Coven

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CHAPTER THREE

On Kemper's journey back home, to his refuge, he couldn't help but think of what an eventful trip this had turned out to be. One that was usually expectedly common, was far from it on this occasion. Normally when he would visit Veronica, they went shopping, hung out, and sometimes went to a club, nothing to write home about. But this time between Madame Charity and Justin Posey, it had been remarkably momentous.

He couldn't get what Madame Charity had said out of his mind, and that jolt of energy he felt when they had joined hands. To be sure, he had questions about the direction of his life, but so did everyone else on the planet. He didn't think he would be receiving answers from a table- toting psychic.

Now that he had accomplished what he thought would make his life whole, his goals of having his own business and living in the Bahamas, he still felt empty. Kemper had logically assumed that it must be his lack of a love life, hence the inquiry to Madame Charity on that regard, but his reading had indicated the complete opposite. In fact, there had been so little discussed on any upcoming romantic relationships, he had been a little disappointed on that end.

The possibility of him possessing powers was inconceivable, but there was a piece missing from his life, making it impossible to see everything that was possible. He knew deep down inside that the missing fragment wouldn't be filled by a man.

Never being afraid of sticking his nose in a book doing research, he would do what the gypsy lady had told him and look into it and see what it was all about, or if there was anything to it all.

With that settled, his thoughts couldn't help but drift to Justin. He had barely slept last night. His mind had been engrossed by how terrific Justin's lips had felt on his. After six years, the feelings for him were there as if they had never faded.

And how he had prayed for them to fade for years. It had been young love, but it had felt impossible to get over. Yes, it was best that they had broken up, but to never speak to him again? To ignore Kemper like he wasn't even there when they walked down the halls, as they sat in the same classes, went out with friends? It had been a fresh wound every time Justin had ignored him.

Two weeks before homecoming, Justin had brought him home from school, as he always had, but that day sitting in his ancient seafoam green truck, he had told Kemper that he wanted to break up. "Senior year is supposed to be the best time of our lives. And we probably would break up in college anyway," he had said. They had never talked about it, but Kemper had stupidly believed that they would always be together. He had thought they loved each other; they had said it again and again.

Looking back, he knew Justin's reasoning had been right, but he grasped that sentiment too late. All he could think at the time was that he was losing the only other person, besides Veronica, that loved him or cared about him, and he had cried desperately, pleaded with him not to do it. He had left Kemper practically begging Justin not to break up with him, never speaking to him again until last night. They had many of the same friends, so it had made every social function a nightmare for Kemper, but it appeared not to even to faze Justin! It affected Kemper more than anything had in his entire life up to that point.

His senior year had been anything but great. And that's where the regret came from. Not only had he begged him to stay, he had allowed himself to become sullen and depressed. Humiliation spread through him sharply like neuralgia whenever he conjured those memories. He would never again ask anyone to stay with him who wanted to leave, but he could never again trust Justin either.

He may be about forgiving, but for now, it was best that he was not about forgetting. Justin was likely to have the same reaction to intimacy as he'd had then. He wouldn't be played for a fool this time. He had done well in life and he didn't need Justin to accomplish one thing, not even an orgasm. He could do that by himself. There were plenty of other men out there too, even though no one had ever made Kemper feel as though his body were made completely of jelly when they were done like Justin was amazing at doing.

That was beside the point. Justin was linked to too many hurtful reminders. Should he step further down this familiar path with him? Damn! Why did Justin have to be such a fantastic kisser?

When the town car dropped Kemper off at his house, he was glad to be home. He needed to relax and get rid of the tension of his trip. He went straight upstairs, put on blue and white striped swim shorts, and went out to the beach. All he had to do was go out his front door and there it was.

The spacious front porch was covered with tropical foliage and bright flowers, and had a white porch swing and a tiled edged hot tub. The seashore was about two hundred yards from the house and lined on either side by enormous palm trees, giving Kemper his own private strand. His most coveted moments were here, lounging in his swing, watching the vermilion and tangerine sun set over the hydrangea blue water. There was never a re-run, a unique and unequaled scene every evening.

