Acknowledgements
About the Author
Part One – The High Priestess
1 – The wind and the dark sun
RUBY FISHER SAT ON A TIMBER BENCH on the front balcony of her second-storey unit, staring into nothing, dwelling on life and death and school and whatever else came to mind. It was mid-morning on Saturday and the Brisbane climate had moved from hot to warm with the cold air lingering longer now. The world presented greyness about itself today—even her tree-lined street lacked vitality. A gust of wind invaded her space and scattered dead leaves around her feet. Her mother would often ask her where the wind came from and where it was going. Ruby had no idea, but knew the question had a spiritual connotation. They always did.
She looked down at the brown curled leaves and kicked away the ones within reach and watched as they tumbled over the edge into the abyss. The wind carried memories. It had been two years since her mother went to be with her maker, and Ruby missed her every day. Her dad had another life now but Ruby was stagnating—just going through the motions. Mum would be disappointed.
School. School carried memories as well. She struggled with the teasing. ‘Ruby redheaded stepchild’ they called her. She’d asked her mum lots of questions. How come no one else in the family had red hair? Was dad her real dad? Stupid question, because there was a definite red tinge to his beard when he grew one. It was in the genes—the medieval Irish decent. Mum told her she was special, to toughen up, to harness the fiery temper attributed to redheads. So, she toughened up but had no temper, so went looking for medieval powers instead. But they remained hidden.
The grieving process had been long and dwelling on the good times spent with her mum helped, but today she was flat and needed a kick-start.
And men. Men saw redheads as a conquest. As she matured, men became obsessed with her but she worked out it wasn’t the red hair, but what men do—they seek to conquer. She was waiting patiently for Mr Right, but he needed to come along before she burst out of her twenties. No hurry. She had years up her sleeve and just needed to avoid the obsessed ones. The wind returned and rustled leaves on the balcony. She watched them dance.
And God. Why had God taken her mum away? Why didn’t he protect her? Was he even real? Mum had believed he was. Killed by a drunk driver. The driver pleaded for forgiveness. Ruby couldn’t forgive. She didn’t know how. She wanted God to show up and show her how to forgive but he hadn’t turned up. At least, not yet.
She looked up to the clear blue sky which challenged her gloomy mood.
Dad had called last night, talking about how he saw the sun turn black. She’d experienced a brief moment of panic at the idea of her dad delving into the occult, but he explained he had trudged through the Danish marshlands and watched millions of migrating starlings dancing and swirling in the sky. Their number so great they covered the sun as it set—it went black.
The image stayed with Ruby, a large black swarm in the sky and the black sun. She dreamed of it and had woken with the dream fresh in her mind. She blamed the dream for the gloominess and for leaving a remnant . . . a remnant of what, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a feeling of dread. More a premonition that her life was going to change.
Maybe it was just hope. She pushed her hair behind her ears. Maybe she needed a haircut. No, there was an energy. Her body was in tune with it. Something was coming. She hoped it had nothing to do with a dark sun, but it was the kick-start she needed.
<°)))><
A few days later, Ruby sat with her flatmate and workmate in a not-too-crowded doctor’s office. Zoe convinced Ruby it would only be a short stop on the way to work—she just needed a prescription. Ruby agreed only because it took her half Monday morning to kick back into work mode. Any distraction helped.
Ruby didn’t like doctors’ waiting areas. They spooked her. People waiting to see their doctor looked anxious, sad, and sick. Most didn’t look after themselves, and left it to the poor doctors to fix them up. She made her breaths shallow and slow so as not to let any foreign objects into her body.
The morning news blared from the television mounted in the corner of the room. A lady had walked out from the reception area and aimed a remote at the television to flick through the channels. Every channel blurted out news shows although one did have Sesame Street—the ageless Sesame Street—but after a quick look around, the remote beamer returned to the original channel, turned the volume down, and gave a shrug. She smiled at Ruby as she returned to her work area.
With the drama of the channel surfing over, Ruby scanned her environment. A man with a whitish-blond beard, which didn’t suit his age, sat scrolling through his phone. He gave his neck a twist as if aligning it—he’s at the right place if it fell off. Ruby pictured the man’s head falling off and rolling over and knocking down the plastic bowling pins standing upright amongst the children’s toys under the television. What a ridiculous thought. Maybe she needed to see the doctor. Another couple flicked through magazines. Magazines just didn’t want to die.
“Look, Ruby.” Zoe pointed to the television. “There’s an ad for that festival on the island that I’ve been telling you about.”
Ruby looked up to see crystal blue waters, dolphins jumping, people walking and pausing at craft stalls.
“Yes, the marketing machine at work.”
“I’m going with Shoana. You should come along. We can get up to some mischief. And you may meet a dark stranger.”
“You worry me, Zoe.” The bearded man stopped scrolling and looked in their direction. Was it something they said?
“Zoe.” A doctor materialised from the corridor leading down to the patient rooms.
Zoe gave the doctor a wave and stood up. “Won’t be long, Ruby.”
The doctor acknowledged Ruby—they’d known each other a long time and Ruby had recommended her to Zoe.
“No probs.” Ruby watched as Zoe walked off. The bearded man watched as well. Then he looked at Ruby and held eye contact past the stare-by-date. Ruby turned away and looked towards the reception area. A lady in a light blue uniform stared at the bearded man and caught his attention. She gave him the what-are-you-up-to look and tilted her head towards Ruby. Why did she do that? He’d already given her enough unwanted attention.
Ruby looked back towards the man. He was looking back at her.
She needed some fresh air.
She stood outside. Her thoughts went to crystal blue waters and dolphins.
2 – Reflection and ferries
JILL WINTER’S WORK WEEK WAS FLATLINE, but there was a highlight.
Her house was tucked away in a sleepy urban village on the outskirts of a bayside suburb. She was glad her work week was over. After removing her work uniform and donning her favourite robe, she strolled into her special room. She tilted her head upwards and took a peaceful, deep breath. Tingles of energy ran through her body as she escaped the anxiety filled world and transformed into the high priestess.
A large black mirror with a vintage frame rested above the dressing table. It was her magic mirror but others knew it as a scrying mirror—a window to the spiritual world. She would gaze into the mirror daily, looking for patterns, symbols, messages, or visions. Yesterday she’d experienced her first vision: a woman with glowing red hair. The woman had looked like the girl she saw at the clinic on Monday—the daughter of that man.
She was grateful the gods had brought this girl into her life, and now she would do what she could to please them. At least, she hoped the vision was from the mirror and not her mind. The desire of revenge could do strange things to the mind.
Jill stroked her hair as she gazed into the mirror. Her long grey-blonde hair fitted with the image of a high priestess. A hairbrush with a gold-plated handle lay on the dressing table. She picked up the brush, parted her hair, and brushed. The bristles massaged and warmed her scalp, sending energy through her body—yes, she was happy, bubbly. A long way from the fearful person she once was.
A small red spider appeared and ventured from the wall onto the mirror and wandered across the glass—red and black. Such a contrast. She rested the brush on the dressing table and placed a finger near the spider. It hesitated, then scampered down her finger and onto her hand.
Now, don’t you bite me.
Which Egyptian goddess associated herself with spiders? The name eluded her. She released the spider on the dressing table, bid it farewell, and watched as it vanished over the edge. Then she offered up apologies to the gods for her memory lapse.
