Witch Hazel Chapter 5 part 8

Witch Hazel 

Chapter 5 part 8

Harry had heard tell of this place but finding it had been a whole different trial. Apparently the owner liked to keep his shop under the radar and it was best located using directions from trusted buyers. Baffling though it was to Harry that this town didn’t have a main street apothecary, he needed the services of an herbalist and would have to take what he could find.

It was dark when he finally stood in front of the building and looked at the tiny sign hanging from the front.  It didn’t say anything, only a picture of a bundle of herbs was painted on the small plaque.

“Makes no sense,” he mumbled, ascending the steps one tired foot at a time. “In my day this would be a shiny store in the center of town with a respectable sign.”

“Good afternoon, sir, welcome to Nixie’s Elixirs and Herbs. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Harry O Tuathaigh looked around the dirty, slightly suspect establishment and wondered if they knew what an elixir was beyond a bottle of liquid. Certainly he saw potions and bottles of interesting looking things but very little he recognized. What had happened to good, respectable herbalists with proper storefronts and their wares out for folks to see?

“Hm,” he ruminated a moment more before hazarding his question. “I’m looking for some rare items and I’m debating if this dingy store would even know what they are.”

“Uh,” the shop keeper blinked, caught off guard by the old man’s rudeness. “I’ve been in the business for ten years now and I’ve plenty of connections outside this store. If I don’t have what you’re looking for, I’m sure I can track it down for you.”

Harry’s stare seemed to burn into the man’s skull. “Mhm.”

“Are you from this area? I don’t believe I’ve seen you in here before.” The Shop Keep, Derek, peered at the grouchy old man curiously. He couldn’t sense any magic on the man, aside from the lingering aftertaste that follows a person after they’ve been around someone with abilities. Uncommon though it was, it seemed he had a human in his shop asking after rare and powerful items he’d thus far not trusted the actual witch enough to list them off.

“From here? Nay,” Harry muttered rather shortly. He wasn’t a talkative man and didn’t want to divulge his business to this complete stranger. “Do you have powdered wings of a monarch?” he began, deciding there was no harm in asking.

“Yes, that I do. How much?”

“1.2,” he replied, mood lifting as he found they had it. “What about silver dust?”

“Absolutely. How much?”

“2.” Harry considered the place as he watched the man behind the counter weigh and carefully package his purchases. He’d judged the place harshly at first but they did seem to be well stocked. Perhaps if things went well he’d recommend the location to Benita. He’d draw her a damn map, though.

“Anything else?”

“Might you have dried bloodroot and witch hazel?”

“One moment, I’ll check,” he said and turned to his cabinet. Derek carefully looked through his wares, wondering what the customer could possibly be brewing. Monarch wings were powerful stuff. Silver dust could be deadly to certain species. And witch hazel… “Ah, here we go.” He produced his supply of the two. “What quantity of these, sir?”

“6 and 4,” Harry nodded to him.

“Your total is 800,” Derek said, ringing him up.

“I don’t really carry money,” the old man began and Derek groaned internally. “Do you take trades?”

“It depends on the trade but on occasion,” he nodded warily. He didn’t want another bad experience with a man unloading a bunch of gerbils and a roll of aluminum wire onto his counter again.

“Oh, good.” Harry set his bag on the counter and began to pull out some of his elixirs. Derek barely managed to contain a gasp when he saw how powerful and valuable some of them were. “Let me see. Would a full bottle of Vampire Bite be enough?”

“Not quite,” Derek eyed the goods with sudden and intense longing. “Is that a physical change potion?”

“Yes,” Harry began to smile and pushed it towards him. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Do you think this potion will work?” Ron asked as they waited for a tug on the line. They fished partially for dinner and partially because there was a certain specimen Harry needed. Some kind of fairy… something. Harry had said he’d know it when he saw it. His brother only gave a grunt of ascent and Ron continued talking. “It took a pretty powerful potion to pay for some of those fancy makings you say you need,” he mused. “We’re gonna be out a bit if this doesn’t work.”

