I went into the reading room and glanced about. Most of the chairs were laid out around the perimeter of the room and a few more were about the coffee table. I moved the chairs into a rough circle and then put one of the small tables between each pair of chairs, all centered on the coffee table.
I was in the back getting the cups and saucers when I heard Cynthia come in. I couldn’t resist moving closer so I could overhear their conversation.
“Sorry, I’m late, Abigail.”
“That’s all right, dear, thank you for calling.”
“Has, ah, Rafe shown up?” Cynthia asked.
“He’s in the back setting up for the meeting.”
“I should help him, I guess,” Cynthia said.
“One moment, dear. Is there something wrong?”
“Wrong? What could be wrong? Why do you ask?”
“Cynthia, I’ve known you for nearly a decade and I’ve been able to read your moods for most of that time. Something happened between you two, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It was nothing. We, ah, we just did a spell together.”
“So that’s why you don’t have the touch of the demon on you anymore. Good, I thought I would have to show you how to get rid of it before tonight’s meeting.”
“If it was that noticeable, why didn’t you help me with it earlier?”
“My dear, sometimes it’s better to let youngsters learn things on their own. Besides, I thought the experience would give you a more healthy respect for those creatures. I warned you about touching them, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t planning to touch it,” Cynthia protested.
“You can’t expect everything to go as planned, and must be prepared for all eventualities,” Abigail admonished.
Cynthia’s voice rose in a plaintiff retort,“I could hardly have prepared for some busybody interfering and killing the creature.”
“My dear, you are missing the concept of being prepared for all eventualities. Now see if Raphael needs help. I need to prepare for the meeting.”
“Yes, Abigail.”
I had slipped into the back room before Cynthia came around the stack. When she entered the room, I had my back to the door and was looking through the cupboards for the china.
“Rafe?”
I turned and smiled warmly. She wore an oversized white sweater with generous cleavage and a pleated corduroy skirt that ended below her knees and not more than an inch above suede boots. My pulse quickened at the sight of her. Why was I becoming enamored of this girl? Granted, she was damned attractive, but I run into attractive women regularly. For appearance sake, I tend to stay more with women my apparent age. I’m not a slut about it, but my constant traveling doesn’t lend itself to a long term relationship. “Hi, Cynthia. Where does Abigail keep the cups?”
“Rafe, I want to apologize for running out earlier.”
“No problem, I should have been more careful.”
“No, it’s not your fault. I was surprised, that’s all. I should have expected it, but well, I haven’t done many spells with men.”
“Oh? Don’t you have any men in your group?”
“Yes, some anyway, but they’re a lot older than me and for the most part they only practice with their partners.”
“Say no more. What’s done is done, live and learn, water under the bridge, and all that. We won’t do any more spells together until you’re ready.”
“That’s not what I want either.” She flushed noticeably; it was a charming trait. The flush spread down her neck and disappeared beneath the sweater’s neckline. I found myself wanting to see just how far it went. “I enjoyed doing the spell, okay, maybe I enjoyed it a little too much, but you’re such a good teacher. When I got home, I tried the spell again. It was a snap. I can’t believe I learned it in one sitting.”
“So that’s why you were late?”
“Sort of, between the two spells I was kind of gammy. I had to take a shower and change clothes.”
“I noticed the change, you look lovely.”
Her eyes twinkled. She smiled and lowered her gaze. “Thank you.”
“So, later, you want to get together and do another spell?”
“I can’t tonight, classes tomorrow. How about tomorrow night?” she asked.
“Sure, that’d be great. I look forward to it. Now, about the cups?”
Abigail’s guests started filtering in just before nine. While Abigail and Cynthia greeted each person and chatted idly, I stayed back, nearly out of sight, and was promptly ignored. I used the time to put a large kettle of water on the stove. A few minutes later, Cynthia joined me in the kitchen. “You’ve got water boiling? Good, there are Thermos containers in the right hand cupboard.”
