Copyright © 2012 Jezebel Jorge
Published by Jezebel Jorge at Smashwords
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Cover Art by Jezebel Jorge
All images were purchased from www.123rf.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Special thanks to Pattie LaRue for all her insightful input on developing Amalie's character.
Shattered
by
Jezebel Jorge
1
“Watch, listen and learn,” my mom said, flashing one of her most wicked smiles. “Amalie, this is the weekend you shall become a woman.”
Fat chance on that!
I watched her skillfully pour a vial of what she called her ‘love potion’ into a large plastic cup of her homemade sweet iced tea. She stirred the mixture with the straw, capping the lid just as he approached her vintage Mercedes convertible.
This was so not how I wanted to spend my fifteenth birthday.
I scooted down in my seat, my back sticky with sweat despite the cool September breeze. She could have at least had the decency to put the top up on the Mercedes. I didn't want to watch him pull her into his arms and drink her up with that first hungry kiss.
Normally I hid in my room, burrowed under the covers with a pillow pressed over my ears to drown out her shrieks and screams of passion. Tonight I was trapped. A captive audience. 163 miles away from the safety of my bedroom. No way not to watch my mom making out with a man most people only got to see on their TV screens.
Billy Dalton might be one of the biggest stars in pro wrestling. To me, he’s just the man my mom disappears with at least a couple of weekends every month. He's got a wife and a family back in Charlotte. When school's out he takes his two sons on the road with him and won’t see my mother.
Until tonight his kids have been lucky, not knowing about the things their dad does with my mom. No such luck for me. I’m not sure which is worse, having to overhear all the noises they make in her bedroom or dealing with her explosive anger when she doesn’t get to see him.
Billy had parked his Cadillac on the other side of the lot and sent his boys into the Burger King. My stomach let out an angry jealous growl. That salad we’d had before the show hadn’t been enough food to call a real meal and since she was always riding me about my weight I knew I wouldn't be getting any more food tonight.
Sometimes I imaged my father staring down at me from the heavens. From what I remembered of him he'd always been so nice and calm. He had known how to control my mom's demons. At least until his own demons got the the better of him. She says it was his wife that poisoned him. Everyone else thinks he drank himself to death. Either way, he was the lucky one since he no longer has to deal with her.
A thud on the hood indicated where he’d placed the cup to free his hands. She would be screaming if anyone else had done that to her precious Mercedes. This gleaming silver custom painted car had been her very last gift from my father. I wondered if Billy's tongue would still be down her throat if he knew that on her lonely manic nights it’s Will she cries for, not him.
Billy. Will. Yeah, I know, it’s kinda weird that their names are so similar. Yet they look so different. My father was blond and buff and really tan. Billy is dark haired and brawny, more comfortable in jeans than in the suits I remember my father wearing when we lived in Florida. I got to stay next door with my mother's friend Carmella on the nights he spent in our little cottage on the beach. My father made sure I never overheard any of their intimate time together.
I was ten years old when she gave him the ultimatum. If he didn't leave his wife, we were moving back to Raleigh on New Year's Day. He didn't leave her. We came back to North Carolina and he went home to his wife in New Orleans. We never saw him again. Turns out he couldn't live without my mom, a few months later and he was dead.
My father never would have left me sitting in a car like this. He would have made sure I was with Carmella before putting the moves on my mom. To forget about what she was doing I imaged my father taking me out to eat at a nice restaurant. He wouldn't fuss at me for eating too much and I know he would have ordered me a piece of cake for dessert, maybe even with a big dip of ice cream on the side.
If I could just get through tonight everything would be okay. Surviving yet another full moon esbat would be easy compared to this. Mom has dragged me around to Pagan festivals and gatherings since I was in diapers. That I could handle, this pro wrestling stuff I wasn't so sure about.
I've had Shamans try to heal me. Reiki Masters lay hands on me. Voo Doo Priestesses make sacrifices in my honor. And more than one coven join my mom in her pleas to the Goddess that I might someday, sooner rather than later, come into my witchy powers.
I opened the book I'd gotten this morning, trying to use it as a shield. If I had any magickal powers of my own I would have zapped myself straight to New Orleans and right into the middle of this story. Anne Rice's Mayfair witches seemed a lot more likeable that my mom. And the way that man watched over poor Deidra. If I could have one birthday wish it would have been to have someone like that looking out for me.
“Why didn’t you leave the kid at home with Olivia?”
The way Billy said my aunt's name made my skin prickle. I know Aunt Olivia is far from perfect, but she's the one person who at least tries to look out for me.
“She’s making a run to Mexico with Jose,” Mom said. “Although she did send along some goodies for Vlad and Charlie so you’d better get the cash from them.”
"You know I don't like messing with that stuff," Billy said.
My mom pressed her body against him and silenced Billy with a kiss that made me scoot even further down in my seat.
“Well, I reckon I could get you a room and send the boys over to hang out with your kid while I tell them I’m visiting with an old friend. You can’t stay the night with me, but we’ll have time for a little loving.”
After the spell she’d worked on him this morning and the stuff she’d put in his tea I knew she would be spending the night in Billy's room.
2
“Sit,” my mom commanded like I was some kind of stray mutt she’d found sniffing for food by the dumpster.
She dumped a bag full of makeup onto the bed and went to work on my face. Before we left Raleigh this morning she had dragged me to the M.A.C. counter at the mall for an early birthday present. A bunch of makeup I didn’t want, much less know how to use.
A better present had been getting to miss a day of school. Being a brainiac kept the school from questioning my frequent absences. That perfect GPA kept me flying under the attendance radar. Fine by me, since my complete lack of social skills kept me completely forgettable.
