Hedge Witch Diaries Complete Series Boxed Set, page 7
All too soon, the magic faded, and we descended back to the boat.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
Dorian laughed. “Many years of practice. You could do so much more, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I could?”
Dorian touched my cheek with the back of his hand. “You don’t know the half of what you might be capable of. I can feel it within you. You’re special.”
I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t sure if this was some expert-level flirting or if he was serious. “I don’t know. I have a few unique abilities, but nothing like this.”
Dorian didn’t press me on what those abilities were. If he’d asked, I probably would have told him everything.
“This is only the beginning,” Dorian remarked. “I’d be honored if you’d allow me to show you more. To help you realize what might be possible.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off his. “I’d love that. But like I said, I’m not a witch.”
Dorian nodded and helped me to my seat before he returned to the captain’s chair. Dorian skillfully guided the boat toward the dock, the engine humming softly in the still night.
After he tied off his boat, he stepped off and extended his hand. I took it as he helped me off the gently rocking boat and onto the dock.
“Thank you for tonight,” I murmured. “It was…indescribable.”
Dorian’s lips curled into a warm smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Dorian and I walked hand-in-hand back down the trail. Roy and Smokey appeared in the distance, watching us from afar, but Dorian didn’t notice them. We reached my truck, now the only vehicle left in Charlie’s parking lot. I pressed my lips together. I hesitated to suggest it, but I wasn’t ready for the night to end. “Would you like to come back to my place?”
I thought I saw a flicker of longing in his eyes, but he quickly shook his head. “I’d love to, but we shouldn’t. Whatever this is between us, it’s too precious to rush.”
“Of course,” I replied, trying not to let my disappointment show. He was right, though. A gentleman through and through. I didn’t think they even made men like that anymore.
As I fumbled with my keys, Dorian spoke up. “I had a wonderful time with you tonight, Briar.”
“Me too,” I admitted, finally unlocking the door. As I was about to climb inside, Dorian gently took my arm, turning me to face him.
“Goodnight,” he whispered, his gaze searching mine. Then, tenderly, passionately, he pressed his lips to mine, stealing my breath and making my heart race.
The kiss seemed to last an eternity, yet ended far too soon. As we broke apart, I was left reeling, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.
“Goodnight, Dorian,” I managed to stammer as I climbed into my truck.
“Sweet dreams, Briar,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine as I started the engine and drove away.
The night’s events replayed in my mind as a symphony of magic, romance, and mystery that left me craving more. Although I had no idea what the future held, I knew one thing for certain. Nothing would ever be the same again.
CHAPTER NINE
The gravel crunched beneath my tires as I pulled up alongside my trailer. I switched off the engine, and the only sound was the ticking of the cooling motor and the distant hum of cicadas.
“Home sweet home,” I muttered, pushing open the creaky door of my truck and stepping out into the warm summer night. My tennis shoes sank slightly into the damp earth as I walked toward the trailer.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest. Flicking on the light switch, I scanned the small living room, half expecting Aiden to be lounging on the couch with one of his summer flings. I checked his bedroom. He wasn’t there.
It didn’t take any sort of detective to figure out what he was doing. He’s hooked up with some girl, probably the one from the bar. Rather than take her back to our hillbilly hotel, they went back to her place. Probably a nice house on the lakeshore.
I kicked off my shoes and tossed my keys onto the kitchen counter.
Aiden had always been a charmer ever since we were kids. He could make friends with anyone. For whatever reason, mostly his good looks and his carefree attitude, he managed to pick up more girls than he could handle. It was both endearing and infuriating, especially when it came to his love life. Not that love had anything to do with it, which was precisely the problem.
Someday, he’d find someone who captivated him, who he could settle down with. Maybe. Then again, maybe not.
I switched off the alarm on my phone for the next day. Sundays tended to be slow at Charlie’s, and we only opened for lunch. I had this Sunday off.
I headed to the bathroom, washing off the grime from a long day at work and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke that clung to my clothes. As the hot water poured over me, I couldn’t help but think about the magical night I had with Dorian. The way his eyes had sparkled under the moonlight when he carried me into the sky. Somehow, with all that water swirling around us, my clothes remained dry. Only my hair was a little damp.
“Get a grip, Briar,” I mumbled as I stepped out of the shower. “It was one date.”
But who had ever had a date like that? It was like when Superman took Lois Lane into the sky over Metropolis. I didn’t usually care much for heights, but for some reason, with Dorian, I wasn’t afraid.
I resisted the urge to write “Briar + Dorian” in the steam on the glass of my shower door as I finished cleaning up. I felt like a teenager swooning over a boy for the first time, but I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I was now well into my twenties. I was a woman, damn it. Why was I so damned twitterpated? I swear if he cast a spell on me… I mean, he did. But not that kind of spell. At least, I didn’t think he did. Was love magic even a thing?
I dried off and slipped into my pajamas, padding barefoot across the cold linoleum floor of the trailer to my bedroom. My bed, a lumpy old mattress covered in faded floral sheets, beckoned invitingly. As I crawled beneath the covers, I couldn’t help but imagine snuggling up to Dorian instead, tracing the intricate but strange tattoos that adorned his arms and listening to him reveal the secrets of his past.
