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Chapter 4 Matricaria Recutita 'Red Heather'
Brian drives a 1998 Mustang convertible that is in less than mint condition. The convertible part is what sent my shoulder length brown hair whipping my face. The car isn't new, but immaculately maintained. The rust spots around the doors and fenders had been sanded away and covered with an ugly grey primer.
"Nice car!" I yelled as the wind thundered against my ears.
A grin crept across Brian's face as a feeling of pride centered on his chest. "Thanks," he said.
We didn't get into the details most guys would regarding engine size and such. My knowledge of automobiles is limited to where the oil and gas go. I know this much because, once I manage to open the child proof hood, there is a cap that says 'Oil'. I was thankful that the music playing on the radio filled in the gaps of our conversation.
I would have given more notice, but my attention had been drawn up his blue jeans to his thin chest and finally to his green eyes that quickly glanced away from me.
"Hey, better slow down," I said, pointing to the reflectors at the end of my driveway a few hundred feet ahead. "That's my house."
Brian hit the brakes harder than I expected and I nearly made a meal of the tan colored dashboard as we swung around and up my driveway. The dust from our race up its curved length, billowed and curled around us like brown fog, causing me to cough as we exited the car.
"Nice place!" Brian said eyeing my house. With a flick of Brian's wrist the song was cut short and we were left with the whispering of leaves.
"Thanks! I have to let out Shadow, you want anything to drink?" I asked.
"Sure, got a Pepsi?" he asked.
His blond hair was a wreck, and I knew the gale had made a mess of mine as well. "Well," I shrugged, "How about some cider?" I asked with an awkward grin. I made a mental note to pick up some pop for visitors.
"That'd be great, thanks," I turned my head back at Brian's reply. His eyes jerked upward. Was he just checking out my ass?
I felt my face flush as I turned and jogged to the door. I knew the different sounding engine that had driven up to our house would confuse Shadow. She was already barking and I could hear the rhythmic thud of her bouncing against the door.
I fumbled with my keys and unlocked the door. I pushed my keys back into my pocket before pulling open the screen door wider and pushing in on the heavy door. Shadow leapt into my arms and gave me excited licks as her curved tail promised to throttle anything within its five inch length.
"Okay, Shadow, go pee," I said, letting her back down to the ground. She wandered around the yard and finished her business faster than ever before.
"Does she bite?" Brian asked.
Shadow and I both turned our heads in his direction and she charged Brian. I watched as his eyes opened wide. He backed away, raising his hands. Within seconds she was upon him and bouncing against his legs.
He crouched down and nervously put out his hand for her inspection. "Heya Shadow," he said, petting her and sending her tail into another frenzy of motion.
"You pass," I said, chuckling, watching him glance up to me with a questioning look.
"Dogs are an excellent judge of people. She would have mauled you if you were evil," I answered with a smile.
The puzzled look on his face didn't reassure me, and I felt the fleeting confusion echo through his chest. He was nervous. I suppose everyone is the first time you visit a new place. His curiosity was winning though as he stood.
"You're placing him in great danger," the uncles whispered to me across the wind.
"Huh?!" Brian furrowed his brow looking to me for an answer.
"Stop it! You know he can hear you," I snapped back. My anger flared and subsided with the gust of cool air. I waved Brian over to the door as I opened it in front of me and stepped in.
"You coming?" I yelled, poking my head out the opening.
Brian lingered before he finally started towards the door with Shadow leading the way.
I held the door open for them and kicked off my shoes on the small landing that led into the kitchen. I continued in and watched as Brian walked through the doorway, beneath the Betony and Mandrake roots that lined the top of the doorframe.
"The Mandrake is for prosperity and Betony for purification and protection," I explained pointing to them. Brian passed beneath the herbs with ease and it made me smile. I opened refrigerator to pulled the jug of cider from its shelf.
I heated our cider in a pan with a spoonful of 'Red Hots'. I set a very low flame as I continued the tour of our home. The sweet scent of earth and herb seemed to draw him to my garden on the front porch.
"You have a garden inside?" he asked, walking toward the front porch.
"Yeah, that's my garden." I smiled and followed him through the doorway onto the porch.
I watched him finger the leaves as he walked up and down the short aisles of plants. I had made the wooden tables myself. The tops were waist high and only two feet wide. Another level below held the plants that required semi- shade. There were five rows of tables total in my make shift greenhouse. Brian was gentle with his touch and leaned down to smell them as he moved between the rows.
"That's Woodworm, it's poisonous, but only in mass quantities, and good for bringing about divination. To the right is Mugwort, and to the left is Meadowsweet," I explained.
I continued to rattle of the names and uses of the two tiers of plants. I watched as he moved between the rows breathing in their aroma.