Just call me the ghost girl sneaking through the halls and always lurking in the shadows. I'd mastered the art of escaping lunch period and breaks way before starting high school. I have hiding in bathroom stalls and library cubicles down to a science. If I could have acquired any of my mother's witchy talents, I would have picked invisibility in a heartbeat.
“I can’t believe you are going to be fifteen tomorrow and you’ve never even kissed a boy.” She dabbed a gooey sponge all over my face attempting to spackle my latest zits. “I had boys chasing after me since my very first day of school, and as unattractive as your aunt is, she already had a boyfriend by your age.”
I didn’t think Aunt Olivia is all that ugly. Compared to me she looks like a beauty queen.
You would think that by combining my mom's flawless porcelain skin, emerald eyes, and luxuriously thick red hair with my father's blond hair, brilliant blue eyes and constant tan that I would have popped out as some uber cute super baby.
But, no... I arrived kicking and screaming at the shame of it all. Bald, chubby, and covered with red splotches. It's a wonder my mom didn't demand a DNA test before agreeing to take me home from the hospital. The older I got, the more distinct the difference. I started kindergarten with barely enough muddy brown hair to pin up in one of those tacky plastic barrettes.
“If you would just lose some weight and start taking care of yourself." My mom sighed over dramatically. "You'll never snag a man unless you learn how to use this makeup and start watching what you eat.” She popped the two top buttons on my blouse. “At least the weight gives you a little bit of cleavage.”
Forget the artificial blush, my cheeks burned with embarrassment all on their own. As for watching what I eat, all I have to do is look at a potato chip to gain another pound or a couple of zits. Not that I sat around staring at snacks, I devoured them as soon as I could get my greasy hands on them.
“Billy’s oldest son Bryson is his gorgeous daddy all over again. He turns fourteen next week and I can guarantee you that he’s already gotten some ring rat to break that boy in good.”
"What's a ring rat?"
"It's what they call their groupies." She kept right on spackling at my face. Like it was no big deal for Billy to hook his son up with some overeager groupie.
"Does Billy have any of those ring rats?"
"Nope." My mom laughed. "If he did, I'd feed them to one of my snakes."
My mom has this weird obsession with snakes. I think every snake in Raleigh has dropped by our backyard to hang out with her. It totally creeps me out the way she's even more gifted at charming snakes than she is at manipulating men.
She held the mirror up for my inspection. "You're almost pretty now."
Almost -- The girl looking back at me did look a little older, a lot more mature, and a whole lot more sexed up. Or at least as hot as I was ever going to get.
“When little Dylan falls asleep, turn the lights out, light one of those passion candles and see if you can’t at least get Bryson to kiss you.”
Mom would have to work some serious magickal mojo for that to ever happen. It was going to take a whole more than a coating of makeup to attract a guy like that.
“Your father's money stops the day you graduate from high school. That means the clock is already ticking on finding a man willing to take care of you.”
I had to bite my lip to keep from asking if she meant a married man.
“Will made sure I was very well provided for from the day he met me until the day that bitch killed him.”
“Yeah, but you’re gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous is an attitude, honey,” she said confidently. “It’s nothing a good enchantment spell can’t fix. I mean look at Olivia. It was my spellwork that got her Jose and you have to admit it he is handsome and a good provider.”
if you consider drug dealing a successful career. I want to go to college and get a job. Not have to try to get by on my lack of looks.
“Bryson is perfect for you. Billy’s wife is a very successful real estate broker, that’s the only reason he doesn’t leave her. She makes more money than he does. The Dalton’s are rolling in cash.” Her devious grin said it all. “If you start hooking up with Bryson, it would make it so much easier for me to spend quality time with Billy when he has to bring those kids with him.”
I should have known, as always it all about Mom.
“Maybe he’ll feel sorry for you and give you a special birthday present.” She tossed a box of condoms on the bed. “Never hurts to be prepared. Put them in the nightstand.”
3
“Happy Birthday, Emily,” Billy said, stepping into our room with a grocery store cake box probably just purchased from the Winn-Dixie across the street.
“It’s Amalie,” Mom quickly corrected him.
Billy just laughed, “Good thing I didn’t have them write a name on the cake.”
Much to my dismay, Mom jumped right in to lead the rest of them through singing a lackluster round of Happy Birthday to me. At least this time they got my name right.
“Sorry I forgot to get a candle for the cake,” Billy said, his Texas drawl booming through the room.
If you think he’s intimidating on TV, try meeting him in person. He looks a lot like a taller and bulkier version of Tom Cruise with thick dark hair and a killer smile set off by a mouthful of perfect white teeth.
“That’s okay,” mom said, lighting one of her green good fortune tee light candles. “Just don’t blow it out until the midnight witching hour.”
“I thought you kids could enjoy some cake and ice cream while me and Odessa have us a little visit. I used to be real good friends with Amalie’s daddy, and I’ve not gotten to see them much since he passed.”
What a liar. I had no idea if he had even known my father. But there was no doubting he had been spending plenty of quality time with my mom the last few years.
Mom sliced the cake, placing three pieces onto tacky kiddie birthday plates he must have grabbed off a clearance table. Thankfully there were no party hats, noise makers or balloons. He’d even gotten matching plastic sporks. No way to get suicidal with embarrassment when your only weapon is a dull pink spork.
“Wipe the icing off Dylan’s,” Billy said. “He’ll never get to sleep with that much sugar in him.”
“Aw, dad,” Dylan complained. “That’s the best part.”
Little Dylan looked like an angel touched down on earth with his blond curls and amplified version of his daddy’s dimples. Just the type of kid that could get away with murder while everyone gushed over his innocence because he was just that freaking cute.
