Chapter 4: Green with Envy

That night the nightmare was never ending , and I remained awake for hours of the twilight. I managed to fall back asleep until first light when I awoke to the sound of gut-churning screaming. I lurched out of bad wrapping myself in a ratty robe and slipping on old house shoes only to find father and two other men in the small forgotten sitting room..

The two men had goalithin witch tattoos, that allowed for extraordinary strength; strength that was now used to hold up my fathers bloody limp body between them. His skin was a pale color that immediately sent me into a panic, but it was the gash on his face that had me feeling faint. The 6 inch gash was deep and blood trickled around its edges. But a green pus flowed out that made the room smell of sulfur.

I approached the two men, they had a look of surprise plastered on their face. I gathered from their clothing and general stance they were nature witches. Men like them seldom intimidated me , rather I took their surprise as humor, that a short frail girl like me could throw them off so easily, or perhaps they thought my father lived alone, he sure acted like it.

" What the hell happen? Father can you hear me ?!" I scrambled lifting his chin to see wide pupils staring with no direction " Who slashed him, why is it green!" I screamed. The man with the eyepatch cleared his throught, I realized his one good eye was pale grey and it seemed kind, somehow despite his rough exterior. I looked him straight on and he seemed to look uneasy as he began to explain; " I told Georgie time and time again not to fuck around with that warlock drunkard, but he was so adamite to poke the bear before I knew it they were on the floor fighting. That sneaky bastard whipped out a knife that was coated in something enchanted, Georgie went down like a sack of potatoes"

" Put him on the sofa" I said pointing to the tattered velvet pink armchair in the corner of the cottage. The two men placed him down and took their leave. I looked at the wound, it was magical for sure.

If the sulfur smell wasn't enough proof, the wound kept reopening after I applied the basic healing tonic we kept in the cupboard. The tonic was used to heal minor cuts and bruises, even the occasional migraine, but his wound was infected with a poison I had never seen. I would have to go to the healer across the city for answers.

"Father " I sighed

"Can you stand we have to go to the healer." One eye opened in response and he crooked in drunken slurs " I am NOT going to some heathen to treat me, take me to a Human doctor Now!"

He tended to spout anti-witch slurs when he was drunk, I usually paid them no mind, just the ramblings of a ignorant drunk.

" The human doctors cant treat this, you were dumb enough to get into a brawl with a warlock, the wound is filled with some magical poison". He turned on his side ignoring me and falling into a deep snoring sleep.

I stomped up the stairs to get dressed, I would have to be back by noon to meet Charles at the market. Last month I missed a date because I was in bed with a crippling migraine and couldn't leave the cottage .He wouldn't talk to me days after I missed the date, that would not be happening again . I would make it back in time .The heeler witch was across the city and I would have to hitch a ride with one of the vendors in the neighborhood that traveled his wares to the east end of Lumni. Mr. Frankel lived next door and sold oil and spices that his family produced. He was always nice to me and never minded I ride along with him, in exchange for some company and conversation during the 40 min journey. I was thinking of this as I went to my dresser and stared at its emptiness. What little money I could earn at the tavern up the road was used for food and medicine, dresses and pretty things were often placed on the backburner. I never acquired mother's knack for sewing . Most things I tried to make turned into big shapeless frocks .

So I often bought secondhand clothes off the girls at the brothel. They sold them for cheap and often were well made with adjustable bodices. I had one nice simple blue dress with white thread I wore on occasion when I saw Charles, but he had seen it thrice this month and I was worried he soon notice. He always would scrutinize other girls dresses in town , remarking if the neckline was inappropriate or if the girl was to large for the dress style .In frustration I slammed the gold dresser only to have every drawer pop out. As I was cleaning up the mess I noticed the bottom large drawer had popped open. Previously it was nailed shut, i suspected father had done it during one of his more lucid rages. But the decade old nails had rusted through and now lay on the floor with the drawer ajar. I was never curious to pry it open .I scooted the heavy drawer open, it was the size of a small trunk and before me lay a dozen fine silk and taffeta dresses. The colors were vibrant and a bit dusted over from being tucked away. Immediately the soft silk of a yellow dress drew a memory I had forgotten I had.

