A Witch's Riddle

“On this Friday, the day of Venus,” I say with solemnity, putting pink rose petals in my small drawstring bag, “I ask for a love who sees me for me, and is my match.” I drip lavender oil on the cinnamon stick and place it in the bag. The scent of roses, lavender, and cinnamon fills the room, as I pull the drawstrings tight.

“It’s done, sisters.”

The small coven bursts into giggles. I turn to them, still encircling me, and kiss them each on their warty cheeks in gratitude.

“Mavis, thank you for being my steadfast support,” I say in all sincerity as my lips dodge her hairiest mole, with my kiss landing on the smooth part of her cheek.

“Thora, your logical advice and guidance in all things brought me to this happy place in my heart. Thank you.” I lean in, tilting my head to the side to avoid her sausage-like nose, placing my kiss on her scaly skin.

I turn to the last in the circle. “Rue, my sweet Rue, your hilarity and jovial spirit lighten my days.” I bend low, as she is the smallest and youngest of us, putting my lips to her bumpy forehead, her warts not yet fully bloomed.

“Now we wait, my sisters.”

“How long do we wait?” Rue asks in her usual soft voice, her sweetness shining through her crooked toothy smile.

“Until he comes,” is my teasing reply, as I smile into her coal-black eyes. “I used a large cinnamon stick to make the calling stronger. It shouldn’t take very long.”

My sisters break the creation circle still tittering like school girls, and return to their daily chores. Thora to her weaving at the loom by the window, Mavis to the cooking at the hearth, and Rue sets herself to stringing and drying herbs collected from the forest.

I sit at the large dining table amongst the many ancient books and scrolls and continue writing our coven’s grimoire. It’s nearly complete, signaling that my work here is almost done.

After some time, I hear the clank and clink of dishes as Thora and Rue set the far end of the table; time for dinner. It's growing dark. The wind howls and whistles through the crooked shuttered windows. It’s my favorite weather, besides the rain.

Mavis piles the food on the platter and walks it over to where we sit. “Tonight, in celebration of Esther’s pending nuptials we have hen-of-the-woods mushrooms with tomato sauce, sprinkled with fried beetle. Just as you like Esther,” her deep voice cackles proudly as she places the large dish in the center of the table.

“Oh, Mavis! You’ve outdone yourself!” I clap my hands in excitement.

Thora stares at me from across the table looking sad. Her straight slash of a mouth is downturned and I can see the blood tears welling in her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Thora?” I ask.

She takes a long pause. I can see her weighing her words and formulating their order. It’s an uncomfortable silence.

Her speech comes slow and deliberate, “Esther, all can see that your chin is long and deeply cleft and your skin is the darkest green – the loveliest of us for sure. I know you’re ready for marriage and we’ve called your love.” She takes a deep breath. “But, it’s too real now,” her deep nasal voice catches with sadness as a single red tear falls down her pale green cheek. “Must we break our bond? Must you leave us?” The rest of her tears stream down her cheeks leaving streaks of translucent brown on her skin. It makes an exquisite map of sadness.

I reach across the table and grab her cold bony hand, “I have to go. You know I have to go.” Looking around the table I see the same sadness reflected in the others’ faces. I can feel myself wavering.

The window shutters shake and the door groans as the wind presses the house. The air shrieks frantically through the cracks like it’s calling for a lost precious thing.

“My, that wind sounds alive!” Mavis says, with a soft cackling chuckle breaking our silence. She turns and places her warm hand on mine. “It’s all right Esther. We know you love us. We know you have to go.” Her smile lifts the hairy mole at the corner of her mouth, its long hairs drift with wafting air. How pretty she is, I will miss her. I will miss all of them, I think.

“Let us eat,” Mavis says grinning. She grabs the plates and piles the food high setting the last one down with a thunk.

“Was that a knock on the door?” Rue asks.

“No, I don’t think so. I think it was the plate hitting the table,” Mavis responds.

“Agghhh,” a muffled moan emanates from the front door.

“Is that the wind?” Mavis asks.