“Don’t let him have any soda either,” Billy warned. “Nothing but that soy milk for you, kiddo.”
The older brother Bryson looked even less thrilled than I did over this make-shift party. He reluctantly took a plate and plopped down in a chair, not even acknowledging my existence. Then he pulled a book out of his backpack and started reading before biting into his cake.
Fine by me. Eating cake is easy. Trying to get a guy that cute to start talking to me, difficult to the extreme. I took my plate and sat on the double bed furthest away from his spot at the table.
“Vlad and Charlie are in the room right next door so you kids better behave yourselves.” Billy wrapped his arm around my mom’s waist and she snuggled up against him like she couldn’t wait to get him all to herself.
“Aren’t you going to eat any cake?” Dylan asked from his spot on the floor.
“Save us a piece for breakfast,” Mom said, making it perfectly clear that she didn’t plan on coming back to this room anytime soon.
They were just about to leave when Billy opened the door and a skinny strawberry blond burst into the room. Judging from her tank top, short shorts, and face full of makeup, she looked like the girl that my mom should have taken home from that hospital nursery.
“Daddy told me to stay over here while they enjoy their,” she made air quotes with her long red obviously fake fingernails, “goodies.”
“Amalie, this is my tag team partner Charlie’s daughter, Courtney,” Billy said before turning to Bryson, “You’re in charge. If any of y’all misbehave, all three of you won’t be doing any road trips for a whole month.”
“They’ll be fine.” Mom had this hungry look about her as if she wanted to eat Billy up right here in front of all of us. “Let’s go.”
“I wanna go with you.” Courtney snuggled up all possessive on his other side.
Mom pulled even closer to Billy, “Charlie needs to teach this child some boundaries.”
“I’m not a child,” Courtney whined, digging her hand into Billy’s waist.
I’m sure I wasn’t the only who could see how bad my mom wanted to slap Courtney upside the mouth. “Or maybe I need to teach you some boundaries.” She glared at Billy, clearly getting her point across when he pried Courtney off him.
“We’ll be back in just a bit,” Billy said as he finally opened the door.
“Amalie dear,” my mom’s voice went sweet as syrup. “Don’t forget what we talked about tonight.”
As soon as the door closed behind them, Courtney announced, “You know that slut’s doing him.”
“My mom isn’t a slut.” No matter what I thought about her carrying on with Billy, I wasn’t going to let this trashy looking girl insult my mom. “Billy is the only man she sees.”
“She’s just another one of his rats,” she said. “Billy’s got girls in every town. All the wrestlers do, especially the ones as hot as Billy.”
“Would you just shut up and eat some cake?” Bryson said, “You know we’re supposed to kayfabe the rizzats in front of Dylan.”
“I’m not dumb,” Dylan said. “I know what you just said.”
As usual, I was clueless about what Bryson had told Courtney.
Courtney cut a sliver of cake, scooping her icing off on Dylan’s plate. “There’s no telling how many fat grams are in this,” she said, looking right at me. “No wonder you’re so huge.”
Screw her skinny little ass. I got up and helped myself to an even larger slice of cake and a huge dollop of ice cream.
“At least she’s got a reason to actually need to wear a bra,” Bryson said, just about making me choke on a bite of cake.
I guess he had noticed I was in the room with them.
“Daddy’s going to get me a boob job someday and when I get my new titties I’m not going to show them to you.”
“Like I’d want to see your fake tits. I’ll have all kinds of girlfriends before you have to stop stuffing your training bras.”
“Can I see them?” Dylan asked. “I want to see Courtney’s fake boobies.”
“Maybe.” She laughed. “This party is so lame. I’ll be right back.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bryson asked, trying to get all bossy.
“I said I’d be right back.”
Unfortunately, she made good on her threat, returning with three bottles of Miller Lite tucked under the sweatshirt she promptly discarded. “They’re so buzzed. They’ll never know I swiped them from the cooler.”
She pulled a bottle opener out of the pocket of her shorts, popped off the first lid and took a sip. “I guess the birthday girl gets the next one.”
She handed me the bottle and just to prove I was just as mature I took a tentative sip. Yuck! It tasted worse than some of my mom’s herbal remedies, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of thinking I couldn’t handle a taste of beer. I gobbled up a big bite of cake to try to get rid of the horrible aftertaste.
Bryson took the bottle from her, taking a hearty chug like he drank every weekend. “I like mom’s wine coolers better, but this isn’t too bad.”
“Wine coolers?” Courtney giggled. “You’re such a wimp.”
“You’re the one who drank the whole four pack and lied to mom that you accidently knocked the box out of the fridge and broke the bottles.”
“I wanna taste,” Dylan said.
“No,” Bryson said. “You’re too little to drink.”
“She’s not even a whole year older than me.” He pointed at Courtney.
“How old are you?” I had to ask.
“Ten going on twenty, minus the tits,” Bryson snickered at her.
I couldn’t believe she was that young. I’d thought she had to at least be sixteen and just a little small for her age. Now I really felt like the clueless kid. Not to be outdone by a ten year old I took another big swig. Knowing what to expect, this time it wasn’t so bad.
“Just one taste?” Dylan pleaded.
Courtney looked at Bryson and he shook his head. “You know he’s got a weak stomach.”
“Sorry, I’m not cleaning up any puke.” Courtney turned on the TV and started channel flipping. “Jeez, they only have basic cable here.”
She sat the remote on the nightstand and picked up the box of condoms I’d forgotten to put in the drawer. “Looks like your mom forgot something.”
I felt my face burn with embarrassment and quickly took another sip of the beer.
She went over to Bryson, slapping the box of condoms on the table. “Don’t tell me you’ve become a chubby chaser.”
