I nodded absently and set the decorations down on a table. Was she really not hungover anymore? I found that hard to believe. She’d drunk more of the wine than I had, and I still had a light headache lingering behind my eyes. I looked at Lacey carefully. She’d been totally worse for wear only a few hours ago, and I was having a hard time believing that she felt as ‘amazing’ as she said she did.
My nose itched and I sneezed, it was that damn pumpkin spice spray again. The can was sitting on the floor beside her. Goddammit.
“Lacey, didn’t I tell you that I’m allergic to that spray? Can you cool it with that while I’m here?”
“Oh my goddd, I’m so sorry, I totally forgot!” She stuffed the aerosol into her bag with a sheepish expression on her face.
“It’s fine, just… don’t spray that shit around me when we’re working together, okay? Casey doesn’t seem to mind the candles. But I’m vetoing the spray.”
“Thank you, Fee, you’re the best,” Lacey exclaimed, pulling a massive autumn colored candle out of the seemingly magically packed box. I’d had enough.
“I’m sorry, Lacey, I can’t stay and help you decorate, I’ve got some errands to run, and we have to be back here early tomorrow. Grand re-opening Latte special, remember? I pointed to the hand-painted sign on the window that would ensure that we would be slammed for most of the day.
Thanks, David.
“I wouldn’t forget that in a million years! Do you want me to meet you at your place tomorrow morning? We can walk together! I don’t really want to walk through Prospect Park alone that early in the morning…” Lacey’s eyes were wide and pleading and I felt myself soften just a little.
If she remembered that the park was a bad place to be, then my spell had done its job, crisis averted.
“Yeah, okay. Text me when you’re on your way. I’ll be ready.” I shoved my new apron in my bag and pushed the shop door open.
“Oh! Wear your hair in braids tomorrow, Fee, I have some maple leaf hair-pieces that will look SO GOOD with your red hair, you will just die!”
I rolled my eyes and walked out the door, not bothering to answer. I didn’t mind that Lacey thought we were the bestest of friends, but there was NO way I was getting into any Girl Scout hair braiding circles or matching BFF bracelets or breakaway necklaces. No way in hell.
As I trudged homeward, I thought about how Lacey was acting. It wasn’t weird or off-putting; it was just… not my style. It might not hurt to do a little separation spell when I got home. The last thing I needed was someone obsessing over me. The closer people got, the more likely it was that I’d slip up or they’d see something they shouldn’t. I could only wipe a mind so many times before it did real damage, and I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Hecate might be able to forgive me a lot of little indiscretions over the years, but something like that might not go over so well. Accidental or not.
I stopped in the rose gardens on my way through the park; having Lacey with me this morning meant that I hadn’t been able to stop. But it was important that I did. Rachel had died under these bushes, and I owed it to her to do something, even if it was a small gesture, to recommend her to the goddess on her journey.
Believe what you want, but as surely as the evangelical doorknockers liked to tell me that the Devil knew who I was; Hecate knew everyone’s name too, especially if it was recommended by her Daughters. I knew the precise bush she had been found under. The grass had been torn up by dozens of heavy boots. The marks left by the wheels of the stretcher that had carried Rachel away were still clearly visible. The impressions shallow where the stretcher had come in and deeper as it had gone out. The semi-permanent impression of death.
Death was semi-permanent, wasn’t it? It made the deepest impact, the deepest crater in the lives of those it touched closely; the shock waves resonated through their circle of friends and family. But, eventually, the sharpness of the wound dulled, the scars faded, and as those who knew the deceased died and made their own ripples of sadness, the sting faded away more and more with the passing years.
The luxury of a human life, to be so impermanent. I thought about Rachel as I stepped around the shrine that had sprung up around the bush. Candles in jars, cards, fake flowers that were ironically out of place in a rose garden. Notes from people who hadn’t even known her. Or maybe they did, and I was the asshole.
