Of Spirits and Superstition

by Nyx Halliwell

  Graceful and beautiful, she turns to look over her shoulder at me. Her features are partially in shadow, but I know that profile, that dress, that hair.

  I know those hands.

  Releasing the yarn, she turns fully on the stool, and I feel as if my knees might buckle.

  “Hello, Winter,” she says in a voice I haven’t heard in over a year. “I’ve been waiting for you, daughter.”

  If it weren’t for Ronan holding my hand, I would think this was a dream.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat, the witchlight growing brighter and confirming the last person I expect to see is in front of me.

  12

  My voice shakes as much as my knees. “Mom? Is that really you?”

  She gets up, flowing across the space and embraces me. Ronan’s grip releases me, so I can hug her back.

  Like everything else here, she is drained of life energy, but still holds enough that she feels solid. A soft sob escapes from deep in my chest and pushes its way out of my mouth. We hold each other for long moments, my brain filled with questions and confusion.

  “Time is running out, and I need you to do something for me,” she says in my ear, breaking the embrace and pulling back. A gentle hand brushes hair from my face and she smiles at me. “I’m sorry I had to bring you here to accomplish it,”

  “You?”

  She nods. “When I realized Ronan’s connection to you, I was able to manipulate the ley line energy and use it to lift your spirit from your body.”

  “Mrs. Whitethorne,” Ronan says, extending his hand to shake hers. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Look at the amazing man you’ve grown into.” She pulls him into a hug. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter. Your connection is incredibly strong.”

  Ronan seems slightly abashed. “She’s an amazing woman, and I think she’s taking better care of me than I am of her.” He winks at me over her shoulder.

  My mother was a powerful witch, so I’m not sure I can comprehend the extent of what she could do. Can do. It’s one of the reasons the demon—the master—wanted her for his own.

  “How did you bring us here?” I motion around. “Where exactly are we?”

  She studies my weak witchlight. “This is a space around the pentagram where you and your sisters keep the master trapped. A mirror of the physical plane, existing between worlds.”

  My insides go cold. “He’s here?”

  A head cock toward the woods. “Out there, yes. This cabin seems to be off limits to him. He can’t go past the tree line.”

  “How do we get out of here?” Ronan asks.

  “I can’t, but you two can,” Mom answers. “At least, I think you still can.”

  Her earlier words ring in my head. “Why is time running out?”

  “The end of a cycle is drawing near.” She holds onto my hands and keeps smiling, even though we’re discussing the incomprehensible. “On the night of winter solstice, he plans to rise. He’s been drawing energy through the ley lines, not only those on earth but he’s found a connection to the cosmos. There’s something I need you to do when you go back to your reality. It’s very important.

  “Anything,” I agree. “Autumn thinks she’s found a way to contain him. We’re just trying to work out the details of how to get him into it. It’s sort of like this—it exists outside of time and space—and—”

  She interrupts me. “There’s more to it than just containing him now. Since the night of my death, he’s been figuring out ways to re-write magick, trying to corrupt it in more and more dimensions. Things on earth continue to grow extremely volatile, don’t they?”

  Wildfires, hurricanes, earthquakes… “You mean, he’s able to manipulate things that are going on in our world, even when he’s trapped here?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. His power is growing and soon the pentagram won’t be enough to hold him, no matter how much of our magick we pour into it.” She motions at the loom. “What I need you to do is pull out my loom. You’ll need my cape, too.”

  “Why those things?”

  Her grip tightens. “Put the cape on the loom. I’ve been trying to fix magick since I found the cabin. I keep rethreading the yarn, but it unravels every time. I believe you have to fix it in your reality while I weave this one here.”

  “The cape was ripped by the claws of the demon the night he attacked you. I tried to repair them, but I couldn’t.”

  Her face twists with distress. “It’s okay, we can fix them. The tears in the cape—if we can get them back together—we can restore the ley lines. Once we do that, it’ll be easy to cut the master off from his source of energy and transport him to the container you’ve found.”

