Page 5 of Between Broomsticks and Beating Wings (Love X Magic #3)
CHAPTER THREE
THESE DREAMS THAT FIND ME
Kari
C risp autumn days like today yanked me through a portal back to my curious childhood.
Sometimes, the cause was the crunch of leaves under the sole of my wool-lined boots.
Other times, it was the whispers of wind though the brittle branches of trees that’d begun their hibernations.
Either way, this season was the source of my undying love for the scent of decomposing leaves, lit fires, and the need for additional clothing to warm my chilled flesh.
It was also the source of sleepless nights and wicked dreams.
As I ladled steaming water out of my iron pot and into a clay mug, I pondered the dream that had found me last night.
The twisted images my mind constructed were muddled over the past several weeks.
I spent each morning sorting them as I sipped on mugwort tea I’d made from market ingredients and from what I’d grown in my own garden.
I jotted down any symbols I recognized and attempted finding patterns within them.
I curled in on myself as I brought the mug to my lips and used the power within the brewed leaves and stems to help piece my mind together.
Sure, the tea was meant to be drunk before sleeping to elicit clear dreams, but I figured there was no harm in a cup upon waking as well.
The first few moments after rising were always the most crucial, and I kept charcoal and birch bark on the table beside my bed to prevent me from missing important details.
For if I did, the meaning of my visions could be twisted into falsities.
Just because future truths came to me in the night didn’t mean I always knew how to decipher them.
I needed to perfectly understand their meaning if I were to know what was coming for me.
Leaning back in my chair, I set the birch bark on the table, close enough so I could still read what was on it.
There were drawings of a setting sun, whooshing winds, of feathers and darkness.
I saw flashes of gold, death, death, and more death.
The dreams that replayed in my mind were hauntingly beautiful and so very dark.
I wasn’t sure if there was a way to stop what was coming, and I was thankful no one lived in my mind, for they would discover I didn’t know if I wanted to stop it at all.
The woven basket on the far side of the table began to shake just before Tove jumped out of it and launched himself at me.
“Tove!” I yelled out as he extended his claws. My heart thrummed in my ears at the scare, even though it would have no impact. The feline’s attack was like that of his attack on the flies, and his small body passed right through my body and landed on the dirt floor behind me.
“Must you do that every day?” I asked, my voice raised a little too high. “One of these mornings, you will become corporeal and sink those claws right into me.”
Tove sat up properly and gave me a slow blink as an offering of peace, but I knew better than to trust it.
“We will make peace when you allow me to have mine,” I grumbled to the cat.
In my mind, Tove was still an orange fur ball, he and I alike in our unique coloring.
But when I took a moment to truly see him, it was only then I noticed I could see through him, that he had a blue tint around his edges, which always allowed me to tell the living from the dead.
Tove wasn’t the only ghost I saw each day—far from it.
Stormheim was littered with them. Many were fresh souls wandering over from neighboring villages who had been slain in battle.
The valkyries were getting a little lazy if you asked me, because I couldn’t go more than an hour without hearing one of their wails.
Some complained about dying in rather pitiful ways that wouldn’t allow them into Valhalla, and others hadn’t quite realized they’d lost their lives in the first place.
Sometimes, when I was alone and the spirit was close enough, I would help guide them on their way, but seeing them only allowed me to do so much.
I could never deliver them to where they needed to go.
That was the job of the gods and their attendants.
When Tove flopped onto his side and began grabbing at his tail, it reminded me that I had work of my own.
I decided I’d spend a few more moments jotting down runes and trying to decipher what I’d seen in my slumber.
By the time I was finished, my tea had grown cold, and my legs were itching for a walk.
I set the charcoal down, knowing it was time to move on. I had a pinecone to collect anyway.
Once outside, I took a deep lungful of clean, crisp air. I wished I could bottle autumn air to savor for the rest of the year, but my many experiments as a child had always proven futile. There was nothing to do but simply enjoy it while it lasted.
I wandered about the land for a while, gathering natural necessities for potions and tonics. The woody scent of heather filled my nose, and my hands grew damp with dew and sap as I dug beneath exposed tree roots and through the forest’s underbrush.
I got lucky, finding a few animal bones polished by time, the most pristine pinecone, and a few handfuls of pine needles.
A conspiracy of ravens cooed and clicked in nearby trees, and I wondered if any of them were messengers of the Allfather.
I laughed to myself. Since I was a child, I couldn’t see a raven without thinking of Odin, but who was I to think he’d watch over such a small village such as Stormheim?
The sun was beginning to set already, casting shades of pink and yellow across the sky streaked with clouds.
I hadn't realized just how much time I’d spent in the forest, gathering my bounty.
Days when I had no patients or clients coming to see me always went by in a blur.
It was impossible to know where my precious time had gone.
Too much time spent frolicking and recounting visions, I suppose.
As I made my way out of the forested area, I noticed a swarm of bloodflies coming in from the east.
Great.
These vermin plagued our village—not just by infecting our food with the rot they carried on their little bodies, but they plagued our minds as well.
They were our reminder that Stormheim was on the edge of collapse due to outside forces.
War was closing in around us, the reason for it lost on me.
All I knew was, people were dying or being pushed out of their homes, and the battle was spreading like an untreated disease—quick and out of control.
Seeing the pesky creatures, there was one last thing I needed before I could race the setting sun.
Acorns. I searched the ground, instructing Tove to be on the lookout for perfect, unsampled ones.
He tried to paw at the little round nuts to inspect them, occasionally tripping over himself or tackling one of the nicer acorns.
He pulled laughs from me, unhindered by curious nearby ears, though I could feel there was a pair out there somewhere.
For the past two years, I felt eyes on the back of my head upon the exit of the sun from our sky.
The sensation came in the form of a tickle down my spine, and I chalked the feeling up to creeping spirits.
I couldn’t allow myself to consider that the looming force was something more sinister.
As I picked up the few remaining acorns of Tove’s selection, I pondered if the presence haunting me had anything to do with my recent twisted dreams. I thought about my scribbles and runes, how I’d made no progress uncovering the glimpses of the future for the first time in my life.
Was I desperate enough to…
No, Kari. Don’t.
I heard a twig snap in the distance, and the chills running down my neck amplified. This presence was no mere ghost.
Fuck it.
“Hello?” I called out into the night, holding my breath in between questions. “Anyone there?”
I slowed my beating heart so I could hear if there was any sort of response, be it a verbal reply or footsteps that ran off into the distance, but there was nothing except the buzz of insects and the howl of the wind. I pulled my shawl in closer, telling Tove it was time to return home.
When I turned on my heel, I caught a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye, but I had no interest in communicating with the deceased tonight.
As I carried on, I ducked beneath a fallen log.
I was almost in the clear, but a swarm of bloodflies buzzed around me, some bold enough to land upon my skin.
A scream ripped loose from my lips as I felt them crawling over my flesh. “Go find something dead to feast on, you rotten, no good wastes of space!”
Sunset had passed, and I hurried from the insects into the safety of the area lit by village torches. It was stupid of me to lose track of time like that, taking no fire with me to guide my way. I pulled one of the permanent village torches from the ground and used its glow to find my way home.