Chapter 6

Chapter 6 of 10 · 33-minute read

Thursday – Moon in Cancer, Waning Crescent

My older daughter throws her arms around me and pretends her new contact lenses are causing the tears in her eyes. That or the mascara she’s borrowed from me. She squeezes me and doesn’t let go.

“I want to come, too.” Rhiannon sniffs into my shoulder, leaving the strong scent of raspberry shampoo on my T-shirt.

She doesn’t say, “Don’t go.” She understands how important this trip is to me. She wants to be there for me, too, and to see Donna and Leo and all “Mom’s cool friends” from the last trip to visit the Grand Coven. But she knows that this year, it’s just not possible. It’s her first year in high school, and school’s already started here in the Bible Belt. She’s afraid she’ll never catch up if she misses the first week of school, which is what she’d miss if we drive up to Maryland together.

She knows, too, that I’m going to my Elevation with a heavy heart, that I haven’t decided on whether I’ll stay with Dragon Hart or leave. Donna says I have all weekend to decide, but making up my mind is still my Third Degree challenge. I don’t want to leave. I love the people of Dragon Hart. It’s our leader who confounds me.

“When will you be back?” Rhiannon asks, pulling away and swiping at her tears. She’s only fourteen, and she looks so grown up and so young all at the same time, especially in my black ankle boots. She’s already more mature physically than I was when I married in my mid-twenties. “Will you be home before Monday?” she presses. Quent has the girls for the weekend, as mandated by the judge, plus two extra days I had to beg him for. “Or will Sonnet and I have to spend another night with Daddy?”

“I’ll be back Sunday night.” It’s Thursday morning now, about six o’clock. “If I get to leave.”

I say it jokingly, but I’m dead serious. My phone has already buzzed twice since four o’clock to let me know my flight has been delayed. At the moment, I’m booked on the nine o’clock flight, which means I’ll need to leave in another thirty minutes to make it to the airport on time.

Rhiannon looks me in the eye. She’s only about two inches shorter than I am. “Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of Lady Dragon? No.” I laugh to prove it. I don’t feel afraid of nearly so much now that Quent’s moved out of the house. I feel lighter, freer. Life is good. Manless, yes, but that part doesn’t matter, even if Leo does say I have a Treat coming into my life soon. “I’m not afraid of Lady Dragon.”

“No, the storms.”

Oh. The storms.

Yes, that part worries me. Tropical Storm Bonnie is close to hurricane strength but doesn’t look like it’ll make the final notch. Charley is close behind, maybe two days later. The aircraft I’m supposed to be on has been delayed because it can’t take off from the last place it landed and fly back to Florida where I wait. Once it gets here, it may not be able to take off. It seems Mother Nature is conspiring against me. Or someone is.

“Please be safe, Mommy.” Rhiannon pulls back and peers into my eyes. “If something were to happen to you…”

I know the rest without her saying it. If something were to happen to me, if I were to die in a plane crash, for example, what would happen to Rhiannon and her little sister? They’d have to live with their dad full time, that’s what.

“But have a good time,” she adds. “Really, I wish I were going. You have a good time. You have a good time for me, too, okay? And maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“I don’t know. I was going to say maybe you’d meet a nice guy. Like The Treat. Maybe you’ll meet him this weekend.”

“No,” Sonnet moans as she exits the bathroom and promptly wraps her arms around my waist. “No men.”

Rhiannon sighs. “I kind of agree, Mommy. Sonnet and I have been talking and… and we think that once your divorce with Daddy is done, that maybe you shouldn’t date. Not for a while.”

Sonnet squashes her face against my chest. “Never.”

“Look, girls.” I kneel beside them and hug them both. “I have no intention of dating anyone, but at some point, I probably will start dating again. You know, just to have some male companionship.”

The girls exchange glances, and I know they’ve been talking a lot more than they’re saying. Most likely on the nights when Rhiannon has crawled into bed with Sonnet, at Sonnet’s invitation, and they’ve whispered for hours.

“You… you made some bad choices with Daddy,” Rhiannon says at last. “And we’re afraid that if you start dating, that it will mean someone new and that you’ll fall in love with him and that he’ll be just like Daddy. So, we would rather you just not date.”

Sonnet nods into my chest. “Ever.”

My eyes sting. Maybe they’re right. I made such a bad choice with Quent. Or at least it became a bad choice over the years if it wasn’t a bad choice in the beginning. I never saw it, never knew it. How will I ever know if a new man is good for me or not? What will keep me from making the same mistake all over again? Even if there really is a Treat out there, I’m not sure I can trust myself where men are concerned. Not anymore.

