Namesakes: A Wicce Novel, #1

Namesakes

A Wicce Novel

Miriam Cumming

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any actual events, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 by Miriam Cumming All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Content warnings: Namesakes deals with bullying and cyber-bullying, minor thoughts of suicide, mentions sexual assault (not shown on page) and occult themes.

First printed 2018

ISBN: 978-0-6456761-0-5

eBook ISBN: 978-0-6483921-1-8

Plot Bunny by Lindsey Severson

Cover design by Vanesa Garkova

Edited by Tochi Biko

This is a second edition, re-edited in 2022. If you’ve purchased this as an ebook to read along with the audiobook, please email the author to receive the previous edition.

For the misfits, rejects, and weirdos.

I love you.

Contents

1. Changeling

2. Aftermath

3. Candescence

4. Broken Traditions

5. Uproar

6. Necessary Evil

7. Returns

8. Clique

9. Mindscape

10. Reconnaissance

11. Circle Round

12. Beltane

13. Community

14. Magick, a Witch's Miracle

Changeling

Bailey was androgynous enough to be attractive. I usually only went for girls, but here in Callan Park under the cocooning trees with their jade light, there was something alluring about the boy.

Medusa, he murmured, tucking a loose dreadlock back from my face. A sheepish smile skittered across his lips, and he straightened. I’m glad you came. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without Morrigan at your side.

My bestie scares you away, does she?

He laughed, but I sensed I’d hit the truth of it. I spread an old sleeping bag over the grass and we sat, staking out our little patch of dappled parkland.

I brought watermelon, olives, feta—he grinned at me as if it hadn’t been obvious I was Greek and he’d had to be a super sleuth to figure it out—pomegranate juice, real posh bread. He handed it to me. Rosemary encrusted and soft. I tore off a chunk like I didn’t care about this date—because I didn’t—and stuffed it into my mouth. And black bean brownies. They’re better than they sound.

I swallowed my mouthful, complimented the bread, and spread out the items I’d brought to contribute. Hummus, pesto; perfect for this bread, crackers, and Mum’s famous evil potatoes, which are the plant-based version of devilled eggs.

When I imagined a romantic picnic, I didn’t factor in all the Tupperware, Bailey joked, unsnapping the watermelon container. I was so startled by an eighteen-year-old guy using the words romantic and Tupperware in a sentence that my filter didn’t kick in, and I auto-responded, These are Sistema. I laughed at my stupidity. Sorry.

He chuckled good-naturedly, Don’t be. You’re right anyway.

I zipped my bag to be certain the fancy skirt my father had seen me arrive in would not escape. I’d taken it off before meeting Bailey, showing up at the agreed upon spot in my comfortable house-painting jeans and thongs. My pickle-green jacket coordinated with either outfit.

So, what do you do for fun? I asked him, combining hummus and pesto on a heavenly cloud of white bread. I kept my eyes on my task, flicking glances at his winged eyeliner as he replied.

Oh you know, video games, listening to music. He looked off into the distance, I model RPG characters to sell online, and I like watching a bit of Ru Paul’s Drag Race. He shrugged a little too casually. That’s where I’m at.

His discomfort was delicious.

Yeah cool, I replied. What kind of music?

A bit of everything, except classical. I don’t do soundtracks either; music needs to have words. What about you? What are you into?

Drugs.

His gaze snapped to mine, disapproving. Good.

Joking. I grinned. Seriously though, I read a lot. If I’m not listening to an audio book, I’m listening to super old music; Slim Dusty, Roy Orbison, Elton John, and the like. I do indoor rock climbing every chance I get.

Why not outdoor?

Parents.

My phone started ringing just then, like in a poorly plotted movie.

Speak of the devils… Hi Dad.

Essentially, he was checking up on me. My parents were good like that. If I was seeing someone new, they always called a little way into the date, and I could give them a code sentence which would have them declare an emergency in the family and that they were coming collect me. At least this time I didn’t have to add a new guy name to my list of lies. I predominantly dated girls, but not knowing how that conversation would go, I hadn’t crossed that bridge with my parents. It would take a serious commitment, or a unit of my own, to bother with the risk.

We rang off, and I apologised to Bailey. His expression told me he thought that odd, so I elaborated.

I hate it when I’m out with people and they pull out their phones. If you’re going to be on your phone, I’m staying home and reading a book.

You’re… He paused to find the right words.

Basically a grandma? I supplied.

Ha, no. A blush crept up his face, and he reached for my hair again, rubbing the thick rope between his fingers. No, fascinating more like. Sweet. His palm cupped my cheek, drawing me closer. We were kissing before I knew what was happening, catching me halfway between utter panic and sheer bliss.

