The Witch's Spark Page 7

  At four, I got up and showered. The clouds cleared, and the evening winter sun came out. The reflected light from the surrounding glass skyscrapers lit up my living room. I walked around my apartment completely naked, basking in the diffused sunlight. The hundred plus plants glowed and cast a lovely, green hue on the bare walls. I twirled around, feeling like a woodland nymph.

  Joy filled my heart and spilled into the rest of my body. I caught my reflection in the window, but the distortion hid the scars from the middle of my chest down to my belly button. All I saw was radiant, glowing skin, smooth curves, red hair, and a flash of the silver cross that lay on my chest.

  If only I could look this beautiful every day.

  A key slipping into the front door lock ruined the moment and had me scrambling up the stairs to the loft.

  “Hello,” Mom cooed from below.

  “I’m getting dressed,” I called down. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

  “It’s just me, Everly. I’ve seen it all.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  As always, it was useless to argue with her. One of these days, I really needed to find my courage and change the locks on my door. Today, however, I would try my hardest to have a drama-free dinner with Mom.

  I chose a pair of black slacks and a green turtleneck sweater. Then I slipped on a pair of brown mules. Mom chattered at me as she stood in the bathroom doorway, while I applied rose-colored lipstick and a splash of rouge. I put in silver star stud earrings and did my hair in a simple braid.

  “You look lovely.” Mom smiled when I emerged from the bathroom.

  “Thanks.” I curtsied. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry for some fish and chips.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Me too.”

  Three hours later, after night had fallen, Mom dropped me off at my apartment. Three hours of listening to all her church and work gossip had exhausted me, but as torturous as the night had been, me spending time with Mom had made her day. Tonight, I had shown her I was recovering, and that made her worry less. The smile on her face made the effort worth it.

  I waved at her from the entrance to the building. That’s when I saw him standing across the street under the awning of an office building.

  Mom waited for me to enter my building before she drove away. I quickly opened the door and stepped in. When I glanced out across the street, the man was gone.

  What the hell? How did he do that? Or did I just imagine he was there? Again.

  I waved at mom one more time and walked to the elevator. Once in my apartment, I wished I had curtains for the windows. I was on the fifth floor, so the only people who could look into the loft were those who worked in the office building across the street. On a Sunday night, nobody was there except maybe custodians and security guards. Despite this knowledge, my little haven suddenly felt like a fishbowl. I kept the lights off as I crept around the apartment and changed into my pajamas in the bathroom.

  Upstairs, I laid down, feeling like someone was watching. I stared up through the skylight over my bed and wondered what to do next. What if it wasn’t my imagination, seeing him across the street? That would mean he knew where I lived. I could call the police, but what would I tell them? If the guy at the library hadn’t seen him when he’d stood in plain sight a few yards away, how would the cops find him?

  Also, if I call the police, they’ll contact my mother, and that will only make her more paranoid. All my efforts today would be for naught.

  Eventually exhaustion won, and I found myself in the forest again.

  As before, he hesitated in the shadows of the trees, and I extended a hand. He waited three seconds and then took it.

  The man looked as beautiful as he did in real life. His chalky, pale skin glowed in the moonlight. I focused on his long, black hair that ruffled off his broad shoulders in the slight breeze. I waited for him to close his eyes and raise my hand to his lips. The tender kiss between my index and middle finger knuckles still gave me tingles of pleasure, as before. I watched him take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of my hand.

  He opened his eyes once again and met my gaze. I could see his black irises dilating. I cocked my head, waiting for ‘Eva, te am asteptat’ to ring through my head in his deep, velvety voice. This time, there was no shock about the fact he had telepathically communicated, nor did I wonder what language he spoke.

  And this time, I pulled my hand from his. “Who are you? Why do you keep following me?”

  His eyes widened and then narrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  He faded away, and my dreamscape shifted to a field of green with mountains rising ahead. I ran toward the snow-capped peaks, but no matter how fast I ran, I never seemed to get any closer to them. I glanced behind me. An army of dark creatures ridden by masked beings closed in.

