Enchanted Suites, Bed and Breakfast
Boston Massachusetts
MAY 19, 1986
Drusilla Harrison awakes covered in sweat from the same horrible dream she has had for the past twelve nights. Sitting straight up in bed she clicks on the light on her night table next to her bed. She looks to the clock on the fireplace mantle to watch the minute hand click to 12:01. “It is definitely an Omen!” she says out loud alone in her room. She throws back the blankets of her four poster bed to retrieve the large old book that lays on the mattress next to her.
Drusilla flips through several pages she has marked. Reading each one again for the twelfth time in as many days she had decided on three that will be of use to her. Springing from her bed appearing much more agile than a woman of seventy some years she carries the book under her left arm. The house is an old Victorian in design. She has lived here for fifty years and knows every nail in the walls and every passageway. The lifting of a lampshade on a wall sconce triggers a hidden door to open in the wall. Stepping inside the passage, she begins down the stairs as the wall entrance closed behind her.
Two flights of stairs take her down to a hidden room in the basement of the old house that is a Bed and Breakfast on the edge of the city of Boston. The Enchanted Suite, Bed and Breakfast has welcomed many guests over the past fifty years but now Drusilla fears the Inn and her life are about to come to an untimely end.
The basement room is that of an antiquated laboratory. The dank, dusty and musty is fully stocked with strange and rare ingredients in jars and wooden boxes. Placing her book on a stand she goes to the first of the marked pages and begins to gather ingredients to place in a copper bowl. She works for hours through the night collecting different items and mixing different concoctions. She flips the pages of the book to check other recipes to find the proper combinations and measurements.
Around 5 am her daughter Dharma comes down the stairs from the passage she walked earlier. “Mother what are you doing down here?” Dharma asks.
“Hand me the ground core stone crystals,” Drusilla instructs pointing to a shelf across the room.
“Have you been down here all night?” Dharma asks as she retrieved the green jar from the shelf. “Is this about the dream, did you have it again?” The older woman does not stop to answer the question as she takes the bottle from her middle aged daughter and adds it to her bowl. “If you will not answer me as your daughter then will you answer me as your grandmother?” “Child, what are you doing?”
“Yes, I had the dream again!” Drusilla replies angrily. “That girl’s flightiness must be corrected!”
“You have said that before,” Dharma replies. “We have been recycling through reincarnation for nearly 5000 years, why is it that you become so focused on changing our destiny so few times?”
“Because this time her fickleness is going to get us all killed!” Drusilla announces. “How many times was she married in her last life?” the mother demands.
“Six or seven, I guess.” Dharma replies. “But his time will be different.”
“Do you have any idea how many times you have told me that, promised me that?” Drusilla questions. Dharma does not answer it. “I long for a childhood like my first one before we became the Triad.” “A childhood with a mother and a father, not a childhood with interchangeable fathers!” “Do you know what it is like growing up with a mother like that?”
“No, I don’t,” Dharma says sadly. “I have always had you as my mother and you only ever marry once,” the daughter tells her mother a fact she already knows. “That is the natural course of our continued existence.” “Darla’s life choices always led you to rebel and run away from us.” “To find your true love on your own.”
“My dreams have told me that this time she will go too far with her fickleness and it will get us all killed, murdered!” Drusilla insists as she adds the final ingredient to her mixture in a porcelain bowl.
“Drusilla, we both know you are not clairvoyant, you can not see the future not even in your dreams,” Dharma argues putting aside the circular words of lineage they use.
“But there are others out there who can see the future,” Drusilla says stirring her bowl. “This spell will bring one here to us.”
“You have tried to change Darla before many times and it never works, why would it work this time?” Dharma asks.
“Because in those past lives I cast only one spell each time, to find her a good man, to change our destiny, or to give her more common sense,” Drusilla recalls. “This time I have combined three spells to act as one.” “This is the most powerful spell of Witchcraft ever written.” “It will bring us a Clairvoyant, a man to be a perfect father to me, and most of all someone whose magic will bring us a strong future.”
“Don’t do this Drusilla, if you are really that concerned that we are in danger I can call March,” Dharma pleads.
“This is Triad business, there is no need to involve that demigod!” “Besides it is too late, it has begun,” Drusilla says as smoke begins to rise from the porcelain bowl. “Winds of destiny blow in our favor,” Drusilla speaks the spell in the strange language of Witchcraft. “Bring forth three to become the future of we witches three.” “One to see the future, one to create the future, one to become the future.” The smoke swirls around the small underground room rattling jars on the shelves as it moves to escape a small open window. “Bless it be!” Both women shout as the smoke clears from the room.
“Mother, what have you done?” Dharma questions.
“I have saved us all,” Drusilla replies.
