No Rest for the Wicca

by Toni LoTempio

I nodded. I thought I knew the answer anyway.

  Dru continued, “I’m sure right now Margit thinks she has a lock on the assistant position, but fancy the look on her face when she doesn’t get it. Thinks she has an in because she’s interested in all that voodoo junk.”

  Wow. Satanism and voodoo. Margit Culhane, you’ve taken on quite a load, just as Florrie did. Is it more than you can handle?

  Dru looked hopefully at me. “You are going to apply, aren’t you? He told you to, so you’ll most likely get the post. I told you, Morrow will take whomever he recommends.”

  I shifted my books onto my other arm. “I’ve thought about it,” I admitted, “but I’m not sure I’m right for the job.”

  “Oh, don’t let that stop you. You should go for it!” She grabbed my arm, dug her nails into my wrist. “I’d much rather see you have it than her. She’s so—so plastic and phony. She wouldn’t be a credit to it, take it seriously as Florrie did.” She looked hard at me. “I think you would.”

  “Thanks.”

  We fell into step and walked down the corridor to the Study Hall, paused in front of the massive double doors.

  “I have an hour before my next class. Erdos’ Magic as a Tool,” I said. “I thought I’d read some of this material—I confess, I didn’t do a bit of studying last night.”

  “Neither did I,” Dru admitted. “I have the same class. We could study together, if that’s okay.”

  Well, there went my plans for a quiet hour of note writing. “Sure.”

  A glint came into her eyes. “Or, we could go down to the Faculty Lounge. Graft is there, I know he is. You could talk to him about the position.”

  I smiled. “A bit pushy, don’t you think?”

  “Hey, the early bird gets the worm. I’m sure Margit will ambush him either before or after the next lecture. She’d seek him out now if she didn’t have a Metaphysics class.”

  “Is Margit in the Entrée program?” I asked.

  Dru shook her head. “Nope. She’s full time, like me.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “You called her a Satanist.”

  Dru chuckled. “No, I called her a slimy one, and I’m being kind.”

  “She’s a witch? Are you sure?”

  “Oh, yeah. She made no secret of the fact she’s got the blood. She’s even going for a degree in some sort of magic specialty—Metaphysics, maybe. She has an overload of classes in it. She made fun of Florrie, called her a Wicca Wannabe. But for all her so-called blood, Margit didn’t have half the talent Florrie did. Why, even though Florrie wasn’t a pureblood, she did cast a few minor spells—and they worked!”

  “You don’t always have to be a blood witch to be successful at the craft,” I murmured.

  “No, but they have a better success rate,” Dru nodded. “Anyway, Margit could give two figs about Graft or Morrow’s projects—she just wants something impressive on her resume. Florrie cared enough to point out some fallacies in his notes to him—of course, her opinions weren’t well received, but you get my point, don’t you?”

  “You said you heard her on the phone, pointing out a flaw regarding Odic Force. Do you remember?”

  Dru looked at me, her camel eyes wide. “Yeah. She got real mad about it. At the time I remember being really puzzled at her reaction, but now I think I understand. She liked to do everything right, it really upset her.”

  “Yes, I can see it would.” I tried to make my tone casual. “You have no idea who she spoke to?”

  Dru reached in her pocket, retrieved a mint. She unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth before she answered. “No. I thought maybe her mom, but later I found out her mom didn’t like her dabbling in the occult and such things. So I guess it had to be someone else. Florrie had a lot of friends.”

  I shifted my books into my other arm. “Have you ever heard any mention of a secret society around campus?” I asked.

  Dru stared at me. “A secret society? What, like a sorority?”

  I shook my head. “No, this would be more in line with pagan practices. I believe it’s called Sevites of Marinette.”

  Dru tossed her head so her hair fell over one shoulder. “Never heard of it,” she responded, “not that I’d know, anyway. What’s a sevite, and who’s Marinette?”

  “It’s voodoo for servant, and she’s a dark lwa.”

  Dru gave a mock shudder. “Sounds creepy, if you ask me. What do they do, gather round a golden idol and offer up sacrifice?”

