She led him over to the gathering of people and introduced him. “I know you won’t remember everyone’s names,” she said when she was finished, “but you may remember a few of them.”
He nodded. “So what will happen now?”
“We arrange the altar and light the candles and censer, then cast the circle. We’ve brought gifts that have a meaning to us, and we’ll decorate the tree with them. After that, we’ll see if anyone comes through to contact us. We ask that you remember not to break the circle once we form it, Nick. We’ll release it when the ceremony is done.”
“Since I came here at your invitation, I’ll respect your purposes and directives,” he assured her. “But that doesn’t mean I believe for one damned minute I’m going to see you talk to dead people.”
“Souls, Nick,” she said with a smile. “It’s the souls we communicate with. Now, I believe we’re ready to start.”
Leaving Nick standing beside Sybilla, Wendi approached the altar again. The gathering grew silent, and she stood before the altar, preparing herself emotionally and forming the proper respect. She lifted her arms toward the moon, the symbol of their Goddess.
“Mother Goddess, our Queen, on this Bealtane we have come to honor you and your union with Father God.” Picking up the ritual broom leaning against the altar, she turned and handed it to Cassandra.
“Mother Goddess, we cleanse our circle to honor you, showing our respect by giving you an orderly arena where you can show your presence,” Cassandra said. She walked around the area, cleaning it with wide sweeps, while the others chanted “Mother Goddess, we honor you.” Once the circle satisfied Cassandra, she began casting the circle of stones, which Wendi handed her one by one from beside the altar.
“Spirit of the North Stone,” Cassandra said, taking the flat stone to the north side of the gathering and laying it reverently on the ground, “we call on you and all the energies of the north to aid us in our celebration this night.”
She repeated the appropriate chant for each stone Wendi handed her, the South Stone, East Stone and West Stone. Then she took the purple cord from Wendi and laid it around the circle, connecting the stones and enclosing them inside. Wendi added her mental strength to the minds of those of the other coven members, drawing a barrier around them, delineated by the purple cord. Like everyone else, except perhaps Nick, she could feel them being cut off from the rest of the world--their area become a sacred place to honor their Goddess and where they could petition their needs.
“Our circle is complete,” Cassandra murmured. “We ask that no one break it until we release it.”
Wendi turned back to the altar, lighting the candles and the incense in the censer as she spoke the age-old chants. Then she picked up the bowl of water and held it out, touching it with the point of the sacred knife in her other hand.
“I consecrate and cleanse this water, making it suitable to dwell in our sacred Circle of Stones. In the name of Mother Goddess and Father God, I consecrate it in their honor.”
She repeated her actions with a stone bowl of salt. “I bless this salt and cleanse it to make it fittingly pure to dwell in our sacred circle, which we have prepared to welcome Mother Goddess and honor her union with Father God.”
When the altar suited her, she turned. Everyone concentrated together during a long moment of silence. She could feel the energy in the air, the welcoming atmosphere waiting for the Goddess to honor them with her presence. One more step of the ceremony needed taken first, however.
Wendi waved a hand at the tree. One by one, each person walked up to the pile of wrapped offerings and picked up their own. In strong voices, unashamed to let the others know of their desires, they spoke of their respect and their needs at the moment. And also what they desired for their futures, which they hoped their gift would help the Goddess be more inclined to grant them. When it was Sybilla’s turn, Wendi stepped away from the altar and joined her.
They picked up their separate cheesecloth bags, tied with bright red, white and green ribbons. Wendi had no idea what was in Sybilla’s, since they’d prepared them privately, but hers was a combination of things. The red and white ribbons were the colors of the Goddess and God, and she’d added green indicating money to assure them of having clients enough through the following season to keep their cupboards filled.
Inside, she’d placed one of the hairs from the curl Sybilla had clipped from her mother’s hair before her burial. She’d added some dried jasmine buds, her mother’s favorite scent as well as hers, and a small segment of one of her mother’s dresses. She’d written a plea on a piece of paper, using lemon juice so it would be invisible to anyone unless they knew how to manifest the writing. To honor the Goddess, she’d added dried red rosebuds and cinnamon, and some anise and yarrow to facilitate communication with the spirits and souls.
