BloodMoon (8 page)

When the attending witches realized what was happening, they decided that it would be best if they began the gathering by calling the corners. Said it would calm the mystical energies in the atmosphere that tended to get stirred up when a lot of witches gathered in one place. They did this by calling us into a circle – okay, it was more of an oval – and spinning a beer bottle. Elle had left enough of those in the recycling bin and it turned out to be quite effective.

The presiding witch, who asked us to call her Sister Lena, strode into the circle wearing an emerald bustier and corset barely covering her massive and impressive torso, and a rich burgundy tea-length skirt obscuring black combat boots. Holding her gnarled Bo-Peep staff with shining threads cobwebbing a ruby crystal, she spun around in an incantation.

“Namaste and Blessed Be,” she said, and we all answered.

“The first thing we do at the start of every gathering is we take care of logistics. Do we have needs, concerns, prayers or offerings to the Goddess this afternoon?” At which point, hands were raised, support was requested and, surprisingly, it wasn’t much different from a praise service crossed with a prayer meeting.

“With these in mind,” Sister Lena said when the preliminaries were complete, “let us sing.”

As one they raised their voices and began chanting songs I later found out were called things like “Cauldron of Changes,” “Earth, Air, Fire, Water” and “Sisters of the Moon.” I became caught up in it. There weren’t many places in Christendom where the Divine Feminine was extolled and it did my heart good to remember that I was a chip off the sacred block.

When the last notes of song dissipated, Sister Lena spoke, “Let us call the corners,” and with her staff she spun the bottle.

“Sister Bertrille,” she said, and I fought back a snort. Sister Bertrille was the name of the Flying Nun. Obviously Bertrille’s mother had a sense of humor, or maybe she just liked the classic TV show. People used to tell Amber and me that we looked a bit like Sally Field, especially when we were younger; I sure hoped we aged as well.

“Come Element of the East, we call you. Arise, oh spirit of the East, whose color is yellow like that of the rising sun and the sunflowers that open to meet the day. Come place of new beginnings, refresh us as we gather. Welcome East.”

“Welcome East,” we all intoned.

The bottle spun again. Another, Sister Nayala, stepped forward.

It seemed witches really enjoyed emphasizing their sisterhood. Girl power!

“Come Spirit of the North. Whose color rides in shades of green. Whose bounty speaks of death and rebirth, resurrect our hearts and minds. Let us maximize our time and potential as we gather. Welcome North.”

“Welcome North,” we repeated. I looked over at my sister and I had to stop and take a breath. She was usually so high-strung, but tonight, she seemed at peace. And we hadn’t even drunk the kool-aid. I mean, the tea of tranquility.

The bottle spun again and surprising, it stopped aimed toward me. Now, I wasn’t a witch, but I
have
seen the movie
The Craft
a few times, and so I stepped into the circle and went with it. I
am
a writer after all. Hell, I eat metaphors for breakfast.

“Come Guardians of the Watchtowers of the West, we invoke you. Come blue tinged waters and deep azure skies, let the tempest be stilled and our emotions run deep under ebony stars. Come West.”

Ebony stars would be dark, lupa,
Siegfried thought at me from the garage. He must have pretty good hearing. Of course he did! He was a dog, or at least inhabited the body of one.

Everyone’s a critic,
I thought back at him and returned my attention to the matters at hand.

“Come West,” the sisterhood of witches repeated and with shining eyes I stepped back into my space in the circle.

My own sister shot daggers at me and I realized I might have made a serious error in judgment. Not my circle. Not my show. And I just stole it. But come on! What was I supposed to do, refuse? If she didn’t want me involved, why invite me?

That was sisterhood for you too, the bad with the good.

The bottle spun again and another sister claimed the stage and we welcomed the south, with its fiery reds and passionate fire, amazon warriors and keepers of the hearth. But all I could see was the fury in my sister’s eyes. Nothing like stealing your sister’s thunder in her own house. I winced and saw a storm cloud headed my way.

After the circle, Amber laid out piles of paperwork with the Street Witches logo on everything to be stuffed into the registration packets. The witches began passing out iced teas to each other, along with snack plates of cucumber sandwiches and
petit fours
.

