Addicted to Witch by Billy London Page A

When she opened them nothing had changed. The room, the candles, the lights, nothing.
    Think practical, Sarpong . Swinging her feet from the bed onto the floor, she looked down to see rose petals, which at first glance were the same creamy gold as the light. Picking up a petal, she realised they were a muted shade of violet. If she hadn’t believed Auden was under a spell before, she was entirely convinced now. Why hadn’t this happened before? She thought, ruffling her hair.
    “You weren’t in love with Auden then,” a soft voice replied. Helena leapt onto the bed in shock. A small woman, with silvery blonde hair that framed her figure to her elbows, stood before her in a ghostly mist. Helena reached out to touch her, but her fingertips passed through air, disturbing the image of the woman.
    “You must be,” the ghost woman said, “to get this sort of reception. Flowers and candles and fireflies! Oh my!”
    “I can’t be having psychotic episodes right now,” Helena begged. “I can’t take medication.”
    “No, dear, you’re not. I’m Auden’s mother.”
    Ah. Great. “I’m guessing the curse cast you out as well?”
    “And much more. I can’t be here for long,” she held up a hand, “it ages me, you see?”
    Helena looked at her near transparent hand and saw liver spots spreading along the skin, wrinkles deepening around her eyes and pulling at her jowls. What a vicious curse ! Helena thought, staring at the woman with desperate pity.
    “You can help him, not with what you know or what you’re capable of doing, but how you feel. Does that make sense to you?”
    “Yes. Sort of. Are you a witch?”
    “I used to think so.”
    “Then why couldn’t you do anything to stop this?”
    “The far reaching effects of a curse. As much as it’s bound my son, it’s prevented me from moving the earth to help him.”
    “She’s that powerful?”
    “She’s just that determined.” His mother smiled, the wrinkles in her opaque face lifting slightly. “Ask Auden to tell you about when he was born. There’s more to the two of you than coincidence of fate. And tell him we all still love him. So very much.”
    “I will,” Helena promised.
    His mother’s image shimmered slightly before she vanished into the air. Helena’s nervousness was raging near out of control. If she closed her eyes, she could be back in Angel, inside her flat and all this would be nothing more than a dream. Even if she hadn’t dreamt since she was ten years old.
    Instead, she took a deep breath and followed the trail of rose petals. Candles were everywhere, in all distinctions of height and width. The paintings and photographs that lined the walls, of both animals and people, all looked at her and bowed in respect. Oh God, what on earth?
    The petals were strewn through the kitchen and scattered outside into the garden. Helena wrapped her arms around herself in anticipation of instant chill, and was met instead with an air as balmy as a sub-Saharan evening. The fireflies took over where the candles had stopped, lighting a pathway to the centre of the gardens where her huge lion sat, resting on his paws. She hadn’t at all imagined him. Another part of a terrible curse laid on an incredible man. Why?
    “Hello, my friend,” she said, coming to sit in front of him. Carefully arranging the silk of her gown over her knees, Helena looked into those beautiful violet eyes. “What are you doing out here?”
    He lowered his head, a growling sigh emerging from him, so sad it brought tears to her eyes. “Auden. You know I’m not a crier and you’ve made me cry more times in three days than I have in the last twenty years.”
    His head nudged her, tickling her nose with his mane. “Was that an apology?” she asked with a laugh. A grunt was her answer. “Can I tell you a story? Just so you know that not all witches are bad? Not all witches curse people who don’t deserve it?”
    He lifted his head to stare at her, regal face almost