Authors: Alex Bledsoe
The Firefly Witch (6 page)
“Why does she call herself ‘Nighthawk’?”
“
Lady
Nighthawk. Because she wants a special name for ritual space. And I love her, so if she wants to call herself Lady Nighthawk sometimes, it’s okay.”
“Yeah, I’ve found myself in that position a few times, too.” We sat in silence for a long time. At last I said, “But the sex is great, isn’t it?”
He grinned. “Abso-damn-lutely.”
***
The coven used to meet in town, in a clearing at the back of a local cemetery, but it became too public. They’d moved their meetings to a farm owned by a member’s parents three miles outside Weakleyville. It had privacy, and except for one altercation with a bunch of drunk good ole boys convinced they'd stumbled onto a bunch of Satanists, it had been peaceful. If the parents wondered why their daughter’s friends always wanted to camp in the woods by the back 40, they never came out and asked. It gave them plausible deniability down at the VFW.
We left for the ceremony at dusk. Tanna rode with Nighthawk; it was odd to see such a flamboyant person do something as mundane as drive. Todd rode with me, and we’d been asked to pick up some last-minute supplies for the feast afterwards, which also gave the others a chance to prepare. Since I was a nervous wreck, it also gave me something to do.
Todd waited in the car. I grabbed the few items on my list and carried them to the checkout line. Too late, I saw that Tony Pallow was already there, his girlfriend Leslie beside him. He smiled; she looked at me oddly and moved a little away.
“Hey, man,” Tony said. He was buying frozen pizzas and beer. “Wedding still on?”
“On my way right now,” I said before I could catch myself.
“You’re kidding. Right now?”
“Yep.”
He took in my jeans and casual shirt. “Not a formal, I guess.”
“Nah.”
He paid for his groceries, then the two of them left without another word. As I pushed my buggy out of the store, Tony was waiting for me.
“Ry, man, screw your head on straight,” he said urgently. “You’re getting married in a witch church, ain’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re getting married by the
devil
? Damn, boy, what is wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” I snapped back. “And this has nothing to do with the devil.” I noticed Leslie standing impatiently by his truck. “Your girlfriend’s waiting for you, just like mine is. Hope you have as good a night as I will.”
He scowled, shook his head, and then delivered the lowest of blows. “Man, I sure am glad your folks ain’t alive to see this.”
Suddenly I saw Tony, my friend since second grade, as the essentially small-minded man he was. It didn’t make him bad, or stupid, or even wrong; it just made him eternally, entirely different from me.
Tanna’s influence? Or just maturity? I don’t know. But I turned and walked off without a word, smiled at Leslie who continued to look at me as if I had an extra hand growing from my forehead, and put my groceries in the car.
We drove in silence for several minutes before Todd finally said, “So you’re about to join the Darren Stevens Club.”
“Huh?”
“Samantha’s husband on
Bewitched
. A normal guy married to a witch.”
“I guess so.”
“Fifteen years ago I was in your shoes, too. I was nuts about Beth, but I was scared to death of all this crap. It just didn’t jibe with anything I’d been raised to believe. But I’ve got to give her credit, she’s never tried to talk me into being a part of something I’m not comfortable with.”
“Tanna, neither.”
“And it’s a hoot to watch her work on people. She’s absolutely scared of nothing.”
“Tanna, neither.” Then I slammed on the brakes and pulled the car to the side of the road.
Todd looked at me, wide-eyed. “Second thoughts?”
“Damn right! I mean, I just blew off one of my oldest friends for a girl I met, what, eighteen months ago? Now I don’t believe the things I’ve always believed! I feel like she’s taken over my life, like I’m not a...a
man
anymore.”
He shrugged. “They’re both strong. On the other hand, Beth doesn’t tell me what to do. And except for rare occasions, she never says, ‘I told you so.’ The big difference with other girls I dated is I feel like I can depend on her. She’s my equal.”
I thought about that, and my fury dissipated. “Maybe that’s it. All my other girlfriends let me decide everything, like they had no opinion or they were afraid they’d chase me off if they stood up for themselves. Tanna’s not like that. She’d be just fine without me. Even though she’s technically blind, she doesn’t really need my help.”
“They
don’t
need us, man. That’s a heck of a nontraditional thing for your ego to handle, but it’s true. We’re with women who don’t need us.”
We were silent again.
“But they want us,” I said at last.
“Oh, yeah,” he immediately agreed. “How could they not?”
***
We parked with the other cars at the end of a tractor path. Ahead of us, a narrow trail wound down into the woods. Through the forest I saw the bonfire already burning. The trees swelled with fireflies.
