Under His Spell

Foxglove grows in the valley every spring in abundance. The tall stalks and cone-shaped petals seem to pop up overnight, dotting the wildflower fields with their deep pink hue. But this spell doesn’t just call for any old foxglove.

Maisy wades through the tall grasses as she enters the valley under the light of a giant, full moon. Her eyes have adjusted to the soft glow, and she steadies herself as she checks her watch. She is just in time. The minute hand ticks forward and it is midnight on the dot. In a flash, she begins to pick as many of the flamingo-pink foxgloves as she can, filling her basket with this magical ingredient. After sixty seconds, her basket is almost full.

That should do it, she thinks to herself. The last thing that she needs for her spell: pink foxglove picked at midnight under the light of a full moon. She is one step closer!

The journey back to her cabin is quiet. The moon’s light shone down on her like a silent guardian watching over her, ensuring her journey was safe and protected. It illuminated the hazel of her eyes as she looked around, admiring the woodland scenery she had grown accustomed to.

Maisy was what many called an outsider — besides the few who called her a “witch.” She preferred enchantress, but the facts didn’t matter when the world couldn’t be bothered to understand the differences within it. She liked to keep to herself; it was more peaceful that way. She did have her own small group of friends, but they were busy running amok due to spring’s arrival, which allowed her time to do what she loved: spells.

Perhaps it didn’t help that her significant other was seen as the country’s “villain” — a feared man who sought control and power over everyone. She learnt real fast that people do not favour someone who is tied to the man; it’s partly why she now lives in a new state, after said man told her they were moving. But she didn’t mind. Maisy had grown accustomed to the change by now, and learnt to keep his identity a secret so no one could throw their lives off again.

It’s why she needed the pink foxglove: she made spells for him. She never asked why he needed them. Why would she? She knew better than to question his actions. Some would call it aiding him, but she saw it as doing what any woman would do for her man. Even if the spell requiring the foxglove was a powerful one that could be used to control others who consumed even a drop of it.

As she reaches their cabin, Maisy’s energy is buzzing, despite the late hour. She always feels the most clarity and creativity in the dead of night. Most humans are asleep, but the forest is alive with all manner of animals and creatures. There’s a reason they call it the witching hour.

Maisy rushes around their small kitchen, clanging her cauldrons and tossing her ingredients onto the old wooden table. Over the past few months she has been collecting all manner of strange and wondrous items for the spell. Now that she has everything she needs, she can’t wait another moment to get started. Magic has always made her feel like this — excited to be alive!

She lights a fire in the hearth and hums to herself. She is so focused on her craft that she doesn’t notice the shadow approaching behind her…

The smell of ginger and other herbs was all Maisy could smell as she hovered over her cauldron, ensuring to stir exactly three stirs between each new item she tossed in, following the spell she had open in a book to a tee. A finger slowly moved over the page between each step, before another scent entered the air… followed by arms wrapping around her waist.

Peppermint.

She leaned back into the embrace of the person whose arms pulled her against their chest. The familiar scent of Ryker Knight — who always smelt like peppermint, she found — was a comforting addition to her night as she continued to stir the spell she was making, his voice murmuring against her ear, inquiring what she was up to so late at night. It was humorous to her, considering he had asked her to make this months ago.

She let out a low hum as she placed the spoon — or rather ladle — that she was using down, before she leaned her head back to meet his cold, snowy grey eyes. Smiling the innocent smile she always wore, she responded gently.

“I’m making that spell you brought up — the one with the pink foxglove. I wanted to surprise you when you woke up.”

The corner of Ryker’s mouth lifted just a little. It was this small smile that sent shivers down Maisy’s spine. Maisy may have had the ability to draw on some dark powers, but she had always been a bubbly and happy person. Ryker, on the other hand, would never be described as… bubbly. Maisy loved his dark and serious demeanour, but it was always a personal challenge to herself to get him to crack a smile.

Her potions did just that.

“Go back to bed, Ryk,” she urged, flashing him a brilliant smile of her own. “And act surprised in the morning when I’m done!”

Ryker ignored her and pulled one of their kitchen chairs towards him, spinning it around and sitting on it backwards. He stretched out his long legs and looked at her intently.

“I’d rather watch you work,” he said. “Besides, do you really think I was sleeping? You know me better than that by now.”

Ryker stood up without a word and strode over to the cauldron. He stretched his arm past Maisy’s head to the shelf above the mantle. The shelf was overflowing with glassware — crystal tumblers, bottles, and carafes in all shapes and sizes for all manner of tinctures and tonics. Maisy eyed Ryker as he picked out a small glass vial with a dropper and again reached past her to pick up the ladle that she’d just put down. He calmly filled the vial with the pink liquid, kissed Maisy on the cheek, and turned to leave the room.

Maisy was fuming. “Ryker! You’re not even going to give me any kind of response? After all I’ve done for you? I should take that vial back!”

She swiped at the vial in his hand, but he easily held it up and out of her reach. Maisy let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know why I keep doing this for you.”

Ryker sighed, but not in annoyance. He looked concerned as he cupped Maisy’s face in his hand. “Please understand, my love. I don’t want to involve you. I want to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need your protection,” Maisy protested. But he had already turned and was walking away, slipping the vial into his breast pocket.

Ryker stood up without a word and strode over to the cauldron. He stretched his arm past Maisy’s head to the shelf above the mantle. The shelf was overflowing with glassware — crystal tumblers, bottles, and carafes in all shapes and sizes for all manner of tinctures and tonics. Maisy eyed Ryker as he picked out a small glass vial with a dropper and again reached past her to pick up the ladle that she’d just put down. He calmly filled the vial with the pink liquid, kissed Maisy on the cheek, and turned to leave the room.

Maisy was fuming. “Ryker! You’re not even going to give me any kind of response? After all I’ve done for you? I should take that vial back!”

She swiped at the vial in his hand, but he easily held it up and out of her reach. Maisy let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know why I keep doing this for you.”

Ryker sighed, but not in annoyance. He looked concerned as he cupped Maisy’s face in his hand. “Please understand, my love. I don’t want to involve you. I want to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need your protection,” Maisy protested. But he had already turned and was walking away, slipping the vial into his breast pocket.

Standing in the kitchen, Maisy could only sigh as she turned back to the cauldron. She moved to grab more vials like the one Ryker had grabbed and began to fill each one with the remainder of the potion she had just finished. Was it annoying when Ryker got her to make these potions for him only to not explain anything? Sure. But deep down she knew he was just looking out for her. If he said he didn’t want her involved, then chances were it was in her best interest to believe him.

With each vial she filled and put to the side in a basket she had grown accustomed to placing all her potions in, she relaxed her shoulders. Ryker had never done anything that fell back onto her. He gave her a home and attention any woman would dream of having. He was attentive and never left her feeling unwanted. This was simply their dynamic. Though some days she wished he’d trust her enough to know the entirety of his plans. She wasn’t some fragile flower, after all!

Still, as she finished putting the final vial together, she moved to wash the cauldron — a routine she was familiar with long before Ryker: wash, dry, and put away. It was once she was finished with her routine that she moved to find Ryker again, to see if he had left or if he had perhaps gone back to whatever he was doing originally.

Maisy pokes her head into their bedroom, hoping that he finally listened to her and laid down to get some rest. She is surprised to see that the curtains are open and the sun is starting to rise, throwing yellow beams of light across the ceiling. It’s morning already? Time always gets away from her when she is practicing magic.

To her disappointment, their bed is unmade but empty. She considers crawling in anyway and getting some rest as her busy night catches up with her. A long cat nap in the sun would feel amazing right now. But she wouldn’t be able to sleep after fighting with Ryk. They rarely disagreed, and it left her feeling strange and off-kilter.

She reluctantly leaves their room and takes the stairs down to his basement study. There are no windows or morning sunlight down here. The heavy door is wooden with wrought iron hardware, and she’s always wondered what exactly he thought he needed to keep out. Right now, it just feels like she is the one he is keeping out.

She knocks softly on the door and holds her breath. She knows he will always answer to her, but she wonders if he will let her in. She’s only been inside his dark study a handful of times.

Ryker opens the door partway, his tall frame blocking her view. So, it’s like that today.

“Hi,” he says softly, his cold dark eyes meeting hers.

“Hey.” It’s the only word that she can get past her lips for a moment. Sometimes she wondered why he always had this coldness in his eyes. He’s had it ever since they met, and yet she’s never found out why. Did something happen to him? Perhaps that is why he is also so closed off around her?

After a few seconds passed of them just staring at each other, Maisy managed to open her mouth and speak, shifting to cross her arms and try to make herself look more serious. Clearly today would be one of those days where he’s really closed off. So hopefully, if she tried playing serious, she’d get through to him.