The rest of the day is rather uneventful as Drusilla eagerly prepares three rooms for their impending special guests. In the kitchen after a late dinner Dharma confronts her daughter Darla about her choices. “I still contend that man is too old for you,” the mother tells the daughter as she hands her a wet dish from the sink.
“Mother you barely know him!” Darla argues drying the dish.
“That is beside the point, Your grandmother and I want you to understand how important it is to find the right person to commit your life to,” Dharma tells Darla.
“You are such a hypocrite, you have never committed to marry anyone, not even my father,” Darla accuses drying the last of the dishes and putting it in the cabinet.
“There is more to commitment than marriage,” Dharma says as Darla storms from the room.
Drusilla sits alone in the front parlor reading through the book of Witchcraft hoping she has done the right thing. It has been nearly twelve hours since she cast the spell and it has shown no results. Then she hears the ring of the front desk bell. Again she has a sudden surge of youth as she springs from her chair to answer the ring of the bell. Drusilla enters the entry hall to see a young man with long brown hair tied into a ponytail standing at the desk. She is thrilled by the sight of him, he is the first. Dharma has already arrived at the desk from the kitchen.
“Mother, come meet our guest, this is Tim Bascom,” Dharma directs to the older woman.
“Oh how wonderful,” Drusilla say hurrying across the hall to meet the young man. “What has brought you here to Boston?” she asks.
“I am here to see some special artifacts at the Museum of Fine Arts,” Tim tells them in his deep Portuguese accent.
“What a beautiful accent you have where are you from?” Drusilla asks.
“Brazil,” Tim answers. “I’d really like to get some sleep, this was a last minute trip and I’ve been on a plane all day.”
“Yes, of course you would,” Drusilla says. “Let me help you with your bag.”
“Don’t be ridiculous ma’am,” Tim says as the old woman tries to take his bag.
“Oh so, polite,” Drusilla smiles eager to have this young man as a possible father.
“Just follow me Mr. Bascom,” Dharma says leading the man up the stairs glaring back at her mother.
Suddenly there is a loud sound like a clap of thunder that comes from the front parlor. Drusilla hurries back to the parlor to investigate. When she reaches the room she finds there is another new arrival. A man even older than Drusilla stands in the center of the room. His face has deep wrinkles and he has long grey hair pulled back into a ponytail like young Tim Bascom. He is dressed in a floor length orange and brown robe. “What have you done witch?” he shouts at her.
Drusilla moves to retrieve a fully charged wand from an end table drawer. “Who are you and what do you want here?” she shouts at the intruder.
“I am the Shaman Oizon,” the old man announces. He glares at the wand in the old witch’s hand. “Please Hag I have no time for your parlor tricks,” the Oizon says. “Adaro!” he says and the wand in Drusilla’s hand dissolves to dust. Drusilla is visibly frightened by the man’s power. “You have cast a spell that has torn a hole in the fabric of magic through time!”
“What, what are you saying?” Drusilla asks.
“The spell you cast was far beyond your ability,” the old man tells her stepping forward. “What was it meant to do?”
“I can feel this life ebbing to a close and I fear that my granddaughter will again be a bad mother to me.” Drusilla reveals. “The spell was to end that cycle of dysfunction.” “To bring an appropriate suitor for her here to this house.”
“It is a gift from my husband, he bought it in Mexico on our honeymoon,” Drusilla answers.
The Shaman Oizon yanks the necklace from the woman’s neck breaking the chain. “It is a fragment from a more powerful amulet that gave you the power to cast the spell.”
“Hey!” Drusilla protests.
“It is too late to reverse the spell, but perhaps I can alter it to minimize the effect and repair the damage you have done to future magic,” the man from the future surmises. Then as Drusilla looks on all of the anger and determination drains from the Shaman’s face.
“Shaman are you alright?” Drusilla asks.
All of the bravado of the Shaman Oizon is gone now, leaving only a feeble old man in its wake. “Shaman?” she repeats, “I haven’t been called that in centuries, the name is Baiz.” It would seem to Drusilla that any threat this old man is to her plan it is gone for the moment as he is clearly suffering from dementia.
The old man holds up the necklace that he took for Drusilla, “What is this?” he asks.
“Oh you found my necklace, thank you so much,” the sly old witch says taking her keepsake and apparently very powerful necklace back from him to slip it in her sweater pocket.
It is about nine o’clock when two more guests arrive at Enchanted Suite, Bed and Breakfast. “Hello,” the younger of the two men said to the Dharma at the front desk. “My friend and I need two rooms.” “I hope you can help, everything else in town seems to be booked up.”
“Yes, of course I can,” the Dharma replies with a smile. “Mother, are those rooms you reserved ready?” she calls out to and Drusilla, who enters the hall from the front parlor. The older woman carries a large book in her left hand and with her right she leads a very old man dressed in a robe by the arm toward the stairs.
“Yes, yes, Dharma, the rooms are all ready for them,” Drusilla answers trying to get the old man out of the room as quickly as possible.
