Chapter Eleven: Bruises

Juliana

 

 

The ginormous navy-blue passenger van in the driveway is unfamiliar, but the driver is all too recognizable. I contemplate making a dash behind the house to the backyard before she sees me. What is Star Quillin doing here?

A raven’s raspy caw yanks my attention away from the van. The raven is perched on a surviving branch of the sacred tree in the backyard. The big Ponderosa pine has been struck by lightning twice. During the most recent incident, the tree caught on fire. The fire department was able to extinguish the flames before the entire yard and my house caught on fire. Right now, the tree is a big fat reminder of the night we banished demons from the house and of Grandma Charlotte being struck by lightning. She was too close to the tree that night. The memory will never leave me. Two circling ravens linger against the ashen sky. An old nursery rhyme about ravens sings inside my head.

One for sorrow. Two for joy. Three for a girl…

A girl? Yep. Star is a girl. And my personal motto: Three ravens I see, good luck to me. I cringe at my own superstition. The raven calls once more. I glare at it like he’s a traitor. A velvety black conspirator in my backyard. Not Star. I plead silently. She has more issues than the LA Times. An answering squawk echoes across the treetops. I scan the sky looking for more black shapes and see four more.

…Four for a boy. Five for silver. Six for gold. Seven for a secret never to be told.

“Already outside at seven in the morning,” Star remarks as I keep my gaze on the trees. “I thought you were a night person.”

I put up my protective energy shield. It’s more like a shield of intention. I visualize a bubble of bulletproof glass surrounding me. It’s a trick Chris taught me to use. I don’t think it will protect me from knife wielding witches, but it does seem to help against my unexplainable need to absorb everyone else’s emotions and thoughts.

“Early bird catches the worm,” I say flatly. My beautiful morning is turning into a can of worms, all right. This is why I prefer the nighttime. Mornings are so freaking overrated. “What are you doing here, Star?”

She looks absolutely stunning as always. My jeans, hoodie, and hiking boots make me feel suddenly simple and plain. Wait a second… I’m standing outside at the butt crack of dawn in the woods. Of course, I’m wearing jeans and boots. Her layered black skirt with a blue and black peasant top are spotless and unwrinkled. Her studded shoes with ankle cuffs and velvet ribbons may be the most chill pair of shoes I have ever seen, but she wouldn’t be hiking up the back hill to see the sunrise with Jared in those shoes, now would she?

“Offering a peace treaty,” she says.

She shifts her hip slightly and glances at the bag resting by her side. I step back, not liking the fact that we’re outside alone. She did try to kill me, after all.

Star reaches into the shoulder bag and I step back again. The door to the house is only yards away. She holds out a prescription pill bottle.

“The bottle is half empty. I’m back on the meds. You and Jared don’t need to keep avoiding me.”

“I can’t speak for Jared,” I say.

“I’m right here.” Jared walks around the corner of the house.

His hair is wet from the shower and he appears almost as wary as I feel with Star standing in my yard.

“Hey,” she says to my brother with a soft smile. “I brought the rental van over so you could check it out and load up your guitars.”

“What happened to Caleb?”

“Bribed him with my wily witchy ways,” she says coolly.

“I’m sure you did,” Jared says.

Jared’s aura is shimmering and expanding before my eyes. The energy field around his body begins to swirl. Around his head and middle are the most noticeable. He doesn’t give anything away on his face, but I can totally see how much he still likes her. Star is harder for me to read. She has more of a solid looking aura of mostly yellow and green, whereas Jared’s is like a paint palette of many colors. Star is here though, and whatever her aura looks like, her actions speak volumes. She’s attempting to make amends.

When they were together, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jared so infatuated with a girl before. Being sensitive to other people’s true feeling and motivations is one of the glorious — when I say glorious, I mean dog-fart stinky — “gifts” I was born with. Jared and Star were so goofy-crazy in love that I was truly happy for both of them. But being attacked by someone I trusted is not something I can recover from quickly. Jared looks like he doesn’t have that problem.

Star says, “I came over to ask you something, J.” She hesitates before adding, “It’s from everyone in my band.”

“What’s up?” Jared says.

He plays it cool and so does she. If they could see auras the way I do, they would know how deep their feelings still are for one another. I stay out of the conversation and watch the ethereal play happen.

“You know the song you helped me write, Falling Down?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“We want you to record it with us as a guest. During the tour, we would like you to play it with us.”

