“I didn’t kill it. You did.”
“Technically true, but what were you going to do with it when you’d finished, just let it go?”
I nearly bumped into her when she turned right at the next corner. We were walking down a tree-lined street of well-maintained older homes that were obviously expensive. A small sign identified the area as Twickinham.
“We would have sent it back to where it came from. It doesn’t belong here and we only kill what we must, even if it is a shadow demon. Your mentor never taught you that all life was precious?”
“Let’s just say that there are degrees of preciousness and a shadow demon is pretty far down the line from humans,” I said.
“Oh? I suppose you have a scale for humans then. Are some of their lives not as precious as others?”
“That’s getting a little deep for this conversation. I thought we started out discussing the weather.”
“You brought up the killing,” she snapped.
“I only brought it up because I thought you might like to know how to get that smell off you.”
“It’s hardly noticeable.”
I smiled. “Maybe to you.”
She glared at me again and snapped, “Are you saying I stink?”
“I’m saying I can smell it on you, even over the Lysol and lemon and perfume, although it is a lovely scent. I’ve always been partial to jasmine.”
She ignored my attempt at a compliment. For awhile, she was silent and then she raised one hand to her face and sniffed. She grimaced at the odor. “You can show me what you did to get the smell off you?”
“Sure, it’ll take a little practice. I can help you the first time and after a couple of times you should be able to manage it quickly enough.”
She seemed to be thinking about it and finally I noticed her shoulders relaxing a bit. She’d been so tense. A type-A personality, even if the Wicca practice was mellowing it out a bit. I rarely came across type-A Wiccans; most of those who studied Earth magic were mellower. It was fortunate she hadn’t fallen under the influence of night magic. Type-A’s and night magic went together like type-A’s and Wall Street.
“So what do you do?” Cynthia asked. “Is it a potion?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s a simple spell, probably one you already know, but you have to focus it differently. You’ll pick it up quick enough.”
Cynthia stopped walking. I stopped beside her waiting for her decision.
She nodded, more to herself than me. “All right, you show me the technique, and I’ll cut you a little slack.”
“Deal,” I said, holding out my hand.
This time she took it without hesitation and held it firmly. Her hand was warm, smooth, and comfortable in mine. It gave me a feeling that I wanted to hold onto. She started to pull away and I tightened my grip slightly. She stared into my face and kept an even pressure against my hand, not relaxing and letting me hold her hand, but not making a real attempt at withdrawing it either. A few more seconds passed and I loosened my grip, letting my fingertips glide against her receding palm.
A moment passed and then another while we studied each other.
“We’re here,” she said at last and turned away.
I looked past her shoulder at the house we’d stopped in front of. It was a large Victorian home worthy of a major Wiccan priestess. The wrap-around porch had circular sitting areas in the front corners. Lush ferns hung along the length of the porch. The front yard, while small compared to the house, was well landscaped and inviting enough to be a local attraction. An iron picket fence surrounded the front yard.
“Nice, perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to talk her out of letting me stay here. I guess I was expecting something different.”
“Oh, you’ll be comfortable enough unless she starts you off by having you work on the yard. That’s where I started.”
“Really? How’d you two meet?” I asked.
“My cousin and I were downtown one day, window shopping and went into her shop. She had a little sign up advertising for landscaping help. Mother did a lot of gardening, so both Cris and I knew a little about it and we were looking for summer jobs, the rest just kind of fell into place. Cris was her apprentice for a few years and when she finished college and moved away, I took over.”
“Hmm, much the same way I came to be here. A coincidence, eh?”
“Abigail says there are no such things. There are only things we don’t understand.”
“I guess that’s true.” Abigail was a wise old gal and one I’d have to be on my toes around.
Cynthia opened the wrought iron gate and led me up the stone walk. The front door held a large oval of stained glass depicting the tree of life.
She unlocked and then opened the door onto an entrance hall larger than the last hotel room I’d stayed in. As I approached the threshold, I felt the resistance of a ward. I’d expected one, but it held far more power than I expected. Fortunately, Cynthia had stepped through before me and didn’t notice my momentary pause as the spell encountered my own ward. I couldn’t force the ward, not only would it be impolite, but it’d give away more secrets than I cared to. But I didn’t want to just drop my personal ward either. Personal wards aren’t like shields, they won’t stop bullets or hellfire, but they can stop rain and will warn you when magic is being focused on your person. Therefore, I had to adapt.
By the time Cynthia turned to close the door, I had adjusted my ward enough to match phase with Abigail’s house magic. I stepped through before Cynthia could ask what was delaying me. I was still learning the nuances of Earth magic and hardly considered myself an adept, but then I wasn’t supposed to be.
“Lovely,” I said and waited for Cynthia to lead the way.
She gave me a brief tour of the parlor - an honest to goodness parlor - the den, kitchen, and sunroom that revealed a large rear garden in its wide windows.
“Your bedroom will be upstairs.”
