LAST WEEK:
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The pair arrived back at the Faith Center later than they had intended, after their detour had to become a retour of their wandering path. It turned out that Sera had been correct in all of their directional disagreements, and Renna had to own up to her inability to know right and left without pulling her train of thought into a station. Their goal was achieved, though, and they were able to slip into the building without drawing attention.
The crowd drawn from the meetinghouse had more than doubled in size, and it took up the majority of the space in the seating area. All eyes were focused on Deborah, who was currently on a roll with her speech. The two insurgent witches chose their moment to move through the open spaces as casually as possible and settled behind a group of tall ornamental plants that bordered one edge of the meeting area.
“That’s what I’ve been saying all this time, Martha. As soon as we let our guard down, the polluting influence of the devil will work its way into even the most blessed of homes. Give your kids tablets, they said? Let them use social media, they said? Please! What they disguise as independence is nothing more than opening the floodgates of temptation.”
“Amen!” A chair scraped back and someone else took the floor. “I was wondering how my darling Sander had been afflicted with the devilry of witchcraft when I know his schedule better than he does. He doesn’t have any time to go fraternizing with that dirty hippy girl! But it’s the cell phones, and the internet—they’re able to talk to each other all day and night with those things!”
“You got that right, Lindy,” a man’s voice answered. “That’s why we installed some monitoring software on Amanda’s technology. Tells us everywhere she’s been going on the internet, and everyone she texts or calls. If she can’t control herself, it’s up to us as the parents to protect them.”
“And bless you for your foresight, Jerry!” Deborah answered him, with the affirmation of many others. “I don’t want to imagine how long this would have gone on if you hadn’t alerted us.”
“I’m done with it all! I’m tossing the internet box right out of our door once I get home. All the thing does is bring in sin through the airwaves!”
The general buzz started to kick off until Deborah brought the focus back to her. “Thank you all for your concern. But we still have several important issues to discuss. Like this.” There was a collective gasp as Renna and Sera heard her heft something up into the air to show the meeting. “Forgive me for alarming you, but you all need to know that we found this tool of witchcraft lying within our very own meetinghouse! Brought in by that same wicked girl!”
The clamor of voices started up again, angrier this time. It took a few moments for Deborah to restore order. “Do not worry! It will be properly disposed of. The point is, that child has gone too far this time. She has brought objects into our community that will actively work to seed evil within our humble town, and poison the minds of our young first! That girl is too far gone—she is already one of the pagans who live out in the woods. Up till now, we acted as good neighbors do and tolerated their awful ways of life, as long as they kept it to themselves. But this is too much.”
Another voice grew loud enough to be heard. “But tell them, Deb. Tell them where that girl got the thing from.”
“I was getting to that, Rich. Yes, I’m afraid to say that we can confirm this wicked instrument comes from the Muslim woman who lives in that RV a little ways out of town… Unless there’s someone else among us who can write these Arabic scrawls.”
Deborah let the murmurs percolate a bit before continuing. “Again. Despite her faith in a false doctrine, we did good by her, and for many years, she hasn’t caused any trouble. But it’s only too clear now that she’s been giving these kinds of evil tools to that girl, knowing that she would bring them into the community and begin spreading the plague of witchcraft. I would rather not believe it, personally, but it’s only too clear. We can’t trust someone like that any longer.”
She let the shouts of affirmation radiate throughout the space, built wide and tall in resemblance of a cathedral, making the voices of less than thirty people sound like an angry, riled-up mob. Renna hugged her knees tighter and pushed her face into them, trying to block out the emotions that were washing about her like breaking waves, but were not her own.
When she gathered up her courage to tune in again, Deborah had regained control of the floor. “It’s agreed, then, that she is no longer welcome in our community. She will have to pack up that rustheap of an RV she squats in and take all of her witchcrafts with her.”
“What if she doesn’t want to leave?”
“That’s not really an option for her. And we’ll make that clear.”
“What if she tries to curse us?”
This roused some murmurs from the audience. “Settle down! She is one heathen, and we are many; we are blessed and protected by God’s love. If all of you have put yourself in His hands, He will not allow such dark magic to soil you. Fear not.” These words were tonic to the listeners, and there was a general sigh of relief.
