Into the Mystic, Volume One

by Tay LaRoi

  Instead, Mabon had taken weeks to organize. Alyssa had spent hours combing various craft stores and pagan bookshops looking for the right pumpkin-colored candles. As if the Gods were really concerned that the candles were Halloween orange instead of bronzy-orange.

  Rachel, however, was terribly obsessed about such details. It drove Alyssa a little crazy. When Rachel started to lose her shit, she stood with her feet apart, hands on her hips, and scrunched her eyebrows together so they became one raging caterpillar of ire. Alyssa smiled, thinking about her High Priestess with caterpillars for eyebrows.

  Rachel may have been a generational witch, but Alyssa was a natural. And the thoughts of a natural witch have a way of coming to pass, so Alyssa’s mirth over larvae needed to dissipate, otherwise disastrous things might start happening.

  Putting up with Rachel was an unfortunate side effect of being involved with her coven. Alyssa spent a majority of her mundane-world time alone, and although she was mostly comfortable with that, there was a small part of her that needed the companionship of the other women. Outside of coven, she really didn’t have a whole lot of friends, so it was important to her that Rachel stayed happy. If that didn’t happen, there was a distinct possibility that she’d be kicked out of the group. That had happened to Jenny Westfall when she failed to bring enough charcoal for the cauldron during the Imbolc festival. Jenny was unceremoniously ousted.

  Alyssa would do just about anything to ensure she did not end up like Jenny.

  Funny, though. No one had seen or heard from Jenny since the exile, and it wasn’t like Edson was so large a town that Jenny wouldn’t have been spied out. Rumor had it she had moved to the big city.

  The matching black robes worn by the Sacred Earth klatch swirled as each member exited the sanctified space by walking counterclockwise to the Fire candle’s position in the south. At that point, and that particular point only, were they to leave the circle. Alyssa had to admit, even though they had practiced this move as a group many times, there was something fortifying in the synchronized movements. It brought a tangible sense of power to the group. Alyssa felt it as the slightest of tingles; tiny little static charges that ignited along the surface of her skin. She had no idea if others had experienced this phenomenon, and she didn’t care. She reveled in it and kept it as a little treasure for herself. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, dropping her head only slightly when she felt the exhilarating electrical charge dancing across her flesh. Of course by doing so, she hadn’t seen that Samantha had suddenly stopped.

  Alyssa careened into her, and the unintended body contact made her jerk back, eyelids popping open, just in time for her foot to knock one of the candles that marked the periphery of the working space.

  The candle tipped over, and fell onto Alyssa’s long robe, catching the hemmed edge, and setting it ablaze.

  Alyssa’s first thought was Shit, Rachel’s going to have a fit!

  The second was Shit! I’m on fire!

  She did the one thing she had been taught: Stop. Drop. And roll.

  The entire coven was up in arms as chaos erupted. The remaining witches left the ceremonial circle, breaking ranks in a panic to help Alyssa. The appointed exit for the circle was all but forgotten as witches and their flaring robes scattered in every direction, unsure of what to do with Alyssa’s flaming mantle.

  Alyssa—in between rolls—saw Samantha, who was probably her closest friend, watching wide-eyed as Alyssa flipped around in the dirt, the twigs from the forest floor ground into her sides, and she swallowed a mouthful of soil in a frantic attempt to put the flames out.

  For Goddess’s sake, Samantha, get some bloody water. Do something!

  Alyssa caught a glimpse of Rachel as she pushed her way to the front of the commotion, her straight black hair swaying as if it were a wagging finger, judging. And then there it was, the hands on the hips.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. Really?” Rachel said. Alyssa continued to roll, trying to put the fire out as several of the other women were now beating her with found branches. “Back off people. Alyssa stop moving!” Rachel barked.

  Alyssa glanced up, only to see Rachel and Marcy holding the cooler above their heads and then flipping the container upside down, soaking Alyssa in glacial-cold water.

  The fire came to an abrupt end, but the lingering smell of burnt fabric—which wasn’t too unlike the smell of burnt plastic, thank you, polyester—hung in a close cloud around Alyssa. Tiny wisps of smoke snaked their way up from the smoldering fabric.

