Page 16 of Goblins Don't Count
“Are you sure you don’t want a second dance?” he asked, also relaxing.
“I—”
“Rynne Sato!” Portalia announced, like I’d murdered someone or was the winner of an extremely dramatic prize.
“Portalia. It’s so nice to see you.”
Portalia was the voice of our coven, mostly because she was so loud, both when she spoke and when she dressed. Her hot pink turban went beautifully with the layer of gold fringe over her forehead. She was dressed somewhere between a fortune teller and a genie with curved and pointed slippers. She took my hand and pulled it to her bosom, rubbing her thumb over my palm while she studied me with her bright, beady eyes. “I sense a change in you. Earth magic grows inside of you, taking root in your heart. In your soul.”
She’d obviously heard the gossip. I shouldn’t have come to the coven if I wanted to keep these secrets to myself.
“I had a run-in with Magga, a goblin priestess.”
Her expression became intent and creepy. “You are bound to goblin magic? Goblin strength? You will join our circle tonight!”
And that’s why fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the dirt in a circle between Portalia and my mother, wearing a sack dress. Literally, it was a sack with three holes cut into it, one large one for my legs. It itched and smelled like potatoes. Also, I felt like an idiot. I was a cop, not some wishy washy witch who pranced around in the moonlight. And I wasn’t turning into a goblin. That was ridiculous. I hadn’t ever seen anything in the dark, and I certainly wasn’t turning green. This circle would prove how negligible my magic was and exactly how little power I had to give.
It started like most circles, chanting, passing around a bucket and soup ladle, filled with an elixir designed to loosen your magical barriers, open yourself up to the weight of the universe. Also, the will of others. It wasn’t my favorite thing, but I could cope. This would prove that I wasn’t turning into a goblin, once and for all.
When the bucket got to me, I swallowed some of the liquid that was more home brew, but much stronger. I passed it on quickly and then chanted with the other ladies different astronomical signs. Finally, the chanting cut off and Portalia stood, swaying like a drunk raccoon in her bright purple slip.
“I call upon the stars, the woods, the wind, to strengthen this circle of truth, of determination. I call upon these sisters linked in the bonds of our coven, to nourish the seed of our searching.” Whatever that meant. I’d studied at school, but I went for more practical applicable spelling, like handcuffs.
I started to zone out, thinking about who had murdered Judge Stevens, if it was a murder, and then shadows began swirling in the center of the circle. I made out an office, the judge’s face, looking at someone in horror, and then the shot rang through the clearing, making us all jump.
Everyone stared at me, Portalia’s gaze the most intense, searing into my soul.
I swallowed hard. “Sorry about that. I was distracted. Someone from work just died.”
Portalia raised her hand slowly, pointing at me while her eyes burned. “You! You took the spell from me. You, Rynne Sato with the weak magic and the weaker will, took the will from all of us to answer your own seeking. You are becoming stronger!” She chortled and everyone stared at me like I was a weird science project.
I scrambled to my feet, wearing a potato sack. “What do you mean, I’m becoming stronger? Do you think there’s actually some truth to this becoming a goblin nonsense?”
“Nonsense? You took control of the circle without any intent or effort. You will be a mighty vessel, but not for Magga. Our coven needs strength more than an ancient priestess who never should have taken one of ours. You will learn to focus on the needs of others, and will become the greatest asset to our community.”
Asset to our community? That sounded like enslavement. I took two steps away from the circle. “Actually, I’m going to find a cure to stop this. I came here for a cure.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “What’s a little green skin among witches? Think of the power, Rynne. Think of finally truly belonging.”
Belonging to the coven sounded worse than belonging to the Magga. I took another two steps away from them, shaking my head. “I’ll never belong here. Mom, you can take my car back. I’ll get a ride with Clarinda.” I turned and ran, potato sack and all. I did grab my clothing and my purse on my way to the parking lot.
Tim was there, looking confused and fairly sturdy. I handed him my keys. “Please give these to my mother,” I told him, then continued dashing out of there as fast as my legs could carry me.
“Can I get a ride?” I asked as I climbed into Clarinda’s passenger seat while she stared at me, like she wasn’t sure what to do with me. She didn’t stay for the circles, and she didn’t really mingle. She also didn’t carpool.
She finally shrugged and put her truck in gear, backing out of the space. “You want to talk about it?”
“I think Judge Stevens was murdered. I saw a woman’s hand on the gun before he…” The image of his face, of the blood, struck me hard. I’d actually seen it.
“You know, I was actually talking about why you’re running out of there in a potato sack, but if you’d rather talk about a murder, who am I to stop you?”
“Oh. Well, I took the lead. On accident. I guess that means my magic really is stronger.”
She shot me an impressed look before refocusing on the road. “I imagine Portalia wasn’t happy about that.”
“She was ecstatic. She wants to train me to be a good vessel for her will.”
She snorted. “That’s not how it works. Also, your will isn’t weak. Not remotely. You’re just not interested in coven power struggles. Who would be? All of it is so pointless.” She sounded depressed.
