The Last Moon Witch Page 4

  “I’m . . . I don’t know what I’m doing,” Kanruo admitted, hopping about on one foot as he put on fresh leggings. “It’s a mess. I guess . . . if I just knew what the right path was, it wouldn’t be so hard. I just wish . . . I just wish I wasn’t alone. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. So many things feel disconnected. If only there were someone.”

  “Someone Japanese?” Alrik supplied.

  “Yeah, but it feels rude to say that aloud.” Kanruo sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the piece of obsidian he always wore. “Notia is the closest thing to family I’ll ever have. She’s done so much for me, and yet . . .”

  “Sounds like you’re homesick.” Alrik sat next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Lotsa exchange kids at the college feel that way too. I could put some feelers out and see if there’s anyone from Japan there. Would that help?” He gave Kanruo a sly grin. “Maybe find you a cute boyfriend too?”

  Kanruo snorted and shoved Alrik away. The other boy’s advanced political courses placed him at Umeå University, expanding his endless collection of contacts and associates. “I can’t ask you to do that. Your family is in enough danger as it is. If the Union finds out about the sanctuary pact—”

  “It’s a risk we accepted when my father’s father made the agreement with the witches’ council at the beginning of the war. We hide you out here in the old Grössjön nature reserve, and you all work your magic to make our lives a little better.” He wiggled his fingers to imitate casting a spell. “Radiation, begone!”

  Kanruo laughed. “You sound like an advertisement.”

  “Just, you know, think about it.” Alrik smiled and put a hand on Kanruo’s knee. “I’m here for you.”

  Kanruo felt his stomach flutter. “I know.” He coughed slightly. When had his palms gotten sweaty? Alrik couldn’t be suggesting that . . . No, he’d known Alrik since they were little. He was affectionate with everyone. It didn’t mean anything. Alrik wasn’t foolish enough to risk his family’s position or the sanctuary pact on a relationship with a witch.

  Before he could devote more energy to his anxieties, Alrik slapped him on the back. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go steal some of those saffron buns Notia made.”

  “Yes, let’s!” Kanruo nodded, following Alrik toward the kitchen.

  They joined the adults at the table. Raijū and Yuko had strategically positioned themselves by Kanruo and Alrik’s seats, already drooling, knowing that the boys would sneak them bits from their plates.

  Notia had prepared a small ham along with cured herring and salmon. Eira had brought sweet and sour red cabbage and a layered potato dish topped with anchovies. Björn was pouring out glasses of steaming glögg and passing them around.

  Kanruo took a small sip from his glass and slipped Yuko an anchovy from his serving of potatoes.

  “You’re looking well, Notia,” Eira said with a smile as she took a helping of ham. “You’ve barely aged a day in fifteen years. Surely, you can share your magic remedy for wrinkles with me.”

  Notia laughed. “It’s the cold Nordic water, nothing magic about it.”

  “But still, not even a faint scar—”

  “I was thinking of coming into town for the new year’s celebration.” Notia spoke over her, firmly detouring the conversation as the platters of food passed back and forth. “I thought the boys would enjoy spending time together, and I need some supplies.”

  “You can stay with us! We can make a weekend out of it!” Alrik exclaimed excitedly through a mouthful of cabbage. “I could get the gang together and we could—”

  “Actually.” Björn paused, salmon hanging precariously off his fork. “It may be best if you stayed out of town for a while.”

  “Oh?” Kanruo watched Notia stiffen as she rested her utensils on the plate. “Has there been trouble?”

  The salmon dropped from Björn’s fork, and Raijū pounced on it, gulping it down.

  “The Union has been taking an interest in Umeå lately. We’ve seen an uptick in visits from them since winter started. They’re looking for something, or someone.” His eyes lingered on Kanruo. “They’ve started bringing in sniffers.”

  “Under what justification?” Notia took a drink of her glögg, her lips pursed like she’d bitten into a lemon.

  “The corporations have been putting pressure on local governments lately. There’s concern of a witch uprising.” Björn shook his head, reaching down to absently pet Raijū.

