A Wishing Moon Read Online Free

East, element of Air, hear my plea. Guardians of the West, element of Water, hear my request. Guardians of the South, element of Fire, I ask of thee a boon. Guardians of the North, element of Earth, hear my voice.”

    Angelique handed her a white candle and a bottle of psychic power oil made from magnolia leaves. Nanette dressed the white candle with the oil by taking it on the tip of her finger and rubbing the fragrant concoction down the candle from the wick to the base. She lit the candle, and in turn lit a yellow, a blue, a red, and a green candle with the flame of the white candle. Picking up a large amethyst crystal, she held the purple stone in her right hand and began to speak.

    “ Water, black as the night.
    Grant me the gift of second sight.
    Let me see my loved ones dear.
    To me reveal their future clear.”

    She dipped the crystal in the water, and then touched the cold stone to the center of her forehead. She laid the crystal down and began to gaze into the water.
    Several moments passed. Angelique edged closer, but not too close. She did not want to interfere. Finally, Nanette began to speak, “I see much happiness at Wildflower Way. Love will come calling this year.” Nanette leaned over and looked even deeper into the depths of the cauldron. Suddenly, she reached out and grasped Angelique’s hand.
    Nanette knew Angelique would understand, she knew her so well. Nanette had seen something bad. Angelique had lived with her through the loss of Alcee and their daughter Aimee. She knew Angelique could feel how cold her hands had become as the heat left her body, leaving her with a cold chill. “I see trouble. I see pain. I see death.”
    “ Can you tell who?” Angelique whispered.
    “ No, but I am not letting this happen again.” The older woman’s voice trembled. “Call Evangeline and pack our bags. We’re going to Texas earlier than we planned and we‘re staying until I know my family is safe.”

    * * * *

    Evangeline led the tour group back into the Bayou Magick shop owned by her boss, Cherline Sonnier. The shop could not be called a tourist trap, because the quaint location actually sold supplies for those who practiced real magick. That intriguing fact certainly didn’t keep the tourists from walking in; in fact, the selection of genuine ingredients such as herbs, gemstones, oils, and incenses fascinated them. In addition, real practitioners frequented the store and the possibility of mixing with real magical folk seemed to be an additional draw to those who came to the Big Easy for a taste of the exotic and the mysterious. Cherline had taken advantage of this interest and started a tour of New Orleans, which focused, primarily, on the city’s magical legacy.
    A shy teenage girl with glasses and braces managed to edge her way to the front of the others and ask in a low tone, “Are you a real witch?” Evangeline sensed a longing for acceptance and empowerment in the young girl’s words. She wished she had time to spend with the lonely young woman. Evangeline just knew things about people after only a few moments. By meeting the eyes of this girl, she saw parents who were divorced, an unrequited love with the boy next door, and an intense longing to feel in control of her life.
    “ Yes, I am,” Evangeline answered. “Witch is not the only term my family uses, we also call ourselves rootworkers.”
    Another tourist spoke up, interested in the exchange, “What’s the difference between a rootworker and a witch?”
    Evangeline probably answered this question at least once a night on the magic tours. The idea of someone who could really perform magic was intoxicating to most people.
    “ A rootworker’s background is mainly hoodoo which is not a religion like Wicca, but true American folk magic. I am a witch; not because I belong to a coven, but because I was lucky enough to be born one.” She showed the group of twelve gris-gris bags, voodoo poppets, crystals and amulets specifically