She hung her bag on the tree and tied the ribbons, then stepped back and said, “Mother Goddess, I come to you on this day of your union to honor you and Father God. I come also to beg your help and ask that you call upon my mother, who resides with you in your world. For all I do, it seems not enough to strengthen my powers and use them to help others as they are intended. More often than not, my spectrum remains dark and the karma is unsettled.”
She glanced at Nick, then back at the tree branch. “I believe something in the past is left disrupted, and that it’s effecting me today. I believe it involves my mother, and I feel I need her final Book of Shadows to aid me in resolving the past, so my future can once again become what it should be.”
She stepped back and Sybilla tied her bag onto the same branch. “I honor you, Mother Goddess, as I have all these years,” she said. “My magic is weakening, and I believe it is for the same reason Wendi’s magic is not developing. We ask your help, Mother.”
Suddenly a wind grew, whipping the women’s skirts and the men’s shirt sleeves. Overhead, thunder growled and a cloud scuttled across the moon. The wind picked up a small cyclone of dust, which whirled toward the altar, rose into a vaguely human shape, then died along with the wind. Wendi heard Nick gasp, but the rest of the coven murmured a welcome, knowing their Goddess had blessed them with her presence.
In the resulting silence, the candles burned brightly, their flames completely unaffected by the wind. Wendi chanced another glance at Nick and a probe into his mind, finding him suitably impressed by the candles’ undiminished flames.
She moved over beside Nick and murmured, “Can you feel her presence?”
He stared down at her, a skeptical look on his face. “I don’t feel a damned thing except a dampness from the humidity. By the way, when does everyone get naked?”
Clenching her hands, Wendi reminded herself he was a human, not a warlock. Still, a desire to turn him into a toad for only a brief instant, to see how he would react to that, filled her mind. And they had enough magic here tonight to do that, if she decided to carry through with it and her own magic fell short of the mark.
No, whispered in her mind. Sybilla’s voice, with a tinge of laughter in it. She turned and caught her aunt’s eye. A smile on her lips, Sybilla shook her head to confirm her command.
All right, Wendi thought back to her. But he better watch his mouth!
“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said to Nick. “But this isn’t a ceremony when we worship without the encumbrance of clothing.”
“Too bad,” he murmured, scanning her with his eyes.
Sick and tired of his effrontery, she returned his look boldly.
“Yes, isn’t it?” she replied, satisfied to see him flick his eyes away from her for a brief second in discomfort.
Suddenly Cassandra called out, “She’s becoming stronger!”
As soon as Cassandra spoke, Wendi felt the presence. Had she not been focused on Nick, she would have felt it immediately. Disgusted with her distraction and lack of honor for the important ceremony, she turned abruptly and joined the gathering, which had formed a circle around Cassandra.
“She’s been honored toni
ght,” Sybilla said in a soft voice. “The Goddess will speak through her.”
“I’m only here for a brief moment,” Cassandra said, but the melodious voice wasn’t hers. “I deeply cherish the honor you bestow on me tonight, and you will all have my favorable wishes for your needs and desires to come true. I must go now.”
“Wait!” Wendi leaped forward, but Sybilla grabbed the back of her dress and hissed for her to stop.
Cassandra looked at Wendi and said, still in the Goddess’s voice, “I know what you want. It is time, but it is not time yet. You must have patience, but you must not wait. The courses of the stars have merged favorably, but you must be true to the pathway set out for you. This I say to you. This you must understand and do.”
Cassandra closed her eyes, then wilted. Colin was beside her in a second, catching her before she hit the ground, picking her up in his arms and carrying her over to the altar to sit on one of the stones.
Cassandra woke quickly, sat up and smiled at everyone. “Oh, I feel so wonderful. And I feel certain my child will be a girl now.”