“It’ll work,” Harry grunted.

“But how do you know?” Ron persisted, not really expecting an answer. His older brother had always been the silent type. Ron talked to himself more than anything. It was something to do and he didn’t enjoy fishing like Harry did so he got fidgety and bored, resulting it a continuous stream of one sided conversation that he was sure his brother simply ignored.

“Have to go into it with a positive attitude,” was all Harry said. His response actually startled Ron and he almost dropped his fishing pole.

“Aye, you are the potions master,” Ron agreed. “I’d be foolish to argue with you.”  A nod and a faint smile from Harry. “And Brigid is a wise one so I think she’d know best.” Another gentle nod from Harry. “Will it harm Benita’s unborn child though?” Ron wondered, scratching the stubble on his chin. “The last thing she needs is to lose her bairn.”

“It can’t hurt the bairn,” Harry said quietly. However, he’d exhausted his conversationalist skills for one day and he put his pole down. He’d noticed some mushrooms growing wild among the rushes and he intended to collect them. Ron could handle the fishing poles for now.

He found some unusual and interesting varieties of fungus growing in the swamp as well as more common types that it never hurt to stock up on. With autumn upon them, he would soon run out of places to forage for fresh ingredients.

Ron’s concern for the baby had sparked a little twinge of unease inside him. Boosting her natural magical ability was a risky thing and truthfully, he didn’t entirely know what would happen to Benita. He had to try, though he would have preferred to have been able to do this before she’d found herself with child again. Brigid had only come up with the idea a few weeks ago and his adopted daughter was a few months along at this point.

Could they really risk waiting? What if they held off and ended up losing them both?

Harry poured the honey into the pot, humming in a strange pitch. The song of making had been taught to him by his father and it helped him produce potions that were stronger and longer lasting than any other potion maker he’d ever encountered. Where the song had come from was an old legend among their people, a secret from the outsiders of their clan.

Stirring the large kettle, he sniffed the steam and nodded to himself. The scent was sweet and just a little peppery. It was progressing well, then. He let it simmer for a few more minutes, continuing to hum the strange and discordant tune as he perused the old book sitting on his pedestal. 

Another stir brought the simmer down to a gentle bubble and he checked the scent again. The peppery smell had gotten stronger and the concoction was getting thicker. Time to add the silver dust.

Harry pulled the small package from his supply bag and sprinkled it into the mixture, then quickly began to stir again. The scent rising from the pot, carried by the steam and the breeze coming from the open window, quickly shifted from peppery to bright and metallic. Excellent.

With practiced skill, he continued to stir as he added a vial of mushroom oil. It glowed a silvery green and smelled quite powerful as he poured it in, nodding with satisfaction as his brew hissed and bright sparks flew up from the pot

Harry sang gently now, his rolling tune settling into a deeper ambient hum, more akin to a deep rumble than an actual song. There was power in the notes he sang and it reverberated through the room. The tea kettle on the wood stove rattled as the notes bounced off it, a candle guttered but came back hotter and brighter than before. Outside the trailer, the wind and rain picked up intensity. It would probably rain for days.

With a satisfying pop, the spell broke and the steam rose in a lovely shade of purple. The crushed monarch wings gave it a heady peppery scent and the silver would give it the metallic aftertaste his daughter was sure to hate, even though those ingredients carried the power of his song straight into her little wolf ticker and brought her powers hot into the forefront. He brought over a bottle from his supply and filled it, capping it with a cork he pulled from a vest pocket. The potion produced more than one dose, he filled six bottles in all with the contents of the pot. That was good, they would be highly valuable.

Benita was laying on the bed, fiddling with the camera on its tripod. “I think I have it,” she said. “Are you ready?”

“Make sure red light is flashing before you get up,” Leonardo said. “I’d hate to not catch this on camera.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll record.” Benita pushed the rec button and waited until she saw the light flashing. “And we’re live!” 