Her eyes darted to me and then back to Bryson.
“They’re not mine,” he said, never losing his cool.
She picked up his half empty bottle and helped herself to the rest of his beer before coming over to sit beside me on the bed. “If you were planning on putting the moves on Bryson you'll need something a lot stronger than beer.”
“I…I…” Didn’t know what to say or do other than finish off the last of that beer.
“Leave her alone,” Bryson said.
I went over to the table with every intention of finishing of the rest of the cake. It was my birthday cake after all. When I get nervous I eat. When I get sad I eat. When I get lonely I eat. No wonder I’m so damn fat. I’ve spent most of my teens with a fork shoved in my mouth.
Bryson smiled up at me and for once in my life I felt full. Mom had been right. He did look just like a younger version of Billy. He had Dylan’s less pronounced dimples, that dazzling Dalton smile and the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. Storm cloud grey with long thick lashes.
The only witchy thing I got from my mom was the love of thunderstorms. Those eyes of his were just like looking into the middle of a devastating storm.
“What?” He asked, obviously busting me for staring.
“Your book,” I said, with some kind of confidence I didn’t know I’d ever had. “I love Stephen King. He’s my favorite author.”
Stephen King’s books really scare the crap out of me. I hate horror. I’d only tagged along with mom because I’d been afraid to say alone by myself for a whole entire weekend.
Go ahead and laugh… daughter of a witch and a total coward.
“Which one is your favorite?” He asked.
“Carrie.” The only one of King’s books I’d even been able to finish. I related to that poor girl. Knowing all too well what it felt like to be tortured and picked on by your peers.
“I’ll have to read that one next,” he said. “My grandma Carol Ann is really cool. She buys me all kinds of books my mom would probably freak out over.”
“At least I don’t have that problem.” I giggled. Me giggling? It had to be the beer. “I'm reading Anne Rice's latest book, The Witching Hour.”
“Is it any good?” He asked. "Carol Ann reads her books.
"I like it."
“Isn’t this sweet?” Courtney snorted. “Nerd boy and the fat chick bonding over books.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to read something a little deeper than Seventeen,” he said.
She came back with, “We could go in the bathroom and put those condoms to good use.”
“I wouldn’t do you if you were the last girl left on the face of the earth,” Bryson didn't even looking up from his book.
“So if it was you, me and her,” she pointed at me with those fake red claws. “We we were the only people left on the planet and the whole human race depended on the three of us.”
“What about me?” Dylan asked.
“You’re already dead,” She snapped.
“But, I’d do you.” Dylan grinned, setting off those adorable dimples.
“You're not even old enough to have a baby,” Bryson said. “You’re just a little girl pretending to be a ring rat in training.”
“So, you’d do her instead of me?” Courtney said with disbelief.
“Yeah, I’d do Amalie instead of you.”
My heart just about exploded with a combination or awe and total terror.
“Fuck you!” She went into the bathroom slamming the door.
“I already told you no,” Bryson yelled after her.
4
“So what did you think of Bryson?” Mom asked as I helped her arrange rows of candles on her display table.
“He’s really nice and totally cute.”
“And?”
“Mom,” I pleaded.
“Did he kiss you?”
I wish I could have told her we made out under the covers for hours.
Not even close to the real story. He and Dylan fell asleep in the other bed after the brat bitch Courtney finally went back to her room. I’d laid there most of the night watching him sleep. Just thinking about kissing him made me all warm and tingly. I'd finally dozed off imagining what it would feel like to falling asleep wrapped in his strong arms.
He had looked so hot the next morning with his dark hair all askew, sleep still clouding those fabulously expressive eyes. I wanted to drown in their boding downpour. I’d watched him squirt toothpaste on his little brother’s toothbrush and I’ll admit I got so jealous of the bond they shared, just standing there at that sink doing something as ordinary as cleaning their teeth.
Still, knowing my luck, if I did have a little sister she would probably have looked just like my mom. A cute little redhead with a bunch of friends and no time for her misfit big sister. The loser that no one liked.
The kids at school thought I was stuck up. The truth I was always scared I’d say the wrong thing. Or even worse there were no words floating around in my head at all, just nothing there. It wasn’t easy being the only child of the crazy witch. Raleigh wasn’t exactly a small town, but she was still pretty much a local celebrity, or more like a freakish oddity.
Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to put on a pretty dress and go to that big Baptist church to attend Sunday School with all the pretty popular girls. Even in the house of their Lord, they would still probably not even notice I was there, or worse laugh at me behind my back.
It was only a stupid daydream anyway because my mom thought Christians were all narrow minded bigots and racists. One time a neighbor had invited me to go to Vacation Bible School with her daughter and Mom had laughed in the woman’s face, telling her no child of hers would ever set foot in a church.
“Amalie, if you would quit drifting off into your own little world, maybe you’d find some friends living somewhere other than inside your head.”
Like she had any room to talk about reality.
Mom pressed on. “Exactly what happened with you and Bryson last night?
Okay, if she wanted some dirt, I’d give her some, “Bryson said that if he had to choose, he would do me instead of Courtney. That he wouldn’t do her if she was the last girl left on the face of the earth.”
Mom howled with laughter. “Charlie's not booked on the show tonight so Vlad can babysit Dylan. Maybe you’ll get another chance to be alone with Bryson.”
I felt a wave of heat creep up my neck and knew that under her skillful makeup application my face had to be turning about as red as her velvet tablecloth.
In about fifteen minutes the doors of this meeting room opened for a group of women coming to hear my mom do a lecture on casting spells to catch a man – Love, Lust, or Just Getting Laid.
What a catchy title to lure in a bunch of horny witches. These Pagan festivals are so much fun. NOT!
