The Artist's Alchemy by Amorette Anderson

Author:Amorette Anderson [Anderson, Amorette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amorette Anderson
Published: 2020-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

As it turned out, I was out of luck.

My first massage client wanted to talk—a lot. Non-stop. About me.

I wasn’t in the mood for talking in general, and talking about myself had always been one of my least favorite topics of conversation. But since the truth berry was still working in my system, I had no choice.

The woman on my massage table was in her early forties, and I could tell her initial comments about the weekend that she was an artist, not a scientist. She had short-cropped blonde hair, a bunch of piercings in her ears, and a silvery-pink scar that ran down one side of her back. She informed me casually that she was a werewoman, and that she’d gotten the scar during a heated argument with another werewolf a few years prior. She didn’t offer up details about the fight, except to say that she still suffered some back pain because of it, even in her human form. She directed me to the points on her back that often felt sore, and then she started asking me questions about myself.

“So, you must be magical too, Marley,” she said. “What do you practice?”

“Witchcraft,” I answered as I started rubbing some rosemary-eucalyptus oil onto her shoulders and then down her back as she lay prone on the table.

As soon as my hands touched her, I felt my dreamcatcher necklace become warm against my skin. The warm sensation felt nice, if puzzling. I didn’t think about it for too long. The truth berry juice had affected my mind. It was hard to hold onto one thought for long.

I started speaking again. “At least I try to, when I remember,” I said. “I’m an amateur. Just started studying about a year and a half ago; I know I’ve got a lot more to learn.” It was more than I would have told her otherwise, but in my state, I couldn’t help but blabber out details.

“Wow, you’re really new to all of this,” she said. “Surprising that you were confident enough in your capabilities to open a center like this. What made you do it?”

I sighed, recalling the fateful vision that had set my adventure with the center into motion. “My familiar, an owl named Skili, led me on a little vision quest earlier this year,” I explained. “I went up into a mountain cave and had a vision of my grandmother. She said it was time for me to take action—she said I was to build the center and offer it up as a place for magical beings who were interested in truth.”

“Whew...” she gave a low whistle. “That’s a pretty tall order for a witch who only has a year and a half of magic under her belt. How’s it going so far?”

“The first workshop was a success,” I said. “But I’m afraid this one is going terribly.”

Yikes. That was my honest summation of the weekend so far. The berry juices were really making me face the truth.

I went on.

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