Ghosts of Bliss Bayou Page 6

  “Oh, I forgot to mention,” Granma says. “Kevin will be here. You met Kevin at the bookshop today. He and Violet are…domestic partners.”

  When Granma knocks, it’s Kevin who opens the door. He’s wearing striped pajamas, slippers, and a blue silk robe. “Come on in. Hope you don’t mind that I didn’t dress.”

  “Of course not,” Granma answers. “We appreciate your letting us barge in on short notice.”

  We walk into a tiny parlor cluttered with furniture and stacks of books. No air conditioner, just a ceiling fan whirling overhead. The night air flows in through open windows.

  “Hello! Welcome!” Violet comes in from the kitchen. She and I lock eyes, and I sway back—like the force of her presence knocked me off balance.

  She’s a plump, moon-faced woman, a little taller than me. She looks about ten years older than Granma or Kevin, but she’s beaming and full of life. Her shoulder-length hair is dyed red with purple streaks, and she wears dangling silver earrings.

  After hugging Granma, she turns to me. “Abigail, so nice to meet you.” She squeezes both my hands. “Come into the kitchen. Will you take some tea?”

  “Thanks,” Granma says. “That would be lovely.”

  Violet puts on the kettle, and we all sit down at the kitchen table.

  “Let me see your hands,” Violet says.

  She holds both my hands and examines the palms. “Oh, very good.” She traces an index finger over some of the lines. “All the talent and sensitivity of the Renshaws—and then some. But you’re also very strong, and tough.”

  I feel anything but strong and tough at the moment. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I’m actually kind of woozy.

  Violet can apparently read my mind. She pushes a shiny brown loaf in front of me. “Have some apple bread. Kevie, would you get her a plate?”

  Kevin brings a plate and butter knife, and Violet cuts a thick slice for me.

  I bite into the apple bread and talk with my mouth full. “Oh, this is so good. Thank you!”

  “Poor thing didn’t get any dinner,” Granma says.

  “Do you read Tarot cards?” Violet asks me.

  Whoa. Violet can definitely read my mind. “How did you know that?”

  She grins. “I didn’t. Just a question.”

  “You read Tarot cards?” Granma asks.

  So it occurs to me: I’m sitting in the kitchen of an old wood cabin late at night in the middle of Florida, with my grandmother (who, by the way, does magic) and a sixty-something Black man (who’s a retired anthropology professor) and a seventy-something Caucasian woman with red and purple hair (who can maybe read my mind), eating sweet, doughy apple bread and about to discuss the Tarot.

  I wonder how my friends on the track team are spending their summer vacations.

  I explain how I got started with the cards, and a little of what I’ve read online.

  “So you’ve studied some occult philosophy,” Violet says.

  I tell her I have, but that I don’t really understand most of it.

  “What about Astrology? Palmistry? Numerology?”

  I shake my head.

  “Tell me about when you first started seeing the visions.”

  The kettle whistles, and Kevin fixes the tea. Violet cuts me a second slice of apple bread. I describe what happened when I was twelve—the voices in my head, the goblins and reptile people. And how I had my breakdown and ended up on meds, and my therapy with Dr. Mark. Then I tell them what’s happened the past two months—first the nightmares, then the hallucinations (or visions), the slithering cloud-thing and the woman in black with the pearls. And tonight, Shadow Man and the drowning over and over.

  Strangely, I’m not at all ashamed to confess this stuff in front of Violet, Kevin, and Granma. Pouring it all out just brings me a sense of relief. I guess the apple bread and herbal tea are helping too. When I’m done, I feel calmer and safer than I have all evening.

  “I think I’ll do a reading,” Violet says.

  She goes into another room and returns with her Tarot cards. She brushes away crumbs, spreads a silk handkerchief on the table, and lays out the cards so I can see them. It’s a different deck than I’m used to, and I’m not even sure I’ve seen it online. Most of the suit cards don’t have pictures, just symbols and numbers. The pictures there are look like old-style paintings, Renaissance or medieval. When she hands me the deck to shuffle, the cards seem to tingle with energy.

