Initiation 15

Chapter Ten

Nora stood over the bath as the water slowly filled the tub. “I see we still have the same sucky water pressure.”

Leah nodded. Of course, as pagans they never complained about water pressure, never thought they could. People assumed they could put a hex on someone to get them to do as they wanted, or just threaten and that would be it. The law of three would bite them in the butt if they ever thought about doing it. It was similar to the golden rule, only three times as bad. Whatever you did would come back to you threefold. If you were nice to other people, then other people would be nice to you.

Rooting through a box of packaged herbs, Nora opened a bag, sprinkling some in the water. “Angelica, for protection against negative energy, and it draws positive energy to your side.”

Leah quipped, “I can definitely use that.”

Her sister held up four bags and waited for her attention, as if she were performing a ritual. The bath itself was part of the ritual. Nora had changed. They used to joke about being the kids of a witch, but her sister acted as if she took it seriously. It could have been because her little sister’s life was on the line. In that case, it was all good.

“Sister mine, these four are for protection: arnica, basil, bay leaf, and blessed thistle. The thistle is especially potent and should aid you, being a medieval herb.” Taking a pinch from each bag, she allowed the herbs to drift to the water. Once in the water, they steeped, perfuming the air with a rich, earthy aroma that reminded her of the various herbs shops Nana insisted on dragging her through when she needed extra ingredients. She always liked the smell of the shops.

Opening another bag, Nora took a large handful and released it into the flowing water. “Balsam fir for strength. I gave you extra because I figured you needed it.”

“Thank you.” She did need all the strength and cunning she could get. A troop of well-armed soldiers wouldn’t hurt, either. She inhaled the steam filling the room. “It smells like an evergreen tree.”

“It does,” Nora agreed. “I am going to ruin all these great smells by adding camphor.”

Camphor? Leah’s nose wrinkled. Camphor is what they used to keep the moths away from their winter clothes. Unlike cedar, it didn’t smell good. “Why camphor?”

“Camphor increases your psychic divination. If you know what you are walking into, then you can develop solutions. That, along with your ability to read people’s thoughts, should stand you in good stead.” She dropped a small white block into the water.

The smell of mothballs filled the room, making her cough. “I am not sure I can stand that.”

Her sister gave her a sympathetic smile. “You will.” Nora lit the white votive candles on the rim of the tub and the toilet back. With each candle, she called on a different entity. “Lord and Lady, watch over my sister.” She touched the lit match to the biggest candles. “Spirits wise, spirits kind, protect Leah from all harm.” All the candles glowed gently, casting a golden light over the crowded bathroom, masking some of its untidiness.

Pulling a bottle out of her pants pocket, her sister placed it on the sink corner. “Sandalwood oil. Make sure you anoint yourself with it when you’re finished. It will help seal in the magick.  Don’t forget to scrub down with the salt first.” The bathroom door closed softly behind Nora.

Too bad she couldn’t have stayed. It would have been good to talk to someone about everything that was happening in her life. For reasons unknown, Mom chose to talk about how crazy in love she and Dad were, and still are. Then she found out her never-talked-about grandfather was a likable fellow who may or may not have been a ceremonial magician. He also might not be dead, but possibly fallen through time. If she could pick him up on her way back from dark and scary times that would be nice.

As if.

If she could figure out a way to stop going back, she would. The various herbs’ smells mingled, but the camphor dominated. Dropping her clothes, she reached for the salt paste and rubbed the rough mixture all over her body, avoiding her eyes. Not only would it flake off bad energy, but it would do a number on dead skin cells, too. Her skin would be glowing and protected. Think of it not as a protection ritual to chase the bogeyman away, but more as a spa day, Leah told herself as she climbed into the tub. The water was hot, but not hot enough to burn her.

Her father used to joke that their landlord was smart because he made sure the temperature on the water heater was set low enough that none of them could ever level a lawsuit against him for burning themselves. Knowing this, she set her other foot into the water and gently lowered her body into the steamy broth. It was as if she were part of a stew, the main ingredient.

Leaning back against the tub, she closed her eyes. For a brief second, she worried about shifting in the nude, but she felt safe and protected in the water. Whatever power was in the herbs enveloped her. It probably didn’t hurt to have thirteen witches in the house. Since the majority of them were about Nana’s age, it meant they'd have plenty of years of experience.

