I couldn't quite contain a snort of laughter as I tossed Gus's discarded clothes in the hamper. Knowing Gus's easily hurt feelings and sensitive jealousy meter, the guy was lucky he only got hives.
Gus stretched and flopped down on my pillow. "And now, I'm exhausted."
"Hey! That's my side, bubba!"
"Life is about sharing, Miss Thing." Gus yawned. "There's no point in me going home. We've got an early day tomorrow. You should try and get some sleep." He rolled over and opened an eye at me. "I expect a fresh pot of coffee in the morning. Two eggs, bacon, maybe a tin of sardines. I'm a growing witch and I need my protein." And within seconds, he was sound asleep.
Bastard.
But later that night, with Gus's measured breathing and soft snores filling the air, I felt at peace for the first time in ages. I got in bed and without waking, he put his arm over my body and pulled me into him. I slowed my breathing down until it matched his.
As I drifted off to sleep, I idly wondered if this was what married life was like. With the addition of sex, of course. If Gus didn't feel so much like my brother, he'd be perfect for me. It was a good thing he was gay, or I might be tempted to overlook the whole sibling aspect. With that tan skin, chocolate-brown eyes and long, wavy hair, he was entirely too sexy for his own good. But nothing seemed to fuck up a friendship -- even in the pagan world -- quicker than sex.
The last thought I had, as I snuggled into him, was that this feeling of safety was worth giving up some bed space for. And this time, when my eyes closed -- I don't know whether it was due to Mama Lua, the house cleansing or Gus -- the dreams stayed at bay.
If I had known then, that it was going to be my last night of peace, I would have slept in later.
Chapter Twelve
Saturday morning, the Valley was already insanely hot and the only direction the temperature was heading was up. But even the heat couldn't get my spirits down. Not on a day like today.
I loved going to pagan fairs. I loved the vending tables of supplies that you couldn't find anywhere else -- unusual knick-knacks, one-of-a-kind handmade items, bizarre pieces of esoterica no one else would want. Pagans were generally a very handicraft-oriented lot, valuing personal effort over factory perfection. Unlike most people, they considered the flaws in an item to be a bonus, something that made it unique.
Most of all, I loved the loud, boisterous, fun of it all. The music, the spectacle, the sense of camaraderie. The only thing I disliked, in fact, was the lack of adequate shade from the scorching California sun and my current status of needing to conserve money. So, in deference to my own weaknesses, I decided to leave my checkbook at home to avoid temptation.
It was way too hot to get decked out in full, gothic-style witchware. So I hummed pagan songs while I dressed in a light, Celtic-print skirt, a spaghetti-strap tank top (with built-in boob shelf) and a sun hat. Then I slathered Coppertone SPF 15 on all my exposed parts, slipped my feet into a pair of Birkenstocks and I was ready to go.
Gus, on the other hand, was still in the bathroom, primping. I pounded on the door. "You have three minutes and I'm out of here."
"Hold your hell hounds, woman. You can't rush perfection."
"You are such a girl. What are you doing in there? Brazilian wax?"
The door opened and Gus came out and pirouetted for me. He wore a Celtic sarong around his waist, a tank top and a straw sunhat. "Ta-da!"
I looked at him and laughed. "Great, we're the Bobbsey Twins."
"Nonsense, dear. It just proves we're cut of the same cloth."
"Are you saying that between the two of us, we're sharing custody of one brain?"
"You always look at the down side, don't you?"
We arrived an hour before the fair opened and set up our table with a "Spells Sold, Fortunes Told $25.00" sign.
Gus schlepped the enormous duffel bag of supplies from the SUV and I arranged everything on the table. As the vendors finished setting up and customers filtered in, I was surprised at how many people, despite the insane heat, had shown up in full regalia. Old-fashioned, long-skirted gowns, tightly bound bodices with overflowing cleavage, full-length capes, leather sandals, walking staffs. Many of them (both genders) wore homemade leather belts that held their athames, drinking horns and leather purses. I even saw a few people wearing tiaras and fairy wings.
The great thing about paganism, is that it's very accepting of all walks of life. Everyone is embraced with equal gusto. From rocket engineers to goth kids to recovering addicts to transsexuals. If you enjoy people-watching, it's a veritable feast for the eyes. So I sat back and enjoyed the parade of people.
A bearded woman walked by, lecturing a skinny guy with a pocket protector. A woman in her seventies held hands with a guy in his thirties. A leather-clad guy strolled by with three amorous goth girls on leashes. A young woman stopped to check out my booth, arm-in-arm with two really hot guys. One of the guys wore a baby front-pack with an adorable three-month-old girl peeking out the top. After they left, I leaned over to Gus.
"I can't even get one guy and she's got two? How not fair is that? I wonder if she'd share?"
"Dream on," he snorted, checking out the guys' asses as they walked away. "Sharing is for when you're looking to trade up or for when your relationship's getting stale. I don't think she's got either problem."
An older woman with over-permed, over-dyed hair and funky, horn-rimmed glasses walked up and planted herself in front of the table. "I want a spell to make this guy I know fall in love with me," she said, snapping her gum.
