Omens Bite, page 21
“All set?” she asked Emily, who nodded solemnly. “Okay. Now we begin.” Mercy drew one long, slender match from the box.
The sounds of gravel crunching under tires followed by a car door slamming made Mercy pause before she lit the match to begin the ritual.
“I checked. No one rented this cabin this weekend.” Emily’s voice sounded very young, and filled with disappointment.
“Hey, don’t worry. We haven’t started yet.” Mercy looked around, trying to see where the car noises had come from, but the old willows that surrounded the cabin made for excellent cover, one reason Em’s dad had liked the privacy they offered so much. Then there were more tires-crunching-gravel noise, which quickly faded. Mercy smiled in relief at Em across the campfire circle. “See—it was probably just someone who took a wrong turn. Okay, so, we’ll begin again now by—”
“Oh, good! I got here in time.” Hunter stepped through the wall of trees as she spoke. She batted at a spiderweb, readjusted the backpack she carried over her shoulder, and rolled her eyes. “I forgot how stuck back in the trees this cabin is. Sorry I’m late, but you would not believe all the crap that’s happened.”
Twenty-four
Emily recovered her voice before Mercy could make a sound. “Oh, hi, Hunter. You’re actually not too late. We were just starting.”
“Why are you here?” Mercy shot the question at her twin.
“Uh, because Emily asked me to be here. I thought you knew.”
“I told you I invited her, remember?” Em said softly.
Mercy lifted her chin and squared her shoulders before she faced Hunter. “Yeah, I remember, but I didn’t figure you’d show. You’re not even wearing white.”
Hunter looked down at the maxi dress she was wearing that was emerald green decorated with tiny pink flowers. “Well, this isn’t mine. I didn’t exactly have access to my clothes this morning and had to borrow this from Kylie. Mag, we need to talk. Like, now. Some really crazy shit has gone down, and I need—”
“You need?” Mercy kept herself from yelling at her sister, but she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from filling her voice. “This isn’t about you. This is about Emily’s dad.”
Hunter nodded. “Right. I know.” She approached the circle of rock and candles.
“Have you even set your intention?” Mercy frowned at Hunter.
“I’ve been pretty busy,” said Hunter. “Hi, Em. Sorry, again, for being late. I had to—”
“Whatever you had to do isn’t important right now unless it involves Mr. Parrott,” snapped Mercy. “Step away from the ritual circle, ground yourself, and set your intention. If you can do that quickly we’ll wait for you. If not, go sit on the porch or whatever until we’re done.”
Hunter shook her head. “Mag, you don’t understand. If you’d just let me tell you—”
“And you call me selfish?” Mercy rolled her eyes. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for days. You can’t even bother to text me—or Xena—and let us know you’re okay. Or that Kirk is on the fucking rampage. Thanks for nothing, H. I found that out myself.”
“Wait, what?” Hunter took a step toward Mercy.
Mercy held out her hand like a stop sign. “No. Don’t even pretend you give a shit.”
Hunter narrowed her turquoise eyes. “I have been dealing with things you can’t even imagine by myself.”
Mercy snorted. “You mean by yourself by your own choice, don’t you?”
“Mag—Hunter, come on. You’re sisters. Twins. This stuff that’s going on between you isn’t right.”
“What isn’t right is that our issues are getting in the way of your dad’s release ritual,” said Mercy. “Hunter, ground yourself and then join us, or not. Choose. Now.”
“You’re so fucking wrong and you’re too self-absorbed to see it,” said Hunter.
“Then leave! Go away! I don’t need your help!” Mercy repeated the words that Hunter had struck her with at Mr. Parrott’s first funeral.
“No problem. I’m better on my own anyway. Sorry, Em.” Hunter turned and disappeared back through the wall of willows.
The little clearing was unusually quiet after Hunter left. There wasn’t even the sound of her sister’s shoes on gravel. The wound in Mercy’s heart was raw and felt like Hunter had stabbed it with her words and her latest abandonment.