"Each has its own purpose," I said, blushing. The Meadowsweet is for love. I watched the sensual way his fingers played across the small white flowers. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose drawing in the scent of my garden and smiled.
"This place is too cool," he announced, smiling back at me.
His eyes locked onto the Marijuana plants I had growing in the corner.
"Is that what I think it is?!" he whispered.
"Yes, it's weed. Man made beer, Gods made Marijuana. I trust the powers that be more than man," I answered with a grin. "Lets keep that part of my garden a secret okay?"
"You're the first person I've ever invited into our house, so you also have my trust." I searched his eyes and feelings. Brian was nervous, and his chaotic emotions were ravaging every thought.
"You can trust me. I won't narc you out or anything," he tried to reassure me.
"What do you do with all this stuff?" Brian was fingering another flower.
"Well, the chamomile you're touching smells good, it's beautiful, and can also be dried and made into a tea that helps you sleep. They all have their uses," I explained.
I picked a leaf of Red Heather and carried it back toward the kitchen. I gave my mental thanks for its offering.
"Cider should be almost done," I grinned.
I placed the leaf in the cider and left it to simmer for just a little longer as we sat at the table along the wall.
"What's that you just put in the cider?" Brian asked me warily.
"It's Red Heather. It's for protection," 'and passion,' I added mentally, trying to look at anything but his beautiful green eyes. I sat at the table again and let the day's tension leave me.
"That Lilac bush in the cafeteria, it's from you isn't it!?" Brian's eyes seemed to gleam with realized truth.
"And you gave it to the lunch lady?" he scrunched up his face in disgust.
"Doris," I corrected him, "and yes. I carried it to school the other day. She needs it."
"To cook with?" Brian's eyes narrowed in disbelief.
"No. She needs something pretty. She needed a gift, and she needs something to take care of." I answered.
"More like something else to kill," he muttered back.
He didn't understand Doris. She was lonely and desolate. A hard life seemed to have beaten our her joy, and she had learned her lessons too well. I decided to drop the subject.
"Care to stay for dinner?" I asked pushing back my chair with an audible screech against the linoleum floor.
I grabbed two coffee mugs from the cupboard. Avoiding the leaf, I ladled our cider into the mugs, and placed one before him, taking a quick sip of my own before sitting back down.
The cinnamon sweet smell permeated the room. I could feel his mind filing away our conversation as we sat taking small sips of the cider.
"Sure!" he finally answered, trying to hide a weak blush. I chuckled to myself and took another sip of my cider. He looked so innocent some times. I had noticed on several occasions how his green eyes would look like a child's seeing their first snow.
"How did you know Kevin was getting ready to jump you the other day?" Brian picked at the lip of the cup while staring into his cider. His curiosity had finally gotten the best of him.
"I felt it." I took another quick sip of my cider nearly burning my lip.
He sat there analyzing me trying to comprehend my answer.
"What are those voices I keep hearing when I'm around you? It never happens around anyone else." His green eyes were now staring at me.
I took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.
"You aren't like most people, Brian," I told him.
Brian's breath caught and I could feel the wall of emotion burst within him as tears fell from his sad emerald eyes. A complete devastation erupted from him that overwhelmed me with sorrow. I was going to continue until I felt his sorrow chased away by anger. I had botched it, and he had misunderstood. His pain welled within him like a fresh water spring of sadness.
I stood and took the few short steps around the kitchen table and wrapped him in my arms as he sobbed.
"I'm.. I'm.." he choked out between the sobs. "Gay!" Brian whispered with anguish.
I would have laughed at the misunderstanding but Shadow's low growl caught my attention as she stood bristling at the doorway to my herb garden. The hairs on my arms stood on end as a chill raced up my spine and centered in the back of my neck.
"Brian get down!" I yelled as the werewolf burst through the wall into my garden, sending a spray of wood, glass, and plaster exploding into the room.
The werewolf let out a deafening roar and debris fell to the floor. The smell of smoldering flesh permeated the room. The werewolf's clawed feet were blistering and burning as he stumbled forward. I recognized its piercing amber eyes. They belonged to David. This werewolf was my godfather. I called the limbs of the oak to reach into my house and wrap around him. He thrashed wildly against the growing branches, tearing at the limbs as wood and leaves snaked their grasp about him. The coiling branches pulled him backward and lifted him from the ground as I slowly made my way forward through the hole in the wall and out into our front yard.
Smoldering fur, flesh, and branches fell like rain to the ground as he thrashed wildly against the wooden restraints which continued to writhe about his neck, arms, and legs. The wards of our land were working as intended, but were only providing him a slow searing agony.
