by Les Goodrich
“Oh fine. I mean, we just agreed to stay in touch because we started this at the same time. I’m not really coaching her like you’re coaching Casey. We talk once a week. Actually, I need to talk to her again soon I guess. Anyway, how’s Casey?”
“We’re just getting started, so I gave her some homework. The elements. I have to remember she’s so young. I don’t want to corrupt her. She asks tons of questions. She’s so curious.”
“Curious Casey.”
“Yep. I’m meeting her at Stonecloak tonight.”
“Kind of a dreary night to be out, don’t you think?”
“A rainy night in Stonecloak Tavern, the fire going, witches lurking about, goth kids playing World of Darkness at the back corner table. My kind of scene.”
“Tribe,” Brit said in agreement.
“Come hang out with us.”
“No, I have a study group. I missed half of it last week waiting for Mims to pick some books up at my place.”
“Okay suit yourself.”
When Tanner returned Jordan left. He and Brit worked through the rest of the slow rainy day. Scarce customers ducked in one at a time and each was a witch looking for something specific. One guy was in and out in a minute to get sage for the house clearing in his new apartment. Two girls bumped through the door shaking rain from their coats, looking for a double terminated quartz shard to repair a wand. Then Carmine walked in calmly without raincoat or umbrella and not a single wet spot anywhere on his person despite the roaring rain.
“Greetings Tanner, how’s business today?” Carmine closed the door behind him.
“Slow because of the rain,” Tanner said from the register as Brit came up from the back.
“The rain? Oh yes, the rain, well, how are you Brittany?”
“I’m well, and you?” Brit said looking over Carmine’s dry appearance and thinking it matched his wit.
“Splendid. I was hoping I might find a new small onyx ball for a, well, a new onyx ball.”
“We just moved the onyx to the scrying table in the back. There are a few sizes that might work. You’re welcome to take a look and just let us know if you need anything.”
“In the Crooked Cupboard?”
“Yes, on the table there.”
“Thank you,” and Carmine moved to the side room down the darkened hall.
“What’s it like working with him?” Brit asked in a hushed voice.
“We don’t really work much together. I text him with a question now and then. We meet for espresso every other week.”
“Have you ever seen him do magick?”
“Everything he does is magick. I’ve never seen him given a check or a bill, and if he has a question, someone just hands him the answer. It’s crazy. Things just go his way.”
“Like what?”
“We were having coffee last month and I mentioned to him that I’d lost my sunglasses. He smiled, then the waiter came up and said, I think you left these here last time, and he put my sunglasses on the table.”
“And you think that was magick?”
“If it only happened once I’d say maybe not. But I’m telling you, the force is strong with that guy.”
“But you get along? He’s kind of stuck up about it, isn’t he?”
“I know he seems like it, but it’s just his formal way. He’s actually really cool. He can be funny too. We get along. He’s made me look at things in a bigger way. I’m starting to think about what I’m gonna do with my life. Beyond the shop I mean. I love it here, but I don’t see myself working here forever.”
“You finished school quickly but never left here.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“What was your major?”
“Mechanical engineering.”
“Oh yeah. Building stuff.”
“Yeah I always thought about combining magick and engineering in a sort of, hyper-mechanical way. But not many companies are hiring for that position. I keep inventing little things for myself to stay sharp. I just don’t know where to apply it. I need to find my real career.”
Brit smiled at Tanner and she allowed the space between them to drain away any hint of negativity or doubt. She projected the energy of a deep meditation and let Tanner’s awareness glimpse it. She looked into his eyes and he into hers and together they spun into what felt like the infinite cosmos. Tanner was flooded with realizations of potential. He saw a living cooperative universe of energy swirling in response to his ideas. Brit blinked and Tanner looked around as if he had just landed in the store from far away.
“You can do it,” Brit said and Tanner had never been more certain that he could accomplish anything and there was no fear of failure nor of choosing the wrong path. Brit winked at him and casually moved off to dust the shop shelves.
Tanner shook his head gently and felt himself arrive fully back in the physical world and he felt the genuine friendship and gratitude for what Brit had so easily done for him in such a brief instant and he wondered how he could ever even consider leaving such a wonderful place.
He knew he would someday, but he also knew this was a special moment in time for him and everyone at Avalon Spellshop. He realized Brit, who on the surface seemed so meek and innocent, was very likely one of the most powerful witches to ever cross his path. He wondered why he would be so impressed by Carmine’s tricks, but he acknowledged that to be a power of its own.
Carmine came out from the back and placed an apple-sized onyx crystal ball on the register counter. Tanner removed the price sticker from the black ball, wrapped it in tissue, and closed it into a small box. He placed the box into a bag. “Eighty-four fifty-three,” he said and Carmine presented a credit card.
“How much do you know about the IWM?” Carmine asked.
“The International Witch Marshals?” Tanner said swiping the card and noting the sale in the book. “Not much. I know they chase the worst witch crimes down.” The credit card machine sputtered out the ticket and Carmine spoke as he signed it.
“Did you know that some of their top agents are Ashenguild?”
“No.”
