by Riley Moreno
Hazel sighed one more time, trying to imbue herself with more confidence than she felt before jumping to her feet. The old floorboards creaked softly as she padded barefoot to the big arched window overlooking the large front yard and the tiny cul-de-sac the house was on. It had belonged to her grandmother, and her own mother for a short time before she left the coven, leaving Hazel to grow up basically on her own. She had been seventeen the last time she’d seen Sara Domitreu. It had been awful.
Even then Hazel had taken care of herself, kept the house taken care of, cooked and cleaned for herself. She had saved enough money working at a local shop to by her own car. Her mother had been flitting in and out of her life for as long as she could remember, and by that time she had been used to being on her own for long stretches of time. It was only hard when her mother came home.
She had gotten home from work one day to find her mother, Sara, frantically pacing the kitchen floor rambling about how she finally found it, had found the secret to unlocking her powers, or gaining them altogether, Hazel still wasn’t sure. She knew her mother had been one of those rare cases of a child born of a witch who didn’t have the spark. It had been a fact Sara accepted until her husband, Hazel’s own father, had been killed in a tragic, senseless car accident. And then, she had destroyed her life searching of a way to gain power, to find a way to bring him back, as impossible as that was.
Hazel had been shocked at first sight of her. Her normally dark, lustrous hair hung limp and dull across her too thin shoulder. Her collarbones stood out just above the loose sweater she was wearing as if she had lost a lot of weight too quickly. And her eyes, those beautiful, violet eyes just like her own had gleamed dull and lifeless, darting around the room, never stopping, never focused. Hazel didn’t even recognize the woman standing there as her mother at first.
Hazel shook her head, wishing she could shake off the bad memories just as easily. It had been over seven years, and still that night haunted her. Hazel had tried to calm her down, tried to reason with her or make sense of what she was saying, but Sara had fled back out into the night like a startled bird. And the next time she had heard any news about her mother was a call from a police station on the other side of the state saying that her body had been found and asking if she could come and confirm her identity.
Hazel glanced out at the quiet street one last time, checking the height of the sun just starting to sink into the line of trees like jagged teeth on the horizon. It was almost time to head to the sacred ground just outside of the Black Hills. Far enough away from any tourist or hiker that might stumble across them, but not so far it would take too long to get there.
She turned away, doubts once more filling her mind before she could stop them. She had to prove that she belonged there, that she really was a witch, not just to herself, but the mother guardian and the rest of the coven as well, and this might just be her last chance to do so. Hazel was heedless of the dust the hem of her dress kicked up, swirling into unnatural patterns around her feet before dissipating once more as she quickly strode from the small attic room and down the stairs to get ready.
Chapter 2
Her car spluttered loudly as she pulled off of the narrow gravel drive to the side of the small road, finally coming to a noisy stop as her brakes squeaked, protesting the continued use long after it probably should have been scrapped for spare parts. It was the same red junker she had bought when she was seventeen, although with a few more additions. She had to get new tires after running over that downed tree, and a new bumper after backing into Mr. Calowiki’s mailbox, who lived down the block. He still gave her an evil look whenever she drove by.
Not that it was her fault. It had gotten dark so early that night, and the cat had jumped out of no where. If she had to choose again between some rusty old mailbox and sparing the animal’s life, she would do the same thing every time. That mailbox hadn’t stood a chance.
Hazel paused for a moment after she turned off the engine, sending up a quick prayer to the goddess, the earth, the spirits, heck, anyone who would listen. She desperately needed things to go well for her that night. The coven was her family, now, and she couldn’t afford to lose them too.
She swung open the door, not even hearing the piercing creek of rusty hinges before slamming it shut. And then slamming it again when it didn’t latch the first time. She took a step, then jerked to a stop, groaning softly when she heard the sound of fabric ripping. Really?
Quickly, she turned back around, hastily grasping at the plastic door handle until she got the door open and extricated the now ripped bottom hem of the robe. It was required for all of the ceremonies and rituals they performed as a coven, and as Hazel stood there glaring at the mangled fabric, doubts crept through her, crumbling the little bit of confidence she had managed to glean on the short drive to the forested glade.
She cast her violet eyed gaze over the surrounding area, struck all at once by its incredible beauty. The scent of pine hung heavy and fragrant in the air as well as the damp earth and mossy undergrowth. The evening sunset tinged the sky a breathtaking shade of riotous orange red that made it look like the air itself was on fire. Birds sang softly, cocking their heads in curiosity as she began to make her way down, further away from the travelled path and ever closer to the spot she was looking for. Even the squirrels and rabbits seemed to creep out of their hiding spaces, curiosity plain in the way their eyes followed her steps, and their tiny noses bouncing madly as they sniffed furiously.
A sense of peace sank deep the further into the trees she walked, as if the forest itself was reaching out to comfort her. She paused again just to soak it in, unable to continue without savoring the sweet feeling of connectedness that occurred so rarely to her. Tonight will be great. It will be perfect, she reassured herself as she began walking again. It just had to be.
