by Cate Tiernan
— The Ways of Witches,
Gunner Thorvildsen, 1740
Tonight I sent a message. Will you dream of me? Will you come to me?
"The movie is supposed to be great. Don't you want to see it? And Bakker's going to be there," Mary K. said. She came through the bathroom that connected our two rooms, pulling on her shirt. In front of my full-length mirror she turned, looking herself from all angles. She gave her mirror image a big smile.
"I can't," I said, wondering why my fourteen-year-old sister had gotten not only her share of the family chest but my share, too, apparently. "I'm going to a party. Where are you all meeting?"
"At the theater," she said. "Jaycee's mom is driving us. Do you like Bakker? He's in your class."
"He's okay," I said. "He seems like a nice guy. Cute." I had a thought"! heard he's been crushing on you. He's not being too—pushy, is he?"
"Uh-uh," Mary K. said confidently. "He's been really sweet." She turned to look at me as I stood in my underwear in front of my open closet. "Where's the party? What art you going to wear?"
"At Cal Blaire's house, and I don't know," I admitted.
"Ooh, that new senior," said Mary K., coming over to shove clothes around. "He is so hot. Everyone I know wants to go out with him. God, Morgan, your clothes really need help."
"Thank you," I said, and she laughed.
"Here, this is good," she said, pulling out a shirt. "You never wear this."
It was a dark olive green, thin, stretchy top that my other aunt Margaret, had given me. Aunt Margaret is my mom's older sister. I love her, but she and Aunt Eileen haven't talked in years, ever since Eileen came out. Since Aunt Margaret had given me the sweater, I felt disloyal to Aunt Eileen when I wore it. Call me oversensitive.
"I hate that color," I said.
"No," Mary K. said emphatically, "It would be perfect with your eyes. Put it on. And wear your black leggings with it."
I scrambled into the shirt. Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and I heard Bree's voice. "Oh, no way," I protested. The shirt barely came down to my waist. "This isn't long enough. My ass will be hanging out."
"So let it," Mary K. advised. "You have a great ass."
"What?" Bree came in. "I heard that. That shirt looks great. Let's go."
Bree looked amazing, like a glowing topaz. Perfect flyaway hair accentuated her eyes, making them striking. Her wide mouth was tinted a soft shade of brown, and she was almost quivering with energy and excitement. She wore a clingy brown velvet top that accentuated her boobs and low-slung drawstring pants. A good three inches of tight flat stomach showed. Around her perfect belly button she had put a temporary tattoo of sun rays.
Next to her I felt like a two-by-four.
Mary K. shoved the leggings at me, and I put them on, no longer at all concerned about how I would look. A plaid flannel shirt of my dad's completed my ensemble and covered my butt. I brushed my hair while Bree tapped her feet with impatience.
"We can take Breezy," she said. "She's working again."
Minutes later I was sitting on a prewarmed leather seat as Bree stomped on the gas and flew down my street.
"What time do you have to be home?" she asked, "This may go till late." It was barely nine o'clock.
"My curfew's at one," I said. "But my folks will probably be asleep and won't know if I'm a little later. Or I could call them or something." Bree never has to call home and check in with her dad about anything. Sometimes they seem more like roommates than father and daughter.
"Cool." Bree tapped her brown fingernails against the steering wheel, took a turn a bit too fast and headed out Gallows Road to one of the older neighborhoods in Widow's Vale. Cal's neighborhood. She already knew the way.
Cal's house was awesome, huge, and made of stone. The wide front porch supported an upstairs balcony, and ever-green vines climbed up the columns to the second floor. The front garden was lush and beautifully landscaped and just on the verge of wildness. I thought of my dad humming as he pruned his rhododendrons every autumn and felt almost sad.
The wide wooden door opened in answer to our knock, and a woman stood there, dressed in a long linen dress the dark purple-blue of the night sky. It was elegant and simple and had probably cost a fortune.
"Welcome, girls," the woman said with a smile. "I'm Cal's mother, Selene Belltower."
