Page 14 of Solstice

In her hand, she held a broomstick.

Dori stared, stunned to her bones. The image of the Dark Goddess, the Crone, stood before her, so vivid and so real that she bowed her head and very nearly fell to her knees. Those black eyes sparkled, and the Crone said, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Chapter Four

“My goodness, child, don’t look so frightened.” The Crone set her broomstick aside and brushed her hands against each other. “I’m Helen. This is my candle shop. Every candle, handmade.”

“He-Helen?” Not Hecate or Holda or—but she’d said she was waiting for her.

“I saw you sitting in the car out front,” the old woman said as if reading her thoughts. “I was wondering when you’d get around to coming inside to get warm.” She smiled and offered her hand.

Dori took it, surprised that it was warm and entirely human. “I’m Dori,” she said.

“Good to meet you, dear. My, but you still seem rather distraught. Is anything wrong?”

Everything was wrong. Including the fact that she thought she’d just had a visit from the Dark Goddess Herself. “I…my car broke down. Do you have a telephone I could use?”

“Of course.” She reached for the broom again, bent to the dustpan Dori hadn’t seen before and swept up a nearly invisible pile of dirt. “I’ll be right back with the phone. Feel free to browse around. You never know, you might find just what you need—even if you didn’t know you needed it!”

With another smile, she carried her dustpan away through the shelves and shelves of candles. She jingled when she walked, and Dori glimpsed bracelets adorning her wrists and

her ankles. She blinked and tried to give herself a mental shake. But it didn’t work. She felt the way she did when she was in an altered state: very relaxed and open, her heart and pulse thudding slowly, her body heavy, her vision slightly out of focus. Part of it was this place; she knew that. The smells, the candle glow—these were triggers that told her body it was time for spiritual practice, for ritual, for magic. But there was something more about this place that was working on her.

She’d spent a lot of time in this town, yet she didn’t remember a candle shop here. She’d been back for nearly a year and had never heard of nor seen it.

Every shelf held candles and holders and snuffers. Tapers and pillars glowed from every windowsill and stand.

When Helen returned, she wasn’t carrying a phone but a candle, the most unusual candle Dori had ever seen. It was as if three strips of wax—silver, gold and white—had been braided together to form a single piece. “I have something for you,” she said.

Dori looked at the candle the old woman held out. “It’s the most beautiful candle I’ve ever seen,” she said. “But I couldn’t...”

“It’s a special candle. Waiting for just the right person to come and claim it. I think you’re that person, Dori.”

Dori smiled, lowering her head. “I couldn’t possibly—”

“Why not? Not celebrating the Solstice this year?”

Dori looked at her sharply. How could she know?

“You see, child, the silver is for the year that’s about to pass.” As she spoke, she stroked the silver parts with a long, gnarled finger. “And the gold is for the new one, the one about to begin. And the white is the bond that connects all things, every ending and every beginning, every death and every birth. It’s the perfect candle for you, especially at this time of year. Here, smell.”

She held it closer, and Dori inhaled its scent. Hazelnuts and cedar and cinnamon. She closed her eyes.

“Take it, child. There’s a little magic in this candle. And it’s meant for you. I’m sure of it.”

Opening her eyes, no longer sure this wasn’t a visitation from the Goddess after all, Dori clasped the candle in her hands. How could she have doubted, turned her back on her faith? she wondered. Surely this was proof...this was a sign...this was—

“That’ll be five-ninety-five, with the tax.”

Dori’s eyes popped open wider. “Huh?”

“Now, where did I put that phone?” the woman said, turning again in a slow circle and searching blankly around the shop. “Maybe it’s in the back.”

“I’ll just try the car again,” Dori said quickly. If she let the woman out of her sight, she’d no doubt find something else to force her to buy. Visitation from the Goddess, hell. Helen was sly and ultra-observant. Nothing more. Dori dipped a hand into her jeans pocket, even though she knew there was no money in there and came out with a five and a one. She must have shoved some tips into her jeans and forgotten about them, she thought, and handed the cash to the woman. “Thank you, Helen.”

“You’re welcome, Doreen. Don’t stay away so long next time.”

Dori was out the door before she processed any of that. She’d never told the woman her name was Doreen. She’d said Dori, not Doreen. And what did that “Don’t stay away so long next time” bit mean? She looked at the candle in her hand. Its scent teased her senses and called out to her like a lover calling her home.

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