Southern Covens- Savannah- Melissa

An introduction to the Savannah coven, and its high priestess. Part of the Southern Covens series of short stories.

Southern Covens- Savannah- Melissa

Melissa raised her arms to the glowing full moon. It was difficult to see through the thick branches of live oak, still green in January, and festooned with Spanish moss. She inhaled the scent of river and green, growing things in the cold night air. As she closed her eyes to allow the power to descend into her body as a channel of the Goddess, she felt a slight hitch. Something was wrong.

She had been expecting it.

The trees trembled slightly, though there was no wind on the cold, drizzling night, and she lowered her arms slowly, as if she had no reason to panic. She opened her eyes, and looked at the women standing in the circle with her. Who was missing?

Ah yes, it was Igraine, her charming, enthusiastic protege. Most of the women were unaware of the disturbance, but Winnie was looking somewhere behind Melissa, smiling. Goddess, what a b***h.

Melissa turned, smiled at Igraine’s surprise, and kicked her in the face.

She had originally joined her tae kwon do class to be closer to the gorgeous instructor, Rick. After a few classes, however, she found that it had done wonders for her ability to center herself and ground herself in the physical. As a high priestess of a large, powerful coven, it was important to remain grounded. It was too easy to float away on all the energies raised by all the coven members, each of which contributed to her overall power. Maintaining that balance could be tough.

It had also really helped her increase her flexibility and balance. Igraine was learning that now. It was a short lesson.

As Igraine’s head snapped backwards, the resulting crack sounded throughout the oak grove. Her eyes were already glassy as she fell. The silver dagger in her hand fell to the soft soil and made no noise of impact.

Melissa felt a moment’s remorse. After all, the girl had promise. She supposed that she should feel some personal pang of loss, having taught the girl for the last 3 years, but she had sensed the turning of the tide a few months back. Like the brackish water in the swamps surrounding the sacred grove, there were unseen dangers in leading this coven. It paid to study the ripples.

She sighed, and turned back to the women in her circle. There were twelve now, and a new woman would rise to take Igraine’s place. Perhaps Igraine’s younger sister Isabelle. Who could know? Usually a young woman just showed up at the next circle, blinking and confused.

Melissa examined the faces around her. Some of the younger faces were stunned. Melinda and Susan just shook their heads, glaring at the women around them. They had seen too many power struggles and still had hopes that the coven would come together some day. Melissa knew better.

Winnie looked angry. Of course it had been she who steered Igraine towards this treachery. Winnie was the sister of the high priestess that Melissa had ousted, and she had always disliked Melissa. Melissa didn’t care. She had gotten to her position by being the most powerful witch in the county, and it was a sign of her benevolence that she had only stripped Winnie’s sister of her powers, and not killed her outright.

Janine, the oldest member of the tribe, grinned at Melissa and clapped silently. She had been Melissa’s own mentor, and though she didn’t have the power to run the coven, she had taught Melissa to be powerful, to be ruthless. The coven and the city of Savannah both required it.

In addition to working personal magicks for the members of the coven, the women also helped to keep the magickal aura around the city of Savannah. That aura was good for business. There were numerous ghost tours, cemetery tours, and various other supernatural draws to the city. It was a beautiful city in its own right, full of history, but it was the magick that brought tourists in droves. That kept the residents happy, the city council happy, and the coven happy. If a few pockets were lined along the way, so much the better.

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Melissa walked back to her townhouse on East Oglethorpe. Disposing of the body had been easy. There were so many wildlife refuges around, all it took was a quick drive, a quiet hidey hole among the reeds, and a veiling spell. It seemed like it should have been more difficult to hide a human body, but the coven training was thorough. This is the way it had been as long as she could remember, since her own introduction to the coven.

Just because she was powerful, that didn’t mean that she wasn’t also tired of all the backstabbing. She had done her fair share to become the high priestess, but she had to wonder what it would be like to have friends. Janine was the closest thing she had to an actual friend, but it wasn’t quite the same. She would have loved to go to the teahouse down the street and shared a pot with someone she could confide in.

Instead, she made herself a large pot of tea at home, and sat to study and make plans.

****************************

On the next full moon, Melissa felt ready to make her move. She smoothed her silvery white hair behind her ears, and lined her cool grey eyes. She was only 40, but her hair made her look simultaneously younger and older. It was a side effect among magick users in her family. Her mother’s hair had turned steel grey at 28, though she had never been as powerful as Melissa. A smear of ruby red lipstick completed her preparations.

She lifted the hanger with her heavy black velvet robe from the closet, and draped it over her shoulder as she left. Her large hobo bag filled with supplies was already in the car.

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As she arrived at the coven’s sacred grove, she wasn’t surprised to see Isabelle there in the circle. She did indeed look confused, as she had no real idea what had drawn her there. She would learn soon enough, and someone would have to mentor her. It was a problem for later. Melissa squeezed her hand and told her to follow along with the others.

Isabelle nodded and smiled uncertainly.

Winnie arrived late, as usual, and glared at Melissa as she took her place in the circle. The others didn’t say much either. In fact, Melissa wondered if anyone in the coven actually liked each other. Did any of these women have friends? She truly didn’t know. They all saw each other at social events, but aside from the occasional socialite drama, they didn’t interact much.