“Excuse me but we didn’t reserve any rooms here,” Ed Bower interrupted.
“Oh of course you did, sir,” the woman at the desk told them. “Every room is reserved for the right guest.” “Darla?” Dharma called out.
Steve was drawn to five large paperweights that held down several stacks of brochures on the top of the four foot high reception desk. They looked to be made of glass about the size of baseballs. He picked one up to examine it close its surface was bumpy yet smooth to the touch.
“Those are Desert glass, created when lightning strikes sand,” Dharma told the young man.
“Isn’t that rare?” he asked. “To have five of them all the same size like this is amazing,” Steve marveled placing the paperweight back on the brochures.
Dharma only smiled thinking that it is not so amazing if you cast a spell to create them. “Where is that girl, Darla,” she called again as a pretty young girl around my age appeared from the door behind the desk. “There you are could you show these gentlemen to rooms six and seven.”
“Yes Mother,” the girl replied taking the keys a sad look in her eyes when she looks to the men. Oddly when she looks to Ed her eyes seem to sparkle almost instantly.
Drusilla has hurried up the stairs in front of her granddaughter and the other guest to stash to old man in a room. At the top of the steps they are met by a bathrobe clad Tim Bascom. “Excuse me Ma’am but there is not phone in my room.” he says. “Could I get a wake up call at seven?”
As the young man stands in front of the old Shaman a confused look comes over the elder’s face. Then he smiles and strokes his own hair as if he sees his own reflection. “Strange place or a mirror,” he comments.
“Yes, yes of course young man, I will take care of it myself,” Drusilla says hurrying along the hallway to room one.
Room one is the honeymoon suite and she hopes it will be enough to occupy the old man. The Shaman’s reaction and actions toward young Tim Bascom make Drusilla think as she sits the confused old man in a chair. She looks much closer at the old Shaman. Like a bolt of lightning hitting she realizes what is happening. This old man is that young man. That is why he is here from the future to stop his own past from being changed. It is no grandiose mission that brings him here but his own selfishness. “You claimed to be so high and mighty but you are not so different than me, Tim Bascom,” Drusilla tells the old man.
“I said my name is Baiz, Bascom is long dead!” the old man argues angrily.
When Dharma catches up with her mother in the kitchen as she prepares a tea kettle she asks, “Well they are all here, what now?”
“I interviewed them to find out which one is to be my father,” Drusilla replies.
“What have you put in that tea?” Dharma questions leaning closer to take a sniff.
“Just a little something to make the truth flow more freely,” Drusilla answers.
“Speaking of the truth, who was that old man you took to the Honeymoon suite?” Dharma asks, suspicious of her mother’s plans.
“He is just a small fly in the ointment, you might say,” is the evasive answer she gives.
“Mother what does that mean?” the daughter quizzes.
“Never mind I have it under control, just don’t break the enchantment on the room,” Drusilla instructs a she finishes assembling the tea tray.
After showering Steve Roberts heads downstairs to have a look around the old, spooky house. It is close to midnight when he finds the oldest of the women, Drusilla setting the dining room table for tea. “Good evening, young man,” Drusilla said. “Care for a cup of tea?”
“I don’t really think I should, I’ve been having some trouble sleeping,” The young man tells my elderly hostess.
“Nonsense, this is a special brew I made myself,” Drusilla replies. “It is very relaxing, just what you need in these new surroundings.” Hesitantly Steve Roberts sits down at the old oak dining table across from the tea lady as she poured.
“I must admit I am intrigued by this house and you ladies,” he comments on her taking the cup and saucer. “How long have you been here?”
“Oh, let’s see, my husband Davis Harrison and I moved here to Boston to buy this place about fifty years ago now,” Drusilla answered sipping her tea. “It is amazing how much things can change in a city if you live long enough.”
Steve takes a deep breath of the tea, it smelled wonderful and tasted even better. “So you run it now with your daughter and granddaughter?” He asks politely.
“Mostly my daughter, Dharma, that child Darla is such a free spirit almost as much as I have been at her age.” Drusilla said placing her tea cup back on the saucer. “What she needs is a good strong man to settle her down, make her a mother.” Drusilla says the tea having a slight effect on her that she hadn’t planned on. “She can’t seem to settle on one boy this time.” “It is making her Mother crazy and I fear she will pick the wrong one.”
“This time?” Steve quizzes.
“Oh, at my age sometimes the words just don’t come out right,” Drusilla replies trying to cover her slip. “I meant at a time.” “Speaking of family do you have any?”
“Yes, my mother, father and sister live not far from Philadelphia where I work,” Steve tells her taking another drink of the delicious tea. “I don’t think I’ve ever had tea that tasted this good before, what kind is it?” he asks finishing the cup.
