“On what?”
“Method of dispatch.”
“I’m not sure what you mean?”
“Let’s say someone was strangled to death by another person or poisoned using Nightshade. I would call those natural deaths because the instruments used to bring about death occur naturally. Death due to a gunshot, however, I would deem unnatural because guns are manmade. And if we look at the pooch I tried to bring back—poor creature was run over by a car. Again, not something from nature but something man created. Therefore, that death did not seem natural.”
“So you’re saying you don’t believe it violates any natural laws to try to reanimate someone who died an unnatural death?”
“What I’m saying is that these issues are not as black and white as the coven would believe. There’s a whole world of gray, where things are open to interpretation and debate. But there is no debate with the coven. The High Priest or Priestess makes the rules and you aren’t allowed to question that.”
“You’re right, that does sound rather Christian,” Karen said with a laugh.
“So that’s the big story of my banishment. I had a mind of my own and wanted to explore power beyond the narrow limitations placed on me by the coven. I still believe I did nothing wrong.”
Karen nodded. “Makes sense.”
“But you’re still troubled. What’s wrong?”
“It’s just...I mean, it’s stupid, but they said you were dangerous, that you were just using me for my power.”
“Well, if they mean that I am intrigued by your potential and what we could accomplish if we combine our gifts...then I’m guilty as charged. Doesn’t mean I only care about your power or that I’m not your friend, just that I do think that together we could do amazing things.”
“Like bringing dead dogs back to life?” Karen said, not sure if she was teasing or not. The idea of doing something like that was rather disturbing...and thrilling at the same time, like the feeling of an adolescent discovering masturbation.
“I think we’ll start off with something a little less advanced. So, you ready to see my circle?”
Karen chuckled because the comment had a vaguely naughty ring. “Sure, let’s go.”
* * *
The backyard was small and enclosed on three sides by a seven-foot-high plank fence. There were two oaks and a rosebush but only sporadic grass. In the center, a series of baseball-sized stones formed a circle roughly six feet in diameter. At the center lay a large, flat stone, like a table, with two candles atop it, both stuck in bases of their own wax. Just outside the stones were items set at each of the four cardinal compass points: a small fire pit with smoldering charcoal perfuming the night, a glass bowl with seashells, a vase of roses, and a wicker basket overflowing with feathers. It took a moment for Karen to understand their significance but then it came to her—fire, water, earth, and air.
Near the east side of the circle was a small break in the stones. Penelope bent and retrieved some kind of smoking, smelly stick from a chipped ashtray. “I’m going to smudge you now.”
Karen gave the stick a skeptical glance.
“It’s just sage,” Penelope explained. “For purification.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Just stand there.”
As Karen stood awkwardly, Penelope waved the sage in front of Karen’s face, then let the smoking incense trail down her body. The librarian asked her to turn around then did the same for her back.
“Now,” Penelope said, “I’m going to ask you how you enter the circle, and you’ll respond—”
“With perfect love and perfect trust,” Karen finished.
“That’s right, you’ve done your research.”
Karen directed her gaze toward the ground where she kicked at the dirt with the toe of one shoe. “Well, I saw that old movie about the teen witches.”
Penelope winked at her. “So did I. Pretty good, all things considered.”
The librarian stepped aside and motioned her into the circle. Karen hesitated, then crossed the threshold, expecting to feel an electrical tingling or chill or something, but there was nothing. She supposed she was being silly and had maybe read one too many Anne Rice books about witches.
“Welcome into my Circle, Still Waters,” Penelope said. “As long as you do no harm to others, do as you will.”
Karen wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to this, or if she was supposed to say anything at all, and she had the absurd instinct to bow like a Japanese businessman.
“Today we will work on concentration, meditation, honing your energy so that your telekinesis will be more firmly under your control. We may also talk about tools, athames and wands.”
“Wands? Like in Harry Potter? Will we be going to Ollivanders?”
“A wand is an instrument of your power, something usually natural, like a stick or branch. It is a symbol, imbued with power from you, an extension of you. It’s not as if your wand will shoot sparks out of it and create magick by itself.”
“This is all so strange.”
“I understand that. I will admit to not being as much a stickler for ritual as some, but there is power in symbolism and ritual that cannot be denied. Now, before we start, I will light the candles and welcome the god and goddess into the Circle with us.”
“The god and goddess?”
“Yes. The goddess Hecate,” Penelope said, lighting one candle. Then as she lit the other, she said, “And the god Osiris.”
Karen frowned. She was pretty sure those two deities came from completely different mythologies, but then again, Penelope had just said that much of this was symbolism, so perhaps that didn’t matter. She wondered if she should kneel but reminded herself that this wasn’t church.
Penelope sat down on the ground in cross-legged position and said, “Sit facing me. I can go back and fetch a towel if you don’t want to get your behind dirty.”
Karen shook her head, then sat. “What now?”