This wasn’t the first Wiccan circle I’d seen, but it was the first time I’d actually participated, unless you counted our first date. Usually I stood guard nearby, just out of sight of the actual ritual, and made sure they weren’t interrupted. After reading some basic texts Tanna recommended, I knew Wiccan ceremonies might include dancing, chanting, ritual nudity or even, on very rare and discreet occasions, ahem, copulation. That didn’t happen in Tanna’s circle, and no one was forced to do anything they didn’t want to do, but it still looked mighty odd to outsiders.
Everyone was present except Tanna and Nighthawk. The other girls (and one guy) casually donned their ceremonial robes; most wore nothing beneath them. Some covens performed their ceremonies nude, or “skyclad,” but that was a little extreme for West Tennessee. They filed off into the woods toward the fire. No one wished me good luck.
Todd went to his car and opened the trunk. “Beth wanted me to ask you if you wanted to wear this.” He held up a basic brown robe. “She didn’t want you to feel left out.”
I looked at him. “There’s no way.”
He nodded. “I understand. Well, my job is to get you to the circle on time, so...shall we?”
We followed the others down the little trail into the clearing. They were already in a circle around the bonfire, dancing their distinctive skip-dance around it and chanting something I couldn’t make out. Nighthawk stood beside the fire, pointing her ceremonial knife, known as an
athame
, at each of the four points of the compass.
Nighthawk wore a robe, but it was some kind of sheer material that left nothing at all to the imagination. It’d been hard to judge her shape at the house, in those baggy, flowing clothes. Now I could see that she was a woman and a half, in all the cardinal directions. I glanced at Todd; he grinned at me and winked.
The chanting stopped. The six witches formed an even circle around the fire. Nighthawk stepped to the edge of the circle they’d danced and made a cutting motion. It created an entrance in the magic circle, so as not to disturb the energy they’d generated.
She pointed the knife at me. Todd gave me a little shove. I walked toward the circle, my mouth dry and the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
When I’d entered the circle, Nighthawk took my hand and led me to the fire. She placed me where she wanted me, then looked expectantly back the way I’d come.
A glowing figure emerged from the forest. Everyone gasped.
Tanna walked toward the circle opening. Fireflies covered her body. Far from being creepy, their slow flicker made her look somehow more magical. When she reached the circle she stopped, and the fireflies departed in a slow tornado of yellow-green light.
Tanna now stood in a sheer white robe, with a wreath of flowers around her head. She wasn’t self-conscious about what we all could see; she kept her shoulders back and her chin high. The firelight playing over her body made the robe practically invisible. I was glad this wasn’t a skyclad ceremony, because everyone present would’ve known exactly what I was thinking.
Nighthawk brought Tanna to me. She put Tanna’s right hand into my left, and loosely looped a two-foot golden rope around them.
The ceremony was brief. I don’t recall the exact words, except that Nighthawk reminded us that, in Wicca, marriage lasted only as long as love. But I felt something there in the circle, a kind of pulsing, long and languorous and incredibly powerful. Trees breathed, water pumped under the earth, animals moved and lived and died.
The pulse was in me, too, and in Tanna, but we had our own rhythm as well, one that connected only us. When I looked at her again, she wasn’t the woman I’d known. She was a witch, a priestess in tune with the world in a way I could never be. Suddenly none of this seemed funny any more. I felt real awe.
Then Tanna took my hand and led me from the circle, into the woods and out of sight of the others.
Blankets had been spread on the ground in a smaller clearing, and fireflies lit the area with their eerie glow. She knelt and looked up at me.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I love you.”
“Can I ask you something? Do you have a Wiccan name?”
“Of course. And it’s obvious. Firefly” She grinned. “Soon to be
Lady
Firefly.”
“But first you’ll be Mrs. Tully.”
“With all my heart.”
Then I joined her on the blankets and we made the marriage official.
***
We've been together ever since. Tanna is now
Doctor
Tully, fully tenured professor of psychology and parapsychology at West Tennessee University, as well as being Lady Firefly, High Priestess of the Craft of the Wise. I'm the editor-in-chief of the
Weakleyville Press
. But our lives have been anything but settled since our handfasting. Between my job and hers, we're often dragged into the strangest and most dangerous events in and around Weakleyville. Her role as priestess requires her to answer need, and my role as her husband means I'm right there beside her. Despite the danger and mystery, I know she wouldn't want to be anywhere else; and to tell you the truth, neither would I. But those stories are for another time.
The End
About the Author
Alex Bledsoe grew up in west Tennessee, an hour north of Graceland and twenty minutes from Nutbush. He’s been a reporter, editor, photographer and door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman. He now lives in a Wisconsin town famous for trolls, writes before six in the morning and tries to teach his two sons to act like they’ve been to town before.