Vibrantly Hidden
Synopsis: Lydia has been forced to return home to live with her sisters. The well of magick runs deep in her family, despite her best efforts to avoid that aspect of herself. But strange things are afoot in the town of Crystal Falls and in order to figure out these bizarre happenings she must work alongside her enemy from a rival coven-Billy Russo.
Authors Notes: This story has been my passion project as of late and something that I maybe hope to turn into something real and tangible one day. As a special thanks for all your support I want to share it with you first :) The title is still in the works as I explore other options- input is very welcome on it!
Warnings: 18+, Witchcraft and Magick, Some horror elements, graphic descriptions, smut (use your own discernment)
Chapter One: Click your heels together three times
There were few things I’m certain of in life.
Never conjure when angry or when the moon is waning.
River spirits never forget a bargain spurned.
The Russo Coven couldn’t be trusted.
It was the near end of august, September rode in on the back of a cool breeze and yellow tinged leaves.
Sipping a slightly-too salty margarita on a wine bar patio, the glass sweating despite the soft breeze.
While most people were excited about autumn and all the treats the “-Ber months brought I couldn’t help but feel a pit of sadness at the thought of summer ending.
Ignoring reality had been my personal goal for the season and I’d done it so well. Books by the pool, painting sessions on the beach(with all the retired folks), hikes along trails covered in moss and jagged stones.
Sipping cocktails on patios like this, savoring the complex flavors and picking at charcuterie boards with cheeses whos names I butchered while ordering.
I was living the life. But with each passing day I knew I couldn’t ignore it for much longer.
After budget cuts, my position at the local art museum was no longer “essential”. Having a background in art history left one wanting for jobs in a bad way.
I should be grateful for the job posting my older sister Elizabeth had sent but when I saw it conveniently was at the local college back home I couldn’t conceal the anxiety taking root in my chest.
I’d applied haphazardly, fully anticipating another, “thank you for your interest- we’ve decided to move ahead with other candidates.”
But when I saw the “we’d love to have you come on board!” Intro line I knew my fate had been sealed.
I needed this job.
It wouldn’t be so bad living back at home for a little while until another opportunity came along, right?
My younger sister Emily was ecstatic. It almost broke my heart a little to imagine telling her I didn’t quite feel the same amount of eagerness.
I’d moved away because I wanted to feel free, to see what my life could be outside of the confines of my hometown. Outside of what I was.
I had needed space. Space in the form of multiple hundreds of miles away.
Most people grow up playing on swing sets and eating peanut butter sandwiches. Growing up in a family of witches, is something entirely different.
When you’re young and impressionable the idea of having powers, knowing there’s more to life than what most others know. It can feel feel empowering.
To me it was daunting. Exhausting. It’s not all hocus pocus and fun spellbooks or brewing potions.
I didn’t want to be me. I wanted something else.
Something normal.
The Dawson name was well known and revered in the town of Crystal Falls. We’d been here since the town was christened along with a few other families.
There’d been a Dawson Mayor, Head of the newspaper, a few doctors, even a sheriff.
If only the upstanding community was aware that the Dawson name was a coven. Not just your run of the mill one, but powerful witches, dating back centuries.
The town today had no idea that witches had laid claim to this land so many years ago.
It’s not something one can post on social media. After the debacle in Salem all the smart actual witches branched off. Some migrated to the Midwest, others searched for the west coast.
The Dawson’s had gone upwards along the east coast, becoming almost nomadic in nature until settling into a small village, close to the ocean but gently tucked into a blanket of forest.
A river cut through town giving a grand display of multiple waterfalls that ended at the nearby beach.
If you caught one of the large celestial events of comets or a grandiose full moon the river and falls seemed to glimmer and glow, taking on an ethereal hue.
Hence the name- Crystal Falls.
Our family had helped imbue protective barriers around the town alongside the Russo coven. Another family of warlocks that had also managed to stumble upon this area.
It was beautiful and charged with an uncontained wild nature that must’ve called to our ancestors in some way. And above all else- it was home.
Me and my sisters had been raised by our aunt and grandmother after our parents died when we were young.
