by Sandy Wright
In his aunt's case, Nicholas wasn't sure. Dealing with a witch's house, the power point was more likely where she cast her circle. Yes, there, the first floor library. The room had felt full of residual magic when he'd first stepped into it. His hand brushed past the window ledge and he jerked to an abrupt halt. The screen bowed inward, revealing the prickly edges of cut wire. No footprints in the snow, but then he already knew it happened at least a month ago. He peered through the locked window. The wards will provide protection from both physical and psychic invasion, but he'd take the screen into town for repair any-way.
Returning inside, he chanted a sealing spell and traced runes over the doors and windows. His magic seeped into the walls, mingling with the spells Bella had laid before.
Finished with the first circuit, he crushed and mixed the herbs in a pottery bowl and lit them, blowing gently to develop embers. Working his way outward from the library, he repeated the process of sealing every possible entry, moving through the rooms, wafting fragrant smoke everywhere.
Finally, he went back outside to cast a protective circle around the entire property, laying seals on the ground at all entrances and exits. Summoning the entities who would make up the ward, he pulled them into a rock to anchor their physical presence. Next to the rock, he buried a small piece of meat to feed them until he refreshed the protection. Ticking off steps in his head, he finished by also covering the buried meat with a rock, hoping it would be enough to deter coyotes and any other local wildlife.
Nicholas knew the next activity on his list would be much more difficult to complete. He would need an accomplice, one with very specific talents. He wondered briefly if he should include Samantha in his plans. No, it would only scare her. And I can't teach defense tactics to a warrior who is terrified.
Chapter 18: An Assignment
The phone was ringing when I stepped out of the shower.
"Well?" Rumor's voice gave me a guilty start. I had completely forgotten to call her back after the volunteer dinner disaster.
"Oh, Rumor, I'm so sorry. But there's too much to tell you on the phone. Can you come to my place on your way to work?" She gave me a thirty-minute head start so I could dress and make coffee.
We sat on the front porch and soaked up the morning sun while Rumor listened in horror to my vision of the old woman under the truck and the appearance of the ghost before the impact. The woman's image had seared itself into my brain. I could recall every detail of her face. The dark eyes and flowing gray hair. But what haunted me was her look of surprised recognition. She faced her moment of death and knew it.
Rumor reached over and squeezed my hand, her expression sympathetic. "Did you know her?"
I shook my head to clear the image from my mind. "Kamaria, Nicholas, the shaman...they seem to think I have, uh, powers."
Rumor raised one eyebrow but remained tactfully silent.
"I know. Sedona's buzzword for everything. But a lot more has happened." I paused and took a sip of coffee, wrapping both hands around the mug to still their trembling.
I described the auras, then my lesson with Nicholas and my experiences with, and without, the cloak.
"He says for me, the cloak is a tool, although I may not need it forever," I concluded.
"Let's try it again," Rumor said.
"What?" I gave her a horrified look.
"Let me try on your cloak. I want to see if it gives me any powers."
For just an instant, I felt like a circus act being paraded before the crowd. I wouldn't want to inflict this horror on anyone else. Rumor had no idea what she was asking.
To my relief, Rumor abruptly changed her mind. "On second thought, maybe it's not such a good idea. I almost forgot the three-fold law of witchcraft. You mess around with magic in jest, it comes back to bite you later, and three times worse." Rumor's shoulders slumped. "Do you suppose you're suffering from the effects of the three-fold law? Think about it, you started out skeptical, but went to the full moon anyway."
How ironic. If magic nudges you and you don't react, it comes back around with a sledge hammer. "Possibly. But my first vision occurred before then, so I don't think so."
She nodded. "The first time you met Nicholas." Her downcast expression brightened. "So, how is your sexy teacher?"
"He's an ass. A pompous, full-of-himself jerk."
"See, such passion proves my point. The two of you have chemistry."
"More like repelling forces," I muttered.
