Blood Witch s-3

by Cate Tiernan

  I found the first sigil on the porch railing, around to the side. To the naked eye there was nothing there, but when the athame swept over it, the rune glowed very faintly, with an ethereal bluish witch light. My throat tightened. So— there it was. Proof that Sky and Hunter had worked magick here last night. I traced its lines and curves with my finger. Peorth. It stood for hidden things revealed.

  I breathed deeply, trying to stay calm and rational. Peorth. Well, that didn't tell me much about their plans, one way or the other. I'd have to keep looking.

  As I circled the house, more and more sigils glowed under the athame's blade. Daeg, for awakening and clarity. Eoh, the horse, which means change of some kind. Othel, for birthright, inheritance. And then, on the clapboards directly below my bedroom window, I found the one I'd been dreading to see: the double fishhook of Yr.

  I stared at it and felt like a fist was squeezing my lungs. Yr. The death rune. Cal had told me that it didn't always have to mean death—that it could mean some other kind of important ending. I tried to take comfort in that possibility. Bu ti was having a hard time convincing myself.

  Then I felt a tingle at the edge of my senses. Someone was nearby. Watching me.

  I spun around, peering into the dim winter twilight. A lone street lamp cast a cone of yellow light outside our yards. But I could see no shadowed form, no flicker of movement anywhere, not even when I used my magesight. Nor could I feel the presence any longer. Was I imagining it? Sensing things that weren't really there?

  I didn't know. All I knew was that suddenly I couldn't bear to be outside, alone, for one second longer. Turning, I bolted into the house and locked the door behind me.

  By the time Cal came to pick me up, I had calmed down enough that I was feeling excited about my special birthday celebration.

  "What's changed about you?" Cal asked as I pulled the front door closed. He smiled at me, puzzled. "You look different. Your eyes are different."

  I batted my lashes at him. "I'm wearing makeup," I said. "Mary K. finally got her mitts on me. I figured, why not? It's a special occasion."

  He laughed and took my arm, and together we walked to his car. "Well, you look incredible, but don't think you have to wear it on my account." He opened my door and then went around to the driver's side.

  "Did you get my messages?" I asked as he started the engine.

  He nodded. "Mom said you called." He didn't mention the witch message. "Sorry I missed you. I had some errands to do." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Mysterious errands, if you know what I mean, Birthday Girl."

  I smiled briefly, but I was impatient to tell him about the events of the last 24 hours. "I had a pretty eventful day without you. In fact, I've had two pretty eventful days." I hunkered lower in my coat.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  I opened my mouth, and before I knew it, everything was tumbling out of me like an avalanche: the headlights behind me that had made me wreck, scrying into the fire, seeing Sky and Hunter outside my house the night before. Cal kept shooting glances at me, some baffled, some shocked, some worried. Then I offered up my piece de resistance, finding Maeve's tools.

  "You found your mother's tools?" he cried. The car swerved. I wondered for a second if it was going to end up like Das Boot. Luckily, though, we were turning into his driveway.

  I threw up my hands and grinned. "I can't believe it myself," I said.

  He cut the engine and sat there, staring at me in amazement. "Did you bring them?" he asked eagerly.

  "No," I admitted. "I hid them behind the HVAC vent. And then when I was leaving, Dad was fixing an electrical outlet in the hall and I couldn't get to them."

  Cal gave me an amused, conspiratorial look. "Behind the HVAC vent," he repeated, and I couldn't help laughing with him. It was a pretty silly hiding place for a bunch of magickal tools, come to think of it.

  "Oh, well, no big deal. You can show them to me tomorrow," he said. I nodded.

  "So—what do you think about my accident?" I asked.

  "I don't know," he murmured. He shook his head. "It could have been just some jerk who was in a hurry. But if you were scared, I say you should trust your instincts—and we should start asking some questions." His eyes seemed to harden, but then his face melted in a worried smile. "Why didn't you tell me about this last night? And about Hunter and Sky being at your house?"

