Lenora's Grimoire

Chapter Twelve

Lenora didn't seem to hear Cherish, let alone notice her. She was staring right through her as though she was a ghost, her gaze boring straight through Cherish, to the other man. She yanked the door shut without even looking, a scowl growing larger on her face by the minute.

"The moon's out," she said, by way of explanation.

The man scoffed behind Cherish, but she didn't dare turn to look at him again. What if Lenora vanished before her very eyes—or worse, what if she turned around and she was still trapped?

Cherish pressed one of her fingernails into the palm of her hand, hoping that she was dreaming.

It stung, which did nothing to dissuade her fears.

"Your odd habits concern me more and more with each passing day, 'Nora," the man said from behind Cherish. "Come over here. The stew's nearly done, and I'm sure you're just as hungry as I am."

Lenora rolled her eyes and shuffled towards the man.

"Excuse me," Cherish said, louder, as Lenora got closer and seemed to have no intention of stepping to the side to give Cherish any space.

In fact, she continued walking, straight through Cherish as though she was nothing but a mirage.

Cherish looked down at herself momentarily to ensure she was still there—and yes, she could still see herself completely, all the way down to her fuzzy house slippers.

She whirled, still trying to process what had just happened. Clearly it was not a dream, but she hadn't been corporeally to wherever—or whenever—she was now.

Lenora had taken a seat on the ground next to the man as he poured stew from the cauldron. Cherish could smell cooked vegetables, which did nothing to help calm her any. Was she hallucinating? Had she truly unleashed a curse by reading Lenora's grimoire—or through intending to perform one of the spells?

"Excuse me," Cherish repeated, a little louder, in hopes that she would catch the attention of either Lenora or her companion.

They ignored her.

She sucked in a deep breath, pacing back and forth across the small distance from the cauldron to the front door of the hut momentarily. She felt cold, like there was an icy chill in the room with them despite the crackling fire nearby, and a wave of anxiety rolled over her.

What if she was stuck like this, and she would never be able to return home?

She took in another shaky breath and stormed over to where Lenora sat, cradling a bowl of steaming, warm stew.

"Let me out of this," Cherish demanded.

Lenora ignored her, listening instead to her companion telling her about some strange man he'd met on his journey into the nearby town who had proclaimed that he was a witch hunter and had already found and dealt with half a dozen witches in other nearby towns.

"How silly," Lenora said, bringing the stew to her lips and sipping the liquid. "Surely he wasn't serious?"

"I think he was," the man replied. "He's staying at the inn, at the center of town. From the sounds of it, he intended to stop by every home starting early tomorrow morning to enquire about anything out of the ordinary."

Cherish caught the slight tremor in Lenora's fingers as she set the bowl down in her lap. "How very kind of him to give notice," she said calmly. "I'll be sure we have extra food for him, in case he stops by around mealtime."

"Okay, this is ridiculous," Cherish said. "Why did you bring me here, Lenora—to show me that owning up to being a witch isn't as bad as you had it? Seriously?"

As Lenora raised the bowl again to take another sip, Cherish plucked the bowl from her fingers. "I want to go home, Lenora," she demanded.

Cherish blinked.

She was holding a bowl of stew in her right hand. She could feel it almost as though it was an actual object. She could feel the warmth emanating from the liquid inside, making the bowl cupped in hands a pleasant warm.

How had she done that? Cherish wondered, stunned by her own abilities momentarily.

Lenora turned, catching Cherish's attention once more.

The girl was staring directly at Cherish—well, glowering was more like it.

"Go home," Lenora hissed at Cherish.

Cherish felt a tug at the center of her very being—and as she blinked, she found herself back in the kitchen, facing her dining room table.

There was still that cold chill giving her a shiver, and she found, as she glanced back, that she'd left the fridge open.

A weight was still present in her right hand, where she'd been holding Lenora's bowl of stew. The only difference was that now, instead of a pleasant warmth radiating from her fingers, the object was cold.

Cherish looked down and found she was holding the milk carton in her right hand.

(A/N) Final Chapter Word Count: 818