by Delia James
“You pull the Band-Aid off all at once, don’t you?”
“Every time,” she answered.
I glanced around at the women who filled the kitchen, all my new friends. I saw sympathy and support. What I did not see was one person who was going to make a case for me backing out of this.
Alistair slid up beside me. “Merow,” he told me as he rubbed his head against my shins.
“And that makes it unanimous.” I took a deep breath and tried not to let my voice wobble. “All right. Let’s do it.”
Kenisha got to her feet. “I’ll go first.”
If that was meant to be reassuring, it didn’t work. “You don’t really think there’s bad guys or something down there, do you?”
“I don’t know,” she replied coolly. “I do know a whole lot of horror movies would be about five minutes long if somebody just let the cop check the spooky basement first.”
Kenisha flipped on the light, walked down the stairs and ducked around the corner. At the same time, Leo and Max came trotting in from the terrace. Julia didn’t so much as whistle, but both dogs scrabbled and plopped down the stairs right behind Kenisha. I rubbed my face to keep from smiling, but something inside me eased. Dachshunds have that effect.
“Merowp,” grumbled Alistair.
“Don’t worry. My heart belongs to you, big guy,” I said.
Somebody laughed and I smiled.
A few seconds later, Kenisha and the dogs reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Clear!” she called.
Julia laid a hand on my arm. “Are you ready, Anna?” I nodded, and so did she. “I’ll go first.” She started down the stairs.
“And I’m right behind you,” said Val.
“We all are,” added Shannon.
I swallowed and stepped up to the threshold. I told myself this was a perfectly ordinary set of basement stairs. The only thing remotely strange here was that they were cleaner than average. But it was cold, and it was dark, and the air smelled of dirt and damp. Like a grave.
Julia paused on the third stair and looked up at me. “It’s just the memory that’s bothering you,” she said. “You remember being afraid.”
“Right.” I agreed. But I still didn’t move.
“Merow,” said Alistair, right beside me. I bent down and scooped him up. He didn’t object. In fact, he purred.
I gritted my teeth and walked down two steps. It was cold. So cold and lonely.
“You’re not alone,” said Val from behind me. “We’re right here.”
“Right,” I said again. Two more steps. I was shaking. What was I doing here? How had it come to this?
“Breathe,” said Julia, walking down two steps in front of me. “Breathe and focus on the present. The past is over. It’s done. What’s here is only an echo, and an echo cannot hurt you.”
Says you, lady. But I did breathe. Deep breath in. Hold. Deep breath out. Hold. Two more steps. Six more to go. Kenisha and the wiener dogs were already down there, waiting patiently.
Alistair pressed his warm head under my chin and purred like a motorboat.
“Echoes only.” Julia walked down the last three steps to stand beside Kenisha. “Fading, as we speak. Focus on the present. This moment.”
“Shouldn’t there be, you know, magic?” I tried to laugh, but I couldn’t.
“What makes you think this isn’t magic, Anna? Here we are. We are maiden, mother and crone. We are breath and head and heart. You are safe with us. You are safe with Alistair and this house. Just three more steps.”
Three more steps. Three left. Finish it, A.B., I told myself. Pull off the darned Band-Aid.
Holding the cat between me and the nightmare, I clomped down the last steps and straight into a tidal wave of cold and dark. I was filled with gentle, fading sorrow, burning anger, terrible yearning hope and bitter impatience. It was all at war inside me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I was falling away down into the dark.
A sudden sound cut through the black chaos. I felt the vibration through my chest and down to my toes.
Purring. There was a cat purring. I felt the warm rasp of his tongue on my cheek. An impatient meow sounded somewhere beyond the anger and the fear.
“Come back, Annabelle. Focus.” Julia gripped my hand. “Listen to me. Listen to Alistair. Breathe. Feel the stone under your shoes. Come back to us, Annabelle Britton.”
Slowly, reluctantly, the dark receded. As my vision cleared, so did my head, or maybe it was my heart.
