Chapter 7

When the moon rides at her peak then your heart's desire seek

- The Wiccan Rede

There were two ways to invoke a demon familiar.

If the witch knew the demon by name or had a particular ilk of demon that she wished to summon, then she could tailor the basic chant to be specific, and if that demon, or one of his ilk, were available, he or they would respond. Sometimes more than one would come, and then they would resolve the matter between themselves depending on hierarchy. If the witch had no particular preference, she could recite the chant as an open invitation and state the values that she held or sought to entice a demon to attend to her.

There was no guarantee that a demon would respond, and a risk that one that did might not be attending to bind to the witch as a familiar, but rather to stir up trouble.

As a result, it was advised that the witch perform her summons from within a salt circle so that she could negotiate the terms with the demon from a point of safety.

I was still indecisive about whether to summon one, and a part of that indecisiveness was a shadow-lurking, six-foot-something, pale-skinned, hoarse-voiced man with a propensity for black, who may or may not even be alive.

I closed the spell book on the owl feather that I was using as a marker with a sigh and regarded myself in the mirror. My black lace graduation dress was seeing far more frequent wearing than we had predicted when we had selected it a few months before, but it was the only thing I owned that suited a funeral.

I had braided my hair and wound it around my head in a coronet, but the look had been unnatural and too studied. Instead, I had brushed it out and left it free and now contemplated whether that was too informal. Did it matter anyway? I wondered as I leaned forward to apply my lipstick. It was highly likely that upon seeing us at the graveyard in town, the family would have us turned away.

"Fuck it," I decided, and left the mirror, my spell books, and the room.

In the front hall, Aunt Callista and Aunt Fennel were fussing with themselves and each other, their nervous energy almost palpable. Neither liked to force their presence on the townspeople. It ran contrary to that instilled Vossen wariness born of centuries of violence and vitriol directed our way. But they were doing it for me.

"You both look beautiful," I told them.

"Oh, dear," Fennel adjusted her veil. "You flatter."

"Of course, we look beautiful," Callista retorted slicking her lips with vivid red lipstick almost defiantly. "We are mistresses of the arcane arts and benefit from centuries of witchcraft and knowledge on preserving our beauty and caring for what nature has bestowed upon us."

"Plus, MAC," Fennel winked at me.

"We'll take the Corniche," Callista draped on her black lace shawl, slid on her sunglasses, and picked up her clutch purse. "Come along then ladies."

There was no sign of Nova as we left the house. In the garage, we dragged the cover from the Corniche, and I slid into the back before adjusting the front passenger seat for Fennel. Callista pulled on her driving gloves and started the engine. We all held our breaths for a moment as the Corniche was of an age to be temperamental, but the car started, and I sank back against the leather seat as Callista guided it out of the garage.

"Did you resolve the issue of which we spoke the other evening, Nyx?" Fennel asked as we crept down the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath our wheels, navigating the potholes that the last winter had carved out and that we had not had the finance to pay to have refilled. "Your… beau?"

"Ah…" I felt my cheeks heat. "No, not really. It's still… uncertain."

"Mhm," the sisters exchanged a sideways look.

"I am thinking about summoning a demon," I tried to distract them hastily. "I think that if I'm going to do it before I start at the Academy is the right time, don't you?"

"Invoking a demon familiar is something very personal," Callista replied as we descended the hill. "If you decide to proceed, however, Fennel and I are always available to assist you."

"I miss the smell of sulphur," Fennel murmured. "Do you remember, Calli? Aggie?"

"How could I forget," Callista replied tartly. "The old man was always so persistent with his language lessons and making peace between us when we fought."

Agares had been their grandmother's demon and had all but raised the sisters. When their grandmother had died, he had disappeared from their life just as suddenly. There was a sense of angry abandonment from all their recollections of him.

"There is a storm coming," Callista murmured as she paused at the intersection from the beach.

"Hopefully it will wait to break until after the burial," Fennel replied.

The traffic slowed to a crawl by the long-tailed procession from the church to the cemetery just outside of town. We joined the queue, watching the Corniches' temperature gauge anxiously as it crawled higher and higher.

"Rain may be a saving grace at this point," Callista observed wryly. "Cool the old boy down a little."

"We are lucky that it is not a hot day," Fennel agreed. "Though those clouds…"

We all looked at the heavy grey rolling in from the direction of the ocean.

"A bit of rain means nothing," Callista dismissed it, although I was certain that I wasn't the only witch in the car whose skin was crawling with foreboding. "And luckily there are umbrellas in the boot."

Many chose to park their cars and walk the rest of the way, and as the dark-clad mourners passed the Corniche, they looked in our windows with expressions that ranged from curiosity to disapproval. I sank down in my seat, trying to be unobtrusive, and did not miss the click of the door lock on Fennel's side as she pressed it down.

A handsome red-haired young man in a designer suit grinned at me knowingly as he strolled by the car, and I was left feeling uneasy. I did not know him, but the look in his eye told me that he knew me. Or, at least, of me.