I stroke Sonnet’s long, brown hair. It breaks my heart the way she’s changed in the past year. Until a year ago, she’d been a happy child, with occasional bouts of empathy that I had not understood at the time. Like the time Quent locked me out of the bedroom because I’d worn a dress he didn’t like. Sonnet had felt my anxiety in her gut, and had hidden in bed, trembling and crying and not understanding.

She’s gained twenty pounds in the past year, all on her tiny frame. All with no other explanation other than a metaphysical one—protective padding. She’s deliberately made herself as unattractive as possible in the past year. The baggy clothes she wears, the way she styles her hair, insisting on wearing the ugliest glasses, all to make sure no man could find her interesting. Even though she’s not even a teenager yet. She’s determined not to be the woman on the other end of the webcam tryst she accidentally logged into on her dad’s computer: the pretty blonde college student undressing for his credit card number and surprised to find a child staring back at her.

I told Sonnet just this past weekend she couldn’t see a PG-13 movie with me, and I felt like such a hypocrite. After all, she’s seen worse than any PG-13’s innuendos and failed sex scenes. She’s seen it all. She’s seen things I didn’t even know existed until I was in my thirties. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Quent for it, and I don’t think she will, either. And I certainly can’t stay married to a man who blames his follies on his innocent child as if she’s the one who brought his online activities into our lives.

Leo had been right. When I came back from the Dragon Hart Grand Coven meeting last year, while Rhiannon and I had spent two weeks on the road—camping, bonding, getting to know each other and understand each other beyond all superficial surfaces—the little girl I had left back home with her father had lost her innocence. Exactly as Leo had said, Quent was up to his old tricks again. Though he’d sworn off the pornography and the escort services to save our marriage and to prove that he could quit his porn addiction cold turkey, he never had. He never slowed up at all.

He had, as Leo had said, hidden it better. While I—his “warden” as he’d called me at the time—was gone, he didn’t bother to hide anything. He didn’t have to worry about erasing his browser history on his computer or making any type of changes at all until I returned, and it was during that time that he allowed Sonnet to play on his computer, unsupervised. Who knows where he was or with whom while she was alone and curious!

She had been slender, cute, and full of sparkles. All she wanted was to find a website that had ribbons and bows she could weave into a long braid. Instead, she clicked on a site in his browser history, one that seemed about girls. His favorite hardcore porn site had appeared on the screen in front of her in full color, in full detail.

Fisting, double penetration, anal sex, facials, women in bondage and women in pain, women being raped. All of it right there in front of her. Women with farm animals.

She had panicked and tried to click out of the website, but for every click she made, three more pop-ups appeared on the screen. The more frantically she tried to make them all stop, the more persistent they were. They proliferated in front of her.

Pop-up screens with videos. Full audios of women moaning, some in pleasure and some screaming for mercy.

And then the live video subscription service where she’d met “Candy.” That was the only thing that saved her from more of her dad’s entertainment material—a nineteen-year-old ready to perform on command and maybe meet him later had taken pity on a terrified kid and told Sonnet how to stop the offending material and reboot before her dad came home.

When I returned from my trip and found what was in his browser history and confronted Quent about it, the fucker played the innocent.

“Oh, that’s not mine,” he’d sworn. “It must have been Sonnet. She must have been the one who brought that filth into this house. Unless it was you. It sure wasn’t me.”

Bastard. Goddamned bastard. To do that to my little girl! Gaslighting me was bad enough, but gaslighting a child?

For months afterward, she’d not been able to even look at a man. If she saw a man on the street, she looked away, terrified. All men became evil to her, particularly her dad. The same went for her male teachers. Her grades had plummeted overnight in every class taught by a man.

She’d hugged me in the dark of night in the protective realm of her bed behind a locked bedroom door. She had told me, “It’s body parts, Mommy; just body parts.”

I had looked at her and wondered, how will she ever think of sex as an act of love with everything she’s seen? She’d been damned near catatonic for months after that.

Yes, Quent can blame the divorce for everything going on inside her right now, but she’s already told me she wants nothing to do with men when she grows up. She says she’s decided she’s going to be a lesbian and not need a man for anything. I’ve had her in and out of private counseling ever since to talk through what she’s seen. But what I could kick myself for more than anything else is that I actually stayed with her father for months after he blamed her for his indiscretions because I was as determined to make my marriage work as my mom always has been to make hers work. And by “work,” I mean “still in existence,” not so much that it actually works. I’m slow to give up on something, even if it’s the wrong thing. I have my own trauma that may have added to the trauma for my child. But no matter how Quent tried to convince me to give our marriage another chance, I just couldn’t get beyond his trying to gaslight me—and her—that she’d contributed that history to his browser and not him.

