Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1)

by Sandy Wright

  Rumor gave me her patient look reserved for unreasonable customers. "I should have warned you." I bit back a nasty retort, and she continued in a gentle voice. "I don't belong to the coven. They hold public rituals once a month and I come sometimes. It's…nice. Soothing."

  "Do you like it enough to join?"

  Her expression changed as she appeared to consider and dis-card replies. Finally she shrugged. "My family, my father especially, is so male-centric. Sometimes I feel I don't count. Wiccan beliefs are different. They're female and self-oriented. It's attractive to me. I can direct my own choices, create my own path, and not have it dictated to me."

  Memories washed over me. My father and his unspoken laws for both mother and me. My six years of marriage, implicitly trusting a husband who broke my heart when he admitted to an affair he'd begun just months after our honeymoon. I didn't want to be that woman any longer. I was ready for some magic.

  "Don't ask me to do anything embarrassing."

  She held up three fingers. "Scout's honor." Rummaging in the backseat, she produced two taper candles stuck through paper cups. She handed one to me, and we walked around the barricade and into the park.

  Wooded areas hemmed the clearing on three sides. The poplar and birch trees had not yet dropped their leaves, and their dark shadows rustled in the breeze. Lights dotted the clearing as people moved around in the open field. A round table, draped with a white cloth and topped with candles on each side of a vase of white night-blooming flowers, sat in the middle of a circle ringed by rocks. An incense burner wafted the scent of sandalwood and sage.

  I drew a deep breath of the wonderful aromas, feeling the tense muscles in my shoulders unknot and release.

  Rumor pointed out Maya, the High Priestess of the ceremony. Her long white cloak and silver pentacle necklace was a striking contrast to her dark hair and blue eyes. Where I felt out of place, Maya seemed in her element. Standing with her eyes closed and arms out, palms up, she had the calm grace of a mystic in her temple, oblivious to the people working around her. After a moment she opened her eyes, saw Rumor and waved us over.

  "I'm so glad to see you back." Maya hugged Rumor and then me, whispering, "There's no need to be nervous. Relax and enjoy."

  She joined a man standing in the circle. He pushed back the hood of his black cloak, revealing sculpted cheekbones and straw-colored hair braided past his shoulders.

  "Nuin," Rumor said, "the coven High Priest. He and Maya will be leading the ceremony."

  Nuin pulled a small knife from his belt and laid it on the altar. He held one hand over the blade and moved his lips silently.

  I watched the Priest with interest. The man has power. Loads. I laughed quietly to myself. Who cares about magical? He has a power handsome men seem to be born with—innate, testosterone-filled sexuality and a don't-you-dare-question-me self-confidence.

  Pulling my gaze from Nuin, I leaned in to Rumor. "Will we have parts in the ritual?"

  "Only conveners have speaking parts. For everything else they give us instructions. So what do you want to do?" She bobbed up and down on her tiptoes like a little kid asking permission to go someplace she knows is forbidden. "Watch—or go in?"

  I linked my arm through hers. "What the hell. Lead away."

  Rumor laughed. "Come on, let's go get smudged."

  The low moon's glow backlit Cathedral Rock. We lined up outside the stone circle and two people walked down the line, fanning smoke onto us from a smoldering sage bundle. Then we entered the circle in silence.

  Excitement raised my blood pressure, and I immediately felt warmer. Every sense became more acute, yet at the same time, stilled. I smelled the pungent juniper, heard the birch leaves rustle, picked out every detail of the dozen or so candlelit faces across the circle.

  Maya lifted a wicked-sharp sword from the altar and hoisted it, pointing the tip of the blade beyond us. Eyes closed, she turned in a slow circle.

  "I conjure thee, O circle of power!

  To form a boundary between the world of men,

  And the realms of the mighty spirits.

  I create a space beyond space, a time beyond time,

  A meeting place of perfect love and perfect trust,

  To contain the power I raise herein."

  Rumor had whispered instructions during the smudging to imagine a mist or light enveloping us as the Priestess cast the circle, but I forgot her suggestion until the air changed. It became thick and still, pressed against my back, filled my ears like cotton, muffled all sound outside the circle. The perimeter glowed with a barely perceptible shimmer of light.

