by Jack Massa
Molly texts Friday morning and asks if she could maybe interview a member of the Circle. We’re at the shop, so I ask Granma about it.
She just laughs. “No way that’s happening.”
I text Molly back: “Sorry. No interviews. They feel secrecy is necessary.”
Molly: “OK. I knew it was a long shot.”
Molly again: “Do you think we’ve heard the last of Shadow Monster?”
Me: “I wish I knew.”
Molly: “If there are no more sightings, does that mean it really was the Wainwrights all along? Nothing supernatural about it?”
Questions along those lines have been needling me too. Did Shadow Man inspire the Wainwrights to act for him? Does he ever actually manifest on the physical plane? Is it possible that Granma and Violet and Kevin only sensed his presence because they were picking up on my perceptions? Does he even exist outside my insane imagination?
Molly: “I didn’t mean to imply your visions weren’t real, Abby.”
She tactfully does not say, Maybe you’re just delusional, Abby.
I text her back: “I understand. You’d like proof it’s not all in my head.”
Molly: “Independent verification would be helpful.”
All in my head…what was it Violet said about this? At some level, hallucinations and true visions are just different forms of the same thing.
But where does that leave me—apart from confused?
When I talk to Violet that afternoon, she’s not happy that I still haven’t gotten past the First Advancement. The full moon is coming in another week, and she’s convinced something extreme is going to happen. She decides to take matters into her own hands and arranges for Kevin to drive me over to their house the next day on his lunch break. She warns me not to eat any lunch myself until after we’ve met.
So Saturday at noon, Kevin and I leave the shop and go out to his beat-up old RAV. It’s got silver tape holding the seats together, and it smells like the inside of the bookstore.
After buckling his seat belt, he turns to me. “Listen, Abby. I wanted to talk to you about something. I’m not quite sure how to bring it up.”
He seems worried, and my intuition tells me it concerns Violet. “Is Violet okay?”
He looks at me sharply. “You are quick on the uptake. Actually, I’m worried about her. Ever since we did the expulsion at your grandmother’s house, she’s been going really hard.” He hesitates, then starts the car and backs out of the parking space. After putting it in drive and stepping on the gas, he continues: “Violet and I have done magic together for over forty years. But I’ve never seen her like this—up at all hours of the night, constantly brooding. I’m afraid she might have gotten obsessed with banishing this entity.”
Obsession. It’s warned against in the Circle of Harmony writings. It seems that, if you practice spiritualism and magic, it’s easy to mistake your own emotions and hang-ups for real forces, and to become lost in constantly focusing on them—or fighting them.
“But the shadow entity is real. You said so yourself, Kevin.”
“Yes. I definitely felt that way at the time. But after we expelled him, it seemed to me that he was truly gone. And this week in particular, since they arrested the Wainwright boys, it seems that things have calmed down around here, that the evil influences have waned. What do you think?”
“I’ve been wondering that too, honestly. But Violet doesn’t think so?”
Kevin shakes his head. “Violet doesn’t think so. That’s why I’m worried that it may have become an obsession. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she’s sure I’m wrong. She’s always been more advanced in occult work than me. I don’t know, maybe I am wrong. I certainly don’t want to interfere with any magical work that you two need to be doing—especially for your protection. I don’t know what I’m asking here, Abby. Except maybe that you keep an eye on her, try not to strain her too much?”
“Wow. I’ll try, Kevin. I wish I were more advanced so I could…know better what to do.”
“I know. It’s never an easy road, is it? Most people think that if magic was real, they could just solve all their problems. But true magic…they have no idea how hard it is.”
When we get to the house, Violet greets us at the door. She looks tired, but actually better than when I saw her last week. Her hair is combed out, and the creases around her eyes less pronounced. She’s wearing her magical robe—deep purple and sewn with gold and white badges of the sun and moon.
We sit in the kitchen, and she chats with Kevin while he fixes a sandwich to take back to work. When he’s ready to leave, he kisses her on the cheek and begs her not to tire herself.
Violet watches him walk out the door. She has a fond, wistful expression. “Isn’t he a beautiful man?”
Well, I haven’t really thought about that…
“Forgive me.” Violet laughs. “It’s just that, for a woman my age to have a lover like Kevin—I feel so lucky. Do you have a boyfriend, Abby?”
“Nah. No one special.”
“Well, you should. Find one as soon as possible. Love is good for you. It’s good for your health, and it’s good for your magic. Take chances. Love recklessly. If your heart gets broken, that’s all right. Cry, patch it up, and do it again…well, that’s my advice on that subject.”
“Okay. I’ll remember it.”
“Good. Now, regarding your little problem with the First Advancement. This is what I’d like to do…”
She proposes doing the ceremony with me. She’ll play the parts of both the guide and the guardian, which will be a little awkward. But she feels this is the best way to get over the hump.
I suspected she had something like this in mind, and I thought I was prepared to go through with it. But now I’m not so sure.
“Are you game?” Violet asks me.
I feel a little grimace fly across my face. “Well, are you sure it’s necessary? I mean, that it’s really this urgent?”
