LAST WEEK: “Magic may be held by any hand and bred by any soul. That was one of your grandmother’s most insistent lessons. It is all just a matter of discipline, and passion.”
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“I already told you, you definitely can’t drink this. You would die.”
Renna put a hand over her cup and stared at her breakfast companion, currently standing on the table and acting very disgruntled at being denied a sip of her coffee. He cocked his head sideways and gave a shrill whistle in response.
“Nope. You’ve got, like, a nice bowl of water over there. Go drink that.” She was relieved when the handsome fellow finally gave up and hopped over to the edge of the table, ruffled up his wings and flopped lazily through the air to land on his cage next to the refrigerator. He let out another loud noise when Job appeared at the bottom of the nearby staircase.
“Lord on High. They’re in here too. They’re everywhere.”
Renna nodded, returning to the coffee she had protected. “Yep. I just got up after a while because they all started squawking and talking upstairs. Can’t really sleep much once that starts.”
“When did it ever stop.” Job trudged forward and dropped themselves into the chair across from Renna, sweeping stray feathers onto the floor before resting their head in their arms. Their usually well-groomed hair had been tossed and turned far too much last night, and they were clearly in no mood to fix it yet.
The bird let out another raucous greeting as the owner of the house joined them in the kitchen. He was a large man, mostly around the waist, which was slung snugly in a pair of well-worn overalls. His wildly frizzy hair and beard were as white as the plumage of the cockatoo nuzzling up to him. He went by Gibson, and he was one member of the ‘network’ that Job had told Renna about on the first day they met. Thus, he was willing to let them bunk in his house when they knocked on his door late the previous night, provided they didn’t mind thirty-four feathery housemates that kept odd hours.
“Good mornin’ to you too, Capulet. Naw, I don’t got nothin’ up in there for you t’day, go eat your breakfast like a good ol’ boy now.”
Capulet hooted and honked while Gibson returned him to his cage and then set about making another pot of coffee.
“How strong is strong for you, my friend?” Gibson called to Job over the bubbling and steaming of breakfast on the stove.
“Enough to make me not care that the sun’s barely up,” Job answered with a yawn. Apparently their usual refined demeanor had decided to sleep in.
Gibson laughed and plated some eggs and bacon, delivering them to his two guests.
“Won’t be seein’ much of it even after it rises. We’re gonna be gettin’ rain all the live-long day. Hope you two don’t got much sightseein’ on your agenda.”
“We were hoping to pay a visit to Mister Morris and browse through the library at Ebon’Tourelle a bit,” Job articulated around the fork in their mouth.
“Hmmm. Haven’t seen good Mister Morris around lately. But I suppose he likes the company of no one but his own shadow most times.”
“We’ll try his house sometime today, rain or not. There’s plenty we can do in the meantime, Renna and I.” Job had just received their coffee, and the fumes alone seemed to be restoring them to their more mild-mannered self.
“Well, don’t be in a rush now. Beds ain’t goin’ nowhere, and it’s nice to get some company that ain’t feathered n’ beaked.”
Both Job and Renna chuckled a little bit, and Capulet joined in, with a shrillness that showed he didn’t really get the joke.
“But again,” Job continued while accepting more bacon onto their plate, “we’re grateful to you for allowing us to stay here without any prior notice, even just as fellows of the Order. And as before, I freely offer up my services if there’s anything I can do in repayment … seeing as we’re not flush with cash right now.”
Gibson smirked and stroked Capulet, who had just alighted on his shoulder. “Favor for favor, that’s the Order’s way, eh? Well now, I might indeed just have somethin’ for you to do. But you go and get to your errands first.”
As eager as the two were to spend some time in a space with a much lower bird-to-human ratio, it was still a couple hours before it became reasonable to call upon others at their houses. Renna and Job returned upstairs after breakfast, passing the closed doors in the hallway that muffled the lively avian debate behind them, and squeezed into their guest room that barely had space between the beds for two sets of knees.
“What now?” asked Renna, pulling on a sweatshirt from her bag. Even though it was raining, all the windows in the house appeared to be open as far as they could go. Renna and Job had tried to shut theirs, but many past seasons of heat and cold had sealed it in its frame. At least Gibson had the forethought to put a screen in. It made Renna wonder if the birds had free reign to come and go as they pleased.
“While I hadn’t planned on being up quite this early, it’s a good chance to begin one of the most fundamental practices of witchcraft.”
This caught Renna’s full attention. It had felt like they were never going to actually get around to it, but the time was suddenly here. “Alright! I’m ready. What’s it going to be?”
“Sit like this.” Job pulled up their legs onto the bed and folded them comfortably, rolling their shoulders and neck about to loosen up. Renna followed suit.
“Now close your eyes and focus on your breathing.”
Renna did so. She breathed in and out. And in again. Yep, definitely still living.