It had been labeled an accident. Driving through the mountainous terrain to reach town was dangerous even during the brightest of days.
But there had been signs, too many for our families liking, to chalk it up to merely an accident. There were too many “magickal” elements at play to ignore.
The brand new car losing control, the large tree having conveniently fallen, after the too conspicuous lightning strike and torrential storm appearing on an otherwise clear meteorological prediction.
I tried not to think of it too long, for fear of losing myself in the grief. Too afraid of falling into the whirlpool of those feelings and drowning, never to be seen again.
“Would you like another?” The waitress asked, taking away my now empty margarita glass.
“Yes please, actually do you have anything remaining from the seasonal menu?”
“Sorry, we just finished the last of the summer sangria but we do have our fall menu out! Fig spritzer with sugared thyme and a pumpkin spice bourbon.”
Another nail in the coffin. Summer was over and I needed to face the reality of my impending trip back home. Whether I liked it or not.
Picking some random Chardonnay off the menu in silent rebellion to their fall drinks I feel a tingle in my left pinkie.
I recognize that feeling. It appears when I’m sad. Or stressed. Or angry. Sometimes when I’m happy.
I’ll be watching a Netflix show and laughing so hard on my sofa and then I feel the tingling sensation in my fingertips.
Like dipping my fingers into super icy water then immediately into hot boiling water. I catch it and breathe into the feeling.
Willing it to stop.
Some tries take longer than others. Over the years I’ve managed to muffle that part of me that yearns to escape.
A rabid dog locked in a basement waiting for the caretaker to get sloppy, lazy. Bursting past the seam of the door and bounding freely into the night.
Not today. One day perhaps. I shudder thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just the breeze, goose bumps break out along my arms and chest.
Eventually after some practiced breathing I feel the tiny reverberations cease. Returning from whence they came.
Boy how I am not looking forward to going home.
The drive back home was a scenic four hour trek through mountains and forestry that could make any camper or hiking enthusiast’s mouth water.
I’d lost count over the years how many scenic overlooks dotted the area and if there was a drinking game involving shots every time a quaint picturesque New England type village popped up on google maps one would quickly die of alcohol poisoning.
“What do you want for dinner?” Elizabeth’s text pinged on my phone that was propped on the dash hastily.
“So excited!!!!” Emily responded not two seconds later. The age dynamics were far too apparent.
I couldn’t help but grin, I loved my sisters I really do, but it’s been so long since I’d lived with them.
Elizabeth came into her magic first- understandably so, being the oldest. Grandma was so proud, seeing Lizzy carry on the Dawson legacy.
“Easy Em”
“Sorry! Sorry! Drive safe!”
I rolled my eyes, chuckling a little as I turned onto another mountain path. This added time to my trip but I just …couldn’t bring myself to take the other route. Not yet.
After another hour or so of driving I finally saw the sign for Crystal Falls, keep right for 30 miles.
A crusted slab of wood with paint peeling off of it. Emerald green and white swirls of paint beckoning any passerby to stop.
It didn’t pass my notice that a handful of trees had leaves tinged in orange, a few scattered red bursts.
Traitors.
It would be beautiful. The kiss of death to summer and its green tinged warmth. I’d even miss the bugs.
Turning down the Main Street there was a constant stream of activity. People walking in and out of shops, visitors milling around the welcome center, campers clearly here for the upcoming fall foliage unfurling comically large maps of the cave systems.
There was a gazebo at the town center, a la Gilmore girls Stars Hollow that was always decorated according to season.
I said a silent prayer of thanks seeing the sunflowers still adorning it and not hay bales and pumpkins.
Festive mums sat in fat glazed pots in front of the stores. I rolled my windows down to inhale the smell of home.
Wondering if it’d smell like how I remembered. Fresh flowers, sweet honeysuckle and that tell tale pinch of chill.
Tree branches swayed overhead with the seasonal breeze. Yellowed leaves broke off of a nearby oak and scattered into the street.
I watched as a gaggle of school girls walked over them, crunching them into the pavement without a thought.