He made his way to the shore and let the surf roll over his feet. Warmed by the dazzling rays of sunlight, the water was perfection. Kemper walked into the marine up to his waist, and then dipped down immersing himself in the ocean's healing waters. Coming up, slicking his dark hair back, he let his worries run off him with the cascading water. He already felt calmed. The sea had always been a source of comfort for him, he felt connected to it.

After stroking out many laps along the shoreline, Kemper returned to the house. At the base of the porch there was a shower to wash away all the sand, salt, and seaweed a trip to the beach always entailed. After washing himself clean of beach debris, he went inside. In the front door, there was a cherry wood chest holding enormous towels. Wrapping a fluffy yellow towel around him, he went to the living room and plopped down on the couch and flipped on the big screen trying to avoid thinking about his trip for just a few more minutes. He often chewed on his problems until his jaw hurt and then he had to have a break from mulling it over.

"Hey, you're home. How's Veronica?" Kemper turned to see Angela. Besides doing the cooking and cleaning, she was a motherly figure to Kemper. She was in her late fifties and always wore her salt and pepper hair back in a bun. She didn't need to work, but hated being cooped up in her house all day. So, she came in the mornings on the weekdays and made breakfast and did some cleaning. She made lunch and went home in the afternoons. She came back and made dinner on special occasions. Being a wonderful cook, she could make just about anything taste like heaven on a plate.

"She's the same," Kemper answered in a sigh, "but I think I helped cheer her up."

"Poor child, she needs more out of life. Did you eat lunch? Do you want me to make you anything?"

"No, you don't have to do that. You should already be at home by now."

"I knew that you wouldn't eat, besides, I like to know you got home safe. How about I make you some vegetable stir-fry with lots of broccoli and snap peas like you enjoy, sound good?" Angela asked.

"That sounds perfect! When is the last time I told you how much I love you?"

"Every single time I cook a meal for you." She pinched his cheek and went into the kitchen.

Finally settling on an episode of Insecure, he laid down on one of the many overstuffed pillows he had thrown on his couch. Laying there in his swimsuit, with his towel snugly wrapped around him, he dozed off to sleep.

As soon as sleep came over him, he was there on the beach. It was night. The man and woman were on either side of him, just far enough away to where he couldn't make out their appearance. The water lit up and exuded a warmth that you could physically feel.

Kemper stood there staring at the ocean, as always, endeavoring to ascertain the meaning. Was this a dream to predict the future, would he experience this scene in the conscious world some day? Or was it a dream of his past, maybe a past life? Perhaps it was a vision to be strictly interpreted. He was left with no answers to his silent questions as usual.

Then for the first time ever, in all the years he had been having this dream, the man turned his blurred features to him and said, "You are getting closer."

His eyes flew open and he sat up.

"Are you okay? Dreaming again?" Angela was standing next to the sectional sofa looking at him. He could only nod. "Your lunch is ready sleepy head, come and eat some."

"Sure, okay." Kemper followed her to the kitchen mechanically.

"I'm off. I hope you enjoy it. And get some rest, I think you had too much fun on your trip." Angela opened the side door and disappeared from the kitchen.

The stir-fry smelled wonderful, but Kemper wasn't hungry anymore. He covered his plate and put in the refrigerator.

In all the years of having this dream, it had finally changed! It had differed from the repetitive, overplayed dream he was accustomed to. Never had a single word been uttered in his dreams and now, in over a decade of having it, the man broke his silence.

He couldn't help but wonder if it was because he had opened himself up slightly to the possibly that he may control some kind of power, whatever it may be. That thought made his head ache a little, because if that were the reason, then it would mean that he was a witch.

He was standing still in front of the opened refrigerator, Augustine broke his thoughts by doing figure eights around his legs. He closed the fridge and picked up the fluffy kitty. First things first, he needed to get out of this swimsuit. He went upstairs, set Augustine on the bed, and shucked his shorts. After brushing his hair back, he went to his dresser and removed a small, carved wood box and carried it over to the sitting area in his room, a dusty blue suede couch and a matching club chair sat in front of a stone two-way fireplace; the other side facing the bathtub.

