xp_logs | BROOD Part 2

BROOD

Marie-Ange and Tante Mattie sit down for a lesson in the Sight and the Future.

Tante’s Shack

The shack didn't have electricity. It was fully wired, with a small diesel generator out back, but Tante never seemed to have it on. Large gobulous kerosene lamps kept the rooms lit at night, and the wood stove drove away the clammy night mists and chills from the swamp. Tante's only apparent concessions to the modern world were an ancient black rotary telephone in her bedroom, and the slightly newer radio that traveled from their spare room to the main room and back. Amanda was in their room now, lying on her cot and trying to find a station that was not country or the endlessly confusing zydeco music.

Marie-Ange wished herself there as Tante Mattie regarded her from across the table. In front of her was a deck of well weathered tarot cards, their backs once richly painted, dulled with age and moisture damage. The gas light created eerily flickers of shadow in the treacle thick yellow light; tiny tongues of shadow that licked across her features as the lamps fluttered. Tante smiled, wide and white at the girl, and tapped the deck with a fleshy knuckle.

"Now we begin, petite."

In nearly two years at Xavier's, Marie-Ange had lost nearly all her shyness, all the jerky tenative movements of someone who didn't know their place. In two days, they had all come back. She was beyond out of her league here. The environment, the people, the climate, none of it was at all familiar.

Even the language, a bastardized version of the two she was fluent in, made her uncomfortable and awkward. Words she -knew- that she knew at home were different here, subtely.

Very carefully watching to make sure she wasn't doing anything incorrectly, or worse, something accidentally offensive, Marie-Ange reached over to pick up the cards, hoping this wouldn't result in a scolding, a lecture, or one of those looks that she couldn't fathom, but was terrified of nonetheless.

"Jah must relax your mind, childe. Learn to let de Sight flow through your whole body. De loa still dance in your Sight; still dance wit' jah fear and terror. De only one dat can defeat it is you." Tante's voice was low and hypnotic, the rumbles of power an undercurrent. "Hold de cards in your hands, close you eyes, and look out wit' your sense, femme."

It wasn't easy to relax here. It wasn't easy to relax at all, lately, if Marie-Ange was being brutally honest with herself. But doubly so here. And it seemed like trying to force herself to relax was going about things all backwards.

But at the same time, -not- trying was defniitly a Bad Idea, and so she picked up the cards, examining them with her fingers. Hers were stiff, even the decks she used most, while these were worn and pliant, bendable, even if none were bent and broken.

"Jah can feel de taint around jah. Dat oily slick on de edges of jah vision. Reeks of fear and pain. Focus on dat, childe. Focus on de pain and de emotions; focus until de whole world of it is visible in jah mind." Tante atoned, watching the young woman struggle to centre herself and follow the directions. Her hands fidgited neurotically with the cards, which was exactly the reason they were there for now. Tante took a deep breath, and slowly let it out, a ghost mist curling from her mouth and slowly circling around Marie-Ange. "Do jah see all dat, childe?"

"The black oilslick, or the ..." Marie-Ange paused, unsure. "What is that?" She kept her eyes shut, but the black taint, or something akin to it had been coloring her dreams for weeks. "Or.. the ghosts? But they wouldn't be ghosts, I do not think."

"Dey echos, childe. Shadows of de future, twisted up by de loa dat ride you, twist jah Sight." The ghostly mist curled around the girl, unseen but felt. It pulsed in the dim light, black seeping into the white gusts. "Look through de black. Follow it back to de place it all comes from. De ancor in de vision.”

Marie-Ange bit her lip, trying to concentrate. Too many flickers of images in her head kept her from thinking clearly. Manuel, straight-jacketed in the hospital. Jubilee gaping in horror at a headless corpse. Cain Marko and the burning skeleton fighting to a stand-still. Jamie, and an endless number of Jamies and not-Jamies in the quarry. Illyana, screaming and terrified. Too many of her friends in pain, hurt, near dying, over and over in the last two years.

"Jah went to a point dat jah couldn't handle. Dat was too far in de shadow, and dey found you dere. Look for dat point. Dat single moment." Tante watched her white mistly fugue grey, slowly drawing on the evil twisting up inside Marie-Ange. "When jah find dat moment; dat point, deal de cards wit' jah eyes closed, and choose jah three."

