Chapter 33 Marta #2
I’d been so angry at God for so long, but after everything I’d been through, I didn’t see the point. I’d wasted so much energy being hateful, sure that God had fucked up somehow, that His plan for me was bullshit. Now, I understood. Anger into faith. Faith into action.
If nothing else, I had faith in myself. In my warriors.
And without God, without the solace I found in this daily meditative prayer, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I needed to do to survive.
I’d never been sure if the visions I’d seen at that church in the liminal had been real, but what did it matter?
It got me through. It gave me the strength I needed, and for that, I’d be eternally grateful.
So I said my thanks. I told the Virgin my worries. I asked St. Michael for bravery. And as always, I requested that St. Marta guide me. Warmth enveloped me, like They had heard my prayers and given me Their blessing.
Then I went to join my warriors in the woods.
I walked barefoot on the dirt pathway that led into the trees, remembering how I’d made this same journey the night they became mine.
I’d been terrified, and the same sense of anticipation filled my chest now.
That emptiness had gone away with them back, but the parasite remained.
The chaos in my hands still shot black, and if this didn’t solve it, I didn’t know what to do next.
Faith, Tita had told me. Have faith.
I clung to those words as I broke through the tree line, but standing around the periphery were other members of my coven.
Lilith stood at the head, her hands clasped in front of her.
Bridge and Val were off to the right, Circe and Hella to the left.
Aradia, Hekate, Isobel, all of them. They’d all come.
“What are you—” I couldn’t even finish my sentence, the shock and surprise rattling my nerves.
“Marta of the Royal Harlots MC,” Lilith said, taking a step forward. “You wish to complete a soul bond with your warriors.”
“Yes,” I said, furrowing my brows. “But I didn’t think…”
“We’re your sisters,” Lilith said, placing her hands on my shoulders. “If this will help you, we’ll help you. It’s a powerful ritual, and you don’t need to stand alone. Never again.”
Tears burned my eyes, and I blinked them back, swallowing down the overwhelm of being a part of a family like this. Even though I knew I’d do it for any of them, their showing up for me like this ached in the best way.
“Thank you,” I said, nodding.
“Chin up,” she said, tucking a finger under my jaw to lift my eyes. “You’ll be okay. We’re here for you.”
She stepped aside, and I walked to the altar, where Atlas and Wes stood, waiting for me.
I took a deep breath and began by calling the elements and welcoming the ancestors, asking for their help with this work.
Then I cast the circle around us, invoking protection and love and divinity.
Once the candles were lit and the full moon beamed down on us, I went to the chalice at the center of the altar and poured some of the wine, having already been blessed and cleansed.
I focused inward, trying to find the earth and ground in this, our most hallowed space.
Firelight flickered over my warriors’ faces, casting their features in soft shadows and delicate tangerines. It was time.
“No going back,” I told them.
“I’m ready,” Atlas replied.
“Let’s do it,” Wes said.
I grabbed my knife and pricked the end of my pointer finger, holding it over the chalice when it bubbled with blood.
“By flesh once given, by blood once shed. We summon not, but seal instead. The rift that fed on fear and flame, we close with heart, with soul, with name.” A few drops sizzled into the murky red liquid, but the spell had already started to twist down my spine, tingling in my legs, twisting through my chest and over my scalp.
I handed the knife to Atlas, who opened his finger to do the same thing.
“Three divided,” Atlas said, “now made one. Darkness shared, its rule undone. Let shadow’s reach be spread and small, so none may bear the whole of it all.”
His blood made the same crackling noise as mine when it landed in the mixture, and the magic intensified in my bones, scalding and furious.
It’s working.
Atlas gave the knife to Wes, and he cut himself over the chalice, his serious gaze meeting mine as he did.
“Soul to soul, we weave this thread,” he said, “Not for life, nor love, nor dread. But that which bound us once in pain shall never find that path again.”
After he finished, I picked up the chalice and brought it to my lips, gulping down our combined essence.
The energy in the atmosphere picked up, the circle flaming to life, the candles burning brighter.
Smoke filled the valley, and my sisters began chanting, invoking ancient, powerful magic that intensified the ambiance.
Atlas drank after me, his thoughts churning, his anxiety warring with elation as it slithered through our tether. When he swallowed, the circle sparked to life like fireworks.
Wes drank next, and that was when it hit.
My muscles tensed, and something shoved me in the chest, toppling me over.
Atlas grabbed one hand, and Wesson grabbed the other while they joined palms across from me.
That emptiness inside me, the darkness, the flagrant void of whatever we’d brought back with us, circled through our connection like a whirlwind, picking up steam.
Memories flashed through my mind like a movie montage.
I saw the two of them as boys, huddled together in a motel bed, watching a horror movie and trying to scare each other.
Next came me as a girl, cuddling with my father on the couch while my mother read me a bedtime story.
Them learning monsters were real, Wes’s eyes wide, Atlas’s toothy grin big with excitement.
On and on the memories went.
Me on my father’s lap while he taught me how to hold a knife.
Atlas kissing a girl for the first time at age twelve and thinking it was grosser than he expected.
Wes getting an A on a paper in middle school and realizing he was smarter than his father had ever given him credit for, that he could actually do something with his life.
Atlas going on his first mission and chopping the head off a vampire, returning home covered in blood and aching for a hug no one would give him.
Wes going to homecoming in the best suit he could find at the thrift store, praying for a normal life, knowing it would never happen.
Me learning my parents had died and crying myself to sleep in Tita’s spare bedroom.
Atlas and Wes burying what remained of their father’s corpse, each wishing they could hold hands and cry, knowing their father would be appalled if they did.
I watched their lives play out in my mind. They bore witness to every pain I ever had, every struggle I’d ever endured.
Finally, the darkness ebbed, and a vibrant energy took root. I pulled from the earth and spread it out to them, gifting them with this piece of me. It reinvigorated what we already had, making it infinitely more potent and powerful.
When we opened our eyes again in that sacred clearing, we were one soul. One person in three bodies. One consciousness living together.
And I felt my magic roar to life.