She was so confused right now. She’d ask the Goddess for guidance as the ritual continued.
Harmony blessed the altar while she and her sisters walked the circle three times clockwise, Caramello and Samantha following them and amusing Morgan.
Harmony circled and cleansed with salt; Storm circled and cleansed with water, each invoking the Goddess of death and rebirth on this special night.
Destiny circled and cleansed with incense:
“I invoke Meggie’s spirit of joy.
You have a brother and sister for eternity.
I invoke Buffy’s protectiveness,
And thank her for her protection.
“I invoke Horace and his family,
Dear Ida and their babe.
Horace will soon be with you.
You have a family for eternity.”
That’s when Destiny realized why she hadn’t been able to say yes to marrying the man she loved. Yes, they could be together in this realm, but there would be no single place for a couple of their diverse faith and belief systems in other realms for eternity.
Not being able to move on with Morgan didn’t bear thinking about.
When the circle walk ended, Destiny retired to the fainting couch, where Morgan waited for her. Would he always be forced to wait?
In her heart, Destiny prayed for a miracle.
God, Goddess,
Those who’ve gone before,
Help us find a way
To a life evermore.
The ritual circle had been outlined with colorful crystals, alternating with vases of orange and gold bittersweet, to honor the harvest; red and green holly to honor the Holly King; and red, yellow, and orange oak sprigs, to honor the Oak King. Marsh grass had also been added to honor their ritual location.
Morgan sat on the edge of her fainting couch and took her hand.
“Are you okay in the middle of a witch circle?” she whispered.
“Nearly content,” he whispered leaning close, “except that I’m on pins and needles waiting for my fair witch to say yes.”
“Pray for the right answer during the ritual.”
“Oh, I am,” he said, kissing her brow.
She cupped his cheek. “So am I.”
On the altar, candle colors and scents honored the season as did the orange altar cloth, the wooden bowl of apples, pomegranates, pumpkins, and gourds—gifts of the harvest—and a pentacle made of bittersweet branches. The ritual cauldron held a smoking smudge braid of sweetgrass, which gave off a soothing scent. Also on the altar, Harmony’s ritual knife, her athame, their three wands, one tipped with amethyst, one with aquamarine, one with citrine, and a blue ceramic chalice. On this particular day of the dead, a cornucopia of candy also sat on the Samhain altar for Meggie, their child ghost.
In the dark parlor, candles shed the only light from every corner, creating a spiritual and ghostly ambience. Floating tea lights stood on each dark, invisible stair, tapers on mantels, and pillar candles in harvest wreaths on tables and chairs.
Caramello purred in Morgan’s arms, and Samantha snored in Destiny’s lap. Family filled her heart and mind.
Meggie, with Buffy and Horace, stood quietly to the side, watching.
Destiny sent a nod their way, and Meggie waved as Destiny began her chant:
“Call down the moon,
Lift the veil,
Call down the sun,
Let us hail.
The spirits are here
Of those we hold dear.
“Call down the stars
For those we love,
Call down the angels
For those we’ve lost,
Journey’s end, a place to spend
Eternity in the Summerland.”
Harmony waved her wand over the feast of the dead to bless the harvest vegetables, fruit, pumpkin bread, and pomegranate wine, which they would share with each other, the deities, and the spirits, in celebration on this Samhain night.
“This feast we leave
This Samhain Eve.
Those passed to nourish
As they slip the veil.”
Storm lit a black tea light.
“This year dies
On harvest skies
But life takes place
In Goddess grace.”
Destiny lit a black tea light.
“Good come to us each one
Negative from us begone
May the new season bring
Love, light, and blessings.”
Harmony lit a black tea light.
“Each beginning an end
Each end a beginning
Bless us here and those apart
Blessed be; you hold our hearts.”
Morgan stepped up and placed Meggie’s doll on the altar. “On this night, I remember my twin, Meggie. Meghan, my sweet; my heart that was broken and hollowed at your loss is now mended and full. I loved you then. I love you now. I always will. I will love you until we meet again—”
He turned to Destiny. “Where?”
“In the Summerland,” Destiny replied.
“Megs, until we meet again in the Summerland. God-speed.”
Destiny brought Horace’s uniform cap and a baby bonnet that Ida had embroidered. “I remember my friend Horace, who led Morgan through the tunnel maze beneath the lighthouse to find me. Blessed be, Horace, Ida, and baby makes three. Peace dear family for eternity.”
Harmony placed one of their nana’s mirrors on the altar, the one in which she had seen Lisette wearing the gown that brought her to Paxton Castle, to the love of her life—had brought each of the triplet triad to the loves of their lives, Destiny realized. “Nana, we missed you in life and mourn you in death,” Harmony said. “We’ve lived in your home, worked in your shop, known you better, and loved you more. Thank you for preparing Vickie to receive us. You carry all our hearts in the Summerland.”
Storm placed their many great-grandmother Lili’s diary and book of shadows on the altar. “Lili of Clan Lockhart, grandmother, matriarch, Pictish witch, your message we heed, and your heritage we keep. With the laird of Mackenzie, may your love bloom sweet in the Summerland.”