Parting, he asked hesitantly, Was that okay?

I didn’t answer, I just kissed him again, sneaking peeks at his mascara heavy lashes, spread in perfection across his cheek.

Gracelessly, we chased each other’s lips until we were lying half on the grass, half on the sleeping bag, food forgotten. alternating between kissing and watching the clouds. It was nice just being in his presence. Students clutching books and dogs with various breeds of owners went past as we revealed more about ourselves to each other. He was absentmindedly drawing a pattern on the palm of my hand and talking about his sister when—out of nowhere—my anxiety skyrocketed.

I sat up and looked around, the thread of Bailey’s topic forgotten. Had Dad misunderstood me and come to my rescue? I cocked my head and stretched a little, staring into the trees. I was fairly sure that I spotted movement between some more distant trunks. No, I was just being paranoid. My parents had no motive for spying, nor did any of my friends. I tried to shake it off, but a tight band had formed around my chest. I was too hot and too cold at the same time.

Bailey sat up and scrutinized me. Should I tell him I suffered from the occasional anxiety attack? No. That was private.

Forcing a smile, I tried to recapture the moment, but the feeling of being watched didn’t ease. He repeated whatever he’d been trying to say, and I responded in a distracted haze. He kissed me again.

I wanted it to be as sweet as it had been only minutes before, but the hardness of his teeth pressed through his too-thin lips. When we drew apart an inch to breathe, his voice was too husky. Too masculine. I couldn’t look past all the reasons he was wrong for me. It was time to go.

We helped each other clean up, collecting all our scraps and rubbish, making sure we would each leave with the remains of what we brought. I rejected his offer of the bread I’d liked so much, but gave lip-service to the idea that we’d do this again sometime.

I’d agree to anything if it would get me out of this park faster. As I fled, I searched for the malevolent stare boring into my back, snagging my hair on low-hanging twigs in my distraction. A small leaf charm tore free and I didn’t stop to reclaim it. A little way ahead, I glanced back to where I’d last seen Bailey. He was gone. I ran.

I woke with an incredible pain in my face and neck. Demons in the night must have taken a chainsaw to my skull and laid me to rest on a coral beach from the way my body was protesting. I groaned, entirely unprepared for the assault of this new day.

What had woken me anyway?

Someone thumped on the front door. The bell dinged. I rocked my head on the pillow; my dreadlocks felt lumpier than usual. Surely it was too early for visitors.

Barry? a man’s voice called through the door, Barry!

Who would visit Dad today? Didn’t everyone know he dragged Mum off to church on Sundays?

Ding ding ding! The bell chimed again. Barry Capatos! Whoever it was, they weren’t leaving. May as well take a message.

Just a second! I stuffed my feet into the welcome softness of dinosaur slippers and shuffled into the living room.

I opened the door to a familiar face; Mayor Dawson Best. I followed him on social media; he was good for local competitions and bringing live music back to the Inner West.

Oh hey, Mr Best! I greeted him. Sorry, I sleep like a ro…

I stopped talking. The moment he’d laid eyes on me, he’d grown incredibly still, and the colour had drained from not only his face, but his clothes too. His lips were frozen, slightly open, eyes wide and unblinking. Unable to believe what my senses were telling me, I reached out and touched his hand. Stone. Cold, grey stone.

Was this some disease? Would I now solidify too? What if I didn’t solidify and someone found the mayor on my porch? Was this murder? When would my parents return? I reached for my phone, but of course my pyjamas lacked pockets. As I swung back into the house, my hair whipped me in the face, thick and unusually smooth.A monster was waiting in my bedroom. It took me a full breathless minute of my brain misfiring to realise that the creature staring at me from within my vanity was me.

Cautiously, I took hold of a snake that writhed from my scalp, and pulled it down in front of my eyes. It was smooth and green and muscular. My breath came in short, sharp bursts. Numb fingers released the snake, but it did not move away. It was alive and welcoming; it’s tongue flicked out to tickle my nose. The others, too, turned their faces toward my hand, nuzzling me. They were all shades of green and brown, and in spite of the unregistered terror of snakes protruding from my scalp, they provided a happy distraction from the travesty that was my face. I threw myself into the deep-breathing exercises I habitually used to manage my anxiety, but invisible bands tightened around my chest. Why was this happening? I was not dreaming. This was unlike any nightmare I’d ever experienced.

Three festering gouges, reminiscent of claw marks and caked thick with what appeared to be dried blood, marred my cheek. The numb part of me that had managed to remain unemotional hoped they would scar a deep purple, rather than rotting down to the bone. Black webs spidered out from beneath the gashes, and the rest of my skin was dry with an unhealthy pallor. Swelling had caused my brow to bulge forward—at least I hoped it was swelling—and my lips had turned a sinister grey hue. I’d become a monster.

