A Witch’s Revenge (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 4)

by Auburn Tempest

  She turns in a quarter turn and points at the next candle. “South is represented by the red candle and corresponds with fire. At the west point, the blue candle represents water, and to the north the green candle is earth.”

  Emmet points at the white one at the top of the pentacle. “That makes that one spirit, right?”

  Sarah nods. “Spirit, or ether.”

  The coven draws around us in a circle, each of them holding a wooden staff. Thirteen women lay their wooden lengths on the floor around the outer edge of the pentacle, crossing end over end until a continuous circle surrounds us.

  “This is a circle of truth,” Shona says. “Once we cast our spell, there will be no way you can lie to us. We will know the truth of things discussed and all will be revealed.”

  I see the frown clouding my brothers’ gazes, and I agree. That sounds sketchy. I raise my hand and wiggle my fingers. “So when you say we won’t be able to lie, do you mean about what happened with the goddess, or is this a blanket carte blanche kinda thing that gives you access to our personal business?”

  “Do you have things you wish to hide?”

  “Of course. Don’t you? Doesn’t everyone? Do you want to be questioned about secrets you vowed to keep, people you’re protecting, or artifacts you don’t want falling into the hands of others?”

  The witch smiles, but there is no humor in her expression. “You mistake us for the dark practitioners you seek. We are white witches, women of our word, women of honor living our best lives in harmony with the earth and all her bounties.”

  “Fiona meant no offense, Magis.” Sloan lays on that deep, silky tone he saves for calming females.

  Come to think of it; he uses it on me quite often.

  Am I being tamed?

  Rude.

  “If yer honest with yerself, her question is valid, and with what little experience she’s had with the empowered community, quite understandable.”

  The mousy redhead has traded her book for a tray of tiny china teacups. She doesn’t speak, nor does anyone pay her any attention. She sets down the tray on the sideboard outside the circle and retreats to her corner.

  Sarah lifts her hand, and the cups rise into the air. When she gestures toward us, they float into the circle and hover in front of us. While that’s happening, two younger witches set votives between the pillars burning at the main five points.

  When all the candles are lit, Shona gestures to the teacups. “Please drink, and we’ll begin.”

  Being a druid, magic in our everyday lives is kept to a minimum. To these women, wielding magic seems effortless. It makes me wary of what else they might be able to do.

  Witches be bitches, after all.

  I pluck my cup out of the air and study the floaties bouncing on the surface of the oddly champagne-colored tea. “What is in this mighty veritas serum we’re drinking?”

  “It’s a mixture of China black tea, lemon balm, eyebright, mugwort, and rose hips,” Sarah says. “It’s commonly considered a divination tea, which simply means it stimulates the third eye chakra and opens the gate for honesty. You will be completely aware of what you say and remember everything. We’re not trying to trick you in any way.”

  “We have your word you’ll stay on the topic of our experience with the goddess and nothing personal, or things we’ve taken oaths not to repeat?”

  Shona’s gaze blazes fire as the lines around her lips crease. “Asked and answered. That’s twice you’ve implied we share traits with the witches you seek. We may believe in harm to none, but we won’t stand to be insulted.”

  “It really will be fine, Fiona,” Sarah says. “I respect what yer family has done here in Ireland. I gave ye my word and brought ye here in good faith. Ye’ll have to trust me.”

  I sense no deception, and since neither my Fianna shield nor my evil film of darkness weighs in on the matter, I lift the teacup to my lips and down it on a oner.

  The tea is warm, thick, bitter, and tingles on my tongue. While it won’t win any awards for taste, over the past few weeks I’ve been forced to drink far worse.

  When the boys have finished their truth potions, we each set our cups on the floor before us and look around.

  “What now? How long does it take to work?”

  The two younger witches who set up the extra candles step away from the circle and return, each of them carrying a weighty black velvet bag in her hands.

  They retrieve several beautiful stones and set them carefully around the perimeter of the circle. Each of the stones is the size of a chicken’s egg and a rich, blood red.

