by Shyla Colt
“Yes, and you offered up your cheek.” I laugh.
“Damn right. It was the first date.” I elbow him playfully.
“I knew then you’d always keep me guessing and amused in the best possible way. I’d grown so bored with things before I met you. It had begun to blur together.”
I remain quiet, letting him process and speak in his own time. “I’d considered going to ground for a bit. That’s why I had you make the protection spell, so I’d be safe there if I decided to go through with it.”
“Cristobal,” I whisper, stunned.
“No one knew. Eventually, we all do it. The press of years and responsibility become too much. You put those you trust in charge, and you let yourself reset. It’s a painful process when the hunger sets in, but afterward, the bliss of nothingness.”
My stomach lurches. “If I hadn’t been the one to do the spell for you―”
“We might’ve missed one another completely. Never doubt that you are my light in the darkness, Louella. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and that will come across in fucked up ways at times. Just know I always have your best interest at heart.” He cups my face and runs his thumb over the apple of my cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper.
“One day you and I are going to share the same name.”
I groan. “Can we get through the insanity of this year first?” I rest my head on his chest as he laughs.
“Of course, reina.”
We continue to walk, and I bask in the deeper level of understanding we’ve managed. Sometimes things have to break down, to be built up stronger.
Chapter Eighteen
I hug my knees to my chest and shiver as the heated water slowly fills the porcelain tub drug out into my garden. Today is all about preparation to receive the mantle of the matriarch. Tomorrow will be more than a title exchange. I’ll be channeling a large quantity of power, mingling it with my own, and being judged by my ancestors. If they were to find me severely lacking, they could stop the ceremony. It’s extremely rare, but not unheard of. I’m worried about what they’ll see when they peer into my soul.
“You better start thinking happier thoughts, or you’re going to freeze out here while we try to cleanse you of negativity,” Fel says.
I wrinkle my nose. “Why do so many ritual preparations have to be performed nude?”
“Because modern day people are prudes,” Mémé replies.
Ruby chokes out a laugh. “Oh, I like her.”
“Everyone laugh it up.” Luz pours in heated water, and I smile my thanks. Everything has to be done by hand for this. We have a large fire pit built, and multiple cauldrons are going. Sage, chamomile, rosemary, lavender, lemon balm, and plenty of sea salt float around. Modern items won’t play a part in preparations until the celebration.
“I feel like we’re trying to make a Louella tea,” I mumble.
“It’d be very floral,” Sacha speaks dryly.
I snicker. “Are you trying to say I shouldn’t be a floral and sweet flavored tea?”
“You have your bitter moments,” Mom adds.
I bat my lashes. “Why thank you, Mother. I knew I was a delight to raise.”
Mémé laughs. “It’s good you have so many women here to support you. It means you’re loyal and loved. I couldn’t think of a better way to go into this. You’ll need them to keep you on the right path. This is your circle of trust. None could have entered the garden today if they had any ill intent toward you.”
Just when I think I know everything, Mémé drops some more gangster-style shit that blows my mind.
As the water warms up, my muscles relax, and I forget about everything else. My body tingles and my aura drinks up the healing magic, herbs, and vibrations from the quartz at the bottle of the tub. It’s been a long year full of ups and down, enemies and growth. People think growing pains stop when you leave puberty. I know better. There are scars on my heart from misunderstandings, words spoken in anger, and the awareness that the person I was is undergoing another conversion and I have no clue who will emerge. Letting go of preconceived notions of how things should be, saved me plenty of anxiety, and cleared the blockage I had when trying to bond with the court.
Much like a wedding, the people you trust most are the ones to attend you before the ceremony. It’s supposed to be for witches only, but I have a workaround; Ruby, Ada, and Luz have a magic all their own. Therefore, technically they could not be banned from the process. I’ve learned a lot about rules, laws, and how to bend them from the court, much to the council’s chagrin.
“This is to cleanse her aura you said?” Luz asks Mémé.
“Yes, we want to prepare her for tomorrow. When you become matriarch, it’s a physically and mentally draining process. She’ll receive power, memories, and if she’s really lucky blessing. It’s a lot for one person to handle.”
“Yeah, I could see how that would be true,” Luz says.
I smile reassuringly. She has a tough exterior, but when it comes to those she cares about her heart is tender.
Bundles of sage burn on the fire, giving off their distinct scent. Concentrating on letting the worries and negative thoughts go, I close my eyes as my skin tingles. The sun rays kiss my skin, and the herbs do their job, calming and cleansing. My energy is restored, the clutter is removed from my headspace like unwelcome cobwebs, and I begin to feel an intense connection with the world beyond our own.
“It’s already beginning.” I feel like I’ve been connected to a battery. Everything is amped. My heart knocks against my chest as my powers surge. Mémé leads a chant. I slip deeper into the water.
I submerge myself, using the salt and handmade lavender soap to symbolically scrub away the impurities and prepare myself for what I will soon receive. Flashes of memories explode in my brain like memories set on fast-forward. I twitch, sloshing the water.
“It’s happening fast,” Mémé whispers.
“Is she okay?” Ruby asks.
