Page 94 of Demon and the Raven

“I like how you said design instead of hippie peace sign again.”

“I’d rather not get admonished a second time.”

She nodded. “Good thinking.”

“Also,” I continued, “I’ll give you some casting herbs you can add to a fire or to a bag or however you want to use them. It will add an extra layer of protection, for you as well as for others in your party.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Let me go get those while Lorne gives you our phone numbers and the address here and his email so you can call us and have us send things to you, like more casting herbs, when needed.”

Before I could get up, she leaned in for a hug, and I wrapped up the little pixie of a woman and squeezed her back tight.

Leaving them to talk, I went to the sunroom, slipped on my wool clogs that lived in that room, got a medium-sized drawstring burlap pouch, and then got down one of the many jars there and filled up the bag.

I had to go outside next, from my sunroom, through my glorious new greenhouse, to the dirt beside the path that was protected from turning to mud under the rosemary and thyme. I grabbed a pinch of Corvus dirt and sprinkled it over the top of the open bag.

“Protect the woman and all those she would have you shield. So mote it be.”

Easy to feel the magic infuse the mixture and seal up tight. It was funny because all my life I’d heard people say, Oh, I just had the weirdest feeling, only to completely disregard whatever that was. I’d been raised so differently, to always listen to your intuition, which could be anything from genetic memory to a feeling in your gut.

I was about to go back inside when I heard a rustle in the bushes. When I looked for the sound, I saw a reindeer.

Now, I knew it was a reindeer because I had to do a report on them for school when I was in fourth grade, and then that same year over the summer, my grandparents took me to Syracuse, to the zoo there, and I saw one up close. So I knew what I was looking at, though it was odd to see one walking around on Corvus.

“Okay,” I said softly, unsure what to do. “How are you?”

It sort of squinted at me, its eyes narrowing, and the thought occurred that I’d never had any kind of deer make me feel stupid before.

“Great,” I muttered as we both stood there, and I gave it a wave, ready to go back inside.

It moved then, taking several steps toward the forest, then stopped and looked over its shoulder at me.

“Oh, am I supposed to—do you want me to follow?”

It stared at me.

I waited.

Huff of breath, followed by a light stomp, and I got the picture.

“Don’t be all mad,” I grumbled. “It’s late, I’m tired, and I’m not the deer whisperer.”

Second stomp, and I quickly put the bag of herbs back inside the door of the greenhouse and got moving.

To reach the reindeer, I had to jump over the small stream that ran behind my home, and as I closed in on the deer, I walked by the huge Southern live oak that was right there on the other side. I touched the branches as I always did on my way across Corvus. I was concerned I’d be walking far and Lorne would get worried, and that I should have gone back inside and let him know, but it was only another ten yards before I came upon the holly and hawthorn, so I knew we were walking east, not north toward the deeper woods. The rowan was next, then an English oak, the acorn carried across the ocean by a distant relative, then the copse of birch and alder trees, where the reindeer seemed to disappear and reappear. At last we reached the willow growing close to where the stream widened into a small pond before thinning again.

The reindeer hopped through the water, and I trailed after him, taking the ancient stepstones, and once on the other side, touching the leaves of the hazel before glancing around. There, near the elder shrub, fifty or so feet from me, with her hand touching purple berries that had been creamy flowers back in May, was a goddess.

Even if I hadn’t recognized her instantly from the stories my grandfather told, the way the light gathered around her would have told me she was not of this world. But again, she was Arthur Corey’s favorite, and they had spoken many times when she’d come through the rift. It made sense she would visit, as all routes, channels, conduits, waterways, even migration paths of animals were under her protection. Ley lines as well, passageways of energy would be hers to check on, though ours were different. Ours didn’t lead off the land like others, didn’t connect to anything, being there solely for protection because of the rift. The wards were in place to make sure that gods and goddesses, like herself, could come and go in absolute safety.

She was Elen, Elen of the Ways, Elen the Guide, Elen the Protector of Pathways, Elen who also oversaw the destruction of the old to create something new, always with the intention of moving forward, which led to a different path, either actual or symbolic, hence her blessing and her mandate.

I had no idea what she could want with me. Everything on my land was good, and I had not failed in my stewardship.

Immediately, I went down on one knee because first, she was a goddess blessing me with her presence, and second, as deer were sacred to her, as were all roads, it had clearly been her shielding us from those creatures earlier in the night. I wanted to thank her, but I needed to wait for her to speak to me first.

I was aware of the breeze prickling over my skin, feeling different, charged, as though there was a bit of electricity in the air. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t comfortable, not at all a normal summer wind.