Primrose(L) and Jessamyn Collins(R)
Teenaged members of the Collins New Orleans branch, both are dark conjurers, physically strong and enslave spirits.
Jessamyn reads any deck of the tarot with frightening accuracy. She is also telepathic and able to astrally project into her target's dreams. She is menacing, with a taste for arson against anyone who violates Hoodoo law of being a closed practice.
Primrose is her bubbly best friend with the power of bilocation, which she uses to frighten people. Primrose uses candles to read people's fortunes.
They work at Collins Hoodoo Shop,owned by their sister and cousin Simone Collins. It is a magical gathering place for Black folks on the Hoodoo path. No one else can enter unless they want smoke. SERIOUS smoke.
Closer than close, they delight in roaming New Orleans at night, accompanied by enslaved haunts and causing mayhem.
None of the characters in this WIP are witches, but I use the Black witches tag for people who are interested in seeing Black folks in the occult.
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FALL OFFERING 🍂 | I’m offering Sliding Scale readings for the Fall!
I’ve always strived to provide affordable readings for folks without selling myself short. It’s a difficult balance (hello Libra season) & after evaluating & reevaluating, I’m good with where I’m at & what I bring to the (card) table.
If you’ve never gotten a reading from me, I use intuitive techniques that incorporate astrology, numerology, color symbolism as well as traditional Tarot meanings to interpret the cards in a way that explains complex concepts simply.
This will be my eleventh year doing this work & I still feel like a big ole baby in these spiritual streets. A perpetual novice that knows nada; but that in itself is not giving myself enough credit.
Still really wish I hadn’t deleted my old account 😅
If you’re interested in getting a reading from me, hit my email L3xReads @ gee mail dot c*m
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|The Ritual| Part 1
Shit.
I cursed as I realized what today was, eyeing the reminder on my phone with nothing but discontempt. Even though I knew this day was coming all year it still felt like a surprise. It was my turn to make sure our coven remained imbued in power and protection. As one of the last in North America it was a pretty big deal. Too bad I detested it to my very core. Footsteps began to race up the stairs and I knew it was only a matter of time before they reached my bedroom in the attic. Sitting up from the bed, I sighed ready for the process of the ritual to begin.
5…4…3…2…1
“Oh good, you’re already awake!” chirped my best friend Esme. Her auburn coils were tied up and out of her face, allowing me to see her bright smile that made my insides twist. Unlike me, she lived for the tradition of our world. Where I thought they were archaic and draconian, she thought they were cultural and enriching.
Following behind her was her twin sister Eve. Her raven coils were out in a fro and she plopped down on my bed unceremoniously.
“She woke me up at five,” Eve groaned.
“Because today is important! The Du Points have protected us from, well, the beginning of times it seems like and all they ask is for this one thing,” Eve said.
“They ask for our bodies to be used to produce their bastard heirs but we don’t get any of the bells and whistles that come with siring them. Nooo, they save that for the precious humans they turn into vampires just like them,” I said.
Not only that, if a woman from our coven got pregnant they would have to continue to perform the ritual until the end of her child bearing days. If a woman didn’t get pregnant, we would have to rotate yearly until someone did. Being vampires wasn’t enough for the Du Points. They also wanted hybrids in their mix.
“You don’t even like vampires so would the bells and whistles really do anything for you?” Eve asked with a raised brow.
Okay, she had me there.
“...No but that’s not the point!” I said.
“The point is that the Du Points and the Norwood’s have been the most powerful families for three hundred years because of the ritual and neither of us can balk against tradition at this point in time. We have to do this for them,” Esme said, softly but firmly.
Cordelia, Sakura, and Zoe.
All killed this year which meant another hunter was trying to earn their stripes. The Du Points promised to look into the matter earnestly after this year’s ritual was complete. Tonight was about more than producing another insufferable hybrid. It was about protecting my family and that, I would always do, no matter how begrudgingly I went about it.
“Fine, work your magic. Make me worthy of a Du Point.”
Walking over to me, Esme grinned while cupping my cheeks. ���That’s the spirit!”