"Maybe we should just park…?" I suggested. I was torn between the exposure of walking amongst the townspeople towards the graveyard, and feeling like the Corniche was drawing too much attention.

"Nonsense," Callista replied. "The traffic is moving."

Eventually, Callista navigated the funeral procession and in what was probably a well-prepared bit of witchcraft, nabbed an empty car park discretely behind a row of pine trees at the edge of the cemetery. As we got out of the car, the wind picked up, tugging at Fennel's veil, our skirts, and our hair.

Whilst the aunts fussed in the boot with the umbrellas, I looked across the cemetery in dread. There was a large crowd gathering around the burial site. I could see the parents within a huddle of their family, the mother sobbing into the clutch of a handkerchief. No one had drawn their attention to our presence at the edge of the cemetery – yet. I hoped it stayed that way, and that I was there would pass unnoticed by the parents, and therefore the confrontation that I dreaded would be avoided.

My eyes caught on a flash of red, and I saw the red-haired man leaning nonchalantly in the shadows of one of the trees. He was looking directly at me and grinned with mischievous charm as our eyes met. He was astonishingly eye-catching - good-looking with his shoulder-length dark red hair the perfect frame for his sharp-boned face, but he possessed a charisma and confidence that I could sense even from across the cemetery.

"He is cute," Callista joined me, her umbrella open and balanced on her shoulder, and her eyes tracking mine to where the young man was. "Is he your mystery man, Elenyx?"

"Oh, no," I was flustered. "I've never seen him before today."

"Hmm, interesting. They always say, it never rains but it pours," Callista observed. "Lead the way, Elenyx," she linked arms with Fennel and prepared to follow.

I deliberately walked towards the young man and his tree, as if I were heading to him, watching his reaction as he straightened in preparation, and then three gravestones from where he stood, I turned my direction heading instead towards the rear of the crowd of mourners.

Callista laughed under her breath. "Perhaps we have been mistaken, Fennel, and it's Elenyx who will be the heartbreaker of the pair."

"How unexpected," Fennel murmured.

I glanced over my shoulder and the young man's grin was wide and delighted. I smothered my smirk as I turned back to the funeral, sobering as I remembered why we were there.

The aunts and I stood respectfully to the rear of the gathering, and still our presence drew glances from those around us. I was not imagining the hostility. I knew the feeling well - ever since the day Nova, and I had been brought to Mortensby by our mother. My aunts didn't even seem to notice it. I did not know if they were so skilled at appearing indifferent, or if they had truly become immune to its effects.

The words of the priest as the little coffin lowered into the ground were lost in the whip of the wind that seemed determined to disrupt the ceremony. Many of the mourners had opened umbrellas in anticipation of rainfall, and the wind billowed the sails, threatening to invert the canopy and making the ribs strain to hold their shape. I pressed my thighs together, discretely capturing my skirt between them to prevent the wind from lifting it.

As the formalities ended and the gathering broke, many queuing to give the family their final regards and condolences for their loss, but more scattering around the cemetery, heading off for shelter and a drink before the weather broke, I saw a man separate himself from his company and head our way.

His expression was solemn.

"Ah, here we go," Callista sighed wearily, anticipating, as we all were, that he had been delegated to send us on our way. "We were just leaving," she told him as he reached us.

"My apologies," he said. "I hope that I may be able to detain you for a moment. My name is Harvey. Harvey Ashbourne. I am the new Dean of Pinegrove Academy. I am told that you are the Vossen family and that this is Elenyx Vossen?"

"That is so," Callista evaluated him with a slight frown pinching her brows.

"It is nice to meet you, Mr Ashbourne," Fennel intercepted, softening Callista's reserve. "This is, indeed, Elenyx."

"Elenyx," he held out his hand, and when I uncertainly placed my palm on his, clasped his other hand over it, a smile lighting his eyes. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I was very impressed by your submission essay and the scores from your entrance test. Your grades were the highest I saw this year, and the combination made you the clear leader for the scholarship. I am hoping you'll accept the position at our school, and I am very much looking forward to showing you our facilities next Monday during orientation."

"I'll be accepting," I told him, breathless. His gaze was intense, and his hands heated mine between them. "And I'll be there on Monday."

"Wonderful," he said warmly. "You will be a valuable addition to our community of students. I am very pleased to have had this opportunity to meet you in advance, even if the event is," his expression became solemn. "A tragic one. It is nice to see the community come together in support of the bereaved. I will leave you, then," he squeezed my hand slightly as he inclined his head. "Until Monday." His hands lingered on mine as he stepped back and he released me only at the last moment, inclining his head politely to both the aunts, before striding back to rejoin the group of people by the grave.

"I think we'll be adding some extra spells to that memento mori, Fennel," Callista said quietly.

"Mhm," Fennel replied in agreement.

"Why?" I frowned at them both, confused and unnerved by the encounter. "He seemed very nice," I added as the aunts exchanged a look and linked arms again, turning towards the car. "Didn't he?" I questioned as I trailed behind.