With the table laid out to her satisfaction, I took my usual spot by the cash box, hoping to remain as inconspicuous as possible. I've tried to stash a novel under the table, but mom says it looks bad if some one glances over and sees me reading instead of hanging on her every word. As if anyone ever took their eyes off her.
As soon as the room filled, she swept off her purple cape to reveal a body clinging black velvet spaghetti strap dress so short that it barely skimmed her thighs. She finished off the look with fishnet stocking and black pointy toed high heel boots that laced just below her knees.
You would think these grown women would be able to figure out that my mom got love, lust, and laid just by the way she looked. It shouldn’t take that much brain power to deduce that she’s hot and most of them are way closer to ordinary.
I’ve heard my mom’s spiel so many times that I amuse myself by watching all the desperate women in the audience frantically jotting down her every word. Mom really should put it all in a book to rake in some extra cash. Of course the words might not work as well without them being fronted by her extraordinary beauty.
The part when she breaks out the penis candles used to make me want to hide under the table. Now I just watch the ladies eye popping, jaw dropping reactions. My mom molds candles into what I’ve been told are very realistic looking replicas of that part of the male anatomy.
“This one,” she says holding up an extra large red penis complete with a set of balls at the base. “Is molded after my lover, Billy, and yes, ladies, his cock really is that big.”
Way, way more than I ever wanted or needed to know about Billy Dalton.
“Red of course is for lust,” she continues. “I light one of these up and Billy will do absolutely anything to make love to me all night long.”
Thankfully she quit stroking the candle and sat it back on the podium. “You want to pussy whip a man? Carve his name into the candle. Combine some of your own juices with his bodily fluids and anoint those with my special Lust Oil. Burn the candle and he’ll be yours.”
“Now if you don’t have access to any of his man juice or you’re not even sure who the man shall be, the red candle works with my specially brewed Get Laid Oil.”
Next she picked up a smaller pink candle created with the same anatomical attention to detail. “This one was molded after the love of my life, my dearly departed William.” Mom paused to wipe at her eyes for dramatic effect, before pointed towards me, “Our daughter was conceived by carving our names into this type of candle and anointing it with my Fertility Oil.”
She placed the candle on the table. “A pink love candle is never to be used lightly. It’s one of those, ‘be careful what you wish for because me might come true’ kind of things. Unless it’s true love, such as the love I shared with my Will, I advise always going with red instead of pink.”
Next she picked up the smallest black candle. “I like to call this one Paul after a man who deserved to have his penis sliced off with a dull knife.” The audience laughed nervously. “Notice Paul has no balls.” More laughter. “If a man angers you, this is what you need to make him rue the day he entered your life. Add my Retribution Oil and you’ll never have to worry about him again.”
My mom scanned the audience taking in their reactions. Yeah, just like always, she had them wrapped right around her witchy little finger.
“Since there are several younger ladies here in the audience today, with the assistance of my lovely daughter, Amalie--”
My heart pounded so hard I thought blood was going to start squirting out of my ears. Surely she wasn’t… Oh no… she was…
Mom unwrapped one of her male figure candles and placed it in my hand. The little red guy came anatomically correct, but nothing as graphic as the other candles. She lit a stick of Jasmine incense and went through her ritual of calling forth the Goddess.
“My little girl turns fifteen today and it’s time for a man to come into her life.” Mom looked out into the audience. “I know a boy she’s quite infatuated with, but today we shall bide the Rede and not practice manipulative magick.”
Since when?
“Here you go, dear.” Mom uncapped a bottle of Ardor Oil and poured some into my hands. “Now anoint the candle.”
I coated the candle with oil.
“Amalie is a tab bit shy.” That was an understatement. “So I’ll just have her think her intentions as she pours all her energies into the candle.”
Mom lit the candle and I stared into the flickering flame, not sure what to ask for. I decided on something simple. Send me a man with an ardor that burns hotter than this candle’s flame.
I decided to repeat the words aloud, “Send me a man with an ardor that burns hotter than this candle’s flame.”
Not daring to say the next part out loud, I added. Bryson. Bryson. Bryson.
“Very good.” My mom smiled with approval. I’d actually done something right for a change.
We sealed the spell together by chanting along with several audience members, “And as it is willed. So mote it shall be.”
5
“My baby girl is bleeding during the moon of Siduri on her fifteenth birthday,” Mom announced loud enough for everyone within earshot to turn around and stare.
“How wonderful!” The hippy chick behind the vending table of hemp tampons and sanitary pads gushed. “A witch does her most potent spellwork when she has a bleeding on a full moon.”
Maybe for her, but not much fun for me. I'd just returned from making a dash to the nearest port-a-potty. Good thing I had worn a dark skirt because the blood had seeped through to where I tied my jacket around my waist just to be safe.
“Unfortunately, this one hasn’t came into her power yet,” Mom said, forking over the cash for two boxes of tampons and some all natural hemp maxi-pads that she handed to me.
“She’s still young,” the girl said. “My sister didn’t get there until she was almost eighteen and look at her now. Her herbal teas are top notch.”
Maybe there was hope for me yet.
“You’re right, Skyler was a bit slow,” Mom agreed. “I should probably get a box of her Cramps Be Gone for Amalie. Do you have any in stock?”
“Sure do,” the girl handed me a box. “Consider it a birthday gift.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, hoping Mom would hurry up and get us over to Carmella's house.
No such luck, she dragged me to every booth proudly announcing my bleeding on my birthday on a full moon to every coven sister she encountered. In the witch world it must have been some type of huge deal because all of them presented me with some type of birthday trinket from earrings, to essential and bath oils, to spell candles. At least Mom spared me the further embarrassment of informing them of my lack of witchiness.
