by Cate Tiernan
--Witches, Warlocks, and Mages,
Altus Polydarmus, 1618>.<
While we milled around uncertainly, Cal took a stick and drew a large, perfect circle in the ground around the fire. Before he joined the two ends of the circle, he gestured us inside, then closed the circle as if he were shutting a door. I felt a bit like a sheep inside a pen.
Then Cal took out a bow of salt and sprinkled it all around the drawn circle. “With this salt, I purify our circle,” he said.
Bree and I glanced at each other and smiled tentatively.
“Okay, now lets join hands,”Cal said, holding out his hands. A wave of shy self-consciousness washed over me as I realized I was standing closest to his left hand. He reached for my hand and held it. Raven went to Cal's other side, taking his right hand firmly.
Bree was on my other side, the Jenna and Matt, Beth, Alessandra, Todd, and Suzanne. Sharon, Ethan, and Robbie made up the other side, and Robbie held Raven's other hand.
Cal lifter my hand, and our arms were raised to the narrow patch of clear sky above us. “Thanks to the Goddess,” Cal said in a strong voice. He looked around the circle at the rest of us. “Now you guys say it.
“Thanks to the Goddess,”we said, though my voice was so low, I doubt I added anything. I wondered who the Goddess was.
“Thanks to the God,”Cal said, and again we repeated it.
“Today day and night are balanced,”Cal continued. “Today the sun enters the sign of Libra, the balance.”
Todd chuck;ed, and Cal slanted his eyes at him.
I seemed to grow a billion extra nerve endings in my left hand. I tried no to think so much about whether I was holding Cal's hand too tightly or loosely, whether my hand was clammy form nervousness.
“Today is the autumn equinox. It's the time of harvest, when crops are gathered. We give thanks to the Earth Mother, who nourishes us.” He looked around the circle again. “Now you guys say 'blessed be.'”
“Blessed be,”we said. I was praying my hand didn't all out start sweating in Cal's. His was rough and strong, gripping mine as hard as possible without hurting it. Did my hand feel pathetically limp in return?
“It's the time to gather the seeds,”Cal said in his calm voice. “We gather the seeds to renew our crops for next year. The cycle of life continues to renew our crops for next year. The circle of life continues to nourish us.”He looked around the circle. “Now we all say 'blessed be.'”
“Blessed be,”we said.
“We give thanks to the God, who will sacrifice himself in order to be reborn again,”Cal said. I frowned, not liking the word sacrifice. He nodded at us.
“Blessed be,”we said.
“Now let us breath,”Cal said. He bowed his head and closed hie eyes, and one by one we did the same.
I heard Suzanne drawing exaggerate-sounding breaths and opened my eyes a slit to see Todd smirking. Their reactions irritated me.
“Okay,”Cal continued, opening his eyes after a few minutes. He seemed either unaware of or was deliberately ignoring Todd and Suzanne. “Now we're going to do a banishing chant, we we'll more widdershins—that means counter-clockwise. You'll catch on.”
Cal's body pushed me gently counter-clockwise, and two seconds later we were all doing the Wiccan version of ring-around-the-rosy. Cal chanted, over and over so that we all learned it and could join in:
“Blessed be the Mother of All Things,
The Goddess of Life.
Blessed be the Father of All Things,
The God of Life.
Thanks be for all we have.
Thanks by for our new lives.
Blessed be.”
I felt less weird after a couple of minutes, and soon I felt oddly exhilarated, practically running in a circle, holding hands under the moon. Bree looked so happy and alive that I couldn't help smiling at her.
A while later—it could have been two minutes or a half hour—I noticed I was starting to feel dizzy and strange. I'm one of those people who can never go on merry-go-rounds, roller coasters that do inversions, or anything that goes around in circles. It's an inner-ear thing, but the bottom line is I throw up. So I was starting to feel kind of iffy but didn't feel quite like I could stop.
Just as I was wondering what we would be banishing Cal said, “Raven? What would you get rid of if you could? What do you banish?”