Fucking bastard.

One thing I’ve learned is that you can think you’ll always love someone when you’re young and starry-eyed. It’s not true. The love for someone can be true at one point. It doesn’t mean that the love was never real if it dies later. Not only can real love for someone die, but it can also be killed off by the way the other person treats you.

I don’t want to leave my girls, but I’ve got to get to the airport.

“Don’t go,” Sonnet begs and hugs me one more time.

She’s breaking my heart, but it’s only two days longer than the court requires her to be with her dad. I assure Sonnet once more before I send both girls off to the school bus. I’ll be back before they know it. They’ll be in school all day for both days they would have been with me, and Rhiannon has already arranged for after-school activities with their friends so they won’t see their dad hardly at all. Maybe a late dinner with him for two nights and then straight to bed. Rhiannon’s promised me she can keep her little sister occupied, especially with the help of her friend Christabel who has invited them to spend Saturday riding horses with Christabel’s mom. With all the scrutiny Quent is under from the judge, the girls will probably be fine for four days, but I can’t shake the guilt of being away from them two more days than the court has mandated they spend with their dad. I’m also angry that he wouldn’t want them for two extra days.

What have I done? What have I done by staying married to their father? I should have left him years ago.

But if I had, they might remember the man he was, the man who used to play with them when they were little. Instead of as the man he is now. And they would never have understood my leaving him or why.

Then again, if it weren’t for the Dragon Hart Grand Coven, I never would have had the courage to find myself again and reclaim my life. I can’t change what happened in the past, but I can change the future. Our future. Theirs, too.

The phone buzzes, and I know before I pick up that it’s the airline messaging me again to let me know my flight has been delayed. I’m right. My flight is now scheduled to take off at eleven o’clock, and I’m to report to the airport two hours earlier.

I’m alone in the house, my bags are packed, and I’m just waiting. Now and then, I turn on The Weather Channel and see that Bonnie, the tropical storm—or is it a hurricane already?—is closing in faster. If my plane doesn’t hurry and make it to the airport, I may not be going to Maryland today after all. If I miss the Grand Coven meeting, I’ll have to wait maybe even another year for this chance to get my Third Degree.

I don’t want to stay a Second Degree any longer. It’s been harsh. I’ve made the changes. I’m ready. I want my Third Degree, and I want it badly. But the meteorologist on TV points to twin storms coming. Right now, I just don’t see this Elevation ritual happening for me this weekend.

Maybe I should do a ritual to calm myself down. Rituals are good for many things, not just raising energy, but calming it, too. Maybe just a few quiet moments.

Climbing down from my step-less back door, I wander into the backyard, out into what was once my sanctuary, but I’ve let it grow up and become overgrown with weeds. I’ve had things on my mind other than gardening.

What I really want is a sign. I love signs. I live by signs.

“Oh, Goddess, give me a sign that everything will be all right.”

Everything in the backyard is quiet, eerily so. There’s a surreal feeling to this morning. Maybe it’s the anticipation over my Third Degree. There’s a funny blend of blue sky and clouds that are already swirling, and the tall pines have that swizzle-stick effect that they get during the widdershins of hurricanes. There’s a smell of salty water in the wind.

I circle the fire pit I built last year. The one where the girls and I sit at least once a month and roast marshmallows and hotdogs and eat s’mores and look at the stars. On full moon nights and dark moon nights, my little campfire doubles as a bonfire. The wood inside the iron bowl still smolders from my private ritual last night, just enough that wisps of smoke occasionally escape into the sky. There’s something about these rituals that brings me euphoria or tranquility, and I always forget how mood-altering they can be.

I fling open my arms to the North, close my eyes, and lift my cheeks to the early morning sun in the East. I take a deep cleansing breath, then let it out slowly.

“Oh, Goddess, I don’t know if I’m going to make it to Maryland or not today. It doesn’t look that way. I’m worried. I’m really worried. I don’t know what to do. I could back out, use the hurricane as an excuse and just not go to the Elevation. I’m so close to doing that right now. That would get me out of making this decision, or at least making it this weekend. But it doesn’t solve my problems. I’m turning it over to You, Great Mother, my Goddess, and if I’m supposed to be there this weekend, if I’m supposed to get my Third Degree Elevation, then I’m putting it in Your hands to make it happen. You make it happen, and I’ll be there. You open the door for me to be there, and I’ll willingly go.”

