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For the next hour, Max continues to teach me all about werewolves. I learn about how they interact with each other and with humans, how they live, and the way that the clans fight with each other over land.
Once I leave Max’s house, I have a really bad feeling about the trouble that might be brewing in Hillcrest. The sight of the muscular, massive white wolf loping off up the street, away from the Hillcrest Inn last night is ingrained in my mind. That was a lawless Lux wolf. I know, because his fur was pure, snow white.
Now that Max has given me information about werewolves, I’m eager to share it with my coven sisters, who also happen to be my knitting group.
I text Marley, and am relieved when she texts me back to say that our circle will have an emergency coven meeting at our friend Annie’s cafe.
The cafe, called the Death Cafe (it’s a long story), will be open for business, but Annie has asked one of her nephews to work the register while we meet.
The best thing about our plan is that Annie does all of the baking for the Death Cafe—and her baking is out of this world. I’m about ready for something sugary after all of that green slush I just ingested.
By quarter to one, Marley, Annie, Cora and myself are seated around one of the cafe’s small round tables, positioned in the back of the room. There’s a small lunch crowd in the cafe, ordering caffeinated drinks and sugary baked goods to give them energy through the afternoon.
My coven sisters and I keep our voices down as we get right to business. We each have knitting projects spread out before us. We do our best thinking and talking while we knit. There’s something about the movement of our hands that helps us open up to each other.
“You guys, it was crazy,” Marley says, as her knitting needles click together. “I mean, Penny, wasn’t it crazy? We saw these two guys jump out of a window and by the time they landed, they had totally turned into wolves.”
“Are you sure?” asks Cora. She’s been flipping through her pattern book, but now she pauses and looks first at Marley, then at me. “That doesn’t sound possible.”
“We both saw it,” I say. “I don’t know how it happens, but it’s possible. I talked to Max today, and—”
“Oooo!” Cora says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“There’s nothing ‘ooo’ about it,” I say. “I needed to get information from him. He’s an expert in magic, Cora.”
Cora snaps her mouth closed. I might have sounded a little bit testy there. I can’t help it. I’m rattled from seeing Raul’s dead body, and my tense encounter with Max today hasn’t helped the state of my nerves. I have no idea where I stand with Chris, and that’s making everything worse.
I’m feeling raw.
“Anyways,” I say, “Yes, I visited with Max. He told me that there are two types of werewolves. One group has snow white fur, and they’re called the Lux clan. The others have black fur. They’re called the Tenebris clan. The Lux clan don’t follow the rules of society. The clans constantly war over territories. Max thinks that since we’ve spotted both a white and a black wolf, they’re currently battling over territory rights on the Earth Realm.”
“The whole earth?”
I nod. “That’s what Max said. He told me that Hillcrest Pass is the only portal into earth, and that Claudine and her Terra Coven had been successfully keeping it inaccessible to werewolves. When Claudine Terra died, news of the open portal took some time to spread through the realms. Apparently, the werewolves finally got the message.”
“That’s why they’re visiting?” Annie asks. She’s in the process of switching to a new color of yarn in the sweater she’s knitting. She leans over and reaches into her knitting basket as she waits for my answer.
“That’s what Max thinks.” I say. “I bet he’s right. He does have five hundred years of experience with this kind of thing, after all.”
Annie straightens, and holds up two balls of yarn. “What do you ladies think? Should I do pink next, or lavender?
We each hem and haw for a moment, and then unanimously decide upon the lavender yarn. Annie looks pleased, and starts setting it up on her needles.
“So did Max happen to say what these werewolves do, once they take over a territory?” asks Cora.
I nod. “He said that it depends on the clan. Like I said, the Tenebris clan plays by the rules of whatever society they move into. Max says that they like to stay under the radar. They usually settle down on the outskirts of town, out in the woods, and they don’t cause trouble. The Lux wolves, on the other hand—”
“They cause trouble,” guesses Marley.
I nod. “Yeah. Like, a lot of it.”
“So maybe the guy we saw wearing a trench coat killed Raul,” says Marley. She reaches for one of the brownies that Annie set out for us. “He was the one who turned into the white wolf. He must be one of these lawless Lux werewolves.”
