Seeing Magic (The Queen of the Night Series Book 1) (6 page)

“Hi Evan,” she called breathlessly.

I had the overwhelming urge to grab him and pull him to me. At the same time I decided she wasn’t pretty after all. To his credit, Evan nodded his hello to her but didn’t leave my side. He pushed my chair around the racks of clothes and displays of geodes until he’d rounded the end of the counter.

Once he’d pushed me behind it, he responded. “Hey Madison, how’re ya doin’?”

She giggled and fluttered her lashes again.

I felt a pang of jealousy.

He continued, “This is Fiona’s niece, Maggie. Fi wants her to observe today so I’m just gonna set her up back here, okay?”

“Sure thing, Ev. Whatever Fiona wants, you know?” Then as an afterthought she turned to me and gave me a half-wave saying, “Hi.” 

I exhibited as much enthusiasm as I half-waved back.

She scrutinized me and said, “Yeah, you look like Fi.” 

I choked and stared at Evan. “Why does everyone say that?”

Both Evan and Madison laughed at me. A customer got Madison’s attention and she left. Evan shook his head at me, still chuckling. “You’ll be okay here. Watch Madison and try to get familiar with the merchandise. I have to inventory new stock, so I’ll see you later.”

As he left, I had the visual image of two little Maggies sitting on my shoulders whispering in my ears. One of the Maggies dressed all in white and had a halo. The other had red horns and a forked tail. The bad Maggie wanted to invoke my right as a teenager to rebel against authority. I had absolutely no interest at all in retail. I was irritated by my confinement to a wheelchair and peeved that everyone kept giving me orders and abandoning me. I still resented how Madison had blatantly thrown herself at Evan. He’d saved my life. I was starting to think of him as my protector. I didn’t want to share him.

Then the good Maggie, or rather the practical Maggie had her say. The simple reality was that I
was
abandoned. Completely and totally alone, I had no money, no transportation, no one I could call for help, and nowhere to go. I was stuck 3,200 miles away from anything familiar. Plus, Evan was the Great Seer and belonged to them, not to me.

Practical Maggie won. It turned out that Madison was quite knowledgeable about all the wares in her section of the store and willing to share her information.

Every once in a while, I saw Fiona come out to the front of the store, greet a customer and lead them upstairs to the ‘specialty items’ section. I was dying to know what she sold up there.

All-in-all the place felt like any of the New Age boutiques I could find in Santa Monica. It occurred to me that New Agers or neo-pagans might not be common in rural West Virginia. When Evan came and took me to lunch in the break room, I asked him about it.

“Oh, you’re right,” he agreed. “Berkeley Springs attracts a lot of New Agers because of the natural hot springs and the convergence of several ley lines in the area, but for the most part, this county is extremely conservative.”

“Business is booming,” I countered. “The place is packed today.”

“This is the height of the tourist season, so we get a lot of business from tourists coming to visit the hot springs at the park. Even in the off-season, we still have a steady customer base from our own clan.”

“When my mom first told me about Fiona’s store, I thought it was a natural foods store, like the one she manages at home, but there’s no food here.”

“Well no, I mean her farm supplies crops to the food co-operative across the street and the open-air farmers market on the weekends. Fiona started this business just selling her herbs and herbal remedies. As customers asked her to carry other items, she expanded her inventory. Eventually, she bought out the old bookstore on the right-hand side and tore down the wall between the two units. That’s why the store looks like it does today.”

“It’s incredible,” I murmured.

He agreed.

“What’s the agenda after lunch?” 

Evan sat back in his chair. “Well, Fiona wants you to work with Kimberly in the herb shop.” 

He stood up and I wheeled after him to that part of the store. Kimberly turned out to be a motherly-type woman in her mid-thirties, but even she practically threw herself at Evan when she saw him.
Jeez
, I thought with disgust,
is he the only eligible bachelor in the whole county, or what?

By the end of the day, I was grateful I’d spent so much time studying herbs. Fiona did it all. She supplied over a hundred types of loose, dried herbs but she also had many items made from herbs. I was proud of myself when I recommended a Lemon Balm tea to a guy suffering from heat exhaustion.