“Now,” Penelope said with a smile, “your education begins.”
Chapter 7
Bobby was waiting by the clock tower when Karen arrived Sunday afternoon, staring at the lake, the perfect picture of the deep thinker, but when he saw Karen he broke into a smile that made her rethink her earlier assumption that he was gay. Still, best not to get her hopes up.
“Hope you brought your walking shoes,” Karen said.
“I think I’ll manage to keep up.”
The two ambled toward the path that would take them to the Swamp Rabbit Trail, a paved trail for walkers, joggers, bikers, skateboarders, and rollerbladers, that followed an old train route. In places you could still see evidence of the tracks, and a few train cars had even been arranged along the way as monuments. The thing was over fourteen miles long, but Karen had only walked to the town of Traveler’s Rest and back, approximately four miles each way.
The trail was deserted. Sundays were usually when the fewest people used the Swamp Rabbit, which was why Karen preferred to walk on Sundays.
“Looks like it might rain,” Bobby said.
“Nah, I think it’ll hold off, but the breeze certainly feels nice.”
Bobby nodded. “Look, I want to apologize for my awkwardness the other night. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”
Karen hadn’t planned to broach the subject, but since he’d brought it up....
“I’m a big girl, I get it. You’re just not interested in me that way.”
“That’s not exactly...I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I just can’t.”
“Why not? Are you seeing someone else?”
Bobby started to laugh, but it was a broken sound, devoid of genuine mirth. “You have no idea how funny that is. No, I’m not seeing anyone else.”
The two walked in silence for a few moments as Karen tried to think this out. “Does this have anything to do with your mother?”
The grimace on Bobby’s face suggested she’d hit a nerve; she sensed a boiling cauld
ron in him that steamed and bubbled. “My relationship with my mother is...complicated.”
“Well, we don’t have to talk about it. So how are your classes?”
Bobby shrugged. “Life at Furman is a little discombobulating. Let’s just say it’s taking some adjustment.”
“I understand that, but you know, sometimes change is good.”
“Oh, I agree, but it’s all just so overwhelming. So many years spent all cooped up, just me and my mother.”
“Did she homeschool you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m glad she’s finally letting you get out in the world a little.”
“Just a little, but she says it’s time.”
“So I take it you don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“No, my mom...well, there were complications when I was born. They had to do an emergency hysterectomy, so she couldn’t have any more kids after me. And my dad left after I was born, so it’s always been just the two of us. I’m all she’s got, so it’s hard for her to let go.”
“I have a younger brother,” Karen said. “He’s always been a major pain in my backside, but the funny thing is now that I’m away from home, I kind of miss the little booger. Weird.”
“Your folks still together?”
“Yes, but sometimes I think they’d be better off if they weren’t.”
“Fight a lot?”
“Not really. They’d have to actually talk to each other to fight. It’s more like they’re just vague acquaintances that say hello when they pass in the hallway. Nothing in common, except me and Kip. In the past five years, I think I could count on my fingers the number of times I’ve seen them kiss or heard them say they love each other. I have this theory that once Kip and I are out of the house, they’ll split up. No bitter divorce or anything, just two roommates moving on.”
Bobby said nothing, but made a grunting sound in his throat.
“God, listen to me, I must sound so spoiled,” Karen said. “I mean, I’m actually complaining about the fact that my parents are still together and don’t fight. You must think I’m a total idiot.”
“Not at all.” Bobby reached out as if he were going to touch Karen’s arm, but he hesitated and pulled his hand back. “Everyone has problems, everyone’s family is a little messed up. You have as much right to complain as anyone.”
Karen smiled, and the two of them continued down the trail in silence. Comfortable, companionable silence. Ahead a bicycler in a sleek helmet, sunglasses, and ridiculous spandex biker shorts approached them on the left. He sped past, coming within only inches of Bobby, never slowing or even glancing in their direction.
“Watch out, jerk!” Karen called over her shoulder. “People are walking here.”
The biker spared her a quick glance but did not slow and certainly offered no apology.
“You okay?” she asked Bobby.
“Yeah, he didn’t get me or anything.”
“Damn bicyclers, think they own the road.”
“It’s no big deal, really.”
They were walking through an isolated area, trees creeping up on either side, full branches extending overhead so that a greenish light filtered down. Now that the biker had gone around a curve and disappeared, they were once again alone on the trail. In fact, Karen could almost believe they were alone in the world. She just felt comfortable with Bobby, so much so that she considered sharing her secret with him, her gift....
But no, that was ridiculous. She barely knew the boy. Best to keep that part of her life between herself and Penelope for now...no matter how much she sensed he might understand.
* * *
When they arrived in Traveler’s Rest, Bobby did not want to stop in the little coffee house and they merely turned around and walked back. Still, it was a pleasant trip with pleasant company. As they neared campus, Karen told him about the Open Mic Poetry Night she’d attended and Purple Scarf’s horrible verse.