Alistair squirmed and slid out of my arms. I barely noticed. I turned around in a tight circle. I saw the walls and the flagstone floor. I saw Val and Julia and Kenisha, my new friends. I could see. I could breathe. I was all right. Oh, I could still feel the uneasy knot of emotions all around me, but it was no longer overwhelming. It was a troubling background sound, like being stopped next to a car where the bass is turned up too far. I didn’t like it, but I could tolerate it. I could even set it aside.
For the first time in my life, I could set it aside.
I punched a fist into the air. “Yes!”
“Meow!” shouted Alistair.
We all laughed, and the Vibe faded even further.
“Was that it?” I said to my friends. “All I had to do was walk down here and take calming breaths?”
Julia’s smile was a little tight. “Not really. You did have help.”
Val held up her hand with two fingers pinched together and mouthed, “Just a little.”
“But this is a good beginning,” Julia went on. “As your practice progresses, you will be better able to tap into your gift—your Vibe—and more accurately interpret what it tells you. In the meantime, I believe we have more work to do upstairs.”
“Um, shouldn’t we look around a bit while we’re down here? In case there’s something . . . ?”
Kenisha looked toward heaven for patience. “All right. I’ll look, but only if you promise me you’ll believe me when I say there’s nothing to find.”
“Promise. Really and truly,” said Val. “Thank you, Kenisha.”
Kenisha shrugged like she already regretted it and headed into what even I could see was a largely empty basement. The rest of us went back upstairs to join the others helping clean and organize what I had started to think of as my house.
Eventually, Kenisha came up out of the basement, as serious as a migraine, but she just shook her head at Val’s hopeful look. Whatever there was to find in this house, it wasn’t down there. Then she rolled up her sleeves and helped Trisha and Didi break down the bed so we could move it from the front room to the back, and then bring the desk down from the attic into my new studio.
By dinnertime, we were all starving again. So when Roger arrived through the back garden with a massive pot of white bean chili and a basket of cheddar cheese biscuits, we hailed him as a true hero. We uncorked the wine Sean had brought and toasted him and one another. Alistair contented himself with tuna. I might accept that he was no ordinary cat, but I was not going to deal with the consequences of feeding him anything containing beans and serrano chiles.
Which reminded me, I was going to need a litter box and the name of a local vet. I was pretty sure even spooky magic cats needed their shots.
How old was Alistair anyway? Frank said they’d grown up together, which meant he had to be far older than any normal cat. I needed to talk with Julia about the care and feeding of familiars. As I looked across the kitchen to where Julia sat laughing with Didi and Shannon, I remembered how she’d gotten so upset when I’d told her about Brad. Clearly, taking care of my familiar was not the only thing I needed to talk with Julia about.
As the gold-and-magenta sunset spread over the garden, the atmosphere around the little house changed. Everybody started packing cleaning supplies away into car trunks, and instead brought out lovely wooden boxes and embroidered ba
gs. From these they pulled colorful scarves and flowing caftans. There was a line outside the two bathrooms so everyone could wash up from a day’s hard work and change.
“Anna,” said Julia, who had draped a bright blue robe decorated with white stars around herself. “Would you go out into the garden and light the fire?”
The request felt solemn and I agreed right away, even though I hadn’t lit a campfire in years. I went out into the garden and walked the spiral path to its center. Alistair followed me, cool and collected. I opened the copper chest and found kindling, twists of paper and some fluffy stuff that looked like dryer lint. It was a mess in here. Clearly the local squirrels had been busy. I had to do some rummaging to find what I needed, but at last I came up with a box of matches in a zip-topped bag.
The night was warm and still around us. A flash caught my eye and I grinned.
“I was right,” I said to Alistair. “Fireflies.”
“Merow,” he answered. Of course.
Girl Scouts was a long time ago, but I still remembered the basics. The kindling and sticks were dry and there was plenty of paper, and that lint was a great idea as a fire starter. It took only three matches before the clear yellow flame caught and spread.
