Chapter Text
Heather Duke was at the end of her rope.
She had been trying for months now to stay calm, to focus on positivity, on the light that could come from her pain, but the time for that was over. As she stormed out of the cafeteria after being the butt of yet another joke, she stopped at her locker and retrieved a few items.
The only candle she had with her was white—hardly useful for the kind of spell she wanted to cast—but she had to make do with what she had. Her locker also contained a much-needed photo of Heather Chandler, who was finally going to pay for her words.
The girl’s bathroom was blissfully empty, something Heather had been counting on; it was unwise to perform spells in front of an audience.
She pulled out her candle and the picture, placing them on the floor while she knelt next to them. She was unfamiliar with this type of spellwork; she’d only ever done things that were positive and centered on improving herself.
But no amount of self-improvement was enough for Heather Chandler, and Heather Duke had had enough.
Placing the picture face up on the ground, Heather glared at Heather’s smiling face. She lit the candle, breathing hard and trying to center herself.
“All the things you’ve done to me, will now be turned and come back on thee,” She whispered. “All the things you’ve done to me, will now be turned and come back to thee.”
The candle flickered, and for a second, Heather swore something was happening. Was this was real magic felt like? Was she actually doing something?
Bolstered, she repeated the spell again. “All the things you’ve done to me, will now be turned and come back to thee.”
Her candle went out with a wisp of smoke as the door swung open.
Heather searched for a plausible explanation for what she was doing as Veronica took in the scene.
“It would work better if you held the picture up to a mirror,” Veronica said.
That hadn’t been what Heather was expecting. “What?”
“This is some kind of revenge thing, right? That’s why you have Heather’s picture? And it sounds like you’re trying to reflect your pain back on her, so you’d want to use the mirror for that.”
“Oh,” Heather said blankly, still too stunned for words. “I… thanks.”
“So how long have you been practicing?” Veronica gestured to the candle and the picture.
Heather shrugged. “A couple months. I found a book about it in the library when school first started, and I just thought ‘why not? Do you think it’s weird?”
Veronica shook her head, smiling. “Not at all. I came here because I sensed that someone was doing magic. I hoped it would be you.”
“You… sensed it?”
“Of course.”
Veronica stated this like it should have been obvious, but Heather was reeling. Veronica could sense magic? How? Did that mean Heather had actually done something magical?
“How?” It was the only one of her many questions that made its way out of her mouth.
“Let me show you.” Veronica held out her hand and Heather took it, grateful for the help up and for a rare opportunity to hold Veronica’s hand.
She led the way out of the bathroom, down the halls, and out the doors. They didn’t stop until they’d reached a small clearing behind the school.
Jason Dean— easily identifiable with his stupid coat—was kneeling on the ground, his back to them. Veronica held up her hand, stopping Heather before she could say anything.
“Orena accept my offering, leave us in peace and hold off your anger.” He dropped a lit cigarette on the ground and a bright light flared up, burning white-hot for a second before it flickered out.
He turned around and jumped. “Veronica, what… what is she doing here?”
“I told you I felt something! It was her, she was casting some kind of vengeance spell against Heather.”
“Through who?” JD asked, tilting his head to study her. Heather, uncomfortable with the scrutiny, tried to look past him to get a better look at the shrine behind him.
Veronica sighed irritably. “No one, but she’s new to this. She hasn’t heard of the secret gods yet.”
“The what?” Heather asked, her attention shifting away from JD’s shrine.
“You brought her here and she doesn’t know about the gods? Veronica, are you insane?”
“Notia called me to her, I’m sure of it. Besides, we have to bring someone in, we need a third.”
“Do you think she’s an Earth?” JD asked.
Heather was so lost they may as well have been speaking another language.
“She could be,” Veronica answered, seemingly unaware of Heather’s confusion. “She wears green, plus isn’t red hair supposed to be an Earth thing?”
“An Earth thing?” Heather said, attempting to get caught up. “What do you mean, am I an Earth?”
JD groaned. “I can’t believe you want to do this.”
“She has power, JD. We can help her use it.”
“Fine, but she’s using your book.”