  She lays down a spread, and we all stare at the cards in silence. I can’t read much meaning, except that it all feels very serious.

  Finally Violet looks into my eyes. “I think you are very psychic, like all the Renshaws. Kevie, my anthropologist friend here, would say you have the gifts of a natural shaman—that is, to see visions, to walk in other worlds, to communicate with spirits. When your father died, it wounded you badly, and then you moved away to a strange place and felt frightened and alone. When your body started changing with puberty, you fell victim to obsessions—which, because you are a natural visionary, manifested as malevolent beings.”

  “So are you saying they were real creatures—spirits? Not hallucinations, like everyone told me?”

  Violet takes a deep breath. “This is difficult to understand, Abby. Hallucinations are projections from your unconscious mind. Spirits—and everything else we see and know—are projections from the Great Mind that is the Universe. Ultimately, both of those minds are the same." She leans closer. "So ultimately, visions and hallucinations are just different forms of the same thing.”

  Wow. I need time to wrap my head around that one. Like a hundred years. And yet inside me, it seems to make a weird kind of sense. “Go on.”

  “Well, they treated you with psychiatric drugs, which desensitized you. And therapy, which gave your rational mind tools to close down the doorways through which your visions were appearing. So eventually the visions went away.”

  “What about now?”

  Violet clenches her lips. “Now…something else is going on. I’m not sure what. But it definitely has to do with Harmony Springs, and it definitely means you no good. That’s obvious from what you went through tonight. And yet…” She points to the Temperance card, a gray angel standing with one foot on land and one in the water. “There is also a protective spirit watching over you.”

  We’re all silent again for some moments. Then Granma says, “So what should we do?”

  “Well…” Violet moves to collect the cards. “I like the fact that she responded so well to the banishing rite. I think we three should cast a sphere of protection around her. How does that sound to you, Abby?”

  “I’m not sure what it means. But it sounds great.”

  “Good,” Violet says. “Do you trust us?”

  That makes me anxious again. I think about my mom and what she would say. And all the “normal” kids back in New Jersey—how crazy all of this would sound to them. It seems my mental instability has taken a sharp left turn, bringing me to a place that feels all kind and supportive but might really be insane. It’s like the secret Abby who reads Tarot cards and studies occult stuff on the internet is taking over—and that might not be a good thing.

  But then I glance at Granma, and she gives me a slight nod. I know that, as much as anyone in the world, she loves me and wants what’s best for me.

  “Yes…I trust you.”

  Violet smiles. “I like that you thought it over. We’ll cast a protective sphere before you leave. That should help for a while. But like I said, Abby, you are extremely sensitive, extremely open. Your openness is both a strength and a weakness. The best thing I can do for you is teach you to protect yourself.”

  I nod immediately. “I’m all for that.”

  Violet turns to Granma. “You know, Kat, the way to do that is to initiate her.”

  Granma’s mouth tenses, like she thought this might be coming but feels uncertain. She looks at me. “It’s up to her, of course.”<
br />
  Violet takes that as permission to go on. “Abby, we’re talking about initiating you into our magical path, the Circle of Harmony. This path was created by the people who founded the town, including your ancestor, Thomas Renshaw. It consists of beautiful rituals and a large body of occult knowledge. Its purpose is to grow the human mind and soul, to make us true magicians—that is, men and women of power.”

  Whoa. "What would I have to do?”

  “First, you should know that the fortunes of the Circle have fluctuated over the years. It almost died out in the middle of the last century. I was initiated when I was a little older than you by some of the last practicing members at the time. Later I initiated a few others, including your grandmother and grandfather. Most of them have passed on. Your grandmother left the Circle some years ago, although circumstances may now be bringing her back. But that’s for her to decide and to tell you about. Right now, only Kevin and I still actively practice.

