The Heart-Shaped Emblor (The Ewlishash Series) (3 page)

“How much did you have to drink?”

“Not that much. I chugged it, so it’s hitting me all at once. I wonder what was in it.” No sooner had I spoken the words, my stomach lurched. I quickly rolled down the window.

“Are you going to be sick?”

“Not sure yet, just take easy corners.” I could feel the blood leave my face.

“You have to be careful taking drinks from people, Aislinn. If you don’t know what’s in it, don’t drink it. You shouldn’t have had anything to drink.” Evan shook his head, but didn’t lecture me any further.

I rolled my eyes in response.

When we arrived home, Mel shook me gently to rouse me, and it took both Evan and Kyle to help me out of the car and into bed. Thank goodness I had such wonderful roommates.

“What happened?” Mel kept her voice low.

“I don’t want to talk about it tonight. My stomach isn’t feeling so good.”

“You want me to stay downstairs with you?” She asked, pulling the hair off of my face.

“No thanks. Evan totally had my back tonight. Will you thank him for me? And let him know that if he wants to fill you and Kyle in on what happened, then he can.”

“Sure.” She pulled the blankets up over me. “Now get some sleep.”

“Thanks.” I tried to speak more, but as soon as my head touched my pillow, I was out.

When I woke the next morning, there was only a small throb in my head. For the most part, my body had recovered from the night. My heart however, was another story.

Cooper had blown up my cell phone with apologies and an explanation of why he didn’t push Jaden away. He’d said, “We dated for a while, but it ended badly. When she started flirting with me, it made me feel better about our breakup.” He admitted knowing it was wrong to play with her, and promised it would never happen again.

Not surprisingly, there were no messages from Jaden. The fact that neither of them told me they dated before now ate at my insides. Why keep something like that a secret?

To keep from having to answer questions that I didn’t have the answers to, I spent the morning looking up my strange experience on the Internet. All I found were speculations about abilities called visions. They seemed to come from touching an object or being in a place where something terrible occurred. Why I needed to know that about Jaden was beyond me. It wasn’t like I could use it to help her. She wanted nothing to do with me now.

While exploring the website about visions, an ad popped up to the right of the screen with some silver boxes for sale, and they reminded me of one my grandmother left me when she passed away. I’d buried it in my closet years ago—too hurt over her loss to open it—but seeing something similar on the same site that held knowledge of my experience urged me to dig it out.

After retrieving the box, I made my way to the futon and pulled the shiny keepsake onto my lap. It was in the shape of a heart, with another Celtic heart on the top. The silver reflected the purple paint on my bedroom walls.

My first attempt to open the box was unsuccessful. The latch appeared locked, but I had no key. After rummaging through my junk drawer, I found an old metal nail file, perfect for the job. A few jabs with my file, and the box unlatched.

Red velvet lined the inside of the box, and a letter and a silver key sat at the bottom. I carefully pulled out the letter that I suspected contained my grandmother’s last written words to me. Breathing deeply, I unfolded the paper.

Dear Aislinn,

By the time you read this, I will have been gone for many years. I want you to know that I love you. I wish I could be there through your struggles, but I was not allowed. One day soon, you will understand. This has all been part of the great plan, dear. Never forget that. Your struggles and your triumphs will lead you to your place of destiny. You must stay strong and be careful. I know you will be wondering what this key is for, but you must figure that out on your own. If my visions were correct, you will be opening this box, finally, around the age of seventeen. You should be noticing some new abilities that will only grow stronger in time. I can’t share any more about what your abilities are, but I can tell you this… Use them with caution. You can find out more about your talents if you truly seek them. These talents are powerful, so remember that and stay safe, dear.

Love always,

Grams

I clutched the letter to my chest, wishing she’d given me more answers, but thankful for her words. My grandmother had just visited me, even if only on paper. I set the letter down and picked up the mysterious key.

The riddle to the key had me puzzled. I tried to fit the key in the lock that I’d jimmied open, but realized the hole and key were very different in size. The two weren’t even the same shade of silver. That must have been why the key was inside the box. I gave up, setting both aside.

Before I put everything away, the letter needed one last look. Grams clearly stated that she had a vision of me opening the letter around my current age. Obviously, I needed to research that in more detail.

My vision, if that was what I’d had, showed me something in the past. But maybe visions worked both ways. Twice in the same day, the word “vision” had come to me, which had to mean something.