“Yes, she’s starting to receive the things she needs to know in order to do the job. We do the ritual the day before to keep all the unpleasant side-effects that might occur in private.”
It’s like being plunged into icy water. I lose touch with my physical body and find myself standing at the entrance of a forest with Alida waiting.
A long, white gown brushes the tips of my toes. The sleeves caress my fingertips. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She hugs me.
“You feel solid,” I marvel. “And I can hear you.”
She nods her head. “I hoped I would be the one to greet you.”
“Why is this possible?”
“Because we’re not on your plane or mine. We’re somewhere in between where many rules no longer apply. I want to show you something. For when the time comes.” She holds out her hand.
Taking it, I allow her to guide me through the woods where we now regularly cast circles. “I know this place.”
“Yes, but not where I’m going to take you.”
We move past the space for casting, through the thicker, dense forested area. I feel the pine needles under my bare feet. A bird caws.
“That’s a raven,” I whisper, recognizing the sound.
“Have you figured out why that bird is special to you?” Alida asks.
“It’s one of Cristobal’s forms.”
“And your spirit guide. Whenever you need help, it will come to you. Often it’s one of your ancestors in disguise.”
“The Fae land,” I say, remembering the strange disturbance when I tried to choose a door.
“Yes, one of us was there. You’re never truly alone because we walk through all the trials and challenges with you.” Her words are comforting. “Can you hear what the raven wishes to tell you?”
I tilt my head back and find the large bird perc
hed on a low hanging branch a few feet above my head. It cocks its head to the left and the right as we size one another up. It caws and flaps its wing.
“Yes?”
It straightens. I feel a sense of pleasure before it takes off to the next tree and comes back. On the third fly back, it clicks.
“You want me to follow you?”
Caw. It leads us deeper into the woods, pausing to caw every few feet.
“Where are we going?” I ask Alida.
She shrugs. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
He leads us to a tree that’s glowing white. “Ghost tree,” I whisper. The light-colored bark is known to reflect the moonlight, giving it an unearthly appearance that earned its nickname. The raven flies to the ground. His dark beak pecks at the soil.
“What are you doing, buddy?” I ask softly. He caws at me and returns to his pecking.
Can a bird have an attitude? He’s making a hole.
“Are you digging?” I kneel down beside him and grab a flat rock. Together we continue to dig. I lose track of time until I hit something substantial. I brush away the dirt on the surface to reveal what looks like a wooden box.
“Remember,” Alida whispers.
“What?”
A hand on my shoulder makes me jump in the water.
“You back with us?” my mother asks.
I open my eyes and see her worried expression.
“There she is,” Mémé says.
“What just happened?” I mumble.
“You drifted off for a while.”
“I was somewhere else with Alida.”
“She may be one of your spirit guides,” Mémé chirps. “Come on, pruney, it’s time to get you out.”
Mom and Fel help me out and wrap me in a homespun cotton towel. Once I’m dry, they drape a white cotton nightgown over my shoulder. It falls to the ground, and I experience a moment of déjà vu. Remember. Raven, digging … A ghost tree. I pull the memory from the haze and tuck it away for later.
“You’ll continue to drift in and out for the rest of the evening. There will always be one of us with you to keep you grounded,” Mémé says.
They help me over to a white tent pitched up with wooden poles. Cristobal followed the rules without skimping on comfort. I chuckle as I’m helped into the bed raised on a wooden platform. This is glamping at its best. A fire crackles outside, and a small mountain of comforters are pulled back, so I can climb in.
“Sleep. You’ll need all your strength tomorrow.” My mother kisses me on the forehead, and I struggle to keep my eyes open as the others bid me farewell. Weariness wins, and I close my eyes, returning to the in-between space where half dreams wait.
Faces, voices, and time-periods blur together as the ancestors speak to me throughout the night. I wake feeling like I’ve been trapped in a fever dream. I push the comforters off my body. We’ve been wrong. The ancestors admire tradition, but they’re hungry for change and also worried about our lineage. These are messages to ponder after the next two days have commenced. Every matriarch faces their challenges. I think mine will be revitalization.
The curtain is swept back.
“You’re already awake?” my mother says.
“I dreamt all night long. It was strange.” I brush my hair away from my face.
“Bad?”
“No, nothing like that, just odd. I spoke with a lot of our ancestors.”
“That’s good. Means the bonding has begun and it’s strong.” Mémé follows in behind Mom.
“Do you still see them, Mémé?”
“Occasionally. It’s never been so vivid as it was the night before my coronation.”
“That’s good. I don’t think I’d ever really get a good night’s rest again if this was my new normal.”
“It was so vivid?” Mémé asks.
“As clear as we are right now.”
Her eyes widen.
“Is that bad thing?”
“No, I think you will be exactly what this family needs.” Her eyes water. “We should go, time moves swiftly, and we have to prepare you for the sunrise. Traditionally coronations were performed at the start of the new day to symbolize a fresh beginning. Modernized, they tend to take place in the evening, but not mine. I’m going old school. That means adhering to the original customs. Making bigoted bastards get out of their bed at an unusual hour is merely a bonus.”