I open my eyes to the sounds of crows flying overhead. Two of them. One crow, sorrow. Two crows, mirth. Then two more join them. Three crows, a wedding. Four crows, birth. A sudden tranquility pumps through my veins. Everything’s going to be all right. It’s all going to be okay. Four crows, the sign of rebirth, of starting over, a sign from the Goddess. Everything will be all right.

I’m hungry, and I have no food in the house. I have a plane to board, but the plane’s late, and I have time on my hands now. I decide to go to the fast-food restaurant beside Dr. Matthews’ clinic and get a breakfast biscuit and a cup of caffeine.

Ten minutes later, I sit smiling in a booth facing the eastern window of the restaurant. I’m happy, but I can’t really explain why. I have this sense of calmness of knowing everything will be all right. Before I can take the first bite of my breakfast, my phone rings.

“Have you seen The Weather Channel?” Jan demands before I get “Hello?” out of my mouth. “I think you better cancel this trip. I have a bad feeling about it. This dragon lady of yours, she’s gonna be trouble. I think these hurricanes are just a way of making sure you don’t go. Don’t forget about my dream.”

“I’m going, Jan.” I’m surprised at the calmness of my voice. “I’m supposed to be there.”

“I don’t know about that, Boo-Boo. I know you want to go, but I just have a really bad feeling that something god-awful is going to happen while you’re there.”

Jan’s had two surgeries so far this year, and each time her prophecies are a little off for the next few months. Whether it’s the after-effects of the anesthesia or a lingering depression over her faltering health, I have to wonder if her worries are mere anxiety or something more. Maybe even jealousy or distaste over Lady Dragon.

“Something’s going to happen, Jan, I agree, but I don’t know what. All I know is that I’m supposed to be there.”

Jan sighs loudly. “Okay, well, I’ll light a candle for you, and I’m going to be praying for you to be protected. The Archangel Michael will be watching over you, protecting you, and a couple of saints will be, too.”

I laugh. “Saint Jan, too, I hope. I’ll probably need all of you.”

“I’m serious, Lauren. I have a gut feeling that you will not be there for long. Do you want to know what I’m seeing?”

I hesitate. Most of the time, Jan’s visions are right, but sometimes if she’s too emotionally close to a subject, her sight becomes tainted. That part has worsened with her medical condition. It becomes more of a mix of what she wants or what she fears than what she actually sees. Her psychic abilities are significantly better with strangers than with the people she loves. I’ve heard that’s not uncommon, but between that and her health anxiety and her sudden new dislike for Lady Dragon, I try not to get too stirred up.

“What I’m seeing,” Jan continues regardless of whether I like it, “is this woman being in a blind rage toward you. I see her doing everything in her power to hurt you, including coming after your girls.” Jan’s voice cracks. “This woman is bad news. Whatever you do, don’t you let her touch you.”

Okay, I’m not smiling anymore. Lady Dragon’s never been in a ritual for me, including my Initiation and previous Elevation to Second Degree. She insists on being in the ritual in the Elevation for all Third Degrees and part of that ritual means that she will “lay hands” on my shoulders and pass to me the power that was passed on to her as it was passed on from her High Priestess as it was passed on by her High Priestess as it was passed on by her High Priest as it was passed on by his High Priestess as it was passed on by Gerald Gardner. All the members of that lineage were distinguished and well-known in the community.

In the Elevation ritual, from what I had heard of the part that isn’t oath-bound—or must not be if Donna and the Elders thought it was okay to tell me—Lady Dragon and at least some Elders will all place their hands on me and pass power on to me, and when I walk out of that ritual, I will be so pumped with energy that my aura will glow for the next month or more, and I’ll feel like I can do anything and everything. I’ll feel like there’s no stopping me, and according to Donna, that’s going to be great for dealing with Quent and starting my life over. I’ll be filled to the brim with magick!

“Lauren, this woman has a lot of issues, a lot of bad issues, negative things. You don’t need her energy. You don’t need her touching you. Whatever you do, do not let her touch you. Not only that, but you’re going to have to shield. She is psychic, and many people around her will be psychic, and you’ll have to shield to make sure they don’t see this dilemma you’re in. If they do, then they’re going to move in and try to manipulate you, so it won’t be a matter of free will. She’ll work magick to make sure you stay with her. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Jan. I know, but it’s going to be all right. If I’m supposed to be there, I’ll be there.”