Hazel stumbled into the glade just as the sun winked its last hazy rays over the horizon. The grove was dusted in mysterious blues and indigos, enhanced only by the flickering flame of the bonfire burning fitfully in the center of the group of fifteen or so women. The coven was all there.
“You’re late, Hazel.” The censure in the Mother’s voice had her cringing as she turned to the stern faced woman in her late sixties.
“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. Car problems.”
“That death trap is a menace to society.” Someone else’s voice chimed in from the group, and Hazel didn’t see who the words came from but had a pretty good hunch it was Suzette Williams. She always had something to say about everything, and when it came to Hazel, it was never good.
“Right, well,” Elizabeth sighed, and Hazel flinched again, “just, take your place already. Every one else is ready to begin.”
Hazel quickly moved closer to the circle, trying desperately not to make eye contact with any of the other women. She was the youngest of the group, and by far the least powerful. Standing there, feeling the air crackle with the other’s energy, she was sorely reminded of that fact.
Determinedly, she took her place on the far side of the circle just as the Mother Guardian claimed hers at its head. She cast Hazel one last, sharp look that had embarrassment flaring hot and painful over her body, tinging her normally pale cheeks a bright rosy red. She was grateful for the fire, hoping that its red cast light would camouflage the telltale sign.
Elizabeth’s voice rang clear and true, echoing off pine needles and fallen leaves, dens, and nests, and mossy knolls.
“We are here to offer our thanks, our gratitude, our ever lasting joy, and hope, and our very energy on behalf of the gifts that have been bestowed upon us.”
Hazel ignored the twinge of dread that filled her at Elizabeth’s words. Gifts indeed. She was barely strong enough to make an already lit candle flame move the tiniest bit, and yet, here she was, offering up thanks for her supposed talents. Every other woman there was like a volcano compared to her own meager spark. She pushed the negative thoughts away, refusing to let herself dwell on what she cou
ldn’t change.
She, like everyone else, had been born the way she was, with the skills and proclivities and challenges that she had to learn to live with. Her natural optimism reasserted itself as that familiar feeling of calm swept over her. Through the pine covered hills and sharp, rocky mountains it came to crash over her in a wave of peace that had her rocking back on her heels, smiling softly up into the night sky as the very first stars began to wink into view.
Trying to ignore the pang of self consciousness, she shed the ceremonial robe, repeating the ancient words as they all joined in. Their voices twined together until it was like one voice calling up to the heavens, the earth, the secret hidden space inside each of them where their power dwelled.
“We come…” The Mother Guardian said, her bare arms outstretched.
“We come.” They rest of the women intoned, the other’s starting to feel the weight of the words, of the ritual itself, begin to shift over them.
“We seek…” Her voice was soft as a summer breeze and sharp as a knife at the same time.
“We seek.” Hazel repeated with all the rest. The sounds wrapped around her, the air thick with vowels and consonants and something more, like it had an electric current suddenly running through it.
“We will seek until it is found, and then it will be guarded. May the blessed always seek.”
“May the blessed always seek.” They all repeated the last all together, the feeling encompassing them all now. Hazel could see it in the closed eyes, the way some rocked up onto the tips of their toes as if about to take flight. Of course, flight had been lost to them since the ancient days, no one powerful enough for that sort of magic had been alive for centuries and centuries.
As the words faded, so did that sense of calming peace because Hazel knew what was next. Elizabeth spoke the words, transforming what had been just a regular, burning flame in the center of their circle into something more. Imbuing it with the same magic that pulsed within each of them. Some more than others, a tiny, cynical voice whispered as Hazel watched the fire turn from bright oranges and red to a pure, crystalline white.
Firmly, she pushed the voice away, focusing on the bright light in front of her. Now was her time to prove herself, to prove that she belonged there. That she truly was one of them.
She couldn’t stop the trepidation that filled her as the woman to the right of Elizabeth, none other than Suzette herself, proudly stepped forward, almost flaunting her toned figure and flawless skin. Her long blond hair swept down her back in waves, and as she moved closer to the fire, Hazel had to grit her teeth against the flash of jealousy. Not at her body, or the way she looked, but the confidence with which she reached out her hands, barely even hesitating as she shoved them deep into the fire and brought them out again.
They were unscathed of course, and as Suzette stepped back to rejoin the circle she had a large, pulsing ball of the white flame contained between her still outstretched palms. With what Hazel would almost term a smirk, she opened her mouth and repeated the ancient words.
“We seek.” She said in her sultry tone, at the same time raising the dancing ball of light over her head, and then in front of her chest again, right over her heart before turning to the woman to the side of her, opposite of the Mother Guardian, who looked on like a proud parent.
Just like a proud mother hen, Hazel thought, the image it conjured making a giggle threaten to burst out. She tilted her head to one side. With her lean, bony frame and the makings of an already impressive waddle hanging underneath her chin, the resemblance was uncanny. The Mother Guardian even seemed to cluck a little as Suzette passed the light to the woman next to her.
