The Lunar Witch

Chapter 7

After taking a few more bites of my dinner, I went over to the man. He hadn’t changed from the last time I’d gotten up to check on him. He was still sickly pale, with nappy hair, and remained unmoved. Everything about him was in the same place as before; he wasn’t even moving in his sleep. I reached to check his pulse, but paused before our skin met. My stomach flipped. I couldn’t decide which would be worse, if he still had a pulse, or if it was gone.

I sucked in a deep breath and pressed my fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse.

*BUM-BUM*

I let out my breath, not realizing I’d been holding it. How long do I let him stay like this? How long until I decide he won’t recover? Making the choice was always the hardest part. Not yet. He’s not ready.

I pushed the thoughts aside and began checking his other vitals. Pressing my hand to his forehead, I felt that his temperature was still cool. No fever. I grabbed a stethoscope and listened to his lungs. Clear, with no sounds of crackling or fluids. I checked his other vitals and found nothing concerning.

I listened to his breathing. It was labored, but I would expect it for someone in his condition. He was anemic, with no way for his body to get nutrients or nourishment. The medicine I’d given him was only to heal him. But his body needed energy to heal, and he couldn’t eat. Soon his body would begin consuming itself, eating its own muscles and fat to regrow his organs. I need to get his body some kind of energy. He was muscular, with little fat to help create energy. Without the energy that fat would give him, he might not regrow his organs at all.

Think Pepper, think. There must be something I can give him, so he’ll have enough energy to regrow. I began rummaging through the cabinets, looking through the medicines House had put in the room. There were potions to help with infections, antibiotics, and many other medicines. But nothing that I found stood out.

“What’re you looking for?” I turned to see Rhonda standing in the doorway. Oliver must’ve left.

“I don’t know. A potion I guess.” I explained the man’s predicament.

“So, you need something to help him regrow his organs?”

“Kind of. I already gave him a potion to heal him. Theoretically, that should help him regrow his organs. But I’m worried he’ll run out of energy before he’s healed. And I can’t give him food because he has no stomach.”

“I know little about healing, but there’s a spell my family uses when we go on journeys. It dissipates our hunger while we’re away. Maybe that could help?” Rhonda sat down and rubbed her belly. My thoughts clicked, and I realized I’d been an i***t. I knew the potion that Rhonda mentioned but dismissed it because it required an incantation.

I couldn’t make the potion, but Rhonda could.

“I’m a fool! I was so distracted by my own thoughts I forgot you can do incantations!” The knot in my stomach loosened, and I went back to the couch to finish my dinner. We began discussing the potion and what would be needed. Thankfully, it required basic ingredients, and I already had everything. We agreed to finish up our dinner and head down to the basement.

The basement was where the true magic happened. House changed the basement to meet the needs of whatever magic would be done. Today, House had turned the basement into a large potion room. There were cabinets and shelves around all the walls, full of ingredients and books that might be needed. Some cabinets had common ingredients such as herbs, morning dew, and an ocean breeze. Other ingredients were less common, such as crystals, ghost tears, and mermaid scales. A few ingredients were rare, like stardust and Saturn’s essence.

In the center of the room was an enormous cauldron, big enough for a person to bathe in. It was black cast iron, and although it had been in the Thornhart family for generations, it remained pristine. The cauldron sat on a wrought iron stand that had ornate, woven spirals that went down to the floor. Underneath the cauldron was a pit of fire crystals. They glowed red, shimmering in the light.

Rhonda and I entered the basement, and the familiar floral scent hit me. I came down here often, experimenting with my potion recipes. But today we needed to be exact. I went over to the bookshelf in the back of the room and plucked the book I needed. I knew the spells recipe from memory, but it was best to be safe. Magic was dangerous if not done correctly.

I went to a bench that was by the cauldron and plopped the book down. Shuffling through the pages, I found the recipe that I needed.

“Journey Man’s Elixir. Is this the same as your family’s recipe?” I asked. Rhonda walked over and read the recipe. She had her hands on her hips, making her pregnant belly stick out.

“Crushed froghorns, pinniply mushrooms, stir counterclockwise, yep. Looks the same to me. I’ve got to be honest though, Pepper. I can’t remember the last potion I made.” Rhonda was an elemental Witch, mainly dealing with the four elements in her work.

“That’s alright. I can make the potion; I just need someone who can say the incantations over it. I’ll prepare the ingredients, hand them to you, and you put them in and say the incantation over the cauldron.” I listed off the ingredients that we’d need and began collecting. It wasn’t long before I had everything we’d needed; they were basic ingredients.

“I remember when we’d come down here and play as kids. Your Gran would get so mad!” Rhonda laughed while chopping mushrooms. I smiled at her, picturing when she was a little girl, with big curly brown hair.