Melissa crossed to the altar and set out the implements of ritual that had been passed from high priestess to high priestess for generations. There was a silver dagger, wrapped in velvet, a chalice that had been banged up over the years despite the wooden box it was carried in. There were also candles and an antique sterling silver lighter to light them, as well as a brass censer that was dull with age, but throbbed with power. She lit the candles and a charcoal, then sprinkled a spicy ritual incense over the top. The recipe had been passed down with the ritual tools, and if the coven members knew how many hallucinogens were in the recipe, they would probably worry for their health. But it was the way things had always been done, and there was power in repetition.

Melissa filled the chalice with a bottle of expensive local spring water, purchased at the grocery store on the way over. She filled a crystal bowl with soil that she had gathered at Bonaventure cemetery a few days ago. It seemed like everything was in place.

She looked at the faces surrounding her. “Will we be having a repeat of last week?” she asked, one brow arched.

Most shook their heads or looked down. Winnie’s gaze smouldered and she didn’t answer.

Melissa tilted her head and gazed at Winnie. She didn’t want to have to make an example of her, but it was time. To everything there is a season, and this was Winnie’s deepest, darkest winter.

She turned and found her proper place at the circle, stepping up onto the platform there. She was simultaneously part of the circle and slightly exalted. She was the arbiter between the coven and the Gods, after all.

“How do we build our circle?” Melissa intoned, speaking words older than everyone here combined.

“In perfect love and perfect trust!” the circle answered. She had to stifle a laugh, as she did every time she heard this same answer. She wondered how many of the other women stifled their own laughs.

“We gather today, in the light of the Snow Moon, to raise magick to feed our city. Do you consent to raise this energy with your sisters, in the spirit of cooperation and mutual benefit?” These words had also been used in hundreds of rituals, perhaps thousands, back through the ages.

“We do consent.” droned the women in the circle.

Melissa took a deep breath. This had to be done.

“And from whence do we take this energy?” She looked expectantly at her coven sisters, who were shaken out of their bored complacency by this switch in the script. The women shook their heads, not sure what they were expected to say. Isabelle looked miserable and awkward. Janine frowned, considering Melissa thoughtfully. Winnie smirked, obviously thinking that Melissa was losing her grip on reality.

“We create this magick from the powers graced to us by our ancestors, the land, and the Gods themselves, do we not?” Melissa again gazed around the circle, studying the reactions of the women there.

She raised her voice. The crone Goddess, bringer of balance, wasn’t a quiet Goddess. “And we owe it to our ancestors, the land, and the Gods to maintain this power, to fight those that would undermine this power we have so graciously been given!”

She pointed at Winnie and whispered a few words. The trap was sprung.

Winnie moved as if to back away from the circle, but found that her feet were mired in the mud there. The snare had been set on the exact spot she had occupied as a part of this coven for 7 years.

Melissa felt the dark aspect of the Crone settle over her features. She had spent the last 28 days trying to decide if this was justice or vengeance. The Crone’s presence was an indication that the Goddess was on her side. The coven didn’t have to get along, but by the Gods, they needed to work together. She let her guilt go, pulled a poppet from a hidden pocket in her cloak, and tossed it to Winnie.

Winnie caught it by instinct, still confused and scared. When she looked at the poppet, her eyes widened and she screamed. It was a tortured sound, a sound made by an animal in a trap. She knew what was coming.

The poppet was stuffed with Spanish moss. Melissa had gathered the moss from these trees in the sacred grove, as a matter of fact. Spanish moss was known for its ability to absorb. It absorbed all sorts of things, even the magick of treacherous witches.

Winnie tried desperately to fling the poppet away from her, but it was stuck. She could no sooner cast away the poppet as she could escape her fate. Here, in this circle, her life as a witch would be over.

Melissa approached the panicked woman, and she almost wanted to soothe her. Even with the scheming, with the treachery, though Winnie had tried to kill her, she pitied her for what was about to happen.

Melissa placed her hand on Winnie’s third eye, and began to chant. “Your power is bound, returned to the circle. Your power is bound, returned to the circle. Your power is bound, returned to the circle.”

As she chanted, others began to approach. They placed their hands on Winnie as well, and began the chant. Some came because they didn’t like Winnie either. Some came because they knew that the circle needed to be whole in order to function. Mostly they came because they were sheep. None of them wanted to be left outside of the circle with no power. Experiencing the wonders of magick, and then having it taken from you, was a fate worse than death.

Poor Isabelle chanted because she was told to follow along with the others. She had no idea how this would keep her awake nights once she realized what was at stake here.

Winnie screamed until her voice gave out. She kept trying, her pitiable croaks of anguish barely intelligible over the sound of 12 women chanting.

After a few moments, Winnie stopped fighting. Her blue eyes grew duller, her hair changed from the vibrant auburn it had been to a dull, frizzy orange. As her magick fled her body, absorbed by the poppet, she became… ordinary. She was just another average woman on the street. No longer would she have that mysterious allure that the witches of Savannah enjoyed and used to their social advantage. It was likely that she would lose her place in society, lose her friends, and fade into obscurity.

She would be angry, no doubt, and Melissa would need to watch over her shoulder now and again, but Savannah also afforded some amount of magickal protection to its magickal protectors.

When the deed was done, Melissa let Winnie fall to the ground. She closed the circle, and began gathering her magickal tools. There would be no working tonight, this was what they had really come here for. In March, during the Worm Moon, there would be a new woman at the circle, and they would come together to work their magick for their town and their community. But for now, Melissa was tired. She was also a little sad.

She crossed to Winnie and plucked the poppet from her grip. It would be burned later and the magick would be released into the remaining witches. She gathered the rest of her things and went home to drink some tea alone.

Author's Note

This is part of a 52 short stories in 2015 personal challenge.