  I should have been afraid of the odd sensations. Instead, they filled me with unbearable lightness. Dizzy with happiness, I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.

  Maya walked the circle, stopping to meet our eyes and speak to each of us. "This is the time of the full moon, a time of wishes coming to fruition in our lives. Life is a wheel, ever turning amidst the mysteries. The Goddess understands this."

  Her words flowed over me and I realized she was giving a sermon.

  "Close your eyes and send a secret desire to your Goddess," Nuin instructed in a deep, hypnotic voice. "Ask her to weave a spell of moonlight, to bring your wish into your life."

  Magic! We were praying to the goddess of the moon and asking for magic. Could it possibly work? The idea appealed to me like no sermon ever had. I squeezed my eyes shut, blinking tears, and sent my thoughts up into the night. My secret wish is to be cherished by someone as much as life itself.

  The rest of the ritual flowed around me in a swirl of dream-like impressions. I remember facing the moon, high and bright above Cathedral Rock, my hand beckoning the light. To seal the spell, we wrote our requests on parchments and tossed them into the cauldron fire. We whirled and chanted, faster and faster, until at last we threw our hands to the sky, and released our wishes to the universe. I finished out of breath and dizzy, but happier than I'd felt all year.

  When the ceremony ended I felt a twinge of sadness. I wanted to stand under the full moon and think about the amazing kinship I'd felt, the power, the tremendous energy in the circle.

  That didn't happen. People laughed and chattered as they carried items from the altar to Maya's car, folded up the table and carted it to Nuin's pickup. It was past midnight but I didn't feel tired. Rumor and I helped Nuin scatter the stones ringing the circle.

  "Leave no trace," he told us.

  I watched the Priest as we worked and thought about the two men I had met in the last week. Nicholas was dark, Nuin fair. Nicholas was cool, alpine water. Nuin was smoking, smoldering fire. Both men gave the impression of strength, a presence almost overpowering. I realized much of the energy I had felt during tonight's ritual came from the interaction between priestess and priest. Yet he seemed quite approachable, flirting casually with all the women.

  Afterward, Nuin invited everyone for coffee at an all-night diner. We piled into a big horseshoe-shaped booth. He allowed himself to be wedged between Rumor and a coven member I did not know, a thin girl with thick black eyeliner.

  I felt conspicuous in the fluorescent glare, so I took off my cloak and stashed it in the corner of the booth. The waitress didn't give us a second look. She'd waited on stranger groups than a few witches in black cloaks and pentacles.

  I slouched against the garish vinyl, listening to the laughter and missing the insider jokes. I wanted to ask about the ritual – but not in front of all these people. I snuck a glance at Rumor, talking with Nuin. She has the keys and no intention of leaving early. I sighed and slid further into my seat. For a moment I was back at my ex-husband's company Christmas party, stuck between strangers, abandoned for the pursuit of bigger game. Younger and sexier game.

  Nuin winked at me and reminded the group it was getting late. Within moments, everyone dispersed, leaving Rumor and me sitting alone with him in the big booth. He slid closer, close enough his thigh pressed against mine und
er the Formica table top.

  "How do you like Sedona, Samantha?" he asked while we lingered over a last cup of coffee. "Has your store been busy?"

  "Slow, but picking up." I wondered how he knew I owned Past Lives. Had Rumor told him?

  "We had a great walk-in customer yesterday." Rumor tapped my arm. "Sam, where's the card Nicholas gave you this morning at the café?"

  I fished it out of my purse. "Nicholas Orenda, Family Prac-tice," I read. "Think he's a doctor?"

  "May I see it?" Nuin asked.

  He took the card and looked it over front and back. Then he held it between his flat palms for a long moment, his eyes closed. "When did you say you met this man?"

  "This week," Rumor said. "He even gave her a cloak."

  I glanced at her and gave my head the slightest shake no. Based on his reaction to the business card, I didn't want Nuin to touch the cloak. I wasn't sure I wanted to share my private life with either man yet. I certainly didn't want to gossip about one with the other.

