Fire & Ice

by Lacey Weatherford

  Her eyes began to water like she might cry. “What does all this mean?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I’m betting we’ll find out.” I gathered both her hands into mine, leaning to rest forehead against forehead. We simply stared into one another’s eyes, not speaking, yet connected, until I was overcome with the need to kiss her.

  This was moving too fast. I needed to get her out of here. “I’d better get you back to your grandma’s,” I stated, breaking the mood between us.

  She nodded and allowed me to lead her through the quiet woods to my motorcycle. We arrived at Milly’s all too soon and I helped her through the window. She turned around and leaned her face out toward me. “Goodnight, Vance,” she whispered.

  “Blessed be, Portia,” I replied, running my finger across the silky skin of her cheek. Forcing myself to turn, I walked away, knowing after tonight, my life would never be the same.

  Chapter Eight

  Journal Entry:

  I can’t stop thinking about her or the way I felt when I was with her. She makes me so . . . happy. Or is it her happiness rubbing off on me? I’m not really sure, but it scares me a little. Every time I get close to someone, we always have to leave. That would kill me. I’ve waited so long to be a part of her life.

  Today is Saturday. There’s absolutely no feasible reason I can come up with to go see her, even though I want to. I guess I should step back and give her some space to absorb everything. It’s hard, though. I’m anxious to explore this strange connection between us.

  ***

  “Working on the bike today, I see.” Marsha smiled at me, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she leaned against the doorframe leading from the kitchen into the garage.

  “Yeah,” I replied as I attempted to crank a bolt on the engine tighter. “It would be nice if this stupid piece would cooperate with me, though.” My hand slipped off the wrench and my finger slid against a piece of sharp metal. I felt the tear in my skin before I saw the blood. “Damn it!” I grumbled, grabbing the oily rag next to me and holding it against the wound.

  Marsha started laughing and I glanced at her with a questioning stare. “Why don’t you use your magic? It would be much easier on you from the looks of it.”

  “For the same reason you’re washing the dishes by hand,” I replied, nodding toward her dishtowel. “I don’t want to die of boredom. Besides, I like staying busy working. You know that.”

  She nodded. “I do. I simply find it funny you don’t use magic to help yourself when things are tough.”

  Shrugging, I stared back at the bike. “It’s a vendetta now. Using magic is like saying I let the bike beat me. It’s not going to win.”

  Marsha continued chuckling, shaking her head. “You and your competitive nature. You’d rather be hurt than give in. It’s a shame you can’t do sports. It’d probably help you release some of this pent up aggression you’re always carrying around.”

  “Blowing up something usually helps take care of things like that.”

  “And what exactly have you been blowing up?” She suddenly seemed concerned.

  I sighed. “Don’t worry. Only some old dead trees out in the middle of nowhere. And before you start the lecture about forest fires; yes, I make sure nothing catches on fire.”

  She eyed me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to trust me. “Fine. Just be careful. Are you planning on working on this motorcycle all day?”

  “For the most part. I told Bruce I’d try to have it done for him by the end of the month.”

  “He was so excited when he found out how good you are with bikes. I think he’s wanted it to be rebuilt for quite a while. Every time I’ve seen him, he asks me about it. That’s all he ever talks to me about.”

  I grinned. “I know. I can’t believe he had this clunker sitting in his garage for so many years. I have a cool idea for it, but I’ll need to get some help.”

  “Really? What?”

  “See this area around the wheels?” I pointed to where the spokes came together. “I was thinking it would be cool to have some custom made metal flames here that would match the flames on the gas tank. It would tie the design together nicely, don’t you think?”

  She smiled. “You have such a great eye for detail, and yes, I agree. I think Bruce would love it. Where would you find something like that?”

  “I want to go to Laramie Jackson’s knife shop and see if he can help me design something unique for it.” I stood and went to my workbench to deposit my tools, before washing my hands at the basin sink.

  “That’s a fabulous idea! I know you love the athame he custom made for you.”

  “Shh . . .” I teased. “He doesn’t know it’s an athame—it’s only an awesome knife as far as he’s concerned. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m sure he’s happy to help you. You’ve had him outfit half the coven with knives now.”

  “The best for the best.” I winked at her. “Do you need me to get anything for you while I’m out?”

  “Not that I can think of right now. I’ll text you if anything comes to mind. Are you going to see Portia too?”

  She caught me totally off guard and I snapped my head over to look at her, squinting and wondering if she was hinting at something else.

  “Why would I go see her?” I hadn’t told anyone—not even her—about my interest in Portia. I didn’t want anyone to think it was wrong or tell me I couldn’t be with her. Until I discovered more information about what was happening between us, I intended to keep it to myself.

  Apparently, I sounded slightly too aggressive in my response. “Easy there, killer.” She held up a hand in surrender. “I noticed you seemed to have a connection with her is all. I know you don’t like to allow yourself to make friends, but she’s different. She’s a witch, and she’s part of your coven. That means you won’t have to keep any secrets from her. There hasn’t been anyone like that in your life before—at least not your age anyway. I worry about you being alone all the time.”

