As one, they lift their muzzles and howl, the sound echoing through the forest, bouncing off the clouds and the thick snow and making my body tremble. The master’s world grows faint, until mine comes back in full color.
The snow stops glowing, and in the distance, I hear other wolves join the cry, lifting their voices skyward.
It’s as though their howls are inside my head, about to burst my eardrums. The sound vibrates down through my spine, my nervous system, anchoring in my legs.
And then, as fast as they turned wolf, my ancestors shift back. Five pops of light and they are in their original forms, their eyes glowing.
Shapeshifting. Wolves. Ronan and his family are all wolf shifters.
This is the answer I sought, although I’m not sure exactly how it will work.
“Thank you,” I call to my grandmothers. One by one, they disappear into the forest, resuming their posts on the ley lines, I assume.
The magnetic pull of the master’s world is gone, and I float up the steps of the porch. My father appears, closing the door behind him. “Are you okay? I heard wolves.”
“Is Ronan’s body still in the hospital?” I ask.
“The doctors said there was nothing more they could do, so Tala took him home. Why?”
I glance toward the forest, serene now. “I think I know how to get him back into it. I need you to round up all the shifters you can and get them to Tala’s. Form a circle around his body.”
Wolf shifters are especially sensitive to their pack. When threatened, or when they purposely shift, everyone feels it. It’s a ripple effect, the animal in them unable to resist the call of their pack.
Dad’s eyes light up. “You think forcing Ronan to shift into his wolf form will pull his spirit into his body?”
“I sure do.”
“You know, he’s only ever shifted once, when he was a child, and was provoked.”
It’s one of the reasons Ronan goes on a yearly shamanic journey—to try and conquer the shift. I’m sure a psychologist would tell him it’s because he’s never dealt with the emotions surrounding his first experience. That small child inside of him still fears turning it loose.
“I don’t know exactly how it’ll work, but it may be our only option. If we can force it, the wolf will pull his spirit into the body to protect him.”
My father is a wise shaman. He nods, the glint in his eyes telling me he should’ve thought of it first. “With the storm, it’ll take me a little while to get there.”
“Be safe. I’ll do what I can from the other side to send Ronan’s spirit to that room. I’ll pop in and let you know when it’s time, if I can.”
Hopefully, I can bring Ronan with me, because I believe the closer I get his ethereal body to his physical one the better.
Dad hugs me before remembering I’m a spirit, his arms going right through me. He swears and blows a kiss my way. “Come back to us.”
I smile at him. “I’m glad you can see me. When I realized I was a ghost, I was scared none of you would be able to.”
He touches his forehead, a gesture of honor. “I always see you, my daughter.”
17
Inside the cabin, I spend the next few minutes laying out my plan to my sisters and Ava. Persephone floats from room to room, interjecting her opinions about my decorating skills, as well as my proposal. I ignore her, and for once, I wish I could drink the tea Spring made for everyone.
“The veil between dimensions is extremely thin right now,” I tell them. “If the master gets his way, he’ll punch through it and take over the world. The ley lines are weakened, and I need you guys to correct that.”
“Yes, but how exactly?” Summer asks. “None of us knows how to weave like Mom did, and even if we could, we don’t know how to put the tapestry back in its original form.”
“But Mom does,” I say. They all look at me as if I’ve lost my mind as well as my physical body. “Summer, get Mom’s hand mirror.”
She quirks an eyebrow and tilts her head. “Why do you want that?”
Summer has discovered a secret about Mom after she died, that she was using the mirror for black magick. She thinks I don’t know about her discovery, but of course, I do. There isn’t much my sisters can keep from me.
“Are we scrying for her?” Spring asks.
“It will connect us to her. You guys can use it as a portal to reach her, and she can guide you with the weaving.”
“That’s a great idea,” Autumn says.
“Or not.” Summer toys with her teacup. “Look, guys, I didn’t want to say anything…”
“Mom was using the mirror for dark magick,” I interrupt. I don’t have time to dance around this. “I know, Summer. But it’s not what you think.”
Her mouth drops open. “You knew?”
“She was using it to contact the souls the master took, not to resurrect them, per se, but to discover how to release them or annihilate him. She must’ve gotten pretty close to figuring it out, too, and that’s why he came after her.”
“Did she tell you that?” Autumn asks.
I blink, realizing that she didn’t. “The dead know all.” I say it with a bit of awe. It’s something I’ve told them again and again, but in this case… “I’m not dead. However, I’m near to it, and I just…know…things.”
“That’s so cool,” Spring says, and Summer smacks her arm. “What? Not that you’re close to being dead,” she corrects, looking at me apologetically. “Just the part where you know stuff we don’t.”
Shade comes through the door and jumps onto the back of the couch like a living cat and begins cleaning her paws. Godfrey and Snow follow, both moving to the fireplace hearth. I can help with the connection, Godfrey mentally tells us. Boost the signal.
“Perfect,” I say out loud. “We need all the help we can get.”
“But she was using black magick?” Summer asks.
