"But, if Cassidy deals with dark magic like you said," Tilly hedged carefully, "how will this magic draw her in?"
"I have something for that," Ursula stepped forward with her fist out. From it dropped a silver necklace with a heart locket and they watched as it dangled in the sparse rays of sunlight the trees allowed in. "Turns out our lost souls have been looking out for us," she said, her eyes looking up to a certain hawk sitting on a branch watching closely.
Crystal fingered the locket, running her thumb over the engraved "C" and she smiled. "This will do just fine."
Jen finished her drink and set the glass on top of one of the gravestones. Tilly followed, then the other women until seven glasses were sitting there as an offering.
Carol Weatherby wouldn't admit that she had been moved from a place of intellect and facts to an openness of 'the other'. She held hands with women she had shamed in print, and watched in awe as a woman she had always been curious about spoke of ancient things and unity and she wondered if this was how some people felt in church: a yearning to be a part of something greater than them. A community that would hold youup when you fell and a community that would raise up mourning pleas to a power above them on behalf of others. There was something quite interesting about looking around and seeing others experiencing the same thing as you and knowing that you're not alone.
She wouldn't say she was convinced of anything concrete, but she could chew on the idea that these women were good.
Goodness was too fragile a thing anymore and she had forgotten to look for it.
That had come at a price.
And what she had uncovered while doing her journalistic investigating had been rather damning, and not against this group of women.
"I rented out The Crescent Inn for us. We can spend the day there while our magic works," Crystal announced. They couldn't stay here for what was to happen.
And with that the women left the graveyard to weave its magic and pour it through the ground and into the veins of the plants and the foundation of the house.
"Come with us?" Ursula asked Carol.
"I kind of have a troupe of angry birds," she said.
"We took care of them," she replied and they both looked up into the trees as they walked, where the starlings watched her quietly, their white-speckled bodies bright in the shadows. But they didn't follow this time.
"I feel foolish and I owe you more than an article correcting my mistakes."
"Well, I'll take the article and be done with it." She tweaked her head thoughtfully. "You know, Eloise said she would haunt you if she died."
"Me?" Carol's question was more than curious. She wondered about the last time someone had thought so fiercely about her.
"Yeah," Ursula nodded, then smiled broadly. "She's the best."
Carol laughed. She watched the woman who had just stood in a graveyard to call on magic to heal their town, walk alongside her as though she hadn't written terrible things about her and her friends. This woman carried magic.
"I don't know what to do with this," Carol whispered suddenly somber.
She smiled. Ursula didn't need to ask her whatthiswas.
"Yeah. Grace can taste bitter if you're used to condemnation."
"While that is wholesome, I think I have a way to repay your kindness," Carol said. "A big way." She looked to Jen. "But, there's something you should know."
Jen pointed to herself. "Something I should know?"
Carol nodded slowly. "Yeah. And you won't like it. And we may want to head to the station before the inn."
27. A House Disturbed
The women sat for hours in a cold and humid waiting room that smelled like burned coffee and rubber where the furniture had been overused and the air freshner was wrapping a chemical bow around it all.
Bourbon, thankfully small doses, ran warm through their blood as they waited.
"If they added art," Crystal said looking around. "I think this place would feel a little less dystopian."
"I don't think their concern is making people feel comfortable," Jen replied.