“Is there a reason you serve yourself the potion without speaking to me? Or why you clearly don’t want me inside your study, based on how you’re leaning so I can’t see inside? What are you hiding from me, Ryker? I thought we were supposed to TRUST one another.”

Her tone came out more sternly than she had realized, but it expressed how she was feeling. The last time she was in his study, it looked harmless. Sure, his bookshelf was filled with books and his desk covered in pages, but nothing she saw was suspicious. So why was he so closed off now? Why wasn’t he telling her anything all of a sudden? Just what was he planning now… and why was he keeping it under wraps?

Ryker stuck his hand deep in his pockets and relaxed a little against the doorframe. It was frustrating that he could keep his cool while Maisy’s frustration boiled over like a potion gone wrong. He was studying her, an expression on his face that she couldn’t place. How was it that they were so close, and yet she still felt so distant from him?

“I don’t know how many times I can say it, Maisy. You really don’t want to know what’s going on. You’re safer staying behind the scenes, making the magic that you love,” he finally said.

“Why don’t you let me decide what I want to know? Why do you get to control my life like this?”

Ryker’s brows furrowed. “I’m not trying to control you, Mae,” he said softly. He reached towards her and grasped her hands in his. “I’m trying to protect you.”

She softened at his touch, but she didn’t back down. “Well, it feels like control,” she said quietly. She gently pulled back her hands and turned to leave.

“Wait!” he called out, to her surprise. “Please, wait,” he added softly. She paused and turned her head, one foot still on the staircase. “I’m not ready to tell you anything,” he said, “but maybe I could show you.”

Maisy couldn’t help but raise a cautious brow at his words. Show her? Just what was he planning that he couldn’t say but was willing to show? It was an improvement — sure — but the secretive tone he held as his cold eyes glanced toward the office door questioningly still made her turn to reapproach him and enter the study.

“You better not be messing with me, Ry.”

The office looked the same as it did the last time: desk full of plans and bookshelf full of books. She stopped to cross her arms as she stood beside a chair, watching him move to the study’s desk, where he grabbed a paper, then turned to her. She couldn’t help but raise a brow when he moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her to hold the paper before her eyes. As she looked over the paper — which was full of his cursive handwriting and tiny diagrams of random stick men — Maisy couldn’t help but shiver at the way his voice spoke beside her ear.

“There are people out there who hurt people like us, Mae. People who are liars. They pretend to be good only to end up leaving you to bleed out in betrayal. Why do you think I am the way I am? There is someone out there who wronged me, and it’s high time they pay for what they’ve done. And this? This is what I plan to do.”

While his words were still cryptic in what he meant, Maisy couldn’t help but focus on this one section of his handwriting where it brought up using the potion on someone… or rather, that was scratched out, and new writing below it insinuated using it on multiple people who were important to whoever this person Ryker was talking about was.

Maisy reached for the paper to study it further, but Ryker pulled it out of reach. “Sorry, Mae. I don’t want you in on the details of the plan. I’m just trying to show you that this is dangerous! But I’m doing it for us.”

Seriously? She wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than being completely in the dark.

Ryker put a gentle hand on her lower back and steered her towards the door to the study. She didn’t bother to resist this time. She needed to think. She heard the heavy door close behind her as she trudged back up the stairs, blinking as she took in the brightness of their sun-dappled kitchen.

This called for tea. Maisy brewed herself a strong cup and took it into her garden. She sipped and paced, mindlessly deadheading her flowers as she went. By the time the sun was high in the sky, she knew what she wanted to do.

She went back into the kitchen to prepare some lunch. She hadn’t had breakfast, and she knew Ryker treated eating like he did sleep — he never thought of either when he was in his study. She left a plate on a tray near his door.

Hopefully, this would make him think that all was forgiven. But Maisy wasn’t so sure. She had decided that she would follow him tonight and watch how he used the potion.

Time felt like it was going by too slowly for Maisy’s liking. Every time she glanced at the time, it seemed to have only passed slightly; a few minutes ticked by rather than the hours that Maisy had hoped. After an hour of constantly checking the time, she tried to busy herself by reading a book she had started a while ago.

However, that didn’t do anything, as she still found herself pacing and watching the sky as if it were lying to her. It was daunting to actually wait for a specific moment to occur. However, Maisy was insistent that she had to do this; she was tired of Ryker being secretive and hiding things from her. Yet, while Maisy was skilled in the area of potion making… she was still naive at the end of the day.

