Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1)

by Sandy Wright

  Nicholas's explanation made as much sense as the rest of it.

  I was learning this was a mysterious and dangerous world we lived in. There were monsters out there waiting for you. The universe was not always a friendly place, populated by benevolent beings of golden light. A lot of it hid darker inhabitants, only too happy to use you, beat the crap out of you, and leave you bleeding in an alley.

  "You haven't dreamed about Bella?" I asked gently.

  "No. Nothing."

  "Then let's assume she's still alive. Good news."

  Nicholas stared at the fire again, obviously troubled. "Yes. And no."

  "I don't understand."

  He hesitated, finally drawing his eyes up to meet mine. I looked at him in horror as comprehension came to me: Nicholas was the only other one left.

  Chapter 27: The Dream

  Nicholas undressed slowly, his mind worrying over the evening's discussion with Samantha. He conjured a mental picture of her face. Her eyes always drew him to her: Persephone ascending to greet the spring, her irises the color of new leaves, a brighter green when she was angry. She had power hidden behind the fringe of long lashes. Power she wasn't yet aware she possessed. Honesty also, despite her sticky fingers with the family grimoire.

  Shadow slid sinuously around Nicholas's bare legs, drawn to his heat. He picked up the big cat and scratched his throat. Shadow stretched his head back and grinned, showing his incisors, his purr rumbling against Nicholas's fingertips. Settling the cat onto the comforter, he pulled on pajama bottoms, leaving his socks on as insulation against the icy December air, and slid into bed.

  He turned onto his back and stared at the strands of moonlight slanting through the window. He had no doubt his involvement with Samantha put him in danger. And if he didn't help her? The thought of her in the hands of his adversary made him twitch with anxiety. No. She had to be on his side. He couldn't bear the thought of having to harm her himself.

  When the moon had traversed a quarter of the night sky, he thought enough is enough. With deliberate effort, he herded and locked up his thoughts, allowing his mind to empty. He would let his subconscious dreams tell him what he needed to do.

  Eventually, his breathing and pulse slowed.

  The room became colder as he dreamt he walked along a cobbled London street winding alongside a riverbank. A chilly breeze tugged at his hair and made his eyes water.

  A bent figure approached, swathed from head to foot in a long gray cloak. Pale hands dropped the hood to reveal an aged face framed with gray hair, her eyes brimming with tears.

  "Nicholas." A whisper, like the damp air rising from an ancient tombstone.

  "Grandmother."

  "I've waited so long to see you." Her critical gaze slid over him, studying every detail. "My dearest boy, you are much too thin."

  She glanced over her shoulder as though she could see something beyond the shadowed street lamps. "There is not much time, Nicholas. The blood moon comes with the new year." She reached to run her silvery hand through his hair. As her fingertips brushed through the strands, he shuddered from the sudden chill.

  The scene shimmered and shifted and they were back in his bedroom. He noticed the slight indentation where she sat, through her translucent body. He reached for his robe at the end of the bed and shrugged it over his shoulders, catching sight of his own pale face in the mirror across the room.

  "This new friend of yours, she has the sight."

  Nicholas nodded. "I thought as much, though she has no control and the occurrences are unpredictable."

  "She has more control than you've seen. Someone else has been helping her."

  Nicholas cursed softly. "Yes. Nuin."

  "No. A native shaman, stronger than any I've seen. I don't understand why he's decided to support this girl, but you must work harder to keep her close. Help her develop her abilities. Keep her closer than you have, don't let her drift away from you under someone else's wing. I sense she will be useful."

  "She saw your accident." He felt the hatred well up inside him. "Perhaps she also saw the driver."

  The ghostly figure shifted closer to him on the bed. He could smell her fetid breath as she pulled it through her rotting body.

  Unnecessary, breathing, but old habits were hard to break.

  "If anything happened to you."

  Nicholas forced himself to face her, ignoring the stench. "What do you sense about my future?"

  She shrugged her thin shoulders. "The prophecy conclusion hasn't yet been revealed, even to this world." She paused. "I would suggest you bond with her."