“That matter is settled. But what about the hippy girl? She’s as much to blame for this catastrophe as the Muslim woman is. That girl truly is a poison—she’s gotten our God-fearing children to speak back to us, to disobey us, and to shun Jesus and his teachings. She was never a part of our congregation in the first place, and despite the honorable efforts of the school board—” she paused, likely to acknowledge several of those who were present—“we cannot remove her from our school, even though her influence is as heinous as those ‘Earth History’ textbooks. No, it seems that she’ll be a more difficult weed to pluck from our garden. She knows her own deviance too. One minute she’ll be there putting filth into our children’s heads, the next she’ll be slipping into the shadows—a little weasel, you never know where she’ll pop up next …”
Although Deborah had likely used the weasel metaphor to refer to the girl’s behavior, Renna couldn’t help thinking it was apt, even in the way the young protester had been squirming and twisting about while trying to free herself from the long arms of the law. Renna’s thoughts were brought back to the short time when a weasel had joined Inglenook’s foster family of pets, and no matter who tried to hold it, it had always managed to undulate itself away and seek refuge in a couch or nearby boot. Unless Alec was holding it, of course—the boy always had a way with animals, to the point where he spent more time with the dogs than the kids.
Renna’s mind had been following this tangent long enough for Sera to start pulling on her shirt sleeve. She looked up and nearly blew their cover behind the wall of plants as she jumped up with surprise. It really was true—that girl could sneak around anywhere, and this time she had popped up against the window right behind them, grinning so wide her frizzy hairs got caught in either side of her mouth. She made obvious motions for them to come outside and join her. Renna and Sera had a quick eye-glance debate—stay here and listen to the Sunday holy rollers continue their tirade, or become associated with a proclaimed heretic who had apparently just escaped from police custody?
They looked back at the window and saw that the girl had pulled out several dollar bills in one hand, and was rubbing her stomach with the other, still grinning at them like a devil that knew when it had made a deal. They graciously allowed themselves to fall into temptation.
***
If they had indeed sold their souls for the steaming pile of French toast, eggs, and bacon that was now in front of them, Renna figured it would be worth it to at least hear out their benefactor, who was chewing on a piece of toast spread thick with avocado. Beside her, Sera was fully engaged in putting waffles into her stomach as efficiently as possible, and seemed uninterested in sparing any mouth for talking to the girl who had treated them to the food.
“So your name’s actually Renna? That’s pretty weird,” the girl said, spewing flecks of her vegan brunchfast dangerously close to Renna’s soul-food.
“Excuse me? You just told us your name was Morning.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t make your name not weird.”
Renna decided to skip over this potential knot of logic and get to the question she had been itching to ask, but wasn’t allowed to until they had gotten to the safety of the small café. The owner was one of the few people who also skipped church in this town and was on friendly terms with Morning.
“So how exactly did you escape from jail or wherever they took you?”
Morning laughed, in short little gasps, and Renna was momentarily worried she would inhale the food she was still trying to consume. “Jail, please. Devin drove me around a few blocks and then let me out before we even got to the station. It’s our deal—as long as I don’t try anything that I got caught for again, he’ll let it go, especially when it’s that nasty piece of work Deborah who loses her Jesus-saturated brains and tries to put me away like it’s the dark ages. You could say it keeps me creative, trying to think up new things that I haven’t tried yet.”
Renna raised an eyebrow. “So what’ll happen when you get caught for stealing those tools from Leila? Is that a first-time crime for you?”
This accusation got Morning a bit flustered. “Stealing? No, I wouldn’t … that’s not what it was. I was just borrowing them, I had no intention of keeping them—I was going to give them back tomorrow, good as new! Honestly though.”
Renna gave her a harder stare. “You took them without asking permission. That’s where it becomes stealing, your good intentions don’t matter after that.”
Morning gave up on another argument and dropped back against her seat huffily. “Jeez, I thought I left the cop behind in the squad car. Look, I know what I did wasn’t alright. But I made a decision for the greater good. You would understand if you were in my position.”
Renna knew that despite the annoyance she was feeling with Morning right now, she probably did have a reasonable explanation for her actions. But she wanted to get her own point across first, as she was having a real problem with the girl’s laissez-faire attitude towards everything she had managed to make a mess of.
“Maybe I would. But maybe you could spare some feelings for Leila, who’s going to be run out of town by the Christians because they think she gave you those tools in order to corrupt their kids. I’d be interested to hear how your ‘good’ was so much ‘greater’ than letting that innocent woman lose her job and her home.”
It seemed that Renna’s words had finally broken through Morning’s shield of self-righteousness, as she averted her eyes and slumped a bit, unwilling to respond. Renna took advantage of the pause to make headway on her own plate. Sera had slowed down, and had obviously been following the conversation with a keen ear, but wasn’t willing to jump in just yet. She was not as eager or quick to argue as the other girls.
