Timeless (14 page)

Ramona left me for a few minutes and
returned, holding a small, blue porcelain cup.

“Here, drink this,” she said, offering it to
me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Herbal tea. It will help with your
headache.”

“How did you know?” I began and then
remembered. “Oh, right. I forgot. You’re psychic.”

The tea tasted good, but I couldn’t place
it—perhaps chamomile?

“A special blend of my own,” she answered,
reading the unasked question in my mind.

“Oh,” I mumbled.

I sipped it slowly. She was right; my head
felt almost instantly better.

“What am I going to do?” I moaned.

Ramona sat down beside me and looked
contemplative.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she
said.

“And?”

“And I don’t see a way it can be done.”

“What? What can’t be done?”

She looked for a moment as if debating
whether or not to tell me.

“Ramona, please, if you can help me find him,
save him, you have to! Otherwise, what’s been the point of all
this?” I pleaded.

“I don’t know. Usually someone from the past
wants you to do something, to resolve something from your past
life. That’s why your dream affected you so strongly. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe you’re in some kind of danger.”

“So I’m warning myself?” I didn’t
understand.

“No, I don’t think so…but Damien, he might be
trying to warn you.”

“But didn’t the worst happen? I died. And
besides, maybe he wants me to save him.”

I realized the idiocy of that statement. He’d
already died hundreds of years ago, even if Lamia hadn’t killed
him.

“Perhaps,” Ramona answered cryptically.

“Ramona, if you have something that could
help me, please say it. I can’t read minds…I’m not psychic,
remember?”

“Okay, Emily. Calm Down.”

Calm Down? How could I calm down? I’d just
died!

“I’m just trying to think of a safe way to do
this. Is it even possible? It’s never been done before. Yet, I
wonder…,” she said, tapping her forehead while she thought.

“Out with it, now,” I demanded. I was getting
more than a little frustrated by her reticence.

“Emily, in your past life, you were accused
of being a witch.”

“Right.”

“But you didn’t practice witchcraft.”

“No.”

I was unsure where this was headed.

“But what if you had been?”

“Had been what? A witch?”

“Yes—of sorts. Or a wise woman, if you
prefer.”

“I’m not following.”

“Emily, you’ve had these dreams, and everyone
doesn’t have them. Only certain people dream about their past
lives, and those people usually have powers.”

“Well, I can assure you, I have no magical
powers,” I said, starting to feel a little hopeless.

“No, I didn’t say that, though it’s possible.
You’re what, sixteen?”

“Yes.”

“That’s just about the time.”

“Time for what?”

“Time for you to begin to know.”

“Sorry, I’m still not following.”

“Emily, I think you’re a witch,” she said
bluntly.

“Excuse me? I didn’t float, remember? How can
I be a witch when I drowned?”

“That’s of no consequence. The ordeal doesn’t
signify anything; it was just a way to get rid of troublesome women
and create fear as a tool to control others. It’s entirely possible
that you’re a witch, and I think you’ve come from a long line of
wise women—the good witches, for lack of a better word.”

“But none of the things Lamia found belonged
to me.”

“True, but that’s not the kind of craft you
would have practiced. Likely you didn’t even know you were a wise
woman then. You’d have been very young. But Lamia obviously saw
something in you and feared it. You were one of the pure ones, a
wise woman who helped others…or would have done, had she left you
alive.”

“So how did she know?”

“Because she was a witch too.”

“Let me guess—the evil kind.”

“Right. You’re catching on,” she said,
laughing. “You would eventually have discovered yourself and would
have known that she was a witch too.”

“Yes, but everyone suspected that she was a
witch.”

“But you would have known it.”

“How?”

“Call it a wise woman’s intuition.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“Because I’m a wise woman too,” she said
quietly.

“You’ve known about me all along!” I
accused.

“No, I didn’t, Emily, honestly. I suspected
as much, but I couldn’t feel you at first. You have to know it
within yourself to create your aura. I still can’t feel you; I
might be wrong.”

