The Glendale Witch

By Deborah Winter-Blood

The only child of adoptive parents, Celeste McAllister leads a somewhat sheltered life in Glendale, California, but events take a bizarre turn on the night her pet iguana starts talking. The reptile reveals that Celeste’s name is actually Celestial Star Needfyre and that she’s the last in an ancient line of witches. Known as The Guardians, these powerful women stood for thousands of years between our world and environmental havoc until they all suddenly vanished.
With the help of a theatrical fortuneteller, a passionate Satyr and the garage band from downstairs, Celeste must journey through strange, elemental worlds to save everything she loves and to free The Guardians from the dark creature holding them captive. In a final magical confrontation, she must choose between the fate of our planet and the unexpected bond she feels for the demon who, like Celeste, has spent a lifetime searching for love and acceptance.

Mysterious caretakers of magical realms, underworld ferrymen, unrequited love and impossible choices embellish this tale of a young woman coming to terms with her unwilling role in a global battle against evil. Poignant environmental issues faced by our world today make this story as timely as it is entertaining.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deborah Winter-Blood
• Release date: Sep 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466163218

Deborah Winter-Blood

Deborah Winter-Blood is a writer, a witch, and an animal rights advocate.Her articles and short fiction have appeared in various print publications over the years: Sunset Magazine, TravelAge West, Highlights for Children, LFP, Inc., The Best of Every Day Fiction 3, and Midnight Screaming. Her online publications can be found at Every Day Fiction, Everyday Weirdness, Write-in and Joyfulonline.Originally from San Diego, Deborah has lived all over the West Coast of America and now resides on the windswept Southern Plains.

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THE GLENDALE WITCH

 By

Deborah Winter-Blood

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Deborah Winter-Blood on Smashwords

THE GLENDALE WITCH

Copyright 2011

Deborah Winter-Blood

www.deborahblood.com

© Cover Design by Mickey Mills –

www.theprodigalscribe.com

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are purely the product of the author's overactive imagination and are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental. No actual person, body, organization, manufacturer, or governmental agency mentioned in this work has endorsed, approved, collaborated upon, had knowledge of, or reviewed this novel. 

THE GLENDALE WITCH

By: Deborah Winter-Blood

www.theglendalewitch.com

To Mickey Mills, who turned to me one day and said, You should write a novel about a witch…  I couldn't have done this without your love, your inspiration, your encouragement, and your relentless sense of humor. 

To my friends and family who've stood behind me every step of the way, even when the path was dark and unfamiliar, you know who you are and what you mean to me. 

To Slevin and Shooter, thank you for allowing me to occasionally write uninterrupted. 

To my beloved readers, thank you for taking this magical journey with me.

Blessed be,

Debi Blood

www.deborahblood.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

DEDICATION

STRANGE EVENTS

STRANGE CONVERSATIONS

STRANGE REVELATIONS

STRANGE HOMECOMING

STRANGE ENCOUNTERS

STRANGE ALLIANCE

DARK CREATURES

DARK DREAMS

DARK CHOICES

DARKNESS FALLS

DARK WORLD

DARK DECISIONS

INTO THE DESERT

INTO THE UNKNOWN

INTO PYRA

INTO THE DARK

INTO HYDRA

THE CALLING

THE LOUPER

THE SATYRS

THE FORBIDDEN CAVE

THE AGREEMENT

THE FIGHT

NEW BEGINNINGS

Celestial Star McAllister sat on the end of the examination table. One hand was balled into a nervous fist while she held up her mass of red hair with the other.

Well, Dr. Lui? she asked.

Just a minute, the doctor answered.

Celeste's pulse raced. What do you think it is? Have you ever seen anything like it?

The doctor moved to the end of the examination table and pulled off her latex gloves. You can let your hair down.

Celeste let go of her hair and it cascaded around her shoulders in a flood of bright curls. She watched as Dr. Lui picked up a chart and made a brief entry.

