Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
SALEM, PRESENT DAY
Morana had been staring at the book for hours, waiting for something else to happen.
It had almost fried that bird who was hanging around judging her worse than her momma had ever done before she’d upped and left her to look after herself when she was twelve years old.
She had walked out of her life and into the passenger seat of Duane’s car faster than she ever thought was possible in those six-inch platform heels she wore no matter the occasion.
Telling Morana they were going on a road trip to have some fun and because she was a sulky twelve-year-old she had to stay behind.
She could hear her mom’s voice; those last words she ever spoke to her.
‘Baby girl, if you weren’t so angry and sulky, we would take you with us honest to God, but I need to have fun and you tagging along isn’t fun.
Duane hates kids so you’ll be okay for a couple of days on your own.
There’s food in the freezer, cereal in the cupboard.
Try not to burn the apartment down while I’m away, and don’t tell that snot-nosed teacher, Mrs Macey, I’ve left you on your own.
She will call the social and get you taken away for good.
If you want that fine you go ahead and tell her.
If you want to still be here when I get back, then keep your mouth shut. ’
Morana had cried hot tears of anger and fear at being left alone again. ‘But, Momma, I’m scared, when will you be back?’
‘What you all got to be scared of is Mrs Macey finding out. You’re a big girl; you can handle yourself. You feed yourself when I’m working in the club, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Just keep the door locked and don’t answer it to no one.’
Then she ran down the steps to their apartment and into Duane’s souped-up Cadillac before Morana could chase after her and beg her not to go. Her mom didn’t even turn around and wave at her.
Tears rolling down her cheek, Morana had cried, ‘Please don’t leave me on my own.’
They didn’t hear her over the roar of the car’s engine.
Morana’s words were drowned out. As it turned out they didn’t get very far before Duane, who was as drunk as a skunk, ran a red light and got hit by a delivery truck – killing her mom instantly and leaving him in a coma for weeks.
Morana didn’t know any of this until a week later when the cops showed up at the apartment with Mrs Macey, who held her while they told her it had taken them some time to identify her mom who had no ID on her.
If her mom had survived, she’d have served time for child neglect and abandonment.
Sometimes Morana was so angry at her mom for leaving her she would start fights with just about anyone.
The first few were smoothed over by Mrs Macey, but the more trouble she got into the less her teacher could do to help her until she got taken out of mainstream school and put in Juvey.
Now Morana had done something really bad because of that book, but she no longer felt sad about Mrs Danby who had been the most horrible person she had ever met.
Leaning forward she picked up the book, expecting to get electrocuted but nothing happened.
It was as spent as she was. She opened it and began to flick through the pages.
She was tired of being alone. She had one friend, Addison, who had recently got herself a new guy and was hardly around this past week to talk to.
Morana didn’t know what was wrong with her, why did everyone she care about abandon her?
She looked down at the page she had stopped on and wondered if she dared try another spell. It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose. Her finger traced the letters at the top of the page.
Bring in Power
What would she do if she was powerful? She wasn’t sure, so she better leave that one for now until she could figure it out.
Morana turned the page and saw Money Spell.
Now that she could do with. She only had a thousand bucks in her checking account and if that crazy woman came back for the five hundred dollars she was demanding she would be down to her last five hundred.
It wouldn’t hurt, would it, to try this one?
It wasn’t as if she was going to try and take the money, wouldn’t it just appear in her bank account?
Maybe she’d win the lottery, she should put that on for sure.
She read the list of ingredients and the spell:
Old spices, bay leaves, basil, mint, cloves.
Grind them together into a fine powder, write the number you desire on a piece of parchment. By candle light under a waxing crescent moon, light the candle and burn the parchment inside the bowl with the crushed herbs.
When the parchment has turned to ash mix it all together, stand under the moonlight and blow the ingredients in the direction of the sea and say three times:
There was nothing written down to say three times, that part was blank and once again Morana picked up the pen thinking about how she could end the spell, she began to write.
Money comes to thee by land or sea, no trouble or strife shall fill my life, money comes to thee in every way, the morrow my worries will no longer stay.
