The Magical Tarot Deck

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The Magical Tarot Deck Page 22

by Marieke Lexmond


  ‘We will help you replenish the Land. Then you go take care of your business on earth. You’ll be stronger and more balanced. When you get back, Sparkle and I will help you master your Fairyness.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s the only way. One thing at a time. Fairy won’t let you go unless you first restore the balance.’

  ‘Let’s do it.’ Ceri untangles and grounds herself. For the sake of her children, her family, she must take control.

  NEW ORLEANS

  Tara has been busy. Four candles are placed around Bridget at the four cardinal points. Her witch tools are carefully placed on the table; her athame; a ritual knife for Air; a cup for Water; her regular wand for Fire; and some flowers freshly picked from the garden to represent Earth. Now that she has finally decided to do something, Tara’s spirit is at last lifting out of its torpor.

  Maeve and Wes return, looking forlorn after their failure with the extra card. They are soon followed by Freya, who reverently carries the Madigan’s grimoire, rarely seen outside the tomb.

  A pang of irritation runs through Maeve when she sees her aunt. It takes everything not to say something snide. To have put her sister through this is unforgivable. Of course, Freya had a valid reason to get Lisa out of there, but still…Naturally, the voice of reason wins in Maeve’s head, that’s who she is. So, for Bridget’s sake, she decides to let it slide. ‘What do you have in mind?’ She asks Tara, pointing at the Book of Shadows.

  ‘I think we need to do a blood ritual, to form a connection, to be able to send her some of our power. The more witches in the circle, the better.’

  ‘Can I help?’ Wes is desperate to be able to reach Bridget. He feels helpless.

  ‘Yes, please. The more people in this who have a connection to Bridget, the better, family or otherwise.’

  Just then, the dogs start barking, ‘There must be someone at the door.’

  Maeve takes Moon with her to check who’s out there. Soon she returns with Steve, her father, and his three-year-old son, Jax, her half-brother. Tara can’t hide her surprise. ‘Steve? What are you doing here?’

  His obvious discomfort makes all the witches squirm. ‘Uhm, Maeve came to see me a few days ago and told me about a Magical Tarot Deck. I thought I’d better come and see what’s going on for myself…’

  Then his eye falls on Bridget, and he doesn’t need anybody to tell him that she’s in severe pain.

  ‘Bridget!’ He rushes toward her and tries to touch her, but his hand moves through her. Startled, he jumps back. ‘What’s going on here?’ He demands.

  ‘Dad, please.’ Maeve tries to pull him away from Bridget.

  ‘What did you do to her?!’

  ‘It’s the Magical Deck, or rather the person who has it is doing this to her.’ answers Tara.

  This doesn’t seem to calm Steve down at all. ‘Stop it! Can’t you see she’s in pain?’

  ‘Yes, Dad, I can feel it.’ says Maeve softly. In horror, Steve turns toward her.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ He plops down on the swing and draws Jax, who has been following the exchange with big eyes, to him.

  ‘Now you’re here, we could actually use your help.’ Tara moves on. Maeve eyes shoot daggers at her. ‘We can! The more people connected to Bridget, the better, even normal people. It would be great if the child could also join in.’

  ‘No. He’s only three, and his name is Jax, not child.’ Maeve retorts to her grandmother.

  ‘His innocence will be a great boost in this spell, and he’s her half-brother.’ Tara keeps pushing her point. She would have preferred a full witch circle, but she will take what she can get. If the child helps, they will have a circle of six. Not bad.

  Jax has wiggled free from Steve and is looking curiously at Bridget’s semitransparent form. He gently tries to touch her. When his finger moves through her, he pulls his hand back and lets it glide around her. He’s mesmerized.

  ‘I will do it, but not Jax, he’s too young. I will do anything to help her.’ Horror still shows on Steve’s face. ‘Where is Luna? She should be here.’ The unspoken accusation resonating in his voice.

  ‘Luna and Tom are trying to find Lucy. That’s the most important thing she can do right now to try to save her daughter.’ Tara reprimands him, defending her own daughter.

  ‘I want to help.’ Jax steps in the middle of the group while he looks at Tara. Tara, in turn, looks at Steve.

  ‘I want to help.’ He says again.

