By Flame

by T Thorn Coyle

  He held the symbols of fire and air in his hands for the first time in too long. Too many months. He realized then that all throughout the monthly coven meetings and rituals, and his prayers every morning, he hadn’t really been doing the work of the witch. His afternoon before the Imbolc ritual notwithstanding, Brenda was right. He’d been neglecting his tools.

  “No time like the present.”

  Aiden took in a deep breath, dropped his attention down and centered himself.

  It was time to call his power back. All the way back. Holding the tools of will and intellect, the tools that cut, and the tools that formed boundaries, the tools that chose, he breathed in the feel of fire and breathed out the blessing of air.

  He felt the earth of his body, and the water in his spit and the blood that raced through his veins, and he looked at the Brigid’s cross and the cauldron, and the candle and the cup, and then he raised his head and said out loud: “I choose to know, I choose to act. I choose my power. My name is Tobias and I am a witch. And I pledge here in front of the elements of life and the Goddess Brigid herself that I will seek always the unfolding path of healing, of power, of fierce love and change. Brigid, on your special day you told me to forge justice from the fires of love. Teach me how. I vow to learn. I vow to do this work.”

  He raised the athame and the wand, arms forming a powerful vee shape in the air. “I, Tobias, will learn to the best of my ability to forge justice from the fires of love. Starting here, starting now. Beginning today. I will rise to the challenge in front of me. I set my feet on this path. I will follow my heart and do my will. Brigid arise! Brigid come! You are the lady of healing. You are the lady of inspiration. But you are also she who wields the hammer and forges the sword upon the anvil. Forge me. Shape me. Temper me. Make me strong and whole and ready for this work. So mote it be.”

  The energy around his body felt clear and strong for the first time in quite a while. Tobias could feel his aura shining around him like an egg of light. He nodded. It was good.

  He kissed the blade and the wand, and he set them crossed in front of the candle on the altar. Then he took another breath and said, “Thank you for showing me the way.” He extinguished the candle. “And whatever you need to hammer into me? Bring it on.”

  Tobias turned to his shelves of already-made tinctures and got to work blending them into a new formula. Aiden need him. And damn it, Tobias was going to show up.

  16

  Aiden

  Everything hurt.

  His back, his head, his hands. Somehow, even his feet hurt. Aiden was tucked into the double bed in his room in the community house. It was a big, sprawling Victorian he shared with six other soup kitchen workers. He worked for room and board and a small stipend. He was grateful for the home.

  His room was spare. Neat, like a monk’s room. He had a quilt from home that his mother had mailed him once they figured out he was here to stay. It had been hand pieced by his grandmother in beautiful shades of green, burgundy, and blue. He loved the quilt. His grandmother had always been good to him.

  The room smelled of the coffee and tea Renee and Brad were drinking. He tried to focus on Renee’s face, but it hurt to have his eyes open at all. Renee had shut the burgundy curtains over his window so not too much light could come in. Not that there was that much light today anyway. It had warmed up enough for the rains to come, and he was grateful for the sound of it on the window.

  The temperature was supposed to drop again tonight, bringing ice storms. Aiden felt for the people outside. He didn’t know how most of them even survived; they made do, he knew. Houseless people were resourceful, if nothing else. He just wished they’d been able to save the camp under the freeway.

  “I feel like I got cracked on the head for nothing.”

  “We’re just lucky they didn’t arrest us all,” Renee said, perched on the chair near his bed. Brad and Renee were crowded into his room with cups of coffee and tea to give him a quick update. Stingray said she’d give them twenty minutes before she came back to shoo them out so he could rest.

  Aiden supposed Renee was right. Apparently, Renee and Ghatso had dragged him off out of the way of the cops. The cops looked disgusted with them, Ghatso had said.

  “They couldn’t bother to arrest us.” Brad said. He was standing hear the door. The room was too small for a second chair. “They just wanted us out of there. Wanted to prove their power.”