I pulled out my silver pocketknife and clipped the blood red blooms from the bush. New growth seemed to have surged in the last few days, and I shuddered as I thought about what Jeff had said as he hunched in the dirt.
“She fed those roses good…”
I pictured Rachel’s face as I cut another rose. Her blond hair always tied up in the same style on top of her head, the way her mouth looked when I told her to do something she didn’t want to do, the sound of her exaggerated Los Angeles accent and the way she over pronounced her “S” that always made me cringe. Like a snake that had forgotten its last thought.
I was really (really) shitty at this. I was supposed to be focusing on positive things. Come on, Ophelia. You can do it. Just for a few minutes.
Positive. When Rachel had first started at Haven she’d been really nervous, she hadn’t known how to make a good shot of espresso, and couldn’t foam milk without making a giant mess. But she’d learned. She’d learned that just because someone asked for four pumps of syrup it didn’t mean they actually wanted four pumps. Three and a half, maybe. But no one wanted four. She’d been fast on the till, mostly pleasant to the customers, and she could count change properly, which was more than I could say for Lacey.
She hadn’t been a bad person; she’d just been average. She was average at her job, average at school… and she would have been average if she’d stayed in California too. She was just… there.
I sliced the final blossom from the bush and began to scrape off the tiny thorns with the edge of my knife. I worked quickly, people were looking at me, but it was mostly with looks of mild disdain than anything. Stealing flowers from a public garden wasn’t exactly the most excellent thing to do, but I needed them.
My phone beeped loudly and my knife slipped suddenly, slicing into my finger. The blood welled up immediately, and the dark green leaf glowed faintly as it soaked up my magic.
“Ow. Fuck,” I muttered, sticking my finger in my mouth. There had already been enough blood spilled on the mud under my feet, and I wasn’t about to add mine to it. I pulled my finger from my mouth and pressed it against my jeans. It was a small enough cut, nothing to worry about, but it was annoying. I wiped my knife on my jeans and snapped it shut before sliding it back into my bag.
My phone beeped again and I gritted my teeth. If this spell was going to work properly, I had to stay focused on Rachel.
I’d deal with my phone when I got home.
19
My phone beeped and buzzed the whole way home, and I had a hard time keeping Rachel in my thoughts. I dropped my keys twice while trying to get in the front door and the kindly neighbor who had called 9-1-1 after the Malleus had attacked ended up letting me in. Thankfully, I had wiped his memory enough that he had a faint notion of who I was, but couldn’t quite remember my name. That’s precisely what I wanted out of our relationship. Vague recognition, but nothing concrete. Perfect.
He admired the roses I’d picked, and then left me in the hallway. I waited for his door to close, and the sound of his heartbeat to move away from the door before I dusted my lock with magic and pushed the door open.
Suki was sitting on the table waiting for me. I set the roses down carefully and gathered her up in my arms as she purred and kneaded her claws into my shoulder. I carried her to the kitchen and deposited her on the floor, perusing the rows of jars and infusions I’d created over the years. I chose my ingredients carefully.
Orange oil I’d infused myself for anointing, fresh rosemary plucked from my fire escape garden for remembrance, ground holly leaves, cypress and yarrow, and some beeswax candles I’d made last winter – I ne
eded them all.
Yarrow… after all the poultices I’d made for myself, my supply was getting low. My wound had finally begun to heal properly, but it was still painful. Goddamn Malleus.
When I’d been a maid, I’d stolen a silver bowl from one of the houses I worked in. Not because I needed it, but more for spite than anything. The lady of the house was from Boston, a society wife with tacky taste and a mean streak when it came to dealing with her servants. She didn’t miss it any more than she noticed that I was gone. Good riddance to her, she’d been dead for more than a hundred years, and I had this perfect little bowl for my workings.