  "Put her life in further danger for my own advantage?" He shook his head. "Not a good idea."

  "Good idea or not, the decision may be out of your hands. She's already involved. Use her to your advantage. Protect yourself."

  "She would never do it willingly, Grandmother, we are not close, and certainly not intimate," Nicholas said, his tone clipped, although he could not stop his face from growing warm at the images her words evoked. "She is merely—"

  "But it needs to be. We must carry on the Orenda name."

  "What about Bella? What do you sense of her?"

  The ghost shook her head, leaving a faint phosphorescent trail in the air. "She's not here."

  "Nor here," said Nicholas.

  "Then we can't help her."

  The ghost tried to take his hand in her own, but her fingers slipped through his, sending the uncomfortable sensation of cobwebs across his skin.

  "You are one of the only two remaining. If Bella was thwarted, then you are the greatest threat to them now." She paused. "Nicholas, it might spare your life." Tears ran down her shimmering cheeks but left no marks as they splashed on the bed covers.

  "If I am to be the third sacrifice…" Nicholas closed his eyes to block out his grandmother's shadowy image as he considered the implications of her suggestion. "Do you think a bonding would work? It would be dark magic."

  "Only if done without her consent," the ghost answered quietly. "If it is, so be it. We have been working with the dark arts for centuries."

  Nicholas gave a short laugh. "You give me little comfort. Why would she willingly put herself in danger to save me? What right do I have to ask?" He gave his grandmother an agonized look. "I would have to force her." He swallowed, his dry throat clicking. "Or trick her."

  The shimmering figure raised her hand in an impatient slashing gesture. "Do what you must. Don't let your heart trick you into foolish decisions."

  Stunned, Nicholas watched the indentation in the bed disappear as the ghost faded from sight.

  He felt the weight of his own body return as he moved from dream to waking. Rising from the bed, he pushed the curtain aside and threw open the window. Hands braced on the sill, he stared at the moonlight pouring into the room, letting the winter air sting the bare skin of his throat, clearing away the last vestiges of his ghostly visitor's touch. He lowered his head to the bare trees guarding the boundary of the yard.

  Could he get Samantha to agree? If she didn't, could he live with his actions, as well as the consequences?

  Chapter 28: The Rede

  "We have to quit meeting like this." Maya crossed her legs and gave Nicholas an exaggerated come-hither look from beneath lowered lashes. "People will talk."

  Nicholas chuckled and settled onto the stool next to her. The Hideaway was one of the few bars in Sedona that still allowed smoking, at least on their outdoor deck.

  Maya's expression got serious. "Have you talked to Samantha? She had quite a fright at Samhain. Is she okay?"

  Nicholas pulled out two cigarettes, offering one to Maya and lighting them both. "You warned me. Raw power and no control." He exhaled through his nose and ran a hand absently across the top of his head. "I think we're getting things sorted out, finally." He glanced at Maya. "With all the drama Samhain evening, I forgot to introduce myself to Nuin." He paused. "How is he working out as High Priest?"
>
  She took a moment to consider his question. "He gets along well with all the members."

  He gave her a sideways glance. "But?"

  "You know how long it takes for the energies of a new priest and priestess to meld." She watched the smoke from their cigarettes twirl and intertwine above their heads, before finally looking back to Nicholas.

  He sat in silence, waiting her out.

  She shrugged. "I don't like him."

  Still he waited, holding her gaze.

  She broke eye contact and looked into her drink. "He gives me the creeps."

  "How so?" He cocked an eyebrow at the dark woman sitting next to him. "You are so adept at finding the good in every man."

  Maya laughed, breaking the tension. "Oh gods, I see many women appreciate him! I'm convinced he's a psychic vampire. Honestly, when we're in circle together, I have to will myself to stay near him." She took a sip of her drink, suddenly more serious. "He's charming, he's handsome. Always polite. I've never heard him say a negative word about anyone in the coven." She paused. "Well, except for Lilith."

  "Why Lilith?" he asked.