Finally, Morning spoke up again. “I’ll explain it to them. I’ll tell them it wasn’t her fault, that I stole the tools and everything. I don’t think it will help much, though. But I’ll do it. I really wasn’t meaning to cause her any trouble. I just don’t have a lot of options at the moment. There are so many kids in this town that are in trouble as it is, and I’ve been working so hard to help them, it’s near impossible to keep track of it all.”
Renna was ready to hear her out. “What do you mean? What’s been happening?”
“You’ve seen how this town is. It’s totally loony. It’s bad enough how Jesus-crazed all the adults are, and a lot of the people our age too, but it’s the worst for the ones who aren’t brainwashed by all that junk. They still have to live with their crazy, controlling families who are determined to ram religion down their throats until they like it. I’m damn fortunate to have parents who are on the outside of all that stuff. It allowed me to find and delve into the Wiccan mysteries!”
“Wiccan?” Renna had heard the word before and knew it was something to do with magic, but she had to ask.
Morning’s eyes started to shine again with that inspired gleam. “Wicca! It’s magic for the modern age! It got its start amongst a small group of believers in the fifties in Britain and has since spread across the globe! It’s been at the forefront of a worldwide revival of the Old Ways and has allowed people to tap into their own spiritual potential! Anyone can learn and practice it, and most do by finding other circles where they live. Since its inception, there have developed several major branches of tradition that follow their own sets of rules, depending upon what older sources they look to for inspiration. But you can find a pretty regular set of tools amongst most practitioners—candles, bells, athames, wands, brooms, and of course the wide assortment of …”
Morning continued on, but her voice had faded out of Renna’s attention by this point. What she was describing sounded like the general witchcraft that Renna had been learning about, but some things seemed off. She had a feeling that Morning had never had the experience of an uncontrolled Hexing like Renna’s, or constantly being vulnerable to spiritual possession like Sera. It wasn’t to say that Morning was sounding too positive and cheerful about the whole concept, but more like she had no real idea of what witchcraft could potentially involve. If Morning really was a witch, of the Wiccan tradition, as she called it, could she do magic like Job could? Or was the girl still on the other side of the barrier from Renna and Sera—a barrier that could not be broken through by either experience or belief alone, but rather the meeting of the two?
“… but now we have the power of the internet!” Renna tuned back in and watched Morning pull a small laptop computer from her canvas messenger bag, pocked with pinned-on patches. Morning flipped it open and put it down in the spot that her empty plate had been shoved out of. Renna and Sera leaned forward and saw what looked to Renna like an internet forum, decorated in a “witchy” theme, with sigils and motifs haphazardly spread around the interface with no obvious regard beyond creating an aesthetic.
“What exactly is this?” Renna asked, and Morning was all too happy to explain.
“This is the Coven Codex, a popular forum site for new and novice practitioners of Wicca and similar traditions. Once you register an account, you can pose and answer questions, join discussions, share spell and ritual ideas, and generally find an incredible network of support amongst your peers. Not so long ago, this level of communication and organization over any distance was only a dream. I can’t even stress how much the internet has been a revolutionary force in the world of magic!”
Somehow, Renna couldn’t see others who she had already met within the actual ‘world of magic’ agreeing with Morning’s statement. And yet, Renna could understand where the girl was coming from—she hadn’t thought of it before now, but the internet did seem like a perfect way to connect all these isolated individuals who lived like many candles in the dark. What if they had been able to use the internet to identify that dangerous magic tool that they had found at the playground? Or if someone had digitized the entire contents of Ebon’Tourelle and made it all searchable with just a few keyboard commands—and even better, it could be made accessible to anyone in the world who sought the knowledge, not just those who managed to make it to the backwater town of Groutney?
Morning was flipping through some other tabs she had open. “Here’s a feed of updates and posts from all the different Wiccan and general witchcraft blogs I follow—I can get them right on my phone. This is a social media site that has tons of groups and circles for the same kind of stuff. Another site that collects and displays people’s photos and journal entries for you to read ad nauseum! Isn’t it amazing?”
Both Renna and Sera had to agree that it was.
“And you see, that makes it all the more tragic how the kids of this town are cut off from this wealth of support and information. A lot of families have ridiculous monitoring software that ensures their kids have no online freedom or privacy. I know a few folks whose parents don’t let them have internet, period. Another vehicle for sin, they probably say. Which is why I want to help people who can’t help themselves. Unlike those Christ whackos, I didn’t forcibly convert anyone to my beliefs. I saw them struggling and showed them an alternative, which all of them were glad to take. They call me the ringleader, but that’s just because they all hated me to begin with. They had no idea how willing their supposed ‘angel child’ was in researching Wicca on their own time.”