Sprawled out naked on the suede couch, he hit the switch on the fireplace, and took a rolled joint out of the box lighting it with a sterling marquisate lighter, staring at the wavering flames. It was a warm night for the fireplace, but it was always warm in the islands and he loved watching the trembling flames burn endlessly.

Augustine curled up beside him on the couch and he petted the cat methodically. He was getting closer. Closer to what? Putting his joint down halfway through, he laid back, relaxed. He sat staring at the flickering flames for almost an hour, but still didn't know who this man was and what in the world he was talking about. But Madame Charity's claim of Kemper being a witch kept darting through his mind as an answer, to the point of frustration, causing Kemper to scream out loud to no one but Augustine, "I am not a witch! There is no way!" Augustine paid him no mind, barely lifting her cerulean eyes to her companion's outburst.

Getting nowhere further, he decided to go downstairs and check on business. He paused at the bottom and watched the marble column of the Maenads waterfall underneath the spiral staircase. Listening to the trickling water almost made his beclouded mind that the dream had left, flow away. Enough to rest a tiny smile on his face, something he wasn't sure that he had done since returning from New Orleans.

In his in-box was the usual, including a new proposal from Chuck. He was proposing a brand-new look for the products. Everything was in clear glass bottles with most of the lotions and gels being white or clear themselves since no artificial colors were added. The labels were colored based on what they did-the stress relief products in a cool green, the meditation in lavender, the sound sleep in soft blue, love and sex in pink, and mood lifting in white. Chuck was proposing that the caps should be colored as well instead of white.

Kemper could suddenly see Chuck, sitting at his desk writing this email, and what he really wanted was to change the entire bottle to color, but he felt the cost of colored glass was too much. But inspiration struck and Kemper saw a way for them to justify the extra cost.

Not stopping to question how he'd had a vision of Chuck, Kemper hit reply and started typing. "Colored glass bottles or bust! Don't tell me they cost too much, because I know that's what you're thinking. But there's a way for us to recoup the extra expense-our new launch overseas! It's not what you think. I've decided that this business started on the internet and still continues to do well there, so we will begin advertising the website in fashion and lifestyle magazines throughout Europe. If that goes well, then we'll see about expanding to stores there. For now, I think taking small steps, instead of taking a huge leap would be the best course of action.

"Get together some ideas, examples, and specs for the new look and advertising, then set up a conference call. This was all you, Chuck. Thank you for all you do in keeping the business a success! And speaking of business, I see you failed to give me a review of your third date with Stephen. Should I take that as it went badly and you didn't get any business? I'm dying to know, call or e-mail me."

Sending it off, he decided to see to some other matters. Going to Google, he spent another two hours looking up online shops and bought book after book on magic, witchcraft, and intuition. He purchased almanacs, spell books, and dream dictionaries. Now he had god knew how many books-he hadn't kept count-in express mail coming shortly. He couldn't deny it any longer.

He sauntered out of the study with a secure feeling. The dream had not left his thoughts, but wasn't as bothersome as it had seemed earlier. Things were changing-his business, his dreams, and maybe even his social life.

He went into the kitchen, finally getting his appetite back, he re-heat the stir-fry and ate it with a delicious glass of wine. Yes, things were changing for the better, he didn't just know it, he felt it.

• • • SIX MONTHS LATER

It was early morning and Kemper was in the gym doing yoga in front of the massive glass window, gazing out at the plump raindrops falling, dusting the ocean with millions of tiny dimples over the choppy surface. The day was cloudy and stormy, but stormy days were peaceful in their own way. Finishing up in mountain pose, Kemper remained meditative as he watched the foam trimmed waves roll in.

Life had changed.

