The Last Moon Witch Read online

  “No,” he groaned. “I end up with more questions than when I started. I can’t even begin to unravel this mass of wires.”

  Alrik sighed, leaning back in his chair as he stared off into space. “And she’s determined not to tell you?”

  “She says it’ll break my heart, but . . .” Kanruo sat back up. “How can I trust her after she hid so much from me?” He felt the cake churning in his stomach, a sourness burning the back of his throat. What else was she concealing?

  “Are you sure you want to find out? Is it better to let it be?” Alrik put his hand over his and he felt his heart stutter.

  No, now wasn’t the time to think about that. He had enough problems without doing something as foolish as worrying about his crush. He pulled his hand out of Alrik’s.

  “Alrik, I have to know.”

  “I don’t know how it works, but couldn’t you scry it? You’re a witch, after all.”

  “I thought about it, but scrying isn’t my gift. The ether doesn’t grace me like it does Notia.”

  “So have her teach you.”

  Kanruo snorted. “Yeah that’ll go over super well. ‘Hey, Notia, teach me scrying magic so I can find out what other secrets you neglected to tell me.’ ”

  Alrik shrugged. “Make up some noble excuse.”

  “You mean lie to her.” He’d never lied to Notia in his life. She’d always made him feel safe to confide in her. Until recently, that was.

  “Lie is such a strong word. Come on, who’s to say you won’t eventually follow through on your noble excuse of choice? It isn’t a lie then.” He winked.

  Alrik had a point, but approaching Notia with ulterior motives in mind felt rotten. Then again, if he didn’t find out the truth, he could never put his mind at ease. At least he would know if his parents were still alive.

  A cheery chirp came from Alrik’s pocket. He fished out a palm-sized tablet and pulled up the message.

  “William’s got the version forty-three release of that holo-top game you like so much.” he glanced up at Kanruo. “Wanna meet up with him and the others?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.” Kanruo drank the rest of his coffee. A game with the rest of their friends would be a welcome distraction from the moral and existential crisis in front of him. It would give him time to think.

  It took Kanruo a week to work up the courage to talk to Notia.

  “Can I ask you something?” he queried, holding Michiko’s spell book against his chest.

  Notia looked up from the herbs she was grinding. Sunlight and warm spring air spilled through the open window, and the whole kitchen smelled of rosemary and lavender.

  “What is it?” Notia glanced at the tome in his arms.

  “I . . . I’ve been thinking a lot. About the night the druid was here, about your vision, and I just . . .” Here came the hard part. The half-truth. “I found an incantation for scrying, but I don’t know how to wield it. I was hoping you could help me?”

  Notia considered the request. “I take it this is the spell you were telling me about before our visitor came?”

  “Yes, I . . . even if we can’t change their fate, there has to be something we can do. You always say there are infinite possibilities. I just thought that maybe . . .” He swallowed heavily, his palms sweating as he clutched the old tome. There was no way she’d believe him. “Maybe we could still help, somehow. I know there’s bad blood, but there are so few of us left. I don’t want them to die.”

  “You have a kind heart,” Notia murmured to herself. “I hope you never lose that.” She stared at the herbs before her, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. “It won’t be easy. Second sight is not your gift, but there are ways.”

  “Then you’ll teach me?”

  “Of course I will.”

  Kanruo could hardly believe his luck. But she had hidden the truth from him, and if turnabout was fair play, then why did his heart shudder like it was about to fracture?

  Notia retrieved a copper mirror from her workshop and led him into the small garden behind the house. As they settled in the fresh grass of spring, he did his best to put aside his misgivings and absorb all the knowledge she was about to give him.

  “There are as many ways to glimpse into the future as there are witches. Techniques vary based on the practice. Some use fire, smoke, or tarot cards. Others prefer to read tea leaves or entrails.”

  “Gross.” Kanruo made a face.

