Witchy Women Nexus, page 7
“Maria! Are you okay?” Bang bang bang. “Answer the door!”
I swing it open, breathless, ready to apologize.
Her eyes widen. She wraps me in a tight hug.
“You weren’t answering your phone. And you’re twenty minutes late. And you’re never late, Maria. You said so yourself. I was worried sick.”
She pulls back, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you in a towel?”
I smile. “I’ll explain inside.”
* * *
The night sky is clear, the moon hanging low on the horizon. Not quite full, but bright enough to cast a silver trail on the water’s calm surface. Jane leads us to a dock where Dave stands in front of a large motorboat.
“You ladies sure about this?” he asks, concerned.
“One hundred percent,” Gina answers.
“You promise to take good care of Oceanids?” he says, looking at me.
“Of course. I spent every weekend boating on the Fraser River growing up. I even taught boating classes in the summers.”
He places the keys in my hand. “Alright.”
“I’ll bring them back to you tomorrow,” Jane assures him.
“And she’ll be in one piece.” Dave points his finger, one hand on his hip.
Jane smiles. “Of course.”
We pack our supplies into the boat: a picnic blanket, candles, a Ouija board, and more practical items like headlamps, flashlights, drinks, and snacks. Once everything’s loaded, we pile in. I start the boat.
I glance back. “Lifejacket, Gina.”
“I don’t need a lifejacket. I can swim.”
“Gina. We’re all wearing ours. It’s dark, and I don’t know these waters. What if you get yeeted out of the boat?”
“Fine.” She pulls on her lifejacket and buckles it.
“Thank you.” I smile, then wave to Dave.
“Be careful, ladies. I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you.”
“We’ll be fine,” Jane promises.
I pull away from the dock. Dave’s waving figure shrinks into a dark speck in the rearview mirror. We travel in silence, the air whipping through our hair. About thirty minutes later, we arrive. I busy myself tying up the boat while the others start unloading.
“Where are we going?” Arya asks.
“I thought we could head to the ruins,” Jane replies.
“Ruins?” Gina echoes.
“Yeah. In the 1900s, there was an exclusive country club here for Boston’s elite, but it fell into disrepair. All that’s left are stone walls and pillars. They’re pretty neat.”
“Now, that a vibe!” Gina says with excitement.
“It’s just over that way, I think.” Jane points farther down the shoreline. Under the moon’s glow, we can make out what looks like a circular stone wall jutting into the water.
“Oh good,” Arya mutters.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll lead the way.” Gina grabs some supplies and switches on her headlamp.
As we walk, I tell them about my experience in the pool, and how Coral taught me to create a protective shield out of water. The conversation fades, and we fall into silence. I think we’re all still processing the past few days. The night is cool and calm, but there’s a tension in the air. I can feel Arya’s fear. She’d never admit it, but it radiates off her. Jane seems distracted, like something’s weighing on her. Gina is the only one genuinely excited.
“I see it! What is that? It’s lowkey perfect. Looks like the top of an old castle or something! We should definitely set up there!” Gina starts to run ahead then trips and crashes to the ground with a loud thud, crying out in pain.
“Gina!” we all shout, rushing after her.
When we reach her, she’s on her side, holding her leg. Her pants are ripped above the knee, and blood gushes from the wound.
Arya gasps. “Oh my god.”
“It hurts so much.”
“We should go back to the mainland and get her help,” Arya says, panicked.
Gina sits up, wincing. “It’s not that bad. I’m fine.”
I kneel beside her. “Can I take a look?”
She nods. I gently lift her leg. She winces again. Under the headlamp’s glow, I see a deep gash, exposing muscle.
“This is going to need stitches.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re losing quite a bit of blood.”
“It’s just a scrape.”
“Gina, we should get you help,” Jane says, kneeling next to her.
Coral’s voice echoes in my mind. Instead of scalpels and antibiotics, your healing tool is water.
