Where You Go ― Jason Grace

ii. ophelia's sword gets an unwanted upgrade

"LADY HECATE," Ophelia greeted as politely as she could. It wasn't that she hated the goddess, necessarily. But it was hard to like the goddess whose curse led to your mother's suicide, which led to the curse passing onto you and making you deal with ghosts at the tender age of ten.

Safe to say, they weren't exactly close.

"Ophelia," Hecate said. "Congratulations on your victory against Maren."

"Uh... thanks."

Hecate placed her torches in two torch-stands that had erupted from the dirt like plant stalks. She turned her focus toward Hazel, walking a slow circle around the girl, regarding her as if they were partners in some eerie dance. 

The black dog and the weasel followed in her wake. 

"You are like your mother," Hecate decided. 

Hazel looked a little shell-shocked. "You knew her?" 

"Of course. Marie was a fortune-teller. She dealt in charms and curses and gris-gris. I am the goddess of magic." She shifted her gaze momentarily toward Ophelia. "Among other things.

"Many fear me," Hecate said after a moment. "But magic is neither good nor evil. It is a tool, like a knife. Is a knife evil? Only if the wielder is evil." 

"My—my mother..." Hazel stammered. "She didn't believe in magic. Not really. She was just faking it, for the money." 

The weasel chittered and bared its teeth. Then it made a squeaking sound from its back end. 

Under other circumstances, a weasel passing gas might have been funny, but Ophelia could only grimace. The rodent's red eyes glared at Hazel balefully, like tiny coals. 

Hazel sidestepped closer to Ophelia, watching the weasel with wary eyes. 

"Peace, Gale," Hecate said. "But, yes—Gale was once a disagreeable human witch. She had terrible personal hygiene, plus extreme—ah, digestive issues." Hecate waved her hand in front of her nose. "It gave my other followers a bad name." 

"Okay." Hazel tried not to look at weasel. 

"At any rate," Hecate said, "I turned her into a polecat. She's much better as a polecat." 

Hazel looked at the black dog, which was affectionately nuzzling the goddess's hand. "And your Labrador...?" 

"Oh, she's Hecuba, the former queen of Troy," Hecate said, as if that should be obvious. 

Ophelia blinked. "Of course she is."

The dog grunted.

"You're right, Hecuba," the goddess said. "We don't have time for long introductions. The point is, Hazel Levesque, your mother may have claimed not to believe, but she had true magic. Eventually, she realized this. When she searched for a spell to summon the god Pluto, I helped her find it." 

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. 

"You...?" Hazel looked lost.

"Yes." Hecate continued circling Hazel. "I saw potential in your mother. I see even more potential in you." 

Hazel stared at the goddess of magic. "My mother suffered because of that magic. My whole life—" 

"Your life wouldn't have happened without me," Hecate said flatly. "Neither of yours would, in fact." She looked purposefully toward Ophelia. "I have no time for your anger, Hazel Levesque. Neither do you. Without my help, you will die." 

Hecuba the Labrador snarled. Gale the polecat snapped its teeth and passed gas.

"What kind of help?" Hazel demanded.