Seeing Magic (The Queen of the Night Series Book 1) (3 page)

She nodded. “Good choice. Go get me an onion from the pantry and come and help me cut vegetables.”

I did as she said and joined her at the counter. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m making a ratatouille over brown rice with Gruyere cheese.”

“Sounds good.”  H
ow come we can get Gruyere cheese in outer bum you-know-what, but we can’t get Direct TV
?

***

It turned out that Fiona’s ratatouille was really flavorful. I wondered out loud if it was because almost all of the ingredients grew right in the backyard, and she seemed really pleased by the compliment. She warmed up to me a little, and started talking about the good job I’d done weeding the garden. She quizzed me about the herbs I’d observed and their common uses, seeming particularly interested in my knowledge of medicinal herbs. I answered most of her questions correctly. Besides hanging out in Mom’s store, I’d read several books on herbal remedies. Mom grew a few of the most common ones in our little plot at the community garden.

Fiona appeared satisfied with my answers. She made an off-hand comment about how my education was not entirely lacking after all. I didn’t understand what she meant, and wondered if I should challenge her about
my education
. I wanted to ask Mom first, though, needing to hear Mom’s side of the story before entertaining any complaints from this weird old lady in front of me, so I kept quiet.

After the strange evening ritual, Fiona excused herself and went to her room. I grabbed a glass of water and the mystery book and started to do the same. As I turned toward my temporary bedroom, I spotted another plate of food that had been left on a low table in the corner of the dining room.
How long has Great-Aunt Fiona been going senile?
  Maybe if Mom knew she was a crazy woman, she’d let me fly home. The possibility cheered me a little.

After running through my nighttime routine and changing into my pajamas, I settled down in the small antique armchair Aunt Rose had placed in the corner of her bedroom. It had a small table and a floor lamp stationed on either side, so it was the perfect place to curl up with a good book. She had even supplied another old quilt as a throw. I settled in the chair with my MP3 player and the whodunit.
This wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening
. The book held my attention for a couple of hours. Eventually I had to answer the call of nature, so I put the book down and headed to the bathroom. As I opened the bedroom door, something scampered away…loudly. If it was a mouse, then the mouse could have played tight-end for the UCLA Bruins. Closing my door behind me, I made a dash for the bathroom, hoping to avoid the creature.

***

Not knowing if the whispering mice with the large teeth and huge claws were friend or foe, I locked my bedroom door upon my return. Then I read the murder mystery until too exhausted to be afraid of sleep, and crawled into the bed.

I’d been running through an endless field of corn. The stalks were really tall, about six feet high and planted close together in rows, so I had to stay in one lane and run straight. It was a muggy, overcast day. Scraping, scuffling sounds followed me. The huge, flat, green leaves of the corn slapped my cheeks and scratched my thighs.  The sounds got louder, so I put on a burst of speed, but wasn’t sure how long I could continue.

Noises came from lanes in between the rows of corn on both sides of me. They twittered to each other, making fun of me and laughing at how I’ve been abandoned at my relatives’ for the summer. They took bets on when I’d start crying because I couldn’t watch any of the summer programs on TV. I turned my head to get a glimpse at the creatures that chased me. The one directly behind waved and giggled. It was a gerbil the size of a German shepherd. It had a red, pointed hat like the garden gnomes I’d seen on TV, but otherwise didn’t resemble the kindly-faced and bearded short men.

I faced forward again and tried to run faster. My lungs burned and I was sure they would catch me. Finally, the back deck of the cabin loomed ahead. I made a break for it, knowing if I could just get in the house, I’d be okay. Reaching the back door, I threw it open and flung myself over the threshold. All of the noise stopped.

I looked up but I wasn’t in the living room of the cabin. A hospital bed was hooked up with all kinds of medical equipment. The walls were painted a dull green and sitting in the chair next to the bed was my Aunt Rose. A nurse stood on the other side of the bed talking quietly to the female patient lying there. The nurse had a huge needle that she injected into the IV. At the same time I got close enough to see who lay in that bed, the patient screamed out in agony and I knew instantly who it was.