  One masked being flew above the rest on the back of a black dragon. He seemed to gain on me. When I surrendered to the fact it was pointless to run anymore, I turned to face him. The man’s red eyes zeroed in on me.

  I see you, a shadowy voice echoed inside my head. You and Traian cannot hide from me anymore. The dragon opened his mouth, and crimson fire enveloped me.

  Chapter 10

  I sat up, screaming. That had been the most terrifying dream I’d ever had, but the only question on my mind was.

  Who is Traian?

  Sleep refused to return, so I grabbed my laptop and opened the search window. I typed in ‘Traian,’ guessing at the spelling. A bunch of links to various Traians in Romania filled pages of results. Some were spelled ‘Trajan,’ with a ‘j’… There were references to the emperor Trajan the Great…But none of these told me anything about my Traian.

  My Traian? Really?

  I shook my head and then typed ‘Eva Constantine, Seattle’ into the search bar. Why she popped up in my mind, I did not know, but I suspected she was connected to Traian, since when I dreamed about him, I was her.

  Not much came up, just an obituary in Vancouver, BC. I clicked on the link.

  Eva Marie Constantine was born July 20, 1975 in communist Romania. Days after her birth, she was adopted by Vancouver residents Paul and Julia Constantine. Eva graduated at the top of her class from East Vancouver High School and attended Victoria Culinary College. She returned to her native country to complete her senior project in traditional Romanian and Gypsy food under Jan Trenescu, the world-class Romanian chef. Eva spent many years abroad before settling in Seattle, Washington, where she opened the Eastern European restaurant Patra’s. Patra’s won best restaurant of the year in 1997 and 1998. Eva passed away unexpectedly on October 31, 1998 in an outdoor accident. She is survived by her adopted parents. Patra’s has since been converted into a soup kitchen, Marie’s Table.

  I stared at the screen for a moment taking in the new information, then typed a new search ‘Eva Constantine death’. Nothing came up. It’s like this woman had no public record. Why was she buried in Seattle when her family lived in Vancouver? I searched for ‘Marie’s Table’ and discovered the soup kitchen had burned down last week in an oven fire. Weird. I then searched for ‘Jan Trenescu’.

  A few hits on recipes on Romanian websites, two pictures. The bald man had a jolly smile and a round belly. One of the recipes was in English on a culinary student’s blog for sarmale. Next, I searched for ‘sarmale’. They were the Romanian version of cabbage rolls. I bookmarked the page because that recipe sounded delicious—not that I cooked, but I aspired to.

  Morning came slowly. I got up and made tea and toast. Holding the hot cup in my hands, I walked up to the center living room window and stared down at the foggy, wet street below. I almost expected to see the man in black looking up at me, but only saw a couple of bums milling about and a few cars coming and going.

  I’d spent the day before in bed, but this morning, I would do a little cleaning, starting with the kitchen. But then my heart suddenly ached for Grandma Grace—it had been too long since I’d visited her.

  An hour later, I
knelt in front of Grandma’s gravestone. The cemetery was deserted except for the caretaker’s truck parked at the top of the hill.

  “Hi, things have been really weird the last couple of days. I’ve been in the hospital, I took my exams on Saturday… And someone keeps stalking me. Is it crazy I want to talk to him? He keeps creeping into my dreams, too.” I tapped the gravestone. “My professor also hit on me two days ago and gave me a ride home in his super expensive sportscar. Okay, maybe he wasn’t hitting on me, but that whole situation is just as weird.”

  I pulled at a blade of grass and twisted it around my fingers. “He feels right. The man in black who keeps following me, not the professor. I can’t explain it. He seems so familiar. God, listen to me. I sound like a crazy person.”

  Something red in my peripheral vision drew my attention. I turned my head to the right. A woman stood at the end of the row of graves. A red coat covered her to mid-thigh, and the black leggings and knee-length boots she wore made her look tall. A bright red braid spilled out of the black beanie she wore. I blinked, and she was gone. I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but she had red eyes that matched her coat.