  “But they have to have a lead, something to go on. I’ve kept my magic discreet.” Notia leaned forward. “So, what basis do they have for looking here?”

  “I’m not blaming you, Notia, spirits and stars. We’re all grateful to all you’ve done since you’ve been here, but . . .” Björn stopped petting the komainu and rubbed at his eyes. “You’ve been good to our community. Too good. The Union is excellent at noticing anomalies. If I told them ‘no’, they would have come in by force, en masse.” He dropped his hands to his lap. “I can get them to back off, but you need to stay away for a while.”

  “That’s what made them take interest, isn’t it? The fact that the land is recovering? I thought you said you could pass it off with “favorable jet streams” diverting the radiation.” Notia picked her fork back up and stabbed it aggressively into her cabbage.

  “It only works for so long,” Eira spoke up. “They’ve noticed our region doing better than the others. Lower mortality rates, the return of our fishing stocks, the cleaner water and air. Even Odin’s wolves have returned to Sweden. It makes a strong case for witchcraft. I’m sorry.”

  The table was silent.

  Kanruo pushed his plate away, suddenly not very hungry anymore. Yuko nudged his leg, whimpering softly.

  Notia had told him stories of covens fleeing, traveling from place to place, the Union on their heels. Families being separated, communities fractured, and entire practices wiped out in the war. The purge that continued after it was over. She had warned him that even here in the northern half of Sweden, it was possible that the Union could one day come for them.

  “Do we have to leave?” he asked quietly, one of his hands going to fiddle with his obsidian pendant. He didn’t want to leave, not when his friends were here. Where would they even go?

  Witches, like foxes, always had multiple exits, sanctuaries they’d created for emergencies, but the Union had found so many of them. A map on one wall showed countless red Xs through locations that had been compromised by the Union’s soldiers.

  It was painfully clear that they had nowhere left to run.

  “No one is saying that.” Björn followed Kanruo’s eyes to the map. “We just need you two to lie low for a while. They don’t have a definitive trace on the magic. The ley lines in central Europe and Ireland should still be strong enough to make it appear to be a false positive.”

  “This is dangerous, Björn.” Notia took another sip of her glögg, setting the glass down with a hard clink on the table. She, too, had been looking at the map, and she knew just as Björn did that they were trapped. “I need a guarantee that you can get rid of the Union.”

  “You’re just being dramatic.” Björn rolled his eyes. “Notia, look—”

  “Do not call me dramatic, Björn,” Notia warned. The warmth of the room was whisked out as if a gale had come through. “Ever. Not when I—”

  “Notia, Björn, please, there are children present,” Eira reminded them, nodding at Alrik and Kanruo.

  “Actually, I’m not hungry,” Kanruo mumbled. “May I be excused?”

  “Same here.” Alrik put his utensils down.

  Notia nodded, and the two boys left, the komainu trailing after them.

  “You doing all right?” Alrik asked as Kanruo leaned against the wall, the door to the split dining room and kitchen closing behind them.

  “No.” Kanruo stared up at the ceiling helplessly, studying the bundle of rosemary that hung from the rafters with great interest. Calm. He had to be calm. Just
breathe.

  “I didn’t know my dad was gonna bring that up. I’m sorry. I thought for sure he would’ve talked to Notia about it privately.” Alrik tried to comfort him, patting his shoulder. “We couldn’t get word to you earlier. The Union is tracking communications, and it’s not like you two have comms.”

  “Did they track you here?” Kanruo looked at him.

  “No!” Alrik bristled at the accusation. “We were careful! Look, it’s just a delegate and a single enforcer. Hardly a task force for exterminating witches. It’ll blow over.”

  “But your dad said they’d brought in sniffers!”

  “Well, yeah. There’s like three of them patrolling the town, but they don’t seem to do much,” Alrik told him. “They just wander around and beep. They’re kinda annoying, actually, always in the way.”

  Raijū growled in warning and Alrik made a face at him.

  “What’s got you all riled up?”

