By Dusk

by T Thorn Coyle

  He reached for the power of the coven, and with one mighty breath, sent their collective power circling the edges of his aura. The mighty rips stitched themselves together. Another pull, another breath, and Moss’s aura pulsed with light. The power of the equinox was all around him. And all of a sudden, Raquel was at his side. His mother. His sister. His mentor.

  Moss reached for the Willamette. He reached for the power and comfort of the crowd. He reached for Arrow and Crescent Coven. Moss clapped his hands three times. The oil slick jerked with each retort across the astral. It clacked its many teeth, chittering its rage.

  At his side, Raquel threw back her head and laughed.

  And, up on the astral plane, Moss began to dance. He danced for the fish and the birds and the trees. He danced for the river and the children of St. John’s and Cathedral Park. He danced for Shaggy, and the coven, and himself. He danced up magic. He danced up possibility. Moss bounced to the drumming, shouting tempo of the crowd on the bridge. Moss danced to the humming sounds of the astral planes. Moss raised his arms and shook his hands to the music of his own soul.

  Raquel and Moss both danced. The power of the river was strong.

  Down on the bridge, his physical ears half heard, half felt as the crowd began to roar. He roared with them, as he danced. Every scrap of power he had, everything Alejandro fed him, he channeled toward the sharp-toothed maw.

  Feed your demons. The thought flicked through his brain. An old magical teaching, found in among magicians in old Europe, and taught by Buddhists in Tibet. Feed them what they need. Not what they want.

  ::Feed the demon, Raquel!::

  ::What?::

  What this demon, this egregore, this being, wanted was to consume everything alive. What this being needed was to feel a part of things. Just like Patricia Sloane. It needed to know that it was one piece of a beautiful, shining whole.

  He sent that feeling to Raquel. She nodded and held out her hands, feet still moving in the patterns of her dance. The conch shell in her right hand re-appeared. From the mouth of the shell flowed healing waters. Healing for the egregore. Healing for the people. Healing for the waters of life.

  Moss danced, and wept, and held out his own hands, feeding the egregore knowledge. Feeding the egregore acceptance. Feeding the egregore love. Feeding the egregore a way home.

  The being thrashed and fought, and gnashed its teeth. It changed shape, morphing from a diffuse, amorphous blob, into a triangle, then a flame, then back into a vast, shimmering lake.

  Moss clapped three more times. The power pumping through him escalated, increasing in power until the edges of his aura trembled with it. His head roared with power. The egregore roared back. Moss felt every molecule inside his physical and astral bodies shake, on the verge of breaking apart. But the egregore wasn’t done with him yet. It still needed, though its wants were growing less.

  “Take it!” His voice boomed across the astral planes. “Take it all!”

  With a mighty draw, he threw everything Alejandro was feeding him, every scrap from the coven and the crowd. The being shrieked and whooshed, folding in on itself in some strange geometry. Eating itself with its own mouth. Becoming something new.

  Raquel poured out a steady stream of love. Moss felt it. It was strong.

  He shattered in a burst of energy and light, one with the cosmos. One with the planets. The stars. The earth. One. One. One.

  He felt hands on his physical body. Jerked back, head pounding. Screaming. Heard a woman’s voice, whispering frantically in his ear.

  Then all went black.

  Moss was pulled back under. Back into the river. Cradled. Surrounded. Lifted by dark water.

  The Willamette River blessed every particle named Moss. Somewhere, somewhen, two hands clapped three times.

  44

  Shaggy

  Moss fell, caught by Shaggy and Terra. Alejandro helped ease him to the ground. His eyes moved and jumped beneath his closed eyelids as if he was dreaming. As Terra checked his pulse, Shaggy looked up to see what was happening.

  She saw Patricia Sloane stumble, then collapse, grabbed by two men in suits.

  Then the police were everywhere, and a mechanical voice warned the crowd to disperse.