I sat bolt upright in bed, still panting. A scream lodged in my throat. Sweat dripped down my face and my hair was completely soaked. I took in the fact that sunlight streamed through the windows as I forced my breathing to return to normal.
It was a dream…just a dream
. I kept repeating this as I threw back the covers, jumped out of bed, unlocked the door and headed into the living room. I needed to make a phone call.

Chapter Three

My Education Begins

Even though it was 6 AM in California, Mom didn’t answer the phone. That worried me. There’s no way she would have left for work before 7:30 AM. I left one message on the machine asking her to call me back and another on Corey’s cell asking if he’d talked to Mom since we’d left Santa Monica. Knowing nothing else could be done to alleviate the growing apprehension about my mother’s health, I decided to find out what Great-Aunt Fiona had planned for today. Sure enough, another note sat in the center of the table. It read as follows,

Maggie,

I’m sure it will take a few days for you to adjust to the three hour time difference, so I’ve decided to let you sleep as late as you need this week. For the next few days I’d like you to familiarize yourself with the other herb gardens on the farm (see diagram). Please weed each in the order indicated. As you do so, pay close attention to the herbs you find there. On my desk is a journal of medicinal herbs, their characteristics and common uses in herbal remedies. I will question you nightly on your knowledge of Herbalism. It’s important that you take this education seriously. For dinner tonight, please collect the following items:

    4 scallions

              ½“ piece of ginger root

              head of garlic

              20 or so sugar snap peas

              head of broccoli

              1 red bell pepper

              5 shitake mushrooms

                                                                                    Fiona

One glance at the list made me think we must be having a stir-fry. The rough drawing accompanying the note identified the location of the cabin and the various garden plots situated around it. She had labeled each plot with the herbs, fruits or vegetables grown there. She had also numbered them. If I’d had anything else to do to pass the time being drafted as slave labor might have been upsetting. Surprisingly I felt excited. I’d been interested in Herbalism my whole life. For the first time, the opportunity existed to really gain practical knowledge about herbs and their uses. Tucking the papers in my back pocket and gratified that I hadn’t heard a single rodent all morning, I pushed the memories of my horrible nightmare out of my mind, covered myself liberally with the mosquito repellent, grabbed the willow basket and headed out into the sunshine.

The first garden patch on Fiona’s diagram had ten different medicinal herbs. Their names were familiar from hanging out in Mom’s store, but during my first break in front of Fiona’s journal, I couldn’t remember all of their names. When I went back out after a glass of iced tea, I took a notepad and pen with me. At lunch I reviewed the entries for the ten herbs while munching on a sandwich. After finishing the weeding in the late afternoon, I used the diagram to find the items on Fiona’s daily grocery list.

I ran into trouble looking for the mushrooms. They weren’t part of a cultivated garden plot, but grew wild under the willow trees by the bank of the river. Nevertheless, Fiona had placed markers near clusters of mushrooms to spot the different types. Unfortunately, even in the bright daylight the markers were hard to read because her script was small.

Carefully setting down the basket, I started crawling along the riverbank scrutinizing the different markers, trying to find the Shitake cluster. I’d just found them when there was motion behind me. Falling, I splashed down right into the shallow edge of the river. Besides being pissed at getting all wet and muddy, I
knew
I didn’t lose my balance on my own.
Hands
had pushed my backside and wild laughter came from the trees. I looked up but couldn’t make out who hid in there. It didn’t matter. They had a lot of explaining to do. Dragging myself off the muddy bank,  I headed toward the sound.

At the dense tree line, a tall, slender man walked out. He still had a huge smile on his face. “Oh ach, Fiona, love, don’t be angry. I’m just playing with ya’, lass.”