Mother standing in the floor length yellow dress singing while she cooked. It had daisies embroidered on a the hem and clashed with her dark hair in a way that was breathtaking These were hers. I had never wondered where her things went, I had just assumed father had tossed them like garbage. My eyes sank to a satin dress that was silver like the two strains that weaved through my cherry red hair. After shaking it out I marveled at its beauty. It was slinky and had a high neckline with long sleeves that were soft and made of hand embroidered lace. Where did she get the money to buy this? Although she was a talented seamstress this was far from what she was capable. I didn't have time for such debating and shook my head to wash my hair. Charles preferred my hair in a bun but i had no time to spend tucking and pinning back unruly pieces. I was hopping to casually walk by his families stand today, hoping he would take a leap and tell them, so I had to look my best. I washed my hair in the basin and ran my fingers through the tight loops and let the damp curls flow down my back. The soap smelled of lavender, I bought it from a local goat herder that had a wife who adored me , always offering discounts on her beauty products she made . Taking oil I smoothed the ringlets already coiling and pined my. bangs back with a silver clip. I slipped the dress on and found it fit me- perfectly. Better than any garment I've ever worn, almost made for me. I slipped my best corset atop to cinch my waist and accentuate what little curves were left in my frail frame. I looked good as I gazed in the mirror, not like a frail young girl I usually felt like. I stepped into my boots and headed out the door in search of Mr. Frankel's cart. I noticed stares from men returning home after a night of indulgence at the brothel down the street and assumed they gawked at my damp hair, perhaps I should have dried it?

I reached the Frankel's small red cottage lineed with tremendous amounts of flora and plants, it looked serene I always thought. Although the Frankles never had children their house beamed with light an life, something I had seldom been acquainted with. Mr. Frankel was bent over his near rusted one horse cart, loading fragrant herbs and spices .

" Good morning" I chirped and he looked up warily. He was going blind and refused any treatment human or witch believing the the circle of nature or some crap like that. The corners of his mouth raised when he recognized me, despite the cataracts my blob of hair was noticeable a mile away as it curled and twirled as it dried.

"Good morning Annalease! Have you come for the black garlic oil again? I belive we have some in the celler ?" he said as he started to the door.

"No no I still have plenty" I said grasping his arm, his bones almost visible through the paper thin aging skin. " I was curious if you were going to the east end today? I need to stop by the healers district to get some medicine for father'"

He clouded his eyes filled with concern then joy as he said :

"Of course ! I'm making the journey now and suspect to return before midday your always welcome to tag along!"

The world chewed up people as nice like Mr.Frankel, I thought as I helped him finish loading the cart and taking my seat on the iron bench beside him.

The cart bumped along the cobblestone road as we passed small city townhomes and shops. As we turned a corner I saw a vender selling pies of fruit . Audible rumbling echoed from my stomach and I looked to find Mr. Frankel looking at me with knowing, yet sad eyes .

"Here my dear" he said reaching into his sack and pulling out a pastry that oozed with apple filling and was toped in a layer of crystalized sugar. His wife no doubt spent hours preparing it for his journey

I shook my head " No it's ok I'm not hungry " I lied . Pity was not something I often relished in.

Ignoring me he placed the pastry in my hand covering it with his own

" Did you know my mother was a necromancer witch ?"

"Um no I diddd not " I said in surprise. Necromancy witches were feared in both human and witch circles. They tipped the balance of life and death and had access to untapped power . They could talk to the dead and summon thousands in battle as a undead army. The extent of their powers are unknown other than that. Many fled after the city was rebuilt, most likely to grow in numbers and conspire for a uprising the library told us . They were often osterized and victims of prosecution. Feared by the masses

" She was the first in 4 generations , so far back in the family line that they had forgotten their Ancestry. Her parents afraid of what people would do abandoned her at the age of 11 in the outskirt slums when she started to display power. You see she was able to conceal her power long enough that people forgot what she was. She was living on the street until she met my father . A retired librarian cartographer, who had a very kind heart . They had me and subsequently adopted 8 orphans from the very same slum . So that they would never feel abandoned "

"She sounds like an amazing women" I said in a low voice.

"The point" he said " is that her beginning in life did not affect her ending . We chose paths Annalease even when paths are already chosen for us."

He smiled at me and I looked up to see we had arrived on the east side. It was breathtaking as always, it was the wealthiest region, home to government officials and healers. The city center was paved with pink limestone and continued to each store front built in a circle shape. The store fronts sold expensive wares including imported fabric and tinctures enchanted by master healers. In the middle was a fountain of pink marble that had shapes of animals and flora carved in its side . People and witches of all kind swarmed the area . Bartering with vendors wrangling small children and eating at the pubs along the side street .

