Induction by T.K. Eldridge (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

Sin

We sat at Grandma Fortin’s kitchen table, full bottles of beer in hand and a couple of empties each cluttering up the space, along with a plate of her chocolate chunk cookies. Ever had beer and cookies? Don’t knock it, it’s pretty good.

I’d just played the recording of James Boudreau confessing his crimes for the fourth time. The first time, Grandma dropped to the chair and stared at us, mouth hanging open.

“How did you get him to…what on earth? What is he saying? He did what?”

We explained about the potion and Grampa Walsh’s plan and she blinked at us, then a smile I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable seeing on my grandmother’s face settled there.

“So, Liam Walsh is back in town and among the living? Do let him know I want to see him soonish?”

“Um, yeah,” I said and gave Sid a look of ‘wtf?’ before I reached for another cookie.

“Did you get ahold of Dad?” Sid asked as she stood to collect the empties for the recycling bin.

“No, but I left him a voicemail and left a message with Benny if he happened to go by there,” Grandma said.

“I’m worried about what Lord James might have planned,” I said. “I feel like I should be out there, trying to find Dad before whatever his father has planned comes into play.”

Sid came back after dumping the bottles and leaned against the table. “Maybe we should ask Stumpy if he’s heard from Dad?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said.

“Can you still trust Stumpy?” Grandma asked.

“I think so,” Sid said, as I nodded.

“He’s been Dad’s friend for decades now. I can’t see him suddenly turning into an enemy,” I said.

“We never expected our grandfather to be the one that was trying to kill our parents. Or the one who burned down our home,” Sid pointed out.

“Point,” I said.

Grandma finished her beer and burped loudly. “I’ve known James Boudreau was up to no good for a while now, but I wasn’t aware he had gone this dark. To be honest, I wasn’t sure how much of my distrust was racial bias and how much was actual readings. The residue and echoes of behavior cause disturbances that some witches can read. I’m not very good at that, but your mother used to be incredible at it. Not so much now, after the attack.”

I opened another beer and handed it to Grandma. Hey, gotta keep the old battleax lubricated. Best way to keep her talking. No, I’d never say those words out loud. I’d like to be able to father children someday.

“What do you mean, Mom was good at that? Good at what?” Sid asked.

“Reading the energies in the environment around us. It’s not an aura thing, but a ley lines thing.”

“Yeah, Grandma, I think you’re going to need to wait until you sober up to explain that a little clearer,” I said with a laugh.

“Do not mock me, boy. I will make you bald as a cue ball,” Grandma said.

“Naw, you like my hair too much. I’m not mocking you anyway, just saying that five beers make you less than coherent. Particularly on topics with which we’re unfamiliar.”

Grandma leaned on the table, toying with the bottle in her hands. “You two do know what ley lines are, right? The global linear lines of power that wrap the planet?”

“Yes, Grandma, we know what ley lines are,” Sid said.

“There are a pair of crossing lines right here on the farm. It’s why our wards are so strong.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that,” I said.

“Here, in fact, let’s do it this way. You’re both witches. Close your eyes and send your senses out to the fountain in the front yard. That’s where the lines cross.”

I looked over at Sid and shrugged, then held out my hands to her. She lay her hands on top of mine and we both let out a slow breath, then closed our eyes. I stretched out my senses and found the fountain and the shimmer of energy that must be the ley lines. “Can you feel it, Sid?”

“Yeah, it vibrates with energy.”

“Looks shimmery to me,” I said.

“Okay, now run your senses along the lines, like sliding your fingers on a thread. Do you feel any vibrations?” Grandma said.

I could feel Sid sliding along the line in one direction, so I took a ninety-degree angle to her and slid along the other. There were little shimmers along the line. Like the vibrations you’d feel if you were to rest your fingers on a plucked guitar string.

“You two feel the little tremors? Those are emotions. Events. The bright feelings are positives and the dark, heavy feelings are negatives,” Grandma said.

“I can feel something like a plucked string,” I said.

“Yes, that’s a positive,” Grandma informed me.

“This is so cool,” Sid whispered.

We opened our eyes and let go of our hands. “Guess we need to get Grandma drunk more often. She teaches us cool shit,” I said – and earned a swat up the back of my head from Grandma.

“Watch your mouth, boy. Irreverent little fucker.”

We all laughed at that.

“I know, Grandma, but you love me anyway,” I said.

“Sin, you’ve always been a mouthy little shit, but it’s also one of the things I love most about you. You don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“At least you don’t call him a warlock anymore,” Sid said.

“I was an angry, hurt, old woman and I took that out on you two. I’m sorry about that,” Grandma said.

“At least, unlike some of our other grandparents, you…” I stopped talking.

“I pulled my head out of my ass and figured out I was only hurting myself? Yes, precisely that,” Grandma said.

Sid snorted into her beer and shook her head. “Alright, I need some sleep. It’s been a long day and the beer is finally making me sleepy. Come on, Sin, I don’t want to walk in the dark by myself.”

I got to my feet and leaned over to give Grandma a hug. “Love you, Grams. Sleep well, when you go.”

“Love you, too, kiddo. Good night.”