  I sighed, walking to my bike. “No, I didn’t have any plans to go see her today,” I replied as I straddled the bike, secretly wishing Portia needed me for some reason.

  “Well, can I intrude and ask if you like her?”

  Glancing over, I saw a soft look in her eyes. Was she trying to play matchmaker all of a sudden? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  “Of course I like her. I like everyone,” I replied vaguely, slipping my key into the ignition.

  “You know what I mean. Would you ever be interested in dating her?”

  I chuckled. “You really think Sean would go for that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You’re a good kid. He knows that.”

  “We may be close in school, but you can’t forget, I’m eighteen and she’s sixteen. I think Sean would sooner slap a restraining order on me than let me date his only child.”

  “I don’t see why your age matters one bit; unless you’re planning on doing something that would make you being a legal adult and her a minor a problem. Is there something I should know?” She stared pointedly at me.

  I laughed loudly. “Pipe down, Mom. I’ve been nothing but the perfect gentleman.”

  Her gaze wandered over me. “I mean, I understand you’re a man now, and men have urg—”

  “Stop right there, Marsha. This conversation is finished.” I started the bike, gassing the throttle and the garage echoed with the sound.

  She cupped her hands and shouted above the noise. “I only wanted to know if you want to date her!”

  “What?” I hollered back with a grin, revving the engine again, pretending I couldn’t hear her.

  “Do you want to date her?” She waved her hands at the exhaust fumes filling the air.

  Pointing to my ear, I shook my head. “I’ll talk to you when I get home.” I slipped my helmet on and took off out the open garage door. Tossing a quick glance in her direction as I turne
d onto the street, I started laughing when she threw her hands up in a frustrated gesture and went inside.

  That was fun. Turning my attention back to the road, I thoughtfully considered what she’d been trying to talk to me about. Truthfully, I wanted to do a whole lot more than date Portia. Sometime over the last two years, I’d convinced myself that our connection meant she was mine, marked specially for me. I couldn’t find any magical evidence to suggest otherwise, although there wasn’t a whole lot to support my idea either. All the information I’d found pointed to this type of magic happening between two people who both experienced the same thing. I’d had yet to attempt speaking with her mentally, since before her birthday. This was partly to protect her, not wanting to rush her, and partly because I was afraid of what it would mean if she couldn’t hear me. I didn’t want to lose hope already—not when I was just starting to find it again.

  ---

  The circle of protection had been cast, drawn into the dirt of the earthen floor with a sword held by the High Priestess. Together, as a group, we called the elements from the four corners representing Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and then lit the candle of unity in the center of the crystal pentagram on the ritual table. Portia was presented to us each individually, before taking her place beside me as the thirteenth member of our coven.

  Wine was poured into a large waiting chalice and passed around. Each of us took a swallow, symbolizing our connection to one another.

  Sean stepped forward and began to speak, reciting our beliefs. This ritual was done for every new witch who joined the coven, helping Portia understand her history—her legacy.

  “In the beginning, God created the Earth,” Sean mimicked the beginning of the Bible. He smiled and a few chuckles rippled through the group, before continuing. “God created the Earth, and we’re to respect the things on it, both spiritually as well as physically. When we use the things the Earth provides in a proper manner, we surround ourselves with the powers of creation and goodness. If we misuse the things we’ve been given, it calls forth a dark magic that can overtake us.”

  Milly stepped forward and began speaking directly to Portia. “We may believe in Christianity, but we also believe there is truth in everything. All religions, rituals, and magical practices have a higher law they support. We believe all these forces work together to create a whole. Mankind is the one who gives labels and restrictions to religious practices. We believe the universe operates as a whole and must answer to the scientific laws that have been placed upon it. Don’t allow yourself to be confused by names and labels—instead learn to accept things as they are. You are a special being, gifted with a higher power, which has been passed down since the beginning of time. Use your gift wisely and allow only good energy to flow through you.

  “We’re blessed when we use good magic. Sometimes the consequences of our magic may not appear immediately; so we should always be careful in what we do, because the results of our magic can be far-reaching and have long-lasting effects on those around us. Be considerate of others. You would be wise to always live by the rule that what you put out comes back to you times three. If you conspire to do evil, that is what you’ll receive; but if you do what is positive and right, that’s what you’ll attract, as well. Which would you rather live with?”

  She wasn’t really asking her for an answer, since the reply should be obvious, but I knew her words caused each of us to peer into our own souls and ask the same question.

  “I think you should tell her all the details surrounding Vance,” Marsha said. “Things have been great while we’ve been with you, but she should know what’s happening.”

  “I agree,” I added, watching Portia’s eyes dart between Marsha and me. Others in the group voiced their support, as well.

  Sean nodded and Milly began speaking, revealing my tale. I watched Portia’s face closely, studying her for any reaction, as my life was laid out in front of her detail by detail. Instead of hearing my story, though, I found myself slipping back inside it, reliving it like it was only yesterday.