I spent the rest of the weekend researching, sharing very little with my roommates about what happened with Jaden and Cooper, and trying to move past my vision. No matter how angry I got with either of them, I couldn’t bring myself to write them off. Maybe my vision had been good for something, even if it was just to hold compassion. They both did what they did for a reason, like it or not.

My decision left Mel, Kyle and Evan quite irritated with me, but what could they do about it? I’d made up my mind; I wasn’t dumping my other friends. They would have to learn to live with that.

By evening, I decided to venture outside. The sun was just setting, and it cast an orange haze on the side of the house. I sat under the maple tree in the backyard, listening to the sounds of the koi rustling the water in the pond and the chickadees bathing on the edge. The smell of lavender filled the air, and thoughts of my dark-haired friend drifted to the forefront of my mind.

No matter how understanding I was toward Cooper, a part of me still longed for someone who loved me. Someone who I could share what I saw with, who would protect me from the harsh reality of my abilities. Every night, I turned to my dark-haired friend, wishing and hoping that he would find me, and fill that void.

DIVERSITY

M
onday morning came too quickly. I had to leave another dream about my dark-haired friend to go to campus, something I didn’t want to do. Mr. Wellner had put me in charge of the upcoming art show, and since I was the youngest person ever for this position, the weight of responsibility hit me like a sledgehammer.

The fact that both Jaden and Cooper would be at the art show didn’t make me feel any better. Despite Cooper’s surprising apology, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing the two of them in the same room. At least the show was a week away. I had time to prepare for the encounter.

By the time I arrived on campus my feet felt like weights as I made way to the pottery room. Mr. Wellner expected me to give my ideas on the show, but I didn’t have any yet—and I couldn’t waste any more time. People were all so different. Finding a way to represent them as individuals as well as a cohesive group was not easy. I hesitated before the door and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, and then flung the door open.

“Hello, there.” The corners of Mr. Wellner’s mouth rose, showing his crooked teeth. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m good,” I lied.

“Have you come up with any ideas on how to set up the show this year? Any themes? Colors?” He pushed his glasses higher up on his nose.

Breath caught in my throat as I tried to think up something quick. The heat of nervousness crept up inside me, but the solution suddenly came to me.

“What do you think of calling the show Diversity?”

Mr. Wellner nodded, and a smile slowly filled his face. “I like it, but why that?”

“Well,” I exhaled. “As I thought about all the possibilities over the last couple of weeks, I realized that every time I found a theme or color palette that went with someone’s display, it clashed with someone else’s. It’s my personal belief that our differences make us stronger as a whole. If we all respect that each one of us is a part of the whole, yet still an individual, then we can grow and learn from each other. Calling the show Diversity just makes sense.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “Tell me more. How would this work?”

“Maybe, rather than have a specific color on the walls or tables, we can mix things up. First, we can use some of the work from the cabinetry students to display sculptures and other artworks. We could even include some of their smaller pieces in the show.

“Second, I don’t want to segregate anyone’s work. I think having all different artists and media displayed side-by-side, one on top of the other, would show how similar we are too. So rather than show my vase alongside my head sculpture, put my head sculpture next to a photo of a person with a similar expression. And if there is a drawing of a flower, place it above my vase. Taking all different media and putting them together into one display that ties them all together. Will that work?”

Mr. Wellner lifted his head, as what I said seemed to sink in. He nodded several times, and his eyes opened wider.

“I believe, young lady, that this year’s art show will be the best ever. You’ve brought a wonderful idea to the table. I’m surprised you didn’t discuss this with me sooner. I was afraid you were having trouble.”

“Honestly, I was having trouble, but after struggling so much over our differences, this really makes the most sense. We can even display poems and short stories, maybe some song lyrics. We all have different ways to express ourselves, and I want to make sure I include everyone.”

“Wow.” He sat back in his chair. “This sounds great, Aislinn. I already have all the art and photography students’ work on the counters, but if you want writings, songs and woodwork, I’ll need to get something to those teachers today.” He rubbed his chin. “Do you have anything to do at home or in your other classes? I’ll need you here all week, especially if I’m going to throw so many other students’ works at you tomorrow. Maybe you should take care of your own works going into the show and then use the rest of the day to get ahead in your other classes.”

“It’s a deal.”

