by Cate Tiernan
"Now, before we cast our circle tonight, does anyone have any announcements or questions?" Hunter asked. "Where are we meeting next time?"
"It can be at my house," Simon offered.
"Right, cheers," said Hunter. "Since we're coming up on Beltane, the next official circle won't be for a while. But in the meantime, we have one of our most festive celebrations to look forward to. Have you guys read about it?"
"Yes," said Thalia. "It's a fire festival, and with Samhain, it's one of the most important Sabbats."
"Right," said Huinter. "Like Samhain, Beltane takes place when the veils between the worlds are thinnest. At Samhain we celebrate and honor death and endings, the closing of a circle, the end of a cycle. Beltane, the last of all the spring fertility festivals, is all about birth, new beginnings, life. Traditionally people make bonfires, have maypoles, and celebrate all night. It's when the Goddess, ripe with fertility after the long winter, joins again with the God, who has now grown into manhood."
There were a few somewhat embarrassed giggles at this, and Hunter acknowledged them with a grin. "This is when the Goddess conceives the next God and so propagates the life cycle once again. Does anyone know the symbols of Beltane?"
I did, but I didn't say anything. My covenmates knew that Hunter and I were going out. I usually stayed pretty quiet at circles-I didn't want to be seen as the teacher's pet. When Hunter was in Canada and Bethany Malone had led our circle, I had been more outspoken.
"The maypole," said Robbie, and Bree raised her eyebrows suggestively, making people laugh.
"Doesn't it have some of the same symbols as Ostara?" asked Sharon. "Like bunnies and eggs?"
Hunter nodded. "Symbols of fertility."
"I read where people actually have sex outside, to bless their fields or their animals," Raven said.
Hunter laughed. "Well, that's one tradition we don't have to feel obliged to perform."
I saw Bree and Robbie exchange glances, Sharon and Ethan making faces at each other, Jenna and Simon smiling quietly and looking at their feet. Jeez, had all of them already done it? Was I the only seventeen-year-old virgin left in Widow's Vale? Hunter and I had planned to make love a couple of times, but something had always happened to keep us from going through with it. Now we both knew that we were ready-we were just waiting for the time to be right. I hoped it would be right very soon.
"Before our next circle," Hunter went on, "I'd like all of you to do some more reading about Beltane." He listed some useful sources, then said, "Now, if there's nothing else, we can cast our circle."
We stepped forward. Hunter quickly and expertly drew a perfect circle on the slates with a piece of chalk. We went on through the opening he'd left in it, and then he closed it behind us. We'd set up four bowls, one each at east, north, west, and south. They held dirt, to symbolize earth, a smoldering incense cone to symbolize air, a candle for fire, and water. With the four elements represented, our energy would be balanced.
The twelve of us joined hands, and Hunter said, "I invoke the Goddess. I invoke the God. I invite them to join us at this our circle. Tonight we celebrate being together, being at the threshold of spring. As we raise the Goddess's energy, we'll think about our own renewals, rebirths. Now, everyone can join in when they're ready." We began to move our circle deasil, or clockwise, as Hunter began singing a familiar power chant.
One by one we blended our voices with his, letting the words weave together. I waited for just a few moments, and then it happened, as it always did: I felt a burst of happiness, of joy. I knew who I was, I knew what I was doing. I was joining my energy with that of others, and it was an incredible experience.
As we moved more quickly, our feet keeping pace with the complex, ancient rhythm, I gradually began to be aware of another thread of sound underneath the one we were singing. It was inside my head, coming from within, and I followed it like a colored string, trying to untangle it. It was elusive, not complete, and I couldn't seem to get closer to it. Sometimes it seemed vaguely familiar, but I just couldn't place where I'd ever heard it. Still, I moved with the others in a circle, one part of my mind focused on the thread. Vague images came to me: when my half brother Killian had used a hawk's true name to force it to earth and also, weirdly, when my biological father, Ciaran MacEwan, had initiated me into the racking pains and heady pleasures of shape-shifting. But these thoughts drifted away like clouds, and soon my mind was full of the excitement of our raised energy. My heart felt both full and light, my vision seemed exceptionally clear-I could see the faint, colorful auras shimmering around my friends' heads. Being part of a circle was like plugging myself into a higher consciousness, a higher reality. It was completely fulfilling.
