Joshua focused his attention more deeply and opened his awareness to the cards. The stack in the middle seemed to vibrate, so he picked it up and stacked the other two piles beneath it.
“Show me what I need to know,” he repeated, then turned three cards over onto the dark wood. The brass deco-style chandelier lit up the cards, a brighter light than he usually preferred.
Joshua usually did readings by candlelight, but after tonight? He wanted as much illumination as possible. He didn’t even know why.
First card. The Lovers. Gemini. The Black and white child. The king and the queen. All overlooked by the benevolent figure, who brings them together. Synthesis. The alchemical wedding.
Okay.
Second card. The Devil. Capricorn. Vitality and life force. Lust and creativity, yearning to be harnessed and set free.
Third card. The Moon. Pisces. The threshold of renewal. All the things held in darkness, clawing their way toward the light. As Crowley himself wrote, the Moon was “the poisoned darkness which is the condition of the rebirth of light.”
Something needed to be reborn, that was clear. But was this message just for him? It didn’t feel like it, but that was the simplest place to start.
How was he supposed to interpret these? The alchemical wedding the Lovers card pointed to required a lot of concerted effort. The alchemist had to dissolve themselves and resolve themselves again in order to bring about the new form. The true form of their spirit. So, if nothing else, that pointed to Joshua renewing his practice and getting serious about his inner work again. The outer work and the inner needed to happen simultaneously.
Huh. Maybe that was part of the issue with The Road Home. He hadn’t been paying enough attention to his inner life lately, so the outer was running off the rails.
The Devil. Life force. He sure as hell wasn’t harnessing that lately, either. He’d stopped having sex with random club goers a few weeks ago because he was finding it exhausting. Depleting. Joshua had no idea what would feed his life force, but at least he knew to look for it now.
As with any magical operation, awareness was the key. He just hadn’t been paying enough attention lately.
Which left the Moon. All the things that lived in the waters of the subconscious, rising toward the light of moon. The dark night of the soul. Entering the depths of self in order to know.
The thought terrified Joshua. What if he didn’t want to know? What if avoiding that knowledge was the only thing keeping him sane?
And if this reading wasn’t about him at all? That message was going to take some work to figure out.
He took another deep breath, then rose, heading to the living room for the notebook and pen that lived in the cigar box.
He had to get this reading down on paper.
5
Selene
The Inner Eye reflected the morning sun, catching the light and throwing it back in a rainbow of color refracted from crystals and stained glass. Brenda always kept the windows of her esoteric shop blindingly clean, hiring day laborers to clean them once a week, rain or shine.
The shop opened at ten, and it was just past that, so Selene hoped to catch Brenda before things got busy.
Selene eyed the windows, almost at the front door, when a sudden shiver gripped them. Concurrent waves of vertigo and nausea swept through their body.
What the hell?
Selene slammed the glass door open and ran through display cases of crystals and Tarot cards, past the book area, toward the hanging Celtic-knot-patterned curtain that led to the back of the shop.
Cold sweat slicked over their skin. Selene just hoped to make it to the toilet.
“Selene!” Tempest called out. Her sweep of hair was a fading purple this week. Selene just waved a hand and dove past the curtain, bumping into Brenda, who was just coming back out onto the shop floor.
“Are you okay?” Brenda asked.
“Not now!” Selene was barely going to make it. They slammed open the door to the WC, flipped the lid up, and fell, hard, to their knees. Selene barely got their long hair back before the heaving began.
Their body racked with flaring chills and heat, convulsing until the piece of toast and coffee that had been their breakfast wasn’t inside anymore. Then they heaved some more, stomach cramping until all that was left was spit.
Selene pushed away from the bowl a few inches, dimly aware of splashing sounds. Brenda.
“Here. Let me help you.”
Brenda ran a cool, damp cloth over Selene’s face. There went the makeup. Oh well, Selene had probably sweated through most of it, anyway.
“Up,” they said. “Please?”
Brenda helped Selene to stand and turned them toward the wash basin. Selene made the mistake of looking in the mirror. Yep. They looked like shit. Mascara running down pale cheeks. Foundation streaked from tears and the washcloth.
“May I have that?” Selene asked.
Brenda handed them the washcloth. Selene ran it under cold water that felt so good they could have stood there all day, letting it rush over their hands. Instead, they wet the cloth again and finished the job Brenda had started.
“Are you sick?” their coven mate asked. Brenda and her best friend, Raquel, were co-founders of Arrow and Crescent Coven. They’d both taught Selene, who had already surpassed the two women in some areas of magic. But Selene still had a lot to learn in others. And in life.
Selene looked up, seeing their friend in the mirror, worried creases marring her peachy forehead. Dark brown hair coiled in tendrils around Brenda’s sweet face. Laugh lines marked the corners of her blue eyes, and deep runnels were just starting at the edges of her mouth. If middle age looked that good, Selene figured it wouldn’t be so bad.
If they made it that far.
