Chapter 7

Chapter 7 of 10 · 50-minute read

Saturday, wee hours – Moon in Leo, Dark Moon

It’s over. I’m a Third Degree now.

And I am so utterly disappointed.

Donna says I’m free to tell what happened if I want. The others have been told it’s all oath-bound. I don’t understand what’s different about me, and I don’t plan to say anything, anyway. I wish I could tell Jan that yes, there was a group in black robes chanting around me, but it wasn’t what she’d thought. Nor was the worry that I was bleeding.

The energy around me feels fried, chaotic. Lady Dragon and a select group of Third Degrees—most of them police detectives and Marines—have erected a sphere of energy around the campsite to keep out trouble and to hold energy inside. I’m told that I’ll feel content as long as I’m in the sphere but may be a little antsy once I leave it and the “group mind.”

For now, the most obvious effect of the energy amplification is that at least half of the women have unexpectedly ended their menstrual cycles, and the others swear they’re ovulating. Not that it matters, but I’m in the first group. I’m perimenopausal and my periods aren’t reliably regular anymore, and I’ve scrounged a tampon from the emergency supply kit in the camp office. Technically, Jan was right that I was bleeding internally.

My stomach twists, but not from cramps. Famished, I stand under the food tent. Other new Third Degrees wander in and out. All of us have the munchies now. I sit by myself in one corner and stare out into the dark woods where the blackness is broken occasionally by the flash of a firefly between the camp and a tall crop of boulders. A symphony of locusts, crickets, and frogs resounds through the night as I sip an ice-cold can of Pepsi and crunch Nacho Cheese Doritos in rhythm with the frogs. It’ll be daylight soon.

“Darling, congratulations.”

Tyler appears out of nowhere and hugs me from behind. He smells of dragon’s blood incense, just like that package containing the dirt on Lady Dragon. I relax into Tyler’s arms and let him hug me. I like these openly gay men in Dragon Hart: their sense of style, their sense of humor, their sense of artistry. I like everything about these openly gay men, except for their sexual preference. Otherwise, I’ve met a few that I would consider damned near perfect for me.

Tyler’s much shorter than his partner, Leo, and his long hair is as blond as Leo’s is black. Leo always smells of patchouli. They live in the fashionable side of New York City, and though they’re not exactly wealthy, they never miss a Broadway show. Or a hippie festival.

Tyler gives me a kiss on the cheek and then on the back of my neck. “I’m proud of you, darling. You did so well.”

“Thanks, Tyler, and thanks for everything you did for me tonight.” I don’t say what, not out loud, but he knows what I mean. He smiles and winks at me. I’m grateful the exception was made to allow him back into the circle, even if it was only because of Leo’s pleading with Lady Dragon. Tyler’s not really a part of the group anymore, but he’s been allowed to come and go. That’s an exception to the rule. Perhaps because of the issue with his artwork being confiscated and him not suing Lady Dragon for violating his intellectual property rights.

From what I’ve been told, tonight’s Elevation ritual was different. Each Elevation ritual takes anywhere between one to two hours, depending on the candidate and how they answer the questions posed to them. This year, since we had two dozen Second Degrees being elevated to Third, Lady Dragon decided everyone would undergo the ritual at the same time. We would all be ritual-mates and all bonded together for the rest of our lives, having gone through the same ceremony and made the same pledges to the same Gods to continue the tradition of Dragon Hart.

Although I’d been right there in the middle of all those candidates, what Lady Dragon did not see was that I had not taken the same pledges. Thanks to Donna, Leo, Tyler, Payne, and two Elders who had cast a circle over me within the larger circle to protect me from the surrounding influences. Instead, I took my vows to teach others about The Morrigan, rather than bringing new members into Dragon Hart as though it were a pyramid scheme for witches. I did not make any vows to Lady Dragon or to the Dragon Hart Grand Coven.

This year, unlike other years, Lady Dragon did not lay her hands on each candidate and pass power individually to each candidate, only to a few and to her own children—the twin boys who were going off to college and, she thought, needed a little extra power boost. I know we’re not supposed to question the path of other Third Degrees or their readiness, but the twins’ presence at the ritual had surprised me. I’d wondered how two boys that young could be so ready, shortly after their eighteenth birthdays, to be Elevated to Third Degree? Maybe they’d started studying before high school. That they could be so ready to take on the responsibility of the priesthood troubled and surprised me, and I’d said so to two Elders immediately after the ceremony. Neither boy was the model of maturity, even for a pair of skateboarding teens, and they were constantly pranking some of the middle-aged High Priests who did their best to ignore the foolishness out of respect for Lady Dragon. Jenna, one of the Elders, had done her best to explain but⁠—

“Where’s Leo?” I ask, suddenly aware that Tyler is alone in the food tent with me. I turn to face Tyler. “Is Leo all right? He seemed happy during the ritual, but before and right after…”

“He’s sad, darling. If you must know, he’s on the verge of falling apart.”

“Why?”

I adore Leo. He is always so happy, so calm, so relaxed. He has a way of going to this “happy place” in his head when he meditates, a way of communing with the Ether with such delight that most people, just looking at him, would think he’s high. In a way, he usually is.

But not since I saw him when I first arrived at the campground. During the ritual, he seemed to get a bit of that ethereal glow back. He seemed to be himself again. Afterward, the glow faded to sadness.

All he would say was, “Sometimes, sweetness, it’s a real pain in the ass to be a clairvoyant.” Then he’d added, “I prefer not to know everything that’s going to happen this weekend, so instead, I will not think about it. Not yet. There’ll be time enough later.”

“Where’s the illustrious Lady Lynx?” Tyler asks, meaning Donna. I rarely hear her magickal name.

Tyler’s voice hints at a lilt as if he realizes I’m disturbed, and he’s trying to cheer me up. I glance at my watch—it’s almost five in the morning. Sunrise will come soon. I haven’t slept all night. We haven’t even pitched a tent. I’m drained from the Elevation ceremony, and yet, I’m so pumped with energy that I’ll probably be able to go the next three days without sleeping. Everyone’s like that, except for the new Dedicants… and the First Degrees and Second Degrees.

Hmmm. In other words, only those of us who attended the Third Degree Elevations are feeling this stimulant.

“Donna went to find Lady Dragon.”

“Oh.” Tyler bites at his lip. “Is everything okay?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. Donna needed to talk to her when we arrived. Lady Dragon hasn’t had five minutes to spare for her yet, so she had to wait until after the ritual tonight.”

The fact is, Lady Dragon has put Donna off three times already since we arrived at the campground. Donna asked to speak privately to Lady Dragon. Each time, Lady Dragon had two or three Third Degrees hovering around her. Almost like bodyguards.

Donna finally said, “Look, I need to speak to you in private. You know what it’s about, I know what it’s about, and they don’t need to know.”