Slowly, I crept over to my vanity. The beauty of the table’s carved woodwork and my collection of perfume bottles conflicted with the utter lack of redemption offered by my face. With one finger, I traced my jawbone up to my ear, where my other fingers joined it, examining my neck. The rough skin of my face grew softer returned to smooth olive near my collarbone. Whatever had happened through the night had only affected my head, yet that gave me zero comfort. I turned away, scrabbled under my pillow, and pulled out my phone to snap a selfie. The same fear-inducing creature glared back at me. I deleted the image and sank onto my bed. I sat there, perched on the edge for too long, just watching my knees tremble.

I needed help.

Morrigan, I whispered into the phone, I need you.

I can come. Are you home? What happened?

Yes. No. Don’t come. I mean… Do. But it’s dangerous. I’m dangerous. You won’t believe me. Just come, but when you get here, keep your eyes firmly shut. I’ll come ou… No, I won’t.

Meddy, you’re not making any sense.

I breathed out slowly. Of course I wasn’t.

I’m sorry. Just… come to the back door. And close your eyes. Wear dark glasses too, for safety. Promise me!

Uh. All right. I promise. Dark glasses and eyes closed, at the rear door. I’m already leaving the house.

I hung up without saying goodbye and started to consider the rest of my life. My face was so atrocious, I’d have to wear a paper bag over my head to hide my ugliness and keep everyone around me safe.

That wasn’t a bad idea, if I had one big enough to cover the snakes as well as my abominable visage. I hurried into the kitchen, propelled by the appeal of any kind of solution. After rummaging around where we keep all the eco bags that hadn’t yet made it back to the car boot, I found an extra-large paper bag. There were some shrivelled spinach leaves stuck to the bottom, but it would do. I made tiny eye holes and stuffed my head in; then I messaged Mum with an obtuse shopping list that my parents would hopefully pick up after church, buying me some extra time. I checked again on the mayor—no change. The same torturous strain of hope made me take another peek at my face, but there was no change there either. Panic hit me with such force, I bent over double on the floor, gasping.

Meddy? Morrigan called from the back step. My eyes are shut! What the hell is going on?

I took one deep breath, then another, then I opened the door. She’d forgotten to put on glasses, but it was too late to worry about that now.

Okay. I’m going to sound crazy. Don’t laugh.

’Kay…

You know the story of Medusa the Gorgon, I began, struggling to admit it even to myself. Well, it’s finally happened. To me.

Her eyelid flickered and in a panicked rush I covered her freckled face with clumsy hands, slapping her in the process.

By the gods, Meddy! She scrunched her eyes shut. Chill out!

I managed to stop flailing, while she calmly informed me how not even possible this was.

I wouldn’t believe me either, but the proof is standing on the front porch. I turned Mayor Dawson to stone this morning.

Morrigan’s lips twitched. With your laser eyes?

When have I ever pranked you? I shook my head, trying to rattle my thoughts into some semblance of order. Besides, I don’t think that’s the right version. I didn’t will him to stone.

You’ve lost me again, Morr said. And what’s with your voice? You’re muffled.

I clenched my jaw with impatience. There are two main versions of the Medusa myth. In the version you’re thinking of, some dude rapes Medusa and then the Goddess blesses her with the ability to turn people to stone with her eyes. If I were that kind of Medusa, I’d have to want it to happen, right?

Her forehead creased and she nodded, gesturing at me to keep talking.

In the other version, a goddess, I don’t remember who, catches Medusa with her lover and curses Medusa to become so ugly, anyone who sees her face will immediately turn to stone.

Oh yeah, I vaguely remember that, Morrigan said. Some dude cuts her head off and uses it as a shield. Pretty gruesome. But uh—

I couldn’t listen to her tell me I was lying.

Listen Morr, I’ve got a paper bag on my head. Do you think that will stop me from solidifying you?

She tugged at her copper curls and sighed. I want to believe you. But first I’m going to go look at this rock man.

Okay. Yeah, that’s fair.

She turned, not opening her eyes until I was directly behind her, and made her way to the front of the house. She screamed when she saw him. Then she paused and screamed again. I let her get it out of her system, sitting on the back step to wait it out.

An eternity passed before she made her way back, eyes carefully averted, arms wrapped around her middle in shock, and parked her butt beside mine. She let out a breath in one big whoosh.

Well, I did say if you ever needed help hiding a body, I was your guy. Can’t say I expected you to call me on it though.

What am I going to do, Morr?

First we’re going to get him in my car. Does your dad still have that lying down skateboard for mechanics thing?