  Renee picked up the thread of complaint. “They didn’t even need to deal with us. After you got knocked out, the cop that pushed you actually laughed. He wadded up that woman’s tent and threw it in the back of the NorthWest Service truck.”

  “Bastards,” Brad replied.

  If Aiden’s head hadn’t felt as if an ice pick had been permanently affixed in the back of it, he would have shaken it.

  Apparently, his comrades had somehow gotten him into the car, Brad and Renee carrying him, and gotten him to the hospital. Stingray and Ghatso had taken turns waking him up every two hours all night long. He was exhausted. But they said he was finally out of danger from the slight concussion.

  He wondered whether or not he should press charges against the cop. Renee and Brad were split on that opinion too. Brad thought he should. Renee thought it might just get them all in more trouble. Aiden had no idea what to do, so he just lay here in bed, praying for the pain to go away.

  There was a soft knock on the door. “Yes,” he croaked. Brad cracked the door open, then turned and smiled.

  “There’s a Tobias here to see you. You feel up to more company?” Brad asked.

  Tobias had actually come like he said he would. “Yeah, yeah, send him in, please. Thank you.”

  “Do you need anything?” Renee asked, as she stood to go. “Tea? Soup?”

  “Maybe in a while. I’m okay for now.”

  Renee gently kissed his forehead, and then she and Brad walked out and Tobias walked in, messenger bag slung across the front of his dark coat, a worried look on his beautiful face. When had Aiden started thinking he was beautiful? The minute you saw him, his mind said. Yeah. Who was he kidding?

  The witch closed the door behind him, then took in the room. The small dresser with a cloth on top, some coins, a ring, and a few books stacked on its surface.

  “Chronicles of Narnia, huh?”

  “Yeah. I love C.S. Lewis,” Aiden said.

  “Oh and Madeleine L’Engle! I loved A Wrinkle In Time.”

  “I still do,” Aiden said, feeling the ghost of a smile tilting up his lips. “Sorry I can’t sit up… I…”

  “No, no, please.”

  Aiden motioned to the chair under the window. “Have a seat,” he said.

  Tobias pulled the chair closer, unslung the messenger bag and set it on the floor. It rustled and clinked. Then he took his coat off and flung it across the back of the chair. Aiden watched all of this as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. As though he could watch Tobias take his coat off forever.

  He wore a burgundy sweater. It looked soft. The goatee that framed his mouth needed a trim. His eyes looked a bit drawn. His mouth was tight.

  Aiden wanted to kiss the tightness away.

  Finally, Tobias sat down and leaned over, peering at Aiden as though he could figure out what was wrong with him just by looking. Maybe he could.

  “You don’t look so good,” Tobias said. “But actually, you look a lot better than I feared.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I should say thanks.” Aiden spoke softly. It felt as if speaking at normal volume was impossible.

  “This is going to sound weird, but I was expecting your aura to be all cracked and shattered. But it’s not. It actually looks strong. Your aura looks vibrant…and something’s different about you.”

  “You mean besides this cracked skull I got?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s the fire in your heart,” he said. “I can feel it now; it’s growing stronger.”

  “How do you know about that?” Aiden w
hispered. He felt as if he could barely take a breath. “You’re freaking me out.”

  Tobias reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Aiden’s ear. His touch was so gentle, like a warm whisper.

  “I’m a witch, remember? I see things,” Tobias said. “I see you.”

  Aiden just lay there quietly breathing for a moment. He wasn’t sure what to say in response. Tobias turned away and began to rummage in the messenger bag on the floor.

  “I made you some herbal formulas,” he said. He pulled out two small dark brown bottles with stoppers in the top.

  “What are they?” Aiden said.

  “This one a combination of skull cap and St. John’s Wort and a couple of other things that should be good for your head and concussion if you have one. It’ll help with blood flow and help your healing process. And then this one”—he shook the second bottle—“is arnica, which is an herb traditionally used for bruising. I figured you must be bruised up.”