I set my ingredients down on the table and set the roses inside the bowl. A tiny silver spoon, a gift from Mrs. Askew, was my preferred measuring spoon, and as I tipped the ingredients into the bowl, I kept an image of Rachel in my mind. The last time I saw her, the last time anyone had seen her alive, she had been annoyed with me, but she had also been worried about exams. Probably because she hadn’t made any plans for studying. It was as if she’d known she wouldn’t need to do it. Her blue eyes had been clear and uncomplicated, just like her.
One of Suki’s long whiskers, which she graciously shed all over the apartment for me to collect, completed the circle of the spell and I dropped it into the bowl.
My phone beeped on the bed and I gritted my teeth.
Infernal electronics.
I looked at the plastic clock on the wall. Felix the Cat told me that I still had a few hours before sundown. This could wait until the moon had risen.
I set the bowl aside and gathered my ingredients to return them to their shelf, leaving the orange oil behind.
Suki jumped up on the table, purring, to inspect my handiwork. “Does it meet with your approval, madam?” I asked, rubbing her ears gently. She rubbed against my hand and settled herself gracefully beside the bowl. She’d watch over it until it was time. “You’re the best assistant money can buy, Suki.”
My phone beeped again. And I swept it off the bed with an annoyed groan.
“Whaaaat. What. What. What,” I muttered at it, scrolling through my missed messages. A few of the girls from Haven had set up a group text chat, and half my notifications were taken up with that. Fantastic. Just what I needed. Contact with my co-workers outside of work hours. I barely tolerated them during work hours. This was going to get annoying fast.
Buried in all of that was a long string of messages from Lacey.
She’d sent some photos of the shop and her decorating handiwork, and I had to admit that it all looked pretty good. She’d spread the spider webs over the newly replaced window, giving it a creepy vibe that wasn’t quite mellowed by the purple bat lights she’d strung around the frame.
I could see her reflection clearly in the mirror that hung beside the door. Her expression was happy, almost crazed, and I wondered how much coffee she’d indulged in while she was working.
The next text threw me off a little bit:
I almost forgot, I know I’m seeing you tomorrow, but from the look of your apartment you’ll have everything we’ll need to complete one of the fun little things I’ve planned for my Halloween party!
And another one just a few seconds later:
Can you bring: Ginger, chickweed and dandelion leaves????? Oh! And some of that dandelion wine... that was deadly stuff!
“Chickweed?” That was a really specific set of ingredients… and that particular combination seemed really familiar, although I couldn’t quite place it.
She’d warned me that she’d be asking me to bring some ingredients to her party, but I thought she’d meant margarita mix or something else suitably basic witchy.
I’d seen Lacey’s Pinterest page, it was full of drinks that looked like movie witch potions and Halloween themed snacks. A witch that Martha Stewart would invite for tea.
I shrugged and checked my herb jars. I had everything she’d asked for, but there was still something about it that made me uneasy. I still had a few hours before moonrise, so I took my time and separated out the ingredients into some spare jars and set them aside. I stared at them for a moment, trying to pull together the combination in my head, but it wasn’t coming to me.
Fuck. Use it or lose it.
Unbelievable.
I pulled two bottles of dandelion wine out of the wine rack and placed them next to the herbs. Lacey’s party was only a few days away, and the new batch of wine I had fermenting in the closet would take at least another week to cure. If I didn’t set these aside now, chances are they’d be gone by the time the 31st rolled around.
Speaking of which.
I pulled another bottle of out the wine rack and poured myself a jam jar full of the dusky liquid. On the table, Suki meowed loudly. I took a sip of wine and walked to the living room window. The moon was just beginning to crest over the buildings and I smiled.
“Right on time, Suki.”
* * *
I sat at the table, and Suki stepped into my lap to add her own help to my spell. Instead of curling up as she usually did, she sat still, her eyes fixed on the silver bowl that held the roses I’d picked earlier. She was my touchstone, focusing my magic, my energy, exactly where it was needed.
I don’t know what I’d do without her.
The beeswax candle was lit with the flick of a match, and I dripped some melted wax onto a well-worn spot on the table before setting it firmly in place.