The point, that was easy, Marie-Ange thought. She'd known that since the day it happened. Bargaining with Manuel to find out just how emotionally ravaged Doug was. It was a stupid decision, and one she'd made entirely on her own. She hadn't been manipulated or tricked. It
hadn't been Manuel's fault, she couldn't blame -him-, this was all hers, and no good had come of it.

With her hands feeling weighed down like they were braceleted with lead, it took a long time and slow careful movements for her to place three cards on the table. Once she was done, she kep their eyes closed, but tilted her head up to face Tante.

Tante turned over the first card. "Tell me de card, childe." Marie-Ange began to open her eyes, and Tante's voice lashed like a whip. "Eyes closed, childe! Jah keep dem closed. Just tell me de card. Use de Sight."

"The... emperor?" Marie-Ange stammered out. "A ruler, harsh and demanding.. " She bit her lip. "But that makes no sense, the Professor has never treated any of us like that. The mansion is a school, not a barracks, and he is not a general. And none of us would accept Magneto, I do not understand why I keep seeing that."

"De future is fluid, childe. De things we do now, believe now, are not allows de t'ings we do and believe forever. All change, even jah Professor. You see de future, childe, and de harsh rule coming. Read de second card."

Marie-Ange shook her head slowly. "I .. it cannot be right. I know what..." She put her hands down firmly on the table as if to leave, receiving a sharp crack across the knuckles for her efforts. "The two of pentacles..." She sighed. "reversed, but I have already -seen- that. Jamie fighting himself, losing himself to his other side. Losing his balance in the chaos that is in his mind from his twin. It ended, he won. I should not be seeing it still."

"Homme won once in de past. De future could be his loss. Maybe he don' come back dis time." Tante said. "Nothing in de future is sured by de past. De final card, childe. De one dat represents jah. Draw it now."

Marie-Ange leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh. She turned over the last card and shook her head. "This is not mine. The Hermit... I do not think I -can- work alone. So many of the things I see, I have to tell someone, I have to explain.." She shook her head. "To walk alone or fail? I am not sure I -can- do this alone."

"Or maybe it means dat jah not have a choice. Be de only one left. Dere is a dance coming childe, and it growing. A dance of de death dat grows wit each day." Tante's voice deepened, filled the room. "Jah find de future coming for jah. Pain, death, loss, loneliness, and de abandonment. Now jah open your eyes childe. Now jah look at jah future."

"Now I look? But I already ... " Marie-Ange sighed and opened her eyes. And then closed them, shook her head and opened them again. "I am... very, very confused." Those were not the cards she'd seen. The Emperor was -not- the Queen of Cups. The Two of Pentacles and the Fool were connected, but they were most definitely not the same card, and there was just no way that the High Priestess and the Hermit were mistakable for each other. Not even had she been drinking, and she -knew- she hadn't.

"De Sight told jah one thing, and de cards another." The smoke, now entirely black, was dissipating quickly in the room. "Dat's where de Baron has jah dancing, making a fool of jah Sight. Now, his loa has passed and gone on. Jah future is yours, childe. Just remember dat de cards are a tool. Dey help de visions from overwhelming jah. Keeps de future from dragging jah in de darkness. T' focus and direct jah visions."

"The Baron's dance... " Marie-Ange shook her head. -That- phrase was entirely too familiar for her tastes. 'The Baron? Why do I know that... " she whispered. "Who is the Baron?"

"De Baron Samedi. De Saturday Lord wit' who de dead rise and walk. He is de ultimate future for us all, childe. It his dance dat we all come t' one day." Tante swept up the cards, loosely restacking the deck.

"It just sounded important. A ... many people dancing with the Baron,
I think? Or ... I am not sure. It could have been a mis-remembered dream.. " It wasn't like she was sleeping -well- here, in an unfamiliar place with odd noises and smells and air that hung far too heavy for her to breathe easily.

"Part of the future, maybe." Tante nodded. "Maybe nothing. De future can trick you. Still, keep it in mind, childe. Chance, luck, dey all part of de Sight. De little thing dat becomes de big thing. It suprises."

Marie-Ange nodded slowly. "So I am finding out. I will try to remember that..." Even if her visions were un-tainted now, her power was frustrating at times and to keep faith in things like luck and chance was going to be difficult at best.

Amanda gets her own lessons with Tante Mattie, and learns more than she bargained for.