" I'll only be an hour," Mr. Frankel said " I'll meet you back here to go home."

"Ok I shouldn't be long".

I started up the main promenade dipping down a side street towards the the witches corner of the city center. I trudged along the cobbled stone as the pink limestone buildings shifted to that of brick and moss covered wood. The street was narrow and mostly dirt with areas of scattered cobblestone. The houses were built on top each other producing three stories of flats. The flats had laundry lines draped with wet colorful clothing and the entire area smelled of lavender and sage. Cleansing herbs I remembered, mother had said once. Children played in the brass water fountains that littered the main square, all rusted and bent from disrepair. They were secluded back here I realized away from sparkly city just blocks away.

The women were layered in bright shapeless frocks and they laughed and talked while doing laundry and rearing the kids who were dancing in and out of the fountain. I approached a house at the end of the square that had large pale cobblestone lining the foundation and old wood painted a ghastly yellow color in front. A hung from the entryway , held by a wrought iron frame and in big yellow font it read "Miss gia's healing and potions". I entered the threshold through a open screen door. I instantly got hit with a aroma of lemon grass and pig fat. Whatever tincture was brewing I wanted to be nowhere near the kitchen. I entered the small study adjacent to the front entry to find the walls littered with tinctures and books stuffed into the selfs built into the walls. A hoarders paradise, I thought to myself. The fire was lit so it made the room stuffy and uncomfortable. In the corner was a book bound in red leather. It sat on a shelf cluttered with paper and was so - beautiful. It radiated in a weird way I had to touch it, to see how the leather felt, if it was soft and smooth like it looked .I must've started moving to the book but was unaware until a strong hand gripped my elbow and pulled me back with such a force I fell straight back on the floor.

Looking up stood a short and stout women well past middle age. She had grey pin strait hair tucked into a kerchief darned with lilies. She wore loose purple draping robes that folded under the bust, accentuating the curves her aging body held onto. A pair of deep crimson eyes looked at me that looked strangely youthful on her leathery wrinkled face . She took a look at me still on the floor and stepped back with a look of shock.

"Johanna?- is that you?! I can't believe it, I just can't!" she had a thick middle region accent and looked at me as if I were a ghost.

The breath left my body as a deep chill ran up my spine. I had only ever heard that name in the drunken nightmares of a lost man, mothers name.

"I'm-Imm her daughter" I said as I sat up on the floor "did you know her? Do you know where she is ?"

She raised a wrinkled hand out to help me up and scanned me from head to toe. "Your face" she started "its so similar, your eyes are hers" Her voice cracked and she reached a hand to my hair , twirling an individual curl near my hairline between her rough calloused fingers. "Do you not remember me child? I sure have never forgotten the little girl with the fire hair and lilac eyes"

"No" I said " I've never been here before".

"Aye" she said, "But I used to visit yer mother for healing twice weekly, ye was always runnin underfoot playin with that spirt bunny you said was always running around, Foofers was his name I reckon."

This women was obviously half crazy.

"What are you talking about ?! , why would a witch healer come to my mother twice weekly when you could heal yourself with magic?? And what the fuck is a spirit bunny"

She took a step back from me in shock or from distaste from my foul language.

" I feel you might've been too you to remember, Ill explain what I mean, I didn't mean to frighten ye. Here sit down on the settee Ill fix you some tea to calm yer nerves.".

She left me in that room confused and mind spinning on how this stranger knew mother, knew me. She came back in with a chipped blue china cup filled to the brim with lavender tea, the smoke wafted off the rim in spirals of lavender aroma same as mother often made me when I was upset.

She set across from me on the settee in a old wooden rocker, the fire light gleaming behind her , making her shadows dance around the mantel place.

"What de ye know of your mother dearie?"

"Um" I had to think, it had been ten years since I was told these stories, the stories of her life before us. "She was a orphan, a human healer and a seamstress for the mistress at the brothel. She left without warning or reason when I was 10 and has never come back."

"Ah I see". She said tilting back in the chair and rocking two and fro. Making a faint creaking every time she leaned forward.