“Hey Job? This reminds me of meditation.”
“That would be because that is what we are doing.”
“I thought you were going to teach me witchcraft.”
“You said you were willing to learn The Craft, and this is how it begins. If you care for a pithy metaphor, remember that a cup must be well-formed and fired before it can hold anything inside.”
“Fine. But can you explain how meditation helps?”
“Taking on The Craft is a process of self-liberation. You release yourself from the bonds placed upon you by others close and far, and from your own mental blockages. You learn to create your own power and use it to enrich yourself. Your soul cannot achieve the beauty of The Craft when your body is captured in the service of others. Meditation, or simply the act of self-centering and mindful quietness, is a skill that will allow you to loosen those invisible threads of obligations that lead you away from your true self. It helps the mind become clear and placid. No clouds in the sky, no ripples on the water, no wind in the air. And from there, you can begin to feel, without being touched.”
“Without being touched?”
“In the physical realm, your skin is the connection between you and the rest of the world. It is your largest sensory organ. But if you come to rely on it too much, you become closed off to the world beyond. Your objective is to first become fully aware of this barrier … and then to have your awareness venture further.”
Job’s voice had dipped into a soothing monotone, gently leading Renna deeper into herself … Until one bird next door decided to make a shrill statement, which set off a firestorm of debate from the others. Renna shook her head. “It’s all clear until the bird voices come in, and then they seem even louder.”
Job had not shifted an inch. “Once you are adept at this mode of consciousness, you will be able to seal off all distractions,” they said in a low voice.
“I’m not sure that’s possible, it’s only my first try.”
“Try again.”
Renna sighed and resumed the position. “One more question—what is it that you can feel, without being touched?”
“The essence of all other lives in the world that embody the same thing you do. Magic.”
Renna closed her eyes again, determined this time to feel.
***
Renna leapt across the puddles that dappled the worn-out driveway, following Job up to the house of Mister Morris. It was early afternoon and the rain still hadn’t let up, so Gibson had lent them a couple of umbrellas for their trip into the nicer part of town. Renna had always enjoyed walks in the rain, feeling the wetness of the air and seeing everything in sharper, fresher shades of green. It was also helping to lift her spirits after a morning of failing to sit still and not think about anything. She had never imagined meditation to be such a difficult activity, and yet the more she tried to have her mind like a “clear and reflective lake,” the more her various thoughts and fancies came swimming across it to distract her.
Job had finally admitted that a different approach was in order, and they tried a guided breath and stretch exercise. The size of their guest room was a serious impediment to this activity, so it also became an unintentional game of Twister at some points. Renna swiftly became impatient with this too. In truth, she was used to picking up on new things fairly quickly, and she rarely encountered a subject that proved exceedingly difficult for her. But whatever Job was trying to teach her, she simply couldn’t grasp the goal of it, and so she had no way of knowing if she was excelling or utterly failing.
It also didn’t help that when Job was in “instructor mode,” they became even more stoic and stern than normal. They answered Renna’s questions with short, vague instructions or euphemisms that often left her more confused than before. It felt like Job was waiting for her to get it right on her own, which wouldn’t be any time soon because she didn’t know what was right from what was left when it came to “The Craft,” as it was apparently called by the “in-witch crowd.”
Once it became clear that both of them were working under a moderate amount of frustration, it was decided that lunch would be a good break. After gratefully consuming Gibson’s excellent meatloaf and mashed potatoes, going back up to the cramped guest room sounded like an excellent way to contract cabin fever—rain or not, stretching their legs outside sounded more appealing.
And so here they had come, to an old and stately Edwardian-style house whose garden had ascended to the second floor in some places, and was heading for the roof. Job and Renna huddled underneath the eaves of the front door, and Job knocked. After a silent couple minutes, they agreed no one must be home. Just then the knob rattled and with a dry crack, the door opened a few inches. A man’s tired, wary eye glared at them.
“What are you here for?”
Job fumbled a shallow bow. “Sorry for the unexpected visit. Are you Mister Morris?”
“Naw. He’s not here.”
“Oh … Will he be back today?”
The eye shook side to side with the head behind the door. “He’s been gone for months. Off on a trip. Dunno when he’ll be back.”
“I see … Ah, hold on a moment, please,” Job said quickly, as the door started to close. “We’ve come to see him about the use of his library, but if he’s not here, perhaps there’s someone else who could open it for us?”
The man inside sighed, hearing the insinuation in Job’s words. He opened the door the rest of the way, revealing himself to be a tall, balding man with a thinned-out frame, covered with a raggedy shirt and jeans. He scratched at the stubble on his bony chin, and his glower didn’t cease. A bucket, mop and other cleaning tools were leaned against the wall behind him. “Who are you folks who are so damn interested in my brother’s book collection anyway?”
