Ghost of O'Leary House

Chapter Nineteen

“Since you’ve put it off for if you have, we’ll have to wait until the time is right.” Grandma said, finishing off her tea. “Right now, my mother is free to gather blood for herself all she wants, but she can only strike so often. With your parents in the hospital they should be safe from her attacks.”

“And there’s no way you can control her? I thought you were a witch?” David asked.

Grandma pointed at David’s swollen hand with a slender finger. “The trait is being transferred to you now that you’ve opened the book and written in it. Soon I’ll just be another old woman, and you’ll be the witch.”

“What! No, I can’t be a witch!” David declared, standing up so suddenly it sent his chair toppling backwards.

“Yes, you can, and yes you will. You meddled in affairs that weren’t yours to meddle in and consequently you’ve bumped me out of my place,” Grandma said with no heat to her voice. She almost sounded relieved, though her voice was strained. “I set a few things into action over the years that you’ll have to look over, but we’ll get to that later. For now, we’ll just gather the necessary components for your ritual. We will need to do it when the New Moon is at its apex.”

 David looked down at the table, slowly pulling his chair back up to it and plopping down in his seat. “Does this mean I’ll have to live here now?”

“I’m afraid it does,” Grandma said.

“But I have school back home! And the other people here in town will get mad if they find out I’m a witch!” David cried.

“They’ll already be cross with you for being my grandson and standing up for me, I imagine. But don’t worry, none of them will act on anything,” Grandma said, reaching across the table to grasp his hand in hers. “As for school, there’s a local university you can transfer to.”

“So, the stories about you cursing people are true?” David asked, dreading the answer.

Grandma laughed at that. “Cursing seems a little extreme, but I have altered some people’s destinies. Mostly at their request even!”

“You mean you help people?” David asked.

“Many people,” Grandma chuckled, pushing herself up from her chair. “Now let’s look at that swelling, the salve should have reduced it considerably.”

“I can’t believe people sneak into your garden and plant Witch-Hazel…” David said, walking around the table over to the kitchen sink.

“It’s a burden to live with, that’s the truth. When you’ve grown as old as I have, you’ll be able to smell it, so you won’t be surprised.” Grandma said, unwrapping the poultices and gauze from David’s hands and forearms. “Oh my, that looks much better!”

The skin was blotchy and red, but no longer swollen. David breathed a sigh of relief. He flexed his hands and smiled as the pain was minimal; he wouldn’t have to wander around looking like a mummy!

“Now, let’s go out to the garden and I’ll begin teaching you about the various plants I grow. Most of them are magical in nature and can’t be found anywhere close by, so you must learn to tend to them.”

“Why? Won’t you be tending to them?” David asked as he followed his Grandmother out the backdoor.

“Oh my, no. Not for long anyway.” She chortled before waving at the exotic flora that decorated her backyard. “Now pay attention, and don’t be afraid to ask questions.”

The next two hours went by quickly enough, with Grandma naming certain plants and listing their properties to him, as well as how to care for them. She told him where in the world they grew and how to get more if the plants died on him. She stressed how unlikely that was if careful maintenance was always observed but admitted that it did indeed happen. Once the sun had reached the highest point in the sky, she stood up from the dirt and wiped her hands on her apron before looking over at David.

“Now I’m brewing up something for a neighbor lady that I could use your help with, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“No, Grandma, I’ll help if I can,” David replied, wiping his own hands clean.

“It’s a local woman, Miss Hanson. She’s having trouble carrying a child to term, and I’ve offered to brew her some draughts that should make it easier for her. They require the blood of a witch, as well as that of a child. I figure if we were to slice your fingers for the potions that it would work both ways, making the substance a bit more potent.”

“Oh,” David said, not really knowing how he felt about having himself sliced open to bleed into something someone would drink. “But I’m not a child…”

“Are you a virgin?” Grandma asked abruptly, causing David to blush. He thought back to everything he’d done with various girls, and how close he’d come… but no, he was still a virgin. He nodded after a moment, earning chuckles from Grandma. “Good, then you’re a child in the eyes of magic.”

“Now don’t worry, it’s only a few drops… and once we finish it, the mixture will be more along the lines of pea soup, though a tad bit fouler in odor. I made it once for her husband a few years ago, as it also aids in natural healing… I still believe he’s mad at her about that.”

“You mean this is for Miley’s mom?” David asked, taking a wild guess.

“Why yes! You met little Miley I take it?” Grandma asked as she opened the door to the kitchen, allowing David to rush in before her.

“Yeah, she wasn’t so little though,” David muttered, earning another chuckle from his Grandmother. “Seemed quiet, but nice.” 

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Grandma asked as she walked over to the sink, reaching underneath the island in the center of the kitchen to retrieve a deep-set iron bowl.

David flushed slightly. “Yeah, her and the other girl with her, Susan? Never caught her last name.”

“Because when her mother first came to me, I made a bargain with her,” Grandma said calmly as she placed the iron pot on the stove, turning on the heat. “Go to the pantry and bring me the bag of pink petals, the long thistle sticks and the paper sack with small black peas in it.”

David stared at his Grandma for a moment before he began to move mechanically, fetching the requested items and bringing them over to her, setting them on the counter. Grandma reached into the sack with the black peas and held one up for David to inspect before popping it into her mouth with a smile.

“Carrion Beetle eyes,” she said with a laugh as David’s face turned green. “Oh, come on now boy, lighten up! They’re good for you. Promote good kidney function and act as a counteragent to the Nightshade petals I’m going to have you crush.”

“Crush?” David asked.

“Yes, we need the pulp of the Nightshade flowers petals for this mixture, now here,” she reached up into a cabinet and brought down a mortar and pestle. “You can crush the petals in here with seven beetle eyes per petal. It should make a grey paste. Do that until you can fill half a cup with the substance.”

David did as he was told, all the while thinking back to what the teens had said during their brief visit. He remembered their rhyme, about the “unholy portal,” and began to wonder what exactly that was. As he dumped the slime into a cup for the third time, he asked his Grandmother about it. She paused in her preparations of the pot, looking at him slightly askew.

“Where did you hear that?” She asked, her tone clipped.

“From the other guys, down at the pond.” He said, worried now that he’d upset her.

“Nasty little things,” she hissed, tossing in a handful of spices into the pot, which began to issue forth a roiling brown cloud. “Let this be a lesson to you about being a witch: you may help the people of this town time and time again, but when they push the envelope a little too far and you retaliate, you become the boogeyman for all their nightmares!”

“What’s the unholy portal?” David asked once more, curious.

Grandma sighed. “It’s… a complex issue. It’s how I command my mother to go out and do my bidding. It’s how I seal deals and bargains, enforcing them even if the other party tries to renege on their end of the deal. It’s the last thing I’ll teach you before you become a fully-fledged Witch.”

“I don’t know if I want to know that,” David said, uncertainty in his voice.

“Neither did I. The price to use it is steep, but necessary. At least that’s what my mother told me when she taught it to me.” Grandma said her voice soft, and sad.

The two continued their work on the magical draught for over an hour before David’s Grandmother declared it a success, pouring it out into four wine bottles before corking them. She took each bottle and slid it into a drawer beneath the counter, where it was dark and cool.

“Now,” she said, clapping her hands. “How about some cookies?”