“Stop it, Briar,” I chided myself, forcing my racing heart to slow down. “One step at a time. Can’t get all obsessive. You’ll scare him away.”
Despite my best efforts, my thoughts continued to drift back to Dorian as I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke the next morning to the chirping of birds outside my window. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and checked the time: 8:17 a.m. I sighed, grateful for the rare chance to sleep in. There was a time when sleeping in meant nothing earlier than ten o’clock. Not anymore. I was used to getting up bright and early. I didn’t usually have to be at work until the lunch shift most days, but I liked to have a little day under me before getting back to the grind.
“All right, Briar, time to get moving,” I grumbled as I swung my legs out from under the covers and onto the cold floor. I winced at the chill before standing and stretching my arms above my head, working out the kinks in my muscles.
I headed to the tiny kitchenette and started brewing a pot of coffee, the aroma filling the air as I waited. The scent brought back memories of early mornings with my foster parents, Leeroy and Donna, who always had a steaming pot ready first thing in the morning.
When the coffee was finally ready, I poured myself a steaming mug and decided to step outside for some fresh air.
As I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of a giant rose bush in full bloom right in front of my trailer. The vibrant red petals stood out strikingly against the pale morning light, and I felt my heart skip a beat as I realized what this must mean.
Dorian.
I didn’t even realize he knew where I lived. If it had been anyone else, if any other guy had mysteriously left flowers at my doorstep after a single date, I would have thought it was too much, too soon.
With Dorian, I didn’t think there could be too much, and I couldn’t wait to experience it!
I laughed and shook my head. Most men bought flowers at the local grocery store. He used his magic to grow them out of the ground. Overnight!
I stepped closer to the rosebush, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals gently. I leaned over and inhaled. The fragrance was sweet and intoxicating.
As I pulled my hand back, I noticed a small, rolled-up piece of parchment nestled among the roses. My heart raced as I carefully plucked it from the bush, imagining Dorian’s strong hands placing it there for me.
Breakfast at my place? the note read in elegant script. My pulse quickened with excitement. He wanted to see me again. I glanced at my phone to check the time. 9:12 a.m. He didn’t say what time breakfast would be ready, but I figured I still had a little time.
I rushed back inside, leaving the door open behind me like someone who’d won the lottery. The trailer suddenly felt too small to contain my joy. In a frenzy, I chose an outfit that flattered me, something other than my usual waitress uniform. A simple yet feminine sundress that hugged my curves exactly right. I took extra care with my hair and makeup, wanting to look my best for our rendezvous.
As I admired my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think about what awaited me. An invitation to breakfast wasn’t only about sharing a meal. It was a chance to deepen our connection.
I locked up my trailer and hopped into the truck, my body buzzing with anticipation. The drive to Charlie’s vacant lot felt surreal. Like I was floating above the road rather than driving on it.
I parked my truck in the empty lot. With a final deep breath to steady myself, I stepped out into the cool morning air, my heart pounding.
The woods welcomed me with a chorus of birdsong and the rustling of leaves, painting a vivid tapestry of sound that wrapped around me like a warm embrace.
“Morning, Roy,” I greeted, spotting the familiar spirit of my wolf friend at the edge of the trees. His ethereal form shimmered in the dappled sunlight, his wise gaze full of curiosity and warmth.
Several spirit birds fluttered into the path in front of me, their ghostly wings creating a gentle breeze. It was as if they were guiding me toward my destination.
Deer, rabbits, and even a majestic stag joined our ranks, their spectral forms gliding effortlessly through the underbrush. Smokey stood before the corridor of trees, still dangling with the strange stick shapes from the branches above. I’d have to ask Dorian what they meant.
The stone circle sanctuary came into view, its ancient stones standing sentinel against the backdrop of the forest. In the center of the circle, Dorian stood over a crackling fire, his lean form silhouetted against the flames as he deftly flipped sizzling vegetables in a cast-iron skillet.
“Good morning, Briar,” he called, his voice like dark velvet that sent a shiver down my spine. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I replied, feeling a warmth bloom in my chest at the sight of him. As I crossed the threshold of the circle, the spirit animals took their leave, vanishing back into the shadows of the trees.
“Thanks for the roses,” I told him. “That was really sweet.”
“Glad you liked it.” Dorian winked at me.
“Breakfast smells amazing.” I looked around the sanctuary with a sense of awe. The morning light filtered through the surrounding trees, casting a soft glow over the stones and illuminating the delicate flowers between them.
He scooped up a generous helping of the vegetables, placing them onto a wooden plate before handing it to me. Our fingers brushed, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through me.
“Thank you,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks flush as we locked eyes. At that moment, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of us standing in the enchanted glade.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” Dorian whispered, raising his plate in a toast. As we shared our first meal together, time seemed to stand still, the magic of the forest wrapping around us like an unbreakable bond.
As we ate, a sense of peace washed over me. It wasn’t only Dorian. It was this place. The sanctuary seemed to hum with life, alive with the songs of birds and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. It was like stepping into another world. A place where time had no meaning and magic touched every corner.
