Page 87 of Dark Flame
“When was the last circle you participated in?”
“Years ago,” I reply, my heart aching with a low pang. “It was the night before my eighteenth birthday.”
“That’ssix years!” Her exclamation rocks the table, my tea sloshing up the side of the mug. “For fuck’s sake, they made you mortal.”
“I suppose so, yeah.” There weren’t many growing up that I can recall—but then again, who’s to say how confident my memory is? When I turned eighteen, we never did them, despite my few requests. Thinking about it, Mom always seemed uncomfortable when I asked, and it was that reason I never snuck the supplies to do it on my own.
No wonder Hecate hasn’t been answering me; I abandoned her before she abandoned me.
“Mom and Dad—I mean, Violet and Arthur, we didn’t hold many ceremonies or anything like that. They didn’t seem to enjoy them.”
A shadow encompasses her expression as she gestures for me to stand and follow. “Those who play with black magick often avoid honouring nature and the Goddess, so I’m not that surprised.”
By the door, she waves her hand and sends our mugs flying into the sink, the tap briefly turning on to rinse them. Violet always limited magick usage in the house, fearing humans nearby would accidentally spot us. Living in a tiny town only surrounded by fellow witches certainly has the benefit of not hiding.
“I take it, then, it’s been some time since you’ve participated in a Full Moon Ceremony?”
“That would be never.”
She stops short in the entrance to the living room, and I crash into her back with a lowoomph. “I’m sorry, Harlow. Fuck, it’s not fair how much you missed out on.”
“If it helps, I didn’t realize how much I missed out on, so I never really missed it.”
Her glare suggests it doesn’t ease her guilt, but it’s true. I’d read about some of the ceremonies within Gram’s grimoires, but when I broached the subject as a child, it was often met with disinterest. One can only beg so many times before learning to give up asking, so by the time adulthood came, the patterns my parents had became mine. Besides, I had no idea how to run a circle or a Full Moon Ceremony, or if they’d even work if I was the only one in them. The grimoires conveniently left out the instructions.
Truth is…hearing everything I could and should have experienced stings. Yeah, I miss having a group of twenty witches and warlocks I call family. I miss the ceremonies. The connection to Hecate. Only, I never realized until now I miss those things.
“Sometimes on the full moon and holidays, I’d light a candle in Her honour. Say a blessing. But that’s it.”
Morgan’s expression would be calmer had I told her I murder people daily.
“Well, by happy coincidence, tomorrow is the full moon, which means the entire coven will gather. If you’d like, you can not only join us, but it’ll be your official introduction. You can watch or participate; up to you, since I understand this might be overwhelming.”
“I want to join,” I reply instantly and without thought. “I won’t know what to do, but I’ll figure it out.” I think.
Morgan clasps my hands between hers as her shoulders lower with her deep breath. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. It’s strange having you back.” She reaches up, tucking a strand of hair around my ear, her touch gentle—a mother’s touch. “It’s like having your mother again. You look so much like her, you know. When I first saw you, for a moment I thought you were her.”
“You two were close, weren’t you?” It’s how Morgan speaks about my real mom that suggests it.
“The closest. We grew up as best friends. Your parents made me your guardian. Your godmother would be the mortal term, in case you weren’t taught terminology. In the case of their deaths, it was up to me to protect you, and while I’ve failed so far, I won’t any longer.”
What do I say to that? WhatcanI, when it feels like she’s ripped me off the bit of stability I was clinging to, all to move me to a larger and more stable platform.
“Thank you.”
“Never thank me for doing what’s right,” she replies, turning into the living room. “Would you be interested in a circle right now? I know it’s late, so it doesn’t have to be much.”
Despite the exhaustion that made me ragged earlier, it feels like I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I tried. Not when she’s offering me a lifetime of catch-up.
“I’d like that.”
Morgan shows me the chest of extra candles, purified crystals, and bundles of herbs in the corner of the room. She lays out four candles and places obsidian and quartz— crystals intended for protection—on the floor with herbs between each one, connecting them in a circle large enough to consume most of the floor’s space, about four feet wide.
She gestures to the green candle nearest me. “North, representing Earth. It’s air, fire, and water, going clockwise.” She points to each one as her finger rotates in the air. “Four elements, four directions. Calling the elements in ceremony deviates from the pentacle’s design. The elements’ positions, for one, and also the exclusion of spirit. Spirit, in my opinion, encompasses everything. All four elements, all four directions, and anyone involved. It’s inside us, and thus, inherently part of the ritual.” She holds out a hand for me. “Join me.”
I step into the circle with her, careful not to mess up the unlit candles and other ingredients, and position myself nearest to the candle representing fire, directly across from her.
She gestures for me to lower to the floor, and I get into a kneeling position like she does, trepidation and excitement running through me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this connection with the elements, and we haven’t even begun.