  “I’m confused. What do they have to do with magick and the ley lines?”

  “The loom is magick. The cape represents the ley lines, each thread a source of energy. Not just here on this planet, but the cosmos. The master gained his magick, his control over it, by corrupting the lines. If we fix them, we have a chance at beating him for good.”

  I still don’t understand. “How is the loom magickal?”

  Her face lights up. “Long ago, before the historians and archeologists can even imagine, the land of your ancestors—Ireland—was an island of magick. There weren’t tribes and clans and all that political stuff. There were no human wars. Our only war was against evil, not each other. We understood we all had to work together to keep humans safe and enjoy magick for all of the good it could do for us.”

  “What happened?”

  “The master arrived. This loom”—she points at it again—“is connected to all the ley line energy in the cosmos. When he arrived from wherever he came from, things changed dramatically. The island altered in violence and storms. The magick became corrupted. Our ancestors had no choice but to hide the loom. The cape…it’s really a tapestry of magick, the very essence of the ley lines… had to be protected at all costs. The job fell to the Gwrtheyrn family. Our family.”

  “Whoa.” Ronan’s eyes are wide. “No pressure there.”

  Mom always was a great storyteller. Her whole body is animated. “It was never meant to leave the loom, but catastrophe struck.” She claps her hands and we both jump. “Our family became hunted by humans and the demon alike. The loom had to be dismantled and secreted away. The fabric of the universe became a beautiful cape, and each daughter of the loom carried and wore it, infusing it with her magick and that of the land. Our ancestors handed it down generation after generation, and it helped us to finally stop the master from rising at the end of every cycle.”

  “You never told us this,” I say, accusation in my voice.

  She sighs with what sounds like deep regret. “It’s complicated. Every time we managed to imprison him, and keep the people safe, he’d figure out a new way to break through. He doesn’t think like you and I—he’s pure evil. All he wants to do is consume souls, and he’s always hungry. It’s a much longer story, and I’m sorry I don’t have time to tell you. I was the last daughter of the loom until you came along, Winter. I should’ve told you everything before I died, but there was a block in my memory. I didn’t realize it until I ended up here.”

  The witchlight hovers close, and I see tears in her eyes. I feel the sting of them in mine as well. “A block?”

  “A reverse type of memory spell, I believe, making me forget my most important duty.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “Black magick.” She shakes her head, anger burning in her eyes now. “It was cast on me by someone powerful before your twenty-first birthday, when I was supposed to pass the legend and cape to you. I don’t know who did it, but they must work for the master. He probably figured out we were part of the original Gwrtheyrn line, and if he could stop me from sharing the knowledge—and the tapestry—with you and your sisters, he’d finally stand a chance against us. He tried to destroy it, rip it to shreds, but at least he didn’t succeed with that.”

  “So we fix it and everything will be okay?
” Ronan asks, hopefully.

  “Yes. Put the tapestry back on the loom,” she says to me. “You’ll have to figure out how to weave the rips together in order to close the openings of the ley lines. You and your sisters have done the best you could to keep him imprisoned, but it won’t be enough once the solstice hits. When the darkest night of the year arrives, he’ll rise if we can’t repair them. I’ve been doing all I could from this end, but it’s not enough. I thought I could mend it, but I can’t. My powers are greatly diminished here, thanks to him feeding on my magick.”

  She grips my hand hard again, her gaze intense. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Winter, but I need you to help me save the world.”

  My stomach drops. Saving the world is a tall, tall order, and my head is dizzy with this new knowledge and the challenge I have in front of me.

  Sensing my fear and trepidation, she gives me a patient smile. “Together, you and I can free the trapped souls and repair magick. There are thousands of them, maybe more. We can end the master’s reign of terror once and for all.”

  “Yeah, about that,” I murmur, struggling to get my voice above a whisper. “There’s one little problem.”

  Her smile falters. “What is it, daughter?”

