But it was never him, and she felt a fresh death of the spirit every time. All she had left were his words, and the ghost of his touch on her skin.
Still, she got through the day by coping the best way she knew how: throwing herself into action. But unlike the ghosts of Rowan past, it was decisive action toward an achievable goal, and she was not alone.
Uncle Drew eyed the cell phone. “I can’t believe you agreed to this,” he said, prodding his sister.
Liliana closed her eyes and sighed. “I can’t say I understand it, but…” She opened them back up and scanned the faces of the younger generation. “They do.”
“Welcome to technological obsolescence!” cackled Birdie. “You will find it liberating on the other side.”
They all mellowed, taking hands as they moved through the now-familiar rhythms of ritual preparation. Naomie’s voice rang clear in the night.
Carry it far, carry it wide,
Through the channels I provide,
By the power of three by three,
As I do will it, so mote it be.
The messages were off. It was up to the community to judge what happened next. Everyone filtered away, jittery with anticipation.
“If it goes badly,” offered Naomie, “reports are Albuquerque is nice.”
“I am too old and pale for desert magic,” said Birdie. “I’ll live and die here, whatever the industrialists do. You, though…” She tweaked Naomie’s cheek. “It would do you well to reconnect with your mother’s side. They could teach you things this old white lady never could.”
Zaide looked between the two of them, a vulnerable expression flickering over her face. She put an arm around Naomie’s shoulder. “Let’s not talk like we’ve lost yet.”
“No, of course not,” said Birdie. “That’s a surefire way to send a good spell astray.”
Liliana paused at the edge of the clearing, noting that Rowan had lingered behind. “Are you coming?” she called back.
“No,” said Rowan. “I have something else to do out here. I’ll be back soon, though.”
When they were all gone, she knelt at the edge of the clearing by the stream. Though it was iced at the shore, the center still ran unrestrained. She pulled the hedgewitch pendant from her pocket and stared at it.
“I know you’re here somewhere,” she murmured. “I feel you sometimes. That was you, wasn’t it? The first night? Telling me the spell would work out?”
There was no answer, of course, but a draft of air gently shimmied across her cheek and through her hair.
She put the back of her hand to her mouth and blinked away tears. “I don’t know what to do with what you left me. How to use my magic without losing myself. But…I’m going to figure it out.”
She picked a flat piece of wood and laid the pendant on it, then set the makeshift raft into the running waters, watching until it had floated out of sight.
Maybe someone out there needed it and could put it to good use, but if that was the case, she knew for certain it would find their way to them.
As for her? She had a coven.
And that was what she needed.
40
December 31
The Eleventh Day of Yule
Rowan woke up late on the second to last morning of Yule—New Year’s Eve. By the end of the day, she would be on a plane. It had been the cheapest night to fly, because who in their right mind wanted to fly instead of party for New Year’s?
The Rowan Midwinter of Yule Past had. She sighed and pulled out her laptop. It was time to figure out how she was going to face her coworkers on January second. Her heart tripped its way across the possibility that she might never go back, which now seemed like a childish daydream.
