Sorcery and the Single Girl

by Mindy Klasky

  I wanted to blame them. I wanted to appeal to the Coven, to have my so-called sisters rise up in my defense. I wanted my warder and my familiar to stand beside me, before the other witches, the other warders, the watchers of Hecate’s Council, so that everyone would know that I had been wronged.

  And yet a voice gnawed at the back of my brain. I had made this bed. I had accepted Melissa’s juvenile Friendship Test. I had kept my relationship with Graeme secret, held it too close, treasured it too highly. I had let Graeme steal me away, package me up for Haylee to destroy. I’d been suckered by a smooth accent and a brilliant line, never even dreaming of harnessing my magical abilities to protect myself.

  Grasping my sodalite, I could picture Graeme extracting his business card from his money clip. The silver clip. The clip formed in the shape of Hecate’s Torch. Graeme had dared to reveal his alliance with the Coven on the first day we’d met, but I had been too ignorant to recognize the message.

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to meet his eyes. “Acquisitions, Graeme?”

  He shrugged. “It seemed appropriate at the time.”

  A flood of shame and rage and embarrassment turned my mouth to copper. I finally dared to glance around the circle, to see how the Coven was reacting. Some of the women were still shocked to silence by everything that had been revealed—they darted furtive glances between Haylee and me, between Graeme and David. Some of the women were actually smiling, as if they had purchased tickets for a show and were enjoying the main event. And a few had moved to Haylee’s side, surrounding her with a coterie of female support.

  The Popular Snobs banded together, of course. They supported one another against any threat to their social status, any possible upset of their social prestige.

  The warders took their cue from their witches. Most managed a neutral watchful gaze without betraying any actual emotion. But a few cast admiring glances toward Graeme. I could imagine their locker-room chatter. “Way to go, man!” “You totally had her fooled!” “Score!”

  And I realized I had lived this story before.

  I’d been thirteen years old, attending my first boy-girl dance, celebrating some bar mitzvah at a downtown hotel. Brett Lindquist had asked me to dance. Brett Lindquist—the coolest boy in the entire school. I said yes before I could chicken out. Brett led me out on the dance floor and lurched from side to side, showing off the seventh-grade equivalent of killer moves.

  And then I saw the other boys. One called out, “Way to go, Brett!” and another whistled. A third boy sauntered across the dance floor, not even pretending to boogie. He sidled up to Brett and said, “Okay, man. You win. We never thought you’d actually ask that one!” A flash of money changed hands, the boy made an oinking sound in my general direction, and Brett strutted off mid-lurch.

  I’d run out of the ballroom and up the stairs, into a tiny phone booth. By the time Gran pulled into the circular driveway in front of the hotel, I was crying too hard to explain what had happened. I was only able to tell her about my humiliation after a restorative bowl of chocolate mint ice cream, complete with Hershey’s syrup, canned whipped cream, and—the grandmotherly coup de grâce—a maraschino cherry.

  Gran had marched over to her calendar and torn off the page for the entire month of September. She’d crumpled her careful handwriting, the immaculate peacock-blue script: Jane’s First Dance Party. She’d tossed it in the garbage, and we’d never spoken about Brett Lindquist again.

  Peacock-blue.

  Like the peacock in the painting at the National Gallery of Art—the painting that Haylee had shown me, had explained to me. I had thought we were sharing something special there, building a bond. All the time, she’d been exploiting me, searching for signs of weakness, for ways to keep me from succeeding at my magical task. For ways of cementing her best-friend bonds to the Coven Mother.

  And, as if I’d been struck by another wave, I realized that Haylee had charmed me as well. The tingle I had mistaken for excitement when she spoke to me at Coven meetings, the jangle in my fingers, my entire arm, when Haylee brushed against me as she worked her magic. Her Dark Magic. Her unsanctioned magic. Haylee had made me compliant. She had made me accept what she did. She had made me stupid, even as I had thought she was acting out of friendship, out of a desire to school a fellow witch.

