Page 89 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

46.Reluctant Heroes

“Healing spells are written upon the wound.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #24

“Joseph!” Vince shouted into the darkness of Fire Island Boulevard. “Hey, Joe, where the hell are you?”

Vince didn’t fully understand why everyone was so dramatically concerned about Joe. True, Joe didn’t have much experience with drugs or the Meat Rack, but he also wasn’t a total idiot. But then again, seeing Howie’s and Dory’s terrified expressions had definitely fueled the fires of Vince’s own worry. He’d become very fond of the wee lad and would hate it if something bad happened to him. “Joseph, ya damned numpty! Show yourself or I’m going to knock your furry little—”

Heavy footsteps pounded the boardwalk behind him. As he spun around, fists raised to fight, chilblains shot through the Celtic knot tattoo on his spine. It wasn’t until the man was within five feet that Vince recognized his sweaty face.

“Fergal?” Vince barked. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I nearly clobbered you!”

“Elena told me you’re looking for Joe!” Fergal gasped for air. “I came to help.”

“I thought you weren’t talking to him anymore.”

“I’m not!” More gasping. “He’s a fucking asshole.”

“So don’t bother, then. I can look myself. Go back and have some fun.”

“You don’t understand.” Fergal bent over, holding a cramp in his side. “If something bad happens to Joe, I’m fucked. I’ll never get over him …”

“You’re not making sense—”

“It’s what drove my mother nuts!” Fergal cried out, the inebriation in his voice becoming apparent. “The bastard who knocked her up just took off without a word. Not even a goodbye. She’s spent the rest of her life pining over him, thinking he must’ve died or something. That’s not happening to me. I need to make sure Joe’s safe. Then I can hate that selfish dickhead forever and be free.”

“Suit yourself.” Vince shrugged. “I already combed the beach. We can divide up the paths into the woods. You know your way around the Rack, lad?”

“Not really.”

“Ach, then when we go in, you better stay on the Judy Garland Memorial path—the one closer to the foredune. Just keep the ocean on your left, and head toward the Grove. I’ll do the Meat Rack circle. That damned eclipse has made it as dark as black pudding in there. If you follow the sand, everything should be fine. I’ll never be that far off, so holler loudly if you find him or if you get lost.”

As Fergal made his way into the dark thicket, he wore that same scared, desperate look as Howie and Dory. Vince considered demanding to know if there was something they weren’t telling him, but opted instead to just do what he was told on that strange night in a strange summer in the strangest of years.

“Joseph!” he called out again, as he would continue to, forty-seven more times.

47.The Big Guns

“The answer to your specific salvation is always within your reach. You’ll know it by the way it sparkles.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #92

“Nowwill you tell me what is going on?” Ronnie demanded.

Howie, Dory, Lenny, and Saint D’Norman had avoided his questions as they rushed back to the attic crawl space of 44 and¼Picketty Ruff. But as they dug through the glittery costumes, looking for Ronnie’s exact size, they outlined what they believed was his “true nature”—how he was born a “holy lover” of “the Great Goddess Mother,” and, like them, was blessed to be part of a secret coven whose powers reached their apotheosis when five or more were gathered on the dance floor in “holy ceremony.”

Ronnie’s head felt like it was about to explode. “So you people actually believe you’re dancing witches?”

“Well, that’s a bit reductive.” Dory pulled down a fabulous white cowboy hat with feathers and rhinestones. “And you should rephrase that towenow, darling. Because you’re a disco witch too.” She placed the hat on his head. “Perfect, right?”

Howie and Lenny nodded with satisfaction.

“Why are you putting this crap on me?” Ronnie peevishly tossed the hat back on the shelf—though he had never felt a hat so perfectly made for him. His scalp longed for its return.

“Look, we don’t have a lot of time,” Howie said. “So,Reader’s Digestversion.” Howie, as fast as he could, explained the entire formation of their dance-floor fellowship. He outlined their successes and their failures, their purpose in protecting certain special young men, always in the time of their Saturn Returns, bearing specific characteristics, whom the Great Goddess Mother put in their path. Howie then demarcated what was within their collective power and what was not. He explained how, at that very moment, Max was dying, and that their only hope was Ronnie, because, as fate would have it, he too had a magical propensity that made him a natural member of their dance coven, thus being the greatest (and only) luck that they’d had in years.

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard.” Ronnie pushed off the black cape Lenny had just pinned around his neck. “I am not at all like you.”

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