Morana stood up and began searching through her cupboards; she had cinnamon, bay leaves, basil and dried mint.
Every first of the month she was sure to blow cinnamon through her front door and light a green candle, a simple money spell she had learned on Instagram, and it worked, she always had money just not a lot, but she got by.
She didn’t have cloves or old spices whatever they were, she would replace them with the cinnamon.
Candles she had plenty of, parchment she did not unless she tore a page from the book but that would be very bad, as the book was so old it had to be valuable.
She rushed to the window to see if she could spy the moon and see what phase it was in.
Thankfully, it was a clear night, and she spied the new moon in the distance hovering above the water down by Derby Wharf. As if it was meant to be.
It was now or never. How old was this spell?
It must have been hundreds of years old.
Wasn’t magic about making it your own? As long as she had the basics couldn’t she tweak it a little?
Hell if it worked she could rewrite the entire book of spells and bring it up to the twenty-first century.
Maybe this could be her way out of the misery she was living in.
An actual book of spells that worked would make her a millionaire.
She giggled loudly as she began to put the herbs into her wooden bowl.
She could use the pestle to grind it all together.
Lighting her last green spell candle, she stared at the flame and tried to imagine the amount of money she needed.
How much did she need? A million bucks or enough to last her a couple of years without having to work again?
Not wanting to be too greedy, she wrote $25,000 on a piece of paper and held it in the candle flame, dropping it into the bowl once it had begun to go black at the edges and smoke.
She watched it as the herbs crackled in the bowl from the heat, inhaling, and she thought that although it smelled quite potent it was a good aroma. She laughed.
Once it had turned to ash, she took the pestle and began to grind everything into dust. Happy with the finished product, she tipped it into a small Ziploc bag, and then pulled on her thick winter coat, hat and scarf. It had been a beautiful day, but the nights were still chilly.
* * *
As she left her apartment, the moon looked as if it was balancing above Derby Wharf Light Station, which was at the end of the long, flat Derby Wharf.
There were a few people milling around, especially outside of Jaho Coffee on the corner, and Morana tucked the small bag into her pocket and headed for the coffee shop that served coffee and cocktails until 11 p.m. Why not grab herself a coffee and sit on one of the wooden Adirondack chairs, finish her money spell and sip her coffee while also making her new moon affirmations?
She had always felt a pull to witchcraft, playing around with the idea since she was a kid; making her own potions in the yard with crushed-up weeds and rose petals. She read the books, did simple spells occasionally but had never taken it seriously before, but this book was real.
As she waited in line for her coffee she watched the people around her.
There was an older couple in fancy dress, the woman as a 1920s fortune teller, the guy next to her a vintage clown in his black-and-white silk clown suit.
They were sitting huddled together in the corner sipping at coffees, looking blissfully happy, and for a moment Morana felt some of the blackness lift from her soul.
They had found each other in this often cruel world and were having fun.
There was hope for her yet. Maybe she didn’t always have to be alone.
She might meet someone who would make her smile.
‘Latte for Morana.’ The voice was loud, shaking her from her daydream, and she took the pink cup and nodded a thank you.
As she left the coffee shop, she glanced back at the couple, and the woman smiled at her and she smiled back. Then she walked the short distance to the wharf. The lighthouse at the end looked far away, but she needed the fresh air and to clear her mind.
Morana reached the chairs and sat down. There was no one else here.
The sound of the waves as they lapped against the wharf soothed her soul, and she decided to do her spell here, right now.
This was as near to the sea and the new moon as she needed to be.
Tucking her latte under the chair so she didn’t get any of the spell powder in her drink, she took out the bag.
Tipping the contents into the palm of her hand, she closed her fingers around it in a fist, squeezed her eyes shut and whispered the words three times.
‘Money comes to thee by land or sea, no trouble or strife shall fill my life, money comes to thee in every way, the morrow my worries will no longer stay.’
For good measure she added, ‘So, mote it be.’
She opened her palm and blew the powder into the sea.