“When did this happen?”
“Last weekend.”
Leo’s arms go around me, pulling me close. “And how are you? Are you okay?”
“I was sad at first, but I feel alright now.”
“How long were you together?”
“About a year.”
He simply nods, eyes distant and teeth working the inside of his lip.
Hesitantly, I reach up to fix his hair. It’s tossed every which way across his forehead, visible evidence of his agitation. He closes his eyes for a long moment, inviting me to gently rake my nails through the smooth strands. I soften against him as his grip tightens across my back.
Above our heads, the kitchen clock ticks away.
Reluctantly, I whisper, “I suppose we need to go back out there.”
Leo half-chuckles, half-sighs. “I suppose we should.” He draws a hand down the length of my hair and gives me a gentle squeeze before he releases me.
Out in the living room, Aaron is busy standing black taper candles in brass holders and Avery’s arms are buried up to their elbows in her witchcraft drawer. When she hears Leo and me emerge, her head snaps up, a million questions written on her face.
“So, uh, yeah—let’s do this ritual,” I say, with a clap of my hands.
Leo keeps his gaze safely on the coffee table.
At Avery’s order, we all sit on the floor around it, Leo and I choosing the side in front of the sofa. Her artist’s eye is obvious in the way she’s set up our altar. The black candles guard a round tray which, knowing Avery’s family background, is probably genuine silver, and in its center, small cups of mead form a diamond shape, with clear quartz crystals pointing out from between them. Just inside the edge of the tray, she sprinkles a blend of herbs well-known for enhancing psychic ability, and on an end table, a stick of incense awaits.
Aaron, Leo, and I are silent while Avery works, sensing the sacredness of what she’s creating. Even she is quieter than usual, keeping her chatter to brief explanations about the ritual’s components. Once she’s satisfied with the arrangement, she hands us each a black crystal that, thanks to my reading, I instantly recognize as tourmaline. “Keep it on your person through the whole ritual,” she commands.
“Why?” asks Aaron.
“Because it’s protective,” I say, pleased that I know the answer.
“The most protective crystal there is,” Avery confirms. “Whenever you call on spirits, you might end up with some uninvited guests. Some will be harmless, but others?” She shrugs. “We want to keep them out.” Three pairs of eyes cut right to her cleavage as she tucks her crystal into her bra. “It’ll also keep your spirit tethered to the here and now, so it doesn’t get lost or stolen.”
Wait, what? Does that actually happen? I muffle my gulp in a cough.
Of course Leo notices. He slips his fingers between mine and glances at me questioningly. I smile and squeeze his hand. I’m nervous, but I’m also excited. If I do this right, I could actually reach an ancestor. And if I don’t, and things go sideways? Well, I couldn’t be in safer hands than with the Clairs.
“This isn’t the best time of year for ancestor work,” Avery admits. “But it’s a New Moon, so that should give us some good energy to work with. “Now—” She slaps her palms on her lap, calling us to attention. “You can’t just summon your ancestors out of the blue and start making demands, you need to establish a relationship with them first. You’re probably not going to get any answers out of them tonight. Just make contact and tell them you want to spend some time with them. That’sall.”
“Got it,” I say as Aaron and Leo nod.
“But if you keep hanging out with them, say once or twice a week, they’ll start talking to you more and doing things for you when you ask them.”
“So what you’re saying is,” Aaron chuckles, “We have homework.”
“Unless you want to flunk Ancestor Magick 101.”
She lights the incense stick and waves it around so the smoke cleanses each of us and the table. Then she carves a sacred circle around us with her selenite wand. “No leaving the circle until the ritual is done or I’ll have to do this all over again.” She sounds like my dad whenever we go on long car trips.Everybody go to the bathroom now, because I’m not stopping again. Not until we get there.
Lastly, Avery produces a small amber bottle of what she calls “anointing oil.” She dabs a little over her third eye and rubs some into her hands. “Anoint yourself wherever you want,” she says, passing the bottle to her left. “Wherever you sense energy the most.”
Aaron dabs his third eye as well, and not surprisingly, his ears.
I blush a bit as I oil my fingers and pull down the collar of my shirt. My intuition tells me to anoint my heart and so I do, rubbing the oil into my skin over that organ that has both blessed and tortured me since the day I was born. I pass the bottle to Leo and massage the excess oil into my hands. It smells like summer in an herb garden. I can almost hear the buzzing of bees.
