The Gift of Magic

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The case slid across the table and would have fallen on the floor, but Peter stopped it and slid it back between them. He didn't speak, just sat and watched Morgan, waiting for her to calm down. Morgan was anything but calm, her mind was racing trying to make sense of what she'd just seen, trying to find a rational explanation. Part of her was tempted to reach for the book again, to open it's cover and see what happened, but she clasped hers hands together tightly in her lap, ignoring the tingling in the tips of her fingers.

"The words, they moved, they changed, and those are the same words I saw yesterday.” She finally stuttered, still staring at the book.

Now Peter was confused, “Yesterday? Where?” He asked, his attention so focused on her she couldn't help but look up and meet his eyes.

Until then she hadn't really looked at Peter, but when she looked into his eyes, it was like looking into her father's. They were the same green with little flecks of hazel as his and in that instant, she knew that what Peter had told her was true, he was her cousin. The intensity in his eyes was so much like her father's when he got going on one of his lectures, that she had to accept Peters words as the truth.

“Morgan, where did you see those words?” Peter asked again, impatient for her answer.

Morgan looked down at the book again, then pulled it closer. “They were in a book a lot like this one. I came across it at work yesterday. I work at a private library restoring old books, it was part of a private collection that was donated to the library.” She explained, unable to stop herself from touching the book again, not as shocked this time by the tingling in her fingers.

A frown briefly appeared on Peters face, “Morgan, do you know what this book is?”

“You mean besides being hundreds of years old and in perfect condition?” Morgan asked, avoiding the question because answering it would bring up so many more.

“It's a grimoire, a book of spells used by witches. They're handed down from generation to generation, added to year after year.” Peter said, then waited while Morgan processed that information.

Morgans mind refused to acknowledge what was right before her, “What are you trying to tell me?”

Peter sighed, he'd thought that it would be easier than this, but Morgan was being stubborn, refusing to believe what was right in front of her eyes. “I'm trying to tell you that you come from a family of witches. Our great-great grandmother a couple times over was the sister of Martha Corey, when things began to go bad for her and her husband in Salem, she sent her sister Mary away to save her. Mary and her husband settled on a little island off the coast far enough from Salem that no one followed them, thanks to her sister, she managed to escape persecution and lived a full life.”

Morgan looked around her, needing a few minutes to absorb what he was trying to tell her. Everything around her looked normal, people eating and drinking, traffic moving along on the street, even the hot dog vendor on the corner was right where he should have been. But she felt disoriented, like she was suddenly someplace she didnt recognize, so she did the only thing she could and rejected his words.

“I don't believe you. This has to be some kind of cruel joke. I can promise you that I'm not a witch and neither was my father. He was a scholar, a man of science, and above all else perfectly normal.” She finally managed to say, becoming angry at the entire situation.

Peter was happy to see that anger, it meant that she was beginning to believe. “We don't call ourselves witches, we like the word healer.” Peter said, smiling at her when her mouth came open and stayed that way.

“You're a witch?” She asked, unable to hide the incredulity in her voice.

“I'm a healer, and so are you.”

“Now I know this is a joke.” Morgan said, getting up to leave.

“Morgan it's not a joke, I promise you that. If things had been different I would have taken you to Corey Island and introduced you to all this slowly, but there isn't time for that. I know this is going to sound crazy on top of what I've already told you, but you're in danger.”

Morgan could only stare at him, even more sure that this was part of some elaborate practical joke, people didn't just show up at your door, tell you that you're a witch, then warn you that you were in danger. She stood up again, opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of his joke, but his phone buzzed where it was sitting on the table.

He grabbed it up and looked at it, then stood himself, “I'm sorry I've got to go. Can we meet here again tomorrow morning, I'm sure you have lots of questions for me.” He said, throwing some money on the table.

Morgan didn't know what to say, apparently Peter wasn't willing to give up the ruse yet. “I don't know, I might not be able to make it.” She stuttered.

“Well, I'll be here waiting for you in the morning.” Peter said, then turned and walked out of the café, leaving Morgan staring after him.

It wasn't until she looked down at the table that she realized he'd left the book sitting on the table, the lid of the case open, and the name Corey clear as day on the cover. She felt an immediate pull from the book, and quickly slammed the case shut and latched it, then stood staring at it as if it was alive. Finally, she picked up the case, relieved when her hands didn't tingle, and walked out of the café, unable to leave the book sitting on the table.

