The bookstore was quiet and that gave Kat time to leaf through the paper and sip her cup of espresso; a working break behind the counter. The paper had articles about the High School baseball team, honor students, happenings in the nearby towns of Buckley and Sumner. Kat flipped the pages, looking for Jimmy's byline, when a picture of the Coven's flyer on a shop window caught her eye, along with the headline "Witch Festival Coming to Ravensdale". Byline by Jimmy Nguyen.
Kat scanned the brief piece and it contained all the journalistic essentials of who, what, where and when.
"Local witch group is hosting an event at Ravensdale, at the Kanaskat-Palmer State Park, on April 30, the day of the full moon. Flyers started appearing in local shops advertising the event as a learning opportunity for those interested in modern witchcraft. An organizer for the event estimates there will be fifty witches or more at the event, celebrating the ‘Eve of May’ - a traditional date of gathering for witches. This is the first time the local witch group, called the Sisters of the Crescent Moon, has organized such an event. It is held annually in Washington, at various hosting locations, and organized by a Witches' Council, according to sources. The hours for the public to attend the Festival are from 11:00 AM - 4:00 PM, when there will be vending, food trucks and music. Pointy witch hats are not required to attend."
Kat seethed, reading the piece again because she couldn't believe her eyes. Jimmy hadn't even had the decency to tell her he was publishing a piece about the event, about her Coven. That would have been the decent thing to do - to give her the chance to say something, or to ask him not to. Which is precisely why he didn't ask. At least he had the decency to say "an organizer" instead of "Kat Bohanan". And what was with that joke about the witch hats? She slammed the paper shut and then tossed it in the garbage can for good measure. Had anyone in the Coven seen the article yet? She doubted it or her phone would be blowing up with texts. It wasn't that they didn't want the publicity - obviously that was alright or they wouldn't have done the flyers. It was just the way Jimmy went about it. Would he have done the same thing for another group's event? Not even bothering to ask the organizers for a quote or to mention the article? It was a lack of respect and the fact that it came from Jimmy made it doubly-worse.
Kat's phone beeped and she saw Sage's thumbs up emoji for the change in venue. She didn't feel like talking either - a thumb emoji would work for her as well. She'd tell them about the article tonight at Diedre's house. Until then, she'd keep her phone on silent mode.
Her phone had been vibrating off and on all afternoon but Kat wasn't checking it. A stream of customers and a desire to avoid contact with anyone made it an easy decision for her. The door of the shop opened and Kat looked up to see Jimmy striding into the store.
"You aren't answering your phone. I've been sending you messages to see if you want to have dinner tonight." He was smiling but there was a look in his eye that Kat interpreted as worry.
"Can't. I'm busy." She replied, bringing a stack of books with her to add to the shelves. It gave her something to do instead of standing there and talking with him.
"Okay, no problem. I just thought we might get a bite and maybe see a movie if you were free, but it sounds like you aren't." Jimmy paused, leaving a space of silence for some comment from Kat. She didn't give him one.
"Uh, are you mad at me, Kat?" Wow, you really are a first rate reporter, huh Jimmy, Kat thought to herself.
"I'm more hurt than mad, if you want to know. You could have told me." She had her back to him as she stocked the new releases at the front of the shop. It was better if she wasn't looking at him.
"Oh, that. Yeah, I suppose I should have told you. But...look Kat, my job is separate from my friends. You know I like you but I can't let my friendship stand in the way of my work." Kat had never wanted to throw a book before but Jimmy was making that seem very tempting.
"We're not talking about divulging state secrets or reporting on Watergate, Jimmy. It’s a lifestyle piece in the Courier-Herald. About me and my friends. You could have had the courtesy to give me a heads-up that it was coming out." Her hands were empty and she had no excuse not to turn to look at him. His face looked wounded but she wasn't sure if it was from her words or his own guilt.