At that, Lady Dragon had agreed but told Donna she would have to wait until after the ritual tonight. Immediately after the ceremony, Lady Dragon put her off yet again. She needed to do something else first, she said, and she would summon Donna when she was ready to talk to her. I’ve seen Donna get perturbed and impatient with other people. I can tell that the annoyance with Lady Dragon is barely under the surface of the Elder’s tight jawline, but Donna doesn’t mention it.

I don’t understand why Lady Dragon kept postponing her conversation with Donna. She knows Donna is going to tell her she’s leaving. I’m sure of that. It’s also clear that she welcomes Donna’s leaving, that she doesn’t want Donna to be part of the group anymore. She doesn’t want her to be an Elder, and she really doesn’t want her to be around at all. She wants new followers, fresh followers. Ones who aren’t used up.

So why make Donna wait? It is almost like it’s a game, or… or manipulation.

I’ve already decided after reading several articles on “how to tell if your coven is really a cult” that, while Dragon Hart has some disturbing new developments in the past two years, it isn’t a cult after all. Not yet. Not as long as it has a check-and-balance of Elders. Not as long as it doesn’t force people to stay. Not as long as it allows for a free flow of communication with families and with people who don’t agree with Dragon Hart. Despite its leader, the group itself is good, and the training has been excellent.

Will I leave or stay? I still don’t know. I’m still waiting for the Old Gods to come whisper in my ear, Stay or Go. Or even Stay if you will, go if you must. But something, some kind of sign. A vision. Some kind of anything to help me make the right decision.

I’ve faced this before, back with Belinda when she left. She never could tell me exactly why, not back then, but she’s not the kind of person to do things lightly, especially as much as she loved Dragon Hart. I’d taken a few days to give Belinda my answer of whether I would stay with Dragon Hart or go with her to start a new group, one where I would have been Elevated much faster. I hadn’t needed several days to decide. I’d known almost from the moment she told me she was leaving and that I had a choice of coming with her, that I would not go. Dragon Hart was where I was supposed to be.

I didn’t know why then. I know why now. It’s because of the training for the priesthood and also because of some people I’ve met and grown close to. Donna, for one. For another, Lady Zephyr, though I’m uncertain yet why she’s important in my life. Then there’s Leo with tales of The Treat. Leo has helped me so much in the breakup of my marriage, plus giving me hope for new things to come into my life. I never would have had that if I had left with Belinda.

This time is different. This time I don’t hear the Old Gods sitting on my shoulder saying, Stay. I don’t hear the Old Gods saying, Go, either. I want a sign, need a sign. I’m like that. I like signs. I like big honking billboards that tell me exactly what to do and clearly enough that even I, an idiot, can understand. Such have been the words of my prayers many a time: “Give me a sign. One that even I can recognize.”

It’s my Third Degree challenge, and I have to make up my mind at some point. Maybe I’m supposed to decide without the help of the Old Gods. It seems kind of silly to me because I want the help of the Old Gods with everything in my life. Why would I deny it with such a major decision?

“Hmm.” Tyler gives a little grunt of appreciation as Chevron, another new Third Degree, wanders through the food tent. Tyler notes his momentary lapse and catches himself. “Sorry, darling. I can still look, can’t I? Not that I’d ever dream of straying from Leo, but I can appreciate the sight of something exquisite. Besides, I really think Chev is more to your type than mine.”

I don’t disagree, but I’m not so sure of that either. Yes, Chevron is most definitely straight. He’s also single, a widower from what Donna has said. But I don’t think he’s The Treat. He looks, however, exactly as Jan has described as her idea of my ideal man.

“Ladybug, I think you’re going to meet someone on this trip,” she told me just a few weeks ago, before we knew two named storms might interfere with travel. “I think you’re going to meet The Treat while you’re at your Grand Poobah thingie.”

She went on to describe the man she saw as my perfect match. The man in front of me, chowing down on pretzels and soda while he gazes out into the dark woods, is a physical embodiment of what she’s foreseen. A big guy, not flabby, but a teddy bear sort of physique, not unlike Leo. Short dark hair with a touch of gray at the temples. A few years older than I am. He walks with a ceremonial staff, one he used in ritual tonight to cast his circle. He is handsome, interesting to talk to for the few minutes I’ve been in his presence, and he exudes a warm energy. But there isn’t anything particularly enchanting about him. In some ways, he reminds me of a younger version of Jan’s husband, Steve. Perhaps, just perhaps, the man she envisions for me is really the one she envisions for herself as perfect. Jan’s like that when it comes to my romantic life and prophecies. She wants for me what she wants for herself, what she believes she already has in creating her own happy world.

Chevron downs the rest of his soda and throws away his pretzel bag. Upon hearing distant strains of “We All Come from the Goddess,” he breaks out into song himself and wanders off to join the other revelers.

Tyler describes the present he can’t wait to give me, the one he’s left back at his and Leo’s tent. It’s a Third Degree basket, as he calls it, a portable ritual kit with candles for fire, incense for air, quartz crystals for earth, and some seashells for water. There’s a bottle of dragon’s blood oil as well and a small altar cloth of purple with a pentagram in the center. He made the basket himself out of grape vines he grew on his mother’s farm in upstate New York. It’s a gift of love, all for my Third Degree. He says that if I have to leave suddenly, he’ll secretly have it shipped to me.

Leo, on the other hand, doesn’t make things. He’s not gifted at that, he says. His gift to me will be another reading. A reading that I’m hoping to receive tonight, except that I don’t know where Leo is. Since the ritual ended, he’s been gone on an uncharacteristic walk into the woods and down to the lake. Even more uncharacteristic, he insisted his partner stay behind because Leo needed time alone. Considering the accuracy of his clairvoyance, that doesn’t seem to be a good thing.

Tyler gives me another hug, plucks a single Cheeto from an open bag on the table, and follows Chevron into the night, crooning something that sounds like the Pretenders’ “Hymn to Her.”

I’m alone in the food tent now, still wearing my ritual robe and a thick sheen of perspiration from all the energy I’ve spent through the night. I was told exactly how I would feel when this Elevation was done, like I could walk on water, like I couldn’t stop laughing, like I could do anything. And yet, the feeling isn’t there. It just isn’t there.

What’s wrong? Did the ritual not “take”? I’m still energized, yes, but it isn’t the way it’s been described to me. It’s like… it’s like something’s missing. Is this all there is?

“Raven!” shrills Butterfly Moonbeam behind me. “Butterfuck” as Donna always calls her. “Wasn’t that just the best?” She walks in front of me and twirls, arms to the sky. She accidentally topples a battery-powered lantern. “Isn’t it wonderful? Oh, that was so amazing! Have you ever felt this way before?”

