“He’s supposed to be upstate with friends. What’s he doing there?”
I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “He showed up after hitching a ride with friends and taking a bus. I haven’t pieced it all together yet. He’s working at Diana’s booth at the fall festival right now and flirting with the prettiest girl in town.”
“I knew something was bothering him but I’ve been so busy with these disasters at work. It’s not a good time to be working for an investment company. . . .” I imagined her with her hand to the bridge of her nose, her classic stressed-out posture.
“Grace, I don’t think anything is wrong, but something is up and I think I can get it out of him. He’s welcome to stay for a while, if you and Paul are okay with that. Maybe he can stay for a week or so until we get it figured out.”
“I would normally hop on a plane and drag him back home, but something’s been bothering him lately. Ever since he came home from the summer, actually.”
Since she’d never hopped on a plane to come to Crystal Haven, I saw this for the empty threat it was.
“Why don’t you let me figure out what’s going on? If you can deal with his school, we’ll take it from there.”
“Yeah, okay. I know he trusts you, Clyde. Maybe he’ll open up to you. But let me know if he needs anything.”
“I’ll call you in a couple of days.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to him tonight when I get home from work. And, Clyde, thank you.”
I clicked END CALL and took another deep breath. That had gone way better than I expected. I was surprised she was letting him stay. Either she was really distracted by whatever was happening at work or she was very worried about him.
10
I walked back toward the festival, studying the map of vendors’ booths. Besides the usual baked goods and crafts, Diana had added some Wiccan vendors this year. When I had begun this project with Diana, I had no idea about all the merchandise involved in the pagan/Wiccan world. I headed toward the Wiccan section and wandered past tables full of colorful candles and incense. Diana stood a few booths away talking to a woman with long dark hair trailing down her back. I assumed it was Bronwyn or Ember. She wore dream catcher earrings that caught the light when she moved. The booth was filled with soaps, lotions, and bath salts. Not wanting to interrupt, I turned in the other direction.
I stopped at a booth selling hand-drawn tarot cards. One of them was a beautiful pen-and-ink Victorian Gothic deck I bought for Mom. Past jewelry, crystal balls, and pendulums I finally found Morgan’s booth at the very end of the row.
As I approached, I could see why Diana had given her this remote location. Morgan Lavelle was known for her handmade athames, which were forbidding daggers used in Wiccan rituals. I had asked Diana about them the first day I walked past a booth with a display of the ritual blades. I felt like I was at a gun and knife show rather than a fall festival. She’d explained that they were used to direct energy and many Wiccans believed they should never be used to cut anything. That was a relief, but didn’t make them any less scary-looking. Morgan’s entire booth was draped in black cloth and a huge number of dangerous-looking daggers were arranged in half circles, or star shapes with the blades pointing outward. Dragons curled up the handles, or pagan symbols were carved into the blade. The dark, ominous feel of the booth gave me pause more than the knives themselves. Morgan wore a black cape and more eyeliner than an Egyptian princess. She was encased in a tight black turtleneck and black jeans tucked into four-inch-heeled boots. She’d pulled her jet-black hair into a tight chignon and she favored the kind of deep red lipstick that I usually saw on the covers of vampire books. Multiple necklaces and amulets glinted around her neck. Small silver skulls hung from her ears, their red jewel eyes flashing. All she needed was a riding crop to look like a dominatrix. Maybe she had one hidden beneath the table.
Diana kept to the light side of her magickal life but I knew that some people were drawn to the darker edges. The main tenet of the Wiccan philosophy was that whatever you put into the world came back to you threefold. I would think that would be enough to keep people away from what I would consider black magick. Things like sending bad luck and illness toward an enemy, or even a love potion if its intention was to enslave the subject.
Morgan clearly had no qualms about this aspect of Wicca. Along with her knives she had a selection of “spell kits” with candles and herbs packaged together with pieces of parchment. She had a kit for protection from enemies, misfortune to foes, and agony to adversaries. Behind these unpleasant titles sat a large black candle packaged with incense and what looked like human hair. It was labeled simply REVENGE.