As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew that wasn’t it. Libby shook her head and clutched her gut as if she too felt sick. Something was wrong, but it had nothing to do with Lucas or Sara.
The Capacitors.
Both women rushed out of the library toward the main building, under which the Capacitors were housed. Leonard followed them. “What is it? What’s happened?” he yelled.
The cool outdoor air did little to remedy their flushed fevered faces or stricken stomachs. They passed other ill Primos and Maeve motioned them to come along.
All Primos had a connection to the Capacitors and could feel the upset of power, but Maeve knew something truly horrible had happened far below the floor of their sanctuary. She was certain, and yet very confused. She’d never felt anything quite like this disturbance and the fact that all Primos she passed were feeling it too was a bad sign.
A group of women milled around the Abbess’ door. When Maeve and her followers entered the sanctuary, Elle called out to them, “You feel it too? Something’s wrong, but Nathalia’s not in her quarters.”
Out of breath, Maeve managed to point to the Ishtar statue just as Nathalia exited the door it hid. Both groups rushed to her. Nathalia put her hands up, signing for all to quiet themselves and listen.
She spoke in a hushed tone, “Something dark has tainted the pure energy collected by our Capacitors.”
Nathalia watched anxiously as the two women with her suffered. Camilla paced the Abbess’ office, taking many tiny steps to make the length of the room, rubbing her temples fervently as if her brain might explode. Maeve sat on the lounge curled into a tight ball, clutching her midsection. The pain on her face was evident. Nathalia thought about what Margaux had said and wondered if this was the thing that threatened to take Maeve from her. Libby was on her way back from the library, but she couldn’t arrive fast enough for any of them. Hopefully she’d found an answer in the archives.
Nathalia had been with Camilla in the storage room when it happened. The murky fog in the center of the Capacitor circle had turned dark and ominous. Camilla did what she always did and tried to heal it. When she pulled power from the Capacitors it had hurt her. The whole of the stockpile was tainted.
It was common for Camilla to feel discomfort when she healed. She removed something that did not belong and channeled it through herself then out. She was accustomed to that discomfort. This had been pain. She had only reached the first stage of the spell, the siphoning of energy. The energy itself had hurt her. Nathalia caught her falling body when she screamed and blacked out.
Nathalia and Maeve exchanged worried glances across the room. Neither had seen Camilla like this; she was normally a woman of few words or movements. Was she even aware that she spoke aloud as she paced?
“Fix it…much more important…what happened.” Camilla mumbled, “Finding out’s not my job.” The tears streamed down her face and the circles under her eyes got darker by the minute. She stiffened and headed toward the door. “I need to get back to them.”
Nathalia stepped in front of her. “You are not to pull from the tainted power even to heal the darkness,” she said. “I’ll not risk you.”
The Abbess had spoken. Normally she would have given a telepathic push to her order and Camilla would have found it impossible to disobey. But Nathalia followed her own orders; the power was not to be used. Her job was to protect the active members of this sect and she intended to be successful.
Nathalia added, “If you have to get back to work, then you’ll have to find an alternative source of power.”
The pain, mixed with disgust, was painted Camilla’s face. She snarled, scrunching her face, and said “I can’t have sex when those I love most are hurting!”
“There’s no other way I know to garner the energy to perform your miracles.” Nathalia was distraught at giving this order, for what woman could relax enough to climax when such pressure was on her.
Maeve blurted out, “Call the Voice; her Guardian will provide the power.”
“I’ve never even met the Guardian,” Camilla exclaimed. “I can’t take a new lover at a time like this!”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Maeve said. “He can transfer power.”
Nathalia had already left a message for Margaux. Who knew where they were right now nor how long it could be before the Council got back with them. She simply expected some advice from Margaux, and now Maeve was telling her to invite them here. Nathalia needed to hear more. “I’ve witnessed that he has some knowledge of magic in general, but that’s to be expected when he must live in such close proximity to the Council. But are you saying this man has the knowledge only known to our Primos?”
No man had power of their own; their magic was spent providing the spark of life. No man would ever be allowed to learn the ways to pull power from the Capacitors; it just wasn’t safe.
Maeve answered, “The Guardian can transfer power. He does it for me just as he did for my mentor. I don’t know where he pulls from, but the energy feels similar to the Capacitors.’”
