Chapter 26
The Chaos Witch’s Natal Sun Conjunct Lauren’s Natal Sixth House of Hidden Enemies
“Serv—” I’m barely aware of what I’m saying. “S-s-servitor.”
“Just lie down, Miss Lauren. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
Eyes shut, I feel my way to the sofa and pull a throw pillow under my head as I curl up. The jagged rainbows are wider now, whether I close my eyes or not. They quiver behind both eyelids, growing ever so slightly wider with every second.
“Can I get you something, Miss Lauren?”
“Y-yes. Top shelf in the medicine cabinet, please, Christabel. And a small glass of water.”
I feel the breeze of her running past me to the bathroom. On the way, she hits the light switch on the wall, and everything darkens except the flashing lights behind my eyelids.
She’s back in minutes with the caffeine pills I hope haven’t expired. I can’t remember the last time I needed them. Three years? I’m not in pain. It’s an ocular migraine, which means a painless headache with visual distortions. If history holds true, the jagged edges will increase until they cover the whole of my vision, then fade away. I’ll be tired for the next couple of days but, provided I shut down for the next thirty minutes, I’ll be fine in an hour or so.
If I don’t stop everything and curl up on the sofa quietly for the next thirty minutes, my headache will turn to excruciating pain for the next three days, and I’ll hide from both light and sound while I wait for hell to subside. This is the fifth one I’ve had, and “damnation headaches,” as Donna calls them, are her specialty with people who overstep her boundaries. Whatever type of headaches are most excruciating for the trespasser is the form her magick takes when she senses someone breaching her boundaries.
Which is pretty damned funny since she doesn’t recognize when she’s the one trampling boundaries.
“Miss Lauren? Did they hurt you? The Elders?”
I start to shake my head, then think better of it. Best if I remain still. “I’ll be fine after a little rest. I’ve cut them loose, sweetie.”
Christabel sucks air through her teeth. “But that thing is still out there. It’s stronger now. Can’t you feel it?”
“I can.”
“So it wasn’t the Elders who sent it?”
“No.”
“And you can’t name the sender yet?”
“Not yet. I hate to admit that I’m at a loss for how to find who sent it. All my usual divinations and talents aren’t working, so all I can do is a process of elimination, starting with my open enemies.”
Christabel settles on the living room floor beside my spot on the sofa and gently slides her hand over my forehead. Immediately, I feel the warmth of her skin turn hot, feel the flow of healing, protective energy engulfing me. Her gifts are natural, and I’ve promised to connect her with a Level Three Reiki Master who can teach her how to channel energy without all the baggage I have this year.
When I open my eyes a crack wider, I see the white light from above shimmering as it converges on a point at the crown of Christabel’s head. It lights her up from the inside as it flows down through her heart and then out through her shoulder, her arm, her hand, to my forehead. She’s a conduit of divine energy.
The jagged rainbows superimposed on my sight start to fade. My energy begins to return.
“Not open enemies,” she says. “I have the sense of someone hiding behind a thick veil. She doesn’t dare confront you because she knows you can beat her if you can face her. So she hides. She uses a thought-form to do her dirty work. You know how poison was a coward’s weapon in medieval times? It’s like that. Enemies would taint a dress or cloak with a poison that would be activated by the victim’s sweat. With poison, the murderer didn’t have to confront the victim. Or be in the same room with them. The poison could lie in wait for hours, days, months, and the murderer could be far away and never suspected. This witch has put all her hate for you into this thought-form and then disconnected to let it do what it was created to do—make you miserable. It’s not her energy, but a part of her energy, so you can’t even use your empathic skills to discern who she is.”
I fixate on her expressive face. “You sure are smart about this kind of magick.”
She shrugs. “You were trying to say something when you finished your ritual. You called it a servitor. I didn’t know what it was until then. I’ve never seen one before, but I learned about them from my grandmother when I was a little girl. Not a demon or a ghost or anything you could normally banish or send into the light. It’s a sort of Frankenstein’s monster pieced together out of the ugliest emotions to do its master’s bidding. Or mistress’ bidding? Its anonymity is how it shields itself. Sometimes they’re created to be an irritant and nothing more. My nana said its purpose can be to destroy a marriage or to drive a person crazy. I heard what it said to you back in the woods at Unk’s about hurting the people you love before it ends you. You have to find out who its creator is so you can strip its powers and make it answer to you instead. Its magick is in that secret of identity. You know, like Rumpelstiltskin. You gotta be able to name it.”
Rumpelstiltskin? Frankenstein’s monster? If I felt better, I’d laugh at how Christabel’s mind churns out metaphors faster than I can comprehend.