Our pace quickened, and our chanting swelled to bursting. Our joined energy rose and crested, and at the peak of its crescendo we flung our hands apart and stopped where we were. Smiles on our faces, our hands floating downward, we looked around to enjoy the looks of transport on one another's faces.
My gaze locked on Hunter, on his angular, fair-skinned face, his sharp cheekbones, the amazing depth of his eyes. His cheeks were flushed with a pale pink, like dawn breaking. His eyes met mine, and between us there flashed an instant understanding, an immediate message of love sent and received. I smiled, and he returned it.
"That was a great circle, everyone," he said, assuming his leadership role again. "I can see a definite improvement in your focus and concentration."
I remembered the elusive tune and the strange images I'd seen in the circle. Why had I thought of shape-shifting again? Was the Goddess trying to tell me something? Or was it just that now that we were out of immediate danger, my mind was really beginning to deal with those images? Probably the latter, I decided. There had been no new or scary information in the images.
"I've got some food and stuff in the kitchen," Bree said, brushing her fine hair off her face. "Robbie and I will get it."
Hunter drifted over to me as they left, and automatically our arms went around each other's waist. He kissed the top of my head, and I shivered. All thoughts of the elusive tune I'd heard had disappeared. I'd meant to mention the strange dream I'd had to Hunter but decided not to. Everyone has weird dreams sometimes.
4
Hunter
"What about here? I asked. "No rocks, a mixture of sun and shade, nice view." The picnic basket was starting to feel heavy-I was ready to sit and eat and lie in the sun.
"This looks good," Morgan agreed, nodding.
"Okay by me," said Robbie.
For a moment it looked like Bree might object, but then she followed majority rule. She and Morgan unfolded an old blanket and shook it out.
"Goddess, what a beautiful day," Morgan said, immediately lying down in the blanket in a way that made me wish Robbie and Bree weren't there. I wanted to touch her, feel the smooth skin of her stomach. Well, nothing I could do about it yet.
By unspoken agreement the four of us ended up on our backs, looking up at the intensely blue spring sky and the puffy white clouds slipping past.
"This is great," Robbie said.
"Mmm," Bree murmured in agreement. "Oh, Morgan, did I tell you? That B and B on Martha's Vineyard worked out."
"Hey, great," Morgan said. "When are you guys going?"
"The end of June," Robbie said. "Just for a week. I don't think I'll be able to get more time off from the shop." Robbie had gotten a summer job at Widow's Vale's tiny used-book store.
Using my lightning-fast former Seeker intuition, I deduced that Bree and Robbie were going to Martha's Vineyard together for a week later in the summer. A quiet envy settled across me. I would kill to have that kind of alone with Morgan. Sometimes I wished her father were more like Bree's father-rather absent and not entirely aware of what she did. I knew that Morgan's intensely caring and involved parents were, in general, a much better thing. But sometimes...
"That sounds so great," Morgan said. "I'm probably going to be working at my mom's office all summer. Data en
try, filing , et cetera. Making coffee. Yawn." Her mom was a real estate agent, and I knew Morgan often worked for her when she needed money.
"At least you'll be in air-conditioning," Bree pointed out. "Which reminds me-speaking of being chilly-I was reading about Beltane this morning, and it seems that many covens feel the Beltane rites are best done skyclad. Like the fertility rites, the dances. The maypole."
"Skyclad?" Robbie asked. "What does that-oh."
Bree giggled and crossed one of her legs over Robbie's.
"I'm so sure," Morgan said, rolling her eyes. "Count me out."
Trying not to laugh, I said, "I don' know, Morgan. I believe that if we're going to be historically accurate, Kithic should celebrate Beltane authentically. I imagine it would be all right if not everyone has sex under the moon, but the nudity...pfaw!" I stopped to spit some grass, which Morgan had been flinging at me, out of my mouth and held up my hands to ward off any further attacks.