Doctor? Celeste prompted. What is it?

This is a very busy clinic, Ms. McAllister. We don't have time for games and pranks.

Games? Celeste repeated. Doctor, I don't know what you-

Let me guess, the doctor interrupted. Your mom freaked out, or maybe your boyfriend got upset. Whatever the reason, you regret getting the tattoo and you want your parents' medical insurance to pay for removal.

Celeste stared. "Tattoo? I don't have a tattoo, Doctor, and I don't have a boyfriend. This – this – this thing on the back of my neck has always been there. It was just a weird-shaped freckle until a few weeks ago and now it's this. We always hear if a birthmark changes, we're supposed to see a dermatologist. So here I am, and you're accusing me of playing some sort of joke?"

Dr. Lui stared back at Celeste over her half-glasses. Are you trying to convince me that a childhood freckle unexpectedly morphed into a perfect blue star? Over the course of just a few weeks?

Yes! Celeste's eyes filled with angry tears. I first noticed it on April 7th, the day of my seventeenth birthday. My mom looked and said it was just the same old freckle, but by the next morning– She paused and took a deep breath. Doctor, it was a half-inch across by the next morning. Since then it's just gotten bigger and bluer.

The doctor shook her head. Do you do drugs?

Celeste snapped, I've never done drugs in my life.

What about liquor? How often do you drink?

Frustrated, Celeste threw her hands up into the air. I had a couple of drinks once at party. I never did it again because strange things happened.

Strange things? The doctor opened the chart and made another entry. What sort of strange things?

I don't know, Celeste muttered. Things appeared. Things disappeared. People disappeared. Furniture moved. She saw the way the doctor was looking at her and quickly added, Other people saw it, too. It's not like I was seeing things.

She stopped talking; she'd probably said too much already.

Dr. Lui was writing on a notepad. If you insist on telling me that blue star on your neck is not a tattoo, I'm going to refer you to another doctor. Her tone had changed. She sounded concerned. Tearing the top sheet off the pad and holding it out, she said, I'll put through the referral to your insurance company. But I suggest that you first sit down and have a long talk with your parents. Maybe they won't be so upset when they realize how easily you can cover it with your hair.

Celeste looked at the note. Dr. Gregory? Is he some kind of specialist?

He's a psychologist.

"A psychologist? the redhead cried. She felt her cheeks burn. Doctor –"

Suddenly, the overhead light went off. It blinked back on, and then began to flicker wildly as Celeste and Dr. Lui looked up at the fixture. There was a low rumble and the apothecary jars on the counter began to rattle. The containers of sterile white cotton balls and gauze danced loudly on the Formica; a cupboard door swung open, vomiting several boxes onto the floor. Celeste met the doctor's wide-eyed stare.

The vibration stopped just as quickly as it began. They stayed frozen in place for a moment, ready to duck for cover if it started again. Finally, Dr. Lui sighed shakily. I've lived here most of my life and these tremors still unnerve me.

There was a knock on the examination room door and a worried nurse peeked in. Is everything alright? she asked. She glanced from Dr. Liu to Celeste to the boxes on the floor.

We're fine, the doctor said, it wasn't even a four-pointer.

The nurse looked confused. A four-pointer?

The earthquake. It was very minor. The doctor turned back to Celeste. Ms. McAllister, I'll get that referral going for you and I'll personally contact Dr. Gregory's office to tell them you'll be calling.

The nurse began to pick up boxes as Celeste left the room. That's strange, Doctor, she said.

What is?

I didn't feel an earthquake. I heard some noise in here and thought you might have a difficult patient on your hands, but we didn't feel anything in the front office.

An hour later, Celeste maneuvered her red Civic through Glendale. Her cheeks were still on fire. A psychologist, she thought unhappily. I drove all the way to Bonita Hills so some doctor could call me crazy. Her mood did not improve when she pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex and saw one of her neighbors glaring down from the landing.