  “They. Kill. Witches,” Kanruo explained. There was a tightness compressing his chest as his heart raced itself ragged. “There are three of them?”

  “Look, it’ll be fine. My dad is good at talking his way out of things, and you two can come back to town in the spring. It’ll be just like old times.” Alrik reached out to put an arm around his shoulder.

  Kanruo shrank away from him, wrapping his arms around himself, trying not to show how badly he was trembling. Yuko snarled, baring her teeth, and the sound of thunder shook the floorboards.

  Alrik dropped his arm. “Listen to me. Nothing’s gonna happen. Don’t you trust us?”

  Kanruo rested a hand on Raijū’s head, letting the energies of the impossible beast stabilize him. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. It wasn’t Alrik’s fault that he didn’t understand. How could he possibly realize how terrifying the sniffers were?

  “You don’t know what they can do. You remember that trip Notia and I took to Finland last summer?” he asked Alrik.

  “Yeah, you went to the mountains or something to find shiny rocks,” Alrik assented. “What’s that got to do with our conversation?”

  “It was copper and amethyst—” The shouting from the dining room rose, and Kanruo glanced apprehensively at the commotion. “Let’s go talk in my room.”

  They moved quickly as Notia’s and Björn’s voices magnified. Kanruo sat on his bed, Raijū sprawled across his lap, crooning softly as Yuko paced by the door, keeping guard. Alrik took the chair from Kanruo’s desk and dragged it across the room, sitting in it backward.

  “So, you went to get copper and amethyst, and?”

  Kanruo buried his fingers in Raijū’s mane. “The Union patrols the old mine sites because they know witches will come looking for resources, and . . .” He swallowed, the noise loud in the quiet of the room. “We hid, but the sniffers found us.”

  Alrik nodded, his expression sobering. “What happened?”

  Kanruo opened his mouth, trying to find the words that could convey the utter chaos that their flight through the mines had been. The terror of hiding deep within the earth as you were hunted.

  He clenched his pendant and squeezed his eyes shut, but his rasping breaths came too fast.

  “Hey.” Alrik’s weight made the bed sink. He wrapped an arm around Kanruo. “It’s okay. We won’t let them get you.”

  The witch leaned into the embrace, and they sat like that until there was a soft knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Kanruo called, and Notia eased the door open. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her face flushed.

  “Come have some dessert. I made rice pudding.” She offered them a strained smile.

  They followed her back to the dining room, and despite the sweetness of the pudding, the festive atmosphere had been lost.

  “I’ll make sure the Union is gone by spring, you have my word,” Björn said after a stretch of silence. “You’ve been a gift to our community, you both have. The last thing any of us want is to lose you.”

  “Your compassion is what has allowed us to survive.” Notia didn’t meet his eyes as she stirred her bowl of pudding. “The sanctuary you’ve granted us has been invaluable.”

  “To a continued, prosperous partnership.” Alrik stood, raising his glass of now cold glögg.

  The adults stared at him, and one by one, they began to giggle at the over the top gesture. “Yes,” Björn agreed, raising his own glass. “To partnership.”

  “Partnership,” Notia and Eira echoed.

  Kanruo raised his glass with them as Alrik sat back down.

  “You’re always so good at this sort of thing,” he muttered to Alrik.

  “Comes with the territory.” Alrik grinned. “And learning from when my dad puts his foot in his mouth.”

  Alrik and his parents left shortly after that, starting the dark, cold walk back to where their snow-hover was hidden.

  With a sigh, Kanruo flopped down on the couch next to Notia as she drank a cup of tea. That was more exhausting than it should have been. He always enjoyed seeing Alrik, but the strain of dealing with the very real threat of the Union took all the joy out of everything.

  “I thought Björn didn’t have the authority to oppose the Union?” he asked quietly.

  “Not officially, no.” Notia put her tea aside. “But Sweden generates too much clean energy for the Union to risk running afoul with them. Björn also has great influence at the university. They’re doctoring a series of environmental studies to explain away the land’s recovery.”

