by J. J. Neeson
“Mama Blanchet,” Lu said, greeting the older woman first.
“Luciana, how dare you come dressed in filth,” Mama Blanchet scolded, eyeing Lu’s coverall, which had streaks of grease on it. “This is a sacred rite.”
“I have three kids and a small business to run; I’m sure I’ll be forgiven,” Lu replied, unfazed by the harsh words.
Mama Blanchet turned to Jessa-Marie, much more amiable. “Thank you for coming, my dear. We could use the help.”
“I told y’all I’m only a town away. You can call on me anytime, just as long as you don’t expect me to round my cousin down from the mountain.”
“We don’t,” Mrs. Florence said quickly. “Not yet. Not for this.”
“Good. Then can we hurry this along now. I think the police might be on my trail, and I’m too pretty to go to jail this evening. Don’t get me wrong, I could charm a pig out of a mud hole, but I’ve done messed up the sheriff’s daughter’s car, so my sweet talk may be a bit bitter to his ears tonight.”
“What did you do that for?” Lu asked, sounding not at all surprised.
“She was flirting with my William. No one flirts with my Billy Bill. I’m his hexy little kitten. So I took a baseball bat to her Toyota.”
“Hexy?” Reigh asked. “Is that Southern slang?”
“It’s magic slang,” Jessa-Marie said. “It means someone who is sexy and powerful. All of us here are hexy bad-asses, even the crones.”
“Girl, show some manners,” Mama Blanchet reprimanded. “I swear, you are nothing like your cousin Olivia. She is so demure, whereas you are entirely crass.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jessa-Marie retorted, “but I am sorry, Mama Blanchet. I didn’t mean to offend. You know I love ya.”
Mama Blanchet smiled then turned her disfavor to Reigh. “The girl who brought the storm. You came after all. What else did you bring with you from that awful city?”
“Nothing,” Reigh defended. “Just myself.”
“She’s not responsible, Blanchet, so don’t go sending your hounds after her,” Mrs. Florence said, handing Reigh a small purple candle with green herbs mixed into the wax. It smelt of lavender and other luxurious scents. “However, child, I do believe that storm of yours allowed the threat in.”
“I really don’t think I brought the storm…” Reigh began, meaning to defend herself over such a heavy accusation, one that still didn’t make sense to her, but Lu placed a hand on her arm and shook her head.
“Another time,” she said.
“So what is this threat?” Jessa-Marie asked as she was handed her candle. “I reckon that’s why I’m here.”
“Since the storm late last week, bad luck has devoured the town,” Mrs. Florence imparted. “It was minor at first. Mr. Henderson lost his winning lottery ticket. A storage unit in the bakery collapsed, destroying all of the cakes beneath it, including Lucy Foster’s wedding cake—the morning of her nuptials. I did not think much of the events, until a gas leak at the bookstore caused everyone to fall to the ground unconscious. I woke them up. When I did, I felt the energy behind the attack. Something is here. And it’s seeking revenge. After the fire at the mill today, I fear it’s getting stronger.”
“Revenge on the town?” Nikki asked.
“Or someone in it.”
“But we don’t know what the threat is,” Mama Blanchet said, as frustrated as she was solemn. “We will figure it out, but for now, we can’t allow any further attacks. So tonight, we pray.” She blew into her candle, causing it to light.
The rest of the women did the same. Except Reigh. She stared uncertainly down at the candle in her hand. When she was certain no one was looking, she blew awkwardly onto the wick, but nothing happened.
“Who are we praying to?” she asked Lu.
“Whoever you want.” She blew onto Reigh’s candle for her, igniting the flame.
Following Mama Blanchet, the circle moved down to the swamp, near to where the willows sank into the dark waters, their branches dancing with the current. Nearby, a marsh wren sang, greeting them into a domain where nature was unopposed. They walked into the water up to their knees until they too were part of the music of the bayou.
“Here’s where you pray, Reighbow,” Jessa-Marie instructed.