I follow Marley’s lead, and help myself to a brownie too. It’s my second one so far, and our meeting is only five minutes in. I take a small bite. I’d better pace myself. “That’s what I’m thinking, too,” I say. “Max says that the Tenebris wolves don’t typically break rules. Murder is definitely against the law.”
“But the Lux werewolves—they like to break the law?” Cora asks.
“Max says they do it all of the time,” I say, my mouth full of brownie. My witch sisters don’t seem to mind my lack of manners. We have business to attend to! Who has time for chewing and swallowing before speaking?
Oops. The brownie is now entirely gone. I lick my fingers. So much for pacing myself!
Cora does shoot me one little look, though, that shows her disapproval. I know she hates it when I speak while my mouth is full. Her feathers must still be ruffled because of the way I snapped at her when she made fun of my visit to Max.
To appease Cora, I swallow and take a sip of peppermint tea (also served by Annie) before continuing. “I think that makes this white werewolf—the man with the long white ponytail—our number one suspect.”
There are nods all around the table.
For a moment, the only sound is the clicking of knitting needles.
Then, Annie speaks. “Even if this white haired, trench-coated gentleman didn’t kill Raul Rivera, he’s still a Lux wolf, which makes him dangerous.” She stops knitting, and looks directly at me. “If Max’s story can be trusted, that is.”
I nod. “Max is telling the truth,” I say. “I trust him. And he knows what he’s talking about. He even wrote a book about the original werewolves.” I blush just thinking about the ‘steamy’ parts of Max’s historical fiction piece.
“Penny,” Cora says, somewhat hesitant, like she’s afraid I might snap at her again. “Are you sure it’s wise to trust a vampire? I mean, how well do we know Dr. Max Shire, really?”
“I trust him,” I say. “Max wouldn’t lie to me. He’s my—he’s my friend.” I’m surprised at the defensiveness in my own voice.
I’m also surprised to find out that I truly feel like Max is my friend.
Sure, there’s a bit of tension between us, and that can be challenging to manage, but for the most part I really value our relationship. He’s given me a lot of help over there past few months, as I begin learning about my witchy powers.
“Alr-i-i-ight,” Cora says, stretching out the word and saying it in a sing-song voice. At first I don’t like the condescending lilt to her tone, but then I realize that maybe I’m being a little bit oversensitive.
Chill out, I tell myself.
I pick up a third brownie and take a bite, just to help me stay quiet for a minute.
Marley speaks up. “Max has never steered us in the wrong direction before,” she says. “He’s always given Penny good advice, and we’ve all benefited from it. I vote we trust him.”
“All in favor?” Annie says.
As a coven, we like to take spontaneous votes like these. Our democratic ways help us keep our meetings on track.
Once again, taking a vote works. We vote unanimously to accept Max’s version of werewolf history as truth.
“Where does that leave us?” Cora asks, once the vote passes.
“Well,” says Annie. “If this trench coat man is a lawless Lux wolf, I don’t think it really matters if he killed Raul or not. He’s dangerous, and we’ve got to run him out of Hillcrest—and out of the Earth Realm—for good.” She pauses, and looks around at us while we take that in.
Her words make sense to me. Except for one part.
I hold a finger up. “Except, it does matter,” I say. “If the Lux wolf killed Raul, we need to know about it. Because if he didn’t, that means someone else did—and I want to know who.”
“Good point,” says Marley, giving me a nod.
“Justice must be served,” says Annie. She’s also nodding in agreement.
I speak up again. “But you’re also right about one thing, Annie. We do have to get that Lux wolf out of here, whether he’s the killer or not.”
“He shouldn’t have gotten in through the portal in the first place,” says Cora. She’s pulled out a bag of raw almonds from her purse and she lifts a single one as she speaks. “If we were doing a proper job of guarding that portal, those wolves wouldn’t be here.”
She pops the almond into her mouth, and begins to chew.
I can’t help but make a comment. “Cora, how can you pass up ooey, gooey double fudge chocolate brownies and eat raw almonds instead?” I wrinkle my nose. “Those things taste like tree bark.”
“It’s lunch time,” Cora says. “I can’t eat brownies for lunch.” She sounds horrified.
“Why not?” I ask.
I really want to know. As much as I hate to admit it sometimes, Cora is a role model in my life. She’s only about ten years older than me, but I think of her as a mother figure. My own mom passed away, like I said. I’ve got to have a few living role models, don’t I?