Selene wrung the washcloth out and draped it over the edge of the sink.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t, but then I all of a sudden was. But…”
“But what? Come on out into the meeting room. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
Selene followed her into the large room used as a classroom and meeting space, as well as a break room for staff. Banners representing the four elements of air, fire, water, and earth hung from each of the four walls. Brenda steered Selene to one of the few chairs with cushions in the room, and gave a gentle shove. Selene was only too happy to acquiesce.
Brenda stepped toward the tiny kitchen area, loose black trousers swaying around her long legs beneath a pale blue tunic top. A moonstone glowed over her breastbone as usual. She filled the kettle and rooted through the tea drawer for some herbs.
Selene wracked their brain, trying to figure out what had happened. They felt weak now, but fine.
It was that damn ghost walking over their grave again. Just like last night in the studio. But today was stronger.
Brenda came over with a steaming cup smelling of fresh mint. Selene’s shoulders relaxed, and they held out their hands.
“Careful. Hot.”
Brenda sat down next to her, and placed a hand on Selene’s arm.
“Ready to talk about it?”
Sudden tears pricked at the corners of Selene’s eyes. This was so weird. What the hell was happening? Was it a psychic attack? Or something else?
“Sometimes being an empath sucks. It’s…there’s something strange going on, and I don’t think it’s just me. I mean, some of it’s me. But…” Selene shook their head, and blew across the surface of the pale yellow-green tisane, buying time. “Twice now, I’ve felt a something strange pass over me, and today it made me puke. And then last night at the club, people were acting strange. And I’ve been getting a backwash of emotion from it all and haven’t been able to block it out. Not like usual.”
“Acting strange how?”
Selene sipped at the tea. It was soothing. Comforting.
“One woman acted like she was totally wasted, but the bartender said she’d only had one drink. And then this man ended up having seizures. Got rushed to the hospital.
”
“Did it seem like they were drugged?”
Selene looked at Brenda, whose usually serene face was creased with concern.
“They felt wrong, Brenda. Maybe they were drugged. I think probably so. But it felt worse than that.”
“Like magic?”
Selene thought about it. Rolled the idea around their head.
“Yes.”
“What kind of magic? Could you trace it if you had to?”
Selene took a shaky breath in, tried to drop into their center. See what they could see.
Hot and cold flashed along the edges of their skin. They shoved the cup of tea at Brenda and ran for the toilet, barely making it before the heaving started up again.
Goddess, what is happening to me?
6
Joshua
Last night’s events still running in his head, Joshua hopped off the bus and walked the two blocks to The Road Home, black leather purse banging at one hip. At ten-thirty, the morning was already warm, and he was thankful he’d left the top hat at home and worn linen trousers today. Thankful for the shade from the trees and buildings, too.
Shopkeepers swept sidewalks, getting ready to haul out racks of clothing or sale books. The coffee shops were doing brisk business.
Scents from the bagel shop were tempting, but for now, he had coffee in an insulated mug and he felt the need to get into his store and make sure no disasters loomed before his noon opening time.
He really felt as if a sword hung over his head, and the reading wasn’t helping. On the surface, that combination of cards could either look terrible, good, or not-so-bad. It all depended on context and interpretation.
If it was just a reading about himself, okay. Yeah. Joshua got it. He’d been avoiding the deep personal work—wrestling the demons brought on by Jessie’s death—for years. And as a consequence, all the little things feeling off lately could be the product of that. Eventually, a person became so knotted up inside that anything they attempted to do could become twisted, too.
Maybe that’s all it was. Probably that’s all it was.
But then there were the weird events at the club. Selene acting so strangely, spilling their drink. Barely looking at him. Janice getting drunk. And that guy, collapsing and seizing. It all felt strange. He wished he’d paid better attention to it all now, but frankly, Joshua been too fixated on Selene and on his conversation with Legis to notice much.
He turned the corner and smiled as he saw his shop, ensconced one block off the main drag on a street teeming with maples, ginkgoes, and tulip trees. A sushi restaurant was across the street, and beyond that were the foursquare and Craftsman homes Joshua loved. Built for families, they were grander than his little bungalow, but of a similar feel. They’d all been built around the same time. Early 1900s, barely post-Victorian.
The orange door of The Road Home beckoned. As he approached it, he saw a package on the stoop. Funny. He had no current shipments due, and besides, none of his distributors would leave a package like that. They knew to deliver during business hours, when he or his employees were there to sign.
The cardboard box was around six by four inches. Joshua set down his leather purse and travel coffee mug, and squatted over the box to examine the label. Alchemical Curiosities it read, in an elaborate cursive font. Underneath it was a Portland PO Box instead of a street address. The “to” label was computer generated and printed.
Joshua looked around to make sure no one was close enough to notice anything strange, took a breath and held one hand over the box. Fingers splayed outward, he tried to remember what it was like to sense the energetic signature of a thing.
A practice that used to be so basic to him. One he’d done every day when first clinging to magic as a thing that might save him after Jessie’s death.
Hoping magic might offer him a way to communicate with her spirit.
It hadn’t done that, but it had offered him a chance to build the life he now had. That was good for a while. Very good. His heart had even eased after awhile.