Raven smiled, and she looked almost pretty for a moment, like a regular girl. “I banish small minds!”she called gleefully.
“Jenna?”Cal asked as we moved in our circle.
“I banish hatred,”Jenna said after a pause.
She glanced at Matt. “I banish jealousy,”he said.
Holding tightly to Cal and Bree's hands, I raced in a circle around the fire, someplace between running and dancing, simultaneously pushed and pulled. I began to feel like a sliver of soap at the bottom of a bathtub whirlpool, going around and around, out of control. But I wasn't getting sucked toward the drain. Instead I was rising up through the ribbed circle or water, rising to the top, help in place by centrifugal force. I felt light-headed and weirdly happy.
“I banish anger,”Robbie called out.
“I banish, like, school,”Todd said.
What an idiot, I thought.
“I banish plaid golf pants.” said Alessandra, and Suzanne giggled.
“I banish fat-free hot dogs,”Suzanne contributed. I felt Cal's hand tighten a bit around mine.
To my surprise, Sharon went next with, “I banish stupidity.”
“I banish my stepmother!”Ethan yelled, laughing.
“I banish powerlessness,”cried Beth.
Next to me Bree shouted, “I banish fear.”
Was it my turn? I thought dizzily.
Cal squeezed my hand hard. What was I afraid of? Right then, I couldn't remember any of my fears. I mean, I'm afraid of all kinds of things: failing tests, speaking in public, my parents dying, getting my period at school when I'm wearing white, but I couldn't think of how to phrase those fears to for in with out banishment circle.
“Um,”I said.
“Come on!”Raven cried, her voice tearing away, lost in the whirling circle.
“Come on,”said Bree, her dark eyes on me.
“Come on,”Cal whispered, as if he were enticing me in to a private space alone with him alone.
“I banish limitations!”I blurted out, unsure where the words had sprung from or why they felt right.
Then it happened. As if obeying a director's cue, we threw out hands apart from one another, up in the air, and stopped where we stood. In the nest instant I felt a piercing pain in my chest, as if my skin literally ripped open. I gasped, clutched my chest, and stumbled.
“What's with her?” I heard Raven say as I sank to my knees, pressing hard on the center of my chest. I felt dizzy, sick, and embarrassed.
“To much brew,”Todd suggested.
Bree's hand touched my shoulder. I sucked in breath and rose unsteadily to my feet. I was sweating and clammy, breathing hard, and felt like I was about to faint.
“Are you okay? Whats the matter?”Bree out her arm around me and shielded me with her body. Thankfully I leaned on her. A cloudy mist swam before my eyes, turning everything around me into a heat mirage. I blinked and swallowed, wanting childishly to cry. With each breath I took, the pain in my chest was lessening. I became aware that the members of the circle were gathered around me. I felt their gazes on me.
“I'm okay,” I said, my voice low and raspy. Heat came off Bree's tall, thin body in waves, and dark hair was stuck to her forehead. My own hair hung around me in long, limp strands. Although I was sweating, I felt cold, chilled to the bone.
“Maybe I'm coming down with something,”I said, trying to speak more strongly.
“Like witchitosis,”Suzanne said sarcastically, her tanned face looking plastic in the moonlight.
I stood up straighter and realized the pain was almost gone. “I don't know what that was—cramp or something?” I broke aw
ay from Bree and tried a shaky step. And that was when I noticed something was wrong with my eyes.
I blinked several times and looked up at the sky. Everything was brighter, as if the moon had blown into fullness, but it was still just a sharp-edged crescent, a cream-colored sickle in the sky. I glanced at the woods and felt drawn into them, as if into a 3-D photograph. I saw every pine needle, every acorn, and even fallen twig in sharp relief. I closed my eyes and realized I could hear each separate sound of the night: insects, animals, birds, my friends' breathing, the delicate swoosh of my blood moving though my veins. The drone of crickets splintered into a thousand pieces—the music of a thousand separate beings.
I blinked again and looked at the faces around me, dim but utterly distinct in the firelight. Robbie and Bree wore expressions of concern, but it was Cal's face that held my eyes. Cal was gazing at me intently, his golden eyes seeming to strip though my skin to the bones underneath.
