the water in
much like a horse at a trough. Vetiver assumed that from his point of view, it
was probably a more civilized way to drink.
A heavy sigh exploded out of her. “Why can’t the neighbors
just go on holiday for the weekend? There’s so much to do, I’ll have my hands
full enough without having to worry about witnesses.”
Outside, the breezes muttered. The trees seemed restless
this evening too. They sensed Vetiver’s maudlin mood and reflected it. She
needed to think more upbeat thoughts before a real storm brewed. It had thus
far been a relatively calm season and she didn’t want to upset anything by
brooding on things she couldn’t change.
The equinox approached. She felt it looming, boiling in her
blood with the threat it promised. It would be her second Warding ritual
performed without her mother and grandmother beside her. She was a coven of
one. Well, two, if she included Ball. He certainly would. Nonetheless,
Vetiver was overwhelmed by the task ahead of her.
Now was a dangerous time. She needed to watch her step, even
as she struggled to muster the power needed to bind the island against the evil
just waiting in the wings to seize it. Vetiver had to be sure no one saw her,
but more than that, she needed to ensure no one saw what she was keeping out of
and off the land.
This was no solstice ritual. That was easy enough. It was
more a celebration than a task or responsibility. A time of blessings. The
autumnal equinox would test her limits. If luck held, the nosy neighbors who
most liked to watch her every step would have something interesting to watch on
television or something.
It was risky.
It would be an immense undertaking.
Someone would see.
A frown playing at her mouth, Vetiver took the dirty plates
to the kitchen sink and washed them. She stared out the little square window
over the basin. The glass was old, handmade, and distorted the view with the
imperfections of a long-lost art. All of the windows in the house were original
and they would never need replacing. Nothing in the house ever broke or wore
down. Just to add a hint of normalcy, Vetiver let the paint peel on the outside
and allowed the old iron fencing to gather some rust, just a few necessary
cosmetic flaws that didn’t need to be addressed. They drew curious eyes to
superficial matters while more important work was being done right beneath
their noses.
“What better way to hide than in plain sight?” her mother
often said. “Let them look, let them wag their tongues, so long as their talk
is all based on the lies we show them. The truth would frighten them and no
matter how tempting it might be, we can’t shock them by revealing what we are.”
But her mother wasn’t here now. Both Vetiver’s mother and
grandmother had died in a car accident. It was a strange twist of fate that two
powerful women should be undone by one careless turn of the wheel. The drunken
driver of the other vehicle hadn’t been hurt too bad—had even been discharged
from the hospital that very night, with only minor scrapes to show for the
great harm he’d done.
He had died in his sleep that night. It wasn’t Vetiver’s doing.
Not directly. She’d wanted revenge, of course she had, but she’d been too mired
in her sadness and mourning to have even dared.
Ball had avenged her family in her stead. When he’d told
Vetiver—through the bond they shared—what he had done, Vetiver had felt oddly
numb about it. She wasn’t glad for what her familiar had done, not exactly, but
neither was she unhappy about it. It didn’t matter how she felt in the end,
because killing the one responsible hadn’t brought her family back.
“Maintain balance,” Vetiver muttered, using an old,
well-worn towel to dry off the dishes. Still looking out into the emerald
darkness behind her house, she repeated the litany that had been instilled in
her since birth. But the world wasn’t balanced and she was only one witch. How
was that fair?
Ball leaned
much like a horse at a trough. Vetiver assumed that from his point of view, it
was probably a more civilized way to drink.
A heavy sigh exploded out of her. “Why can’t the neighbors
just go on holiday for the weekend? There’s so much to do, I’ll have my hands
full enough without having to worry about witnesses.”
Outside, the breezes muttered. The trees seemed restless
this evening too. They sensed Vetiver’s maudlin mood and reflected it. She
needed to think more upbeat thoughts before a real storm brewed. It had thus
far been a relatively calm season and she didn’t want to upset anything by
brooding on things she couldn’t change.
The equinox approached. She felt it looming, boiling in her
blood with the threat it promised. It would be her second Warding ritual
performed without her mother and grandmother beside her. She was a coven of
one. Well, two, if she included Ball. He certainly would. Nonetheless,
Vetiver was overwhelmed by the task ahead of her.
Now was a dangerous time. She needed to watch her step, even
as she struggled to muster the power needed to bind the island against the evil
just waiting in the wings to seize it. Vetiver had to be sure no one saw her,
but more than that, she needed to ensure no one saw what she was keeping out of
and off the land.
This was no solstice ritual. That was easy enough. It was
more a celebration than a task or responsibility. A time of blessings. The
autumnal equinox would test her limits. If luck held, the nosy neighbors who
most liked to watch her every step would have something interesting to watch on
television or something.
It was risky.
It would be an immense undertaking.
Someone would see.
A frown playing at her mouth, Vetiver took the dirty plates
to the kitchen sink and washed them. She stared out the little square window
over the basin. The glass was old, handmade, and distorted the view with the
imperfections of a long-lost art. All of the windows in the house were original
and they would never need replacing. Nothing in the house ever broke or wore
down. Just to add a hint of normalcy, Vetiver let the paint peel on the outside
and allowed the old iron fencing to gather some rust, just a few necessary
cosmetic flaws that didn’t need to be addressed. They drew curious eyes to
superficial matters while more important work was being done right beneath
their noses.
“What better way to hide than in plain sight?” her mother
often said. “Let them look, let them wag their tongues, so long as their talk
is all based on the lies we show them. The truth would frighten them and no
matter how tempting it might be, we can’t shock them by revealing what we are.”
But her mother wasn’t here now. Both Vetiver’s mother and
grandmother had died in a car accident. It was a strange twist of fate that two
powerful women should be undone by one careless turn of the wheel. The drunken
driver of the other vehicle hadn’t been hurt too bad—had even been discharged
from the hospital that very night, with only minor scrapes to show for the
great harm he’d done.
He had died in his sleep that night. It wasn’t Vetiver’s doing.
Not directly. She’d wanted revenge, of course she had, but she’d been too mired
in her sadness and mourning to have even dared.
Ball had avenged her family in her stead. When he’d told
Vetiver—through the bond they shared—what he had done, Vetiver had felt oddly
numb about it. She wasn’t glad for what her familiar had done, not exactly, but
neither was she unhappy about it. It didn’t matter how she felt in the end,
because killing the one responsible hadn’t brought her family back.
“Maintain balance,” Vetiver muttered, using an old,
well-worn towel to dry off the dishes. Still looking out into the emerald
darkness behind her house, she repeated the litany that had been instilled in
her since birth. But the world wasn’t balanced and she was only one witch. How
was that fair?
Ball leaned
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