  Dillan’s eyes widen as he glances down at the stone closest to him. “Those aren’t genuine rubies, are they? Because hello, they’re huge. They have to be worth a fortune.”

  A brunette witch in a long green smock nods. “The Rubies of Ravenhurst have been part of our coven ceremonies for centuries. They’re star rubies, which are an especially strong stone when used to call the elements to aid in our workings.”

  With the rubies in place, one of the girls takes a large iridescent orange-gold opal out of the bottom of her bag and hands it to Shona. As she passes her Magis the stone, its surface glimmers with fiery flashes as it catches the light of the candle flames.

  “This is a copper sunstone.” Shona strokes its smooth surface with a lover’s caress. “It’s an exceedingly rare type of feldspar found in a remote part of India. Sunstone heightens intuition and allows a person’s true self to shine through. Which of you will hold it while being questioned?”

  Since I’m the one with the early warning system stamped onto my back, I raise my hands and accept the stone.

  The gemstone fills the cupped palms of my hands and is warm against my skin, warmer than it should be considering it only just came out of its holding bag.

  As it sits in my palms, I stare at it and frown.

  “Is it supposed to do that?” I study the stone, wondering if this will turn out to be a Wiccan game of hot potato.

  “Do what?” Sarah asks.

  “Heat up in my hands. I’m not sure why, but it’s getting really hot.”

  Sarah’s flaxen eyebrows arch and she looks at Shona. “I don’t know of anyone outside the Wiccan sect who can feel the fire within a sunstone. You are a remarkably interesting woman, Fiona.”

  I shrug aside the discomfort of the heat of the stone seeping into my skin. “Just being honest. That’s why we’re here right? Are we ready to roll on that? I’d like to getter done and give you back your pretty rock.”

  Shona pegs me with a quelling look, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of backing down.

  “We’re wasting precious time here, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be on the goddess’s shit list.”

  “Neither do we.”

  “Well, when she asks us how the dark witches managed to slip into Satan’s ass crack, I don’t want to throw you under the bus and say the white witches of Blarney were too busy playing supernatural parlor tricks to help us.”

  “Parlor tricks? You think we’re wasting your time?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Do you also think fledgling druids we welcomed into our sanctum should blackmail us into doing what you need us to do?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying. I think you should want to help, but you’re acting intentionally difficult. I’d think serving your goddess should be something you embrace. I don’t get the hesitation. I also don’t get that blouse with that skirt. Do you have a mirror in your bedroom?”

  Sloan hisses and clucks his tongue beside me. “Fiona has a tendency not to filter, Magis. Apologies.”

  Yeah, okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

  Come to think of it, why did I say that?

  The tingling in my tongue is making my throat feel thick. The hot rock in my palms is making me sweat. “I need some air. I don’t like this.”

  “You okay, Fi?” Emmet asks. “You look weird.”

  “She looks beautif
ul,” Sloan says, his gaze far too heated for public view. “And all the more beautiful because she doesn’t realize it and doesn’t care.”

  “Such a sexy, sweet-talking stud,” I say, a heavy sigh escaping my lungs. Wait. Why did I say that? Why am I here gushing over my boyfriend when there’s danger approaching and work to do?

  I rise from my knees and turn full circle. “I’ve had enough. Sarah, I appreciate your intention to help, but some people are talkers while others are doers. No amount of girl talk and rock-holding will fix what your bad apple witch cousins are doing. We’ve gotta move on.”

  Shona frowns. “What now? You’re confident you’ll find the witches on your own?”

  “That’s the plan. It would’ve been great if you could’ve helped, but hey, you do you. I’m not sure how we’ll find them, but Sloan is really smart, not to mention the best kisser evah. He’ll figure it out. He gives me the credit for most things, but he’s too modest. He’s a rockstar.”

  “And what happens when you find these witches?”