  "Is this the cloak?" When I nodded, Nuin reached for my crumpled wrap in the corner. He stroked the dark material, running his thumb across the crescent moon clasp.

  "Your coven sign, what a coincidence." Immediately I regret-ted my words, they seemed flippant and too personal.

  Nuin steepled his fingers against his chin, still studying the cloak. "Ah, a primary rule of witchcraft: There is no coincidence, only synchronicity." He bent closer to look at the fabric below the clasp. "What's this pattern?"

  The velvet nap had worn through below the clasp, leaving a slight zig-zag design in the cloth. "I think it's just worn, from holding it to put the loop around the clasp," I said.

  Nuin didn't answer. He drummed two fingers on the table as he examined the material. After a long moment he pushed the cloak aside. Still silent, he handed Nicholas' business card back to me.

  Rumor looked over my shoulder at it. "What's his address?"

  "Two thirty-seven Black Cat Road," I read.

  "I think I'd remember the street," she mused. "It sounds too hokey to be real, like an old gothic novel." She looked closer at the card. "Oh! Because it's not in Sedona." She pointed to the third line. "It's in Jerome."

  "Where's Jerome?" I asked.

  "It's about thirty miles away, an old copper mining town from the 1800s. Now it's an artist colony. Really gothic and spooky. We should go look at this house, Sam. A lot of the houses are hundred-year-old Victorians. Plus, if Nicholas brought you one trunkful of goodies from his aunt's house, there could be an attic full."

  "Good idea," I said. "I'll call Nicholas and ask him if next weekend would be okay."

  The waitress collected the tab. Nuin walked out with us, but put a hand on my arm to hold me back. He reached into the pocket of his robe and drew out a small black box. "For you, a remembrance of your first ritual. Welcome to Sedona, Samantha," he said softly, pressing the box into my hand.

  I pulled off the lid. A charm nestled inside, the sliver of a crescent moon, formed out of milky moonstone and threaded on a black silk cord.

  "I try to bring a gift for first-time attendees," he said. "Rumor mentioned she wanted to invite you." He removed the necklace and motioned for me to turn around. When he tied the charm around my neck it felt hot. "It's a moonstone. Your birthstone." I held it away from my skin and the little moon immediately cooled.

  He brushed my hair aside. "It's made from moonlight, as are you," he whispered, leaning in to kiss me.

  I froze. He was sexy and seemed nice, but he was a stranger. My shoulders stiffened. I turned my head, and his lips grazed my cheek.

  He straightened and stepped back. "I thought we had an attraction. Guess I was wrong." His anger twined itself around me like soot-filled smoke, smothering the last tranquil remnants of the ritual. "My apologies." He turned and strode away. It appeared he wasn't accustomed to rejection.

  "What an ego," I muttered. Anxiety prickled across my shoulders.

  I shivered and hurried to Rumor and her convertible.

  "What is with him?" I stopped beside Rumor. "Does he act this way with all the newbies?"

  "Uh, no." Rumor unlocked the passenger door and gave me a thumbs-up sign. "I don't know why I worried about your social life. You're doing just fine on your own."

  Remembering Nuin's stormy eyes, I wondered if I'd pay a price for turning him down.

  Chapter 3: Strands of Destiny

  In the next town, Nicholas waited until midnight to climb the stairs to the second-floor balcony of his aunt's house, cradling a black glass ball in one arm. Forewarned is always best, he told himself, although it grated to admit Samantha was important enough to make him worry.

  When he shook Samantha's hand at the store, he saw. He had not meant to look. He usually tried to maintain a polite distance with strangers and keep himself shielded. People he met for the first time often described him as aloof, but it was a necessary pre-caution. On rare occasions, however, a casual touch broke through his barrier, piercing his head with a single burst of razor-sharp images. Yesterday, Nicholas had glimpsed Samantha's future. But he needed to be sure before he moved forward with his plans.

  The power coursing through his blood was ancient. Even as a lad, Nicholas knew he was a witch, and his talents gave him an advantage. But such gifts were not without price: The blinding headaches, the illnesses, and the weakened immune system. Magic always charged a toll. His parents could not lower the cost or pay it for him. The young boy dabbled with his magic and experienced the pain of his impulsive behavior.