Abruptly I sat down on the ground. The earth was slightly damp and covered with a thin layer of decaying leaves. The crunching sound was incredibly loud in my ears as I tucked my legs beneath me. Instantly I felt better, as if the ground itself were absorbing my shaky feelings. I looked deeply into the fire, and the timeless, eternal dance of colors I saw there was so beautiful, I wanted to cry.
Cal's deep voice floated toward me as clearly as a whisper in a tunnel, as if his words were meant for me alone, and they found me unerringly even as the group dissolved into talking.
He said the words under his breath, his gaze fixed on my face. “I banish loneliness.”
5. Headachy
>.<”A witch may be a woman or a man. The feminine power is as fierce and terrifying as the masculine power, and both are to be feared.”
--There Are Witches Among Us,
Susanna Gregg, 1917>.<
I saw something last night—a flash of power from an unexpected source. I can't jump to conclusions—I've been looking and waiting and watching for too long to make a mistake. But in my gut I feel she's here. She's here, and she has power. I need to get close to her.
On Sunday morning I woke up feeling like head was packed with wet sand. Mary K. stuck her head in my door.
“Better get up. Church.”
My mom brushed past her into my room. “Get up, get up, you lazy pup,” she said. She threw open my curtains, flooding my room with bright autumn sunlight that pierced my eye-balls and stung the back of my head.
“Ugh,” I moaned, covering my face.
“Come on, we'll be late,”said my mom. “Do you want waffles?”
I thought for a minute. “Sure.”
“I'll put them in the toaster for you.:
I sat up in bed, wondering if this was what a hangover felt like. It all came back to me, everything that had happened last night, and I felt a rush of excitement. Wicca. It had been strange and amazing. True, today I felt physically awful, foggy headed and sore, but still, last night had been one of the most exciting times of my whole life. And Cal. He was...incredible. Unusual.
I thought back to the moment when he looked at me so intensely. I thought at the time he'd been talking to me alone, but I later realized he wasn't. Robbie has heard him banish loneliness, and Bree had, too. On the way home Bree had wondered aloud how a guy like Cal could possibly be lonely.
I swung my feet over to the chilly floor. I was really autumn, finally. My favorite time of year. The air is crisp; the leaves change color; the heat and exhaustion of summer are over. It's cozier.
When I stood up I swayed a bit, then clawed my way to the shower. I stepped under the wimpy, water-saving shower-head and turned it to hot. As the water streamed down on my head, I closed my eyes and leaned against the shower wall, shivering with headachy delight. Then something shifted almost imperceptibly, and suddenly I could her each and every drop of water, feel each sliding rivulet on my skin, each tiny hair on my arms being weighted down by wetness. I opened my eyes and breathed in the steamy air, feeling my headache drain away. I stayed there, seeing the universe in my shower, until I heard Mary K. banging on the door.
“I'll be out in a minute!”I said impatiently.
Fifteen minutes later I slid into the backseat of my dad's Volvo, my wet hair sleeked into a long braid and making a damp patch on the back of my dress. I struggled into my jacket.
“What time did you go to bed, Morgan? Didn't you get enough sleep last night?”my mom asked brightly. Every one in my family except me is obnoxiously cheerful in the morning.
“I never get enough sleep.” I moaned.
“Isn't in a beautiful morning?”my dad said. “When I got up, it was barely light. I drank my coffee on the back porch and watched the sun come up.
I popped the top off a Diet Coke and took a life-giving sip. My mom turned around and made a face. “Honey, you should drink some orange juice in the morning.”
My dad chuckled. “That's our owl.”
I'm a night owl, and they're larks. I drank my soda, trying to swig it all down before we got to church. I thought about how lucky my parents are to have Mary k. because otherwise it would seem as if both of their children were total aliens. And then I thought how lucky they are to have me so that they'll really appreciate Mary k. And then I thought how lucky I am to have them because I know they love me even though I am so different from the three of them.