The ceramic dish of sea salt I kept on the table at all times came in handy now as I created a thick circle of the coarse grains on the dark wood of the table.
I lifted the silver bowl carefully in both hands, set it in the middle of the circle, and spread my arms. I straightened my shoulders and cleared my mind. The magic in my veins surged forward. It had been so long since I’d done anything like this, and I realized that I had missed the feeling of this power. Maybe that’s why Hecate had been so quiet, seemed so unreachable… Maybe it was because I’d stopped reaching for her.
But those were thoughts for another time. I had work to do. Sure, I was mostly doing this out of guilt, but it was necessary. If nothing else, it might make me feel better about the whole shitty state of affairs I was currently in.
I took a deep breath and poured the orange oil into the silver bowl. Holding that breath and the image of Rachel in my mind, I picked up the roses and turned them over so that the flowers were head down in the bowl. I let my magic flow through my fingers and into the stems of the flowers as I swirled the ingredients, using the roses as my mixing spoon. I let out my breath slowly, counting to six as I did so.
Hecate, see her, Hecate find her, Hecate guide her.
Over, and over I repeated these words in my mind, coaxing the magic forward, and reaching out with my power. With each swirl of the flowers I felt the slow thud of my heart, the rumbling purr of the familiar in my lap and the vibration of the magic in my veins. A dark purple glow seeped from my fingers into the stems of the roses and down into the petals.
When each velvet petal had been enveloped by my magic, I lifted the roses from the bowl and held them over the candle’s flickering flame.
See her, find her, guide her.
See her.
Find her.
Guide her.
The candle flame reared up and caught the edge of one dark red petal, curling around it and changing it. I could smell the burning herbs, the tang of the rosemary strong in my nostrils. Suki’s purr was deafening in my ears and my mind throbbed with the repeating words. The roses were soon fully enveloped in flame, shrinking and blackening and pulsing with power. I could feel forgiveness and acceptance wash over me and I stopped my silent chanting. A tear slipped down my cheek, but I didn’t wipe it away. I could only stare at the burning roses in my hand.
Rachel didn’t deserve to die the way she did, and if I could do something to recommend her to the Goddess, that took a little bit of the sting off the guilt that loomed in the back of my heart. I couldn’t apologize, I couldn’t take it back, but I cou
ld do this, however small and selfish it was.
I dropped the roses into the silver bowl and watched them burn. The flame was orange and purple, and crackled with my magic. There was orange oil on my fingers, and I wound them around a strand of my hair, anointing it with the oil, before tucking it behind my ear and wrapping my arms around Suki kissing the top of her sleek head.
We sat there together, watching the roses smolder, while I drank my wine and the candle burned down to nothing.
20
As the red light of dawn spilled over my apartment building, I buried the ashes of the burned roses in the roots of the Japanese maple I kept on my fire escape. The wind had tugged most of the leaves from the tree’s branches, but I gathered a few to dry and grind for my supplies.
I braided my hair and put it up. Lacey had asked me to wear it in braided pigtails, but it had been a long time since I was twelve years old, and that wasn’t fucking happening. I knew I’d have to deal with her pouting, but it was a small price to pay for keeping my pride.
Halloween was only a few days away, and I tried to prepare myself for the fact that Lacey would likely not be able to shut up about her party, and the re-opening promotion was on all day.
Fucking Wednesdays. Why did it always have to be on a Wednesday?
Considering what I was, and what I knew, I should have been more superstitious, but I just couldn’t get behind it. I mean sure, certain things were definitely real and not at all irrational. I also didn’t believe in luck; but Wednesday just seemed to be my bad luck day. My phone beeped angrily.
RISE AND SHINE
I sighed. Lacey was right on time. I also really needed to change my text tone to something less obnoxious.
“Don’t eat it all at once, fatty,” I said fondly as I loaded up Suki’s food bowl. She meowed happily in reply and stuffed her face into the food. I smiled and headed out the door, and then out into the early morning light.
Sticks & Stones: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 14