Jared shrugs like this isn’t the best deal he’s been offered since he and the band signed with Castle Records.

“I don’t know, Star. I need to think about it.” Jared sets his shoulders back, chest expanding, and looks to me.

I bite my lip and turn my head so I don’t give anything away with my face. The surge of excitement radiating from Jared is palpable, but Star doesn’t seem to feel it.

“I don’t want you to pass this up because of what happened at my Aunt Vivian’s.” Star’s aura reaches out to my brother, but her spine stiffens and she presses her palms together.

“I said I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fair,” Star says. “There’s one more reason I’m here. My aunt has been helping me with a couple of things. Can we go inside the house for a minute?”

She tips her head to the side and stares up at Jared, hope sparkling in her amber colored eyes.

“I don’t know, Star.” Jared’s face hardens for a second. “You make Jules anxious.”

She nods like she understands. She places a finger against her dark-tinted lips like she’s considering something. Careful to not look at me, she says, “I’ve earned that, but I’ve brought a little something I think will help all three of us be more comfortable around each other. Especially, at the venues where we need to be relaxed and have a good time. The crowds sense our moods.” Her gaze shifts to the back deck where there’s a patio table and chairs. “You can see it better inside, but we can do it out here. On the table, perhaps?”

Jared glances at me again.

I stop gnawing on a hangnail and reluctantly say, “Okay.”

Star places a small silver chest on the table. It’s about six inches long and five inches high and decorated with embossed intertwining serpents and Celtic knots. Jared and I stare at it, but neither of us move to open it.

“This is for you, Jules,” she says.

I still don’t step forward to unclasp the miniature hook.

“You’re the only one who can open it. It’s sealed for you only.”

I raise questioning brows and feel even more of a mind to go inside the house and brew some morning tea.

Star works her lips back and forth, looking ever so sheepish. “Let me start over. You both know my Aunt Vivian is a witch. She has been supportive since my last fall out. After what happened, I will never be able to join the coven. I know you know why, so I’ll skip that part. Aunt Vivi stepped away from her position as high priestess and she’s doing much better since Nathaniel has been around.”

Star gives me a tender smile. “Umm,” She clears her throat and taps her lips with her forefinger. “I used to think the meds I was supposed to take messed with my head. Which is why I didn’t want to be on them. We were making some awesome music together and I sort of freaked at the thought of losing my creative streak.”

She gives Jared a pained look and shrugs an apologetic shoulder.

“It turns out that when I’m more stable, I’m kickass at magic. Aunt Vivi has been teaching me how to wield and conjure responsibly.”

“I heard you play in the studio the other night,” Jared says. “Your music isn’t suffering.”

“It’s not,” Star agrees.

Speechless that such a simple misunderstanding and fear of taking medicine caused me a near death experience, I roll my eyes to the sky and wait to be struck by an earth-shattering bolt of, “Why the hell did that happen to me? Please God, explain now.”

The almighty must be on another call because no mind-blowing epiphanies strike.

“I don’t think I can open your gift,” I say.

“I don’t deserve your trust,” she says. “I’m trying my best to earn it back. I promise it can’t hurt you. Aunt Vivi helped on every part of it. Nathaniel trusts her. Which doesn’t mean you should, but maybe it’s a tiny bit of insurance.”

I consider her explanation. It’s true. Nathaniel trusts and likes Vivi wholeheartedly. “Please don’t be offended if I don’t want what’s inside. Magical objects and I are having a really tenuous summer.”

“I agree and I will not be offended.” She takes a step away from the table.

I lean over the patio table so my hair falls and covers my face from Jared’s or Star’s view. Quick as possible, I unlatch the hook and lift the lid of the chest.

The smell of lilacs fills the air. Its scent is natural, not like perfume, and I breathe it in. The unexpected smell brightens my senses and I feel calm and soft all over. I should be wary of something that has an instant effect on me, but the tiny glittering green and purple butterflies shimmering out of the chest have me so in awe I can’t feel paranoid. The butterflies dance and flutter before us like winged sprites in a dance recital, but they’re not sprites because they’re made of magic. They reach eye level and begin to transform into glitter. The glitter rains over the table and the chest. My gaze follows their path and I notice the forest green drawstring bag inside the velvet-lined box.

“That’s the real present.” Star points at the bag. “The butterflies were just for fun.”

With the sudden dry mouth of someone who has been licking charcoal, I’m speechless and can’t articulate how cool her “fun” butterflies were. Tentatively, I remove the bag from the chest. It’s heavy in my palm. The lilac bouquet is strong and even more so as I slip the vial out of the bag into my hand.

“Is this some kind of glass?” I ask. The cylinder is light pink, opaque, and much heavier than glass. A faint line circles the top, indicating where the lid is. I lift it to the sky and peer through the strange glass to see it contains something unidentifiable.

“It’s a quartz vial,” she says.

I ease the tightly sealed lid open and peer inside the narrow tube. It’s filled with dried purple-blue flower petals. All one type; and if I had to guess, lilacs.

“Take out a pinch of the lilac petals,” Star says.

The smell washes over me. I can literally feel the smell surround my body like a blanket. I pour a few tiny crumbles of the dried flowers into my hand and raise my eyes to Star.

She appears excited as she says, “Sprinkle them around your feet. You’ll like this, Juliana. It’s stellar magic. I promise,” she assures.

I let the crumbs fall around my boots. The blanket of smell becomes a wall of pale green vines dripping with large lilac blooms. They surround me from my feet to the top of my head. Star smacks her hand against the wall of magical vines and flowers.

“I can’t hurt you. No one can. I was thinking I would pinch your arm and I can’t even touch you. You can use it whenever you want, Jules. If anyone has any evil thoughts toward you, they can’t come anywhere close.”

Jared reaches over and places his hand on the top of my shoulder. The wall didn’t respond to him at all. He pulls his hand back and then tries again. This time his knuckles collapse against the lilac protection.

“What were you going to do to me?” I ask.

“Nothing the first time. Then I was going to pull your hair the second time.”

“This is unbelievable.” I replace the small stone lid on the bottle.

“I wish you could have used it against me that night,” Star says.

We both know what night she’s talking about. “How long does the spell work for?”

“As long as you can smell the lilacs. In my tests with Aunt Vivi, it would last about thirty minutes to an hour before wearing off.”

“I’m not used to using magic,” I say, and wonder what Chris would think of this.

“Only use it if you want, but if you run out, I’ll make you more.”

“Seriously, Star. This is thoughtful.”

“I wish I could do something else,” she says, staring at her purse on the table.

She pulls out an aquamarine taper candle. “This one is for you.” She hands it to my brother.

He reaches for the candle, but skepticism creases his brow.

“Do you have a lighter on you?” she asks.

“No. I’m not smoking.”

“That’s good. I may have a match.”

Star digs in her bag until she finds a pack of matches. She passes them to Jared.

“I made this candle, but it only works if you light it. If anyone else lights it, it will look like an ordinary blue candle.”

“Should I grab my helmet and safety glasses?” Jared wiggles a brow and holds back the half smile.

“No. But before you light it, you should know what it’s for.” Star stares at the candle and inhales. After a slow exhale, she says, “It’s for clearing the air. Between you and someone else. If you want to resolve conflicts or misunderstandings with someone, you think of the person while the flame burns and a resolution to the problem will find you. Or you might start feeling better about the person.”

I see Jared’s Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows. His brows gather as he contemplates the candle in his hand.

“What about the other person?” he asks.

“It won’t change anyone’s free will, but if they’re willing to let go of the conflict, it will help the other person heal, too.”

“How did you make it?”

“With a spell and an enchantment. Plus, some beeswax and other witchy ingredients. And of course, an Aunt who knows how to conjure anything.”

Jared tears a match out of the book and lights it. The smell of the sulfur tickles my nose as it blends with the scent of lilacs. He lights the candle and shakes out the match.

The flame is the same blue color as the candlestick. His eyes close as he holds the candle in front of him. Music starts playing from the candle, like a tiny music box. It’s beautiful and clear, but quiet like the tinkling of the neighbor’s wind chimes. The song is an instrumental piece and I concentrate on the melody, trying to place it. I know I’ve heard it before.

“The song we didn’t get to finish,” Jared says.

“It is,” Star admits.

She moves around the table to the deck railing, placing her back to us.

“It’s an odd present. Maybe a little too selfish,” she says. “Anyway, the van keys are in the ignition. I’ll call someone to come pick me up.”

Jared stays quiet for a long moment. I put the quartz bottle back in the bag and place it carefully inside the small chest. I lower the lid and close the latch. The lilacs stay with me as I move. Jared stares at the small blue flame before blowing it out.

