It wasn’t as bad for witches. Outside of fairy tales and the minds of religious fanatics, we were usually seen—accurately—as humans with a different sort of knowledge and the skill to use it. A great deal of what we did was no different than what other humans did—like meditation.

The crisp air had cleared my head. I’d made it a point to know the locations of all the area parks, and I proceeded to the closest one. Taking the blanket and a bottle of water from my backseat, I walked to a spot where I’d meditated before and spread out my blanket. I stepped into the middle, sat, and closed my eyes in the soothing presence of old trees. The sun was warm, though the breeze remained chilly. I listened to the branches rustling, the leaves dropping. Cleansing breath in, out. Center and ground.

Focusing on the music of shade crickets and the lyrics of birds, I popped the flip top on the water bottle and gave a flick of my wrist, squirting a circle of water around me.

“Mother, seal my circle and give me a sacred space.

I need to think clearly to solve the troubles I face.”

Meditation was second nature to me. I could slip into an alpha state as easily as changing channels with a remote. It was just like breaking into the chorus of a song you’d known all your life: you took a deep breath and you sang.

What I visualized, when I meditated, was a grove of old ash trees beside a swift, clear river. My totem animals and spirit guides visited me there. A buckskin mustang frolicked in the fields, but she never came close. I didn’t know her name or why she let me glimpse her, but I knew she was there, and I guessed I’d find out why when I was ready. That was how this place, this meditation of mine, worked.

Today I visualized myself sitting and putting my feet in the so-clear river water. I cleansed my chakras and imagined all my worries and doubts sinking down through me and flowing out of my toes, released into the rushing water.

“Mother, guide every step that I’m about to take.

Direct every thought and deed, every choice I make.”

A flock of geese flew overhead, honking. I wasn’t sure if it was a real sound from the world around my body or just a sound within my meditation.

“Your heart is heavy.”

I turned in the meditation, pulling my feet from the water. A gray-and-tan jackal stood three feet away from me. My current totem animal, his name was Amenemhab. Before he had taken up the role, a lizard named Shoko had been my totem. They changed when I’d learned what they had to teach. Amenemhab had introduced himself a few weeks ago. I knew a life change was coming when the totems changed, so I’d consulted my Tarot. The cards concurred about the change and warned me that it had something to do with Nana. Silly me, I’d been afraid she’d die. Somehow, her moving in with me was almost as bad. “Yes. My heart is heavy.”

After glancing upriver, then downriver, the jackal sat. “You appear relaxed on the outside, although inside you are not.”

“That is true.” Agreeing with totem animals kept the meditations smooth and quick. Denial wasn’t something they let you get away with. I reclined on the soft grass of the grove, feeling my feet drying in the warm air.

The jackal lay down too, his muzzle on his paws, nose pointed toward my head. “What is it that worries you?”

I told him about Lorrie being murdered and about meeting with Vivian.

“Why do you think you agreed?”

“I have a justice streak a mile wide. Even as a kid, I stood up to bullies on behalf of smaller kids and protected kittens from cruel little boys. Convinced by a school counselor that all this was due to my mother leaving me, I found it logical that in some mental way, every time I opposed someone, I was confronting my mother. But teen angst fades, and I’ve gotten over her betrayal.”

Amenemhab gave me an unconvinced look.

“Truly, I have. And now, with the desire to ‘right the wrongs’ still evident, I believe I was born with this programming.”

“Righting wrongs is not a bad thing,” he said.

“I know. I like helping people fix things, especially if I can help them fix things for themselves.”

“Tarot is perfect for that.”

“Right. But people aren’t perfect. Even with the answer staring them in the face, they often can’t take action, or at least they can’t take the right action. Or just won’t. That gets frustrating.”

“Then there are the people who’ve been wronged without provocation.”

He meant Lorrie, but I also thought of another friend, Celia, my college roommate. I had started college determined to earn a law degree. After Celia and her boyfriend, Erik, had been attacked during a camping trip, nearly died, and ended up turning wære, I had seen firsthand just how ineffectual lawyers could be. Nothing was done about it. When the newspapers picked up the story, though, people took action. A campus group was formed to provide valid information about wæres. It helped promote awareness of the dangers of the marauding wæres and publicize facts about the conscientious majority. I realized then that journalists sometimes had more power than lawyers and changed my major from pre-law to journalism.

“Has this desire to right wrongs diminished as you’ve grown up?”

“No. If anything, it’s grown stronger. For instance, last week, some teenage thug cut the grocery line, stepping in front of an elderly couple I was standing behind. I tapped him on the shoulder and told him that cutting wasn’t nice and that the line started behind me. I’m only five-six, and he was like six feet tall and three feet wide. He looked at me like I was a maggot, sneered, and said, ‘Sucks to be you.’”

“What did you do?”

“I calmly put down my half-gallon of skim milk and loaf of whole-grain bread. Hands on hips, I smiled sweetly. I said, ‘Last chance.’ He smirked and asked what I was gonna do.” I stopped, grinning at the memory. “Maybe it was because I’d caught the end of a Stooges show that morning, but in a flash I had him by both the ear and the nose. I walked him beyond the end of the line. He didn’t say another word, though he did a lot of sniffling trying to resettle his sinuses.”

Amenemhab laughed.

“Granted, this trait has gotten me into trouble most of my life. I know this, and still I can’t help but act when I know I can make a difference. That being the case, I should’ve known to offer Vivian my condolences on her situation and get the hell out of her office. But I couldn’t. I’d felt the nudge to act on Beverley’s behalf already, and…”

“Go on.”

“She’s such a great kid. It’s so awful that this has happened, and more so because it happened to her.” It was easier to keep from crying in meditation. “The picture of her from the front page keeps floating up in my mind. The anguish in her expression, the fear and loss, moved me. I have no idea how to get in touch with her, yet I want to call her.”

“What would you say?”

I swore quietly. “I knew you were going to ask me that.”

He laughed, ears perking. “And still you came.” He cocked his head. “So. What would you say?”

I took a deep breath and imagined it. “‘Uh. Hi, Beverley. It’s me, Seph. I miss watching movies and eating popcorn with you. I heard about your mom.’ No. Maybe, ‘I saw the newspaper’ would be better. No, maybe she’d feel all embarrassed and put a wall up before I started—”

Amenemhab cleared his throat. It was a signal. I put myself back on track.

“‘I know how you feel, Beverley. Really, I do. I was…’” I stopped. I felt tears pushing at the corners of my eyes and fought them by grinding my teeth until I’d mastered myself.

“Say it.”

“‘I was left by my mama too. No, no, my mama wasn’t murdered. She left. Literally. But I wish she’d died. It would have been easier to take her absence if I hadn’t known she’d chosen to leave me behind.’” The bitterness of my voice startled me. I stopped talking until I felt control return. I thought I was over all this. It made me angry to realize I wasn’t. “‘I’m left hating her. At least you can always remember loving your mom.’”