Torches

Charlie Anderson

    "Okay, when do we leave?"

    "Oh, dear! Not so quickly. Rest a bit and relax." She tapped my hand gently. "I'll make us another cup of tea and we can talk of nonsense. We can set out tomorrow, but I'm afraid I only can take you to him. After you have met him, I must leave. I want to be home before dark."

    When I opened my mouth, she waved me off quickly.

    "He can give you a room. But like all Wizards and Witches in their crafts, he does ask for a small fee."

    "What's the fee?" I asked skeptically.

    She grinned gently.

    "To know one of your darkest memories after they're unlocked."

    I stared in utter stunned silence.

    "Isn't that a bit... creepy?"

    She shook her head and sipped her tea.

    "Not at all. He likes to see what drives a person to such lengths. He's writing a book about this subject and studying the many affects it can have on people."

    "Do you know why the two people he cured had erased their memories?"

    She laughed.

    "Well, the first was an accident. We believe the poor chap was trying to capture a memory and make it permanent so he may never forget. He might have been drunk at the time as well." She shrugged. "And the second was a young woman. She was trying to hide the fact she was cheating on her husband with her maid. Without realizing the spell completely removes the memories of her lover, she completely forgot she ever loved the maid. The maid herself brought her Mistress to him and asked him to fix her. When she came back to it, her life had fallen apart. Her husband left her and the maid turned her back on her Mistress when she picked her husband over her lover. Though not traumatic as it could be, they were shaken by the side effects the spell causes. One spell had caused them to lose track of time and do odd things that frightened themselves. Of course, after the spell was lifted and they went to some much needed therapy with Charlie, they were as right as rain."

    "He's a therapist?"

    "Does wonders." Nancy beamed. "I'm sure you'll be safe in his hands."

    The idea of being alone with some older man I'd hardly met made my stomach churn uncomfortably. I had never really cared for the company of a man alone. My skin begins to crawl, I get nauseous, and panic slowly begins to bubble until I feel like an animal trapped in a cage. Maybe it has to do with one of the voids I created. That's what scares me. Do I really want to know why I react to men so dramatically? Had something truly horrific happened? Had I been beaten? Manipulated? Starved? I shied away from one reoccurring thought that always made me queasy. Raped?

    I shuddered and attempted to hide it as I gulped the remainder of my tea.

    I didn't really want to go home in the slightest. Even if I knew that figure was somehow linked with the void I'd pried at, I was scared of going back and being greeted by it. I was scared of not knowing what I'll do if I space out and hurt myself or someone. I was scared of shoving away the carpet and coffee table and doing another spell without knowing. I was scared.

    She offered me a room, which I took a little too eagerly. I had hoped the change of scenery would keep me from spacing out or reduce the panic bubbling up inside of me. That night I didn't wake with terrors and only woke up when a gentle rap on my door made me stir. I was greeted by her smiling face and a cup of coffee in her feeble hands.

    "Morning. I'm afraid breakfast we will have to be quick, dear. We'll want for you to return tomorrow if possible. So the earlier, the better."

    We scarfed down toast and scorching coffee before setting off. To be honest I thought the journey would be on foot with how she jabbered on all morning of making haste. Instead she led me to an old, rusty station wagon. Its breaks squeaked and the engine made a terrifying wheezy hiss every time she accelerated. I clutched onto the doors handle as discretely as possible at every jostle or groan the older car made. Ms. Hodkin barely took notice as she beamed and babbled on about "dear Charlie". She was elated, rambling on like a proud mother would of her own child.

    "How long is the drive?" I raised my voice over the sharp hiss of the engine and her constant babble.

    She beamed widely.

    "Only an hour drive, dear."

    "Then why such the rush? You woke me up at dawn for an hour drive?"

    I saw her grin falter slightly, her bony fingers tightening onto the steering wheel.