  Steve crouches down and looks him in the eye, ‘It might hurt, I don’t know. I can’t put you in danger. Your Mom would kill me.’

  ‘I’m helping!’

  Steve sighs. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Dad?!’ Maeve can’t believe it.

  ‘He’s very wise for his age. If he’s determined to help, nothing can stop him.’

  Freya and Wes have kept quiet throughout this whole exchange. Freya is not a fan of Steve’s, and Wes is weirded out to meet Bridget’s father this way. He hadn’t acknowledged him, so he probably hadn’t even given him a thought.

  ‘Great, let’s get started. We need to move as fast as we can to help Bridget.’

  Freya, Maeve, and Tara jump into action. Tara opens the Book of Shadows to find the appropriate spell, she had come across something just recently. Freya ushers everybody closer to Bridget and starts to walk a protective circle clockwise around the group. She holds a burning Sandalwood incense stick in her hand, while she recites a protection spell and welcomes the four quarters. Maeve has produced a ritual cloth and is preparing the tools inside the circle closer to Bridget.

  This leaves Wes, Steve, and Jax standing together in the middle next to Bridget.

  ‘Hi, I’m Wes, Bridget’s boyfriend.’ Wes’s upbringing is showing through.

  ‘Oh, hi, Steve, her father, and this is Jax, Bridget’s brother.’ They all shake hands and are at a loss for what to say next. Uncomfortable, they focus instead on the three witches.

  ‘Got it.’ says Tara out loud, while she quickly glances at Freya to check her progress. She’s inviting the powers of the North, so she’s almost done. ‘Now, let’s all form a half-circle around the tools that Maeve has put out, opposite Bridget.’

  When the men don’t move, Maeve gently moves her father and Jax and Wes into position. She stands in between Jax and Wes, and Freya stands in between Steve and Tara.

  ‘Maybe it’s best to explain what you’re going to do.’ Freya urges Tara.

  Tara looks at Steve, Jax, and Wes, ‘We’re going to do a blood ritual.’

  ‘What?!’ shouts Steve, immediately alarmed and ready to grab Jax and head out.

  Maeve arm shoots out and grabs his arm. ‘It’s symbolic, Dad, as a historian, you should know that. It will only require a little drop of blood from each of us.’

  Worried, Steve takes Jax’s hand, who repeats again, ‘I want to help.’

  ‘As Maeve said, I will do a short incantation, then we each put a drop of blood in the cup, and we focus all our thoughts on sending her power or strength. Anything to help her get through this and to ease her pain. Remember, magic is an intention, and it works best if you try to visualize what you’re doing.’

  Jax looks excited while Steve looks horrified. He’s no witch, and when he married Luna, this was not what he had envisioned.

  Tara starts chanting; ‘Fuil mo chuid fola, Cumhacht an tsolais, ceangail linn go léir, éist lenár staid.’ ‘Blood of my blood, power of light, connect us all, hear our plight.’

  Maeve and Freya join in, you can feel the power building in the circle. Even Wes, Steve, and Jax try to chime in, although, to them, it sounds like gibberish, and they don’t want to mess up. When the power is at its height, Tara takes her athame and pricks the tip of her left middle finger. Slowly, a drop of blood falls into the cup. Maeve follows, then Wes, Maeve, and Steve. Jax has been fascinated during this whole process. He eagerly holds out his hand to Tara, although his Dad seems far less eager.

  ‘Ready?’ asks
Tara and he smiles. Quickly and without hesitation, she pricks his left-hand middle finger and holds it above the cup. He doesn’t show any fear as he watches his blood mingle with the other drops. Maeve had left the moon water in the cup, and with her wand, Tara stirs the drops of blood. Again, she chants the words, and now the power is amplified.

  Even Wes can feel something in the air. Confused, he looks around.

  Tara’s trance voice echoes through the circle, ‘Now. Think of Bridget, whole and strong. Send her your power.’

  While each of them tries to visualize this, the witches clearly have the advantage of having done this many times before. Little lightning bolts seem to connect them to Bridget. Curiously enough, Jax is close on their heels, even though he has never met Bridget. Maeve feels a jolt of power, and she thinks, is he a witch? The thought is fleeting as she’s too focused on her connection with Bridget. Then Wes, determined to make this work, and even Steve, both manage to make a connection.

