My friend dropped his large frame heavily into a chair and went about trimming the end from a fresh cigar as I lit the citronella-oil-filled tiki torches that rimmed the deck. Mosquitoes had been bad this summer, and these seemed to stave them off fairly well while providing an unobtrusive light. After bringing the last torch to life, I took my seat opposite Ben at the patio table and proceeded to work on my own after-dinner smoke. I could literally feel his introspection building to a point of release and knew that the worry clouding the back of my mind would soon be summoned forward.

“You’n Felicity are still into that Wicca thing, right?” Ben queried after an extended silence.

“If you mean have we converted to Catholicism or something, no we haven’t,” I answered. “We aren’t connected with a coven right now, but we still practice. Once you’re a Witch, you usually stay a Witch.” I lit my cigar and then took a sip of my Scotch. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” he replied hesitantly.

I knew there was more to the question than mere curiosity, but I also knew better than to press this particular subject with Ben, for that would only serve to make him feel ill at ease. He had always been willing to accept that Felicity and I practiced what was considered by most to be a non-traditional religion but usually showed a clear desire to leave it in the background. Out of sight, out of mind. As with most things that didn’t fit with the majority view, the masses, including Ben, were entirely off base in their misconceptions regarding Wicca, WitchCraft and almost any other alternative religion for that matter.

I had once attempted to explain to him that Wicca and WitchCraft, or simply “The Craft” as we often call it, involved no pointed hats, bubbling cauldrons, or flying brooms. To the knowledge of any practitioner of the religion, it never did truly include such things.