Page 34 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland

Spirit isn’t always predictable. Would you really want it to be, though? Life is so damn expected. Let Spirit shake you up a little.

—Evie Oxby, Yoga Journal

Reno’s voice was soothing. Why, exactly, did Beatrice like Reno’s voice so much?

Listening to her was like drinking a hot toddy, all warm and sweet and smoky.

It was so comforting, a weighted blanket of words.

She could just lie here and let the sounds wash over her—ah, yes, so nice.

She didn’t even have to understand what she was saying.

But Beatrice’s feet were cold. Was there a blanket maybe? Could she ask for one? Because it wasn’t just her feet; her whole body was shaking. Freezing. God, she was freezing , and Reno’s voice, warm as it was, wasn’t warm enough.

She heard Minna’s voice, too—shit, what was happening?

With what felt like a mighty, groan-worthy effort, she pried her eyelids open. She was lying flat on the sofa in the hideout, a pillow under her head. Reno’s big brown eyes were inches from hers. She looked so relieved .

“S’up?” Beatrice’s throat felt sore, as if she’d been smoking. Or screaming.

“Aunt Bea!” Minna grabbed at her arm. “What did you see? What happened?”

It all flooded back—Minna’s request, the lock’s keyhole, the crash of the storm in Beatrice’s mind, the sound that dragged her away… Taurus had been there.

Then he’d been shoved out by something—someone—else, and that feeling… no. “I don’t want to do that again.”

“You shouldn’t.” Reno’s gaze was steady, but there was a shake in her voice. “That was bad.”

The door of the shed slammed open. Astrid and Cordelia tumbled in, both of them panting.

“Got your text,” Cordelia said to Reno. “Are you sure?”

Reno nodded.

Astrid strode to Beatrice. When she spoke, icicles hung from her words. “Get up.”

Beatrice struggled to sit up. “What—”

“Not here.” Astrid’s fingers dug painfully into her upper arm. “We have to be in the house for this. Move quickly through the dark and don’t look back.”

In the parlor, Cordelia lit candles, placing them on every surface—the big table, the windowsills, on the broad wooden arms of the chairs. She directed Minna to the kitchen to turn on the kettle while Astrid disappeared somewhere with a threat-like promise to return in a moment.

Reno said to Beatrice, “They know what they’re doing.”

I thought I did, too. “What are they doing?”

Reno rubbed her sternum with one hand but said nothing.

“How did you know to come?”

Still Reno didn’t answer.

Astrid reentered the room carrying a small carved wooden box. “Sit.” She nodded toward the smaller table, the round one surrounded by five dark wooden chairs.

Minna carried in a tray with a teapot and five cups. She placed it in the center of the table.

“Good girl,” said Astrid. “Everyone, take a cup.”

Minna looked hopefully at Beatrice from the seat she’d taken. “Sit by me?”

Beatrice wanted to hug the girl and, at the same time, to yell at her for insisting they do whatever it was they’d just done. But she took the chair next to Minna. “Should I know what’s going on?”

Astrid’s glare was sharp. “Of course not. You know literally nothing, as you’ve just so magnificently evidenced.”

Beatrice’s spine prickled. “Considering that you left before teaching me shit —”

“Enough, both of you.” Cordelia finished placing the last of the candles and switched off the overhead chandelier, plunging them into a wavering yellow light.

She slid into the chair between Astrid and Reno.

“Yarrow and yellow dock for repelling fear and negative forces.” She poured each of them a cup.

Minna opened her mouth, but Cordelia interrupted her before she could speak. “If you ask for sugar, I swear to god, Minna.”

Minna’s mouth snapped closed.

Opening the wooden box, Astrid pulled out a small bundle wrapped in purple cloth. She unwound its red ribbon to reveal a deck of cards. The edges were worn and soft-looking, and they made a shushing noise as Astrid shuffled them.

Beatrice tucked her fingers under her thighs.

She was choosing to believe until proven wrong. And these women knew what they were doing. Even in the darkened room with the heavy atmosphere emanating from Astrid’s dark expression, Beatrice felt a bump of hope. She sent a small, private smile in Minna’s direction.

Unfortunately, Astrid caught it. Her shuffling remained even and rhythmic as she said, “You were a fool to come to this island.”

Cordelia shifted in her chair. “Mom, you said you wouldn’t.”

“It was wrong . And it’s even worse for all of us that she’s stayed. Reno knows.”

But Reno said nothing. She rubbed her chest with one hand and kept her eyes on the candle in the middle of the table.

Astrid went on. “We’ll cast a circle of protection that will last until Beatrice leaves the island.”

“No, she’s staying! She bought a houseboat. Please don’t make her go,” said Minna. “It isn’t fair.”

As if Astrid could make Beatrice go anywhere.