Emily cleared her throat. “Maybe you should go after her.”
Mercy shook her head. “No. I’m not going to let her mess this up. Let’s ground ourselves together and then we’ll do the ritual.”
“But…” Em began and then she moved her shoulders. “Well, okay. If that’s what you want.”
“Absolutely. Breathe with me in and out three times to a three count and let’s both think about your dad. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Mercy led Emily in the breathing exercise that would ground them, and as she did she closed her eyes and closed out the pain and anger her sister seemed to carry around with her like an extra backpack. Mercy reached down, down, down to the ley lines that pulsed deep in the earth. They weren’t as strong here as near any of the five gatekeeper trees, but she could still tap into their emerald power. She pulled it up into her body and—temporarily—let its warmth wash away Hunter and the hurt she caused. When she opened her eyes she was invigorated. She smiled at Emily and repeated, “And now we begin.”
Mercy drew one long, slender match from the box. “O elements of air, fire, water, and earth, my friend, Emily Parrott, and I call you to us today to aid us in our farewell of Dominic Parrott, beloved father to Emily.” She struck the match, touched it to the white candle on the eastern side of the stone circle, and invoked, “Air, grant Emily release from pain. Flow through her in this more lonely world and carry her sadness away.”
Mercy lit the candles working clockwise, ending with the candle in front of her. “Earth, grant Emily release from pain. Ground her in your nurturing lap. Let her know strength in remembrance without the winter of grief.”
Then Mercy blew out the match and took two new matches from the box. She kept one and handed the other across the circle to Emily, who watched her closely. Mercy raised her arms. The silk sleeves of Abigail’s white ritual robe moved gently, soothingly, in the soft morning breeze.
“O Freya, Goddess of Love and War, I do call on thee.
Be with us here at this time of great loss.
We of the Olde Ways know that when a person dies
it is only their body that is lost—never their soul
their immortal soul
For we know the soul shall return to earth.
That is a tenet of loving faith
Taught since long before history began.
Our lore tells us another mother shall give birth
And the soul—dressed in new flesh
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul shall return to life again … again.”
Mercy met Emily’s watchful gaze.
“O daughter of beloved Dominic Parrott, I do call on thee
to speak before us and the goddess.
To show honor and love for he whom you have known
Who has passed beyond.
Tell me, Emily Parrott, what memory will you share of he?”
Emily cleared her throat. When she began to speak her voice was hesitant, but as she relaxed into the memory her words became as bright as the afternoon sunlight. “I’ll always remember how Dad took me camping here. It was our special place. Just for Dad and me—and lots of times you, too. We toasted marshmallows here. We swam in the lake. We laughed and sang songs. We made memories I will never, ever forget and someday when I have kids I’ll bring them here and tell them about their grandpa.” Emily’s gaze left Mercy’s and lifted to the sky. “We’ll make memories that include you, Dad. And a whole new generation of kids will remember you and know you. I promise.” When her eyes found Mercy again they were filled with tears, but she was smiling.
“That was perfect, Em,” Mercy said. “And now we’ll light Freya’s candle together.” They touched their long matches to the candles in front of them, and then as one they leaned forward and their two matches lit the thick white pillar of the goddess.
Mercy lifted her arms and spoke to the sky. “O gracious Freya, we do thank thee for releasing Emily’s grief and for guiding her father to your beauteous Summerlands. We ask that you convey to her father the love and good wishes sent to him by his daughter, Emily, and her friend—your servant—Mercy Goode. And we ask that he will blessed be.”
“Blessed be,” murmured Emily.
“Now we’ll light your dad’s symbolic pyre.” Together Emily and Mercy crouched. Mercy tilted the center goddess candle so that it caught the pine boughs, and soon the candle began melting with the greenery and the flames crackled cheerfully as they burned.
Mercy picked up the two goblets of wine she’d already poured and passed one to Emily. They stood and lifted the goblets. “I propose a toast,” Mercy said. “To Emily’s dad, who has been freed of this world!”
