by Tricia Barr
Over centuries of searching for the stone fragments, lying had become second-nature for Phoenyx. But these weren’t ordinary people. They might able to see through a rouse should she try to use one, and if they did, she couldn’t depend on her sensual abilities to get her out of trouble. Seeing that this could be a good opportunity to get information on Sam, Phoenyx decided to tell the truth.
“To be honest, we don’t really know him,” she said. “Some very bad people want to use Sam to do something terrible, and we came to make sure that doesn’t happen. We need to find him before it’s too late.”
Marcucio’s welcoming demeanor changed to one of suspicion. He studied each of them, his smile gone but his face otherwise a mask as he decided whether or not to trust them.
“Tell me, what was your card, at the entrance?” he asked in a speculative tone, pointing behind them.
Is this another test? Phoenyx thought. “The Hanged Man,” she answered.
He gave a curt nod and pointed to Ayanna. “And yours?”
“We all drew the Hanged Man,” Ayanna replied.
Marcucio’s brow rose in surprise, and the look of suspicion on his face was replaced by a look of interest. Finally, he clapped his hands together again rather decisively. “Alright, come with me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Would any of you like some water? Tea? Soda?”
“No, thank you,” Phoenyx answered.
“Excuse me,” Sebastian interrupted as Marcucio turned around to lead them somewhere to chat, and Marcucio stopped to engage him. “Why did the cards we drew gain us access to this building? Why did it make you trust us?”
“Ah, good question,” he said, and proceeded forward, assuming they’d follow. He led them up the stairs as he talked. “You see, that particular deck of cards is designed to identify whether someone is of magical orientation. A regular person of no magical connection will draw a suit card, where as a witch will draw a card from the major Arcana. The Arcana card you draw usually says something about who you are at your core. But, no matter what kind of person you are, if you have come with the intention to do harm to someone, you will draw the Devil card, guaranteed.”
“So, just because none of us drew the Devil card, you automatically trust us, just like that?” Sebastian asked. “You place that much faith in a deck of cards?”
Ayanna nudged him with her elbow, widening her eyes in a warning look.
Marcucio looked over his shoulder at Sebastian, an almost indulgent look in his fox-like eyes. “Absolutely,” he said.
He opened the door he had led them to and invited them inside. It was a smaller, more cozy lounge than the one they had left, although the layout of the furniture suggested this room was meant for meetings. Marcucio sat in a green velvet armchair, lifted one leg to rest his ankle on his other knee, and rested his braided fingers on his lap.
“Only one with no faith in magic would ask a question like that,” Marcucio said. “What sort of witch has no faith in magic?”
Ayanna cleared her throat, calling attention away from Sebastian and the line of questioning he had brought up. “Could you tell us a little bit about Sam? Why would this group want to use Sam?”
Marcucio leaned back in his seat, getting more comfortable. “Sam is a very troubled young man, with a very dangerous potential. He’s undoubtedly the most powerful witch I’ve ever met, but he doesn’t have the knowledge or experience to control it. Most witches who come to us were raised by witches and taught about magic, and most who come to us seek the tutelage to gain more power than they have. Sam is another matter.
“Sam is an orphan. His mother died at birth and he grew up in the orphanage. In his adolescence, he was passed from home to home, with no one to teach him about his powers. For a long time, he didn’t even know he was a witch. Accidents constantly plagued him and he just thought he was cosmically cursed in some way. It didn’t help that the rumors of his mother’s death followed him from the orphanage and other kids always teased him that he was cursed. It’s a crutch he’s carried all his life. But a few years ago, he found us, and we have all done our best to teach him to hone his powers. What he really wanted was a way to nullify his powers, but such a thing is not possible, I’m afraid.”
“How awful,” Lily said, sympathy wrinkling her pretty face. “Poor Sam.”