“Something for an engineer who knows magick to think about. And now you’ve seen me actually pay a bill.” Carmine smiled a wicked grin. “Espresso at three on the next day you’re off my friend,” he said on his way out the door without so much as a pause to consider the driving rain.
Chapter 2
Stonecloak
Stonecloak Tavern on Carrera Street in Saint Augustine stood at the southeast corner of what was once a Spanish colonial market square. The right side of the grey stucco house extended to become a courtyard wall that surrounded the square half-acre property but for a wagon-wide gap to the left of the building’s face. The grounds within the court had grown into a park of oaks where shaded paths connected concrete benches and everyone who frequented Stonecloak Tavern referred to the courtyard park as out back. When the weather was fair tavern workers and some customers would go out back to smoke, tobacco or otherwise.
The dark courtyard was vacant and squares of golden window light lay like glowing tiles upon the grass and a dripping rain fell upon them and upon everything. Splattering water coursed over the tavern’s barrel tile roof and ran gurgling around the stone foundation to search out low places and run in narrow gaps and roadside streams toward the river in the cold black distance.
Inside the tavern was warm with old wood walls, wood floors, and a black stamped tin ceiling and it smelled of candle wax and lemon oil. A deep bed of oak coals creaked in the stone hearth, thick rain drops tapped at the windows, and candle light danced behind stained glass sconces. Occasional pale lightening flickered through the canvas curtains followed by muted thunder that rumbled up the walls.
The relaxed din of conversation mingled with delicate guitar music from a single player in the corner who so softly faded in each tune that the music drifted among the crowd like a thin smoke and faded out as gently and only two musician friends noticed the precision and expertise with
which the guitar player enchanted the room.
The owner and chef, Mr. Calvin Stone, known simply as Stone to regulars, served cold beer, respectable wines, and delicious pub fare. The menu included shepherd’s pie, chicken pot pie, and Irish sausages wrapped in pastry then baked and plated with a generous side of the tavern’s own coarse ground mustard. The Stonecloak Tavern was famous among locals for their comfort food and for the staff’s ability to serve graciously but also leave patrons largely unbothered. As such, witches made up a large segment of the regular customers and Mr. Stone was considered a witchfriend of the most trustworthy type.
Jordan sipped coffee and listened as Casey flipped through her notebook and described her previous week.
“Well, a lot of what we would call Earth elements are things people take for granted.”
“Tell me some,” Jordan said and she wrapped her hands around the thick porcelain mug to feel the warmth.
“The roads we all walk and drive on in town. They’re concrete or brick, and that’s Earth. Any natural clothing like cotton or silk. Paper for the books we love. The wood and concrete in our homes. Beach sand that filters the ocean. Grass. Trees.”
“Grass and trees. Easy.”
“But still Earth.”
“Yes, still Earth. Anything else?”
“The entire Earth itself. Like the planet.”
Jordan laughed but it was a kind laugh. “Okay those are all good. I think you get it. Did you focus on the Earth feelings? The energy.”
“I tried. I think I did. I mean I was more and more aware of how the Earth elements support everything as the week went on. I see it everywhere I look now.”
“Excellent. That’s all this is about. Awareness and gratitude. So, ready for this week’s assignment?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the same deal, but this week is Air. Do you remember the aspects of Air?”
“Air is our thoughts. Our ideas. Imagination. Inspiration.”
“Perfect. All things begin with thought. Maybe we should have started there,” Jordan reflected.
“Well you did have the thought to start with the Earth element, so we kind of did.”
“Right on,” Jordan agreed and leaned back to stretch.
“So when do I get to do magick?” Casey asked eagerly.
“On the next full Moon you get to watch me do magick. And nothing heavy. We do magick on full moons and we do rituals of thanks on the eight sabbats.”
“And street spells! When do we get to those?”
“When you fully understand the elements. Don’t worry, you’re way ahead. You’re a fast learner. But street spells come later. All things in their time. Okay?”
“Okay. Thank you so much for helping me Jordan. I feel like I’ve finally come home. Like I’ve been moving toward witchcraft my whole life. I just never knew there was something so focused on nature and the energies of life. And magick! It’s so cool. I love it.”
“I know, me too. Hey, can I ask you about your parents? I mean, do they know what you’re up to with this? What are they like?”
“Oh my parents are hippies. They don’t know a thing about real witchcraft, but they’re into nature and balance. If I explained it to them they’d understand. They never gave me much spiritual direction. Just taught me to be nice and treat people the way I’d like to be treated. They’re cool.”
“Oh good.”
“My grandparents on the other hand.”
“What do your parents do?”
“My mom’s the principal of Dowden Elementary. My dad designs computer systems. He and my uncle both do that kind of work for big companies. That’s how I got into computers. I’ve been using a computer since I could crawl.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“Yeah. I wanna get a computer engineering degree and work with my dad. Are you into computers?”
“Not in the least. Computers and I don’t relate. I’m more of the books and candles type.”
“Then you and I make a great team. I’ll be your IT guy, and you be the magick teacher.”
“Deal,” Jordan said and the girls traded warm smiles. Casey leaned in closer.