“I can’t talk you out of it?”

“No, Jan.”

She sighs again, heavier this time than before. “Okay, well, I love you. You be careful, okay, Kiddo?”

“Okay, love you, too.”

I put my phone away, and when I look up again, I see a pair of crows circling the clinic next door. One crow, sorrow. Two crows, mirth. Then my gaze drops to a convertible skidding into the parking lot. Dr. Matthews.

I check my watch. It’s 8:20 A.M. His office opens at eight o’clock. He’s late for work.

He barely pulls the key out of the ignition before his door’s open, and he’s bounding out of the car. He pauses at the employee entrance and looks up at the sky, smiling, sunshine on his face.

I glimpse a vision of him on the water, the sun on his face, but it vanishes as quickly as I see it. The vision startles me, but in it, he’s happy even though he’s all alone.

Another crow calls and circles overhead. Three crows, a wedding. A second later, the fourth crow appears and joins the circle. Four crows. Birth.

The crows are so frequently around him. Why?

Then another crow and another. At least a dozen crows in the sky above the clinic. Dr. Matthews disappears inside. Then another dozen crows. They circle and land. Some on the rooftop, some in the trees, one on the handrail outside the employee entrance.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell myself. The Old Gods have sent me a sign. All those crows. It’s going to be okay. Regardless of what happens today, I’m going to be protected.

⁂

My plane lands at Dulles airport outside Washington a few minutes after midnight. I’ve already missed the Thursday night opening ritual at the Grand Coven meeting at the State Park several hours away, but from my window in the sky, I’ve looked down at the white, fluffy swirls of Tropical Storm Bonnie. I looked into its eye as the plane waited until the storm passed, then we flew over the storm, and now we’ve landed ahead of it. Although Bonnie came through my backyard, it’s expected to follow me all the way to Maryland to stall out there and dump rain for days, possibly threatening the weekend rituals.

Bone-weary, I step into the receiving area. The Elders will provide any camping gear I need, so I don’t have to haul it cross-country. I have only one small suitcase, my carry-on: I don’t need to go to the luggage counter.

A strawberry blonde in a sea of empty chairs glances up from an old Anne Rice novel. Her eyes light up, and she jumps up, waving her arms. “Raven! Rav— Lauren! Over here!”

We embrace, and I think I could fall asleep right here and now. I am so tired. But I have much to talk to Donna about. The one thing I can’t talk to her about yet is my decision about staying with Dragon Hart Grand Coven or leaving it. I can’t talk to her about it because I still don’t know.

“You’re walking better.” Donna takes my suitcase from me and wheels it behind her. A former ballerina, she’s a little on the anorexic side, and bounces along beside me as I walk somewhat more cautiously through the terminal. “Did you see the doctor?” she asks.

“Yes, but he did nothing for me.”

I feel myself blush and don’t tell her I entertained a brief sexual fantasy about him last night before reminding myself that he’s married and ten years my junior. I haven’t had fantasies of any other man in years, so I was surprised that thoughts of him popped into my head in a moment of lustful loneliness. It had been a chance meeting with him several years ago in the pasta aisle at the grocery store when he’d been hiding his biceps and chest under a close-fitting red, cable-knit sweater. It wasn’t even a recent image of him. Gods, I don’t want to be one of those insane women who has fantasies about her physician, even though his style is so low-key that I don’t think of him as some kind of power figure to yearn for or some life-wielding savior.

“He has done nothing for my condition,” I correct myself. “Not yet, anyway. I’ve postponed my physical therapy until after I return and can take some time off from work.”

“He gave you medicine or⁠—?”

“No, nothing. We agreed to take an alternative approach. He offered me anti-inflammatories, but I said no. I’d rather not take any medications if I can help it.”

“But you are walking better. I mean a little slow,” she teases, “but nothing like I had imagined.”

I laugh. “Well, this is nothing like it was. I don’t know what happened, but almost overnight my knees have gotten better. I was afraid they’d keep me from making this trip.”

“No, Lauren. You’re meant to be here.”

We find her orange SUV, and she helps me inside. My knees still make a funny grinding noise as I sit down, but it doesn’t seem to hurt right now. I note the tents in plastic storage boxes she has in the back of her vehicle.

“Have you heard from Lady Dragon? Is she upset that I’m not there yet?”