"You know what, you are right. It was crummy of me not to tell you. I was worried that you might tell me not to print and then I would have to go against you, which would be a problem. So I took the chicken route and just avoided the whole thing. I'm sorry, Kat. I should have given you more credit. Forgive me?" Jimmy reached out his hands and placed them on Kat's shoulders. She didn't shrug them off. He looked so sheepish; what good would it do to stay mad at him. He owned up to it all.
"Yes, I forgive you. But don't do it again, okay? Besides, if you had told me, the Coven could have posed for a picture or something. But that pointy hat bit was corny, Jimmy. As if we need pointy hats to be witches." Jimmy pulled her in for a hug and it felt good to be in his arms.
"As long as you still like me, that's enough for me. Don't turn me into a frog or something though okay?" He laughed, as Kat gave him a playful swat on the arm.
"Why does everyone think I will turn people into frogs? That guy on the street said the same thing to me." She pursed her lips in mock outrage before leaning in to give Jimmy a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Lucky for you, a witch's kiss doesn't turn people into frogs."
Jimmy pulled her close again and this time gave her a long kiss, not on the cheek, but on her mouth, before releasing her.
"It's very lucky for me, but that kiss would be worth the risk."
Sweetenings
The scene at Diedre's house was entirely different from the group's last visit. As they pulled up to the bungalow in Buckley, they noticed strings of lights hanging from the porch roof - lights shaped like tiny crescent moons. Music coming from inside, which sounded a lot like The Doors, was loud enough to fill the street. No heartbreak music over Darro, Sage thought. Frankie, Helen, Kat and Sage walked together toward the raucous sounds and the wide open door.
"Come in, come in. Welcome. Let me turn this down. I love music - every kind of music you could ever want is right at your fingertips - or rather this device that you tell what to play. Seems like witchery, doesn't it? People were hanged for less back in the old days!" Diedre wore her new black circle skirt with the sleek black cowboy shirt and a cinched leather belt. She must have had fifty candles lit around the room.
"Quite a lot of candle power you have going," Frankie remarked, setting her coat and purse down near the couch. "Expecting a power outage, perhaps?"
Diedre laughed and gestured for everyone to take a seat before she shut the door behind them.
"Not at all - I just love candles, especially these gorgeous ones with the scents and all the colors. Beeswax is so drab, don't you think? But now you have these ones made of soy, whatever that is, and they are incredible. Besides, what is more evocative than candle light?" Diedre went over to the dining room table and started pouring wine.
"Oh, none for me, thanks." Kat chimed in, taking a seat on the sofa, which was now draped in dark purple pashminas.
"Nonsense. Everyone drinks." Diedre replied, in a voice that brooked no argument. She passed around the glasses of dark red wine with a large smile, handing Helen the first glass.
"Cheers, ladies. To a wonderful future for the Coven and an Eve of May festival not to be forgotten." The women toasted with her but Sage noticed that Kat didn't actually drink. She wondered if Diedre noticed as well.
"Ow...oh, I've cut my lip," Helen said, pulling the glass away from her lips. There was a small button of blood on her lower lip. "The glass had a crack."
"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. Here." Diedre handed Helen a linen cloth to wipe her lip and switched out the glass for another. "What a terrible host I am, to let you get cut like that!"
"It's alright. The blood has stopped." Helen said, dabbing it a bit more. Diedre took the cloth from her and set it on the dining ro
om table.
"Let's get down to business, shall we? The Festival. Where do things stand?" Diedre asked, crossing back into the room and draping herself into an armchair near the front door. Her skirt spread around her like a royal robe.
"Everything is pretty much finalized. We have the permit, the food trucks, the bands and dancers lined up, tents ordered, vendors arranged. I don't think Helen has written her greeting and blessing circle yet, but there is still time for that." Frankie said, taking another sip of the wine before setting the glass on the table. She had her binder out on her lap.
"'Greeting and blessing circle'? This is the Hexensabbat! The night when witches gather and curse their enemies. Why in the world would we have a blessing circle?" Diedre laughed, looking around the room at the astonished faces. Sage felt Helen shift next to her on the sofa.