Her eyes gleam. She twirls again. Her ritual gown is one that was designed and made especially for her and probably costs hundreds of dollars in lace alone. It’s black, as required by our tradition, but in a pretty, burnout velvet mixed with satin and silk. It’s a frilly concoction of goth corset and medieval bell sleeves with a fairy skirt. She wears spike heels with it, the kind of shoes that make my knees ache just to look at them. I’m still not sure how she stood up straight and cast her circle tonight.

She’s my age with two daughters the same ages as mine. Sonnet and her younger daughter have the same birthday. Sometimes the kids message each other on social media, but they’ve never met in person. Butterfly and I have talked often over the years, mainly by email because we both tend to write long messages. I met her daughters once, the first year I was with Dragon Hart, and they were adorable. Polite, well-behaved, loving, as bubbly as Butterfly herself. Though she lived in California at the time, she and her daughters had traveled to a Renaissance faire near Baltimore while attending Grand Coven events and had met a ceremonial magician from Washington, D.C. Three months later, she declared him to be the love of her life, gave up custody of her daughters to an abusive ex in Redondo Beach, and moved to Frederick, Maryland, to be with her new love and take care of his four motherless daughters.

I didn’t understand that. I could never give up my children, and I would never leave them behind. Even if I had to leave Quent and run away with nothing but the clothes on my back and my kids in tow. Yet, as Butterfly announced earlier today, she’s happy with her new family, and she got through her Second Degree just fine, and here she is now, dancing and singing in front of me, a new Third Degree. It’s not my place to judge what she’s been through, but I just can’t understand it.

Like most people, I suppose I see others through the lens of my own experience. Not even for a shiny new love could I ever leave my daughters behind. I’m willing to forgo a new love, if I must, to keep them with me.

Still, it’s much better tonight listening to Butterfly chatter on and on about the ritual and how it affected her versus what her lover did last week and what her lover’s going to do next week and what he thinks about all these different things in the Dragon Hart Grand Coven as if she didn’t have a thought in her own head what she might think about anything. There’s evidence, too, of a crack in their foundation. He’s become slightly less enamored of her now that his kids are a little older and aren’t so needy of an hourly caretaker. I’m surprised their relationship has lasted through her Second Degree. I’ve been told often that anything new that comes into your life during your Second, you shouldn’t try to hang onto because it won’t last. It’s all part of the transition process.

“Jonny! Jonny, over here.” Butterfly squeals and waves at a new Third Degree whom I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before the ritual tonight, so if he was at previous Grand Coven meetings, I never noticed him. He’s from somewhere in Montana. Jonny is a large man, well over six feet tall, and built like a mountain.

They chat for a while, forgetting that I’m there, while Jonny makes a ham and cheese sandwich and fetches a fresh bottle of water from the cooler. He’s eating healthier than the rest of us. Feeling slightly disconnected, I listen to their banter, their self-congratulations, as well as their congratulations to each other.

“Oh, Jonny, could you just believe it when Lady Dragon asked us to call the quarters in unison?”

I smile to myself. I know what she’s talking about. We’d been a hodge-podge of energy with around twenty-four Third Degree candidates in the middle of the circle, casting our own circles and calling the quarters, all at the same time, just to save time and be efficient. I hadn’t been so nervous as I’d expected. Suddenly, everything had felt right. As everyone else tried to remember the quarter calls and the Official Circle Casting and say them all in unison, in what turned out to be a cacophony of sound and energy, I had held my circle steady. I had closed my eyes and stopped talking, no longer even moving my lips to speak the casting or the calls, but rather intoning them in my head, visualizing, feeling. And knowing that it was done.

“I know,” Jonny says. “Wasn’t that amazing? I’ve never heard anything like that.”

Butterfly nods. “Disgusting, wasn’t it? I mean, these people are supposed to be Third Degree candidates, and they can’t even deliver the correct circle casting or quarter calls.”

Jonny drinks from his water bottle and then nods. “Obviously, there is some flaw in the uniformity of the teachings of this organization.”

I blink at him. Did I hear right? It was all about using the correct words? And saying them with the correct phrasing and pronunciation? No, I didn’t remember that being part of the laws of magick or universal laws or any other laws. One thing I have discovered for myself in my training as a witch is that getting the exact word and the exact phrase and the exact pronunciation, the exact pause for dramatic breath before performance—which is what some people tried to make it, a performance—doesn’t really matter. What matters is intent. And energy. When I work my magick, I work it not to perform for other people, but for the Gods and for myself and, with permission, for others. It isn’t about the performance. Not for me. It is about the connection with the Gods and channeling that power.

“I’m just thankful that I had such a wonderful teacher,” Butterfly continues. “I would have been so embarrassed if I had done what others did tonight, you know, delivering the wrong quarter call. You know that quarter call tonight? Half the people were saying one that was on page five of the very first lesson, and that’s not the one we’re supposed to give. After we become a Second Degree, we’re supposed to use the Official Quarter Call and Official Circle Casting that’s on the tenth page of Lesson Number Seven.”

I smile to myself. Ah, yes, that’s why Butterfly earned the highest score this year on the test. She knows exactly where to find the right words, but does she have the energy? I’m seeing a side to her I’ve never seen before. She’s always been a giddy, flighty, fluff-bunny, but tonight, as of the ritual, there is a harshness in her voice. It’s sometimes said that Third Degrees can be really full of themselves for the first thirty days because they feel the power that’s been passed to them. They feel the rawness of it, and it brings out things that were only barely there before.

I don’t like this side of Butterfly. I don’t like what I’m seeing now. She’s so caught up in the performance that I can’t even sense what’s real.

To my dismay, Jonny agrees with her. He expresses his concern over the future of the organization, especially if our High Priests and High Priestesses can’t remember the correct quarter calls to give and how to say them with a loud, clear voice that can be heard above all the others.

I wonder if their snarkiness has anything to do with the fact that Lady Dragon did actually touch them both in the passing of power. Most people, she hadn’t. I had been one of the fortunate ones, fortunate because she had missed me in the crowd. She’d been too attuned to her own children. I’d commented to Jenna, one of the Elders, on how amazed I was that two boys just graduating from high school could already get their Third Degrees. That meant that they had probably started when they were younger than Rhiannon. It shocked me that two eighteen-year-olds would be that mature, particularly those two boys. Hell, I wondered for the last three years if I at midlife was mature enough!

Jenna had laughed at my questions. “They didn’t go through a structured degree program like you, Raven. Where did you get that idea?”

“Well, because they were being Elevated tonight.”

“No, sweetheart. Don’t you think for one minute that they went through what you’ve gone through in the past, er, how many years? Five?”

“Three,” I corrected.

“Oh, okay, three years. That’s quick. Sheesh, that’s more like getting hit with the Tower Card than the Death Card. Three years, well, that’s sudden, abrupt change, not just an old way of life dying and new beginnings. Pretty rough, wasn’t it?”

