“It’s kind of tricky, now that I think about it. Essentially it’s like you have to let his power in for a brief second, almost as if you’re tasting it, getting the flavor of it, you know? Then you counteract that particular flavor with whatever would be the power that would send it away – um, shoot, I’m not explaining this very well – like the opposite power,” I said, stumbling over my words.
“So if his power is black licorice you would fight it with seafood,” Luna mused.
“Or if his power was mud on the floor you’d use Mr. Clean,” Miss Elva said.
“Yes! Like that. But you double up on it and kind of rubber-band it back, so it hits him twofold. You’ll end up taking a ding out of his power while yours stays intact.”
I really couldn’t believe all the words that were coming out of my mouth. All those years spent listening at my mother’s knee were starting to pay off.
“So Abigail must be magick,” Luna mused, as we moved forward into the crowd.
“I think she and I need to have a conversation sometime soon,” I agreed.
“Where is she now?”
“Probably Ireland. September,” I mused and then paused. “Huh, maybe she is a witch if she always heads to Ireland for the September equinox.”
Luna slapped her hand to her forehead and shook herhead at me. “I can’t believe that I haven’t picked up on this from her. Or that you haven’t.”
Okay, perhaps I’m not the most observant person. But it wasn’t like my mom hadsaidshe was a witch. I just knew she was one of the best psychics in the world. The two are not synonymous.
Nor are they mutually exclusive.
Rolling that new thought around in my brain, I followed Luna and Miss Elva as we flowed with the crowd around to where Horace was pacing by the pile of sticks. Then two of his henchmen – can I call them that? I’m calling them that – used large torches to set the structure alight. It was all very primal, and as the flames licked along the wood, a sense of foreboding snuck over me.
“Guys, let’s stay back behind everyone,” I whispered as a hush fell over the crowd and drums began to beat in unison. It was a weird, pulsing, rhythmic beat and I began to feel the sound reverberate through me as voices took up a chant.
“Is this normal?” I hissed to Luna, and she turned and smiled at me.
“So far, yes. Drums and chanting are very much a part of Pagan rituals. So far, so good. It’s Horace we need to keep an eye on.”
So I kept my eyes on Horace as he began to address the crowd. As speakers went, he was fairly animated, and I could see the wave of charisma pouring off him as he spoke to his audience. It was easy to see why this man had cultivated so many followers of his radical offshoot to the traditional Pagan religion. I began to wonder where the “radical” part came in, because Luna seemed to think thatmost of what we’d seen today was status quo for a Pagan festival.
“And now, I’d like to bring forth three special guests.”
I was jerked out of my thoughts and my mouth dropped open to see Horace with both his arms extended, welcoming us forward as the crowd parted around us. The fire danced behind him, illuminating the horns but keeping Horace’s eyes in shadow as the chanting rose and people began to push us forward.
I’d just discovered the radical part.
Chapter Nineteen
The crowd surgedexcitedlyaround us, people chanting and cheering as we were pushed forward to where Horace stood. The cheers were good-natured and people seemed to be looking forward to the main ceremony of Mabon with excitement. I suspected we were the only ones with any sort of distrust towards Horace.
“I know you didn’t just put your hand on my cloak,” Miss Elva scolded an overzealous man wearing nothing but a white linen maxi skirt and a crown of laurel leaves.
He raised his hands. “It’s all good,” he said.
“It most certainly is not. These crystals are hand sewn,” Miss Elva said, and with a glittery swirl of her cape, she left the man gaping behind her. I shrugged my shoulders helplessly at him as I passed.
You don’t mess with Miss Elva’s cloak.
Horace turned, his hands raised high in the air, to quiet the crowd. The drums continued, now with a softer rhythm, so when his voice rang out across the crowd, it seemed to hold an ominous undertone. The flamesflickering behind him coupled with the light from the full moon created an eerie backdrop.
“Brothers and sisters, I want to provide a special welcome for our guests,” Horace intoned, his horns bobbing wildly on his head as he shouted to the crowd. Alarm bells started ringing in my head and I saw Miss Elva’s hand tighten into a fist.
“We are so lucky to have such esteemed guests with us today,” Horace continued, a maniacal smile on his face, his eyes catching the light of the fire.
“Please welcome Luna, Tequila Key’s own white witch; Althea, a psychic and sorceress; and the one and only – Miss Elva, the most famous voodoo priestess in all of Florida!”