Cora really seems to have life figured out. She has a stable, well-paying career as a law office secretary, and she owns her house. Her eating and exercise routines are worth studying. She’s single, but even that seems admirable to me at this point, given the unhappy place I find myself with Chris.
I swear, sometimes when Cora’s around I feel like just observing her and taking notes.
“I can’t eat brownies for lunch, Penny, because I’ll get a stomach ache.” She speaks slowly, like I’m a young child.
Which, sometimes, I act like I am.
“Oh! A stomach ache. Right.” I set down the remainder of my brownie, and then wipe my hands carefully on a little white paper napkin.
“Maybe,” says Annie, “we should focus our attention on learning the Banishing Spell. It could help us do a better job of protecting the portal.” Our knitting mentor is getting us back on track, as always.
“Yes!” says Marley. She burrows into her purse, and pulls out her photocopied pages of ‘The Art and Science of Becoming a Witch’.
The rest of us watch her.
“Am I the only one who brought my copy?” she asks, holding up the thin packet of pages.
There are nods all around.
“I left my house at five this morning, to come into the cafe,” Annie says.
“I left at six,” Cora says. “Well before you called this emergency meeting. I didn’t know I’d be needing my ASBW pages today.”
“I left my house at.... er... eleven-thirty,” I say, somewhat embarrassed. “And I forgot to bring my copy.”
“That’s okay,” Marley says. “I’ll read.”
She begins flipping through the pages, trying to find the right place to read from.
While she works, I lift my brownie to my lips. Then, thinking of Cora’s words, I put it back down. I look at it, and notice a vein of caramel, glistening along the tops of the dessert, in all of its sticky, gooey, sugary glory.
I pick up the brownie again and take a big bite.
Mmm!! Delicious.
My taste buds start doing that chocolate celebration dance that they do when I cave into my cravings. Yes, I might get a stomach ache later. But right now, I’m willing to take that risk. As I enjoy the taste of chocolate, Marley starts to read.
“Cycle Two: The Banishing Spell,” she says.
She clears her throat. “Dear witch-to-be. Now is a time to celebrate your progress. You have discovered Love. You have unearthed your Power. You have opened yourself up to the Great Magic of the Universe.”
“Amen to that,” Annie says softly, as her needles click together.
Marley goes on. “Now, Dear Child you must learn to set your limits. You must learn to Banish.”
“This really is good timing,” I say.
“Will you guys just listen for a minute?” Marley asks.
“Right. Sorry.” I zip my lips.
Marley clears her throat and begins again. “The Banishing Spell is one that often goes wrong. Because of this, you must practice, practice, practice! Practice carefully, Dear One. Practice with small objects at first, until you are ready to use your skills on matters of great importance in your life.”
I’ve read these words many times, but now as Marley reads them, they sound kind of new. I think it’s because they’re so packed with meaning.
Marley continues. “As you enter this cycle, take great care. Many witches find this the most difficult cycle to master. Remember the three P’s: Patience, Precision, and Playfulness. Take your time. Start small and follow the directions carefully. Don’t give up. And above all else, Dearest witch-to-be, keep a playful attitude in your heart.”
Marley stops reading.
I take the opportunity to speak. “Playful! How can we be playful if we know that the banishing spell often goes wrong?” I ask with frustration.
No one at the table offers up an answer.
Click-click-click go our knitting needles.
Finally, Cora speaks. “I guess we just have to do our best. I mean, we have to try to keep a positive, upbeat attitude about—”
“About murder?” I interject. I know I’m not being the most cooperative coven member at the moment, but I can’t help it.
Annie sighs. “We just have to do what we can, Penny. Your little green book seems to have a great deal of wisdom in it. It’s up to us to follow the instructions, not to argue. What’s next, Marley dear?”
With that, our little group is back on track. Thanks, of course, to grandmotherly, wise Annie.
Marley clears her throat. “Okay, let’s see,” she says, as her eyes skim the page. “Okay, here’s the directions for putting the spell together.”
“Casting,” says Cora.
“Hm?” Marley looks up from the page.
“Oh,” says Cora. She finishes chewing her almond, and swallows. “They’re directions for casting the spell. That’s what witches do. They cast spells. And we’re witches.”
“Almost,” I say.