Speaking of exhaustion, I was mentally and physically ragged when Evan collected me to go home. The effects of the poultice had completely worn off and I ached. Evan lifted me into the passenger seat of the Jeep and secured the belt.

“Thanks. I think I’m too tired to even pull the seatbelt for myself.”

“Happy to do it,” he replied simply.

***

Once we were back in the cabin, Evan carried me to my bed and left.

Fiona came in and gave me another treatment. This time she explained more of what she was doing. “I direct the healing energy from my spirit to the injured places on your body. I imagine the tendons and muscles stitching themselves back together. The poultice is just a topical pain reliever. Hopefully, the combination will help you heal faster. On average, the people I treat heal four times faster from this type of injury than they would with conventional medical treatment.”

“Whoa,” I said. “You direct spirit energy to my body?  It really is magic.”

“Well of course,” she snapped. “What did you think we did?  Now Ginger and Daisy will help you finish. Dinner is nearly ready. You should go to bed right after evening prayer. Tomorrow, I want you to work upstairs.” 

I couldn’t see how I was going to get up those stairs. This morning I wasn’t able to support my own weight, but curiosity was a great motivator. I wanted to know what was in the secret room.

Chapter Six

Upstairs

Here goes nothing
. That’s what I thought the next morning as I sat in my wheelchair at the base of the double staircase. I had healed really fast, but that didn’t mean I wanted to start walking. The top of the staircase seemed a long way to fall if I lost my balance.

As if he could read my mind, Evan said to me softly, so only I could hear, “Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you. Just hold onto the banister for support.”

His warm breath on the back of my neck encouraged me more than the actual words. I really liked having him close. To my surprise, it didn’t hurt that much to stand. I grasped onto the newel post as if my life depended on it. Evan carried the wheelchair quickly up the stairs. Then, true to his word, he came back down and stood right behind me. I carefully pulled myself up, one stair at a time, leaning heavily on the banister for support. My leg hurt tremendously by the time I reached the top, but I did it.

The elation I felt was short lived. From the second floor landing, you could clearly see that Aunt Fiona’s boutique had once been two separate stores, because the wall separating the two storefronts was still there. Exposed brick on the one side of the wall ran from the front of the shop to the stairwell opening. On the left, where Fiona’s original shop stood, the second floor opened to the stairwell, bordered by a waist-high railing. As you ascended the stairs you could easily see all of the wares she had for sale in the book section. To the right, the stairwell was bordered by a wall paneled in mahogany with raised insets.

At the back of the store, five feet separated the top stair from the back wall. The five-foot wide area formed an aisle on the secret room half of the upstairs. On the back wall side of the aisle, bookcases had been built. The other wall was formed by floor-to-ceiling Chinese black lacquer sliding panels painted with landscape scenes in gold. Where the two middle panels met in the center, an old-fashioned brass keyhole locked the panels together. The secret room was still a secret.

Evan stood quietly waiting for me as I ogled the sliding panels, but his posture screamed impatience. Having no choice, I got into my wheelchair and followed him to the left. This part of the store was beautifully laid out. All along the walls, shelving held clusters of books, DVDs, CDs, videos and artfully displayed curios. At the far end of the space from where I stood, which would have been the front of the store, large windows looked onto Washington Street. Up against the windows sat a small raised platform stage for poetry readings, concerts or similar performances. A few bistro tables loitered around the stage. Interspersed between the tables were club chairs with side tables and reading lamps. In the open area a Victorian pouf had books scattered on it and a large pedestal table loomed next to the pouf. In the center of the table a stained glass Tiffany-style lamp illuminated more stacks of books and CDs.

A number of people milled about the bookstore. A couple of them stood around the pedestal table, skimming the books. A few sat at the bistro tables or in the club chairs. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming. Following Evan, I wheeled an arc around the people at the pedestal table and headed for the wall opposite the stairs. Centered between the bookcases and the stage area was another sales counter. A plump, grandmotherly looking woman stood behind it. She had short curly black hair, liberally sprinkled with gray. When she looked up, Evan gave her a wave and we headed toward her.

She broke out into a huge grin at the sight of him. Her eyes didn’t acknowledge me at all. She gave Evan a saucy wink and a flirtatious little hug.