Her pacing allowed windows of distraction that gave Ryker the ability to sow her loyalty to him deeper; the potion was useful for things other than his plan after all. Besides, he now had a stockpile of the potions at his will. It’s why, when she left her cup of tea unsupervised, he slipped some drops of the potion into it. It wasn’t potent enough to leave a smell or taste, but he knew that it was powerful enough to overpower a witch like her.

When the time came, Maisy slipped out of the house a few minutes after she observed Ryker leaving. She did her best to stay behind him and hide in bushes anytime he’d look back. She maintained a close enough distance behind him as he walked, until she witnessed him walking into an abandoned church. Odd… she never took Ryker as a man who’d be seen in such a place.

She stood behind the worn doors as she glanced inside, taking in the sight in front of her. Ryker, standing before a young woman whom he had clearly captured, spoke coldly toward her and waved the vial in front of her face. She took in how the woman’s face morphed into disbelief at the sight of it. And Maisy couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath, because seeing Ryker’s plans in action was… something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, feeling-wise.

Maisy stayed crouched behind the doors. Maisy wasn’t raised in the church — she worshipped her own pagan deities — but it still seemed like a bizarre place for Ryker to be tying up and threatening a young woman. Why not take her down into his secluded study?

Maisy turned away from the scene inside and looked up at the stars. The warm breeze on her skin and the star-filled night sky seemed to be at odds with the scene unfolding inside. She had the overwhelming pull to leave now, to return to their cozy cottage. Maybe Ryker was right and she should keep out of his affairs. Or maybe she was asking the wrong questions. Who cares where Ryker did his threatening? The question, as always, is why? She was involved now, with her potion giving Ryker the power he needs to execute whatever he is planning.

She can’t hear anything from where she’s crouched; she needs a better position if she hopes to have her question answered. She peeks around the doors again and sees that Ryker’s back is to her, so she slips inside and begins weaving her way through the pews on her hands and knees. She’s so focused on not making any noise that she jumps when she hears Ryker’s voice.

“Maisy, stop moving.” His tone is calm and flat. Maisy tries to turn her head to see him, but she finds that she can’t move a muscle.

Her body wasn’t listening to her. She tried everything in her power to make it move, but no matter how hard she tried, nothing was working. It was as if her muscles were frozen somehow. She was stuck on her hands and knees as she let out a nervous breath.

She slowly took in her surroundings. The dirty floor of the church — when was the last time someone was in this place? The cracks on the walls that clearly were from years of wear and tear on top of water damage. She spotted some moss growing on the pews she was near; they looked so soft she almost felt regret that she currently couldn’t move to feel it. She could’ve taken some to place in her frog — because of course she needed a companion… or five — tank.

Then she slowly moved her gaze toward where Ryker was standing. He wasn’t looking at her, more focused on whoever that woman was that was trying to reason with him. Though her words seemed to be going in one ear and out the other. Maisy couldn’t help but feel dread tickle her spine at how ruthless Ryker looked now. Sure, she had never seen him doing this stuff before, but the sight was horrifying.

Then it was like her mind shut off completely as he spoke again. She could feel her expression relax as her body moved to sit on her heels instead of the painful position she was in when she was trying to sneak in. She couldn’t exactly remember why she was trying to snoop in his business, or how she even got to the church… it was like being a puppet with newly added strings. Ryker still never looked at her as he grasped the vial tightly in his hands, now moving to uncap it as he moved toward the woman instead of around her.

A predator now, scouting his prey after dazing the one thing that could’ve risked everything.

The potion bottle glowed like a pink gem in the candle-lit church. Maisy couldn’t take her eyes off of it as Ryker uncorked the vial and advanced on the woman. He held it high and began to pour it into the woman’s mouth, his other hand holding her head still as she coughed and spluttered.

As if in a dream, Maisy slowly made her way to sit on one of the long wooden pews. She had the absurd feeling of sitting in a movie theatre or a concert hall, like she was sitting down to watch a show. She just needed some popcorn.

She let out a giggle at the thought, earning her a glare from Ryker before he returned to his task.

Why is Ryk mad at me? Her thoughts swirled around in her skull and her brain felt soupy. There was something that she was missing. What was it?

The show continued at the front of the church. Ryker was untying the woman, who had gone very calm.

