Secrets in the Household

Chapter 1, The Council of Beads

“Let me get this straight,” said Amethyst, Valley’s most voracious Bead in the Council of Beads, “you think just because you’re having some symptoms of menopause that that’s an excuse to NOT toil over your cauldron anymore?”

“Correct,” said Valley, joining the Monday morning meeting by turning herself upside-down on the floor with her feet thrown over her priceless antique Victorian couch in the front room. She tilted her head up and could observe Amethyst, Citrine, Malachite (and their crack support team, the Freshwater Pearls.) from upside-down, a very good vantage point.

“Really, Valley, we need you to work with us on this,” chorused back Citrine, who was a kind of a yes-man to Amethyst. “It’s not as if you have no powers left. I mean, we didn’t appoint a financial advisor & mentor to you so you could sit around & mope.”

“I’m not moping. I’m depressed, remember I explained the difference to you guys the Last Time we met?” said the beautiful witch who no longer cared what she looked like in the morning, so Valley’s long dark witch hair stayed unwashed for days at time, clinging in a greasy mess down the back of her black dress. But, in regards to the depression, no matter how often Valley tried to explain it; she always got the same guff. “why are you still moping? Cheer up!” From the beads; from everyone!

Valley’s rap went something like this: This depression isn’t hers, she can’t help it, it’s a thing put on her by Rasputin, and it wasn’t going to go away any time soon. Meanwhile, Valley positioned herself up-side-down on the advice of her New Best Friend Vlad, who wasn’t new to her at all, but a nice old rich vampire friend who was trying to give her advice on dealing with Rasputin, her enemy, her ex-husband and her depression parasite thing.

Malachite, who out of all the Council of Beads sympathized most with Valley, said, “Hasn’t your “yoga sessions” with Vlad been helping you at all?”

Valley shrugged her shoulder even while she was leaning on it upside-down in the same position & black dress & hose she’d been in for the last day or two, “a little.” Actually, the best thing about Vlad is he had great weed to smoke, and that as much as Vlad’s version of Yoga, and Vlad’s stories about a being a New York City artist in the 1980’s when he was alive, cheered her up more than anything.

The Council appointed mentor & advisor was, it turned out, an old lover of Vlad’s – Peter Pan, also known as simply “Pan”, for Vlad had had that nickname when he was young too. Pan and Valley hit it right off, and Pan was even more fun than Vlad at times, However, Valley’s beloved spouse, Kilby, sat jealously stewing in his own juices whenever Pan was around. Instead of talking money, they mostly exchanged gossip about Vlad, and rarely were any financial chores completed, signed off, or whatever.

But Valley just didn’t care anymore, and she only just cared enough for Kilby’s feelings to stop the blatant flirting with Pan, all buff in his three piece worsted wool suit, a investor guy! It was driving Kilby to drink, and Valerian was acting like she didn’t care about that either! But this was hardly the first crisis in their 16 year long marriage. It had survived far worse, but Kilby felt he was getting the short end of the stick playing “Mr. Root” to a famous, beautiful witch. The act had just been going on for too long.

Valley listened a little longer to the ridiculous speech Amethyst was making; something about the property taxes needed to be paid. She pushed her feet up further over the couch and thought about Vlad’s latest advice to put on a pair of vampire teeth and repeat, Bela Lagossa like, “I vant to suck your blood.” Over and over again like a manta. (“What the hell is the suppose to do,” asked the depressed witch. “Nothing much,” said Vlad, “it’s just something that always makes me feel better, so try it. Laugh maniacally right after that. The teeth are the important part, so make sure you get good ones.”)

Soon, she heard her name being called.

“Valerian,” said Amethyst in her I’m-in-no-mood-for-you-today-lady voice, “You’re not really giving up on your primary source of income, hosting the Sabbats, are you?”

Carefully, Valley divulged what she was thinking. “I’m looking for a stand-in. Don’t worry about the money! Screw all that. I have to get well first. Nothing is going to happen if I don’t remove this “work” of Rasputin’s.”

But Rasputin’s “work”, unlike all his other work, worked this time, or at least it SUNK into Valley’s pours, and so she was “worked”. And so far, not one single healer had been able to unhex her. So a little less than a year ago Valley fell into the valley of depression that was now an everyday thing for her. It was nothing to cry all day, or most of the day, over nothing. It was ruining her marriage to Kilby, who she loved, ruining her life, as she knew it. But the depression had one great thing about it; it made her too tired to even care anymore. It was too much to even get out of bed in the morning, that alone was enough of a job; even breathing was hard to focus on,

Let alone hosting a Sabbat. Yeah, it was like asking a 95 year old grandma to cook dinner for a brod of 100 like she always did. They’d still expect it of her even if she had to crawl over to the cauldron and stir on her knees to get it done.

Kilby came down stairs looking for his wife. It was one of the few times during the week he knew exactly where to find her, in a meeting with the Beads, where they tried as hard as they could to coax her in to being normal for a change. Valley didn’t even care about impressing the Beads anymore. (to be continued)