At the last booth a woman who looked like her photo should be placed beside the word crone in the dictionary embraced my Mom, “Thank you for coming to lead our esbat tonight. I fear Carmella won’t be with us much longer.”
What? No one had told there was anything wrong with Carmella. I had just thought she was busy baking up goodies for the esbat.
“Where is she now?” Mom asked, holding up a gorgeous black dress that had to be at least five sizes too large for her.
“She’s resting at home.”
“It must be bad for her to miss such a festive gathering,” Mom said.
The lady nodded, “She’s ready to begin her next journey.”
Mom held the dress up to me, “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful, but what’s wrong with Carmella?”
“She has cancer,” the old lady said.
A knot welled up in my throat. Out of all my Mom’s friends, it was Carmella that I loved the most. She’d been like a mother to me the summer we’d spent here at her beach house. The summer after my mom fell apart after losing my father.
“We must go see her.” My mom pulled out her wallet to pay for the dress.
The crone shook her head, refusing mom's money. “Take it as my gift to the birthday girl.”
“Thank you, it’s so beautiful,” I said fighting back a torrent of tears.
“You’ll come into your power before the next Moon of Siduri,” she said. “And I want you wearing that dress when you cast your first successful spell.”
6
Carmella’s house shone even more brilliantly pink against the white sandy shore than I’d remembered it from last year’s visit. It wasn’t that yucky Pepto Bismol color, more like the soothing petals of a tulip tree in full bloom. Coming here every year was my very favorite thing about the approaching fall. When my father died my mother had defied everyone and gone to New Orleans for his funeral. Then she’d had a meltdown, not leaving my father’s crypt for several days. His lawyer had her taken to special hospital. She was there for almost a year until Carmella drove all the way to New Orleans and brought her home. We’d spent that whole summer here. So far the best summer of my life.
“Looks like the Coven has been taking good care of the place,” Mom said. “They’re the only family she’s got left on this earth.”
No one ever used the front door at Carmella’s because everyone who set foot in her home got treated like family. We walked around to the back porch and found her sitting alone, slowly swaying in a wicker swing hanging from the ceiling.
Before either of us could say a word, her eyes opened and a grin spread across her face. “Odessa! I knew you would come.”
“No, don’t get up.” Mom rushed to her side, bending to hug her before taking a seat in the closest wicker rocking chair.
“Amalie, how you’ve grown,” she exclaimed. “Bleeding on a full moon, what a lucky maiden you are.”
Wider maybe, but not much taller and I didn’t even want to know how she knew I had my period.
“Keep your faith girl, your powers will come eventually, just as your bleeding finally did.”
I’d been a late bloomer and hadn’t even gotten my first period until around Thanksgiving of last year. It had been Carmella who’d prepared me for it, not my mom. If getting my witchy powers was anything like the monthly cramps, bloating and overall discomfort of menstruation maybe I’d be better off without them.
She patted the seat beside her and I sat down careful not to rock the swing. Her skin felt cold as ice when I hugged her. Her once beautiful caramel skin had turned a scary shade of bluish purple and her cornrows now looked like a spider’s web laced with grey with more scalp than hair. She seemed so tiny, as if the cancer was eating her up from the inside out.
I fought back the urge to wrap my arms around her and have a good selfish cry. She looked like she had aged about twenty years and I knew she was only two years older than my mom. Everyone was right. She wasn’t going to be with us much longer.
“Hon, I know how hard this must be, seeing me go from mother to crone so quickly.” She put her arm around me, pulling me against her once ample breast. “If you want to cry, do so. But don’t cry for me, cry for your own personal sorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, scared at just thinking about the hurt and pain I know she must feel.
She wiped at my eyes with a tissue from the nearby matching wicker table. “I’m at peace and ready to begin my next journey through the universe.”
“You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known,” Mom said.
“I have a surprise for our birthday girl,” Carmella said. “Dess, if you’ll be kind enough to go into the kitchen you’ll find a pan of my brownies wrapped for Amalie to take with her and a smaller pan to enjoy now. There’s also some lemonade cooling in the fridge.”
“You shouldn’t have.” Not that I wasn’t absolutely thrilled. If I had to pick one food to live on for the rest of my life it would be Carmella’s brownies.
“I only supervised.” Carmella took my hand. “My coven sisters have refused to leave my side since I took ill. Those ladies won’t let me lift a finger.”
As fragile as her fingers felt in my hand, I understood why. I feared I might break a bone if I squeezed too hard.
“You have the recipe and I want you to think of me fondly every time you fix yourself a treat,” she said.
Carmella had also been the one to show me that a kitchen could be used for more than brewing potions. She had taught me to cook that summer while my mom sat on the beach and mourned.
“I will. I promise.”
Mom returned from the kitchen with a tray loaded with brownies, two tall glasses of lemonade and a cup of hot tea for Carmella. She placed the tray on the table and I made a dive for a brownie. The sadness had that chocolate screaming my name.
“Come on, just a couple sips.” She held the cup to Carmella’s lips. “Who would have thought that little Skyler would become such an expert with potions?”
“I know.” Carmella licked at her lips. “This tea is about the only thing I can still stomach.”
I ate my way through the two large brownies, while mom took my spot beside Carmella sipping on her lemonade. The two of them had always been so close that it was like they didn’t even needs words to communicate.
“Have you called your folks?” Carmella asked after catching her breath from the exertion of just taking those few sips of tea.
“No, and I have no intention of ever speaking to those people again.”
“Does Amalie even know that her grandparents only live a few miles from here in Shallotte?”
“You told me your parents were dead,” I said.
“In my eyes they are,” Mom replied, without the slightest bit of emotion.