“I want to contact my mom. That’s why we’re here,” Gina says through gritted teeth.
“Wait… can I try something?” I ask.
“You’re a doctor. Do what you need to do so we can get to the séance.”
“It’s not medicine. It’s magic.”
“Oh hell yeah,” Gina says instantly.
“Magic?” Jane asks.
I look at her. “Coral told me I have healing powers.”
“What?” Jane replies.
“Do it,” Gina urges.
I look at her, then toward the water, then back again. “Okay.”
I take a deep breath, then exhale slowly, focusing on the water. I reach out, willing it toward me. It rises in a slow stream, curling around Gina’s leg like a ribbon of light. I picture the muscle knitting itself back together, followed by the skin. The water absorbs into her body, leaving no wound, just the tear in her pants.
Gina’s eyes widen. “How did you do that?” she asks, stunned. I offer her my hand and help her to her feet.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re a natural.”
“She’s the water element,” Jane says. “She’s in tune with her emotions.”
“Well, we’re all water elements. We’re all Scorpios,” Gina points out.
“Exactly. I think that’s by design,” Jane says. “Our magic is powered by our emotions. Maria is very aware of hers, unlike me, I’m all in my head. That’s why I struggle with it.”
“Maybe,” Gina says. “Why don’t we ask my mom?” She points to the stone turret rising from the water’s edge.
Arya exhales, then steps forward with new confidence. “Let’s do it.”
8
FIRE ~ GINA
Saturday November 1, 2025 - just after midnight.
We sit cross-legged in a tight circle inside the ruins by the water. There’s no one around. Everyone is in Salem partying. My heart races. I’m finally going to meet my mom. The candles are lit. The salt circle is poured. The Ouija board sits in the middle, facing me. I look around at each of my cousins, no, my sisters.
“Are we ready?”
Arya nods from across the board. We all hold hands.
“I call on my mother, Jacqueline Brando. Maman, êtes-vous là?”
The soothing sound of water hitting the turret and the song of crickets respond to us.
“Maman, are you here with us tonight?” I call again. We exchange looks.
“Let’s try closing our eyes, really focus, okay?”
Everyone nods. We close our eyes.
“Maman, Jacqueline Brando. Êtes-vous là?” Tears slip from the corners of my eyes. “Come on, Mom!” I scream into the night sky.
The candle flames rise into tall, raging fires then Ruby flies down from the sky, landing behind me.
“I’m sorry, girl. Your mother doesn’t have the answers you seek.”
It feels like my chest is being ripped apart. I turn to her. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. And you know who to call on.”
“Who do we call?” JJ asks.
“Ghostbusters!” Arya jokes.
I shoot her a stare. “Deadass?”
She clears her throat. “Sorry.”
“Well?” I ask Ruby.
“I don’t actually know,” she shrugs, tossing a dragon paw in the air. “I just know the answer is already inside you. You just need to uncover it.”
“Thanks. That’s lowkey not helpful, Ruby,” I mutter.
“How about we call on a deity? Someone who can tell us about the prophecy,” Maria suggests. “Witches work with deities all the time.”
“Wait. We’re not witches, are we? I can’t.” Arya says.
“Of course we are. We work with magic, the elements, zodiac signs. What else could we be?” I say.
Arya pauses. “Yeah… I guess we are.” She looks around the circle. “We’re witches.”
“Witchy Women,” Maria adds.
“Ooh, I like that, it’s giving main character energy,” I gush.
“So, who would Witchy Women call on for help?” JJ asks.
It hits me like a lightning bolt. “Hekate. She’s Queen of the Witches, Mistress of Spirits, and Keeper of Paths. The maiden, the mother, and the crone.”
“All right. Let’s try it.” JJ responds.
I grab Maria and JJ’s hands again.
“All together,” I say.
“All together what?” Arya asks.
“We say: ‘We call upon Hekate. Are you there?’ Got it?”
They all nod.