She showed me to a room overlooking the front yard. It had a separate bath and French doors that led onto a narrow porch. I set my saddlebags down on a massive sleigh bed that the Romanoffs would have been comfortable in, and opened the doors. This time the wards didn’t clash as I stepped out onto the porch. There was a ceiling fan, the type with real palm fronds for blades not like the artificial ones at O’Brian’s Pub, and a pair of wood chairs, with sloped backs similar to Adirondacks. A small glass and metal table separated the chairs.
“Will this do?”
I had to smile. “Are you kidding? I hadn’t expected anything this nice. Abigail must be very wealthy.”
“No, not wealthy, not that it’s any of your business. The house was in her husband’s family. When he died it passed to her.”
“I think it’ll do. It’s a damn sight better than my usual digs. So, shall we get you de-demonized?” I asked.
Cynthia hesitated. Her reluctance to practice magic with a stranger was palatable, but after a few moments, she made a quick shrug of one shoulder and said, “Sure. What will we need?”
“We could use a candle and a fire incense. Do you know where she keeps everything?”
“Of course, I’d hardly be an adequate apprentice if I couldn’t get her anything she asked for. Come on, it’s downstairs.”
She lead me back to the sunroom and opened an antique cherry wardrobe that was filled with a broad selection of herbs, roots, pre-mixed potions, a row of used candles in the basic rainbow colors, and even a few charms. The charms were inactive, like my tats. Abigail probably charged them as the need arose.
“Nice larder.” I reached for a jar, and Cynthia slapped my hand away.
“You haven’t earned the right to nose around. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll get it.”
“Okay,” I read a couple of the labels and motioned toward a small jar. “The oleander, that’ll be perfect, and one of the candles. A red one will do.”
Cynthia took a piece of the oleander-scented incense and a thick red candle from the ward
robe, and then shut the doors.
“Let’s do it outside; it’ll make it easier to disperse the smell,” I said.
I opened the back door; it was old wood and beveled glass from at least a century back. I held the screen door back while Cynthia went through. My ward was totally meshed with Abigail’s now and I barely felt the transition.
Cynthia led me along the garden’s path until, deep in the shadows of the overhanging maple branches, we came upon a circle. The sky was visible directly overhead.
I noticed the day had gone preternaturally quiet. “She’s good. She keeps a hush spell going here all the time?”
Cynthia shook her head. “No, she doesn’t need to. She’s nurtured these trees to be receptive. They absorb any sounds from outside the garden.”
“Fascinating. It must have taken a long time,” I said.
“I suppose. I’ve never actually discussed it with her; it’s above my level. You can ask her. She might even tell you.”
“There’s that negativity again. You know, you’re going to end up liking me, so you might as well drop the forced disdain. You’ll only say things you’ll regret when you know me better.”
She stared back at me, whether, in disbelief or amusement, I wasn’t sure. “We’ll see. Are we doing this or are you going to talk?”
“Oh, we’re certainly doing it. If for no other reason than to spare everyone else the aroma you’re carrying.”
Her lips pursed and lightened in color. They were most attractive and I had an instant urge to taste them.
“Let’s see,” I said and indicated the circle, “how about here?”
The center of the clearing was a circular sand garden. Near the garden, a small rake leaned against one of the trees.
“Let’s not; I don’t want to disturb the sand. Can’t we just sit on the benches?”
“No, but we could sit on the grass.” I squatted next to one of the benches and crossed my legs into a lotus. She started to sit down on the other side of the bench.
“Not there, over here,” I said and motioned toward the ground in front of me.
She came around the bench, set the candle and incense on its concrete surface, and sat down.
“Closer,” I said.
She frowned and slipped forward until her knees touched mine.
“That’s better.” I moved the candle and incense to the tiny pocket made by our legs. Then I took out my battered old Zippo from a pants pocket.
“What’s that for?” Cynthia asked.
“To light the incense.”
“Don’t bother.”
I watched her concentrate. The top of the incense cone glowed red and smoke rose from its tip. I could have done the same, but every once in a while my control slips on such delicate work and I end up with a small fireball. It’s not the best thing to have appear between your legs.
“Good work; you didn’t even mouth the words. That’ll speed things up. Now here’s what we’ll do. First, we light the candle. You concentrate on it, and I’ll assist.”
“I don’t need help to light a candle,” Cynthia said.
“Lighting it isn’t the spell, but you’ll need to get into harmony with me if you’re going to learn what I need to show you. The best way is for you to let me assist in something you can already do.”
She nodded. “All right, I guess that makes sense.”
I held my hands, palm out, toward her. Her hands rose reluctantly to meet mine. When we touched, I felt both her hands’ warmth and an undue attraction for her. Cynthia’s beauty aside, something about her drew me much more than I found appropriate. There was the base want that hormones could account for and yet there was more as if she were part of my mission, the source of what had drawn me here. But she was so young, so innocent; she couldn’t pose a threat dangerous enough to require a Wanderer. “Now, concentrate on the candle’s wick. Don’t try to light it too fast; what we’re going for is a melding of energies, yours and mine, together exciting the molecules into motion.”