  “And that means we don’t have the resources to stage the rituals the way they did in the past. But I think with the three of us we can muster the energy for a Rite of Initiation.”

  Kevin nods, and then Granma does too.

  “But you have to understand, Abby. As an initiate, you would take on certain obligations. You must promise to follow the path faithfully and to the best of your ability. Most importantly, you must swear that you will use any occult powers you gain only to bring good and harmony into the world. That’s the center of our teaching. It may sound easy, but believe me, it’s not. As power grows, it’s more and more tempting to use it for self-gratification, and easier and easier to be seduced by evil forces. You need to think about all this carefully before you decide.”

  Her tone communicates to me how serious this is. It’s a lifelong obligation—the kind of thing only an adult can choose. I don’t know if I’m grown-up enough to decide. It feels really scary.

  But then, not as scary as drowning over and over.

  “I understand…I’ll need to think about it.” I want my voice to sound firm, but it cracks a little.

  “Sure.” Violet stretches. “I’ll give you some stuff to read. Then you can talk it over with me or Kevin or your grandmother when you’re ready.”

  

  Afterward I help Kevin do the dishes while Granma and Violet talk in the parlor. When we join them, the ceiling fan is off and the windows closed. Five candles burn at different points in the room, each set next to a white porcelain cup filled with water.

  We stand in the center of the parlor. Violet traces a circle in the air, using a wooden wand as long as her forearm, with a crystal fastened on the end. Then she, Kevin, and Granma circle around me and join hands.

  They chant—long, deep notes like Granma did earlier. With their three voices, the sound grows so strong that the house seems to vibrate. Violet speaks their intention: to form a sphere of pure, protective light around me, to make it strong and enduring, to repel all evil forces and allow only good to enter in.

  Then they just stand, breathing quietly. I sense the sphere of protection forming around me, created by their thoughts, their will. After a while I can see it shining—the pale, crystal-blue color of the springs.

  

  On the way home, Granma and I are both quiet. In my lap I hold a small stack of typewritten pages that Violet gave me to read. Granma focuses hard on the road, and I can feel she is really tired. I think of all she’s been through in the last day and a half, so it’s no wonder. I keep my mouth shut and let her concentrate on driving.

  As soon as we enter the house, she turns to me in the hallway and asks if I’m okay.

  “Yes.” I’m actually more than okay—I’m amazed. Like I’ve climbed a big rock and am looking out over this vast, misty country I didn’t know was there. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”

  “I know, sweetie. We both need a good night’s sleep. But if anything happens during the night, you come and wake me up, okay?”

  I hug her. “I will, Granma. Thank you for everything.”

  

  Up in my room, after I’ve changed clothes and brushed my teeth, I sit on the bed and read the papers Violet gave me. The first is titled “The Circle of Harmony,” and it says:

  Lo, this is the manifesto of the Circle of Harmony, which is a Path of Initiation into True Magic, as revealed by the spirit LEBAB. That which is written here is secret and must not be taken lightly.

  LEBAB came to certain persons in a dream and showed them a vision of light. And in the light they saw Five Springs of the purest blue water. And LEBAB named the Springs: Love, Endurance, Balance, Amity, and Bliss. And he showed them where these Springs flowed on the Earthly plane, and had done from time immemorial, in the land of Florida.

  But these Springs are not merely waters of the Earth, but manifestations of the One Spiritual Source. And each Spring is a Fountain, and each Fountain a waymarker on the Path of True Magic. These things are secret and must not be taken lightly.

  And the names of the Springs have these meanings, and each is a Principle of the Path:

  Love - Love of the truth, which first inspires the quest of the Magician.

  Endurance - The strength and persistence required to follow the Path.

  Balance - In all things, body, mind, and soul, required for worthy attainment.

  Amity - The will to harmonious relations with all Beings in all Worlds.

  Bliss - The prize of Union with All That Is, which is the ultimate goal of the quest.