  I gave her a small smile. She might not be that far from the truth, at that. “Well, it’s supposed to be a secret society, so who knows. Maybe they wear long robes and dance around a fire at the full moon.”

  Dru giggled. “That would be quite a sight, and I can picture quite a few people here getting into that. Unfortunately, I’m not one of the in crowd, so I’ve not heard a thing. I’ll tell you who might, though. Margit or her aunt. Nothing passes their eagle eye—or ear.”

  We were at the classroom door now, and as we paused in the doorway I turned to smile at her. “Thanks, Dru. You’ve been a big help. I mean it.”

  She cocked her head and gave me a wistful look. “I know you do. It’s just no one’s ever said that to me before.”

  I squeezed her hand as a feeling of sadness washed over me. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right.”

  When we entered the classroom, I glimpsed Cole at the podium. He flicked me a disinterested glance as I made my way past him to the middle aisle. I settled in next to Dru, who nudged me.

  “Ooh, it’s him. Professor St. John. Hope I can keep my mind on the lecture with him at the helm.”

  I frowned. “I wonder what happened to Erdos? I understood he never missed a class.”

  Dru shrugged. “There’s always a first time.” She pulled out her notebook and settled back in the chair. “I might actually pay attention today—or not.”

  Cole had written his name across the blackboard. Professor Cole St. John. He took a ruler and rapped on the edge of the podium. “Good afternoon,” he said. “Unfortunately, Professor Erdo’s been called away on an urgent matter. I’m going to take over his lecture. I hope you all find this acceptable,” he smiled.

  Several of the girls tittered. One boy in the front groaned. “Okay by me, Prof, but I doubt most of the girls will even pay attention. They’ll be too busy ogling your bod.”

  Cole smiled. “Well, I sincerely hope not, because I intend on giving a pop quiz at the end.” He laughed as the students groaned. “All right. I see from these notes today’s lecture is to be on Magic as a Tool. This is quite true.”

  Cole sat on the edge of the desk and clasped his hands in front of him. I heard not only Drucilla, but several other girls around me, give long sighs as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. I felt an odd stirring in my belly. Jealousy? Hah. Hardly likely, I told myself. I had no romantic interest in Cole St. John, none at all.

  “Magic can be a tremendously powerful tool,” Cole said. “With it, we can facilitate change in all aspects of our lives. The natural process of moving energy with purpose has long been an important part of Wicca, for we create our own circles in which to perform magical rites. Now, who here is familiar with the way we create our ‘sacred space’?”

  A hand in the front row shot up, and both Dru and I sucked in our breaths at once as we recognized Margit of the flame hair. Cole nodded at her, and she answered in a clear, strong voice.

  “We concentrate, and raise energy which is directed outward in a sphere shape.”

  “Very good.” Cole slid off the desk, started to pace back and forth behind the podium. “Now, can anyone tell me how one might raise energy within a circle?”

  A hand shot up, and a tow-headed boy seated in the middle row piped up, “There has to be a need of something, right?”

  “Exactly. The need is visualized, and then the Wiccan raises energy from within his or her body to imprint the need onto the energy. In a solitary endeavor, a chant can be used, or a dance or a w
alk. There are also certain breathing techniques which can be employed. Other methods require the presence of others and, as such, are limited to various covens. When covens send energy, it’s usually released through a single person—a High Priestess, or Priest. This person has the ability to take all the energy within him or herself and direct it toward its goal. Now, some covens utilize the method by which individual members send out their own energies. In this case, the High Priestess acts as a catch-all to direct stray energy and to control the energy-raising process precedes the release. In either case, whether you’re acting alone or as a coven member, the method of release is pretty much the same—energy is directed outward, either from one’s hand, or, in some cases, from a ceremonial silver dagger—an athame.”

  Margit raised her hand again. “Professor St. John, how does one know the energy doesn’t escape before we’re ready to direct it?”