Each woman, in her own time, closed her eyes and said a silent prayer before releasing her candle to float on top of the water. The flames of the candles glowed brightly in the night, forming a circle at the center of the swamp, locked into place despite the current.
“Go ahead,” Lu encouraged Reigh. “The power inside you is as pure as the nature that surrounds us now. As long as you follow the good in your heart, all will be well.”
Beside her, Jessa-Marie chuckled. “Don’t be such a preachy princess, Lu. This ain’t no race to be squeaky clean. Even the wicked know how to roll. Reigh, it’s not hard. Just pray.”
It was a bit much for Reigh, but part of what Lu said inspired her. She forgot about magic, pushed it aside, and focused solely on the sense of peace the bayou brought her, their surroundings evidence of a beauty that existed beyond everything they knew. Nature was raw and untainted. It was incorruptible.
“Please keep us safe,” she asked the bayou—not just the willows, the water, and the stars that reflected upon it, but whatever force was behind its creation. Then she set her candle free.
As soon as her candle reached the circle, all seven of the candles floated up into the air and exploded, sending sparks of white light raining down on top of them.
“It is done,” Mama Blanchet said. “A shield of protection has been created. We will not let this threat harm any more of our townspeople. It is all we can do for now. But soon, we fight.”
Chapter Five
“This is so damn awesome!” Reigh cried out loud as she walked alone along the road that traveled the bayou. Lu had offered to drive her home, but her heart was pumping fast with a flurry of exhilaration. She needed to walk.
The revelations of the day were catching up to her. The more she realized the truth of magic’s existence, the giddier she became. Had she any friends left in Vegas, she would have called them, not caring how much of a weirdo she sounded like, but there was no one to call.
I can tell Calder! she realized, remembering the date they had scheduled for the next evening. And when I do, I’ll also tell him to buy a phone.
Behind her, the drone of a motorcycle invaded the night. Reigh turned, just as Thorston pulled off to the side of the road. “Need a ride?” he asked, removing his helmet.
“I don’t know how.”
He passed the helmet to her. “There’s no how. You just hold on.”
“Magic is real,” she said excitedly, momentarily forgetting the motorcycle.
For the first time since they met, he laughed. “Of course it is, but you already knew that.”
“Yeah, but isn’t it cool?” she insisted, her smile growing.
He studied her, amused. “You don’t want to go home, do you? Not while you’re on this magic sugar high.”
“Nope,” she said.
“Get on. I know somewhere fun we can go. But watch those fantastic legs of yours. The side of the bike gets hella hot.”
Sliding the helmet over her head, she jumped onto the back of the bike, surprised when it didn’t topple over. “Just hold on?” she checked.
“Hold on and don’t ever let go.”
With her arms wrapped tightly around Thorston’s waist, his black T-shirt the only thing she had to clasp on to, besides his hard abs, she braced herself, unsure of what to expect. When he pulled away, she was surprised by how fluid the ride was, as if they were black liquid driving through the night. Owning the convertible, she was used to feeling the wind as she drove, but the motorcycle was something completely different. It was limitless. She was absolutely free.
“This is almost as fun as magic!” she shouted into the helmet.
Thorston said something in return, but against the roa
r of the wind, she couldn’t hear what.
They fled through the town and pass the burnt down mill, which continued to smolder in the night, a dying ember. The fields beyond the mill were calm, providing solace to the area after so harsh a day.
Leaving the rice fields, flames appeared in a grassland not far beyond. Reigh caught her breath, afraid the threat the others had spoken of had struck again, but as they got closer, the flames took the shape of two giant bonfires, around which a mass of bikers gathered, served by numerous beer tents and a portable stage where a metal band played, based on their folkloric costumes and the way they banged around the stage.
“Are we at a biker rally?” she asked, removing her helmet after Thorston parked next to a squad of bikes.
