The First Circle

by Paul Perea

  Once in the open desert, she rode fast until she reached the base of the Jemez Mountains. The sun was high overhead and both she and her horse needed a break from the heat. She sat in the shade of a large boulder and ate half of her sandwich as she tried to talk herself into abandoning the plan. She found no argument against it. Her spell had somehow been broken and now more than ever she feared for Gabriella’s safety. She would not be around forever to protect Gabriella, and she could not trust that her granddaughter would be prudent.

  Mirabella looked out at the wide expanse and then up at the sky. She could have flown, transformed into a bird, saving herself a lot of time. But she hated to fly. Like the darkness, taking to the sky frightened her, but she would never admit it. That said, an earthly mode of transportation awaited her as she climbed back onto the horse to make the cumbersome trek up the mountain. She didn’t mind. It would be slow going and would give her more time to think of what she had to say, to find a way to ask for help, and to prepare to bitterly eat crow.

  After a few hours of crisscrossing up the path, the house came into view, hidden in part by the mountain itself and in part by an enchantment. She dismounted and let the horse seek out an early dinner of grass as she walked confidently up to the house.

  “Hola!” Mirabella cried out, her voice echoing over the cliff and reverberating throughout the mountain. The house was dark and appeared empty, but she called out again anyway. “Hello! Is anyone home?”

  The front door opened slowly and a large black raven hopped out.

  “¡Cállate! Quiet, woman! What are you trying to do, wake the dead?” the raven asked rhetorically.

  “Not you again. Don’t you have someplace to be? Something else to attend to?” Mirabella asked, exasperated.

  “No, not really. Besides, I quite like it here,” the raven replied. “What do you want, Mirabella? Did you come with some news? Another grandchild? Or is it you that is with child this time?”

  “Don’t get smart with me or try my patience. I’m sure you know why I’m here and so do they. So, where are they?”

  “They’re not here.”

  Mirabella was losing her patience. “Well, when do you expect them back?”

  “Who knows? They come and go as they please and don’t tell me much. Tell me what you want and I will deliver the message.”

  “I really don’t have time for this. Tell me where they are and I will go there so I can talk to them myself.”

  The raven spread his wings and took a few hops onto the ground in front of Mirabella. He studied her with his coal dark eyes. “Ah, you need help, do you? Or rather, your granddaughter needs help. What trouble have you witches gotten yourselves into now?”

  “None of your damned business. Look here. You tell them that I came here to see them—to seek their advice. They know where to find me.” Mirabella turned on heel and walked toward her horse.

  “Spells can be broken if you know how to do it. Even your spells, great witch,” the raven called out.

  “Shut up,” Mirabella replied as she took the reins and led the horse away from the grass.

  “Rode all this way did you? Why didn’t you fly here?” the raven mocked. “It would be a simple spell for one as powerful as you.”

  Mirabella turned in anger and pointed at the raven, issuing a bolt of electricity that hit the ground in front of where the bird stood. The raven jumped back in fear and kept his tongue.

  “You say one more thing to me, just one more word, and I’ll be feeding your fried corpse to the vultures! Now do as I say and tell them to come to me as soon as they return. I’ll have no more of you!”

  The raven took his chances and replied, “I don’t know if they will ever come back. They’ve been gone for such a long time—years really. I’ll be honest with you, Mirabella, after all that business with Gabriel, I don’t think they will want to see you, much less talk to you.”

  Mirabella walked slowly back toward the raven. The bird’s comment had not angered her. Rather, her curiosity was piqued. “Well, they were wrong to do what they did. After all, he was just a child. I’ll admit that I lost my temper but I won’t apologize for protecting my son.”

  The Raven regarded her words, remembering the argument all too well. “All they wanted was to help. But you wouldn’t listen to their reasons, would you? Now where do you find yourself?”

  “He was my baby, dammit,” Mirabella argued. “I don’t need to defend my actions. So you say they’ve been gone for years. Do you know where they went? Tell me and I will go to them.”

  Mirabella looked down at the raven, his dark eyes reflecting the sun. Had Mirabella not known better, she might have mistaken it for concern. But as far as she knew, the immortal bird held regard for no one, least of all her. No, the raven enjoyed toying with her, nothing more, but Mirabella couldn’t help but hope that she could enlist his help.

  “My domain is limited,” the raven said, “and my sight is not as far-reaching as their travels. I am old, but I keep watch and I wait. They always return—eventually. If I knew where they were I would tell you, but I don’t know their whereabouts and that’s the honest truth. They don’t tell me much—only what I need to know. I’m their caretaker and their spy, that’s all.”

  Mirabella almost felt sorry for the raven. He seemed downtrodden, and although it wasn’t in her nature, she decided to exploit his condition. “Tell me something, great spirit. You are the messenger between worlds. You visit places that even the greatest witches dare not go. Is that not true?”

  “Sí. That is true,” the raven replied, his ego stroked by Mirabella’s compliments.

  “Remember your riddle? On the night Gabriella was born, you had a vision and came to me for help. You warned me, remember? Well, you were right. Here I am, needing your help.

