Making a quick inventory of what we have on hand, I turn back toward the refrigerator and pull down the note from Laney.
“Hmm,” I hum, tapping my finger on my chin. “We don’t have cardamom or cedar.” I turn back to the cabinet, searching the available herbs for a worthy substitute.
My eyes fall on the chickweed and calamus. Calamus is commonly used in moon magic and has its uses for protection, too. It should do the trick. A streak of dark grey and red grabs my attention and I turn in time to see Beezlebub land on the cabinet beside the one I’m rummaging through. I swear he looks like he’s judging me.
“What is it?” Pulling the two containers down from the shelf, I look back at the spell and begin gathering the rest of the ingredients. I double check everything and scoop it into my arms, making my way to the living room. We’d built a beautiful altar into the house when we bought it. The nook jutting out from the window that faced the front yard was perfect and we’d quickly repurposed it for our own use.
As I try to sit everything down, the single white candle necessary for the spell rolls onto the altar, bumping into the metallic candle holder. I cringe, knowing I’d get yelled at for that if anyone had seen. Everything on the altar is meant to be in balance. Any chaos can ruin the spell, change the outcome of it, and even bring about some dire consequences. Unfortunately, I have first hand experience with this particularly disturbing fact.
The altar is already dressed for Yule. Sprigs of greenery adorn the window sill directly behind the space where we practice our magic. A Yule log, dressed and ready for the holiday, rests against the window, waiting for the solstice. Laney prepared all of this well before we needed it. Yule is her favorite time of year, and we’ve always celebrated together, ever since we left our parents’ house.
That’s why it’s so odd she’s spending time with Marcus and his family tonight instead. I sigh, forcing the thoughts from my head. I know I need to set my intention.
I survey the set up with a solemn nod. “Looks good, right B?”
Beezlebub flaps his wings slowly where he clings to the wall and I roll my eyes. I adore him, don’t get me wrong. But what kind of witch has a moth for a familiar? A house cat is common. A dog would be strange, but not unheard of. Snakes happen sometimes. Birds, especially ravens, are very common, even wolves make more sense than a moth.
Once the candle is properly dressed, I combine the herbs into the tiny cauldron and light it with a charcoal disc. Goosebumps rush down the back of my neck and I shiver, looking around the room as if someone is watching.
“You’re a huge help,” I mutter to Beezlebub, ignoring the annoyance surging through the back of my mind. He definitely understands sarcasm. I make my way through the house, turning off each light I find still on. The only one remaining is the dim light in the living room.
Sinking to my knees in front of the altar, I light the white candle. The smell of frankincense is strong. My poor nose protests but I power through it as I recite the spell.
“As we approach the year’s longest night
I ask you, Goddess, for your light,
Cast our home in your moonlit presence,
Granting us your glowing essence.
For we shall be under your lunar protection,
Keeping out those with ill intention,
Bless us through the darkest hours,
With your otherworldly powers.
We welcome you into our nights,
To bless us, guard us, until the return of light.
As I will it, so mote it be,
Thank you, Goddess, and blessed be.”
Spellwork is my only real connection to magic and the sensation will never get old. An enticing shiver winds around my spine as I repeat the words a second time. The levels of power in the room shifts as the third repetition begins. I’ve never lead the ceremony, maybe this is how Laney and Mom feel every year.
“Thank you, Goddess, and blessed be,” I whisper, picking up the candle snuffer from the alter. As I cover the open flame, smoke billows threateningly out of the cauldron, much more than should be possible for such a small thing. I wave my hands around, coughing as the grey-blue smoke fills the room.
“Fuck!” I cover my mouth and nose, rushing toward the door and pull it open. Cold air blasts in the room but I’m less worried about catching pneumonia than I am about suffocating. I fan the smoke with the door, shoving it almost closed then opening it again quickly, trying to suction it all from the room. It takes a few tries to get enough suction to move the smoke at all, and it doesn’t seem to be enough to suck it out of the living room. Eventually Beezlebub gets involved. I can see his wings causing curls in the smoke as he darts around the room and finally the smoke begins to thin.
Coughing against my hand, I continue to fan the last bits of smoke from the house. I turn toward the altar, trying to remember where I left off in the spell and my eyes go wide as they land on an unfamiliar figure in the middle of my personal space.
“Who the fuck are you?” I shriek, my hand covering my heart as if it might leap from my chest. And in truth, it might. For a multitude of reasons. My heart hammers against my palm as hard as it can as I survey the stranger in my living room.
She’s taller than me and pale. Her long white hair hangs down her back in loose, bouncing waves. I swallow, trying to skip over the shape of her breasts in the sheer white dress she’s wearing. The woman is beauty personified. But all of that aside—
Her eyes meet mine and everything ceases for a moment. I instantly regret speaking so harshly to her. The pale blue—no not blue, not quite—eyes looking back at me are full of confusion.
“Wh—who are you, hot stuff?” I try again, pushing my hair behind my ear. I’m equal parts confused, terrified, and interested in the strange woman standing in my living room. “How’d you get in here?” I don’t move from the door, my left hand still clasping the cold metal firmly in case I need to make an escape.
“I’m Luna,” she murmurs, spinning in a slow circle to look around the room. Her face is pure bewilderment. I’m not sure what she’s so impressed with, our house is modest on its best day.
“Luna who?” I press. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Mortals sure are surlier than I remember,” she huffs, coming to a sudden stop with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyebrow arches as her eyes once again meet mine and a zing of electricity arcs down my back.
“Excuse me?” Beezlebub lands softly on the stranger’s shoulder and she turns to face him, running a finger down his fuzzy body.
“Hello!” Her voice sounds lyrical, like she’s talking to a baby. Beezlebub chitters contentedly at her and I narrow my eyes. Traitor. I have to admit, hearing someone be sweet to Beezlebub for once is nice. Everyone was always so scared of him, or squicked out by the fact that he was a moth.
I shake my head as realization slams into me. “Wait,” I snort. “Luna like . . . like . . .” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. Instead, my fingers point upward at the ceiling, my eyes trailing from the pale woman to my own fingers as if that will help me understand what’s happening.
“Mhm.” Luna smiles sweetly at me and Beezlebub flies off her shoulder, coming to land on mine. At least he cares enough to know I’m about to fucking pass out.