As we approached, the front door opened to reveal an elegant, elderly lady with long, white hair cascading down her back in waves. Her bright smile reached her eyes, causing wrinkles to deepen around them.
"Rose!" She held out her arms and pulled me in for a tight hug. She felt like home and smelled like roses. "Come in. Come in." She ushered us in through the front door into the first section of her house. The front wall was fully glazed, and we were surrounded by plants, all of which looked to be edible or medicinal. On one wall there was a water feature spilling out into a deep glass tank filled with fish. Wind chimes hung by the door, dancing and singing their tunes with each breeze. We walked through huge open double doors into a room that was clearly part of the building underground. Instead of feeling claustrophobic or cavernous, it had that nice in-between feeling that gave a homely and welcoming vibe. A large kitchen to one side had shelves stacked with jars and jars of different ingredients and herbs; grandmother obviously liked to cook. We sat down on the large, curved sofa, and were immediately engulfed in soft cushions. Declan scrambled to right himself as he sank back, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the almost panicked expression on his face. He nudged me, and I almost fell back myself. It was his turn to chuckle.
"What are you two doing?" Asked Willow, seeming seriously curious at our antics. She set four teacups on the table, and sat down without issue. I guessed she was used to the soft sofa.
"Nothing." I murmured and sneaked in an extra slap on Declan's leg. Grandmother joined us with the teapot on a tray, along with the milk, honey, and a plate full of biscuits.
She sat across from me, looking at me with a smile on her face. Willow set about pouring the tea for everyone, and I accepted it gratefully. The sweet and citrusy aroma hit me immediately, and I breathed it in deeply. "Rosehip and Lemon balm?" I queried.
"Good." My grandmother nodded, seemingly impressed.
I reached for the honey, and added some to my tea. I passed it on to Declan. "You'll want that." I suggested. He wasn't as keen on the various teas my mother brewed; much more of a coffee drinker himself. But I knew he'd drink it now so as not to be rude. I personally enjoyed the fruity flavour with the light, floral undertones of the rosehip, but the bitter aftertaste of the lemon balm wasn't my favourite. The honey helped. We sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying our tea.
"Willow says you're looking for Rose's mum and Wynne?" Declan's statement ended as more of a question as he put his tea down on the table. I guessed one sip was all he could manage. Grandmother looked at Willow.
"What I actually said was that you'd take care of everything." Willow clarified. She inspected the biscuits, and after finally picking the one she wanted, went back to drinking her tea.
"Well, what does that mean?" Asked Declan, a note of impatience in his voice.
"Declan, isn't it?" My grandmother asked. He nodded. "It is my understanding that the people who took your sister thought they were taking..." She turned to look at me. "...You, Rose."
"Me? What? Why?"
"You and your mother are very important people in our community, and it seems someone has had the audacity to think they can use you for their own gains." Disgust coated every word.
"But I'm nobody." I said faintly.
Willow gasped and my grandmother looked aghast. "You are not a nobody." She scolded. "You are my granddaughter and the personification of The Maiden Herself. Just as Iris is The Mother and I am The Crone." I had no idea what any of that meant, but it sounded important.
My grandmother got up from the sofa. "I can't believe your mother didn't tell you any of this. I told her no good would come from keeping you in the dark. Just because a person does not know something, does not mean they are protected from it." She sighed, exasperated. This sounded like an argument that had been repeated over the years and, knowing how stubborn my mum could be, I believed it. After all, that's where I got it from. Apparently, it was a multigenerational trait. She breathed deeply, seeming to get herself under control, and turned to me. "Did your mother tell you anything about this? Did she teach you anything of your heritage? Surely you've practised your skills?" She smiled encouragingly.
"What skills?" She sighed again, muttering something under her breath about it being unbelievable. I felt as though I had betrayed my mother somehow.
Grandmother smiled again, but it was strained. "Come here, my child." I stood and went to her. She reached out her hands and I took them. "Let us see, '' she murmured and closed her eyes. For a moment I was confused, but then a breeze lifted her hair slightly, my own pink hair mimicking hers. A power I hadn't felt before surrounded me, and the wind picked up. It wasn't uncomfortable exactly, but the power reminded me of that feeling you get when someone's watching you. I surreptitiously looked around, but nothing was out of place. Unless you counted the two of us clutching hands in the middle of the room, our hair blowing about like we were crazy folk in a storm. The wind began to calm into a light breeze again and eventually died back to nothing. Grandmother opened her eyes and looked at me. "She's blocked you." She shook her head and dropped my hands. Willow gasped again. OK. Why did she keep doing that?
"What do you mean she's blocked her?" Declan asked. "Do you mean Mam a dó blocked Rose from using her witchy powers?" He wiggled his fingers like that somehow indicated "witchy".
"That's exactly what she's done." Grandmother sounded so disappointed; I was kind of glad my mother wasn't here right now or she'd be getting a scolding.
"Can't you just undo it?" Declan suggested.
My grandmother's face brightened. "Willow."
Willow didn't need telling, apparently, as she was up and out of the room as quick as I'd ever seen her move. I was so confused. On the one hand, I could understand everything that was being said, but on the other, it made no sense at all. It was like someone you trusted telling you that black was white. You knew they wouldn't be lying to you, but it went against everything you knew to be true. Has my whole life been a lie?