  “How the fuck are they supposed to disperse when cops are blocking the only exit?” Terra muttered. “Moss, you’re gonna have to come back to us.” She turned to Alejandro. “We need to get him the fuck out of here.”

  Shaggy leaned over Moss. He still didn’t look right. Hair damp from the river, skin sallow. At least his eyes had stopped jumping around.

  “Moss,” she said. “Come back to us. We need you.”

  With a heaving breath, he coughed, and his eyes flew open.

  “We did it,” he said.

  “That’s great, hermano. But now we have to get you on your feet.” Alejandro wrapped his arms around Moss, and gently lifted him until he was sitting up. Terra pressed a water bottle up to his lips.

  A sawing sound filled the air. The fire department, cutting through the tubes and chains. As each tube was cut, cops stepped in and dragged the locked-down activists away. They were clearing the bridge. Trying to get traffic moving again.

  Shaggy, Alejandro, and Terra hoisted Moss up and half-dragged, half-walked him toward the west side of the bridge. It wasn’t the best place to take a barely there person who needed who knew what kind of attention, but the only other way off the bridge was through the cops and the crowd.

  There was no way would they have made it.

  Moss swayed and mumbled, but at least his feet were moving. Sort of.

  Alejandro and Terra did most of the dragging and carrying, and put Shaggy in charge of humping Terra’s messenger bag and using Alejandro’s phone to text the coven and tell them what was up. Her heart was pounding, sure some cops would run up on them at any moment. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that they were still occupied. Shaggy exhaled.

  “Is he going to be okay?” she asked Alejandro. Moss was still sallow and pale, and did not look good at all.

  “He’ll probably have a raging headache along with his other injuries. He just needs quiet, and some electrolytes. Maybe some protein. Mostly, he’s going to need a lot of sleep. We just need to get him home.”

  “But that’s the other direction…”

  “Yeah. No kidding.” He struggled to get his phone out, handed it to her. “Text Cassiel. They’re usually slow on Saturday afternoons. Maybe she can get someone else to close the café and come get us. Take us across a different bridge, back to St. John’s.”

  Shaggy found the contact and thumbed a message into Alejandro’s phone, alerting whoever this Cassiel was.

  Moss stumbled hard and Terra crashed into Shaggy, who barely kept hold of Alejandro’s phone.

  “How much further ’til we can set him down?” Terra asked.

  “We’re almost off the bridge,” Alejandro said. “After that, we can set him down for a few minutes. Catch our breath. But we’re probably going to need to walk him down to a safe intersection so someone can pick us up.”

  “Is there an intersection nearby?”

  “I don’t think so. But I’m not sure what else we’re gonna do.”

  His phone buzzed in Shaggy’s hand as the bridge began to slope toward the exit. I’m on my way. Forest Park Trailhead?

  “She’s asking about a Forest Park Trailhead,” Shaggy said.

  “Right!” Terra said, struggling to adjust Moss’s arm around her shoulders. He kept slipping, though his color was coming back a little, which Shaggy figured must be good. “I forgot. There’s a parking lot there.”

  “Stop,” Moss whispered. “Need water.”

  Shaggy looked back up the sidewalk. Cars were coming toward them now. The blockade must be cleared. No one else was on the walkway on this end of the bridge.

  “Walkway looks clear,” she said. “I think we’re okay to stop for a minute.”

  Terra and Alejandro leaned Moss against the side r
ail and Terra gestured at the messenger bag slung over Shaggy’s shoulder.

  “My water bottle’s in there.”

  Shaggy flipped the bag forward and rummaged around past medical supplies, energy bars, and an apple. There it was. A turquoise steel bottle. She grabbed it and unscrewed the top before handing it over to Moss.

  He could barely hold it. Alejandro caught the bottle before it slipped.

  “Let me help you.”

  Moss drank, eyes closed, then pushed the bottle away with a sigh.

  “Water,” he said, then gave a little smile. “Water’s good. I jumped in the river.” His eyes opened on that last, as if he were surprised. His dark eyes caught Shaggy’s.

