“I see faces, but Marcus told me. I’m sorry,” Ella said.
Marcus pulled out a chair for her and motioned for everyone to sit. Zander kept his distance, giving her a short smile. She wanted him to make everything go away. To make things better. But as he folded his arms and listened to what Marcus said, she turned her attention toward the man who commanded attention in the cottage. He handed her a drink and she drank it without question, but he opened his mouth and smiled when she spluttered.
“Hm, that brandy was for Zander. You never liked the taste. Has that changed?” he asked.
She wiped her mouth and shook her head. “Does it look like it?” she said as he laughed.
“I made some herbal tea. I’ll bring it through.” Zephra disappeared into the kitchen.
Ella couldn’t stop peeking at Marcus as he spoke in his deep, rich voice that echoed around the small room. The alcohol warmed her inside. Leaving her chair, she collected a picture of a woman from the mantel. It was the same woman she had seen inside her mind. The conversation died around her until she was aware that Marcus stood behind her as she breathed in his citrus scent.
“My mother…Josephine.”
An awareness crawled through her before speaking. “I know.”
Marcus twisted her around, gripping her arm. “What do you mean?”
She frowned. “You’re hurting me.”
“Marcus, let her be.” Zander came to stand next to her.
Marcus released her and stepped away, sliding his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
Ella eyed him and saw what she thought was pain flick across his face as he stood by the window, as far away as he could be without leaving the room.
The other witch was shorter than Zephra, with straight black hair, blue eyes, and a kind smile. She pulled something from her red smock pocket and handed it to her. Staring at the small, hand-sized rag doll, she noted the pale long hair, blue eyes, and a small bracelet wrapped around her wrist. The attention to detail impressed her as she stared at her own bracelet. Pressing her lips together, she didn’t know what to do with the toy and hesitated over responding.
“Thank you.” She stared at the odd gift.
“I make dolls to help people,” the witch said.
Smiling at the young woman, she wondered how the doll would help her. Lifting her head, she examined Marcus to gauge his response, but Zephra strolled back into the room.
“Come on now, everyone, I can smell the tension in the air. Please, if you cannot dismiss your negative energy, you need to leave,” Zephra said. “I’ve made some tea with the artemisias plant. It’s known to help with all kinds of ailments. Now, if you are not here to help, I suggest you leave.”
Marcus flicked his eyes over at her and nodded. “Maybe that’s for the best. You’re in safe hands with Zephra.”
Zander crossed the room, standing in front of her and blocking her view of Marcus. “Do you want me to stay?”
Ella wondered what had made her fall in love with the man before her as she held the stupid doll. Sure, he was handsome, attentive, and intelligent from what she had observed these last few days. She stared at her wedding band. What had won her over? Because when she scratched underneath the surface, there was a gigantic hole where her feelings should be for him. There was nothing. No warmth and certainly no fire. He didn’t stir her the way Marcus did. Her heart leapt and raced in the broody and intense man’s presence.
“No, I’ll be all right. Go. I need answers.” Her wrist tingled where her bracelet was, and she closed her eyes as a blinding pain throbbed once again inside her head. She pressed her fingers to her temple to ease the discomfort and slowly opened her eyes when the pain subsided.
“Look, it’s starting to work. Look at the doll,” Crystal cried.
Ella had dropped the rag doll she had been holding. It now squirmed on the floor. She could not take her eyes off the soft figure as it moved, cradling her head like she did. What was going on? A shiver crept over her, rippling over her back, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“It’s cold in here.” She shivered.
“Come and sit down, Ella. Drink the herbal tea. It will warm you up and make this more bearable. Don’t be afraid.” Zephra guided her to the soft armchair next to the fire that crackled in the grate.
“What do you mean, more bearable? What process? Please explain what’s going on and why I feel so damn cold,” she asked.
Marcus pushed in closer.
But the witch stood in front of her and shoved the mug into her hand. “Drink it now.”
Ella sipped the liquid slowly, making a face. “I think I prefer the brandy. This is so bitter.”
“Drink it all,” Zephra instructed.
Doing as she was told, she noted that the men hadn’t left, and she wiped her mouth, shivering with the cold that filled her veins despite the raging fire. A heaviness weighed her down and the shivering intensified into a full tremor from her shoulders down. She could feel her heart pumping fast against her ribs and her breathing quickened its pace as if in a race. A callused hand gripped hers and as she blinked to stay awake, she saw dark, worried eyes zeroed in on her.
A soft voice spoke.
“I call upon thee, oh goddess of life. I call upon thee, the goddess of all that is good. Hear our plea. I call upon thee to restore that which is lost. I call upon the merciful goddess to unlock the memories that are hidden. Et ego invocabo quod dea.”
“Is this normal?” Marcus asked.
“Shh…let the magic do
