“Oh,” I said.
She headed back into the kitchen.
Shit. Was he mad? Or what?
“Did he say why?” I asked casually.
“No,” she said.
I squinted at her back and wondered if that was the whole truth. She had paused on the phone long enough to get some details.
“Guess we’re cooking for ourselves,” she grumbled.
Nothing important in email. After sorting through sticky-notes with ideas for my next column, I selected one and stared at my little desk statue of Seshat, the Egyptian scribe-goddess, while I mentally considered the points I wanted to make in this week’s column.
I made a good start—so good that the morning got away from me. And, miraculously, Nana never interrupted. No hounding. No browbeating. Nothing.
I got my grocery list, grabbed cash from the duffel under my bed, put my coat on, and left. At the superstore, I gathered my groceries and impulsively added a digital camera to the list. I’d have to get photos of Beverley’s Hallowe’en costume and school events and such, right?
I managed a stop at the bookstore to pick up the national papers so I could see my column in print, and to buy that children’s joke book, before it was time to pick up Beverley at school.
I hid the joke book and put the groceries away while Beverley did her homework. Then she and I made dinner with the radio on, dancing around the kitchen singing into wooden spoons. We snapped a few pictures of each other and laughed at ourselves. During dinner she told Nana and me about recess with her friend Lily and a science project involving weather.
After cleaning up the kitchen, we went out to finish up the pumpkins.
“Aren’t we waiting for Johnny?” she asked.
“Something came up and he won’t be here this evening. I’m sure he won’t mind if we finish without him.”
I probably would have given more thought to why he wasn’t coming back tonight, but Beverley was eager to handle a knife. That kept me well grounded in the moment. Remembering my youth and my first experience handling an athame in ritual, we had a serious knife safety discussion, then started stabbing into the dotted-lines designs we’d poked into the orange hulls.
When we placed the finished pumpkins on the porch, with tea-lights glowing inside, we oohed and ahhed for a while, congratulating ourselves on the fantastic carving we’d done. When we went inside, Nana joined us for warm cider and cinnamon-pumpkin muffins I’d bought at the store.
“These taste wonderful,” Nana said after a bite. “I bet Johnny could make muffins even better, though.”
Was I being baited? I didn’t know, so I simply replied, “I bet you’re right.”
Nana and Beverley soon headed upstairs to begin their routine. I had a pumpkin-carving table to clean, and a totem animal to consult.
• • •
I went out to the garage and cleaned up the pumpkin mess, folded up the table, and stored it. I pulled a clean rag rug from the storage shelves and laid it in the middle of the garage floor. Squirting water from a plastic bottle, I made a wet-line circle around me and sat down on the rug inside.
“Mother, seal my circle and give me a sacred space.
I need to think clearly to solve the troubles I face.”
Meditation being second nature to me, I slipped into an alpha state almost as easily as I flipped a light switch. Visualizing the grove of old ash trees beside a swift flowing river, I imagined myself walking to it, taking my shoes off, and sticking my toes into the cool water. Cleansing my chakras, I thought about the last time I’d spoken with my totem animal, the jackal Amenemhab, here.
He’d told me I was a big part of the Goddess’s plan. I hadn’t known a Lustrata from an Electrolux at the time and since we were discussing my dilemma with Vivian, I thought he meant the Great Mother wanted me to be an assassin. He even had me wondering if perhaps my absentee father was a killer for hire.
In retrospect, however, it seemed the jackal must have been smoothing a path into the whole Lustrata thing. If I were willing to justify being an assassin in the name of justice, then I couldn’t shy away from being the Lustrata, right?
“Hello, Persephone.”
The gray and tan jackal sat on the rocks beside me.
“Amenemhab.” I wanted to call him M&M or Ah-min, or something shorter and easier to say, but it irritated me when people read my name and called me Percy-phone, so I always made the effort.
He panted, then closed his mouth. One side twitched up in a dog smile. “Never a dull moment with you, is there?”
“Not anymore.” Pulling my toes from the water, I allowed the warm sunshine to dry them.
“Tell me.”
“Johnny and I … well. We …” It was difficult to even imagine myself saying it aloud. “We had sex,” I blurted.
“Oh. And?”
That question could have meant any of a dozen things. Totem animals are wily, and Amenemhab was very effective at getting things out of me. If I hadn’t been feeling so shy and embarrassed about the issue I might have just answered with the first thing that came to mind. As it was, I decided to ask a question in return. “And what?”
“Was it good, how do you feel about it, and is that genuinely why you are here?”
Of course he’d cut to the heart of the issue. Exasperated, I said, “Fabulous, don’t know, and yes.”
“All right then.” He stood and leapt from the rocks to the softer grass. He rolled around as if scratching his back, then twisted onto his stomach and seemed completely comfortable. “Go ahead. I am ready.”
“For what?”
“For either the long story you tell about how fabulous it was and why that makes it wrong or bad or difficult in some way, or the torturous version of the same story where I have to ask questions and drag the details out of you.” He crossed his front paws and held his ears pricked curiously. “Go ahead.”