Uh, oh, Celeste muttered, climbing out of the car. She beeped the alarm and headed toward her apartment. She didn't have to ask Mrs. Villalobos what the problem was. By the time she was halfway up the stairs, Celeste could hear dance beats blaring from the apartment.

This has got to stop! Mrs. Villalobos greeted her angrily. Her arms were akimbo, hands planted on her ample hips. Two, three times a week this is happening!

I know, I know, Mrs. V., Celeste said apologetically. She fumbled for her key. I'm so sorry. It must be a short.

Then unplug it when you leave! the older woman shouted. Dios mio, chica, this is ridiculosa.

I'm so sorry, Mrs. V., Celeste shouted back. The music was deafening when she opened the door. I'll unplug it, I promise.

She shut herself in with the driving beat and quickly scanned the apartment. She was sure she'd put the stereo remote control on the highest shelf of the entertainment center that morning, but she found it lying on the couch with her pet iguana. One of his claws rested lightly on the buttons.

Celeste picked Carl up and held him, then snatched at the remote and turned off the stereo. Her ears were ringing. My poor baby, she crooned to the big lizard, I'm so sorry you were stuck in here with that noise. Do your ears hurt? She kissed his dispassionate face. Do my baby's ears hurt?

She carried the iguana into the kitchen to get a drink and returned to the living room, sipping the heavily chlorinated California water and cradling Carl against her chest. She stared at the stereo. It stared benignly back at her.

Stupid thing, she said. We don't like electronics, do we, Carl? No, we don't. She always lapsed into baby talk when addressing Carl. It was a habit that annoyed her best friend and roommate beyond all reason. Stereos are always turning on and off by themselves. They're stupid, aren't they, Carl? Yes, they are.

Carl remained silent. His tongue flicked out to taste her cheek. Celeste sat holding the reptile and drinking her water. It had been a very unpleasant day, but everything was alright now. She was home; she had Carl, and soon Ashley would be home from work. Celeste couldn't wait to tell her about the dermatologist's unexpected diagnosis.

Celeste sighed and gave Carl another kiss. Well, let's go see if we have some lettuce for you, okay? And how about a fresh tomato? Would you like a tomato, Carl? Wouldn't that be exciting?

Carl flicked his tongue again. He seemed as excited as an iguana could get over the prospect of a fresh tomato; which, frankly, wasn't very excited at all.

 *   *   *

Get up! Get up, get up, get up!

Celeste rolled over onto her stomach and groaned as her roommate bounded into the bedroom with typical Ashley-brand enthusiasm. I'm not getting up. I'm staying in bed today.

Ashley jumped onto the bed and pulled the covers off Celeste's head. No, you're not staying in bed today. We're going shopping, and then we're getting our nails done, and we both have dates tonight. Come on! Get up, get up, get up!

Peering out from her curtain of red curls, Celeste looked at her friend. Shopping?

Yes, shopping, Ashley said. She began bouncing on the bed. Come on!

Be careful! Celeste cried. You'll jump on Carl. Where is he, anyway?

He's on the pillow by your head, of course. Getting lizard cooties all over you.

Celeste felt for Carl, pulling him to her. Don't listen, Carl. She didn't mean it. She loves you, too. Don't you, Auntie?

Ashley grimaced. Yes, Auntie loves the icky lizard man, as long as he doesn't touch me. But does he have to go with us today? Can't you leave him home just this once?

No way. I leave him alone too much already. I need to get as much Carl-time as I can before school starts this Fall. It's the only compensation I get for wasting my summer answering phones at the Bugler.

The Valley Bugler was a small, local newspaper where both girls worked, Ashley at the Community Events desk and Celeste as the receptionist.

You won't be there forever, the small blonde assured her. You'll be an investigative reporter for The Today Show before you know it. You'll be a foreign correspondent, traveling the world.

Yeah, right. Me and Carl and my weird freckle-slash-tattoo.

Ashley giggled. You'd better be careful where you take Carl. In some countries, lizard is a delicacy.