I nodded. “Still is.”

“No, sweetheart. Those boys of Dragon’s? They didn’t go through the program you did. Their mama decided she wanted to make sure that they were going off to college empowered and with a string on them so she could pull them back, if necessary. Bet they didn’t know she was putting an energetic leash on them! All High Priests and High Priestesses stay attached to their Initiates across time and space unless those cords are otherwise cut.”

Hoots and hollers break out again on the other side of the campground. Butterfly and Jonny look up from their conversation, grin, shrug, and return to what they were saying.

Then Butterfly cocks her head. “I don’t see the moon out anywhere.”

“Because it’s a dark moon night,” I murmur.

“Dark moon,” Jonny informs her without hearing me. “Plus, Mercury is in retrograde.”

And two hurricanes passing over Florida and headed this way.

It’s said that Lady Dragon has a way of manifesting things. She simply puts out the word to the Universe to keep away anyone who would cause her consternation. It’s been reported before that certain storms, catastrophes, and personal disasters have kept people away.

At least that’s the word she’s put out. I’m not sure if it’s true or if it’s another psychological game.

Earlier, when she saw me and told me she was looking forward to my Third Degree Elevation tonight, she said not to bring those hurricanes with me. She said it in a sharp tone that had surprised me and yet was still joking. Quent often does the same: an unkind word, followed by a declaration that it was only a joke. There was an undertone in Lady Dragon’s voice that maybe she wasn’t joking. Yes, the hurricanes had followed me there, but I had a feeling it was more like a boomerang effect, especially after things the Elders told me last night.

“What’s that mean, Jonny?” Butterfly asks. She’s always had a look of confusion on her face, but this one is more pronounced.

“Mercury in retrograde and a dark moon—not the most auspicious time to get your Third Degree,” I murmur again under my breath, quoting something Mariah said.

Jonny stops smiling and lowers his head, bending close to her. I can barely hear him. “What do you mean, ‘what does that mean?’”

“I mean, what does it mean?”

Jonny looks uncomfortable. “You know, like in the Astrology Lesson, Lesson Number Eighteen.”

Butterfly gives her usual titter of a laugh, as if she is perpetually nervous. Maybe she is. “I didn’t take the Astrology Lesson. Lady Dragon told me I didn’t have to.”

“What?” I can’t help it. The word just comes crashing out of me. “What do you mean you didn’t take the lesson?”

The Astrology Lesson is well-known among all Dragon Hart Third Degrees to be the absolute roughest of the bunch. Because of a bookkeeping glitch, I’d received my lesson only three days before I took my final exam, and I damned near killed myself cramming for it. Just about every question I had missed on the exam came from the astrology section, which comprised at least a third of the entire exam, largely because Lady Dragon is an astrologer of some renown and has an internationally popular website that sells computer-generated reports cheaply to generate leads for very expensive personal consultations.

Butterfly had gotten out of taking the worst of the exam? She’d been exempt? Favorites had been played?

“Why?” I don’t know whether to ask how or why or what. I just can’t believe it. The Astrology Lesson was so hard, and the material was so difficult to understand—to a degree of being a professional astrologer, which is what you were expected to be once you finished the exam. Various covens within Dragon Hart occasionally take up collections and have Lady Dragon flown to a coven meeting in a distant state so that they can learn personally from her everything they need to know to pass the exam.

Yet Butterfly had gotten out of the exam!

She looks flustered, then says, “I— Don’t… don’t say anything, okay? I’m not supposed to tell anybody. Nobody’s supposed to know that.”

Yeah, right. Like Butterfly can keep a secret?

Jonny crosses his arms. “I overheard Chevron say that he’d heard Merewynn and Bonita talking about somebody rumored to have gotten out of parts of the exam. They didn’t think it was true.”

Butterfly puts her fingers to her lips. “Oops. Yeah, I said something in front of Bonita’s sister.”

My throat tightens. I can’t help but think of three sleepless nights I spent cramming material, not understanding any of it well enough to hold onto it after the exam. During those three nights, I hadn’t had time to spend with my kids. Worse, Quent had been in one of his yelling frenzies, demanding I sit and watch reruns of some awful TV show with him for five hours a night.

“How… why did you get exempted, and others didn’t?” I ask.

“I-I seemed to have a mental block to it, you know? Astrology’s not my thing.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t mine, either, but I didn’t know I had a choice.”

Lady Dragon seriously fancies herself as a professional astrologer. She’s always been picky about insisting that everyone in the Grand Coven have the same abilities or have the same gift or a similar talent to hers, regardless of whether that student has an aptitude for that form of divination.

According to the emails in the package that smelled like dragon’s blood, Lady Dragon always has to be better at the gifts than anyone else. She simply wants everyone else to understand how “lesser” they are by comparison.

Jonny shrugs. “To be honest with you, Butterfly, I have heard of other people getting out of certain lessons so that they could get their Third Degree Elevation within the allotted seven years’ time to do it.”

He may have heard it, but I hadn’t. It makes me wonder about the criteria for a cult. I’d already decided even before talking to the Elders last night that Dragon Hart probably did not qualify as a cult, though I thought it had some potential danger areas. Until now, I hadn’t known of Lady Dragon granting any special favors, but apparently favors were there for the granting for certain people. I had been told I had five years to reach my point of Elevation. Now I’m hearing seven. Donna and the Elders had accelerated my training to three years to graduate me sooner so they could leave the Grand Coven, with or without me, though I’m certain they all expect me to leave with them.

Even the Elders weren’t special enough for special favors. Even after a faithful twenty years.

Donna had specifically asked for my Astrology Lesson to be waived, given that I don’t have any need of it and don’t show any aptitude for it. Most of all, I didn’t get the lesson in time to study properly before my final exam. According to Donna, I was given a resounding No! And yet Butterfly, asking for the same thing, had been granted leniency.

Something about this inconsistency jangles at my fairness meter. For the first time, I wonder if the late arrival of the lesson had been intentional on Lady Dragon’s part. If I failed the test and needed another year of training, then would the Elders wait for me? Was I a pawn in this game with the Elders?

Donna appears at my side, her strawberry blonde curls damp with perspiration. “Sun’s coming up,” she whispers. She hugs me.

I understand now what Mariah has said, that a High Priestess’ energy is so shiny that men in her coven fall in love with her—a good reason for not having monogamous married men in your coven. I have no sexual interest in my High Priestess, but I feel an outpouring of love for Donna. I feel very close to her, as close as I’ve ever felt to another woman. Even Jan, my best friend.

I will never forget what she’s done for me this night. I will never forget the look of pride on her face as I, her student, stood in that circle tonight. I will never forget that moment when she passed on that power of our lineage to me and that moment when I took my vows to the Old Gods and what I pledged. I still have that sacred feeling of my body as a living altar to the Old Gods.