Don’t muzzle the ox while she is threshing
, I thought, then I took Sister Bertrille aside – hey I liked her name and at least she wasn’t wearing the wimple – and began quizzing her about familiars. Okay, well, I pretty much dumped the load onto her shoulders and begged for her help.

“Can you please, please, please help my sister with the familiar communication spell, because I need to get that damn dog out of my head and right now, I’m the only one he’s talking to!”

Sister Bertrille made the appropriate sympathy sounds, then told me that she would see what she could do. Before I knew it she pulled Sister Lena aside and whispered in her ear. A short while into the small talk and stuffing, Sister Lena turned to Amber and said, “I hear you have a standard poodle as a familiar. Siegfried, is it? Where is he?”

“Oh, we put him and Spanky – that’s our miniature schnauzer – in the garage for the afternoon. They are so rambunctious and the last thing I need is to have these piles rearranged for us by the animals.”

“Oh please, can we see him?” Sister Nayala asked, and a few of the other witches chimed in.

“We’ve only heard of a few dog familiars, and a standard poodle is definitely a first for us,” Lena added.

Guess we were having show and tell. It was about time.

Amber squinted her eyes at me over her reading glasses and then went to the garage door. “Spanky, no,” she said. “Siegfried, come.” And I heard the dog-thing trot over and follow her into the open space that flowed from the kitchen into the informal dining and family room. Amber kept her petite hand on his collar.

“What a beautiful specimen,” Sister Lena commented and the rest of the witches
ooh
ed and
ahh
ed.

“He doesn’t behave very well, at least not yet. We just got him from the pound,”
Amber said. “Siegfried, sit.”

He did.

Sister Lena raised her hand and the standard white poodle trotted over to her and sat at her feet. Without a treat. She looked into his eyes and I could feel the communication going on, but for once I was not privy to its contents, thank God. Give me my own head space for a bit.

Lena looked at Amber and said quietly, “He says you haven’t done the familiar communication spell.”

“Not yet.” Amber looked away and it suddenly dawned on me: she was scared to try. “I’m not scared,” she answered my unspoken comment. “I just. I guess, I mean, it feels like if I do this, then…”

“There’s no going back,” I finished for her.

“Yeah,” she said, and then shut down the bond.

“And you’re afraid of…?” Sister Lena said.

“What if someone finds out? What will I ever say?”

“Whose business is it anyway?” I asked. “As long as you fly under the radar.”

“Yes, but what about Rhonda?” she blurted.

“Oh.” I’d forgotten about that. Our stepmom has a terrible history as a gossip. For a while there, after my Dad and she got married, it seemed that no matter what we talked about to her or even just Dad, it would suddenly be broadcast among the Scott clan or her own family, her daughters and siblings, with whom we had occasional contact. Eventually we learned only to share things with Dad and Rhonda if we didn’t mind it getting out. But with Rhonda involved with Street Witches, let’s just say the warning signs read “complicated.”

“I bet Rhonda will have more to lose than you if she tells Dad. That’s why they moved out of California anyway, so they wouldn’t have to deal with us as much.”

“You’re probably right,” Amber said, but she didn’t look convinced. She then turned to Sister Lena and filled her in on our stepmother’s visit.

“You know, if you’d like,” the head witch offered, “the Street Witches can keep your stepmother busy while she’s here. We have so many events, lectures, and activities, I bet we could fill her schedule so tight you’d hardly have to see her.”

“See, Amber? No sweat,” I said. “I bet after the first day she’ll be dying to stay at the hotel so she doesn’t have to put up with our chaos. And you know the pack and I would be happy to provide a little chaos for you. You need any landscaping done? Or you could finally enlarge your walk-in closet and that would make the guest room a catchall for all your clothes in the meantime. I bet Darcy would give you a discount; she still works at California Closets.”

“I have been wanting more shoe space,” she said wistfully.

“See, now there you go,” I said, but I thought,
between witches, werewolves and wardrobe, I think we’ve got you covered.

“So, the familiar communication spell…” Sister Lena said.