  “Hey, buddy. How about you and I go to the zoo today?” My dad tousled my hair, shooting a grin at me from where he was seated next to me on the couch.

  “Really?” My ten-year-old voice echoed back in my ears. I loved when my dad took me on outings. Getting time alone with him was always a treat.

  “Yes, really! I know you’ve wanted to go for a while now, so let’s do it. Go get your shoes on.”

  Jumping up, I turned and ran toward the staircase, spying my mom standing in the doorway. I was too excited to pay attention to the slight frown on her face. “Dad’s taking me to the zoo!” I called as I passed her, my bare feet slapping against the cool marble floor.

  “Damien, is this really necessary?” I heard my mom ask. “He didn’t finish cleaning his room like I told him to.”

  My feet slowed and I crept along the stairs, leaning over the railing so I could continue to eavesdrop on their discussion.

  “You’re too strict with him, Krista. Let him be a kid for a change.”

  “He needs to learn responsibility,” my mom replied.

  “For what?” Dad sounded irritated with her. They’d been fighting more often lately. “He’s a warlock for crying out loud. Let him clean his room using magic and it’ll never be messy. I don’t see why you persist in making him behave like he’s something he’s not.”

  “He needs to be able to go out and live in the real world with real people. So he’s a warlock. Big deal. If he doesn’t have discipline in his life, he’ll go off the deep end. You’ve seen what’s happened to others who’ve chosen to live like that.”

  “My son is a prodigy.” Irritation filled my father’s voice. “He has more magic in his baby finger than most witches have in their entire body. That qualifies him to live by a different set of rules. You should be proud of that, Krista. If it weren’t for him and his powers, you could’ve been gravely injured when you accidentally cut yourself with that knife, but he healed you; and he was only five!”

  My mom sighed loudly. “Yes, Damien. I was there. And I’m very aware of what his capabilities are. But, in my opinion, that’s only another reason for us to use caution with him. He is powerful, and he needs to be taught to use those powers wisely.”

  “I don’t want to argue about this any more, Krista. He can clean his room when he gets back . . .”

  I didn’t listen for the rest, running the rest of the way to my large bedroom. Quickly, I slipped on a pair of socks before sliding my feet into my shoes and hurrying back down the stairs. My mom was nowhere to be seen.

  “You ready, pal?” Dad asked, clicking off the television and getting up.

  “Yes. Let’s go!” I jumped around excitedly. “Which car are we taking?”

  “Go get in the Jeep. That sounds like a good car for the zoo.”

  “Yay!” I shouted, pumping my fist in the air. “I love the Jeep!” I ran through the kitchen and down the hall toward the garage. My dad only ever took the Jeep when we went riding around in the woods. I loved the way it bounced around.

  Dad climbed in beside me and turned on the radio. I watched the large houses pass us by as we made our way out of our neighborhood and onto a larger road. We drove for a while, until the buildings slowly began to thin, and we turned off the road into a wooded area.

  “Is this where the zoo is?” I asked, confused. There weren’t even fences or cages around that I could see.

  “No,” my dad replied. “But don’t worry. You’ll be there soon. I thought maybe this would be a good spot to try a new magical ritual with you.”

  This didn’t surprise me. My dad always wanted me to do magical things with him. He was constantly telling Mom I needed to be more involved in learning the craft and how to properly use my powers.

  “Okay.” I was disappointed in the delay, but knew there would be no arguing with him. When it came to my dad, magic was more important than anything else.

  Dad parked and removed a small
box from behind his seat. “Let’s go.”

  I climbed out, my feet hitting the forest floor, a few twigs crunching beneath them. The scent of pine filled the air and the whisper of the wind blowing through the needles on the trees created a soft, soothing sound. I always loved coming to the forest to play around; but when I sat still and listened, it was relaxing.

  Dad led the way into a circle of thick shrubs and trees that blocked most of the sunlight. Setting the box on the ground, he removed five different candles, each of them black. “Vance, place these candles in the appropriate place.”

  I knew exactly what he was asking me to do, since it had been a previous lesson. Glancing at the sky, I determined which directions were North, South, East, and West, and I placed the candles accordingly, setting the fifth one in the center of them all.

  My father surveyed my work and smiled approvingly. “Good job, son.” He removed an athame from the box. “Now I will cast the circle and you light things accordingly.”

  I nodded and lifted the center candle, touching the wick, watching as it burst into flame.

  Pointing his athame North, Dad began speaking. “I call upon the dark elements of the North. Come bless my circle.”

  I lit the North candle and turned toward the West candle as he pointed to it, lighting it as well. I continued as he repeated the phrase, to the South, then the East.

  Standing in the center, still holding the candle, I watched as he raised his athame into the air and began walking around the outer edges of the four candles. “I draw this circle in the name of darkness. This is the boundary, and none may cross.” He joined me in the center, slowly holding his arms out and then raising his hands above his head, clasping them together, symbolizing sealing us into the bubble of the circle.

  Crouching down, he smiled and removed the candle from my hands, placing it on the ground beside me. “Close your eyes, Vance, and relax. Let the magic you feel flow through you.”