"You've been reading history, apparently, Diedre, but the Eve of May hasn't been a Hexensabbat in a very long time. We gather to celebrate and bless the community. It is a time to bring together witches for fellowship and fun, for learning and offering our positive energy to the world. There is nothing dark about the Eve of May Festival." Helen said with a strong edge to her voice. Sage hadn't heard her this forceful in some time.
"Sounds like some children's version of the Festival, if you ask me, but if that is what is planned, so be it. I certainly wouldn't want to cause a fuss." Diedre replied, taking another sip of the wine. Her eyes stayed focused on Helen.
"You haven't been before, as I recall. I can understand not being familiar with the tradition." Helen said, clearly offering an excuse to Diedre to save face.
"Though you've been at every planning meeting for the last ten months." Frankie chimed in.
"Just because I was at the planning meetings doesn't mean I agree with the plan. But never mind, as I said, I won't cause a fuss. I'm sure this Festival will be just fine as is." Diedre said brightly, with a broad smile aimed at Frankie.
"Alright, well, continuing with the review - we need to finalize the schedule for the day and then send it around to the participating Covens and the Council, of course. I can do that." Frankie said.
"No, I can do that. I feel like I haven't been doing enough. I want to help. Allow me to contact the others with the final schedule." Diedre piped up.
"Okay, if you want to. I will email it to you and you can send it around. Be sure it goes out by Monday, alright?" Frankie replied, looking toward Helen as she spoke.
"Unless you don't trust me. But what is a Coven without trust? We are bound together and trust is everything." Diedre said before taking another sip of her wine.
"No, of course, we trust you Diedre, we just are mindful that you had a traumatic experience this week. No one would think less of you for taking a step back right now, to find your balance." Helen said. Diedre let out a sharp laugh.
"There is nothing unbalanced about me, Helen. I have found my way and cast off what was holding me back. I refuse to be boxed in again, trapped in a life I didn't choose."
She was almost shouting, but not quite. Loud and animated and glowing in the candlelight, Sage didn't know what to think of her friend's behavior. Frankie had been right. Something was definitely off.
"Diedre, where's Jinx? I haven't seen him yet. He usually isn't far from you." Kat chimed in, and Sage appreciated her attempt to diffuse the situation. Diedre's expression turned from fierce to uninterested in a moment.
"Oh, yes, the cat. He's dead."
The room was silent for a moment before Helen piped up.
"What happened to him?"
"He went outside and ended up being struck by a car. It is very sad. But he and I weren't really seeing eye to eye anymore so perhaps it is for the best. Familiars are overrated in my opinion. Back in the day, many witches didn't even keep them. Too dangerous to have them around. They could lead inquisitors right back to a witch's door. Frankie, be sure to send me that list. I want to make sure every witch coming to the Festival knows exactly what is on the agenda. Any other business for tonight?"
Diedre stood up, much to everyone’s surprise. Apparently, their meeting was at an abrupt end. Why had she bothered to drag everyone to her house for this, Sage wondered.
The rest of the group gathered their things and murmured their goodbyes before heading out into the spring evening. With the door shut firmly behind them, Frankie broke the silence.
"That's not Diedre. I don't know who that is, but it isn't her."
Amulets
Mel felt sorry to have missed the meeting in Enumclaw but she really couldn't get away. A study session, dinner with Ana, and an appointment to go to the Zeta house was enough on her plate. Besides, she hated to admit it, but the group really didn't need her input for the Festival anyway. They seemed to have everything covered and it would have been a long drive for a short meeting where she said little. Better to stay in Seattle.
Mel knocked on the Zeta front door and Becca opened it almost immediately. Becca wasn't a witch - how had she known it was Mel?
"Security camera. I saw you coming up the walkway." Becca answered Mel's question with a laugh. "No witchcraft required. Come in."
Tonight, there were several Zeta sisters in the living room, reading and playing cards. After a quick greeting and short introduction, Mel was whisked down the hall toward Avalon's study.