Her eyes focused on mine as the clean smell of oleander filled my nostrils. I felt her mind stirring and a tenuous bond grew between us. Her eyes widened until I could see nothing else. The link strengthened and after a minute, our breathing synced. I began to hear her heartbeat, heavy and rhythmic; my own slowed and fell into pace with hers. Her eyes fell slowly shut as we meshed.
I focused our combined attention on the candle. Her eyes opened to stare back into mine, then lowered to the candle’s wick. Slowly, ever so slowly, we concentrated on agitating the molecules of wax, speeding their vibrations until smoke rose from the candle. A little more and the molecular vibration achieved a state where the wax spontaneously combined with the oxygen in the air. The flame burned green, perfect earth magic.
“Good,” I whispered. “Now, keep concentrating. The flame is only the visible effect of the molecules as they combine. It’s the wick and wax we’ve excited. What we’re going to do now is reverse the process. Absorb the energy of the molecules until the fire is gone.”
My face felt flush as we shared the energy coming from the small flame. I let the energy flow away from me and felt her flush with more than the flame. This little magic aroused her; it wasn’t an uncommon reaction for earth magic. In my experience, all things Wiccan held a share of sexual tension.
“Now.” The flame went out without even a tendril of smoke to mark its passing. “Keep concentrating on absorbing the wick’s energy. Feel the vibration of the molecules and force them to slow. That’s it. Slower still.”
The wax, which had started to melt, hardened. Then a thin sheen of ice appeared on the wick.
“That’s good, but you’re letting your control spread to the air around the wick. Concentrate on just the wick. Its molecules are stopping, not the air around it. Let the air pass by unaffected.”
The ice vanished and the wick appeared unchanged.
“Slower now. Bring the molecules to a complete stop.”
Even though the wick was tiny, the amount of energy being released by dropping each molecule’s temperature to near absolute zero was considerable. I felt Cynthia warming and worked with her to redirect that energy away from us.
“There. You have it. You’ve taken the molecules’ energy. Now keep your focus and think about the molecules of odor that still cling to your skin. There’ll be far less of them so the energy won’t be as great, but you don’t have anything visible to focus on. You have to concentrate on the concept. Picture the odor and the shadow demon, then concentrate on removing their energy just as you did with the wick.”
I felt her searching quest for the molecules and helped her. There. She had them in focus. A brief pull and their temperature matched the candle’s wick.
“Excellent, now wait for the next breeze.” I split my concentration away from her and summoned the wind. I didn’t need to activate a tat for such a minor effort. A gust parted the branches over our heads and in an instant a cloud of frozen molecules flew from her. Little bits of frozen matter danced around us as her focus wandered off its target. For a moment, the light reflected off a swirling cloud of ice crystals, then the breeze dissipated them into the atmosphere.
Our gaze lowered until our eyes met. Our combined breathing had strengthened to match the increase in her pulse as she had absorbed the energy. A fine dew of sweat covered her skin and her excitement was evident. She was nearly panting as my eyes held hers.
Then realizing the lesson was done, she blinked and jerked her palms away from mine at the same time she lowered her eyes to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.
“This feeling. It’s so strong. I feel like I’m on fire.”
I laid a reassuring hand on her knee and felt the warmth of her skin even through the denim. It grew warmer under my touch. Her arousal moved me and I felt my own desire strengthen. “It’s normal. Earth magic is very sensual. Surely you’ve noticed that before.”
“Not like this. Never like this.” She stoo
d up suddenly. “I’ve got to go.”
She nearly ran toward the house.
“Wait up,” I said and grabbed the incense and candle.
She got into the house before me and as I hurried after her, I heard the sound of metal striking the hall table. Then the front door practically slammed behind her.
“Damnit,” I snarled.
I thought she would be used to the sensuousness of Earth magic. I knew covens that were deep into the sexual tension and release of their magic. I’d even participated in more than one coven mass that seemed hardly more than an opportunity for an orgy.
I hadn’t thought she’d react so strongly. I had felt the energy building and let it flow through me and back into her without trying to dampen it at all. Of all the blunders I could have made, this one was the most troubling. If she didn’t want the feelings our magic had brought then I’d never be able to work with her again and I needed to work with her. I could control the emotions and keep them from being so erotic, but only if she gave me another chance.
I picked up the keys from the table and stared at them. There were a half-dozen keys on the ring.
“I wonder what else they’ll open.”
CHAPTER 3
I returned to the shop and found the pub crowded for a weeknight. Celtic music of winds and strings rose over the voices from hidden speakers. The majority of the clientele were women of various ages. I saw the waitress who’d served me and nodded her way when she smiled.
Downstairs, Abigail was behind the counter, ringing up an order for the young couple. I stayed out of the way and listened to the exchange to hear Abigail’s palaver with her customers. It would help me fit in. Their order paid for, the couple left.
“Welcome back, Raphael.”
“Hi, Abigail.” I listened but heard no one else.
“Cynthia isn’t back yet?”
“No, she called. She’s running a little late.”
“Oh? Okay, what can I do?”
“I’m expecting about a dozen people in an hour; you could arrange the chairs in a circle and get out the china. We’ll be serving tea.”
“Certainly, no problem.”
Wanderers: Ragnarök Page 4
