Immortal Slumber

by S. L. Perrine

  “Is that why we always hold hands? I thought it was because you had a crush on me.” I laughed teasingly.

  “So, you caught that, huh?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I do it for both reasons.”

  I caught the look on his face just before he turned away and I could see he was blushing, but I decided to leave it alone. I hadn’t really expected an answer, just the usual shove-off. All of a sudden, I could feel myself blushing too. That’s when I saw Chester, Crystal, Matt, and Clara standing on the side of the house in front of us.

  “Oh god . . . get a room already.” Clara sat on a tree stump away from the rest of the group, and I could tell by the look on her face, she was not interested in being there at all.

  “What’s she doing here?” I asked the group, and Chester came forward.

  “I don’t know what the problem is between you all, but she is your fifth. By just being here shows she’s as invested in this coven as the rest of you are.”

  “I don’t know how invested she is in the coven, but I know she is definitely interested in being at her full strength. That’s all I had to say to get her to come,” Matt said in a not-so-hushed voice.

  Clara stood up from the stump and walked over to us. “Yes, well my mother told me more than that, you little birdbrain. I know what happens when the Blood Rite Ritual is completed,” she said without skipping a beat, and walked up to me so there was only a foot of distance between us. “She becomes a super bitch princess, but if you think for one second I’m gonna be one of your followers to do as you command . . . well, you got another think coming to you. I know my powers will increase, as will everyone else’s here. We will be equals in strength, speed, and agility. My power will match Crystal’s, and yours will far surpass ours.” She turned and addressed the entire group while waving her finger at everyone.

  “I also know I won’t be able to harm another of my coven, or I would harm myself. So, no worries . . . I’ll help you with the ritual to make your priestess all powerful and whatnot, so mommy and daddy’s enemies can’t kill her . . . and then I’ll be out of your hair.” She turned on her heel and sat back down on the stump with a thud.

  “Wait . . . who’s trying to kill me?”

  “Nobody, she’s been listening to stories her mother’s been feeding her. Nobody knows you even exist.” Chester bent over and picked up a sack that had been lying at his feet. “First, we need to make our circle and protect it. Then we can discuss all of this further.” He began to pull items from the sack and placed them on a small table. “I mean it Clara, no more talk of this outside of the circle.”

  “Yes sir.” She winked an eye at me with a smirk.

  I watched as Chester pulled out a silver bowl, a knife, a long twig, and a candle from the bag and placed them on the table, in the middle of the small clearing.

  “This is your altar, and these are your coven tools. Each piece was passed down as a gift from each of your parents.” He pointed to the objects.

  “But there are only four things on there and five of us. So . . . what’s missing?” Clara asked, but it sounded as if she already knew the answer to her own question.

  “The book.” Chester placed his hand inside the sack once more, even though it had looked completely empty just a moment ago. With his hand, he let the sack sit atop the altar and lowered the sides as if he were relieving a large glass box of its protective outer shell. As he pushed the sides of the sack down, the box became visible.

  “I thought you were shifters . . . protectors?” I whispered to Chad, who was standing on my left.

  “We are, but how do you suppose we got that way? Magic is a part of us. It’s how we are able to be a part of a coven. Normally, it’s a group of witches, or warlocks . . . mostly a mixture of both. Some families, the important ones, decided they needed more than witches on their side.”

  “Families? Doesn’t a witch’s coven take the place of their family? Coven before blood and all that?” I caught a look from Chester, reminding me that such discussion would be continued once the circle was cast. I stood upright and watched as he pulled a lid from the box that appeared before us out of the seemingly empty sack.

  When he lifted the book, I could see why he was so careful with it. The binding was leather, as was the whole of the cover, and looked as though one wrong move would have it crumpled into a pile of ash. There were holes in some spots that I could see on the front cover, and when he set the book down and began to turn the pages, I could see the dust fall from between them.

  “This book,” Chester began, “we will discuss in a moment.”

  Chester set the book aside and lit the candle behind it. He placed water in the bowl and rested a knife over the bowl’s top. He then picked up the twig and started mumbling something. A flash of white drew a line around us and the ring of the circle enclosed us in a sort of dome. The light moved from the ground to well above our heads and back down.

  “The circle is complete,” he said, standing back from the altar. “This is all going to be a repeat for the four of you,” he said, pointing to everyone except me. “They have all become of age . . . except for one, and also grew up knowing who and what they are.”

  Crystal gave him a look of frustration, since everyone knew she wouldn’t have her eighteenth birthday for another two and a half weeks. She was obviously unhappy about being the last of them to gain her powers. One look from Chester had her reigning herself in, however, and he continued.

  “This is meant as training for Elyse, and then we will begin to train for the solstice ritual.” He turned and placed the book’s box into the sack and let the sack fall flat to the ground. He then moved to the items placed around the book.

  “This is a chalice.” He moved a finger to the cup that was filled halfway with water. “And this is called an athame,” he said, holding the knife in his hand. Using the athame, he pointed to the long twig thing and noted that it was a witch’s wand.