Rhonda looked different now, with white hair and blue eyes. She came from a nontraditional family, and that impacted her witchcraft. She’d chosen to follow a nontraditional route, and practiced alternative magic and body alteration, magic that wasn’t outlawed, but wasn’t encouraged either. The body alterations changed her appearance over the years. She enhanced herself with tattoos of old ruins; some made her stronger, while others made her less vulnerable to hexes and curses.

Over the years, it had become difficult to tell what was different about Rhonda. But there was something different, something other about her appearance. She was beautiful, but odd.

“It’s crazy that we used to be little girls playing down here. Trying to make up our own potions, no clue what we were doing. And here you are, having a baby of your own.”

She gave me a radiant smile and rubbed her belly. “I can’t believe that I’ll have a baby in two months! Can you imagine me being trusted with a baby? I’m so excited though, and Oliver is going to be such a wonderful dad.” She scooped up her mushrooms into a bowl and placed them on a scale.

“You and Oliver are gonna be great parents. And you’ve got an excellent support system around you when you need help.” Rhonda’s baby shower was two months ago, and there were more people there than I could imagine. A first-generation baby was special in Witch families. It showed vitality that the family would continue and prosper.

“I know; my family is so excited. My parents have gotten us so much baby stuff I’m running out of places to put it! I am worried about Oliver, though. He’s been fretting about whether he’ll be a good father.”

“It makes sense to me that he’d be worried about that. I mean, every new parent worries about it. But Oliver grew up without a father, so he didn’t have someone to learn from. He has such a kind heart, though. I think he’ll do well,” I said.

“I keep telling him that. But no matter what I say, he still worries. I guess he’ll just have to wait and see for himself.” She gave me a weary smile. I knew it was more than just Oliver she was worried about. She was worried about being a good mom, too. Human babies were difficult, needing to be fed every few hours, changed, and everything else. Plus, parents had to figure out how to take care of themselves among all that. But Witch babies were another story. Odd things happened around Witch babies. They’re crying? Now your sink is broken, spraying water everywhere. They’re hungry? All the lights in the house burnt out. Witch babies were a handful.

“I’ve got all my mushrooms chopped and weighted. Anything else need done?”

“Nope. I just finished measuring these morning dew drops.” I grabbed the ingredients and carried them over to the little bench that had the book. I read off the list, making sure we had everything before we began. “Looks like we’ve got everything. Now, when you add ingredients to the cauldron, I won’t be able to help you. The person speaking the incantation on the recipe must be the only one to make it. You’ll have to add the first ingredient, as it’s listed on the recipe, speak the incantation, stir three times clockwise, then continue with the next ingredient.” I said.

“I think I understand. And if I make a mistake?”

“I’ll watch to see if you do. This potion is for beginners, so nothing negative should happen to us. But it could affect the person who uses it.” I thought of the man upstairs. He can’t afford for us to make a mistake.

“OK. When do I begin?” Rhonda asked.

“Whenever you’re ready. But once you start, I can’t speak till after you’re done.”

“I’ll begin now.” She grabbed the first ingredient, morning dew, and dumped it into the cauldron. Rhonda began chanting, reading the words from the book. Then she stirred three times clockwise. She continued, while I watched for errors. But Rhonda was a skilled Witch, and although she wasn’t well versed in potion making; she was used to reading instructions.

Mistakes in magic were dangerous. A spell spoken incorrectly could backfire to whoever cast it. Potion that was brewed with the wrong steps could turn explosive. A Witch could curse themselves if they weren’t careful. In training, a Witch was taught that preparation was key to all magic. Preparation of everything, from the environment, ingredients, and pronunciation, was all imperative to magic.

Gran had enforced a simple ideology in me when I was in training: an impatient Witch is a dead Witch.

It was clear from watching Rhonda that this was true of her own training. She was slow and calculated with her movements. Reading the recipe carefully, she double checked the ingredient in her hand. Fiddlehead ferns. She dumped them into the cauldron, chanted, and began stirring.

A green plume rose from the cauldron and the scent of pine and earthy mushrooms filled my nose. The potion was made using things from the forest, and the scent matched. I imagined that the taste would be the essence of the woods.

Rhonda turned to me with her brows raised and shrugged.

“That’s the last of the instructions. Can we speak now?” she asked.

“Yep! You did great! I didn’t see any mistakes, and the potion smells like it should. What do you think? Did it turn out how you remember?”

“I remember the green cloud, and it tasted like dirt. Smells like dirt, so I think it’s right.” She squealed and clapped. “I haven’t made a potion in so long I was worried I would mess it up! You’re sure I did it, right?”

“I didn’t catch any mistakes. Let’s bottle this up and see if it helps.” I grabbed a large jar with a spigot, and using a ladle, we filled it from the cauldron. I poured a small amount into a separate bottle, and we hurried upstairs.