  “Yeah, I feel like my whole back must be black and blue. I’m kind of afraid to look at it.”

  “Well, just take this. Two droppers’ full, two to three times a day.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as you need it. You’ll know when to stop.” Tobias smiled at him. “And I can always make more.”

  Tobias set the bottles on the bedside table and looked around the room again. His eyes wandered back to the dresser with the books on top.

  “You kept the Brigid’s cross.”

  “Yeah, thanks. It’s nice. I never had one before.”

  “I made it.”

  “Yeah, you said that.”

  “Right. But I think I didn’t realize,” Tobias said, “that when I made it, I must have made it for you.”

  There was no thought in response. No words. Just a sudden wash of emotion so strong, Aiden couldn’t even name it.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Aiden said. “I don’t even know how to feel.” Some tears leaked out of his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from the pain or the emotions. Tobias grabbed a tissue for him, and Aiden wiped his nose.

  “I really like you, Tobias, but…”

  “But I’m a witch.”

  “Yeah. But you’re a witch. And I’m a Catholic. And I’m a little scared. And weird stuff is happening, and the cops are horrible, and Mary Jo’s dead. And I’m angry. So angry. I just I’m not sure what to do. I’m…I’m kind of confused. Can you understand that?”

  “I think so.”

  “Do you think you can be my friend?”

  Tobias looked at him again and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

  “Aiden, I want to be more than your friend, but I also think you’re pretty awesome.” He opened his eyes again. “And if being your friend is what I need to do, I’ll do it. I just want to help heal you. That’s what I want right now.”

  Aiden’s eyes searched Tobias’s face. “You know what I want?”

  “What?” Tobias answered.

  “I want you to help heal the people I work with. I want you to help heal this city. I want you to do a lot of things. Healing me doesn’t mean that much; it’s not enough.”

  A look of hurt flashed across that beautiful face.

  “It’s enough for me,” Tobias said.

  “It’s not enough for me.”

  They sat quietly for a moment.

  “Here, take some of this,” Tobias reached for the bottles and drew some of the tincture into the stopper, then squirted first one round of herbs, and a second into Aiden’s mouth.

  Aiden winced, it was slightly bitter, slightly sweet. He swallowed it down.

  “Thank you. Can you make a tincture for every houseless person in Portland?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tobias said, “maybe. Can I get you anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Aiden replied, “You can give me a kiss.”

  “Friends’ kiss?”

  “Friends’ kiss.”

  “I’ll take friendship then, while you figure out whether or not you want something more.”

  Tobias leaned forward again, smelling of fire, and incense, and warmth, and he placed the softest kiss on Aiden’s lips. It was the polar opposite of the kisses they’d shared in the bar, and in Tobias’s bed. Those had been hungry kisses, kisses that could bruise if they went on long enough.

  But not this one. This one felt like chocolate melting on his lips.

  Aiden hadn’t known a kiss could feel that soft.

  17

  Tobias

  The rain was growing colder. Tobias didn’t care. He needed to be out here, outside in the garden behind his office. He breathed in the scent of pine and snuck his hand out of one of his gloves, tucking the glove into a coat pocket. He placed that hand, his left hand, the hand that was more sensitive and receptive, on the rough pine bark. Then he exhaled slowly, and breathed in again.

  He needed a sign. A vision. A direction. His conversation with Aiden sat uncomfortably in his belly. A goad. A thorn. And clearly connected with the charge Brigid had laid upon him.

  What did it mean to make a formula for a city? What did it mean to forge justice from the fires of love?

  What did it mean to continue to create his life, a life that mattered?

  Sheltered by the towering tree and its spreading, needle-covered branches, he was only half protected from the rain. It still dripped down his forehead, touching his nose and his lips. His wool hat soaked up the moisture. He tried to tune in to the tree, to the sense of it, the scent of it, the taste of it.

