My clicks went unanswered, and I was left to perish in the arms of the twin spawns of satan that had abducted me.
My house was full of witches, and it was making me a little giddy.
Thiswas what being a witch was all about.
Community. Friendship.Family.
Luna came to stand next to me as we watched our small coven work diligently to prepare for Willow’s arrival.
The bartender from Hex and Haven, Serena, was in the kitchen, stirring a potion I had helped her make earlier in my happily bubbling cauldron over the stove.
She was chatting away animatedly with Willow’s mother and consulting the Good family grimoire as they doctored the potion, perfecting it in case we needed it to help heal Willow’s damaged chakras.
Three other witches, including the man Shem had made out with—pickings were slim—were arranging the tree branches I had asked each witch to bring into the living room.
We’d cleared out the furniture to make room for the circle of protection I plannedto trap Willow in.
She wasn’t going to be happy that I had sent my guardians to kidnap her, and I was going to need to keep her contained while I worked out what had been done to her.
We’d been able to gather enough witches to make a full coven of thirteen, which meant we had thirteen branches, and I was pleased that each witch had brought a branch from a different tree.
I brushed my fingers over my own branch, a strong oak staff that would bring the strength and stability we needed to keep our magic united.
There was also ash for protection, birch for renewal and new beginnings, elder for healing, hawthorn for love, rowan for warding away evil, pine for cleansing, yew for transformation, cypress for inner peace, and blackthorn for banishing.
Finally, Luna had brought a willow branch, our friend’s namesake, for emotional balance.
“Help me get these into a circle,” I said, and Luna nodded, gathering up several branches.
Together, we laid them on the floor, crossing each end over the other to make a strong protective ring of thirteen sides.
The number thirteen also had magical significance. It stood for our rebellion against societal norms. Witches were some of the only creatures in which the number thirteen was sacred, and it represented our acceptance of that which was taboo.
We were that which wasother.
We were the misfits.
The wanderers.
Nature’s natural counterbalance to concentricity.
And we were proud to walk the path less traveled.
I kept my branch of oak separate. It would be the last branch that I added once Willow was inside the circle. The final piece that locked her inside while we figured out how best to help her.
“This should hold her.” Luna smiled as the magic of the circle we had created was already beginning to grow and swell. The threads of power offered by the sacred pieces of witchwood had clicked together as each piece was added, and the room was now pulsing with clean, protective energy.
It felt like silk against my skin, and I closed my eyes, letting the magic wash over me.
The missing pieces of my soul ached to be reunited with the mother and the crone, but this communal magic born of love and friendship eased the ache, and I let out a content sigh.
I fucking loved my people.
Ilovedthis warm feeling of support and comfort.
This was who I was.
It was a thing of beauty.
