Prologue

IF YOU GREW UP in America during the ‘60s like I did, you are probably still humming Beatles tunes and wondering whatever happened to the good music. You might even have spent hours running the Abbey Road vinyl backward to hear the message “Turn me on, dead man.” You may have fought in Viet Nam or narrowly avoided the draft. Either way, it affected you and you knew people who were killed or wounded there. You were probably old enough to understand what happened when Kennedy was shot, to have joined the world in sadness when Pope John XXIII died, and may even have been on the streets protesting during the 1968 election campaign or when Bobby Kennedy was shot. You knew segregation, integration, the Great Society, busing, and the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s, “I have a dream.”

Maybe more than any other generation, growing up in the ‘60s marked its progeny deeply with the culture of Woodstock, whether you were there or simply heard about it later. Even if you didn’t participate in all the drugs, sex, and rock & roll, you knew it was happening. The pill launched the sexual revolution. Women’s Lib promoted the burning of bras in the same fire some of us burned draft cards. We all had a glimmer of an idea that Haight-Ashbury was a Mecca for potheads, we’d been told to never trust anyone over thirty, and we knew the peace sign and were ready to fight over it.

We’d also seen race riots in Watts and Detroit that nearly burned cities down. With our long hair, beards, beads, music, and braless tits we went out to change the world.

Maybe we weren’t as successful as we wanted to be. Maybe we’ve forgotten the fervor and passion we once had. Maybe we didn’t use all the right methods. Maybe there were some people who were working toward other ends who knew the power that lay beneath our feet and to whom goddess-worship and magic were more than hippie fads. When we were standing on the pavement holding signs protesting carpet-bombing in Cambodia, the invasion of Laos, and the draft, maybe we should have been chanting spells around a fire as we did a naked spiral dance.

That’s the world Wayne lives in. Your typical, everyday theatre tech, he has become The Props Master, and priest of a circle of witches devoted to caring for their young charge, Serepte Allen.

While I tried to be as true to historical events of the mid-70s as possible, keep in mind this story is fiction. But you’ll find a lot of things that ring true and you might get sucked into the magic the same way you get sucked into an enchanting performance on the stage.

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.

Now on with the show! It’s the judgement of Paris!

Vocabulary

Some ritual words are used in this that may be unfamiliar.

Tools:

Athamé: is a knife or sword—a blade—sacred to the workings of magic and representative of Air and the East.

Wand: may be a short wand (think Harry Potter) or a full staff (think Gandalf), sacred to the workings of magic and representative of Fire and the South.

Cup: may be any shape or material, sacred to the workings of magic and representative of the West and Water.

Pentacles: May be a star, star-shaped stone, medicine bag with symbols on it, or a disk, usually also engraved with a magic symbol or star. Sacred to the workings of magic and representative of the North and Earth.

My use of the word ‘pentacles’ may differ slightly from that of other practitioners, but to keep terms straight for readers of fiction, I offer the following. The tool referenced herein is always referred to as a plural. The use of ‘is’ or ‘are’ is based entirely on what sounds better in the context, but as much as possible, ‘pentacles’ always refers to the tool, no matter what shape it takes. The singular form, ‘pentacle,’ is the design on the tool. The design is not necessarily star-shaped. Of the forty-four known pentacles of Solomon, only two designs (the second pentacle of Venus and the first pentacle of Mercury) have a five-pointed star. In magical workings, however, a five-pointed star is often drawn on the floor or even in the air. This specific symbol is a ‘pentagram.’ There are many ways of drawing the pentagram (forward, backward, upright, inverted) and each has its own use. But all are five-pointed stars.

Names of places and things:

Pagan holidays fall at the quarters and cross-quarters of the year, in other words, the four celestial holidays and four between them. They are:

Yule, the winter solstice. This is considered by some traditions to be the start of the pagan year. ~December 21.

Imbolc, in the United States it is Groundhog’s Day and in the Catholic church is marked as Candlemas. ~February 2.

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