"Very funny," said Morgan, throwing more grass. I half sat to brush it off and saw that her face was flushed with self-consciousness. I grinned at her. In public she was fairly reserved, and she certainly didn't dress to show off her body. But in private...we had been together enough for me to know that her physical desire and innate sensuality ran as strong in her as her magickal powers did. And I had been the lucky recipient of those feelings. I hoped that soon we would be ready to take those feelings to their natural conclusion.
"Right, then," I said, lying back down and grabbing Morgan's hand. I held her hand on my chest and felt her relax against me, her foot resting against my ankle. "So I'll go ahead and inform the coven that nudity and public sex are optional."
Robbie snorted with laughter, and Bree told him, "You can strip down first."
I was happy, lying there in the sun and dappled shade. It felt normal, natural, light. I hoped that the rest of the year would be more like this and that the darkness we'd been facing had finally gone for good.
After a while we sat up and ate our sandwiches. Everything tasted better because we were outside in the cool spring sun and we were together. I lay in my back with Morgan and her friends and watched the clouds. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this calm.
Not long after that, Bree and Robbie took their leave to make a foreign-film matinee in Taunton. Bree left the dessert with us, and soon we heard the distinctive sound of her BMW driving off. Leaving me alone with Morgan at last.
I turned on my side and gathered her to me, pushing her down on the blanket with my weight, feeling her slenderness beneath me, her leg automatically bending to curve around mine. Her arms came around me and I began kissing her all over, touching her everywhere. I felt intensely alive, curious, excited about our future. My body responded to hers so strongly that I knew if we waited much longer to make love, both of us would lose our minds. It wasn't until I felt her hand on mine that I realized I was at her waist and I had undone the button on her jeans.
Feeling foggy, I blinked and looked at her flushed face. I looked down at my hand and a her hand holding it. She smiled at me with slow amusement.
"Right here? Wouldn't we scare the chipmunks?"
I was too far gone to make a coherent response right away. Everything in me was telling me to charge ahead, and the fact that we had stopped and she was talking was taking a while to imprint on my lust-clouded brain.
"Mommy, what are those huge ugly animals doing?" Morgan said in a high, squeaky chipmunk voice. "Don't look, sweetie," she answered in a concerned mother chipmunk voice. "Just go back in the tree."
For a moment I just stared at her, then I started laughing hard. Morgan grinned at me while I guffawed, and it was only with effort that I got my wits about me. Leaning down, I kissed her on the nose. "You are incredibly odd," I said tenderly. "Really, incredibly odd. I'm sure that's the first time in the history of human sexuality that someone has imitated a chipmunk as part of foreplay."
We laughed together then, sitting up and holding on to each other, cackling like maniacs. She rebuttoned her jeans, and when we lay back down again, it was just to cuddle and talk. In the back of my mind I remembered my upcoming meeting with Celia Evans and Robin Goodacre. All they'd told me was that they were concerned about their coven leader possibly working dark magick. They weren't sure what to do but needed help in deciding if there was anything they could do. Later tonight we were going to meet again, and they'd promised to give me the whole story.
I had wanted to talk to Morgan about them, get her impressions on what she thought might be going on. But I didn't have their permission to talk to anyone, and while I would have felt all right about about telling another Wiccan "professional," like my da, telling Morgan seemed like a breach Of confidence.
"What are you going to do this summer?" Morgan asked me, snuggling close, and I heard the wistfulness in her voice. She was thinking of Bree and Robbie's trip, no doubt.
"Well, I'm hoping to earn enough money to go home for a while," I told her honestly. "I want to see everyone, eat some decent fish and chips, fill up on England." She was quiet, playing thoughtfully with one of my shirt buttons, and I went on. "Is there any way you could go with me? What about if you promise to visit historical sites and write a report?"
She smiled, looking sad. "I'll ask my parents, but don't hold your breath."