How had she called her spirit guide? It had been so long. Something about a beach, she remembered that much. The image of a beach with gentle waves took form in her mind. Seagulls called to one another. The clouds bunched together, filtering most of the sun, but the air was still warm and humid. As she walked, the sand shifted under her bare feet, and the air carried the tang of fish. She tried to make her mind as blank as possible as she observed the scenery around her and simply existed. Suddenly, she was no longer alone. Two beings stood on either side of her. What was this?

“No worries, friend,” her guide assured her.

Ah, yes, it was Jamaican Man, as she’d dubbed her guide in earlier times when they’d seen each other. He had once told her his name was Lowe, which she thought was a peculiar name.

“Why are there two of you?” She was unwilling to look to her left at the unknown presence. It didn’t feel hostile. Far from it, she felt warmth, acceptance, and some amusement.

“Sometimes you need more than one. The guides come, as needed. Look at your new friend.”

Turning her head slightly, she took in the form of a woman about her height. A sense of familiarity overwhelmed her. It was Nana at a younger age. The features were so familiar. Didn’t she see the same ones in the mirror every day? “Are you an earlier version of my grandmother?”

The woman smiled at her. “No, I am an older version of you. Take heart, Leah, you will make it through this trial, wiser and stronger.”

The thought did cheer her some, but spirit guides were often a facet of yourself you reached through meditation. This wasn’t an actual older her, which meant she could still die or get stuck in the past.

Lowe clucked his tongue. “Don’t be going there, girl. You know as well as I we act as we think. If you think bad thoughts, you’ll have bad results. You are a champion. If I was a betting man and you were a horse, I would place my money on you.”

Leah imagined herself being a horse in a race, stretching her long neck forward to win by a nose. “Thanks. I will win this race. What do I need to know?”

Her future self spoke. “Number one, things are not as they seem. People might say they do something for one reason, but they don’t. Often, the reason is so deep, even they are clueless.”

Leah spoke more to herself than her guides. “My ability to read thoughts would be of no help.”

Lowe landed a hearty pat on her back that caused her to stumble a little. “What did I tell you, little bird? No bad thoughts. Know this. People do everything out of greed or fear. In the dark times, mostly fear. Fear of not being able to survive, fear of being snatched up as a witch, fear of not being loved, let them go. It was a dark time, not much love going around. Even greed was another way to stockpile against fear. Gold will buy food, protection, or even company to keep the fear at bay. Remember this.”

It made sense. She usually reacted out of fear, not greed. She wanted to ask some more questions, but Lowe shimmered and faded. Quickly turning, she discovered that her future self had blinked out of existence, too. She was all alone on the beach. Even the gulls had disappeared into the clouds, and a long, ominous roll of thunder sounded as the sky darkened.

A loud hammering dissolved the beach scene. “Leah, are you awake?” Her mother’s voice carried a sense of urgency. The woman would barrel into the bathroom if she didn’t answer, pull her dripping body out of the tub, and start CPR. Locks were another thing their property owner wasn’t big on. It must be disappointing to her mother to have gotten all this medical training and not be able to use it on her family.

“I’m okay.” Stepping out of the tub, she reached for the towel Nora had left behind. She held the unfamiliar towel up and sniffed it. It was new. Hard to miss the symbolism: unused towel for the virgin. But she wasn’t going to be a sacrifice.

Mother’s voice carried clearly into the room. “It’s time. Wear the robe Nora left for you.”

A quick glance revealed the door not entirely shut. A flowing robe of blues and greens with a touch of silver hung on the back of the door. Nora must have put it there when Leah had been conversing with her guides. She’d certainly have remembered such an elegant garment.

“Just the robe,” her mother instructed.

“Got it.” First the oil, then the robe. She glanced back at the still-flickering candles. Ideally, she should put them out. Blowing them out would scatter her luck, and she didn’t need that. Instead, she made a mental note to send her brother in to take care of them.

Smoothing the sandalwood oil down her arms in slow strokes, she thought of all it represented. Nana called it the workhorse of the oils because it aided in spirituality, protection, meditation, and healing. All good things she could use. Her hand stilled as she rubbed it against her belly, realizing it was also a component in spells to induce lust or love. “Not today.”