She laughed. "I'll take him if you really aren't interested." Her expression teased, but I felt a flash of anger sizzle up the back of my neck, making my temples throb. Rather than spit a scathing retort, I rolled my head and shrugged off the feeling. I wasn't mad at her, I was mad at myself for getting into a situation where I felt this vulnerable, so I said nothing. There was nothing to say. To Nicholas, I was simply an assignment.
* * * * *
"You're joking, right?" Rumor said, picking up the conversation again at our evening dinner. She appeared as surprised as I'd been to learn about the deaths in Nicholas's family. "Did he actually say the killers might come after you—even if you leave Sedona?"
I stared out the restaurant window. "He was really upset when I told him about the cut screen at his house, furious I waited this long to tell him." I bit on my thumbnail, thinking back to his explosion at lunch. "I think he was worried."
I watched the neighborhood cat slink out of a doorway, its gaze intent on something across the street. The gray form moved soundlessly through the shadows, silken and deadly in its pursuit. I had a sudden sense of what it would feel like to be hunted.
Like a circle within a circle. The new responsibility suddenly thrust upon me was crushing. "Our fate lies in your hands," Nicholas had said. How could I concentrate on his fate? I wasn't even sure I'd be alive to see the New Year. The thought ratcheted my heart to hundred-yard-dash speed. I wasn't playing by the safe, well-known rules of my old world. I saw ghosts, auras, and visions and received death messages. To stay alive, I had to figure out what they meant. I had to protect myself, physically and magically.
When I was twelve, my dad taught me to shoot a shotgun. I'd pitied the quail and pheasant he hunted. Now my heart was harder. It was time to learn to shoot a handgun, too. Visit the shooting range. If I was an assignment to Nicholas, then I'd damn well be his star pupil.
Chapter 19: Ancestral Spirits
"You are a persistent woman." Sinclair chuckled as I trudged up the trail to the plateau the next afternoon.
"I ain't had this much company since my wife died."
"I know you like your privacy," I said, "and I'm sorry. But I'd like to visit weekly if you'll let me. I have a lot of work to cover, and you are an exceptional teacher."
"You have big work to do. My guides say I should help." Sinclair nodded, his eyes serious. "Let's talk about spirits. Tell me about seeing your mother."
I settled beside him cross-legged. "I was in a ritual circle with a bonfire in the middle. The High Priest called the ancestral spirits to join us, and then he picked up some dirt and flung it. The dust turned into little whirlwinds." The retelling made me swallow hard. "One of the whirlwinds turned into my mother."
The medicine man stared off into the distance. "Was it this priest who brought your mother to you? Or did you call her yourself?"
"If I did, I wasn't aware of doing it." I paused. "I had been thinking about her intently all evening. We had a Dumb Supper and ate the entire meal in silence. The table included empty seats for our dead ancestors."
Sinclair nodded. "So the spirits felt welcome. These brujas make strong medicine." He stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants. "Okay. I think you're ready." He motioned for me to stand beside him. "Like your white medicine man, I can summon the spirits of the dead from their beds beneath us within the earth. Careful not to upset them. If you feel afraid, grab my arm, but this time, no running away."
I swallowed hard and nodded.
The old shaman closed his eyes and began a monotonous sing-song tune. I didn't understand the words, but my body swayed with each of the phrases he sang, over and over.
Small glimmerings of light appeared in the twilight, rising up into the sky, flickering and fading, moving with rhythmic grace to Sinclair's song. At first they were nothing, simply bright movements lacking definition. Slowly they took shape; arms and legs appeared, then bodies and heads.
I grabbed Sinclair's arm as the Elders rose, forming into a shadowy semblance of their lost bodies. They lifted free of the earth to hang upon the air, twisting and turning in small arcs. They were dancing, their movements sinuous. I held the shaman's arm and felt I could sense something of what the dancers tried to convey. Like a dream, the vision appeared to me. I saw myself dancing with these spirits as a thunderstorm advanced, lightning flashing in the distance. I raised my head to the sky in time to see a raven cross the wind-scuttled moon. Suddenly I felt the magic's rush as it exited my body, like a punch in the stomach.