  Sticking out his tongue, he waited to taste the rain itself. The droplets tasted slightly of the pine needles they fell from. The rain tasted of…a distant ocean. Sky. It also tasted of a slight foreboding. As if it was a harbinger of things to come.

  Tobias returned his attention to the tree itself.

  The tree was old, and deep, deep inside it, the sap ran slow, cold. He could barely feel it moving. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He leaned his forehead against the tree, appreciating the welcoming solidity of it. Dropping his attention more deeply into his center, he simultaneously tuned into the energy field around his body, feeling where it merged with the pine.

  This tree had sheltered squirrels and boring beetles, crows and woodpeckers, flickers, jays, ants, and worms for years and years. Far longer than Tobias been here. Far longer than Tobias had been alive.

  He wondered what it must feel like, to be so old, and to have done your work so well. To have seen buildings built, children play, people weep, and laugh, and die. He wanted a life like that.

  Lifting his head, he gazed up at the branches. The rain plopped from the needles and onto his cheeks.

  Seeing Aiden had been a shock. He looked so pale, terrible, and half broken. Yet he was lit up inside with a fire Tobias couldn’t help but respond to. The fire felt all-consuming, and Tobias wondered if there was any room in a man like that for anything outside his holy charge. He wondered if there was room for a man like him.

  He wondered about that fire. It had Her fingerprints all over it.

  “Brigid, what are you doing? Is there more to this plan I should know about? Some things I need to know?”

  He hadn’t thought much about justice in the past, but it was clear he needed to pay attention to it now. He’d been too focused on surviving with some part of him intact, and then on breaking away. Seeking his own freedom.

  Helping others heal themselves was part of that freedom. But he knew that people like Moss and Aiden, more radical than he was, would likely say that without justice, freedom was a sham.

  A breeze rustled the branches, sending more water raining down on his head.

  Tobias hoped Aiden used the formulas. On his walk home, Tobias realized he’d taken to heart what Aiden had said about medicine for the city, and about helping the people that Aiden tried so hard to help every day. Tobias thought of his own tears, his sense of anger and helplessness, and realized how much of those emotions had been rooted in hi
s fear.

  He knew he needed to get inside, out of the rain, out of the coming ice that he could feel creeping up around the edges of his skin. The wind was really picking up now, whistling through the trees, causing a chill to rise on the back of his neck. He began to shake with the cold. But he couldn’t leave this tree, not yet.

  “You have something to tell me. I know it,” he said. He took a breath and sank deeper.

  :Go inside,: he heard.

  “Inside the building?”

  :Self:

  Tobias tried to drop deeper, deeper still. He exhaled as slowly as he could, pausing before inhaling again, trying to match his heartbeat with the flow of the sap in the tree. So slow. Taking a long breath in of the icy air, he felt his eyes roll back in his head, seeking the other planes of existence. The places so often just beyond reach.

  :Medicine,: the tree said.

  “Yes. Yes,” Tobias said, “you are medicine. You are good for congestion and coughs and helping people get the sickness out, remove it from their bodies.”

  :More,: he heard. :Everything.:

  “Thank you,” Tobias said. That was part of the answer.

  He kissed the bark, feeling it rough under his mouth, then ran through the garden as white hail shattered the sky and bounced off the earth around his feet. He turned just as he hit the door, and watched the balls of ice bounce for a moment.

  Then he went inside and ran up to his office, removing his coat as he went. Taking his hat off, he flung them both on a coat tree and entered his office space, wiping the moisture off his face.

  He looked at the jars of herbs. There was a jar full of dried elderberries he had harvested in late summer. A jar of dried ginkgo leaves from just a few months before. They whispered to him now, the way the pine had.

  Opening the wooden cabinet, he looked at the large jars of tincture he’d made up and stored. Some of them were still in process, others were ready now. What would he need? His eyes scanned the handwritten labels. Licorice, goldenseal, echinacea. He had them all. And there, on the bottom shelf in a jar full of brandy, were the inner layers of bark from the pine. He’d forgotten about it. It should be just about ready for use by now.