Song For A Hero 

The hallways were a blur as they ran. She lost sight of the guys quickly, but Desma and Althea let her keep up with them until they passed through a low archway and emerged outdoors in a large courtyard. Several buildings surrounded a central fountain and flower garden. She caught a glimpse of Fredrick as he rounded the garden and back out of sight. She pulled free of the girls and sprinted in that direction. The twins, a full six inches taller than her, passed her and kept running. By the time she caught up to the group, the men were standing in front of a group of older women nodding and speaking in low tones. She watched as they left the group and each took a place near a wooden A-frame.

The twins had moved off the side near another group of five or six older women. Bets hurried toward them, determined to remain as unobtrusive as possible and just follow the lead of Desma and Althea.

Dozens more men and women emerged from various doorways. The more Bets looked around, the more people she saw. Just appearing from every direction as the bell tolled and smoke began to fill the courtyard.

Inside the wooden A-frame was a platform suspended by ropes; it hovered over a pit or well of some sort. Laid out, under the starry sky, was a body, or at least it looked like a body, covered in a white sheet with beautiful floral patterns embroidered into it. Torches burned every few feet throughout the area, illuminating everything with a shaky orange light.

A woman stood on a short stone block before the platform. She looked to be in her late seventies, she wore a loose-fitting, white robe, and her long grey hair flowed down over her shoulders. Somewhere in the distance, drums began, and the flames from the torches shot into the night. The woman screamed, a sound full of rage and anguish. She dropped her robe, her naked body cast in firelight, covered in tattoos. She screamed again and rubbed what looked like a combination of ash and oil across her face and chest, as she did, several of her tattoos lit up with a light all their own.

“Mathew Weems!” she called out, her voice raw and cracking.

“Mathew Weems.” The screaming response from the gathered crowd.

She spun in a circle, throwing her hands into the air and screaming as she did. Flames shot from her hands, and tears streamed down her face. “Brothers and sisters of Mercer, here in the Temple of the Mother, lies Mathew Weems. A warrior, a brother, a lover, and a friend. Mathew Weems.”

Her voice had taken on a musical quality despite the obvious pain. She wasn’t speaking or preaching, she was singing. Bets had never heard anything so tragic, so beautiful.

“Eighty-nine years, eighty-nine years, he served our family.”

“Mathew Weems,” the crowd responded in the same musical tone.

“Eighty-nine years, he saved the innocent of the world.”

“Mathew Weems.”

“Eighty-nine years, the enemies of the innocent fell beneath his blade.”

“Mathew Weems.”

“Eighty-nine years, he held the hands of the frightened as they faced their biggest fears.”

“Mathew Weems.”

“Eighty-nine years, he taught his brothers and his sons, the ways of our family.”

“Mathew Weems.”

She paused, catching her breath, and raising her hands to the sky.

“Now, our brave brother has fallen, protecting the ones he loved from a monster in the night.”

“I swear to you brothers and sisters, in front of the Mother, in front of the Stag and the Mother Moon, as my love rejoins the Divine Energy in its great journey. I punished his killer, I boiled the skin from his body, I clawed out his eye, and I dug my hooked tongue into his brain.”

At this, the rest of her tattoo work lit up. “Even now, as he licks his wounds in the belief that he succeeded, he succeeded only in leading me to his origin, to the power behind him. A power that will fall before me when I avenge my brave lover.”

She looked down at Sugar and Fredrick on either side of the frame. “Brothers, please, help me, lower our brother into the eternal.”

At this, Sugar and Fredrick rose, and Bets noticed both men had stripped as well. She thought to ask Althea later about the tradition but at the moment, she was enrapt. The two men untied great ropes, thicker than their arms, and began paying out slack. Their movements were so perfectly timed that the platform on which Mathew Weems rested lowered without tilting in the slightest.

The woman danced again on the stone platform. She spun circle after circle, her hands raised to the sky crying his name, tattoos glowing, over and over. “Mathew Weems, Mathew Weems, Mathew Weems, Mathew Weems.” She stopped spinning her arms out wide, facing the pit, Fredrick and Sugar standing off the side, and she screamed one final time. “I love you, Mathew.” She slammed her head back and howled to the sky as flames shot from her hands and into the pit. Years of love and trust and memories were carried on that sound and in those flames. Fire rose from the pit, a column of flame taller than any of the surrounding buildings. She searched for Fredrick and Sugar in the glare, scared for them, but they had returned to their kneeling position. Within moments the flames from the pit subsided, Bets watched as a small woman with short, wiry, hair helped the older woman down from the platform and wrapped her in the robe.

Bets turned to Althea and Desma. Behind them, above the crowd, she saw the silhouette of what could only be Lord Seanchara, bigger than any man could be, atop his head a great expanse of antlers, on his arm, a woman nearly as tall as him, but much slighter, on her head the triple moon. “The Stag and The Mother Moon,” she muttered to herself as Althea waved her over. She glanced up again to the balcony where she had seen them, and they were gone.

 May You Never Forget His Name 


It could have been the understatement of a lifetime to say Bets felt overwhelmed. She was standing between Althea and Desma, in the courtyard of one of the most impressive buildings she had ever seen. She studied the walls, carved stone and wood, every inch of its enormous face covered in intricate designs. Faces, gargoyles, and detailed scenes depicting people and acts she did not recognize.

Movement caught her eye as Sugar and Fredrick approached them; the men had put their pants back on and carried the rest of their clothes. Groups of people milled around, but Bets noticed the looks as Sugar and Fredrick passed; everyone acknowledged them in some way or another. A nod, a word, a couple of stops for hugs. She could not tell if it was related to the duties they had just performed for the dead man, Mathew Weems, eighty-nine years, he held the hands of the frightened as they faced their biggest fears. The song echoed through her mind as she watched the men approach.

She turned to Desma. “The song, it…”

Desma cut her off, “Every time you think of this moment, you will remember his song, his story. The spell she cast was not for him. It was for us, who may or may not have known him, to learn his name and what he did for the family and the mission. It also helps to start the grieving process for her and Bast. Every witch, every consort, in the Mercer family heard that song, and we all know it now. It is part of our living memory, the bond that holds us all together.”

Bets could feel the song flowing through her mind, becoming a part of her as Desma spoke.

“We know there is no afterlife. There is no heaven, hell, or great beyond. When he passed from this life, the spark that made that body into Mathew Weems fled this world and rejoined the divine energy of creation. The only way we know how to be eternal is to be remembered by the living. So, we sing their songs, we remember their stories, and they become part of the Mercer lore. His face and deeds will be etched into the great stone faces of the Temple of the Mother that you see before you, and we will sing his song for as long as Mercer remains.”

Bets lowered her head, staring at the ground. She said nothing, only let the moment and the thought of Mathew Weems pass over her. She found that as she sang the song in her mind, she began to see a picture of the man. A young soldier on a boat being tossed around by waves, gunfire rattling in the distance. Older now, carrying a small boy over his shoulder as a barn burned in the background. She saw him in a big open arena, sparing with a young boy, a boy with skin as white as snow, hands, and feet comically large, as he circled Mathew Weems looking for an opening.

She saw him slowly dancing on a bridge over a stream in the woods, moonlight shining on him as a woman feverishly pulled his clothes from his body in a moment of passion. More and more the waves of memory washed over her, and then, Mathew in a fight for his life against a shadowy form in a dark garage. The quiet determination as he tried to fight off the attacker. The pain, the sorrow, when he realized it was over, the sound of the stomps as the memory faded.

She swayed and would have fallen had strong hands not held her upright. She opened her eyes, red with tears and rage. She was looking up into Sugar’s face. “Bastard, I hope he heals so that she can hurt him again.”

A voice from behind, soft, but commanding. “Christopher, is that our new sister? Seems she got the full force of Hannah’s song. Help her to me if you would.”

Bets swayed in his arms, her mind a blur of images and emotions. Everything she had seen since she had awoken that morning, the last day of her old life, the funeral, the barrage of memories that were not her own.

Sugar led her on her unsteady legs toward a small group of people. Bets felt her legs go limp as her head whirled, like being dizzy drunk, waiting for that last big spin before you passed out. Only his strong arms held her upright. She found she could no longer see what was in the world around her. Only the memories of Mathew Weems, covering her mind in the fog of his long life. No longer was it just his accomplishments, but his entire life, his mother and father, the farm, the garden.

She felt something warm and wet swipe across her forehead, then a whispering all around her. Then a wind was blowing, pushing her head back. She heard a voice cut through the din.

“That’s it, Ashanti, blow the fog away from her mind, keep going until she comes back to us. Feel the fog clear, Bets, you listen now, walk into the wind, I know those memories are powerful things, girl, but let Ashanti clear your mind. They will always be there, but that’s enough nostalgia for one day, love.”

Bets focused on the feeling of the wind in her face and walked into it as she was told. Slowly, the vision of Mathew’s memories began to fade. When she could finally see with her own eyes, she realized Sugar had been holding her up, standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist.

When she felt like she could stand on her own, she tapped him on the arm. “Thank you, Sugar.”

Bets took a deep breath, she still felt Mathew’s memories below the surface, but they were no longer overwhelming her. She looked at the two women standing before her. One was younger, possibly in her mid-twenties. The other was older, but Bets could not tell how old, sixties, maybe early seventies. They both wore beautiful robes, silks in crimson, gold, and bright blue. The older woman stepped close to her and handed her ornate walking stick to Sugar. She took Bets’ face in both her hands and drew her close. Bets was shocked at the strength of those small delicate-looking hands. She looked into Bets’ eyes, first one and then the other. The torchlight reflected in the woman’s large brown eyes made it look as if her eyes were on fire. A moment, then two, it felt like an eternity. Then the woman released her.

“Much better now, young sister?”

Bets tried to place her accent but could not. “Yes, ma’am, thank you both.” She nodded to the younger girl. “How did you do that? I, I thought I had lost my mind, I couldn’t find my way through his memories.”

“No, child, I don’t imagine that you could. The funeral song is powered by the witch. You had the unfortunate timing of only being awake a few hours. No idea how to ward yourself or protect your mind from that kind of spell. Add that to being this close to one of our most potent sisters grieving a man she loved more than life. Mathew was not just her consort, they had been married for many years, and I suspect had been lovers since they were young. Even I took an emotional beating from Hannah’s funeral song. That’s part of the beauty of it, we not only share in his life so that he will live forever in our memories, but also her grief. We take much of it into our collective minds and spirits to share her pain and support our sister. It is one of the things that helps to bind us together, shared memories, shared grief, and shared joy.”

The woman led Bets to a small ledge, Sugar, and the younger girl Ashanti, were close behind.

“My name is Niri; you will find many here who call me Mother Mercer as well. I want you to do something with me. I know our sisters had you light the candles this morning, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, good. That saves us a step now. Bets, close your eyes, I want you to open your spirit up. Search like you did this morning. But do not search for a goal. Only to feel, to see.”

Bets closed her eyes and began to breathe just like before when she was trying to get a picture of the room. Steady, in and out. It only took a moment before she began to see an image in her mind. A few feet in front of her, Sugar, holding Niri’s walking stick. Ashanti was close by his side, staring intently at her. Niri on her right. Then further out a handful of people were milling about, all either watching them or slowly making their way to where they were sitting.

“Do you see us?”

“I do.”

“Now, look deeper, with your spirit. You are seeing the physical manifestations of the Divine Energy of Creation, now look for it. Look at Christopher and see him as we see him. See the creator in him. See the power of all creation as it flows through him and gives him life.”

It started slowly, in the blurry indistinct picture in her mind, the image of Sugar suddenly lit up. Dazzlingly white, with beautiful streaks of yellow and green flowing through it. She could still see him, but these colors and feelings flowed through and around him. She could see the lines of colors reach all the way to her chest, and when she focused on that line, she found she could feel him, his presence there. As she watched, in awe of what she was seeing, she noticed more lines extending from him and from her. Thin bands led away from her chest and further into her fields of vision. Three of them extended to the left of her. She followed them to their origin, or termination, she could not tell. Standing in a tight group watching her intently she saw Desma, Althea, and Fredrick. The twins shared a band that was the size of their torso. Each one also had a large band of brilliant blue and green that led back to Sugar. The colors coming from Fredrick were darker, rich deep red, and purple with streaks of brilliant white light. She felt herself grinning as she followed the light back to Sugar. She glanced at Niri and her breath caught in her chest.

The light passing through the small woman shined in every color imaginable, and silhouetted her in a rainbow image of herself, twice as tall. Bands of light shot from her in every direction, all sizes, and colors. Hundreds, thousands of them.

“My God, the connections, so beautiful.”

Niri put a hand on hers. “Now look back at your connection to Christopher, feel it. Extend your feelings down that line until you can tell where he is and what he is doing without looking at him. Feel the connection and let it guide you.”

Bets threw her head back and laughed. “Your voice, oh Sugar, that is beautiful. I can hear his spirit singing. I have never heard anything so incredible.”

“So now you know why we all love him so much.” Althea was standing next to Sugar with her arms around him.

Sugar grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “You love me because I am the best cook in Mercer.”

Niri raised an eyebrow. “Careful, son, my paella has been causing divorces since before the American Revolution and Mama Rosie’s birria once made a Senator run naked across the Capitol lawn.”

Sugar raised an eyebrow and bowed gracefully, his long hair brushing the ground. “Mother Mercer. It is more likely your beauty that has caused divorces around the world, and Mama Rosie gave that man neroli, musk, and devil's shoestring in his birria and told him he was a sasquatch running free in the great woods.”

Niri shook her finger at Sugar like a scolding grandmother. “Don’t you forget that, Sugar. You may be handsome, charming, a good cook, and a better singer, but you make me mad, and I will have my new friend here turn you into a cockatiel.”

Althea and Desma spoke in unison, “But then you would have to argue with her sister about who got the cage.”

The laughter from all around caused Bets to open her eyes, and she found that the images she was seeing in her mind had faded. Like a transparency overlayed onto the real world. But they were still there. She focused on them, and they became more intense, then faded back to barely visible.

“I can still see it, even with my eyes open, I can still see the energy there, I can still hear his spirit singing. Can I really turn him into a cockatiel?”

Niri put her arm around her and hugged her tight to her side. “That is a question I cannot wait to see you answer on your own. Now you have also learned why we don’t let you drive for a while. It takes some time to incorporate the vision into your reality, and we don’t want you running anyone over because Fredrick started laughing and you got distracted by all the pretty colors. But that is enough learning for tonight. Let us join the rest of our family in the Hall of the Elders. Hannah needs our love now, and I am sure you have had your fill of new experiences for the day.”