Turning off the main causeway and into the more scenic countryside where a few vineyards with their adjoining wineries sat.
Moon Brew Farm with their delicious peach wine. Cats Tail Vineyard that created a bubbly moscato with hints of fresh blackberry.
I could feel my mouth water just imagining it, that full mouth feel. Fizzing bubbles popping on my tongue and chasing it with a panini whose sides runneth over in pale cheese.
My stomach gurgled, begging for food. I had only stopped at a Wendy’s on the way since the McDonald’s drive through had a line longer than I cared to sit in.
The remnants of a devoured chicken sandwich rested on my center console. The paper still flecked with grease and a loose pickle that somehow managed to escape my mouth.
I passed a large estate off to the left. A high arched gate cutting the drive off at the main road. The stone pillar at the end read, “Russo.” Engraved into a black marble plaque.
I drove by, right hand on the wheel, left out the window in an honorary “one finger salute ” at the disgusting excuse for a castle marring our town.
Dirt billowed behind my rickety Subaru as I finally ambled onto a gravel driveway. The popping sound of rocks being shot out from underneath my tires like rapid shrapnel alerted the ladies inside.
“Lydia!” Emily was the first to run out, screen door slamming shut into Elizabeth’s face as she jumped the porch steps completely.
Lizzy scowled, pushing the screen door out of her way like it owed her money.
“Em, what the hell?”
I tossed my car in park just in time to see Emily’s grinning face and fists tapping at my window like a madwoman.
“Can you give me like a second?” I managed a laugh, popping the door open only to be tackled in a rib cage smushing embrace.
“I missed you! So-o-o-o-o much!” Each ‘o’ was accompanied by a sway of our bodies back and forth.
Elizabeth finally reached us, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“Bet you missed this.” She joked, gesturing to Emily who had wedged her face into my shoulder.
“Shuff-Upf” came Emily’s muffled response as she refused to let go. Maybe she was afraid I’d disintegrate, that I was some clever illusion instead of actually being here in the flesh.
“Missed you-“ I gave a genuine, albeit weary smile to my older sister, somehow untangling a limb to motion her into the bear hug going on.
“So glad to see you.” She relented, easing into the sister shuffle.
It felt nice. I hadn’t stopped so much to reminisce on these things when I was away. I did miss them. I did miss home. I just didn’t miss what home had meant to me for so long.
Eventually Emily peeled herself off of me and dragged me into the house, not pausing even when I nearly tripped on the porch steps.
“Luggage can wait for later!” She had stated. Dinner was ready and honestly I just wanted to unwind and zone out into a pile of amazing food.
Elizabeth and Emily got the cooking gene from our mother. I got my fathers gene of enjoying said cooking.
Chicken pot pie with a flaky crust, yams coated in golden butter, green beans sautéed with almonds and pepper and a peach cobbler with succulent fruit from the local farmers market.
“I still can’t believe you’re home and not just for a vacation but like, for good.” Emily twisted her fork into the leftover cobbler morsels, licking a crumb from her thumb.
“Not for good, just…for now.”
Elizabeth nodded sagely, catching my hesitation and being kind enough to change the subject.
“How was the drive?”
“Not bad.” I spooned a piece of chicken coated in sauce onto my plate as Elizabeth took another bite of green beans. “I see tons of campers are already here. Don’t they know it’ll be weeks until fall foliage actually appears?”
“The mayor has been trying to push for more summer into fall events to draw in the crowds.”
“Yeah Elizabeth’s boyfriend has really been overhauling the event planning thing.”
“He is NOT my boyfriend.” Her cheeks turned almost as red as her hair. “It’s about time we had a member of the council actually give a shit about our town and its livelihood.”
Emily dramatically sighed, bringing the back of her hand to her forehead and fluttered her eyelashes. “Yes whatever would we do without dear Sebastyan.”
“The crab?” I smirked, reaching my fork towards another yam. Lizzy pulled the plate away giving me that older sister, raised eyebrow look. It spelled out “watch it” clear enough for me to relent.
“Don’t you start with me.”