  "Nuin kind of forced her to quit the coven when he became High Priest. He wasn't the only one who wanted her out, but his opinion carried the most weight."

  "Was she banished?" Nicholas asked, keeping his voice neutral.

  "No. She quit on her own without initiating."

  "So she left willingly?"

  Maya shook her head. "Oh, she wasn't happy. She and Nuin had been quite, ah, close."

  "Are they still?"

  Maya gave him a curious glance but made no comment.

  "What happened to make her leave?"

  "Nicholas, you put me in an awkward position here. Coven rules dictate I not discuss coven affairs with anyone outside the group and you know that."

  "I'm still a member in good standing, if not active, so you're not giving information to an outsider. Besides, my aunt is missing."

  He disliked being so blunt, but pressed anyway. "Lilith left the group right before Bella disappeared. I need to know what happened."

  Maya was silent for a long moment, making creases in her cocktail napkin with her nail tip. Finally, she sighed. "I would think you know the answer. You're no stranger to dark magic, nor is your family. Lilith just has less self-control."

  Nicholas stared at her.

  Maya sighed again. "We've had this discussion before, Nicholas. Dark magic always gets out of hand more easily than other workings. No wonder most covens have rules to govern its use.

  The spells have it in their nature to affect the witch who casts them. They change you, physically and mentally. You know it's true."

  "No, I don't." Nicholas shook his head. "The dark arts are not themselves evil. They have been in my family a very long time, and I think perhaps I understand them a bit better than most. It's not the type of magic one uses which corrupts the mind; it's the desire for power."

  Maya flushed at his harsh tone but stood her ground. "The three-fold rule is unforgiving. As soon as you start using dark magic in order to control or harm others, you corrupt yourself in order to destroy."

  "My family doesn't recognize the Rede," he reminded her, "and all your harm none nonsense. Most of the Traditional families do not follow the modern nonsense. Letting the other side have an advantage, simply because you have the weaker stomach, is nothing less than suicide." His voice cold. "Remember Aradia, Queen of the Witches? She taught her followers to poison their enemies. Enforcement's the role of the old families. To keep order."

  "To keep order," she repeated, shaking her head. "What will you do when you find whomever you've returned here looking for?"

  Nicholas shrugged. "I think the answer is clear. They must be stopped."

  She put a hand across her mouth and whispered, "You mean killed?"

  He said nothing.

  Maya shuddered. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

  Nicholas smiled grimly. "Perhaps you should be thanking me for keeping your little witchy community under control, and your soul pristine." He averted his eyes, choosing to stare moodily at the bartender filling a Guinness from the tap.

  Maya stood up, leaving her half-finished drink. "I think you should talk with Lilith personally if you want to know why she was banned." She hesitated before hugging him. "I don't know what you're planning, but please be careful."

  "I'm always careful. It's why I'm still working." He pulled a bill out of his wallet and dropped it on the mahogany counter.

  "Well, I think you have reason to be even more vigilant." Maya put on her coat and looped her arm through his. "Come to the car. I have something to show you."

  The temperature had dropped even lower while they were in the bar. Patches of icy snow glinted in the streetlamps along the parking lot.

  Nicholas turned up his coat collar and jammed his fists into his pockets while he waited for Maya to unlock the car.

  She started the engine and turned on the windshield wipers to clear the fluffy crystals from the window. Turning, she pulled a plastic sack from the back seat.

  "I found this in the ashes from our last full moon ritual." Her breath made little puffs in the cold air. "We burned negative things in our lives. I know it's supposed to be private, but I think you should see it."

  Maya opened the bag, pulled out a fold of cloth and gingerly unwrapped it. In the cloth rested a crude doll, stuffed with herbs and dressed in a charred black cloak. One word had been carved into the poppet's forehead: Orenda.

  Nicholas pressed his lips together in a grim smile. "I already have enough enemies to fill a graveyard." He stared at the snow silhouetted in the halo of the streetlight. "Looks like I can add another to the list."