  “Brilliant, Alyssa, just fucking fantastic. Christ that stinks!” Rachel scrunched up her eyebrows in disgust.

  Caterpillars.

  “That was a flaming way to end our holiday ceremony. I’m quite sure the Gods have now not only heard, but also smelled our prayers.” Rachel shook her head and rolled her eyes. She turned her back on Alyssa and made her way down the path to the picnic tables which were on the other side of the copse of trees in the farm yard. Great, she’s pissed.

  “Oh my Gods, Alyssa, are you okay?” Samantha asked with the smallest of voices, covering her mouth with a tiny hand, trying to shield her shock.

  “I’ll be fine.” Alyssa replied. The midautumn breeze that had once billowed the ceremonial robes now felt like winter’s icy fingers on her skin. Her flesh hardened and broke out in goose bumps as she shivered.

  “Clean it up!” Rachel’s voice carried through the woods and over the troupe. The clutch of women, not eager to irritate Rachel any further, followed their leader away from the sacred space and Alyssa’s transgression.

  Samantha wavered, briefly, looking towards the line of exiting witches and then back to Alyssa. It was more than clear that she was torn.

  Really, Sam. Really? Thanks for helping. Some friend you are.

  “Just go,” Alyssa said, standing up and flicking the water off her hands in frustration. “I’m going to be here a while putting everything away and making everything ‘right’ again.” Alyssa’s lips tightened into a thin line as her jaw clenched, grinding her teeth.

  “Thanks.” Samantha offered up a hesitant smile and then scurried off to join the others.

  The air seemed too still as Samantha disappeared, leaving Alyssa all alone in the grove.

  Surveying the damage, Alyssa sighed. There was ceremonial shit everywhere. Candles were strewn helter-skelter, and the altar had been tipped over with its contents spewed across the entire circle. Not to mention that the ceremonial markers and glyphs were ruined. Rachel would want those reworked so the ritual spell wasn’t totally ruined. The candles had spilled wax, and a large puddle of very cold water had mixed with the dry soil, resulting in a pile of muck.

  Nope, not much to clean up at all. Ugh.

  Alyssa shivered again. Standing around in wet clothes was a sure-fire way of catching a cold. Stripping off the soaked mantle, Alyssa slung it over a nearby tree branch. Hopefully the late afternoon sun would dry it off. In reality, she’d be purchasing more material to make a new vestment. Rachel wouldn’t dream of allowing a marred ceremonial robe into the sacred space. That was going to cost Alyssa more money than she had.

  “Maybe I can pick up some extra shifts at the restaurant,” she sighed. She stood there, for a moment bare chested and reveling in the sensation of cool air against her breasts. The sun beat down. It still had heat, although her nipples suggested otherwise. Pert and hard was an understatement.

  Alyssa ran her fingers through her constantly uncontrollable, and currently damp, hair and pulled the unruly curls back so she could slip a hair elastic around it, making a short pony. Actually, it looked more like a tuft at the back of her head.

  She could remember her mother pulling a pick through her somewhat afro hair, “Girl, you got the worst knot of a mop. Curls from me, and the sticky-out parts from your father. What a mess.”

  Mom was the most beautiful Jamaican woman, who had fallen hard for a redheaded Irish tourist. The genetic result was Alyssa’s thick mess of dark-auburn
hair that spiraled out of control and perpetually tan-colored skin with freckles that bopped across a nose that was unmistakably inherited from her mother’s side of the family. She missed her parents, terribly.

  Grabbing the large plastic tote the coven used to transport the ceremonial tools, Alyssa began to gather up the candles. There should be ten of them, and as she counted, she bent over to pick up the last candle—the one that had lit her up—and noticed the shards of glass scattered in the dirt and muck.

  “Great,” Alyssa said. Now she’d have to purchase a new candle holder and attempt to find one that matched the rest. If not, she’d be forced to purchase a whole new set, and that expenditure would have to come out of her own pocket.

  Is this really worth it? Honestly, Rachel could be such a bitch.

  She continued to pick up the broken glass with the utmost care.

