She followed Raquel back into the living room.
Alejandro held out a hand to her. She took it, and let herself be pulled in for a gentle kiss, but not before she saw the wince of pain even that small gesture caused him. Damn. She really needed to not fall apart.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Selene said quietly.
“Actually, I’m afraid she does,” said Frater Louis. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a guest here, but if we’re going to figure out how to approach this, we need all of the information available.”
Shekinah held up a hand to forestall any more protests. “You’re right. You’re right. Just give me a moment.”
Settling into the couch, she crossed her legs beneath her, straightened her spine, closed her eyes, and placed a finger against her left nostril. She did three slow cycles, in and out before letting her hand drop and opening her eyes. Better.
She looked around the room. Everyone just waited for her to start. Some munched on pizza or drank fizzy water. Others just sat, quietly. These people really were trained, just like yogis. Shekinah felt kind of stupid for assuming that because their practice was different, they were undisciplined. Even though she knew what Alejandro’s practice was like, she had figured that was just him. Feeling herself blush, she cleared her throat, took a drink of her own fizzy water, and began.
“At first, it felt like I was going to have a panic attack. But then…” She looked up at the bright painting above the mantel. “It felt as if a giant snake started squeezing its way out of me.”
“You are a kundalini practitioner?” Frater Louis asked.
“Yes. But this felt different than the energy I usually work with.” Or had it? “Well. Wait. That’s not exactly right. It was just as powerful, but harsher. I really don’t know what it was, or what it means. I need to talk with my teacher about it.”
“Okay,” Raquel said. “We have cops, sheriffs, rituals, murder premonitions and flashbacks, and snakes. Where in the ancestor’s names does that leave us?”
“Needing to track down the Portland Police egregore,” Moss said. “That has to be it, right? And then we need to figure out how they’re feeding it, and why.”
“We know why,” Raquel snorted.
“Well. Yeah,” Alejandro butted in. “We know why. Control. But why this escalation? Why this crossroads? Why now?”
“The new police chief,” Moss half whispered.
The small hairs on the back of Shekinah’s neck rose to attention.
“The two snakes,” she said. “There are two snakes, sometimes three. Twining together. Maybe he brought a snake of his own.”
“And it joined with the one that was already here,” Raquel said. “And together…”
“Synergy,” Shekinah replied. “More power than they ever had before.”
33
Alejandro
“The ancestors showed us two patterns, one for offense, one for defense,” Alejandro said.
Most people had cleared out of Raquel’s home, leaving Frater Louis, Thomas, Alejandro, and Moss in the living room. Raquel, Brenda, and Shekinah were up in the attic ritual space with Tish, trying to get more insight into what the rituals both he and Tish had been getting flashes of might be. The more they knew, the better able they’d be to target their magic.
Alejandro was starting to get the sense that most of this battle was going to be fought on the astral plane somehow, but that didn’t mean they didn’t also need to work on protecting the community, as best as they could.
“Can you show us?” Frater Louis asked.
Alejandro found the photos on his tablet and passed them over.
“The energy behind these is good, but the symbols themselves don’t feel quite right for our purposes. What do you think? Should we design some sigils based around these?”
“I think we’ll have to,” Moss interjected. “For one thing, we don’t know if the symbols in the weavings were for that community at that time, or were more generalized. But they feel pretty specific to me.”
Alejandro found himself nodding. “I think Moss is right. And yeah, two sigils feels right to me. Something easy to use.”
“Something we can post around town,” Moss said.
“We need to let the cops know we’re on to them,” Frater Louis replied. “Maybe the symbol of an all-seeing eye?”
Thomas had been sketching as they talked. “How about something like this?” He held out his notepad. There were several symbols doodled on the page, but at the bottom right, he’d circled the one he was pointing toward.
It was a simple triangle with an eye in the center. Beneath, in block letters, he’d written ALL EYES ON YOU. Alejandro shivered just looking at it.
“Damn. That’s good. It’s not even charged up yet and I can feel it.”
Frater Louis scratched at his chin. “I think we can work with that. But how about the protection symbol? I don’t want to choose something from a specific culture, because the attacks aren’t on any one sector. But like this one, it needs to be simple. Easy to read and to draw.”
“I’m happy to sit here and work on it if you all want to keep talking strategy,” Thomas replied.
They left him to it.
“Once we get the symbols right, we’ll need to charge them up. Make copies. I can get a crew to help tape them up around town. We’ll need to be careful in the areas the cops congregate and be on the lookout in general. I’d like groups of three or four,” Moss said.
Alejandro was really tired. After this meeting he needed to get back to his condo to crawl into bed. He started wishing he had a cup of coffee. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to refocus.
“How do you want to charge them?” Frater Louis asked. “We could do something at our lodge, if you want.”
“We’ve got a big holiday coming right up,” Alejandro said.
“You all don’t have something else planned?” Frater Louis asked.
