“This feels weird,” he whispered, placing the selenite next to the amber.
When everything was in, she pulled a white candle and a book of matches out of her bag and wrapped the knot of Isis around it. Her hands trembled. This had to work.
“Now what?”
“Now we light everything in there on fire.” She lit the candle and handed it to Seth, and then struck another match. She dropped it in the bowl, but it went out on the way down. The second one she cupped her hand around, but the flame snapped out. Finally, she held it directly next to the fennel, but it still wouldn’t light.
“That won’t work,” Seth said.
And with his eyes concentrated on the candle, he held it over the bowl. The flame separated from the wick and leaped down into the bowl, curling around the herbs, and blazed bright green before dying out completely.
“How’d you know how to do that?” Sadie whispered.
“I don’t know. It just felt right,” said Seth, equally surprised.
“I wish you’d tell me what your magic is.”
“I wish you’d stop nagging me about it,” he said, but his grin took the sting out of his words.
“Shut up and repeat after me,” she said, her voice still quiet and soft.
Earth below, sky above,
Fill this knot with purest love.
The morning sun will take her pain,
And she will wake renewed again.
They stared at each other.
“Is that it?”
“That’s it.” She nodded, unwrapping the knot of Isis from the candle. “Now we just have to get her to wear it. It should help even if she doesn’t, but the closer in proximity it is to her, the better.”
“Twenty bucks says she won’t wear it,” Seth said as they walked back inside.
“Either way, thanks,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his.
By the time they walked through the screen door, the knot of Isis warm in Sadie’s pocket, Aunt Anne and Aunt Tava were already in the kitchen. Anne poured them both a cup of coffee.
Sadie had dreamed of having family around for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like when they were actually there. It was nice, but so was the solitude of her kitchen in the mornings. Tava sat at her stool so Sadie took a seat at the kitchen table but jumped up again a moment later when Gigi came in, the dogs trailing behind her.
“What did you do, you little shit ass?” Gigi demanded.
Sadie held out the knot of Isis. It thrummed in her palm.
“Just prolonging the inevitable.” Gigi shook her head. “But it’s nice to feel better, at least.”
“You do? Feel better?” Sadie asked, hope and pride blooming in her chest.
“You don’t understand,” Gigi said, shaking her head again. “My time is up. Nothing can stop it now. And I don’t want it to. I’ve been tying that darkness to me for years, and it’s finally catching up. I’ve lived my whole life for you kids; I plan to die on my terms. Now, I’m going out for a cigarette.”
“Oh, baby doll.” Tava sighed when Gigi was gone. “My babies.” She put a hand to Seth’s cheek. “Mom is right. I hate to say it, but it won’t work.”
“That’s enough, Tava,” Aunt Anne snapped. “Don’t be a Debbie Downer.”
“It’s going to work,” Sadie said quietly. “It has to. I know she thinks it’s her time, but it’s not. She’ll see.”
“Sade,” Seth said, but she didn’t let him continue.
“No. I’m going to get ready for work.”
She scrubbed her face and pulled on a pair of black leggings, a burgundy tunic that reached her mid-thigh, and a saffron cardigan with big, loose pockets. She swiped some rose ointment on so her lips wouldn’t chap, and shoved it in her pocket for later. Her hair was surprisingly tame, and she positioned it to keep her ears warm instead of wearing a hat she’d just end up taking off.
She sat at her vanity, the oval mirror tilted up toward the ceiling, as she pulled on her scuffed black work boots and laced them up. Her room, which faced the garden and subsequently Rock Creek House, was always cold in the morning and warm as the sun traveled toward night. It was the same room she’d had her whole life, and not much had changed in it. There were still colorful tapestries hung from the wall and an old green rocking chair in the corner that had belonged to the grandfather she didn’t quite remember.
The large bay window had a built-in reading nook with books stacked haphazardly in piles ready to topple over. She was happy in here. But looking around, she thought again about the toothbrushes. About sharing space with someone. She had everything she needed. But was it selfish to want more? To long for something she wanted but couldn’t have?