In answer, the lights in the house winked out. The back door opened and the women—the coven—in their bright robes walked slowly across the terrace and onto the path.
Julia led the way with a basket slung over her arm. Max and Leo trotted beside her, two small sentries. Val wore red and looked absolutely vibrant. She carried an unlit candle in both hands. Didi followed, in bright blue like Julia. She carried a cup and Sean’s bottle of wine. Next came Kenisha, wearing a shimmering emerald robe embroidered with black and gold. A matching band held her hair back from her forehead. She carried an iron kettle. Cauldron, I reminded myself, recalling my research reading. Last came Shannon dressed entirely in shimmering black and holding a lighted lantern.
I knew them all, but I didn’t know them. The atmosphere they carried with them as they followed the curves of the path was charged with electricity. Julia came to a halt in front of me and set her basket down on the chest. Slowly she turned. She looked like a queen standing there in her bright robes, holding her cane like a scepter.
“Blessed be,” she said.
“Blessed be,” answered the women.
“Mrp,” muttered Alistair.
“We are gathered to cast the blessed circle. We welcome the sacred powers of the world to witness our gathering and ask the favor of their blessing.”
“Blessed be,” said the others, and this time, I said it too.
Alistair butted my shin, shoving me forward with surprising strength. I swallowed and took the hint. I also walked up to Julia. Julia pulled the wand out of her basket and held it up to the sky.
“We invite the spirit of the East, the spirit of air and inspiration, to our circle.” She handed me the wand and nodded. I went to stand beside Alistair, who sat bolt upright with his tail curled neatly around his paws.
Val stepped up next and gave Julia her candle. Julia lit it from the fire and held it up. “We invite the spirit of the South, the spirit of fire and creation, to our circle.”
Once Val had returned to her place, Didi came forward with the cup and the wine.
“We invite the spirit of the West,” said Julia, “the spirit of water, healing and cleansing, to our circle.”
Next came Kenisha carrying the cauldron. Julia poured something white into it, probably salt. “We invite the spirit of the North, the spirit of Earth, the source from which all life comes and to which all life returns.”
Once Kenisha had returned to her place, Julia raised her arms. In response we all lifted our hands, whether we held tools or lights, to the black sky and the rising moon. It felt awkward for a minute, but only for a minute. I don’t know if it was the atmosphere around me that changed, or the attitude inside me. But gradually I began to feel a current of warmth, of connection, winding around us all. I saw it in the swirling sparks that rose from the fire to the stars. I sensed it in the breeze against my skin, the rustle of the tree branches, the heavy green scent of the garden, and even the press of the earth against my shoes. I felt it in my breath and heartbeat and fingertips.
“Blessings upon this house and those here gathered,” said Julia. “Blessings upon our sister Annabelle Amelia Blessingsound Britton, whom we welcome to our circle. Blessings upon our sister Dorothy, who has begun her journey on the night side. May we all walk in the light, in truth and justice, kindness and mercy.”
“An’ it harm none, so mote it be,” answered the women. Their voices formed a chorus, rising along with the sparks and the firelight. I lifted my eyes and saw the moon looking back down on us all.
I didn’t feel awkward anymore. I felt whole. More. I felt like I had finally, truly come home.
29
I SLEPT SOUNDLY. The Shaker-style bed was incredibly comfortable and the pillows smelled like warm lavender. I didn’t dream. I didn’t agonize. I didn’t worry.
That is, until I felt the large warm weight on my chest and a cold nose against mine. Even then I didn’t worry. I did shout, though.
“Gah!”
“Meow!” Alistair jumped sideways as I scrambled backward.
I shoved my hair out of my face and blinked. My room was dim, but the beams of morning sunshine that streamed through the closed curtains told me it was a lovely day outside. Despite this, Alistair paced restlessly across the foot of the bed.
“What is it? Is it an emergency?”