“So this is Abigail’s coven. I expected them to meet in some place like her garden. A basement shop seems a little too mundane for magic.”
“They meet there at times, for major events, but their monthly meetings are held here. They’re more like business meetings and gossip fests than a coven ritual. She’s going to introduce you to the group after the business portion of the meeting. We don’t get a lot of out-of-towners except during festivals and everyone will want to know something about you.”
“Really? I don’t know if I’m prepared to perform a show and tell,” I said.
“Don’t let it worry you,” she said with a hint of a twinkle in her eyes. “Just keep it light, and cover some of your background. That’s all they need to know.”
“Roger that.”
Cynthia prepared trays of assorted cookies while I poured the water into the carafes.
We carried everything out to the table. I made a point of smiling and nodding at the few people whose eye I caught. The majority of the coven were women, as I had expected, many more women than men were drawn to Earth magic. There were three men and eight women besides Abigail and Cynthia. Two of the men appeared attached to women. The third man’s gaze hung on me long enough to assure me he wasn’t attached to any of the ladies. A couple of the women were nearly as old as Abigail; three were college-age, like Cynthia, and the others were spread across the intervening decades. A chestnut-haired woman in a calf length skirt with a generous expanse of white skin showing both at the neck and at the side where the hem was slit to mid-thigh spent as much time staring at me as the single man. I returned her smile pleasantly enough but was careful not to linger on her eyes. She had the look of a lady who had men like me for breakfast. A pleasant enough prospect, but not what I was going for here.
I left the meeting room for the front counter in case there were late customers. Abigail had already told me that the closed sign was set on the door, but there was always the chance that one of the pub’s patrons would get curious and come down for a look. She allowed it, as long as none of them interrupted the meeting. From behind the counter, I listened. It took a bit of effort since I was leery of using my senses tat with so many powerful Wiccans nearby, but with focus, I was able to follow the coven’s conversations.
It didn’t take long to understand that they had concerns other than those of celebrating the upcoming Sabbath of Samhain. Like most covens, Abigail’s seemed to mix Wicca religion with practicing the craft. While Abigail was well versed in the Wicca religion, I hadn’t decided if she was a believer or if she just followed some of its teachings to disguise the practice of Earth magic.
The topic had just changed to the subject of the shadow demon’s appearance when someone in the room cast a privacy spell and my eavesdropping came to a sudden halt. I briefly considered trying to bypass the spell with one of my own, but the risk of exposure outweighed the value of the information I could gain. I picked a random book from the nearest shelf and perused its contents.
Nearly an hour and two additional books later, the door to the meeting room opened and Cynthia came out.
“Well, how’s the meeting going?” I asked.
She glanced at the book I was reading and then answered. �
��We’re about done. Abigail wants to introduce you to the members.”
I closed the book. “I hope I don’t embarrass her. I’m not good at dealing with that many people at once.” It wasn’t a total lie. I would just as well fight that many at once as make small talk.
“You’ll be fine,” she said with enthusiasm. “We’re all friends here so there’s no reason to be uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, right.” I had yet to encounter a coven unaffected by little intrigues and cliques maneuvering for status. If Abigail’s was uniformly friendly, then she had crafted something unique in my experience.
I followed Cynthia into the meeting room. Several voices hushed as we entered. The faint scent of sandalwood rose from a large green candle burning in the center of the coffee table.
“Coven, this is seeker Raphael Semmes. Raphael, these are the primary members of our coven,” Abigail said. She proceeded to name each of the twelve, including Cynthia, sitting around the table in some order that I gathered indicated their rank in the group. None of their names meant anything to me, but I did get feelings from some of them, all sexual. I needed to ugly up my appearance or maybe develop halitosis.
