When Sophie finally came, she was flustered and apologetic. Cleo tried not to care. Everyone else attended to Sophie, cooing and getting her a glass of wine, so Cleo slipped into the living room for the first part of the evening.
Eventually, all five arranged themselves into position. Grant sat on the floor in front of the bookcase, his back straight. Sophie collapsed into the easy chair, tucking her toes under her. Agnes sat across from Grant, under the large window. Her curls were especially wild today and blew gently with the wind. Mariana pulled her hoodie around herself and picked at her chipped nail polish. Of all of them, she had the greatest ability to be something powerful. Mari’s eyes met Cleo’s, and Cleo blushed. Cleo had to watch herself with that one.
Each person lit the candle in front of them. Sophie used a lighter she’d bought especially for this purpose and slid it across the floor to the others. Grant had camper matches. The candles weren’t anything special; they were beeswax cylinders Cleo found at the farmer’s market. She liked their easy scent. As a focus, though, candles worked a treat.
Mariana frowned at the unlit wick in front of her. Mari wiped sweat off her head and unzipped her hoodie but didn’t remove it. Her dark eyes behind her heavy rimmed glasses focused on Cleo’s candle.
The room was hushed with anticipation. Every eye was on Mari, which Cleo knew Mari hated. Mariana, to her credit, ignored everyone.
The wick lit in flame.
The fat bottom of the candle began to soften and fold itself down on the floor. “Easy,” murmured Cleo. Mari’s outstretched hand twitched, but she didn’t otherwise respond.
Sophie did jazz hands with her whispered “Yay!” Grant’s smile was radiant, and transformed the harsh lines of his face into something almost beautiful. Agnes’ white teeth shone in the dimming light.
Mariana’s quietly pleased smile filled Cleo with a wild, fierce joy. Cleo knew Mari could do this. Cleo’s cheeks hurt from the wide grin, and the thought of showing that much happiness towards Mari deflated her joy with a quick jab. Mari saw Cleo’s face fall, and Mari’s head tipped in question.
“Nice work,” Cleo said by way of apology. “Now, let’s focus.”
Mediating before opening themselves to the elements worked better in an enclosed space. Cleo hoped that would change as they got better and worked longer together. The mediation portion of the evening laid the foundation for the actual spell work that would happen once the sun had set completely.
Cleo had collected these people over the course of a year after she bought her house. Each meeting was random but easy, and that made it awkward for Cleo. They thought she wanted a friend, which yes, would be nice, but was impossible. Her grandmother once told her that gathering a coven was the easiest thing in the world if your intentions were true, and the goddess was smiling. Purely theoretical, her Nan, since her family only had each other, and that was more like a viper pit. Hissing, poison, and wounds that never healed quite right. That’s what Cleo knew.
Cleo had no idea that Nan would be right about anything being easy. She also had no idea how to actually lead this group of sweet weirdos, but she knew she desperately didn’t want to screw it up.
They settled, each person quietly sitting and breathing into the cool still air. Cleo felt something unclench between her shoulders. Grant tipped his head and a crack shot through the room. He smiled but didn’t open his eyes. Cleo felt something open between them, something pure and strong. This. This is what she wanted. This was worth the risk.
With an exhale, Cleo stood. The air was hushed, reverent. Agnes dipped out to the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine. They moved quietly through the dark house to the back door. It was a glorious night. The air was crisp against Cleo’s skin. Her house was far away enough from civilization that the stars were bright against the black of the sky.
Toward the back of the yard was Cleo’s fire pit, but that seemed a little grand for what was, quite literally, a hole in the ground. She had stacked wood there earlier in the day. It sat, a neat log cabin, waiting to be lit on fire. The center held some kindling. Mari went to the fire first and tossed some paper into the center of the fire. She whispered something, a murmur of sound in the dark.
Each of them added something to the center of the fire. Cleo always did a handful of dried oak leaves. It felt right, giving a warrior’s funeral to something that had sustained the tree, given shade to the woods, and was once beautiful. She closed her eyes and steadied herself to chant.
The buzz of a saw ripped through the air. Sophie jumped and gave a nervous giggle. The saw stopped and started again. And again. And yet again, this time holding, its sound a near-visible vibration in the air.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Cleo yelled. She felt hot, flushed with rage and frustration.
Grant looked shocked. Mari gave a snort. Agnes just closed her eyes. Agnes had the hardest time centering herself. This certainly wasn’t helping. Sophie was laughing.
The buzzing stopped, only to be replaced with the unmistakable sound of hammering.
“I’ll take care -” SLAM. SLAM SLAM SLAM. “Of this,” said Cleo through gritted teeth.
Chapter Six
Cleo wrenched the door open. She’d tried to gather her thoughts on her way over. She would be calm. She would be reasonable. She’d mediated earlier. She would be the picture of serenity.
“Who the fuck uses a saw at 10:30 at night?” Cleo demanded. Maybe reasonable was too high a goal. She’d aim for ‘not rabid’ instead.
“Ah,” Ian said. The little room was still relentlessly hot, even with the fan trying its best in the corner to move the air. The windows were open.
Cleo told herself to
