Chapter 2

In the anno domini 1300, midway upon the journey of his life, Dante found himself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost ...

Precisely 699 years later, I wandered as well. And found myself.

Only it wasn't the inferno I entered.

And God had nothing to do with it. This was more likely the Goddess, subtle and beckoning.

As someone who-up to that point in her life-had never gambled, I claim full responsibility for abandoning the straightforward pathway.

I rolled the dice, and I have no regrets.

Exactly on the eve of one of Florida's most prolific hurricane seasons, while everyone boarded shut their windows against the wrath of Hurricane Erin, I left mine wide open. And magic stormed in.

Metaphorically speaking, the timing was impeccable.

I had no time to bother with trivialities such as shutting windows. Across the Atlantic, a family emergency demanded me. Although back then I still had not learned how to face Death, I rushed to France and my grandmother's side.

Beyond the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, over the somber peaks of the Pyrénées, down into the dampness of the Camargue, across fields of fragrant lavender, in a room where someone had remembered to shut the windows against the scorching July sun, my grand-mére Joséphine was dying.

Her delirious eyes swept the darkness in the far corner. "Zut! Attend toi!" she spat. "Je ne suis encore prôte."

Chills ran down my spine. "Who are you talking to Joséphine?"

"La Mort." Her voice echoed hollowness.

Resigned looks spread across the faces of my family. My father bowed his dark (despite the age), luscious crown of hair and covered his eyes. My mother's aquamarine eyes welled up with tears, like the sea on high tide, and my younger brother Alex, a born skeptic as myself, turned to see if he could actually catch a glimpse of Death.

I did too.

In the far corner, ghastly folds of shadow quivered.

Alex's eyes met mine and he shrugged.

Joséphine's gnarled hand gripped my arm and pulled me closer. My knees met the side of her bed, and yet she kept on drawing me to her. Choking in sorrow, I bent down to give her my undivided attention.

"Ma petite miette-," she sighed, short of breath.

"Joséphine-" My shoulders shook with grief.

"I kept you in the dark. I thought I would protect you. But how do we love that which we don't know?" She unclasped her beloved amber pendant from her fragile, birdlike neck and pressed it into my hand. It pulsed warm with her heat. "I renounced The Craft and now it's too late! A lifetime with no magic wasn't worth it." With extraordinary strength for someone in such weak condition she shook her head. "But you must rekindle the power!" Her eyes bulged. "Promets-moi!"

In one inhuman last effort, her shoulders pushed off the pillows. "Promets-moi! Ma petite miette! You must return to magic!"

Tears spilled from my eyes, her face liquefied, and I nodded frantically-against all my principles. I gripped her cold hands in mine. Pain flared as the amber pendant cut into the tender flesh of my palm. "D'accord, Joséphine. I promise."

Her shoulders collapsed back on the pillows. "Merci."

*

The very first time my grandfather set eyes on Joséphine he thought, "Le premier soufflé du Divin était la Femme. Et voil¨¤, elle vient." The Divine first breath was Woman. And here She comes.

And I think: The Divine must have been lonely. We are born alone. We die alone.

Despite my grandfather's romantic heart, I remain guarded. Why waste time believing in soul mates?

It is perhaps because the Divine created us in her image? And if the Divine is Love, therefore are we, as well, Love? Moreover, in our desire to express our true nature, then aren't we doomed to Love?

Grief does not heal prettily. Especially when morbidly and persistently poked, it scabs. Then, if we are lucky, it finally scars.

After the burial, this sort of thinking flew with me back to the Florida Panhandle where Hurricane Erin had made landfall only days earlier.

Pensacola was still on its knees. Surprisingly, my place had sustained no damage.

*

A month later, I kept my promise and took my first wayward step.