Donna shrugs and says nothing else until we’re out on the highway. “I haven’t heard a word. Technically, you don’t have to be there until your Elevation ritual starts. I had told her, as well as the Elders, that you were having trouble leaving Florida because of the storms. All Dragon would say at the time was that if you’re meant to be at your Elevation, you have one shot, and if you can’t manifest it, you’re not ready.”

I’m not sure how to answer that. I’ve heard the same sentiment before, but usually regarding someone who was supposed to be part of an open ritual and, at the last minute, sprained their ankle and had to sit it out. Sprains seem to happen a lot, like a cosmic joke, to keep the wrong people from mingling their energy at a ritual. Lady Dragon had remarked once that sometimes the Old Gods know best and that person obviously, for whatever reason, was not meant to take part in that ritual. Though I agree with that philosophy, there’s something about the way Donna stated Lady Dragon’s comment that doesn’t sit well in the pit of my stomach.

“Donna, does Lady Dragon know what my Third Degree challenge is? Did you tell her?”

“Er, no. No, and you’re not to say a word, either. I’ll tell her when the time is right. Well, I mean, I’ll tell her what the challenge is. You’ll tell her whether you’re staying. I can’t do that for you. Only you can.”

“Donna?” I turn halfway in my seat to look at the road sign we just passed. “I thought we were going to the coven gathering tonight. That sign back there said⁠—”

“No, not tonight. We’ll go in the morning.” Then she narrows her eyes at me. “There is no way in hell that I’m going to drive several hours and then spend another hour setting up a tent. No, we’re going to Barbara’s house in Brunswick instead. She lives only an hour from here, and Deedee and Mariah are with her tonight, waiting for us. Sarah, Beverly, and the other Elders are at the State Park already.”

“Three of them are at Barbara’s instead of at the Grand Coven meeting?” I don’t understand. “How did they get out of that? I thought it was mandatory for all Elders.”

“All current Elders.” Donna kicks at the accelerator. We’re doing 85 mph on the open highway, and I’m feeling really glad I’m protected by the Goddess, Archangel Michael, and a bunch of saints right now.

“Of all the Elders,” Donna continues, “half of them have already quit or been kicked out. When Barbara and DeeDee were told that their Eldership was being taken away, they quit on the spot. They reminded Dragon of what she said about how you get your Elevations from the Old Gods and not from man. The Old Gods give, and only the Old Gods can take away. Barbara and DeeDee told Dragon she couldn’t take it away, to which our esteemed leader answered maybe she couldn’t take it away from them altogether, but she could take it away under the auspices of the Dragon Hart Grand Coven. They could still be Elders, just Elders somewhere else.”

“And Mariah?”

“Mariah was kicked out three weeks ago for not showing Dragon the proper respect.”

I grin. “Used the F-word to her face, huh?”

“You got it.”

“So why are the three of them together tonight waiting for us?”

“Not for us. For you.”

Three Elders are waiting for me. I shake my head. I’ve seen these women in ritual. I know the kind of power that reverberates off them. All three women individually amaze me. Together, they mortify me.

“I’ve told them about your challenge. I told them it’s your choice and that you’ll decide over the weekend. I also told them what you said about deciding you didn’t want Dragon to touch you.”

I’d relayed the message to Donna while I’d waited for the second leg of my flight in Atlanta.

“What did they say?” They probably thought I was crazy. Everyone who is a Third Degree in Dragon Hart has had the power passed on to them directly from Lady Dragon herself.

“There is an option,” Donna says, her voice low even though it’s only the two of us in the SUV. It’s almost as if she’s afraid Lady Dragon will hear. “You’re not going to like it, but it is an option.”

“I’m open.”

She glances at me and smiles. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you! In the three years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you this open.” She laughs. “Okay, well, here’s the option. There is no way you’re going to get through an Elevation at the campsite without Dragon touching you. However, Mariah has a copy of the Third Degree ritual. All you need is three Elders to perform it. And tonight, we’ve got four who are willing.”

“But what about my lineage? The passing of power?”

“Dragon’s not the only one who can pass the power of your lineage to you. Several of us Elders, when we got our Thirds, had Dragon’s former High Priestess and that High Priestess’ High Priestess in the ritual. So technically, the same witches who passed their power down to Dragon passed their power down to us as well.”

“And you’re one of those Elders with the equivalent lineage?”