  I take a deep breath and swallow my fear. I have no choice but to tell her the truth.

  “I unraveled the yarn so I could make Yule gifts for Spring, Summer, and Autumn.” A tear slips down my cheek, the enormity of what my good deed might cost us overwhelming me. “I can’t repair the cape—the tapestry—Mom.”

  The smile falls completely off her face, and she stares at me in disbelief. “You…you took it apart?”

  I’ve undone the ley lines and ruined magick forever. “I’m so, sorry,” I weep. “I didn’t know.”

  My mother grasps me in a tight hug, and I feel her horror as well as her enormous love for me, no matter what I’ve done. “Oh, Winter, daughter of the loom. You’ve changed the very fabric of the world.”

  13

  If I could stay in my mother’s embrace forever, I would. “I’ll fix it,” I vow, drawing a deep breath of resolve. “Somehow, I will find a way.”

  Ronan grips my arm and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll help.”

  Mom glances at the loom, releasing her hold on me. “I know you will. This is my fault, not yours. The ceremony to pass the tapestry from mother to daughter was supposed to happen years ago on the winter solstice. The first of my daughters had to be at least twenty-one before I could hold it, and the ritual had to be done at the longest night of the year. The four of you needed to learn the history of this magickal gift, the protections for it, how to keep it safe…”

  Her voice trails off as she turns.

  “What’s done is done.” My brain scrambles to find a solution. The solstice is days away. I have time to form a plan. I think over the past few weeks, wondering how much magick could have altered in that time. “I took the cape apart last month. I haven’t noticed any major changes in our abilities. Maybe the ley lines are still okay.”

  Mother puts her thumb to her lips, biting her nail. “Magick has become no more than a background layer to your world. So many people no longer believe in or practice it, it’s more of a shadow. Their shifting has certainly caused transmutation, but perhaps you haven’t noticed it yet.”

  She walks past me, heading for the front of the cabin. “Give me a moment. I know we can repair it; I just have to figure out how.”

  After she disappears, I glance at Ronan. “What have I done?” I ask softly.

  He takes my hand. “It’s not your fault.”

  Regardless, I have to make it right. If I don’t, humans may cease to exist. “I have to rectify this, but I don’t know how. I need help.”

  As if I summoned her, Persephone appears out of thin air near the bed. She looks as surprised as we are, glancing down at herself, checking out her hands, staring around the room. “Hey, is this your place? I don’t remember it being so… gloomy.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  She’s wearing her Endora face again. An exaggerated eyebrow arches and she crosses her arms over her chest. “I came to help. That is what spirit guides are for.”

  Unfortunately, there’s nothing she can do. “How did you get here?”

  “I followed Coyote, how else? This realm is kind of out of my norm.”

  “Coyote isn’t here.”

  She rolls her eyes, heading for the door. “Of course, he is. He’s in the living room with your mom.” She walks out, leaving Ronan and I looking at each other bewildered. He shrugs and we follow.

  Sure enough, she’s right. Coyote, in his animal form, is seated next to my mother at the fireplace. She sits on the floor, facing the burning wood, eyes closed. I sense the two of them are having a telepathic conversation.

  Miffed I’m not included, since all of this revolves around me, I clear my throat.

  They ignore me.

  Ronan goes to the window to check outside. Persephone takes a seat in the rocking chair. I stand there looking between my spirit guides, mother, and boyfriend. Everything and everyone still has that faded out, ashen image and I realize this is what will happen if I don’t figure out how to bring magick back and fix the ley lines.

  “Can you help Ronan and I return to our reality?” I ask Seph.

  “Nope.”

  “Can you get a message to my sisters?”

  She shakes her head. “Sorry.”

  I’m about to swear when Ronan says, “That’s a lot of ghosts.”

  I hurry to his side. Beyond the porch, I see swirling mist, the gray-white snow, and the stark trees. “Where? I don’t see any.”