“Poor Sam, indeed,” Marcucio nodded. “Unfortunately, you haven’t even heard the worst part. A few months ago, he reunited with a girl from one of his foster homes, someone he had always considered a sister. She was diagnosed with cancer, and Sam became obsessed with the idea of using magic to cure her. Everyone insisted that it couldn’t be done. Magic could be used to ease her symptoms, and maybe even extend her life by a few years, but curing an all-consuming disease like cancer takes incredible magic and skill. But he would not be deterred. He knew he had enough power to do it, and he was convinced that if he found the right spell, he could do it. I don’t know what spell he found, but he cast one on her at the hospital. Miraculously, her condition began to improve, and within days, the doctors declared that her cancer was in remission. But something went wrong. Her healthy cells were destroying each other, and she lost a lot of weight in only two days. Her heart couldn’t take it, and she died one week after Sam cast his spell.”
“Oh no, that’s awful!” Lily burst.
“Sam was inconsolable,” Marcucio continued. “He begged us to find a way to take his magic away. And when we couldn’t, he became very angry, lashing out at everyone. He disappeared for a month or so, keeping to himself and mourning his friend’s death. When he came back, he was once again determined to learn how to control and hone his powers.”
“And that’s just what the Four Corners is offering him,” Ayanna said, thinking out loud.
Phoenyx felt strangely connected to Sam. He was perhaps the only person she had met in this life who could understand the pain and self-hatred she felt at accidentally killing her father with her powers. Even more than before, she wanted to find him, to help him if she could. He was lost just as much as she had been, and if he got ensnared by the Four Corners with all their wickedness, he would be beyond saving.
“What is it that this…Four Corners group wants Sam to do?” Marcucio asked, curious.
Apparently, Ayanna agreed with Phoenyx’s policy of honesty toward this man. “A very long time ago, powerful elemental magic was used to trap a great evil—perhaps the most powerful necromancer the world has ever seen. They want Sam to perform a spell that will set him free. In return, they have offered to teach him how to harness his magic. Also, I don’t know if it’s true or not, but they told him they are his distant relatives.”
Marcucio considered this, his hands clasped, tapping his pointed-up index fingers against his lips. “I can certainly see how that would be enticing to Sam, but surely he wouldn’t help them if he knew the true dangers of what they were asking.”
“We think they lied to him about that, too,” Phoenyx said. “We tried to explain that to him, but he thought we were the ones lying.”
“Maybe he just didn’t want to hear the truth,” Skylar suggested. “He wants a family, wants to be found. This is the witch version of every orphan’s dream come true. I know that, before I met you three”—he gestured to Sebastian, Phoenyx and Lily—“I would have loved for someone to come into my life and tell me that I was their long lost cousin and that they could help me understand my powers. If what I always wanted fell in my lap, and someone tried to tell me it was a lie, I wouldn’t want to hear it either.”
Skylar and Sebastian had been orphans too. If any of them could understand Sam’s motives, it would be the two of them.
“Well then, I truly hope he does come to the festival tonight,” Marcucio said. “I will help you turn him around.”
“Do you have his phone number?” Sebastian asked, as if having just thought of it. “I’m sure he’s got a phone, everyone does these days.”
“Yes, of course,” Marcucio said. He reached int
o the front right pocket of his jeans and pulled out a large iphone. He pushed a few buttons and raised the phone to his ear. They all waited in anticipatory silence, until finally Marcucio scoffed and hung up. “He’s not answering, but I will text him to come by.”
The group gave out a collective exasperated sigh.
“You keep mentioning this festival,” Lily said. “What is it, may I ask? I don’t know of any occult holidays falling on today.” Her delicate shoulders rose in an apologetic shrug.
Marcucio laughed to himself and said, “You really aren’t witches, are you?”
They all exchanged glances, none of them sure how to answer that, but Marcucio didn’t seem to care.
“Tonight is the Autumn Solstice,” Marcucio answered Lily’s question. “As I said before, you are all welcome to stay. Join in the celebration. Drink, dance, learn a few things, and hopefully Sam will make an appearance. I will keep trying to get a hold of him for you.”
“Well, it’s not like we have any better options,” Sebastian said to the others. “And I think we’re all overdue for a good party.” Flash of his gorgeous jackass smile.
