by Trinity Crow
"Well, come on in,” she told me when I hesitated. “Chicken?" She waved the drumstick around for unneeded emphasis.
“No.” My tone missed neutral by a mile. “Thanks, but I ate.”
“You should never eat at a stranger's house,” Sayre said, seriously as she led the way in. “When you break bread with them, it gives them power over you.”
A snort from across the room made me look around. Chloe was seated in a large wing chair in a room full of gold, greens, and whites. Surprisingly, it was nice and airy for such an old trailer. There was another girl seated in the chair to Chloe's left. Her cat-like face stared suspiciously at me, and her narrowed eyes went wide as she saw Corky.
“She's making that up,” Aren said calmly, coming in with a tea tray. I winced internally at the sight.
I looked at Sayre for confirmation.
“Yeah.” she admitted cheerfully, “I'm full of it!”
Chloe murmured an agreement that made Aren laugh as she set the tray down.
“Sit down,” Chloe said, “you're welcome here.”
Her words and her tone didn't match and without thinking, I flicked open my senses the barest whisper as I lowered myself on to the couch. Worry and watchfulness were all around me. Which made me relax, knowing the only danger that Chloe feared was me and my unknown talent and intentions. When I relaxed, I saw her stiffen and knew her caution had gone up a notch because I saw no threat to myself in this place. She didn't know how to take that. It was completely silent, but an entire conversation had just passed between us. The girl watched me openly. Her curiosity outweighing good manners apparently.
"Meow," said Sayre and Aren frowned at her. It made me smile though. Sayre didn't mean girl bitchiness. She meant Chloe and I were circling like two strange cats.
"Purr," I said flatly, good intentions stated. Sayre cracked up and a tiny flicker of amusement tugged at the corner of Chloe's mouth.
"Have you met Amandine, my god-daughter?” Chloe gestured towards the chair next to her. The girl, Amandine, nodded at me.
“Hey,” I was determined to be polite, “Nice to meet you.” Mrs. Davis, foster mom number four, would have been proud. And died of a heart attack from the shock.
Amandine's face was mocking. Her hair was pulled so tight behind her head that I couldn't tell if her eyes were naturally slanted or pulled out of shape. It looked painful. Her skin was a few shades darker than mine, but her Creole skin was dotted with freckles that matched the red-brown of her hair. She gave me a long, slow nod, nothing friendly about it.
"Hey."
The word was offered with no trace of emotion.
Spires rising against a blue sky, cobblestones, a wide river, powdered sugar bursting against my tongue. I blinked as the images faded, and wondered what that was about.
Tea got passed around, chamomile with a choice of cake or cookies. But they were store bought and not bakery store. I could tell without tasting them that they were dry and inedible. I guess I was becoming a real snob about baked goods, but no self-respecting wheat plant would want to go out like this. I made do with the tea which was weakly flowered and gross. Give me coffee any day. The whole thing was all a bit awkward. I'm not much for social visits. I mean, should I mention her voodoo garden or compliment the curtains?
Sayre broke in with the hiccups. Typical goofball move.
“Quick!” she said, between gulps. “Somebody do something scary!”
Chloe and I both gawked at her and then I surprised myself and everyone but Sayre, I think, by laughing out loud. It was funny and I was wound a little tight since last night.
Chloe's mouth twisted. "Ha ha," she said, "Are you here for serious talk or not?"
Well, I'm not here for the cake. I thought meanly, as I stopped laughing.
"Serious as a heart attack," Sayre said, hiccuping still.
I nodded, serious myself, not sharing any laughter with Chloe.
The woman motioned to Aren who rose and lit several fat white candles around the room. Each was big enough to have three or four wicks. As they burned, a scent filled the room. I tried to place it.
Those candles are not for ambiance, I thought, but protection.
“Sit,” Chloe commanded.
“Ye gods!” Sayre pouted and plunked down on the floor, her back against the couch where I sat. Something eased in me with Sayre on my side of the room. I thought about testing the waters with Amandine through my senses but decided I'd wait.
I cleared my throat. “I just need to know how to use protection.”
Whoa, that sounded wrong. I did not need to look at Sayre to tell she was fighting the urge to comment.