  Bridget stirs in her half state. ‘Keep going!’ urges Tara.

  With renewed hope, they try to transfer some of their life force to Bridget to help her cope.

  Moon gives a sharp bark when Bridget opens her eyes. A feeling of gratitude flows back through the bond. This startles Steve so much, he loses the connection. The other five keep sending Bridget love until finally Tara says, ‘That’s enough, we still need our own strength. Hang in there, Granddaughter.’

  Bridget gives a weak smile and curls back up. But awake, and recharged by her family, ready to fight another day. It warms her heart to see everybody. Vaguely, she sees a little boy with her father. She must be hallucinating. And sweet Wes, he was even in on this spell. Comforted, she manages to keep the pain from becoming too overwhelming.

  In Under the Witches Hat, it is business as usual. The morning crowd is starting to thin out. Ron is behind the bar, and Fin had come in to do a couple of readings as it was pretty busy. Diane’s disposition tends to make people uncomfortable, so she only helps when there is nobody else available. Gwen has been fabulous. Somehow, she was made for this business, she enjoys the bar and doesn’t mind doing a reading or even casting the occasional spell to entertain the customers.

  Diane is in the back quietly handling the ever-needed supplies of love potions and other spells. With practiced movements, she moves around the workroom, softly humming a Faun song under her breath.

  Gwen opens the curtains and shows out her last querent of the morning. She waves her off with a smile and an encouraging word.

  ‘I want to thank you, Gwen, for being here for us. I know what a difficult time this is for you.’

  Startled, as she hadn’t heard Diane approach her, Gwen was surprised at the feeling of her hand on her arm. Although kindly meant, it made her jump.

  ‘I’m so sorry. Now you see why they don’t let me close to people.’ says Diane humorously, her otherworldly laugh gives Gwen the creeps. Diane even unsettles other witches. There is something about her that is hard to get a handle on. Her gift of premonitions is something from between the worlds. It makes her seem to be not entirely of this earth—always in the shadows, with one foot on another plane.

  ‘I’m going to grab some lunch. Do you want to come?’ asks Gwen more out of politeness, than actually wanting Diane to join her.

  ‘No, thank you, Alice made me some lunch, and I’m going to eat that in a little bit. One more spell to go. It’s a custom job.’ Diane shows Gwen her supplies. A cord, some regular tarot cards, herbs, little bags with mojo, and a small knife. Gwen can’t help being intrigued.

  ‘This woman wants to be cut off from a bad relationship.’

  Gwen smiles, ‘Good luck.’

  ‘It’s always nice to work something special. I’m going to try a slightly different path today. You’ve got to keep it interesting for people.’

  With that, Diane turns to her work, and Gwen feels dismissed and also somewhat relieved. Diane is not her favorite Madigan.

  One by one, Diane feels the items she got ready for this spell. The poor woman is in an abusive relationship, so she wants to make sure she gets rid of this man once and for all and preferably in a way that he can’t go and harm another woman.

  First, she picks up the cord, it will be the basis for her spell. For a moment, she lets it run through her fingers, closes her eyes, and sets the intention. This will protect the woman. With her eyes closed, she starts to meditate and as she falls into a trance, she lets her hands touch the items arranged in front of her. Purely on intuition, she selects the first item to attach to the spell—a mojo bag that her sister Luna had made for warding off evil. Luna is a master spell maker, the best she knows. Her intent is precise, and her magic empowers it beyond what most witches are capable of these days. The bag is a good thing to add. With smooth motions, she unravels a piece of cord and ties the bag to it. When her hand moves over the items again to find the right thing for the second knot, something unusual happens. Her trance deepens, alarmed she tries to resurface, but something is pulling her into the mindset she falls into whenever she has a vision. This hasn’t happened to her in this way in a long time. Her initial panic turns to calm as experience has taught her it’s better to ride the vision than to resist it. Her eyes pop open. However, they no longer see the workroom in Under the Witches Hat, they see the Maiden. Diane stays very still, it’s like the workbench is floating in the void. Dim light and nothingness surround her, and her senses tell her she’s in an infinite space. The Maiden smiles at her and tenderly she reaches out and caresses Diane’s face.