At first I didn’t register his words, but was compelled to look at his face. He dressed a little weird, I mean, even golfers don’t wear breeches anymore, and where did he get the little Robin Hood cap with the feather in it?  His white blond hair glinted and his deep green eyes were framed with thick, dark lashes. His smile was captivating. A small part of my brain was still functioning and thought;
why am I drawn to this guy, he’s not my type…and why would he confuse me with Great-Aunt Fiona
?  Aunt Rose always commented on how much I looked like her. I couldn’t really see what she meant.

Reflexively, I responded, “I’m Maggie.” 

The man looked startled, but recovered quickly. He continued in his heavy brogue. “Maggie, is it?  And what brings you to the edge of the forest then, love?”

I held up the mushrooms still clutched in my hand and spores floated toward my face. They were visible only because of the sun’s rays slashing through the tree canopy. Vaguely, I chided myself for gripping the mushrooms too tight.

He looked straight into my eyes and said, “You should be careful where you wander, lass. There are dangers in the forest.”

I wanted to respond, to take my basket of produce and my mushrooms and run back to the cabin, but something kept me rooted in place. I couldn’t look away from his mesmerizing eyes. Starting to get dizzy, I couldn’t remember why I stood there, dripping wet. A little part of me knew I should be uncomfortable standing around in muddy clothes, but I couldn’t feel much of anything. My thoughts were consumed by the green eyes.

“Come here, love.”

A war raged within me. Common sense and urban habits told me the guy was dangerous. In spite of my deeply ingrained city-girl distrust of strangers, my feet shuffled toward the tree cover of their own accord. When I was close enough, the man reached out to grab my arm. That’s when muscle memory and instinct overrode whatever his green eyes had done to me.

I sidestepped him and automatically presented a smaller target to the man in the green cap by turning to my side. I lunged into bow steps and executed the ‘
Waves arms like clouds
’ move so he couldn’t get a grip on me, finishing my Tai Chi form with hands in ‘
Playing the guitar
’ form. My left hand came up to hold the imaginary neck of the Chinese guitar and protected my face from attack. The stranger wasn’t nearly as fast as me. His hand struck my wrist. The physical contact broke the last remnants of his spell. In full command of all of my faculties, I ran.

I’m a good sprinter, but I’m used to running on even, paved ground. The forest was covered with at least four inches of detritus. Leaf cover hid broken branches and partially decayed fallen tree trunks. I tried to head toward the cabin. Eventually, it became obvious I’d gone the wrong direction. I circled back. The ground was moist from recent rainfall and several times I skidded, slipped and fell. One of those falls resulted in a twisted left ankle. Undoubtedly, it would be badly sprained. Adrenaline gave me the power to run on it anyway, but I had no idea of which direction to head. No discernible landmarks helped me get back to the cabin. No noises coaxed me toward civilization, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, Green Eyes caught up to me because he was flying.

I shook my head to clear the cobwebs of his hypnosis, wondering if I’d grabbed the wrong mushrooms and released hallucinogenic spores into my airway. The guy floated alongside me at eye-level. Too shocked to process anything else, I didn’t see the log before it was too late to avoid impact.

I’m sure to an onlooker, the fall was spectacular. Flipping end-over-end, I heard the rushing of the water clearly. Unconsciously, I’d raced toward the river, so when I landed, it wasn’t on the forest floor. I bounced off a boulder with my left hip and splashed into freezing, fast current.

I struggled to keep my head above the surface, spluttering and spitting because the water tasted metallic.

Green Eyes cried out behind me, but his words made no sense. “Fiona, don’t leave me. Come back. Stay out of the water. She has power in the water. She’ll kill you Fiona, for being a MacDougall. She won’t let you produce a competing heir. FIONA, get out of the RIVER!  Don’t die!”

What did he think I was trying to do
?  I didn’t know why he kept calling me Fiona, but understood the part about getting out of the water before it killed me. I fought the current, but it still carried me downstream. The rapids increased as the Cacapon River turned a bend and dropped in elevation. My left knee tore open on a sharp, protruding rock. The impact and the current pushed my broken body to the right. Once again, I somersaulted. This time I rolled over wet rocks, and not in the air. From my upside down vantage point, it seemed like someone hung from a bridge in front of me. Then my somersault ended when my head cracked on the final boulder of the rapids.