  The man was much more cautious.

  Still, tonight he could not help asking, who are you? He lit the candles, and his words formed cold puffs when he whispered an incantation to cast the protective circle. Drawing in the earthy scent of mugwort, he knelt in the center, closed his eyes and lifted his arms. "Earth and fire, water and breeze, bend your time to let me see. As I will, so mote it be."

  The power roiled inside him, a brief, sharp wave of nausea, before it moved out to his extremities, making his fingertips tingle.

  He lifted the sphere of black crystal to the full moon, cupping it in both hands so it absorbed the light from the flickering candles below, and the moon above. Frost turned the globe opaque. He leaned close and blew on its surface, rubbing his hands across it in slow spirals. The icy crystals cleared, and the globe glowed with a pure, dazzling white light.

  Within, Nicholas saw a red mountaintop, a spindly pinon pine, wet and black with rain. Goose bumps rose on his arms, and he could smell the wet earth. He shivered and tilted the orb to one side and then the other until he could see her. Samantha. She wore a loose white gown, molded to her body by the rain. She swayed in a circle of lanterns, her arms raised to the stormy sky. The wind whipped her unbound hair across her face and hid her expression, but her movements were those of celebration, a wild jubilance in time with the whipping wind of the thunderstorm.

  Nicholas' groin muscles clenched and surged with heat in response to her dance. He cursed his weakness but did not look away. A sleek raven glided onto the pinon branch, shaking its wet wings in agitation, drawing his eyes away from the dancing woman.

  In the shadows below the tree, a figure watched Samantha, his eyes full of her. The man Nicholas hunted.

  Chapter 4: Song of the Ancients

  The cellphone on my bedside table began to vibrate just before sunrise. The shop was closed on Sunday and Monday, so it couldn't be work. I put it to my ear and cleared my throat.

  "Good morning Starshine." Rumor warbled. "Get up, get dressed, wear your boots, we're going hiking."

  I groaned. "Did your parents teach you every old hippie song they knew? You'd better be bringing coffee."

  Barely an hour later we were in the convertible, sipping lattes and watching the rising sun turn the red rocks other-worldly crimson. The towering formations enclosed the town like the ruins of an ancient fortress wall. I could understand why the locals said they had
supernatural power.

  When Kamaria had first mentioned magical energy, I'd scoffed. But since the full moon ritual, I'd been undecided about energy and magic. Maybe there was unusual power here.

  I pulled a brochure out of my bag, brandished my latte toward the red mountain in front of us, and lectured in my best peppy, tour-guide voice. "According to local lore, Cathedral Rock is one of five major vortexes in Sedona. Each site has its own personality. Some radiate male, yang energies, active and energizing. Others are female, calming and tranquil yin."

  I studied Cathedral Rock. Definitely male. It looked like a larger rock wall had been blasted apart, leaving vaguely phallic slivers of rock jutting through the center.

  Rumor pointed to a flat spot between two spires. "Up there is where we're going. It's steep but only about two miles round trip."

  She parked near the bottom of the formation and handed me a hydration pack filled with water so I'd have both hands free for climbing. I pulled a couple of things from my purse, including lip gloss and a pen, and stuck them in the pack.

  The faint trail rose through the center of the formation on steep, slick rock. The only way to tell the path was by cairns spaced along the way. Over the years, hikers had etched holds into the rocky face. We used our hands, feet, and occasionally our knees, to make the climb.

  I leaned against a boulder to catch my breath, and studied the thin spires looming above the trail.

  "Geologists call those skinny pieces volcanic intrusions," Rumor said, stopping to pull bandanas from her pack and wetting them. "Most of the area was once an ancient seabed with subsurface volcanoes. When they erupted, molten magma forced its way into cracks of the sandstone. Over time, the softer rock wore away, leaving these volcanic spires."

  I wiped my face with the cool cloth and considered Kamaria's comments the evening before last. "Besides turning the soil this bright red, a high iron content attracts lightning. The iron plus the shape would explain the strikes." I turned to Rumor. "Kamaria says it has magical energy. What do you think?"