“Do they know about me?” I had to ask.
“I have no idea,” her voice went ice cold. “They kicked me out when they discovered I was practicing witchcraft with Carmella. Her mother took me in from the time I was twelve until I left them to seek my own fate at sixteen.”
I guess that explained a lot about my mom’s lack of parenting skills.
“That is why I despise Christians and their holier than thou attitude. Those people dressed me and Olivia up in fru-fru dresses and paraded us off to Church every Sunday morning and Wednesday evening. Then they cast out Olivia for getting pregnant. With her gone, Carmella was all I had to keep me sane.”
“Aunt Olivia got pregnant?”
“Yes, she was seventeen and so in love. Jimmy had a full scholarship to NC State, so she went to Raleigh and they got married. She busted her ass waiting tables so he could stay in school. The baby was stillborn and their marriage died soon after. Yet she stayed there and kept working since, thanks to our hypocrite parents, she had no home to come home to.”
That news left me grabbing for the last brownie on the plate. If she dumped any more bombs on me I was going to have to go into the kitchen and eat the whole damn to-go pan.
Mom continued, “Thanks to Roger and no thanks to an asshole named Paul I was able to join her in Raleigh. We struggled, but we survived, until the Goddess blessed me by sending Will into my life.”
That explained the Paul candle and I didn't really care to hear any details about some Roger guy.
“You should call them,” Carmella said. “Amalie should be allowed to at least decide if she wants to know them.”
“As much as I love you, that’s the one thing that I cannot do.” Mom pulled Carmella into an embrace. “I know you want to go, but I don’t want to lose you.”
“Promise me you’ll help with my decision to cross over tonight.”
Mom turned to me, “It’s our belief that on the night of the Moon of Siduri, souls are refreshed and ready to journey to the afterlife.”
“I hate to cut our visit short,” Carmella had to catch her breath between words, “But I must rest for tonight’s ritual.”
“Skylar,” Mom called into the kitchen. “Carmella needs to rest now.”
In a matter of seconds a willowy blond appeared with a wheelchair. She and Mom helped Carmella into the chair and wheeled her into the house. I knew I should have followed them in to say goodbye, but it was all I could do not to choke on the huge lump welling up in my throat. I knew this would be the last birthday that Carmella would ever make me brownies.
“Amalie,” Mom came back out to the porch. “Carmella wants to speak to you for a moment in private.”
I let her lead me into house, instead of going up the stairs to Carmella’s old bedroom I followed her into the living room where they had set up her huge four poster bed. She looked so tiny and frail laying there amid all the pillows and the down comforter.
Mom and Skylar went outside and I sat down on the side of Carmella’s bed so that she wouldn’t have to strain herself to talk.
“I have no remaining blood relations,” she said. “Just my coven sisters, so I want you to have something. Lean over and close your eyes.”
I did as she asked, feeling her slip a necklace around my neck. She took my hand and placed it on the pendant. Without opening my eyes, just from tracing it with my fingers, I knew it was her crescent moon Goddess pendant centered with an amber stone.
“My mother gave that necklace when I came into my powers just before my ninth birthday,” Carmella paused to catch her breath. “Turn it over.”
I ran my thumb over the pentacle. Despite what a lot of ignorant people believe a pentacle had nothing to do with Satan. It’s a symbol of protection representing the four elements and one’s spirit locked together in power and peace. I might not have come into my powers yet, but I knew enough about the craft to know how special this necklace had been to Carmella.
“Don’t worry,” she said her voice unusually strong. “When the Goddess sees fit, you will come into your special powers. We are all unique with our gifts. With Skylar it’s a talent for brewing potions. Your mother’s candles are legendary in our circle, and I was blessed with the ability to see into the future.”
“Thank you,” I said. “This necklace is so beautiful that it almost feels wrong to wear it until I do come into my powers.”
“Nonsense.” Her hand shook as she reached for mine. “You need the protection of that pentacle a lot more than I do now.” She coughed and I held her cup so she could take a sip of water from the straw. “Promise me you’ll never take that necklace off. With the hidden pentacle you can wear it anywhere. Those not in the know of our Goddess symbol will just think it’s a pretty necklace. Those who do know are your sisters of the craft.”
“I promise I will treasure this necklace always.”
“Want me to tell you a little secret?” Carmella’s lips formed a smile that for just a moment made her look like the woman she had been before getting so sick.
I nodded.
“Yours will be a very unique power as you will someday give birth to a red haired daughter of extraordinary bloodlines. Her beauty will outshine that of your mother and her powers will be immense.”
I thought of Bryson and his red haired mother. With both our mother’s being redheads there was a very good chance that our child would inherit that specific gene.
“This special little girl will be the one who finally mends your mother’s shattered heart. She will be the one who reunites Odessa and her William on the other side.” Carmella’s voice grew so weak that I had to lean in to hear her. “What we did in New Orleans was wrong. Your child will make it all right.”
“What did you do?”
Carmella leaned back against the pillows closing her eyes. Maybe it was just the potion making her light headed and causing her to say all these strange things.
“Open the drawer,” she said with her eyes still closed. “And take the pink envelope.”
I opened the drawer as she instructed.
“You must swear to me that you will never speak of this with your mother.”
“I won’t say a word.”
“That envelope contains your grandparent’s name and phone number if you ever wish to contact them.”
“I love you, Carmella.” I tried to blink back the tears, but there was just no stopping them.
“As I do you, little one,” she said. “I’ll always be in your heart.”
I hugged her, knowing this was our final goodbye.
“Don’t cry for me,” she said. “I’m ready to begin my next life journey.”