“But they all got found out?”
“In a way. Another service I can provide are ways around the stupid nanny software that their parents put on their devices. Usually parents are too technologically clueless to actually know how the stuff works—I mean my god, have you seen how school internet networks are set up? It’s a joke. Last year I had a good portion of the school’s servers dedicated to a protein-folding program and it took the IT person months to notice. Anyway, it turns out there was one parent with a bit more savvy than the rest and figured it out. He told everyone else, and the jig was up. It was kind of funny, seeing everyone so astonished that we had somehow coordinated everything without seeing each other in person much. I mean, the parents have smartphones too, but some of them clearly don’t actually know how apps or browsers work.”
Renna made a mental note to not let Morning know how little she herself knew about such subjects, despite being the same age. “Well that sucks, anyway. What are you going to do now? It seems like the Christian community is really intent on shutting the whole thing down.”
Morning’s soymilk moustache creased up with her satisfied smirk. “Let them try whatever they want. They can’t take away what we’ve already learned. And you would think that if they knew their own history better, they would realize that the more adversity an oppressed group experiences, the stronger its will to survive becomes. Unless they feel like burning their own children at the stake. Which, I will admit, I don’t know if I’d put past some of the people here. But after tonight, it really won’t matter, because we’ll have finished the ritual at the meeting hall.”
Renna asked the obvious question. “What ritual?”
“I wasn’t chaining myself to that building just to piss off the religious fogies. Although I would totally have done it for that reason alone in the past. That place holds a very important secret, which unfortunately was also found out by the church a little while ago. The building used to serve as the original church for the town since its founding, until the ultra-religious folks got to ‘know’ each other too well. The population rose super-fast, which caused them to build the steepled eyesore next door. The town converted the old church into a general meeting house and left it without remembering a very important piece of its history—probably not surprising, since I think they went to some lengths to keep it a secret after it happened.”
Morning saw she had a captive audience at this point in both Renna and Sera. She smiled and made sure to proceed with proper dramatic flair.
“You know about the witch trials, right? Most famously over in Salem, Massachusetts. Those are well-known enough to satisfy most people’s curiosity, but it wasn’t the only town that had witch fever way back when. Witch trials spread all across the colonies, even to this very town. Three women were seized, tried and put to death for witchcraft. Of course, knowing that the trials were rooted in misogyny and general religious hysteria, it’s hard to say how many of the people who were killed were actual witches. But, we do know for sure that at least one of them in this town was.”
Morning raised her hand and pointed a finger out the front door, in the direction of the meeting hall. “While the trials were underway, they kept the accused women locked up in the basement of the church. After they had sent all three to an early grave and were going down to clean up the place, they discovered that someone had tried to preserve their Craft and leave their legacy behind, in the only way they could … by writing on the walls, floor, bricks, mortar, anything they could scratch a line on. There’s so much of it down there that of course, the church folks thought her ghost had come back to rightfully curse them. But starting up the hype again after they had just finished it off wasn’t a great idea, so the few people who knew about it decided to just close it all up and hope nothing came of it. That was hundreds of years ago—people today didn’t even know about it, until someone stumbled onto it by accident. And just today they passed a motion to condemn the property until it’s refurbished—and in the process, they’re going to erase all traces of that lost woman’s legacy! Tonight is the only night we have to act. That’s why I … stole the tools. Temporarily, so that we could use them in our ritual.”
“What will the ritual do?” Sera finally felt comfortable enough to speak up.
“If all goes well, we’ll have the entirety of the writings transcribed into notebooks we’ve specially prepared for this purpose. They’re traditionally called Books of Shadows—once we’ve got the writings safely in there, we can study them as we like, and they will hopefully form a base of knowledge for our coven to work off of.”
“Coven?”
“You know, a group of witches who craft spells together? Jeez, are you guys newbies or what? Or do they call them something different where you come from?”
Renna felt a bit embarrassed in spite of herself. Of course Job hadn’t told her about covens yet, she had been too busy practicing meditation. But she now realized that such a thought hadn’t crossed her mind—all the witches they had encountered so far gave the impression of being loners, spread far apart and connected only through a ‘network’ that sounded too presumptuous and professional to be much fun. The idea of witches coming together and helping each other so freely sounded like a much more reasonable, and enjoyable way of working to Renna.
“Hold on. How did you know. We’re witches?” Sera spoke up.