  ‘You’re more beautiful and gifted then I imagined.’ Her smooth voice and the gentle caress of her hand make Diane feel as if she is reaching inside her and touching her in places untouchable by human hands. It arouses her, and that snaps her out of her inaction.

  The Maiden laughs. ‘Oh, how I wish we had more time. You’re lovely.’

  Diane feels the urge to step back, but when she moves her feet, she doesn’t seem to be touching the ground anymore, so she has no other choice than to stay put.

  ‘Who are you?’ Diane manages to say when she finds her voice, which sounds eerie in this place.

  ‘How rude of me! I’m the Maiden, at your service.’ She gives her a mock bow.

  ‘Is…Is this somewhere between space and time? Have I passed on?’ The feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach is growing fast.

  ‘No. No. This is nowhere. A place I chose to meet you, so I can help you with your spell.’

  ‘I don’t need help.’ Diane knows it’s very important to not accept anything from this woman and to get away from here as soon as possible. The last thing she wants is to be indebted to one of the Fates.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t owe me anything.’ The Maiden moves behind Diane and pushes her body against her back. Again, it arouses Diane, this is so intimate. A laugh escapes the Maiden who can’t help herself and starts to explore Diane’s body with her hands. Before Diane manages to protest, her body merges with the Maiden. This is the most frightening and exhilarating experience she has ever had. Not only her body but also her mind is being taken over. For a moment, she resists.

  ‘Ride the wave,’ whispers the Maiden in her mind. And with all her years of experience with visions, Diane lets go. A feeling of peace washes over her, never in her entire life has she felt so blissfully calm and has her head been so free of thoughts. Tears of ecstasy roll down her face. ‘That’s my gift to you for letting me do this. Enjoy.’

  Diane’s mind is reveling in the calm, aware but not bothered by the Maiden, who steers her body almost like a car. She picks up the knife, and with a flow of her finger, the knife changes form and then with words spoken that Diane has never heard before, the magic around her whirls and contracts as it gets sucked into the knife, which has been transformed into a dagger.

  ‘Don’t use it for the spell; take it to your family. They need it.’

  Diane lets love wash over her and over the Maiden as they are like one. She wish
es she could feel this peace forever.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear. You have to go back.’ With that, the Maiden steps out of Diane’s body.

  Diane tumbles back to reality, but not before she feels the last brush of a kiss on her lips.

  Unceremoniously, she’s slammed back into her earthly body. Her mind is jumbled. When she tries to remember what happened, it evades her. She’s sure she had a vision; normally, she can remember them so vividly, and now, nothing. Just a feeling of incredible piece and something erotic. Weird. This freaks her out more than the vision. Why can’t she remember it?

  The sounds of the bar penetrate her consciousness. With a tremendous effort, she focuses on the here and now. An immense, powerful item is humming at her. When her eyes have adjusted, she sees that the knife is no longer a knife. It’s a dagger with lots and lots of power. It almost sings. Unable to resist, her hand touches it and a rush of energy runs up her arm.

  A voice comes back in her memory. ‘Bring it to your family, they need it.’

  For a moment, she considers not telling anybody, and keeping this item for herself. No. She can’t do that. When she looks around, she finds a box and a dark cloth, and with a sweep of her hand, she puts a cloaking spell on the fabric, wraps the dagger in it, and puts it in the box. It is concealed for now. It will keep prying eyes away. But if someone really uses their witch sense, this spell will not be strong enough. Leaving the rest of the supplies out on the workbench, she takes the back door and makes her way to the Madigan family home.

  FAIRY

  ‘I can’t go there now!’ says Ceri unequivocally.

  Sparkle is trying to persuade her to go back to Felaern’s house. ‘It’s the quickest way. It’s also the only way I’m familiar with. Please. We need to go to your father’s house.’

  ‘Don’t call him my father. Seamus is my father.’

  ‘Right. Felaern’s house.’ Sparkle is at the end of his tether. They need to replenish the Land of Fairy as soon as possible.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s right. The garden at…’ Cephalop tries to find the right words, so she won’t set off on a rant again. ‘The house is magically connected. For the sake of Fairy and for the sake of your family, we have no time to argue.’

 

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