The dense area is crowded. Witches stand among the trees, in the trees, and along the walkway that’s been cleared leading up to the massive oak tree where the exchange of power will be made. Dressed in various stages of finery, they’re all barefoot in accordance with tradition. It’s supposed to keep us all grounded by earth and in tune with one another.
The people stretch out before me for miles. A lot of people wanted to see a coronation. They don’t come around often, and I’m a wild card. Everyone wants to be there in case I fail epically. It’s a sad but true thought.
“Are you ready, reina?”
I throw a smile over my shoulder and nod. The court is there for protection if necessary and medical support. In essence, I’m bonding myself to a position. We’re uncertain how that will react to the bone already in place.
My dress is blue, the color of water. The strapless dress is an ombre-style that mimics the ocean going from a deep blue to teal. A white pattern mimics sea foam and waves. My hair is adorned with a crown of blue orchids.
Mémé is waiting at the end of the aisle in front of an altar. She gives the nod, and I slowly make my way toward her. I send a gentle mist creeping along the forest floor. Flowers bloom and the sound of the ocean is heard as I pay homage to water and spring. The coronation walk is about proving your worth. I add a hint of salt-water scent and the feel of sea spray. It comes easily. The conversion process is alive and altering me with each step.
I flow from water to air and summer. A warm wind rushes through the area, blowing away the scent of the sea and the mist. Warmth encompasses the crowd. The smell of wildflowers rolls over us. Sunflowers spring up five to six feet tall and my blue dress turns a deep yellow. Lace appliqué flowers cover my arms and the sheer front of the dress, leaving my back bare. The mermaid-style skirt flows out around me. I focus on Mémé and her encouraging smile. I can feel her pride and excitement through the temporary connection linking us for the transfer.
I use it as my fuel and push myself harder. Autumn erupts in a shower of red, gold, and orange leaves that form on the trees and rains down on the crowd. Their whispers and murmurs make me smile. Vines push up from the earth and pumpkins grow, big, fat, and round. The scent of pumpkin fills the air, and I pay homage to earth with an emerald green dress with a trumpet skirt, bell sleeves of sheer material, and a corset top that accentuates my curves. Leaves and vines wind their way across the boat neck and sides by my hips. A crown of autumn leaves circles my hair.
A crack of thunder shakes the space. Tiny snowflakes begin to rain down, growing in intensity and size until the entire pathway and forest have been turned into a winter wonderland. My dress erupts in a violent display of flames. The red burn away the green. The one-shoulder gown has a trumpet cut at the bottom and hugs my curves. It stands out against the snowy backdrop. I reach inside for an offering worthy of my ancestors who I sense are here and the change to head my family. Glowing green tendrils of power flow from me, coating the ground and the surrounding area. I reach the end of the aisle and kneel before Mémé.
“We ask the ancestors to guide, keep, and bless this new matriarch as she takes the position of many proud women in her lineage who have come before her.” A cold gust of air makes me shiver. I open my eyes and gasp. I’m surrounded by the filmy images of women of all shades, sizes, and time-periods.
“The spirits show their approval,” Mémé whispers, dazed. “Rise, granddaughter, and receive what is rightfully yours.”
I stand, and we join hands. She stares into my eyes, and I feel the last of the power begin to transfer. She squeezes my hand, and I set my feet, supporting her. Soft white light washes over us, and it’s done.
“You have all witnessed it. So mote it be,” Mémé whispers.
“So mote it be,” the crowd choruses. Mémé and I move over to our family gathered around the altar. I take the head of the space.
“To our ancestors who came before us,” I lift the bottle of expensive wine and pour it onto the earth, “we thank you.” I feel a new kinship with the women who showed up for me today. Seeing them turned them into more than a vague concept.
“And now we go make nice with everyone talking shit about us right now.”
Vit laughs so hard he has to bend over and clutch his belly.
“What?” Mom screeches.
“Oh, was I the only one thinking it?” I ask.
Mémé laughs. “Straight shooter. I like it.”
“If you can’t be real in front of your family, who can you be real with?” I ask.
“You’re not too old to have your mouth washed out with soap,” my mother mumbles.
“Sorry, Mom. Had to blow off some of this excess energy.”
“They’ll be waiting to rub elbows with you,” Mémé says.
I nod. We’ve set up tents similar to the ones for Equinox with heating, a catered brunch, and champagne. Taking it outside made it more organic and less opulent, which I appreciated it. I’ll get enough of that in a few weeks.
I offer Mémé my arm. Back straight, she’s the picture of decorum in her white suit with matching jacket, but I can see her waning. It took a lot out of her exchanging power.
“You want to make a run for it? I’ll let them blame it on me,” I say quietly.
She laughs. “Non, I want to eat my fill of this fancy breakfast we’re paying out the nose for.”
I laugh. “Fair enough. Let’s go do our best to eat our weight in crepes and whatever other tasty things they whip up.” Relief courses through me. Months have led up to this display. A few more hours of mingling, making nice, and performing more magic, and this coronation will be officially done. Next comes the hardest part … living with it.