Though Donna says it is my right to say all that I experienced as an individual in my own rituals, I will not tell all, though I will tell bits of it over time, I’m sure. What happened tonight is between the Old Gods and me. It means nothing to anyone else. It would only be gibberish or mystery or something both pretty and strange, much like what Jan saw in her worrisome dream.

What happened tonight is between the Old Gods and me, and is for me alone. Not for Donna, not for the other participants, not for the other Third Degree candidates, not for Lady Dragon. This Elevation can only be given by the Old Gods and taken away only by the Old Gods.

“Did you find her?” I ask about Lady Dragon. I don’t look in Donna’s face. There’s a nervousness in Donna’s eyes now that I don’t know how to contend with. It’s easier not to look. I stare instead at the pale shades of sunlight in the East. I wish Leo were here instead of wherever he is.

I wish I knew where Leo disappeared to. Maybe after I get my Third Degree glow, those talents will come to me and I’ll become a powerful witch. I really could use one of Leo’s famous readings about now. He promised me a full-length reading as his Third Degree gift to me. For weeks, I’ve been looking forward to hearing his advice on my impending divorce and on The Treat.

Not that I’m greedy for a gift. No, what I really want is a reading, so that I’ll have some idea what to do about my Third Degree challenge. I’ve already convinced myself that Dragon Hart isn’t quite a cult, at least not at this point, so if I leave, it won’t be for that reason.

But do I leave, or do I stay?

A reading from Leo could certainly give insight. Maybe there’s a reason he’s unavailable. Maybe I must make this decision without input from anyone else.

If I stay, will Donna really understand? She’s tried to be fair and objective, leaving it up to me. Deep down, I know she’ll be hurt if I stay, particularly after Lady Dragon’s promise to strip the current Elders of their rank and Elevate her brown-nosing yes-men instead. I still haven’t seen enough to make me leave Dragon Hart permanently.

I know I have this mission I’ve been given, but I don’t know how or why or when. I know the mission is the same or quite similar to the one Lady Dragon was given. Does that mean she doesn’t have the mission any longer? Did she willingly give it up? Or was it taken from her? Is she losing her gifts because she’s abused them?

As I sit at a picnic table, I play with the end of my braided cords, which I have wrapped twice around my waist. The silver one was for my First Degree and Initiation ritual, a symbol of the Goddess, the Divine Feminine, with knots in the cord at certain spaces so that I might cast a perfect circle with my cords if ever I should need a circle that’s exactly nine feet or eighteen feet or however wide in diameter. The gold cord represents the God, the Divine Masculine, and was bestowed on me at my Second Degree Elevation, with the appropriate knots. The black cord, symbolic of my Third Degree, is new and fresh and still satiny. Not worn like the other two.

I’ve braided them, both for easier wear and to honor the Goddess Brigid, the Goddess of Light and Poetry and Fire and Healing who is known for Her braids and was Christianized as a saint. I feel safe inside my cords, a gentle reminder that when I wear them, I am not like other mortal men or women. I am most certainly a Child of the Old Gods.

“Did you get to talk to Lady Dragon about what you wanted to?” I ask again. I’m trying to be discreet in case Butterfly and her loose tongue are eavesdropping.

“No. I still haven’t been able to catch up with her.”

“You haven’t been able to catch up with her? Or she hasn’t granted you an audience?”

Wow. I can’t believe that came out of my mouth! Suddenly, I’ve gotten very blunt. It must be the lateness—or the earliness—of the hour. Or the lack of sleep. I’m not usually so daring in my statements.

A little gasp escapes from Donna’s throat, almost as if she didn’t mean for me to hear it. “Did I mention to you how proud of you I am? If you think all these supernatural gifts you’ve been given recently are great, well, just wait until you start receiving the gifts of the Old Gods now that you have your Third Degree. You’re going to be amazed at⁠—”

“You’re changing the subject.” I realize I’m no longer speaking to her as a student to a teacher or a neophyte to an Elder. I’m talking to her now as an equal. It feels strange… different.

“You’re right.” Donna sits up straight and lets out a long sigh. “Yes, Dragon’s been avoiding me ever since we got here. She avoided my calls and texts before we got here, and I haven’t been able to catch her alone since we stepped foot on the campground. She’s always got Jeri and at least three other Third Degrees I don’t really know well within a couple of feet of her. Geez, what’s with this? It’s like I can’t have any time alone with an old friend. Like they’re shielding her.”

“She doesn’t want to hear what you have to say.” The words just pop out of my mouth. I don’t know why. Only that it’s true.

“She knows what I’m going to say. She’s psychic. Even if she weren’t, she’s already asked that if I leave Dragon Hart voluntarily, that I tell her at this gathering, and then it’ll be official at Samhain in three months. That’ll give me time to say my goodbyes and transition to being on my own again. So why is she avoiding me? I’ve been trying to reach her for days. She knows I’m leaving voluntarily. I’m positive of it.”

The words start tumbling out again. “Yes, she knows you are leaving. But that’s not why she’s refusing to see you.” I have no more information to give Donna.

“Jeri said Dragon’s going to have breakfast with her new Elders-to-be in an hour or two. All of Dragon Hart is to meet at the Main Ritual site for a quick business meeting and then have breakfast.”

I nod. Already, I can smell sausage links and hash browns burning as the newest Dedicants of Dragon Hart prepare the morning meal for the entire campsite. The business meeting is usually a list of announcements for the rest of the camping trip, followed by group singing, an introduction to the new Dedicants, then First, Second, and Third Degrees. There are always lots of Dedicants, sometimes nearly a hundred. Then there are fewer Firsts and even fewer Seconds, with the new Third Degrees from last night being among select few who have made it through the difficult training. The last thing that happens in a business meeting isn’t so much business as an inspirational message from Lady Dragon herself, occasionally interspersed with tearful testimonials from various Third Degrees about how the Old Gods have moved in their lives in the past year or what charities their covens back home have funded. At the end of the meeting, the number of the total membership is announced, and Lady Dragon asks if anyone is moved to follow a different path, and that if they are, they may freely go. No one ever says a word. I know Belinda never had the chance when she left. I wonder if Lady Zephyr did.

And although my Third Degree challenge is to decide whether to stay or go, I’m suddenly feeling more pressure to decide by the end of the business meeting. Or, if I do choose to go and if I don’t want to stand before the whole group and feel like a blasphemer after a motivational speech from our Grand Coven leader, I need to talk with Lady Dragon soon. Very soon.

“I need to catch Dragon before that morning meeting,” Donna says. “If I don’t tell her before the meeting convenes, I’ll have to announce my resignation publicly. I really don’t want to do this publicly.”

