"Remind me again why we couldn't get three beds?" Roxi's duffel slammed to the floor, along with her two other bags.
"Because it's two beds or two rooms, and we don't need two rooms," Stella said, putting her overnight bag at the foot of a modern looking couch. She made her way to the small closet, hoping that there would be an extra set of sheets. She found one thin pillow, and made a mental note to call down to the front desk for another, and a blanket or two.
The hotel room was a little nicer than their usual digs, which involved shady hotels with the boys on a hunt. Since this was a vacation of sorts, the little women picked the adorable bed and breakfast called The Merchant, situated at the scenic town center of Salem. Their room was painted a cheerful sherbet color, making the January weather seem much cozier. The sheets and pillows were also brightly colored, which were promised from the pictures Stella had skimmed through online. When initially booking the place, she secretly wanted a room a little more witchy and historically Salem, but settled for a newer building that couldn't possibly be haunted.
This was vacation, after all.
"At least let me take the couch." Roxi whined. "You never sleep, so you should take the bed."
Stella shook her head and smiled, "I wouldn't sleep well either way." She flopped herself onto the couch and sighed, "Besides, I'm already very comfortable here." She picked up the phone next to the couch and called the front desk for a wakeup call and extra blankets.
Jayna emerged from the bathroom, her deep orange monarch shawl shuddering in a breeze that didn't seem to exist before. "Well ladies, I am sufficiently refreshed from our journey. Who is ready to explore this year's Salem Festival?" She jangled her bohemian bag, up-cycled and made by Roxi as a Christmas gift. She had embroidered patches and decorated the front with a row of coins. Inside was a variety of secret pockets that Roxi helped fill with precious stones and small jars of rock salt and graveyard dirt and the like.
Stella hung up the phone and bolted to the bathroom, with a "two seconds" hanging in the hair behind her. It distracted Jayna from a curious look that appeared on Roxi's face.
"What did Dean say?" Jayna prodded, to the surprise of her raven-haired niece.
"Don't read my thoughts!"
"Don't project your thoughts!"
"I can't help it." She beamed at her phone. "He sent me pictures of Sam with antlers on." She held up the photo for her aunt to see.
Sam himself was texting with a set of Christmas antlers on. The second picture was him looking fed up at the camera. The third was blurred, but with a hand covering the lens of the camera. "Adorable." Jayna commented, turning a rosy shade herself.
Stella came out of the bathroom, her eyeliner redrawn into thick wings at the corner of her eyes. She grabbed her black leather handbag, and slipped a switchblade into her black combat boot. "Ready."
Roxi started to pull on a pair of heeled booties.
"Roxi." Jayna chuckled, "We're walking in town."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Roxi raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms.
Stella rolled her eyes. "Salem equals cobblestones. We do this every year. You get blisters every year." She gestured to Roxi's huge bag. "Put the heels back. Save them for bars tonight or something."
"Right." Roxi nodded, replacing her booties with tall tan boots that slipped over her dark jeans. Since this past August she had turned 21, she was finally allowed to go out on a self-designed bar crawl with her older sister and aunt. Salem bars had the common theme of being equally haunting and adorable, some more touristy than others, some touting real murders taking place inside the walls.
She stood up and flipped her long curls to one side, revealing the side of her shaved head. "Let's go." She resolved, striding out of the hotel room and leaving a trail of apple, jasmine and amber scent in her wake.
"Wonderful turnout this year," Jayna clapped her hands together, breathing in the smells of sage and rosemary that lingered between the streets, vendors in makeshift tents bundled up to combat the delayed winter air.
Tables lined the wide streets of the town circle, entirely blocked off by police cars. While it was a bit of an inconvenience, the Salem businesses were flooded with people eating and drinking and learning about the town history. The DeLuci sisters with Ms. Avalon were often included in this group.
Stella and Roxi walked arm in arm, until Stella noticed a vendor selling "kitchen witchery," spells and potions baked into breads and jams. She rejoined the group, tearing up one small loaf to split between them, and hiding the other (along with a small jar of something raspberry-colored) into her shoulderbag.
"What's this supposed to do?" Roxi questioned, ripping into the thick, hearty bread with her incisors. A sunflower seed stuck to her ruby lip, which she licked off with her tongue.
"Hm…" Stella read the slip of paper that accompanied the bread. "Grounded-ness and patience."
Jayna swallowed her bit of bread. "Are you in need of those traits?"
"No, this one looked the most delicious." Stella bit into the bread again, with a loud and vaguely sexual groan.
Roxi was about to make a snide comment to their aunt, but noticed that she had stopped in front of an empty table. It was the first they had seen completely bare, without any tapestries or crystals or wind chimes. There was no tarot spread, no person with a beautiful shawl and a funny look on their face sitting behind the table.
Roxi and Stella looked at each other, neither one of them wanting to guess what Jayna Avalon would say next.
"I know this name." Jayna's small hands grazed the note taped to the table. A placeholder, it seemed, for the person who was supposed to set up a tent.
"Why isn't she here?" Jayna tapped her fingers on the table and closed her eyes. The girls recognized this expression immediately; she was trying to get a reading on the energy around the table. She shook her head, unable to feel the person's presence anywhere. "This is not good." She concluded, and strode down the walkway at a faster pace than before, her monarch shawl flapping like angry wings in the breeze.
The girls looked down at the name on the notecard, Stella gently pulled the scotch tape off of plastic table.
Mdme. Gitana de Rothschild