Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“Why can’t I question him about the murder?” I hissed to Miss Elva as we fell behind Horace, his horns visible among the crowd of people heading for the ritual space.
“Child, that man is not going to give you any information.”
“Do you think he did it?”
“I think he’s just about capable of anything. Horace is bat shit crazy.”
“I tried to read his mind.”
Miss Elva swung her head to look at me.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing. Not a thing. No memories, no thoughts. It was like a yawning abyss of nothingness.”
“He blocked you,” Luna said, overhearing our conversation.
“I blocked him,” I corrected Luna.
“Blocked him from what?” she asked.
“He tried to send some sort of energy at me. Actually, I got the feeling he wanted to take from my energy. You know, like a psychic vampire? So I blocked him the way Mom taught me when I was younger. He knew it, too. I sent it back at him and he didn’t like it.”
Luna and Miss Elva stopped, giving each other looks before turning to me with matching postures, their hands on their hips.
“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Child, you sure know a lot more magick than you are letting on about,” Miss Elva said, clearly annoyed with me.
“No kidding. What the heck, Althea?” Luna asked, perturbed.
“I do?”
“Yeah, that’s some higher level magick there. Blocking is one thing. Sending it back at him is another. I think Abigail and I need to have a talk,” Luna said, speaking of my mother.
“I honestly didn’t know I was doing magick. I thought that was just something you did to protect yourself from people stealing your power,” I exclaimed. I was really beginning to get annoyed with everyone keeping me in the dark on things.
“Explain to me how she taught you,” Miss Elva demanded.
“Right now?” We were nearing the edge of the circle, and I realized that huge pile of sticks was meant to be for a bonfire of sorts.
“I think we’re going to need it,” she said and I whipped my head around, watching as Horace began to circle the pile of sticks.
“You think he’ll take your power?”
“I think he’s going to try,” Luna agreed.
“Don’t you know any protection spells?”
“We do, but you already beat him at his own game. So I want to know what you did specifically,” Luna said.
I thought back to what my mother had taught me when I was younger.
“It’s kind of tricky, now that I think about it.
Essentially it’s like you have to let his power in for a brief second, almost as if you’re tasting it, getting the flavor of it, you know?
Then you counteract that particular flavor with whatever would be the power that would send it away – um, shoot, I’m not explaining this very well – like the opposite power,” I said, stumbling over my words.
“So if his power is black licorice you would fight it with seafood,” Luna mused.
“Or if his power was mud on the floor you’d use Mr. Clean,” Miss Elva said.
“Yes! Like that. But you double up on it and kind of rubber-band it back, so it hits him twofold. You’ll end up taking a ding out of his power while yours stays intact.”
I really couldn’t believe all the words that were coming out of my mouth. All those years spent listening at my mother’s knee were starting to pay off.
“So Abigail must be magick,” Luna mused, as we moved forward into the crowd.
“I think she and I need to have a conversation sometime soon,” I agreed.
“Where is she now?”
“Probably Ireland. September,” I mused and then paused. “Huh, maybe she is a witch if she always heads to Ireland for the September equinox.”
Luna slapped her hand to her forehead and shook her head at me. “I can’t believe that I haven’t picked up on this from her. Or that you haven’t.”
Okay, perhaps I’m not the most observant person. But it wasn’t like my mom had said she was a witch. I just knew she was one of the best psychics in the world. The two are not synonymous.
Nor are they mutually exclusive.
Rolling that new thought around in my brain, I followed Luna and Miss Elva as we flowed with the crowd around to where Horace was pacing by the pile of sticks.
Then two of his henchmen – can I call them that?
I’m calling them that – used large torches to set the structure alight.
It was all very primal, and as the flames licked along the wood, a sense of foreboding snuck over me.
“Guys, let’s stay back behind everyone,” I whispered as a hush fell over the crowd and drums began to beat in unison. It was a weird, pulsing, rhythmic beat and I began to feel the sound reverberate through me as voices took up a chant.
“Is this normal?” I hissed to Luna, and she turned and smiled at me.
“So far, yes. Drums and chanting are very much a part of Pagan rituals. So far, so good. It’s Horace we need to keep an eye on.”
So I kept my eyes on Horace as he began to address the crowd.
As speakers went, he was fairly animated, and I could see the wave of charisma pouring off him as he spoke to his audience.
It was easy to see why this man had cultivated so many followers of his radical offshoot to the traditional Pagan religion.
I began to wonder where the “radical” part came in, because Luna seemed to think that most of what we’d seen today was status quo for a Pagan festival.
“And now, I’d like to bring forth three special guests.”
I was jerked out of my thoughts and my mouth dropped open to see Horace with both his arms extended, welcoming us forward as the crowd parted around us. The fire danced behind him, illuminating the horns but keeping Horace’s eyes in shadow as the chanting rose and people began to push us forward.
I’d just discovered the radical part.