  “And you. I saw you. Dancing. You were beautiful. And you told me something….”

  Within the protective cage of her ribs, Shaggy’s heart beat. She reached out and touched his face.

  “We’ve got to get you off the bridge, Moss.” Alejandro interrupted the moment. “Cassiel is coming to take you home. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Moss replied, eyes never leaving Shaggy’s. She leaned in for one careful kiss, then backed away. Taking the water bottle from Alejandro, she screwed the lid on, and slipped it back into the messenger bag.

  Terra and Alejandro helped Moss wrap his arms around their shoulders again.

  “Shaggy?” Moss asked.

  “I’m right here, Moss. I’ll be right here until we get you home.”

  She would, too. She knew some things about herself now, that she hadn’t known before the beginning of this week.

  She was stronger than she thought she was.

  She had her own talents and could make her own way if she needed to.

  She seemed to be in love with this weird, gorgeous man.

  She could do things that mattered in this world.

  And the world was worth trying to save.

  45

  Moss

  The day after equinox, at the cusp of the year, when dark met light, and day met night. The time of dusk.

  It had been a sunny day, gorgeous out, but it was evening now, and Moss was already tired of standing up. He’d slept like the dead for more than fifteen hours. The last thing he remembered was Shaggy, tucking him into bed, a furrow in between her pale eyebrows, lips narrow, trying to smile.

  In the gathering evening, Moss stood outside the jail with most of the coven, his housemates minus Barbara Jean, who’d gotten arrested, and a small group of other activists. They’d kept the arrestees in over night, and then most of the day, which was bullshit. But, now that news was out about GranCo and how they’d been shafting the city while taking taxpayer money…there was a good chance local pressure would force the city council to drop charges. If GranCo’s contract hadn’t already been cancelled, it was going to be, that was for sure. The local media had put the city on blast for ever hiring them and at least two city council members were up in arms.

  Turns out GranCo had a record up in Washington State, and the city council should have known that. Instead, they had trusted the mayor, who had gone to college with Bradley Titus, the GranCo CEO, back in the day. Bastard.

  He tapped the bouquet of purple irises against his thigh. Shaggy said she’d show up here, but there were no guarantees. Seeing him like he’d been yesterday? That would freak any normal person out. He just had to hope Shaggy wasn’t normal. He didn’t think she was, but you never knew. She could decide to turn tail and run back to Marin County, leaving the off-kilter Asian witch behind.

  “You okay, brother?” Alejandro asked.

  “Yeah. Just…still a little out of it. I’ll be fine.”

  Alejandro squeezed his shoulder and walked off to confer with Raquel and Tempest, leaving Moss to his thoughts.

  Moss would hate it if Shaggy did. Still glowing from yesterday’s experience on the astral, body still hurting from a week’s worth of abuse, he knew half of him was still communing with the kami on the astral planes. But the other half of him? Knew he wanted Shaggy. Wanted to wake up next to her. To go for long bike rides. To dance. To read books together.

  He wanted someone besides his housemates to care when he got arrested. Even though he couldn’t imagine himself living in her swank condo, or her bunking down at Justice House, he hoped they’d have time to figure that stuff out.

  “Moss.” He turned. There she was, in blue jeans, fancy sneakers, and a pale green sweater, short strawberry-blond hair shining, eyes seeking out his, wondering if he was actually there.

  He leaned in. She leaned in. They kissed, warm and soft, increasing pressure before breaking away again.

  “These are for you,” he said, handing her the bouquet.

  “Irises. They’re beautiful. Thank you. How are you? You had me a little freaked out, you know.”

  “I know. I’m still a little…out there,” he admitted, “but I’m going to be fine.”

  She shaded her eyes and looked toward the jail. “Any word?”

  “They should be out soon. Within the next half hour.” But he didn’t want to talk about his comrades. Didn’t want to talk about the action. Not right now.