Peter walked away from the café pleased with himself, he'd achieved both of his goals this morning. Not only had he introduced himself to his cousin, he'd managed to leave her with the grimoire, and he was sure that she wouldn't be able to resist opening it again. He smiled not only because of the look on her face when she'd opened the book, but because no one since her father had been able to read the spells in the book and Morgan had clearly been able to do so. One of the families most precious and powerful tools had been sitting useless on a shelf for more than twenty years, but Morgan was the one who could change all that.

He'd heard rumors of her power, how at only the age of three, Morgan had levitated. That by four she could move objects, tell the future, harness the power of the elements, the stories went on and on. But today he could understand why, hidden deep inside her was some very powerful magic, the kind of magic the family hadn't seen for generations. It practically radiated off of her, but she was completely unaware of it, which was just as dangerous as the evil the family faced.

He'd long ago been assigned the task of bringing Morgan back to Corey Island when the time came, but he'd never imagined that the task might prove so difficult. Still, she hadn't walked away from him, even though she'd started to several times, he had to take that as a positive sign. Hopefully deep down she felt something, that the magic in her was beginning to awaken after all these years. It had been a risk to send her off with the book, the spells it contained could be dangerous in her untrained hands, but it had seemed the best way to convince her.

Time was running out, the family needed her, and with her skill level it could be months before she was ready. Plus, she was in danger, the sooner he convinced her to go with him the sooner she'd be safe, protected by the island and the family until she was ready to take her place as head of the coven. Ready to face the evil that had been threatening the family since her father had taken her and disappeared.

Morgan had so much on her mind after her meeting with her cousin that she'd forgotten about the mess in her apartment until she walked in the door, then the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. Surveying the mess, she set the case down on the floor by the door and went into the kitchen to make coffee, the first thing she had to do was clean up her apartment. Until that was done, she knew that she'd be too distracted to think logically, and right now she knew that was what was needed, along with another blast of caffeine.

Refusing to think of anything more than restoring order to her apartment, she stood in the center of the living room trying to decide where to begin. None of the furniture was where it was supposed to be, her book case stood against the wall empty, the books piled on the floor in front of it, and worst of all her precious plants had toppled to the floor. As she worked it occurred to her that although things had been strewn everywhere, nothing had broken, a small miracle she was happy to accept.

But she was having a hard time concentrating, the case sitting by the door was calling to her, the temptation to open the case so strong that she'd walked over to it several times only to walk away again. To distract herself from thinking about the grimoire and how the words had moved and changed, she thought about the book she had been working on at the library yesterday. When she'd touched that book nothing had happened, when she'd opened the pages the words hadn't behaved strangely, it had appeared to be just an old book like thousands she'd worked on in the past.

Unbidden the words she'd seen in both books came to her mind, each and every one etched into her consciousness as if burned there forever, she could even picture what they looked like on the page. Thinking back to the night before, she carefully reviewed what she'd done after she got home, realizing that she'd done nothing out of the ordinary other than reciting the spell a couple of times wishing that it would actually work, she looked at the case again wondering what else was written on its pages.

The living room was beginning to look more normal, but the contents of her bookcase were still strewn all over the floor. Bending to begin picking them up, she found herself envisioning what it would be like to control that spell, to be able to move objects without lifting a finger, and without realizing it she began to say the spell out loud. She'd said it three times before she stopped, noticing a strange buzzing in the room.

Then right before she reached to pick up a book, it lifted off the floor and set itself down exactly where she would have placed it on the shelf. She stared at the book shocked, then pictured the next book in her mind until it lifted off the ground and hovered before her widened eyes. Picturing the book on the shelf was all it took for the book to slide itself into the spot she'd imagined. Heart pounding, she envisioned the book case full and all at once the books on the floor began to move as if they were in a hurry to be shelved, flying all around her until she ducked afraid that she'd be hurt.

When she straightened back up the book case was full, the books exactly where she'd imagined them. She got to her feet, and slowly walked to the hallway, then looked around her apartment, imagining it the way it had been before. Then feeling slightly silly, she said the spell three times and wished that things would return to their proper place, always keeping the vision of her clean apartment in her mind. Nothing happened for a long time, and she'd just about given up when her clothes began to lift off the ground, floating to the closet as if propelled by unseen hands.