I press my lips together and step closer to the back door. A tangible shift in the air has suddenly given me a strong urge to let Jared and Star be alone.

“How was that?” Jared asks Star.

“Thank you.” She looks over her shoulder at my brother.

The relief on her face shatters me. Her clear amber eyes are both somber and relieved. Jared must have been thinking of her when he lit the candle. A lump, thick like clay, sits in the base of my throat as Jared crosses over to Star.

She stares at her hands. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have found my magic.”

“If I never met you, I wouldn’t understand music the way I now do.”

“I’m sorry about your arm.” She lightly brushes her fingers over Jared’s bandage where the knife wound she gave him is still healing.

“I need to take a few scars with me to the grave,” Jared says as he touches his fingertips to hers.

That’s my cue to disappear inside the house. A raven’s throaty call cries over my head from a bruised sky. I slide the door closed behind me, purposely looking forward and not back.

Upstairs, my bed looks all too inviting: a cozy, cushy, warm purple heaven. Exactly right. My plants need watering, I could use some tea, and I should probably ask Jared if he wants any help getting organized for his first tour. The first three tour dates are here in Colorado, and then the band is supposed to play in Utah and Nevada. After that…

I sink onto my bed and stretch out. I’m not entirely sure if Jared will see Utah. I grab a pillow and bury my head beneath it. The morning’s events tumble through my head like a rockslide. Sleep is not going to happen. I toss the pillow aside and roll over. My notebook is on the floor next to the bed. I open it to a blank page.

Journaling about the highlights of the morning will help clear my mind, I decide.

The sunrise with Jared, eating cinnamon rolls, and drinking orange juice for breakfast. Seeing the bear. Nathaniel appearing by my side as the fuchsia highlighted clouds faded to somber gray. What started out as predawn dismal turned into one of the best memories I have with Jared. But Nathaniel’s predicament cast a shadow on the morning, and now I’m carrying that around with me, too. Then there’s Star’s unexpected gift. How am I going to be able to stay mad at her?

Horse hooves pounding.

The last song sounding.

The sky is gray and falling.

A parched earth rebelling.

Why is heaven calling?

Your name is my song.

Your face is far gone.

My memories are fading.

I know you dance in the stars.

Far away from my heart.

Let me hold you tight.

Long into the night.

And let go of any fear of the light.

 

Burning. The smell of smoke is unmistakable. Something’s on fire! I slam the notebook closed. The rush of adrenaline is like a shot straight up my spine. I throw open my bedroom door and cough. I cover my nose and mouth to help filter the smoke-filled air.

“Jared!” I yell as I burst into his bedroom.

The room is empty. I back out into the hall and run for the stairs. Oh, God, where is my mom? And Ariel? Please, please, please, let my cat be outside. I call for my brother again as I run to the kitchen. The smoke is so strong I can hardly breathe. I have to get outside. Where is everybody? Why aren’t the smoke detectors going off? I spin around and look at the stairs. Mom isn’t home, is she?

I crouch closer to the floor. Isn’t smoke supposed to rise? The air is only mildly clearer. Grateful for any relief, I suck in a burning breath and hack it back out. The smoke is suffocating me. The front door is only a few feet away. I run across the living room and throw the door open. Bursting past the screen door, I launch myself into the desert. Thigh high sagebrush greets me and I swerve around a large bush before tumbling over it. My lungs rebel against the smoke and I can’t stop coughing.

I’m fully aware that I’m not standing in my front yard. A disturbance in the distance attracts my attention and I peer at the horizon. An old white truck crests the top of a slope and eases along the trail. The pickup’s towing a long silver stock trailer. The truck looks familiar, but it’s far away and my memory isn’t cooperating. As I try to narrow my gaze into some kind of clarity, the smoke billows in front of me and blocks my view. Then I hear the horses. The scream of frightened animals, neighing and snorting, hooves beating the hard earth. The sound seems to echo and eddy through the waves of smoke. The cloud of smoke shimmers around my body, mesmerizing and hypnotizing me into a stupor. I want to run away. I want to flag down the pickup truck and beg for a ride out of here before I suffocate, but I can’t seem to gather my senses and react.