You're not helping, Celeste moaned into her pillow.

Ah, Cellie, don't be sad, Ashley said. Let me see it again. She straddled Celeste's back and parted the thick red curls. She peered at the curious birthmark. Wow. It really is turning bright blue. Look, forget what that doctor said. You'll get a second opinion and in the meanwhile it really does look like a cool tattoo. Now get up and get dressed, unless you plan on going to shopping in those charming SpongeBob pajama pants.

Within a few hours, the girls were speeding along Lake Avenue in Pasadena with freshly painted fingernails and, in Ashley's case, sporting bright streaks of neon pink in her blonde hair. Ashley drove her small convertible with abandon, chattering nonstop while weaving in and out of traffic.

I thought we were going to Burbank, Celeste shouted over the music.

We were, Ashley responded, but we changed our minds.

Celeste laughed. Oh, did we? That's cool, I guess. I don't care for Burbank very much anyway.

There's this store near that place – you know, that place with the great Korean buffet near the store where you bought that red purse? Anyway, there's a store near that place with the great Korean that has a shoe BOGO this weekend. Girl, I am all about the BOGO. Oh my God, there's my turn!

Celeste held onto Carl as Ashley whipped the little car around a truck and down another wide boulevard. Carl says slow down! she shouted. He also says turn down the music!

Pants on fire! Ashley laughed. Carl loves Lil Wayne. Why do you think he's always listening to a hip-hop station when we come home from work?

That's so not funny. If we don't get the stereo fixed, you're going to get evicted, which would really suck. Then we'd both have to move in with my parents.

I'm telling you, it's the lizard. Carl loves him some hip-hop.

Ashley pulled into a strip mall and cruised through, looking for a parking space. They were climbing out of the car when she saw a sign outside a store called Astral Alley. Oh my God, Celeste, look! They have a fortuneteller. Let's get our palms read. Come on, my treat.

Pulling her reluctant friend along, Ashley made her way toward the store. The sandwich board outside proclaimed in bright purple letters, Lady Hypathia: Divination, Spells, Healing.

Once inside, Ashley took off her sunglasses and looked around. Celeste, what is this place? It looks like a hippie supply store.

The shop was full of odd displays. Cases of bright crystals flashed in the sun and candles of every description lined the walls. In the center of the store stood the biggest rack of incense Celeste had ever seen.

She leaned close to Ashley and whispered, I think it's a Wiccan store.

A what?

You know, a witch store.

Way cool! Ashley made her way back to the cashier. My friend and I want our fortunes told. She came back a few minutes later and announced there would be a short wait while Lady Hypathia finished with another customer. I'm going next door to get a frapp. Want something?

No, Celeste answered. We'll wait here and look around. She settled Carl more comfortably on her shoulder and began to wander slowly around the store, stopping to look at the displays. A tall glass case of dragon figurines caught her eye. Oh look, Carl. Relatives.

She was admiring the selection of fanciful dragons when an excited voice caught her attention. A young woman came out of a curtained-off room in the back, bubbling with effusive thanks. Oh, thank you, Lady Hy, thank you! I feel so much better.

Also emerging from behind the curtain was a tall lady in a flowing purple dress. Her waist-length hair was dyed deep black and a variety of pendants hung around her neck. You're very welcome, my dear friend, the older woman said. Using my gift to help others is what gives my life meaning. Any time I can be of assistance to you, just let me know. As the customer walked away the medium called after her, Don't forget to refer your friends. First time customers get a 10% discount.

Celeste smiled to herself. She glanced away quickly, but not before she'd caught the medium's eye. She looked back and saw Lady Hypathia staring at her, an amazed expression on the woman's face. One of the fortuneteller's bejeweled hands flew up to rest theatrically over her heart. Oh no, Carl, Celeste whispered, crazy lady at two o'clock. She glanced again. Oh no. Heading this way.