Tears stained my face as the werewolf's mournful, defeated howl shattered the darkness. I didn't know what to do! I couldn't bear my godfather's suffering and finally called the lightning down. Three blinding white flashes struck the center of his chest leaving the scent of burnt flesh and ozone. The oaken limbs relaxed and set his lifeless body gently to the ground in a cradle of wooden fingers. The branches receded cracking against the night and righted themselves as I stood staring at the devastated creature that was my godfather.
David had been my father's best friend and confidant, and later accepted the title of my godfather when I was born. After the accident that took my parents, it was decided that my uncles, Mark and Kent, would see to my education in the Druid way. The four of us had spent many happy meals and holidays together, and I had just killed him.
"Well done," a voice spoke from the moonlit darkness to my right. I spun around, sending the lightning down yet again.
The dark figure raised his hand, batting away the thunderous flashes of lightning as if they were mosquitoes. His eyes widened in surprise as a single oaken branch plunged through his chest with a hollow wet crunch. The wooden talon retreated slowly, blood-slicked, and back into the tree as he fell to his knees, finally toppling to the ground with a soft thud.
A gust of cold air pushed against my skin like a stranger. "What have you done!" the uncles raged at me through the wind. I had killed, not once, but twice this night. Something inside me shattered beyond repair. The last vestiges of my innocence had been brutally snuffed out within horrific moments.
I turned my back on this latest horror to see Brian staring back at me from the cave shape destruction that was once the front door to my garden. The light behind him hid his expression in shadow, but I could feel him. I had forgotten about him. He stood transfixed, frozen in terror and confusion, with Shadow at his feet. His mind was wrenched tight like too many rubber bands pulled beyond the breaking point. There was nothing I could do for him now.
A small light in the corner of my eye drew my attention back to the front of our property. I watched the tiny headlights move down the hill in the distance drawing closer to our home. I recognized the sound of the old engine in the distance. After long moments the wheels bit into the gravel as the uncles made their way up to the house. The headlights of our truck lit the side of the house and then blinked into darkness. I wanted to run to my uncles for comfort, but the feeling of betrayal kept me in my place. They had promised to be here when I needed them. They lied. I glanced over as I heard the metallic creak of their doors open as they climbed out of the truck.
I walked up the steps to Brian and placed my hand against his forehead. 'Sleep,' I commanded as he followed me into the living room and lay on the couch like an obedient zombie.
I climbed the stairs and made my way to the shower. The stench of death was still on me, and recent events left me feeling numb. The uncles were downstairs, whispering their thoughts to each other as I let the spray of warm water mingle with my terror.
Shadow waited patiently on my bed as I walked into my dark room and crawled beneath the blankets. I sat upright, waiting, as I heard their feet climb the stairs and move up the hall toward my room. A soft rap against my door reassured me that it was them.
"Come in," I answered. Instant sorrow flooded my soul. I don't know where it came from, but I had no control as my eyes welled with tears and the light from the opening door stretched across my room.
I held Shadow in my lap for comfort as I ran my fingers through her soft hair. Uncle Mark came in, took the few steps between us, and wrapped me in his arms. I needed the hug desperately.
"We're so sorry, Ty," Uncle Mark whispered in my ear.
The light behind Uncle Kent hid his face as he spoke. "You killed an emissary of 'The Circle,' Ty. It won't be long before they come for you." He still hadn't come into my room and it was unnerving. His voice held absolutely no emotion and I could feel nothing from him.
"How could they? I saw the sigil burned into David's chest. They made him attack me. How can they justify such a thing? They couldn't pick someone besides my godfather? It goes against everything we believe!" I had so many questions.
"They are 'The Circle', Ty. They act with impunity. They look at the world with a bigger scope of balance. You have no right to question them," Uncle Kent said flatly.
"BULLSHIT! No one is so perfect that they aren't subject to review," I watched his silhouette shift in the back drop of light from the hall. I felt a strange satisfaction pulse through him at hearing my reply.
"You're right," Uncle Kent answered, stepping across the threshold. The sound of sizzling flesh in reaction to the wards at my door confused me.
I felt Shadow stiffen as she sunk her teeth into Uncle Mark's wrist. I couldn't believe she bit him! I felt the rod of willow plunge through my chest and into my heart with a sickening but too familiar crunch.
"Uncle Mark?" I looked into his sad hazel eyes as I whispered the words. Darkness crept across my vision. I watched with the last remnants of light as a tear crawled down Mark's face leading my eyes to his hand. Clutched between his blood soaked fingers was the other end of the wooden willow rod that stuck out of my chest obscenely. He had killed me.
Many thanks to Sterling Silver for his AWESOME editing. Without him, this story wouldn't be what it is. If you have any questions or comments, please add them to e-discussion(www.gayauthors.org), or email me at gaywriter72@yahoo.com.
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