“Shut it,” I said. Without looking, I felt her twitch against the couch and settle. Amandine looked over at us as if we were too childish for her to bother.
There was a flicker to the candles and the windchimes sounded a single ripple of notes. Chloe looked towards the window. "That'd be Mason," she said.
"Mason is earth element like you. He'll balance the group and help to ground us, with me, water and Aren, air." Sayre turned to look at me as she explained.
"Chloe is fire?" I asked uneasily. The older woman's eyes narrowed at me. What did it mean I wondered to be the element that transformed? But, I remembered that any of the elements could have a dark side. Tornadoes, floods, and earthquakes were just as deadly.
A knock of two heavy raps sounded and Aren, already at the door, opened it, smiling up at the husky bearded man. He stood in the doorway with eyes only for the woman in front of him. I eyebrowed Sayre.
"She's a moron," Sayre whispered, exasperated, "and he's too shy to say anything. I'm about ready to step in and fix this."
I smiled at the thought of Sayre matchmaking, bull in a china shop or was it red flag to a bull?
“Well! Come in already!” Sayre yelled, “Jeez!”
Ole! I thought
Mason seemed out of place in the feminine room and he moved to sit quickly on a large, square ottoman beside the chair Aren had occupied, though no one had told him it was hers. Aren closed the door and went to her chair. As he turned to face her, I had a deja vu moment. The scene mirrored, almost exactly, a scene on one of Aren's tarot cards, the long-haired, regal woman in a chair, her burly knight at her feet.
Was it Queen of Cups? Weird. I thought, looking uncomfortably away from them.
To my surprise, Sayre started talking about protections.
"Our protection comes from belief or faith. For this to work, you use the things you believe in to make a stronger connection. So I want you to watch as Chloe sets her circle and we'll see if you sense the difference. Okay?” Sayre looked at me expectantly.
I nodded but wondered what the point was. You couldn't live your life inside a circle and I had no intention of actually working magic or hoodoo or whatever. She nodded back, taking my agreement at face value.
“Then Aren will do hers, Amandine, then Mase and then me. And with mine still up, you'll have a go.”
“Okay.” I shrugged. Without thinking, I called Corky to me and he settled his square body between my knees. Chloe eyed him steadily for a moment but when she spoke it was about something else. "We should move out on to the deck for this."
Chloe rose from her chair using crutches to maneuver to a small side table. She collected a box of dark wood carved heavily with unfamiliar symbols. She led the way to the sliding glass doors and Mase leaped up to open them for her. I followed with the rest of them, Corky on my heels.
The deck was a concrete slab with a pipe railing that overlooked the bayou. How it was held up, I didn't want to guess. I just let my belief and the concrete suspend me over the waters flowing below. The trees hugged in too close to give a wide view, but what we could see was amazing, the water, the trees. On the shoreline, waterbirds waded amongst the weeds, looking for food. The edges of the deck had been fitted with wooden benches on three sides and we all sat down. Corky resumed his spot between my knees and his weight against me
was comforting.
Chloe made her way to the center of the deck. Leaning on the armrests of the crutches, she opened the box. Slowly, she pivoted in a circle, red dust sifting from her fingers on to the floor. When she reached the starting point, she stood and straightened, handing her crutches off to Aren. With no trace of a limp, Chloe moved around the circle, her hands moving continuously as she sifted dust patterns on the deck. She spoke in a low monotone, I couldn't make out the language of the words and it was obvious she didn't want me to. I leaned forward until my chin rested on Corky's broad head, trying to make out the symbols she was drawing. My view was blinkered by Corky's ears on either side of my face. The room faded to a dull gray and only the dust symbols of the floor reflected any color, shining in bright sparkling ribbons of color. Reds, greens, and purples twisted with ropes of deep gold. The dust drifted glittering from Chloe's gray fingers as she moved slowly, gracefully, I still had no clue what she was saying, but from her lips, glittery symbols emerged and hung momentarily in the air before dissolving and almost…almost, I could understand them.
Whoa, this was kind of freaky.
Abruptly, Sayre pushed me to sit up straight and the room flooded back to color. Damn, I thought, what was in that tea?
"She's drawing a vever," Sayre explained in a low voice. "Chloe's methods are closer to Louisiana Voodoo, Amandine does things, LaPierre style."