  Chapter 29: What Lies Within

  I worried about Nicholas all week. Prickly as he could be, in the back of my mind, I thought of him as my protector, my knight in gleaming black magic armor. Now, I wasn't sure if he was friend or foe, pursued or pursuer.

  Tomorrow was the last regular full moon of the year. The next one would be New Year's Eve. The Blood Moon. The thirteenth full moon of the year. A finger of fear ran down my spine, raising goose bumps on my arms.

  The fear and uncertainty of having to rely on my magic to stay alive—my magic, which I mistrusted, disliked, and didn't understand—made me shake. According to Mother, there was no debate on what, or when. I would have to defend myself to stay alive.

  No matter how the scenario played in my head, I always came back to the same recurring vision: Me on the plateau waiting for the storm to arrive. It left me with a defeated heaviness. The heaviness someone drowning feels as their clothes fill with water, the heaviness of a downward current as it sucks the strength from a swimmer's struggling limbs. There would be more deaths, I knew, as certainly as one wave follows another.

  I crossed my fingers and made an early resolution to see the clock strike one in the New Year.

  * * * * *

  I considered not leaving the truck the next night, putting it in gear, turning around and going home. I wasn't in the best frame of mind for a full moon ritual. But the huge bonfire blazing in the circle looked so welcoming. In contrast to my empty house, the ritual would be full of laughter and good cheer this close to the holidays. And I would see Maya. And Nuin. I lifted my cape's hood over my head and looped a long wool scarf around my neck.

  I got out and walked toward the fire. Nuin waved and walked part way out to meet me. He pushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek and whispered, "I've missed you, Samantha. Where have you been?"

  Why was he attracted to me, a broken woman in the romance department, when he could have anyone he wanted? I still didn't know how I felt about him, but he was sexy and friendly, and much more accepting than Nicholas. I hugged him again looking over his shoulder at the bonfire. Maya stood in her long black robe, her back to the fire, looking out into the darkness at us. I broke Nuin's embrace and laced my
arm through his. "Let's get near the fire, it's freezing."

  The coven members had made wreaths of holly and mistletoe for each of us. Maya put one on each man's head and Nuin did the same for the women. He placed one on my head and kissed my cheek. His lips lingered on my skin an extra moment, and his breath warmed my ear. I shivered, either from the cold or from his intimate touch I wasn't sure.

  "This full moon is an ideal opportunity to cleanse and charge your magickal tools for Yule, the Winter Solstice coming up later this month," Maya told us in circle.

  I had no tools, so I watched as other members brought up wands, athames, wooden pentacles, and even a pair of antlers, to run through the flame and incense smoke, and sprinkle with salt and water. The ceremony was just the calm and soothing break I needed, and the incense smelled especially good this month, a mixture of frankincense, amber resin, and something Maya had called copal.

  Nuin blessed his tool last, an athame with a handle of darkened bone and a gleaming new blade.

  After the ritual, I sat by the bonfire next to Nuin and Maya, feeling much better than I had when I arrived. "Your athame is beautiful," I said to Nuin. "Do you mind if I hold it?"

  He handed it to me. "I don't mind letting other people handle my magickal tools," he said, "but it's nice of you to ask first."

  I ran my finger across the handle.

  "I should start looking at athames. How did you decide on bone? I thought most were black-handled."

  "The traditional ones are black," he said. "My last one was. But I lost it recently, so I decided to get something different this time."

  My blood turned to ice at his answer, and I turned away so he wouldn't see my shocked expression.

  He put his arm around me and pulled me close. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to jerk away from his touch. He disliked Nicholas. But enough to try to break into his house? And if so, why? Even more disturbing, why did Nuin make Nicholas uneasy?

  I made an excuse to leave, blaming the cold. When I stood, Nuin stood also to walk me to my truck, tucking my arm into his. "I wondered something about the last full moon ritual," I said, keeping my voice carefully conversational as we walked. "What did you put in the bonfire when we discarded things we wanted out of our life? I saw everyone's except yours. It was wrapped. Remember?"