Of course now that she had everything rolling, she laid there for a moment because moving around was not easy. Her pants weren’t fitting too well either. She wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking when she got dressed this morning but she was certain another change of clothes was in her day.

“Come to daddy!” Leo said, crouching a few feet from his daughter. “You can do it, I know you can!”

“Da-da!” Rosa held her hands out, wobbled, then fell on her butt.

Leonardo dropped his head in helpless chuckles as his wife rolled off the bed to her daughter. “It’s okay, sweetie, try again.” Benita helped Rosa up onto her feet once more. “Mommy knows you can.”

“Here,” Leo smiled and got up, taking his little girl’s hands. She was still so small and trying so hard to get onto her feet, it was adorable and Leo was putty in her tiny fists. 

“Come on,” Benita encouraged, crouching a small distance back.

“Dada!” Rosa said and took a wobbly step all of her own accord, as her parents held their breath. It was followed by three more, half stumbling, half falling as she landed in her dad’s arms. “Da da!” she exclaimed again with even more happiness.

“Who’s daddy’s smart little girl? You’re so good, you walked all by yourself!” Leo exclaimed, tossing her in the air in glee.

“Aw, you did it!” Benita said, coming over to congratulate the toddler.

“Obviously she got her smarts from me,” Benita smirked.

“Oh is that what you think?” Leo chuckled. “Who did you get your smarts from baby? Mommy or dada?”

“Dada!” Rosa hugged her dad, who laughed and tickled her.

“She knows what side the bread is buttered on.”

Benita changed into more comfortable clothes and Leo decided it was about time to get dressed too. It was still early in the day but dark and rainy out. It had started storming quite violently in the middle of the night. She found her loose top and the nice stretchy skirt and ditched the restrictive shorts. As she collected the laundry from the bedroom and went to start a load, she offered one last teasing, “I still think she gets it from me.”

Benita was going about her morning routine. Laundry, a little dusting, finding whatever dirty dishes had migrated away from the kitchen, and picking up abandoned toys. She was just finishing up and looking to find a little private time at the computer to work on her (admittedly terrible) first attempt at a novel, when her phone rang. Pulling it from her skirt pocket she saw her mother’s name on the screen and answered.

“Hey ma,” she smiled. “You’ll never guess what happened this morning. No, guess.” There was a pause. “Rosa took her first steps! Don’t worry, we caught it on camera. Oh yeah we’re settling in nicely, despite our odd little setbacks.”

“The house is beautiful, you should come see it. I’m trying to unpack still so it’s kind of a wreck but- oh!” her hand flew to her mouth. “Ma, are you ok?”

“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Is dad ok? Well why can’t you tell me over the phone?”

“Yes, I’ll be over as soon as possible. I just need to tell Leo.” She’d scarcely had time to hang up before she was calling for her husband. “Leo! Leo, where are you?”

“I’m right here, what’s the raucous?” Leonardo asked as he walked out of the nursery. He saw the stricken look on her face and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“Something’s wrong, ma called and said she needed me to come over as soon as she could. She wouldn’t tell me why, not exactly, only that it was a matter of life and death.”

“Calm down, breathe,” Leo said. “I’m not going to have you passing out in a panic. Do you want me to go with you?”

“Ye- no, you need to stay here with Rosa,” Benita said. “If something bad has happened I don’t want her to see it.”

“Okay, just take it easy. Call me if you need me there. I’ll get ahold of Diego so he can watch Rosa in case I need to come over.”

Benita hugged her mate tightly. “Thank you,” she said. “I’d better hurry.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“Ma! Ma!” Benita called, rushing through the muddy ground into the family camp. She wished she’d thought to change shoes or to grab a jacket. The rain was cold and the breeze was making matters even worse. Shivering, she looked around for any sign of life.

“Benita, dear, is that you yelling?” Brigid came out of the main cabin and looked at her daughter. “Gracious child, you’re going to get soaked.”