The alternate language advertising had provided extremely pleasing results and he would soon have to make an overseas trip to start expanding the company out in retail there. The new look had taken off. Sales had gone up in the US almost twenty percent! So, the past six months had been incredibly lucrative for him.

Business was not the only thing in his life that had altered; his study of magic was progressing as well, setting his spiritual life at the top of his priority list. He was appalled with himself for having left it off for so long.

If there was one thing he had discovered, it was that he did seem to be talented at casting and conjuring spells. It came to him exceptionally fast and he had done a few things that could only be described as magic. He performed rituals on a regular basis now and was surprisingly having lots of fun with it. It had definitely become an enormous component of his life. Magic had brought out a sense of importance and completion in him. The books had been an excellent starting place for him, but Kemper found his spells worked better when he composed them himself.

Moving out of the gym, he followed his nose to the kitchen. "You been working out? I thought you were still in bed. I was about to come wake your lazy buns up." Angela snickered at him jokingly.

"Ha, ha, very funny! I laugh because I know that you would never dare try to wake me up unless you are willing to chance a kick." Kemper walked over to her and embraced her in a tight hug. "What incredible thing did you make this morning?"

"Blueberry pancakes and bacon. What's so incredible about that?"

"I guess blueberry pancakes aren't one of your favorites or you wouldn't say something like that."

"Well enough of that. I've got guestrooms to get ready and freshen up if Veronica and your friend are coming to stay. I'll make sure they have plenty of fresh towels and the prettiest flowers from the garden in their rooms. Will Veronica be staying in her usual room?"

"Yes, of course. And remember, Todd will be here the first two days, well day and a half before he flies out on one of his many business trips. I guess a computer consultant is needed everywhere." He shrugged his shoulders and Angela gave a pitying look that he knew was intended for Veronica. "Anyway, set Justin up the in green room please." Kemper referred to all his guestrooms by what color they were decorated in. Veronica always stayed in the red room, which was done in an Asian style. Asian influences were evident throughout Kemper's entire house, but the red room was nothing but. The green room was done in various shades of sea green and aqua and always made Kemper feel like the bedroom was in the middle of the ocean. He had two other guestrooms that were the yellow and purple rooms.

Angela went upstairs and left him to eat her scrumptious blueberry pancakes. He pulled up the New York Times on his tablet, barley seeing it. Veronica was doing worse; Todd had cheated on her. She had called his hotel while he was away in Chicago and the hoe he was with actually answered the phone! But instead of leaving him, they were going to marriage counseling. She was as sad and depressed as ever. Veronica felt so guilty every time she picked up a paintbrush that she barely painted anymore.

Kemper was overjoyed that she was coming to stay with him for four days even if Todd couldn't. If there was one power that he did possess, it was the ability to put some kind of a smile on Veronica's face, but the size varied depending on how dejected she was. Kemper knew that he had his work cut out for him this visit. He'd known Veronica a long time, but never once had he'd seen her this bad before.

Justin had moved to New Orleans and started his new job with RTV. They spoke every couple of weeks and had become fairly good friends, chatting mostly of music and movies and sometimes business. He had been surprised to find out that Justin respected his opinion more, now that he owned a successful company. Neither had spoken about the night they shared. What was the point? They both knew it would never work out, even if they had lived in the same city. So, he was coming with Veronica and Todd this week to stay for a little fun in the sun on the beach...as a friend.

He was looking forward to company coming and having people around. He loved living in the Bahamas, but he did get lonely sometimes. The ocean kept him company enough, though. And just having Angela around made him feel less lonesome at times. And there was Liz who made time for him when she wasn't working, looking after her momma, or nursing a hangover. And if all else failed, he made a trek to town and had dinner at Da Smoke Pot or visited the open market to buy little beaded bracelets or do the fruit shopping for Angela.

After his breakfast settled, he dressed in black shorts and went downstairs to the indoor pool. The still pouring rain made lapping around the ocean impossible today. The pool was in the center of the house surrounded by high glass walls that extended to the second floor. A rock waterfall at the far end of the pool nearly made up the entire wall allowing Kemper to hear the sounds of splashing water there all the time. Spread out all around the pool were potted plants and small trees intermingled with statues of arm-less women and naked men.