Tante Mattie was sitting out enjoying the weak winter sun that leaked through the dense swamp canopy. It wasn't warm out in the bayou, but it never really got cold either. The raw amount of rotting bio-mass and the heavy foliage generated heat and trapped it close to the ground, so much that even the insects still thrived despite the winter chill. Marie-Ange was inside, working with the cards, learning the complex mental structures that were so essential to a medium; the structures that prevented the huge weight of probability or the dark emotions of future death to overwhelm them, as it had once pulled down the French girl. The girl was terrified of Tante; even her contempt of the poverty and the hatred of her teachings failed to match the level of fear.

The other one was different. Mattie smiled at the sound of chopping wood that she certainly wasn't doing. The English girl was powerful, for certain. Whatever her mutation was, it allowed her access to energy that all but a few of the most talented or experienced could tap into. But her training was a sporadic thing; Tante could feel the jagged lines of knowledge inside her mind, rubbing against each other like scar tissue. Wicca rites, magister equations, blood runes, sorcorous formuli, hell majiks; all of them crashed and fought inside her skull, their individual beliefs and contradictions tearing at the power.

Tante looked up and smiled widely as the girl brought over another handful of firewood. It was time to begin.

Amanda dumped the armful of wood into the box by the back door and straightened, sighing a little. While the TK spell was more than enough to split the wood, she wasn't about to let Tante Mattie catch her not actually carrying it. Besides, conservation of energy and all that - there was power here, but most of it wasn't hers to absorb. Tante held the power in this place, and that was unsettling, to say the least. Then her eye met the houdon's, and despite herself she quailed a little - she was smiling, and that meant nothing good.

"'M just 'bout done," she said, carefully polite. Well, as polite as she got. "You got somethin' else you want doin' after this?"

"Sit, childe." Tante waved to the bench across from her, near the dead, cold fire pit. There was an old iron cauldron resting to the side of it, an immense squat shape that had to be at least sixty pounds of solid steel. Maybe Tante made soup when she was bored, or made soup out of others, had been the whispered conjecture by the girls.

"So, jah filled de firebox, collected de t'ings missing from Tante's juju bag, and even filled de cistern for dinner. Tell me somet'ing. What do you t'ink you need t' be doin' now?"

Amanda began to shrug as she sat, but caught herself. She'd already had a whack between the shoulder blades for doing that. 'Nothing magic, that's for sure,' she thought to herself - she hadn't been shown a single spell since she got here. "'M not sure, Tante," she said. "If I was back home, I'd probably be doin' a bit of study, or maybe workin' on the potion mixes, but I'm not home right now."

"Non, jah not." Tante Mattie said, leaning back further on the bench. "Maybe jah see if de porch needs fixing. Or dose stairs? At Tante's age, childe, jah don' wan take a fall down dem. Take no more den a week or so ta do all it. How dat sound?"

Amanda barely repressed the wince - the woman could give Marko lessons in manual labour as a learning aid. "'M not much of a carpenter, Tante, but I can try, I s'pose," she said, remembering Remy's warnings. But something in her rebelled. Or at least wanted a question answered. "Tante, can I ask somethin'? Without you clippin' me 'round the ear?" At least she was out of arm's reach.

"When's de last time Tante clipped you for a question, childe?" Tante said, and Amanda realized sharply that she was right. She'd taken several stinging rebukes for losing her temper, or making comments when she thought Tante wasn't around. But never for a question although she'd been slow to ask any.

"You ain't heard the question yet," she said with a wry grin, hoping Tante's sense of humour would appreciate the joke. "'S just... you've got power. Lots of it - I can feel it, with me mutation. But I've never seen you use it, an' you don't seem t' be inclined t' encourage me t' use mine. An' if you wanted someone t' do yer chores for you, well, you could've done a lot better than a city girl like me that barely knows one end of an axe from the other. So... why 'm I here?"

"Dat's a fair question. But de answer don' lie wit' Tante, childe. De only one dat can ever answer de question 'why you're anywhere' is you." Tante closed her eyes, felt the warmth against her skin. "So, why are you here, Amanda Gemile Sefton Szardos?"

Amanda recoiled, falling backwards off the bench and onto the damp ground on her butt. 'Shite, I knew I should've had Rom or Strange check this baggage out...' She'd been less trusting of her mother, when she'd met her. But Tante had asked a question, and the use of her true name compelled her to answer truthfully. "Because I want to learn. Because the people who were supposed t' be teachin' me let me down. Because..." Her mouth was dry, and she swallowed spasmodically. "Because I need the power t' protect meself, since I can't trust anyone else t' do it." Scooting backwards, ignore the damp earth on her hands, she asked another question of her own. "How did you know me name? That's guarded, that is. Well, was, any way,
until that bloody demon showed up."