I looked up at her, considering. "Bad idea. Usually, if you force someone to fall in love with you, you get stuck with them long after you want them to get lost."
"You really suck as a business woman, you know that?" She used the bottom of her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead, unintentionally flashing us her bra in the process.
I cleared my throat. "So I've heard. How about a spell to bring your true love into your life?"
The woman blew a bubble and popped it. "Will it work on this guy I know? He's really hot."
"If he's supposed to be your true love, it will totally work."
"Okay. Done. And make it sizzling. I want someone who can rub my legs together and start a forest fire, if you get what I'm sayin'."
Gus chugged on a water bottle to keep from laughing and promptly choked, instead. I smacked him on the back, as hard as I could, while she dug a fifty out of her wallet and laid it on the table.
"Put double the magic in it."
I nodded. While Gus snagged the cash and squirreled it away, I put together a bag with a small red candle, a mini-stick of dragon's blood incense and wild rose incense, and a rose quartz crystal. "When you go home, light the red candle for passion. Fire up the incense, it's a mix of dragon's blood for power and rose for love. Hold the crystal to your heart." I took out a piece of parchment paper and picked up my cauldron-stirring witch pen. "Then say this spell I'm writing for you three times."
"That's it?"
"Yup. After you say it, burn the paper, and leave the candle and incense lit until they burn out. Then do your best to forget about it and the universe will work its will."
"You're sure this'll work?"
Gus stopped working on the house of tarot cards that he was building, to back me up. "Ma'am, do you know who you're talking to? She's the best damn witch in Los Angeles. Of course it's going to work."
"If you say so. I ain't too used to this witch stuff. It's my friend's bag. She's so gaga about it, I figured I may as well try it out."
I concentrated for a minute and then quickly wrote a chant on the parchment paper.
Love and sex are whirling,
Lust be in thy turning.
Bring my true love to me.
The one who holds my passion's key.
As the flame consumes the candle bright
I call to love with all my might
Come to me, within these days of three
As I desire it, so mote i
t be.
I handed the bag and the parchment to the woman. "There you go. Three days and he'll be yours."
"Cool." The woman cracked her gum a final time and left with her treasure.
Gus gave me a thumbs-up sign. "See, I told you. You're a natural. Now quit your whining and hand me the sun block. I'm starting to pink up."
I reached into my bag and handed him the Coppertone.
"Not that one. The REAL sunblock."
"Oh, excuse me. I forgot you need SPF 4800." I took back my SPF 15 and handed him a tube of Neutrogena SPF 90. "You're so weird."
"Not weird. Smart. I could get caught out in the Sahara desert for a week with a tube of this and not break a tan."
By the end of the day, we had made five hundred dollars towards the moving fund and, much to Gus's amusement, I was sporting a bright red sunburn. Gus, on the other hand, was cool, comfortable and not the slightest bit crispy. Which was pretty freaking amazing, considering that the temperature was in the triple digits and the sun had been relentless.
But, best of all, I had managed not to spend any of the money. Which was a first for me. I have a weak spot for hand-made crafts. So it was a surprisingly good day. Until I came back from the port-a-potty.
Gus was sitting behind my table with a big, Cheshire cat grin on his face and the type of self-satisfied air that could only mean one thing -- trouble.
"What the hell's up with you?" I eyeballed him, wondering if I should make a run for the car.
"Oh, ye of little faith. You're going to thank me later."
That didn't bode well. "Unless you're giving me a winning Lotto ticket, I don't think so. I don't think you've ever done anything that made me want to thank you later. Strangle you, yes. Thank? Not so much."
"You wound me, woman. Not to mention, you have a short memory. But I'll overlook that. With your aging female hormones, memory lapses are to be expected."
"Keep it up, I'm gonna dump your body and forget where I left it. Cough it up, grinning boy. What are you up to?"
Gus clapped his hands. Whatever it was, he was obviously excited about it. "This is our big chance. The coven that was supposed to do the closing ritual pulled out. Their HPS was dressed up like an Anne Rice character, in full gothic regalia, and she passed out from the heat. They're desperate for someone to pull a group ritual out of their ass."
"Too bad we don't have a coven."
"I'm your coven. And you're witch queen for a day. So I volunteered us."
I looked at him in horror. I could already feel my stomach twisting. "What's the statute for justifiable homicide in California?"
"Pish posh."
"Pish posh nothing. Goddamnit, Gus. I leave for twenty minutes and you and your inner diva drag me into hell. Do you remember that little talk we had about me not doing any more magic? Do you remember the gray water and the black egg?"
"It's not magic, it's a public ritual. Besides, Mama Lua lifted the curse, so you've got nothing to worry about. You'll be fine. I even snagged a donation of yummy, carb-laden treats, so we have libation."
"Great. Maybe if you wave a chocolate chip cookie over me, the fairies will take pity and drop a ritual in my head. I swear, I can't leave you alone for a minute."