Dinner wraps up with each of us carrying a Handful of dirty dishes into the kitchen. Piled high into the sink with an unspoken agreement to get to them tomorrow.
I watch the two of them joke and share inside info about their planned week ahead. Things I’d know if I lived here. Schedules that would make sense to me but are now new and unknown.
The two of them continue their conversation as I teeter my messy plate on top of an empty glass that once contained a milkshake. It feels weird to hear their voices in person again. The last time I was home was maybe two years ago? For Christmas?
Elizabeth is just as elegant as I remember. Tall, long red hair swept up into a modest pony tail. Barely a smudge of makeup on her but soft pale skin with a dash of freckles across her high cheekbones.
I remember standing on my tippy toes when we were little, getting measured against the doorframe, hoping and praying I’d grow as tall as my older sister.
Fate didn’t pay attention to my pleas. My body threw in the towel the minute I struck 5’3”. Cruel, if I’m being honest. She whisks about the kitchen making a funny face at something Emily said.
It feels like I’m in a fishbowl, hearing noises, knowing someone is speaking but it just sounds muffled and foreign to me. Like I’m not really here.
Emily makes another comment that pulls a laugh from Elizabeth. Emily has always been a lightning bolt. Even when she was a child. Her hair is cut into a blunt bob with thick heavy bangs. It’s dyed a dark brown that almost matches her hot chocolate colored eyes.
She’s maybe an inch shorter than me, a rarity in our family that the oldest sibling is actually the tallest. My younger sister however has a face full of makeup. It never looks to be too much, always tastefully done and complimenting her features.
They’ve changed so much and not at all from when I last saw them. From the pictures I’d had hanging in my apartment that now sit in a storage facility.
I feel the bubbling tightness in my chest and I’m yanked from my misty eyed staring. Being around them, their energy, I can feel parts of me clawing to get out. Like taking a spray bottle to a pesky cat, I shove it down.
Emily turned in first, working at a bakery requires her to be up before the sun. She gives me a quick hug once more.
“I really am excited you’re home…for however long.” Before starting up the stairs, sounds of the shower turning on and soft lilting singing to some show tune carries throughout the halls.
“Wine?” Elizabeth holds a glass up with a bottle of cherry wine, the deep scarlet liquid looks intoxicating.
“Please.”
We retreat to the porch as the last rays of sunset disappear behind the trees leaving that unsettling light blue that comes before navy then black.
The old rocking chairs groan as we take our seats. The sound the cork popping makes echoes throughout the woods surrounding the house.
I never forgot how quiet it gets. The crickets had just started their nightly serenade and a few owl hoots call out from a distance.
She pours me a hefty glass of the wine, handing it to me as we both delicately lean forward in our rickety chairs, balancing bottle and glasses.
Dozens of long shadows climb out from all around us. Reaching towards the front steps and skittering along the warped floorboards.
If I close my eyes it feels like I can even hear them calling out to me. Where have you been? Why have you been gone so long?
Every leaf, branch, blade of grass blending together to create large charcoal swaths against the forest floor. It both chills and excites me.
“It is nice, ya know? To have you home for more than four days at a time.”
I feel myself shaken from my stupor. Mind slowly drifting back to where it’s supposed to be in the present. On the porch. With my sister.
For the first time in years.
“You say that now since I’ve only been here for a few hours.” I take a long sip of the wine and let the fruity flavors dance on my tongue.
“I’m serious.” I hear her rocker stop creaking, her eyes focused on me. Like burning sapphires. I’d always been jealous of her eyes. “I think this…this will be good for all of us.”
I watch her take a drink before continuing, “We have a lot to catch up on.”
I ponder in silence, running my fingertip along the wine glass’ lip. For a little there’s only the sound of our rockers moving back and forth.
Occasionally I’ll hear the sounds of Emily getting ready for bed upstairs. A single car drives past on the road, far enough we can’t make it out save for the headlights.
The vibrant ripples of yellow cutting through the trees then fading into the distance. The trees gobble up the remaining light.
“How’s work been?”
Elizabeth smiles, pouring a little more wine into her cup. I notice as she sips deeply, letting her eyelids drift shut, pondering how to respond.