But I knew she was right. She might not be
able to get a clear read on me just yet, but I’d definitely felt
her when I first walked into the store.

“What do you mean ‘feel’ me?” I asked.

I wanted to make sure that I hadn’t mistaken
the chills I’d felt for an overzealous ceiling fan.

“There’s a tingling sensation you feel in the
presence of another witch—it’s her aura,” she said.

“Aura?” I asked hesitantly. It all sounded
bizarre.

“It’s indescribable. The fact that I don’t
feel it from you indicates that maybe I’m wrong. On the other hand,
it takes some time to develop, to grow. Not everyone has it right
away from their birth.”

I fell silent for a moment. I knew inside
that she was right. The feeling was indescribable, and I’d even
felt it in my dream whenever I came near Lamia. I just couldn’t put
a name to it then. But what did it all mean? How was it going to
help me resolve my past? As intriguing as my newfound identity was,
what was really the point? I had no interest in occult practices or
exploring my inner witch.

“How is this going to help me save Damien?” I
asked, still frustrated.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Ramona, how does a witch’s power work
exactly?” I asked, suddenly curious about the nature of this
aura.

“Probably not the way you think. All that
hocus pocus stuff is just in the movies.”

“Then what’s with all the stuff out there?” I
asked, jerking my thumb over my shoulder to indicate the front of
the store.

“Oh that,” she answered, looking sheepishly
at the crystal rings on her fingers. “It sells well with
tourists.”

“Then what do witches do?”

“It depends on the witch. Some are more
powerful than others. Some, like me, have the power to see the
future. We can cast spells, of a sort. It’s more related to our
power of concentration. If you think hard enough, you can change an
event or person. But every witch’s power is unique. You’ll have
your own unique aura to discover in time.”

“So I could change someone I don’t like into
a toad?” I asked jokingly, thinking of Angela Rossi. It was easier
to swallow this if I could take it lightly.

“Emily, you’re not taking this seriously. If
you’re powerful enough, you could drain their life force and kill
them,” she said sternly.

My eyes must have gotten bigger because she
softened, putting her arms around me.

“Don’t worry. Only evil witches use their
power for harm, and they can’t kill another witch like that,” she
assured me.

Of course, if that had been the case, Lamia
would have killed me on the spot, not bothering to go through the
ruse of throwing me in the water.

“That still doesn’t answer my question. How
can we help Damien?” I asked, wanting to return to the more
pressing question at hand.

“I’ve only known one witch who did it, and
she was very experienced,” Ramona replied distractedly.

“Do what?” I asked, exasperated.

“Time travel.”

I forgot to breathe for a moment.

“You can do that?”

“I’ve only seen it done once and that was by
a very powerful witch.”

“Well, let’s go,” I said, setting down my cup
on the table with a bang and rising.

She looked at me, puzzled.

“Go where?” she asked.

“To find this woman.”

“No. You don’t understand. She traveled
through time and pulled someone from her past life. If it’s to be
done, it will have to be you.”

“Oh,” I said, deflated.

I sat down again and felt despair wash over
me. I had no idea how to pull anyone from a past life.

“You see,” she explained, “for our powers to
work, we have to concentrate on the person we’re trying to affect.
It’s through our minds that we change people or events.”

“So I could change the past.”

“And the future.”

I was getting excited again.

“I can bring him here? To the present?”

“I’m just not sure. But even if you could, it
would be very dangerous.”

“How? Could he be killed?”

“No, not unless you wanted it.”

I felt a small chill creep down my spine. Did
I have the power of life and death over others?

“Then what’s the catch?” I asked.

“If Lamia thought you were a witch, she also
likely knew that killing you wouldn’t be the end.”

“Why not?”

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but…”

“If you can pull Damien through before she
gets to him, then you might be able to save him,” she
interrupted.