A knock at the door startled all of them. Nathalia called, “Come in, Libby.”
The Guardian himself opened that door. No call from the gate warned Nathalia of his arrival. She was going to have a serious talk with them. Even if they had met him a hundred times, she was to be notified every time.
He bowed deeply, his head coming near his always-bare feet. The phone on Nathalia’s desk rang. She angrily stabbed at the speakerphone button and yelled, “It’s about time Mark! I expect a warning before a nonmember walks through my office door.”
The familiar French accent of Margaux came through. “I am not Mark. Do not be mad at your guard; it is not ‘is fault. The Guardian ‘as way of...evading security measures, but rest assured they are not necessary. He is completely trustworthy.”
Margaux continued, “Your message I received. It is imperative that none use tainted power. It can be very damaging. I sent the Guardian because he can provide untainted power for your Panacea to use for removing the black magic.”
“How?” Nathalia demanded, glaring at the giant across the room. “Where does a man get power and the knowledge to transfer it?”
The Guardian avoided looking directly at any of them. His head was down and he seemed to be trying to make himself appear smaller or less threatening.
Margaux blew out a long breath before answering,“He has a source of power, different than ours, and the gift of transfer. Be glad of it, because without that man your Capacitors would be in great danger.”
Margaux hung up without waiting for any response. The Guardian held out his hand to Camilla and gestured that she should lead the way.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Nathalia exclaimed, “Other sects may have let you in to their storage rooms, but you will not view our Capacitors. Whatever you do will have to take place in these quarters.”
The Guardian bowed deeply to the Abbess and backed away from the door, into a corner. He held out his hand to Camilla again and she took it. He pressed his lips to the healer’s wrist.
A few silent minutes passed before the Guardian released Camilla’s hand. Straightening her shoulders, she nodded a thanks to the giant and strode toward the door with resolve.
Nathalia grabbed Camilla’s shoulder. “You have to heal yourself first.”
Camilla rose to her full four foot ten and a half inches. Looking up into her Abbess’ face, she retorted, “I’m Panacea Primo and our holy ones are experiencing great pain. I know; I feel it. I have to go to them.”
Leaning down, Nathalia kissed the tiny woman’s head. “You’re no good to them like this,” she explained.
Camilla opened her mouth, but then clicked it shut. Closing her eyes, she muttered, the healing words easily recognizable. The dark circles under her eyes, and general wrongness of her complexion that signaled her pain, vanished. Returning to the Guardian, she held out her hand to him. He wordlessly pressed his tantalizing lips on her skin
again.
Libby rushed back into the room and closed the door, holding a finger inserted inside the pages of a large black book to keep her place. Skirting Nathalia’s desk, she plopped her book down and flipped it open. Pointing to a passage, she waited for Nathalia to read.
“What?” Maeve implored. “What is it?”
Nathalia just shook her head as she stared in disbelief at the book before her. The Guardian answered the question, saying one word, “Murder.”
“THANK YOU for getting here so quickly. We wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t important.”
Maeve plopped her ever-present bag on the desk before her and sat in a metal chair whose padding had seen better days. She could feel the screws pressing into her backside. Chief Edward Goodwin offered her an almost empty box of apple fritters. She held up her hand and said, “No thanks. How’s the wife?”
The police chief smiled. He looked ten years younger that way. “She’s great. We’re celebrating our fourth year this year. Going to Hawaii—traditional gift for the fourth is flowers and fruit. Where better to get both than Hawaii? She’s teaching first grade now, like she’s always wanted. She says they’re better at that age when they’re still excited about learning.” His smile faded. “She’d be none too happy to know you’re here.”
Eddie had been the first match Maeve made as Vinculum. He was old enough to be her father, had grown kids her same age from his first marriage and Sue thought it was shameful that, before her, Eddie had dated Maeve. It was valuable to have a police chief as a friend. Maeve had often thought that Peggy, the Vinculum Primo before her, had put them together for a reason. He could protect Maeve after Peggy joined the ranks of the Capacitors.
Maeve didn’t want to start any trouble at home for him. She also didn’t care for the way other policemen looked at her through the window. The mix of lust and distrust was one she’d never get used to. Being a witch in the Bible Belt was difficult on the best of days. Outsiders didn’t know what she was capable of, but she never hid the fact that she belonged to the Daughters of Women. “What’s going on, