Death is a Girl

Chapter 45 - Intermission 2 - Secret World of Arietta

In a suburban home at the end of a culdesac, a witch sat at her vanity. She carefully held a fine brush with white paint as she redid the runes on her nails. When she finished her last pinky she splayed out her fingers, examining her work as she softly blew them dry.

Arrietta met her own gaze in the mirror, the makeup thick and dark around her eyes and lips, contrasting her fair skin. She couldn’t wait to find the boys that goaded her little brother into stealing the book and put him through so much. She already knew the curse she’d use—it would be long-lasting, and they would suffer. A smile pierced over her black lips, but faded soon as she thought of Morrigan. The girl who had died at the hands of those boys—a murder to which her little brother was made accomplice.

His recent moodiness now made sense. He was always rather dull, shoulders slouching, voice soft and unconfident, but lately, he’d been like a walking ghost.

She reached for her witch hat and placed it on her head, then left her bedroom. The supernatural decor ended at the threshold of Arietta’s door. The rest of the house was quite normal, with family photos and a homey, modern, middle-class feel.

Her mom was sitting on the couch, slippers on her feet and a book in her hands. She looked so ordinary that Arrietta could hardly believe she was a witch herself. Well, perhaps x-witch, as her mother hadn’t practiced magic in quite a long time. As it turned out, witching didn’t do very well with paying the bills, so she had settled down into a normal lifestyle back when Arrietta was born. “Good morning,” her mom said, glancing up. “Working at the shop again today?”

“Someone's got to do it,” Arrietta said cooly, continuing to the kitchen. Her father was there at the table with a cup of coffee, pouring over some paperwork related to his job as an attorney. He was too focused to offer an acknowledgment. Unlike her mom, her father was a non-magic-user and regarded the witching world with disinterest. Though, he did show respect to their grandfather. Arrietta wondered if he wasn’t just a little bit afraid of him.

She took out a pitcher filled with an herbal concoction she had blended herself and poured some into a glass when her father suddenly spoke. “So, did Todd get fired?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Arrietta responded, returning the pitcher to the fridge. “I think he is simply not interested in working at the shop.” Grandfather had asked her not to mention anything about the book or the incident in the graveyard for now. After all, depending on what would become of those two boys, the fewer people who knew, the better. He did not even want Todd to know they knew.

“That boy really needs to do something with his time…” her father said, sitting back and giving his paperwork a break. “Though, I suppose the magic shop wasn’t a good fit either way.”

“He’s only sixteen,” Arrietta said, leaning against the counter and sipping her drink.

“I know. He just doesn’t have any hobbies or anything.”

“You seem particularly concerned today.”

He folded his arms and glanced her way. He had a stern expression for all but a moment before letting out a sigh. “He hasn't been acting right recently. Did something happen at the shop?”

“As I said.”

“Not that you’re aware of?”

Arrietta snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Bingo.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You, on the other hand, need to spend a little less time with your hobby and think about your future.”

Arrietta sipped her drink. The silence hung in the air for a moment before she removed herself from the counter with a huff. She only made it halfway across the kitchen before his scolding tone stopped her. “You’ve been out of school for four years now. You spend all your time at the shop and practicing witchcraft.”

“It’s not just a hobby, it’s what I am,” she shot back.

“I understand that, and I appreciate that it's so important to you. But realistically, there isn’t much place in the modern world for witches. He hardly pays you anything, and you are not building any viable career prospects.”

“I’m paid in knowledge, and grandfather would pay me more in cash if he could, but the profits go to keeping the place running.”

“That’s my point exactly,” her father said, softening his tone. “I’m just worried about your future. You’re a bright girl, Arrietta. You could do anything you put your mind to. But at some point, you need to think about how you’re going to support yourself.”

Arrietta clenched her glass, the herbal concoction swirling inside.

Her mom walked in with her book closed. “Don’t take it the wrong way. I love that Dad found a new apprentice in you, and we don’t want you to give that up, but these days, life isn’t as simple as living in the woods and practicing magic. That’s why he opened the shop in the first place, you know.” She smirked. “Even witches and wizards have bills to pay.”

“Or maybe,” Arrietta's voice came out dry and irritated. “If everyone hadn’t given up and left him alone in the first place, he wouldn’t have to.”

Her mom’s expression shifted. “It wasn’t easy, you know. I did what I had to do to provide for this family.”

Arrietta bit her tongue. There was a lot she could have said. She could chastise her for how she had cut her ties with magic so completely she could hardly cast an illuminance spell anymore. She gave it all up for what? A boring mundane life in the suburbs? Arrietta knew if she herself were to give up on magic, her family’s legacy would all but die with Grandfather. One day, the world would have a place for witches again. They couldn’t see it. They were so conditioned to “normal” human society that they couldn’t see outside of their little box.

Her mom’s eyes softened, sensing the tension in the air. “We just want what’s best for you, Arrietta.”

Arrietta’s grip on the glass tightened for a moment, then she downed the last of it before returning it to the sink. “I have to get to the shop.”

She went up to her room but stopped as her eyes caught Todd’s bedroom door. It was no wonder he had such trouble finding his place in the world. He was supposed to be a wizard but was denied his heritage. He was eight years younger than her and was born into this family when magic was all but cast aside. Even the difference in how they were named reflected that. Todd: so purposefully mundane.

She retrieved her bag from her room, which, aside from her pocketbook, keys, cards, I.D., and makeup, contained various charms and magical ingredients as well as a simple spell book—her “cheat sheet,” as she would call it. As she left into the hallway again, she saw Todd emerging from his room.