The fortuneteller snaked her way through the displays toward Celeste. As she drew closer, Celeste realized the woman was staring at Carl. We're about to get eighty-sixed, baby, she told the iguana.

The woman walked up to them, extending her right hand. I'm Lady Hypathia, Her bracelets rang musically as she gestured at Carl. My dear young friend, what is this?

This is my iguana, Celeste answered. If he's not allowed in here, we can leave. I didn't mean to break any rules.

My dear young friend, the older woman interrupted, whatever this is on your shoulder, it is not an iguana.

Celeste stared. Excuse me?

I see auras, the medium told her, the fields of energy that radiate from us and surround us all. I assure you, the creature on your shoulder is not an iguana. In fact, he's not a reptile at all. She put her fingertips on Celeste's arm and leaned closer, whispering, Is he your familiar?

My what?

"Your familiar. Because, dear heart, he is not an animal. I couldn't say what he is, but I know with utter certainty that he is not an animal."

Celeste stared up at the woman. We have to go now, she said.

Wait, the woman said as Celeste turned away. She reached into the low neckline of her dress. This is my card. She quickly wrote on the back of it and thrust it into Celeste's hand. I've written my cell phone number on it. Please call me. We have to talk.

Ashley was bouncing back into the store, sucking on a frappucino when Celeste met her at the door. Let's go, the redhead hissed.

What? Why? I want to get my fortune told.

Celeste dragged Ashley out of the store. Not here, not now, she said firmly. We have to leave.

Once they were back in the car, Ashley turned to Celeste. What is wrong with you?

I can't even go there, Ash, she said. That woman needs to double up on her meds. If you want to get your fortune told, I'm sure we can find a fortuneteller who's not on furlough from the psych ward.

As they maneuvered out of the parking lot, Celeste looked back and saw Lady Hypathia staring at her from behind the plate glass storefront. She felt a chill and reached up to pet Carl. Not an iguana, she muttered. Psycho lady.

Sitting in The Penne Palace on Saturday evening, Celeste realized that keeping her date with Brody was a bad idea. She probably wouldn't enjoy his company under the best of circumstances, but after the last two days she was in no mood for a date with anyone. The restaurant was loud and crowded, and the faux Italian décor was just obnoxious enough to work her last nerve; Brody was working all the rest.

She wanted to call him earlier and cancel, but Ashley was insistent.

You are not sitting home alone again tonight, girl, Ashley scolded her. Me and Jordan are going to a battle of the bands in Venice, and then I'm spending the night at Chelsea's. How can I enjoy myself if I know you're sitting here talking to Carl all night? You moved in with me so you could enjoy yourself, but you never go out. You sit here with that darned lizard every Saturday night. I'm tired of watching you waste your hotness on a reptile. Besides, Brody is way cute and he's got a wicked car.

Celeste had to admit that Brody was an attractive young man and, although she hadn't seen it personally, she was sure his car was every bit as wicked as Ashley said. It had to be something special; after all, it was the only thing he had talked about since meeting her inside the restaurant. She should have seen it coming. Brody was in the online ad sales division of The Bugler. In fact, he was the online ad sales division at the newspaper, and even at work she'd never heard him discuss anything except his car.

The batwing doors cost a pretty penny, Brody said. He pointed at her with his salad fork. But I told the guy, ‘dude, I gotta have them.'

Celeste sipped her iced tea and nodded politely. I drive a Civic.

The spoilers were after-market mods, too, Brody continued, and that pin striping isn't a decal. I found a guy in San Diego, a real artist. He hand painted it. Cost a pretty penny. But when you're driving a customized Mazda RX-8, people pay attention, so you can't be cheap about it. My car is an investment.

She looked down at a wine bottle, which was cleverly painted to serve as a dessert menu. Hmmmmm, tiramisu, she thought.

I've got a Blaupunkt in it, of course, Brody told her.

Celeste repeated dully, Of course. What in the world is a Blah Punked?

"The first thing I did was put a TravelPilot Lucca