“It’s an old family recipe,” the old woman told him. “These days not many families have a tradition or stay together.” “Are you parents still married?”
“My parents are eternal soul-mate, they have always been together,” the young man says using word that the old witch didn’t expect to hear from the young man.
“Eternal soul-mates, huh,” Drusilla repeated a phrase that few normal humans would use in conversation she thinks.
“It is just a silly phrase my mother uses, it is almost a family joke,” Steve says making Drusilla think that this boy’s mother is much more aware of things than most people. “I can only hope to one day be as happy as they are.”
“So you would like to have a family of your own then?” Drusilla pries.
“Yes I would if I can find my soulmate, I will settle for nothing less,” he says honestly. Again with the soul-mate line Drusilla thinks to herself that bringing a look of disappointment to her face.
He must not be the one meant to be her father. He speaks more like a clairvoyant, the thought brings a crooked smile to her lips, “That is a lovely sentiment,” she comments. “But you don’t really believe in this soulmate thing do you?” Drusilla asked.
“It is hard not to in my family, but I question it still sometimes,” he tells her. “I have met some incredible women in my short life, but none of them seem to be the ‘one’.”
“You never know when that ‘one’ will appear, just ask my granddaughter,” Drusilla grins.
The young man looks intimidated as he says, “Your Granddaughter seems like a lovely and attractive girl but I am really not interested in settling down now, with this new job.”
Again Drusilla shows her disappointment and again she quickly pushes it aside to ask, “What do you do for a living back in Philadelphia?”
“I’m a cop, a detective,” Steve says a slight look of guilt on his face. Drusilla immediately picks up on the lie. Somehow this young man has broken the hold of her truth potion already. There is clearly more to this man than just a pretty face.
“That is a very dangerous field to be in,” she comments. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to have a family now.”
“I haven’t come across anything I couldn’t handle yet,” he tells her proudly. Drusilla can tell that his pride is not misplaced. Everything he has said makes her think he is a very special young man.
“I’ll bet you are very talented at what you do, do you have any special talents?” the old woman quizzes.
Their conversation comes to an abrupt end with that question. “Well, I have an early day tomorrow I should be heading to bed,” Steve says standing up from the table.
“No, please have another cup of tea with me,” she urged trying to get more of her potion tea into him.
“Thank you for the tea but I really should get to bed,” Steve insists as he leaves the dining room.
Disappointed Drusilla begins to clean up the tea setting. “So how did it go?” Dharma asks from the doorway.
Drusilla looks back over her shoulder, “He is an impressive young man.” “Somehow he shrugged off the spell of my potion the moment he stopped drinking it,” she tells her surprised daughter. “I put enough truth potion in that tea to last for hours.”
“How is that possible?” Dharma asks.
“He is clearly more than human,” Drusilla answers. “He kept talking about his parents being soul-mates and wanting to find his soul-mate.”
“Soul-mates?” Dharma repeats. “That is odd.”
“Yes, we both know Darla does not have a soul-mate,” Drusilla says. “We learned that when I tried to find her soulmate in a previous life time.”
Sadly Dharma says, “That is why she can never settle on one man.” “So who do you think Steve Roberts is?”
“My guess is that he his not meant to be my father but our clairvoyant,” Drusilla explains.
“Well then you were successful, let me clean this up, you should get some rest.” Dharma tells her mother who has been up for almost twenty-four hours.
Enchanted Suites, Bed and Breakfast
Boston, Massachusetts
MAY 20, 1986
It is a quarter past six in the morning and Darla sits on the front steps of the house. She is waiting for her new boyfriend. He said he would meet her by four and he is late. His tardiness almost make her want to listen to her mother about him. Then at long last the beat up yellow cab pulls up in front of the house.
The cab driver David Rodney gets out and hurries up the sidewalk to Darla. “Where have you been you were to be here hours ago!” Darla charges.
“Now beautiful, don’t be like that, I had some business to take care of and then I had to clean up,” David says charmingly. “You wouldn’t want me to show up here covered in dirt would you?”
“Well, I guess not,” Darla says apologetically giving him a kiss. “Come on we need to sneak in the back.” Taking his hand she leads the cab driver who is nearly a decade older than her around the old Victorian house.
In the backyard he stop there for a moment to ask, “Hey what’s that there?” He points at an ominous shadow in the dark.
“It’s just my mother’s herb garden,” Darla tells him. “She has some very unusual plants.” Darla sneaks her man in the back door and up the backstairs.
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“To the honeymoon suite no one has stayed in it for years,” Darla replies leading him quietly down the second floor hall. When they reach the door Darla finds a small braide of vines holding a burlap bag to the door knob. She has been trained in witchcraft from the day she could speak and she recognizes the hex bag.
“What is it?” David asks as they stand at the door. “What is wrong?”