“No, it was not.” I go to the door and press down on the cold metal latch. I’m startled as the thick wood bursts inward with force from the wind and the weight of a tall, black-haired, unconscious man pressed against it. A man now sprawled out on the floor.

“Oh, sisters! I think he’s arrived,” I exclaim with pleasant wonder.

I motion for my sisters to come and help move him out of the doorway. Three good unified tugs on his waistcoat bring his body into the kitchen next to the hearth.

I stare at his fine features and chiseled jaw. His face is pale, framed by thick wavy raven-colored hair ending at his shoulders. His lips are full and parted.

“Didn’t you ask for handsome?” Rue says as she huddles close to me, almost swallowed by my skirts.

“I did.”

“What do you think happened to the handsome part?” Mavis questions. “Not enough lavender?”

“I don’t know.”

“It might not be him. Let’s not assume,” Thora says in her usual logical manner.

“Should we wake him?” Rue’s soft voice peeps out from behind the folds of fabric.

“I don’t think he’s sleeping.” My pointed shoe connects with his soft flesh and firm ribs. Twice I kick him in his side – softly, just in case. No response. I lean down and place my finger under his nose, but feel no breath.

Life and death are common occurrences for our kind, and therefore unremarkable. Even so, a feeling of great loss and disappointment descends upon me. “He is no more, my sisters.” My tone is pragmatic, but laced with the sadness of my lost opportunity for a mate.

“Though I don’t know how or why he died at our door, let him be for now. We can talk about it later.” I smile and motion over to the table full of food, “Let’s finish our beautiful meal.”

As much as I hope we can continue with our happy evening, we eat in silence, all of us glancing occasionally over at the dead stranger lying slack on the floor.

Finally, Rue whispers to us, “Who do you think he was?” shoveling another full spoon into her mouth, her eyes wide in question as she looks around the table chewing her food.

“Oooh, I bet he was a prince, he looks like a prince,” Mavis whispers in a conspirative tone, nodding her head with surety.

“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything until we talk to his soul in the witching hour,” Thora says, trying to keep everyone from over-speculating.

“Agreed,” I say. “Let’s eat up and go to bed. I’ll stay with him out here and hope his soul will appear to me in the witching hour. Maybe he’ll have some answers for us before he moves on to the next plane.”

After the meal is eaten and dishes washed, we all head to bed with me taking my comfort in a large rocking chair placed by the hearth, next to the body.

I sit and rock, pondering my situation. If he is my love called, he’s dead, what now? How did he die? This all seems so odd. I sit, rock, and ponder as the night moves on and eventually slip into slumber.

***

It’s the early hours, near three, and I feel a disruption in my energy. Opening my eyes, I find myself looking directly into his ghostly ones, shades of blue mixed with gold circled in thick black. We are eye to eye and nose to nose.

“You’re quite close,” I say calmly, not wanting to startle this odd spirit.

“You’re so beautiful,” is his baritone reply.

“Thank you,” I say. “Do you think you could back up a bit?”

“Pardon my impertinence, I was just so struck by your beauty when I awoke, that I thought myself still dreaming.” He smiles and pulls back, sitting on his haunches like a bird might perch on a branch. He looks as if he’s puzzled by some great mystery, the way he tilts his head and stares at me without pause.

“You’re dead, you know,” I say bluntly to shock him and break his brazen gaze. “Look behind you on the floor.” I brace myself for the inevitable crying one does when they discover they’re dead.

He turns his head looking at his body lying prone on the floor. Unexpectedly calm, he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“I don’t feel dead.”

“Well, you are.”

“Mmmm, I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re right there on the floor and you’re talking to me at the same time– how is that possible if you’re not dead?”

“Well, how did I die then?”

“I don’t know. I was going to ask you that.”

“How would I know? I’m the one that’s dead.”

“Ha! So, you admit it! You know you’re dead.”

“I’ll admit that you say I’m dead. I’m not ready to commit.”

“Ugh, you truly are the most frustrating soul I’ve ever encountered.” I take a deep breath, calming my annoyance, and decide on a different tack. “Why don’t we start with your name. Can you tell me your name?”