  “Isn’t that unethical?” Granted, Kanruo didn’t want to die, but he also didn’t want to spend his life on the run from the Union.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Leave the political manipulation to Björn. You’ll be too occupied, anyway.”

  “Why’s that?” Kanruo glanced at her as she reached for something hidden beside the couch.

  “Because it’s time you learned to use a blade.” Notia presented him with a sleek box of blackened wood.

  Kanruo sat bolt upright. “Are you serious?” He looked from the box to her and back to the box.

  “You’re fifteen now. Your hands are steady enough not to slice yourself to pieces.” She grinned at him, a real smile this time. One filled with pride.

  Kanruo took the box with shaking hands and set it on his lap. His heart was racing as he eased the lid up and peered inside.

  Cradled by soft moss was a sickle, the sacred weapon and ritual tool of the Moon Witches. The blade was an elongated crescent, crafted from a silvery metal blessed by the moon and lovingly etched with sacred glyphs.

  “Roe deer antler is the handle,” Notia told him as he delicately picked up the sacred weapon. “They’re a highly resilient and adaptable species. It seemed fitting for you.”

  He turned the sickle over in his hands, examining it. The knobs and bumps at the base of the six-inch handle fit his palm perfectly. At the end of it were three tines, each curving slightly at the tip.

  “The handle is blank. Why?” He looked at her in confusion. Notia’s own sickle handle was covered in runes and glyphs.

  “The handle is closest to you, Kanruo. It connects the goddess’s blade to your soul and your magic,” Notia explained. “Therefore, it is for you to fill with your story, to make this weapon truly your own.”

  “I . . .” He should have been saying thank you. He’d wanted a sickle of his own for so long. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “It will come to you in time. It’s a lifelong process, one that you must consider with care. No two sickles are alike, just as no two witches are alike.” She patted his knee. “I know you’ll honor this weapon and everyone who has carried it before you.”

  “How can I do that when I . . .” Kanruo set the sickle back in the box. He should have been elated, weightless, but instead, he was dropping to the bottom of the sea. Notia had worked hard on this gift for him. She’d always supported him and taught him anything he wanted to know. And yet, he felt just as lost as ever. “I don’t even know the path I’m tr
aveling,” he admitted softly.

  “Oh, Kanruo.” Notia gently took his face in her hands and turned it to face her. “No witch knows their true path at fifteen.” Her thumbs brushed at his cheeks and he felt tears prick at his eyes. “Little supernova, you’ll find your way.”

  “But what if I don’t?” he whispered, blinking and feeling the tears fall from his eyes. “What if I stay stuck? What if I choose the wrong path?”

  Notia pressed her forehead against his, and he felt her warmth channeling into him, soothing his frenzied thoughts. “We are human. We all take wrong turns. We all make mistakes. I will not dictate a route to you, but I will guide you as best I can. I will give you all the knowledge I possess and tell you of all my follies so you can learn from them.”

  “But Notia.” He grasped one of her hands, afraid of drowning in his uncertainty. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “None of us truly do, little supernova.” Notia pulled back, brushing his tears away. “We just do the best we can. We survive.”

  Kanruo sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve as he pulled away. “I wish it wasn’t so hard and lonely,” he muttered. “Stupid Union.”

  Notia laughed at that. “I couldn’t agree more, but you’re wrong on one point, little supernova.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “We are never alone.” Notia stood. “Come, let us make an offering for those we have lost.”

  That was right. The yearly offering in memory of those who had passed on. Every year at Yule, Notia observed the ritual. As Kanruo helped her prepare the small meal, he realized how similar it was to the offerings he’d read about being left at Japanese graves. Not quite the same, but an echo of all the varied people who had once been a part of the cult.

  He carried an earthen jug of mead as Notia carried the tray of food into the woods. They walked deep into the trees, to a different spot each year to avoid leaving traces of their presence.

  Notia stopped and drew a small pentagram in the snow, filling its borders with runes and sigils of all kinds. They set the offering down in the center and stepped outside of the ring.