I cuddled her closer again. We both knew, without saying it, that there was no way her parents would let her go to Europe with a guy. Not when she was only seventeen. I nuzzled her beneath one ear and felt her shiver. "We need time alone." Morgan nodded. "Then maybe we could get around to certain things we've been thinking about," I said meaningfully. Her hazel eyes, the color of stones seen through clear water, brightened with amusement, and she gave an instinctive wiggle against me. I kissed her gently, not wanting us to get all worked up again. Soon we were lying still again, our arms around each other, looking up at the sky.
As my eyes drifted lazily closed, I heard an odd cry above me. My eyes fluttered open and my gaze fastened on a red-tailed hawk, shooting groundward incredibly fast. It dropped below the level of the trees but almost instantly shot upward, each strong beat of it's powerful wings taking it farther into the sky. In its talons was a writhing black snake.
"Lunch," I said, admiring the bird's almost perfect predatory ability. I looked down to see Morgan frowning.
"That's weird," she said, squinting to watch the bird disappear high above us.
"Why? Hawks hunt all the time. This place is full of red-tailed hawks." I stroked her hair, loving the way the sunlight played across it.
"Yeah, I guess," Morgan said slowly. "It's nothing."
"I have to tell you," I said, gently easing her head up onto my shoulder, "I'm not thrilled about working at Practical Magick."
"No?"
I shook my head. "I know I can't be a Seeker anymore, but putting little spells on herbs isn't my life's calling, either. If only-it would be so great if the council weren't the only sow in town."
"What do you mean?" Morgan asked, rolling over on her side and tucking one arm under her head so she could look at me.
"Well, if there were an alternate council, say," I said. "One that held more closely to the Wiccan Rede."
Morgan was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if she understood what I was feeling. "Maybe you should start your own council," she said.
I laughed, then saw that she looked solemn and thoughtful. "You're not serious." The idea of me creating a whole new council, single- handedly, was laughable. "Are you?"
"How serious are you? she asked me, and I had no answer.
I was almost out the front door that evening when the phone rang. I debated nit answering it-I had only ten minutes to get to the coffee shop where I was meeting Celia and Robin-but then I picked up on the fact that it was Sky calling. I lunged for the phone.
"Hello-ello," I said, and she snorted. "How's jolly olde England?"
"Still repressed as ever," Sky said dryly. "Even English witches are more
restrained than American ones."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said, and she allowed herself an amused heh-heh.
"I guess it is a bit of a relief not to have everyone's emotions hanging out all over," she said. "On the other hand, Americans seem simpler to deal with. They say what they feel or think, and you never
have to guess what's going on behind the silence."
I thought for a moment, and it came to me. "How's Uncle Beck?"
Sky sighed loudly into the phone, which told me I'd hit my mark. As light and beautiful and loving as my mum had been, her brother, Beck, Sky's father, was dark and hard hewn and almost forcefully introverted. He'd raised me, my younger brother, Linden, and my sister, Alwyn, from the time I was eight, and though I'd always felt physically safe and taken care of, I'd also always felt wary, distanced, and on thin ice emotionally. Sky and her four sisters hadn't fared much better, though they were his own daughters.
"Anyway, I think I'm ready to come back to Widow's Vale," she said.
"Good news," I said sincerely. "It's not the same without you."
"Right. So I think I'm getting a standby flight, probably on Tuesday. Think you can give me a lift home if I tell you when?"
"Absolutely "I said. "Why standby?"
"It'll be cheaper," she said, "and I can't see waiting another two weeks for a discounted flight."
So the family was definitely getting on her nerves. She'd stuck it out for a long while, though. "Just give me some advance notice and I'll be there," I promised.
"Cheers. Anything happening?"
"Yeah, Da is more in demand-" I broke off as I caught sight of the clock. "Damn! I'm sorry, Sky-I'm late for a meeting. I'll talk to you later, all right?"
"Sure. Bye."
I hung up the phone and raced out the door.
"Sorry I'm late," I said as I arrived at the coffee shop almost fifteen minutes later. Celia looked up at me, then glanced at her watch. I got the message. She was dressed as though she'd come from an office, in neat, tailored navy pants and jacket that looked professional yet not too formal or uncomfortable.