The last thing she needed was for Lionel to remember his childhood crush on her. Nope. She didn’t need some medieval lurker to complicate her life even more. Rubbing the oil into her elbows, she wondered, Would it be so bad if he loved me? Don’t you treat people nice if you love them?

A memory of a recent court case of a woman who’d killed in the name of love played havoc with her theory. Still, had Lionel ever loved her? It was hard to decide what constituted love back in the olden days. The man obviously felt some ownership or rights over her. When she’d moved on, he’d felt the need to punish her, and obviously those who bore any similarity to her. It described more of a psychotic obsession as opposed to love.

As she pulled the robe off the hook, a tingling passed through her fingers. No doubt, as she’d bathed, the robe had undergone numerous blessings. If she had been in a cartoon, a glow would have emanated from the robe. She felt a tangible presence pulsating inches from the fabric. She slipped on the garment, and it rested in the air instead of against her body. Enchantments lay warm and thick against her skin.

Pulling the tie loose, she ran a brush through her hair. Always best to put your best face forward for the Lord and Lady, her mother would always say. Her grandmother had become a solid Goddess worshipper and had left the Lord behind, probably due to Grandfather’s disappearance. Knowing Nana, it was her form of protest.

The face in the mirror reminded her of her older self, but that woman had seemed at peace. Leah envied her. She had known what she was about and who she was. Then again, she’d already conquered her greatest trial.

Even though it was day, the house was dark, every curtain, every blind pulled shut against the light and possibly curious neighbors. They weren’t party throwers, so the series of cars decorated with bumper stickers announcing Friend of the Fae, Something Wiccan This Way Comes, and My Other Vehicle Is a Broom were bound to attract some attention. The smell of incense and burnt matches wafted toward her. She could hear chanting in the distance.

Her mother waited in the hall with the ceremonial hood of her robe up. Her motionless stance allowed her to blend into the shadows. Leah startled a little when her mother placed a hand on her.

“Come, I will bring you in. The circle has been cast and the ritual started,” her mother said in a somber voice, which she never used at home.

Leah stifled her offhand reply and answered instead with, “I am ready.”

Her father stood at the doorway arch of the room and announced, “The maiden approaches.”

A flurry of rattling sounds and furious drumming greeted his announcement. Leah knew the group was women only. Allowing her father to participate to such a small extent was a huge concession. Thank the Goddess, because she could use all the good energy she could get.

The chanting resumed, gaining energy with her approach, but she felt a tugging. Looking down at her mother’s hand, she realized they were no longer touching, but the feeling of tugging increased. Her mother sketched an opening in the circle wall. Leah walked through, and the tugging stopped. It was like walking into a sauna of energy, thick, warm, and heavy as it surrounded her on every side. The women turned and touched her, urging her toward the end of the table, where Nana’s important occasions white-lace tablecloth covered the rolling desk chair. Leah carefully took her seat, very aware of how the chair could get away from her at inopportune moments. The chair and she did not seem to get along.

Tucking her fingers under the edge of the chair, she held on, least it surprise her once again. One woman called for order, stilling the music. Nana stood, holding her palms up and out. She nodded her head in Leah’s direction. “Thank you, maidens, mothers, and sister crones for coming to the aid of my granddaughter. You are all powerful forces to be reckoned with on your own, but united with the Goddess, the force of Mother Earth, the Elements, and the combined forces of honor, compassion, and love, none can prevail.” Nana’s voice gathered power and majesty as she spoke, ending in a crescendo that would have made many a wizard proud.

The women reached for one another’s hands, creating another circle within the original circle. Unhooking her fingers from the chair seat, Leah held out her hands, only to have them clasped by her sister and her mother. When  had they ended up on either side of her? They must have followed her in. It was reassuring to have them on either side. Nana walked behind her and interwove her fingers in Leah’s hair.

The chanting started at the far end of the table and caught as if it were a wildfire burning toward her. “Oh, Great Goddess, Creator of All, watch over your creation. Protect Leah from all harm, evil intent, and those set upon harming her. Open her eyes, so she can see the hearts and intentions of those around her.”

Leah closed her eyelids to better concentrate on the spell. The words were similar to what her spirit guide had said. People’s words often hid their intentions. Could Henry mean her harm and Lionel want to save her? It made no sense. By the end of the ritual, things would become clearer. The heat, incense, and energy lulled her into a drifting state. Her spirit drifted high in the corner, looking down at everyone. A group of women held hands tightly as if playing a very competitive game of Red Rover. They chanted, some swayed, and a few had their eyes closed as she did, while others looked upward, fixed on other realms.