The next moment I was sprawled on the ground, Sinclair kneeling beside me. He helped me sit up and brushed the dirt from my back and hair.
"How did you do that?" I drew in a deep breath and took a swig of water from the tin cup he offered.
"Tell me what you saw."
I took a second gulp of water. "I saw the Ancestors, lots of them. They were dancing, kind of, in time to your singing. And then, when I touched you, I had a vision of another scene. Me. I danced with them. A storm, lightning in the distance. And a raven."
Sinclair was quiet for a long time, so long I began to wonder if he would reply. Finally he turned to face me, his eyes alive with excitement. "Remember when I told you I saw strong medicine surrounding you?"
I nodded.
"And also, when we learned you are a hollow bone?"
"Yes."
"I now know what those signs mean. You have the same talent I just used. You have the Song of the Ancients."
My mouth went dry. I looked at the cup in my hand, tilted it up and swallowed the remaining water in a daze. "You think I can call up the ancestral spirits?"
"Yes! I'm sure of it. If you practice." The medicine man nodded emphatically.
Chapter 20: Orphan Thanksgiving
"It's not a bad gig," Rumor said, pulling her homemade macaroni and cheese out of the oven and wrapping it in a towel to carry out to the truck. "Someone else makes most of the food, we bring something to share. Nuin worries about cleaning the house and setting the table."
"Although a good orphan always offers—even insists—on helping with clean up," I added.
She wiped a strand of hair off her sweaty face. "This will give you a chance to relax and kick back. You have been so tense this last week. You need this get-together in the worst way." She hugged me around the shoulders, her hands still in oven mitts. "Me too. I plan to hang out and watch football afterwards. Just relax and have a few beers. Have you been to Nuin's house before?" She took off the mitts, tossed them on the counter, and picked up her wrapped casserole.
"No, I can't wait to see it." I hefted my dish of cranberry Jell-O salad and my keys. Maybe Jell-O was a cop-out, but even after two weeks, I still couldn't stomach the smell of pumpkin pie. "Ready?"
When we arrived, Nuin opened one side of the ornately carved double doors and held it while we carried our food inside. The polished expanse of wooden floor gleamed from the entry clear to a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows at the other side of the den. The windows framed the jagged outline of Cathedral Rock in the distance.
"Custom built and I'd bet my paycheck he's had a decorator," Rumor whispered as we unwrapped our dishes, putting them on the already-loaded sideboard in the dining room.
"Yeah. Whatever investments involve Nuin, they're lucrative," I whispered back. "The question is, are they legal?"
Nuin led us into the dining room, which was dominated by a long, narrow trestle table set for twelve guests. Two large can-vases on opposite sides of the table offset black matte walls. One was a print of Waterhouse's The Magic Circle. The other, a painting I didn't recognize, was of a dark-haired woman clad in black, standing on a windy building ledge next to a living gargoyle. The artwork and the black walls gave the room a mysterious atmosphere, without seeming sinister or garish. Golden-hued candles glowed on both the table and the sideboard, and an upward-facing sconce on the far wall reflected off the large mirror over the serving area and brightened the dark décor.
Maya sat at one end of the table and invited Rumor to sit next to her. Nuin pulled out a chair for me beside him at the opposite end. Between, I recognized a few faces from the coven, including the dark-haired girl who went with us to the diner after my first full moon. But other than our hosts and Rumor, I saw no one I knew by name. I was grateful Nuin kept us company.
Nuin excused himself and went to the sideboard to carve the turkey, basted to a sumptuous, crispy golden brown. Someone at the table cheered, and we all joined in until he called. "Line up!" We all queued up to fill our plates with turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, casseroles of sweet potatoes, green beans, macaroni and cheese, cranberry sauce and three kinds of dressings.
Nuin, last in line, finally carried his fully-laden plate back to the table and sat down beside me. "I couldn't decide which dressing looked best, so I'm trying all three," he admitted, a sheepish grin on his face.
