Witching Tree (Alice Gray Book 1)

11

I hesitated outside Emily's room. She was talking animatedly to someone.

Probably her "partner." Bile rose in my throat at the thought of him.

When I got clear of the house, I took a taxi to the large mall on the outskirts of town.  I'd need supplies for work on Monday. I was determined to make a success of my accountancy business. It was all that remained unscathed of my grand plans to start a new life.

Next stop was a Holiday Inn. Thank God for all that careful saving. My bank balance could handle the expense for a week or so while I found a new apartment.

The room was basic but clean and was located on the third floor of a large nineteenth-century building located next to the River Don. I let myself in and hung up my new work clothes.

Then I stalled.

The temptation to cut and run was overwhelming.

I swallowed the bitter taste of failure that lingered at the back of my throat. My retreat from the priory felt weak now. I shouldn't have run away. I hadn't done anything wrong.

But I had to think of it a different way. My business was still viable. I hadn't lost everything yet. I would not let my first client down.

Pushing the cold, creeping feeling of helplessness away, I tried to focus on what really mattered. I was retaking control of my life, for the first time in five years.

I paced the room. Grief and humiliation competed with furious indignation over how I'd been duped by Stephen, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

A dull ache spread through my brain, clouding my thoughts and making me slow and stupid. Whenever I tried to consider the future, my mind kept returning to the time when I'd first fallen in love with Stephen: laughing, making love, even fighting. How could it not be real?

Sitting on the bed, my hand brushed the tote bag. All I had left was the silver tree. For the first time in five years, I wanted the distraction of its beauty and dark mystery.

Placing it on my hand, I studied its sinewy roots, which slithered over one-another to form the base. The tiny leaves suspended on delicate branches jingled sweetly as it settled. I let the familiar dread wash over me, pushing out all the other emotions. The relief was pure and invigorating. 

My mind empty of everything other than the tree, I let the reality of my life back in bit by bit.

The silver leaves sang as I considered how Emily and Stephen had watched me for five years. Could I trust what she'd told me?

A spark of hope ignited in my heart. I didn't know that woman. I only had her version of the story. What if my relationship with Stephen had been real and this was all part of whatever game was playing out around me?

Then I remembered the connection between Emily and Stephen. When their eyes met, what travelled between them spoke of a long-shared intimacy only possible from years of familiarity. And then, Stephen had never given me a reason for leaving those seven months ago. One evening he just didn't return from work, the only thing keeping me from reporting him as missing, the 'Dear John', I found on the counter.

No, there was no doubt in my mind. Stephen didn't care for me. It was a job for him.

The branches of the silver tree swayed on the palm of my hand. To my unfocused eyes, the movement of the leaves created a silver haze that enveloped the tree. Its beauty kept me grounded as I accepted that Stephen, the love of my life had betrayed me.

In the calmed state of meditation I thought of my mother's pendant. Emily said that it had been protecting me. Without it my 'magic' made me vulnerable. The tree swayed, its music taking away my agitation, banishing my confusion.

I understood now. This part of the story was another misdirection. Emily was trying to distract me from her true purpose with a fantastic tale that only a child would believe. She considered me pliable and naïve, incapable of acting on my own. She probably thought that I would swan around thinking I was in Twilight or True Blood or something.

And who could blame her.

I would not fall for her lies again, however seducing they were.

The tree's movement brought me back before my anger could build, its delicate branches wavering in a wind that didn't exist in the air conditioned room. Its terrible beauty twisted the emotions that disturbed my soul until they merged with the deep gloom that was part of its mystery, taking my darkness into itself.

Eased, I fell asleep watching the shadows caused by its dancing leaves, elongated like so many figures hanging from its branches.

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