  “Ouch.” Alyssa pulled her hand up quickly and inspected her finger. Just as expected, the glass sliver stuck out at an odd angle, embedded in her skin. She pinched the shard with two fingers and carefully removed the offending fragment with a quick yank. As she did a single drop of blood welled up and dropped onto the forest floor.

  It didn’t take as long as Alyssa had anticipated until the circle looked as if no witch had been there that day. It was quiet and beams of sunlight broke through the canopy lighting the sacred space so you could see the motes floating in the air.

  Late season dragonflies and ladybugs zipped around, and the thick vegetative smell of fallen leaves slowly decomposing filled the air. It was peaceful and idyllic.

  At the far end of the circle, where a massive oak tree stood, a soft face peered out from beneath a branch.

  Her vibrantly green eyes were flecked with gold and sparkled in the sunlight, iridescent like the wings of the dragonflies that skittered through the glade. She smiled shyly as her gaze darted around the grove. Pulling herself out from where she hid, bright-gold and tawny-yellow oak leaves framed her face, as her mossy-green hair fluttered in the gentle breeze. In irregular places, her skin appeared rough and wizened, just like the exterior of the oak tree’s trunk. She held a twig of a finger up to her emerald-tinged lips and mouthed a shh.

  Alyssa froze, her skin registering electrical sparks all over.

  Holy Shit. Oh dear Goddess, what on earth…

  Then she realized her robe was still hanging from the tree. Alyssa attempted to cover herself as her eyes went wide, watching the slow graceful motions of the creature as it pulled itself out from the oak tree.

  She’s gorgeous.

  Butterflies erupted in a furious flight within her stomach. Nervous, nauseous, excited? Alyssa couldn’t really tell.

  The feminine being stepped out farther from the tree. She was slight and dainty, with the tiniest of sarongs thatched together from various plant parts, although it looked as if the whole thing would instantly fall apart and scatter. Alyssa watched, fascinated as random leaves sprouted in clusters over her torso, growing little roots anchoring themselves into the skin.

  The nymph looked down, modest and shy, and then smiled again, looking back up at Alyssa with twinkling emerald eyes, through long grasslike eyelashes.

  She reached out towards Alyssa and beckoned her forward with a curling of her fingers. Long, pointed nails the color of newly sprouted ferns jutted out from the tips of her fingers. The backsides of her arms were covered in rough bark, but the inside of her limbs and the crook of her elbow were as smooth as the underside belly of a newborn fawn.

  I bet that’s as smooth as silk. Good lord, what do I do? What should I say?

  Remembering more than one Grimm fairy tale, Alyssa had a fleeting worry that perhaps this glorious being could be dangerous, but the thought was short-lived. Enraptured with her beauty, Alyssa took a cautious and slow step forward, reaching out, wanting to take her hand.

  “Alyssa, are you just about done? We’re almost ready to go.” Samantha was walking through the path from the picnic table.

  Shit! No! Samantha go away.

  Alyssa darted for her robe and quickly pulled the cold wet garment over her head and then turned towards the path waiting for Samantha to show. As Sam rounded the corner, Alyssa put her hands up to hush and stop her friend, but when Alyssa turned and pointed towards the old oak tree, the beautiful creature was gone.

  A Sacrifice for Samhain

  A full four weeks had gone by, and Rachel had made it abundantly clear that Alyssa’s job was to ensure the Samhain ceremony was nothing less than spectacular; after all, it was the Wiccan equivalent of the New Year. Seeing as how she had totally messed up Mabon, this next ceremony required nothing less than flawlessness. But the thought of the divine leafy creature had permeated every waking moment, and some of Alyssa’s dreams as well. Alyssa had spent most of those four weeks completely distracted.

  She had memorized every golden leaf that caressed the creature’s torso, imagining the tickling sensation of lacy vines that had wrapped around those perfectly round and pert breasts. What might the little tendrils have felt like as those vines scampered wild, growing and twinning on the nymph’s body? The plump green-tinged lips drove Alyssa’s blossoming desire into a tailspin, she so desperately wanted to taste them. What would that be like? Warm? Wet? Perhaps sweet like hibiscus tea? She wanted to know the feel of her mossy hair and wondered if it was as silky as it appeared. Moss shouldn’t have been something you wanted to run your fingers through, and yet…

  Alyssa had contemplated sneaking back into the wooded sanctuary in hopes of coaxing out the creature, but if she had been caught trespassing it would have been a sure-fire, one-way ticket out of the Sacred Earth coven.