Beaming, Veronica reached into her purse and pulled out a small leather-bound book. “This is my book of the gods. My patroness gave it to me when I needed it most, and now I’m sharing it with you, until you have your own.”
Heather took the book reverently, flipping it open to a random page and tracing the drawing of a white-clad woman.
Veronica reached out, letting her finger trail after Heather’s. “That’s Yarwis. She’s a goddess of earth and peace.”
Yarwis was beautiful, and Heather didn’t want to turn the page and look away from her. But it was clear, even without reading the text next to her, that Yarwis was not the warrior goddess Heather needed for her revenge.
“You should read more about Yarwis, she’s Notia’s—my patroness—sister.”
Ignoring her, Heather turned the page, letting it fall open to reveal a goddess with skin like gilded stone, her white hair blowing in a breeze as she stood over a battlefield. “Who’s she?”
JD moved to look over her shoulder. “Alida.”
Just the name sent a shiver down Heather’s spine. “She’s…”
“She’s dangerous,” JD said. “Alida is the only god who was ever part human. The story goes that her rage was so strong that it elevated her power until she’d lost her humanity and become a god.”
Heather smiled. That was more like it. “So what’s she the goddess of?”
Suspicion dawned in JD’s eyes, and something deeper and more unnamable came with it. “Revenge.”
That spoke to Heather more than she cared to admit. For all her thoughts about using witchcraft to make herself healthier and happier, she knew that secretly what she’d wanted all along was power.
And she saw power when she looked into Alida’s face. She saw something that spoke to the darkest parts of her soul. In her eyes, Heather saw someone who could bring anyone to their knees, someone who could make Heather Chandler cry. This was what a goddess was supposed to look like.
“She’s not… she’s not like the rest of the secret gods though,” JD was saying. “She’s dangerous.”
He clearly didn’t understand that Heather wanted dangerous, and she wasn’t sure she should admit it to him. She gently brushed her hand over the picture of Alida’s face, before she turned the page.
This page was a little harder to sort out. Both a god and a goddess stood back to back. A snake twined up the woman’s arm to wrap around the man’s neck, binding the two together.
JD was smiling rather affectionately at the drawing. “Voni,” He explained, “In both their forms. I tend to worship Voni’s male aspect, but her female aspect has been helpful to me too.”
“What’s the difference?” Heather asked, still confused.
“There isn’t much of one, really,” JD said, “I differentiate between them because I feel more closely tied to Voni’s male aspect, but to Voni, there is no difference unless he wants there to be one.”
Heather nodded, though it still didn’t make any sense to her. She turned the page again to find a drawing of another goddess, this one facing away from the artist, bathed in shadows. The moon rose above her, illuminating faint lines of her dress and hair.
“That’s my goddess, Notia,” Veronica said.
With her face obscured, Heather could almost imagine that she resembled Veronica. “She’s beautiful.”
“They all are,” Veronica said. She traced her fingers over the outline of the moon. “Notia is the goddess of the night and of secrets. She’s given me many gifts.”
Heather believed that; if anyone at Westerburg had been blessed by an ancient goddess, it was Veronica.
“Her sister is Yarwis, and she’s in lots of stories with Voni. She helps him with his tricks sometimes.”
“Tricks?” Heather asked. This goddess seemed too elegant to be involved with tricks.
“Voni is the god of pranks and sometimes chaos,” JD said. “Forces like Notia and Yarwis balance him out, as they’re tied to the earth and the moon, both things that follow cycles.”
“Order and chaos,” Heather said.
JD nodded. “Maybe you can get this. The secret gods’ stories often involve sets of threes, and supposedly the most powerful worshippers formed groups based on the rule that you had to have one servant of the sun, one of the moon, and one of the earth. If you have all of those, you can do things that no one could ever do alone, because you achieve balance. Veronica and I have been balancing order and chaos ourselves, but a third person, someone earth-aligned could make us unstoppable.”
It was like something from one of Heather’s lunchtime polls: If you had unlimited power, what would you do?
Heather knew she would make sure that no one could ever hurt her again. She would make it so that no one would ever want to.
“Based on that,” Veronica said, smiling and grabbing Heather’s hand, “Yarwis would be the perfect goddess for you. She’s the goddess of earth and she’s very peaceful and positive.”