Nick harumphed behind Wendi, and she whirled on him. “You could at least have the courtesy to keep your skepticism to yourself,” she whispered furiously, unsure whether her anger stemmed from his presence or the Goddess’s enigmatic dictate. “I don’t come into your church and mock your beliefs!”
“I don’t go to church,” he said in a bleak voice.
He started to leave, but Wendi grabbed his arm. “Don’t! You can’t leave until we release the circle.”
His muscles bunched beneath her fingers and he glared down at her. “Then you better release the damned thing. I’ve wasted enough time here with this little farce.”
She stepped back and studied him. “It was your own decision to come here. No one forced you. Evidently you had some hope that you’d find something here, or you wouldn’t have wasted your valuable time on this farce.”
“Touche’,” Nick admitted with a shrug. “But now I know I was right to begin with. Whatever powers you appear to have are some sort of trick with chemicals and mind control attempts. All that happened here was your chosen spokeswoman made some pre-selected remarks in a disguised voice. I didn’t even have the pleasure of seeing a bunch of naked people dancing around a fire, as the rumors say happens at your witchcraft gatherings.”
She gritted her teeth, refusing to continue the verbal sparring. “But you owe me in return now,” she said. “Whatever you feel you did not get here tonight, you were given the opportunity. Now it’s my turn.”
“For what?” he snarled.
“To search your house for the Book of Shadows,” she told him. “That was the understood agreement.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Cassandra pick up the sacred knife and walk over to the North stone, ready to start the release of the circle. Afterwards, they would go to her and Colin’s small house near Wendi’s for the feast of celebration, but Wendi wasn’t going to offer that opportunity to Nick.
She needed to force him to admit their bargain quickly, then give her attention to the final portion of the ceremony. However, should he choose not to honor the unspoken agreement, she had nothing to use to compel him to do so.
“You seem to read a lot into things,” Nick muttered. “I don’t recall agreeing to let you return to my house and do any such thing.”
“Forget it, then,” Wendi said in defeat. She turned and gave Cassandra her attention.
Pointing the knife blade at the North Stone, Cassandra chanted, “Farewell, Spirit of the North Stone, oh Ancient One of Earth. We give thanks for your presence here tonight, and for your aid in bringing Mother Goddess to us to hear our pleas. Go in power, Spirit of the North Stone.”
A greenish mist rose from the stone, and Nick gave a start, but controlled himself when Wendi glanced at him. Cassandra bent down and picked up the end of the purple cord. Winding it around her hand, she walked toward the East Stone.
“Farewell, Spirit of the East Stone, oh Ancient One of Air,” she said, pointing the knife blade at it. “We give thanks for your presence here tonight, and for your aid in bringing Mother Goddess to us to hear our pleas. Go in power, Spirit of the East Stone.”
A yellow mist indicating air rose from the stone, and Cassandra repeated her chants at the South Stone of fire, where a crimson mist rose, and the West Stone of water, resulting in a blue mist. The mists filled the air, nearly obliterating everyone, as Cassandra stood again by the altar, holding the knife aloft.
Wendi added her mental powers to those of the others and pulled the circle inward. The outside world slowly regained dominance over their combined magic, and after a proper period of respect, the gathering broke into chattering groups.
When she deigned to check on Nick again, she saw him on his horse, riding away. Just before he would have disappeared down the aisle, he halted the stallion and looked back. A cloud scuttled across the moon, making it impossible for her to determine the expression on his face, and when Sybilla came up beside her, Nick turned his horse and continued down the path between the tombs.
“So what do you think, Aunt?” Wendi asked.
“The same as you, Wendi,” she replied. “That it’s as confusing now as it was before the ceremony. I have no idea what we should do next.”
“Nick said he was going back to California tomorrow,” she reminded Sybilla.
“I doubt that,” she murmured. “But if he does, it will be what’s supposed to happen.”
