Spells Trouble (Sisters of Salem #1) - P. C. Cast Page 0,14
tell me about it,” Emily squeaked.
“Okay, we won’t tell you,” Hunter and Mercy said together.
“Stop with the creepy twin speak,” Emily said, and added, “and I can so keep a secret.”
“Happy birthday.” Hunter handed a narrow box to Mercy. She’d wrapped it with green paper covered in vines.
“Ooooh, the paper is awesome!” Unlike her sister, Mercy carefully peeled every piece of tape off and then smoothed the paper as she freed the box. She opened the lid and gasped. “Hunter! It’s perfect!” Mercy caressed the slim stack of squares of vintage lace, then lifted each to study their unique beauty. “Ohmygoddess! I’ll make such cool stuff with these!”
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with,” said Hunter. “Happy birthday. Love you twin.”
“Happy birthday, love you, too, twin.”
In the rearview mirror Emily smiled at them all the rest of the way home.
* * *
Mercy loved everything about the old Victorian home that had housed Goodes since the mid-1800s. It was the last house at the northern most edge of Main Street, backing onto acres and acres of cornfields or, depending on the year, bean fields. This was a corn year and the stalks were already as tall as the twins. Mercy loved it when the mature corn secluded their house and the expansive gardens that filled their five acres, which included a koi pond with a fountain of Athena, their mother’s patron goddess, complete with plumed helmet, an owl on her shoulder, and a dolphin beside her spouting water from its mouth. And, of course, in one corner, surrounded by lilacs and framed by a wrought-iron fence covered with wisteria, was the meticulously tended Goode family cemetery.
It was over the top, but the entire Victorian house was gloriously over the top. The majority of the house was butter yellow, with its ornate trim painted highlights of purple, fuchsia, and dark green. The double front doors were the same bull’s blood red as the wraparound porch. Literally bull’s blood red, as their mom liked to remind them. Every time the house had been repainted, actual bull’s blood, as well as protective spells, were mixed into the paint.
“There are my birthday girls! And right on time. Was the party fun?” Abigail Goode hugged each daughter in turn as they came inside. Without giving them a chance to respond she hurried on. “You need to get upstairs and change. Quickly. Then meet me in the kitchen and we’ll gather the rest of the supplies together for the ritual.” Abigail pushed them gently toward the stairs when they didn’t move fast enough. “Quickly! Tonight is too important to chance being even a minute late.”
The twins sprinted up the winding staircase to their side-by-side rooms. Mercy rushed to her closet. She’d hooked the hanger on which her ceremonial dress hung on the outside of her closed closet door, and she couldn’t help taking a moment to reverently run her fingers over the intricate design of vines, flowers, and falcon feathers—one of the goddess Freya’s favorite symbols. It had taken Mercy an entire year to finish the embroidering. The cut of the dress was simple—cream-colored hemp jersey flowed long and free from a teardrop neckline. Mercy stroked the material. “Soft as silk, but a lot easier to embroider,” she murmured to herself. It was her artistic hand at embroidery that made the dress special and Mercy had meticulously decorated the neckline, sleeves, and the hem of the full skirt with symbols that celebrated the earth and her chosen goddess. She didn’t wear an amulet that represented her goddess, like Hunter did her god. Instead Mercy imagined Freya as part of the earth itself, so every flower and tree, even every blade of grass symbolized her goddess.
Mercy hurried out of her clothes and then sighed happily as the dress slid over her head and down her body with the smoothness of water. Quickly, she brushed out her hair, put on big silver hoop earrings she’d saved for this night, dabbed more of the homemade lilac scent she loved so much behind each ear, and then slathered on her favorite pink lip gloss. Mercy blew her reflection a cheeky kiss, hefted her bag over her shoulder, and almost ran into Hunter as she bolted out the door.
“Sheesh, Mag, be careful!” But Hunter’s annoyed frown turned into a soft smile. “Wow. I haven’t seen it since you finished it.”
“Do you like it?” Mercy twirled so that the full skirt of the dress swirled around her long legs.