After getting in a good number of laps, he went and reclined in the whirlpool. While letting the warmth relax his muscles, he began thinking of his ever-plaguing dream. He had continued having it sporadically, but it had gone back to the same as before. The man had never spoken again and he didn't know what to make of his renewed silence. He had been hoping that he would continue to speak, even if it was the same phrase over and over again. At least that way he would feel that he was making some kind of progress. Was he still getting closer, or had he strayed off the path?

All Kemper knew was he felt like he was on the right path, so he kept his course steady. It was all he knew to do for now until other answers became available, and he hoped that time was soon. Since the change of his dream, the urgency to unearth its meaning had deepened close to an obsession that he had to push back from often. He was thankful for the distraction creating and casting spells provided, because shutting his brain down from replaying his dream over and over was the most difficult it had ever been in the twelve years of having it, and he didn't know if that was a good or bad sign.

His phone started playing the song La Mer Opale by Coralie Clément which meant it was Liz calling. Leaning over and grabbing it off his nearby towel, he answered, "Hello gorgeous!"

"What's up sexy? Guess who's standing at your side door?" Liz teased in her melodious sing-song lilt.

"God I hope it's the ice cream man; I could really go for a bomb pop right now."

"I bet you could. Let me in!"

He chuckled as he told her, "I'll unlock the door. Come in; I'm in the hot tub by the pool." Using the security app on his phone, he unlocked the side door to the house and then tossed his phone back over to land on the towel.

She was barely in the door when she started striping down to the black string bikini with chartreuse paillettes that she had on under her sundress. Hopping into the hot tub, she noted, "I came prepared."

"It's a safe bet to always bring a swimsuit to my house. You're not working today?"

"Ali had something to do, so she asked me to switch with her. I'm working tomorrow instead. What time are your guests coming?"

"In the morning. I despise waking up by alarm, but if anyone's worth it, it's Ronnie." He sleeked his hair back with a wet hand.

"What about Justin? Is he worth it?" The cheekiness was easily made out in her amber eyes and a lift of a dark eyebrow.

"Oh god, don't ask me complicated questions," he mocked exasperated. "Only true love would be worth waking up for, so I guess it's a no to answer to your question."

"No truer words have ever been spoken. Well, Justin may not be your true love, but if anyone needed to get their rocks off, it's you."

"Wha...what the hell is that supposed to mean?! Are you saying I'm hard up?!" He was being sardonic and she knew it.

"Are you denying it?"

Heaving a deep, loud sigh, he answered flatly, "No." Glaring at her, he added, "As my friend, I would expect you to pretend like I have better game than I do."

"As your good friend, I refuse." She splashed him. "Someone has to tell you how sad your lack of a sex life is, it might as well be me."

"I don't need anyone to tell me something so obvious. Besides, there are more important things."

"Keep telling yourself that, Kemper." She flashed him a dazzling smile. "Actually, I admire you sometimes. At least you're serious about something, and you have something to show for it. I don't have a single possession of worth to my name."

That went from joking around to serious quickly. "Liz, that's not true. There's more to life than..."

She waved her airily, cutting him off. "It's fine. I didn't mean anything by it. Hey, would it be okay if I got a quick reading?"

"I just gave you one a few days ago." As part of his magical inundation, he had been using tarot cards. He found a limited edition deck online that fit him perfectly; it was called The Idiosyncradeck Tarot. He practiced mostly on himself, but Liz had been a willing guinea pig. She had been surprisingly open to his new witchy lifestyle. It had gone well...maybe too well. Now she came to him about every little thing. He'd cut her off if he didn't love her so much.

"I've lost my favorite pair of sunglasses. I can't find them anywhere!"

"Not the Calvin Klein's?!"

"Afraid so."

"That is completely unacceptable." He started getting out of the hot tub. "Come on. We've got to find them!"