The Witch From Laramie Valley

Explanations

A few minutes later and June rejoined him in the living room of the townhouse with a butcher block and metal tray laid out with pristine teacups on saucers, the covered teapot on top of the giant coaster to one side. She'd also grabbed a few cookies on a plate and added them to the spread. She smiled brightly as she set it down on the coffee table in front of Perry.

He couldn't help smiling back. “Fan of high tea?” he asked playfully, but also because he was curious as hell about this strange woman.

Her smile broadened as she chuckled lightly through her nose, removing the cover and pouring them both a cup of aromatic tea. Her eyes danced with amusement at his question.

“Who isn't?” she rebutted, taking her cup and a cookie and sitting back down.

She watched him a few moments, perplexed that he hadn't taken his cup yet, when it struck her.

“Have you never tried drinking something other than blood?” she asked.

His smile faded and he blinked more than he would have liked, his surprise very clear. No one had ever broached the subject with him so comfortably like that – no one outside his own kind, anyway. It was taboo.

But here was June, a witch, not caring about talking to a vampire about his oh so awkward diet.

Finally, he realized he had yet to answer her. “I- I have,” he stammered, still not quite believing how at ease she could be with this conversation topic, “but it makes me – all vampires, really – sick to our stomach.” He shook his head, remembering for just a moment the last time he'd tried to eat actual food – it had been some kind of fruit, an apple or something, decades ago. All he'd had was one damn bite, and he was writhing in pain for hours.

He came back to the present when June scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Then apparently you've all forgotten how to do it right.” She leaned forward and scooted the saucer – and the cup of steaming tea with it – in his direction. “Go ahead.”

Skeptical couldn't even begin to describe the look Perry gave her. The witch gave a heady laugh, obviously amused at his discomfort. “Seriously. I wouldn't give you something that would hurt you. You guys – vampires, I mean – can tolerate a lot more on your stomach than you think.”

Still frowning, and still very, very skeptical, Perry reached over and took the cup in his hands. It smelled of of flowers and spices, things he'd never really paid attention to before but seemed awfully familiar. Tentatively, he took a small sip of the dark orange liquid. It was steaming hot, but it felt good in his mouth and throat, and the taste was lighter than he expected, given the heavy scent to it. Perry let it wash all the way down his throat before pausing, breathing nervously through his nose and staring off into space as he waited for the pains to start.

Time ticked by.

Nothing happened.

Perry tilted his head in confusion, looking to June for an answer. The witch smiled, satisfied, watching him bring the cup back to his lips.

“It's an herbal infusion,” she answered his wordless question. “Vampires use potions and medicines, right?” He nodded absentmindedly, still reeling as he tasted the tea again. “You can have herbs as long as they aren't too heavy and contain the necessary nutrition.

“That's why vampires have to drink blood,” she went on after a sip from her own cup. “Your bodies lack the necessary anatomy to process heavy foods into energy the same way other beings do. Blood brings you all the nutrition you lack naturally, and over time your bodies have evolved to a point where they are too sensitive for anything but blood.”

Her smile turned sneaky. “But there are other ways.”

Perry chuckled at her tone. “Tell them to me later,” he said as he set down the porcelain tea cup, which was only half full now – he believed her but still didn't want to tempt fate. “I don't want to hear anymore new revelations about myself for now. Tell me about you.”

His chest thumped when her face fell. He had already figured out that June wasn't a fan of talking about herself – she talked about practically anything else – but at times this morning it had seemed like she was downright scared. It was a strange thing, to see someone he knew could decimate an ogre, of all things, to be frightened of anything, but here they sat. Not for the first time this morning, he really wondered what it was she had been through that made her so restless.

Finally, she set her own cup down on the saucer and took a deep breath through her nose. “I said earlier that I'm a witch,” she started off. “Well, witch is a broad term.”

Perry's brown crinkled. “What does that mean?”

“Like...” June paused as she mulled over her next words. “Like an umbrella term. You know there's elves, right?” He nodded. “ Well, elf is an umbrella term also. There's a few different kinds, with their own physical traits and customs.” He continued to nod, remembering the dark taupe Drow he'd worked with earlier in his career. There was a different air to them than the porcelain toned Hador that lined the billboards and runways. Both were beautiful and ethereal, but the Hador seemed bored and superior, while the Drow seemed... dangerous. “Well, witches are the same way. Technically, a witch is anyone who draws their magic directly from the Allmother.”

He gave her a look at that. “The what?”

“The Allmother,” June repeated. “The goddess, Gaia, Mother Nature – everybody seems to call her by a different name. But she's the beginning and the end of our entire world.” She stopped for a moment, gauging his expression. “She's our creator.”

He snorted suddenly. “I didn't take you for the religious type.”

“It's not religion, Perry,” she answered, shaking her head. “It's truth.”