***

The pain pulled me back to consciousness, but not for long, because the mushrooms still affected my senses. In my altered state, it seemed like I lay in the bed of a pick-up truck surrounded by several short men wearing burlap sacks with hairy, bare feet. They mostly had wrinkled, leathery brown skin but every time the truck hit a bump or a pothole they changed color to match the paint job. One of those potholes blissfully knocked me out again.

***

I woke up on the living room floor of the cabin to the same high-pitched noise from early in the morning or late at night. Except this time, I could easily make out the sounds, because they were words. Several people spoke with high, squeaky voices.   Slowly, I opened my eyes. What peered back into my face made me question if the blow to my head had caused serious damage.

The coffee table began to move. I tried to block the impact, thinking it would fall on me, but it didn’t. Instead, a piece of it broke away from the rest and approached me. Gradually, the coloring shifted and instead of a piece of the coffee table, it transformed into a tiny person. He camouflaged himself to blend in with his surroundings, like a chameleon. It was frightening and fascinating all at the same time.

Somehow, I had the sense to marvel at how real my hallucination felt. It could be caused by a traumatic brain injury, which would be bad, or the mushrooms. I hoped it was the mushrooms, because the drug would eventually leave my system.

I’d never done drugs although so many were available in Santa Monica. A lot of my classmates were the children of musicians or actors. Early on, I’d witnessed the repercussions from drug use. I’d always liked my brain the way it was. This trip was so real, and the characters so fantastical, I was beginning to understand the appeal. It felt like I’d been dropped inside a movie, except for the pain, which I assumed was a bad side effect of the spores.

Mentally, I detached myself from the action and scrutinized the fantasy creature in front of me. The man stood almost two feet tall. His hairy, bare feet had long toenails that scraped the ground as he walked. He sported short, curly brown hair, big green eyes, and wore a brown, hooded robe made out of burlap. He also had a scruffy, short beard.

He squeaked at me.
This movie was so cool
. “There you are, Mistress Maggie. Gave us quite a fright you did, taking a tumble like that and all. No, don’t try to move yet. Master Evan will be along presently. You just stay put now.”

The movie continued, like a bad noir film. On cue, heavy footfalls headed toward me.

“What were you doing out there?” he shouted at me. “You’re supposed to be smart.”

I had no capacity to be snarky in return; I had no control over what came out of my mouth. “Whoa, Evan…you’re in my movie. Of course you are, ‘cause you’re gorgeous. This is so weird…”  I tried to raise my head to look at the set design, and to see what other characters were in the scene.

He looked shocked at my behavior. Then he looked concerned. “No!  Don’t move. I called Fi. She’s closed the store early and should be here soon.” 

“Fiona’s in my movie, too…that’s so wicked.”

He turned to look at the funny, brown short guy. “Grog, she must have hit her head.”

I giggled. “Grog, what a great character name, ‘cause that’s me…I’m groggy.”  Laughing hurt my head, so I tried to stop.

More off-screen sound effects happened. Fiona’s truck arrived. Soon, she entered the set. “Is she conscious?”

“Almost,” Evan replied.

“Now that’s a perfect portrayal of Fiona,” I giggled, “because she’s always tight-lipped and all business.”

“Definite concussion. I’ll have to reduce the swelling.”

Slowly, she waved her hands down the length of my body. She didn’t touch me; she just held them about two inches up from my skin and narrowed her eyes as if looking at something no one else could see. The whole time she mumbled a self-monologue. “No internal bleeding, that’s good. Bad gash in the left knee…bad sprain in the left ankle…tons of bruising, especially on her hip, but she’ll be okay.” 

Finally, she sat back on her haunches and looked up at Evan. “It’s okay to move her. Can you carry her to the bed?”

“Wow, like Clark Gable?” I wondered aloud.

Fiona gave me a sharp look.

“I have a great imagination. This movie is getting even better.”  I looked toward Evan. “Let’s go to bed. New set!” 

They both ignored me.