The first, Marian Vaughn, the chestnut-haired beauty who looked 30, but was closer to 40 gave off significant sexual vibes and was open in her appraisal of me as a sexual partner. Her calf-length skirt was finely woven wool that cost more than I cared to imagine. She wore an emerald on a gold chain around her neck that would have bought my Harley or at least one similar. A couple, Theresa and Emile Patagonia, in their mid-forties gave off similar vibes but were a little more circumspect in their appraisal. They were also dressed in the fashion of old-South money. Warren Levington, the apparently homosexual man in his fifties, also appraised me with a sexual appetite, but then shifted his gaze away to be less blatant about it.
“I am pleased to meet you all,” I said.
“Raphael will be working here,” Abigail said.
“You already have an apprentice, Abigail. Perhaps Rafe would like to apprentice under one of us,” Marian Vaughn said, a predatory gleam in her eye.
“Raphael?” Abigail asked.
“The offer is tempting, but I could hardly give up a job I just agreed to do today. Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be in town and that keeps me from entering into an actual apprentice’s role. However,” I added with an eyebrow cocked toward Marian. “If Marian has free time, perhaps she could help me in my studies.”
“I’m sure we could arrange something,” Marian said.
The air near me cooled noticeably and Cynthia took a step farther away from me. Was she consciously using the spell I’d just taught her or was she genuinely jealous? I didn’t really expect jealous from what I considered a Wiccan-styled response to Marian’s offer.
“Tell us something about yourself, Rafe,” Theresa Patagonia said.
“There’s not much to tell. I’ve led a relatively mundane life. High school, some college, odd jobs here and there, all squeezed in between brief journeys around and about.”
Smiles spread around the group. It was a patter I’d used before and it came smoothly with no hint of deception.
Theresa tissed. “I meant your training to date. We’re more interested in whatever lore you’ve acquired than where you went to high school.”
“Ah, of course, well, I started my studies in Durango, Colorado. There was a librarian there who was deep into Earth magic and as I helped her after school from time to time, she began teaching me some of the practices. Unfortunately, she died a few years ago, after a long illness, and I hadn’t met anyone else in the area that I could study with. Not wanting to give up my new calling, I did a little traveling and hooked up with an old Ute medicine man in southern Utah who let me spend a winter with him, learning what I could and helping him around his small ranch. The rest is more of the same. I try to not stay long enough to wear out my welcome.”
“Cynthia tells us you killed a gershin last night,” Warren Levington said.
I glanced at Cynthia and caught the quick movement of her head as she avoided my gaze. “Yes, that’s embarrassing. I hadn’t expected a young woman, alone and apparently defenseless in a nearly deserted park, to attempt to capture it.”
A few laughs echoed around the circle.
Warren slapped his knee. “Don’t let it bother you; no one would expect someone to be trying to catch one on their own, but our Cynthia is both confident and capable. She said you used a sling, an Old Testament sling. Is that correct?”
I nodded. “Yes, I used to hunt rabbits with it and it’s a simple weapon you can carry without being bothered.”
“How interesting,” Marsha Bering, another of the single women of Cynthia’s age said. “Did it take long to learn?”
“Not at all, to hunt rabbits. However, learning to hit a moving target took months of practice,” I answered.
There was a moment of quiet while I waited for more questions. I’d been as vague as I could and I wasn’t sure how much of my prepared background I’d have to go into before this coven was satisfied.
“And your business in Huntsville is?” Marcus Poe asked.
I shrugged. “Seeking. I’m always seeking. I heard there was a powerful coven down here and followed my nose to Abigail.”
“You must have an unusual sense of smell,” Marcus added.
I met Marcus’ gaze. Marcus’ eyes displayed open hostility and mistrust and yet I could get no feeling of threat from him. Was the man a danger or merely hostile to every newcomer?
“Better an unusual sense than just an unusual smell,” I said.
“Are you trying to goad me or is that a clumsy attempt at humor?” Marcus’ face was as calm as his voice, but the room seemed to draw still as he spoke. So then, here was a rival to Abigail’s dominance of the coven.
I bowed formally toward the man. “My apologies if it sounded like an insult. My social skills are sometimes found lacking. Please, take my comments at face value for no subtext was intended.”