Chloe completed her movements and stood up watching me expectantly.
"Can you feel it?" Sayre asked, her curiosity evident.
I considered a moment, and then opened myself up just a tad and flicked the air around Chloe and her magic carpet of dust. There was a resistance, a blankness to the air. I pushed a little harder and the dust circle began to vibrate. Chloe's pale face grew paler. I stopped immediately, wondering if I was hurting her. Sayre was dead silent. I looked around at their faces uneasily. Aren met my eyes and smiled gently.
"I'll go next," she said, her calmness reassuring us all.
Chloe did some hand movements and then stepped from the circle, waving Amandine forward with a broom. When the deck was cleared once more, Aren stepped forward.
With Aren, the air felt lighter. Chloe's protections had been heavy-handed and intense. Aren moved with peaceful purpose. Her ritual supplies were carried in a basket over her arm, the kind of split basket Mrs. Evers used in the garden. I thought about the things Sayre had told me about her family and knew without being told this was her grandma's basket. The faith Aren had in this ritual was really her faith in her grandma, the woman who had loved her and raised her.
Aren spread a circle of what looked like white sand,
"Salt," Sayre whispered helpfully,
…and set her basket in the center. She pulled out a wooden box that had divided sections and filled with dried herbs. Aren smiled over at us. I heard Mason sigh and inwardly snickered. Aren's smile could do that to you. She sprinkled the herbs in four places.
"North, south, east, west are connected to elements," Aren explained. "The herbs have the same elemental connections."
She set white candles on top of the herbs, then four more plants were sprinkled in the spaces between them.
"To ward the crossroads between life and death," she murmured. Four twigs were laid on the crossroad herbs. "Oak, rowan, elder, ash."
Aren walked to the center of the circle and sank to her knees. Unable to stop myself, I leaned forward to see better and as the world went gray, I realized it was looking through Corky's ears that changed my sight. I felt a nudge and held up a hand to ward off Sayre's interference. What her problem was, I didn't know.
The salt and herbs didn't glow, but with a gasp, I saw that Aren did. She seemed brighter and the embroidery on her dress gave off flashes of color filled light. When she raised her eyes to mine, they were darker, more powerful, and somehow, knowing. My eyes blinked slowly as that smile curled over her face, washing her features in a golden glow. The candles lit themselves with a soft flash, drawing a shocked noise of delight from me. It was a crazy, fairytale scene of magic with Aren, the princess. At any minute, I expected fairies to flit around her head. She was so full of golden light and peaceful energy. It was magic like little girls dream of.
Sighing, I sat back, and the world filled with everyday colors. Aren was herself again, and more surprising, the candles were not lit. I squinted. Nope, not lit. Corky's ears flickered from my breath as I leaned forward again. They were lit in Corky vision. I leaned back, now they weren't. Freaky. They were lit in spirit or energy, but not in fact.
Aren stood, and lit each candle in turn with a wooden taper.
"She makes those," Sayre whispered. "I told her a big, old safety lighter would work just as well, but she was appalled at the idea. Rituals," she shrugged, "they're all about your head."
I thought about this as Aren carefully cleansed and cleaned the space for Amandine to use. But when Aren invited her up, she scowled at us.
“I'm not a circus animal,” she said heatedly, “to put on a show for her.” Her anger seeped into the air, coloring it. Everyone looked uncomfortable as her intensity settled over us.
"Whatever," Sayre said, unconcerned. "I really just wanted to give Child a taste of everyone's style. Leotis was pretty determined that you be his representative. Guess he should have come himself.”
I eyed Amandine as she fought with herself. Whoever this Leotis was, he had a pretty strong grip on her.
“Damn,” she said. Her eyes were almost hate-filled as she got up.
Corky moved restlessly, and I felt so uncomfortable that I wanted to leave. I was doing my level best to respect everybody and be open to this shit, and this angry girl was the last thing I needed. Corky's bulk against my leg made me realize I didn't have to take this crap. Whatever the hell her Voodoo story was, it had nothing to do with me.
“Don't worry about it,” I said, my voice was flat and unfriendly. “I don't need to see it. I think you represented what you're about already.”
Her mouth fell open, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Aren's eyes go wide.