" I met yer mother shortly after she married yer father. O they were a cheerful couple, he was infatuated with her like young men tend to be with pretty women. You came not to long after their first anniversary. You were a whiny thing" she chuckled "with bright red fluffy ringlets" she mused. "Joanna was a special soul, as kind and cunning as they come. She had a presence about her that soothed the most lonesome of souls. I used to stop by for tea if I needed a reprieve, it was like breathing after holding yer breath for far too long"

her face shifted from joy to malice as the story continued and she let a exhale out slow and deliberate "Shortly after yer third birthday my husband passed". She lowered her head in a sigh "He was not a kind man ye see and went quickly after a stoke. I wont bore you with the details but he was a cruel, and I did not mourn his passing if ye understand my meaning. Dearie do you know what happens to hateful spirits when they refuse to pass to the next life?"

"Um" I stammered " They become ghosts ?"

"Something of the sort, yes. They can cause quite trouble to those they left behind in this world , and Herman was no different. He haunted me for a full year. Putting a chill in the air and causing trouble in my life, so I went to ye mother for healing to make him pass on. He was a dark souled man even in life, as such ye mother had particular trouble making him move on, hate you see is a very powerful emotion that withers a soul, turning it black-"

"Wait wait , what ?! How did my mother help him pass on I'm so confused."

She took a breath in locking eyes with me "Ye mother was a necromancy witch my dear , and a damn good one at that .She had the ability to commune and control the dead. Forcing my Hermon to move on ."

The teacup between my fingers slipped and shattered on the tattered wood panel floor. The women didn't even blink. "No she wasn't" I whispered "Necromancy witches are hateful beings that are building a-army to wipe us all out, my mother was not that she was-sshe was-"

-"She was a witch dearie ,plain and simple. Now I don't know where ye got the notion that necromancers were evil or wicked, I know ye never received training but do not forsake your people-"

She stopped after looking at my face, searching for something, understanding maybe? But I was numb. More numb than I ever been. She had said training, training for-

"Am I a witch like my mother" I managed to say

The women paused then took my hand, wet still from the split tea that lay on the floor.

"Aye ye are. When ye was three ye mother first noticed the gifts. You saw animal spirts and would make them ye pets. Floofers was the favorite. But it was too early and ye mother knew that. Signs of Magic usually appear after puberty , when it is seen in children that were ye age,They usually don't make it to their 5 birthday, that untapped energy consumes them we refer to it as implodation, its not common but still happens in old family lines".

I took a second with this but burst out in question "Then how am I alive, and why don't I have any power now?"

"That is a question I have ner answer for ye. Ye mother would not tell me how she stopped the implodation, she was a cunning women and she loved you dearly, I always suspected her leaving was tied to saving ye, we lost touch after she moved to the east end, last time I saw ya was around your 7th birthday. By that point you no longer saw floofers or any spirts."

"I don't know what to think" I said, "I just came her for a potion to treat my bastard of a fathers wounds!" I screamed. Heat rose in my chest and I realized I was hyperventilating, screaming words between gasps for air "How can you sit there and tell me my whole fucking life is one giant lie? How can you possibly assume she left out of love? out of some made up maternal instinct? What halfway decent mother would leave me with him, I raised myself not thanks to her."

I stormed out of the godforsaken house before I could see her wrinkly face contort in confusion. The next three hours were a blur. I had disassociated a few times when I was younger. The night mother left was the first time. Followed by the time father first came home in a drunken stopper, a month after mother left. He told me he was going to the market mid afternoon. He came back around midnight reeking of whiskey. I waited the entire night by the front window. Mind racing with the possibility of being a orphan. What could've happen to him, was he hurt? Did he need help? Did he leave me too.... Instead of crying or screaming in panic I was consumed by my thought, still in fear.

The hours faded as I watched the window, consumed in my own thoughts and paranoia. He strolled in reeking of booze and I barely noticed. The two sloppy bar wenches with him giggling in a stupor did not notice me. I stared through them emotionless, numb as I gathered myself and went to bed.

This was the same.

My body moved by itself out of the witches house until I found another healer. I must've told her I needed a salve because I was carrying one when I reached the town square. The marble was dull as I walked and the people nothing more than moving talking pieces of color. My senses were heightened even though I moved through the square without thought. I was cold in the warm sun, shivering in my long sleeved gown.

I found Mr. Frankel where he left me and the 40 min ride breezed by like it was minutes.. We were back around 11 and my mind still wandered as I entered the threshold. I dressed and treated fathers wound, him still drunk on the ground, the would oozing green puss. I proceeded to the bathroom and clicked the door shut.

I sat of the old chipped tile floor stained dark pink, it used to be vibrant red a a long time ago. A long time ago.....

The coolness traveled up my spine as my mind stilled, my body numb.