“Did it do this to you? Did it give you a migraine?”
“Eh, no. That was garden-variety Donna magick.”
“Oh. You know what you need? You need an ally. If you would take me on as a student, like you promised last year, then I could be of more help to you in the future.” She freezes. “No pressure! I didn’t mean that in a bad way! I know you’re going through a lot, but when you’re ready, then I’m ready.”
I nod slightly in acknowledgment but don’t say anything for a moment. She’d been not quite eighteen when I’d given her a tentative promise. I never take on a student under eighteen without a parent or guardian’s permission. When we last revisited the subject, Christabel had just turned eighteen and was champing at the bit to get started, but then I’d found out my cervix was riddled with precancerous cells, and it just wasn’t the right time to Initiate a new witch into my circle. I needed peace of mind and clear energy so as not to pass along undeserved negativity.
“When I clear some of the obstacles in my own life, Christabel, then we’ll talk again. It’s not a no. You’ve done nothing wrong, but I need to fix myself first.”
Pursing her lips, she nods. “Don’t worry about me. I can wait.”
“How’s your uncle?”
“Not great. I mean, he seems fine now except that he keeps talking about this centaur-like monster chasing him and saying that’s what he was shooting at. The hospital didn’t find any drugs in his system, other than alcohol. They’re running psychiatric tests and will probably keep him there for a full two weeks. At least the hospital let me visit him for a few minutes and give him a hug. I don’t, um, I don’t hold anything against him, but I also don’t know if I’ll feel safe living with him again.”
My house suddenly seems quieter than usual. “Where’s Sonnet? And Jan?” I fight the urge to sit up.
“Oh, Sonnet’s asleep again in your bed. She feels safe there. She wants to pick up her car tomorrow but doesn’t want to leave your house.”
“Maybe you and I can retrieve it from the ice cream shop’s parking lot. I have a spare set of keys.” I suddenly remember that Quent has not only her car keys but also her keys to my house. My wards have stopped him already today, but I should think about getting the locks changed. That and firing Tom.
One thing at a time. Whatever’s most important gets done first, and they’re all important.
As of last Monday, Sonnet has finished all her tests for the school year with top grades, so her vice-principal has allowed her to work double shifts instead of sitting in study hall for another three days and doing nothing. Instead, she’s lost her job through no fault of her own and is curled up in a ball in my bed, traumatized and afraid of being hauled away and locked in a room in her dad’s house.
“And Jan? Where is she?”
“I’m not sure. I think she went back to check on Mr. Steve. We stood at the different windows in the house for the past two hours and watched the thought-form. I mean, the servitor. We watched it walk in counterclockwise circles around the wards you erected. You laid the wards’ foundation by pouring salt in a clockwise circle. Then you pushed a hedge of light out to the circle’s edge and built a sphere of energy on top of it. That servitor is trying to take down your wards one layer at a time by walking counter to how you erected them.”
Oh, shit.
At different times throughout the day and evening, I’ve been aware of where the servitor stood outside my wards, but I’ve not stopped long enough to observe why it stood at different points. I frown. Christabel is right: it’s both stronger and actively, methodically, undoing my circles of protection.
“Don’t worry!” Christabel reads my face. Alarm shows in hers despite her words. She snatches her oversized purse from the beanbag chair where Sonnet likes to watch TV and digs through the patchwork bag.
“Eh, I don’t know about that. I’m struggling.” I can’t even sit up, let alone stand and fight another witch’s handiwork. Donna’s backlash might have landed me on the sofa for days if my wannabe student hadn’t been so skilled.
Christabel holds up a deck of Tarot cards I’ve seen her use frequently over the last year. They’re no longer shiny but covered in tiny scratches from use—for herself, her friends, and her clients. I can feel the buzz of energy off the cards, even from here.
“Then maybe, Miss Lauren, you should take the same advice you gave me a year ago that really helped me deal with Mom’s passing and living somewhere I was loved but not welcomed. ‘Stop struggling to go upstream, and just let the current easily carry you downstream.’ You’re so scared of losing more than you’ve already lost that you can’t see what you have.”
I smile. “Again, how did you get so smart?”
“Honestly? It’s not me. My spirit guides—Nana included—are chattering away, and I’m trying to catch everything they’re saying. You’re being given clues to figure this out, they’re saying, and I’m going to help you. Because I can. I’m getting better at this, and I want to keep getting better. I’m more objective than you are, Miss Lauren—Raven—and your lack of objectivity is blinding you from seeing that the Universe is conspiring to make you whole again. You said you’re having these disconnected memory bubbles that just started this week. With a little help from my guides, I’m going to help you connect those memories.”
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