Her voice was powerful and melodious, and I felt a tingling sense of expectation. When I got closer to her, I saw that Cal had inherited her coloring. Dark brown hair was swept carelessly back from her face. Wide, golden eyes slanted over high cheekbones. Her mouth was well shaped, her skin smooth and unlined. I wondered if she had been a model when she was younger.
"Let me guess—you must be Bree," she said, shaking Bree's hand. "And you must be Morgan." Her clear eyes met mine, her gaze seeming to pierce the back of my skull. I blinked and rubbed my forehead. I was actually physically uncomfortable. Then she smiled again, the pain went away, and she ushered us inside. "I'm so glad he's made new friends. It was hard for us to move, but my company offered me a promotion, and I couldn't say no."
I wanted to ask what her job was or find out what had happened to Cal's dad, but there was no way to ask without being rude.
"Cal's in his room. Third floor, at the top of the stairs," said Ms. Belltower, gesturing to the impressive carved stair-case. "Some of the others are here already."
"Thanks," we both said a bit awkwardly as we climbed the dark, wooden staircase. Beneath our feet a thick flowered carpet cushioned our steps.
"She doesn't think it's weird to let a bunch of girls into her teenage son's bedroom?" I whispered, thinking about how my mom kicks boys out of Mary K.'s room at home.
Bree smiled at me, her eyes shining with excitement. "I guess she's cool," she whispered back. "Besides, there's a bunch of us."
Cal's room turned out to be the entire attic of the house. It went from front to back, side to side, and there were small windows everywhere: some square, some round, some clear, some made of stained glass. The roof itself was pitched steeply and rose to about nine feet in the center, fifty about three feet at the sides. The floor was dark, unpolished wood, the walls unpainted clapboards. In one small gable was an antique desk with school textbooks on it.
We dropped our jackets on a long wooden bench, and I piked off my clogs, following Bree's example.
A small working fireplace was set into one wall. Its plain mantel was covered with cream-colored candles of various sizes, maybe thirty of them. Pillars of candles stood around the huge room, some on black wrought-iron stands, some on the floor, some atop glass blocks or even set on top of stacks of ancient-looking books. The room was lit only by candlelight, and the wavering shadows thrown on every wall were hypnotic and beautiful.
My eyes were caught by Cal's bed, standing off in a larger alcove. I couldn't help staring at it, feeling frozen to the spot It was a wide, low bed of dark wood, mahogany or even ebony, with four short bedposts. The mattress was a futon. The bedclothes were of plain, cream-colored linen, and the bed was unmade. As if he had just gotten out of it Lit candles burned brightly on low tables at either side.
In the far alcove against the back wall of the house, bathed in shadows, the rest of the group was gathered.
When Cal saw us, he came over.
"Morgan. Thanks for coming," he said in his confident intimate way. "Bree, nice to have you back."
So Bree had been in his bedroom.
"Thanks for inviting me," I said stiffly, pulling my flannel shirt closer around me. Cal smiled and took both of our hands, leading us to the others. Robbie waved when he saw us. He was drinking dark grape juice from a wine goblet. Beth Nielson stood next to him, her hair newly bleached pale blond. She had medium brown skin, green eyes, and a short-cropped Afro that changed colors with her mood. Sometimes I thought of her looking like a lioness, while Raven looked like a panther. They made an interesting pair if they stood next to one another.
"Happy esbat," Robbie said, raisi
ng his glass.
"Happy esbat," Bree said. I knew from my reading that esbat was just another word for a gathering where magick was done.
Matt was sitting on a low velvet settee, with Jenna curled on his lap. They were talking to Sharon Goodfine, who was sitting stiffly on the floor, her arms around her knees. Was she here just for Cal, or had Wicca spoken to her somehow? I had always thought of her as having it easy, with her orthodontist father smoothing her path through life. She was full figured and pretty and looked older than she was.
"Here." Cal handed Bree and me wineglasses of grape juice. I took a sip.
A patchouli-scented breeze washed into the room, and Raven arrived, followed by Ethan. Tonight Raven looked like a hooker who specialized in S and M. A black leather dog collar circled her neck. It was connected by leather straps to a black leather corset. Her pants looked like someone had dipped her in a vat of shiny black spandex, and this was the dried result. She wouldn't have stood out in New York City, but here in Widow's Vale, I would have given money to see her walk into the grocery store. Did Cal find this attractive?
