8 Chapter 7

Calla had stopped at a nearby stream to wash the tainted dirt off of her arms, muttering purifying spells all the while. She couldn't help but get caught up in her racing thoughts while doing this. Who in their right mind would attach their soul to a heckin' rose of all things? That's like attaching one's soul to a deer in hunting season. He could have at least picked a more durable, easy-to-care-for plant. A rose! Such fragile things and some of the most difficult flowers to take care of. Well, Calla found flowers in general hard to care for (unless they were poisonous), but she still felt it was a valid thought.

But why had Mr. Pompous even wanted her help in the first place? Had he wanted to seep the magic out of her to survive? Had he wanted the Garden to seep the magic out of her to fuel it? The Garden did seem like it would capture random passerby and absorb them all horror-movie-like. Hadn't it already tried to do that to her, though? She'd barely gotten out alive. If she hadn't been a witch then maybe it would have actually eaten her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized roses did seem pretty carnivorous and merciless, even when they weren't tainted. Unforgiving plants. Beautiful yet unforgiving, luring you in and then eating you alive!

She realized her arms were very clean by this point--she couldn't even feel any residue of the tainted magic--so she stood up and continued her way home. She felt safer on the other side of the archway, the side where her home was. It was a strange feeling because she'd always loved the Garden. Now even the thought of it sent shivers up her spine and images of corpses, eyeballs, and soul-sucking rose bushes flashed through her mind.

As her house came into view she started to get a bad feeling. A really bad feeling, actually. Just when she was about to just make a break for it and rough it in the woods, she heard a bone-chilling voice call out her name.

"Hey-y-y, Grandma! You're up late!" Calla said, nervously. What did she know? Did she know about the Garden?

"Don't give me that. Where the hell have you been? I hear you basically get kidnapped at school and no one does a damn thing and not even Xander is there to help you? And then ya come back here all 'hey-y-y, Grandma~' like not a damn thing happened? 'Aughta smack you!" and then she did, right on the side of her head. "Are ya stupid? You should know better than to hop into vehicles with strangers! And a damned carriage in this day and age, what the hell? What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry, Grandma, but it really wasn't such a big deal in the end?" Calla supplied.

"'Not a big deal'?" She smacked Calla against the head again. It kind of hurt and was much funnier when Grandma did it to Xander. She hoped she wasn't the only one getting lectured over this. "'Not a big deal,' she says! Because kidnapping is never a big deal, oh, it's not like your life could have been at stake. It's not like you could have been murdered or anything. Because serial killers aren't real and crazy axe murders are the tales of horror movies, not reality!"

Calla pursed her lips and tried not to break into nervous laughter at her grandmother's sarcasm. She was a nervous laugh-er and that did not mix well with serious lectures, especially when she was in trouble. Sure she'd been kidnapped but Calla was pretty sure she'd have made her way out eventually, with or without Mr. Pompous's consent. Just because she hadn't been able to get out of a carriage... okay so she saw Grandma's point but she'd really gotten the feeling that Mr. Pompous hadn't meant for it to be a kidnapping and that if he'd really wanted to force her to stay there was absolutely no way she could have stopped him, really. She figured it had been a bit of a slight misunderstanding out of sheer desperation on the part of Mr. Pompous and his carriage driver and that was why she had been so forcefully taken.

"Sorry, but I don't think it will happen again. Well, obviously I'm not going to just run out and beg to be kidnapped and I didn't to begin with but I really think it was just a bit of a misunderstanding... they were just kind of desperate? I'm not really sure what they wanted, but they seemed to want my help with some curse? But it's not a problem anymore. They have no reason to kidnap me again and I'll be more careful about not... getting kidnapped...?" Calla tried. She hoped Grandma wouldn't pry too much but, really, what was she thinking? She should have known better--of course Grandma would want more information. There was no way she would have just left it at that.

"'S good that ya understand not to be an idiot, but who the hell wanted you to lift a curse? What the hell'd they think you could do it for?"

Wow. "Grandma, I have feelings," Calla said, putting a hand to her chest like she found it more hurtful than funny.

"'S only the truth! You don't have a lot've experience with magic, let alone curse-breaking! You've yet to really work with any magic outside of caring for your plants and, even then, you can only keep the poisonous ones alive. You work best with poisons not curses, and you know it."

"Yeah, but you don't have to put it so bluntly," Calla snorted.

"Bah! If ya don't wanna be ridiculed for your lack of knowledge, then go an' learn somethin'!"

That was actually an excellent idea and a perfect way to get out of telling Grandma anymore than she already had. "Good idea! Hey, where's the family grimoire? We have one, right?" Calla was only half sure that one existed. She had vague memories of seeing one when she was younger but it had been quite a few years.

Grandma narrowed her eyes at Calla. "Yeah... whatcha wantin' it for? You don't study. And don't you have school work?"

"I can start studying." Calla shrugged. "And teachers these days can hardly be bothered to teach their classes, let alone give out homework, Grandma. So, where's the grimoire?"

"Ah, alright. But first, who was it that wanted a curse broken? And why'd they think they had a curse? Did ya tell 'em it usually isn't a curse troublin' people? Magic can't curse someone who don't deserve it and it won't curse 'em any more than they deserve. She will always maintain the balance."

"Yeah, but I'm not even sure what makes him think he's cursed. Just a normal, if overly-dramatic, dude. From what I can tell, it might just be something he did to himself, so I'm not really sure what he wants me to fix. And I don't know if I'll see him again anyways, so I guess it doesn't totally matter, but I still have some questions I wanna find some answers to," Calla explained.

"Thought you said it was resolved?" her grandma pressed, arching an eyebrow at her.

Calla winced, internally cursing herself for slipping up. "Well, yes and no. They never really ended up saying what was really going on. They just kept talking around it and referring to the curse without ever explaining it."

"They or he? If's he, then 's probly erectile dysfunction."

"Grandma! The heck?!"

"What? 'S just the truth! Usually how it is, men think they're cursed when they can't get it up. Like it's the end of the world and the only reason it could possibly happen to them's if they were cursed. Anyway, I've got a natural remedy you can take to em, li'l herbal concoction, pick 'im right up." Grandma snapped her fingers as she said the last line and Calla groaned. "Ah, hush up. You can take it over t'morrow. An' I can come with, see who tried takin' my granddaughter. Purpose or not, still won't have it."

Grandma sauntered off into the kitchen and came back with a small vial which she held out for Calla to take.

"Whatcha waitin' for? 'S not gonna bite ya," she snapped.

"I don't wanna touch it," Calla scowled, eyeing the bottle with disgust.

"What're you afraid of? Not like it's been anywhere but my cabinet."

"You've been keeping that in the kitchen?!" Calla asked, appalled.

"Oh, you're a witch, get over it. A bottle o' herbs ain't gonna kill you." Grandma snatched one of Calla's hands and pressed the vial into it. "Hold onto it an' we'll take it over t'morrow, the two of us."

She shuddered. "If we're both going why do I have to hold onto it?"

Grandma snorted, smirking. "'Cause you're scared of it."

"A bottle of herbs can absolutely kill someone! I would know!" Calla snapped.

Grandma cackled as she turned to go to bed. "Grimoire's in the library, sweetie. Don't stay up too late. It's gonna be a big day tomorrow."

Calla scowled hoping her grandmother had not just made the joke she was pretty sure she'd just made. She eyed the little bottle, shuddered, and left it on the entry table before making her way to the library.