Smiling, he stands tall, puts one foot in front of the other, and bows low with the flourish and pomp of a nobleman, rolling out his waving hand as he descends. “My name, lovely lady, is Raum, Raum Geanian at your service.”

He peeks up at me with a genuine smile on his lips waiting for my response. His hand is extended before me as if I’m to place mine in his. Though I don’t know how I can do that, since he’s dead.

Instead, I sit up in my chair, smile cordially, place my hands in my lap, and nod my head in greeting. “I am Esther Goodehart. It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry but I don’t think I can shake your hand at the moment.”

Reaching for my hand, as if to kiss it, his ghostly one passes through mine. I watch his face turn from impish rogue to curious. Staring at his hand, or rather the translucent impression of one he says, “I think you need to find my killer, Esther Goodehart. I’m none impressed with my current state.”

“I don’t think finding your killer will reinstate you in this world.”

“Perhaps not, but it certainly will give me an opportunity for satisfaction.”

“Well, let's start with some basic questions then. Who do you think would want to kill you?”

“Everyone.”

“What do you mean everyone, you seem nice enough to me. How could you have made that many enemies?”

“It’s not me, it’s my position. I’m an Earl. I have a lot of money and armies; hence – I have a lot of enemies who want me dead. So, that question, sweet Esther, is going to be of no help.”

Unsure of how I feel about his casual term of endearment, I say nothing and continue with my questions. “Well, how do you think you died then? And why did you come to our home?”

He paces thoughtfully, as he ponders my questions. “It was either poison or a death spell. Though I’m warded against death spells, or at least thought I was. I felt fine, and then suddenly I didn’t.”

After a long pause, he turns to face me, his mischievous smile creeping back into place. “As for why I’m here. I think you know that very well Esther Goodehart,” he says coming close, his nose almost touching mine. “Oh, that I could kiss you right now, beautiful Esther.” His voice is soft and seductive, his smile wide, and his blue-gold eyes are lit with passion.

My heart flutters, flustered by his closeness and sensual words. I feel tingles in my nether regions which is in direct contrast to the waves of embarrassment I feel, as I realize that he is my love called and that he knows I spelled him.

Mortified, unable to stay seated under his intense gaze, I abruptly rise to my feet. Standing at my full height of five feet, I inadvertently place his face well into my bosom. Another wave of embarrassment rolls through me. I do the only thing I can think of.

I walk through him.

It’s a strange occurrence, a soul passing through yours. I expect it to feel cold, like all dead things, but it isn’t. Warm and soft, his soul feels like a small ember burning inside me. I smell his scent of woody earth and mulled wine. And love, I feel loved, wanted, and cherished.

Coming out the other side, I understand that my soul has met his in its truest form and our essences have mingled. I now know him truly, and he truly knows me.

Feeling awkward at the passing, I turn to face him as he faces me. Both of us are stunned by the encounter. Astonishment and warmth pass across his features, his eyes soften and his smile is slight. Gone is the impish rogue and in his place is a kind loving man who understands my heart. I feel shy in the face of such honesty.

“Esther, sweet,” he says, his voice tender and quiet. “Please let’s find my killer. Perhaps this mishap can be undone. I fear I will go mad if I cannot hold you in my arms at least once.”

I’m speechless. I don’t know how to respond to a request that will gain no merit. My heart sinks under the weight of my love-lost fate.

As if on cue, my sisters emerge from their bedrooms, signaling the hour of five.

“Thora, Mavis, Rue, come meet our guest Raum Geanian.” I sound nervous. I motion for them to gather around the hearth in front of the body. Extending my arm toward the rocking chair where he still stands, I introduce them. “Raum, these are my sisters, Thora Wefan, Mavis Cooke, and Rue Woodworth.”

“A pleasure,” He rolls out his bow as eloquently as before.

“Who are you talking to?” Rue says in a whisper, her wide eyes looking around the house.

“Can you not see him?” I ask surprised.