I tucked the note into the pocket of my skirt and grabbed a couple of tissues for myself. It wasn’t until I stepped out into the crisp air of the porch that I realized all the incense in the world hadn’t been able to cover the stench of death hovering around that bed.
Mom and I made the short drive back to the Ocean Idle Inn in silence. I’d wondered why we weren’t staying with Carmella. Now I knew. Mom couldn’t have handled watching her best friend slip away before her eyes. I knew I couldn’t have either. There weren’t any words to fill the huge void of losing Carmella.
“I must go prepare myself to help Carmella cross over,” Mom said, heading for the beach.
“I know you’ll do the right thing,” I said.
She returned to the room bleary eyed. “Do you want to attend tonight’s esbat?”
Did I want to go watch Carmella die? Oh, hell no. Luckily I had a good excuse. “I thought you said it’s going to be skyclad?”
In witch speak that means everyone gets naked for the ritual. The only thing more embarrassing than watching my mom dance around naked would be me stripping down in front of a bunch of strangers with a string dangling between my legs.
“Yes, we shall be skyclad for Carmella to leave this world just as she arrived in it.”
“You know I got my period today,” I said.
“Menstruation is nothing too be ashamed off. You’ll be amongst sisters from maidens, to mothers, to crones. I’m sure there will be other maidens in their bleeding. It strengthens a coven’s power to have a bleeding maiden in our circle.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a solo practitioner.”
“I most definitely am,” she said. “But occasionally I enjoy the company of others who share my faith and I have to do this for Carmella.”
She pulled two twenties from her wallet. “This should cover your dinner and there is a store down the street where you can go buy some ice cream to go with your brownies and a Coke. Skylar’s tea is good for cramps, but I’ve always found a little caffeine and something sweet does the trick for me.”
I couldn’t believe she wasn’t riding me about my weight, “It did seem to help, but I like your cure a lot better.”
My mom did something completely out of character. She pulled me into her arms, kissing both my cheeks. “Please know that there is nothing you could ever do that would cause either Olivia or I to abandon you. We are family.”
7
The ringing telephone scared me so bad I dropped my book. I'd gotten completely lost in the magickal way Anne Rice described New Orleans, it made me feel like I was right there exploring the city of my mysterious father's birth.
Thinking it was Mom calling to let me know she was getting ready to screw Billy’s brains out, I picked up with a less than pleasant, “Hello.”
“Amalie?”
Oh my goodness it was Bryson. Somehow I managed to get it all out that I’d gotten totally wrapped up in my book.
He laughed, but not in a mean kind of way, “Want some company?”
“Yeah, yes,” Wow, did I sound too eager or what?
“I ordered a pizza. Vlad ate one slice and passed out snoring drunk and Dylan is already asleep. He’s not supposed to eat cheese unless mom gives him some kind of pill. So, anyways are you hungry?”
When wasn’t I hungry?
“Sounds good.”
“Maybe we can find a scary movie to watch,” he teased. “What do you want to drink? I’ll stop by the vending machine."
“I’ve got Coke in the mini fridge.”
“Cool, see you in a few.”
I raced to the bathroom, thankful that I hadn’t yet washed all that makeup off my face. I’d even painted my nails with some birthday nail polish so I applied a matching coat of Blush Pink lipstick. Suddenly the name sounded very appropriate. He knocked on the door just as I was trying to get in one of those hemp tampons.
“Be there in a minute,” I called, grabbing a clean pair of panties to put on under that amazing black dress one of the coven sisters had given me.
I’d never worn anything that low cut before, it wasn’t all that risqué, at least by my mom’s standards, but if I leaned over Bryson might get an eyeful. Right before rushing to the door, I dabbed a little of my mom’s Attraction Oil behind my ears.
“Wow, you look nice.”
His smile sent my heart to pounding, “I have to dress up when I help my mom at the festivals and I got this dress for my birthday today.”
“Happy birthday again,” he said. “Just don’t expect me to sing.”
“Not a problem.”
We looked around the room, noticing that my mom had piled boxes of her candles and oils in both chairs. A deliberate trick, to get us on the king sized bed. She had told me he would come, and I hadn’t believed her, at least not until now.
Summoning up every bit of confidence I could muster, I said, I guess we’ll have to sit on the bed to eat. I promise I won’t bite.”
“I don’t know if I can say the same,” he said. “I’m kinda into the whole vampire thing.”
Was he joking or actually flirting with me?
He took a seat on the bed, opening the pizza box. “Sorry I forgot to bring the tacky birthday plates, but at least we have napkins.
I got two Cokes out of the mini fridge. “Sorry I don’t have any beer.”
“That’s okay. Courtney is the only thing that drives me to drink.”
I loved his laugh and the way those storm cloud eyes softened when he flashed that killer smile. His family must have some really amazing genes, or they had to have spent a fortune on a good orthodontist. Just the reminder I needed to make sure I didn’t get any cheese stuck in my own braces.
“She’s a character all right.”
“They live down the street from us and she’s always at our house, as if we don’t see enough of her on the road. She’s got this totally creepy crush on my dad.”
“I noticed.” I chewed on my pizza, trying to gather up the nerve to ask. Since I figured I’d never seen him again I went ahead and said it, “Was she telling the truth about the wrestlers having girls in every town?”
“Some of them,” he admitted. “Dad’s really crazy about your mom. I know he messes around with other girls, but usually not when he brings me and Dylan with him. Or at least he’s more discrete about it. I’ve never known him to spend the whole night with anyone like he did last night with your mom.”
Does it bother you?” I asked.
"What do you think?" His eyes darkened. “Some of those girls are really crazy. Dad and Grandpa both keep trying to hook me up with one of them and I’m like no way! It might sound corny, but I want to be in love with the first girl I do it with.”