more dice #2

bird/footprints/smiley face/car/tea/frowny face

I managed to convince Janelle to come with me to the meeting, promising we wouldn't stay for more than an hour.  "I just can't stand that New Age crap," she told me, "It makes me feel like I'm on one of those hidden camera shows.  I mean, who really, but really, believes it?"

The sun was going down and it was getting pleasantly dim on the street.  I couldn't see any spiderwebs anywhere now.  Either got cleaned off or they're invisible in the dark.  Like most things, I guess.  The house was way on the other side of town, so Janelle had begged our neighbor's car for the evening.  I didn't much like it.  It was the blandest thing I had ever seen, I don't even know what kind it was.  It was gray.  And four door.  Probably made of plastic.  Janelle kind of liked it though.  She was humming some song as she got into the driver's seat, made all the adjustments and started it up.  We didn't turn the radio on.  I had heard it enough when neighbor Nick came up his driveway, he was a big fan of bass heavy electronica.  Not for us, thank you.

We drove up to the house a scant 10 minutes later.  It was, in fact, not much like the photo.  It was a little scary looking even so, with a sharply pitched roof and tar black windows in the twilight.  There were little flickers of light inside, candles I assume.  "They're really playing along with the natural angle, aren't they?"  I was trying to encourage Janelle.  She stared hard at the house without even taking off her seat belt, and finally she said simply, "Fuck this.  Not going in."

"Oh come on, you think I want to go in alone?  I know it was my idea and everything, but what it Gertie's there?"

"I don't give a shit, you can deal with her.  Tell her there's a spider on her shoulder."

In the end, I did get out alone.  I told Janelle I'd send text her to pick me up when it was time, probably an hour like we had planned, and she nodded stiffly and drove off.  I don't even know where she went.  Could have just gone home, I suppose.  I had to go into this creepy giant cottage house.  I knocked on the door and waited.  Like in a horror movie.  No answer.  I knocked again, looking around for a doorbell and not finding one.  And just like in a movie, as I turned to go to door opened.  I was expecting somebody witchier.  Or at least female.  I guess the guy was a little gothy, so he went with the house.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, sorry, there's a meeting here tonight?"

He blinked, "Meeting?"

"Yeah, it was on the webpage.  It didn't say anything about calling ahead so I just came..."

He looked genuinely confused.  Then something seemed to occur to him.  "Hang on a second," and he darted inside the house.  He left the door open, so I could hear voices mumbling from some darkened room within.  I suddenly had a horrible feeling that I was doing exactly the wrong thing.  I couldn't quite feel out if these people were going to betray me or if I was going to get them mixed up in their worst nightmares, but I was about to turn around and walk right home.  But then Goth Guy came back.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't recognize you.  You can go into the side parlor with everybody else, they're working on the equations now."

"Uh, yeah, I've never been before..." but now he was smiling pleasantly and showing me the way to the "side parlor".  So damn fitting.

Everyone in the room looked disappointingly normal.  Jeans, tees, light sweaters, Crocs, nothing that would say magic and New Age to me.  A woman seemed to be leading the group, holding up a notebook with numbers and formulas slathered all over the page.  I pulled a little stool up behind a couple others and listened.

"As we know, each part has to balance.  It's basic science, just like chemistry.  The problem is knowing the exact contents of each ingredient, in order to find the correct balance, but if you get the purest ingredients the numbers are exactly those in your pink books.  If you have reason to doubt the purity, you might have to muddle around a little, so keep a very close eye on the color and the smell when you mix.  It has to remain neutral, colorless and odorless."

Oh god, what did I walk into?  I guess it was a little like witch's brew class or something, but since I had missed the introduction I didn't know what they were trying to cook up.  And pink books?  Paraphernalia it sounds like.  Stuff they gotta sell.  I more or less tuned out the rest of the talk, glancing over the attendees.  Gertie was thankfully not there.  I didn't know any of them, in fact.  They all had a weird ageless quality to them, I couldn't quite tell how old they were for some reason.  Something about the eyes told me middle aged or more, but hands were smooth and free of signs of age.  At some point the speaker said something about breaking into groups and everyone smoothly gravitated towards three natural groups.  Everyone except me.  Dammit, I hate being out of place, but what else should I have expected.  The speaker glided up to me and smiled.  Genuinely, in a truly friendly way.  I don't know why I was so surprised.  Maybe it was the bird on her shoulder.  I hadn't noticed it before.  "She's a pirate witch?" I thought, although the bird wasn't a parrot.

"It's always nice for new people to take an interest in our work," the speaker said.  "It's a shame you didn't read through all the introduction so you knew where to get the materials to work with."

"Well," I huffed defensively, "How do you know I didn't read it?  Maybe I just wanted to check things out before making the investment."

The speaker laughed like fucking Tinkerbell, I swear to god, and the bird gave me the evilest I have ever seen.  "No, nobody does that," she said, still giggling, "but nice try.  Isn't it Mr. Pickywick?"  She and the bird exchanged looks.  "Come with me, you can try something easy for beginners, before making any 'investment'".

I don't know why that was as insulting as it was.

We hustled off into the kitchen and the speaker started pulling dried herbs and powders out of drawers and cupboards.  A bottle of vodka came out of the freezer.  Ah, now things will get good.  "You have to start with clarity," she said, pouring the alcohol into a large clear bowl.  Then with swift movements she started adding a bit of this and a bit of that, mashing with a spoon along the side, giving a quick stir, and I was disturbed to see the liquid not change color at all.  The herbs were that normal dried herb greengraybrown, but the powders were all kinds of colors.  And nothing, nothing, gave that vodka any tint or texture at all.  Everything just disappeared into it.  "This is what you need," said the speaker, handing the bowl to me.  It was surprisingly warm.  Chemical reactions?  "Bottoms up," she said brightly while the bird looked away in disgust.  I realized with a start that I could see everything perfectly in the house even though it was night and not a single light was on.  I hadn't even noticed any candles, although we had seen those little spots of light from outside.  And during my revelation my hands brought the bowl to my mouth and I took a big drink.  It was water.  Hot water, but water.  I looked at the speaker, about to say something, and she was nodding at me in satisfaction.  Then she pointed to the hallway.  Instead of grumbling, like I wanted to, I put the bowl down on the table and went to look.  I saw a trail of glowing footprints leading to the stairs and to the upper floor.  And I felt exactly no surprise.  Nor did I feel surprise that my feet were automatically following the prints even while a voice in the back of my head started up a piercing shriek of rage and terror.

It felt like all the answers were going to fall into my hands that night.