Persephone is sitting on the kitchen counter, one leg crossed over the other, currently wearing an outfit that resembles Shirley Partridge, bell bottoms included. “Way to drop a bomb on them, Winter.”
I shoot a scowl at her. “Mom wasn’t perfect, but what she did was for the good of everyone. It’s no different than what we’re trying to do, she just saw black magick as being a tool to use.”
Autumn leans forward and taps a finger on the table. “But delving into that may have been the thing that allowed the master to get a hold of her in the first place.”
Arguing isn’t going to help, but I don’t want them to have a bad feeling about our mother as we go into this and contact her. “She must have thought it was worth the risk.”
Autumn sits back and I see all three struggling with this. Ava stays silent, allowing them to digest the information. After a moment, she says, “If we use the mirror as a portal to talk to your mom, we can work on fixing the ley line magick.”
I give her a grateful nod. “That’s what I need you to focus on right now. Dad’s working on Ronan, and I’m going after the master.”
Summer rises from her chair, lips set in a grim line. “I’ll grab the mirror.” She throws a cloak around her shoulders and disappears into the night. I hear her familiar, Cinders, squawk in the distance, greeting her.
Autumn rises as well. “I’ll prepare the loom.”
Spring stays seated and stares at me. “You can’t take on the master by yourself.”
“I’m not. You’re all going to help. But first things first. We need the ley lines to draw power from, and if I can release Ronan and the other souls, including Mom’s, it’ll weaken the master. Then we’ll put him in the container Autumn found.” At the fear on her face, I want to squeeze her arm, and once more find myself frustrated by my lack of a physical body. “We can do this, Spring. Trust me.”
My youngest sister looks lost. “There’s one thing wrong with your plan.”
There’s a lot, but I don’t see any other options. “What?”
“Who’s going to save you?” she asks, qui
etly.
Seph chuckles. “She’s got you there, kiddo.”
I send out a silent plea to Coyote. I could really use your guidance, right now.
He doesn’t appear, and I don’t have a brilliant ah-ha moment. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I may end up staying a ghost or cross to the afterworld.
“If we fix these other things,” I tell Spring, “I’ll figure out how to save myself.”
She shakes her head. “The prophecy says the four of us will stop the end of the world. I know that’s what we have to do. But I’m not sure it’s worth it if we lose you.”
Out of my sisters, Spring is the one I’ve had the most arguments with. We love each other, but I’m still surprised to hear her say such a thing, “You and the others have everything to live for, and I’m not about to let this demon ruin it for you. I’m going to fix it all, Spring, I swear it, and I will always be with you in one form or another. You know that.”
She gets to her feet, tears welling in her eyes, “I wish I could hug you right now.”
I smile at her. “I wish so, too.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asks.
Ancient shamans believed that ceremony time is a place where there’s no past, present, or future. There’s only now. Some are time travelers, space travelers. Just like the wheel of the year, time and space exist in a circle, not a line. “I need you to help me create ceremony time, so I can move between dimensions without getting stuck in one. The demon wants to anchor me to his, and I can’t let that happen. He’s already done it with Ronan and Mom. It’s not just about holding their souls, he has some kind of grip beyond that. I can’t get stuck there. Ava,”—I glance at her— “can you be my tether to this world?”
A solemn nod. “I can.”
“You and Spring will help me move between both worlds at will.”
“You want us to create a physical portal here?” Ava asks. “Like the mirror will be for your mother, Spring and I will be one for you. That way you can move between dimensions, or even past and present time.”
I nod. It’s not as hard to wrap my mind around the fact time is not linear, that space is malleable, because I deal with the other side of the veil. Ava does in a more limited way as well.
Spring is attached to the fairy folk, and she understands and works with their energy in their time, which is similar to the shamanic way of looking at it. “That might work,” she says.
Still, this is different from anything we’ve ever attempted before. “I know this is new territory for all of us, and I wish I had better directions or guidelines on how exactly to make that happen, but I don’t.”
Spring wipes away a tear that slides down her cheek. “Just like with anything we attempt, any spell or charm, the first thing we do is set the intention and lay out our tools.”
I love her sudden determination. “Exactly. Grab my wishing cauldron,” I say. “Let’s get our tools and go to work.”
18
Stopping time is a skill I’ve practiced with my father since I was four.
Hedgewitches use meditation to drop out of the present moment into other dimensions to receive information from the spirits and their guides in order to bring it back to the physical plane and help people.
Shamans use a similar tool to connect with the lower and upper worlds, carrying wisdom to lead others around them.
From Buddhists to Australian Aboriginals, the use of time and space is well documented.
Me? I play with it because it’s fun.
When I was nine, I developed the skills strongly enough that I could drop out of this dimension into another and started using it as more of a space travel thing to surprise my sisters. It’s the foundation for my invisibility spells. I’m not really cloaking my physical body so much as stepping out of this timeline and reappearing in a different spot.
Persephone and I stand on the master’s side of the veil. Once more, I’m greeted with that gray filter over everything, the rippling dull green membrane behind rather than in front of me.
“I need you to find Coyote,” I tell my new spirit guide. “I need his help to make this work.”
She glances around and puts her hands on her hips, shrugging. “Sorry, don’t see him. Guess you have to do this with me.”
The sweater she wears has a large, cursive P embroidered in the upper left chest. She’s wearing a poodle skirt and saddle shoes. Her hair is swept into a towering bouffant, and she has cat-eye shaped eyeglasses on.
“Let me guess.” I point at her attire. “Laverne and Shirley?”
She touches the end of her nose with her finger. “Give the witch a broomstick.”
That TV show is the one thing I remember about my Grandma Willow. She died when I was three, but I remember playing at her feet every afternoon while Mom was in the shop and listening to the sitcom’s silly jingle. Grandma would sing along and laugh, and I’d join her. She’s now one of the ancestors guarding the pentagram, but she looks like she’s thirty, not the elderly woman whose feet I played at.
“You’ve ruined that show for me now,” I say. “Thanks a lot.”
Persephone gives me a hurt look. “Harsh.”
“Where’s Coyote? What have you done with him?”
Indignant, she throws her shoulders back, fists tightening at her hips. “How dare you accuse me of doing something to him. Seems to me he’s left you high and dry. I’d fire him if I were you.”
“If you know where he is, and why he can’t come to me, and you don’t tell me, you and I will go a few rounds when this is done. If I survive,” I add under my breath.
She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have no idea why he’s not here.”
“Then figure out where he is and bring him here. That’s how you can help me, spirit guide.”
I put a touch of sarcasm in the term. She gives me a hard glare and blinks out.
If I were able to breathe, I’d release a giant sigh of relief. I stare at the woods, and open my heart to reach out to Ronan, feeling the tether to Spring and Ava. It seems weak. Gazing at the path into the woods, I wonder if I should journey into it.
I glance of the representation of my cabin in this dimension, the lack of color turning it dull and dreary. Mom’s spirit is inside at the loom. Before I crossed to this world, I saw the reunion of her and my sisters through the mirror. That looking glass now provides a few minutes of delight to all of them, and I’m thrilled it worked.
Mirrors are portals, and you have to be careful you don’t pull something through you don’t want, but in this case? It’s a lifeline. If nothing else, I’ve given the four of them a few minutes of happiness. Peace.
That’s my job, my path in this world, bringing that to others.
Although I don’t have Coyote—or Persephone, for all the good she might do—I have to find Ronan and get him out of here.
Ghosts usually come to me, and when I’m working with a client and beckon them, I rarely have any issues. But this situation is completely upside down, and I have no idea what to expect. “Ronan?” I ask softly, not sure exactly how to do this.
Nothing changes about the woods. The trees are still stark, the snow is glowing. When I peer up, all I see are dark clouds, black and churning.
Without warning, Persephone pops back in, startling me.
“I’ve got nothing.” She lifts her chin and looks down her nose. “Wherever he is, I can’t get to him. He’s not answering my calls, and it appears that something is suppressing or imprisoning him in order to keep him away from you.”
I study her, and although I hate to admit it, I can tell she’s sincere. “Who could do that?”
She glances toward the forest. “Who do you think?”
My heart stutters a little bit. “How could the master get hold of my spirit guide?”
“He’s sent minions before to the physical world, right? I assume they can walk in the spirit world, too. Your sister said he wanted you because you could raise a
ghost army for him.”
Holy goddess. “Is there any way to release Coyote?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. That’s above my pay grade.”
Great. I stand there, frozen in my heart, staring at the woods.
“You know the shifter that attacked Ronan’s mother?” Seph asks.
Duh. My brain must have some type of ghost narcolepsy. I forgot to question her about that after we were interrupted earlier. “What do you know?”
“He wasn’t after Tala.”
“What? Who was he…?” Another duh! “He was after Ronan, wasn’t he?”
A slight nod. “What better way to get to you than through him?”
“Why not my sisters?”
She shoots me a look that says I’m dense. “The four of you are powerful witches, especially when you’re all together, and you’re not apart very often. Ronan was an easier target, and the attack on his mother might’ve been meant to draw out his wolf, so the master could snatch his soul via his magick. That didn’t work, but it still drew you away from the others.”
I hate to admit it, but this snarky, irreverent spirit guide is making sense. I curse under my breath. “We have to save Ronan. He’s innocent in all of this.”
In the shadows of the forest, I see movement. A funny tingling rattles through my spirit body. “Ronan?” I call.
Persephone hovers above the snow, then takes a deliberate step back. “That’s not Ronan.”
I frown. “Yes, it is.”
Even in this washed-out landscape, I can see his hair, that silly grin. “Hiya, babe.”
I was prepared to rush forward, not remembering he’s here in spirit form, not a human one. But the greeting stops me in my astral tracks.
That, and the voice. Ronan’s is beautiful and deep, for sure, but this one? It vibrates the trees, making them tremble. It’s ten times deeper and more resonate than Ronan’s. The base, the volume, shakes ice from the skeletal branches, little missiles falling into the glowing snow.
Of Spirits and Superstition Page 9