“Oh nothing,” Darla replies before whispering a disenchantment spell that causes the hex bag to fall to the floor. She kicks the hex bag away as she gives David a kiss leading him into the room.
“Hey who is the old man?” David says spotting the Shaman Oizon sleeping in a chair by the window. Darla turns to see the robed man. The couple walked over to the sleeping old man.
Darla shakes the old man by the shoulder, “Wake up you have to leave, you shouldn’t be here!” The Shaman Oizon wakes more confused than he was when Drusilla locked him in the room. He mumbles and grumbles as David leads him to the door and puts him out.
“Now where were we?” David asks turning back to the pretty young girl who has slipped her shirt off her shoulder. The couple begin to kiss again quickly lost in passion.
Several doors down the hall from the Honeymoon suite Drusilla knocks on a door, “Mr. Bascom, this is your wake up call,” she calls through the door.
“Oh no!” Darla exclaims pushing David off of her. “That is my Granny giving wake up calls already!” “You have to go.”
“What already?” David says his pants open and the horse out of the stable. “This will only take a few more minutes.”
“That doesn’t sound good, nor does my Granny cutting it off,” Darla says pulling her clothes back on. “Come on this way,” she instructs as he puts his junk away to closes his pants. Darla slides a framed picture on the wall to the side opening a hidden door in the wall. “Take these stairs down to the front hall.” “And hurry don’t get caught!”
Steve Roberts is up early his first morning in Boston. He comes downstairs to find the cab driver from the night before standing in the front hall. “David, what are you doing here?” he asks the cabbie.
David Rodney is panicked to have been caught in the house. “I figured you guys would need a cab to get around today,” he says on the fly.
“That would be great, but Ed is still getting his shit together,” Steve replies.
“No problem, I can wait in the cab,” David says eager to get out of the house before anyone else shows up.
Steve wanders into the front parlor taking a seat in a high back-chair to wait for Ed to come down from upstairs. “Morning,” he says to the old man who sits alone in the room. He remembers the old man from yesterday when they checked in.
Steve didn’t try to make any further conversation with the old man. He turned his attention to the reason Ed and he were in Boston. Taking out a notebook he flipped through the notes he made on the plane.
The Shaman Oizon stares at the young man causing a spur in his memory. “I’m 246 years old,” the old man said out of the blue.
“Oh really, that’s an incredible age to be,” Steve replies humoring the old man as he looked up from his notebook.
The sound of his own voice makes the old Shaman look to the rest of his body. “Look at what a mess I am,” the old man says. There is a glimmer in his eyes as the old man looks back at Steve. “Now you, you will look great when you get to be my age.” The old man’s statement catches the other’s full attention. “You won’t even have a grey hair in that beard of yours when you finally commit to it for real.” Steve smiles at the obviously senile old man. “Remember that time we went up against that Welois, demonologist?” the old man asks.
“Welois?” Steve repeats curiously. “That is a strange name.”
“Ya, but those demonologist know how to stay young,” the old man comments. “I spent my whole two lives avoiding demons, if I had just stumbled once I could still look young.” Then the old man dozes off again for a few minutes as the young cop returned to his notes.
Upstairs Drusilla has discovered the escape of the Shaman and she has searched the house for him. She finds her missing captive in the front parlor just as he says, “Now that Diana she was a hot piece of ass!”
“Excuse me?” Steve says in surprise at the mention of a familiar name.
“Oh Uncle Baiz,” Drusilla interrupts coming into the room. “Have you been telling stories again?” “I have to apologize for my Uncle he is very old, tells stories that are all in his mind.” “Come along Uncle.” Drusilla directed. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”
“You know I’m not your Uncle, witch,” the old man argues as she helped him to stand.
“But he just said a name that was familiar to me,” Steve tells Drusilla. Now she is sure there is more to Steve Roberts than meets the eye. If the Shaman knows him from the future and they have battled a Demonologist no less, he must be powerful too.
“I sure wish you would have had a go at the girl, she would have never come back to you,” the old man says as he is lead from the parlor.
“Now, now Uncle that is enough,” Drusilla tells the Shaman squeezing his arm tightly.
Drusilla takes the Shaman Oizon into the kitchen and sits him down at the table. “Stay there and don’t speak!” she instructs. Drusilla begins to fix him some breakfast from the meal her daughter has already begun.
The Shaman Oizon has no idea where he is or why he is here. Recognizing Steve Roberts in the other room has stimulated something in his memory, given him a moment of clarity. He knows he has magic powers and how to use them. He must be here for a reason he just needs to remember why. He glances over at the counter to spot several bottles of vitamins next to a six slice toaster. “Elision!” he whispers vanishing from sight to cover his theft of the vitamins. Slipping out of the house he holds seven pills in his hand. Each vitamin supplement is meant to improve a different aspect of the body. He squeezes his hand closed and cast the hex on the pills, “Ugric!” He vitamins still glow as he swallows them down.