Violet looks deflated, then suspicious. “You’ve been talking to Kevin?”
There’s no hiding stuff from Violet.“Yes. He seems to think that the shadow creature is not so much of a threat anymore. I think my Granma feels the same. I’m just wondering if we need to be in such a rush.”
“Hmm.” Violet rubs her chin. “We all have different levels of sensitivity, Abby. Kevin and Kat perceive things on the spirit planes more clearly than most people, but I think less strongly than you and I. I’m pretty psychic; you are even more so.” She stares into my eyes. “What have you noticed lately in the atmosphere around town?”
“Well…since they arrested the Wainwright brothers, it’s all felt really peaceful.”
“Yes. Now, I want you to look inward. Close your eyes and ask your intuition: why has it seemed so peaceful?”
I hesitate, then shut my eyes. As soon as I center my attention on my heart, the answer is there waiting for me. “Because the evil forces have gone underground. They’re building.”
“Exactly as I see it,” Violet says. “It makes me think the entity is gathering itself—or else someone is containing it by magic to build its power. Either way, it does not bode well.”
The truth I sense in her words is frightening. I try to make my voice sound brave.
“Okay. I guess that makes up my mind, then.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing at the door of Violet’s spare bedroom, where she does her magic. I’m barefoot, dressed in a plain white gown, a copy of the First Advancement in my hand.
When Violet calls out from inside that she’s ready, I knock three times.
The door creaks open, and Violet’s face appears. “Who seeks entry to the chamber of our hidden knowledge?”
“I am an initiate of the Circle of Harmony, and I seek advancement to the First Fountain.”
“By what secret moniker are you known?”
“In the Circle, I am called Fighting Eagle.”
Violet pulls the door wide and bows to me. “You are welcome, Fighting Eagle, dear friend and magician. Herein is the circle of the First Advancement to the eternal Spring of the Love of Truth. Each Spring is a Fountain, and each Fountain a waymarker on the path of true magic.”
The room is smoky-sweet with rose incense. Votive candles, arranged in a circle on the floor, make a shivering light. Across the room on a small table is a gold cup. Above it hangs the blue and rose painting of the First Fountain.
Violet sprinkles water on my forehead and traces a design with her finger. Now I am purified.
“Come.”
She takes hold of my sleeve. We walk slowly in a clockwise direction on the outer edge of the circle of candles. After a few paces, we stop. Violet turns to me and pulls on her hood. Now she is the guardian.
“Unless you know my name, you cannot pass.”
I look down at the paper and read aloud: “Ignorance is your name. Deceit is your name. The deceit of the sensual world. The ignorance of those who perceive only surface appearances. By my love of knowledge and of truth, I banish you.”
I point my hand, index and middle finger extended. She bows and steps back.
Now Violet removes her hood and takes hold of my sleeve again. I follow her as we circle the room three times. At last we stop in front of the painting.
“Behold you the Spring of the Love of Truth,” Violet intones. “A true magician gives herself to the full power of this love, for it is the motive force for your magical work. The soul is a cauldron of will and desire, ever seething and bubbling. Only by binding your desires to the love of truth can you nourish your magic and your life.”
She lifts the gold cup to my lips.
As I drink, pulsing waves of light and darkness seem to wash over me. When I look up, I glimpse another figure standing at Violet’s shoulder. She wears a white blouse and a straw bonnet. Her hair is in black ringlets, and her dark eyes are luminous. She smiles at me.
I blink, and she’s gone.
After the ceremony, I help Violet clean up the magical chamber. Rather than tired, she appears elated by the ritual. I’m relieved that it hasn’t strained her. I tell her about my glimpse of the dark-haired young woman.
“I’ve seen her before. I think she’s Annie Renshaw.”
“That’s good. Very good,” Violet says. “As I told you, spirits sometimes appear to lend their energy to the candidate. I think we’ve made a breakthrough here.”
I have plenty to think about on the long walk back to Granma’s shop. I ponder what it means to be a true magician—to bind the desires of your soul to the love of truth. It means being different from other people. It means giving up what everyone else finds safe and certain.
Maybe Kevin and Granma are right about Violet. Maybe she has gone off the deep end. Maybe I’m insane to believe in her perceptions.
Then I remember the other thing Kevin said—true magic is never an easy road.
But easy or not, insane or not, it’s my road.
I think I know that now.
18. Her fashion sense was retro, that’s for sure
That night, I sit down in my bedroom to perform the Ablution.
She is waiting for me in front of the First Fountain, her dark eyes shining. She feels kind and friendly, but I’ve learned to be careful.
“I am Fighting Eagle of the Circle of Harmony,” I tell her. “What is your name, spirit?”
Her lips bend in a smile. “In the Circle I am called Enfant de Lune. But you know me by another name.”
“Annie Renshaw.”
“Yes, my friend, my courageous Abigail. I have been trying so hard to reach you. Now, at last, your aspiration to the love of truth has broken through the barrier.”
“What do you want with me?”
“To do you service. The evil force is indeed growing, as it did before in that life when I was Annie Renshaw. I have knowledge that can help you.”