  “The goddess gives us all the tools, but it is up to us to utilize them.” Notia set the mirror down on the grass before her. “If I am searching for something specific, I prefer to use an incantation. I find it guides me.”

  “What’s the mirror for?” Kanruo studied the shining copper as he sat next to her. It wasn’t one that could be used for practical purposes, even though the sun reflected brightly off it.

  “This mirror was a gift from Michiko,” Notia told him. “Unfortunately, its rosewood stand was lost in one of the Union raids.”

  “Wait, the same Michiko—” Kanruo pointed to the burnt tome he held.

  “The same.” Notia smiled a bit. “She was an exceptional witch. I’m privileged to have known her. Many mourned her passing. And when my time comes, the mirror will become yours.”

  “But she died . . .” Kanruo tried to calculate, tapping on his fingers as he counted. Mental math had never been a strong suit of his. “Over a thousand years ago!”

  “Our connection to the ether grants us the unique blessing and curse of longer life and greater endurance. Have you never considered how quickly you healed as a child? How you were rarely sick?”

  “I thought I had a good immune system. Wait, Notia, how old are you, then?” He stared at her. Even if Notia had been a child when she’d met Michiko, that would have to mean that she was—

  “It’s rude to ask a lady her age.” Notia swatted his leg gently. “Now, back to the lesson. The mirror is a conduit and a focus point, just as the fire is. However, you need to be exceptionally careful when communing with the ether. Your intent must be crystal clear.”

  “But how’s that different from any other spell?” Kanruo watched as Notia retrieved a cup of water from the small pond and sprinkled a few drops of it on the mirror’s surface.

  “Because the ether is vast and deep. You can easily become lost in its magnificence and wander the infinite possibilities forever. I’ve seen it happen to many witches in the past. They drown within it and never awaken from the trance.” She paused for a moment. “Do you recall the poem, Auguries of Innocence?”

  “No.” Notia had countless poetry books spanning from various centuries and cultures. Kanruo had read some of them as a child, but none had ever stood out to him as anything special.

  “To see a World in a Grain of Sand and a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour,” Notia recited. “William Blake may not have been a witch, but he had remarkable insight into how the ether worked. It can be beautiful and terrifying. You must always be cautious and respectful when seeking knowledge from its depths.”

  “But we use the ether all the time for other magic and it doesn’t seem to mind.” Kanruo peered at his distorted reflection in the mirror.

  “Knowledge of events past or events yet to come requires a slightly different contract. Our intuitive magic flows from the ether just as a river moves toward the sea. It is a natural progression. Swimming against the current is a bit harder.” Notia traced rune patterns in the water droplets on the mirror.

  “So, for you, it must be like going through the rapids,” Kanruo murmured as he watched her work.

  Notia chuckled. “Sometimes. Many a seer has lost their sanity in the unending flood of visions. It is all about learning how to navigate and reading the ebb and flow of the ether. Sometimes, we go under, as you saw happen to me.”

  “How do you get back to the surface?” Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. It was bad enough that he was misleading Notia about his intention
s, but the added terror of getting lost within the ether gave him second thoughts.

  “The same way you do in real life—ball up until the current spits you out. Then on your back, nose and toes downstream.” Notia winked at him. “Now center yourself. Let’s check on those druids.”

  Scrying proved to be exhausting. More often than not, the ether rejected Kanruo’s questions.

  He should have been presented with a ghoulish, but helpful, echo of himself, a guide that would help him navigate the infinite possibilities to find the answers he sought.

  Instead, the ether spat back a meaningless dream jumble of tardigrades floating through the galaxies at him. While the minuscule water bears were their own brand of bizarre cosmic cuteness, they weren’t answers.

  He suspected that subconsciously, he didn’t care about the questions he was asking. While he may have been able to fool Notia, the ether was far more cunning. Each time he asked, it pirouetted away from his question, leaving him floundering clumsily about.