“We did,” Alejandro said, taking a sip of fizzy water. “But since the ancestors are a big part of this, Samhain seems like the right time for the working. They’re the ones who seem to be driving this bus, anyway.”
“And we should probably go out right after ritual and start hanging the fliers around town,” Moss said.
That was a good idea. Alejandro felt the pressure growing around him again, felt the ancestors clamoring around his skull, and became aware of the certainty of his ancestor—that was now a part of him?—growing within his solar plexus.
This is what I’m meant to do. Who I’m meant to be? That was the feeling settling in around him. But part of his brain rebelled. The piece of his personality that was attached to things being rational, and to having a clear path forward.
What the hell are you talking about? that part of him argued back. How is this going to help me or anyone else? And how is it going to keep food on my table, or take care of my sister’s kids?
::You need to learn to listen better. You have grown too brittle. Be supple, like the willow tree. Be strong, like the oak. Do not let fear and uncertainty break you.::
Was that what he’d allowed to happen? Was that why his whole life had needed to fall apart?
::Some structures must be torn down and be rebuilt again in order to serve their better purpose.::
The ancestors’ words permeated his being, flowing like warm honey through his veins. He felt the truth of them, and not only for his current life situation.
“This magic we’re about to do, it’s the beginning of a much larger piece of magic,” he said. “The ancestors are showing me things…dealing with this egregore, and the layers of ritual magic that are part of this? It’s the first step to restructuring so many things.”
“Like what?” Moss asked.
“It’s the first step toward abolition, and the beginning of a cycle that will bring us something new. Something so different I can barely start to imagine it. I’m sure some
of your radical friends have ideas, though.”
Moss blinked, eyes bright with unshed tears. Alejandro felt moved, too. He sagged with relief to know that this crisis he was in wasn’t actually centered around him. Oh, that was part of it, certainly. As above, so below, and all that. As within, so without. But the fact that it also rippled out into a much larger change? That was so much better. He wasn’t just navel gazing and fucking up his personal relationships. He was also helping to do one small part to shift the balance in the world.
“How about this?” Thomas held up his notebook again. Drawn large on a fresh page was a square with a circle inside. The whole image was divided into four quarters by an equal-armed cross. Beneath the bottom line of the square were written the words STRONGER TOGETHER.
Looking at it, the whole thing filled Alejandro with a sense of rightness. Correctness. Of something true.
“How'd you get there?” Frater Louis inquired.
Thomas flipped back and held up two pages of what would look like chicken scratch to anyone not used to constructing magical sigils.
“I just started writing the letters over each other, one on top of the other, until the basic shape emerged. I didn’t even bother with the cross-out letter method, though I could have used that, here. I just kept tracing the letters over and over, as the words are written.”
So, they were literally looking at a sigil made of the words “stronger together.” It was classic chaos magic that had resulted in a structured, ceremonial-looking sigil.
“It’s brilliant,” Alejandro said. “It feels just right.”
The ancestors hummed quietly at the base of his skull. It seemed that they agreed.
34
Shekinah
The white, triangle vault of Raquel’s attic ceiling abutted knee walls covered in bookcases that held what looked like ritual supplies, extra cushions and, well, books. Shekinah sat on a bright cushion next to Tish. Brenda and Raquel sat across from them, forming a rough square.
The room felt good, which went a long way toward soothing Shekinah’s anxiety. It looked as though Tish was feeling similar effects. Her face was less pinched, and her skin was closer to its usual rich tone, reflecting the warmth of the orange sweater she wore over indigo jeans. The ghostly scents of unfamiliar incense and beeswax were comforting. Not exactly homey, but reminiscent enough of the smells she was used to that they made Shekinah feel at home.
“So,” Brenda was saying, “the primary connectors to the visions seem to be the five- and six-pointed stars, and the impression of fire.”
“And the sense of urgency. And fear,” Raquel said. Shekinah had the impression that if there had been enough ceiling height up here to pace, Raquel would have been doing so now. They had chosen to meet up here because Alejandro was still too battered to make the climb.
“We have all of that to work with, then.” Brenda made some notes in a green leather-bound book. Must be some sort of magical workbook or record. When Shekinah had begun her kundalini practice, she’d kept a spiritual journal, but had fallen away from the practice in the past few years. Maybe she should start it up again. It might help her navigate the current weirdness.
“Work with how?” Tish asked. “I still don’t see what we can do with either my visions or Alejandro’s ancestor stuff. And, while I’m relieved you’re all on board, I’m still scared for my brother’s life.”
Raquel reached a hand out and squeezed Tish’s shoulder. “Of course you are. We live with that fear every day even without the sort of visions you’re having, don’t we? But the thing about witches is, we can take the information visions give us and learn to act on it. We can do ritual, if necessary, and we can also work with the images and feelings you’re having up on the astral plane.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Shekinah didn’t, either, so she was glad Tish was here to ask the questions.
Raquel closed her eyes and, two deep breaths later, Shekinah felt the woman’s energy change. She felt more tangible somehow. More present, focused, and alive. Despite their energy being different, right now, Raquel reminded her a little of Yogi Basu.