  “We take them down or take them out, whichever gets the job done. The goddess made that clear. We recover the stolen prana and return it to its source at all costs. It wasn’t meant to be taken and used the way they intend.”

  “You still profess this is the will of the goddess?”

  “I don’t profess anything. The goddess, Our Lady, Mother Nature, whatever you want to call her, stood ten feet in front of us and gave us our mission. Since you weren’t mentioned in the debrief of what needs to happen, your reputation isn’t on the line. We, however, took an oath, so thanks for the tea. It’s been a slice. Druids are leaving the building.”

  I gesture for my brothers and Sloan to get up and make a dramatic exit with me. When the four of us are on our feet, Shona holds out her hand.

  “Well done, Miss Cumhaill. You can give me the sunstone now. It has done its work.”

  I shake my head wondering what she’s talking about. This woman is infuriating. She talks in circles and plays games when lives are at stake.

  I hand her the rock and point at the circle. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you close the circle so we can leave. If not, Sloan can simply transport us out. Did I mention that? More than a pretty face and a sexy bod, this one. He’s so freaking talented it blows my mind. I heart him, hard.”

  Sloan chuckles behind me. “I think ye drank yer tea too quickly. Yer a bit love-drunk. They get the picture. The goddess set us on a task, and we have to get the prana back before the dark witches do something terrible with it.”

  I swallow as he pulls me to his side. He’s so pretty. “You smell reeeally good, Mackenzie.”

  Sloan and my brothers chuckle. “Nice of ye to notice.”

  The effects of the witch’s divination tea wear off over the next half hour and if I could shrink into the shadows and disappear into the corner, I would. It’s not like I can be mad at the witches either. Shona may have been subtle about seeking her truths, but true to her word, she never asked me about anything other than what we came here for.

  I am the weakest link.

  Loose lips sink ships and all that.

  “Och, stop lookin’ so scarlet.” Sarah pulls out the chair opposite me and sets down two pints of Irish stout. While the boys fill the witches in on the details of what we know and care to share, Sarah has excused the two of us to give me a little distance from my heart’s desire before I make more of a fool out of myself than I already have.

  I take a sip and let the strong taste of roasted malt soothe my rough edges. Unfortunately, the alcohol content in a stout is low. Maybe I could get her to give it an infusion.

  Yeah no, who am I kidding. There isn’t enough alcohol in Ireland to make this better. “Any chance someone could hide in this room for life and join the coven? I’m asking for a friend.”

  Sarah’s laugh is bubbly and makes me smile. It’s similar to the giggles I get from my little niece, Meg. “Ye did fine. Honestly, that was one of the more reserved truth sessions. Ye did well.”

  “Reserved? I don’t think anyone has ever used that word around me before. Certainly not after I gush over a boy in front of a room full of strangers.”

  Sarah runs a finger down her glass and draws a line through the condensation. “Not just strangers. The good news is that yer brothers were there too.”

  I meet her gaze over the rim of my glass. “How is that good news?”

  “Emmet seems to have moved on from tormenting me with Terminator quotes and is now solidly ready to start coddin’ ye about yer affections fer Sloan. Thanks for that.”

  I hold up my glass and cheers her. “Glad you benefit from my humiliation.”

  She lifts her beer in response. “However long the day, the evening will come.”

  I take another couple of sips. “Hey, and you never know, maybe Emmet will streak again and take the torch of embarrassment from me.”

  “Only, he didn’t seem all that bothered.”

  I chuckle. “Emmet’s a nut. I’m sorry your first meeting was a full monty howeyah.”

  She leans back in the ladderback chair and smiles wide. “I’ll not complain about gettin’ a gander at the cut of his jib. I expect there are a good many ladies back home who want to spend an hour or two with that fine thing.”

  “He is popular.”

  “And yer fella is no slouch either. So, no one was surprised ye think highly of him or that ye find him attractive.”

  I roll my eyes. “He’ll be impossible to live with now.”

  “Nah, he seems solid. Ye’ve nothin’ to stew over.”