“We’re getting there,” Annie adds.
“Yes. Casting the spell,” says Marley, returning her eyes to the page. “Here’s how we do it. Okay, this is what it says.”
She clears her throat and then begins to read aloud:
“Focus a beam of light on that which you wish to banish. Speak this magical poem, with precision. While speaking this poem, move your hands, palms out, counterclockwise around the visual field of the light around the object. Your palms must be painted with a counterclockwise spiral symbol. Use charcoal, the juice of an elderberry, or another natural source of paint. In your mind’s eye, imagine erasing the banished object or being.”
She stops to take a sip of tea.
“Sounds pretty straight forward,” Cora says. “Clear, precise instructions. I like that.”
“There’s more,” Marley says. “Ready?”
We all nod.
Marley reads on.
“The effects of the Banishing Spell will be multiplied according to how many witches are present. The spell can also be enhanced through the use of natural moonlight. The light of the full moon is especially potent. If no moonlight is present at the time the spell is to be conducted, candles may be used as a substitute.”
“When’s the next full moon?” I ask.
Cora pulls a little date book from her purse. Leave it to Cora to have the phases of the moon in her day planner. She’s definitely the most organized, out of the four of us. She runs her manicured finger down the page. “Saturday the twenty third,” she says. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s also the date of the Hillcrest Historical Society’s Bonfire Dance,” I say.
“I think they plan it like that,” Cora says with a nod. “It’s always on a Saturday close to a full moon. This year it lined up exactly.”
Marley squints down at her photocopied pages. “Hang on—there’s a note here. It’s in really fine print. I can barely read it.”
We all wait expectantly while she works out what the words say.
After a few minutes of squinting, she speaks. “Okay. I think I’ve got it. This fine print says: ‘Note: if the item you wish to banish is not tangible, you may capture the essence of the item with a symbol. This may be a word or a picture.’”
She pauses and then continues. “Then it says, ‘Thus, you may banish such intangible items as feelings, memories, or those things that are too large or disperse to be illuminated with light. A word of caution: You must practice with small, tangible items before moving onto this more advanced form of the Banishing Spell. A great deal can go wrong when working with symbols. Be exact in your use of symbols. Think carefully about the repercussions of your banishments.’ The note ends there.”
I frown. “So—we could banish feelings? Like sadness?” I ask. “That sounds kind of nice.”
Marley sets down the paper. “Yes, I think so, but it also says to think carefully about the repercussions of your banishments. If we got rid of sadness forever, wouldn’t that make life kind of boring?”
“I never feel sad to begin with,” Cora says.
“Not ever?” I ask. I lost my mother ten years ago, and I feel flashes of sadness on almost a daily basis. It happens around my apartment the most, where almost every single nook and cranny holds a memory of her.
“No, not really,” says Cora. “I think I’m just a naturally happy person.”
“You think?” Marley says sarcastically
We all laugh. Cora is known for being almost ridiculously cheerful and upbeat.
Our laughter dies down, and Marley says, “Your mood must be genetic, Cora.”
Thinking of my conversation with Max, I shake my head. “Max says that humans give genes too much credit. He says that we always have a choice.”
“Well then,” says Cora. “I guess I’m good at choosing to be happy.”
“I’d like to choose that more often, too,” I say. “Maybe I could use this spell to help me choose to be happy... you know, if I banished sadness.”
“Possibly,” Annie says gently. Out of all of our group members, I know she’s the one who understands sadness and loss in the way that I do.
She also lost someone close to her; her husband died several years back. Annie meets my eye, and just that contact makes me feel suddenly much better. I sense that she understands me.
Her eyes twinkle as she peers at me over her reading glasses. “I understand what you’re saying, Penny,” she says gently, “but I just don’t think that’s the best place for us to start.”
Marley speaks up. “The book says we have to start with something small and tangible. Anyone have any ideas?”
I try to think of something small worth practicing on, but I’m too distracted. I shake my head. “I just want to get right to the werewolves. I can’t think of anything else. Not with that white Lux wolf running around on the loose.”
“We have to start smaller,” Cora says.
“I know.” I place my chin in my hands, and slump over the table.
“Something small... something tangible...” says Marley, thinking aloud.
Annie grins. “I have it!” she says.
“What?” Marley, Cora and I ask in unison.