"There's no need to be snarky, Miss Thing. You don't like me taking initiative? Maybe you shouldn't take so long in the port-a-john."
I counted to ten before I said something I couldn't take back. Then I kicked off my sandals and stretched my toes in the grass. "Look at me," I said, pointing at my feet. "I can't High Priestess a ritual. I'm wearing a sarong and Birkenstocks, for fuck's sake. Get one of the tiara-wearers to do it. They live for this kind of shit."
"A real witch can craft with a paper hat and a blade of grass if she has to."
"I'm not laughing."
"I'm not joking." He was getting that obstinate look on his face that I've come to know and loathe. "Think fast, because we're on in thirty minutes."
I seriously thought about strangling Gus, but that would waste precious time. We needed some kind of game plan, a.s.a.p. Before I got torn apart by a group of pissed-off, over-heated pagans who wanted a closing ritual.
Chapter Thirteen
Time passed quickly. Too quickly. Before I knew it, there was a massive group of tired, happy and broke pagans gathered in the clearing for my impromptu closing ritual.
"Ready or not, here we go," I muttered.
I still didn't want to do it, but Gus had his heart set on being the center of attention. I tried to talk him out of it, but it was useless. He had been dreaming of this moment ever since he got booted out of the last coven he was in. To be the biggest deal in the center of a large pagan gathering and thumb his nose at the people who had betrayed him, (at least, that's Gus's version of events). And he had been doing so much for me this week, I just didn't have the heart to stomp on his inner diva and destroy his fantasy. Especially since he had spotted some ex-coven members roaming around.
So I stood up, put on my best public face, and went out to take on the crowd. Thankfully, everyone was more than ready to call it a day. Gus and I hurriedly set up the space, using a borrowed cauldron, (with the top covered by a round slab of wood), as our makeshift altar. On top of the altar, we placed a loaf of bread, a huge pitcher of apple cider and a large wooden spoon that I had snagged from concessions.
The crowd joined hands, one after the other, chanting "Hand in hand, the circle is cast," as they surrounded us.
Then Gus and I alternated calling quarters from the center of the circle.
"In the East, I call on the divine fire of illumination and creativity." Gus said, facing East.
I turned to the South. "In the South, I call on the lustful joy of the fertile earth."
Gus turned to the West. "In the West, I call through the water, to the land of the ancestors, for their wisdom and guidance."
I faced North. "In the North, I call upon the winds to bring clarity."
I took over the circle and explained the working. "This is the time of year where we reap the rewards for our work. It's the time of harvest, when crops are transformed through the sickle blade. Wheat becomes flour, flour becomes bread, bread sustains us."
Gus picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the altar. "We're going to transform this bread into that which sustains us spiritually."
The crowd cheered.
Gus continued, "What we need you to do, is create an energy cone. You're going to gather in around us and walk deosil -- that's clockwise for you newbies -- while doing a Mah chant. We're going to gradually increase the volume, pitch and pace while my beautiful high priestess here crafts what we need into the bread. Then, when she's ready, she'll yell "Now." That's when you're going to throw all your energy to her and she'll redirect it into the bread. If you get lost, follow me. I'll guide you."
I placed my hands above the bread and started crafting different attributes into it, as Gus whipped the crowd into a steadily growing rhythm with the Mah chant.
"Joy... Laughter... Tolerance..." I said. "Wisdom... Patience... Inspiration..." Behind me, the chant grew in intensity and strength, until it became a solid wall of sound. By now I was yelling to be heard over the crowd. "Truth... Knowledge... Love..."
The bread was so ready it was vibrating. The Mah chant climaxed and I shouted "Now!"
Everyone screamed and released the energy to me and I threw it into the bread. A brief moment of silence and the circle erupted with laughter and joy.
Then Gus picked up the pitcher of apple cider and knelt in front of me. Everyone quieted down as he started talking. "I hold the womb of the Lady, from whence all things come and to whom all things return."
I picked up the large wooden spoon. "I hold the instrument of the Lord, that which stirs the Lady's womb and brings life into fruition. The spark without which there is nothing."
I pointed the end of the spoon to the sky and then slowly turned it over and brought it down until, with a final thrust, it penetrated the liqui
d in the pitcher and brought more cheers. Then I shook some drops of cider onto the bread.
Gus and I both poured ourselves some cider from the pitcher and then handed it off to the circle to be passed around along with a container of paper Dixie cups. As Gus removed the board from the cauldron, I held the crafted and anointed bread up over my head.
"One piece for the sickle, for Death always takes his due," I said, tearing an end off the bread and dumping it into the cauldron. "And one for the ancestors, in honor of who we came from and to honor those who will come after us." I tore off the other end piece and threw it into the woods. I held the rest of the bread up in the air and showed it to the crowd. "And the rest for life! May we all receive help when we most need it and least expect it."
As the crowd cheered, Gus and I each tore off a piece that we fed to each other and then we passed the bread around to the waiting throng. The pitcher was soon completely drained and the bread quickly devoured.
Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie She's Dead (Toad Witch Series, Book One) Page 8