“The same Dodger was in town for before he… you know. It’s not really my usual scene, but I thought I’d come to honor Dodger.”
“It’s awesome!” Reigh exclaimed. “God, I feel so good right now.”
“That’s the adrenaline talking,” Thorston said, setting a hand against her back as he guided her into the nocturnal festival.
Around her, men with long beards fisted tankards of ale, as did the women beside them. Outside one of the beer tents, a woman in leather hot pants and a tight tank top performed a pyrotechnic dance with a whip alit with flames, dominating the attention of those around her. Hundreds were at the rally, but it wasn’t chaotic. It was primeval, a hardness to the air that was raw and commanding but organized—ritual.
“What exactly do you do at a biker rally?” she asked, admiring a woman with bright red streaks down her straight black hair.
“Drink and talk shit,” Thorston told her. “Then camp out, if you can make it to your tent. Or someone else’s. Dodger was a madman for the rallies, especially this one, being so close to home.”
“Let’s get a beer,” she decided, heading towards the tent furthest from the band so that they could talk. Thorston needed to work through his grief.
Under the tent, they leaned against the bar counter. “One tankard of Magic Ale-Chemy and one cola,” Thorston ordered then faced her. “I hope you can handle your alcohol.”
“You know I can. Aren’t you having any?”
“Not with you on the back of my bike.”
Reigh hadn’t considered that. “We can stay and camp.”
“Without a tent?”
“Who the hell needs a tent? It’s summertime in the Deep South. Or close to it. The solstice is coming.”
“You’re no duchess, are you?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Of course not, but you knew that already,” she replied, quoting him from earlier, and then she took a sip from the tankard the bartender set in front of her.
“Dodger would have loved you. He’d be on one knee before the rally was over.”
“Did he have a family?”
“Nah. Just a few women here and there who he called upon when he was around, but he never stayed in one place long enough to settle down. He followed the sun.”
“Sounds like you and him were of kindred minds.”
Thorston tensed. “I tried settling down, but it didn’t work out well.”
“Lu’s sister?”
Thorston didn’t answer her directly. “Some things just aren’t meant to be,” he said instead, a misery to his tone.
Reigh took another sip of beer, thinking of another topic. “Did Dodger practice magic?”
“Magic requires a lot of patience and focus, especially when you’re new at it. It’s like learning a musical instrument.”
“Did Lu tell you that?”
“It’s the standard metaphor. Dodger accepted magic, but he had no time for it. Not everyone does. I don’t.”
“You don’t do magic?” Reigh was surprised.
“No. It’s not for me. What’s the point of using Jedi powers to float a hammer your way when you can just pick it up with your own bare hands? Aunt Florence and I have been in countless debates over it, but I stand by my decision.”
“Aunt Florence? You mean my boss?” She almost choked on her beer.
“Not by blood, obviously, but yeah. She was my mother’s best friend. My parents died when I was just old enough to drive. I could have found my own way, but she took me on as her own.”
“How did your parents die?” Reigh asked, starting to understand Thorston’s choices. It was hard to stand still when people kept leaving you. It was something she knew well.
Without responding, he reached forward and grabbed her tankard, drinking a good bit of it down. She regretted her question. She hadn’t meant to agitate him, not when the wound of losing Dodger was still so fresh.
“Never mind,” she said quickly. “Not unless you want to talk about it.”
“I don’t.”
Once again, she changed the subject. “Do you think magic is evil?”
He frowned. “That’s absurd. Magic is not evil. It’s like love or death—it just is.”
“And you use it like you do your words, for better or worse,” she concluded, the truth of magic becoming clearer. She stared hard at the tankard in front of her on the bar counter, trying to make it slide away from Thorston and back towards her.
Thorston laughed as he watched her. “You have a lot to learn if you think you’re going to move a tankard with your mind so early in the game.”
“Then what can I do?” she asked, reluctant to stop.
“Drink more beer,” Thorston said, pushing the tankard over to her.