  That sacred grove was on private land. Land that Rachel’s ancestors had used and owned for generations. It was Rachel’s great-great-grandmother who had originally created the grove and planted the trees within it.

  She would have to be in Rachel’s company in order to get access to the grove.

  And that was killing her.

  Alyssa was brought back to her boring regular world as the oven chimed, signaling its preheated temperature had been reached. She slid the last pan of caramel apple crumble into the oven—desert she was preparing for the next night’s festivities.

  She immediately went back to the reference book on forest creatures and old-world deities, searching for anything that remotely looked like her grove fairy. Was it even a fairy?

  Alyssa waved her hand over the book, and the page flipped on its own.

  You’re crazy. You had to have dreamt the whole thing.

  She had spent hours scouring reference books and mythologies in an attempt to identify her foliar beauty. With the last flip of a page from the tattered old book, she still hadn’t found anything.

  “Ugh, I’m not getting anywhere with this.” She slammed the book closed and pushed it out of the way, as another book fell from the table and landed open on a page with a crude pencil sketch.

  And there she was. The creature, the woman of the forest.

  A Dryad.

  “Shut the hell up.” Alyssa smiled, eyes going as wide looking at the picture as they had when she had first spied her. She traced the line drawing with a finger, imagining she was running a finger over the inside of her arm.

  Alyssa had been graced by one of the maidens of the forest, nymphs who inhabited old groves and sacred woodlands. Dainty creatures, fragile and beautiful, yet held within them the power and strength of Gaia herself. As delicate as a twig, but as mighty as a thousand-year-old redwood.

  Alyssa shook her head, grounding herself.

  “Okay, if I don’t get this ready, Rachel will flay me.” Resentfully, she put the book down and tore her eyes away from the drawing. She glanced at her kitchen, which was an organized mess of food that needed to be packed: the cauldron, which never fit properly in any of the totes, the charcoal, herbs, candles, and ceremonial oils all needed for the ritual.

  The weather was holding out, and thankfully there was no snow t
o speak of, and so Rachel had deemed it necessary that the group worshiped the pagan New Year in her favorite outdoor spot. The ceremony and following celebration would last the entire night, until dawn.

  If Alyssa was lucky, maybe she would appear again.

  “SAM, CAN YOU give me a hand?” Alyssa grunted, heaving a large plastic bin stuffed full of candles and incense and other witchy goodies. “There’s still a bunch of food that needs to—”

  “I can’t,” Sam whispered and quickly looked around. “If Rachel catches anyone giving you a hand, we’re next on the shit list.”

  “Seriously? When was this determination made?”

  “She phoned everyone.”

  “What? I swear—”

  “Hello, ladies,” Rachel seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Alyssa, I expect that everything is going to be just glorious.”

  Alyssa bit her tongue. The words that were carefully caged behind her clenched teeth needed to stay captive. If they were let loose, her welcome at Sacred Earth would be revoked.

  “I’m sure everything will go splendidly.” Alyssa gritted her teeth and forced a smile.

  “Oh, I know it will.” Rachel cocked an eyebrow and then turned, walking down the forest path towards the grove.

  “I swear to the Goddess, if I get half a chance, I’ll sacrifice her myself.” Alyssa said quietly but just loud enough for Samantha to hear.

  “Keep it up, Alyssa, and you will be out for sure,” Sam warned.

  “And that’s bad because?”

  “What other coven is there around here?” Samantha pointed out.

  There was one other group, but they were co-ed and worked skyclad, and Alyssa didn’t care how equal everyone was in the eyes of the Goddess, getting naked in front of anyone else to practice her beliefs just wasn’t going to happen.

  Groaning, Alyssa conceded her current position and trudged the three containers full of food, and one semi-warm crockpot to the picnic table where the feast would be held, and the other four totes of the items to the grove, all by herself. The rest of the women watched sheepishly. But once everything had been delivered, the group broke into several factions, and within minutes, everything was set up and ready to begin.