    "Well, you see, dear..." She hesitated for a moment. When she cast me a glance, it was filled with pity. "Breaking one memory spell takes time. More than five? Or maybe even ten? Possibly a whole day or two. This spell, however easy enough to cast, is tricky to break. It takes time to see where its weeded, what can break it, and how difficult that particular memory is to find. The worse the memory; the harder it is to locate and extract from the spell. But I'm sure your memories aren't that bad. Are they?"

    She looked at me then, skeptical.

    I couldn't answer. I didn't know. I did a good enough job to forget completely what I'd pushed away so long. Even if I wanted to tamper with it the spell attacks back to keep the memory in its void.

    "I don't know." I muttered as I clutched onto the door again.

    "I'm sure it isn't." She said brightly. "I'm sure he'll be able to locate them easily, with your guidance of course. So you'll need to tell him exactly when memories start and when everything his a bit foggy for you."

    She knew nothing of what it was like. Foggy? There wasn't a haze or fog covering the memories. The spell had created a black, cold void. It swallows them whole and leaves in its place temporary relief. I had wanted that small spurt of relief so much, I practically ran towards it every time something awful occurred.

    The remainder of the drive was spent in complete silence from then on. I think she knew I needed my space, or I had somehow offended her. I didn't bother to fill the silence or ask if it was something I said. My thoughts were all on the end of the journey ahead of us. A knot had formed in the pit of my stomach by the time we found ourselves far away from the town and on the outskirts of country back roads.

    This was it... I'd soon be free from the drafty voids and the constant space out episodes. I could finally embrace who I was and maybe start again. I could even try to get back into the Coven's inner circle. I could have people surrounding me and drive away the solitude I had created.

    A quaint little two-story house came into view as I pulled from my thoughts. It was weather beaten a bit, its white paint covered with smudges of filth and years of withering. The front porch sagged a bit and looked out over the freshly tilled fields where small dirt roads wound into the distance. Small freshly planted trees were planted along the broken up pavement. Every bump was brutal on Ms. Hodkin's little car. The driveway stopped just a could yards from the porch, where a little stoned path was laid out and flower beds were freshly weeded.

    When the engine was cut, there was still a ringing in my ears where the engine had once been roaring. I clambered out of the car and stood feeling exposed as Ms. Hodkin wobbled up the path towards the porch. She hadn't realized I wasn't following her until I didn't answer one of her many questions in her constant babble. I stared up at the house, where black drapes were drawn open and the dawns fading light slowly turned into a steady beam against the glass facing me.

    "Faith?" She cooed gently. It took me a minute before I met her gaze as she held out a reassuring hand towards me. "It's okay. I'm here. Nothing will happen. He knows we are coming. I'm sure he's been waiting since I gave him a call last night."

    A cold panicked knot twisted violently in the pit of my stomach and made me want to vomit on the spot. What if I can't trust him? What if he can't help me? What if he makes it worse? What if he's horrible? What if... what if...

    I stared at her hand as if it was foreign. I kept telling myself to just take it, yet my head kept telling me to get back into the car. My foot took a numbed edge forward and broke whatever trance I put myself under. Ashamed of my own fear, I grabbed the old woman's hand and allowed her to lead me across the porch.

    Before she could even knock, a little slit of a white blind popped open and then suddenly the door was being jerked open in front of her raised fist.

    "Nuncy!" His voice was more like a cry of delight as he pulled the frail woman into a bear hug.

    "Charlie! It's been so long. How have you been?"

    "Good. Good." He grinned, his dark eyes dancing as he held her at arms length. "You?"

    "Not bad! Charlie, this is the the woman I was talking about."