Later, lost in thought while cleaning up the breakfast dishes Dharma’s silence makes her daughter Darla more than a little nervous. Neither woman speaks for their own reason. Dharma has always been the talker of the family making Darla fear she has been found out. For the first time in months it is not her daughter she is worried about but her mother. Dharma disapproves of the spell her mother has cast, but something she had learned from the young man Steve Roberts makes her remember something. Many, many life times ago in Italy she knew a woman named Dona who often talked about finding her soulmate. Unlike the Triad who reincarnate and remember their previous lives after twenty-five years, Dona was a real immortal who never grew old or died. Dharma has a friend at City Hall that might be a help in finding out more about Steve Roberts. The last of the dishes cleaned up Dharma takes off her apron to tell her daughter, “I’m going out for a while, watch the front desk.”
“What about Granny, why can’t she watch the desk?” Darla questions feeling as if her mother is trying to keep her in the house for the day.
“Your Grandmother has other things to deal with today,” Dharma replies. “Could you please do as I ask just this one time without an argument?”
Dharma has done her research and now she sits waiting at a table near the back of the Garber Diner. The witches are not clairvoyant but it is a simple spell to predict where a person will most likely be in the next couple of hours. Steve Roberts’ lack of breakfast made the point that he would go to an early lunch and the closeness of this diner to the police station made it a good target.
Dharma spots Steve the moment he enters the diner with a tall thin black man dressed in a similar suit. She watches as the two men order and the black man goes to the restroom. It is then that she makes her move by going over to the table where Steve sits. Dharma takes the other man’s seat momentarily. “Mr. Roberts I just wanted to apologize for my mother,” she said to him trying to break the ice.
“For what?” he replies looking for some answers.
“For her interrogation of you last night,” Dharma tells him. “All though I disagree with what she has done, something she learned rang a bell with me.” “She said you spoke of your parents being soul-mates.” She could tell he was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation but she continued. “I once knew a girl who was so invested in finding her soulmate that she seemed to want to do nothing else.” “She was a very special girl, someone I came to admire very much.” “Her name was Dona.”
The look on his face at the mention of the name was all Dharma needed to know that she was right about who he was. Steve Roberts was good at hiding his secrets but not to a woman who lived over five hundred life times. “That is an unusual name,” he said coyly.
“Not two thousand years ago or so,” Dharma commented the shock showing in his eyes again. “I did some research, I have friends at city hall.” “I found out that is you mother’s name too.” “If the Dona I knew is your mother that would make you a very special young man too.” “My mother thinks you can solve a problem for her, I’m not so sure.” Just then his partner returned from the men’s room. It was time for Dharma to go. “If you want to help me figure this out, give your mom a call, ask her about the Triad.” “Well I will leave you to your lunch” Dharma said nonchalantly getting up from the table to leave.
Dharma heads back home she has set the wheels in motion that will probably anger her mother, soon to be granddaughter. But she will not have to deal with that fully for another twenty-five years went Drusilla remembers what she has done.
Arriving home around 2 pm, Dharma finds Drusilla at the front desk frantically flipping through a phone book. “Where is Darla?” she asks in an annoyed tone. “I told her to watch the desk!”
“She went out,” Drusilla replies.
“Where did she go?” The daughter asks.
“I didn’t ask,” the mother replies.
“If you are so worried about who your next father is going to be you could help me keep that girl under control!” Dharma replies angrily.
“I’ve got bigger problems,” Drusilla says. “I can’t find that wizard!”
“How did he get away from you?” Dharma asks almost happy that her mother’s plan is going wrong.
“That’s not important now,” Drusella says finding the phone number she for which she was looking. “I had gotten the impression that young Tim Bascom and the old wizard where one in the same.” “But when I use a strand of both their hair to cast a location spell to use one to find the other, it didn’t work.” “Most likely Oizon is a descend of Bascom and possibly us.”
“So you think Bascom is to be your father now?” Dharma asks hanging her coat in the hall closet. “He could just be the descendent of another child Darla has in this life cycle.” “We have all had children other than each other in the past.”
“It would explain the magic that old man has,” Drusilla says. “We need to find Bascom before the old wizard, he said something about the museum and I just found the phone number.”
“Why would the old wizard do anything to harm his ancestor?” the daughter asks. “That is if what you think is true.”
“I don’t know but the old man is here for a reason and I can’t risk him tampering with my spell!” Drusilla announces as she dials the phone. “Arrgh, it’s a damned machine!” Drusilla grumbles.
“I found out some interesting information today,” Dharma says as her mother is on hold. “Remember about fifteen hundred years when we were living in Italy?” “I had a friend named Dona, I never told you but Dona was and amazon.” A look of disbelief comes over Drusilla’s face. “I am fairly sure Dona is Steve Roberts’ mother.”
