Of Witches and Ghosts

Midnight Rendezvous With The Dead

"Ivy, hey Poison Ivy, come on, wake up. Oh, don't turn sleeping beauty on me, Ivy." A voice called to Sam from the darkness, she struggled to answer the familiar voice and slowly fading into existence was a very familiar sight.

"There you go. See? Not so hard," Zoey laughed. She looked exactly like how Sam remembered her. Same stick-straight black hair.

"You're dead." It was the first thing to cross Sam's lips. It was all she could think of.

"So they keep telling me, Ivy. But how 'bout you tell me how you're doing, really? I heard you quit casting," Zoey said, quirking an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

"I did." Two-word sentences were all Sam could manage. She was just too shocked for anything more than that.

"Aw, Ivy, turning your back on our destiny? Why? Because I died doing what needed to be done?"

Sam couldn't meet Zoey's eyes. It was then, as she looked away, that she realized where they were. The smell of sea salt wafted through her nose, and she could hear the sound of crying seagulls.

"The sea wall, Zoey?" Sam looked up at Zoey only to see her sitting next to her, with a disapproving look.

"Ivy, it was my time, you can't turn your back on our destiny, your destiny just because I'm not there anymore," Zoey explained, gently placing a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"You didn't need to die, Zoey. The Circle Five has been broken, shattered. How can we still have a destiny if we are not together to achieve it?" Sam's eyes stung with tears. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face Zoey yet, if this was the real Zoey, that is.

"Ivy, read the book, what does it say in the prophecy of the Circle Five coven? I'll tell you what it doesn't say, it doesn't say that we all had to be alive to see her come. We just open the way. I've seen, Ivy. I have seen the way things need to be and this is it." Zoey gave a lopsided smile ad just shrugged. "'Sides, me being dead ain't so bad. I might even get to become a guardian! I wouldn't be yours of course; I'd be a new witch's guardian, someone who needs my guidance more than you."

"But I do need you, Zoey. I don't understand, why did you give the Grimoire and your artifact to me, why not send the artifact back to its resting place?" Sam sobbed. The lump in her throat was becoming too much to bear. It was too hard to hear her sister's voice. A voice she may not ever hear again.

"Because you're going to need it. You'll figure it out." Zoey stood up and gave Sam a motherly pat on the head. "Oh, one last tip - ok two – one: don't blame yourself, alright? It was my doing. You couldn't have changed it; it was my fate. Two: Don't give up your gifts, sister. Don't forget your belt satchel or your artifacts."

Sam sighed and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"I'll come to see you later when you're really ready to talk, 'kay? See ya, Ivy."

Zoey slowly faded away, along with the world around her. All she left behind was the echo of Sam's magickal name.

"Zoey! Sister!" Sam cried into the impending darkness.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam shot up from her pillow, gasping for air. Her breathing was quick and shallow, and her nightshirt was plastered to her torso with cold sweat.

Her artifact, a silver pocket watch on a silver chain, felt like a world of weight hanging from her neck. The sound of its second hand pounded in her ear.

Sam heard a gentle "meow" from Nyx by her side. She smiled and gently scratched the cat's head.

"It's okay, Nyx," Sam assured. Her throat felt dry and scratchy. "It's okay."