Chapter 9
Standing on the edge of back veranda, Nick stared up at the sky. Black clouds still blanketed it, but the rain had weakened to a listless drizzle.
Damn it, it ought to be about ready to quit. He’d been confined to the house, along with the rest of the New Orleans population, for the past two days, not even making it home after the ceremony in the graveyard without getting soaked. Behind the preliminary shower the winds strengthened into not exactly a hurricane, but damn close.
He couldn’t remember another storm like this one. Wind blew in sheets, pounding continuously without abatement the entire two days. It was worth a person’s life to venture out, since hazardous dead tree limbs gave way during the violence. He’d lost one live oak on the front lawn and would have to hire someone to clear the tree as soon as the storm died.
There was no use even thinking about leaving for California, since ships wouldn’t sail until after the Gulf waves died. And he refused to believe any sort of magical power had caused the storm and kept him from seeking passage home. What he couldn’t deny, however, was that for the first time since his injury, his leg hadn’t completely disabled him in rainy weather. The ache was there, but not to the point where he had to take to his bed and wait out the end of the storm. It couldn’t be anything else other than the preparations from Wendi, he realized resentfully.
“Would you like me to fix you some lunch now, Monsieur?”
“I suppose,” Nick told Miz Thibedeau, who joined him in his perusal of the weather. “Something light, if you don’t mind. For some reason, I haven’t been able to work up much of an appetite in this weather.”
“It’s strange, isn’t it? I’ve never seen such a spat of steady wind and rain. Usually we either have a full-blown hurricane or periods of light rain, then heavy again. But it looks like it’s going to quit now.”
Even as she spoke, the clouds drifted off, leaving a gray sky behind. Nick heard one of the horses whinny, and the man Miz Thibedeau had found to care for the stable come in the back gate. She’d said he was a cousin or a nephew--something like that. He couldn’t keep track of all the relatives she appeared to have, and it still amazed him that she hadn’t once let slip that she knew who he was while they were out in California.
The relative waved at them, and Miz Thibedeau called back a greeting before she turned and went inside. Nick plucked at his shirt, grimacing at the quickly-building humidity now that the rain had quit. The entire town would be a steam bath while the ground dried, a
nd without the shade of the downed live oak, the front parlor would be barely usable in the summer. He longed for his home in California, where the ocean breeze kept him comfortable year round.
He wasn’t going to worry about how the small house on Canal Street had weathered the storm. Or if the weather had kept her clients at bay. There hadn’t been that much room to store food in the kitchen the one time he’d been in it. They probably had to go out daily to re-stock their larder, while he ate heartily from the mansion’s well-maintained pantry. . . .
“There’s someone here to see you, Monsieur,” Miz Thibedeau said from the back door. “He says he’s from Belle Chene.”
“Belle Chene?” Nick asked as he turned. “Did he give his name?”
“From the way he’s dressed, I assume he’s just one of the hirelings. I put him in your study.”
A stab of pain hit him when he took a step, and Nick cursed under his breath. It had been several hours since he’d rubbed his leg with the salve and drank a cup of willow bark tea with his breakfast. It could be the effects of the medication wearing off, or it could be a result of the stress building in his consciousness at the mere mention of the plantation. Or maybe the unwavering knowledge that Uncle Jacques wouldn’t send anyone in through the nasty weather unless something was seriously wrong.
After sending word for Jacque to come into town, he’d had a long discussion with him soon after he arrived. Jacques swore he had no idea what had happened to the tax money, because he’d paid the taxes on time. Though far from making anyone wealthy since the war, Belle Chene at least paid its own way, he assured Nick. And it also made enough to pay the taxes on the mansion in town, despite the heavy fees levied by the damned Yankee carpetbaggers flooding the southern states. Jacques had sent Nick periodic reports, and if Nick wished, he could come out to Belle Chene and confirm what Jacques told him.
Nick shuddered at the very thought as he limped toward the study. Though necessary, visiting Belle Chene would be worse than returning to the secrets and memories of the family mansion he was forced to live in for the present.
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