  “Tell me, Raven, if I ask something of you, and you do it, what price would you ask? What do you desire?” Mirabella asked, hoping that her travels would not be entirely in vain.

  The raven’s haughty nature returned and his tone was once again dismissive. “There is nothing you can give me that I cannot get for myself.”

  Mirabella did not let him goad her into another argument. She needed him. “Oh come now, surely there is something that you want, something that I can do that will secure your services.”

  The raven cocked his head from side to side and thought.

  “Tell me,” Mirabella teased.

  “Why don’t you first tell me what it is you want—then we will discuss my price,” the raven said, sensing he had the upper hand in the situation.

  “Bueno. Fair enough. Okay, here’s my request. I want you to fly to the bosque. I want you to pass through the portal into the spirit world and check on something. Long ago I cast out a spirit, bound him to the place from whence he first appeared. I need to know if my prison still holds him. I need to know if it holds him fast. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand, and I know of the one you speak.”

  “Good. Then you know he is dangerous and that there are foul creatures that serve him. You must assure me that he remains imprisoned and is of no threat to anyone.”

  The raven nodded.

  “But are you that great of a spy that you can do it, even though you risk death should he or his minions find you out?” she asked, tempting his pride with her words.

  “Yes, I am. There is not one of my kind greater than I and this would be nothing for me.”

  “Then you will do it?” Mirabella asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And what of your price? What will I owe you? What do you want?”

  The raven looked directly at her and, without pause, answered the question. “I want you to set my spirit free.”

  Mirabella was unable to mask her surprise at the raven’s request. “Set you free? I don’t understand. You preside over your kingdom. You have
obligations. You have duties. Raven, you are immortal. Why would you give that all up?”

  “I am tired and it is time for my spirit to rest. I will do what you ask, Mirabella. I will do it and I will come to you with my report. Then, when the harvest moon rises, you will do as I have asked. That will give me time to prepare another to take up my mantle.”

  “But what of the others you serve?” Mirabella asked, hoping the raven would reconsider. The spell to dispatch an immortal soul was one she had never hoped to use. “You and I, we have a long history, and although I hate to admit it, I do not wish to see you gone.”

  “Fond of me, are you? Has the great witch, Mirabella, queen of icy stoicism, grown soft in her old age?”

  “I can be cold, I’ll give you that,” Mirabella acknowledged. “But I do care about you, really I do, much as I hate to admit it. And I know your friends will not be happy about this. They depend on you, and I’m sure that in their own way, they love you.”

  “Love? What do I know of it? What good has it ever done? Those whom you seek love no one, save for themselves. Their feelings, like yours, are not my concern. Go now. I will come to you when I have news. Leave me and let me have some peace.”

  Mirabella mounted her horse, but before leaving, she turned around and looked at the raven, who now appeared diminutive and sad. She opened her mouth to speak, but the raven interrupted her.

  “Go! Before I change my mind!”

  CHAPTER 23

  The following day, Mirabella received two disturbing pieces of correspondence. The first letter was from her brother, Antonio, containing news that most of the family had fled Sevilla and were headed for Cuba to escape the turmoil of war. To make matters worse, their father was ill and not expected to live much longer. He could not be moved in his condition, so Antonio and his wife had stayed behind to care for him. He also shared that Salome had been with them for some time and was now on her way to Cuba with the rest of the family.

  Antonio begged her to come to them. None of the family could protect the household. Only Mirabella, as great a witch as their mother, Levinia, could see to it that destruction would be averted. Antonio was explicit in his report of atrocities at the hands of Franco’s generals. Everyone was in a panic. Would Spain join the Germans or the Allies? Franco had ordered Spanish troops to amass along the French border, leaving Gibraltar unprotected. So those Sevillians that could leave, fled the country. If Hitler gained the upper hand and took the Mediterranean, they would be doomed, Antonio warned.

  Send your shade, sister, Antonio implored, or better yet, take to the sky and come to us in person. Shield us! Protect us! Father will be dead soon, and so will we if you do not come!

  Mirabella’s eyes welled with tears. Her brother’s words had crushed her heart, just like the paper balled up in her fist. She sat clutching it to her breast and weeping for her family. Like the rest of the country, she listened every day to the news of the war, and worried and wondered what Spain would do. Reading this pitiful account, her brother’s supplication, pained her. And worst of all, Antonio was wrong. There was nothing she could do. For all her power, not even she could stop a war.

  She set the letter aside and opened the second envelope. It was from Gabriel. He too had received word from Antonio. Panicked, he had decided to board a ship en route to Cuba. Gabriel explained that he had sensed Salome’s power waning under the pressure she was enduring during the dangerous journey. He hoped that once they were reunited, he would convince Salome to return to New Orleans. Gabriel promised he would see to it that the family was cared for, and in time, would visit Arroyo with Salome in tow.