From the corner of the room, she saw her bent head with Nana standing behind her, her hands resting on her hair. Her grandmother had her head thrown back, calling out in a language she assumed to be Romany because she could not understand it.

Her older self appeared and held out her hand, mouthing the word, “Come.” She looked back at the group, wondering if she should leave her own ceremony.

Her other self whispered, “This is your vision. You must know it to succeed.”

It made sense in a way that strange things she’d never done before made sense. Reaching out, she grasped her older self’s hand. In a twinkling, they disappeared only to reappear in a damp, stone room smelling of mold. Two priests sat at a trestle table.

The younger priest looked up, revealing Lionel’s curling locks and deep-set eyes. “Abbot, I realize it is an honor to be a servant of Christ, but is it also not an honor to be a husband who sires children? Making even more to follow Christ?”

The older man pushed back his hood, revealing a tonsured head. “It is good you give this much thought before taking your final vows. There are many who are able to be father and husband. There are few who are capable of joining the exclusive brotherhood of clergy.”

Her older self hissed, “Expensive,” when the man said exclusive. Leah made a mental note to ask her later what she’d  meant

Lionel bobbed his head, agreeing with the older man. “It is a special privilege to be part of the Church, but I believe my place is to walk the ordinary path. I’ve a girl waiting for me. We have pledged our troth to one another.”

The sincerity shining from Lionel’s face stirred Leah’s heart. He really did love her.

The abbot stood in a hurry, knocking back his stool. “A girl. Fie on her. You have not defiled yourself with her?”

“No, Father,” Lionel answered, eyes downcast, while color mounted his cheeks.

Even though Arabella knew he’d never taken liberties with her, it appeared that her medieval lover had strayed from the chaste path. She wondered how she would feel about this as a woman of that period. Would she expect as much? How would she feel if Dylan confessed to sleeping with Alexis or Lauren? That would be a bit much to accept. It was better not to know. She could not hold anything he’d done before he’d met her against him now. Maybe that was how Arabella felt.

Lionel found his cuticles intriguing as the old man placed a bowl on the table. Lifting an oaken bucket of water, he splashed some water into it. He moved his hands over it several times, allowing some powder to slip from his fingers into the water. The water bubbled once, then became opaque.

Leah whispered to her guide, “What is he doing?”

Her guide whispered back, “The old toad is up to no good. He’s using charlatan tricks to fool the earnest lover.”

Lionel’s head went up to stare at the priest. “Divination is not allowed.”

The priest waved his hand as if to shoo away the words. “Divination is not allowed because many cannot control it as I can. Rest assured what you are about to see is best for you.”

“Notice he didn’t say true,” her guide mentioned.

Leah shifted her position behind the priest to see more.

 Shapes slithered across the water as the priest questioned Lionel. “Tell me about this girl you love.”

Lionel’s face took on a dreamy expression. “She’s beautiful.”

An image of a blonde maiden with blue eyes shimmered in the water. Leah knew that couldn’t be her and wondered what game the priest played.

Lionel continued to talk, not looking at the water, “Her hair is dark, as are her eyes.”

The priest held his hands over the water, and the image changed as if the old man willed it. Leah could see between his outspread fingers. It looked like her in a vague way that the woman was female with dark hair. “Tell me more,” the abbot urged.

Lionel sighed a little, reflecting on his love. “She has a strong chin and straight white teeth and a smallish nose. Dark, winged brows frame her eyes.” The image changed as Lionel described her. Leah hated to admit it, but it looked more and more like her.

Smiling a little to himself, the man held his large hands over the bowl. “How long since you’ve seen the wench?” He coughed, then said, “I meant, girl.”

“Two years now.” Lionel looked thoughtful. “Soon, she’ll be thirteen summers, old enough to wed and bed. She is especially fond of colors and glittery objects, rather like a magpie,” he added with a chuckle.

Thirteen was old enough to wed. The sixteen-year-old version of herself hadn’t actually had a real date yet. The man made a few more moves with his hand, dressing the water version in red and turning her sideways, probably to prevent Lionel from recognizing it wasn’t she. A man materialized beside her in fine court clothes and a pointed beard. He began to kiss and caress her as Arabella responded to his caresses as lustily as any porn star.

