Ceremony

“So?” asked Mirielle, looking from Michael to Lucie, “What do we do next?” she inquired, eager to see if they could take the curse off Michael and place it in an inanimate object which then in turn, might be used to cast the curse onto other people. An image of Mortimer nestled in the gusset of her panties as she slowly pulled them up played in her mind.

Eyes lingering on Michael a moment longer, Lucie looked to Mirielle. “I’m going to need my bag,” she advised, eyes drifting back to the boy as she lowered her hand and set him on the surface of the dark colored wooden coffee table.

Michael, eyes still downcast, placed his hands in front and covered himself for the sake of modesty. Was she going to still try and restore him? Had he acquitted himself well enough she was going to try and if not lift the curse, at least move it off of him and onto an inanimate object? He tried to calm his thundering heart. So close.

“I’ll get it,” Mirielle volunteered, getting to her feet.

Lucie kept her dusky eyes on Michael, “So, how did you enjoy yourself in the hands of your sister and her friends?” she asked, an amused smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

He frowned, “I suppose Mirielle told you some of what they did, what she did,” he said, tone embarrassed. It had to be Mirielle, how else would she have known?

“And what have you learned during your little adventures?” she asked.

“What it’s like to be small and powerless,” he replied.

Mirielle reappeared, bag in hand. Setting it down on the coffee table in front of Lucie near Michael, she resumed her position on the chesterfield.

Leaning forward, Lucie opened the bag, pulling out a half abalone shell sporting rainbow hues. “Hold this,” she said, placing the shell in Mirielle’s hands before going back into her bag.

One by one, she brought out small containers, some glass, others plastic, each filled with herbs or colored powders. Bit by bit, she measured out portions of the various items in the containers, putting them in the half shell before returning the jars to her bag. Once she had taken something from each of the containers and returned them to the bag, she pulled out a long black raven’s feather, a thin strip of leather wrapped around the quill. Setting the dark feather on the table, she turned to look at Mirielle. “Before we begin, using magic like this demands a price,” she warned, looking from Mirielle then down to Michael. “And there are no guarantees we will be successful.”

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I’ll pay it,” Michael promised. It was going to happen! He was going to be fixed.

Lucie nodded slowly, “I’ll need some of your blood or hair,” she said, extending her hand palm up near him.

Pulling out several strands off his head, he put the fine hair on the end of her finger. She pressed her thumb over it and moved it over the shell before sprinkling in amongst the other ingredients in the shell.

Looking at Mirielle, “Is this what you want as well?” she asked.

Mirielle nodded.

“Then I will need a strand of your hair as well,” she said.

Reaching up, Mirielle teased out a single strand tugging it gently before handing it to the gypsy.

“Your Dedanya never did any of this,” Michael said, watching the process. Rubbing his hands together, he was excited.

Lucie snickered, “She is much, much more powerful than I am,” she said, placing the strawberry blonde hair into the shell. “I think this it. One more word of caution, this is a curse and the magic is powerful and unpredictable, are you sure you want to try it?” she asked.

Michael nodded vigorously.

“We will need an object to serve as a receptacle for the curse.

“What about this?” Mirielle asked, pointing to a silver colored ring on her right hand index finger.

Lucie nodded, holding out her hand.

Pulling the ring off, Mirielle set it in Lucie’s hand.

Placing the ring beside the shell near Michael, “Alright then,” Lucie said, pulling out a small box of matches and taking out a wooden match.

Speaking words similar to the language she had spoken in the plaza the day he was cursed, she lit the match and dropped it into the shell holding the ingredients. There was a small puff of grey smoke, the smell of something sweet burning. Grabbing the feather, she wafted some of the smoke over Michael toward the ring.

“It is done,” she said, nodding slowly and setting the feather down on the table and leaning back against the couch.

Michael was unchanged. Looking down at his hands, then up to Lucie, he shook his head, “Nothing is happening,” he said, panic edging his voice. He didn’t feel any different.

Mirielle too, felt given the whole ceremony setting up the ritual and the ominous warnings of how unpredictable the magic might be, the payoff seemed kind of anticlimactic.

“Silly boy, when you shrank, did it happen immediately? No,” she said, “It will take time.”

He nodded slowly, hands trembling as he struggled to restrain his anxiety, there was an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach, queasy, but not nauseous. “It’s happening,” he said softly, head bobbing. Looking up, he repeated himself, more vociferously, jubilant expression on his tiny face.

Lucie smiled, “See.”

The sensation seemed to radiate out of that one spot, spreading outward over his limbs, the sensation making him shudder uncontrollable, that feeling you get when someone walks over your grave. “It’s really happening!” he cried, dropping down onto his knees before toppling forward in a tiny heap.

Leaning forward, Lucie took Michael by the leg and lifted him up off the table, bringing him up in front of her face.

“Will he be restored?” Mirielle asked, leaning forward.

Lucie turned and smiled, “Tampering with curses and agreeing to pay whatever cost might be extracted, who is to say?” she said.

“I feel faint, kind of odd,” Mirielle commented, slumping back down in the chesterfield and bringing a hand up to her face.

Lucie nodded, reaching over and patting Mirielle on the knee.

Mirielle felt like she had been drinking heavily, her brain and muscles disconnected and operating independently, her vision swimming before blackness closed in.