  But after a month of pestering about the druids, the ether relinquished a vision of Ireland. Fragments of green persisted against the burnt ruin of the land. Notia had called that a success, for visions were seldom straightforward and were left to the interpretation of the witch receiving them.

  Bolstered by the victory, Kanruo set his plan into action. As the night temperatures rose above freezing, he slipped out into the garden, Notia's scrying mirror in hand, stolen from her workshop.

  Under the light of the shrinking crescent moon, he set the mirror down on the soft grass and sprinkled water from the pond onto its surface. He plucked a hair from his head and added it, then pricked the tip of his thumb, smearing the tiny drop of blood in with the water. He was searching for his family, his task deeply personal, or anything he could use to connect to them.

  "Crone of wisdom and dark skies. Let shapes materialize. Bright to light my second sight," he whispered, gazing into the mirror as he positioned his fingers in the appropriate kuji-kiri formation.

  “Jin,” he whispered at his warped reflection, channeling all his focus in his next words. “Let me see my parents.”

  His reflection stared back at him. It blinked back and blackness consumed its eyes, smoke billowing around it.

  Then it smiled.

  A grin stretched his lips thin over his teeth and twisted the muscles in his face into a coy expression. His reflection knew something that he didn’t.

  Startled, Kanruo shrank back as it reached out toward him.

  We’ll help you find what you seek, it promised in a far-away windswept voice. Its fingers curled, beckoning to him.

  Kanruo gripped the edges of the mirror. It had worked! His ether echo gazed back at him, an uncanny mimicry of his own form.

  His heart rocketed in his chest, but he couldn’t be afraid now. This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for. The ether was responding to his truest desire.

  He swallowed and bowed his head to the mirror. “My . . . show me my father.”

  His reflection reached up, putting its hands on either side of his face. Then it pulled him forward into the mirror.

  Smoke danced around him. The haze wrapped him in its embrace as voices from across time called out to him, distorted and distant.

  The magical vortex wound down, and Kanruo’s echo gripped his hand, taking them out of the chaos and into a dingy bar.

  Distantly, someone was singing, quite poorly, in English. A man sat alone at the back of it, the neon pink outline of a naked woman adorning the wall next to him. In the glow of the signage, Kanruo could make out the man’s profile. His nose and his eyes matched his own.

  "Father?" Kanruo gasped. His father was alive! He took a step forward, reaching toward the man.

  But as he did, the vision faded, a black mist swirling about. It thickened until it was more mud than fog.

  “No! Bring him back!” Kanruo turned to his echo.

  These are only visions. It clicked its tongue at him in annoyance.

  Chided, Kanruo mumbled an apology. “Can I see him once more? Please? Where is he?”

  His echo wrinkled its nose. You asked to see, and you saw. Location is a separate request.

  Kanruo sighed at the nitpicky rule. “Can I see my mother, then?” he pleaded. His original petition had been to see both his parents, after all.

  That we can do. His echo blinked its black eyes, and they tumbled head over heels into the surging vapor clouds once more.

  This time, they landed on the white, sanitized floor of an office hallway. Overly bright fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and just before them came the staccato pat-pat-pat-pat of flat shoes.

  Kanruo could just make out the faint outline of a woman. His heart leaped in his chest.

  The woman's back was to him as the vision came into focus, her hair back in a tight bun at the top of her head.

  "Mom?" Kanruo whispered, starting to follow her. He was so close! If he could just see her face—

  "NO!"

  Icy water splashed over Kanruo, severing his connection to the visage. His ether echo and the vision were washed away as he was blown back into his body.

  His vision swam as he tried to get his bearings. So close! He’d been so close! What had pulled him back?

  "I told you not to go looking for them!" Notia snatched the scrying mirror up from the ground.

  "You can't stop me! They're my parents! I have a right to know!" Kanruo jumped to his feet. A wave of wooziness hit him as his ungrounded power surged beneath his skin, causing it tingle and scald the water into steam.

