Jack of Ravens

14

After two days of exchanging notes, Church and Niamh finally met up with Gabe and Marcy in the I-Thou Coffee Shop, a hippie hang-out filled with beatnik poets, polemicists, writers, musicians and other movers and shakers of the local scene. They were not alone. Tom was there, surly-eyed and suspicious, with a young woman with long, black hair and hypnotic grey eyes.

The first thing that struck Church was how much they had changed. Marcy’s delicate features only emphasised the hardness of her new militancy, with her Malcolm and Martin T-shirt, tight denims and biker boots. Gabe had grown his hair long and wore a Day-Glo ‘Never Trust a Prankster’ T-shirt. A camera hung around his neck. Tom, too, had embraced the hippie aesthetics. His prematurely greying hair was tied in a ponytail and he wore glasses with one red lens and one blue.

‘Better late than never,’ he muttered.

Gabe hugged Church warmly and Marcy kissed him on the cheek before fetching coffees. Tom introduced the other woman as Grace. He fixed Church with a stare: ‘A Sister of Dragons.’

Grace opened her eyes wide. ‘This is the one? The first?’

Church felt uncomfortable with Grace’s uncontained awe, but Tom said pointedly, ‘She recognises the important role you are supposed to be playing in events.’

‘I’m here now,’ Church snapped guiltily.

‘If it’s not too late. Things are already in motion.’ Tom contained himself and changed the subject. ‘Grace is a member of a coven up on Divisadero. Two weeks ago her use of the Craft started achieving astonishing results.’

Grace looked scared. ‘I had to leave the coven. I mean, there are more witches in San Francisco than musicians, but suddenly everyone started getting spooked out by me.’

‘She’s the first,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll find the others soon. This is the time, this is the place.’

In the performance area at the side of the floor, a poet was chanting, ‘The doors of perception are opening,’ over and over again.

‘But first,’ Tom said, ‘we have to make you whole.’