I wondered why all the women we met treated Evan like a male stripper. I’d thought it inappropriate that the middle-aged woman at the herbal remedies counter hit on him. I wasn’t sure about West Virginia, but in my state the way this grandmother acted toward seventeen-year old Evan might be considered illegal. Obviously he was attractive, but in Santa Monica attractive men were everywhere. Women didn’t completely throw themselves at them. Besides, I’d seen other good-looking guys in the shop and on the streets of Berkeley Springs.

Eventually, I wanted to find out why these women behaved as they did. Since Evan was speaking, I tabled the question. He introduced us while hugging her back and it irritated me. Afterward he backed a couple of steps away and put his hand on the back of my wheelchair. I felt a little better.

“Hiya Cassie, meet Maggie. She’s Fiona’s grand-niece. Fiona would like her to work with you for a couple of days to learn about this part of the store.”

Cassie adopted a pout and said, “Oh Evan, and here I’d hoped you were just coming to see me.” 

For a second my hackles rose, but then she surprised me.

She turned to me and with a warm smile said, “Welcome, Maggie. I’ve been waiting for you to join me in the book shop. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m looking forward to working with you the next couple of days. Why don’t you come back behind the counter and I’ll show you how we’ve got things set up.”

***

And that’s how it went. For the next several days I had a routine. I’d wake up in the morning, get my healing treatment from Fiona and have breakfast. Evan would pick me up and drive me to the store where I would make my way up the stairs to work with Cassie in the book shop. At first, I worked mostly behind the counter, because of the wheelchair. After work, Evan would drive me home where I would have dinner, another healing treatment, the evening blessings and the chance to read a little before bedtime.

Every night I woke up, drenched in sweat, with a silent scream lodged in my throat as I dreamed of my mother, in a hospital bed suffering great pain. In my dream, they injected her with poison causing every nerve in her body to burn as if on fire. She vomited endlessly. She only stopped throwing up when she fell asleep from exhaustion. I wanted to talk to someone…anyone, about these recurring nightmares, but Fiona just ignored my questions. Corey texted me a few times to quit worrying. Mom had not returned my calls.

I coped by filling every free moment with reading. Fiona carried all kinds of books. There were books on new age subjects and herbal medicine, on the history of Scotland and of the Cherokee Nation; she even had history books on West Virginia, Appalachia, the Revolutionary and Civil Wars and on Morgan County. Of course, she had all kinds of tourist books and pamphlets as well. They covered the major tourist spots within a hundred-mile radius. I spent my breaks perusing these books. The first books I read chronicled the C and O Canal, its history and the national park that ran all the way from Washington D.C. to Paw Paw. I read about the natural hot springs that ran behind the store and gave Berkeley Springs it’s other name, the Town of Bath. George Washington made this place famous when it became one of his favorite vacation spots. His outdoor bathtub, made from natural stone, was a frequent tourist attraction. The springs are still popular with the DC elite.

***

Each day I felt progressively better. Soon I was out of the wheelchair and just using crutches. As my mobility improved and my knowledge of the store increased, I was able to walk around the book shop and assist customers face-to-face. In the mornings, Evan accompanied me up the stairs to make sure I got up them okay. Each time, Cassie flirted outrageously with him. So did Kimberly from the herbal products counter and Madison from the jewelry counter. In spite of being seriously jealous, I had to accept that Evan was something more than just a good-looking guy to the women of the clan.

By the time Saturday came around, I’d traded in the crutches for a cane. This pleased me a great deal. I was almost able to walk completely under my own power and still amazed at how quickly I’d healed. As soon as Fiona laid her hands on me during the healing treatments, I instantly felt better. I could sense the bones and tendons stitching themselves back together again under her touch.

Already overjoyed because I’d been given an extra hour of sleep, Evan surprised me further when he picked me up by saying, “It’s Saturday. We’re going to the farmer’s market.”

“Do you mean I don’t have to work today?”

“That’s right. Fiona thinks you deserve a break; so do I.”

“Yay,” I grinned. “What’s a farmer’s market?”

“You’ll see.”

***

The Farmer’s Market was a Berkeley Springs tradition. On the weekends from 10 AM until 2 PM various farmers and amateur gardeners brought either their produce or wares made from their produce to a street across from the town square. The street was closed off to cars and the vendors set up stalls and laid out their produce on folding tables and stands.