  He glances at me, confusion knitting his brow. “Seriously? You can’t see all of them? There must be hundreds.”

  “Ha! Ironic, isn’t it?” Seph cackles. “The ghost whisperer can’t see ghosts.”

  I don’t appreciate the sarcasm. “If you honestly have nothing helpful to contribute, you need to leave.”

  “Those are a few of the souls the master has taken,” she says. “You probably can’t see them because you’re not one of them.”

  The weight of her words sinks in and I whip my head to look at Ronan. “By the goddess, no,” I whisper. “He can’t have you, too.”

  Ronan’s eyes dart between the spirits outside, me, and Persephone. “He doesn’t. I’d know if he did. Wouldn’t I?”

  Seph chuckles, as if this is one of her favorite seventies sitcoms instead of Ronan’s life we’re talking about. “Believe it or not, I know a few things,” she says. “The demon that attacked your mother, take that for instance. It’s the same entity who went after Spring in the woods at Beltane. And who, in fact, placed a memory block on your mother.”

  All eyes go to her, including Coyote and Mom’s.

  She seems to revel in the attention. “Oh yeah, see? I can be of help. I could tell you a few other things, if you’d listen.” This she directs at me.

  My emotions are all over the place. I want to ask what else, because I’m starting to believe her, as well as strangle her for not offering these tidbits sooner. “You knew the identity of the attacker and didn’t tell me?”

  She turns serious. “Why do you think they sent me to help you now, Winter?”

  Back to they. “Who sent you?”

  “That’s not the important thing here, and I can’t tell you outright who the attacker is, but I can give you clues to lead to him, okay?”

  Ronan looks like he’s ready to strangle her too. “You are highly annoying.”

  “Tell me about it,” I agree.

  Coyote snarls, pacing to the door and drawing my attention. His growl sends chills over my skin. What I see out the window does more than that, turning my bones to ice.

  As if one of my invisibility spells has broken, row after row of spirits comes into view.

  I suck in my breath, taking a slight step backwards, as I see their pasty gray bodies, their blacked-out eyes, the unnatural w
ay they stare, unmoving, at the cabin. “Blood and bone,” I say under my breath. “I see them.”

  Persephone claps her hands together. “Well, you know what that means.”

  “Not helpful,” I yell at her.

  I turn to Coyote and Mom. “Tell me what to do. I don’t care how crazy it sounds. All suggestions…lay them on the table, but do it now.”

  Mom starts speaking, but there’s a strange tug in my chest. My ears buzz. I feel as if something’s pulling me outside. At first, I think it might be the spirits, or worse, the master.

  Mother stands from her kneeling position in front of the fireplace, Coyote staying close to her. He’s so large in his animal form, his head is at her waist. She frowns. “Winter?”

  “I don’t know what’s happening,” I say, and even that is muffled in my ears.

  Ronan grabs my arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Something about his touch steadies and grounds me. My ears pop and clear. I rub my chest where the tugging has lessened. “I’m fine.”

  “We have to get you both back into your bodies,” Mom says. “Before you go, let me give you a spell and instructions on how to fix the cape.”

  I nod, hating that I have to leave her here.

  “Ronan”—she points at him—“can see things the way they are supposed to be. He isn’t tied to the master yet. He simply can see the souls that are because he’s a Seer. Not like your sister—he sees the magick holding them there. He also has the gift of Seeing how things should be.”

  My chest feels tight. “I don’t understand.” I glance at him. “I thought you were a shifter, like your mom. Isn’t that your gift?”

  He looks as surprised as I am. “Yeah, but I stink at it. I told you about the mishap when I was five.”

  Oh, yes. I remember. His uncle—his mother’s brother—showed up drunk and hit his mom during an argument one day while his father was at work. Ronan’s animal came out, attacked his uncle in retaliation, and left the man with a serious limp. Since he wasn’t prepared for the shift, it drained Ronan for days afterward, and he was so upset over the entire incident, he never shifted again, except in the dream world.