2.
November 1, 1283. Brianza, Near Canzu. (Italy)
Alice woke with a start. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sights around her. Even after being in the 13th century for almost a year, she still hadn’t grown used to waking up in the little Alpine cabin with no electricity. Every morning, when she opened her eyes, she expected the stark white walls of that Queens apartment; the hum of a computer running at the desk in the corner; the blaring car horns; the oddly metallic smells of exhaust fumes, salt, and somewhat charred pretzels that always wafted in through her windows. The cabin had none of those things. Logs made up the walls. The rooms smelled of pine, both fresh, decaying, and burnt. As for the sounds...
Nicky’s laugh came in from the other side of the curtain that separated Alice’s sleeping quarters from the rest of the cabin.
“Careful with him,” a delicate woman’s voice said then: Bethania. Alice sighed when she heard her. Even after all this time, she still wasn’t particularly fond of the woman who was supposed to be an earlier incarnation of herself. She tried to like her. She was her, after all. There was just something about her that made Alice’s stomach churn. Maybe it was the fact that she had actually given birth to the little boy Alice had raised. Maybe it was simply the fact that she was the reason the two of them were now stuck in the 13th century.
She rose and peered through the curtain. Nicky sat at the hearth. In his lap, curled and gazing up at him with plaintive eyes was their usually standoffish cat.
Nicky laughed again and reached out to stroke the orange tabby’s fur. The cat snuggled in closer, beginning to purr.
Alice knew should shouldn’t grimace at such a sight. She remembered the night she brought that cat home. When Hurricane Sandy struck the city, she and Nicky had barricaded themselves in the apartment. She had forbidden Nick to move from the bizarre fort she had built him and doubly forbidden him from going near the windows. The kitten, however, did not know about this restriction. It climbed onto their windowsill and mewed in desperation. Nick cried and cried, begging his mother to save it. Against her better judgment, she did just that. It had grown into a rather ungrateful cat, refusing even the slightest hint of affection. Until now.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Alice pushed the curtains aside and stepped out into the cabin’s main room. “Well, would you look at our Oliver,” she staid, trying to sound as jovial as possible. The last thing Nick needed was to sense the tension she still felt around Bethania.
Nick looked up at her. His face was alight with a full mouth and eye smile that made Alice’s heart leap. There was sincere joy in that expression. “He loves me!” The boy exclaimed, still petting the cat whose purr had grown so loud the floor seemed to be vibrating.
“You did save his life...”
“He never cared before.”
“Well, now you’ve done it twice.”
Bethania stood and locked eyes with Alice. There was a kindness there that in all honesty made Alice want to strike her. “Would you like some Vin Brule?” She asked in a slow halting tone.
“Coffee,” Alice whined, knowing full well that she had a good century at least before coffee got introduced to Lombardy. Of all the conveniences of modern life she had done without for the last year, the food was the one she continued to struggle with. The lack of electricity held adjustments, but a world without tomatoes, squash, or coffee was not something she had bargained for. Back home, in New York, the pumpkin spice lattes would be in full swing. She used to make fun of their prevalence, but now she craved one daily.
Bethania frowned, her lips pressed together in a mixture of pity and frustration. “I could ask Gianni, you know, to maybe...let me pop ahead for some. I’ve...done it before.”
Alice shook her head. “I’m not asking him for anything. He scares the shit out of me.”
“Mom!” Nicky shouted, a stern expression on his face.
“I’m sorry, Nicky...I mean, he frightens me a great deal,” Alice corrected.
“He’s your brother too, you know,” Bethania said, bringing her a mug of the steaming red wine.
Alice took it without reply. The steam coming off the mug had a different smell, but it warmed her the same as any coffee. It was nice to at least keep this one small part of her daily ritual.
Bethania went on. “He only wants us to be safe and happy. I’m sure he’d be glad to get you some coffee, if it’ll make you more comfortable.”
There was something about the way Bethania spoke of Gianni, with such reverence and adoration, that reminded Alice of a brainwashing victim. Of course, she never voiced this concern, especially not to her 13th century self, but it was enough to keep her on guard around the warlock. After breathing in the steam for a few moments, she took a seat near the fire. “It’s not a big deal. I’m happy with the wine.”