"Names travel on de wind, childe. You can no more hide dem den you can hide jah power." Tante rearranged herself comfortably. "So, if jah came here looking ta learn de magic, why is dat not de question jah asked of me? You asked for all de t'ings dat need doing, and Tante needs new steps more den she needs a student. But jah don't need de building of dem, and yet jah don' ask." She smiled. "Jah gave Tante's needs de focus, and dat's why jah wasted days."

Amanda blinked, not relaxing just yet but picking herself up and coming back to the bench, one eye on Tante all the while. "Remy said t' be polite, an' mind you," she said at last. "An' I figured askin' you t' teach me was on the rude side of things. 'Sides, Remy said you asked if I wanted t' come with Angie an' learn from you." A cautious hint of a grin. "I figured all the chores were part of it - y'know, like those karate movies where the master makes the student paint the fence an' wax his car?"

"Non. De chores needed to be done. And if jah going t' tiptoe 'round de issue, it makes sense dat jah put dat time t' good use, oui?" Tante said. "If it be magic dat jah come here looking for, den Tante best see where jah are. If de skills are as good as jah attitude claims dem t' be. See dat pot?" Tante pointed at the iron cauldron. "Let's see jah get dat over de lit firepit, all a boil."

Amanda looked at the cauldron; a solid sixty pounds of cold iron, and gulped.

First things first - the firepit needed lighting. That part was easy; Fire had always been the easiest element for Amanda to Call. Once a fire was burning she turned her attention to the cauldron. It was big. It was heavy. It was iron. Amanda felt Tante's eyes on her, and squared her shoulders. Maybe all the work with Nathan had helped with the metal problem - certainly she was managing to manipulate smaller masses. Much smaller, her mind pointed out not-so-helpfully. Concentrating all her efforts into lifting the cauldron, Amanda focussed so hard her vision blurred for a moment. The pot stayed still. Clenching her teeth, the girl poured more power into the spell, ignoring the first twinges of headache. The pot remained obstinately in place. Just as obstinately, Amanda kept trying, until there was a warning twinge on the amulet, letting her know she was at risk of burning herself out, and she stopped, panting. Letting her head slump wearily, weight resting on her arms which were propped on her thighs, she managed to gasp out. "Can't. Too much metal. If I had more power maybe, but not while I'm wearin' this..." She indicated the amulet, which had slipped out of her shirt and was glowing brightly as she recharged.

"Dat right?" Tante Mattie said. " Guess den you going to have t' watch Tante, and learn, childe." She got to her feet, impressive with her bulk and walked over to the pot. Before Amanda's astonished look, Tante tipped the swamp water on to the fire, dousing it, before dumping the rest by the side of the firepit. With practiced gestures , she secured the heavy iron cauldron to the Y shaped metal posts, setting it swaying slightly. An armful of dry wood from the fire box went into the pit, with a few fibrous chunks of charcoal and a handful of shavings. With a long lighter, Tante lit the kindling, and while the fire slowly built, refilled the water in the pot. With a satisfied look, Mattie sat back down on her bench and smiled at Amanda. "Jah learn dat magic?

The girl scowled, feeling she was being made fun of. "That wasn't magic. That was just the same as you've been havin' me do with all these chores."

"Childe, Tante tell you t' fill de pot. You gasping like a baked frog and like got a head o' hammers in de process. I took two minutes and still can relax in de warmth. Tante seen you do de chores; de magic reek off o' you when you return from each one." Mattie smiled again, but there was no warmth in it. Just a predatory satisfaction as Amanda winced, knowing that she'd been caught out. "So, now Tante know exactly where jah are wit' jah magic. At de very first step."

"I have t' use it!" Amanda retorted, temper flaring. She'd been set up, and worse still, she'd fallen for it. "I'm not like you, or any other magic user - I got the bloody fucked up gene combination that means I'm a bleedin' natural witch, an' I don't get t' turn it off! The last time I quit usin' magic, I went bloody crazy. So if yer gunna give me the line 'bout choosin' the magic an' not abusin' it, just leave it out, all right?"

