By Moon

by T Thorn Coyle

  And then there was the cool flowing of water. The top layer was warmed by the dappling sun. Selene breathed more deeply, and sank down a layer.

  The water was cool there. Darker. They let the sense of liquid bathe them. Soothe them like the light of the moon did.

  Wash away some of the hard encrustations that grief and anger had left marked on their spirit from that childhood where everything had tried to crush what was real inside them. To batter them down and rebuild them into something more normal than they could ever be.

  Selene closed their eyes and simply felt for a while, surrounded by the sense of water.

  It was nice to feel good.

  Their awareness began pinging the edges of their aura. They needed to come back. Be present. Actually finish the short walk to the studio and get to work.

  Designs weren’t going to draw themselves.

  They turned back toward MLK. From there, they would turn right and head south toward Morrison and the studio. Still lost in the feel of water, Selene didn’t even mind too much when they had to step back into the brightness of midday.

  A person stepped out from a doorway, face in shadow. Selene moved to skirt around them, pasting on one of those fake, looking-harmless-for-a-stranger half smiles. The person stepped into Selene’s path, blocking the way.

  Selene stood taller and replaced the smile with a scowl.

  “Excuse me, please.” They made their voice strong, though it was always a gamble in these situations. Pitch the voice high, they might see Selene as less of a threat. Pitch it low, they might obey and let them pass. But that scenario could easily reverse itself. Just such a gamble had gotten Selene’s left radius bone cracked and broken out two teeth that had to be replaced with money Selene just didn’t have. They were still paying off the debt.

  The person didn’t move. Selene was close enough now to see their face. It looked familiar. They scrambled through the files in their tired brain, searching for a match. Nope. Couldn’t place the person.

  The person—who looked like a cis man—wore black pants and a white shirt with a teal pocket square tucked neatly in front.

  His ice-blue eyes stared at Selene. The hairs on Selene’s arms rose. So did the small hairs at the nape of their neck. That sense of something walking over their grave was back. Here.

  Under the Goddess-damned bright summer sun.

  26

  Joshua

  Back on the bus after his second glass of wine, Joshua was heading home. He’d have to transfer to a second bus in order to head to NE Portland, but he didn’t mind much. The bus was always interesting, and if not, he had podcasts to listen to and books to read.

  Today, he looked out the window at the light industrial warehouses giving way to houses, restaurants, and the new condo complexes that were springing up all over the city in an attempt to arrest the housing crisis. He was still thinking about magic, and servitors, and possible manipulative cult leaders.

  Magical practice was supposed to tune people into the cosmos and help them work toward liberation. To use magic to manipulate people was just evil, in Joshua’s book.

  He had almost walked over to the temple for the class Frater Louis was leading, but that second glass of wine dissuaded him. He wouldn’t be able to focus properly on whatever the topic was. He should just get himself home. Maybe do some study on his own. It wasn’t as if his house didn’t have a tidy little occult library that he hadn’t looked at in months.

  The bus wound its way north, en route to turn on to Hawthorne and then head across the river to downtown. The closer they got to Hawthorne, the more antsy Joshua began to feel. That was strange. It almost felt as if someone had put hotfoot powder in his shoes. He wanted nothing more than to leap off the bus and run.

  Calm down, he told himself, and looked around. Everyone else on the bus seemed calm, except for one possibly houseless man having an agitated conversation with himself. The others on the bus read, scrolled their phones, or talked with one another.

  Definitely just him. He began to itch.

  The bus turned and trundled two blocks down Hawthorne. Four blocks down, he couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled the cord. The bus ssshhed to a stop. Joshua grabbed his purse, smacked the back doors with his hands, and tumbled out onto the sidewalk.

  He looked around, bewildered. Damn. The wine shouldn’t have affected him this way. Something tugged at his solar plexus, as if there was a cord attached there, and someone was pulling on it.

  Joshua began walking toward The Road Home. The tension eased. He immediately felt better. No more itching. No more tugging. Just the certainty that yes, he was heading the right direction.

  As he approached the orange door, he felt it again, that sense of unease. The fairy lights still lit the branches in the front windows, but the rest of the shop was dark. Clearly closed. Just the way he and Quanice had left it. So why…?

  He fumbled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Along with the regular incense and oil smells was the pungent scent of shorted-out electrical. That didn’t make any sense. The new alarm system he’d ordered hadn’t been installed yet, and if the breakers had blown, the fairy lights would be out.

  Joshua hit the switches near the front, turning on the burbling fountain and the rest of the shop lights. At first glance, nothing seemed out of place, and the shop was quiet.

  But everything still felt wrong.

  He made his way between the fanciful birch trees, underneath the flying fairies, past the children’s books and toys, the anointing oils, and on toward the more serious “adult” sections, including talismans, jewelry, and magical tools.

  The display cases seemed untouched. He looked toward the curtain leading to the back, and all his inner alarms went off. He pushed through the burgundy velvet and looked down the short hallway that led to the WC and storage room. The door leading out to the garbage cans was slightly ajar. As Joshua walked closer, he saw that the doorjamb was splintered.

  “What the—?”