There were no actual excuses for his current lax practice. Joshua had just allowed himself to come unmoored. It had felt too hard to keep things going on his own after the initial wracking pain and scramble to stay alive had passed. He’d needed his magic after Jessie was killed. Once life had normalized, he’d forgotten it was necessary to maintain.
And to stay fully engaged with life.
“You fool,” he said, and closed his hand. He’d gotten nothing off it. No energy signature at all, just the feel of inert cardboard, wood too far removed from the growth of trees. Joshua picked up the box, hoisted his bag again, and unlocked the orange door and turned the old-fashioned brass knob.
Crossing the threshold, he walked past the waving ribbons of wishes people had hung from one of the elaborate “trees” inside the door, and inhaled the mélange of scents. His custom oil blends. The ghost of incense. The tuber roses he hadn’t been able to resist buying the other day, now displayed in a large vase on the back counter.
He flipped the switches near the door, turning the lights on and activating the small fountain that burbled happily just to the right of the entrance. The sound greeted everyone who walked through the door, clearing their energy. It set the stage for an entrance into someplace special—just a little otherworldly—but familiar and comforting all the same.
The shop was still his favorite place in the world. Walking into it was like walking into an enchanted forest. The walls and ceiling were painted with a tall canopy of slender-trunked birches. Faeries made by a local artist flew here and there, guiding customers further in, past books, statuary, and on toward the display cases filled with amulets, gemstones, and finely crafted jewelry.
Joshua disarmed the alarm system and flicked on the lights. The display cases shone and gleamed, showing a few blank spots that he’d need to restock before opening.
He breathed a sigh of contentment. The shop was designed to be a haven for seekers of all types. For people who just wanted to escape a bad situation that had them feeling trapped, to those who needed comfort…the people he and Legis had talked about last night? Joshua had built a place for them. And, he now realized, he’d built a place for himself. For the parts of him that still ached and felt a little lost, despite the shining front he presented to the world.
Glamour. He still had that magic in spades. A good cravat and fancy waistcoat, coupled with the magic that he still possessed? It all still worked.
But it seemed that wasn’t enough anymore.
Joshua wound his way to the back of the shop, which, being set on a corner, was brighter and more open than the warren out front, lit by a bank of windows with stained glass strips at the top. The windows opened up onto a quiet residential street.
The shop didn’t only cater to those in need of a sense of wonder. There were deeper mysteries at play here, too, for those drawn to them, and also those who knew where to look. The back of the store held them all.
He had amulets to call fiery angels. Books to unlock secrets of the mind. Pendulums to offer guidance to those seeking to expand their awareness.
Yeah. Maybe he’d pick up a pendulum again. Maybe that could be his basic practice to start with, along with the meditation he’d skipped again this morning.
“If you’re going to do this thing, you’ve got to adjust your schedule, man. Make a commitment.”
He set the box down on a long wooden countertop designed specifically for the space. One of his workers polished the thing every month, so it always had a slight glow about it.
His coffee mug and square leather purse joined the box. Joshua rounded the counter, slid open a drawer and pulled out a box cutter.
Carefully slicing open the tape, he drew the cardboard flaps back.
Beneath a layer of bubble wrap was a handwritten note on heavy cream paper that said “Free samples! Enjoy!” Joshua lifted the note to reveal a row of two-ounce salve jars, labeled with the big, cursive AC. Underneath the initi
als read “Flying Ointment.”
He lifted one of the glass jars out, looking for an ingredients label. Nothing.
Who the hell would send a shop unsolicited flying ointment? And not list the active ingredients? Joshua grimaced, picked up the box, and headed toward the back door that led to the large shop garbage bin.
A prickling at the back of his neck stopped him. And wasn’t that interesting? He hadn’t felt a thing when he tested the box, but now something wasn’t going to let him throw the thing away?
Well, damn.
Joshua opened the purple-painted door that led to the small storeroom and set the box on one of the shelves. Then he locked the door, went back to the counter, and picked up his cell phone.
The front door jingled. It was Quanice, coming in for his shift. Right on time. The young Black man was a budding chaos magician and a solid worker. Black T-shirt. Black summer-weight cargo pants. Black low-top Converse All Stars.
Big silver chaos star on a black leather thong around his neck.
“Good morning, Quanice, welcome to The Road Home!”
“Good morning, revered employer.” He stalked forward, straightening objects on shelves as he went, with his one free hand. A ragged black army bag was slung across his chest, bulging with something, and he held a go cup of coffee in the other hand.
“I brought bagels,” Quanice said, setting his coffee on the counter and dragging a paper sack from his bag.
“You know my weakness. Reimburse yourself from petty cash.”
As he said it, Joshua winced a little inside. The shop was not doing great lately. He hoped Faerie Fest would give them a much-needed boost of cash. But the day he couldn’t afford a bagel was the day the shop closed down.
“I need to make a few phone calls. You good to start?”
“Yep. Just let me dump my bag. I’m on it.”
Joshua took a warm bagel, then headed to the stock room, phone in his other hand. This needed to be a private conversation. He really hoped Brenda was already at the Inner Eye, because he was out of his depth with whatever was in that box.
By Moon Page 3