“No Esther, we cannot,” responds Thora. “Though if it is his spirit,” pointing to the corpse, “Perhaps you can still see him past the witching hour because he is your true love called?”

My green skin blushes brown with her reference to the love spell. “Well, no matter,” I move on to a different subject. “Raum has asked that we find his killer. He thinks it is either poison or a death spell. More likely poison, since he has wards against witchery.”

“Why would we do that Esther? He is dead. There is no more to it,” Thora’s logic is on point as usual.

“Because I believe he is my true love called, and I would like to know the person who took him from me and why?” I feel too shy to look in Raum’s direction after making this declaration. Even my ears feel hot with blush, but I continue, “It’s alright if you don’t wish to join me in my quest, but I will be leaving shortly. I need to retrace his steps of the day to look for clues.”

“I’ll go with you,” is Rue’s timid reply. “Me too,” says Mavis. “I’ve been wanting to get out of the house a bit.” Thora looks annoyed but nods her head in agreement. “Fine, I’ll go too, but I don’t see the point.”

We place our hands on the body and chant. In a flash, we find ourselves in an ornately decorated grand bed chamber of a dark and broody castle.

“How do you like my place?” Raum says behind me. I can hear the proud smile in his voice.

“How are you here? You should still be with your body at our cabin?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps the love spell keeps me by your side.”

Mavis, looking around the room, says “Let’s do the spell to solve a riddle, so the clues will alight themselves and we’ll be taken to the next, until the riddle of his death is solved, shall we?”

Together we chant, and the sigil above his door begins to glow. “His sigil is glowing? It must be a clue!” says Rue pointing to the complicated carving.

I turn to Raum, who is still by my side, and ask, “Who are you?”

My sisters look at me waiting for my response, still unable to hear or see Raum.

“I told you, I’m an Earl of hell.”

“An Earl of HELL!?” I burst out, shocking myself and my sisters with the news. I feel annoyed that he withheld that information from the start. Suspecting there is more to this situation than I think, I waste no time calling out, “Next!” waiving my arm wide triggering the reveal of the next clue in this riddle.

We appear at the front door of our cabin in the woods, instead of the castle kitchen as expected for a clue for poison. All of us are curious why the spell brought us home for a clue. Then I see it. The smudge on the front door knob. It looks like a smudge of dirt, but I know what it is. It’s the remnants of a death spell. One touch of our door brings death.

Raum sees it too. “Well, well, well. It seems your sisters are quite murderous,” he says in my ear smiling with admiration for the culprits. “Who do you think it is? One, or all of them?”

I’m unsure who it is, but I know what to do to find out. I reach for the doorknob.

“No! Don’t touch it!” Thora yells out slapping my hand away.

“Why not, Thora?” I say rhetorically, already knowing the answer. “Is it because you put a death spell on our door?” The other sisters gasp in shock and stare at Thora.

“It’s true, I did it. I killed him.” Thora crumples to the ground crying, grabbing my hand in a tight grip unwilling to let me go. “I don’t want you to leave us, Esther.”

“Enough of this Raum,” I yell to the air, suddenly unable to locate his spirit. “I know you’re not dead.”

Clapping his hands his smiling corporeal form appears to everyone. “Well done my love. Quite the puzzle solver. You are truly my match. What gave me away?”

“You said it yourself; you’re warded against death spells. That, and your soul didn’t move on, nor did you leave my side. But it wasn’t until I understood that you’re an Earl of hell that I realized you would leverage this opportunity, not be undone by it.”

I look down at Thora still sobbing, “It’s ok love, you didn’t kill anyone,” and pat her hand. “Raum, you know what this means don’t you?” He nods, understanding me, as only one who’s shared my soul can.

“Yes, my love. I will have my things delivered on the morrow.”

Thora stands drying her eyes and is joined by Mavis and Rue all nodding their heads in agreement to the unspoken question.

“Then it's settled,” Raum says. He puts his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me. “This was fun. Will it always be like this with us?” he says to me, looking back at my sisters with a broad smile on his face.

“I hope not,” is my sincere reply.