“Not to mention that we can finally be
together,” I mused. “What could Lamia do?” I wondered aloud.

“If she put a curse on him or you before you
died, then that could potentially follow him.”

“It’s a risk I’d be willing to take. After
all, I’m not going to pull her through too.”

“Likely not. But remember, curses are
powerful; and there’s no guarantee that she wouldn’t be able to
come through along with him.”

“Do curses work on other witches?”

“Yes and no. If you’re prepared for it, you
can block your mind. Otherwise, you leave yourself open for an
attack.”

“So this is all a mental game.”

“Yes, but it has far-reaching consequences
outside the mind, as you saw in your dream.”

“I can handle her or whatever she placed on
Damien,” I said determinedly.

“I hope so. Just know that she’s evil and
likely very powerful if she bewitched your father.”

“But isn’t she dead now?”

“She won’t be if you open up the past.”

“Haven’t I already opened it? Isn’t Damien
trying to get in touch with me?”

“I think so, but the past cannot touch you
unless you want it to be part of your present or future.”

“So tell me. How can I bring him
forward?”

“It will require concentration.”

“Okay, what else?”

“What time of year did you die? Do you
remember?”

“Well, it was cold, but not bitterly so. It
must have been warm enough for a tournament. March, maybe?”

“How do you know?”

“Just a feeling I have.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes. This all depends on your relying on
your intuition. Try not to think. Clear your mind of rational
thought. Let the impressions sweep over you, and try to channel
them. Focus on Damien’s face, on your connection to him. The magic
will work more strongly if you can go to a place where you were
together.”

“The church ruins?”

“Yes, or the castle.”

“But how will I find it? The chapel was in
ruins in the thirteenth century. Who knows what kind of condition
it’s in now or if I’ll be able to find the spot. I’ll bet the ruins
are long gone by now.”

“What about the castle?”

“Yes, that’s a possibility, but I feel more
strongly that I can bring him here through the chapel. That’s where
we sealed our love and then became separated. And besides, I read
that the castle was destroyed, so it’s likely just ruins too.”

“It would help if you had something of
his.”

“But I don’t. How could I?”

“If you could remember something that he held
and then find it—not the thing itself, precisely, but something
that would help to channel your aura as you cast the spell,” she
said.

I thought back to what I’d experienced and
tried to recreate everything he wore or carried in my mind. Besides
the sword and hammer, I couldn’t think of anything.

And then I did.

“He carried a small rosary of red, glass
beads,” I said excitedly.

“That’s perfect. Find one of those, and carry
it in your hand as you concentrate.”

“Should I say anything special?”

“Call his name in your mind. It’s as simple
as telling him what you want him to do. You’ll also be able to give
him what he needs when you bring him forward. The hardest part is
the concentration.”

“What do you mean ‘what he needs’?”

“He won’t be speaking the exact same language
as you,” she answered.

That was true. Most of what we said was in
Middle English, translated in my mind, I guessed, to modern
English. But that was under hypnosis, when I was Emmeline. My
knowledge of Middle English in this life extended to having
memorized the opening lines of The Canterbury Tales last year in my
English class. I was only able to understand my dream, I thought,
because I’d lived it. But that was the least of my worries.

“What if I’m too late? What if she’s already
killed him? What am I talking about…we know he’s already dead!” I
could feel another sob rise up.

“Maybe not. If you can remember the day you
died, you might be able to channel him then, before she had a
chance to harm him. Keep yourself focused on his face and that
day.”

“My class is going to Europe this March.
Perhaps I could try it then. But I’ll have to get a bus or train
from London,” I said, already making plans in my mind.

“I hope you’ll be strong enough,” Ramona said
worriedly, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it for
reassurance.

“Can’t you see it?” I asked.

“Remember, I said that I saw two futures for
you. One holds danger, the other happiness. I thought that seeing
your past would help me to peer into your future, but it’s still
hazy. Much depends on what you decide.”