"Jah can't choose something dat jah know nothing 'bout." Tante said mildly, impervious to the girl's anger. "More den dat, you not de first like dis, and you no' gon be de last." Mattie shrugged while she got up, walked into the house and returned a few minutes later with a wooden box from the kitchen. As the water boiled, she began to add things to the water, ignoring Amanda.

Grinding her teeth with frustration, Amanda watched the old black woman, until her curiosity got the better of her. "So, what are you doin' now, Tante? Magic or cookin'? Or both? An' what did you mean there's been others like me - Rom an' Strange keep tellin' me I'm a one-of."

"Jah think dat you de first wit a natural grasp on power?" Tante made a disgusted noise, adding a few vegetables to the pot. "Dat's what happens when jah learn magic from dose dat don't 'stand it 'tall. But dere is one thing dat is true. You need ta release de power. Dat's not magic. Dat's just energy. You t'ink dat's a curse? Tante can make sure dat you never have t' worry 'bout de magic again. Take dat away from you, let you live de normal life. Dat what you want?"

A normal life? Amanda actually gave it serious consideration, for all of a minute. Then she remembered how at odds Manuel seemed without his power, about how she'd been able to use the magic to do more good than she'd every thought, considered all that it entailed, all that it meant to her, and then realised she didn't want to give that up. It was what she was, what made her special, something other than a street punk with a better-than-average grasp of languages and a break at a cushy school. "No," she said, perhaps a little more abruptly than she meant to. "But I want t' learn t' control it. T' do without Rom's charm."

"So den it is about choosing between learning ta use or abuse it." Tante dropped a handful of herbs into the pot, the water roiling thickly with the added ingredients. "Guess dat takes away all dat angry passion, oui?" Tante shook her head, the same great white smile coming to her face again. "Tante bet dey showed you a lot, dese people. All manner of tricks and games for dose 'round jah t' look at. But dat not what magic is 'bout, childe. Dat's not even de start; just de show to distract de others."

"So what do you say it is?" Amanda asked, proppig her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands to watch what Tante was doing closely. She couldn't even begin to identify the herbs the woman was using - it could be a potion or a soup she was making, Amanda couldn't tell which.

"Dese are not opinions, 'manda. Don' think dat you come down here and de voodoo is just another subject on dem. All of dat magic is from de same source; de same power. De tricks jah have learned, dats all dey are. Tricks. Tools." She continued to add to the pot. "Tools? Dey are t' be used, not respected."

Amanda frowned. It was one thing for her to feel Rom and Strange had let her down, another to dismiss what they'd taught her out of hand. "I'm not sure I get you," she said. "If the magic's just a tool, then what about all the rules an' the like? The stuff they taught me 'bout the threefold rule an' all the rest of it... you sayin' that's nothin' either?"

"Nothing. And everything." Tante finished adding to the pot, turned and sat down at her bench. "De threefold rule? Dat's a way of keeping things in line. Dere is always consequences of magic. De more you use, de more comes back. Not because de magic has some special rules attached, but because of where de magic comes from. Dey tell you it was moonlight and strong winds dat make dat power?"

"Of course not," Amanda said, slapping at a mosquito that had found a gap between her jean leg and her the top of her boot. "'S from the earth itself. Same as blood runnin' through a person, yer've got magic flowin' through everythin' around us. Only most of it's so weak I can't sense it, 'less it's in places of power, where it's concentrated."

"De earth is a living thing, vrai. But de energy you use, dat fuels de magic? Dat's a human thing, childe. In all things, in all places, we take our own magic dere. De mythos helps focus it, expands de circle. Human magic is born of human energy, childe. And dats where de consequences lie. De more you use, de more of people you use. Dat's why de rules; de threefold, de celestial balance, paradox, and whatever other nonsense dey don come up wit in de last few years." Tante said, waved expansively around her. "De deeper jah take of it, de more it takes out from around jah. Dat is de real rule of magic."

Tante walked over to the pot again, banged on the side with a tin ladle and stirred it deeply, staring down into the roiling mix. "Magic is a human thing. Dat means dat it mirrors de people it comes from. If jah treat de magic like a tool, den soon de people look de same. Jah treat it abstractly, and soon jah become abstract t' people. It's not about having power over others, but through dem. And dere are easier way t' do it den sucking dem dry."