I had been scrubbed within an inch of my life three times over. Doused in perfumes laces in enchantment. I ate like the royalty we technically were but seldom felt like. Then I was left in a pool of blood, surrounded by candles and told to wait. There was to be no ambience by way of music or by having my phone. My whole purpose was to wait until whoever got chosen for this year’s ritual on the Du Point side made their appearance. The room I was in was partially open to the woods. I closed my eyes and listened to the hooting of the owls and to the rustle of wind between the leaves. I was so lost in the trance of the forest that I didn’t hear the arrival of my date for the night.
“I hope you aren’t tired. The night hasn’t even begun.”
No.
No.
NO.
Out of all of the eligible Du Points (a whopping total number of six for this year) why him? Marcel René Du Point was everything I loathed about his kind. Self absorbent, rudimentary, obnoxious, and callous. As a full blooded vampire, he was rare and coveted, ranked higher than his cousins which explained why I was staring at his smirk filled face. We have never gotten along and that would only make the ritual that much more unbearable.
“Ouch,” he said, facial expressions pulling into a mock wince. “Tell me how you really feel.”
Instantly, my cheeks grew warm with frustration. “Stop reading my mind!”
“Stop letting me. You’re the strongest witch of your generation I shouldn’t be able to get in so easily,” he tsked, as if he were scolding a wayward pupil.
Narrowing my gaze, I whispered an incantation that not only fortified my mental shields but kicked him out with a warning zap to his temples.
“Not cool,” he hissed, though his knees didn’t buckle at the pain like most others would have.
“Neither is the invasion of my privacy you prick,” I said, with a roll of my eyes.
“Is that any way to talk to your betrothed,” he said, taking steps towards the tub.
“Your what?” I chuckled. “You must be high from the scent of the blood. We are not getting married, we are going to have sex and hopefully never see each other again afterwards.”
His smirk settled back into place the same moment his frame sunk down so that we were eye level. Golden orbs flecked with green hints of mischief met mine with the assuredness that came with being a Du Point. “We are getting married because I wished it so. I don’t want my first born to be a bastard to be forgotten amongst our militia.”
He was serious. While a smirk remained on his lips, his eyes never wavered, tone never cracked.
“That’s not how the ritual works!” I said, as this new reality was dawning on me. It was bad enough that I had already come to terms with my body being used for the betterment of the coven but my life? My future? My dreams? None of that would matter as his wife. None of it at all.
“It works how I wish it to work,” he said, dipping his finger into the blood. I watched as he swirled his index finger by my knee. Close enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up but far enough as to not piss me off further. “Tonight…will not be happening as you were told.”
“So how is it happening? What is happening?” I said, unable to keep the panic that was rising out of my voice.
“We are going on our first date because by the next full moon we’ll be saying I do,” he said, raising the hand that was toying with the blood and bringing to his lips. Within seconds it was gone between his full lips.
“I’m not going to marry you. I don’t even like you,” I said, rolling my eyes and turning my face away.
With speed that I wasn’t used to, my chin was being jerked back in his direction. Warm fingers held tightly but it wasn’t painful. His eyes searched mine, picking apart the fear and anger I’m sure swirled in them. Not even my shields could hide my true feelings in this moment.
“That is why we’re going out Willow. I have twenty eight days to make you fall in love with me before we commit to eternity.”
Leaning in, he placed a chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth. His fangs extracted, nicking my bottom lip and with a soft suckle he drank from me. I wanted to push him away, to slap him but I was…enjoying it. I thought his kiss would be greedy. It was in some regards but it was also reverent and tender. I don’t know what to do with this side of Marcel. Not when all I've known is the asshole who does whatever he pleases. When he pulled away with another gentle kiss he whispered, “Enjoy this side of me. It was created for you.”
I had twenty eight days to create as much distance between me and whichever side Marcel wanted to present to me because the bottom line remained: I could not marry him.
No matter how many kisses he stole.
No matter the way he stared at me like a prize already won.
No matter that a tiny part of me wanted to learn why me.
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