“Let keep this to ourselves for now or at least until I can speak to Sheriff Crimson. Now go, and don’t forget to perform your purification rituals, and I will see you all tomorrow night.” Prudence shoos the ladies away.
The ladies all make their way out of the hall, go back to their business’s or go on with their daily routines. Prudence collapses in a chair. She rubs her head to ward off the pounding behind her eyes. The counter-spell could have some far-flung and dire consequences, but it is needed to break such a strong aversion. But saying that, there isn’t much these ladies wouldn’t do for their oldest daughters. Picking up her handbag, she places it over her shoulder. She straightens her shirt and smooths down her skirt before reaching to do the same with her hair. Then with a deep breath and head held high, she strides out of the hall towards the Sheriff's office to have a quiet and confidential conversation with Sheriff Crimson.
THE MOON IS HIGH AND round in the sky, the night has a bite of cold to it, with that sharp smell of the coming fall. The trees are losing their leaves, and the leaf litter is scattered all over the floor of the clearing. Back through the trees, a single light in the manor can be seen, left on for late-night visitors and portal users.
The Manor Bed and Breakfast is the location of the supernatural portal linking all the realms to Earth for the US region. All kinds of creatures pass through. That being said, it doesn’t mean you won’t find humans staying there; the supernatural world is a new curiosity.
One by one, the ladies drift out from amongst the trees from different directions. All ten of them are wearing their coven robes. Scarlett red with gold thread woven throughout in intricate designs. Hoods pulled up to cover their heads, hands clasping lit white candles. They make a circle in the clearing. Prudence reaches under her robe and pulls out a satchel from over her shoulder; the other ladies follow suit.
Out of the bag, she pulls an athame and her spell book. She places them next to her, then walks to the center of the clearing. There is a fire pit with a cauldron, filled with salt and water, sitting over the top. With one word and gesture from Pru, the fire burst to life and starts crackling, the blue and red flames flickering, casting an eerie light around the clearing. The ladies blow out their candles and place them into their bags, putting them to the side. Prudence grabs the athame and moves back to the cauldron.
“Please move forward, bring the object precious to your daughter, and place it into the cauldron. We will need a few drops of your blood as well. Then let us join hands for the incantation.”
Each lady places the object into the cauldron. Using the athame, they drip a couple of drops of their blood into the water. The steam drifting off the top takes on a red hue. They all step back and join hands. Prudence adds a handful of bay and sage leaves to the water and moves back to join hands, starting the chant
“Oh Hecate, hear us now, I call upon thee to hear our pleas. Come forth and cleanse our first-born daughters of all evil and alien magics intending harm, and restore them to balance, health, and home. We thank you and by our wills combined, so mote it be.”
“So mote it be” repeats the rest of the coven.
With a loud boom, a flash of purple bursts outwards from the cauldron, flowing through all the women in the circle and continuing outward. When the light has disappeared, the flame has gone out of the fire, and the spell is complete.
“Now all we can do is wait,” announces Prudence.
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but that was thirsty work. Who’s up for a drink?” Asks Marie as she walks back to where she has left her bag. Pulling out a couple of bottles of wine, she hands them out before opening one and taking a swig.
Once the tense atmosphere breaks, the ladies laugh. They all take seats around the cauldron, more bottles of wine appear, as do a couple of joints. Smoke drifts on the breeze, pungent and pervasive. They are all talking quite loudly and joyously when a rustle through the trees causes them to drop into silence.
“What was that?” asks Lucille.
Victoria jumps, grabbing the athame from near the cauldron and brandishing it in front of herself. “I don’t know, but they are going to have to go through me to get to you!” she says ferociously.
The ladies all look at each other and burst into laughter. Out of the trees walks Regan, Prudence’s son, the man who lives in and runs the Manor bed-and-breakfast, and polices the beings that come and go.
He has a wry look on his face, “Evening ladies, mother,” he nods his head at them all. “I could hear you all from inside and felt the pressure wave from the spell.” He raises an eyebrow at Victoria. “Did you forget you could use magic to defend yourself?” He laughs, gesturing to the athame.
She blushes and puts the athame back where she grabbed it from before retaking a seat, as he continues.
“That’s what you get for addling your brains with wine and herbs, aren’t you all a little old for partying hard?” He chuckles, as they all squirm like teenagers caught out. Looking around he asks, “I notice there are no men from the coven at this little ceremony? You certainly didn’t send me the invite.” Pru sputters at the question.
“This spell needed a purely maternal energy to it.” He raises his eyebrow skeptically.
“Did it, Mom? Or did you ladies want to have a little full moon party without the old ball and chains? Keys are to go into the bowl.” He gestures to them, holding out a fruit bowl. “Your loved ones will thank me in the morning. Beds are all made up for you in the manor. Try to not wake my children or the few guests I do have when you come in. Also, make sure you magic those room clean, I don’t have enough staff at the moment to be picking up after grown-ass women.”
The ladies sheepishly pull their keys out and drop them in the bowl.
He walks back towards the manor. “Have a good evening ladies; I really hope the spell worked.”
“So do we, Regan, so do we,” his mother says as he walks away.
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Abandoned Girl (Neighpalm Industries Collective, #1) Page 29