“See, it worked!” she alleged triumphantly. “It may not have moved on its own, but it did come to me without me touching it.”
“Lu is going to have her hands full with you. Want to dance?”
Reigh looked towards the stage where a group of middle-aged bikers rocked out in front of the band, one bashing his head up and down in the air as if it were a drummer’s stick. “Definitely.”
“Go have fun. The guys may reek and the women may swear, but bikers aren’t such bad people. They’re just passionate.”
She jumped away from the bar. “If you think anyone here intimidates me, you don’t know me at all. Are you coming?”
“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay back.”
“Okay,” Reigh said, recognizing that Thorston needed a minute alone with Dodger. “You know where to find me.”
She joined the group near the stage, bobbing her head to the throb of the drum as it deafened the fields around them. She wasn’t a huge fan of metal, she preferred the ease of classic rock, but her need to move, to release the exhilaration of the day, far surpassed her music preference.
“Put some pepper into it, sweetlips,” the more burley of the group shouted to her over the music.
“You got it, daddy,” she hollered back, and she allowed the music to take over, shaking her body as if she was performing a tribal dance, not caring as she sweated into the glorious heat. As the band played, she felt like she was trapped in some otherworld, where the music was unending and there was only a need to move, which she did, until her body could no longer keep up with her soul.
Ready to collapse, she found Thorston next to one of the bonfires, standing beside a man with a black skull bandana crowning his long, long hair, the ends reaching far past his jean pockets. The man was sharing a story about Dodger, so Reigh hung back, waiting for him to finish.
“It’s just so tragic, man. He’s the third buddy I’ve lost this year.” The man shook his head. “This rally is for him, man. This is all for him.”
Reigh took the opportunity to step forward. “I wish I’d known him,” she said next to Thorston.
The man eyed her up and down, leering. “You finally over that Latina chic?” he asked Thorston.
“That was years ago. I can safely say I’ve moved on.”
“With this chic?”
“No. We’re just friends.”
“Friends with benefits?”
“Just roommates,” Reigh remarked. “He sleeps on the couch.”
Thorston stiffened, irritated, so Reigh jumped in before he released his pain out on the jerk. “Listen, Rapunzel, if you’re a friend of Thorston’s, then you’re a friend of mine, but let’s keep it polite, got it?”
“There’s nothing polite about a biker rally,” the man challenged, “but I hear ya, sister. Respect.”
“Good,” Reigh resolved. “Now tell me something about Thorston that no one knows.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” He turned to Thorston. “Sorry, man, but you live out in isolation land. We’re your family, but you never call in when you’re in town.”
Thorston shrugged. “Not everyone needs a pack.”
“Wrong, man. All animals need a pack. There isn’t a single animal out there that doesn’t.” He pointed out towards the abandoned grassland.
There were plenty of animals Reigh could think of that didn’t travel in packs. Tigers. And polar bears. But she let the man have his moment, agreeing with his general sentiment. No person could live alone. It was the reason she’d kept her false friends around her in Vegas. Their company, as shallow as it was, was better than no company at all.
“I know your parents died, man, leaving you with no family, but like I said, we’re your family. Roam with our pack.”
“I’m tired,” Reigh said, forcing a yawn, saving Thorston from his friend. “Do you mind if we leave? I need to sleep.”
The man didn’t want them to go. “You can sleep when you’re dead, sister. Live while you’re young.”
Reigh shot him a wide smile. “I’ve drank. I’ve danced. I’ve lived. And now I want to sleep. Come on, Thorston. Let’s go.”
“Later,” Thorston said to the man.
“Til next time. Stay safe, brother.”
As they headed back towards the bike, Reigh breathed in, happy. The air was stifling in the heat, but the wood burning from the bonfires emitted a sweetness that weaved around them. She’d left Vegas to find purpose in her life. And though she still hadn’t found it, as she walked through the moonlit grass, enjoying a moment so simple, her search didn’t seem so far or wearisome.