Despite Hazel’s best efforts the tiny chuckle burst forth, instantly drawing the ire of Elizabeth, and the women around her. Embarrassment flickered again, tempered now by the otherworldly calm that still floated around her. Hazel watched along with the other’s as they turned their attention to the next women, and the next, the circle of light changing in size at passed from one pair of hands to the other depending on the strength of their inner spark.
They each repeated the words, each time drawing the very air around them tighter and tighter and by the time it reached Hazel she felt as if the tiniest prick would burst it like an overfilled balloon. As Amelia, who was standing next to her, spoke the words out into the night, and then turned toward Hazel, she could feel herself freeze, that sense of calm fleeing in the dark like a startled animal.
Fear filled her, making her jaw clench on the words she knew she had to speak, and her fingers tense so that it was impossible to relax them enough to reach out. She took one giant inhale, breathing in the night around her and a small bit of the peace returned, just enough to force herself to reach out, and take the pulsing ball of dancing, pure white light from Amelia.
A surge of victory shot through her as she gingerly held it between her two hands, not feeling the slightest bit of heat, instead it seemed to release a soothing tingle that threatened to swallow her up. Victory turned to dread in a heartbeat as the flame flickered dully, and began to rapidly shrink.
“Hurry! You must pass it on!” Hazel barely heard the Mother Guardian’s voice, but the second time was a shriek in her ear. “Pass it to the next woman. Now, Hazel!”
A second before the light faded altogether, Hazel quickly turned to the woman on her right and practically tossed it at her. As she caught it, it surged back to life, burning ten times more brightly and it was a comparison Hazel couldn’t ignore, although she desperately wanted to.
The peace was gone, replaced now with a mix of fear and horror and mortification that sat like a lead weight in the pit of stomach, dragging her down and making her wish on all the stars that she could just sink into the ground itself and escape the inevitable confrontation after the ceremony was complete. Hazel hadn’t even had the chance to repeat the ritual words, and standing there, suddenly, with her heart shattering into a million pieces, she felt like an outcast.
Chapter 3
Hazel had watched the rest of the ritual in near silence, trying to stem the flood of mixed emotions that threatened not only her own peace, she knew, but that of the circle itself. She had already proven that she didn’t have an ounce of spark inside her, she couldn’t turn the energy of the ritual negative on top of that. But it was so hard.
Finally, it was over, and as soon as the last woman spoke her words, and the Mother Guardian finished the rites, she turned to leave, hoping to get out of there without having to speak to, or answer to, any of the others.
“Hazel!” Elizabeth’s voice cracked through the night air like a whip, stopping her in her tracks and she tried to straighten her shoulders as she turned around, already feeling like a small child standing in front of a disappointed parent. She didn’t have to look like one too.
“Hazel,” Elizabeth said again, this time softer, and somehow so much worse for the tone in her voice. “Hazel, what happened tonight…”
“I know, I know. It won’t happen again. I’ll practice harder, I’ll try harder–.”
“…was unacceptable.” Elizabeth continued speaking over her as if Hazel hadn’t said a word. The Mother shook her head, a touch sadly, but there, hidden in the depths of her eyes, was something else, something glad, like she had just been waiting for such a reason to say the next words.
“I think it’s time that you leave the coven. I won’t force you to do it, as I have seen the…evidence that there is a power in you.”
Hazel cringed at the reminder of all her past failures, wishing even more that the ground would just swallow her up.
“…You are here because your grandmother was an amazing woman, an amazing witch, and you deserved the chance to become just as great. But I think it is obvious now for us all that you are not your grandmother.” Elizabeth paused, shaking her head for a moment before saying the words that Hazel had always dreaded.
“No, it’s clear to me now. You are much more like your mother. I only pray you don’t t
ake the dark path she did.” The Mother Guardian finished sadly, but it was forced and insincere.
Hazel opened her mouth to deny her words, but she was cut off again before she could speak.
“Just think on what I’ve said. I’ll give you until the end of the month to decide.”
“But…but you’re my family. The coven is my family.”
Elizabeth’s look softened as she looked down at her, this time full of honest sympathy. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but I must think of the strength of the coven, Hazel. ‘Til the end of the month.”
And with those final words she turned back towards the group of women looking on curiously, the women she had grown up with, always felt accepted by, but now the sting of rejection tasted bitter cold as Hazel also turned away, facing the opposite direction and silently headed back to her car.
The short drive back to her home, the house that used to belong to her grandmother, was a battle. Hazel fought tooth and nail against the hot sting of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. The battle lasted until she was out of the car, running inside and throwing herself into the old, overstuffed couch in the living room.
Finally, she surrendered, and the flood burst out of her like a broken dam. And that was exactly how she felt, broken, incomplete. She cried for several long moments, curled up into a ball on the cushion of the sofa. With one hand she reached out, slamming it into the soft stuffing, frustration and sadness milling inside her. As she did, a cloud of fragrance was released. Lemon verbena. Just like the perfume that her grandmother always used to wear.
Hazel took a deep, calming breath, inhaling the sweet, citrusy scent and she could almost picture her grandmother sitting there, patting her hand with her own wrinkled one, telling her it was okay to cry, as long as she remembered that there were so many more things to smile about.