Destiny looked to see if, by any chance, Nana or Lili had joined them this night, but they had not, yet she knew that all their ancestors were smiling down on them in spirit.
Storm and Aiden, together, brought to the altar a copper seahorse necklace fashioned by the mother of Aiden’s baby daughter, their baby now. “Claudette,” Storm said. “We’re raising Becky so she knows that you gave her life. Bright blessings.”
Aiden cleared his throat. “We’re raising her with love, Claude, and with a big sister named Pepper. Your mother is with us, too. Rest in peace.”
Destiny swallowed hard. Most of their loved ones were still with them, praise the Goddess, though their babies and some of their siblings, whether by birth or adopted, were either asleep nearby, or elsewhere, by necessity.
Harmony blessed and included each in the celebration by name:
“We thank the Goddess and ask for blessings for our half sister, Vickie, her husband Rory, and their little Rory in Scotland.
“For our half sister, Pepper, for Aiden and Storm’s baby Becky, and Becky’s grandmother Ginny, all here on the island at the windmill.
“Bless Regina and Jake, King’s daughter and grandson, our dear friends, Melody and Logan, Kira and Jason, and their children. And bless our own babes soon to come.”
Destiny and her sisters regarded each other with inquiry, their triplet telepathy running rampant. “Not me” became the mantra, with a wink and a “yet” after each, except for Destiny who abstained from adding “yet,” the omission nearly breaking her.
Harmony changed the music to the golden moldy “Monster Mash” for an upbeat ritual celebration of life and after-life, to which they could dance in the circle with the spirits.
Harmony and King, Aiden and Storm, swung their booties with enthusiasm, but Morgan took her tenderly in his arm
s, so tenderly that Destiny fell deeper in love, if that were possible, and he waltzed her in place so as not to hurt her, his love for her shining in his eyes.
How could she resist? And yet they were so different.
She wanted to weep for what they could never have.
To end the ritual, they a shared a feast to thank God and Goddess, with pumpkin bread, honey, apples, and pomegranate wine, leaving a piece and sip of each on the altar for the deities.
Before her sisters and brothers-in-law left, they placed the bowl of harvest fruits and vegetables on the porch for the wandering spirits of their loved ones to refresh themselves during their earth-side journey this night.
Neither her sisters nor Morgan would let Destiny off the fainting couch to say good-bye, so she accepted their blessings and kisses from there.
Morgan saw them to the door, and they left, flashlights in hand, Aiden and Storm for their home at the windmill, King and Harmony for their home at the castle, all here on the island.
“For the first time in years,” Morgan said, as he closed the door behind him and turned to her. “I feel as if I’m home and nearly whole and happy. I want only one thing more to make life perfect.”
He sat beside her and took her hand. “Kismet, marry me. Be my wife.”
Destiny had never wanted anything more. She cupped his cheek. “Morgan, you’ve often placed more emphasis on my being a witch than a person.”
“As it turns out, I’m proud to have a witch who loves me. An outstanding woman who loves me.”
“But a witch and an ex-priest, Morgan. It’ll never work. Be reasonable.”
“Do you know what Destiny and Kismet also mean?” he asked her. “They mean preordained. You were meant to be mine before I made the wrong turn in my life that led to my being ordained. They also mean inevitability. Before I met you, I recognized my ordination as a mistake. Give me credit for knowing when I was on the wrong path, but also give me credit for knowing when I’m on the right one. You are my right path.”
“Oh, Morgan.”
“Kismet, call us what you will, a witch and an architect, a woman and a man. Whatever I call you, like witch, and whatever you call me, like grumblestiltskin, I love you. I’ll respect your beliefs; you know I will, as I know you’ll respect mine, for witch or for poorer, for as long as we both shall live.”
“And into eternity,” Meggie’s angel said. “My father’s house has many mansions.”
Destiny gasped.
Morgan grinned. “I forgot, but it’s true.”
Destiny welled up. “There is a place for us, now and forever. Here, and in the Summerland, or in heaven, Valhalla, the promised land. Whatever it’s called, it’s a place on a plane in whatever realm we visit from here.”
“That about sums it up. Marry me, Destiny. You are my destiny. She is, isn’t she, Buffy? Meggie? Horace?”
Destiny’s heart overflowed as their specter spectators, and the angel she would always remember, gave their approval. Yes, Buffy nearly did smile.
“A place for us together, for eternity. Thank you, Buffy,” Destiny whispered. “That’s what I needed to hear. Forever is important to me.” Destiny took her love’s hand and kissed each battered knuckle. “Yes, Morgan, I’d be honored to be your wife.”
Morgan hooted, his aura a bright wide band of blue—love—and he crushed her gently to him and kissed her with an amazing enthusiasm, considering their audience.
When he finished, Buffy nodded her approval. “It’s time for me to take Meggie and Horace home now.”
“Oh no,” Destiny said, sadness welling up in her until it overflowed and wet her cheeks.
“No, Meggie, not when I can finally see you,” Morgan pleaded, panic cracking his voice. “I love you, Megs. We’ll be together again. All of us.”
Destiny grasped his trembling hand.