“It’s been good. I travel a little for work more now than usual but it’s ok. Rewarding.”
“I couldn’t do it. Be a midwife.” She nodded thoughtfully at my comment, staring off into the ever darkening tree line.
The moon is out, but I watch as it quickly becomes obscured by passing clouds.
“It can be tough, but I have this gift. It feels selfish to not use it. At least in a way that brings purpose to my life.”
I found myself nodding and staring off as well. Elizabeth is a healer, ever since she was little she had a knack for it. Never getting colds, being able to concoct awful tasting potions that somehow worked and cured a multitude of things.
Every witch can do basic magic but more often than not, there’s a specialty. A gift that is unique to that person.
Some people get lucky with theirs. Others not so much.
“You can go on the road with it. Really explore your options.”
“I do have over a hundred 5 star yelp reviews.” She grinned toasting her glass to the air.
“Elizabeth Dawson-“ I held my hand in front of me, punctuating gestures as if reading a headline, “Midwife To The Stars!”
We both giggled and took another sip after sloppily ‘cheers-ing’.
“Ahhhh I don’t know if California or New York is for me.” She chuckled, twisting a strand of her dark red hair held by her ponytail.
I settle back into my seat, rocking back and forth, pushing with my heels and feeling the entirety of my foot flatten then pitch back.
“Soooo Sebastyan?”
“Don’t start with me already.” Liz smirked at me, dipping her fingers in the wine glass and flicking a few drops in my direction.
Maybe this was ok. Maybe this would be ok.
How silly and naïve I was.
After half an hour of sitting on the porch and enjoying the entire bottle of wine, the sky had fully morphed from navy to inky black. The local owl continued to hoot, a rhythmic sound that I could feel myself drifting off too.
Elizabeth had already placed her glass on the counter by the sink, turning in for the night. Flipping the porch light off and only on occasion would the motion sensor light by the back door turn on.
Squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons maybe even a coyote or two always liked to wander up by the back door and sniff around our trash bins. I sat up reading in the living room a while longer, not quite ready to face my old room.
Instead choosing to inspect the first floor, wondering what new things I could pick out from the décor. A small painting of Emily’s rabbit, Artimus that was clearly done on a wine and paint night.
Large bookshelves lined the backwall surrounding the TV, so many books from Elizabeth’s studies, health magazines spread along the coffee table.
A wreath with some greenery bearing white berries and red bow, a few old coffee tins and tea containers holding either flowers or some assortment of pens and paintbrushes.
So much was the same and yet I still felt like an outsider.
Surrendering to the reality I did need to go to bed I gathered my phone, book and flicked off the last of the remaining lamps to ascend the stairs.
Our gallery wall floated along the steps. Photos of almost every generation of our family lay plastered against the drywall that desperately needed repainted.
Our parents wedding day, their smiling faces. Moms bright blue eyes and Dads goofy grin in his tuxedo which was so chic in the eighties. Then came photos of Grandma and Aunt Cora.
I quickly shuffled past them. I had weeks, no, months, to look at these and let the waves of guilt wash over me. Not tonight. Not before bed anyways.
Padding across the plush carpet to my bedroom, the door ajar and bedside lamp on. No doubt from Elizabeth. It didn’t escape my notice the bundle of lavender and dill laid on my pillowcase.
For protection. I hold the small bundle in my lap a moment, searching my mind for the exact spells its used for. My grandmother would have a fit if she knew it was taking me this long.
What can I say? I’ve been living life as a normal human for the past ten years to the best of my ability. Ignoring anything magickal or otherwise. I’d even avoided palm readers at the local county fairs I’d gone to.
I wanted little to nothing to do with magick. Regardless of how deep it ran in our family. I lay the bundle down on the end table right next to my phone.
Please protect me from bad dating app messages.
A stack of clean towels and beauty products rested on the toilet seat in the bathroom. I pulled my hair back into a low bun, splashing water onto my face and rubbing some milky cleanser that I knew had to be Emily’s onto my skin.