The fire danced, reflecting back Alice’s own face as well as the image of Nicky, still petting the contented, now sleeping cat. It was a comforting image to Alice, who had always wanted a fireplace. Unlike some of the house’s other occupants, she was most assuredly not looking forward to winter. When they arrived in January, it had been so blisteringly cold, that she refused to move from the fireplace for days. She had never known what it meant when people said modern society had “conquered winter”. At least until that January. Food had been even more of a struggle to find, and though she and Nick both had thickly insulated ski jackets, it was still a hard adjustment living in a home without central heating.
“Gianni and Graziella are gone for the day?” She asked, hoping that were the case. The cabin was small for six, even when one was only six himself, and Alice found it hard to get a moment’s peace when all the others crowded in.
“Business,” Bethania replied, taking a seat on the hearth as well. “The close of harvest is quite an occupying time for them, especially Graziella.”
Alice smiled, pleased and thinking this meant fewer days with them around in the future. If only she could be out of Bethania’s company so easily.
Unfortunately, her joy was short lived. At the same moment, the door flew open. A light, crisp autumn breeze fluttered in along with Graziella in the form of an elderly woman. The older witch’s ever shifting appearance had been jarring at first, but now Alice was hardly fazed by whatever face Graziella felt like putting on that day.
“Good morning, ladies, Nico,” she said in a bright, but haggard voice. “I’ve brought some lovely things from the village. I think you’ll all find something to suit you.”
Neither Alice nor Bethania moved. Nicky; however, scrambled to his feet after carefully setting Oliver aside. The cat didn’t seem to mind. He promptly paced in a circle then curled up again.
“You brought presents?” Nick asked, trying to peer into the large sack Graziella had carried in.
Graziella tapped him lightly on the shoulder with her cane. “Now, now, patience, Nico.”
He backed away with care and deference and Alice couldn’t help but marvel. Nicky had never known his grandparents and, growing up, his interactions with older people had been limited, but the way he took to and respected Graziella impressed her.
Vin brule still in hand, she made her way over. “Signora...” She began, still too uncomfortable to address Graziella by her first name.
Graziella raised an appraising eyebrow, taking Alice in. She tried not to be bothered by the look because, quite frankly, Alice knew why she had surprised her: she rarely approached Graziella on her own. This time, though, there had to be a change.
“Is there something that you want?” Graziella asked.
Alice cast a glance at Nicky, then Bethania, a sudden pit of foreboding developing in her stomach. It felt like all the wine had congealed into lead in her gut. “I have been reconsidering your offer to train...”
Over her shoulder, Bethania coughed, but Alice couldn’t be sure if this were a true cough or some expression of mocking sarcasm. She never could tell what that girl was thinking.
The look on Graziella’s face, however, was plain enough. She was pleased. Her mouth drew up into a warm smile; the way her eyes joined it proved to Alice that the look was genuine. “I knew you would come around eventually. It took Bethania quite some time to accept her birthright as well.”
Alice smirked. So Bethania wasn’t the golden girl after all? That was nice to know. “I had a dream,” she admitted before she really knew why. The images from it came fluttering back, slowly at first and then like a wave. As they crashed over her, Alice felt her knees begin to buckle.
“A divining dream?” Graziella questioned, letting Bethania ease Alice back into her chair by the fire.
Oddly, the closer Alice got to the fire, the sicker she felt. Flashes of the tunnel were coming furiously now, switching her vision from darkness to light. She tried hard to focus on reality, but it was slipping.
“Mom?” Nicky asked. His voice quavered, full of fear.
That was all it took. Alice focused on Nicky’s voice. The room steadied. She swallowed hard and nodded. “I think so. It felt...very real, but I knew I was dreaming. At least...eventually.”
Graziella wasted no time as she busied herself at the fire. “You’ll have to show me.”
“Can’t I just...tell you?”
The older woman stared back, a look of annoyance scrunching her features together. “I suppose, but how am I to know you are remembering the details correctly?”
“Graziella, please go easy on Alice. She doesn’t know how,” Bethania interjected. Alice saw now that she had gathered Nick up into her arms and was holding him at the edge of her vision. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed that she had gone to him when he requested his mother or feel grateful that she was keeping him right where she needed as a steadying presence.
