Amorous Goods: The Necklace and the Spell Book
Acknowledgments: A huge thank you to Rustyoznail for organizing this year's challenge. I spent may wonderful evenings reading the stories from the past few years, so a thank you to everyone who participated. The three witch sisters in my story are loosely based on the characters from Aftynrose's ASMR video "Three Witches Won't Let You Sleep". If you enjoyed the story, please take the opportunity to view Aftynrose's content.
Prologue: A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.
November 1st, 8 AM, Interrogation Room, Black Tower, Boston
The first thing you learn when studying magic is that nothing is as it appears. Lilith looked around and separated the seeming from the real that surrounded her. It seemed as if she was floating in nothingness and swirling mist, seated on a wooden bench that floated in a void broken only by stars, illuminated from above by a weak, silvery light that seemed to emanate from a moon hanging above the gloaming fog. In reality the young witch was seated on a wooden bench in a room painted dark gray lit by a simple pendant light hanging above her head. It would take more than a weak glamour spell to fool a half-elf who passed as fully human every day of the week. Lilith hugged her arms across her bare chest and counted her lucky stars that the room was kept comfortably warm. She had seen through the glamour hours before and the novelty of pretending to float the cosmos had worn off long ago.
Lilith, youngest of the Rose sisters, maiden of her coven, wielder of magic had been stripped of her robes, ornaments, and talismans when she had been brought to the Black Tower. The guard who had asked her to disrobe had been polite but firm: only those skyclad could testify before the council. For hours now she had sat on the bench in the boring room organizing her thoughts in her head, going over the series of horrors that led her to this dull room. She hoped that soon someone would bring her something to eat. Now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, Lilith was hungry and exhausted. The bench was too short to lie down on and the floor was too uncomfortable an option to consider.
Stroking her medium-length, orange hair back over her shoulder, Lilith decided it was time to let the guards know she had seen through the illusion. She wanted to know what was happening and when someone would come to interview her. Standing with purpose Lilith walked straight through the fog and rapped on the "invisible" door.
"Do you know when my familiar will be brought back?," she shouted.
If the guards outside the room heard her they made no reply. Lilith shrugged and walked back to her bench.
Instead of sitting, the young witch stretched first one leg and then the other, preparing her tired body to run through a few yoga poses to ease her sore muscles. Lilith had elfin ears hidden by her orange hair, a cute, heart-shaped face, and an innocent smile she used to turn events her way on more than one occasion. Her chest was ample, her waist slim, and an ass that was neither too big or too small. Lilith was not especially tall, but her legs were toned and lean from decades of yoga. Lilith's youthful appearance was no glamour, her DNA and the youthful freckles that adorned her cheeks kept her young long past her true youth. Arms raised, Lilith breathed in deep and lowered her arms as she allowed the air to slowly escape her lungs.
"Have a seat on the bench, please," came a woman's voice from behind Lilith. The door had opened and another witch was standing, nude, holding a large, rust-colored cat in her arms. As soon as the witch closed the door, the cat jumped away from her and ran over to rub against one of Lilith's legs and jump onto the bench where he promptly curled up into a ball and seemed to fall asleep.
Lilith studied the new witch as she slid Templeton out of the way so she could sit down. Short with a pixie haircut, purple hair (both on her head and below her waist), ample breasts, tattoos, and multiple piercings, her attitude was professional despite the punk touches to her appearance. The new witch waived a hand and summoned a similar bench to Lilith's and sat across from her. The folder, which seemed empty, was placed on the seat beside her.
The skyclad rule applied to everyone who might appear before the Council, even the witches and warlocks who worked for the Black Tower. The purple-haired witch who sat across from Lilith was most certainly an Auditor. Auditors were not feared so much as they were distrusted. Truth in a world with magic was a slippery concept and the Auditor's job was to present the official "truth" before the Council. Nudity, even attractive nudity, did nothing to make Lilith feel more at ease.