  But Haylee hadn’t known everything. Clara had taught me more. Clara had told me about peacocks in Eastern art. She’d said that peacocks could counteract venom. They could face down snakes. Traitors.

  I closed my eyes and took a centering breath, clutching at my deep blue sodalite beads for confidence. I focused on the image of Gran and Clara sitting across the brunch table from me. Sharing dessert with me. Sharing stories of their lives, their love, their hopes for me. Even when the Coven had slighted them.

  I owed it to my mother and grandmother to finish this matter with the Coven. I needed to set the centerstone. Set the centerstone, and complete my working, and not let Haylee or Graeme defeat me. All this flashed through me in under a minute.

  I exhaled slowly, and when I opened my eyes, I was surprised to see my breath fog on the air. “All right, David,” I said, forcing my warder to look away from our betrayers. “Neko.” My familiar edged closer. “It’s time.”

  The centerstone sat in the middle of the foundation. It was perfectly round, about two feet across, solid marble. Tiny crystals sparkled in the flawless white. Despite everything—my anger, my embarrassment, my growing physical exhaustion—I could see that the centerstone was beautiful. “‘By yond marble heaven,’” I whispered, quoting from Othello, “‘In the due reverence of a sacred vow, I here engage my words.’”

  David caught my meaning and nodded slightly. It was time. Time to pass my test, or leave the Coven forever.

  I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. I touched my forehead, my throat, my heart. When I reached out for the Samhain ritual words, they were easy to find, planted so firmly in my memory that I did not need to think, I did not need to worry. I knew them, and none of Haylee’s calculations, none of Graeme’s deceptions, could make me forget.

  “Witches gather, warders too,

  Ringing in a season new.

  Join together for this working

  Stand against the darkness, lurking.

  Pure of faith and strong of heart,

  Well-met sisters at the start

  Know Samhain power’s, Samhain’s lore,

  Driving through this Coven’s core.”

  With the first words of my incantation, Teresa Alison Sidney swept up her arms, figuratively embracing all who stood around the concrete foundation edge. She clearly gained power from my words, weaving a bond between all of the assembled witches. Despite everything, my spell was working.

  Neko stepped closer, bowing his head and huddling by my side. Heat radiated off his body, warming me back to life in the desert of the midnight chill. I rested my fingers on his shoulder, taking a moment to anchor myself against his sturdy strength.

  And then I spoke to the centerstone.

  “Heart of Stone!” I called to it, brushing my fingers over the flawless marble, relishing its solidity, its safety, its central core of Earth. It responded to its name, vibrating with a power that hummed through my sodalite necklace, whispered through the crystal wands of my earrings.

  I raised my silver flask of rainwater high above my head, priming it with moonlight before sprinkling its Water across the perfect Earth circle. The Water added its own note to the stone’s, a higher pitch, a perfect harmony that echoed in my mind. I helped the elements to meld, spreading my fingers wide, coaxing the Water to find the tiniest striations, the invisible gaps.

  Only when the water shimmered like an unbroken pool of molten glass, only when Earth and Water were perfectly merged, was I satisfied. As if Neko could read my mind, he handed me the cotton bag of herbs.

  I shook out the traditional vervain and rosemary, the radish that David had taught me about weeks before. I set them
on the Water-melded Earth, arraying them across the marble in the complicated pattern of the rune othala, a diamond with two trailing legs. The symbol meant home and safety, security and abundance. The herbs added their own music to the working, a clamor of treble notes sparking off the harmony of Earth and Water.

  Closing my eyes, I lifted my hands high above my head. I knew the motion would make David’s Torch stand out against my sweater, would let every witch and warder and watcher who bothered to pay attention know that I was wearing a talisman not rightly my own. I did not care, though, as I invoked the power of Fire, the cleansing element, the element that sealed strength into the heart of the centerstone.

  For just an instant, I contemplated letting my flame burn brighter. I could make it flare toward the watching Coven. I could force Graeme to push Haylee behind him; I could manipulate him into doing something that I wanted, that I desired.