I groaned. How to sterilize the tale and break it down into the most necessary pieces? “It was not like it ever was before.”
“Oh, you are getting very good at this! How so?”
“Multiorgasmic good.”
“Congratulations.”
Being congratulated about a sexual accomplishment felt weird. “Thank you.”
“And how exactly are you trying to analyze this into being a wrong, bad, or difficult thing for you?”
“It was that good because of the stain.”
“Are you certain?”
“When I’ve had sex before, it wasn’t that amazing and I wasn’t stained then, so yes, I’m certain.”
“Mmmm. A very effective position to take, if you insist on turning the good thing into a bad thing.” He paused to consider it. “This could be the root of all your problems, you know.”
“What could be the root of all my problems? ’Cause if there is one single thing at the root of all my problems, I’ll get a shovel right now and dig until all the roots are exposed, then hose them down with weed killer.”
Nonplussed, Amenemhab said, “You can see others in black and white, you know right from wrong. You’re willing to make a judgment call and are capable of acting on it, but when your notice is not on others; when it is only yourself you must judge; when it is your life, your intimacy, and your comfort zone being scrutinized by those judgmental eyes of yours, the black and white smear until all becomes gray.”
I considered that. He could be right. “Okay. So help me see things clearly.”
“A binding like yours will amplify a libido, but that mark isn’t the only new part of the experience. Your partner was new.”
“You’re right,” I conceded.
“Isn’t there another part of these sexual circumstances that was unique?”
“Huh?”
“Have you ever been with a wære before?”
“No.”
“Have you ever had intercourse in the position the two of you chose?”
“Are you seriously asking me that?”
“If yo
u are going to overanalyze something new, then you have to be open about all the aspects that were new. Was it a new position for you?”
“When we started, no, by the end, yes.”
“Hmmm.” Amenemhab cocked his head. “What if it is as you fear? If it is due to the mark? What if it is all of these things? What if it is simply the chemistry between the two of you?”
“If it is the stain, I can’t do that again; if it’s our chemistry, I can.”
He shook his head as if disappointed. “How do you ascertain this?”
“If it’s the stain then it’s controlling me. I have to find a way to stifle it, period.”
“But you enjoyed it!”
I spread my arms. “Enjoyed it so much I’m here.”
“So you won’t repeat something you already did once and enjoyed”—he scratched a paw down his brow and over his muzzle—“because you think the mark might be making it feel better?”
“Don’t be condescending.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. You make it sound silly.”
“It is silly.”
I made a face at him.
“Of all the things that have happened to you and changed in the last month, very little of it has been under your control. One thing you can control is your relationship with Johnny. Perhaps you are conflicted simply to exert some control because you can?”
“You’re a little furry to be going Freud on me.”
He sat taller. “You enjoyed sex so much it disturbed you and you’re here. I’m obligated to ‘go Freud’ on you.”
“You make it seem like I’m just being a silly, prudish girl. I’m not. I’ve got feelings for him. I was attracted to him even before the stain. Now my feelings are growing, and growing fast. Scary fast. I know I’m freaking out a bit. I’m afraid it’s the stain that’s making me feel this way, not just … us.”
Amenemhab stood with irritated suddenness. “Do you doubt that taking your grandmother in was the right thing to do?”
Unsure where he was going with this and disliking his impatience, I answered guardedly. “I knew it would be aggravating and good at the same time. So no, I don’t doubt it was the right thing to do.”
“Was taking Beverley in the right choice?”
“Of course.”
“Was saving those parts of you bound to Menessos the right thing to do?”
“Yes.”
“You had a choice, you know. You chose to take the actions that would save your other self. Now that you are more fully aware of the consequences, are you more or less certain that was the right thing to do?”
I hesitated. Without those parts of my self bound up with the stain, I wouldn’t have any sense of right and wrong. I wouldn’t have feelings for other people. I couldn’t imagine being the kind of person who had no values, who could not care for others.
“Was it the right thing to do?” he pressed.
Softly, I said, “Yes.”
“Then find a way to live with the binding, Persephone, for it is yours. Forever. Unavoidably.” He paused. “You can, of course, waffle over every decision and you can pick and choose your relationships, selecting only the ones that avoid intimacy.” He paused. “Not what I would recommend, by the way.”
My hard look didn’t faze him.
“Persephone, the real question is: why would you deliberate so hard to find a justifiable reason to avoid fabulous intimacy?”
I opened my mouth to answer, then stopped. I couldn’t say it.
“Let me guess, you think you do not deserve it?”
I stared at the ground.
He pressed, “Because you think the binding has tainted you?”
I didn’t answer, which was, in itself, an answer.
“I adore and applaud your altruism, but, please, do not disregard what you have given up! Being selfless is heroic, but being selfless to the point of self-destruction is futile. It undermines the triumphs gained in the selfless moments.”
That made sense.
“Your body has been graced with the touch of something immortal—”
“Something dead.”
“Stop searching for reasons to abhor it, Persephone. It is part of you now, and self-loathing will only consume what little confidence you have.” His voice was firm.