“She knows.” There go the unbidden words again. “She knows it’s hard for you to do this in front of the whole group. That’s why the delays.”

The word humiliation pops into my head, but I don’t say it. But it’s there. It startles me. I feel a sense of joy at Donna’s humiliation, only it isn’t my joy.

“You need to insist,” I tell Donna, “that Lady Dragon sees you now. Right now.”

Donna nods. “I’ll go find her. I’ll insist.” Then she rolls her eyes. “If I can get through Jeri.”

“You can get through Jeri. You’ve been an Elder for two decades. You’re one of Dragon’s oldest friends. You told me once that she’s like a mother to you. You can walk right through Jeri if you want. The only reason Jeri has any authority at all is because Lady Dragon gives it to her to keep you at bay. That way, you won’t tell your oldest and dearest friend that she’s wrong to take so much power for herself. She can’t face the challenge, so she’s got her bodyguards around her to keep you from calling her out on anything she’s done that’s inappropriate. She knows you won’t do it publicly, so she won’t see you privately. But you can make the others leave. They will leave. They won’t stand up to you. They draw their power from her. Or—” I have a strange thought—“she draws power from them.”

“Okay.” Donna thinks about it, then nods enthusiastically. “Okay. Yes. I’ll go find Dragon right now. I… do you want to come with me? You can if you’d like.”

I’m not sure why Donna asks. Maybe for moral support. A part of her is terrified of defying her old friend.

“You can tell her later—or whenever you want—whether you’re leaving or staying. You don’t have to decide yet.”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

I have no idea if I will say anything to Lady Dragon other than Merry Meet and Blessed Be. I suspect she knows I’ve been toying with this decision to leave. She is psychic, after all. So is Jeri. So are many of her new Elders-to-be. So are the Vodoun priests she’s become more and more involved with in the last year.

I’ve had to shield heavily since Donna told me about my Third Degree challenge. There’s been… stuff… around me. Energies. I’ve felt something at work for the past few days. Something I can’t explain. Something meddling and close. I’ve felt it working to keep me close to Lady Dragon, but now I feel something tingling and warm on my shoulders like a mantel.

Like the protective wings of crows around me.

The Morrigan.

It’s the Goddess I feel. An ecstatic rush of power around me. I know I’m protected. I inhale and close my eyes.

“Ooooh. Did you feel that?” Donna coos beside me. “She’s here. The Morrigan is here.”

I keep my eyes closed. “I know.”

Ten minutes later, the sun is already warm on the campground, and we’ve located Lady Dragon inside Jeri’s tent. Two of the Elders-to-be stand guard. Yes, stand guard. I’ve never seen this before. I’m used to seeing a handful of people around Lady Dragon, almost like they enjoy being in her charismatic glow and must follow her every footstep. This is different. Even though we’ve occasionally had trouble before at this campground with Boy Scout groups, local Baptist churches, and curiosity seekers—all of them trying to peep—there’s never been a need for bodyguards. At least a fifth of our membership have mundane careers in law enforcement or emergency services, so we always have plenty of campsite security to supplement the more doubtful security of the park rangers who always make it their mission to interrupt at least one ritual to see if we have drugs behind the sheet-curtained clearings. They never find any drugs, alcohol, or nudity. Our group is family-oriented, and I’ve personally found it more child-appropriate than the Baptist Church I grew up in where the earliest preachers in my memory talked at tent revivals about harlots, sinners, and masturbation. The park rangers who have interrupted our ceremonies in the past while searching for contraband always seemed surprised and disappointed.

“I’m here to see Dragon,” Donna announces, marching up to the tent.

One of the guards crosses his arms, a weird lightning bolt tattoo showing on the inside of his right wrist. He’s an enigmatic Southern Baptist preacher from Georgia, near to where I grew up, but his congregation doesn’t know he’s also a High Priest of the Dark Goddess. I don’t know his mundane name. Harlan? Harkin? He goes to great lengths to keep his Baptist identity a secret and never allows his photo to be taken at our gatherings. It’s rumored that he’s a member of the Priesthood of Daegan that Lady Zephyr joined as well as several other secret societies.

The Southern Baptist preacher/High Priest of Wicca crosses his arms again. “When Our Mother wishes to speak to you, she’ll call you,” he intones through his nose.

“What?” Donna pushes him aside. “Don’t give me that shit! Dragon? Dragon, get out here, will you? I need to talk to you, and I need to talk to you now.”

Someone hugs me from behind and spins me around into ample arms. “Raven!” It’s Merewynn, another of the Elders. I haven’t spent much time with her this year, and last year, she was sick with a migraine. She’s thin-legged but paunchy, a little older than me but her face still unlined, and she doesn’t color her flowing gray hair. One of her front teeth is chipped, but she doesn’t let the damage keep her from smiling at almost everyone.

“Hi, Merewynn.”

“I wish I could tell you what your energy sounds like. It’s beautiful, sweetheart. Just beautiful.”

Merewynn looks weary, as if gravity is her enemy. Like most of us, she’s been up all night. Unlike most of us, she has some serious health problems. She’s one Elder who will never leave on her own, and Donna’s left her out of the secret plans to start a new coven of Elders. She’ll wait for Lady Dragon to strip her of her rank and then toss her aside. To her, unlike to me, Lady Dragon is Dragon Hart, the embodiment of the Mother Goddess Herself.

“I do hope, Raven, that you’ll attend the workshop I’m teaching later today.”

“Um, I… I don’t know. I’ll try.”

If you’re here, I hear in the back of my head.

“Are you teaching Tarot again, Merewynn? Because we really have to talk about that Tower Card.” I try to make a joke of it, but it comes out sounding lame.

Merewynn, on the other hand, is somber. “No. Not at all. What we discovered last year when we polled all the Third Degree High Priests and Priestesses in Dragon Hart and every other coven I know of was that only about a tenth of us actually see energy. You know, like a purple fire or an electric blue flame when you cast a circle. Yet it’s one of those things that most people expect witches to do. To see things. I mean, we’re witches. We’re supposed to see, right?”

I smile and think of Lisa, my student-to-be with the Gift of Knowing and the Gift of Healing, the one who often tells me she can see energy and has questioned why I am so inept as to not have these gifts.

Merewynn continues. “I mean, most of us can feel the energy, but very few of us see it. And I discovered five years ago that I don’t see energy. I hear it.”

“Really?” Okay, this is interesting. I’ve heard of people hearing voices. I’ve heard of people hearing events. But hearing energy? Although I suppose a voice could be a pattern of energy…. This is new to me.

