Page 24 of Obsession

The door chimes and our regular delivery woman, Brenda, enters the shop, ending the conversation. For now. I’m tired of being kept in the dark, especially since I found Mama’s book of shadows. And talk about dark.

“You still in league with the devil?” Brenda asks me with a laugh. She thinks me dating a demon is the funniest thing. I’d guess Brenda to be in her mid-fifties with dark ebony skin and hair cut pixie short like Grandma’s. Brenda makes the shop’s voodoo dolls, a huge hit with the tourists. I don’t feel too bad selling them considering they’re useless unless properly charged. The average tourist wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“I can answer that question. It’s a big yes,” Grandma helpfully answers. “You wouldn’t believe it to look at her, but it sounds like Aubry’s a real hellcat in the sack.”

“Are you sure you can’t make me a gris-gris bag to keep busybody voyeurs out of my business?” My dream apartment will have soundproof insulation. Soundproof doors. Soundproof windows. I want top-of-the-line, no expense spared, soundproof quality.

“Nope. You and your grandmama gotta work out your own issues.”

“Seriously though, can you make me a gris-gris bag for protection?” Brenda also makes the gris-gris bags we sell in the shop. They’re filled with herbs, charms, and infused with good luck vibes and a few other things Brenda won’t disclose. While good luck is wonderful, I want a personalized bag with a little more protective oomph.

“What kinda devil business you up to now, girl?”

Grandma looks like she’s about to answer—something I’m sure is cringe-worthy—but I cut her off. “I’m meeting with a new coven, and I’m not sure of the leader’s intentions.” Are Lucy and her coven friends or foes? Better to be prepared either way.

“I’ll drop off your bag this afternoon. Keep it in your pocket.”

“Thanks, Brenda.” I’ve already been kidnapped twice in my life; a third time would not be the gris-gris charm.

I arrive at a farm located in West Memphis, Arkansas, just a stone’s throw over the Memphis-Arkansas bridge spanning the Mississippi River. My GPS leads me outside of the small town and I turn onto a gravel road. Eventually, I come upon several parked vehicles and decide this must be the right place. Parking next to an old station wagon, I exit my car with the gris-gris bag in my pocket.

Passing through an open gate, I spot the coven. Lucy hurries over to greet me. “Aubry, so glad you could join us,” she says with a warm smile. She’s dressed in a long, flowing white gown.

“Me too,” I say, smoothing out my gauzy black dress. “Thanks for the invite.”

I walk with her toward a large brush pile adorned with sunflowers. I’m introduced to eleven other women milling about. They’re all older than I am by at least twenty years.

“So you’re a coven of twelve?” I ask.

“We do like the lucky number thirteen, but one of our members moved, so we’re currently a coven of twelve,” Lucy explains. “I think thirteen was the traditional number because if you had any more witches than that, they wouldn’t all fit in a circle.”

“Makes sense.” A typical casting circle is nine feet, so it would make things pretty tight with that many women squished together. “Are these the same coven members as the one my mama was a part of?”

“No. That coven dissolved many years ago,” she says quickly.

“Tell me about Cora.”

“She was smart. Funny. Kind. Beautiful. You’re the spitting image of her.”

“How did you meet?”

“I was in New Orleans and had just joined a coven. Cora had just moved to town and started waiting tables at the same restaurant where I worked. We struck up a friendship, and then I found out she was also a witch, and so I introduced her to the coven.”

“What kind of magic does this coven practice?”

“All kinds. We don’t follow a particular dogma. There’s more than enough religions to fill that role.” And that’s not really an answer.

“Why did you seek me out? And why now?”

“You don’t pull any punches, just like Cora,” she says with a wry smile. “I had a vision of you and wanted to meet you. And with one of our members leaving, I thought it divine timing. Maybe we’ll convince you to join our coven.”

“How did you find me?”

“Social media made that easy enough.” So social media is the devil’s work, good to know. “Come, let’s prepare for the ritual.” I follow her to a folding table with a large box on top. She pulls out a horned headdress adorned with a beautiful rainbow moonstone in the shape of a crescent moon. Placing it on her head, she anoints our foreheads with oil and hands us each a sunflower.

Joining the ladies as we form a circle around the bonfire, Lucy begins the ceremony.

Great Sun god, bringer of light.

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