“Take me to them,” Ryker demanded. He sounded excited. The blonde woman stood and began to walk towards the old wooden doors. Her eyes looked vacant as she passed by Maisy. Ryker followed her intently, his cold eyes never leaving the back of her head, even as he grabbed Maisy by the elbow and pulled her up and along with them.

Perhaps it didn’t matter, what she forgot. It clearly wasn’t important if she forgot it so easily. And besides the soupy feeling in her mind, she felt happier now. Besides, Ryker wouldn’t do anything to her. She had nothing to worry about! Perhaps he was simply protecting her; yeah, that sounded right in her mind.

She happily let Ryker pull her forward as she followed him. She didn’t know who this woman was; perhaps Ryker had made a friend. The idea made her smile more. Ryker never had a lot of friends, so if that was the case, then it meant he had found someone who understood him like her! At least that was what her brain was telling her.

The three of them walked away from the church as the blonde woman led them to whoever Ryker was looking for. Maisy couldn’t help but take in the coldness of his eyes. Clearly whoever she was taking them to made Ryker pissed off. It would explain why he’s so angry right now. After a bit, the woman stopped and slowly pointed to a house, and Ryker moved to pull Maisy with him as he kicked the door down and walked inside, the blonde woman following behind, as a young male ran toward the front door and paused at the sight of Ryker. At the sight of the blonde woman’s state, and at how harshly Ryker was holding Maisy’s arm. And yet Ryker only flashed him a sinister smile as he spoke.

“We meet again, Richard. Or, I’m sorry… father. Though I think traitor suits you better.”

Richard stumbled back a step, his eyes still darting between the three of them in the front foyer. Ryker and his father shared the same tall frame, dark hair, and high cheekbones. But Richard’s hair had streaks of grey and his eyes were light where Ryker’s were dark. Maisy’s gaze darted back and forth, taking in the scene. Her mind was so muddled. The blonde woman was leaning heavily against the wall, and she began to slip down to a seat in the front hall.

Richard stepped forward to try and help her. “Lydia!” he cried softly, reaching for the young woman.

But Ryker stepped in between. “Leave your daughter out of it,” he snarled. Maisy had never seen Ryker like this. Her mind went back to yesterday in his study. The notes and plans he’d shown her. She knew he was seeking revenge. But what was this? Revenge against his family.

Richard was yelling now. “Take whatever you want, Ryker! Just leave us alone!”

Ryker nodded. “Oh, I intend to.” Suddenly, he reached into his pocket. Richard dropped to the floor like Lydia as he saw the metallic glint of a pistol in Ryker’s hand.

Maisy clutched her head, shaking it back and forth. This was too much. She slowly stepped backwards out the open front door. Nobody took notice in the chaos. She spotted a small herb garden along the front of the house.

“Mint,” she whispered aloud to herself. Mint has clarifying properties. She rushed forward and plucked a handful of fresh mint, putting it right into her mouth and chewing furiously. The smell reminded her of Ryker.

Slowly, her mind began to clear.

At first it was the most recent things she remembered. The church; seeing Ryker pour the liquid into the woman’s mouth against her will. The cold flooring as she tried to crawl closer to truly see the monster he had become. The plans — which, thinking it over now, were erratic and messy. She had never paid them any mind, but with what was going on currently, they were a red flag to his mental state.

But she also seemed to recall a time way back. When she first met Ryker, whom she came across standing atop a bridge on his own one night. Whom she talked off the ledge — literally — that day. The boy who seemed to be so broken she had joked about them being “kindred spirits.”

Perhaps that was what drew her to him. Why he chose her of all people. He felt like she saw him. Understood him. She never left, and that’s why he always seemed to cling to her so hard. Behind his cold eyes and closed-off personality was just a little kid who had his own issues that were never resolved.

And as she glanced back at him — mind clearer now — she took a long look at the man holding the pistol. Perhaps the boy she knew was still in there. Perhaps if she got through to him, she could stop all of this and save him. However, things were escalating, as she saw him raise the pistol and take the safety off.

Maisy felt adrenaline fuel her as her feet pushed off the ground and she ran toward him. Her one arm reached out in a desperate plea to reach him. To stop him. To prevent him from going through with his plan. To save him. She ran as fast as her body could as she let out a scared plea.

Time seemed to slow as a loud BANG filled the air, and she felt the metal of the gun brush against her hand. And then everything went black.