“To Dad!” Emily lifted her goblet, clinked it against Mercy’s, and then the girls drank deeply as the flames grew. And as they drank the sweet, tobacco-scented smoke rising from the burning pyre turned the purest of white, swirled, and took the form of a beautiful dove, one that lifted up and up to meet the sun in the Caribbean blue sky.
* * *
“Hey, thanks again. That was a really great ritual.” Emily leaned against her T-Bird while Mercy put the repacked spellwork basket in the passenger’s seat of the Camry. “I do feel better. A lot better, actually. Somehow, I don’t really know how to describe it except that I’m lighter.”
“That’s a perfect description and I’m glad, Em. Also, I’m really sorry Hunter almost messed everything up.”
“She didn’t, though. Hey, maybe you should go find her. I mean, we heard a car drive away, so someone dropped her off. She must be walking and she did seem upset. Hunter said she needed to talk to you, and it musta been important for her to come to you, Mag, especially right now,” said Emily.
“If what Hunter had to say was important enough to interrupt your dad’s ritual—then she knows where I live and she can come find me.” Mercy slammed the passenger’s door.
Emily moved her shoulders and looked down. “I really hate that you two are fighting.”
“I really hate that everything has to revolve around Hunter.”
Emily nudged a rock with her foot and sighed. “Yeah, I get that you’re upset. So, you want to have a mini-vacay at my house this weekend? We can order pizza, watch one of The Real Housewives, and judge them for being so damn crazy. And I promise—not one word about Hunter all weekend.”
Mercy made herself smile. “That sounds really good. Let me drop off my spellwork basket at home and tell Xena where I’ll be—or leave a note for her. I think she’s hunting.”
Emily wrinkled her nose. “Like for real? With a gun?”
“Oh, goddess, no! With her paws and claws.”
“Is that better or worse?” Em said with a little laugh.
“I’m actually not sure. But I did tell her she’d need to leave the dead bird outside the house this time.” Mercy shuddered.
“Oh, gross! What’d she say?”
“That she’d be sure to eat it outside.” Mercy’s laugh was almost authentic.
“Okay, now I’m super grossed out. That cat person licks her hand and my face and puts her dead bird spit on me!” Emily slid into the driver’s seat of her T-Bird.
“Yeah, but she does it with love,” said Mercy.
“I think I could do with a little less cat love,” said Em. “Okay, so, I’ll see you pretty soon?”
“Yep, as soon as I put away my spellwork things, change, and tell Xena what’s up.”
“Awesome! And bring the rest of that bottle of wine. Mom won’t care if we drink it as long as we don’t go anywhere.” Emily put the car in gear and waved.
Before Mercy left she checked the fire pit one more time to be sure the dirt they’d covered their mini-pyre with had extinguished everything. Satisfied she wouldn’t be responsible for burning up Em’s favorite cabin, she got in the car and drove slowly around the lake. She didn’t actively think about looking for Hunter—but she did do a lot of gawking out her open window.
But there was no sign of her twin. Not that Mercy expected there to be. She wasn’t driving the most direct route home, and the truth was chances were whoever had dropped Hunter off had probably stuck around to give her a ride back. No, Mercy was not going to worry about her sister. Like she’d told Emily—Hunter knew where she lived.
Mercy parked in the driveway of her beloved Victorian house. Xena wasn’t on the porch swing, and as she opened the door and plopped her spellwork basket down on the kitchen counter she called, “Xena! You here?”
No feline padded into the room and no cat in a human suit answered her, so Mercy jogged up the stairs, changed her white dress for a short T-shirt dress covered in happy sunflowers, though she kept on her pink flats. The ankh Khenti had given her rested warmly between her breasts. With a smile Mercy pulled it out from under her dress so that the gold of the symbol complemented the sunny yellow flowers. She’d been wearing the necklace since Khenti had given it to her, but she’d hidden it under her dress during Mr. Parrott’s ritual, and was looking forward to seeing Em’s face when she finally showed it to her and told her the amazing story about her quick visit to the Egyptian Underworld. Even Xena had been impressed by the golden ankh. Emily was going to flip out!