“Ma, what’s wrong? Where’s dad, is he ok?”

“We’re fine, poor thing, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Brigid stepped down from the trailer, gathering her skirts to keep them off the damp grass. “I have some rather important news is all and a short time span in which to pass it on to you.”

Brigid gave her daughter a hug. “I’m glad you came. Sorry for the fright.”

“It’s ok,” Benita hugged her mom. “I was worried but I’m glad everyone’s ok.”

“Come inside out of the rain,” Brigid said, leading her up into the trailer she’d emerged from.

“Okay,” she chuckled. It wasn’t a humorous chuckle but more of a relieved sound, the pressure that had been wrapped around her heart releasing as she realized she’d worked herself up for nothing.

“Come in, take a seat,” her mother smiled.

Benita walked inside and moved to close the door. She caught the reassuring smile from her father before he turned back to his book. If he was at ease, she knew everything was as it should be. She closed the door and turned to her mom. “At the tea table?”

“No, dear, by the crystal ball,” Brigid said.

Benita nodded and pulled out her phone to send her husband a quick text ‘Everything is fine’ before doing as directed.

“So…” Benita took a seat at the crystal ball table, across from her mother and gave her a questioning look. “You brought me over here to tell my fortune? Ma, I was worried it was something serious.”

“It is serious,” she said. “I’m trying to divine how to bring your powers back. You recall how much trouble I had seeing anything in your future as a child?”

“I.. Well, vaguely,” Benita said.

“Wolves have a natural defense mechanism against supernatural beings like vampires, who excel at mind reading and sometimes even mind control. They get in your head.”

“….Yes,” Benita sounded confused still. 

“You were already thick headed as a child and now you’re a werewolf on top of it. I suspect it will be a great trial to see anything for you.”

“But ma, you read for wolves all the time when we were kids.”

“Pah, cold reading my dear. Oldest traveler trick in the book. Only one who could actually see anything in their future was you, I suspect because you had an innate pull on the ether that I do not possess.”

“But you just said they’re guarded against other supernaturals.”

“Yes. I’d also like to point out that to this day no one knows exactly what you are, dear Benita. Clearly at least half human given that your husband turned you into a wolf, but there is something old and powerful in your veins. Probably older than werewolves themselves.”

A cold tickle ran down Benita’s spine. “M-Ma you’re not saying…”

“It is only a guess,” Brigid said calmly. “The old ones love humans but they don’t care too much for the children they produce with them. Now, if you’re alright, I’d like to begin with the reading. It’s going to take a whopping lot of energy to do anything legitimate on you, so sit quietly like a good girl.”

“A-Ah, ok,” Benita managed, still shaken and slightly unnerved.

“Mmmm…..” her mother began to hum at a low, steady pitch as she held her hands near the crystal ball. It trembled, then slowly began to hover and glow.

Benita watched with no small amount of enthusiasm. Her mother had indeed gotten better at this, she’d grown much more powerful since she’d last seen her work. How had that happened? 

Brigid gazed into the glowing orb with a furrowed brow and a serious downward tilt to her lips. There were tiny droplets of perspiration beading around her rosy face despite the cool air blowing through the open window on the other side of the trailer. The younger woman worried slightly but didn’t say anything as instructed. She had to trust that her mother knew what she was doing.

“Hm,” Brigid murmured to herself. With no further comment than that, she let the orb settle into it’s cradle and she relaxed in her seat for a moment. “I may need to try something more direct.”

Benita wasn’t too sure about this. As Brigid explained that actually having physical contact with Benita might make it easier to get a read on her, she wondered if any of this was actually going to work.  If wolves were so hard to read and she had been hard to read before being turned… well, she’d sit through her mother’s attempts because she knew better than to argue.

It was bloody annoying, though. Even though her mother’s hands smelled nice - tea tree oil and lavender and the subtle hints of musk that scented her hand lotion - it was still damn annoying having it plastered over her whole face. Again she questioned why she was going along with this but figured she wouldn’t have her mother for much longer and should humor her eccentricities.

Something must have gotten through because when Brigid let her hand down her whole body posture had changed. She drooped slightly, face turned down and wouldn’t meet Benita’s eyes for a long moment.

“Mom?” Benita asked in concern. “Are you feeling well? It didn’t strain you too much, did it?”

“Mmm?” Brigid lifted her head and managed a small smile. “I’m doing as well as can be expected of an old woman. I need a cuppa to revitalize, will you join me?”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

“So,” Brigid said ruminatively as she poured the hot water over the tea leaves. “The spark is still there, I managed to connect to it. That’s progress.”

“A spark, you say?”

“Like a pilot light in a gas stove,” her mother explained. “Only a small start to what you could be, given more fuel.”

Benita watched her mother prepare the tea like it was a sacred ritual. In a way, it was. Tea leaf reading was as much a common practice for her as gazing into her crystal ball. The heady scent of the black tea brought back memories and so much nostalgia that she felt momentarily disoriented. She regretted leaving her home in a way but somehow also knew that she wasn’t right for this. It wasn’t in her blood like them and she’d been destined to settle down someplace permanent. 

“Do you have any thoughts on this matter?” her mother asked.

“I don’t know,” Benita admitted. “I’m mostly confused. I don’t feel special…. I don’t feel this spark.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Brigid poured their tea. “Sugar and cream still?”

Benita managed a small smile that she recalled her preferences. “Of course.”

A sugar cube and a dollop of cream went into Benita’s cup but Brigid’s remained hot and strong. Her mother sipped and inhaled deeply from her cup as Benita stirred her sugar and cream in. “It’s hard to sense something that’s been a part of you your whole life. I suppose you might notice it more without the added distraction of being a wolf. You’re still fairly new to that and I suspect still a little overwhelmed.”

“I admit it’s been a lot to take in,” Benita raised an eyebrow as she raised her cup. “You’re saying this pilot light, this small spark of power can be used to… what? Reignite me? Sounds dangerous.

“It might be a tad risky but I’m afraid the possible benefits outweigh the dangers. You have a long life ahead of you and it is fraught with danger, you need your strength to protect your children.”

“What is it you’re suggesting we do? I’ve tried accessing it but nothing seems to happen.” The fire crackled peacefully in the stove behind them. It made the room smell woodsy and combined with the tea and crackle of the stereo, it seemed too perfect a place to be confronted with her apparently dangerous genetics. “I don’t want to risk my baby just to have more power.”

“Luckily for you, your father has created a way to bring your natural powers back without hurting you or the unborn child,” Brigid said around a sip of tea. “Harry! Be a dear and bring that bottle. I’m exhausted.”

Harry picked up a rather large bottle of a mysterious, glowing purple liquid and set it on their tea table. He regarded them quietly even as Benita erupted from her seat in agitation. “What is this? There’s so much power rolling off that bottle it could kill a man just sniffing at it.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ll be drinking it, not sniffing it,” her mother chortled.

“It’ll be fine,” her father reassured quietly, scratching his stomach. “I promise ye. You know I’d never hurt you or the bairn.”

“But da!” cried Benita. “I can’t take a risk like this. It’s not just me I’m putting in danger.”

“Listen to your father,” her mother chided. “We’ve looked out for you all your life. Would we hurt you now?”

Benita stared at the bottle for a long moment. She watched the glow ebb and flow and the ethereal steam escape the top. It wasn’t hot, she was sure, some potions had so much power in them they just always looked hot. She wanted to trust them, they were her family. Unlike Leonardo’s parents, hers were goodhearted and simple people. She’d never had to worry about machinations against her or unwarranted attacks on her wellbeing. 

“Benita?” her father’s gentle voice startled her. “You don’t trust me?”

“No, da… I do,” she sighed and reached for the potion.