  Neko shifted beside me, though. As I pulled my strength around him, focused my energies through him, I knew that I’d be wrong to abuse my witchcraft for the petty purpose of revenge.

  I bent my wrists and directed a burst of purifying flame at the centerstone.

  The herbs shriveled to dust. The rainwater sizzled into nothingness. The marble glowed gold, revealing its stony core for a dozen heartbeats. The music surged in my mind, in my body, in my soul. And then it crashed to silence.

  I summoned Air, to blow away the residue. Ash whipped into the night, leaving behind only the acrid memory of burnt offerings. My summoned wind flowed hot over the Coven, giving them a moment’s release from the chill Samhain night. I released the last of the elements, let Air slip away.

  The centerstone was ready. It was primed, and it was active, and it would serve as the protective base for the Coven for years to come.

  “Now!” I cried, and my voice was as wild as a crow’s.

  David stepped forward. He had promised me, weeks ago, that I would not need to lift the centerstone, and he had not lied. A half-dozen warders jumped to his side, ranging about the marble with the precision of a military band. Graeme was no fool: he kept his distance. He stayed by Haylee’s side.

  David issued some silent command, and the warders moved as one, shifting the marble circle, easing it into the precise center of the foundation. I nodded when the placement was perfect, and the men stepped back.

  It was simple enough to raise my hands one last time. Simple enough to measure the crystal power of the marble. Simple enough to meld that power to the complex mixture of the concrete, to the sand and gravel and cement that had been poured and hardened days before.

  I closed my eyes to make the joining perfect, to feel that precise ping as the centerstone found its home. I breathed to steady myself. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.

  When I opened my eyes, every witch was staring at me in awe. I wondered what they’d expected, what they’d figured I would do. If they’d thought I would succeed. If they’d hoped that I would fail.

  I spread my hands over the charged marble. “The centerstone is set,” I intoned.

  “So mote it be.” The witches answered as if we’d rehearsed a script for months.

  “Let all who would stand against the Coven be turned away at the door.”

  “So mote it be.” The warders joined in heartily.

  “May Hecate be pleased by our working and look upon her daughters with joy.”

  “So mote it be.” The watchers added their voices to the chorus, rocking the foundation with the power of their affirmation.

  The air was filled with the tinkling sound of breaking glass, and a million silver shards rained down upon us. Witches exclaimed and warders swore, and the watchers stood like statues. I blinked, more to clear my mind than my eyes, and I realized that the Council’s protective silver circle had been broken.

  I reached out to capture a last glint of the spectral light. The motion set me off balance, though, and I would have fallen if David had not spun to my side, catching my arm with a confident iron hand. “Easy,” he whispered. “Give yourself a moment to recover.”

  But I didn’t have a moment.

  Teresa stood before me. For the first time, I saw her as nothing more than an ordinary witch. A sister. An equal. “Jane Madison,” she proclaimed, evoking immediate silence from the babbling group around us.

  “Coven Mother.”

  “We welcome you into the Washington Coven. We are honored to call you sister, and to have you stand inside our circle.”

  I forced my spine straight, taking my arm from my warder’s grasp. “It’s over then?”

  “It is done.”

  “And the Coven waives its claim to the property of Hannah Osgood? You recognize that I am the rightful owner of all the books and crystals and magical wares located in my home?”

  Teresa smiled calmly. “The Coven recognizes your right.”

  I pointed toward Neko. “And my familiar is bound to me, and me alone? The Coven stakes no claim?”

  “The Coven has no right to your familiar.” Teresa gestured up the hill, toward her unseen home. She dispensed with formality and said, “Come on, Jane. Let’s go back to the house. There’s plenty to eat and drink there, and we can get to know each other better.”

  I ran a quick mental tally. Books, crystals, familiar.

  That left my warder. I took a step back, so that I could read David’s face, stripped clean in the moonlight. We couldn’t speak mind to mind. My powers did not stretch that far. But we knew each other. We had trained together. He had guided me, supported me, leaped to defend me when I’d been worst betrayed. I cocked my head at the slightest angle, asking a silent question.