“When’s the next one?” he asked.
“They have it every Friday night.”
“You should read one of your poems next time.”
“Yeah, I tell myself that every week, but so far I’ve chickened out every time.”
“Would it help if there was a friendly face in the audience?”
Karen smiled at him. “You offering to come with me for moral support this Friday?”
“Would it help?”
Karen thought about it. She wasn’t sure if having Bobby there would make it easier to get up on stage or more difficult. “It might, but my stuff just really isn’t all that good.”
“Well, it has to be better than ‘fuck you you teasing bitch.’”
Laughter sputtered from Karen’s lips. “I guess you have a point there.”
“So next Friday night, I’ll meet you at the Coffee Underground. What do you say?”
“What about your agoraphobia?”
“I’ll fight my fear of crowds for one night if you’ll fight your fear of reading your work in public.”
“Deal.”
They were back on campus now, walking toward the paved path around the lake. Karen was contemplating asking Bobby if he wanted to go to lunch with her when he said, “I have to run. My mom, you know.”
“Oh okay. Well, I had a really great time.”
“Me too. And don’t forget about Friday night.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good, then it’s a date. See you then.”
Karen was so hung up on Bobby’s use of the word “date,” wondering what significance it had while trying not to read too much into it, that she didn’t even say good-bye as he turned and ran toward the Asian gardens. She looked after him, an unconscious smile curling her lips, then started in the opposite direction. She found herself humming a Luna Del Ray song, chastising herself for acting like a silly schoolgirl....
But then why should she reprimand herself for acting like what she was?
Is this what falling in love feels like? she wondered, then pushed the thought from her mind. As far as she knew Bobby was gay. It might be best to guard her heart to keep from getting hurt.
Ahead Karen saw a sight that made her chuckle. A young man, surely no older than she, was turning in circles, looking first one way then the other, a comical pantomime of being lost. He was thin, wearing loose-fitting cargo pants and a faded tie-dyed T-shirt, a woven hemp bag slung over one shoulder. His disheveled hair was dark brown, and he sported a mustache and goatee, both a bit scraggly. He looked like an extra from some movie about Woodstock, and she imagined he would be credited as “Hippie Number 1.”
Feeling in a generous mood, she walked over to him. “Excuse me.”
“Oh, hi,” he said so brightly that an observer might think he was greeting a friend he’d known since childhood. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. What about you?”
“I’m good, doing really good. It’s a lovely day, the weather is almost perfect, don’t you think?” His words came slow and stilted, the cadence of the perpetually stoned.
“Do you need some help?”
The boy’s face scrunched up in concentration, as if he were contemplating a difficult algebra problem. “I suppose we could all use a little help.”
Karen laughed. “Are you a student here at Furman?”
“Um, no, not really. I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”
“Where?”
The boy looked first to the left, then to the right, then back at Karen. “Where’s the bookstore?”
“It’s on the other side of the lake.”
He looked at the water, laughing at two ducks fighting over some piece of flotsam. He stared so long that Karen started to wonder if he’d forgotten she was there, but then he said, “Where did you say it was?”
“I’m headed that way. Why don’t you just follow me?”
“That’s very kind of you, very kind indeed.”
“Not a problem. As I said, I’m going that way.”
Karen started back around the lake, and the boy fell in step. He tugged idly at his goatee. “This is a lovely campus.”
“It is. Have you seen much of it?”
“No, but I’d like to. Maybe I can get a tour sometime.”
Karen wasn’t sure if he was asking her to give him a tour, or if he meant he hoped the friend he was here to meet would do so. Probably the latter, but he was such a strange boy she couldn’t be sure.
“Do you live in Greenville?” she asked.
“I do now.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“All over the place, really. Everywhere and nowhere, I guess you could say.”
Karen nodded, but she thought that maybe he needed to lay off the pot—it was melting his brain. Still, he was cute in his own way, and his mental cloudiness made him seem almost childlike, bringing out an unexpected maternal instinct.
They had made it around the lake to the parking lot. “The bookstore is straight ahead,” she said, pointing.
The boy looked at her blankly. “Bookstore?”
“Yes. Isn’t that where you’re meeting your friend?”
“Oh yes, thank you for showing me the way.”
“No problem. You going to be okay on your own?”
He laughed. “I’ll be fine. Sorry if I seem so out of it, it’s just a new environment, you know.”
“I understand. Have fun with your friend.”
“You too.”
With a giggle and a shake of her head, she angled to the left. She had gone a few feet when she heard the boy call after her, “What’s your name?”
“Karen,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“Nice to meet you, Karen. I’m Jacoby.”
Chapter 8
Bobby stood by the kitchen table, watching his mother pouring ingredients into a large mixing bowl. Her expression was intense and calculating as she measured each ingredient with exacting precision.
“I’m not sure you should do this,” he said.
Penelope did not look up. “We’re not discussing this again. You know this is necessary.”
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