Declan came to stand by my side, his presence a comfort in an otherwise distressing situation. My grandmother and Willow were milling around in the next room. Part of me thought about just leaving. Declan and I could just go and find Mum and Wynne on our own. I looked towards the front door. A large rosemary bush was planted there, and it reminded me of home; my mother had one planted by our front door. The realisation seemed to rush in at once: my grandmother was a witch, my mother was a witch, I was a witch. And I had absolutely no idea what that meant for me. Could I fly around on a broomstick? Would my skin turn green? Could I wrinkle my nose to do the washing up? Somehow, I didn't think any of that was true. I didn't even know exactly what being a witch entailed, but I knew someone that did. I turned determinately to find my grandmother.
As I entered the next room, Declan short on my heels, the smell of incense hit me straight away. It was the same scent my mum always used when she was meditating. I wondered now if she was really meditating or actually casting spells. My guess now was the latter.
"Grandmother," I hesitated. How did I phrase this? She turned and waited. "How do I... become a witch?"
"You are a witch, sweetheart." She pulled me in for a hug.
"But I don't know how to be a witch."
Her eyes were saddened. "I know." Then she brightened. "First things first, let's try and unblock that magic of yours, OK?" I nodded. She grabbed a black handled dagger from what looked like an altar.
"Umm, Grandmother..."
She smiled and reached for my hand. "Don't worry, dear; we just need a drop." My grandmother lifted the dagger to my finger, and a pinch later, a small bead of blood welled. Coating the tip of the blade, she turned back to the altar, and I watched as she dipped it into the small bottle of liquid that sat there. Repeating the process on her own finger, she corked the bottle now containing our combined blood, before putting it in a bowl on the altar. Laying her hands over the bowl, a golden light started emanating, reminiscent of when Willow had healed me. She muttered some words, most of which I didn't understand, and finished with "So mote it be." Willow repeated it. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to say anything so I just kept quiet. My grandmother took the small bottle back out of the bowl, but now it was glowing a pale purple colour. She handed it to me. "Drink."
I took the bottle and stared at it. I wasn't sure what was in it, and I wasn't even sure what would happen to me if I drank it. But I did know that if I didn't drink it, nothing would happen. I wouldn't be able to find my mother and Wynne, and that was something I couldn't allow. I popped the cork, downing the contents. It tasted strange. There were herbs I could mostly identify, and I was guessing the metallic aftertaste was the blood, but there was something else in it I couldn't quite put my finger on.
I turned to Declan. "Do I still look like me?"
"Your skin is turning green." He stared.
"What?!" I looked at my arms, turning them this way and that. Then I heard him laughing. To my surprise, I heard Willow and my grandmother laughing as well. "That's not funny!" I scolded, and slapped Declan on the arm. I threw the empty bottle at Willow playfully. She caught it, a huge grin on her face. I couldn't help but laugh too.
"It'll take a while to work since you've been blocked your whole life." Grandmother explained. "In the meantime, I suggest the two of you get some rest." As if on cue, Declan yawned, setting me off. I guess it had been a busy day after all.
Willow showed us through to one of the bedrooms off the front portion of the house. There were two single beds and a door to the bathroom. I rummaged in my bag for my toothbrush and night clothes. Declan did the same. "You go first." He offered, and I went through to the bathroom at the back. It was all very natural looking, with white washed adobe walls, and a mosaic tile floor. The curved wall surrounding the walk-in shower had coloured bottles built into it in a swirl pattern, and I loved the whole homemade artistic vibe it had going on. I imagined someone had put a lot of effort into building this place, and you could almost feel the love and care that had gone into it, adobe brick by adobe brick. I washed up, changed into my shorts and crop top that I slept in, and cleaned my teeth, twice, to get rid of the potion taste that still lingered.
When I came out of the bathroom, Declan was standing there in his boxers and a tshirt. I blushed and looked away to avoid his gaze. "All yours.'' I said, and pointedly started putting my things back in my bag. I crawled into bed, the clean, cotton sheets fresh and soft against my skin. When Declan re-emerged from the bathroom, I studiously avoided looking at him by facing the wall. I could hear him sliding into bed and he sighed in contentment as he relaxed. I felt my eyes becoming heavy. It really had been a long day.
I woke up in the middle of the night with a start. I was hot. Hotter than hot. I felt like my blood was on fire. I dragged myself to the bathroom and ran a cold shower. I stepped in, still clothed in my nightwear. I needed the cold water. I was so hot.
"Rose?" Declan's sleepy voice came before he appeared in the open doorway. "Are you OK? Why are you showering with your clothes on in the middle of the night?"
"So hot." The cold water took the edge off but didn't stop the fire running through my veins.
Declan held the back of his hand against my forehead. "You don't feel hot." As soon as the words left his mouth he gasped. I looked down. My skin started to glow a pale purple colour. "Guess that potion is finally kicking in." Declan echoed my own thoughts. The light glowed brighter then promptly stopped. At the same time, the fire stopped burning through me and all I felt was the cold water running over me from head to toe. I shivered. Declan turned off the taps and grabbed a towel. He wrapped it around my shoulders and started rubbing my arms. I shivered again, but this time it was more to do with Declan's proximity. He cleared his throat and stepped back. Had he noticed? "You might want to get changed." He suggested. I looked down at my soaking wet crop top and shorts. That was probably a good idea.
Freshly changed and back in my nice warm bed, I lay there thinking about what changes might have taken place. Something had happened, no doubt. I wondered if I was supposed to feel different; more "witchy", as Declan put it. But I still felt like me. I eventually drifted back off, dreaming of broomsticks and black cats.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE If you find any spelling or grammatical errors, I would much appreciate you commenting on them. I would love my book to be as polished as possible, and I'm sure there will be one or two mistakes along the way. I appreciate your feedback.
Thank you for your kindness.