  Cole smiled. “Now there’s a very good question, Margit. In order to be sent, the concentrated stream of energy must be strong enough to punch a hole in the circle and travel outside its boundaries. It takes a tremendous amount of concentration, and only comes with practice. Covens, for example, can take an hour or more to raise energy.

  Now, the primary difference between Wiccan magic and black magic is Wiccan magic must be used for positive change. Negative magic has no place in Wicca, and doing so within a Wiccan magic circle can cause the energy to backfire upon the perpetrator.”

  I raised my hand. Cole looked slightly surprised as he consulted what I assumed to be a seating chart. “Yes, Miss Hawkes, is it?”

  “Yes. Is it true many Wiccans argue practicing in a coven is preferable to solitary use?”

  “Oddly, yes. It’s maintained a coven can act as a safety net, can often diffuse one who wants to use the energy summoned for negative purposes rather than positive. There is no respectable Wiccan coven would willingly perform negative magic.”

  “How about a disrespectable one,” someone in the front said, and everyone laughed. Margit’s hand shot up again.

  “She’s starting to annoy me,” I whispered. Dru bobbed her head in agreement.

  “Professor St. John, Professor Graft often mentions similarities between magic, white or black, and the practice of voodoo. I’ve always been under the impression voodoo is primarily negative in nature, so how could it be related to anything Wiccan?”

  Cole nodded. “An excellent point. I myself am not as well versed in voodoo as either Professors Graft or Morrow, but I do know some lwa’s, the voodoo gods, are depicted as dark and dangerous, while not considered evil. For example, the Petro lwa, often offer help in times of great need, and have been known to cast powerful spells to ward off black magic or to get revenge on those they consider their enemies.”

  “So,” spoke up one boy, “there’s good lwa and bad lwa, just like good witches and bad witches?”

  “Simply but aptly put,” Cole smiled.

  “So,” Margit said, “it would be possible for a good witch to practice white voodoo, or a black witch to practice black voodoo?”

  “If one were versed in both arts,” Cole said slowly, “it could be possible, yes.”

  “Sounds more like a conflict of interest to me,” spoke up the tow-headed boy. “I mean, it’s different gods, different sort of magic. And who’s to say which one is more powerful than the other?”

  “Whoever’s on the losing end,” said one girl, and everyone started to laugh. Once it subsided, Cole continued, “While the concept of voodoo and magic together is interesting, let’s not get away from our main subject. We should always remember this: The primary tenet of Wicca is simple—harm none. Anyone who accepts that should not be tempted to perform a negative magical undertaking, regardless of whether they act alone or as a coven member, or whether they choose to cast a spell or perform a voodoo ritual.”

  I saw Dru’s hand shoot up. “Tell me, Professor St. John, what about love spells? Are they considered negative?”

  A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips and his eyes sought mine. “Harming none means just that, Ms. Cooke. To full-fledged Wiccans, the definition of harming none means interfering with, or manipulating the lives of others. This would include hexing, cursing, and, oh, yes—casting love spells.” He grinned. “So all you young Wiccans in training, just forget about casting those spells on me tonight. I doubt they would work anyway.”

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” said a buxom blonde in the back, and everyone laughed again.

  “All who profess to be true Wiccans should accept the tenet, and once done, the dangers of practicing solitary magic should vanish as well. Let’s open our books to page ninety-three, now, and review for a moment the basics of Professor Erdos’ previous lecture on tradition…”

  I flipped open the book but my thoughts flitted elsewhere. I’d ignored my roots for so long, I’d basically forgotten the Wiccan premise of harm none. Now, for the first time in a long time, what happened a year and a half ago made some sort of crazy sense to me.

  Harm none. I broke the primary Wiccan rule. When I crossed the line and tried to incorporate voodoo into magic, I did in a sense manipulate April. I interfered with the way she thought we should handle the operation. I forced my beliefs upon her.

  Harm none, yet I had. I’d harmed my partner. And a part of me had been punishing myself ever since.

  The lecture over, we rose and slowly filed out of our seats. I was among the last to leave, Dru close on my heels. Margit was already hanging all over Cole, and I felt my temper rise as I noticed her pressing her lush body close to his.