He looked even more disheveled than usual, his hair unkempt and his eyes heavy with lack of sleep. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, a stark contrast to Arrietta’s more elaborate witch attire. “Morning,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning, Todd,” Arrietta replied, observing her brother with a mix of concern and frustration. “You look like you could use some fresh air. Want to come to the shop with me today?”

Todd shrugged nonchalantly. “Thanks, but no.”

She wanted to pull him aside, tell him she knew everything and what he was going through. She wanted to let him know it was all going to be alright and they were going to fix things. However, Grandfather told her to hold off for now, and she trusted his wisdom. Today, when she got to the shop, she would find out the plan of action.

“Got any plans?”

Todd shook his head. “Not really,” he said and dragged his feet to the bathroom.

The house was quiet now, her parents having retreated to their respective corners. Her father to his study, no doubt buried in more paperwork. Arietta got in her car and left the quiet, tranquil neighborhood behind.

When she arrived at the shop she heard voices near the counter.

On one end was her grandfather, the great wizard Atomyst, looking as usual as if he had stepped out of another era entirely. His long, silver hair draped around him from under his dark blue wizard’s hat. His eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and knowledge. His dark robe seemed to absorb the light around him.

On the other end was a customer, a middle-aged woman with an anxious expression etched across her face. She clutched a small, tattered book to her chest, her fingers fidgeting with the frayed edges. The woman was speaking in hushed, urgent tones, occasionally glancing around as if afraid of being overheard.

Arrietta made her way to the counter, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet shop. “Good morning, Grandfather,” Arrietta greeted, her eyes briefly meeting the woman’s before returning to Atomyst.

“Ah, Arrietta, just in time,” Atomyst replied, his voice deep and soothing. He turned his attention back to the woman. “Madam, this is my granddaughter. She is well-versed in many aspects of our craft. She may be of assistance.”

The woman hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I... I need help,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “This book is cursed. I believe it’s affecting my family.”

Arrietta took the book gently from the woman’s hands. The cover was old, the leather cracked and worn, with strange symbols etched into it, but they were no runes she had ever seen. She opened it carefully, her eyes scanning the pages. It was written in Latin, but either way, nothing supernatural was bound to it. The true runes painted on her nails told her that much.

“It’s a grimoire,” Arrietta stated, her fingers tracing the text. “Yes, I feel evil intent coming off of it.” She felt no such thing.

“Yes, just as I thought,” Atomyst confirmed. “How long has the book been in your home, my dear lady?”

“Well, I moved in three years ago, but only found it a couple of weeks ago. I’m sure it is to blame for the falling out of my marriage.” She leaned forward and whispered the next part. “I believe the spirits pushed my husband back to drinking.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Arrietta said, closing the book with reverence and handing it back to her grandfather.

“We will take this off your hands,” Atomyst said. “Better with us, as we know how to properly store such an artifact. Now, there may be some lingering essence of the spirits it contained left in your home.”

The woman seemed dismayed at the news.

“Fear not, we have a simple remedy. Arrietta, if you would.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” she said, tipping her hat before retreating back to the shelves. She randomly selected a variety of herbs, thinking more of the scents than any actual magical properties. These herbs were common and inexpensive, worth not even five dollars, but they would be selling them to their valued customer for far more.

Arrietta returned to the counter with her selections: a bundle of sage, a sprig of rosemary, and a few dried lavender flowers. She placed them in a small, ceramic bowl she retrieved from beneath the counter. Taking a wooden pestle, she began to grind, her movements precise and deliberate. The herbs earthy smell filled the air.

Meanwhile, Atomyst continued to reassure the woman. “These herbs, when properly prepared and burned, will cleanse your home of any residual negative energies,” he explained, his voice calm and comforting. “Arrietta is skilled in these matters. You are in good hands.”

Arrietta took a pinch of iron dust from beneath the counter and cast her first real spell of their little performance. It was simple aesthetics, though, as she poured some magic into combusting the iron particles and causing a crackling spark—burning just enough of the herbs to cause some smoke to rise from the bowl. Through her peripheral vision, she took note that the theatrics were successful. The woman stared with wonder in her eyes.

“Just burn this incense in every room of your house,” Atomyst explained. “That will surely be enough to drive off anything which the book has left behind. Oh! You will need an incense burner.” He scurried around the counter and began looking through the shelves.

Arrietta began scooping the incense into a pouch as she caught the woman's eyes. “These were spirits of temptation,” she explained, “and the thing is, they can’t grab hold if there is not some prior vulnerability within those they vex.”

The woman nodded, eagerly taking in the lesson from the beautiful young witch.

“That is, your husband will be free from the influence of the spirits but must also strive to better himself. Therefore, I recommend counseling to help with addiction once the spirits have gone—to help him back on his feet.” She sealed the pouch and set it on the counter. The woman’s head turned, her eyes losing that blind intrigue. Those words were not what she wanted to hear. She came for a quick, magical solution to her problems.

Arietta cleared her throat and continued. “Of course… if this doesn’t solve things, there are other spells that can help further if he is still struggling. Though, it may be expensive.” That part, at least, was true. However, the cost for such spells wouldn’t be measured as purely a financial transaction.

All in all, the woman left as a happy customer with a pouch of useless incense. Arrietta then put her eyes on her grandfather as he counted the profits of their little performance. It may seem immoral, but they gave her exactly what she came in for. Telling her the book was not magic and her problems at home were completely natural would have her leave the shop unsatisfied with her time wasted and the store a sale shorter.

“Grandfather, about Todd.”

He nodded, putting the bills in his robe. “Come to the back. I know how to find these boys, and I do believe I know just the appropriate punishment for them.”

Arrietta’s black lips pierced into a smile. That is exactly what she wanted to hear.