The day passed faster than Cleo was used to - all the days did these past two weeks with her house full of Siobhan and Ian. Ian left to go to his shed, and Cleo tried to ignore the relief she felt. He was so great, but he was… a lot. A lot of great. And she needed to get ready for tonight.
Siobhan was politely distant to everyone, which is better than what Cleo had hoped for. Poor Grant kept shooting her unsubtle glances, and Cleo wanted to laugh if it wasn’t so sad. There was nothing there for either one of them. Cleo couldn’t imagine a less-suited couple: shy, sweet Grant with prickly smarty-pants Siobhan.
Earlier in the day, Ian had given Cleo a small vial of blood. It felt heavier than it should in her pocket. Nan had certainly never shied away from using blood magic, but given what she knew about Nan now, it made Cleo nervous. It was a little thing, a bit more than a few drops. But this is how slippery slopes started, right? A tiny foot in one direction.
Cleo was all nerves, excitement buzzing throughout her skin. This was it. This was going to work, and this was going to change things. She wouldn’t have to fear the curse. She wouldn’t fear the tea stopping working. Thinking of the tea, she wouldn’t have to pee every five minutes. With that thought, Cleo excused herself to pee once more before meditating.
Cleo had explained to Siobhan what to expect earlier in the day, and now Cleo felt strange, overcrowded with Ian and Siobhan sitting just slightly behind her. Supportive, she told herself, not smothering. Supportive.
They called the elements. Sophie brought a cool rush of air into the room from her affinity, but it was Mariana’s fire magic that Cleo wanted her sister to see. It was undeniably showy, odd for a woman who was decidedly level-headed.
Mari’s eyes glinted behind her heavy glasses, and she was sweating under her hooded sweatshirt as she focused on the flame. When it popped to life with a small whoosh of heat, Siobhan gasped. Finally, thought Cleo, now she’ll believe me.
When they moved to go outside, Siobhan grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her aside. “What the fuck was that about?” Her face was red, flushed from anger.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cleo said honestly.
Siobhan’s face reddened even more. “You. And that, that, flashpoint faker! Are you trying to make me feel dumb? That’s such an asshole move. You’re a dick.”
“Siobhan,” Cleo began, feeling her way through this conversation, “when was the last time you had some of that tea?”
“Your tea sucks,” Siobhan said.
That was one way to answer the question. Apparently it had been awhile.
“Everything feels bad. I probably look terrible to you right now,” Cleo thought out loud. The curse was kicking in for Siobhan. “Let’s just go outside. Let’s do this. It will help you.”
“Your dumb goth friends can’t help me! Fake pagan goths can’t help anyone!” Siobhan yelled.
There was no way everyone hadn’t heard that. “I know. I know what’s going on in your head right now. There’s noise, everything’s a hot heaping mass of garbage. I know. But just… trust me a little longer. We’re going to do a ritual tonight, remember? One to help -”
Siobhan cut her off. “There’s no such thing as your stupid curse, Cleo. Mom was right about you. You’re so credulous. You’ll believe anything anyone says if you think it’ll fix whatever it is that’s wrong with you. Nan was a mean crackpot and you were her favorite. Thank God she wasn’t a cult leader because she probably would’ve sold you. She never really cared about you, after all. She only tolerated you because you loved her.”
Cleo’s hand cracked against Siobhan’s face. Cleo looked in horror at the blossoming handprint against Siobhan’s shocked face. She hadn’t meant to hurt her sister. It had just… happened.
Siobhan shoved Cleo’s shoulder to push her out of the way. She left in silence more damning than a scream. The front door slammed. Cleo stood in the kitchen pantry, listening to her sister driving away. She’d be back; she’d taken Cleo’s car. But when she came back...
Cleo resolutely turned and marched outside. She had to break this curse. It was ruining Siobhan’s life. Cleo exploded when she was upset, and the curse magnified that. Siobhan imploded, though, and what would that look like magnified? Cleo didn’t want to find out.
The cauldron was ready when Cleo walked outside. She’d prepared it in the house partially, filling it with purified water. It bubbled merrily over the flickering flame.
Cleo took her place. These people were good, Cleo could admit that. Sophie shot her a sympathetic smile. Grant’s eyes were closed, and his chest moved in a deep and steady rhythm. Mari and Agnes ignored her, focusing their will and craft on the flames. Good. They needed the focus.
Ian stood closest to the fire in the center of them all. Cleo walked in a circle before her coven, feeling the energy snap into place around her. The circle closed, and Cleo felt the will of the group around her, sharp against her skin like the breath of winter.
Cleo withdrew the vial of Ian’s blood, a small wooden bowl of Dante’s tea, large hunks of labradorite, and a large sprig of rosemary she’d snipped that morning.
Agnes started the chant. She’d written it with the group over text messages over the last few days with all of them. Cleo couldn’t imagine a better example of modern witchery.
Cleo murmured her intentions as she first cast in the rosemary. Its scent filled air, sharp and clean. She repeated the process with the stones. Dante’s tea went next, and the pressure in the circle began to change.
She turned to Ian and froze. He’d partially shifted. His frame was enormous, his head a mix of bear and human features. He grimaced and his breath came
