Holiday Magick (18 page)

March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, is celebrated by the Irish (and those who
wish
they were Irish) in countries around the world. Major American cities like New York and Boston hold parades, and people add corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes to their menus. People celebrate with phony accents, shamrocks, top hats, and anything green they can get their hands on.

But why is
green
so important to the holiday? Some say that it is because the holiday started in Ireland, the Emerald Isle. Others give credit to the shamrock (St. Patrick's traditional symbol), or the green on the Irish flag. The truth, however, is much more interesting than that.

Why
do
we wear green on St. Patrick's Day?

“This day sucks.” Becky slammed her locker closed, causing the rattle to echo down the hallway. “I thought Fridays were supposed to be
good
days.”

“Lighten up.” Kelly rolled her emerald-accented eyes. “Just because you forgot to wear green doesn't mean you have to ruin it for everyone else.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn't have half the football team grabbing your butt all day.”

“I wouldn't necessarily call that a
bad
day.” Kelly winked. “Don't think I didn't notice your little blush when Sean got you. Today is about having a little fun.”

“Whatever.” Becky adjusted her hot-pink top. “You just wanted an excuse to wear your ‘Kiss me, I'm Irish' shirt.”

“I AM Irish.” Kelly flipped her mane of fiery red hair over her shoulder, as if to prove her point, then flashed a huge grin. “And if my heritage results in a lip-lock or two, who am I to complain?”

“Fine.” Becky grabbed her backpack. “But at least admit the cafeteria went a little overboard. Green Jell-O, I get that. But dyeing the mashed potatoes? Really?”

“Those weren't dyed. Just moldy.” Kelly twisted her features into an expression of mock-concern. “Didn't you notice the fuzz? You didn't eat—Hey!” Kelly yelped, bouncing on one foot. “Watch where you're going!” She whirled on the startled, broom-wielding janitor who'd just attempted to sweep her down the hall.

“My apologies, lass. I didn't notice ya there.” The little man grinned. “Maybe you should wear more bright pink, like your friend here. I noticed
her
clear down the hall.”

Becky smirked, waiting for Kelly's retort. If there was one thing Kelly hated, it was the color pink. She always said it was hideous and it clashed with her hair. Becky waited a few seconds for the rant to begin, but Kelly didn't say anything. Becky shot her friend a questioning glance, and then gasped.

Kelly was staring at the janitor in stunned recognition. It was almost like she was in a trance. She didn't even blink when the guys from the chess club filed out of their after-school meeting, laughing and slamming lockers.

“Hey Kel, we should probably take off.” Becky tugged Kelly's arm nervously. “I've got that thing…”

“It's all right, lass.” The janitor chuckled, round cheeks glowing. “It's in her blood to recognize our kind.”

Becky glanced at the janitor's ID badge, “Um, whatever you say, janitor Bud.” The badge looked official enough. “Let's go, Kel.” Becky took a step back, bumping into her locker. Glancing around, she noticed that the halls were empty. Even the chess players had all gone. Of course no one was around. It was 3:30 on a Friday. Students didn't normally hang around longer than they needed to. They were only still at school because of Becky's detention (defending herself against butt-grabbing was not, apparently, allowed)—she was Kelly's ride home, so she'd been stuck, too.

“You don't know the significance of March 17th, do ya lass?” Janitor Bud turned his eerie green eyes on Becky.

“Sure I do.” Becky struggled to keep her voice steady. “St. Patty's is the day where cooks dye the potatoes green, and half the jocks in school take the liberty to ‘pinch' girls who forgot to wear shamrocks or some crap like that.”

The janitor let out a surprisingly deep chuckle. “Is that all you think it is?” Becky nodded, stuck somewhere between annoyance and terror. “What about you?” He turned his eyes on Kelly.

“I guess,” Kelly shrugged, her voice sounding like it came from somewhere else entirely. She was still mesmerized, staring at the janitor. “But in the stories my mom used to tell, it had something to do with a deal the goddesses made. I don't really remember it, though.”

“Well, then. It's time you girls learn about the old ways. Come with me.” He left his broom leaning against a locker, stepped over the pile of trash he'd swept together, and started down the hallway.

Without hesitating, Kelly followed. “Kel,” Becky hissed. “I've got a creepy feeling about this. I've never seen this guy around before. I didn't know we even
had
a janitor named Bud. We can't just follow him to…the janitor's closet?” Becky shook her dark curls in disbelief.

Kelly still hadn't blinked. Becky was torn. She knew better than to follow strangers, especially into dark closets, but Kelly was her best friend, and something was definitely wrong with her at the moment.

“After you, ladies.” Janitor Bud swung open the door with a flourish.

“Are you serious?” Becky tried tugging Kelly's arm one last time. “We won't even all fit in there.”

“Have a little faith.” The janitor winked. Without even glancing over her shoulder, Kelly stepped into the darkness. With every part of her brain warning her not to, Becky followed.

As soon as they stepped through the door, the floor vanished. There were no walls, nothing to hold on to. The feeling of being pulled along in the darkness by an invisible current finally snapped Kelly out of her trance. Screaming and flailing, Kelly accidentally whacked Becky in the stomach, and Becky grabbed Kelly's shoulder, praying they wouldn't be separated. They struggled against the current, trying to grab anything that might offer safety, but their hands touched only air. Then, the current stopped as quickly as it had begun.

Kelly landed in the grass with a grunt, and Becky collapsed beside her. Just as Becky moved to sit up, the janitor barreled into her, knocking her back down.

“Oww.” Becky groaned. “What was that?” She pushed herself off the grass as soon as the janitor rolled onto his side. “And where are we?” She didn't bother to hide the panic in her voice.

