Page 77 of Hex You

“Seriously. After the tacos I feel better.” Mercy swayed only slightly as she stood next to the couch. When her gaze met her sister’s, she added, “And the poultice, of course. The Mighty Poultice.”

“I told you I could make a poultice,” said Hunter as she paused the current episode ofBuffy.“It made you feel better, and it doesn’t come without additional perks. You’ll thank me when your hair is super thick and shiny.”

“The hair on her head or the hair under her arms, kitten?” Xena asked with a glint in her yellow eyes.

Hunter frowned at the cat person. “Weren’t you on your way to soak in a bath?”

“Soon, kitten, soon. Right now I must finish this Samhain episode ofBuffy.It is my second favorite—after the musical, of course,” said Xena.

“The one real bright spot in that disastrous season,” muttered Hunter.

Mercy cleared her throat, pulling the focus back to her. “I’m goingto go out to my greenhouse. Being around my plants is good for me, and I need some quiet time with Freya. She always feels close to me out there.”

“Shall I carry you?” Khenti asked from the couch.

“No, I’ll walk really slow. But thanks.”

“Here. Take this.” Hunter grabbed Mercy’s phone from the coffee table. “If you start feeling worseat alltext me.”

“Thanks, H.” Mercy smiled as she took the offered phone.

“Or if you feel weak text me and Khenti can come out and carry you back inside,” added Hunter. “Basically, do not exert yourself. We’re here for you, Mag. We’ll help.”

Mercy met her sister’s Caribbean-blue gaze. Tears made Hunter’s eyes swim. She looked pale and worried—and Mercy wanted to go to her and curl up beside her and be normal—binge one episode ofBuffyafter another until she totally forgot snakebites and poison and the terrible numbness that was so, so much worse than pain.

But she couldn’t. She needed her goddess. Mercy had to know the truth.

“Don’t worry, H. If I feel bad at all I’ll text and then sit on my butt and wait for someone to schlep me back here.” With a massive effort she grinned at Hunter. “But if youreallywant to make me feel better you’ll get online and order me another Pat Benatar tee.”

“You know they’re hard to findandexpensive, right?” Hunter said.

“Just hit it with your best shot,” Mercy quipped before heading—slowly—to the back door. On the way through the kitchen she took a short detour to the pantry to get a chalice and fill it with red wine before she slipped outside.

“You’re not funny!” Hunter’s voice trailed after her—along with giggles from Jax and Em—andwho is this Benatar personfrom Khenti.

It was one of those warm, fragrant spring nights in Illinois that made the backyard a waking dream. The lilac bushes that clustered like eager girls all dressed in their violet finery perfumed Mercy’sslow walk to the greenhouse with the scent of her childhood. She hadn’t lied to Hunter and the rest of them. She did feel better after she ate—better, but not stronger. Actually, shefeltvery little.

Her hand lifted to touch the poultice that covered the raised scars through her shirt. Her fingers could feel the ridges of the snakebite and she could definitely smell the nasty poultice, but she couldn’t feel her fingers. Mercy prodded around her chest. She had no feeling in about a dinner plate–sized circumference around the bite wounds. Her stomach tightened with fear.Am I dying?

Mercy thought about her death as she made her way to her sanctuary.Would it really be so bad? I’d see Abigail again.Just thinking about seeing her mom lifted her heart. She wasn’t exactly scared of death. She already pretty much knew what dying would feel like—mostly numbness that eventually gave way to blackness. She knew she’d been close to death when Xena had breathed a spark of immortality into her.No one’s saying it, but that’s why I could suddenly see Amphitrite—because I was so close to death.Drifting away to the Summerlands would be easy.Maybe I’m still close to death…

Leaving Hunter wouldn’t be easy. Grief washed through Mercy as she considered how broken her twin would be. They’d just made up! And Mercy was all Hunter had left. Well, Mercy and Xena, but now Xena had an expiration date, too.

And Em. She’d just lost her dad. It would be horrible for Emily to lose her best friend, too.

Xena… Mercy didn’t want to think about how broken her familiar would be without her—and she wasn’t inflating her importance to the cat person. Freya had gifted them with their bond. Mercy already knew how devastated Xena had been to lose her precious Abigail. What would happen to the cat if she had to say good-bye to Mercy, too?

Feeling the weight of love and grief and loss pressing down on her like the hand of a giant, Mercy opened the door to her greenhouse. She didn’t turn on the light. She didn’t need to. She could close hereyes and still find everything she needed by scent and touch and memory. She walked down the center row, flanked by green and growing things, and the hand that weighed her down eased a little.

Mercy went to the small altar she kept at the far end of the structure. It wasn’t a spellwork altar. It was just a simple little shrine on a wooden strip Abigail had instructed be built as a window ledge. On it Mercy honored her goddess, Freya. There was a tall red prayer candle she’d hand-poured with Abigail and scented with apple and cinnamon. She placed the chalice of wine in front of the candle. Beside the candle was a little bronze chariot that was pulled by two big forest cats. Mercy smiled and touched each cat gently; they always reminded her of Xena. Resting before the chariot was a single falcon feather—the goddess’s favorite bird. To the side of the ledge was a box of wooden matches, decorated with a fat, red apple.

Moving stiffly, Mercy dragged a stool over to the altar. She had to sit quickly, as her vision rippled and dizziness pulsed with her labored heartbeat. She didn’t panic, though. Mercy pretended that Xena and Khenti and Hunter were with her, telling her to concentrate on her breathing—to still herself, to ground herself. She breathed slowly, deeply, in and out to a count of four until the room stopped swimming. Then Mercy reached for the box of matches. She lit one and touched it to the ready wick, which flamed willingly.

Mercy closed her eyes and concentrated on the ley lines beneath her. She could feel them, pulsing emerald and moss, lime and fern deep underground. Their energy was her lifeblood. She focused on that energy, and for the first time felt it beating in tandem with her heart. Mercy called to that energy, willing it to pour into her body.

It answered sluggishly, more sticky tar than readily flowing water. She could feel its warmth and power, pulsing just out of her reach. Mercy drew another deep breath and on her exhale spoke.

“I am Mercy Goode, Green Witch, daughter of the magnificent Kitchen Witch Abigail Goode, sister to the powerful Cosmic Witch Hunter Goode. As is my birthright, I draw you to me and ask thatyou lend me your strength to invoke my goddess, Freya—Mistress of Cats, Goddess of Love and Fertility, Divine Earth Goddess, Fierce War Goddess, She to whom I have dedicated my Path. Aid me in reaching my Freya because I have no strength left to call Her. So mote it be.”