    Ms. Hodkin swept and arm towards me just as the man realized I was there. He wasn't what I expected at all. I thought I'd be meeting a little middle-aged or grey-haired old man, with wobbly knees and a crooked back. Not a sturdy man only a four inches taller than my five foot height. Nor did I think he'd be Spanish. His features were sharp, his law-line and high cheekbones prominent beneath his honey toned skin. His glossy eyes were wide and a rich chocolate brown that danced between myself and Ms. Hodkin. He was short, as I'd expected, but wide chested with a narrow waist and thin limbs that had slightly bulging muscles for biceps. His nose was a bit big, but made up for it with his plump lips that pulled back into a white-toothed grin as I stood rooted in place behind Ms. Hodkin. His hair was black and chopped short, gelled into short spikes in the front and tapered to a nice trim. He wore a polo shirt that hung from his frame oddly attractively and a pair of old jeans just before his worn sneakers.

    "Faith, this is Charlie Anderson." Ms. Hodkin waved a hand from me to him. "And Charlie, this is Faith Bevarton."

    Charlie stepped around Ms. Hodkin and stretched out a hand to me. His hand was callused looking, scarred and his thumbs were a bit shorted and stubbier than his fingers. I could see the large veins running through his hand and into his wrist, where they slowly began to intertwine with hidden muscles beneath the short sleeves of his blue polo shirt. I never thought I'd see the day when I thought a young man wearing an old mans polo shirt was attractive.

    Against my better judgement, I grabbed his hand. His hand was softer than I thought, his shaky a bit gentle as he smiled warmly at me. It was then I could smell his cologne, an AXE sort of body spray or something strong smelling. Normally I detested certain cologne scents, but this one was reassuring and smelled wonderful as I forced my own smile back.

    "I'm Carlos. But my friends call me Charlie." I could hear his accent more as he spoke. Certain words were clipped and other's sounded monotone, but even then his voice wasn't something I could exactly describe. It wasn't squeaky or deep, yet it had a masculine undertone that turned a bit rasped. "Come in! Come in! I'm sure you have questions and you'd like to ask me."

    He dropped my hand and turned, touching Ms. Hodkin's shoulder as he passed her and pushed open the door for us to enter.

    "Are you hungry?" He asked asked as Ms. Hodkin followed him without hesitation.

    Her response was a muffled laugh as they left me on the front porch. I eventually followed when I heard my name being called by Ms. Hodkin. I shut the door after myself and followed the hall into a little sitting room where Ms. Hodkin had already seated herself on a floral couch and was nursing a little cup of black coffee.

    He was no where in sight as I took a hesitant seat beside her.

    "Don't be shy, dear. He doesn't bite. Such a sweet man." She beamed pridefully as she took another dainty sip.

    "I thought he'd be old." I admitted quietly.

    "Oh, no!" Ms. Hodkin giggled and patted my knee. "He's only twenty-three. A child yet in my old eyes."

    On cue he entered with two coffee mugs in hand and held one out to me. Not wanting to be rude, I took it from him and cradled it in my hands as he took a seat across from us.

    "So, a memory spell?" He mused as he cast me a curious glance and I quickly looked down. "Did you do it intentionally or not?"

    "I believe she did it intentionally." Ms. Hodkin chirped at once and gave a gentle squeeze to my knee reassuringly. "You see, her whole family had died at a young age. So I wouldn't blame the child for seeking an outlet for her pain-"

    "I didn't do it because of my family." I stared into my mug as the black liquid still stirred within. I could feel his gaze on me and I felt my cheeks suddenly burn as I hurriedly sipped my coffee to prolong the silence.

    "Do you have an idea why you had?" He probed.

    "I just know it wasn't my family." I mumbled after I lowered my mug.

    "Something terrible? Or something you just wanted to avoid?"

    I felt the familiar tug within my stomach and the lump in my throat as a cold draft caressed my mind. I grimaced away from the voids and stole another swig from my mug.

    "It's okay if you don't have an inkling of what you might have erased. It just means you are truly a talented caster. If one can fully erase a complete memory without even a little flicker or even what drew you to, then I tip my hat to you. Most have a sense of deja vu. Some even have little glimpses throughout the day and others the memory spell can fade if not done properly. It seems I have a challenge on my hands."