Amanda thought of Selene and shuddered a little. Taking her power, her energy... if had felt good. Then a thought struck her. "But... if the magic comes from the people around me, why can't I feel it? With the mutant power? 'S what it does. An' why did the withdrawals get so bad once Mar... once the power source I was fuellin' off got cut off?"

"Just like going up de mountains. Jah need ta adjust to de supply. When de plate is full, we all eat. When it suddenly come empty, den de hunger comes even if it not real." Tante said. "It more den just a supply for each person. Places can amplify it, grow it. Where life comes, so does power. De more magic is used to control dat, de more of de life it drinks. It feeds de need of it. Just like yourself. Jah near kill yourself doing chores wit' magic dat jah can do just as easy by jah own ability. It not about abuse, childe. It about it becoming necessity. People dat go down dat route find dere no way back."

It made sense - Rack had taught her magic to amplify her own power, and the more magic she did, the more power she had. And the healing, being cut off by the doctors... "So when can I use it?" she asked, perhaps a little petulantly. She liked doing magic, enjoyed the study, the feeling of achievement she got from learning a new spell. "Everyone's puttin' limits on me, but they're not givin' me any openin's for when I can use it."

"Jah can use magic any time jah want, childe. De question is what kind of person dat jah want ta be. Magic is rarely a solution t' anyt'ing." Tante stirred the pot, more for effect than anything. "Are jah de kind of person dat takes from people, or gives to dem? Tante can use magic, give de poor money, food, power, but dat makes dem like de ones dat brought dem down. Heal wit' magic, den dey start ignoring danger. Dat's what I mean about consequence. It's not some mystic three-fold balance. It's actual human consequence. Make someone's life easy, and dey expect it to keep being easy." Tante sighed heavily, and Amanda was stunned as the sadness crept into her normally impassive face. "Magic makes as many problems as it fix. Dats why using it takes so much wisdom, childe. It's not a tool. It's not a solution. It simple is entirely human, wit' all de damages."

"Damned if I do an' damned if I don't." Amanda's shoulders slumped a little. "I don't want t' be a taker, Tante - I've seen enough of that t' last me a lifetime. But I ain't wise. I know that. Hell, half the time 'm actin' on instinct. An' I've got all this stuff in me head, stuff no kid should know, spells that even me teacher doesn't do yet an' I can't ignore it. Not when every time I try, somethin' happens that makes me need t' use it. I can't let the people I care about get hurt or killed, not if I can help 'em."

"Jah gon use dose excuses again, childe? De decisiont! a use magic is de first one dat jah go to, because jah don think 'bout options. If jah think dat magic is necessary t' help people, den you haven't been in de world." Amanda saw Tante's anger swell, the woman seeming to grow and deepen somehow in the bayou light. "De more you do it, de more you convince yourself dat you need to do it. Magic is not a tool, childe. It is a force; a connection to de world and people around jah, and jah don respect it. Saying dat your not wise isn't an excuse. If you not wise, den de last t'ing dat you should be doing in messing with de unseen world!"

Tante slammed the ladle on the side of the cauldron. "You wan’ learn from Tante, child, den you gon learn what de real power is. And learn ta think wit dat head of yours. Learn when your helping hurts, and how t' think with and without de magic. Because childe, if you don' learn dat, Tante make sure dat you never in de position t' abuse it." She couldn't do that... could she? Amanda wasn't sure she wanted to find out. "I do, wanna learn from you," she said at last, no trace of defiance or defensiveness in her tone. "If you'll have me."

"Bein. Den bring me dose bowls, and find a seat." Amanda instinctively reached out for a spell to float them over and stopped suddenly. Instead, she got up, picked up two bowls and spoons and walked back to the pot. Tante ladled a thick portion into each bowl, and settled back into her own bench. "Dis things around me are magic. De bayou, de shack, dey give me power because when jah go ta see de voodoo queen, she gon have look like it. Makes dem scared immediately. Pliable.Dats part of what magic is, childe. Moving forces around is really about moving people around, and whether it a spell, a hex, a charm, or just presuasion, it's still magic. Jah spells are about words, and dey all carry power, even de ones dat don summon de spirits or raise de dead."

Tante took a few bites, savouring her stew, before she spoke again. "But power comes wit responsibility, childe, whether jah like it or not. And if jah can't handle it, dere are ways ta make sure dat power is taken away. So listen to Tante, and learn. Or jah find de other things dat de voodoo queen can do. Dat Gambit did." She smiled. "And so can you."