Their linked hands were so distracting to Heather that it took her far too long to come up with an answer.
JD, naturally, had something to say. “It’s too soon for that. Heather is completely untested, and besides, Yarwis would need to choose her.”
“Yarwis welcomes all,” Veronica argued.
“Are you two dating?” Heather burst out. It wasn’t at all what she’d wanted to say, and it had nothing to do with their argument, but she wanted to know. Their easy arguments and the casual way they moved around each other spoke of a connection, and Heather had seen the way they looked at each other in the cafeteria.
Veronica and JD snorted at the same time, but Veronica answered first. “No. We… we did a spell together the first night, after the Remington party, but it wasn’t more than that.”
JD pressed a hand to his chest, miming hurt. “Am I worth nothing to you? I’m gutted.” He collapsed dramatically onto the fall leaves, and Veronica laughed.
“Oh,” Heather said. “Right.”
“Voni and Notia were the same way, Veronica said. “In some stories they’re lovers, but mostly they just work together to be more powerful.”
“Like all the best friendships,” JD agreed.
“What spell did you do?” Heather asked.
Veronica smiled. “I was pissed at Heather, so we sent her some bad dreams.”
“Clowns,” JD explained.
“Clowns? Why clowns?”
“She just seems like she wouldn’t like them,” JD said sagely, and Heather found herself liking him against her will.
“Since we added a little extra power to the spell,” Veronica said, blushing slightly, “She probably hasn’t been sleeping well for the last week.”
“That would explain her mood,” Heather grumbled. She had thought it had been because of Veronica’s apparent desertion, but lack of sleep would account for Heather’s especially acerbic words lately.
“Well you don’t have to spend time with her anymore,” Veronica said. “You can hang out with us and learn about the gods.”
It was a wonderful offer, but the thought of Heather’s wrath and having her secrets spilled across the school was too much for Heather. “I can’t. I have to go with her to a party tonight.”
“Right,” JD said. “That’s a logical choice. We’re only offering you magic and power and secret knowledge known only to a select few. What’s that when faced with a party?”
Veronica glared at him before turning to Heather. “Ignore him. I understand.”
They split up after that and returned to school. For Heather, it was like waking up from a dream. Had she really spent time in a clearing learning about gods and magic? She almost didn’t believe it, but the rapid beating of her heart, and the strange, tingling in her hands convinced her that it must be real.
Magic was real.
She had hoped that was true, of course. She’d done her spells, willing there to be something real about them, but to see it for sure and to know that she could be truly powerful filled her with excitement she’d never known before.
The rest of the day passed in a giddy blur as she ignored her teachers in favor of going over every word JD and Veronica had said about the secret gods over and over again in her head.
She didn’t even pay attention in English, usually one of her favorite classes. Her copy of Moby Dick sat ignored on her desk as she stared out the window, imagining herself worshipping a goddess. Though she knew JD and Veronica wanted her to choose—or be chosen by—Yarwis, her mind always returned to beautiful, terrifying, enraged Alida.
She was still floating through everything when Heather was driving her home.
“Hello, Heather? Jesus, you’re such a pillowcase.”
Heather’s eyes snapped up to meet Heather’s; she hadn’t heard what Heather had been saying. “What?”
“God, do you ever pay attention?” Heather said. “I said what are you wearing to the party tonight?”
“I haven’t really thought about it,” Heather stammered, still a little lost in the fantasy her life had become.
Heather huffed, “Just don’t look like a kid, okay? And don’t act like it either. Veronica fucked this up, and I won’t be embarrassed a second time.”
Nodding, Heather tried to control her expression so she wouldn’t look afraid. “Of course, Heather.”
With that, Heather slammed on the brakes in front of Heather’s house, and Heather slid out of the car, grateful to be gone. “Thanks for the ride, Heather.”
Once she was safely in the refuge of her home, Heather closed and locked the door. Her parents weren’t home—they almost never were—so she was on her own for the long process of digging through her closet, searching for something to wear.
The advantage of having parents that were constantly off at one charity event, mission trip, or important fundraiser or another was that no one could tell Heather that her dress was too short, even when it was.