“Meow!” Alistair leapt down and ran out the door.
“Shoot!” I grabbed my old pink robe out of the suitcase. With all the cleaning and everything yesterday, I hadn’t found time to unpack. I wrapped the soft flannel around myself and hurried downstairs, my heart in my mouth. What was it this time? Should I have stopped for the wand, or the cell phone? Did I need to check the house Vibe? Maybe I should get Julia, or better yet, Kenisha, on speed dial or . . .
Alistair trotted into the kitchen and circled around a cracked china bowl somebody had put next to the stove.
“Meow!” he announced.
I stared at the empty bowl. I stared at the cat.
“OMG, Alistair. All that because you’re hungry?”
“Meow!” Alistair pawed the bowl.
“Of course, of course. The cat’s hungry. Clearly, this is a national emergency.” I stumped over to the refrigerator. I was grumpy from being woken up so suddenly, but also because I realized that with all the bustling around yesterday, I hadn’t thought to buy cat food.
“Maybe there’s some leftovers or something.” I yanked open the fridge.
There were leftovers, and they crowded the peanut butter and cheese I’d bought to one side. There were eggs and milk too, which I was pretty sure I hadn’t bought, and lettuce and tomatoes in the crisper, another loaf of bread and some neatly wrapped packages of what might have been cold cuts.
I was going to be writing a lot of thank-you notes.
“Scrambled eggs okay again?”
“Mer-ow,” answered Alistair, his tone indicating some reservations about my culinary skill. Clearly, he’d been talking to Martine.
“Tough,” I told him.
I’ll be the first to admit my cooking’s nothing to alert the media about, but I can manage a decent scrambled egg. I whisked in the milk, added some salt, and dropped a pat of butter in the pan to melt. Alistair leapt up on the counter to watch the proceedings.
“Down, cat.”
He looked at me like I was nuts. I had a feeling I was going to have to get used to that. I’d add it to the list.
It was going to be a long list. The house—my house—was comfortable, but a little stark. The bedroom would benefit from a throw rug or three, and I’d need more towels for the bathroom. Some people are clothesho
rses, but any of my old roommates will tell you I am a towel horse. And then . . .
“Whoa, girl, settle down,” I muttered to myself as I stirred the eggs in the pan. “You can’t go loading up on stuff. You’re only here for three months at most.”
I told myself this firmly, but I couldn’t quite believe it. I portioned the eggs out onto Corelle plates (the kind with the green flowers) and set one down on the table for Alistair. I buttered some toast for me and brought it to the table along with my mug of coffee. I watched Alistair nibbling for a minute, and I realized that if I left town, I’d probably have to leave him too.
My throat tightened up for no readily apparent reason. I decided to change the mental subject.
“The question is,” I said as I dug into my own eggs, “if we’re not redecorating, what are we doing today?”
Alistair didn’t so much as look up from the eggs. Evidently, he’d decided my cooking was minimally acceptable.
“I really have to get some work done,” I went on. “If I don’t bring in some fresh cash, we’re both going to be in a really deep hole really soon. But, you know, I’m worried about what happened . . .”
“Knock, knock!” called a familiar voice.
I twisted around in time to see Val lean in through the kitchen door, which I’d evidently forgotten to lock last night. I waved her inside. I also straightened my robe over my sleep shirt and ran a hand over my hair. Val laughed at me.
“Good morning! Good morning, Alistair!” She scratched his ears. He cleaned a whisker at her and returned to what was left of his eggs.
“Good morning.” I pulled out a chair. “How’re you doing? I’d offer you some coffee, but . . .”
“I know.” She patted her belly. “And I really can’t stay anyhow.” Despite this, she did sit down. “I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing, after last night and everything.”
“I’m good, really,” I told her, and I meant it. “It all feels . . . right. Weird, but right.”
“I’m so glad.” Val smiled, and she hesitated. “I don’t want to bring up anything contentious, but, did you feel . . . anything last night? Maybe after we left?”