Morning crossed her arms and smirked at them both. “Because you just told me, ha! But really though, you were giving off strong hunches the first moment I saw you two hovering around the back of the crowd earlier. You’re probably aware of this by now, but sore thumbs stick out less than you do around this town. I had a feeling I would be seeing you again—and I did; you even beat me to the meeting at the Faith Center. But quite honestly—I know this sounds far-fetched, but—you two just have … that kind of feel about you. Maybe we practitioners of magic have some kind of connection, you know? Auras reaching out to each other and all that.”
Renna felt doubtful that was the case; at least, she never sensed anything of the sort when she met any of the witches in Groutney. It might be that she was still too much of a neophyte to access that kind of magical ability, but Renna refused to believe that Morning was a more initiated witch than she was. Regardless of her experience as a witch, it couldn’t be denied that this girl was sharp; if she was nothing more than a mundane person who believed in magic, it didn’t separate her much from anyone else in this town who might also see Renna and Sera as different. And potentially dangerous.
“Anyway.” Morning brought it all back to her. “I’m glad you decided to drop some eaves on that meeting, because I doubt I would have been able to get in before they recognized me. I’d like you to fill me in on the rest of what they were talking about.”
“So that’s why you brought us here.” Sera looked down at her now empty plate.
Morning shrugged good-naturedly. “Nooo … and yes. We can all still assume that I’m also just doing it as a kind person. But hey, I did buy you guys a meal.”
“That’s fair, I guess.” There wasn’t too much to tell of what Renna and Sera had overheard, so they covered the bases fairly quickly. Morning seemed a bit disappointed by the lack of useful intel.
“Hmm. Well, nothing I didn’t expect. So all that’s left is to go through with the plan tonight. Listen, why don’t you come too? That would be the fastest way I can give you back the tools when I’m done with them. And besides, it sounds like it would be your first time seeing a coven of witches doing magic together. I think you’d like everyone who’s there.”
Renna noticed that Morning had skipped right over the fact that they hadn’t agreed to let her keep the tools until then, but by now she was getting used to Morning’s weaselyness, in her persuasiveness as well as in her sleuthing. Plus, the idea of meeting other witches her age (who weren’t dark-magic obsessed cousins of hers) sounded too enticing to pass up. She had a feeling that the Rectory would be short up on teen witches, at least ones who didn’t act like Job.
Sera raised the objection that Renna knew was coming. “But. We’re supposed to leave today. We’ll have to convince Job to stay the night.”
“I know. I think it can be done though. If you’ll help. Alright Morning, we’re in. As long as you give back the tools.”
“Of course! You’ll be doing me a favor by returning them for me… Minus the one that the church-heads found, please tell Leila I’ll repay her in any way I can for that. Oh yay, I’m glad you agreed to come! This is gonna be great. To be honest, it’s the first time we’ve tried a spell with our whole group before—and while our situation kind of sucks in general right now, there’s also the allure of the forbidden, y’know? Like, we’re racing against the clock, under the cover of night and all that. Not bad for one final shindig.”
“Umm, yeah. Sounds good.” Renna started gathering up her stuff. She wondered if the other kids, the ones with parents who were currently furious with them, were seeing the dangerous plan in the same light. “The basement of the Meeting House, right?”
“Yep. Midnight, of course. The witching hour.” Morning waggled her fingers at them. “The most appropriate time. Hey, maybe bring some snacks with you? Gotta keep our energy up.”
“We’ll see what we can do.” Renna held the door for Sera as she went through.
“Thanks for the food. It was delicious.” Sera gave her parting words.
They let the glass fall between them and Morning, and they looked around the quieter sidestreet. The noise of the town seemed to have returned to a normal level, after the unsettling quiet of Sunday morning. They walked in silence for a bit, each understanding that they should take the road less traveled by anyone else, to avoid others who might catch on to that ‘witchy aura.’ The girls conspired as they walked.
“Are you sure we should go? We’ll have to ask Job to stay the night. I’m not sure they’ll be up for that.”
“I’m really curious to see what happens. If everything that Morning’s saying is true, we could learn a lot from the experience. And if it turns out that she’s not actually as magical as she thinks, we’ll still learn something. Either way, it sounds like there are some markings from a real witch down there, and that’s something I’d like to see while we have the chance.”
“I’m with you. Of course. But again. What about Job?”
“Don’t worry about that. I know how to make my case to them, and I know just what they’re gonna say …”
Hear the author read this week’s installment in the video below:
MetaStellar fiction editor Geordie Morse works primarily as a personal language coach, developing curricula and working with clients remotely. His first book, Renna's Crossing, is out now. His various other projects are cataloged on his site Arnamantle.