“And like tonight, Raven, all you Third Degree candidates in a circle? It was like a symphony. Each of you playing your own instrument. When you jumped into the circle, it sounded like a trumpet. But not a trumpet I’ve ever heard before. This was like an otherworldly trumpet. Butterfly? She sounded like harp music, just fluttery and flittering all over the place. And Jonny, he sounded like a foghorn or a cross between that and, well, some kind of horn. Some instruments sound like ones I’ve heard before and some sound like—I don’t know—instruments from other planets, maybe other civilizations, or lost cultures.”

In the periphery of my vision, I see Lady Dragon emerge from her tent. Merewynn looks up and sees her, then quickly scurries off, obviously not knowing who was in the tent with Jeri.

“It’s okay,” Lady Dragon says to the preacher-priest with the lightning tattoo. She dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “I guess I’ll have to talk to Donna now. All this time with me, and she has yet to learn patience.”

Lady Dragon is not a physically imposing woman. She’s in her mid-fifties, a bit frail, and looks nothing like the photos on her website. Her hair is thin and much of it gray. Her cheeks and arms are bony as though she’s been without nourishing food for a long time or on the kind of strong medications than turn muscle stringy and weak. There’s a sunken, hollow look to her that always shocks me when I see her. She has her hair braided into knots down to her waist. Her long, tie-dyed T-shirt hangs almost to her knobby knees above her worn sandals. If the definition of a cult leader is someone who drips in diamonds and gold, then Lady Dragon is certainly not it.

She glances at Donna but barely acknowledges her. Instead, she lifts her gaze to me and gives me a slight nod, but it’s more of an acknowledgement than her supposed best friend received. She turns back to my former High Priestess. “Donna, what is it you’re bothering me about now?”

Lady Dragon says it in a joking manner, but it doesn’t sound like a joke. She sounds… bothered. Cruel, even. Something in her tone sounds familiar, and a snake of dread coils in my stomach. Jeri and the others stand a good ten feet away, forming a loose circle around Lady Dragon and Donna.

Donna looks annoyed. “Could I speak with you in private? It’s fine if—” she waves a hand in my direction—“if Raven wants to listen, but this is really between me and you and it’s… I don’t know… it’s…”

Lady Dragon shrugs. “You can speak in front of them. I don’t mind.”

“I-I do!”

Donna’s stuttering. I’ve never heard Donna stutter before. She’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, but her fear comes out in stops and starts in her voice. Right in front of my eyes, she is shape-shifting into something else. A child? A child who’s frightened and knows she can never do anything better than screw up.

“Oh, all right. Jeri, you and Harlan and the others get my chair prepared for me at the business meeting. I’ll be there in about five minutes.”

Again, dismissing Donna. Cutting her short. After all their years of friendship.

Halfway through my Elevation, Lady Dragon had asked the candidates if we wanted to continue the Elevation or leave Dragon Hart. I’d answered truthfully to both questions. Yes, I’d wanted to continue the ritual. And no, I did not want to leave Dragon Hart. I don’t want to leave Dragon Hart. If she’d asked, “Will you leave Dragon Hart?” and I’d known, I would also have answered truthfully. It occurs to me that Lady Dragon is not the least bit concerned that I, as a brand new Third Degree, would ever consider leaving. That just doesn’t happen with a newly minted Third Degree.

Jeri, the preacher-priest named Harlan, and two others walk slowly in another direction, one of them glaring over her shoulder at Donna. I’ve never seen that kind of behavior within Dragon Hart. The four of them stand perhaps twenty feet away, which is closer to Lady Dragon and Donna than I am. Apparently, that’s as much privacy as they’re willing to give.

“Well?” Lady Dragon says to Donna. “Talk. I don’t have a lot of time.”

Donna glances at the foursome on the periphery and purses her lips. “This is a private conversation.” She jerks her head in my direction. “Raven can hear. She knows what I’m about to tell you, but otherwise, it’s a private conversation.” She emphasizes private and stares back at the foursome.

Without looking up, Lady Dragon snaps her fingers, and the foursome trot off to the primary ritual area.

“Well, Donna? Hurry it up! You can walk with me until we get to the ritual area.”

Lady Dragon’s tone had not been nearly so ugly last night when twenty-four Third Degree candidates had waited in a line by the edge of the woods to be called into circle. She walked with each one of us, talking with each one of us in a motherly way that had been sweet and wonderful.

When it had come my turn, she’d wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I’d been a little nervous at her touch, but I’d shielded well, and I’m convinced that she didn’t detect any doubts underneath my surface. She’d put her arm around me and told me she understood what a hell of a year I’d had and that I had gone through many changes, and I had shed the old and was ready to start the new. Not that she’d helped with any of that.

It was a beautiful, inspirational speech. Lady Dragon at her finest! At that moment, I understood what had made her one of The Chosen Ones with a special mission from the Old Gods—to create an organization like Dragon Hart, to train others for the priesthood, and to open doors that witches alone would never have known existed, let alone that they were locked. And then to take the network she’s created and launch nationwide healing centers to help anyone and everyone learn how to manifest happiness.

Last night, she’d been like the old version of Lady Dragon. The one who’d been explained to me as kind, loving, and generous with her students. We’d reached the outer circle of the ritual area, and there I had seen hundreds of familiar faces that had gone on this path before me and had experienced for themselves the Elevation in a sacred communion with the Old Gods. Third Degrees. Elders. As well as my fellow candidates who’d been in line ahead of me, now waiting, watching, listening—as I was—to Lady Dragon’s every word.

With the heel of her sandaled foot, Lady Dragon etched a line in the dirt in front of me, barely visible in the light of the wide circle of torches around us. The line separated me from the circle where I was to be Elevated, to be reborn as a Third Degree High Priestess of Wicca in the Dragon Hart tradition.

“There!” she said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You see that line? That line is the boundary between two worlds. What’s on this side of the line represents your past, and what’s on the other side of the line represents your future. When you step over that line—if you choose to step over that line—you choose to leave all of this shit behind. Everything that’s held you back. You leave it behind!”

I stared down at the line in the dirt, at her dirty heel, at my own feet. I’d already kicked off my shoes. I always prefer to be barefoot in ritual. I took a deep breath—and jumped over the line and into circle! With Lady Dragon at my back and my past behind me, symbolically at least, I felt the burdens start to ease. I was ready for a new life, ready for a rebirth, ready to start over. So ready!

And yet now, a few hours later, standing here in the woods, I watch the Grand Coven leader. Her hands perch on her hips as she talks with Donna, my now-former High Priestess. There’s an odd prickling at my brow, almost as if my sixth chakra is opening up and I am seeing things with The Eyes of the Old Gods, as I’ve heard it called. I’ve been so worried that my Third Degree Elevation didn’t “take” last night because I don’t have that sense of euphoria that everyone’s talked about.