“This is not just any party,” Marcucio said, imitating his smile. “This is a proper New Orleans party. Bourbon Street has nothing on us.”
They all laughed, collective excitement stirring. Though Phoenyx hadn’t been to Bourbon Street, she had heard of the legendary debauchery that occurred nightly on that short stretch of road, and she was eager to get a taste of it. And Sebastian was right, they had all been stressed to the brink for the last week. If their hunt for Sam had inadvertently led them to an opportunity to enjoy themselves, they were all more than glad to accept it, and revel in it.
Not long after they decided to stay and wait for Sam, the courtyard filled with witches. As the sky darkened even further from the early retreat of the autumn sun, the soft orange glow of candle light began to overtake the space inside the warehouse, adding to the sense of wonder Phoenyx felt as she watched these modern mystics prepare for their festive rite.
She had no idea what to expect. Her only experience with witches had been in her earliest years thousands of years ago with the elders of the village. That magic had always been selfish and hungry, demanding more power. But as she looked around, she sensed that was not the case with these new age witches.
Phoenyx and her friends offered to help set up however they could, none of them feeling comfortable just sitting around watching. Marcucio put them to work arranging the food and drinks, which they were more than happy to do as it gave them a sneak peak at the delightful Cajun menu they would soon get to indulge in.
Phoenyx felt oddly comfortable among these people. She knew that, in some way, they were cut from the same cloth as the sycophants she had been running from her entire existence, yet she didn’t feel threatened in the slightest. Marcucio especially was very likeable. Every other witch regarded him with obvious admiration and reverence. He must be not only a skilled witch, but also a patient teacher, she thought.
“Pardon my candor,” Marcucio interrupted her as she was setting paper plates on the table. “But what exactly are you? Obviously, you and your friends are not witches. But you’re not like any other supernatural beings I’ve come across or read about. I sense something about you, something like very old magic, but it is completely alien to me. So, what are you?”
Phoenyx was completely caught off guard by this question, feeling naked by the absolute discrimination of his curiosity. What should she tell him? The last witches to know about her powers had hunted the four of them to the ends of the earth. But she didn’t see anything dark in these people. She felt that she could be honest with them, with him, if only partially.
“We are cursed,” she decided to say. “Four of us, each cursed with the power of one of the four cardinal elements. I was cursed with Fire. The magic you sense in us is the remnant of that curse.”
Marcucio seemed to consider this for a moment. “Four… You said the four of you, but there are five.”
“Oh, yeah. Ayanna was born with powers over memory,” Phoenyx amended, pointing to her honey-haired older sister. “She can help people remember things they’ve forgotten, or she can make them forget something they don’t want to remember.”
“Or something you don’t want them to remember,” he inserted with a knowing smile. His young age belied his wisdom.
Phoenyx laughed and shrugged. “It does come in handy for sticky situations, yes.”
He nodded, and then his face became serious. “So you are cursed with the gift of fire. When I first saw you, I thought I saw a certain fire in your eye, but I had no idea it was a literal fire. I could indeed see how that could be a curse. Has it been very difficult for you to deal with?”
Phoenyx could feel the truth becoming a lie, but the full truth wasn’t necessary for him to hear, so she decided to let this version of it play out as it would. “Yes,” she said, even though it hadn’t always seemed like a curse. “My father died in an accidental fire when I was a girl.” The pain she had carried all her life, the pain that had been suppressed since her memories of all her lives had been restored, suddenly stabbed at her heart, taking her breath away.
Her pain must have been visible on her face, because Marcucio’s brows pinched in pity. “I’m so sorry… Who cursed you?”
She looked at him, trying to convey her long struggle in her gaze. “The same people who want Sam.”
His eyes widened in understanding. “Let me try Sam again.” He put his phone to his ear for a few seconds, and then put it back in his pocket with a frown. “He’s still not answering. I’ll send out some of his friends to find him.”
Phoenyx sighed with hope. “That would be great.”