But Astrid smacked the deck so hard against the tabletop that they all jumped. “She contributes to the darkness being called to us. Do you not feel that?”

Minna’s shoulders folded in on themselves.

Was that true? Could darkness be summoned by someone who thought she knew what she was doing, but could probably use some more training? “How are any of you going to help me with this—whatever it is—if you send me away? Astrid, you and I have to come to some sort of resolution.”

As if Beatrice hadn’t spoken, Astrid shoved the box across the table to Cordelia. “We will sew.”

With a nod, Cordelia reached her fingers into the box and pulled out a small white paper packet. She tugged silver needles out of it, handing one needle to each of them.

Astrid kept shuffling as her nostrils flared in the candlelight.

Passing Minna a spool of white thread and a small pair of scissors, Cordelia said, “Lovey, can you cut me off five lengths?”

Minna nodded. “How long?”

“Double your forearm.”

Beatrice worried the needle, testing the sharpness against the tip of her finger. “Did you even hear me, Astrid? We’ve got to come together. I think we both know that.”

“Silence!” The word was a roar, and under any other circumstances, it probably would have cowed Beatrice.

But these weren’t normal circumstances. She was being silenced by the mother who’d abandoned her, and that went far beyond bullshit and all the way into completely un-fucking-acceptable.

“No.”

Astrid’s fingers fumbled the cards, and two of them spilled out of the deck onto the table.

For one second, Beatrice felt powerful. “You have no right to tell me what to do. None. Are you getting that?”

Silence. Astrid stared at the table.

“Hello? I need you to hear me. You may not order me around, you can’t tell me what—”

Astrid reached forward for the two cards that had leaped from the deck. “The Tower.”

It didn’t look good, people leaping from a burning building.

“And the three of swords. The card of heartbreak.”

Beatrice was pretty damn sure that any of the cards that Astrid pulled out of that deck were going to tell the story that Astrid wanted to tell.

No objectivity. Obviously. “Whatever you say. I’m sure it’s all very terrifying.

I’m not an idiot, and I can see that something’s going wrong here.

But you’re the idiot if you think you can shut me up and shove me off the island.

I’ve found my family.” Her throat tightened, and she reached for more courage.

“Meanwhile, does someone want to tell me what happened back there? Reno, why did you arrive, like, out of nowhere?”

Two deep furrows creased between Reno’s eyebrows and she leaned forward slowly.

But Minna spoke instead. “Mama, I have to tell you something.”

“Heaven help us, that can’t be good.” Cordelia turned to face her daughter. “Okay, midge, tell me.”

“You’re going to be mad.”

“I’m going to be most concerned about keeping you safe. If mad gets mixed up in there, that’s because I love you. You know that. Tell me.”

“I asked Beatrice to contact Sienna again. You didn’t know it, but before she died, we were dating.”

Cordelia’s mouth dropped open.

So did Beatrice’s.

Astrid wheezed, “Impossible.”

Okay, now was when Beatrice should refute Minna’s words—she knew she should. She was the adult, and Minna the child.

But what if Minna hadn’t told her mother about Sienna because she’d been scared of the same rejection she’d faced when she’d come out as trans?

Beatrice hadn’t had a chance to ask Minna about the vibe she’d picked up on when Minna and Olive were together.

Maybe Minna was scared that being both trans and gay would be a step too far for her mother to accept?

Still, things were getting out of hand. “Minna—”

“Aunt Bea started to hear something from Sienna. We think.” Minna’s voice trembled. “But then Reno busted in.”

Cordelia said softly, “You shouldn’t have… Oh , honey. That wasn’t safe.”

“You always say we can’t reach the close ones, but they’re who we want to talk to. I don’t understand the problem.”

Beatrice finally found her voice. “Minna needs more information. I do, too.”

Cordelia held up her hand. “We’re trying to protect you both, and you don’t know enough about this yet, sister. Respectfully.”

Respectfully? That was rich. “No one here has earned that from me yet.” She corrected herself quickly. “Except you, Minna. You’re good.”

Astrid, apparently tiring of this line of chat, turned to Reno. “What did you feel?”

Reno kept her eyes on the table. “A darkness. An enormous energetic shadow.”

“How big?”

“Bigger than I’ve ever felt. It was like a whole terrible continent of blackness.”

Beatrice hadn’t known it was possible to feel more lost, but apparently it was.

“Oh, no,” breathed Cordelia.

“It’s them.” Astrid held up the deck, passing it over the three flames in the center of the table.

Minna shoved her cup, sending a wave of tea onto the wood. “It’s them who ? I’m not little anymore. I’m almost a woman. You have to tell me. What’s going on?”

Cordelia looked at Astrid.

The older woman gave a tight nod. “I suppose it’s time you tell her.” Astrid flicked her gaze at Beatrice. “And her .”