"I apologize for the delay, Lilith. Your familiar was not being forthcoming with all of the details and it took longer to get his testimony than I anticipated." The Auditor's voice was pleasant enough, even friendly, but Lilith knew to keep her guard up.
"He can be a handful," Lilith stopped rubbing Templeton's ear as she spoke. "I assume it is my turn, Sister...?"
"You may call me Sister Vivienne," the witch replied. "I have interviewed the other parties. I wanted to leave your testimony for last. It would seem you can tie everyone else's stories together." Vivienne waived her hands and a table appeared between them, a stack of large, black tarot cards rested in the middle. "Shuffle the cards, please."
Lilith did as she was asked and lightly shuffled the large cards together more times than she could count, then placed them back in the middle of the table. Curious, Lilith asked what the cards had to do with her testimony.
"For important testimonials the Black Tower uses a reverse reading to judge the accuracy of the story. I will lay out a seven card spread, reversed, and flip a card over each time it seems pertinent."
"And you can accurately read a false story from the cards, Sister?"
"As accurate as tarot cards will allow," Vivienne replied with a wink. "We have found that using a reverse reading also assists our archivists with recording the events. Once your testimony is complete, and deemed truthful, it will be transcribed and stored in the archive beneath the tower. Cards that conflict with the tale indicate where the Witch's Council will need to probe a little deeper."
Lilith, anxious for the first time since she had arrived at the Black Tower, watched as Sister Vivienne dealt seven cards in an inverted "V" formation on the table. If the cards were meant to be a form of lie detector, she would need to only tell what she knew and avoid speculation on what happened outside her experience.
"Poor Simon," she thought. Lilith allowed herself to perceive the room around her as the misty nothingness once more. It suited the occasion much better than the sterile blandness of the gray, boring room.
"I will flip over the first card. You may begin at any time."
Vivienne flipped over the card on the lower left of the inverted "V". The Moon - reversed. A full moon, flanked by two high towers, shown down on two, howling beasts. "The reverse of the Moon can be interpreted as confusion and fear," Vivienne said. Lilith, uncertain where to start her story before, now knew where she needed to begin her tale.
I. The Moon - Reversed
October 31st, 6 PM, Boston
A fading Indian Summer made Boston's Halloween weekend one for the history books. Children, dressed in costumes that ranged from pop culture references to classic ghostly and ghoulish fare, ran from door to door, their sacks filled to the brim with candy. The air was filled with laughing and screaming in turns as the kids discovered the goofy and frightening decorations adorning the aged and august houses that lined the cobblestone street. Parents slowly strolled along the sidewalks in groups ensuring their children came to no harm. Surrounded by the black, orange, and green decorations, no one noticed the young witch dressed in the same colors slip quietly between the knots of adults and kids, effortlessly making her way toward the rundown mansion at the end of the block.
Trick or Treaters seemed to be avoiding the old house, perhaps unconsciously knowing that they were better off skipping the frightening manse behind the unruly hedge. The sun had only begun to sink behind the home across the street, throwing the old mansion into shadows and accenting the one, lopsided pumpkin rotting on the porch. Weak flames flickered in its sagging bowels. To one side of the iron gate was a placard reading "Amorous Goods" with no indication if this was the name of the home (all older mansions seemed to have names in this part of Boston), a business, or the name of the real estate agent.
The witch stopped outside the gate, took a deep breath, and swung the iron bars open with a look of determination on her face. The same determination carried her across the yellow leaf-filled lawn and up the old stairs to the front porch. The front door, deeply shaded and barely visible from the street, was open a crack. From deep inside a jaunty jazz tune beckoned the young woman inside.
The door swung open revealing a young man in a monk's robes standing on the other side, bowl of candy in one hand. His face was open and friendly as he greeted the witch.
"Happy Halloween! You're our first guest tonight. The younger kids don't seem to think we're home." He offered the candy bowl reverently. "Please, take two."
The young witch smiled.