“Before I go,” Marcucio said, “I was wondering if you and your friends might like to participate in our beginning ritual.”
Suspicious panic suddenly tightened Phoenyx’s chest. “Participate how?” she managed to ask through the dryness that had seized her throat.
“At the beginning of every celebration, we give a sort of tribute to the elements,” he explained. “Though Earth is our matron element, we like to acknowledge the other elements as well.”
Marcucio’s smooth, unmenacing voice settled Phoenyx’s suspicion instantly as he explained. She hated that her long persecution by the Four Corners had forever tainted her against people of magic. These people were good people, that was obvious, and she wanted to give them the trust they seemed to deserve.
“Sure,” she forced herself to say. “What would we have to do?”
Marcucio smiled warmly. “Wonderful! You would each have to stand beside the witch giving tribute to your element and manifest your element when it’s called. I know everyone will get a kick out of the show.”
“Okay, yeah, that could be fun,” she said. Or at least, she hoped it would be. She had never once used her fire in an audience for entertainment purposes. It had always been such a crutch to her, something dark to be hidden. Displaying it as a good thing in front of a crowd would be an entirely new experience, one that she hoped she wouldn’t somehow screw up.
***
Phoenyx was not a wallflower. She was no stranger to exhibition. She had spent several lives in the limelight in one way or another, whether as a woman of authority as she had been as a Queen of Egypt, or as an object of desire as she had been several times throughout history. Yet she had never felt as exposed as she felt right now, standing in front of an audience of witches who knew what she was and were unaffected by her influence.
She stood next to a pretty young witch in a virginal white dress in the center of the courtyard. Together with three other witches and her three partners in elemental crime, they formed a circle. Skylar was to her left with his witch, Sebastian across from her, and Lily to her right. Phoenyx’s witch held up a brass bowl full of oil, Skylar’s held a sheer white scarf, Sebastian’s had a brass bowl full of water, and Lily’s witch hugged a pot of dirt. Marcucio had expla
ined to each of them what they were to do, and though Phoenyx knew she had control of her powers, there was always that little ember of doubt, which was now being fanned by the number of expectant eyes that were on her.
Marcucio came to stand in the center of the circle, and the room fell dead silent as his melodic voice filled the night air.
“Friends, we have gathered to welcome the coming of Autumn. It is a time that our loving Earth shows us the generosity of harvest and graces us with the beauty of her orange blush before she retires for the winter. For this solstice, she has delivered us a treat so that we may properly thank her. Rather than merely mimicking the four elements tonight, we are honored to have them standing right here in our midst. Our four new friends that you see before you have been touched with the powers of the elements, and they have agreed to help us celebrate tonight in a way that we never have before. I know that you will show them all the respect they deserve.”
He bowed his head to the crowd around him, and then vacated the circle so that the ritual could begin.
The witch standing beside Phoenyx held up her bowl of oil and was the first to speak. “Fire, you are light. You help us see through the darkness. You scorch the old and help Earth to create new life. We honor you.”
That was Phoenyx’s cue. Pushing her nerves aside, she willed the oil to ignite and a brilliantly colored flame grew out of the bowl, trailing up into the air like a snake as it coiled and danced. Ooos and ahhs chorused around her, giving her a thrill she had never experienced. It wasn’t the all-consuming hunger of burning that had sucked her in in the forest. It was a new joy caused by not only being accepted for her fire but being admired for it.
Her fire snake slithered around itself for a few seconds and then dissolved as the oil burned out.
Then the witch beside Skylar spoke, holding the white scarf out in front of her. “Air, you are breath. You are the laughter that escapes our lungs, the wind that caresses our skin. You carry the seeds of Earth to their destinations, allowing life to spread. We honor you.” She threw the scarf into the air, and Skylar made it dance. The scarf twirled gracefully around itself, flapping as it wafted through the air. It made its way all around the courtyard, touching several of the witches in the audience, before coming back to gently flutter down into the witch’s waiting hands. The teenage girl tried in vain to stifle a giggle when it landed.