Abigail interceded on my behalf. “Marcus, I’m sure Raphael meant nothing by it. If anything, he was probably talking about the lingering aroma that Cynthia finally managed to get off her. You know how bad a decomposing demon smells.”
Marcus’s gaze stayed on me for another moment, and then the man smiled. It was a crafty smile, without a touch of warmth. “You’re right, of course, Abigail. I’m a little touchy tonight. You have my own apology, young man. I, too, occasionally have problems with my social skills.”
I returned his smile, with a little more feigned sincerity than he had used, and added a slight tip of my head.
“Abigail, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an early appointment tomorrow,” Jenny Wilkins announced. “Rafe, it was nice meeting you. I assume we’ll see you at Abigail’s for Samhain?”
“Certainly, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse us then.” Jenny and her husband, Franklin, stood amidst a chorus of farewells and walked past me to the door.
“I guess we should call it a night for those who must leave, for the rest, you may join me in a glass of wine,” Abigail said.
A half dozen made agreeable comments and the others made their goodbyes. I expected them to retire to the upstairs pub, but instead Abigail asked Cynthia and me to get the wine from the small refrigerator in the back room.
Cynthia showed me the wine glasses.
“If you’re having any, we’ll need nine glasses,” she said and took three bottles of what looked like a superb Viognier from the refrigerator.
She took a waiter’s corkscrew from a drawer while I set the glasses on a tray. I carried them gingerly back to the meeting room, set them on the table, and proceeded to bus the teacups. When I got back to the kitchen, Cynthia had the bottles open.
“Here.” She handed me one of the bottles and gripped the other two by the neck. We returned to the meeting room where I assisted her in pouring. I took one for myself and occupied a vacan
t chair between Marian and Marcus. Cynthia sat down directly opposite me, across the table, as far from me as she could get.
Abigail raised her glass. “May Mother Earth and Father Sky watch over this company and keep us from harm to friends both old and new. Well met, I say.”
The group joined in with, “Well met, indeed.” Everyone raised their glasses and sipped, except for Marcus. I noticed that Marcus appeared to drink but never let the wine touch his lips and his eyes watched me, even though I avoided his gaze.
I had guessed right on at least one thing; the wine was good.
Side conversations sprang up after a brief silence and I had trouble keeping up with what everyone was saying. Marian, sitting immediately on my left, had to repeat herself before I realized she was speaking to me. “Do you have plans for tomorrow night?”
“Ah, not yet,” I replied and cast a sideways glance at Cynthia. She appeared to be in deep conversation with Jessica Spelling, a girl of her own age, but I could feel Cynthia’s attention on me. It wasn’t much, just a slight turn of her head as though she was trying to listen to my reply while keeping her attention on Jessica.
“I’m having a small get together at my place. Why don’t you come? It’ll give you a chance to meet some of the local seekers.”
“I thought this was the locals,” I said softly and indicated the room with a sweep of my glass.
She chuckled lightly and leaned forward. Her hand came to rest on my knee and her magic pushed a surge of sexual desire through the connection. I have a lot of respect for a woman who knew what she wanted and made no bones about it. The only troubling part was that I was what she wanted.
“Oh no, this is a small representation of just those skilled enough to be asked into Abigail’s coven. Fewer than one in five has advanced to the point where they receive an invite to this illustrious body,” her tone was only slightly sardonic.
“I see,” I said with a deliberate gaze toward her hand. “But I don’t have anything to wear to a party. My clothing options are rather limited.”
She ignored my gaze and even gave my knee a squeeze before continuing. “Once a quarter the others get together at my place for a barbecue and socializing. It’s not something that requires anything more than jeans and a clean shirt, but if you allow me, I’ll take you over to Levington’s men’s store. I think my pocketbook will handle a casual ensemble for you. It’s the least I can do for a fellow seeker.”
Wanderers: Ragnarök Page 5
