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“Mi can’t help it. Until we can teach yuh how to manage yuh aura, yuh thoughts are open for anyone to hear, which is nuh good. Yuh lucky we found yuh first. Der are worse creatures out there than us, and yuh just had di pleasure of meeting one of di meanest of them.” He pursed his lips as he drove and then added, “Yuh soon find out, Rayven, that di most beautiful things are di most dangerous.” His obvious reference to my impression of Amon made my blood run cold.
“You still haven’t told me what an Obeah Man is.” I pointed out. We were coming up fast to Dufferin Street, and he turned left, tires squealing against the pavement. We shot like a red streak past the mall, and I marveled at the fact we hadn’t been pulled over yet.
“A wizard of Jamaican culture and heritage. Obeah can be traced back to West Africa, Ghana.” He explained, and I rose my eyebrows.
“Is everyone on The Board a witch or a wizard?” I wondered what Amon was then, if he wasn’t a witch.
“Yes,” He replied, as we turned onto a small side street titled Muir Avenue. He parked finally, throwing up the parking brake.
“Quickly.” He said, gesturing to the passenger side door, and I got out, turning to face the witch’s house.
10
The narrow house before us did not look like what I would have imagined a witch’s house to be. It looked a lot like my house if I was being honest. It was made of a dusty red brick and was tucked under a blanket of ivy on one side. A sprawling garden enveloped the front lawn despite the suffocating atmosphere of the city that dwelled just a short distance away.
Fat pumpkins flourished out of season, their vines weaving in and out of the black wrought iron fence that enclosed the yard. There was catnip and saffron, dill, oregano and chamomile all thriving together happily. Among these plants there were several other leaf profiles I didn’t recognize, as well as more than a dozen flowers that I couldn’t place. If I had been in the company of a human being, my impression of the garden would have gone unnoticed. As it was, Conrad grinned at me again.
“Meredith has a bit of a green thumb,” He explained, and led the way to the front of the house, not bothering to lock the car door. As I passed the waist-high wrought iron gate, a shiver ran over my skin, gooseflesh erupting up my arms. I looked at Conrad expectantly, waiting for him to explain.
“Dis property is warded. If dey come here looking for yuh, it will nah stop dem, but it will slow dem down.” He told me as he strode down the front walk towards the porch. I swallowed back the anxiety that welled in my throat. The way he spoke, made me feel as if I were being hunted. The concept felt abstract, as we walked through the bright garden on a sunny may afternoon.
A wooden wind chime prattled away next to a bench that adorned the white porch of the house. Before either of us could knock, the door swung open to reveal a tall, blond, young woman. I jumped at her sudden appearance.
I observed the young woman standing before me, who couldn't have been a day over twenty one. She didn’t look like she would be a witch, but then again, Conrad didn’t look much like a stereotypical witch either. No green skin or warty nose. As inappropriate as it was, I almost giggled at the thought. The witch in the doorway smiled at my thoughts and I realized with frustration that she could also read my mind.
Her blonde flyaway hair was pulled back from her pointed face and her startling blue eyes met mine without hesitation. I took in her long patterned skirt and white peasant top that was garnished with several silver necklaces, each ending with either a pendant or a semi-precious stone.
“You must be Raven,” She greeted me. Her voice rang with enough music to compete with the wind chime. She held out a heavily ringed hand and I grasped it instinctively. With a gentle squeeze from her fingers came a curious prodding sensation. I came away with impressions of soft springtime greens and the kind of gold you could catch with an early summer sunrise. I wondered if what I was feeling was the aura thing Conrad had mentioned. Whatever it was, the warmth of it curled around me and I felt the tension between my shoulders relax. It occurred to me that a mere twenty-four hours ago, I might not have even noticed this magickal exchange.
“Pleasure to meet you.” She said warmly. “I’m Meredith Abbey.”
“Nice to meet you too.” I stammered, still reeling from the odd sensation of our aura’s mingling.
“Conrad. As always, such a pleasure.” Meredith said, greeting the Obeah Man with a kiss on each cheek. She plucked at his black t-shirt with a grin. “What an interesting choice of color.” She said, winking at me. I glanced down at my equally all black attire. What was that supposed to mean? I allowed the thought to slash through my mind before remembering my thoughts were not my own anymore. I flushed red, not wanting to insult her, but she smiled at me warmly.
“Black has a strong correspondence with protection.” She informed me patiently. “It is the color used to keep the things that might hurt us at bay. Please come inside. We have much to discuss.” Conrad and I followed Meredith into the house.
It felt as if the garden had spilled into the house itself. Plants lined almost every surface and hung from every doorway. Their leaves turned to drink in the warm sunlight that spilled in through the large windows. Shoes and rain boots marched down the wall of the foyer and stopped at the entrance to what appeared to be the living room.
From what I could see, the living room was crammed with squashy looking couches and was littered with literature. Meredith glided down the hall and led us into the kitchen. I was greeted by a mishmash of color that shouldn’t have worked together but somehow managed to. Cerulean blue tile floors collided with oak cupboards topped with a charcoal grey granite countertop. On the other side of the counter sat a large, scrubbed oak table surrounded by an uncoordinated assortment of chairs.
There was a narrow bookshelf next to the sliding glass door stuffed with cookbooks and several ancient unlabeled tomes. I glanced around wide eyed as Conrad lounged easily back into a yellow painted country-inspired chair that resembled our chairs at home. Meredith made her way to the stove, which looked like it had been plucked directly from the 50’s, before putting a kettle on.
“Please make yourself comfortable.” She said pleasantly. The tightness between my shoulders had returned and I couldn’t bring myself to sit. Instead, I posted myself at the end of the counter and crammed my hands into my pockets to keep myself from fidgeting. The house seemed to have an aura of its own. I could have sworn I felt it examining me, gently prodding at the beast nestled in my chest, much the same way Meredith had when she had met me at the door. The urban witch turned away from the stove with three cups of tea prepared.
“Don’t mind the house,” she said, casually, “It loves company.” Um. Sure.
One of the teacups Meredith had been holding, to my absolute astonishment, silently glided across the kitchen and sat itself directly in front of Conrad. Meredith handed me mine in the traditional way. I took it with shaking hands. Holy crap!
Meredith smiled at me warmly, her aura caressing mine. Again, I somehow felt relaxed almost immediately.
“H-how did you do that?” I asked, certain that if my eyes got any wider, they would pop right out of my head.
“Magick of course.” She said, eyeing me up and down. She glanced over at Conrad with an eyebrow raised. “I was under the impression that my brother had explained to you who and what we are. I apologize if I frightened you.”
I immediately regretted my question. Of course, it was magick. I knew exactly what Meredith was. Not wanting to get Conrad into trouble I backtracked.
“He did tell me. I know he’s an Obeah Man and you’re a witch… which from as far as I can tell is pretty much the same thing. I just haven’t really seen much… magick. Not real magick like that anyway.”