Raquel opened her eyes. The rich brown seemed to have added depth now, too, as if Raquel was peering into another world and seeing things in the attic room at the same time. Shekinah shivered slightly, and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the softness of her gray sweater, the texture of it anchoring her to the familiar.
“It’s like this,” Raquel said, eyes trained on Tish, who sat, rapt, hands resting loosely on her knees. “The world as we know it is part of many other worlds, seen and unseen. The world of plants, animals, and insects that we think we know but don’t really. The world of various Goddesses and Gods. Other spirits. The world of possibility. The world of illusion. Woven among these worlds is a thing we call the æthers, or the astral plane. In actuality, that has many levels, too. It’s not just one, contiguous space. But we can work there. Free our consciousness from our physical bodies and travel to these other spaces sometimes.”
Tish shrugged. “I’m going to have to take your word for it.”
“You don’t have to believe anything,” Brenda assured her. “We respect healthy skepticism, and often tell our students to act ‘as if.’ For the ancient Greeks, imagination was a real thing, not just make believe. We rely upon imagination a lot.”
Shekinah had to admit she felt relieved. She understood altered states, and was fine with talk of God and energy changes and all the rest of it. But she also didn’t want to all of a sudden have to believe in a bunch of alternate realities in order to help out Tish and Alejandro. And the city of Portland, if it came to that.
But didn’t she deal with alternate realities all the time? Maybe that’s what altered states of consciousness were. Tapping into alternate realities.
“Alternate ways of being.” The words were out of her mouth almost before she thought them.
Brenda flashed her a smile. “That’s as good a way of explaining it as any. Whatever works for you is fine. We just need to know you aren’t going to freak out when things get strange.”
“I’m a Black woman in a seventy-five-percent white city. My whole life is strange,” Tish said.
Raquel laughed, a big boom that hit the rafters. Shekinah couldn’t help but grin, and chuckle a bit herself. The sound of laughter was a welcome relief.
“I’m serious, though,” Tish continued. “Any weird stuff you want me to do? If it’s going to keep my brother alive, I’m in.”
The smiles left all of their faces.
“So, then. Here’s what I think we should do,” Raquel said, leaning forward. “We’re going to take their symbols and mirror them with our own. They’re the same stars, right? And we’re going to use those as portals…”
35
Alejandro
“I’m scared.” His head was cradled in his favorite spot between Shekinah’s shoulder blade and her collar bone. Her arm was wrapped around him, and he could just barely hear her heart, beating beneath her ribs. They lay on top of his comforter, still dressed except for their shoes. He wished he’d thought to pull on some sweats before flopping down, but had just been too damn tired, after the day, then the meeting, and the second meeting after that, trying to figure out the sigils.
His bedside lamp cast a warm glow on her skin, and some old Psychedelic Furs played softly. “The Ghost in You.” Comfort music from middle school, when puberty first gripped his body. He’d slowed down since then, but not much. Sometimes he still felt like that twelve-year-old boy inside.
And come to think of it, that song title hit a little too close to home, considering it might turn out he was actually the ghost of his murdered ancestor. Or something.
“I am, too, babe. We’d be stupid not to be.”
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
He felt the huff of air, the sharp rise and fall of her bones. “You really think you dragged me into this?”
Alejandro shifted
slightly, pushing himself up enough to see her face looking down at his, the eleven-shaped crease between her brows deepening as she frowned.
“You really think,” she continued, “that no one else is going through shit of their own? That this has nothing to do with things going on in my own life, with my teacher? Or with Tish coming into her psychic powers, or anyone else who was in that room tonight? Uh-uh. You are not taking responsibility for this. That’s just rude.”
He flopped down on his back beside her. Rude? How was he being…?
“You always think you’re the one driving the bus, Alejandro, and frankly, I think that’s why you’ve pulled away lately. You never want to ask for help. I’m your partner. I want you to treat me like one again.”
Frustration warred with sorrow in his chest. He closed his eyes. Corralled his breathing. Tried to ignore the sense of being dragged across hard earth. The flickering of flames. He hadn’t lit any candles tonight. Couldn’t bear to. It was Alejandro Juan’s memories, dancing through him still. He tried to take comfort in the feel of his lover beside him, but couldn’t get it back.
A sharp need pierced his belly. He wanted Thomas. He wanted someone new, someone who didn’t know him like Shekinah did. Someone who, therefore, was just more simple. Someone he could take care of, maybe, instead of needing…
“Shit.”
“What?” He heard her shift. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell she was looking at him.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I just realized I’m scared of more than just the fact that I might actually be the damn reincarnation of an ancestor that was ritually killed by law enforcement. And how fucked up is that?”
He opened his eyes again, and stared at the white expanse of his bedroom ceiling, hand snaking across the few inches of sheet to grab Shekinah’s hand. She curled her pinky finger into his. Companionable. Friendly. Loving, even though he was being difficult.
By Dark Page 13