  “I’ve got to go, Grams. I love you. Maybe you could come haunt me and tell me what’s going on?” I kissed the top of her tombstone and stood up.

  I surveyed the cemetery, but I was still alone. Did I imagine that woman, like I imagined the man in black? I turned toward Eva Constantine’s grave and noticed that the arrangement I’d made was gone from the base of her gravestone. I glanced around, searching for the lady in red one more time, but no one was near me. I looked down at Eva’s tombstone and I realized that something else was missing.

  The symbol.

  I ran a hand over the smooth surface where it had been, but nothing happened. No electricity or visions.

  I had a rubbing, but then my notebook had gone missing when I fell off the bus. I recalled the man in black picking up the notebook and the papers that had scattered around me.

  I need them back.

  Now I wanted to see him again—when I did, I would confront him about taking my things. But he said he’d be staying away from me from now on.

  Yet he showed up outside my apartment last night…

  My cell phone jingled in my coat pocket. A message from Carol, my boss, filled the screen. She had two reject plants to add to my collection and said now would probably be the best time to get them.

  Before I left, I took a picture of Eva’s grave without the symbol and my phone worked just fine. Two hours later, I got off the bus a block away from my apartment holding two potted miniature palms. Both looked to be on their way out—one of them had only three green fronds clinging to the trunk. I placed them by the windows, so they’d get as much light possible.

  “Grow, my new babies.” I whispered as I added a mixture of homemade fertilizer and water to each pot. I would have to transplant them into larger containers in a few months.

  Now it was time to clean. I had over two hours before I would meet up with my sister, and the kitchen needed attention. I started with the cupboards where I kept all the nonperishable food. Everything had to come out onto the counter for sorting. My mother constantly brought stuff for me, so both shelves were full of teas, boxes of cereal, cans of soup, and other packaged foods. Some things I didn’t even eat, like mac and cheese. I organized each shelf with what I liked, and the rest either went into the garbage or the food pantry bag. When satisfied with the results, I moved to the refrigerator.

  Once again, too much food. Some had been there too long and needed to be thrown out. I had to pause and examine the different growths on the past expiration date foods. I suddenly had the desire to take samples back to the microbiology lab, but then Mr. Perry’s face came to mind and squashed that idea. An hour later, my kitchen garbage bag was full, and the fridge looked damn good.

  See, I am capable of living on my own.

  My phone jingled again. It was my sister confirming our one o’clock lunch date, which was less than an hour away. It would take a half hour to get to the Space Needle if I walked or had to wait for the bus. As much as I would have loved to walk, I didn’t want to exhaust myself too much. Bus it is, then.

  I put on my coat and picked up my purse. On the way out, I grabbed the kitchen garbage bag to take out back. Just as I opened my front door, the buzzer went off.

  “Hello?” I greeted.

  “It’s Rick.”

  My heart sank. Hadn’t I told Mr. Perry to stay away from me and my family?

  “I’m on my way out,” I told him.

  “I just need to talk to you for a minute. It won’t take long.”

  “Fine. Meet me by the elevator downstairs.” I hit the unlock button for the building entrance and exited my apartment.

  Sure enough, when the elevator opened, Mr. Perry stood waiting for me. “You can talk as I take the garbage out.”

  “Let me help.” He reached for the bag, but I brushed his hand away.

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Of course, you don’t.” I could hear the bitterness in his tone.

  “What’s so important that you needed to drive to my house to tell me?” I asked over my shoulder as we walked to the back of the building.

  “First, you did well on your midterms. Congrats.”

  “Ugh, you could have called about that.” I pushed open the back door, entering the garbage enclosure.

  “Yes, I know, but I also wanted to tell you about a new study at the University Cancer Center that I think would help you.”