I didn’t know what to say; he was right.
“Yes, you have been forcibly altered. Yes, Menessos is at the core of it. But do not forget the Goddess put Her mark upon you long before the vampire. She chose you for this fate. She handpicked you to bear this. She knew the twists and turns that would befall you. She found you strong enough and worthy in Her sight. Perhaps you should open your eyes and see that fabulous intimacy as compensation for the rough road you’re meant to travel.” Amenemhab left me with that and loped away.
Out of the meditation, I sat in the middle of my garage.
The right thing for the right reason.
Put your big-girl panties on and accept it. I could do this. Johnny had been after me for months, so he must have growing feelings as well. Beverley had encouraged our kissing, and Nana seemed to know anyway, so truly, who was I trying to hide it from?
Myself.
I’d find a way to tell him why I was being ridiculous and how I planned to fix it. Tomorrow.
Surely tomorrow we’d also discuss my Eximium plans, since something kept him from it tonight.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Friday, around noon, my phone rang. Before Nana could get up from the dinette, I answered. “Hello?”
“Red!”
I grinned. “Hi, Johnny. I—”
“I have the best news. This is so awesome. Yesterday, Feral got word that some suit had been asking about Lycanthropia at the music store. So we did some digging, found out from a friend at another Cleveland guitar store that someone’d been asking there as well. So, we knew something was up and pulled an extra rehearsal last night before going out to a jam night to play. The suit was there!” Johnny said.
“The suit?”
“A&R. A rep scouting for artists and repertoire.”
Sounded like good news. “And?”
“He said the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is hosting some big meeting of label execs and A&Rs. Started yesterday, with various discussions, panels, and all that kind of shit. Label showcases. Industry stuff. Said they’d invited various unsigned bands to play short sets.”
I leaned against the wall, listening to him; he was like a kid, he was so excited. At least his absence here last night wasn’t because I’d not kissed him the morning after.
“Some band they had scheduled to play tonight had to cancel because their guitarist slipped in the shower doin’ his girlfriend and broke his wrist. So the suit’s in need of a replacement band! He gave us a business card, wrote a private cell phone number on the back. He wants Lycanthropia to play.”
“That’s awesome!” His band had been on the edge of getting noticed for longer than I’d known him. “How’d he know to ask at the music stores?”
“Said since the cancellation came in he’d been calling all over northern Ohio talking to bars and local venues getting numbers on attendance, quizzing local radio stations about who got requested, and music stores about who sells. After assimilating that data, he was keen on picking us, but went to the music stores to ask personally.”
Realizing the synchronicity made my grin widen. “So you get to be a local ‘nominee’ too, just like me, huh?”
“Yup.”
“When is the show for the big shots?”
“Tonight.”
I’d have bet he was jumping around like a little kid. “Wow, that’s fast.”
“Yeah, I mean shit like this, they’ve had it planned for months, but with the last-minute cancellation and all, us being able to fill in unexpectedly gives us a boost.”
Then it hit me: “So, I’m not going see you before the Eximium.”
“Red, I’m sorry.” All that little-boy excitement had drained from hi
s voice. “We’re at the studio right now, rough-mixing the tracks for a disc so we can pass some out to the execs in attendance. Please don’t think I’m crapping out on you.”
“I understand,” I said firmly. “That’s okay.”
“Don’t lie. I can hear you’re disappointed and after we … you know … and all. I’m sorry, Red.”
“Stop apologizing. This is your dream, Johnny. Get those tracks done.”
“Red—”
“The beach is always there,” I said, copying what he’d said to me. “High tide, low tide, and done-with-your-disc tide.”
He laughed. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “I swear.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Break a leg tonight.”
“Deal. Is there a witchy version of ‘break a leg’?”
“As Above, So Below.”
“Hmmm. I get it, it sounds sagely and all, but I’m gonna stick with: Kick ass tomorrow at your Eggsy-competition thing. What was it called again?”
“Thanks. And it’s an Eximium.”
“I know with that starting at dawn you’re not likely to come and see us—we’re not going on ’til midnight and that’s way too late for you—but in case you wanted to come down and maybe wish me luck or something, I put your name on the comp list anyway.”
“And because Erik was giving them Celia’s name and Feral listed six girls’ names?”
“Well, maybe …”
After sweet good-byes, I hung up the phone.
Maybe we’d be okay after all. He sounded good. I sounded good. I think.
Behind me, at the dinette, Nana cleared her throat.
It sounded like the mustering of grouchy thoughts in preparation of her last-ditch effort to talk me out of the Eximium. Worse, it was followed by the long inhalation that began long-winded lectures. Thinking to head that off as long as possible, I turned, saying, “Find anything in the Codex about fairies yet?” I moved into the kitchen and started making another half-pot of coffee.
She rasped that breath away. “No. Why do you keep asking about fairies?”
“A water fairy came to me in the grove the other night.”
“A fairy?” Clearly surprised, she sat straighter and leaned forward.
I’d successfully headed off whatever tirade she’d been prepping.
Hallowed Circle Page 9