  "I sent you a witch message," I told him. "But you never came. I was wondering if Sky could have blocked it somehow."

  Cal frowned. Then he smacked his forehead. "No, that's not it. I know exactly what it was. Mom and I did a powerful warding spell before our circle, just in case people like Sky or Hunter were trying to snoop on us. That would have blocked your message. Wow, I am so sorry. It never occurred to me that you might try to reach me."

  "It's okay," I told him. "Nothing happened to me." A shudder ran through me as I remembered my terror last night. "At least, nothing permanent."

  We got out of the car, shivering, and hurried up his front steps together.

  We met Selene on her way out. She was wrapped in a black velvet cloak that swept to the ground and wore shining purple amethysts around her neck and on her ears. As always, she looked stunning.

  "Good evening, my dears," she said with a smile. A delicious scent wafted off her, giving me an impression of maturity, of richness. It made my own dab of patchouli oil seem naive and hippyish—girly, almost.

  "You look beautiful," I said sincerely.

  "Thank you, Birthday Girl. So do you," she said, pulling on black gloves. "I'm going to a party." She shot Cal a meaningful look. "I won't be back till quite late, so be on your best behavior."

  I felt embarrassed, but Cal laughed easily. As Selene left through the wide front door, we started to climb the stairs to his room on the third floor.

  "Um, what does your mom think we might do?" I asked clumsily. My steps were muffled by the thick carpet on the stairs.

  "I guess she thinks we might make love," Cal said. Judging from his tone, it sounded like he was talking about spending the evening playing board games. He flashed a casual smile.

  I nearly fell down the stairs. "Uh—would she… you know, be upset?" I stammered, struggling to sound calm but failing miserably. All of my friends' parents would have a cow if they thought their kids were doing that under their own roof. Well, maybe not Jenna's. But everyone else's.

  "No," said Cal. "In Wicca, making love doesn't have the same kind of stigma as it does in other religions. It's seen as a celebration of love, of life—an acknowledgment of the God and Goddess. It's beautiful. Something special."

  "Oh." Blood pounded through me. I nodded, trying to look confident.

  Cal closed the door behind him. Then he pulled me to him and kissed me. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you last night," he breathed against my lips. "I know I've been really tied up with Mom's business lately. But from now on I'm going to make sure I'm more available."

  I reached up and draped my arms around his neck. "Good," I said.

  He held me for a moment longer, then gently disengaged my arms and grabbed some matches from the nightstand by his bed. As I watched, he lit candles around his room, one by one, until there were tiny flames everywhere. The candles lined the mantel, the top of every bookcase, stood in holders on the floor; there was even an old-fashioned iron chandelier that held candles, hanging from the ceiling. When he turned off the overhead light, we found ourselves surrounded in a glowing fiery cocoon. It was dreamy, beautiful, romantic.

  Next Cal walked over to his dark wooden desk, where a bottle of sparkling cider stood next to a bowl filled with perfect, amazingly red strawberries and another bowl of dipping chocolate. He poured two glasses of cider and brought me one.

  "Thank you," I said happily. "This is incredible." The light, golden cider tickled my throat with its starry little bubbles.

  He came and sat down next to me again, and we drank our cider. "I can't wait to see Maeve's tools," he said, stroking the hair along
my temple. "The historical value alone—it's like finding King Tut's tomb."

  I laughed. "The Wiccan version of King Tut's tomb. Which reminds me. I kept one thing out, and brought it with me." Putting my glass down on the nightstand, I hopped up and went to my jacket, where I took out the athame from the breast pocket. I had wrapped it in a handkerchief. Silently I handed it to Cal, watching his face as I nestled back down with him again.

  "Goddess," he whispered as he unwrapped it. His eyes were shining, and an eager smile played about his lips. "Oh, Morgan, this is beautiful."

  I laughed again at his excitement. "I know. Isn't it amazing?"