  “I don’t have cancer.” I opened the dumpster lid and went to toss the bag when I heard a little “mew.” I set the garbage bag on the ground and lowered the lid.

  “Argh.” Mr. Perry sighed and walked over. He picked up the bag to throw it in the dumpster.

  “Shhhh.” I held a hand out and lowered my head toward the dumpster.

  He stopped mid-toss. “What are you doing?”

  Hissssssssss.

  Mr. Perry threw the bag into the dumpster and let the lid slam with a loud clang. “Come on, I don’t have much time.”

  Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

  “You idiot. You’re scaring it,” I murmured at the professor.

  “It’s a stupid stray cat.”

  “Oh, go away.” I pushed against his solid chest.

  I’d never touched Mr. Perry before—I’d never needed to. Who knew he hid muscles of steel under that expensive dress shirt and suit? But I couldn’t care less about my professor’s physique then.

  “You shouldn’t have cats anyway,” he pointed out.

  I stood up straight. Even on my tippy toes, I couldn’t reach his shoulder height. “You are not the boss of me.”

  “I’m here to help you find a solution to your medical issues, and you’re more interested in a flea-infested rodent?” Mr. Perry glared down at me.

  “Cats are not rodents, and you don’t get to tell me what to do.” I poked his chest and then pointed toward the gate. “You’re more than welcome to go back to your fancy car and drive back to your fancy office.”

  He shook his head and stepped back. Finally.

  I lowered to the ground and peered under the dumpster. In the far corner, two little eyes glowed back at me.

  “Hi there, little guy,” I said. “You can come out. I won’t hurt you.”

  The kitten didn’t budge.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I promised.

  Still no movement.

  “I shouldn’t have kittens, I know. But I can help you find a home where people will take good care of you.”

  Nothing.

  I sighed. “Or you can come live with me, as long as you promise to never use your claws on my skin.”

  “Mew.” The kitten inched forward.

  “Really, you want to come live with me?” Anticipation had my heart racing.

  The kitten scooted closer. “Mew.”

  “I’ve never had a cat before. Or any pet, for that matte
r,” I muttered and stood back to give the kitten space.

  Little by little, the kitten moved closer until it popped its small head out from under the dumpster. In the light, I got my first good look at the tiny, furry beast. Blue eyes like the Caribbean Sea, and its fur, grey like the dreariest Seattle day.

  I crouched down. The kitten hopped on my lap and purred.

  “Precious.” I sighed and took the ball of fluff into my hands. Tiny claws dug in. “Eh, eh. No claws, remember? Or we can’t be buddies.”

  It retracted them instantly. “Mew.”

  “Cutie, I’m going to call you ‘Storm,’ because you match those clouds up there.” I pointed to the sky.

  It head-butted my hand and continued to purr. The kitten even let me check its south end.

  “You’re a girl! Perfect. ‘Storm’ it is.”

  I set her down on her all fours on my lap and she reached up and batted at the silver cross pendant that hung from my neck.

  “Aw, that’s not a toy. My grandmother gave me that. She died the day I was born.” I tucked the cross back inside my shirt.

  A crack of thunder over our heads sent the kitten up my chest and hiding under the collar of my jacket. I felt a drop of rain land on the tip of my nose.

  “Well, that’s our cue. We’d better get inside.” I pulled the parka hood over my head and turned toward the door.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Mr. Perry growled behind me as we made our way down the hall.

  “Her,” I corrected him. “And keep her, of course.”

  Storm hissed at him from her hiding spot.

  “You’re not supposed to have pets in this building.” He reached from behind me and punched the up button for the elevator.

  “I’ll figure something out. Is there anything else you need?” How does he know the rules of my apartment?

  “What if it scratches you?” He pulled out a business card for the University Cancer Center and handed it to me.

  Ding.

  The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in. “She won’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  I smiled at him and reached to my shoulder where Storm hid under my collar. “We have an agreement.” I scratched her little head, and she purred again. “Goodbye, Mr. Perry. I’ll see you later.”