A dolly, you mean? Yeah, I reckon he does.

All right. Let’s get that. We will put Mr D on it, if we can lift him. It’ll be our only hope of getting him to my car. She strode toward the shed, Mate, you’re so lucky you don’t live in units or something.

I’m so lucky I’ve got you as a best friend.

That too.

The shed was open, the way Dad always left it. He often said no one would steal from him because he’s an honest bloke, but in reality, if they took something from the shed, it would be a long time before he noticed it missing. Luckily, I knew where he kept the dolly, and I retrieved it without either knocking off my paper bag or getting bitten by something deadly under the tool bench.

Together, we rushed the dolly to the porch and braced it against a post so it wouldn’t slip out of range as we manoeuvred the stone mayor onto it.

We stood either side of him and heaved. He remained stationary.

Make a lighter mineral next time, Morr said. Please.

Let’s try laying him down. A controlled fall.

She raised her eyebrows, jutted out her fat bottom lip and cast her gaze skyward as she considered, then moved into place with a nod.

It was far easier tipping him. With some swearing, we managed to lay the stone form down without dropping him or damaging the wooden deck, but he scraped his head on the concrete as we bumped down the low step onto the path. From there, it was a funeral-paced procession to Morrigan’s car, praying Dad’s dolly could take the weight and the mayor wouldn’t get away from us on the slope.

Back seat? I strained to hear her reply over the bag’s rustle.

We can try. Lucky he’s not a tall guy.

Roll the front seats forward. Some extra space won’t hurt.She did that, and then returned to my side, trying to find a decent handhold on the mayor. Lift with your legs, not your back.I squatted and looped an arm under his head, but neither of us could get an arm under his back, and trying to lift from his arms was fruitless.

Maybe put his head on the edge of the car, then lift the skateboard to shove him in? Morr suggested.

I don’t know. I’m worried about scratching up your car.

Be more worried about going to prison. Now lift!

We strained. He budged, but not enough.

Higher, she ground out through gritted teeth. We hauled on the dolly. Sweat stuck the paper bag to my face and nearly suffocated me, but we managed to heave his stone head first onto the door frame, and then up onto the seat. That enabled us to get our arms underneath him, and we half cradled, half shoved him the rest of the way into the car. The fabric of her seats tore, and the door wouldn’t close until we’d crammed his feet into the back of the passenger seat, but he was in. The moment we shut the door, my parents’ car swung around the corner, coming up the steep hill toward our house.

I kicked the dolly under Morr’s car and bolted into the house, leaving Morrigan to make something up as I locked myself in my room.

I heard car doors close and the muffled hum of voices growing closer. Morrigan came inside with my parents.

…a little off when she got home yesterday. Went to bed early, Dad was saying. Mum directed Morrigan to set the groceries down on the floor rather than the bench.

Yeah, she texted with me last night, Morrigan said. I’ve been worried about her. Bailey’s a nice enough guy, but I thought he was dating this chick in my Cultural Studies class, Aurora. Whatever the case, half our year is buzzing like a picnic’s some kind of scandal.

I didn’t catch Mum’s response. The bang of cupboards closing and packages crinkling dominated for a few minutes, then Morrigan asked, Can I take her out somewhere? Maybe back to my place? A bit of a spa night might make facing everyone at school tomorrow bearable.

Oh, I don’t really know about sleeping over on a school night, Dad said. What about…

Mum came to the rescue. Pete’s sake, love, sounds like she’s gotten her spirit crushed. Let her go. She can pack her uniform to wear tomorrow, and take her books too.

I scrambled to dress and shoved my necessities into the mini gym bag I used for sleep-overs. Undies. Planner. School uniform. Deodorant. I briefly considered socks, but the ones I was wearing had been fresh yesterday; they’d go another day.

We won’t be here anyway, Mum reminded my dad. She’d be alone in an empty house. Got dinner at the mayor’s place tonight.

Uh, Morr hesitated for a split second, That’s um, that’s really cool. Are you going to bring up that new toll road they’ve proposed?

I threw my phone and handcrafted purse on top of my planner and zipped the bag shut as Dad replied, Probably not. It’s a casual thing, not a business dinner. But if he brings it up, I’m going to tell him exactly what I think. We don’t need another stinkin’ freeway messing with local traffic and bringing the value of our homes down.

Agreed, Morr said. Hey, I’m gonna go see if Meddy is interested in coming out of that room today.

Take good care of her, won’t you? Mum’s words followed Morrigan to my door.

Always, Mrs C, she called back. Knocking she asked, Hey, Meddy, you want to come out? My parents’ finally got a Thermomix. We could make nice cream.

Loud