He was right. I would be in the studio all week. But my other classes, Photography and Career Writing/Resume Builder, were nothing to be concerned over. I didn’t even need my resume class yet, not until the end of my degree, but being so young and up against so many talented artists, I wanted to knock out my resume as soon as possible. At least then I’d know what I needed to add. My hope was to get a job as soon as my art classes were out of the way, then I could be working in the field while taking the monotonous classes in the evenings. I had no way to know if all my pushing would do me any good, but I was determined.

I applied some slip to a few sculptures waiting for the kiln, and set them in the drying locker. It would be a couple of days before there were enough pieces to load the kiln again, so I headed out.

“Thanks, Mr. Wellner. I’ll see you bright and early.” Lost in thought already, he merely raised his hand in response.

I had every intention of heading home. The weekend’s events had left me sleep deprived, and chancing a surprise encounter with Jaden wouldn’t be good. Before sneaking off to my car, I surveyed the parking lot. It was clear.

My heart ached at the idea of seeing her. I still didn’t know how she would react to me or what to say to her. Maybe ignoring one another was the safer route.

Before I could make it to the car, a soft voice called my name from behind. I turned, wide eyed with worry that it might be Jaden.

“Aislinn?” Hope spoke so quietly that I almost couldn’t hear her.

“Yes?”

“Are you headed out?” Her shoulders fell forward slightly. “If you are, I thought maybe you would want to hang out. I had a great time the other night, and I’d love to get together with you more often. My only class for the day is over. What do you say?”

“Oh, um… That actually sounds great.” Thankful for her company, I chuckled with a hint of disbelief. “What do you want to do?”

“Well…” She hesitated, face flushed, as if embarrassed to have my focus on her. “Maybe you could come over. I told my mom I’d watch my little sister for a bit. She has some stuff that she really needs to take care of.”

“No problem.” I spoke gently, trying to make her feel more at ease. She seemed much more apprehensive than she did at Jaden’s party.

“After my mom and aunt get home, we’re free to do what we want.”

“Sounds good. I’ll follow you. That way, you won’t have to drive me home later.” I leaned in close, lowering my voice. “Thank you.”

Hope looked at me with furrowed eyebrows. “For what?”

“For going last Friday,” I responded with appreciation. “And, thanks for asking me to hang with you today. I have a lot on my mind and being at home with no one else there…” My shoulders quivered. “It makes me uneasy.”

The way Hope stared in response made me feel that she knew exactly what I meant. Maybe she saw things too. Or perhaps I was only imagining things. For now, my mouth would stay shut.

“Follow me, then.” Hope walked with a bounce as she headed toward her car.

I followed her for fifteen minutes before she pulled onto a narrow dirt driveway with a small gnome figurine standing at the entrance. Trees and brush crowded the cramped space, and the road appeared riddled with potholes. I had to drive about two miles per hour to keep from rattling my car apart.

Her house looked like an old cottage. Moss grew thick on the roof, and ivy dangled from every ledge. Yet, even with the peeling white paint and the deck that desperately needed new wood, the house made me feel comfortable.

I walked up the stairs to the creaking deck carefully, not sure if any of the saggy boards would pop out of place and cause me to fall. Hope waited by the front door.

“Don’t worry.” She laughed. “They won’t break.”

I chuckled nervously. A small girl about the age of five approached us when we entered the house. Her hair was wild, the color of flame. She glowed with a soft yellow haze, and I wondered if that was what people meant when they talked about auras. She looked young, yet I felt like I was in the presence of a very old soul.

“Aislinn, this is my sister Kiera.” Hope motioned to the youngster.

“Hi, Kiera. It’s nice to meet you,” I said.

“Likewise,” she replied, then turned and walked elegantly upstairs.

“Dang, how old is she?” I asked Hope.

“She’s five.” Hope giggled. “She seems a lot older, doesn’t she?”

“You could say that. Where are your mom and aunt?”

“I called them on the way to let them know we were close.” Hope spoke nonchalantly. “They left a couple of minutes ago. We passed them on the way here.”

“Oh.” Why would they leave a five-year-old home alone for even a few minutes? I tried to shake off my concern. “So, where are we headed?”

“To my room.” Hope led me upstairs to the first door on the right.

Hope’s room seemed small compared to the rest of the house, but extremely cozy. Her wrought-iron bed looked centuries old, like something I’d seen in an old black-and-white movie, complete with wear marks and scuffs.