“You mean the one whose soul-mate you stole?” Drusilla accuses hanging up the phone.
“It was for one of his lifetimes, out of how many she had with him?” Dharma justifies. It is in my nature to want a man I can not have.” “Just as it is in your nature to marry until death do you part.”
“It was that spell you cast that caused the creation of the Cartridge bloodline and the family stronghold, Cassandra Manor Estate.” Drusilla reminds.
“How many husbands have you poisoned over the centuries?” Dharma asks coming around the desk to find a notepad. “Nevertheless Steve Roberts can not become part of our reincarnations or the spell I cast on his father’s soul to forget the lifetime he spent with me will be broken,” Dharma reveals. “And we both know what amazons like to do to witches that cross them.” Using a pencil Dharma scribbles over the blank sheet on the top of the notepad. A trick she learned from television. An address is revealed in Darla’s hand writing. “I will help you find the wizard if you help me with this,” she says holding up the pad.
That evening when Ed Bower arrives back at the Enchanted Suites he walks in the front door to interrupt an argument between Dharma and Darla. “Do not make me forbid you from seeing that man again!” the mother shouts at the daughter.
“I am over twenty-one, you have no right!” Darla retorts.
“But I do have the skill to smite him,” Dharma threatens.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Darla challenges.
“Don’t tempt me,” the mother says. “One day this will all make sense to you, I promise!” It is then that Dharma spots Officer Bower making his way to the stairs. “Oh Mr. Bower, I am so sorry you must excuse us.” “Can I get you some dinner?” she asks.
“No, no, I stopped on the way back,” Ed Bower says from the stair rail. “It’s been a long day , I’m just going to go my room.”
“Me too!” Darla shouts running across the front hall and pushing past Ed up the stairs.
“It never gets any easier, does it?” Ed comments. “My wife is always arguing with our daughter too and Shelby is only eight.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Dharma grimaces. “Good night then, Breakfast is at seven.”
“Thank you, I’ll be there with my expandible pants on,” Ed jokes as he started up the steps. Ed goes to his room and strips down to his boxer shorts. Climbing onto the bed he looks over some files he brought back from the station. Always the work horse he looks for more connections in the serial cases. After about a half and hour there is a knock at the door. Ed gets up putting on a robe to see who it is.
“Good Evening Mr. Bower, I’ve brought you some hot chocolate,” Darla says from the other side of the door holding a small silver tray with a mug on it. “May I come in, I just wanted to apologize for what you saw earlier.” The pretty young girl says sweetly.
“Well, I don’t ….,” Ed stammers as the girl pushes her way into the room.
“It will only take a minute,” Darla says handing Ed the tray with the mug on it.
“Well alright then, Thank You,” Ed says as he takes a drink from the steaming cup.
“My mother and I fight quite a bit of late, she doesn’t want me to make my own decisions,” Darla says making herself at home in the room.
“Well, that just his how mothers and daughters are sometimes,” Ed says taking another sip of the delicious hot chocolate.
“She thinks I don’t know how to handle myself around older men,” Darla says giving Ed a strange look.
“What are you….” Ed tries to say but he stumbles back to the edge of the bed to sit down.
“Just relax Mr. Bower,” Darla says going over to the man who appears disoriented. “I’ve just given you a little something to help you relax so I can prove a point to my mother.” Darla lifts the man’s feet up, rolling him back laying him on the bed. “My mother thinks I can’t control an older man,” she says as she unties the belt of his robe. “I know how to keep a man under control.”
Ed’s eyes bug out of his head as she pulls down his boxer shorts. He stares at the ceiling as he can do nothing to stop her, every muscle in his body is frozen. “I know you are a married man and if you could resist you would most likely do so,” If Ed could turn his head he would see what the girl is doing before she climbed up onto the bed with him. “I’m going to show you more pleasure now than you could ever imagine.” she tells him.
A few hours later Dharma waited in the front Parlor for Steve Roberts to return. On her lap she holds a wooden box. “Did you speak with your mother?” she asks point blank as the young man enters the room.
“I did,” he answers. “I assume what I learned was because you wanted me to help you with something.”
“Yes, but first of all, how is your mother?” Dharma asked smiling with her eyes more than her mouth.
“She is fine, she told me the two of you were the best of friends,” he tells her as he sits down across the room from her. “But your friendship ended when she learned you were a witch.”
“I’ve always regretted that, she was, is a wonderful person,” Dharma tells him.
“Just over protective sometimes,” Steve says.
“She told you not to trust us, to trust me,” Dharma says sadly. “She is still suffering from her loss.”
“What loss?” he asks curiously.
“It is not my place to say, that is her story to tell you,” Dharma says. “But we do need your help,” she says lifting the box from her lap. “We believe you have the gift of Precognition.” “Perhaps a mutation of that danger sense your mother always talked about.”
