We walked to the flower circle as as trio. Tanner stepped inside and waited. I paused to take a breath before undoing the side buttons and buckles on the straps to my overalls. I let them fall to the ground, followed by my T-shirt, then underwear.
I steadied myself with a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. The bottom of the dress pooled on the pile of plant matter, while the top half was ready to receive its wearer. Pointing my toes and exaggerating my movements, I lowered one foot through the opening, then the other, and covered my breasts with my hands.
Tanner drew the fabric up the sides of my thighs and over my hips. “One arm at a time,” he said, his breath warm against the back of my shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
I lowered the shoulder he wanted first, then the other, and without further fanfare or bloodletting, I was adorned in the dress of needles. Tanner stepped out of the circle at Maritza’s nod.
“Now, you twirl,” she said, flicking her hand in an arc.
“Twirl?” I asked. I lifted my arms overhead, elbows bent, in an awkward approximation of a ballet dancer.
“Try this.” Tanner’s arms were outstretched but not stiff. He turned one palm to face the ground, bent his other elbow, and began to move his feet. The small steps sent his body into a dance a recognized from a video I had seen of Turkish men, dressed in long pleated skirts, dancing a traditional dervish.
Maritza tapped her chin and turned to me. “Relax your arms and hold them away from your body. Close you eyes, root down through your feet, and let the land speak to you.”
I could do that, the listening through my feet part, and the moment I closed my eyes I understood what I needed to do.
Lifting my heels allowed the needles the brush over the scattered flower petals and other bits of nature’s detritus without getting snagged. I began to step in a tight circle, using my arms for balance, and the bottom of the ankle length, A-line dress swung out as I gained momentum.
It did not take more than a handful of steps before the weight of those hundreds of slivers of sharpened metal created a perfect blade with which to shred the plant matter. The susurration grew. I opened my eyes to peek at what was happening and saw thousands of tiny flecks floating around me and heading upward.
Tanner and Maritza stood on opposite sides of the stone circle. They too were in movement, their gazes not on me but on something only they could see. Their mouths were moving, but I could not hear their words.
I lifted my chin and opened my eyes to the sky. The same fishing net-like structure I had seen over the burial mounds wavered overhead, encasing only me. Squarish holes anchored translucent fields of light, shimmering the way wards around my house did when they were activated.
The whole thing was beautiful. I kept spinning, the needles kept cutting, and more and more bits filled the air within the bubble until they stuck like confetti to its inner surface and even to my skin.
At a tug from beneath my toes, I began to slow. The weight of the dress closed in on my sweaty legs and as my heels found the ground I’d trampled, tips of needles caught on whatever hadn’t shredded.
My dance came to a sudden stop. I stumbled, arms akimbo. The energy emanating off the interior surface of the bubble kept me upright. The little bits stayed suspended or floated downward. Tanner’s eyes were open and glowing as he stared at me. Looking to my other side, Maritza’s lips were still moving, and her eyes were closed.
I couldn’t keep my arms up any longer.
At Maritza’s clap, the net dissolved, the last of the tiny pieces fell, and the full weight of the dress pressed down on my shoulders. At a nod from the witch, Tanner stepped over the rock border, slid his hands between the straps and my skin, and lifted one then the other over my shoulders and down my arms. Taking the dress off was a little harder. The fabric clung in patches to my skin.
I stepped out, careful to avoid the sharp fringe of needles pointing every which way. Tanner and I straightened at the same and he held the dress out and away from his front. “What would like me to do with this?” he asked.
With a sweep of her hand, Maritza took charge. The dress floated toward her. “I’ll bring it to your back porch and hang it over the railing, Calliope, to let it dry before you put it away.”
“Thank you,” I said, bending to grab my clothes. My limbs were still quivering, from the exertion and the magic that had risen up through me, and the ground, the dress, the flowers, all of it. The net overhead had served to contain all that magic, perhaps intensifying its effect.
I was still humming. And I was very thirsty. “Can you get me more lemonade?” I asked Tanner. I sat on the nearest flat rock, rested my forearms on my knees and my forehead on my arms. He petted the top of my head.
“Sure,” he said. “Anything else?”
“Chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven?”
“Coming right up.”
I’m not sure how long I was sitting. Maritza had said this ritual would take only an hour. My shaky muscles said I had been in movement longer than that but time had a way of warping during magical exercises.
Feet skimming grass and the smell of chocolate prompted me to lift my head and look toward the house. Tanner was carrying my tea tray loaded with a pitcher of lemonade and a plate piled with cookies.
“How the heck did you do that?” I asked, reaching for the offered refill and downing half of it a series of swallows.
“Magic.”
I rolled my eyes and held out my hand. “May I?”
Tanner lowered the plate in front
