Cromwell Manor was quiet. Packets of seeds covered every surface, little paper bundles holding life itself in dormant form. The coven was sorting them into boxes, one of each kind of plant per box. These were meant for the seed blessing ceremony.
The Head Priest and Coven Mother sat side by side on the small sofa underneath the window, heads bent together over the ritual plans.
“If we adjust the wording here, I think we’ll be more clear.” Dorell tapped a sentence in Nancy’s notebook, and she looked it over. “Change it to be something closer to ‘we thank the spirits of the seeds’, perhaps?”
“Hmm, I think that works.” Nancy rubbed the words she’d tried first out, brushing the eraser shavings away before scribbling down Dorell’s new ones. “Yes, I like that more.”
“Then how do you want to end it overall?” Dorell leaned back against the back of the sofa, folding his hands over his stomach. He’d let Nancy have the reins for ritual planning for years now, and was happy to just look it over when she was finished. They worked well together in this way, Nancy building the foundation of everything and Dorell adjusting it where need be.
They were lost in their own bubble on the sofa, while the rest of their coven worked on sorting the seeds. They’d decided that each witch would be in charge of two types of seeds, and passing the boxes around until all the seeds were in the box was the easiest way to fill them. So far, their setup had been working perfectly.
Ruth had been the only one to verbally complain, she wanted to be outside clearing the garden instead of doing anything indoors. Gladys shook her head silently at her, but agreed. The weather was finally starting to turn, it was finally warm enough to not even think about lugging around a heavy coat. Eliza, in her seventies now, nearly eighty, normally preferred the indoors but found herself looking out the window just as often as her younger companions. Ruth’s sisters, Ida and Belle, sighed in sync.
“What is it?” Ruth asked, although she could sense it.
“Why didn’t we do this on the porch?” Ida shifted to rest her chin in her hand, dropping her seed packets in the box then pushing it to Belle.
“Bit too late to shift it now, girls, we’re nearly finished.” Eliza chuckled at the others, she would have liked to be on the porch as well. Everyone looked up as the parlor door opened. Kenneth nudged the door the rest of the way open with his shoulder, his arms full of a crate with an assortment of candles, bowls, and other ritualistic components resting inside it. Ruby came in after him, a cloth-covered bowl in her hands.
“We found all of the things from last year.” Kenneth set the crate down on the table nearest the door, moving to give Ruby room to set down her burden as well. She pulled the cloth off the bowl as soon as it was secure, revealing a wreath of dried flowers.
“Oh, how well it’s aged.” Ruby trailed a light finger over one of the petals. They’d braided this together last spring equinox as a representation of abundance and prosperity on Faodail, and kept it safe in the manor’s basement for the year following. The coven had done this same ritual every spring equinox, and it hadn’t failed yet, so they returned to it time and time again.
Nancy handed Dorell her notebook, crossing the room to peer into the bowl. “It’s almost a shame to burn it, it’s lovely.” She trailed her finger along the same petal that Ruby had touched. “If only we had a camera.”
“I could ask around and see if we could borrow one?” Kenneth offered, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Nancy looked over Ruby’s shoulder to smile at him.
“That’s a fabulous idea, thank you. Please do.” She turned and left Ruby to cover the bowl with the cloth, protecting the wreath for the few more days until the ritual where it would be used as a sacrifice before the new one was made.
…
The next day, Kenneth returned with a camera he’d borrowed from the local theater.
“He said to bring it back as soon as we got the photo, and he’d make sure the film was developed before the ritual.” Kenneth was already winding the film and setting everything up, while Nancy propped the bowl up a little and pulled back the cloth.
“We can do that. The theater isn’t far.”
The picture taken, and a few more of the ritual tools just for fun, Kenneth closed the camera and carefully put it back in the carrying case. “I’ll be off then, will you need me for anything else today?”
“No, you’re duty free. Go do whatever it is sixteen year olds do these days.” Nancy waved her hand dismissively but gently, Kenneth was obviously free to stay at the manor for the rest of the day and he knew that. He was a great help to the coven but also to the old women specifically, they called on him for errands and help around their homes. He’d even been the one to fetch the midwife when a visiting mother had gone into labor in the middle of the manor’s kitchen. The girl was three years old now, and had come with her mother to the coven for blessings, protection spells, anything else needed to help a small girl learn about the world. Gladys had laughed at her, kindly, and said they’d make a coven member of the girl yet. Everyone had agreed.
Kenneth did leave for the day, so Nancy took it upon herself to finish up the seed packet sorting. Everyone had grown restless with it the day before and who could blame them. The weather was beautiful, the sunshine beckoned. Ruth’s beau had asked her to marry him just a week or so before, and she’d been so thrilled about it that they’d immediately decided on a Beltane wedding. A short engagement, absolutely not up to society standards, but things were done differently on Faodail and always had been.
She’d just finished the last box and set it aside when Nancy found herself humming something. A song she couldn’t place at first, but after sitting with it for a moment realized it to be Rhapsody in Blue. The song had premiered just two years before, and even on the island found had found massive popularity. It had played both at Gealach Peak and the Faodail Theatre, once by a traveling band and multiple times by the island’s own orchestra.
Nancy’s fingers tapped along to the rhythm on the table as she thought. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the song, but it wasn’t something in her normal repertoire of humming. Which meant that the song was trying to tell her something.
“Is someone coming?” She asked the parlor air, closing her eyes to listen. The song only grew louder in her mind. Something pulled her attention to the mantelpiece, and she turned toward it. A pack of tarot cards, left behind by some coven member or another, waiting to be retrieved.
Nancy pulled just one card. It was the eight of cups. She tapped her finger to the tune of Rhapsody in Blue on it, nodding.
“Someone is coming from New York. I understand. I wonder when.”
She knew the tarot wasn’t going to answer that for her, and shuffled the card back into the deck and asked another question. “Why?”
The three of swords slid out of the deck on its own, landing slightly askew in front of her. Nancy just nodded, shuffling that card back into the deck as well.
“What can we expect from them?”
It took a good forty-five seconds of shuffling before another card felt right to pull, and then five seconds more before a second wanted her attention. Nancy laid the ten of cups and the Sun next to each other, then chuckled.
“I think that’s what they’ll get from us, not the other way around.”
She carefully put the deck back in order to cleanse the energy of the readings, setting it back on the mantel where she’d found it. Whoever it belonged to would be back for it in the morning. Until then, Nancy would note this in her journal and get some rest. If any newcomers caught her attention, she’d know it was who the deck and song told her about.