It smelled fragrant, like lemons and a sweet sugary after scent. Glancing up to survey the damage from the long day on my face, expecting to see dark circles, dull dry skin, but instead I looked fine. I looked normal.
Turning the cleanser over in my hands wondering if it had some “extra” properties in it that I wasn’t aware of but my younger glamorous sister did. I couldn’t see anything outside the ordinary.
I didn’t sense anything off.
Shrugging and placing it back on the counter, before returning back to my bedroom. Allowing myself to fall heavily against the mattress, a comical ‘huff’ escaping my lips. This was it. I was here.
For however long I needed to be. My fingertips ran up along the hem of the quit on my bed. Feeling the bumps of stitches along the pads of my fingers, the different textured fabrics. My eyes felt heavy.
Sleep called to me, sweet and deep. The edges of my vision blurred and darkened. With the last of my remaining alertness I turned the lamp off. I felt that deep heaviness fall over me.
In the far-off distance I could hear the owl once more. Then it was truly silent.
The back-sensor light came on. I whined as my room was immediately filled with a bright fluorescent light.
“What the hell...” I rubbed at my eyes, still not adjusted to such a bright searing light all of a sudden. Then I heard something knock against the garage. It didn’t sound like a skunk, or a raccoon.
Unless it was a huge raccoon.
Doubtful.
Pushing off of the bed I crouched down, making my way to the window. The curtains were sheer and the blinds were up. Peering around the side I craned my neck to see what was out there.
It was quiet. So startlingly quiet. No fauna chirping or calling out into an otherwise peaceful night.
The light was still on, but there was nothing in the yard. No animals, no creeps. Nothing.
I felt the hair on the back of my neck perk up. A green spark tickled the end of my fingertips and I didn’t even attempt to shove it away. My body knew there was something out there.
We’re so used to being the predator, never the prey. My eyes continued to scan back and forth, wondering if I needed to let one of my sisters know something was up.
Maybe this was normal? Did the light just randomly turn on from time to time? Ya know- technology? So efficient.
If that was the case why did I feel so…off? Something, isn’t right. Then I see it.
A flicker so fast that I’m half certain my mind made it up. Back in the tree line by the back of the garage, a different kind of darkness.
Not the shadows I had seen earlier from the trees on the porch. This is more opaque. It seems to undulate as it moves along the back of the yard. It doesn’t glide but rather jerks.
I feel my heart begin to race.
Its pace is slow, unseemly. Shadow against shadow and yet I can see it clear as day. Blackness that swallows the night whole. It’s form shivers and writhes against a large oak.
I must be dreaming. Yes. I’d fallen asleep and now I am dreaming something up that isn’t there. What a funny story I’ll have to tell my sisters in the morning.
But to be sure…
I grab my phone, sliding my finger across the screen to bring up the camera, pointing it out the back window. Somehow in the few moments it took me to grab my phone its gone.
The shadow isn’t where I last saw it. I am dreaming. I set my phone back down and then I see it. Or rather, it sees me.
It sees me, seeing it. And my body goes rigid.
Black malformed nothingness creeping along the garage and staring at me. Its featureless, save for cold pinpricks of red where eyes should be.
Red and beady, almost like light reflecting against an animals eyes.
It glows, but maybe anything would look glow-y against such a stark backdrop. The blood in my body runs like ice. The goose bumps have moved to my arms as well.
I don’t know how long we stare at each other. Maybe three seconds, maybe five minutes. I blink for the first time in I don’t know how long and when I stare back its gone.
Really gone this time.
I must have scanned the backyard and the fence and the woods and the garage multiple times for over ten minutes. I see nothing. My head feels fuzzy. Like I’d taken a large sleeping pill and have been fighting the effects for too long.
I hoist myself back into bed, because I am too afraid to go out there and check. Too tired to wake my sisters. It feels like my limbs have been replaced with sacks of flour.
Heavy, soft, the weight bringing me down. Pushing me against the mattress. I’m exhausted and alert and my body doesn’t know which to indulge more.
Eventually sleep wins and I drift off into a fitful night filled with dreams of sharp shadows following me. And one with red eyes leading the chase.