“It’s not hard. Fire omens...”
“I can’t look at the fire,” Alice forced out, cutting Graziella off and looking her square in the eye for the first time in a long time. “It makes me feel ill.”
This seemed to give Graziella pause. She stepped close to Alice and stared hard, scanning with aching slowness over each inch of her face, giving Alice the distinct impression that she was trying to read her mind. “Interesting,” she muttered, several times over.
Alice couldn't possibly imagine what the old witch found so "interesting". She gripped the edge of her chair with her free hand, pressing her palm into it hard to keep from mentioning her discomfort.
"Right," Graziella finally said, stepping back and nodding. "I suppose we'll have to try another way then. Come with me."
Still, Alice couldn't understand what was happening. She looked to Bethania, who only shrugged, and stood, slowly, hesitating lest her legs start to give way again. "Come with you where?"
Graziella shook her head, but didn't answer. She merely went for the door. Alice followed, staying far enough back that she could run if the occasion called for it.
Together, they walked in a silence Alice was afraid to break. Even after living here for the past nine months or so, she still marveled at the landscape. It was the mountains she couldn’t get over. They sprung up all around, posed, and stretched out their arms toward her, looking simultaneously welcoming and vain. She supposed that she could spend the rest of her life in the Alps and still be awed by them daily.
And there was something refreshingly crisp about the air; the way it tightened around her and made her struggle on occasion. It made her feel alive...though Henry would have written the whole thing off as nothing more than altitude sickness.
The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning.
Henry.
She hadn’t thought about what Henry would say in years.
She definitely didn’t know what he would think of her life now: living with a strange family seven centuries before she was actually born. The only thing she knew for sure was that he would have just as much trouble with the food as she did. She tried to picture his face when Graziella informed him that acorn squash wouldn’t be making it’s appearance for another hundred years yet and that he would have an awfully long wait for those cranberries.
After a few seconds of trying to suppress it, her laugh escaped. It was light at first, but the more she tried to control it, the more persistent it became.
Graziella turned and hissed at her. “Have you been bewitched?”
It took Alice a moment, but after a deep breath, she was able to offer an apologetic smile. “I’m just thinking about my ex-husband. We had a fight once when I bought frozen cranberries instead of fresh...never mind it wasn’t the right time of year...he has such an expressive face...”
Graziella stared, shook her head, and turned to continue walking.
When they finally reached the pool, Alice was shivering. All the effects of the vin brule had worn off and she hadn’t thought to bring a shawl. “It’s a little cold, out here, don’t you think?” she muttered, mostly to herself.
Graziella shrugged. “In my line of work, cold tends not to be a trial.” She knelt down by the water and seemed to stroke the surface with her index finger. When satisfied with this, she gestured for Alice to come closer. “There are many ways to do magic. We each have our own specific gifts that are unique in us. Yes, there are repeated elements, there would have to be, but no soul of magic is exactly alike. We’re like the snow in that way.”
Alice nodded, not entirely sure she understood the old woman’s meaning.
“You, it seems, cannot divine by fire. I have my suspicions as the reason for this impediment; however, they are not important at this time.”
“Maybe the reason is I can’t divine at all. So far, I haven’t exactly shown...”
“Nonsense. Bethania said the same, and I will tell you what I told her. You were once very good at it. Aside from superficial things, I have yet to notice much difference in incarnations.”
Alice bit back a laugh and turned to the water. “I’m supposed to use this?”
Graziella nodded. “Look on it as you would a mirror. Try to remember your dream and imagine it taking place on the surface before you.”
Again, Alice wanted to make a joke. She wanted to tease Graziella about television, but something stayed her wit and the words jumbled up in her mouth before she could speak. She looked down at the water and tried to picture the gate with it’s intricate carvings.
“Concentrate,” Graziella whispered.
The image started off blurry, a wavy mass of vague shimmering brown, but it was there in the water before her. Though the forefront of Alice’s mind registered shock and wanted to jump back from the edge of the pool, she stayed, focusing harder, pressing her brows together and forcing the image from her mind, demanding that it take shape as the doors from her dream. Slowly, the edges of the trees and flowers etched on it grew clear and crisp.
Graziella gasped and grabbed at Alice’s elbow, yanking her away from the water.