the one with the blond curls and easy grin, who seemed to be hanging on my every word.

No one would see me now that I wasn’t sitting at a table in the window.

When I took my seat, however, I realized that Jason had actually chosen well. Within our little nook, it seemed that we were the only people in the entire restaurant, the only people in the entire world.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, fiddling with the beads on my necklace.

“Traffic can be bad.”

“Especially at lunchtime.” Great. Brilliant conversation. This was terrible. It was as if I’d never seen Jason before, as if we’d never even spoken to each other.

The waiter came to take our drink orders. “I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” Jason said. “It’s cold outside,” he justified to me.

“And a Chianti for me, too,” I said, following my Imaginary Boyfriend’s lead.

No, I reminded myself. He wasn’t Imaginary anymore. He had asked me out. He had brought me cute gifts (the marshmallows were still inside my desk drawer)!

Flustered by the seismic shift in our relationship, I gave the menu a ridiculous amount of attention. The entrées were all too heavy for lunch. The salads were too fussy. Pasta, then. Not long pasta, though. I’d never live it down with Melissa if I dripped linguine down my front. (Not to mention the dry-cleaning bill I’d get for my cashmere sweater.)

Tortellini, then. Bite-sized. Self-contained. No hidden dangers.

“Do you want to start with some garlic-cheese bread?” Jason asked.

My heart exploded in my chest. Garlic-cheese bread. You only ordered garlic-cheese bread if you really knew the person you were eating with. If you trusted them. A first date could never order garlic cheese bread, but a Boyfriend could.

“I’d love to,” I said.

The waiter came back to the table, bringing the blessed fruit of the vine. He took our orders (Jason chose the lasagna al forno) and then he disappeared.

“So,” Jason said.

“So,” I echoed.

An ambulance went by outside, and its siren kick-started my brain. I took a sip of wine and dove into my story. “You would not believe the weekend that I had!”

I told him about going to the Natural History Museum with Gran, about how she had collapsed. I somehow managed to make it a funny story, stressing the bits that had not been at all amusing at the time—the way the Cell Phone Samaritan had blinked at the closing elevator doors, the way the ambulance had careened around corners. I told him how Melissa had come to the hospital with her Butterscotch Blessings, and how my grandmother had become the most popular patient on the floor.