With the identity of their conversation partner now known, Job put all their focus into their well-mannered and intelligent speaking. They briefly and eloquently explained who they and Renna were, and how they were connected to Mister Morris (leaving out any details about magic for now), and that they had come to Groutney specifically to spend just a bit of time inside the library.
The man, who had curtly given his name as Shane Morris, listened while shifting his glance about uneasily, arms folded tightly across his narrow chest. Once Job had given their appeal, Shane hemmed and hawed and snorted, trying his best to hold out against doing a stranger’s bidding. Finally he said, “When my brother took off, he gave me the keys to that place, but I’ve never been up there to open it even once. If you’re so damned set on getting in there, I suppose I can dig them out. But I’ll tell you this now, it’s going to take a little while, ‘cuz God knows where I put them. Honestly, you’d think he’d just leave ‘em here in his own house, but who knows what goes through his head.”
Job, who knew they had been victorious, thanked him graciously and gave him Gibson’s number to call when the keys were found. Shane took the paper and shoved it quickly into his pocket, waving away the gratitude. “Like I said, it’ll take a bit. I’ll do it, but you just gotta be patient. Anyway, if that’s all you folks need, we’ll be getting along as well, we’re finished cleaning here.” He turned and bellowed up the flight of stairs behind him. “Serafine! Get down here, we’re going home!” And slammed the door before Renna could see anything more.
Job gave her a shrug and the pair of them trudged back down the path to the sidewalk. When Renna turned back to look at the house, she caught a glimpse of a girl looking at her through an upstairs window. Normally this would call to her mind the cliché “ghost girl” legends, but there was some softness in the girl’s features that abated any feelings of unease. She was gone from sight so quickly that she barely left an image in Renna’s mind, but the impression of that moment remained with her all the way back to Gibson’s house.
Once they had returned and were supplied with hot drinks, Renna wanted to know how they would proceed with the library situation. Job said that they would have to leave it up to Shane. It would hopefully be no more than a couple days, but in the meantime they would continue the “practice of the fundamentals.” The term already managed to send shivers down Renna’s spine. Despite the little enjoyment she got out of the activities, her determination was still strongly set. “Alright. When should we start again?”
“How about now?” Job had just finished their coffee and got up to put the mug in the sink, disturbing Capulet’s intensive preening session on the back of their chair. They received a flutter of wings in the face as the bird huffily relocated.
“Now?” Renna repeated, feeling her tea sink to the bottom of her stomach. She was determined, but it was the don’t-do-too-much-in-one-day kind of determination.
“Yes. I know it can be frustrating, and honestly it shall continue to be for a while. You may feel blind now, but the longer you keep at it, the more your senses will acclimate. It’s like learning to see all over again.”
“Pretty sure I succeeded in that when I opened my eyes after meditating,” Renna grumbled.
It didn’t matter whether Job had heard her or not, because Gibson once again squeezed himself into the scene. He came through the door leading into the wild-grown backyard and was carrying a massive basket of chicken eggs.
“Got what you went for?”
They gave him a negative and explained the situation.
Gibson sighed. “That’s a shame. But I’d forgotten Mister Morris likes to trot the globe from time to time. And that Shane Morris … He’s an odd one. Don’t talk much and when he does it’s like conversin’ with a porcupine. Pretty sure he’s gotta bottle for a lady friend, if y’know my meaning. Wonder how Sera’s getting’ on.”
“Is that his daughter?” Renna asked, trying to connect the name and face she saw in the upstairs window.
Gibson shook his white-maned head. “A relation only. Little Sera got sent up here by her parents from New Orleans to the pair of Morris brothers. Mister Morris couldn’t have her due to his frequent traveling, so Shane agreed to take her on. Definitely helped at first that her folks sent a nice amount of money up after her. But the problems that made ‘em give up Sera in the first place done caught up, and I suspect he’s not seein’ much collateral these days. Still lets her stay, though I can’t say it’s the best environment for her, from what I hear.”
From their brief encounter with Shane Morris, Renna could only imagine what Gibson said was true. “How do you know so much about her?”
“She uses any reason she can to stay away from that house, so she was often helpin’ me out with my family here. True love for animals, and they do her kindly too. Hasn’t been around much at all lately though … I seen her runnin’ around with a couple of other girls, off doin’ whatever. Although …” Gibson paused to consider a moment. “I’m glad she’s finally got some friends on the outside, though I don’t know if I like the looks of ‘em. Sera’s smart though, you can count on her to avoid trouble.”
“That sounds rough,” said Renna. Hearing a story like this gave her even more appreciation for Inglenook, where there was so much love to go around it could become a little stifling sometimes.
Gibson nodded. “Gotta appreciate what you got though. I don’t think Shane’s always doin’ bad, least from what Sera talks about. Just got his own problems, like anyone else. I have a feeling he’ll be able to find your key too.”