From the way she dressed, I had expected her room to be wild and colorful, not pastels. Her walls were soft yellow, and a handmade quilt covered the bed. Under the lacy drapes stood a small cream-colored desk with a few papers and a radio. Other than that, her room was empty.

Hope hopped onto her bed. “So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. What did you have in mind?”

“We can just hang or watch some movies. When my mom and aunt get back, we can take off for a while, if you want to.”

“Where did they go?”

“They… uh, well… went to a meeting.” Hope sounded vague.

“For work?”

“No, not really.” Hope looked away, playing with her hands. “I don’t normally tell people this, promise you won’t freak out?”

“Uh… I guess so.”

“My mom and aunt are witches. They’re with their coven.” She spoke very quietly, as if waiting for a bomb to drop.

“Witches?” I repeated nervously. “Like, they cast spells?”

Memories of my childhood pastor flooded my mind. Remembering when I’d admitted to my parents that I could see ghosts, and them rushing me to church. The pastor had said, “She’s haunted by demons. Discourage this communication at all costs.” I didn’t believe him, but hearing the word “witch” or “demon” brought up anytime I saw something, eventually built fear, and made me doubt my thoughts on witchcraft.

“Kind of. They’re more into healing with herbs, and… its complex.” She shrugged.

“Ah.” My pounding heart was slowing. I felt better about not being the only one with something different in my life. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Hope pulled a small box toward her and pulled out a blue stone and some wire. She wrapped it several times in the wire as I spoke to her.

“What does it mean to be a witch? My parents were a bit unnerved by any talk of witchcraft, so all I know has come from movies.”

“That depends on the individual. Just like with religion, there are different ways to interpret things. Since I’m not a witch myself, my mom or aunt would be better to ask.” Hope paid little attention to what she said, focused on getting just the right wrap on her round chunk of stone.

“What about magic? Can they really cast a spell and have money appear in a pot?”

“Oh jeez, Aislinn!” She laughed, shaking her head. “I won’t say that can’t happen, but I don’t know anyone who can do that. If I had to describe magic, I suppose you could say that it’s manipulation of energy. That being said, anything is really possible if you believe in it.”

“What about wands? Do they have wands?” My eager smile made Hope grimace.

She put her head in her hands. “Wands simply channel energy. They don’t create it. Maybe we should talk about something else.”

“I really want to know this stuff, Hope.” I didn’t want to share what happened to me as a child, or that maybe my pastor had been right about me after all. Something about me was different, and I needed to know what.

“All right.” Hope shook her head, but a smirk cracked her serious face. “Remember, this is my best guess. Like I said, I’m not a witch myself.”

“Fair.” I nodded. “Do you know if there are good witches and bad witches?”

She stared at the wall, trying to find a way to explain things to me. “I suppose. From what I’ve heard from my mother, some witches practice black magic, for self-gain and to hurt others, some gray magic, sometimes for self-gain but without trying to hurt anyone, and some white magic, which is more selfless. Kind of like the difference between someone who prays to win the lottery and someone who prays for their poor neighbor to win the lottery.”

“I see.” I rubbed my head, trying to dull the ache of confusion. “Do you know what would happen if someone practiced gray magic, since they aren’t necessarily hurting anyone?”

“There are always repercussions for our actions, whether we do something intentional or not. Think about it. If I cast a love spell, I’d be imposing on someone else’s freewill. I may get what I want, but I can’t change the person. There would always be heartache, since he’d be with me because of my manipulation, not because he wanted to be.”

I thought about Cooper. “If a person stays with someone who they know isn’t good for them, isn’t it kind of the same as casting a love spell?”

“Assuming that the person is manipulating a situation to keep the relationship going, then yes, it is very much the same. Even if someone just refuses to see the truth about a situation, if they don’t listen to their gut, no amount of magic can repair what comes of that. Magic or not, ignoring our internal sensors only leads to heartache.”

I slumped over my legs, pulling them into myself for comfort. Was I refusing to listen to my gut? I shivered, afraid to face the possibility.

“Thanks, Hope. I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about this stuff. Is there anything you can do?”

“Actually, there is. I’m learning to read Tarot.” She perked up. “Do you want a reading?”

“That depends.” I hesitated. “Can it be about anything? I don’t want to know when I’m going to die.”

“Oh! You’re so funny, Aislinn. You have watched too many movies.” She laughed. “I guess some people may read that way, but no one I know.”