  I noticed the athame was not a typical knife, as it was double-sided and the blade was curvy. There were etchings on the blade as well, along with an insignia of some sort. He placed the athame back across the top of the challis and picked up the wand. There was a defined handle to it that I hadn’t noticed before. The tip was as curvy as the blades of the knife, but was most definitely made of wood, and looked unpolished.

  “The athame’s primary use is to channel and direct psychic energy, or fire energy. We also use it to carve symbols into candles, or to mark other tools. You’ll notice each of these tools have been marked.”

  The same symbol that was etched into the blade of the athame was also carved into the wand, challis, and candle. I could also see it on the box lid for the book. It was a long drawn ‘C’ with a line through it, which almost made it look like an ‘E.’ A small ‘s’ was carved both on the top right side and on the bottom left side of the C.

  “The C represents the two families, Crawford and Crain. The line in the middle produces your T for Tanner, when turned sideways, like this.” He turned the blade so it was parallel with the ground. “You see the W for Walters.”

  “Well . . . what about Blackwood?” Clara all but jumped at him.

  “Your family’s original name was not Blackwood . . . it was Sonsdadar, the S.”

  “Good thing they changed it,” she griped and went back to her spot in the circle.

  “The insignia is comprised of our family names? Why?” Crystal found something she hadn’t been taught yet. Her eyes went wide with anticipation at the thought of learning something new.

  “With each of your names drawn into the insignia, it becomes your coven’s identity. Anything with this mark can only be used by the five of you . . . once you complete the ritual and become a coven.” He gave Clara a stern glare.

  “Now where was I?” He looked around at the items in front of him.

  “When is the question and answer portion of this program? I still don’t understand any of this.” I sat down in place, and when Chester didn’t
object, everyone else sat too. He looked at us and smiled before he caught himself, becoming “serious Chester” again.

  “In a moment, just let me get through the basics.” He moved back to the items, continuing his lesson. “These items represent the basic elements . . . earth, water, fire, and wind. The athame is linked to the element of fire, the wand is linked to air . . . you will use it to draw your circles and channel your magic. The chalice signifies the mother goddess, and holds salt water for cleansing . . . in the blood ritual . . . well, you can guess what will be in it. The candle signifies the direction you will draw your power from. Each direction of the compass, east, west, north, and south is represented by a different color. You will need to know this. White is for center, and is appropriate in training and in rituals.”

  He stopped for a minute and looked around at us before placing his hand on the large book. The pages crinkled and sounded as if they would break apart from the binding at any moment.

  “This book can only be used by a member of your coven, once you are complete. Until then, it can only be read by a Crawford witch . . . it is their family grimoire. Each of the Crawford witches had their hand to this book . . . every spell was created by them, and only used by them under the guidance of their high priestess.” As he spoke, he held the book up to show us the pages.

  “Elyse, what do you see?”

  I stood, feeling drawn to the book. Every witch in my family had added a spell to that book. The possibilities of what it could teach me about them swarmed in my head.

  “I see spells, drawings . . . ” I moved closer to it and reached out my hand, but stopped short.

  “Go ahead.” He held the book, both arms cradling it protectively. When I placed my hands on the pages, they smoothed. The dark and dirty coloring of the white sheets had faded away, and before me was a lightly-used leather bound book.

  “It’s beautiful,” was all I could manage to say before turning back to the spot where I had been sitting. As I sat down, my hands felt like they were humming with electricity.

  “Now . . . everyone, what do you see when you look at this book?” He continued to hold it like it weighed fifty tons, even though it had shrunk down to the size of my history text.

  Chester walked around the circle and showed the book to the rest of the group, and I couldn’t help noticing the blank stares on their faces.

  “It’s blank. How is an old blank book supposed to help us?” Clara pouted.

  “You’re not a coven yet.” He walked back to the altar and set the book down with the cover closed.

  “It’s protected by a spell, and when the ritual is complete, you’ll be able to see what’s in this book, but only under the guidance of your high priestess. This book is sacred.” He turned to me and spoke, and as he did, I felt like he had me in a trance. It was as if I were the only one that could hear his next statement. “Your parents gave this to me seventeen years ago and asked me to keep it, and you . . . safe. That’s what the Crain family does; we protect the Crawford’s High Priestess. Your mother insisted I leave her side to look after you. Chad and I will continue to protect you with our lives.”

  The air around the circle changed, and slowly, I could hear everyone else again talking to Chester, asking questions. He was talking to them as if the encounter between us had never happened. What he told me was obviously for my ears only.

  “You’ll want to collect these items for your own personal altars. You can cast a circle as a whole, or individually. Also, you will want to start your own Grimoire, or Book of Shadows. Important spells can be added to this one, when Elyse feels they’re needed in there, but it’s a good practice to write down your spells, questions for our next training session, and so on.”

  “You mean like a diary?” Matt asked with a snarky tone.

  “Yes, Matthew . . . just like a diary. Keep an account of your craft . . . until next time.” He moved to break the circle.

  “Wait!” I yelled, and he looked back at me questioningly.

  “I just wanted to ask, are all of the parents . . . well . . . witches?”

  “My parents are shifters, like me.” Matt stood, ready to leave.