“Tell me about some magick. A story. Tell me something about Carol. She’s a badass isn’t she?”
“Oh, she’s a badass. But she’s terribly smart, out thinks people, that’s her thing. But yes, she can throw spells as good as anyone I’ve ever seen.”
“Tell me something cool you saw her do,” Casey insisted.
“I saw her light candles on a table outside from thirty feet away. It was a Beltane party we had in her garden and she did it with the Fire-Born spell like it was nothing.”
“Cool.”
“Very cool. I know it doesn’t sound dramatic, but it shows her level of control. Fire is the most untamed element. I nearly burned my house down trying to light the candles in my chandeliers like that once.”
“And Fire-Born is a street spell? How does it work?”
“Fire is the element and born is the verb. It gathers the fire spirits or energies, and focuses them at an object. You control, theoretically, the level of fire with the volume of your voice when you cast. But it’s not as easy as it sounds. It’s not just your volume, it’s your intensity. Your, I don’t know, the strength of your intention. I should practice it more.”
Thunder rolled and the pelting rain increased its drumming on the windows. Mr. Stone moved through the room with a tray and picked up empty mugs and bottles. He sat the tray down on a vacant table and added another log to the fire.
“We might be trapped here a while,” Jordan said and another round of thunder rolled through the increasing rain. “Want to get something to eat?”
“Yeah,” Casey said and she took two menus from a neighboring table and began to look one over. Jordan’s menu remained closed and when Mr. Stone passed by they each ordered chicken pot pies.
“And I’ll have a Bass Ale,” Jordan added.
“And for you?” Stone asked Casey.
“A bottle of water.”
“My pleasure,” Stone smiled and vanished.
The drinks came and in time the food. The girls drank, ate, and talked.
“When’s the next sabbat?” Casey asked between bites.
“You tell me.”
“Um. January now. So, Yule! December twenty-first. The winter solstice.”
“Yep.”
“Is Yule like the witch’s Christmas?”
“It’s more like Christmas is the Christian Yule. My family always gave presents on Yule. We do at the shop too. It’s really fun. And remember, Yule is the time of the Wild Hunt, so faeries get rowdy. Faeries and hobs.”
Casey reflected. “I’ve never seen a faerie. Are they real?”
“Oh yeah. They’re around. You just kind of miss them if you’re not looking. And I’m sure you’ve had some trouble from them on the Wild Hunt nights. You just didn’t know it was them.”
“Like what? What do they do?”
“Steal one sock. Hide keys. Let dogs or cats out. Flatten car tires (that’s one of their favorite tricks). They also like to turn off alarm clocks in the middle of the night. Oh, and spiking the punch at PTA meetings with aphrodisiacs or hallucinogenic plant oils. And if you happen to be unlucky enough to have a graveyard hob in your yard, like I do, you better get the protections ready.”
“What protections?”
“Well, the traditional way is to wear your clothes inside out. How that works I have no idea but hardly anyone does it anymore. A lot of people think the Wild Hunt is on Halloween or Samhain, but that’s just a rumor. The faeries take advantage of all the dressing up and commotion to play tricks then too. But Yule is the real Fae Wild Hunt, and the most practical protection is steel. Stainless steel works best.”
“What, like a shield?”
“Oh no. A necklace or bracelet will do it. A stainless steel charm, pentagram, or anything on a necklace works great.”
“Does it keep f
aeries away?”
“Not really, but it casts some kind of vibe that unravels their hijinks. It shorts out their game. Like if they can’t find a sock to steal from your dryer, or if they get dizzy when they try to hide your keys, then they know you have steel protection. They give up and move on. I suspect some hard case hobs can counter it with charms or spells of their own, like the little bastard Nettle I have to deal with. Steel doesn’t phase him.”
“He lives in your yard?”
“Under a rock somewhere.”
“Gross. So is the store closed on Christmas? I mean Yule.”
“We close on the Solstice so the twenty-first. The exact solstice may not always fall on that day, but it’s close enough and with the store, it’s easier to plan ahead. We usually close on the twenty-fifth too. Most of the other stores are closed that day, so not many shoppers around anyway. We play it by ear. The week between Christmas and New Year’s Day is called hell week by the Saint Augustine retail kids. The shopping crowds go ballistic and half the coffee cups you see us walking around with have Irish cream whiskey in them.”
“Do you have any big Yule plans?”
“I’ll visit my parents. At some point probably do something with my boyfriend.” Jordan said with a short smile.
“What’s his name?”
“James. We’ve only been dating since October. He’s fun.”
“Nice.”
“Do you have a significant other?”
“No. I did. Roberto. So hot. We met at the school art show and hit it off right away.”
“I love that.”
“Yeah. He was a transfer student from Spain. A painter.”
“Oh the days of transfer students,” Jordan said and her nostalgic heart swept her back in time for a second.
“Yeah, he was cool. He had long black hair and blue eyes. Everything was fine but he moved back to Spain. I thought about going and almost did, but, well, I didn’t. We had our fun and I’d do it again, but Spain? No.”
“When was this?”
“He left, um, six months ago.”
“And no one since then?”