Evan pointed to a stall at the end of the street. “That’s the stall from Fiona’s farm. Her foreman, Duncan, runs it.”

We struggled to make our way to Fiona’s stall because it seemed everyone, either vendor or shopper, knew Evan and wanted a word with him. They were all very curious about me. A few of the women and all of the teenage girls we ran into stared at me as if I were the enemy in a dangerous war. A lot of the conversations revolved around local events and gossip. Many people asked Evan his opinion on all kinds of issues. This struck me as odd since Evan didn’t look like a town elder.

He introduced me to each of them, but I couldn’t keep all the names and faces straight. However, each person regarded me with respect once they realized I was related to Fiona. Curiously, it seemed both Fiona and Evan held places of high regard in this community.

“Evan, how many of these people are part of the Cacapon clan?”

He paused a moment and scanned the crowd, then he responded. “All of them except for those tourists over there looking at the potted herbs.”

“Are you and Fiona the clan leaders or something?”

“We’re members of the clan council, so I guess so.”

“Oh.”  I considered this new information. Evan had referred to himself as the clan’s Great Seer. I didn’t realize what a high position it was in the social hierarchy. It seemed like a heavy burden to carry on young shoulders. It also explained why the women treated him the way they did. He must be their equivalent of a crown prince. At least Fiona seemed comfortable with her role. She’d probably joined the council after assisting the previous Great Healer for a decade at least. She’d held the position for several decades.

Evan didn’t look like he had that level of confidence, but understanding the political reality certainly explained why I walked away from the farmer’s market an hour later with gifts from almost every vendor. I’d been given homemade fudge, a mason jar of blackberry jam, a bar of oat and lavender soap, a bouquet of fresh wildflowers and a personal-sized seedless watermelon. I couldn’t manage to carry any of it except the flowers while wielding my cane.

Evan had to get an empty produce bucket from Duncan to pack all the stuff. He hefted it back to his SUV and stored it in the cargo area. I limped along beside him.

After he’d closed the hatch he glanced down at my cane and said, “Why don’t we get some lunch?”

Since lunch had consisted of leftovers brought from home every day, eating out sounded like a great idea. Evan took me to the local pizza parlor. They had an old-fashioned juke box and he and I took turns surprising each other by queuing up odd selections and moldy oldies. Each time a new song played the person who had not chosen it laughed and teased the other.

I couldn’t believe I was having a good time. More surprisingly, I couldn’t believe
he
was having a good time. I pushed my luck by asking him a question. “Evan, why don’t you hate me anymore?”

He looked shocked for a moment, but recovered quickly. “I’m sorry if you thought I hated you.” 

I gave him a skeptical look.

“Okay, I hated you, but Fiona reminded me that you are not to blame for your parent’s mistakes. So I’m not going to take my frustration out on you anymore. Besides, these past few days, as I’ve driven you to and from the store, we’ve talked, you know, like normal people. No one ever makes idle conversation with me anymore. For the last two years, people only talk to me if they need something. If they need my vote on a council issue, or they want me to introduce a proposal, then they’re nice to me. I think a couple of the girls want to date me so they can claim status as a council member’s girlfriend. Sometimes I think their mothers want to date me for the same reason.” 

I giggled, unable to help it. He told the truth.

“See,” he continued. “You treat me like you treat everyone else. You have no hidden agenda. I really needed someone like that.” 

I stopped giggling and looked at him earnestly. He seemed so vulnerable. “Are you sure no one else talks to you normally?  What about Fiona?”

He huffed out a breath at hearing her name.

“Fiona was the only person I could talk to before you came here. She’s the only one who’s not afraid of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid of you?”

“People are afraid of my power of premonition. If they touch me or spend too much time with me, they’re afraid I’ll see something about their future and it will be bad news. People don’t want to know bad things about their future. Unless they need something from me, they stay far away. Fiona is my mentor. She helps me understand all of the politics of the clan council, and she’s teaching me how to be a leader. I’d do anything to repay her.” 

Like babysit me
, I thought, with a twinge of sadness. At least he didn’t hate me anymore. “So, we’ve spent a lot of time together. Have you seen anything bad in my future?”