  But they hadn’t taken anything from the shop. At least it didn’t look like it.

  He trailed his hand along the wall, trying to think through the mild wine haze. And more importantly, trying to sense.

  The storeroom.

  The door knob was slick, which was weird. It left an oily residue on Joshua’s hand. He slammed the door open, eyes raking the small table where they packed items for shipping, and the shelves that flanked the room.

  There was a hole in the shelf to the right.

  The flying ointment was gone.

  Joshua cursed. He couldn’t imagine what would make someone drop off the box of ointment in the first place, let alone break into a shop to steal it back.

  “Of course.” The thought hit him so hard he might as well have smacked a palm to his forehead. “The cops. The cops have a jar of the ointment. Can’t leave more evidence strewn around town.”

  Joshua wondered how widely distributed the Alchemist’s wares had been. And was he using it on his students?

  He must be, right?

  All of this was still just speculation. A customer here and there. Fliers. Comments.

  And people dying.

  His face popped with sweat and his mouth filled with spit. His hands. The damn spiked flying ointment. The ozone smell was magic.

  Joshua cursed and ran for the shop toilet. Slamming his left hand against the cold water faucet, he plunged his right hand under the water. Soap. He needed soap. Holding his hand beneath the soap dispenser, he smacked his other hand against it, disgorging a glob of pale goo which he smushed around his palm. Smush. Rinse. Glob. Smush. Rinse. Glob.

  He finally trusted that enough of the toxic substance had rinsed down the drain to rub his hands together, giving his skin a more thorough wash. Sweat still ran down his face. He blinked to keep it from his eyes.

  Who the hell were these people? And what did they want?

  Joshua stopped washing his hands.

  “Shit.”
Turning the water off, he grabbed paper towels and scrubbed at his skin some more.

  No shortness of breath, but he still needed medical attention.

  Joshua dug out his phone. But who to call? He pulled up his car service app first; there was no time to wait for a friend to come from wherever they were to fetch him.

  Joshua’s mouth filled with spit and his stomach roiled. He blinked and tried to focus on his phone. The car was en route. Good. No heart palpitations yet. Also good.

  With clumsy thumbs, Joshua tried to text Quanice before giving up and using voice to text. Emergency. Shop broken into. Heading to urgent care. You free to come by shop? Call a locksmith? Back door.

  ?!?! Urgent care? was the reply. Then a pause.

  Then, I’ll get there ASAP. Looking up locksmiths now.

  Thanks. Joshua texted back. And don’t touch the storeroom door. It’s poisoned.

  ?!?!

  Grabbing a paper towel so he wouldn’t have to touch the car door once it arrived, he pushed out the broken back door and shouldered it as shut as it would go. No time to secure it further. No time to reset any magical wards.

  He’d have to clear the space and do that, later. For now he had to get to urgent care before things got any worse.

  27

  Selene

  “Do I know you?” Selene asked.

  The man clucked his tongue, making small tsking noises.

  “I’m so disappointed in you, Selene. To have forgotten me so quickly? I most certainly have remembered you.”

  Selene’s stomach lurched. The edges of their skin flashed hot, cold, hot, cold, hot.

  Nononono. Not now.

  Selene willed breath into their lungs. They willed the arms they’d wrapped around their torso to unfurl, and their hands to unclench. They willed their feet to connect with earth.

  Moon Mother, if you are here, help me now.

  Selene took in a deep breath and remembered that they were a witch. With a coven. And a career. And a life worth living.

  “Who are you?”

  He smiled. A sick, saccharine, patronizing smile.

  Selene remembered. That night in the club. One year before.

  “You bastard,” they spit out. “You tried to rape me.”

  The man made that sickening tsk tsk sound again.

  “Now, now. That isn’t how I remembered it. I bought you a drink. We danced. We went to the bathroom to get to know each other better. Things followed from there.”

  He had roofied Selene’s drink in the club that night. Then followed Selene toward the toilets and grabbed them in the dark hallway just as Selene’s head started to spin from the drugs. They remembered it. The way their vision fuzzed and refocused. Fuzzed and refocused. He had pressed his mouth against theirs. His lips were thin. Hard and moist. Selene could feel his teeth behind the flesh.

  He had tasted like whiskey and ash. Selene hadn’t been able to drink whiskey since.

  Tabitha happened to be coming out of the women’s toilets right then and went to grab her girlfriend of the moment. The two of them intervened before anything worse happened and got Selene safely home to bed. The room had revolved around Selene for what felt like hours as Tabitha tried to get them to sip some water and stroked their hair.

  Selene’s skin had flashed hot and cold, body waiting to disgorge the contents of their stomach. They had vomited three times that night. Damn it.

  The man’s eyes swept across her face with some twisted version of fond affection. “You’re still so beautiful. The most beautiful creature I’ve seen in quite a while.” Then his mouth hardened and his pupils dilated. “And I bet you have a very sweet ass.”

  “Get away from me.” Selene was shaking now, breath coming fast. They weren’t sure if it was from fear or anger. Their fingers twitched, wishing for a spell bag.

  Wishing for their athamé, to blast this fool with a stream of blue magic fire.

  They had nothing but themselves.