And yet, I am suddenly seeing things I’ve never seen before. My High Priestess, right before my eyes, becomes not the strong woman, not the strong Elder I’ve known for several years, but a child or perhaps a battered wife. The way she holds her head, the way she lifts her gaze just enough to meet Lady Dragon’s eyes. Her hunched posture, as if to say psychologically, “I’m no threat.” I’ve seen dogs do the same, showing their alphas that they know their place in the pack, that they know their own lowly worth. I see that now in Donna, and it shocks me. It’s like she’s a different person. It’s like she’s…

She’s me. I’m looking at me. I’m seeing what people have seen in me when I’ve been beaten down, when I’ve questioned my worth. I see what Lisa saw and her friends saw the night of the Beltane party when I was with Quent—head bowed, worried, solicitous, down-trodden.

It’s almost as if Donna is two women, and this is a side of her I’ve never seen. It’s weak. It hurts to watch.

“Well, spit it out,” Lady Dragon tells Donna. “You’ve been pulling at my apron strings all week to speak to me. Well, here I am. You got me. Speak to me.” Donna starts to say something, but Lady Dragon interrupts again. “Well? Spit it out.” Donna opens her mouth, and Lady Dragon silences her with, “Oh, goddamn it, Donna! You’re nothing but a weakling. Like I always say, a witch who can’t kill can’t cure.”

Donna is flustered. I know how she feels. I’ve felt that way so often myself when Quent would berate me for… nothing. Suddenly, I’m not looking at Lady Dragon talking to her friend Donna or even her enemy Donna. I’m looking at Quent talking to me. The stance is the same. The words are the same. The tone is the same. It’s not just Dragon or Quent, but it’s my father, too, with his harsh, cutting tone. And then it’s every other manipulator and verbal abuser I’ve ever known.

I shake my head, but it doesn’t go away. The Old Gods are showing me something, something I don’t want to see. It’s like a curtain opening. No. A curtain rent in two. And I see what’s behind it.

Ugliness.

I cringe. I can’t help it.

“I’ve been thinking,” Donna continues in a meek voice. “About, um, um, well, about⁠—”

Dragon rolls her eyes. “Look, I’ve got to get to the primary ritual area for the business meeting. If you’re not going to say what you’ve been pestering me for days to say, then fine. I’ll⁠—”

“No, I’ll tell you. Wait. Wait. Dragon, wait! Theresa!” She uses Dragon’s mundane name. I’ve heard it only once or twice. Donna’s pleading but trying not to plead. Her voice cracks. She sticks her hands into her pockets. “Theresa, please. This is hard enough.”

Dragon pats Donna on the shoulder. Three quick, short pats. Not gentle. “That’s why I think it’s time we get some new blood in our Eldership. You know, Donna? Things just shouldn’t be so hard.”

Donna blinks several times and tries to collect her thoughts. “That’s what I need to talk to you about… Dragon… Theresa.”

I barely recognize Donna anymore. This is not the person who trained me. Not the person who’s been my pillar of strength for the past three years. The dynamics between Dragon and her are the same as those between Quent and me. Donna and I may be super-strong women in any other situation and everyone else may see us as strong, but match us up head-to-head with our abusers and we become lost children again, pleading for a crumb of affection or respect.

“It’s okay, Donna,” Dragon says. “It’s okay. I’m a gifted psychic, remember? I can see right through your weakness. You want to tell me you’re leaving, right?”

Donna bows her head and nods. She’s shorter than Dragon, and she looks for all the world like a little girl who’s been caught masturbating by her fundamentalist Christian grandmother and is being told she’s going to hell.

Dragon presses a kiss into Donna’s forehead. “Then I won’t make you say it. You get your things and get off the property. You have five minutes to say goodbye to all your friends here, and then I want you gone, or I’ll have you arrested for harassing my group. Do you understand?”

Donna just stares at her as if to say, But I’m not done! Finally, she finds her voice, and it’s thin. “Raven….” She flails an arm in my direction. “Raven knew I was leaving. I told her it’s up to her whether she wants to stay or go or⁠—”

Dragon shrugs and turns to me although she’s still speaking to Donna. “No need for her to say anything. I already know what she’s going to do.”

I blink at her. “You do?” Maybe she is just that gifted because even with what I’ve just seen, I’m still not sure. I’m shielding as hard as I can, still feeling energies working around me to keep me tied to Dragon. However, the veils around her are dropping by the dozen.

“Of course, I know what you’re going to do.” She beams at me, smugly, taking a few steps so that Donna is to her back, cut off, alone. Psychology. Against Donna. Against me.

The Eyes of the Old Gods settle over me. Something flashes in the air in front of me. The dossier Dragon compiled on me, the one someone sent me with all the incriminating evidence on Dragon. Astrological charts. Illegible notes. Records of face-to-face meetings with various psychics within Dragon Hart to discuss me—but without the actual notes from the meetings. I catch the look in her eyes and hear her thoughts: I have plans for you, little girl.

Then it’s all there! The last of the veils drops, and I see clearly. I have struggled so hard for so many years to leave behind the verbal and emotional abuse I was raised in and later that I was married to. I have worked so hard to put it in my past and move forward into a new life. I have risked everything to get to this point in my life and start afresh, without the putdowns and the manipulation and the iron-fisted control. For as much as I honestly love Dragon Hart and the people in Dragon Hart, how can I ever stay here with a leader who possesses the abusive nature of the people I’m desperately leaving behind? How can I trade one master for another?

A strange sense of power comes over me, as if something just broke wide open. I squint into Dragon’s eyes as she smiles at me. Everything feels as if the planet just halted temporarily on its axis.

“The Old Gods have just made it quite clear to me,” I begin in a quiet voice, “that I am to leave Dragon Hart to⁠—”

The words just tumble out before I can stop them. I have no idea what I’m saying until I hear the echo in my ears. An excitement rises in my chest. This is not a bad thing that I’m telling her. It’s something wondrous. There’s a mission that the Old Gods have in mind for me. I feel wrapped in The Morrigan’s dark-winged embrace.

I try to tell Dragon what it is, but she stops me. She throws up a hand and interrupts even before the smile fades from her face.

“Well, fine!” she shrieks at me, flinging up her hand in dismissal. She doesn’t want to hear my reasons. She’s heard enough. Anger rolls off her in a hot wave, pushing invisibly at me. She pivots on one foot and stalks away, her graying braids dancing against her hips. Over her shoulder, she screeches, “Have a nice life!”

I stand, numb, staring after her, suddenly aware of the dozens of my Dragon Hart family who stand motionless around the campground, watching, eyes wide, unsure of what just happened. Everyone seems as afraid to move as deer aware of the smell of hunters.

Dragon’s words hang in the air. “Have a nice life!”

“Thank you,” I whisper, without moving, without breathing. “I will.”

I’ve answered my challenge. My Elevation is now complete. And the most incredible sense of euphoria fills every cell of my body.

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