The red-haired young man was no longer under the tree.

"What spells will you be adding?" I insisted as we reached the car and Callista searched her purse for the keys.

"You!" A woman cried out and I turned in horror as the mother of the little girl came towards me. Her fury turned her face monstrous, her teeth bared, and hair and eyes wild, her fingers clawed. She had broken away from a group entering a car that had pulled to the curb to our left, and they all followed behind her in alarm, reaching out to catch her and failing.

She seized me by the shoulders, her fingers digging into my flesh as she shook me, her spittle, snot, and tears spraying me as she fought to get the words out that she needed to stay. "It should have been you! She deserved life! She was beautiful and brilliant, and you… you…"

"Bianca," a woman pulled her away and wrapped her arms around her, cradling her skull. "Oh Bianca…" She glared at me over Bianca's head, before turning and trying to steer her away. But the woman broke free and backhanded me across the face, taking me by surprise so that I fell to the side, almost dragging Aunt Fennel down with me when she tried to catch me.

"Now that is more than enough!" Callista cried out inserting herself between us, and planting the tip of her closed umbrella down on the concrete as a paladin might have done his spear. "Your grief does not give you authority to strike my niece, nor to say such hateful things to her. We have been indulgent in your pain and turned the other cheek to your unjustified victimization of Elenyx. She is not responsible for the death of your child.

"She was simply the unfortunate observer of your tragedy. She was the one there offering comfort to your child as she died. She was the last gentle touch, the kind hand that held hers, as she passed from this life. You should be grateful that your child's final moments were not spent alone, but that Nyx's compassion saw her not only offer comfort but then seek out immediate help. Instead, you are here spitting vileness in my beautiful, gentle-hearted niece's face and striking her!

She drew in a deep breath through her nostrils and released it slowly, having silenced the weeping family. "We will forgive the assault. But I want you to go away with the thought that Elenyx has only recently turned eighteen. Barely an adult herself. Only a scant handful of years older than your daughter. If the position were reversed, would you accept us laying the burden of guilt at your daughter's feet?"

"I am sorry, Callista," a woman from amongst the group said softly.

"Grace," a man complained. "Don't - "

"No," she held up her hand, silencing him. "No, Chris. You know what they did when Matt… Without Callista and Fennel, I would… well," she shook her head. "They believed me when the rest of you tried to ignore the bruises. They helped me when none of you would."

"Grace," Callista's expression softened. "I am sorry. I did not connect you with this tragedy."

"It's okay," Grace smiled sorrowfully. "You cannot know every family tree in Mortensby, Callista. Chris is my cousin, and Bianca, here is his wife's sister. So it's a convoluted connection at best - "

"All the more reason you should stay silent!" Bianca wailed.

"Whilst you strike a helpless child whose only crime was riding her bike up the same hill at the same time as yours died?" Grace retorted. "I'm sorry, I see no sense in that. I'm sorry, Callista," she repeated. "And I'm sorry…"

"Elenyx," Fennel provided as she pressed a handkerchief to my split lip. "This is Elenyx."

"I'm very sorry for the way that Bianca has behaved, Elenyx," Grace inclined her head to me. "Now," she turned to the rest of the family. "Let"s just get into our cars before any more harm is done. Please, Chris," she appealed to her cousin, who sent us daggers before encouraging his wife's family away.

The last man to turn around was Kristine's lover, his eyes meeting and holding mine. I felt the chill of that gaze along my spine as he placed his hand on the small of his wife's back and led her away.

"Are you okay, Nyx?" Callista turned to me.

"Of course, she's not okay," Fennel exclaimed. "When will this stop, Callie? When will they realize that we are not their enemy?"

Callista sighed heavily and unlocked the car. "Never Fennel. Or at least, not within the lifetimes of Nyx and Nora's great-granddaughters. Patriarchy is ingrained, and there is nothing that patriarchy hates as much as a strong woman who reminds him of the crimes of his past."

"She wasn't striking at you, Nyx," Fennel said quietly as she helped me to her feet. "She was striking out at her helplessness. She needs to place the blame somewhere solid to stop the echo of the guilt-ridden thoughts in her head. She will be turning over and over that morning, in minute detail, and asking herself what she could have done differently. If she'd driven her daughter to school, then it would not have happened. But then, maybe if her daughter's helmet or bike had been better. Or if her husband hadn't been distracted with his plans and had helped and had driven her instead. If they weren't so poor as to have to live up the hill… If… There are always so many ifs."

She spoke from experience. I imagine that she had castigated herself the same way after her injuries. If only she had never gone out with him. If only she had seen the danger that he presented. If only things had worked out differently.

"The ifs are our curse, aren't they?" I asked her, taking the handkerchief and pressing it against my lip. "We can do so much, foresee so much, but there's always something that we could have done differently if only…"

"That is the truth," she agreed cupping my cheek in the palm of her hand. "The tragedy of a Vossen woman is the same of every other woman. We know so much, but it's what catches us by surprise that inevitably breaks us."