“I am. So is Beverly. Barbara and DeeDee, too. And Mariah. We all got our Thirds at the same time. Your lineage would come through one of us, not through Dragon. Hell, maybe that’s why she wants to get rid of us. You’d be missing her contribution to your power, but I already know you don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

We sit in silence while I think about it. If they conduct my ritual at Barbara’s, then there are certain members of the Grand Coven who won’t be able to attend, like Leo for example. Still, after what I’ve learned about Lady Dragon and what Jan told me this morning, I can’t fathom allowing that woman to touch me or pass any of her tainted energy to me. Maybe I was too harsh in judging Lisa for not wanting a hug from me at our last lunch because she felt I was blanketed in Quent’s negativity and my own weakness. I get it now. I don’t want Dragon to have that kind of hold on me, and who knows what kind of energetic attachments she’ll wrap me up in so she can keep tabs on me? I’ve heard all about that from Belinda.

“Okay, so what happens if we do it tonight instead of tomorrow? Do we get to the Grand Coven meeting tomorrow and announce that ‘Hey, here’s Lady RavenHart, a new Third Degree, and you had nothing to say about it’?”

“She’s already given approval. She gave approval of you as a Third Degree candidate when she signed off on your exam. Worst case is, you go through the Elevation twice. Except this time, you’ll have the protection of the Third Degree around you.”

“And she won’t know that? Won’t she be able to tell it in my aura?”

Donna swallows hard. “There was a time when she could have. She used to have that gift, but not anymore. At least, not in a long, long time.”

Lady Dragon lost one of her gifts? No one has ever really talked to me before about Third Degrees and Elders losing their gifts, just getting their gifts—their full powers. It is said that no one but the Old Gods can give these talents to them, whether it is for healing or knowing or whatever it might be. The flip side, I thought, is only the Old Gods can take them away.

“She won’t try to take away my Third Degree if I decide to leave?”

“She can’t take your Third Degree. Only the Old Gods give the Third Degree, and only the Old Gods can take it away, and, as Dragon is fond of saying, no one has any right to say whether or not you’ve earned your Elevation because they haven’t walked in your shoes—and that includes Dragon. What you’ve got to decide is whether you want to be ‘Thirded’ at a Grand Coven meeting or do you want to be ‘Thirded’ by a small group of Elders?”

“It’s the same ritual, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the same results, right?”

“Yes.”

“Except that if I get my Third at the Grand Coven meeting where Lady Dragon will be, then Lady Dragon will infuse me with her energy. Am I right?”

“You’re right.”

I take a deep breath and start to speak. I can’t. I take another deep breath. “Then let’s do it tonight.”

That was easy, way easier than I expected. It just feels right. I would never have accepted this three years ago and always looked forward to having Lady Dragon in the sacred circle with me at my Third. And now, it is so easy to say no. For the first time in my life, it is becoming easy to say no?

Wow. My Third Degree transformation is beginning already.

“Okay, Kiddo. Tonight, it is. And in the morning, or whenever we get up, we’ll go over to the Grand Coven meeting, and you can decide if you want to go through the ritual again, and you can answer the challenge if you’re ready. You won’t really feel the effects of the Third until your challenge has been answered. Whatever you do, under whatever circumstances, do not mention the mission to Dragon.”

Did she mean the Center of Light? “Her mission or mine?”

“Same thing. You’re going to be responsible for introducing hundreds of thousands of seekers to manifesting happiness, and that’s an ego trip Dragon wants for herself but has failed thus far.” Donna reaches for the radio, and I know she’ll say nothing more.

Having met Barbara twice before, I’d always pictured her house as being a tiny white cottage. Instead, it is a rambling farmhouse on the outskirts of Frederick, Maryland, with a strong hint of Amish. I can’t see much of the house except the lights—one in every first and second-story window. Barbara is having company tonight, obviously. On this moonless night, I can see the outline of the barn against the utility light in the backyard. I hear horses whinnying restlessly as I step out of the orange SUV and hope Rhiannon and Sonnet have a great time on Christabel’s horse farm.

Three Elders are waiting on the front porch. Candles, burned down to various stages, are scattered around the porch with a couple of decks of Tarot cards and a handful of rune stones in their midst. They’ve waited up for us. For me.

Barbara and DeeDee are both my age, maybe a few years older. The lines are beginning to show in their faces, and conservative hair styles and eyeglasses that make them look more like stereotypical librarians than stereotypical witches.

Mariah is younger, in her thirties with blue hair and a nose ring, probably the youngest of the Elders and the most recent, but she’s been a member of the Grand Coven since she was a teenager. She Initiated young. Probably about the time she was Rhiannon’s age. During her college years alone, she brought at least five daughter covens into the Grand Coven. All of them have been thriving, and one is still vibrant on the college campus she left years ago. Of the covens she spawned, they’ve bred many more within the Dragon Hart Grand Coven. Fully a third of the Grand Coven’s members are her legacies, and she can’t be over thirty-five.