Our church in beautiful and almost 250 years old. It was one of the first Catholic churched in this area. The organist, Mrs. Lavender, was already playing when we walked in, and the smells of incense were as familiar and comforting to me as the smell of our laundry detergent.
As I passed though the huge wooden doors, the numbers 117, 45, and 89 entered my mind, as if someone had drawn them on the inside of my forehead. How weird, I thought. We sat down in our usual pew, with my mom between Mary K. and me so we wouldn't cut up, even though we're so old old now that we wouldn't cut up, anyways. We know about everyone who goes to our church, and I liked seeing them every week, seeing them change, feeling like part of something bigger than just my family.
Mrs. Lavender began to play the first hymn, and we stood as the processional trailed in, the alter boys and the choir, Father Hotchkiss and Deacon Benes, Joey Markovich carrying the heavy gold cross.
Mom opened her hymnal and began flipping pages. I glanced at the hymn board at the front of the church to see what number we should be on. The first hymn was number 117. I glanced at the next number—45. Followed by 89. The same three numbers that had popped into my brain as I first entered the church. I turned to the correct page and began singing, wondering how I had known those numbers.
That Sunday, Father Hotchkiss gave a sermon in which he equated one's spiritual struggle with a football game. Father Hotchkiss is very big on football.
After church we stepped out in the bright sunlight again, and I blinked,
“Lunch at the Widow's Diner?” said Dad, as usual, and we all agreed, as usually. It was just another Sunday, except that for some reason I had known the numbers of the three hymns we would sing before I had seen them.
6. Practical Magick
>.<”They keep records of their deeps and write them in their books of shadows. No mere mortal can read their unnatural codes, for their words are their kind alone.”
--Hidden Evil, Andrej Kwertowski, 1708>.<
I am not psychic. Life is packed with weird little coincidences. I'll just keep telling myself that until I believe it.
“Where are we going?”I asked/ I had changed out of my Sunday dress into jeans and a sweatshirt. My headache was gone, and I felt fine.
“An occult bookstore,”Bree said, adjusting her rearview mirror. “Cal told me about it last night, and it sounded great.”
“Hey, speaking of occult, you know something weird?” I asked. “Today in church I knew the numbers for the hymns before I saw them on the board. Isn't that bizarre?”
“What do you mean, you knew them?”Bree asked, heading out of town on Westwood.
“These numbers just popped into my head for no reason, and then when we got into church, they were up on the board. They were our hymn numbers,”I said.
“That is weird.”said Bree, smiling. “Maybe you heard your mom mention them or something.”
My mom is on the women's guild at church and sometimes changes the hymn numbers or polishes candlesticks or arranges the alter flowers.
I frowned, thinking back. “Maybe.”
Within minutes we were in Red Kill, the next town to our north. When I was little, I had been afraid of going to Red Kill. The name itself seemed to be a warning of something awful that had happened there or would happen there. But actually, a lot of towns in the Hudson River Valley have the work kill in them—it's an old Dutch word meaning “river.”Red Kill simply means “red river”--probably because the water was tinted from iron in the soil.
“I didn't know Red Kill had an occult bookstore. Do you think they'll have stuff about Wicca?”I asked.
“Yeah, Cal said they have a pretty good selection,”Bree answered. “I just wanted to check it out. After last night I'm really curious about Wicca. I felt so great afterward, like I just did yoga or had a massage or something.”
“It was really intense,”I agreed. “But didn't you feel yucky this morning?”
“No.”Bree looked at me. “You must be coming down with something. You looked awful on the way home from the circle last night.”
“Thanks, how comforting" I said flatly,
Bree pushed my elbow playfully. "You know what I mean."
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes.
"Hey, do you have plans tonight?" I asked her. "My aunt Eileen's coming over for dinner."
"Yeah? With her new girlfriend?"
"I think so."
Bree and I wiggled our eyebrows at each other. My aunt Eileen, my mom's younger sister, is gay. She and her longtime partner had broken up two years ago, so we were all happy she was finally dating again.