As she speaks, she and the fountain start to shimmer and fade.
“Do not be concerned,” she says. “This vision is passing. But the connection between us is firm now. I will contact you in a different way.”
In the morning, after my run and shower, I dress as usual in shorts and a T-shirt. When I pick up my phone from the night table, I notice there is a message.
Weird. There is no service out here in the woods, and I’m positive there were no texts when we got home last night. I open the message. It gets a whole lot weirder.
From Unknown: “I will meet you at your coffee shop at 11 this morning. - Annie”
I squeeze my eyes shut and look again. I try pinching myself, closing the message app, rebooting the phone. Each time, the message is there, real as any text on any screen.
Well, she said she would contact me in a different way…
I think about telling Granma or calling Violet. But I’m not sure just what to tell them. If I have totally broken the insanity barrier, they’ll find out soon enough. I decide I’ll just show up at Springs of Coffee at eleven and see what happens.
At five to eleven, I tell Granma I’m going to run over to the coffee shop.
Literally, I run over to the coffee shop.
As soon as I walk in, I see her sitting at a corner table. She’s wearing the white blouse, the long skirt, and lace-up shoes. Her sun hat sits on the table. She meets my eyes and smiles.
“What can I get you, Abby?” Lewis asks me.
“Oh. Uh, just a bottled water for now.”
I pay for the water and clutch it as I walk toward the ghost of Annie Renshaw. I gaze into her calm, luminous eyes as I slide into the chair.
“I see you got my message,” she says with amusement.
“How did you…”
“I was given to communicate with you in a way you would find meaningful.”
She looks totally solid and real. Either I am deeply hallucinating, or…
“The power of your magic, from the ritual yesterday,” she says. “It allowed me to open this channel, to manifest for a short time in your world.”
“But why? Why here?”
“So you would know for certain that I am real. That all these things are not just your imagination.”
I don’t know what to say. Maybe I should take out my phone and try a picture.
“I cannot stay long, Abigail, so listen closely. The evil spirit is strengthening. In the sky, the planets Mars and Saturn are moving into alignment. The full moon under this aspect is a time of great potential. All of the occult forces will converge on that night. It was the same 103 years ago, when I—when I passed out of your world.”
“When you drowned in Bliss Bayou?”
“Yes, Bliss Spring. Even now, it hurts to remember. He was to blame. We thought we could control him, make him do our bidding. But all the time, he was subtly growing stronger, gaining control over us and our magic. There were three of us—Maisie, Otis, and myself. We were so young…and foolish. When I realized what was happening, I tried to stop it, put an end to our conjuring of him. But it was already too late.”
“What happened? The story I heard is that you drowned yourself.”
She looks startled. “No—”
“And that you put a curse on the Renshaws.”
She smiles sadly. “I promise you, I did not. There is a curse on our blood, but it is none of my doing.”
Fear is crawling through me, my mind lurching back and forth between believing her and not.
She presses my wrist—a completely human touch. “I understand. It can be hard to know whom to trust. I could tell you who made the curse. But you will believe it better if you hear it from another. If you want to know the truth, go to the Harmony Springs cemetery late at night. Find the grave of Otis Feaster. He is buried near the northern wall, under a cypress tree. Pour a li
bation on his headstone—beer, if you can manage it. Otis was fond of beer. Then call him. Speak your name, Abigail Renshaw. Say you are a relative of Annie, who loved him very much and loves him still, and that you need his knowledge. He will come to you, I am sure. He will tell you what occurred.”
She withdraws her hand. “Do you have the courage for this?”
I’m not sure I do, but I swallow and nod my head.
Annie smiles, like she’s proud of me. “I knew you would. You have a valiant heart. Now, two more things I must tell you. The true name of the dark one is Raspis. Knowing this will give you some power over him. But when you confront him, as I think you must, do not cast magical energy at him. That is a mistake. It is given to his kind to absorb all human power sent against him. Instead, cast your power into the Springs. By the forces of Harmony Springs, he can be vanquished.” She stares hard into my eyes. “Now say his name, so I know you’ll remember it.”
“Raspis.”
Annie nods. “It is well.”
I’ve been totally focused on listening to her, but now suddenly I’m aware of my surroundings again. Some people have entered the shop. I hear them talking to Lewis at the counter. Instinctively I turn to look. One of them is Molly.
I turn back to Annie.
She’s vanished. I’m all alone at the table.
Great.
I pick up my water and go over to the counter.
Molly says, “Hey, Abby. I didn’t expect to see you here this early. Who was that girl you were with?”
I stop, my legs turning to stone. “What? You saw her?”
“Sure. Black hair, dressed in white. Awfully hot for that long skirt.”
I’m almost tongue-tied. “You—you really saw her?”
“Yes!” Molly looks over at the corner, puzzled. “I didn’t see her leave, though…Hey!”
I’ve grabbed her wrist and am pulling her toward the back of the shop. We go down a short corridor, past the kitchen, and out the screen door that leads to the porch. There are a few outdoor tables there, but at the moment the porch is empty.