“Forest of the Old Ones, Central Ireland.” The janitor grinned impishly as something like thunder boomed through the air. “And it sounds like we're just in time.”

“Time for what?” Kelly's voice no longer sounded as if she were in a trance, but she was still oddly unafraid, considering that she had just been swept to a forest by an invisible force in a supply closet.

“You'll see.” The janitor stood, brushing off his pants. “Just follow me. And keep out of sight.”

He headed toward the edge of the forest and Kelly immediately followed, bending as low as she could, even though they were still out in the open. Becky had had enough of following the strange little janitor to last a lifetime, but since Kelly was halfway across the clearing, she didn't see any options other than tagging along.

They seemed to be heading straight for the noise that had sounded like thunder. But as the trio gained ground they could tell the rumbling was no storm. The obvious sounds of angry shouting and branches snapping sent shivers down Becky's spine.

“Down!” The janitor whispered fiercely, jerking Kelly and Becky to the ground. Becky had just opened her mouth to protest when they saw an entire tree crash down.

“It's not fair!” The shriek cut through the air.

Kelly shot a quick glance at Becky, who was shaking. “Let's get closer,” she mouthed.

Becky shook her head angrily, but Kelly was already on her hands and knees, crawling toward the sound of angry cursing.

Becky looked at the janitor, hoping he would stop Kelly and take them back, but he just chuckled and followed Kelly to a boulder a few yards away. Groaning as quietly as she could, Becky crawled after them just as a wordless scream of rage erupted from the clearing and a stone flew through the air.

“You conniving, pathetic excuse for a—”

“That is enough!” Kelly peeked around her hiding spot just in time to see a portly older man stomping toward a red-faced woman.

“The Dagda,” Kelly whispered in awe.

“Who?” Becky hissed back before the janitor gave each of them a warning glare.

Their attention returned to the clearing in time for them to see the man sigh. “Macha, we do this every year. Must we go over the terms of the contract
again
?”

“Yes, Dagda.” Macha sniffed, causing the crow on her shoulder to squawk. “Anu is cheating me out of what is mine. You all know it.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” A tall, golden-haired beauty stretched lazily, sitting up in the grass. “I have upheld my end of the bargain to the letter.”

Becky gasped when a man sitting quite close to their hiding spot let out a deep throaty laugh. Sitting cross-legged with his back against a tree, he was easy to miss at first. But once Becky spotted him, she couldn't keep her eyes off him. She couldn't help but stare at the two horns sprouting from his forehead. “Is that…the Devil?” Her voice came out as a strangled whisper.

“No.” Kelly rolled her eyes. “That's just Cernunnos.”

The janitor nodded approvingly and pointed back to the clearing in front of them. A tiny man, who looked suspiciously like janitor Bud, was in the process of delivering a scroll with a deep crimson seal to Dagda. Instead of breaking the seal, Dagda snapped his fingers, causing it to burst into flames. Instantly, something moved in the rust-colored smoke rising from the seal.

Intrigued, despite herself, Becky followed Kelly, inching forward to get a better view of the unfolding drama. Several men in hooded robes were dancing in the smoke, weaving a bizarre pattern and chanting. Suddenly, they all stopped, and the man in the center of the pattern threw back his hood, revealing a weathered face skillfully painted with interlocking Celtic knot designs. “Mother Anu!” He bellowed. Even though the language was ancient, Becky and Kelly understood his cry. “We are besieged on all sides. Come to our aid, we beg you! Drive the Picts from our shores. Entreat your sister Macha to give us rest and we will honor both of you with sacrifices of grain and the blood of our best goats.”

The scene in the smoke shifted to show Anu and Macha observing the ritual in a cauldron of clear water. “What do you say, sister?” Anu turned her piercing green eyes on Macha. “Has your desire for battle been satisfied? Will you call off your minions before these people perish?”

“I am growing bored with this little war.” Macha stroked her crow's beak. “But,” she smiled cruelly, “I have no desire for burned grain. That is for you alone. And the blood of goats is less than satisfying. I propose a bargain.”

“I'm listening.”

“On this day, each year, I will be able to have the souls of whomever I choose, and my pets can have their bodies. It is only fair after all. I'm in constant need of more servants. And my pets
do
need to eat.”

“Never.” Anu's eyes flashed dangerously. “You would take those most precious to me.”

“Just because those of the Emerald Isle are your favorites doesn't mean they can't be my favorites as well.”

“You have a wonderful way of showing favor. I give those loyal to me bountiful crops. You feed them to your birds and enslave their souls!” Anu scoffed.

“Fine.” Macha flicked her wrist dismissively. “You may mark your own, and I will not touch them.”

After a few moments Anu smiled. “Agreed.” The scroll with the crimson seal appeared in the air between them as soon as she had spoken, and the images in the smoke started to dissipate.

“You see!” Macha shrieked, scattering the remaining smoke with her hand. “Anu promised me my choice of souls on this day, and yet she has placed her mark on
all
of them.”

“I did not promise you
Irish
souls.” Anu finally rose to her feet. “Nor did I promise you that I would not ask my people to honor me on this day. That much should have been obvious. They asked me to intercede and stop the war, and the war stopped. A celebration was clearly in order. And as far as them wearing green, it is a simple sign of respect for an earth goddess, and it means a great deal to me.” She smiled innocently.

“Liar!” Macha lunged at Anu, who calmly stepped to the side, allowing her to hurtle past. “We never agreed that your mark would be something as stupidly simple as a color. It means I can barely touch anyone.”

“You never asked what my mark would be, and I had the right to choose.” Anu glanced around the clearing, noting the nods of approval. “Besides, there are souls on Earth other than the Irish.”