Mercy put PJs, a pair of jeans and a tee, and her toothbrush in her backpack and skipped down the stairs. She hurried to the kitchen and had just finished putting away her spellwork items—and stashing the bottle of wine in her backpack—when the back door opened and Xena, completely naked, walked into the house.
“Oh, hi kitt—” she began and then coughed violently, twice, before she pulled a small feather from her mouth. The cat person licked her lips and grinned at Mercy. “Sparrow! My favorite.” She tossed the feather in the air and batted playfully at it. Then she wrapped herself in Abigail’s robe, which she’d left on the back of one of the breakfast nook chairs.
“So, I’m assuming your hunt went well?” Mercy tried not to sound as completely grossed out as she actually was.
“Oh, yes, kitten! Superbly. You should have seen me stalk the silly bird—so clueless—and my pounce! It was sublime and appropriately deadly.” She coughed again and another tiny feather floated from her mouth. “How was your ritual?”
“Great—no thanks to Hunter who showed up and tried to ruin everything.”
Xena’s brow furrowed as she took her usual perch on the corner of the kitchen bar. “Hunter came to the ritual?”
“Yeah.” Mercy grabbed a crystal wineglass and quickly filled it with heavy coconut cream from the fridge. She placed it in front of Xena and then slouched against the opposite counter. “She marched in all entitled and mouthy, saying how she just had to talk to me about something oh, so important. She wasn’t even dressed for the ritual.”
“What was it she wanted to talk with you about?”
Mercy shrugged. “No idea. She kept trying to make everything all about her and whatever she wanted. When I wouldn’t let her mess up Em’s ritual she had the nerve to call me selfish and say I didn’t understand. So I told her what she’d said to me at the funeral. Go away—I don’t need you. Then she did what she seems to do best—she left.”
Xena said nothing. She watched Mercy with wise yellow eyes.
Mercy picked at the strap of her backpack. “What?”
“Kitten, I am your familiar. I love you. You know that, do you not?”
“Well, yeah, of course.”
“Then know I say this with love. Shame on you, Mercy Anne Goode.” Xena didn’t raise her voice, but the disappointment that filled her words weighed heavily on Mercy. “For the past several days—no, since your mother’s untimely death—you have been asking your sister to talk to you. To share with you. To not shut you out. And now, today, Hunter finally comes to you. She reaches out in front of your best friend, which I am quite sure was difficult for our proud Hunter, and instead of showing her the compassion you’ve wished so desperately she would treat you with, you did what?” Xena didn’t pause, but answered herself. “You threw her ill-considered words back at her and rejected her—your sister—your twin.” The cat person shook her head. “I am disheartened by this, my Green Witch. Worse, Abigail would be ashamed of you.”
Mercy’s stomach felt awful—hollow, but hot and sick at once. She blinked hard to keep from crying. Instead of allowing the wound Xena’s words had caused to hemorrhage and destroy her, Mercy got mad—really mad. She straightened and hefted her backpack over her shoulder. Her voice was cold, like she didn’t even know Xena. “You should be on my side.”
“I shall always be on your side, but that does not mean that I will not speak out when you are wrong, and you are wrong about this, my kitten.” Xena spoke slowly, as if she measured each word. “You need your sister. Your sister needs you. It is past time the two of you end this estrangement.”
“I’m gonna spend the weekend at Emily’s house. If Hunter shows up don’t call me. I’m turning off my phone. I’m sick of everything being about poor, grieving, misunderstood Hunter. Have a good weekend, Xena. Maybe by Monday you’ll be over your disappointment in me and remember you’re my familiar—not Hunter’s!” Mercy strode past the cat person, grabbed her purse from the table, stomped out of the room, and slammed the front door behind her.
