But now, she had to find answers. She needed answers. She needed something, anything, tangible and in her hands. She needed to call, to find out what the hell was going on, to understand what was happening.
She needed to move forward, rather than back.
And she needed to make a few phone calls because the lack of phone service in town was an atrocity and that needed to be remedied immediately.
Violet was in no rush as she headed into town, although she nearly stepped into the bakery before thinking better of herself. If she went into the bakery, she would get a cup of tea, then start chatting, and then before she knew it, she would be eating a meal. And if she wasn’t careful, other people would walk in, whether they be someone she had seen since her return or not, and then she would be distracted again.
And then, after speaking to so many others, she would wander down to the bookshop and bang on the door, despite knowing that Rodolphe was avoiding her for some odd reason, which was... not something she was going to waste spoons on at the moment, but then she would end up at Silvestre’s door, checking on him, and...
She couldn’t save every individual person, even though there were a few she fully intended on spending a few extra minutes caring for, but... what she could do, for the whole, was to try and connect them to the outside world. To other packs. To the covens. To the hedge witches. To basically... everyone else in the paranormal and supernatural world.
Garoureve had been shut off for a decade and a half. It was time to catch up. Time to live. Time to thrive.
Her path took her directly across the street and then down, taking the road to wrap around to her mother’s house. Normally, she would have simply cut through the clinic, but that would mean talking to Scarlett, which was all well and good, but Violet was still not entirely warmed up to the other woman. She was still a stranger, and while she did hope to change that, she needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
And so, as she walked up her former driveway, Violet took in a full view of her childhood home.
Everything was... overgrown. And that was putting it lightly.
Oh, not over the house. The house itself looked pristine, as though her mother had only just finished sweeping the front porch and wiping down the windows. The curtains within looked freshly starched, and she could tell, without going any further, that it was magic keeping the house preserved, not an actual resident.
No, it was everything around the house that was overgrown. The plants. The herbs. The trees. Everything... else.
A witch’s garden could so easily be overwhelmed by growth, it was insane. Given the heavy use that the supernatural often required, more often than not, things grew at an accelerated rate. It was the magic, of course, that influenced such growth. A surge of magic and power and the elements and the leylines. It had nothing to do with the witches themselves—the magic was there, with or without a witch. It was simply a witch that channeled it, directed the energy.
Is that what was happening to the town line? No, that was a stupid thought, because packs had existed without witches for generations. When a pack entered an area surging with magic, the magic would envelope them, the earth and the water and the wind wrapping around them, the fire protecting them. A witch did nothing but to direct it into certain spaces.
So why the growth here, beside the house? Why the shrinking boundary line?
If she made a mental note for a new question one more time, she was going to let go of all of the fire within herself and simply explode.
Alright, no more putting this off. She had stared at her front door long enough. Everything within should look the exact same as she left it. She just had to... walk on up. Walk inside. Head into her mother’s little library area downstairs. Pick up the phone. Make the call.
Note to self, she needed to make sure Colburn’s new little house had a phone, because this whole off grid thing, because no one else had a house phone, was unacceptable in 2018.
Her first step was the hardest, but the second was easier, and then the third, and the fourth, and then she was standing on her front porch. It was the same porch she and Henrik had sat on before his first transformation. It was the same place where they had shared their first kiss. It was exactly where she had realized, truly realized, they could never be a normal couple again.
Alright, no more memories. She was getting far too distracted. She needed to just walk up there, touch the door, and—
Violet stopped and stared at the door, then took a deep breath. What the fuck was she doing? Why was she taking so long? Why was she—
And there she was again, losing her mind, talking to herself! This wasn’t her, she knew it wasn’t her, and she didn’t want this back and forth. Which meant...
“What the hell kind of magic is this?” Violet asked out loud as she stared at the door. The magic, or something, was trying to distract her, to keep her from entering.
This was unlike any magic she knew of, and unlike anything her mother had practiced. This wasn’t... this wasn’t a witch’s magic. This wasn’t something they did. Sure, protection spells were a thing, and confusion, sort of, but that was more about enhancing what was naturally there, what the town was already doing. Without a witch, a boundary still existed. A witch simply... encouraged it along. Influenced it. Made specifications.
“Mabel, I swear to all the spirits, if you did anything...” Violet muttered to herself, despite knowing that wasn’t possible. Her mother, while smart, was not some groundbreaking witch with a power that was unrivaled. They were simple witches, nothing special about them.
Which meant... it had to be the town itself. Her magic. Something about her was urging the town to force her away.
Which meant she was going to charge through it.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” Violet said loudly, hoping no wolf was close enough to hear her. “Why you’re pushing me away, testing me. I want to be here. I want to help. I want to be with Henrik. So I’m going in there, and I’m going to fix this. Fix all of this. And, I know you can’t actually hear me, because you’re not really real with human senses. It doesn’t matter what a person says. It matters what a person does. Their actions. Their intentions. Everything is about intentions and desires. Well, I desire to help this town, so—”
The front door opened slowly, as though she herself had turned the door handle, only she was still a few paces away, and no one was within to open the door for her.
What... the actual... fuck.