  And it was shown how the first letters of the Five Names of the Springs spell the name LEBAB, who is the True Spirit of the Springs. And it was further shown how the letters reversed spell BABEL, for the evil and confusion that inevitably comes to those who seek Occult knowledge without pure intent and strict adherence to the Principles. These things are secret and must not be taken lightly.

  After reading this three times, I turn to the other paper. This one is called “Admonitions to the Candidate.” It seems to be what they gave people to prepare them for initiation. It says that anyone who aspires to the path of true magic must leave behind selfishness and lust for power. Only those who pledge themselves heart and soul to the Five Principles may enter the Circle of Harmony.

  I glance at the next several pages. By now my eyelids are so heavy, I can barely keep awake. I look around the room, checking for Shadow Man or any other non-hallucinations.

  Nothing. I feel totally safe and at peace. I put the pages away, lie down on my side, and pull the sheet up to my chin.

  

  When I wake up, it’s morning, with silvery light shining through the windows. I remember a dream. I was with the two girls in the old-fashioned dresses. The three of us were walking beside the springs, talking like three friends. One of the girls was tall and willowy, with beautiful black hair in ringlets. I think she was Annie Renshaw. The other one was blond, tall, but with a stronger build. Something about her made me uneasy.

  Now I’m lying on my back, staring at the high ceiling. I hear something, and at first I think it’s a bird or animal in the woods. But it goes on and on and begins to sound like crying.

  I get out of bed. Barefoot, in boxers and a tee, I open the door and listen. The sound is coming from Granma’s room. I step over there quietly. The door is partway open, and I peek inside. Granma is lying in bed, sobbing.

  “Granma, are you all right?”

  “Oh, Abby!…Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  I walk over to her bed as she sits up and wipes her eyes. I realize then that she was crying so quietly that I couldn’t possibly have heard it from the other room. Yet somehow, I did.

  “Can I do anything?”

  “No, sweetie. It’s all right.” She takes her eyeglasses from the bedside table and slips them on. “When you get old…sometimes you think about the past and…grieve over what you’ve lost. But I didn’t mean for you to catch me feeling so
rry for myself.”

  “Oh, Granma. Please don’t apologize. I put you through so much awful stuff yesterday. You’ll probably think twice before inviting me here again.”

  Granma squeezes my wrist. “Don’t even think that, Abby. I am so happy you are here. I feel you are a brave and beautiful young woman with an amazing future. And there is nothing I’d rather do than help you get there.”

  This chokes me up, so I don’t answer for a moment. My mind wanders back to last night, to the terror of drowning, and the magic that rescued me. And the papers Violet gave me to read.

  “Do you think I should be initiated into the Circle?”

  “I think that is entirely up to you.”

  “But…there’s so much about it I don’t understand. You were part of it. Can you tell me what it was like, and…”

  “And why I left? Yes, of course. You have a right to know all that. But how about some coffee first?”

  Downstairs, I fix the coffee while Granma mixes dough for biscuits. After she puts them in the oven, we take our coffee mugs out to the back porch. We sit on the swing, our old favorite place for talking together. We’re still in our night clothes, and the air feels warm and soft. I think again how much I love the laid-back life here—except, of course, for the scary visions and psychic attacks.

  “So, I started reading Tarot cards when I was a teenager,” Granma tells me. “Just like you. When I met your grandfather, I would sometimes do readings for him. He found that very interesting and got into studying books on metaphysics. George was a great reader, you know. This was in the 1960s, and like lots of young people, we were interested in New Age ideas. Around the time George inherited this house and we moved in together, we found out about Violet and her Circle. Violet did a reading for us, and we both liked what she was about. When she invited us, we decided to initiate.”

  “What was that like?”

  “Oh, it was pretty magical. Like being in a play, everyone dressed up in robes and flowers, and with parts to speak. But on another level it felt really powerful, like—like rearranging your internal furniture in a major way.