  “My mother’s a witch, not that you’d ever know it. She’s pretty much stopped practicing. My father isn’t magical.” Crystal looked away from the circle and focused on her hands. “My parents argued over the magic stuff. That’s the real reason why they split up.

  “Both of my parents are.” Clara threw a rock and barely missed Matt’s arm. She gave him a look as if to say, ‘Sorry, but you kinda deserved it.’

  “Oh,” I said. “Chester?”

  “I’m a shifter, just as Chad is. Just know that while shifters don’t cast, we do have our own magical abilities.”

  “Yeah, I figured out Chad’s already.”

  “Well, if there are no more questions?” Chester looked at everyone before he broke the circle and placed each of the items back into the sack. He was especially careful while replacing the book back into its box, which had shrunk down to the new size of the book to fit.

  “Elyse, would you like to have this? It is yours.”

  I eyed the box as he held it out to me. It was covered in thick leather that matched the book. The book cover had a large ‘C’ on it, which I noticed when Chester was placing it back in the box . . . not our insignia.

  “I don’t think so. Not just yet.” I pulled my hand back, even though I wanted to plunge forward and retrieve the box from his hands.

  “Okay, well you know where to find it when you do want it.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I watched Chester walk into the back door of the small house and waited for it to close before turning to speak with Chad. He looked like he had just run the 100-meter dash all by himself. Sweat collected on his brow and above his lip. He wiped at it absentmindedly with the back of his hand, hooked his arm in mine, and turned me to walk toward the front of the house.

  “I always knew this would happen.”

  “What would happen?” I questioned him.

  Everyone else had left while Chester was packing up. Clara was the first one to make it to the end of the driveway.

  “I’ve always known that my chances of us being together after your eighteenth were slim to none. You’ve gotta be pretty pissed that I kept this big secret from you.”

  “I’ll admit that I was pissed, but that was yesterday. I’ve thought about it some, and I can guess at how hard it was for you to keep all of this from me. Don’t get me wrong . . . I’m still upset, but I’m not holding it against you.”

  Not all of it was true. I hadn’t really spent much time or concentration on the fact that my friends had kept things from me. I was afraid if I had, I would get even angrier with them. I didn’t know what that kind of anger could do to our friendship. To be honest, they’re the only ones I could talk to about all this. If I’d been overcome with too much anger, who would I be able to talk to and ask questions about all this coven stuff? Clara? I think not.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore, once all this came out . . . that I kept you from the truth about this and your parents.” He turned so he could look at me.

  “I’m not that upset about it, really. I mean yeah, yesterday I was pissed. I was angrier with the idea that my parents are alive out there and have made no attempt to contact me.” I kicked a rock clear of the driveway and started for the small porch at the front of the house. I sat on the top step while Chad walked up in front of me, standing on the lower stair.

  “When I got home yesterday and my mom was having a fuss over me about my outfit, and the party, and whether or not I liked how she set up for the party . . . well, I realized I have great parents. If my bio-parents wanted to know me, then they would have tried. That’s what most of my anger was about. You didn’t tell me . . . and you probably couldn’t.” I gave him a sincere look and grabbed his hand to hold it in both of mine. “I’m not angry with you, C. Besides, that would make for a hosti
le work environment. Don’t ya think we have enough of that already?”

  “Well, yeah, there’s that.” He smiled at me and squeezed my hands before pulling his back to grab the railing. “So, what do you want to do with the rest of your Saturday?”

  “I was thinking about our tools. Shouldn’t we start on getting our own?”

  “That’s not a half bad idea, but it will require a drive outta town. You want to take a ride in that new car of yours?”

  I had almost forgotten the extravagant gift from my parents last night. The midnight blue Mini Cooper was in the garage this morning when I walked over to Chad’s house. My parents waited until after the party was over last night, dragging me from the solitude of my room. Of course, Chad was still hanging around on cleanup duty. They asked me to go out front and pull the cobwebs from the bushes. Today marked the first day of the Christmas season, and my mom was a stickler for getting those outside lights up on the 1st of November.

  I was a bit apprehensive to go near those cotton webs again, and touched the scratches on my hand where they had left their mark the night before. As I walked out the front door, I couldn’t help noticing the gigantic red ribbon on top of the small car in front of the house. The tag that hung from the bow was almost as big as the windshield, and the writing was clearly visible in black marker. Happy Eighteenth, Elyse. Love, Mom & Dad.

  That was just another reminder of the parents I already had in my life, and I smiled. It took me twenty minutes before I noticed my parents and Chad standing in the doorway, watching me fuss over all the details of the little car. Chad said I should name it little Smurf, but I don’t think it fits.

  “Yes, I think we could take out my new toy.” I jumped off the steps and started running to the end of the driveway when I heard Chester calling us from behind the house.

  He had wanted to discuss the events at the party the night before. No doubt, Chad had already told him about the ghostly figure in the haunted house, and again about the spider decoration coming to life and trying to eat me. At least, that was my recollection. The idea that someone from my biological family was looking for my mother, who was supposed to be dead, was hard for me to swallow. They hadn’t looked for her the entire eighteen years they thought she was dead. Why would they be looking for her after all that time?