She walked the halls of the hospital, her left hand fingering the vial in her pocket absentmindedly. Riding the elevator up two floors, she made no conversation with the nurses beside her, but made her way to the room she had been told about. Room 315, Glen Chase. Knocking on the door and getting no response, she looked around to make sure no one was watching, and let herself into the room. Closing the door softly behind her, she took a deep breath and centered, imagining herself as an oak tree, her roots stretching down deep into the ground.
Drawing on the calm force of Earth and touching the silver pentacle pendant around her neck, she closed her eyes and whispered a plea to the Goddess. Opening her eyes, she looked with the inner Sight, seeing the metaphysical overlapping with the physical. Stepping forward, she pulled the privacy curtain away from the bed. Dark shadows laid over the sleeping man, moving sluggishly with the ebb and flow of his life force. Raising her right hand before her, her rowan ring began to glow with a soft white light, piercing the shadows. They recoiled at first at the blessed moonlight that had been stored in the ring, but malevolently retaliated, swirling over the man and starting to suffocate him.
A flick of her left hand, and the curtains to the window slid aside, the clouds in the night sky parting to allow the true Moon to shine down into the room. She could almost hear the scream of the darkness as it was torn to tatters before her by the cleansing power of the moonlight. Mouth set grimly, she chased down each scrap of shadow with the light of her ring and scoured it from the room.
The back of her neck tingled, and she scanned the room, her gaze ultimately drawn to a gardenia plant sitting beside the bed. Shifting deeper into the Sight, she saw dark lines of black and red curled around the roots and shooting through the entire plant, emanating energy filled with malice. This is no coincidence, no random attack of darkness, she thought. Someone meant this fate for him. Mouth set in a grim line, she grabbed a small trash can nearby and swept the plant into it, skin recoiling as the energy seethed out against her brief contact. Reaching into her purse, she brought out a slim vial of oil and emptied it over the plant. It withered immediately, the cleansing mixture of clove, lavender, jasmine, and peppermint overpowering the curse.
She looked over Glen again, seeing his aura recovering from the attack, but still weak and frail. Reaching into her purse again, she drew out another vial. Unstopping it, she applied the oil to a finger and placed dabs of it on his forehead, each earlobe, the hollow of his neck, and his feet. Whispering another prayer to the Goddess, she smiled as the oil began to glow brightly, wrapping around his body with healing energy.
Pulling a large plastic bag out of her purse, she placed the trash can inside of it, carefully avoiding contact with the dead plant. Closing the privacy curtain, she left the room, the moonlight shining behind her.
* * *
She didn’t look up as the door opened behind her, but continued transplanting the plant she was holding to a larger terra cotta pot, tamping down the soil firmly. “Morning’s greetings, Kelly,” she said.
“Likewise, Shiobhan. How is it that you always know that it’s me rather than someone else?” Standing and stretching, Shiobhan turned to look at the blue-haired woman holding a Starbucks cup in each hand, her eyes drawn to the bared midriff sporting a belly ring amidst a henna sun tattoo. She grinned at the black cutoff tshirt which stated “I see UNdead people”.
“Who else would it be? And besides, the patchouli you use is a dead giveaway,” she said, taking the chai offered to her and taking a sip before setting it down on a bench. “I’m almost about done here, just a few more to go and then we can bring these over to the shop. New tat?”
“Yeah, felt like redecorating. While you’re working on those, I’ll put these in the truck,” she said, pointing to the stack of pots laid out on the workbench. Shiobhan watched as the woman took a long swig of her coffee, openly admiring her assistant as she swallowed. “Hmmm, some tunes ok while we work?”
“Go for it,” she said as she reached for another plant, smiling as Kelly started blasting hard rock out of the CD player. Music made the work go faster, and between the two of them, they quickly finished work in the greenhouse. Carrying the last of the plants out to Kelly’s old pickup truck, she shut the back door, brushing some dust off the bumper sticker proclaiming “Real women drive pickup trucks”.
“This new batch should be popular, I think… the purples really came out nicer than I was hoping for,” she said as she slid into the passengers seat.
“Not a surprise… plants tend to do what you ask them, after all. Maybe it’s because you ask them so politely,” Kelly said as she shut her door and started the car. “So, how did last night go?”
Shiobhan grimaced. “Nasty bit of work, that. Someone really had it in for Mr. Chase, apparently.” She recounted the experience with the plant while Kelly navigated the roads towards downtown Providence. “And I really don’t like the thought of someone like myself out there, using similar gifts turned to the Left Hand Path, but it looks like that’s the case. Thank the coven for me, for the heads up.”
“You could thank them yourself, you know. We’re getting together tomorrow night at my place,” Kelly offered, taking a right-hand turn onto Thayer Street and looking for a parking spot. “They miss you.”
Shiobhan shook her head. “I know. but I can’t. I appreciate what you all have tried to do, but… that’s not my way anymore. It took Robert to show me that, but it’s true. In the end, I’m meant to do this alone.”
“You’re always welcome if you change your mind,” Kelly said as she slid the truck into a free spot in front of a store named The Wild Rose. Noticing the lights were on, she changed the subject and said, “Looks like Taz beat us here this morning.”
“Looks like,” Shiobhan said as she slid out of the truck and grabbed some of the plants out of the bed. Carefully balancing the load, she opened the door and held it open for Kelly with her foot. “Morning, Taz. Long night?”
“Sleep is for the weak,” Taz replied, running his hand through his spiky blonde hair. “Though after these midterms, I might revise that to ’sleep is for a week’. Figured that I could get a head start on opening while alternating with studying.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She set the plants down and went back for more, flipping the sign on the door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ as she propped it open.
As she and Kelly finished bringing in the last of the plants, Taz looked up from one of his books and said, “Oh, someone called for you, Shiobhan… at least, I think it was for you. Said he was looking for the owner, but he said her name was Joan. Didn’t leave a message.”
Goosebumps ran over her skin, and she nearly dropped the pot she was holding. “Shiobhan is the Gaelic version of Joan. Did he leave a name?”
“James, I think,” Taz said. “Hung up before I could say much other than you weren’t here. Seemed like a bit of an asshole, to be honest. Really snotty.” He shrugged and went back to studying his calculus book.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Shiobhan muttered.
Kelly looked over at Shiobhan with concern, never having seen her so rattled before. “Who is he? Some stalker ex of yours or something?”
“No,” she said. “Worse than that. Much worse than that. He’s my father.”
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