Aggie slid a piece of paper to the center of the table. Soraya sat down on the low cushions very slowly, then she reached out, grabbed a pencil, and began to write a piece from memory.
For all that is secret will eventually be brought into the open. And everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.
Everything that is concealed will be brought to light and made known to all.
She was saying the words out loud, over and over again. A prayer, an incantation. Both things. Everything. It came from deep inside her. She wanted her kids back. She didn’t want to lose her house. She didn’t want to lose all her friends.
You will have to lose something.
That voice, that certainty, was still and small inside her.
She was going to lose something. But she would be absolved of this thing.
That was a promise. It was in the Bible. All of David’s secrets would be brought to light.
It would be more than petty embarrassment, more than the revelation of how fragile his pride was.
She wrote the scripture out three times, and before she could stop herself, she lifted the paper and touched it to the flame. As it was consumed and turned to ash, she whispered, “Amen.”
“Amen,” said Nora.
Aggie nodded slowly. “And so it is.”
“Daisy?” Nora questioned. “Do you have a spell?”
“I don’t want Jonathan back,” she said. “I don’t want to get revenge on him.”
Soraya felt scolded by that, like she’d been petty in contrast to Daisy’s graciousness. “I’m not trying to get revenge. I want everyone to see who the villain is. I want everyone to know. Because right now, they’re all blaming me. My kids, my parents, everyone from church,” she whispered. “He’s letting me suffer. He wants me to.”
“I know, Soraya, and it’s terrible. David deserves it.”
“Why don’t you want the same for Jonathan? He betrayed you.”
Daisy looked uncertain. “That seems reasonable.Karma.Nothing more, nothing less. Just so he gets what he deserves. He left me, and he didn’t keep his commitment about the play and ...” She opened the grimoire and set it on the table. “I saw a spell for that in here.”
She skimmed the pages, then stood up and walked over to the bins of crystals and dried herbs. She returned with a collection of items. Of course, it was very Daisy for her to begin trying to do more complicated spells and readings on her own, and to have done all the studying necessary for it to happen.
“What goes around, comes around. What you sow, you will reap. Your intentions will come back to you. And so it is.” Daisy wrote the spell onto paper, cast it into the fire, and collected the ashes. Then she put the herbs, flowers, and ashes into the bag. “Now what?”
“You have to put it with the person you think deserves their karma,” Aggie said.
“I’ll put it in his work truck when I go pick up the kids. His truck is a mess. He’ll never notice if I throw it under the seat.” Daisy paused for a moment and let out a breath. “This is silly.” She laughed. “I amnotputting a spell on my husband. I ... It’s one thing to ask for what we need, and I think ... Soraya, I think your husband deserves the worst outcome, but I’m not ...” She dropped the package back on the table. “I’m not ... It wouldn’t ... I’m not doing that.”
Aggie nodded slowly. “You have to follow your own arrow, Daisy. If this doesn’t feel right to you, don’t dabble in magic that isn’t yours. We’ll clear the energy, and it will be like it didn’t happen.”
Aggie went behind the counter and set out a cauldron. An actual witch’s cauldron. It was small, but large enough for her to put the bag that Daisy had created inside.
Then she took out a small white candle and lit it with the wick from the blaze on their table. She dipped it into the cauldron, and a flame that burned blue and green ignited—bright, hot, and fast.
“Into the smoke, I release all the energy that no longer serves me,” Aggie said.
Soraya looked at Daisy, who was staring into the flame, even as it sputtered and died down.
“So it is,” Soraya whispered.
Soraya hadn’t made a bag or a talisman. She didn’t feel like she needed one. Maybe she would at another time.
Maybe.