The white dress was the sort of thing Heather Chandler would drool over, but never buy—her conservative stepmother was a stickler about proper hemlines—so Heather felt a jolt of satisfaction as she looked at her reflection.
Though Alida was still on her mind, Heather carefully avoided conjuring the image of any particular goddess when she thought, Bless me with beauty tonight. Beauty and strength.
When Heather honked to pick her up, Heather dashed downstairs, surprised at her own giddiness. Perhaps it was leftover magic from earlier, but something about tonight felt good. Change was in the air, and it hovered over Heather’s head, ready to make her life better.
The party was in a dirty house that smelled like mold and beer. Heather stood awkwardly next to Heather, trying not to let her dress touch any surface, including the people; she couldn’t trust that they were clean.
“This is Heather,” Heather said, pointing at her. “Heather, this is David and Chuck. They’re cool.” She spoke with a particular tension that Heather wasn’t used to.
It was hilarious to see Heather uncomfortable, and Heather couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Nice to meet you.”
“So,” Heather said, her tense, forced smile never faltering, “Where’s Brad?”
David snorted. “He said he’s had enough of your friends.”
If the comment bothered Heather, Heather couldn’t tell. “She didn’t want to come, so I brought Heather instead. Heather is cool, right, Heather?”
“Yeah, I’m cool,” Heather said, with another silly giggle.
“It’s weird that you’re both named Heather,” Chuck said. “Are you sisters?”
David grimaced. “No, moron, they’re not sisters. Sorry about him, he smoked a bowl before you showed up.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Bastard didn’t even share.”
Both girls laughed politely, though Heather wasn’t really sure why. The whole situation was starting to feel a bit surreal.
After they’d received drinks and were attempting awkward small talk, Heather’s giddiness faded. It was no longer fun to watch Heather try desperately to impress these idiots, who were clearly only barely paying attention to her. To combat her boredom, she drank more and went back over her conversation with Veronica in the clearing.
Veronica, Alida, Yarwis. The names danced in her head, filling her slightly drunk mind with possibilities she’d never allowed herself to consider. If goddesses and magic were real, surely anything was possible? And Veronica wasn’t seeing JD…
Chuck leaned in a little closer. “You know, it’s pretty loud in here. If we went—“
“Don’t bother with her,” Heather said, interrupting him. “I’ve never seen her do anything with anyone. She’s either the biggest prude I know, or she’s,” Heather’s smile turned cruel and she lowered her voice to a biting, audible whisper, “A dyke.”
Heather saw red. “Fuck you, Heather.” Then she grabbed Chuck and pulled him into a harsh, ugly, utterly dissatisfying kiss.
And then she turned and walked out, leaving them stunned.
She tore through the town, streets and houses blurring past her as she fought back tears, only stopping to vomit into a bush when the memory of her lips pressed against that boy’s became to overwhelming to bear. She tripped over her heels, skinning her knees and palms and streaking dirt and probably blood over her white dress.
It wasn’t until she’d arrived in Veronica’s front yard that she even realized where she was going.
Thankfully, the ladder that Veronica sometimes kept by her window so she could escape for a smoke was propped up, ready for her use, and Heather climbed into Veronica’s bedroom without a thought.
She didn’t notice JD until he stood, shocked silent at the sight of her.
“Oh my god, Heather, what happened?” Veronica stepped forward and placed her hands on Heather’s shoulders, steadying her. Her face suddenly went chalk-white. “Oh no. They didn’t—“
“I’m fine,” Heather stuttered through her tears, realizing what Veronica must have thought. “I just,” She hiccupped once before she managed to continue, “Heather said… she said…”
But Heather couldn’t make herself repeat what she’d said. “She made a joke about… what I do after lunch.” Heather’s distrustful eyes slipped over JD, not sure how he’d react.
His face was stony and blank, perfectly masking whatever he was thinking.
Veronica, on the other hand, had a curious expression that combined horror, fury, sympathy, and sadness all at the same time.
In a better mood, Heather would have thought it was beautiful. She found it rather beautiful even now.