Ethan looked like he always did: scruffy, with long, curly hair, and stoned. It hadn't seemed odd to me that people would have stayed the first time we did a circle—lots of kids will try anything once. But it was interesting that everyone except Todd, Alessandra, and Suzanne had come back, and it made me look at them more closely, as if I were seeing all of them for the first time.
This group had hung out a few times at school in a new, multi-clique assemblage, but here we separated into our old patterns: Robbie and I together; Jenna, Matt, and Sharon together, with Bree going between me and them; Beth, Raven, and Ethan together by the drinks.
"Good, I think everyone's here," Cal said. "Last week we celebrated Mabon and did a banishing circle. This week I thought we'd just have an informal circle and get to know each other better. So, let's begin."
Cal picked up a piece of white chalk and drew a large circle that almost filled this end of the attic. Jenna and Matt got up and pushed the sofa out of the way.
"This circle can be made out of anything," Cal said conversationally as he drew. On the floor were the smudged and faded outlines of other circles. I noticed that although he was drawing freehand, the end result was almost perfectly round and symmetrical, as it had been in the woods when he had drawn a circle in the dirt with a stick. "It can be a piece of rope, a circle of objects, like shells or tarot cards, even flowers. It represents the boundary of our magick energy."
We all stepped inside the chalk circle. Cal drew the circle closed, as he had done last week. What would happen if one of us stepped outside it?
Cal picked up a small brass bowl filled with something white. For a worried moment I thought it was cocaine or something, but he picked some up in his fingers and sprinkled it all around the circle.
"With this salt, I purify our circle," he said. I remembered he had sprinkled salt last time. Cal placed the bowl on the circle's line. "Placing this bowl here, in the north position, signifies one of the four elements: earth. Earth is feminine and nourishing."
In the last several days I had gone on-line and done some research. I had found out that there were lots of different sects of Wicca, as there are different sects of almost every religion. I had focused on the one that Cal had said he was a part of and had found more than a thousand Web sites.
Next Cal put an identical small brass bowl, filled with sand and a burning stick of incense, at the east side of the circle.
"This incense symbolizes air, another of the four elements," Cal said, focused but utterly relaxed. "Air is for the mind, the intellect Communication."
In the south he stood a cream-colored pillar candle about eighteen inches high. "This candle represents fire, the third element," Cal explained, looking at me. "Fire is for transformation, success, and passion. It's a very strong element."
I felt uncomfortable under his gaze and looked down at the candle instead. Firelight, my soul is bright, I thought.
Finally, at the western side, Cal put a brass bowl filled with water. "Water is the last of the four elements," he said. "Water is for emotions. For love, beauty, and healing. Each of the four elements corresponds to astrological signs," Cal explained. "Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius are the air signs. The water signs are Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces. Earth signs are Taurus, Virgo, and Capricorn. Aries, Leo, and Sagittarius are fire signs." Cal looked at me again.
Could he tell I was a fire sign—a Sagittarius?
"Now, let's join hands," he said.
I was closest to Robbie and Matt, so I took their hands. Robbie's hand was warm and comforting. It felt strange to be holding Matt's hand, smooth and cool. I remembered how Cal's had felt and wished I was standing next to him again. Instead he was sandwiched between Bree and Raven. I sighed.
"Let's close our eyes and focus our thoughts," said Cal, bowing his head. "Breathe in and out slowly, to the count of four. Let every thought still, every worry fade. There is no past, no future, only the here and now and we ten standing together" His voice was even and calm. I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I breathed in and out, thinking about candlelight and incense. It was very relaxing. Part of me was aware of everyone else in the room, their quiet breathing and the occasional shifting of their feet, and part of me felt very pure and removed, as if I were floating over this circle, watching it from above.
"Tonight we're going to do a purifying and focusing ritual," Cal explained. "Samhain, our new year, is coming up, and most witches do a lot of spiritual work to get ready."