  Mirabella took Antonio’s crumpled letter and pressed it flat, doing her best to smooth out the creases before she folded it and placed it back in it’s envelope. She reread Gabriel’s letter, trying to fathom the enormity of the situation. She paced the room and wondered what could be done as guilt harangued her. Unable to suppress the maddening voices in her head, she went to her desk to pen a response to her brother. But how would she explain that she could not help them?

  America would soon enter the war, of that there was little doubt, and her children were in the thick of it, trying to get their family to safety. The very thought sent pain piercing through her head, and she put her hands to her temples. The pain lapsed for a moment but struck again, like a blade slicing between her eyes and through her skull. She stood up, dizzy and disoriented, and made her way to the sink where she vomited. It was punishing, and she fought against it. For a moment there was relief, then she vomited again and then sank to the floor, unconscious.

  Mirabella awoke some time later, disoriented. She remembered another woman, long dead. Alone. A kitchen floor. She turned her head slowly and saw a familiar face staring at her from a distance. The front door looked so far away. She opened her mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat was dry and the taste of vomit lingered. The nameless boy stared back at her with a look of concern. She watched him start toward her, then stop and move back toward the door. His face contorted in fear as he vanished.

  Mirabella groaned, pulled herself up, and grabbed a glass and filled it with water. It instantly nourished her and she felt strangely invigorated. She drank as if she had crawled through the desert—the water spilling from the glass into her mouth and down the side of her face and onto her clothes. She didn’t care. Mirabella drank until she was sated and then made her way to the bathroom where she washed her face and made herself ready. She must go to Ruth and tell her the news, then together they would visit Grace. Perhaps with help from her daughters they could find a way to help.

  The oppressive heat made for a sluggish walk. Mirabella could feel the sickness in her stomach and the pain in her head but she pushed against it, and pressed on until she reached Ruth’s home. She tapped at the door and waited, but there was no answer. She knocked again and listened for any movement within, but there was none. She was about to walk around the house to the backyard but decided to let herself in to get a momentary reprieve from the heat.

  Mirabella called out for Ruth but her greeting was met with silence. She started for the back door when she noticed a note lying on the dining table. Even from a distance, she recognized the hand writing as Gabriella’s. She picked up the piece of paper and what she read sent a shiver through her body.

  “Going to the river to go swimming with Daniel—I’ll be back in time for supper! Gabi.”

  “Salazar!” Mirabella screamed as she ran out of the house.

  CHAPTER 24

  Gabriella held tight to Daniel’s hand as he led her through the bosque. The beauty and unfamiliarity of the woods helped to allay her fear—her mind was too preoccupied to be afraid. Above her, a canopy of green emanated birdsong. Trees that seemed to take human form surrounded her. Faces watching her as she passed. Figures moving and stretching their wooden limbs. But there was one that caught her attention. Gabriella stopped and stared, not believing what she was seeing.

  It was a woman, the bark stripped bare along her breasts, her arms outstretched, her head tilted back and her legs covered in moss. She was resplendent, dressed in her mossy gown. Gabriella saw the woman’s face, contorted in fear, gasping for air. The woman was in distress. In her minds eye, Gabriella saw that the woman was dying.

  “What’s wrong?” Daniel asked. “Are you too hot?”

  “No, I . . . I thought I saw something,” Gabriella answered, distracted and searching for the tree-woman that was no longer there.

  Daniel lightly tugged her toward him. “Come on. It’s really humid. Let’s get to the river. I need to cool off.”

  “Daniel, I’ve told you before, I can’t swim. Let’s go back home and find something else to do,” Gabriella offered half-heartedly. She had successfully avoided his attempts to get her to go swimming in the river—until now. How could she explain her fear? It was unfounded. There was no reasonable explanation. But her
intuition had told her to stay away from the bosque—and the river. It seemed to her a dangerous place.

  “You don’t have to swim, silly,” he chuckled. “We can stay close to the bank and wade. We can even just sit in the water near the shore. Don’t be afraid. I won’t let you drown.”

  Gabriella looked around and again admired the beauty surrounding her. The white bark of the aspens; the dark green leaves of the cottonwoods; the bright sun doing its best to intrude. Her fear crept back but she pushed it away. After all, she reasoned, if something did happen, she was a witch—she could handle it, even if it meant betraying her secret.

  She nervously squeezed Daniel’s hand tighter. She could feel the pulse of his heartbeat and the sweat on his skin. Could he feel her heart pounding? Would he laugh at her if she turned and ran away? Her anxiety was getting the best of her. Her legs were heavy and she felt faint. Gabriella took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

  At last they emerged from the woods and stepped onto the soft sandy beach. To Daniel’s dismay, they were not alone. Other people hoping to escape the sweltering heat were playing in the water and lying in the sand, so Daniel guided her farther up the river in an attempt to place some distance between themselves and the other fugitives from the summer oven. As far as he was concerned, the whole world could just go away—all he wanted was to be alone with her.

  As they rounded a bend in the river, Gabriella froze. She looked at the great tree laying on it’s side. It had been uprooted a long time ago. She could sense something sinister had been the cause. It was just a dead tree, probably felled by a storm, she reasoned, even as her ears were assaulted by the screams of a girl and a boy crying for help.