“Yes, that is true, but my visions always center around me,” he told her. “I can’t tell anyone else’s future, I’m not a fortune teller.”
“I thought as much that is why I have this.” Dharma opened the box that contained a pearl and opal necklace. “Mother didn’t have much luck with the truth potion she gave you, your metabolism proceeded it too fast.” “So I figured we might try something different.”
“Truth potion?” Steve questioned.
“Drusilla has always been willing to do whatever it takes to get her way,” Dharma said of her mother. “That is why I apologized this afternoon.” “This talisman will enhance your power, let you see the future beyond yourself.” “It is completely up to you if you wear it to sleep tonight.” Dharma handed me the box and left me alone in the parlor. Steve opens the box and looks at the piece of jewelry, it appears to be very old but completely harmless.
“What do you have there?” Tim Bascom asks with an accent. Steve looks up to see the young guy with a ponytail standing not far away looking at the box on his lap. “I study historical artifacts, do you mind if I have a look?” he asks.
“Not at all,” Steve says hoping to get someone else’s input. Tim takes the box and he looks closely at the necklace without lifting it out of the box.
“Ugric,” he whispered over the box.
“What was that you said?” Steve asks having heard his softly spoken word.
“Just a Brazilian expression,” Tim answers. “Like the American expression wow.” “I’d say it is about a hundred years old, a gypsy necklace, not worth much.” “Just a superstitious trinket.”
“Gypsy trinket, is it magical?” Steve asked try to sound as sceptical as possible.
“Haa haaa,” Tim laughs. “If you believe in those kind of things it is supposed to bring solutions in your dreams.” “See the dark opals, they will show you a crisis and the pearls will show you the solution.” “That is the reason there are more pearls than opals.”
“Oh there you are Mr. Bascom,” Drusilla said coming into the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” she told him taking his arm.
“Thanks for the info,” Steve says. “Don’t drink the tea,” he recommended getting a glare for the old woman as she lead Mr. Bascom from the room.
Meanwhile upstairs, Darla finishes her task. Ed Bower’s eyes stare widely up at her as she leans forward on top of him. “Sleep now, remember me as your best dream ever,” she whispers in his ear. Darla brushes her hand over his face, closing his eyelids as she lifts up off of him. Then she moves to redress her victim. She covers him with the blankets and gives him a kiss on the forehead. “Thank you for your service.”
Darla check her makeup in the mirror before leaving the room. Slipping out of the room she comes face to face with Steve Roberts. “Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes, of course, I just brought Mr. Bower some hot chocolate,” Darla said smiling. Without another word she continues walking down the hall to her room.
Downstairs Drusilla takes Tim Bascom into the library. “I understand you are an Archaeologist,” she says walking to a glass doored curio cabinet. “I was wondering if could take a look at these for me?”
Young Bascom steps over to the cabinet to look at thirteen hand carved figurines. Each of them is carved from a different medium. “Do you mind if I handle them?” he asks.
“No, not at all, they are just something I picked up at a flea market,” Drusilla explains. It is good that she has decided not to use the truth potion again because what she just told him is a lie. The figures were a gift from Darla’s father hundreds of years ago.
There are six male figures and seven female. Each dressed in the native clothing of different countries in ages gone by. “The details in the carving is amazing,” Tim says as he holds a male figure made of pewter in his hand. “I’ve never seen workmanship like this before in my life.” He places the figure back on the shelf and picks up another. “I recognize this one,” he says holding the figurine dressed in native South American garb carved from wood. “It is Manco Capac creation god of the Incas.” “He was also active in rebirth.”
“Yes that is correct, he is a personal favorite of mine,” Drusilla says. “He is very important to my family.” “Are you well versed in his myth?” she asks.
Tim grins whispering under his breath, “If you only knew.”
“Excuse me, you will have to speak up,” Drusilla requests. “My hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.”
“I am from Brazil, not Peru,” he tells her. “In Peru you might still be able to find someone worshiping those old gods.” “Actually going on that premise I would guess that these are all old gods from different myths.” “That is the Roman Mars in the armor and the Minotaur, the nordic Freya in the peasant dress, the Celtic Dian Cecht and Dagda.” “Some of them I don’t recognize but it is odd how this figure is larger than the others,” Tim comments holding up the pewter figure he called Mars.
“Ego, pure ego,” Drusilla says.
“It would seem that you are more familiar with these figurines than you let on,” Tim tells her. “Why would you need me?”
“I had hoped that I could interest you in extending your stay with us,” Drusilla says not holding back.
“Why would you want me to do that?” he asks.
“Boston may not be Brazil but there are many things here that a young man like you could find interest in,” the old witch suggests.
“What type of things?” Tim asks as if he has no idea what she is implying.
“Love for one,” Drusilla smiles.
“Zulus, you really are living in a world of illusion,” Tim says glaring at the old woman.