“Here’s hoping,” agreed Job. “In the meantime, Renna and I shall continue her training.”
Gibson smirked conspiratorially when he saw Renna’s face, which had the expression of one who’s just bitten a clementine seed.
“Now hold up a moment. My dear Job, if I recall correctly, you so graciously were tellin’ me that you’d be offerin’ up your services as repayment for my lettin’ you stay here?”
Job was caught off guard. “Ah, uh, yes, I did indeed.”
“Well then, if it’s not too much trouble for you, I believe it’s time to start payin’ the piper.”
Job turned and stared at him warily. “Ah, I see. When were you thinking?”
Gibson’s grin was almost Cheshiresque. “How ‘bout now?”
“Now?” Job repeated.
With the bodily command of a Shakespearean actor, Gibson coyly sauntered over to the crowded counter and began sorting out eggs. “O’ course if you’re too busy right now, I understand, no problem. Just that I’m ‘bout to open the café for the afternoon crowd and I don’t got no one on staff to help me out. And this weather, it’s been doin’ awful things to my poor back …”
“Of course I’ll help out,” Job surrendered. “But I should say first that I’ve never worked in a café in any capacity before, so I might be a bit slow at first …”
Gibson reached over to a hook and tossed Job an apron with a flick of his large hand. Job caught it and examined the logo on the front, a silhouette of two birds flanking a cup of tea with a heart in it. “Don’t you worry ‘bout nothing. You may feel blind now, but the longer you keep at it …”
Job sighed and nodded. “I’m going to go change into something less stainable.” As they headed up the stairs, Renna wondered if Job actually owned any clothes that could be considered “casual.”
She turned back to Gibson, and they shared a smile that communicated Renna’s gratitude. But now that it was just the two of them, she found it difficult to strike up the conversation again. She looked out the window at the downpour, but realized that talking about the weather was basically admitting that the silence had been too awkward. Then she noticed the windows were wide open down in the kitchen too, despite the incoming chill.
“If you don’t mind my asking, why are all the windows in the house open?”
Gibson answered her as he continued to bustle about the small kitchen, putting things in order. “Mainly for the birds. If they wanna go out, I ain’t got time nor patience to be openin’ and closin’ things all the live-long day. Also helps keep the smell down.”
Renna had noticed this; the particular odor of birds was nearly undetectable in this room, compared to the upstairs hallway, which received much less airflow.
“But to answer you honestly, I always liked things open,” Gibson continued. “You don’t want the flow gettin’ all stopped up and stale in here. That’s when the evil starts breedin’ in the corners. Keep the flow nice and open, and you don’t get no trouble.”
This ominous statement emboldened Renna to ask the question she had been sitting on uncomfortably ever since they had arrived. “So are you … do you also do … stuff with magic?” Renna blushed a bit at her own verbal fumbling, but she still had little understanding of how people actually talked about it.
Gibson mulled his answer over for a few moments. “Guess I used to, back in the day. I was more involved in the scene when I lived in Harlem. But once my family grew too large for our rooftop apartment, I made the choice to move out and find some place nicer for ‘em to spread their wings,” he said, gesturing with a butter knife to the house around them. “‘Course I could admit the city was movin’ too fast for me as I got older. To answer your question, I consider myself retired … but you can’t ever really let magic go out of your life once you let it in. It’s a part of who you are.”
Renna nodded to show she had followed his story, and he sat himself down opposite her with a plate of bread and cheeses for the both of them.
“From what I gather from Job,” Gibson continued, studying her, “You’re the granddaughter of the late, great madam Mab.”
This made Renna stop chewing. “You knew her?” she asked through a mouthful of bread.
“Not up close. She’d been a bit of a celebrity in this neck of the magic woods. She still is, I like to think. She had a way, oh yes. I hear she was the spittin’ image of wisdom, with a fire inside that caught on every soul she came across. And now look at you, her own flesh ‘n blood, raised by her protégée. Makin’s of greatness, I tell ya.”
Renna felt the return of the weight that had been pushing on her in the truck yesterday. It made her fingertips feel heavy, and crept along her arms, onto her shoulders and neck. She couldn’t even call herself a beginner yet, and already she carried the burden of learning how to reign in her uncontrolled magic. Intentionally casting spells was still beyond that. Now with both Job and Gibson singing her grandmother’s praises, all Renna could see was a larger shadow outside of Job’s shadow, which she was already lost in. How far would she have to go before she could feel safe from the demon, if it had ended Mab twelve years ago?
She felt her determination flare up inside her again—fear was sometimes a more potent kindling than hope.
Hear the author read this week’s installment in the video below:
MetaStellar fiction editor Geordie Morse works primarily as a personal language coach, developing curricula and working with clients remotely. His first book, Renna's Crossing, is out now. His various other projects are cataloged on his site Arnamantle.