  Without hesitation, he nodded. Once. Firmly. Calmly.

  I turned back to Teresa. “No.”

  “No?” She sounded like she’d never heard the word before.

  “I won’t be joining you tonight. Tonight, or any other time, actually.”

  “Not joining me? But you’re one of us now. You set the centerstone. Surely you know what that means.”

  “That you’ve used me to complete your work? To secure your safety?”

  Teresa looked hurt; her perfect lips pursed into a pout. “Jane, you’re the strongest sister in the Coven. The strongest witch in Washington, except for me.” She spared a tiny smile, and I knew I was supposed to feel privileged. Honored. Special. “Think of what we’ll be able to do together. You and me, Jane, sharing our powers.”

  I looked from Teresa to Haylee to Graeme, and then to all the other magical folk. “Teri,” I said, relishing my unauthorized use of her nickname, “there is no way in Hell I’m going to share any magical powers with you. I am not going to stand in your living room, eating and drinking like you’re my new best friend. I’m not joining the Coven.”

  Now Teresa looked alarmed. “If this is about Haylee, you can be certain we’ll address what she did. She had no right to try to sabotage your initiation.”

  “Teri!” Haylee exclaimed. She might have said more, but Graeme clamped his fingers tight around her arm.

  Teresa gave her supposed best friend a dirty look, but then she addressed me with an honesty that would have been attractive a day before—weeks before, months before. “Jane, I’ll admit that I asked Haylee to find out about your powers. The Coven needed to know your capabilities. Your interests. What you could share with us, once we welcomed you in.” Teresa’s eyes narrowed. “But I never told her to use her warder. I never authorized the sort of gaming, the manipulation…”

  Haylee spluttered for words, jerking her arm out of Graeme’s grasp.

  I dragged my disgusted glance from all of them. “It’s not really about Haylee. Not even about Graeme. It’s about the Coven, Teri. It’s about witches setting up cliques for themselves. Counting people out, instead of bringing them in. Cutting women off from power—any amount of power—instead of helping them to increase whatever they’ve got.”

  Teresa swallowed hard, but she managed a shaky smile. “Jane, if you’re talking a
bout your mother and grandmother, I’m sure that we can do something. Now that you’re in the Coven, you and I can discuss their membership, just the two of us. I’m certain we can find a way to make everyone happy.”

  “That’s just it,” I said. “I’m already happy. And I have been all along, even without the Coven. I guess, especially without the Coven. Goodbye, Teri.”

  David and Neko caught their cues flawlessly. The three of us turned as one. We flowed up the hillside, past the gorgeous house, around to the waiting Lexus.

  David opened the back door for me, and I remembered how I had collapsed after my first visit to the Coven. I recalled dozing on my way home, utterly drained, unable to sit up, to speak, to control myself in any way.

  This time, though, I was energized. I had stood up to Teresa and gained strength, rather than lost it. “No,” I said. “I’ll sit up front.”

  I had walked away from the Popular Snobs. They had issued me an engraved invitation, and I had thrown it back in their faces. Me, the girl who always got the third out. The girl who Brett Lindquist asked to dance on a cruel-joke dare.

  I didn’t need them. I had set their centerstone, but I was ready to leave them to their petty games. I had won.

  Neko waited until David started the car before he pouted. “Couldn’t we have gone inside for just a moment? Just long enough to grab a tray of salmon canapés?”

  25

  Walk On In said the sign on the door.

  But sometimes it wasn’t that easy. I dragged my toes along the sidewalk, feeling as shy as a preschooler at her first playdate.

  I’d awakened at five in the morning, stunningly refreshed for having had a total of three hours of sleep. My first thought, upon consciousness, wasn’t about the Samhain working. It wasn’t about the Coven, or about how I might live beside them as a lone witch. It wasn’t about Haylee or Graeme or the cruel deception they’d played.