    I could hear the wonder in his voice as Ms. Hodkin beamed almost proud to have a talented caster sitting beside her. They slowly began to chat among themselves, allowing me to empty my cup and stare around his little living room as they caught up on the years they hadn't seen each other. I don't know how long they chatted before they drew me back to their conversation.

    "Faith?"

    I looked up from the little hand woven rug beneath our feet to meet Ms. Hodkin's gaze as she shakily began to stand beside me.

    "I better be off, but you're in good hands. Don't worry yourself. If anyone can help you, he can."

    She leaned down and gave my cheek a wet kiss as she patted my other cheek with her bony hand. Her smile was watery as she quickly looked away. There were tears in her eyes suddenly as she gestured for Charlie to escort her towards the door.

    "Could I have a word with you?"

    He nodded, his brows knit in confusion as he stood and looped a sturdy arm around hers. I waited until they were out of sight before standing and creeping towards the hall, mug still in hand as I tilted my head to eavesdrop.

    "-careful, Charlie. She's fragile." Ms. Hodkin's pleasant chipper mood was now a mess of babbling thick tears. "She's gone through a lot. She's got no one. I don't know what happened to her, but I fear it could break her. There has been rumors surrounding her time at the Jinks household. If what I hear is true, then I don't blame her for putting those spells on herself. I tried to tell the Coven, but they only brushed the rumors under the rug. If you can just break the spells, then we can truly uncover what happened to that poor girl."

    "I understand." His voice was gentle and reassuring. "I'll do what I can. Don't worry, Nuncy. She's in safe hands."

    I hurried back to my seat as they said their goodbyes. I clutched the mug to my chest as the knot in my stomach tightened painfully. Something awful happened. I felt the void expand, its cool hand groping around the edges of its mass as panic slowly began to weld up inside of my chest like a heavy sheet of ice. I wanted to rip it off my chest to breathe. It was crushing me as I heard the door click shut and his unmistakable footsteps as he came back to the living room.

    I looked up from my mug as he came into view and our eyes locked. All laughter was gone from his eyes, instead they were glossed with pity and even curiosity.

    "Are you hungry?" He cleared his throat as he retrieved his mug and Ms. Hodkin's. "I made some rice, frijoles refritos, and pork. I can get you-"

    "I'm okay."

    I tried to cover my anxiety, but my response was almost a rasp as my voice broke. I attempted to swallow the lump in my throat as my stomach churned violently.

    "Something smooth to drink then?" He inquired gently as he held a hand out for my mug.

    Not wanting to be rude again, I merely nodded as I handed over my mug. In response I received a reassuring smile that he wasn't offended as he left into another doorway. I heard clanking and even a blender as I sat alone staring at my hands. I had to lock my hands beneath my thighs to keep them from trembling as I shied away from the void threateningly getting colder until I shivered and goose flesh arose on my arms.

    When he returned he had two mugs in hand, both steaming and smelling sweet and somewhat like banana. I released my hands to outstretch my hands and saw them tremble as I quickly reclaimed my mug in hopes he hadn't noticed. I stared down into the liquid that was yellow and full of what looked like little black seeds. My face was flushed in embarrassment, I saw his face and he clearly saw and feeling sorry for me. I didn't want his pity. I just wanted to be fixed.

    "Atol de platano." He murmured, grinning as he took a sip from his steaming mug.

    "What is it?" I looked up from the sweet smelling liquid.

    "It's plantain." He took a log gulp from his mug and grinned as the steam turned his honey cheeks red. "Sugar, cinnamon, plantain, and a couple of spices. It warms you right up."

    Hesitating, I took a tentative sip. I'd never even heard of plantain. It tasted like a mixture of banana and cinnamon, yet it didn't. It reminded me of oatmeal, yet it didn't. I'd never tasted anything like it before, yet somehow I did.

    "What's plantain?"

    "It's like a banana. But it's mainly for cooking." He took another gulp. "Do you like it?"

