Waking the Moon

understood the fanatical, almost worshipful reaction of Angelica’s fans.

Cloud had read a few of Angelica’s books, but it was hard for her to take them seriously. All that crap about the Goddess, about atavistic beauty and power. A power that would fill any woman, if only she would open herself up to it. Angelica had designed an entire ritual for this: Waking the Moon, she called it. Cloud had watched the ritual plenty of times. To tell the truth, it was not very impressive, at least to Cloud. A lot of incense and chiming bells and chanting, a certain amount of Camp Fire girl rowdiness and restrained nudity. Cloud usually dozed through most of it, leaving Kendra to watch in case any crazies showed up.

So maybe Cloud was missing out on something. Certainly afterward the women appeared to be ecstatic enough. Chattering about the Goddess, and how empowering it was to know Her true names. About what it was like to feel that power and to see Her beauty, a terrible beauty that She held within Her very bones, a beauty that would burn like flame and consume anyone foolish enough to come too near.

In Angelica’s workshops—and these were very special workshops, participants were carefully screened, and to further ensure that only the very serious-minded took part, the experience would set you back two grand and change—in her workshops, Angelica even hinted that she, Angelica di Rienzi Furiano, was the final and supreme incarnation of the Goddess. Cloud had always thought this was a little presumptuous of Angelica, to say the least.

Now she wasn’t so sure. Now, it seemed that maybe Angelica was onto something. Because this was different. This looked like the Real Thing.

In front of the pool Angelica stood, arms upraised, bathed in a cold bluish glow like moonlight. But when Cloud tilted her head back, she could see no moon, only a black-and-grey chiaroscuro of thorns and scrubby leaves. She moved gingerly, trying to get more comfortable, snagged her arm and swore beneath her breath.

When she looked up again Angelica was at the very edge of the pool. Light rippled across her bare flesh, mirroring the lightning overhead. About her throat she wore the same moon-shaped pendant she always wore for her rituals. The necklace must have been catching the light in some weird way: it glittered and sparked as though it were white-hot and had been struck with a hammer. The eerie light made Angelica look as though she were made of some semiprecious stone, fluorite or azurite or agate, something that filled her veins so that she glowed like phosphorous. Her hair streamed across her shoulders and over her breasts, tangling with the ends of her necklace. Angelica was a good ten or twelve years older than Cloud, but you couldn’t tell by looking at her now. Her breasts were high and full, her waist small above wide hips, her legs long and muscular.

Gazing at her Cloud’s mouth went dry. Her head was pounding, as though she’d had too much to drink; but Cloud never drank. She tried to take a step forward, felt her head yanked back sharply.

“Ow!”

Her pigtail was caught on a thorn. She sucked her breath in, terrified. But a few yards away Angelica stood oblivious, her hands rising and falling as she chanted.

Hail Hecate, Nemesis, Athena, Anahita! Hail Anat, Lyssa, Al-Lat, Kalika. Great Sow, Ravener of the Dead, Mistress of the Beasts, Blind Owl and Ravening Justice. Hail Mouth of the World, Hail All-Sister, Othiym Lunarsa, haiyo! Othiym.

Cloud teased her pigtail free. She brushed a line of sweat from her upper lip, glanced back up at Angelica, and froze.

Angelica had fallen silent. For the first time Cloud noticed the myriad small creatures at her feet. Squirrels, or maybe rats, something that must be a horned toad and a ponderously moving creature with a tail squat and thick as its body. A gila monster, gaudy as a beaded clutch.

Ugh! Cloud grimaced, but Angelica paid no attention to the lizard. Instead, her hands were poised above something that Cloud couldn’t see. Faster than Cloud would have thought possible, Angelica snatched at the ground. An instant later she raised her arms triumphantly. From each one dangled a snake—sidewinders, Cloud could hear their rattles as they whipped the air, and the whistling noise of their bodies writhing frantically to escape.

She’s gone nuts! Cloud swallowed, her mouth gone sour with fear and disgust. Time to check out, Sister Cloud—

She wanted to run; but Cloud had chosen her hiding spot too well. She couldn’t move without dislodging something or getting stabbed by thorns.

She moved anyway. Immediately a branch snared her tank top. An overhanging limb snagged her pigtail. Cloud yanked the ocotillo from her shirt; the fabric ripped as she lurched away. A small burst of pain as hair pulled from her scalp; then she was free again. She staggered forward, falling to her knees. Holding her breath, she raised her eyes to look out onto the patio.

Angelica was still there, her body shimmering in the violet dusk. In her hands the snakes flailed. Her voice rose, nonsense syllables that Cloud did not recognize.

Beryth, Eisheth, Zenunim, Lilith, Rahab, Naamah, Ashtaroth, Cammael, Dommiel, Exael…

Within the darkness a light appeared, a tiny flicker like a spark fallen from a burning log. As Cloud gaped the light grew stronger, until a flame leapt there, higher than Angelica’s head, high enough almost to lick at the stars. The flame spread, grew into a wall of fire that obscured utterly the serene surface of the pool. Cloud raised one arm before her eyes.

Like an earthbound aurora the wall of light flickered. In front of it stood Angelica, the two frantic serpents coiling and uncoiling in her hands, like living question marks. Like some terrible question themselves, and that awful heatless flame the answer.

…Beryth, Eisheth, Zenunim, Lilith, Rahab, Naamah, Ashtaroth, Cammael, Dommiel, Exael. Oye Eisheth, haiyo Othiym, oye haiyo, Othiym Lunarsa!

There was a figure within the flames. It was as tall as Angelica, and like her it faced the eastern sky with arms raised. Save that it bore no serpents, it might almost have been her shadow—a shadow limned in flame, almost too brilliant to look upon. Angelica lifted her hands. The snakes squirmed furiously as with a cry she flung them from her.

For an instant Cloud saw them, curling and hissing like two hairs held above a lit candle. Then the sidewinders burst into flame. A searing blast, a smell like burning leather—and they were gone, vaporized as cleanly as though they’d been tossed into a furnace.

“Oh, man.” Cloud shivered helplessly. “This is some shit.”

Angelica brought her hands to her face. She clapped, just once, and took a single backward step.

“Eisheth!”

A hissing, as when hot metal plunges into water. Then the thing that stood within the flames walked toward Angelica. Cloud made a groaning sound deep within her throat.

It was like a man or woman made of fire. Light rippled about it like leaves thick upon a tree, but as it moved from the flames its bright skin faded to ruddy bronze. Its hair fell about its broad shoulders in tangled brassy strands. From its shoulders sprang two immense folded wings. While it made no sound, there was a heaviness to its tread—it moved like a creature formed of the same stone as the buttes and mesas. Its hands were crossed tenderly upon its breast. It held something there, but Cloud could not see what it was.

“Eisheth,” whispered Angelica.

The creature lifted its head, and Cloud nearly cried aloud for the sheer mad beauty of it. It had a long