  I wish that were true. Only I don’t have time to sit here and stew. “Okay, pity party is over. Let’s get in there.”

  I find my guys milling around the table in the first room we came into when we arrived an hour ago. Several witches are working diligently, assembling cuttings, wooden bowls filled with water, candles, etc.

  “What are ye usin’ in yer smudge wands, Ginny?” Sloan leans in to watch the process.

  A middle-aged ginger in a blue smock lifts her hand to show him the sprigs of plants she’s binding into six-inch lengths. “I chose white sage, sweetgrass, palo santo, dried orange peel, and lavender for the cleansing. Then, I added ague root and mallow for protection in case they’re using black magic. If they’re cloaking their location, there will be spells set to stop prying eyes from finding them.”

  Emmet lifts a wooden box off the floor, and the brunette witch who talked about the rubies selects a few candles from within. “This close to Samhain, the energy will be strong. That might help.”

  Sloan looks up and winks at me. “Hiya. Come see what we’ve done.”

  I exhale most of my anxiety and join him at the table. “We’re settin’ up for a scryin’ ceremony. Three of the coven will work the bowls while the others work the spell.”

  “I think we’re ready.” Ginny turns to the other girl at the table. “Brigid, tell the others to come in, will ye?”

  When the witches return, the four of us step back from the table and let them work.

  A hundred white candles are set up and glowing warmly on the sideboard, window ledges, fireplace hearth and mantle, and shelves around the room. Three women take their places centered on three sides of the square table. In front of them sit wooden bowls filled with water.

  The rest of the coven fills in around them.

  Ginny and Brigid hand out smudge sticks to the others, and they tilt them into the candle flames until they catch. Smudge sticks don’t burn like a match. They smolder and give off smoke like incense.

  In a slow exploration of the room, a half-dozen women move mindfully in a clockwise motion whispering a mantra chant in Latin. When they pass behind and in front of us, the smoke ascends, and I breathe it deep into my lungs.

  The energy it gives off is a pure delight and raises the hair on my arms.

  Ting.

  Shona raises a chunky wand from the rim of a singing bowl and draws the wan
d’s surface around the top edge in a slow, even movement.

  The sharp sound of her striking the side is swallowed by a harmonious sound flowing over us like a gentle vibration of calm. I close my eyes and try to find my Zen.

  When I tried to use my singing bowl at home, it sounded more like the shrill pitch of playing wine glasses. This song is much more hypnotic. It makes me feel floaty.

  That may or may not have something to do with the drugging tea and the pint of stout I downed.

  Shona walks one full circle around the table moving withershins—counter-clockwise—until she returns to where she began at the fourth side of the table. “Ladies, your crystals have been cleansed.”

  “Blessed be, Magis.” Each of the three women at the scrying bowls reaches forward and chooses a quartz crystal from inside the singing bowl. In unison, they place them in the water before them, then extend their right arms back toward the center of the table.

  Shona holds her arm out too, and their hands stack much like the boys do when transporting with Sloan. From Shona’s hand, a long black chain with a pendulum dangles over a map.

  The three witches tending to the scrying bowls focus only on the water's surface while Shona focuses on the map in the center of the table.

  Goddess of the sun and earth,

  We hear your plea and prove our worth.

  Unseen and unknown the enemies be,

  Their place of hiding reveal to me.

  To reclaim the prana, of which you asked,

  Location revealed, and foe unmasked.

  So mote it be.

  Shona’s words hang in the air like the suspended pendant crystal as the pendulum begins to sway. After a few seconds, the sway becomes a swing.

  At first, I’m totes thinking this is like the seventh-grade sleepover when Gabbi Clarke brought out her Ouija board and we all knew she was pushing the hand guide.

  Yes, I know magic is real now, but after living twenty-three years as a skeptic, it’s hard to believe the things I see.

  Goddess of the sun and earth,

  We hear your plea and prove our worth.

  Unseen and unknown the enemies be,