“And, once Amber does it, will I have my head to myself again?”

Sister Lena looked at me with a sad face and said, “No, sorry, ducks. I’m afraid you’re stuck with him.” She shrugged. “It’s a dog thing.”

Hey! How did she know?
I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. Just another bullet point to add to “Ashlee’s list of things she should probably learn about.”

Amber pulled Lena aside as I got down to cleaning up after the witches. They were soon trickling out the door to wherever the night was calling them.

I heard the name Jeanetta Macdonald mentioned and pricked up my ears, sliding into a position I could see them. Sister Lena was speaking. “You know, we have sister witches who work in the prison system and it’s their job to keep the paranormals under control. We don’t talk about it much; it’s like the underside of witchcraft, having to deal with those who abuse their powers. But we suppress their magic with various means, often by drugs that are administered to them in their food.”

Funny, seemed to be a lot of that administering of potions going around. No wonder witches gained a reputation as poisoners. In fact, in that oft-quoted Bible verse, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” the original Hebrew implied this was aimed at women who used herbs for ill: in other words, poisoners or purveyors of fell potions. Look at the witches in Sleeping Beauty or Snow White or a dozen other tales. What did they use? Poison and drugs. I didn’t think these Street Witches were doing themselves any favors by imitating these methods.

On the other hand, I guess they do what they feel they gotta do.

Amber said, “Elle says that Jeanetta’s still locked up tight, but I keep seeing her in my dreams, and today there were times during the ritual when I looked up and I could swear I saw her mocking face staring back at me. I’m worried, Lena.”

Lena patted my sister’s hand. “When I get home, I’ll do a scrying spell and let you know what I find out. If Jeanetta’s up to mischief, I’ll know about it soon enough.”

My twin hugged Lena and said her goodbyes.

“You never told me you were still getting visions of Jeanetta,” I said after the door had shut.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I’m worried now,” I said, and then sighed. “Just keep me in the loop, okay?”

“When I know, you’ll know.”

We both laughed.

That night, Amber did the spell. And you know me, little miss eavesdrop, I just had to listen in.

Standard white poodle

You appear to be

Familiar spirit

Come to me

Siegfried. Daemon

Whatever you may be

Let your thoughts make sense to me

It was surprisingly simple, Amber told me afterwards; again, no Grammy awards. As she already was psychic, she just had to open up her receptors to a different plane. So she wove a spell into a talisman and hung it on Siegfried’s collar.

This meant if she wanted silence she could turn it off, like the twin bond. I couldn’t help but wonder how Siegfried would do with it, two-way only when Amber wanted it. I mean, what type of a relationship is that when one party can just shut you out without any warning? But that’s a witch and her familiar I guess. The witch is in charge, supposedly. And that was me and my sister too, sometimes, a constant dance of control and surrender. And we never knew which one of us was leading.

“What do the pack elders say?”

“They don’t seem worried about it at all. Says it’s all superstition. But it sounds to me like a recipe for disaster if there’s even a bit of truth to it.”

“If it makes you feel any better I can make sure that no harm comes to you all. We can ask the witches for a spell, and I was already planning on calling in Adam and his team for security that night. We can have them loaded with tranq darts in case you all go, as you say, ‘batshit crazy.’”

I could feel the air quotes over the phone. Sixth sense, women’s intuition, or maybe I could just hear them.

“I give you my solemn oath and vow that I will do my utmost as your liege lord to keep you safe.” Shelby oozed that magical charm and I sneezed. Sheesh. He must be strong if he could affect me like that over the phone. Better bookmark a conversation with a witch, I thought as I hung up on his assurances.

I saw my sister the next day as she headed out the door to take JR to swim practice.

“Oh, I heard from Sister Lena,” she said as she gathered up her things from the vestibule.

“And…”

“And she said it’s likely that Jeanetta’s been trying to do spells from prison. She’s been in and out of the infirmary with unexplained cuts and bruises and her normal handlers think that maybe some of the medications she’s being given for pain are nullifying the effects of the drug suppressors. They say she’s going in and out of trances, almost like a coma.”