  “Shaggy? I know it’s too early to say this, and I know you don’t know what’s going on with the kid and all that, but…”

  “Actually, I decided while hanging upside down over the river. I’m not keeping it.”

  “Oh. Okay then. Um…can I go with you? When you do whatever procedure you’ve decided on?”

  She gave him a half smile. “That’d be great, Moss. Thank you. But you were about to say something else?”

  Right. Here we go. He swallowed. Placed his hands on Shaggy’s arms, lightly, so she knew he was there, but could easily get away. If she wanted to. Needed to. She moved in closer, and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Her small, strong arms circled his waist, and her cheek rested against his chest.

  “I know it’s soon, but after everything… Up there on the bridge, right before the cops showed up… I don’t know if this’ll make any sense to you but, I was up halfway between earth and the astral planes…I went totally still inside, for just one moment, and I knew, Shaggy. I just knew. I knew my magic. And I knew the river. And I knew my coven…”

  “And?” He felt her shift and tense up in his arms. Waiting.

  He leaned back just far enough to see her beautiful bare face. He looked into her blue eyes and ran a hand through her short strawberry-blond hair.

  “I knew that I love you.”

  They breathed together for three silent seconds before Shaggy broke the silence.

  “You must not remember, but up there on the bridge? I said I love you, too.”

  “You did?”

  “I did.”

  Thank all the spirits, everywhere. Moss smiled and they kissed again.

  A cheer came from all around them. Moss looked toward the entrance. The first of their comrades walked through the glass doors, out into the westering sun.

  “They’re out!” Moss smiled. “Think you can stand hanging out with my coven and housemates for a while? I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

  “Well, as long as you promise,” Shaggy said, “let’s go.”

  They turned, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. His coven waited, smiles on their faces, fisted hands in the air. Moss and Shaggy joined them, just as Barbara Jean and the others raised their fists in answer. Someone started blasting music––The Coup. Moss and Shaggy laughed. Tariq slapped Barbara Jean into a hug. And everyone on the sidewalk started dancing.

  Just like the city of Portland, his comrades, his housemates, and Arrow and Crescent Coven were his home. And it seemed like Shaggy might want to be, too. The rich girl, poor boy stuff? He bet they’d figure it out somehow. Together.

  He was a very, very fortunate man.

  The kami spoke to him.

  And a river ran through his veins.

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  By Dark

  Alejandro, phone in hand, earbuds in, paced the sidewalk in front of Charlie’s store. A supple, black leather jacket was thrown over his usual pressed black slacks and lightly starched lavender dress shirt. A gray and black checked scarf wound around his neck, warding off the late October chill.

  He barely heard the voice on the other side of the phone. He was in crisis. It was an internal crisis, but it was throwing every part of his life into upheaval.

  Maybe it was a mid-life crisis? He was forty-five years old, smack in the middle of what he hoped would be a very long, fulfilling life. Really fulfilling. He had a great partner––the sexy Shekinah––a great coven, and plenty of money. But life still felt like crap. So here he was, pacing on a sidewalk, trying to ignore the droning, entitled voice yammering in his ear.

  He’d much rather be inside. Charlie’s gaming store––Owlbear––was his niece and nephew’s favorite place to go on their afternoons together. He would pick them up at school and they’d walk the three blocks together, chattering at him about one hundred and ten things, all as quickly as possible. Both of them were talkers, which was funny, because they were also big bookworms. Alejandro had been a bookworm––still was––but leaned toward the decidedly quieter end of the spectrum.

  The afternoon edged toward twilight. Alejandro loved the sun, but this year? He welcomed the coming winter, with its long, dark nights. It just felt…restful. He needed some rest.

  Just as the year leaned halfway between autumn and winter, the neighborhood was in the midst of a transition, too. There was still some light industrial on the main drag here, with old homes on the side streets, but more and more, small commercial shops like Charlie’s mixed with swank new cocktail bars and artisan pizza places alongside tire shops and seedy old bars. It was going the way of all Portland neighborhoods west of 82.