“What are those strange ornaments in the woods?” I asked.
“Funny you should ask,” Dorian replied. “I was going to ask if you’d like to learn a few things today. I thought I could teach you. Find out if you’re really a witch.”
I grinned. “I’d like that, but you didn’t answer my question.”
Dorian returned the grin. “Ever hear of sacred geometry?”
I snorted. “I’ve heard of regular geometry, and it sucks. Pie-R-squared, they told me in school. I said no, you moron, pie-R-round!”
Dorian laughed. “Don’t worry. There aren’t any formulas to learn. It’s more about recognizing how shapes interact with the net.”
“The internet?” I asked.
Dorian shook his head. “The net of the world. Some of the world’s most powerful magicians were the ancient Egyptians. They were called the ‘netters.’ Think of it like this. There’s a grid, like a net, over all the world. You can’t see it, but it’s there. When you learn how different shapes, flowing with the spirit of a place, interact with the net, reality itself can be manipulated, modified.”
“Like a lake swirling into a vortex that carries us into the sky?”
Dorian nodded. “Precisely.”
“And the shapes in the woods, those have something to do with the net?”
“They help focus the spirits of the place here, to my little sanctuary. They provide protection, for the most part, and ward off evil spirits.”
I snorted. “Evil spirits? Seriously? Like demons and shit?”
Dorian grinned. “Yes. Like demons and shit. There’s a lot of shit out there you don’t know about.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me vampires and werewolves are real, too.”
Dorian chuckled. “Well, there are witches who dabble in dark arts, who’ve modified their essence in various ways. Some of them resemble the legends you speak about. Those who consume blood for power. That’s the origin of vampire myths.
“Werewolves and were-whatevers are witches who use the net to modify their forms. It usually requires the power of the moon to activate the change. The full moon provides more power than a waning crescent. It’s also addictive. The more one assumes a different form, the more a beast’s instincts can replace one’s own. Thus, most witch-shifters who take predatory forms are prone to violence. I don’t dabble in magic like that. It’s too risky.”
I scratched the back of my head. “So, how do you do what you do?”
“The strength of a witch, or a warlock, depends on one’s connection to the spirits that are always around us. The more profound your connection, the better you’ll be able to master the net. Eventually, anyway.”
I glanced around. The spirits of birds still fluttered overhead. My other companions still lurked in the forest all around. “What kinds of spirits?”
“Well, I have resonance with the spirits of water and of trees. All plants, really.”
“Are these dead trees? Your little totems hanging all around?”
“Some of them, I suppose. That depends on what you mean by dead. The passing of the material form into spirit isn’t so much the death most imagine as an evolution, another stage of being.”
“So, say someone could see the spirits of animals…”
Dorian looked at me intently. “Is that what you see?”
I bit my lip, and my eyes shifted. “Maybe.”
Dorian took my hand. “Then you’re exceptionally gifted, Briar. Maybe one out of a thousand people on earth sense spirits at all. Of those who do, fewer than one in a thousand commune with animal spirits with any frequency.”
I snorted. “Seriously? I thought I was just weird.”
Dorian laughed. “If you think that’s weird, what do you think people thought about me when I spent more time talking to trees than other kids when I was growing up?”
I tilted my head. “It’s not weird. Not to me.”
“We’re unique,” Dorian insisted. “And you are doubly so. In time, you may find as you engage your potential, other spirits open up to you. Most of them will be friendly and beneficial, but we must proceed slowly because not all of them are.”
I nodded. “I’ve encountered a handful of angry spirits before. Met a bunny ghost one time that I think wanted to bite off my head.”
Dorian shuddered. “That’s…disturbing!”
“Tell me about it!”
“That’s nothing like what I’m talking about, though,” Dorian remarked. “It’s one reason why the Morai are so strict. They fear that if a witch or a warlock is unguided and restrained, he or she might tap into those darker spirits. A witch who embraces evil spirits is incredibly powerful and also vulnerable. In time, the spirits warp the mind. They turn good witches and warlocks into nasty sorcerers.”
“Put warts on their noses?” I asked.
“This isn’t a cartoon.” Dorian chuckled. “But the horror stories about witches that persist in popular culture are no doubt due to these dark sorcerers.”
“So, the Morai aren’t so evil, after all?”
“I wouldn’t say they’re evil. They’re cautions. Too cautious. It wasn’t always like that. There was a time when, if rogue witches emerged who’d communed too intimately with dark spirits, other witches banded together to stop them. Yet, after enduring the assaults of a dark witch, many people don’t know the difference. They come to fear all of us. Hence, the inquisitions.”
“Like Salem?” I asked.
“Among others,” Dorian responded. “The Morai are simply trying to prevent any witch or warlock who they fear might operate in the hedge or any rogue coven that dabbles in things they shouldn’t from sparking another round of witch trials. There are still those who fear our kind, whether due to religion or simply because what we can do is beyond the normal. There will always be those who use their beliefs to shelter them from what they don’t understand. Sometimes, that fear turns to hatred.”