  Selene stepped off the sidewalk and ran, darting across the deserted street, heading east, toward traffic and people. Their sneakers smacked the sidewalk opposite, messenger bag bouncing against their right hip.

  The man chased after, grabbing the bag, jerking Selene back and slamming them up against a wall. Selene’s cheek ground against the faded wood siding. His hand was on their ass, squeezing muscle, clutching at their skirt.

  “Want to show it to me? Do you? I’ll make it good for you. I promise. I can show you things….”

  Selene raised a foot and stomped back, connecting with his insole. He yelped, hands losing their grip for just a second.

  Goddess help me.

  Selene flung themself backward, slamming their hand low, smacking their fist and that stack of metal bracelets where they thought his crotch might be. Connected. Yielding softness.

  “Fuck!” he yelled, grabbing their arm again. “You bitch!”

  The man dragged at them, still hunched in half, trying to protect his crotch. Selene pulled.

  “Hey! Leave her alone!” A voice. Feet running. Selene yanked their arm away just as the man let go.

  He ran, lumbering and hitching down the street.

  Selene bent over, panting, then fell to the curb and vomited into the street.

  Hands on their back, gentle ones this time.

  “Hey. Hey. Are you all right? Lady?”

  Selene sat down on the sidewalk and wiped their mouth.

  “Do you want some water?” A metal water flask, offered at eye level.

  Selene looked up, blinking. A man. Brown skin. Work boots.

  Selene nodded and he unscrewed the cap. Selene took some water, swished, and spit into the gutter. Then drank.

  “Sorry about that; you might want to wash it before drinking out of it again,” they said.

  The man crouched next to them and took the bottle back. “Doesn’t matter. I was just on a lunch break and saw him…. Do you want me to call the police?”

  He looked skeptical. Whether it was because he had just realized Selene might not be a lady, or that he was a brown-skinned man, Selene didn’t know.

  Selene shook their head. “No. Thank you. Thank you so much for saving me. I was trying to fight him but…”

  “Pendejo. Men like that are worse than useless.”

  Selene’s cheeks were wet. When had they started crying?

  “Can I help you up? Call someone? Get you somewhere?”

  Selene looked at him. So earnest. Solid. Kind.

  “Can you walk me to my car?”

  “You okay to drive? I mean, you sure you don’t want to call someone? I’d take you, but my boss…”

  “No. No. Thanks. You’re right though. I probably shouldn’t drive. I rent studio space just a block away. Can you walk me there?”

  He nodded and offered Selene a hand. Goddess, their body was really messed up. This week had gone from bad to worse.

  “You’re an artist, huh? I’d like to see what you paint sometime. I used to paint, too, a long time ago.”

  “You’re welcome to visit the studio anytime…. What’s your name?”

  “Jorge.”

  “Jorge. Nice to meet you. My name is Selene.”

  Child of the Moon Goddess. And a freaking mess.

  They walked in silence for the remaining couple of blocks.

  “Here we are,” Selene said, once they were in front of the two-story ancient warehouse, now painted a cheery light blue. “Thank you so much for helping me.”

  Selene’s voice sounded hollow to themself, but they hoped Jorge heard the sincerity all the same.

  He gave a slight bow and turned around, walking back to wherever it was he’d been headed. Maybe he still had enough time left on his break to get some lunch.

  As they turned, the pale blue paint layered on the chipped and gouged wood surrounding the front windows triggered another memory. Something someone had said. Joshua.

  Blue. Those colors. The man. White. Black. Teal.

  Was tha
t drugging rapist asshole the Alchemist?

  The hairs stood up on Selene’s arms again, and the nape of their neck prickled.

  Well. Selene’s mouth tightened. They’d just become an angry bitch.

  “You messed with the wrong enby, asshole. I’ve got a coven, and we’re going to take you down.”

  28

  Joshua

  Joshua’s phone rang while he was still in urgent care. Brenda told him to come over if he could. Selene had been attacked. Not just attacked. Assaulted.

  He told her that he’d been poisoned, like Lucy. And he’d be there as soon as he could.

  Good Gods, could the day get any worse?

  Declaring him okay, the doctor finally released Joshua, explaining that the clinic would be calling both Poison Control and the police, and would be in touch. She also made him promise to come back if any symptoms returned.

  When the car dropped him at Brenda’s house, Selene wasn’t there.

  Joshua almost blew a gasket when Tobias and Raquel told him they’d let Selene go home alone. No fucking way would he leave a person he loved after they’d been assaulted.

  “Are you people crazy?” he had yelled. Brenda and Raquel had told him what they knew, and Tobias filled in more after he arrived.

  “Selene really wanted to be alone. I did my best, man. But they insisted.”

  Brenda had put a hand on his shoulder. “Selene is an empath. Being around strong emotions right now would be too much for them. It doesn’t matter what we want. We’ve been through this before. We have to honor Selene’s wishes.”

  Joshua shook Brenda’s hand off. “I don’t know what sort of agreements you all have with each other. All I know is, if a friend of mine had been assaulted, I would be there. Holding onto them. Telling them I cared. And the fact that it looks like it might have been the fucking Alchemist? Come. On!”