Drawing Down The Moon

Iris needed to draw down the moon.  As she had been on the run with the young coven hot on her trail, she wasn’t sure she’d have enough time. 

“Keep watch, Sage.”

Her raven companion cawed as he flew in figure eights above her beneath the full moon. 

Aware of her surroundings, Iris began to tie nine knots in the rope she’d taken from her best friend’s house.  Kelly didn’t know she was a witch, or that she’d been dabbling in the ancient malandanti magic, presumed to be dead all this time. 

Wrapping the rope around her waist, the wind picked up, blowing Iris’ cherry red hair in swirls.  Sage cawed again.

“Rowan, come hither,” Iris commanded.

Her other raven companion obeyed, and perched on her bare forearm.  Plucking a delicate feather from Rowan’s smooth body, Rowan cawed louder than usual.

“Forgive me, my love.  You know I need it for the ritual.”

He cawed once more, quieter, then flew off to join Sage in the reconnaissance. 

With the rope around her waist and the rosewater on the altar, she drew a circle with her dagger along the cobblestone ground of the abandoned parking lot.  New York City didn’t care what one witch did that night.

Dipping the feather in the rosewater, she brushed it against her forehead before preparing to prick her finger with the dagger.

“Stop!” the coven’s leader shouted behind her. 

“Artemis, don’t come any closer!” Iris hissed.

“We know what you’re doing, and we won’t allow it.”

“Try and stop me.”

Incantations filled the crisp air as hands joined in a full circle behind Iris.  She quickly pricked her finger, dripped blood into the goblet, drank the rosewater, then plunged her dagger into the ground.  Steam rose.  The gates of Hell had just been opened.