"Are you for real?” Amandine seemed incredulous that anyone would turn her down, or maybe talk to her that way. “I don't know who you think you are…” she started.
I reached down deliberately and rubbed Corky's neck, drawing her eyes to him. There was nothing casual about the move. “I don't think I'm anybody,” I said, cutting her off. “Definitely not important enough for you to put yourself out. I guess I can find my way without you and this LaPierre Voodoo.”
Her face went still, and you could almost hear her teeth grind. There was fear as well.
What would this Leotis do if she didn't show me? Was he behind the sendings, or maybe the haint paint?
The room was silent, and I watched with little pity as Amandine tried to figure out what to do.
Aren coughed and I looked over at her.
“Would you…” Aren trailed off. The tension in the room was crazy high, too high for a couple of teenaged girls being bitchy. “As a favor…''
Seriously? I was supposed to cave and play nice? My eyes slid away from hers and hit Chloe's. She looked, of all weird things, approving. I flicked my gaze back to Amandine. She didn't look sorry or beaten, and I didn't want that anyway. Just some damn manners.
Amandine hesitated and then spoke “It doesn't matter if we like it or not, or like each other, but you're a part of LaPierre now. It's part of you.”
There was a frisson of chills across my skin as this hit me, and the truth of it sank in. The knowing.
"This town was built to keep certain things out and keep others in. It's protected on three sides by water, only way in across the spirit road."
This took a second. The one way in and out of LaPierre was up Calle XXX through the town cemetery to Hwy XXX. I had always thought of this as a quirk, but with tales of death magic and of Julia holding a place between the living and the dead, that was seeming less and less likely.
"LaPierre was b
uilt by the owner of that plantation you living at and all the slaves he freed.”
I nodded. I knew this already.
“Cut off like we are, everything here developed in its own way, from the Church to the witches.”
Aren looked vaguely insulted, Sayre was grinning.
“…and the Voodoo.”
“The legend of that lost child,” she paused, and I nodded, “that old witch tell you?” Her face was still mocking, but her voice was flat, almost disinterested.
Mrs. Evers? An actual witch? She was so nice, so Grandma. I guess I just expected a witchy cousin confined to her attic to be the one.
“She tell you this whole town's a rootwork to call that child home? The streets laid out in a vever?"
I looked at her, my face, a blank. What was she saying? That my moving here in 9th grade was the result of a centuries-old spell? Uh-huh.
"The witches laid their own spell, like a trap instead of a call. They worked hex signs to place a geas.”
Aren moved restlessly. Sayre, as usual, still looked amused.
"She be working on you, day by day. Burning candles on you. You think you don't need Voodoo? That's the power this place runs on, no matter who do the calling or the casting. Even if you blind to the power struggle over your skinny ass, knowledge ain't nothing to turn your nose up at.”
I stared at her, seeing her exaggerated accent for what it was. She wasn't as calm as she was pretending. Still, I had yet to see any evidence of manners.
"Your offer of friendship is irresistible,” I said. And my ass wasn't that skinny, she was just way curvy.
Sayre laughed out loud, while Aren shook her head, worriedly.
"Go on, girl," Chloe said. "Neither of you is going to bend. Either share or scoot."
"Love you too, Maman," Amandine said sarcastically over her shoulder, but there was affection in her voice, and it was enough to thaw the air slightly.
Amandine shrugged at me and reached over to hand Chloe what looked like a small drum. She pulled the candles everyone had used into a rough circle, apparently not caring about even spacing or gaps. And while the others had used fresh candles, she seemed fine with their used ones. Amandine settled herself in the center of the circle, knees bent and resting on her heels. From a leather bag, she pulled objects and placed them around her. I was curious, in spite of myself, leaning forward to identify them. There was a skull, maybe from a cat, something that looked like roots, some sticks and oyster shells and lastly a bottle of something brown and thick. Then she began to chant in a language, some kind of French patois. She dipped her fingers into the jar, and anointed her forehead, drawing lines down her cheeks and slashed an x low in her shirt. Amandine's voice was a guttural growl like you hear in really good blues singers, but this was like no song I had ever heard. Her words grew louder and I saw Chloe take a tighter grip on the rail, while Sayre sparkled to life beside me, cloaking the others in her lights.