Gently, Veronica took Heather’s scraped hand between hers, brushing her thumb over the raw, torn skin. “Notia, I ask your blessing and your help that we might hide this pain and keep it concealed, lost like a memory in your night.”
There was a curious, soft, cold feeling brushing over her skin, as if her hands had been wrapped in silk and then buried in snow. When she’d mustered up the courage to look at them, there was no trace of the cuts, and only faint smudges of blood remained.
Veronica beamed. “That worked nicely.”
JD crossed the room to examine her hands. “Very good. That’s powerful stuff.”
“It was easy,” Veronica bragged. “Maybe Heather helped me.”
Though she still felt torn and ragged on the inside, Heather found herself smiling. “How… magical.”
Veronica was still holding Heather’s hands, and when Heather looked up to meet her eyes, there was a pause as they smiled at each other.
Dyke.
Heather’s harsh whisper entered her head, and Heather snatched her hands away, feeling the tears build up at the back of her throat.
Veronica glanced away, no longer smiling, and Heather felt a single hot tear slide down her cheek.
“We should do something,” JD said. His face was still unreadable, but he stepped away and began to pace Veronica’s bedroom. “More than bad dreams.”
“Are you talking about revenge?” Veronica asked.
“Sort of,” JD said. “Mostly I’m talking about acting in the interests of my god. Voni believes that the mighty must be brought down, must be laughed at. My prank with the gun on my first day here was a tribute to him, in that way. Heather is just begging to be brought down.”
Veronica glanced at Heather so quickly Heather almost didn’t see it. “I’m in. Heather, what do you want to do?”
Something in the back of Heather’s mind started to tingle and she shivered pleasantly. She thought about the lie she’d told them about what Heather had mocked her for. “I want… I want to make Heather puke her guts out.” What she really wanted was for Heather to never speak to her, or anyone else, ever again, but she couldn’t say that. Veronica had heard too many of Heather’s insults to believe that this was the one that sent Heather over the edge.
“An excellent choice.” JD smiled. “We’ll go to her house tomorrow and fix her a little hangover cure that’ll induce her to spew red, white, and blue.”
“Charming,” Heather said, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t hold back her smile. Finally, things might be going her way.
They slept in Veronica’s bedroom; all three sprawled across the floor, with Veronica’s book of the gods on the floor between them. They’d all eventually fallen asleep after over an hour of reading stories out of the book, and practicing the occasional spell.
Heather rolled over. She hadn’t tried any magic, as she didn’t yet have a goddess to sponsor it, but though JD and Veronica had pressed her to practice a little with Yarwis, to see how it felt, she’d demurred.
Carefully avoiding her name, Heather thought about the goddess she wanted to call upon, even knowing that Veronica wouldn’t approve. She fell asleep contemplating revenge with a smile on her face.
They broke into Heather’s house bright and early the next morning. There was something oddly satisfying about being in Heather’s kitchen without her knowledge.
Heather had the odd urge to throw a plate into a wall, or smash vase, just so Heather would have to clean it up later.
JD surveyed the kitchen. “Voni, guide us so that we can get back at this bitch.”
For a moment, they all stood in the center of the kitchen, not doing anything except awkwardly making eye contact with each other.
The JD crossed the room to the fridge. “What about milk and orange juice?”
“Heather can’t drink milk,” Veronica said, “It makes her sick.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
“Or,” Veronica said, even though JD was already pouring milk into a glass, “We could cook up some soup and put it in a coke!”
Heather shuddered as a wave of revulsion swept through her.
JD seemed to agree with her. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard. We’ll keep in mind.”
“It looks weird,” Heather said, staring at the combination in the glass, which was separating, “Put it in this.” She handed JD a mug, into which he poured the mixture.
Heather wasn’t sure it could make Heather sick enough for her to feel satisfied. Their dumb little potion looked far too innocuous, and though she knew that dairy made Heather sick, Heather doubted that one glass of milk would match the stomach-churning horror, disgust, and pain that one single word had caused in Heather.
“I’ll carry the glass,” Heather said, taking it out of JD’s hands.
“Okay.” He eyed her with some suspicion, but turned and led the way out of the kitchen, Veronica and Heather at his heels.