“Okay, focus. Deep breath. Inhale… and exhale… We’re grounded. On three.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“We call upon Hekate. Are you there?”
Our birthmarks glow. Our eyes illuminate in our elemental colors. The wind picks up. The trees rustle. Water splashes against the stone. The magic keepers appear, standing behind their elemental Witchy Woman. A chorus of dogs barking echoes in the night.
Then, as if pulled back a curtain of stars, a torch appears in the sky and a woman steps through. She has long raven hair, a golden crescent moon crown, a velvet wine-colored gown and cloak, and a live green snake draped across her shoulders like Britney Spears circa 2001. Two black dogs flank her. She floats down, landing behind Arya.
“You called?” she smiles.
We look at each other in awe. I swallow hard and squeak, “Yes.”
“You’re the daughters of Nemesis. The chosen ones to fulfill her prophecy and—”
“I called it!” I interrupt, giddy. “Didn’t I call it?”
“Shhhh,” Arya hisses. “Don’t interrupt the goddess who’s here to give us answers for what the hell is going on.”
“Right. Sorry, Hekate,” I say, looking down.
She continues.
“Let me start from the beginning.
Nemesis, goddess of retribution and balance, once walked the earth unseen, an invisible force keeping cosmic order. In the early days, she acted swiftly. When arrogance bloomed, when cruelty tipped the scales, she did not wait. She struck. Not out of malice, but necessity.
But when Zeus, the embodiment of unchecked power, violated her while in the form of a swan, something shifted. The gods called it fate. She called it betrayal.
You’ve heard stories of her vengeance, but none of her grief. No one speaks of the betrayal she endured. Not just from Zeus, but from the heavens that stood by and watched.
I was the only one who didn’t look away.
When Nemesis left this realm, she did not go in anger. She went with purpose. She came to me before she left, still shaking with rage, and placed her legacy in my hands. ‘You guard the gates,’ she told me. ‘So guard this prophecy. In secrecy. Guide them when the time comes.’
And thus, I waited for the nexus to occur, when age aligns with day. Four of her granddaughters, born across two generations of twins, each separated and marked by a crescent moon under a scorpion sun on the same day. Together, they shall awaken the balance.
Your power lies in your unity, in memory, in knowing the truth. The bloodline remembers. And I am here to help you remember too.
Nemesis did not vanish. She withdrew. But make no mistake, she is watching. And when the scales tip again, when you are ready, she will return.”
“Okay.” I look around the circle. Jane is deep in thought. Arya looks terrified. Maria is stunned. “That makes sense. Seems reasonable.”
“What is this bloodline prophecy you’re here to help us remember?” JJ asks.
“Ah, now you’re asking the right questions. You’ve already discovered you can bend the elements, but you can also bend time.”
“What?” I blurt out.
“We’re time travelers?” Maria asks.
“Yes. But your ability to bend timelines only works on a blue moon.” She gestures to the moon above us.
“You must go back and stop the massacre of our healers. Protect the creators of life before they’re burned and oppressed. Stop the nurturers from being overrun by greed. Prevent the exploitation of Mother Earth’s resources. She provides everything you need. You must stop this timeline where children go hungry while food rots in the dumpsters of the powerful. Your destiny is to restore balance. So humans can live in harmony.”
“Oh wow.” My eyes wide. I feel myself breaking out into a cold sweat, I rub the back of my neck. “That’s, uh, that’s a lot of pressure.”
“Build your strength. Work with your magic keepers. The earth is on the brink. This is your destiny.”
“I felt it,” Arya says, almost in a whisper. “I felt Mother Earth’s pain. It was… debilitating.”
“You can call on me whenever you need,” Hekate says. “I am here to help you. Now go. Fulfill the prophecy.”
She pulls her cloak over her head and disappears into the night.
Epilogue
“She said we needed to stop the burning and oppression of the healers. She’s talking about witches. Why don’t we go to the time of the Salem witch trials and stop it from happening?” Gina suggests. “We’ll be able to get intel from Bridget Bishop through Dave, right?”