"She's waiting for you." Becca said, and Mel detected a hint of disapproval, as if Mel had been late. She quickly looked at her watch and confirmed she was right on time. Maybe Avalon moved on military time where ten minutes early was expected.
The oak pocket doors were slightly ajar and Becca pulled them open for her. The room was small but gorgeous - all lemon oiled woodwork and crisp linen, with tasteful floral studies in large frames on the wall. Calendula, poppy and peony in full sketched glory.
"Mel, it is nice to see you again," said Avalon, in a voice that did not sound pleased at all. Mel thought maybe they had made some progress toward friendship during their ride to the Coven meeting, but her greeting didn't seem so.
"This arrived for you today." She held a delivery service box in her outstretched hand. Becca excused herself and closed the pocket doors behind her.
"What's this?" Mel asked, taking the box. It wasn't especially heavy, though it was rather large.
"I would have had to open it to know that, and clearly I haven't." Avalon said, taking a seat behind her desk again and motioning Mel toward a leather chair.
Mel sat down and pulled the cardboard tab to open the box. Inside was something wrapped in stiff tissue paper. She slid it carefully out of the cardboard and then peeled back the paper. It was a leather bound book, about the size of a large tablet and an inch or so thick. Mel saw a creamy white card tucked into the pages.
"'As a welcome gift to our group, I thought you might find this grimoire illuminating. There is far more to the Craft than you know. Your education starts now. M'" Mel read aloud, admiring the elegant script on the card.
"Well, that is something, isn't it? A gift from Morgan. And you aren't even in the Coven yet - officially. Quelle surprise." Avalon toyed with a letter opener as she spoke but the point of it made Mel uncomfortable.
"I don't know what to say. I've never received something like this. Isn't a witch's grimoire destroyed after her death?" Mel carefully opened the cover, exposing the parchment pages.
"Generally, that is true, but in the past, grimoires were sometimes handed down within a witch family - mother to daughter and so on. I would guess that was the case with that one. Any inscription on it by chance?" Avalon's mask of boredom slipped for a moment, revealing her curiosity. Mel tried not to smile.
"It reads 'Booke of Spells of Margaret Matson'."
Avalon took a sharp breath and placed the letter opener back on her desk. "She was quite a famous witch, from Pennsylvania, before the American revolution. That is an extraordinary gift, Mel."
Avalon must be impressed because Mel didn't detect even a hint of sarcasm in her response. She c
losed the cover and wrapped the book up again in the tissue paper it came in. There would be time enough to leaf through its pages.
"I'll be sure to send Morgan a thank you for this. I'm at a loss, really. Is she always this generous?" Mel wasn't sure she expected Avalon to actually answer the question but she found the gift beyond anything she would have expected.
"Morgan can be very generous, but her first interest is always her own." Avalon said before rising from her desk. "Whatever her reasons, you are the lucky beneficiary. Take advantage of it and study the book."
Mel and Ana shared a small apartment not far from the university and Mel loved everything about it. Ana had sent for many of her collectibles from her home in Iran and the ancient Persian painted pottery and bronze work belonged in a museum, not a little apartment in Seattle - but it made their home gorgeous. As an Undine, Ana had a lifespan much longer than a human, so many of the treasures had been passed down within her family from antiquity. Mel was especially partial to a little blue and white bowl that Ana kept on a table by the window. The water pattern was almost hypnotic.
"Ana, I'm back. You gotta see this gift that Morgan sent me." Mel called into the apartment but no one responded. Waiting by the key rack, she spied a note in Ana's beautiful handwriting.
"Ran out to the market, I'll be back soon. Making fesenjan tomorrow and I needed pomegranates. Love, A."
Mel placed the book on the table and debated whether to wait for Ana before diving into its pages. She wanted to share the experience of exploring this historic treasure with her girlfriend but she also knew that Ana really wasn't that keen on Mel's interest in witchcraft. Maybe it would be better if she did the first look by herself. Who knew what kind of spells might be in the book, after all?
Pink Moon Rising: The Witches of Enumclaw Book One Page 10