Once again we moved in a circle together, holding hands, but this time we moved slowly in a clockwise direction—deasil, Cal called it, as opposed to widdershins, which is counterclockwise.
For a moment I felt nervous about the end of the ritual. The last time I had done this, I had felt like someone had buried an ax in my chest, then felt like crap for two days afterward. Would that happen again? I decided it didn't matter, that I wanted to try this. Then Cal began the chant
"Water, cleanse us,
Air, purify us.
Fire, make us whole and pure.
Earth, center us."
We began to repeat his words. For several minutes or maybe longer we moved in a circle, chanting. Glancing around the circle, I saw people starting to relax, as if they felt lighthearted and happy. Even Ethan and Raven seemed lighter, younger, and less dark. Bree was watching Cal. Robbie had his eyes closed.
We began moving faster and chanting louder. It was right after this that I became aware of palpable energy building up around me, within the circle. I looked around quickly, startled. Cal, across the circle, met my eyes and smiled. Raven's eyes were closed now as she chanted and moved unerringly in our line. The others looked intense but not alarmed.
I felt pressed in upon somehow. As if a big, soft bubble were pressing in on me, all around me. My hair felt alive and crackling with energy, and when I next looked up at Cal, I gasped because I could see Cal's aura, glowing faintly around his head.
I was awestruck. A fuzzy band of pale red light was glowing around him, shimmering in the candlelight. When I glanced around the circle, I saw that everyone had one. Jenna's was silver. Matt's was green. Raven's was orange, and Robbie was surrounded by white. Bree had a pale orange light, Beth had a black one, Ethan's was brown, and Sharon's was pink, like her flushed cheeks. Did I have an aura? What color was it? What did this mean? I stared, marveling, feeling joyful and amazed.
As before, at some unseen signal the circle stopped abruptly and we all threw our hands into the air, our arms outstretched. My heart throbbed, and so did my head, but I didn't stumble or lose my balance. I just pulled in a fast breath and grimaced, rubbing my temples and hoping that no one noticed.
"Send the cleansing energy into yourselves!" Cal said firmly, making a fist and thumping it against his chest. Everyone did the same, and when I did, I felt a great warmth rush in and settle in my abdomen. I felt calm, peaceful, and alert. Immedia
tely after that I became nauseated and sick. Oh, help, I thought.
Cal instantly crossed the circle and came over to me, I was swallowing hard, my eyes big, hoping I wouldn't be sick right there. I just wanted to cry.
"Sit down," Cal said softly, pushing on my shoulders. "Sit down right now."
I sat on the wooden floor, feeling motion sick and awful.
"What is it this time?" Raven said, and no one answered.
"Lean over," Cal said. I was sitting cross-legged, and he gently pushed on the back of my neck. "Touch your forehead to the floor," he instructed, and I did, rounding my back and flattening my hands, palms down. Instantly I felt better. As soon as my forehead touched the cool wood, with my hands braced on both sides of me, the waves of sickness passed, and I quit gasping.
"Are you okay?" Bree knelt next to me, rubbing my back. I felt Cal brush her hand away.
"Wait," he said. "Wait until she's grounded."
"What's wrong?" Jenna asked, concerned.
"She channeled too much energy," Cal said, keeping his hand on the base of my neck. "Like at Mabon. She's very, very sensitive; a real energy conduit."
After a minute or so he asked, "Better now?"
"Uh-huh," I said, slowly raising my head. I looked around, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. But physically I was fine, no longer queasy or disoriented.
"Do you want to tell us what happened?" Cal asked gently. "What you saw?"
The idea of describing everyone's auras seemed intimidating— too personal. Besides, hadn't they seen them, too? I wasn't sure. "No," I said.
"Okay," he said, standing up. He smiled. "That was amazing, you-all. Thanks. Now, let's go swimming."
CHAPTER 11 Water
"Nights of a full moon or the new moon are especially powerful for working magick."
— Practical Lunar Rituals,
Marek Hawksight, 1978
"Oh, yeah," Bree said enthusiastically. "Swimming!"