Meggie looked sad yet strangely elated. “I love you, Morgan, but it’s time. The empty place in your heart is full again. Destiny, thank you for filling it. I love you, too.”
Buffy spread her wings to a span that filled the parlor, a magnificent sight. “Horace and Meggie have fulfilled their entwined destinies,” the angel said, “to set Morgan free of guilt and loneliness and to give him the soul mate he yearned for but wouldn’t allow himself.
Buffy nodded her way. “Destiny, we were also here to protect you in the tower for reasons that will soon become clear to you. Know, too, that your psychic reason for being is entwined with Morgan.”
The angel opened her hands over their heads.
Destiny and Morgan knelt and clasped hands to receive her blessing.
“No more guilt,” the angel said. “No regrets. May love, light, laughter, and bright blessings be yours now and into eternity.”
Buffy stepped away and raised her wings toward her charges.
Morgan clasped Destiny in his arms as they watched Buffy, Horace, then his sister turn to vapor.
But Meggie’s parting words lingered like a kiss on the cheek and a song on the wind.
“There are three. Safe as can be. Name one after me.”
Annette Blair’s award-winning paranormals owe their beginnings to a root canal and a reluctant trip to Salem, Massachusetts, where she stumbled into the serendipitous role of Accidental Witch Writer. Magic or destiny, Annette’s bewitching romantic comedies are national bestsellers. With twenty-two novels sold to date, Annette will have four new releases and begin two new series in 2009. Contact her through her website at www.annetteblair.com.
Turn the page for
a peak at the first book in
a brand new magical series
from bestselling author Annette Blair
The Naked Dragon
Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!
TIME to cast the spell. Andra, Goddess and sorceress, took a long, last look at Bastian, her huge, shimmering, tawny gold dragon.
“Why the earthen plane?” he asked.
“It is where you came from, and no place needs white knights more.” They were quick studies, her dragons. They could ape anyone, learn languages and customs, though they locked their emotions in thick-walled cells. Living earthside would fix that.
Reluctantly, she raised her arms toward the firmament to chant her spell:
“Cloaked by the gatekeeper moon
From Killian, Crone of Chaos and Doom.
Knight to beast, now back again.
Make Bastian dragon a splendid man.”
Pain seared Andra. The palm trees began to undulate. A warning storm. Killian had cast a counter spell and bound it to hers. She might never know its effect, but every dragon she turned would suffer it.
Whatever Killian’s stigma, the time had come for her to send Bastian, the first of her knights, to safety. If anyone could establish a Dragon community on Earth, he could.
Only if Bastian survived, could she send his fellow dragons—his fellow knights—by turning them back into men, one by one, moon by moon, to save them.
Somehow, Killian had failed to destroy the man Bastian had once been. It appeared as if, between Andra and Killian, they’d created a stronger man. Earthside, he would be the tallest of the tall and the broadest of the broad. His strapping back, roped with muscle, looked smooth as welk skin. Pleased with his firm man-buttocks, she began circling him. She skimmed her gaze down a brawny arm and faced him, his tapered feet, his muscular calves, his hard thighs, and—“Oh, dear!”
The result of Killian’s counter spell pointed her way in firm accusation.
Bastian frowned at his flawed erection. “Do Earth men have such long . . . what is it called?” His man-voice sounded like warm quarry stones scraping one against the other.
“A penis,” Andra said.
“Ah, yes, but I do not recall such length or that man-penises have scales beneath the skin, or arrowed tips like dragon tails.”
Andra denied her envy. “The better to please the earth woman whose true heart speaks to yours.”
As if chis
eled from cliff rock, Bastian frowned. “How will I know her?”
“The one you seek will likely be alone. She may have rivers flowing from her eyes and will seem shunned by men. Her figure might be rounder than some, her face plainer, but her heart will be pure and beautiful, and it will speak to yours. She will not like who she is or what she looks like. You will change that. Part of your task is to make her quest your own. As you struggle toward that goal, the dragon in you will clamor to be set free. Resist with all the strength in you.”
“If I fail?”
“You will perish. As will your brother dragons. If you succeed, you will live as a mortal man again. Free from Killian’s evil forever. Then I will send your brothers, each with his own quest.”
“When will you join us?” Bastian asked.
Andra tossed him into the mist. “Earth is not my home,” she whispered.
“Neither is it mine!” Bastian shouted on the wind.
HE landed naked upon a thorn bush.
No longer protected by armor or scales, Bastian roared at the searing pain and shot to his feet. Dreadful notion. He’d retained his strong dragon leap. After downing three trees and cracking his skull, he landed flat on his back, his bones rattling, the earth trembling beneath him.
Pain teased his inner dragon, but he’d keep the beast in check, or suffer the consequences.
In the trees that survived, a banquet of birds cawed with laughter. A delicious-looking morsel with long ears landed on his chest and wiggled its nose in disdain.
Wishing for his long, pointy dragon teeth, Bastian dislodged the haughty, puff-tailed meal as he rose and shivered. So this was rescue? Prickly trees, crisp air, cold feet, and a flawed man-spike?
Yes, he’d breached the veil between the planes, but at what cost? Except for a cozy cave or two, Earth appeared to have little to offer.
Never Been Witched Page 23