  His fingers traced the lines of initials carved into the blade. "Tomorrow," he said absently, then looked up at me. "Tomorrow," he said more firmly, "I'm going to have a busy day. First I have to find Hunter and Sky and tell them to leave you the hell alone. Then I have to go to your house and remove all their sigils, if I can. Then I have to salivate over your mother's tools."

  "Oh, that's a lovely image," I said, laughing. "Thank you."

  He laughed, too, then we were leaning together, kissing and sipping cider. Magick, I thought dreamily, staring at him.

  Cal kissed me again, his golden eyes intent, and then he blinked and pulled back.

  "Presents!" he said, motioning across the room.

  It took a second to spot the pile of beautifully wrapped gifts that waited for me on a large table pushed against the wall.

  "What have you done?" I asked, putting my hand to my throat, where his silver pentacle still nestled warm against my skin. It was the first thing he'd ever given me, and I treasured it for that.

  He grinned and stood, carrying the presents back to the bed and spreading them before me on the mattress. I took another sip of my cider, then placed it on the nightstand again.

  First was a rectangular box. I started pulling off the paper.

  "This is kind of redundant now," he said.

  My face melted in a smile. Inside the box was the silver athame we had seen at Practical Magick, the one carved with roses and a skull. I turned to him.

  "It's lovely," I said, running my fingers across it.

  "It can be your backup," he said cheerfully. "Or a cake knife. Or a letter opener."

  "Thank you," I whispered.

  "I wanted you to have it," Cal said. "Next."

  He held out a small box, and I held my breath as I opened it, revealing a gorgeous pair of silver earrings set with golden tigereyes. The gems looked so much like Cal's eyes that I had to glance up at him just for the sake of comparison.

  "These are so beautiful." I shook my head.

  "Put them on," he encouraged, "and it will be like I'm always with you." He brushed back my hair to expose my earlobe.

  I held the earrings, not knowing what to say. "Your ears aren't pierced," Cal said in surprise.

  "I know," I mumbled apologetically. "My mom took me and Bree to have it done when we were twelve, but I chickened out."

  "Oh, Morgan, I'm sorry," he said, laughing. "It's my fault. I can't believe I didn't notice before now. I should have gotten you something else. Here—I'll take them back and exchange them."

  "No!" I said, pulling the box close. "I love them—they're the most beautiful things I've ever seen. I've been wanting to get my ears pierced, anyway. This will be my inspiration."

  Cal looked at me assessingly but appeared to take my word. "Hmmm. Well, okay." He nodded at another present.

  Next was a beautifully bound and illustrated book about spell weaving. It included a short history of spell making and had a whole section of sample spells and how to use them as well as how to individualize them for your particular situation.

  "Oh, this is fabulous," I said with enthusiasm, leafing through it. "This is perfect."

  "I'm glad you like it," he said, grinning. "We can go over some of them if you want, practice them."

  I nodded eagerly, like a child, and he laughed again.

  "And last," he said, handing me a medium-size box.

  "More?" I couldn't quite believe this. I was beginning to feel spoiled. Inside this box was a batik blouse in muted shades of lavender and purple and plum. It looked like a storm-shot sunset. I stared at it, touching the doth with my fingers, drinking in the colors, practically hearing the rumble of thunder and rain.

  "I love it," I said, leaning over to hug him. "I love all of it. Thank you so much for this." My throat tightened with a rush of emotion. Once again I felt a sense of belonging, of pure contentment. "These are the best birthday gifts anyone has ever given me."

  Cal gave me a sweet smite, and then I was in his arms and we were lying on the bed. I held his head tightly, my fingers laced through his dark hair as we kissed.

  "Do you love me?" he whispered against my mouth. I nodded, overwhelmed, holding him hard against me, wanting to be closer.

  The cider, the candles all around us, the slight scent of incense, the feel of his smooth skin under my hands—it was as if he were weaving a spell of love around me, making me drowsy and full of a physical longing and ache. And yet… and yet. I still held the end of a line between us. Despite my love for him, despite the dark wave of yearning he had awoken in me, I felt myself holding back.