Her current boyfriend, a twenty-something with hair dyed black and hanging in his eyes, sits on the porch swing and rocks back and forth. He is a Third Degree of Dragon Hart as well, though I suspect he won’t be much longer, not if Mariah’s been kicked out.

“They see your shininess, and they don’t want to leave you,” Mariah had told me once. She’d shrugged. “It’s the bane of all High Priestesses. They can see the Goddess coming through you, and your lovers want a part of it.”

After an uneasy exchange of hugs, the six of us settle down on the floor of the porch.

“I’ve decided what I’m going to do,” I announce rather loudly.

Barbara holds up a hand, then walks out into the yard. She stands silently, facing the North.

“Oooh, pretty,” Payne, Mariah’s boyfriend, says behind me.

I know then what Barbara’s done. She’s cast a circle, one of protection, around us. Payne’s a “visual” witch. He has that gift; I don’t. I can feel the surrounding circle, like the wings of a crow around me. But I can’t see it.

Barbara comes back, sits on the top step, and looks up at me. “What, sweetheart? What have you decided?”

“I want to do the ritual tonight.” With a deep breath, I glance from Elder to Elder and then to Payne. “I don’t want to wait, and I don’t want Lady Dragon to touch me tomorrow.”

Donna nods and addresses her sisters. “The power was passed down to all of us, not just from Dragon, but we all also had her magickal ancestors in our Third Degrees Elevations and in our Elderings. So, the power was passed on directly from her High Priestesses as well.” Donna laughs, but it comes out a little hollow, a little worried. “Raven would still get the full dose.”

“No,” Barbara says. Donna and I look at each other, then back at Barbara. Grimness shrouds her face. “Change in plans. We can’t do it tonight.”

“Tomorrow morning?” I ask hopefully.

Barbara shakes her head. “I mean, we can’t do it. It’s going to have to be tomorrow, at the Grand Coven meeting, and unfortunately, Dragon’s going to be part of it. But don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

“But it’s okay with me to do it tonight.”

“No, it has to be tomorrow.” Barbara gestures at a Celtic cross spread of Tarot cards on the floor. The only one I can make out in the dimness is the Queen of Swords. There’s a heaviness in her voice when she speaks again. “You have to do it tomorrow. There’s something you’re going to get out of doing it there that you won’t get out of doing it here. I don’t know what it is, but it has to be there.”

Donna sits back against one of the pillars on the porch and leans her head against its white plaster. “How are we ever going to keep Dragon from touching her? Barb, what are we going to do?”

“We? I’m not even going to be there. Those who are not active members of Dragon Hart are not allowed to be present at any of this weekend’s activities, remember? In fact, get a hotel for tomorrow night because, Donna, as soon as you tell her you’re leaving and the other Elders are leaving, you’ll have to go. If our Raven chooses to stay, she’ll have to have a car come pick her up to take her to the airport because you won’t be allowed back. Dragon will have the campground warded to keep you out.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I sputter.

DeeDee grins back at me. “That’s our Dragon.”

“Look, she’s not going to make a big deal out of this, is she? I mean, if she can get rid of all the Elders and leave it up to you and tell you it’s your choice whether to stay or go, then why is she going to be upset about me leaving?”

They exchange silent looks and chuckle but say nothing more.

“Tell them about the mission,” Donna says.

Everyone is silent, their eyes on me. I’ve never heard such a hush.

“Um, okay. So I have this feeling that the Old Gods want me to put together this certain project. It’s a big project. Um, there are these Centers of Light. They’re like healing centers or learning centers and⁠—”

Already Barbara, Mariah, and DeeDee exchange glances.

Payne sits up straight. “Did you say ‘healing centers’?”

“—And they’re all under this big pagan umbrella, though it’s not necessarily pagan. It’s spiritual, but it’s definitely not Judeo-Christian. It’s about showing people how to manifest joy and how to heal their battered emotions. But we’re all under this one big umbrella, all these different covens and circles of magickal people, and every witch and New Age spiritual-type person who wants to be under it can, and they can get group medical insurance under this organization or they can get access to lessons, uh… mentorship, exchanging workshops, scholarships, uh… just all these resources and—” I stop. “What’s wrong?”

Barbara wrings her hands. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.” She looks up, then reaches over and touches me on the knee. “Kiddo, even if you wanted to, Dragon’s never going to let you leave.”

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