  Notia gazed levelly at him, her own displeasure matching his upset as she frowned.

  "You're going to get yourself killed if you keep looking for them."

  "Stop trying to protect me! I'm not a child anymore!"

  "You're fifteen, and like every fifteen-year-old, you think you know better than everyone else!"

  "That's not fair! You're the one who won't tell me about them! You're the one who always says I should seek my own truths, and now you're mad when I do? This is bullshit! What else are you hiding from me? What else have you lied about?"

  A sharp crack filled the air, bringing a halt to Kanruo's outburst.

  In Notia's hands, the mirror had shattered in her grip, the shards of copper cutting deep into her palms.

  "Kanruo, everything I have done for these past fifteen years has been to keep you safe. To keep you alive."

  She suddenly looked older now, wizened with age, her hair thin and white, her body hunched and skin wrinkled, speckled with age spots. A terrible gash across her face and a blind eye stared back at him. The ankle that had been bothering her was a warped mass of flesh, crudely rebuilt to replace the tendon that had been severed.

  A glamour spell, Kanruo realized. All these years, she’d been using an illusion. And she’d finally allowed it to fall away.

  "I have seen parents crush their own children's skulls because they possessed magic.” Notia’s voice could barely be heard through the songs of the crickets in the garden. “I have seen neighbors fear each other and more innocents than I can count perish at the slightest suspicion of magic. I have survived the Great Burning and the years of purging that followed. And I have lost so much, Kanruo. Friends, lovers, children . . .” Tears leaked from her good eye.

  Kanruo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “You are precious to me, not because you carry the traditions of the Moon Witches but because I love you as my own. So please, listen to a selfish old crone's desire and don't go looking for your parents. At best, you'll find heartbreak. And at worst, death."

  She dropped the mirror to the ground and limped toward him. A bloody hand reached up to caress his face. “I can’t lose you too, little supernova. I can’t.”

  “Notia, I—” He rested his hand over hers. “I’m sorry,” Kanruo mumbled, bowing his head. “I just . . . I need to know. You can’t protect me from the truth forever.”

  “I wish t
hat I could.” Her hand brushed hair back from his face, smearing blood on it as she tucked the loose strands behind his ear. “I wish I could spare you all the suffering that will come from it.”

  Her words sent a chill through him and he hugged her tightly. “Did the ether show you something?”

  She regarded him. “Would you believe me if I told you?”

  “I . . .” But he found that he couldn’t be confident in his answer. “I want to, but I don’t know if I can.”

  “Then I can only wait until you’re ready.” She stepped back from him.

  Golden threads of magic wrapped around her hands, slowly sealing the gashes shut. Her figure twisted briefly, contorting as her illusion fell back into place. Notia picked up the mirror. It too had reformed, once more a solid piece. “Come. I’ll make you a cup of chamomile tea.”

  Behind them, a black sludge bubbled out of the ground, rising up from the grass where the mirror had sat.

  It slithered forward, adhering itself onto the soles of Kanruo’s shoes as he stepped into the house.

  8

  Kanruo sat at his desk poring over Michiko’s grimoire. His mind was still in turmoil from the previous night. He’d seen his parents! Or his father, at least, but now what? Notia’s words had left a chill in him that not even hot tea could shake.

  Then as he lay in bed, the chill had turned slimy, leaving him with a sticky, foul sensation that burrowed into his brain and made the gravity around him quadruple. Sleep refused to grace him, so he turned to his translations in search of any scrap of wisdom that would make the ill weight within him dissipate.

  A stick of rosemary incense burned next to him as he double-checked his translations.

  “She-men-ah-wa.” He sounded the word out, uncertain if he was putting the stresses in the correct places.

  According to the notes he found, it was a hand twisted and braided rope that was meant to denote sacred spaces and ward against evil. A faded sketch showed it paired with the shide and strung across a small altar. The process of softening and weaving the material together would be a good, labor-intensive distraction.