  Good God, does she have to charm every professor in the school? Or maybe that’s how she gets her passing grades?

  Dru noticed too, and gave me a nudge and a look that plainly said, What did I tell you? As we passed the podium, Cole lifted his head and motioned to me.

  “Ah, Ms. Hawkes. Could I have a word?”

  I stopped, shifted my load of books to my other arm. “Sure.”

  “Lucky duck. Wonder what he wants to ask you? Maybe he wants a date,” whispered Dru. “That would surely make Margit’s hair go on fire.”

  “A sight for sore eyes,” I chuckled. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “You’d better,” the other girl grinned. “I want to hear all about why you had to stay after class.”

  Dru departed and I moved toward the desk where, I noticed, Margit still hovered. As I approached, Cole signed a paper with a flourish and handed it over to her.

  “There, Ms. Culhane. I hope you find it helpful in your research.”

  “Thank you, Professor St. John,” she murmured. She took the paper, folded it, and shoved it in the pocket of the light jacket she wore. “I can’t wait to get started.” She batted heavily mascara’d eyelashes at him. “You will put in a good word for me to the Professors won’t you?”

  “I’m sure they are aware of your dedication, Ms. Culhane. Have a pleasant day.”

  “You the same, Professor.”

  Margit turned and almost bumped right into me. She brushed past me without a word. I walked over to the desk and leaned against it.

  “If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under,” I said. “So, what did your little girlfriend want? A recommendation, perhaps, for the assistant position?”

  Cole leaned back in the chair and laced his hands under his chin. “Your witch’s psyche never ceases to amaze me, Morgan. As a matter of fact, it is one of the things she wanted, yes.”

  “Really? I was just kidding.” I frowned. “She must be pretty desperate to secure the position, if she’s asking temporary faculty members for a referral.”

  “I’ll assume you didn’t mean that as an insult.”

  I raised both eyebrows. “Me? Never.” I tapped my chin with my forefinger. “Dru told me Margit was really incensed because Florrie got the job with them. Seems our girl Margit has a deep, abiding interest in the Haitian arts.”

  Cole stopped shuffling his papers to give me a lo
ok. “Interesting,” he remarked. “And would her deep, abiding interest be enough to warrant a membership in a certain secret society, I wonder?”

  I pursed my lips. “An excellent question.”

  Cole resumed shuffling his papers. “True. She bears watching.”

  “Well,” I leaned into the desk, “I’m sure that won’t be too tough of an assignment for you, considering she practically draped herself all over you.”

  A smile quirked those finely shaped lips. “Jealous, Morgan?”

  “Hah, don’t flatter yourself, Cole. I’m just stating a fact. Or haven’t you noticed the magnetic attraction the female members of the student body have for you?”

  “In all modesty, it’s part of the glamour.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Well, her aunt works for Dean Robbins, so I may drop in the office later, see if I can learn anything. Now, let’s continue on,” Cole cleared his throat. “It’s unfortunate my recommendation won’t help her. I believe Graft and Morrow have already made up their minds. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you after class.” He pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket. “When Hopper’s aide assigned me Erdos’ lecture, she also gave me this.”

  He pressed the envelope into my hand. I stared at it.

  “It’s addressed to me. How—“

  “You’re in this class. They apparently wanted you to have it as soon as possible.”

  I slit the envelope. Inside lay a single sheet of paper. I slid it out, skimmed it.

  “Great balls of Hades. It’s a notice I’ve been accepted for the assistant position.”

  “An interesting turn of events, considering you never formally applied.” Cole folded his arms across his chest. “I’m still not quite sure you should take the position.”

  I looked at him. “Hell’s bells why not? It’s an excellent opportunity to find out more about those two.”

  “And also an excellent opportunity to put yourself in grave danger.”

  I puffed out my chest. “I’ve faced danger before, Cole. Hell, I worked Homicide. I can handle it.”

  He dragged a hand through his thick mane of hair. “Well, I’m in charge of this operation, and I don’t want to risk it.”