The sound of the horses grows louder, the smoke thicker. The truck is completely lost from sight. I spin around, seeking escape. My house is gone. My sanity is gone. And then to confirm it, the ghost of a man with a painted face appears out of the screen of smoke. He speeds past me, nearly running me over. I scream and cover my head with my arms for protection.

A black horse gallops out of the smoke. Its wild eyes are trained on the ghost as if it were on a mission to destroy him. The horse doesn’t see me and I’m bowled over. He tramples across my body with hooves like anchored knives. The faulty assumption to protect my head seems laughable now as my insides collapse and rupture.

The horse and ghost disappear as I lie on the ground and contemplate how I ended up alone with only a pinon tree and some sagebrush for company. A shadow passes over my dying body. I blink through the haze of smoke and tears. The raptor keeps its distance, high over my head it circles, inspecting me as carrion. I don’t blame it. We all need to eat, don’t we? Wouldn’t it be the perfect end for me? To be scavenged by vultures and magpies. The flying predator circles in lower and lower. The smell of my crumbled body must be too tempting for it to wait until I am totally dead. It alights and finds balance on the very tip of the tree and stares at me. It’s not a turkey vulture like I assumed, but a red-tailed hawk. Its banded wings, cream-colored chest, and rust tail feathers are unmistakable. It draws me into its gaze and I feel myself falling away from the ground, like gravity is suddenly optional. The color of its eyes are not like a raptor’s. They’re too dark. Not the gold color they should be.

“I will show you the way. Watch for me,” the hawk says.

Hearing its voice pops my illusion of floating weightless and I fall back to the solid ground.

The smoke continues to assault my nostrils and throat as I drink in my last breaths. My eyelids flicker and I try to get a good look at the sky through the smoke. I want to see the hawk and its penetrating eyes once more, but it’s suddenly an inky night sky. I don’t have enough energy to question that the entire day has passed in mere seconds.

A flash of light pierces the smoke. Two beams like headlights bounce across the desert landscape. I hear the engine roar up next to me. There’s a creak of metal as the door swings open. He climbs out of the big white truck. Our gazes meet. Recognition is instant. The hawk sits on the driver’s shoulder. They stare at me with conviction of what needs to be done and soon.

“Jules?”

The voice is feminine, but not my own or Mom’s.

“Jared, is she all right?”

I’m standing in the driveway in front of my house. The grill of the rental van stares at me as if it wants to ask me a question like, Where should we go? The real question comes from my brother instead.

“Pretty impressive, right? Lance is paying for it. He doesn’t want one of our crappy cars to break down during the tour.”

I blink and blink again. I raise my shirt to stare at my stomach.

“Thinking of getting your bellybutton pierced?” Jared asks as he walks behind me to the driver’s side door of the van.

I lower my shirt and hug my middle. “No,” I murmur. Tears slide over my cheeks.

How long have I been standing out here? How did I get outside? The unknown is scarier than the vision. What if I had walked into the street? Or jumped out the window?

“I won’t be on tour that long, Jules. And I thought you were coming to all the shows with us. You can squeeze into the van if you don’t want to drive,” Jared says as he pulls the door open.

“I think your sister is upset about something else, not you being away on tour,” Star says.

She takes a hesitant step my way and stops. As much as I could use a steadying hand, I’m glad she doesn’t touch me. Star may have brought impressive magical gifts, but she’s still on my “can’t be trusted” list. I stare at her midnight blue hair and it reminds me of the night sky in my vision. Other images crash through my mind. The black horse with white socks and its eyes rolling with madness. Horses panicking in the background, smoke from an unseen fire, a red-tailed hawk giving me cryptic messages, and the white truck. Yes. I have seen the truck before. I’ve even ridden in it.

“Yeah,” I say, testing my voice. “It’s something else,” I confirm, and wipe my hand over my face.

I glance over at Star, but my fragile state-of-mind makes eye contact with her an impossible feat. I stare at her shoes. “I need a favor,” I say.

My insides flip and churn with the realization of what I’m about to do. But this has to be done on my own. First, there was the vision from the other day before meeting up with Chris, then this morning, and now a third one. If I don’t act now, I may walk out into the street or the actual desert next time. Then I might be lying on the ground dying in reality and not just inside my head.

“I’m going to take this whale out on a test drive and drop Star off at her aunt’s ranch,” Jared says.

Jared’s ready to leave. The van keys jingle from one hand as he watches me expectantly.

“I’d like to ride with you. Can you wait a few minutes while I can grab my things?”