    I was half nursing, half allowing myself to savor the flavor when he asked. It was better than I expected by the appearance. It looked clumpy, but it was smooth like a warmth smoothie. It was sweet, but not too sweet. It warmed up my chest and my knotted stomach gave way as the steam caressed my cheeks and chased away the cold hands searching my mind. I wasn't completely relaxed, but it was soothing as I kept the mug to my lips.

    "Yes." I looked up ashamed, forgetting to answer as I smiled warily. "It's really good."

    He returned my forced smile with a genuine one.

    "Thank you."

    We sat in silence as we nursed our drinks. I didn't know what to say or how to ask when we should start the process. He sat back in his armchair, staring up at the ceiling in thought as he drank from his mug. I watched the Adams-Apple bob up and down and had to quickly look away when he felt my gaze.

    "I suppose you're wondering where to begin?"

    I nodded as he sat his mug on the little side table beside him.

    "With my other patients, they were easy. If you want my honesty, I don't know where to start either. They were all willing and jumped to the opportunity to be helped. But with you," I met his gaze fully as his brows furrowed in concentration, "you don't want to be cured. Do you?"

    I stared at him. I didn't know what I wanted at all. I wanted it, yet I didn't. I was being split in two.

    "I don't know." I tore away from his gaze and peered into my half empty cup. "I want to... I really do. But then I feel the void and it scares me. I don't know what I want. I'm scared of what what's inside of the void."

    I looked up shocked at my own words.

    "Truth potion." He admitted as he gestured with his mug towards mine. "I wanted your honesty. If you really didn't want me to do it, I wouldn't. I don't like how Ms. Hodkin pressures people. She mean's well, don't get me wrong." He sighed at my horrified face. "But I'd rather have the honest truth than to have you do something to please someone else. I asked her if you truly wanted it gone, and it appears, you're only half in and half out of the door. I can't do what I have to if you aren't all in. If you aren't willing to help me break it, it could cause damage to your mind. If you don't want it gone, then it won't break."

    I didn't know if I should feel violated for the potion, or relief he wasn't forcing me to break it if I didn't want to. I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted to know, but I was scared to learn the truth and wish I'd never listened to Ms. Hodkin. It was taboo to use in the first place and this would be my only chance to break it before the Coven learns. Yet, I didn't care what they thought of me if I kept my little jail I created.

    But then I remembered the times I spaced out and came back to bloody hands. The times I sat in the pentacle and cast the spell. I began to remember my grandmother and how she turned out from years and years of doing the spell. Did she do it so often because it would fade? Or had something happened so ghastly she often had to cast to keep it at bay?

    He waited patiently as he drained his mug and eyed me curiously.

    "How old are you, Fe?"

    "Fe?"

    He grinned.

    "I mean Faith."

    "Twenty-one. How old are you?"

    I already knew, but since he was probing me, I figured I'd do it back.

    "Twenty-eight." He sat his empty mug beside me. "You're so young. Most of my patients have years on them before they use that kind of spell. Something awful had to happen for you to cast it. Are you sure you're ready to relive what you tried so hard to get rid of?"

    Was I? The lump lodged itself back into my throat again as the tremble reclaimed my hands. The void once again began to grope as I looked back into my mug. The void would only get worse. I could feel it. Last night was only a reminder of what could happen if I keep dabbling in this kind of witchcraft.

    I knew it would hurt. I knew it wouldn't be easy. But I was also tired of hiding from the void. I was tired of tiptoeing around the void as if it controls me. It does. I hated to admit it, even to myself. It would only get worse.

    I looked up, blinking back tears beginning to brim hastily in hopes he hadn't noticed. I avoided his gaze.

    "I'm ready."

    I knew what I said was the truth. I knew I was ready, even if it scared the hell out of me. I was ready to get rid of the void. I was ready to find out what I'd done to cast such a taboo spell on myself. I was ready to claim back my own mind and all the memories I had erased.

    "I'm ready." I felt my own determination build as I finally met his gaze.

    He remained silent, no longer smiling as he clasped his hands together in front of him.

    "Let us begin."