Love and Other Wicked Things

Two

Nothing good ever comes out of this place. 

Those were the last words that Valerie's father had said to her before he'd given her an awkward hug and driven off. 

Well. So far, nothing had happened to prove him correct. It had been about an hour since he'd dropped Valerie off, and Oakriver seemed just like she had always imagined: a sleepy town in the middle of nowhere, a little antiquated, but charming with its cobblestone streets and quaint middle-class homes. There was nothing particularly offensive about it, nothing at all to validate the grim expression on her father's face as he'd navigated the narrow alleyways—unless, perhaps, one had a severe aversion to red bricks or Halloween decorations put up an entire month in advance. 

The dorm room she had been assigned was similarly unassuming. It was small and furnished with nothing but two desks, two beds, and two closets, but standing in it, Valerie couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. The fact that she was here at all was a small victory in itself. It had required not only several arguments with her father but also a healthy dose of cosmic intervention. 

She wasn't sure which astronomical constellation she had to thank for the flooding that had damaged a large part of the college's housing and subsequently forced the school to delay the start of term to late September, but it was the sole reason she was able to study here. Had the school year started on time, she would have had neither her father's permission nor enough money to afford to live on her own, but now, after weeks of constant nagging and a summer of working several jobs, she had reached what she had been dreaming of for years. 

Before leaving, her father had asked her what it was about Oakriver that attracted her so much. Valerie understood his confusion—after all, a tiny town with a population of less than ten thousand wasn't exactly where most nineteen-year-olds dreamed of going after high school. She had told him it was because of the college's good reputation. While that was partially true—its art program was nationally renowned—it wasn't what intrigued her the most. 

Valerie Morgan knew exactly four things about her mother. One: she was probably a witch. Two: with red hair and green eyes, Valerie looked similar enough to her to sometimes make her father flinch when she entered a room. Three: she had lived in Oakriver. Four: seventeen years ago, she had disappeared here. 

Countless times, Valerie had asked her father to tell her what had happened to her, and countless times, she hadn't gotten a response. She wasn't sure if her father simply didn't want to talk about it or if he truly did not know. Either way, the mystery around Isabelle Morgan had long ago solidified a goal in Valerie's head: she wanted to go to Oakriver to find her mother, or at the very least get some answers.And here she was, one gigantic step closer to her objective. 

But first, some smaller tasks. She had already unpacked most of her stuff, making an effort not to overstep the invisible border that divided her half of the room from her roommate's, which was already fully furnished and decorated. If the sketchbooks littering the desk and the art prints covering the wall were anything to go by, her roommate was probably an art student like Valerie. The two small pride flags above their desk—nonbinary and pansexual—made her lips tick up. She carefully stored the knowledge away. 

Her last thing to unpack was her deck of tarot cards. Valerie placed them gently onto her bedside table, keeping her hand on the topmost card a few seconds longer to ground herself. It showed a man on horseback with a wooden staff in his hand, his body a vibrant blur of reds and oranges as he charged forward. It was the Knight of Wands, a recurring motif for her. She'd painted this deck herself—her favorite art project to date—and so she didn't need a handbook to understand the card's meaning; just by looking at it, she could feel the energy it held.