Page 126 of The Mating Quest
Picking up a hairbrush, Danica fingered the bristles. “Then one day this middle-aged man asked me for a favor. He had seen me brushing my hair and wanted to know if he could borrow the brush. He had a job interview that afternoon and his hair was wild, uncombed. I told him the hairbrush wouldn’t do any good. He needed ahaircut.
“I was better off than a lot of the homeless in the park. I had a little money, a backpack with stuff, including scissors. So I gave him a haircut and then gave him some money to buy a cheap suit and a razor and shaving cream to shave off that rattybeard.”
The smile in the mirror said it all. Danica set down the brush. “He came back the next day, so happy! He had gotten the job. It was just organizing orders at this warehouse, but the job interviewer was impressed with how he looked. He couldn’t thank me enough. Then I realized I needed to do more. I bought a better pair of scissors and with this charity that was helping people in the park, teamed up with them and started giving haircuts to thehomeless.”
Somehow, Ilana suspected this story was told for a reason, and it had to do with her as much asDanica.
“I realized all I had thought about was myself. After I started helping others, I felt better. I could even laugh about Ed and Melanie in bed together. They did look surprised when I caught them, andEd…”
Blue eyes twinkled with mirth. “I never realized what a small penis he had until thatday.”
Ilana laughed. “Good foryou.”
“Because of those haircuts I gave to others, I realized a new direction. I came home, went to cosmetology school and when I graduated, mom found me a job in this salon. But… not everything went great. It’s kind of ironic what happened tome.”
Danica’s lower lip trembled. She pulled off the wig. Ilana controlled her emotions as she studied the wisps of red hair, the baldscalp.
“I cut hair for a living and make women look beautiful, yet can’t do anything for myself.” She stroked the wig. “Nothing works. I’ve triedeverything.”
“Not everything.” Encouraged she could help, Ilana reached into a vest pocket and pulled out the locket. Danu had given strict instructions not to touch the hair inside. “Openthis.”
Her red brows scrunched together in apparent confusion, Danica took the locket and opened it. The strand of hair layinside.
“What am I supposed to do withthis?”
Ilana dug out the parchment the goddess had given her. “You’re supposed to braid or weave it into your own hair and say thesewords.”
Still, the woman looked doubtful. “Another spell by anotherwitch?”
She smiled. “The most powerful one of all. Try it. But no one else can touch the hair so you have to figure out yourself how to weave it into yours. Weave the hair into yours and then recite thewords.”
Danica touched Caderyn’s lock of hair and her mouth opened. “It’s… it’s…” her eyes closed. “So powerful. I see tremendous power, goodness, and yet such intense sadness. So many years, centuries spent fighting evil, yet each time when one enemy is slain, another rises to take its place. Yet he keeps fighting the good fight because if he ceases, the ones too vulnerable and helpless to defend themselves will suffer greatly. He does this not for himself or his own glory, despite how weary he is. He does it for them. It is for them that he fights the good fight against the world’sdarkness.”
The words made her shiver withawareness.
Taking the hair, Danica went to one of the mirrors. Enough of her own hair was at the top of her head, just enough to make a tiny braid. She skillfully wove Caderyn’s hair into her own. With a sigh, she recited the wordssoftly.
Glowing, the words on the parchment rose into the air, twirling in colors of majestic green and red and then burst in a shower of color like a rainbow. The parchment vanished. Ilana waited, breathless, knowing something wondrous wouldhappen.
Danica’s hair began to grow. Astonished, Ilana watched. Silky red tresses sprouted from her scalp, spilling down the back of her head, down to her shoulders, hair the color of red and gold autumn leaves, luxurious and curling. It was like watching a movie being fast forwarded. Finally when her hair was down to her waist, itstopped.
Staring at herself in the mirror, Danica touched her hair. “Is it real? Or is this adream?”
Whirling, she laughed and flung her hair around. “Look at me! I’m normal! No more wigs. Thank you, Ilana. Thank you for giving me thisgift!”
“It wasn’t my gift,” she saidsoftly.
The expression of joy and wonder on her face tightened Ilana’s throat. She had not done this. She was only the messenger. The magick was in Caderyn’s hair, and she suspected in Danica herself. Yet… she had played a role. The goddess insisted she deliver the locketherself.
“For only you will understand the anguish the recipient has felt. You have lived many years on earth, Ilana, and seen much suffering,” the goddess had toldher.
As Danica hugged her, insight struck Ilana. True, she’d seen much suffering. But in reflecting on that, she had forgotten the joy? The happiness Others expressed when she slayed someone who threatened their lives. The appreciation when she’d helped with a task such as rebuilding a home burned to the ground in awar.
I forgot about how good it feels to help someone regain their lifeagain.
As Danica released her and began to twirl and dance around the salon, Ilana smiled. Or something as simple, and complex, as theirhair.
“It’s like my old hair, only stronger and better. And there’s strands of blonde highlights…” Danica touched one and her eyes widened. “It feels like ancient magick, raw power. Whose hair was that you gaveme?”