Heather stared at the glass. Dyke. The word echoed in her head, sharp like glass. She knew that she would hear that word over and over again now that Heather knew it hurt her.
Do something about it, A brittle, soft voice murmured in the back of her mind. Make her stop.
She gripped the mug tighter. Let this work; let this be my great revenge. Let it silence Heather for good so that she can never hurt me again.
For a second, Heather thought she felt the mug get warm, but it was over so fast it must have been her imagination. Shaking her head to clear away her thoughts, she climbed the stairs and entered Heather’s bedroom behind Veronica.
Heather shifted on the bed, sitting up and removing the stupid pink eye mask she always slept in. “Oh Jesus, what is this? An intervention?”
Veronica nudged Heather to step forward, and she did. “Actually, Heather, it’s an apology. I,” She swallowed hard, “I shouldn’t have run off like that last night.”
“Cute,” Heather said, not appearing overly impressed. “Did you tell them what happened?” Her eyes flicked between Veronica and Heather, and she lifted one eyebrow in a suggestion. “Did Veronica comfort you?”
“Drink this,” Heather said, and it came off as more of a command than she’d meant it too. She took a breath and softened her voice. “We made you a hangover cure. It’ll make you feel better.”
Heather scoffed. “I’m not drinking that piss.”
JD shrugged and started to turn away. “I told you it would be too intense for her. Let’s go.”
They shuffled toward the door, and bitter regret curled in Heather’s stomach. She had failed.
“Ugh, give me the cup, jerk.” Heather got out of the bed and took the cup roughly from Heather’s hands. In the last second she saw it, Heather thought the liquid was blue, rather than the milky orange it was supposed to be.
She dismissed the thought as a trick of the light until Heather crashed through the glass coffee table.
JD, Veronica, and Heather stared at Heather’s body in silent shock.
“Oh my god, I just killed my best friend,” Veronica whispered.
“And my worst enemy,” Heather said, so quietly she was sure neither of the other’s could hear. Louder, she said, “What do we do?”
JD appeared frozen in shock. “What have we done? Voni… what…” Whatever prayer or absolution he might have attempted died on his lips as he continued to watch Heather’s body as though it might get up and mock them all for believing in her performance.
But a heavy certainty weighed on Heather, and she knew that Heather wouldn’t get up, that there was no life left in her.
“I betrayed my god,” JD whispered. “It was just supposed to be a prank. What happened?” He picked up the mug, staring into it. “It’s blue. But it…”
Heather’s stomach clenched. Blue.
“I dedicated this to Voni, but I didn’t mean to…” JD trailed off. Of course they hadn’t meant to.
Heather glanced away, not sure that she hadn’t meant to.
“We have to hide this,” Veronica looked around the room as if some way to hide a body would present itself.
Heather looked down at the book that was lying next to Heather on the shattered remains of the table. “She was reading The Bell Jar.”
JD met her eyes, horror and interest all over his face, as he comprehended her idea. “If this wasn’t… if it wasn’t a murder…”
“What are you talking about?” Veronica asked, “Clearly, it was a murder!”
“What if it was a suicide thing?” JD looked a little sick.
“Oh my god,” Veronica whispered. But she picked up a pen and paper off of Heather’s vanity. “Notia, help me to hide this, the greatest of my secrets and crimes. Let me write with Heather’s hand a note that no one will question, and veil the eyes of all who suspect with your night.”
She began to write.
When the note was done, she left it next to the body, and JD wiped off whatever fingerprints they might have left on the cup before placing it back in Heather’s hand. “Voni protect us all.”
Heather was the only one who wasn’t feeling solemn. Heather Chandler was gone. Truly gone, and she could never hurt anyone again.
Especially Heather.
The thought brought a smile to Heather’s face, which she quickly had to smother, as the other’s clearly hadn’t yet realized that this was a good thing. They would though. Tomorrow, they would go to school, and they would see how much better it had become.
That night, lying in bed, Heather finally allowed herself to be honest about what had happened, about what she had done. She stared up into the darkness around her bed and whispered, “Thank you, Alida.”
The next morning, the copy of Moby Dick she’d left on her nightstand was gone; in its place was a book of the gods.