"Are you really going to eat it all?" I teased him. He was so lean I guessed this type of meal was rare.
"Hey, my momma taught me it's impolite to shun any dish brought with love," he said, "no matter how much pain it may cause you."
I wanted a chance to talk with Maya alone, so I volunteered for kitchen cleanup after dinner, while the rest of the guests moved into the den with Nuin to watch football.
"Are you still apprenticing with a prickly mutual friend of ours?" Maya asked as we scraped plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Her eyes danced with amusement. "How's it working out for you?"
I laughed. "I can't tell you how good it is to find someone who really knows him! Everyone else thinks he walks on water."
She squeezed my arm. "Make no mistake, Sam, he does. He's one of the most gifted witches I've ever met, a natural in dark magic."
I flinched at the mention of Nicholas and dark magic, but Maya continued without noticing my discomfort. "Plus, he's a Traditional, one of the actual Shining Ones." She stopped, considering. "At least, he was until now. Taking you, an outsider, as an apprentice will end the family traditions. You have a rare privilege indeed."
"What's a Shining One?"
Her mouth formed a round O of surprise. "You mean he hasn't spoken with you about this?"
"No, he's said nothing, except to drill me to the point of rudeness about my commitment."
Maya nodded.
"I can see why he'd want you to be sure. Otherwise, his sacrifice is wasted." She paused, clearly undecided. "I don't know if I should be the one to tell you. If Nicholas hasn't told you, I'm sure he has his reasons."
Not again.
"Look." My voice rose. "I'm being asked to make changes in my life I never dreamed of." All of the frustration of the last month boiled to the surface. "No one seems to think I need to know what is going on. Just level with me, damn it!"
Maya took my arm and pulled me toward the front door. "Calm down. Let's walk around the block."
The brisk air soothed my anger. "Maya, I'm so sorry. I just needed to vent, and you were the closest target."
Maya rubbed her hands together warming them. "Don't worry about it. Many people vent to their High Priestess. I'm used to it."
"So, you were explaining Nicholas's sacrifice?" I prompted.
"Nicholas comes from a line of magical relatives on both sides of his family," Maya said. "His parents indoctrinated him in witchcraft as a child."
"He told me."
"Such a person is known as a Traditional. The nuances of their magic ar
e passed from generation to generation in a closed manner. No one outside the family is allowed."
Her voice filled with sadness. "There are very few Traditionals in the world. It's an isolated life. The ones who are left? Well, they're not easy to identify." She gave a tight smile. "They don't advertise. In fact, they're so unusual, so special, other witches call them the Shining Ones. I know about Nicholas's family because I was close to his aunt, Bella."
She continued slowly, as if picking her words with utmost care. "The thing is, Sam, once the inherited magical secrets of a tradition leave the hands of family members, the tradition ends. If Nicholas takes you as an apprentice, he sacrifices all his family's heritage and traditions." She took both of my hands in hers. "I hope you're certain this is what you want."
I was stunned. I'd had no idea how much he'd be giving up. How flippant and uncooperative I'd been with him when he asked if I was committed to his path.
"Why would he do this for me?" I asked.
"Little one, that question is something you must ask him yourself," Maya said. "I wouldn't presume to answer such an important question for him."
I knew so little about Nicholas and even less about his motivation to become my mentor.
"Were you friends with Bella?"
"Bella didn't have any close friends." Maya punctuated her comment with a quick shake of her head. "She was too cautious, too guarded, for anyone to get close. But she was our High Priestess." Maya was quiet, lost in thought. "She left Jerome about a year ago, very suddenly. No one has heard from her. Rather than disband the coven, I took over because I was the highest-ranking member."
"Was Nicholas in the coven also?"
Maya shook her head. "He didn't live here. I met him when he was a lot younger and came to stay summers with his aunt."
"Did he know Nuin also?"
"I don't think they'd met until Samhain," Maya said. "Nuin is new to our group. He moved to Sedona about a year ago, just before Bella left."
"So Nuin knows Bella?" And he lied to me.