“Look! Look at your beloved and how she comports herself in your absence,” the man yelled, pointing to the water.

Lionel looked with avid interest, his brow furrowed, and he bit his bottom lip. “She never lets me kiss her on the lips. Why would she act in such a manner? Who is this man?”

The abbot picked up the bowl containing the writhing couple and poured the water back into the bucket. “The man makes no matter. The important thing is the woman played you false. Women are not to be trusted. Her love for you was turned aside, all for a bag of colorful material.”

        Leah looked at her guide in horror. “I become a slut for fabric? I think not.”

“Remember,” her guide pressed her hand against her arm, “things are not as they seem. That devious man is able to extract people’s thoughts and use them to create his illusions. Lionel saw you because he wanted to believe.”

“He wanted to believe Arabella would be unfaithful to him. The girl is twelve,” Leah complained, irritated that she could do no more than float about in an ethereal fashion. She was so angry she’d prefer to stride with purpose, kick something or, better yet, someone.

“Twelve is old enough to marry,” her guide reminded. “It is also obvious to Lionel that he won’t be going back to you. The church expects noble families to contribute generously to the church coffers when one of their own is behind the walls. Lionel cannot follow his heart. He knows this on some level. To deal with this knowledge, he already believes you will play him false. It doesn’t mean it will hurt any less. In your relationship, he was the one who always loved more.”

“Still.” Leah felt the need to defend Arabella, but her guide pointed to the drama unfolding before them.

Lionel clutched his chest as if he’d taken a direct hit. “Why would she deny me for a dress?”

The abbot shook his head. “Such is the way of women. Their nature is low and base. God has placed man below the angels, while woman is below the animals. A faithful steed, hound, or an ox can be better trusted than a female.”

Below the animals? Now, that might have been true for some girls she could name, but not her. She narrowed her eyes at the man talking gibberish, fisted her hands on her hips, as she glared at the old fool. Apparently, he couldn’t feel her look. He continued to fill Lionel’s eyes with nonsense.

“Good thing you came into the service of our Lord before you were misled by the lies that fall from honeyed lips. Women cause men to stray from the good way as Eve deceived Adam.”

Worse yet, Lionel nodded, agreeing with his statements. Of course, at that time, it was what people believed. She found it hard to believe that the pretty Arabella, who’d refused to let Lionel kiss her, had thrown up her skirts at the first man who’d come her way. She had no doubt Arabella’s family pressured her to choose elsewhere, but part of her still cared for Lionel.

“Women are the devil.” The man’s voice vibrated with hate. “They have intercourse with the devil and hand over their souls to him. Know this now.”

Lionel cradled his head in his hands, and his shoulders shook as he wept. Leah watched in surprise. The man really did love Arabella.

The abbot frowned at the display of emotion and turned promptly toward the cupboard. Uncorking a decanter, he poured some wine into a wooden goblet. Using his body to block his actions, he shook powder into the cup and stirred it with his finger.

The guide pointed to the cup. “Here it starts. He gets the young priests hooked on a potion he’s concocted. They become dependent on him for their supply, willing to do whatever he tells them.”

What he’d put in the cup also explained the skeletal, drugged look of the Lionel she’d seen before. “I thought I read that the drugs weren’t really popular until later.”

The older Leah sniffed. “Reading the history books again. The Crusaders brought many types of drugs back with them. Wily men like Abbot Augustus there knew enough to demand a steady supply. He also had a ready supply of guinea pigs to try his potions on. Ever wonder how soldiers managed to kill infidel women and children without their actions sickening them? The drugged wine they consumed before slaughtering innocents could either wipe their minds of the memories or cause the fleeing children to appear to be monsters. It wouldn’t be the first time soldiers went into battle with drug-fogged brains. Hitler had no scruples about using them on his troops, keeping them at a constant adrenaline high, without sleep or food, for days. I think Hitler used an early form of meth. Watch Lionel to see what symptoms he displays.”

The abbot handed the cup to Lionel. “Drink all of it, son. It will help you forget the faithless wench.”

Her guide pressed her fingers into Leah’s arms, returning them back to the Florida room filled with stoked women whose chants sounded tired and forced. The ritual was coming to an end, which made it the perfect time to return to her body.