Page 36 of Wooing the Wiccan
I give myself a moment to digest that, trying not to freak out too much at the thought that the world is so different from what I believed. He makes them all sound almost ordinary, but I don’t think I could ever be okay with knowing that the person walking past me in the grocery store is a vampire.
Raðulfr seems to be waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what I can say at this point. I’m still angry. I still don’t have all the answers I want. I still don’t know what I don’t know.
So I wait.
A moment later he continues. “A long time ago, humans lived in harmony with the other species. Nothing was perfect, but there wasn’t secrecy and hiding. Each species has their leader, invested by the life force, and there were two leaders to oversee the governing of all species—one for the spiritual plane, and one here. The one on the spiritual plane bears the title of god.” He watches me closely, and I bet he can see when my world tilts on its axis.
“You’re saying god is real?” He can’t mean the god that was shoved down my throat while I was growing up. The god I believe in now, maybe—a representative of nature?
“I’m saying that the life force routinely elects a leader for the spiritual plane, and that person is the god. Here on the physical plane, the leader is called the lucifer.”
I jolt. “What?”
“Those words predate modern religion,” he says steadily. “You’ll understand in a moment. Around nine thousand years ago, there was a clan leader who decided to begin annexing nearby territory. That happened occasionally, because people are people, but eventually this clan leader’s actions got out of hand. His species leader tried to pull him into line, and when that didn’t work, the lucifer stepped in and stripped the clan of all the territory it had taken, returning it to its previous owners.”
If this story didn’t have words like “lucifer” and “demon” in it, I’d be pretty sure of what direction it was heading, but honestly, I don’t know anything anymore. “I bet the clan leader wasn’t happy about that.”
Raðulfr shakes his head. “No. That was the beginning of the Species Wars. The clan leader began spreading outrageous stories, feeding small discontents among all the people until old tensions and friendly rivalries turned into serious issues. Fights broke out that turned into battles, pitting species against each other indiscriminately. The rancor spread, until all of Earth was a battleground. The lucifer was hobbled, for one of the rumors spread was that the lucifer’s presence on Earth was a punishment, that they had been cast out of the spiritual plane. Everyone knew it wasn’t true, but others who wanted an excuse to defy the lucifer’s edicts seized on it, and…” He lifts his hands helplessly.
“Cast out of the spiritual plane?” I echo. The entire mythology that Christianity is based on came from an assholemaking up stories to drag someone’s reputation through the mud?
“It’s not true,” Raðulfr assures me, and I wave him off. I already know that. “Over the next few hundred years, the belief that the lucifer was ‘the devil’ took root among humans. They deemed canid shifters ‘hellhounds,’ a nickname that has lasted to this day.”
That seems weird, but it’s not the most important question I have. “The war lastedhundreds of years? What ended it?”
“Things came to a head when humans began weaponizing magic as they never had before. The other species were forced to put aside their differences and band together in an attempt to survive, but slowly, humans were using magic to wipe them out.”
“How?” I demand. “You said before that magic is the life force and that it’s sentient. How could it allow one species to kill others?”
“As I understand it, deception. When you perform a small magic, what do you spell for?”
I shake my head, confused, and he adds, “Putting out the candle. What did you use your magic to do?”
“Put out the candle,” I repeat sarcastically, then gasp as I get it. “No, I used magic to move air. The candle going out was a consequence of that.”
“Exactly. It was your goal, but it wasn’t what you asked the life force to do.”
My head spins as the implications sink in, and I put a hand over my mouth. I’ve spent so many years living by the edict do no harm and glorying in the beautiful power of nature that the idea of that energy being used to not only harm, but annihilate, makes me sick.
“What happened?”
“The life force realized what was being done and stepped in directly. As I’ve been told, the world went dark, and whenthe light returned, humans no longer remembered that other species existed—or that they had the ability to use magic.”
“They just forgot?” No way.
“Apparently. The other species were all granted some new abilities that allowed them to glamor themselves, and since then, the community of species has hidden from humanity.”
I stare at my hands, trying to make everything make sense. “You said that happened nine thousand years ago.”
“More or less.”
“How is it possible that humans haven’t found out? We’re digging up old civilizations all the time! A skull with horns or fangs would be a pretty big find.”
Raðulfr shrugs. “The life force protects. There are humans who know, either by accident or—” He stops sharply.
“Or what?” I narrow my eyes. “No more secrets.”
Reluctantly, he says, “Living amongst humans, it would be impossible for relationships not to form. If they reach a certain level of seriousness, permission can be sought to share the secret.”