  Dimly, as we kissed, I came to the surprising realization that I wasn't quite ready to completely give myself to him. Even though we were probably muirn beatha dans, still, I wasn't ready to make love with him, to go all the way joining ourselves together physically and mentally. I didn't know the reason, but I had to trust my feelings.

  "Morgan," Cal said softly. He raised up on one elbow and looked at me. He was incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful male I had ever seen. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth a dark rose color from kissing. There was no way he and Hunter could be brothers, I thought distantly end I wondered why Hunter had even popped into my thoughts. Hunter was mean and dangerous, a liar.

  "Come on," Cal said, his voice husky, his hand stroking my waist through my black jumper.

  "Um…"

  "What's wrong?" he whispered.

  I let out my breath, not knowing what to say. He draped one leg over me and pulled me closer, curling his hand around my back and snuggling. He nuzzled my neck, and his hand drifted up my waist to just below my breast. It felt incredible, and I willed myself to give in to it, to let the wash of sensation carry me to a new place. I would be seventeen tomorrow: it was time. But somehow I just couldn't….

  "Morgan?" His voice sounded questioning, and my eyes flew to his. His hand stroked my hair away from my face. "I want to make love to you."

  CHAPTER 19

  Circle of Two

  They are pushing me to join with her. And I want to do it. Goddess, how I want to do it. She is a butterfly, a flower in bloom, a dark ruby being cut from dusty stone. And I can make her better than that. I can make her catch fire, so her power illuminates all who stand near. I can teach her, I can help her reach the deep magick within. Together we will be unstoppable.

  Whoever would have thought this could happen? One look at her would not have revealed the tigress waiting inside. Her love devours me, her constancy humbles me, her beauty and power make me hunger.

  She will be mine. And I will be hers.

  — Sgath

  I stared at Cal, loving him but feeling utterly lost.

  "I thought you wanted me, too,"he said quietly.

  I nodded. That was true—partially, anyway. But what my brain wanted and my body wanted were two different things.

  "If you're worried about birth control, I can take care of it," he said. "I wouldn't ever hurt you."

  "I know." I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I willed them to stop. I felt like a complete failure, and I didn't know why.

  Cal rolled away from me, his arm resting across his forehead as he looked at me. "So what is it?" he said.

  "I don't know," I whispered. "I mean, I want to, but I just can't. I don't feel ready."

  He reached out his other hand and he
ld mine, absently stroking his thumb across my palm. Finally he shifted and sat up cross-legged in front of me. I scrambled into a sitting position opposite him.

  "Are you angry?" I asked him.

  He smiled wryly. "I'll live. It's okay. Don't worry about it. I…" He left the sentence unfinished.

  "I'm sorry," I said miserably. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

  He leaned over and pushed my hair off my neck to kiss my nape gently. I shuddered at the warmth of his lips. "Nothing is wrong with you," he whispered. "We have our whole future together. There's no hurry. Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

  I swallowed, worrying that if I opened my mouth again, I would definitely start crying.

  "Look, let's do a circle," he said, rubbing the tension out of my neck. "Not a circle circle, but like a joined meditation. It's another way for us to be close. Okay?"

  I nodded. "Okay," I choked out.

  I reached for him, and we held hands loosely, with our knees touching. Together we closed our eyes and began to systematically shut everything down: emotions, sensations, awareness of the outside world. I felt embarrassed about not wanting to sleep with him, but I deliberately released those feelings. It was almost as if I could see them falling away from me. My eyes stopped stinging: my throat relaxed.

  Gradually our breathing, in sync, slowed and quieted. I had been meditating almost every day, and it was easy for me to slip into a light trance. I lost the sensation of toughing Cal: we felt joined, breathing as one, drifting as one into a place of deep peace and restfulness. It was a relief.

  I became aware of the strength of Cal's mind, aligning with mine, and it was very exciting and intimate. It was amazing that we could share this, and I thought of all the nonwitches in the world who would probably never be able to achieve such closeness with their lovers. I breathed a long sigh of contentment.