Giggling she wrote Blood Witch in the air, watching as the words hung blue and glowing, suspended for a few seconds before fading to nothing.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s pretty cool,” she said whirling her hands higher and faster, making the air dance with blue light. “It’s like magic is pouring out of me for the whole world to see.”
Jared kneeled, wrapping his arms around her, and the warmth of her glow enveloped him. “Alain is going to love this when we tell him.”
“That’s the perfect word. The power of love. Literally.”
Jared skimmed his hands over Tanya’s breasts, and the light around her danced and vibrated sending shivers through both of their bodies. “Care to turn it up a notch, and see what happens?”
“With pleasure.” A sexy smile spread across her lips.
Epilogue
Laura Richards sat bolt up in bed. A slow smile spread across her face. Tanya had come into her power. She felt the ripple pass through her like groundswell.
“Thank the Goddess,” she whispered, lying back against her pillow.
Most witches came into their own at the onset of their first moon-time blood. Not Tanya, though, and Laura heaved a tired sigh of relief.
“Wha…what’s the matter? What’s happened?” her husband asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“Nothing, Tom, go back to sleep,” she shushed, but couldn’t help the secret smile on her lips.
Laura rolled onto her side, with her hand tucked under her face. Tanya hadn’t a clue about the powerful bloodline she’d inherited. Lifting her hand, she smiled wistfully at the shimmering tendrils linking her to her daughter. Tanya was in for the surprise of her life.
As the last of the ripples passed, a shiver of alarm edged itself into Laura’s consciousness and she sat up, again. Her divining skills were rusty, but when it came to her daughter’s safety, they always kicked into high gear. The quiver was faint, but unmistakable. Tanya was in danger.
Laura chewed on her lower lip. The danger wasn’t imminent, or her maternal warning bells would be blaring. No. It was a subtle stirring. Something was on the horizon, and rusty or not, Laura’s instinct told her it was a herald she ought not dismiss.
Throwing off her covers, she slid her legs over the side of the bed. She padded quietly out of the room, carefully closing the door behind her before heading into the den.
The room was dark. The nighttime quiet had the cicadas sounding as though they had the house surrounded. Her eyes settled on a decorative chest sitting under the window. It held a part of her life she locked away when she married Tom. He, of course, hadn’t a clue as to what was in it, or why she insisted on keeping it all these years. He chalked it up to a keepsake from her bohemian youth.
As she looked at it now, her hand went to the silver pendant around her neck. With a determined exhale, she unclasped the silver chain and let it drop into her hand. Pressing the tiny release on the underside of the large, silver oval, it opened in her palm. Next to a piece of her wedding lace and a lock of Tanya’s baby hair, was the key to the chest.
Laura knelt, pausing to run her fingers across the carefully preserved symbols. At the same moment, the moon broke through clouds, its silver light shining through the sheers as if the Goddess herself watched.
She lifted her face to its brilliance, whispering, “I’m sorry,” and quickly unlocked the chest. “Forget the coven motherhouse and their prejudices. My baby needs me.”
Opening the chest broke the vow she made to the motherhouse when she married Tanya’s father, but their mandate didn’t extend to lurking danger.
She may have foresworn her powers, but she hadn’t been bound. Blood called to blood, and this had to be an exception to the rules.
Inside the chest were the ritual tools she had consecrated and used so many years ago to honor the Goddess. Since then, she managed to honor her, and keep the sabbats, without breaking her vow. She’d even taught Tanya a thing or two, but nothing like what her gut warned her daughter would need now.
Her gaze fell on the leather-bound book on top. Her Book of Shadows. It contained all the spells and incantations she had practiced during her training. She ran a hand over the book’s cover and then down its spine, feeling the latent power under her fingers. She closed her eyes and then opened the book to the back.
Inscribed in silver ink were the names of her coven sisters. Eleven women with whom she had laughed and cried. Women who stood by her even when the motherhouse turned its back.
She ran her fingers over the names and addresses and prayed they’d be there for her once again. She took a deep breath. “Break glass in case of emergency.”
Sitting back on her heels, she held the book against her body and closed the lid, relocking the chest. She turned her head toward the window, her hair fluttering though there was no breeze. Looking at the moon, she bowed her head and whispered her thanks. The motherhouse may never accept nor forgive, but the Goddess would.
She smiled walking out of the room, imagining the reaction from her sisters when they heard her voice after all these years.
“…We need a full coven…nine women…twelve’s better. Do you have any friends?”
It was her favorite quote from Practical Magic, and never more true. She sent a silent plea to the Goddess for intercession. Something told her they were in for the fight of their lives.
…and so the battle begins.
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