Jane places her hands on her hips, biting her lip. Then she shakes her head. “I don’t know if stopping the Salem witch trials will fix everything. The persecution of witches had been going on for centuries before Salem.”
“Yeah, I think we need to go back further,” Maria says, a mug of green tea in her hand.
“How about the 1500s?” Jane suggests. “What if we stop King James from writing Daemonologie? That book helped justify the torture and prosecution of suspected witches, Salem included.”
“I don’t know a damn thing about the 1500s. Do we have to get costumes?” Arya stands up from the couch in Jane’s apartment and starts pacing. “We can’t just show up in sneakers and a crop top. They’ll burn us at the stake for sure.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Jane says. “We’ll have to blend in completely.”
“Wasn’t witch-burning already a thing when King James wrote Daemonologie, though?” Maria asks. “I swear I read something about that somewhere. That he was inspired by another book.”
“Yes. Malleus Maleficarum or The Hammer of Witches,” Jane replies. “It was published in 1487. King James leaned on it heavily when writing Daemonologie in 1597, just over a century later.”
“In science, we try to get down to the root cause,” Maria says. “I think we need to stop the idea of killing witches in the first place.”
“Agreed,” Jane nods.
“High-key. Nip it in the bud,” Gina adds.
“So, we agree then?” Arya says. “We stop The Hammer of Witches from being written, and we stop the massacre of independent, free-thinking women?”
They all nod.
Arya clearly steps into project management mode. “Alright. Jane, figure out the history. Exactly when and where we need to go. Maria, make sure we don’t die from, like, the plague or a bad piece of meat while we’re back in the 1400s. Our bodies are used to modern medicine and food, so… no pressure. And Gina, astrology seems to be a big part of this, study the charts and planetary transits or whatever, so we can use them to our advantage. I’ll handle wardrobe so we’re not walking into the Inquisition in yoga pants. Sound like a plan?”
They exchange glances, absorbing everything Arya just said, then nod in agreement.
“I checked. The next blue moon is on May 31, 2026,” Jane announces.
“That gives us almost seven months to master our magic and pull this off,” Arya says.
“We can meet back in Salem. Return to Misery Island on the blue moon,” Maria adds.
“Of course it’s us saving the world. Women stay doing the most.” Gina grins. She extends her hand, wrist up. Arya instinctively stacks hers on top. Then Maria. Then Jane.
“Smash the patriarchy!” Gina cheers.
“Smash the patriarchy!” the others echo.
I wave my hand across the magic mirror with a smirk. I knew giving up most of my godly powers for this prophecy for would be worth it. I’m confident my daughters will tip the scales and restore balance to that realm. I, Nemesis, the Goddess of Retribution, will be the Mother of Balance. I walk to my floor-to-ceiling window and gaze out at the lush, green land. In the distance, children laugh and play. I unfurl my wings and leap into the sky, soaring above it all. Soon, the entire universe will live in a peaceful matriarchy. One not built on dominance, but on balance. A circular society, where decisions are made with care, not conquest. Where it’s about collaboration. Not control. Where the most vulnerable are protected first, and strength is measured by one’s ability to nurture, listen, and lead with compassion. A world where every being is valued, and every life, respected. That is the realm I escaped too after leaving earth behind for good. Now, it’s the world my daughters are building at home, and I can already feel its heartbeat already.
The magic begins soon. Reserve your copy of Witchy Women: Hammer now at NGAvant.ca.
About the Author
Raised in a quaint lakeside town in southern Ontario, N.G. Avant (she/her) moved to Ottawa, Ontario as a young adult to realize her childhood dream of living in Canada’s capital, which was built on the traditional un-ceded, un-surrendered territory of the Anishinaabe Algonquin People. She has a post-secondary education in journalism and worked in municipal politics for more than five years, an experience that sparked the inspiration for her Capital City series.
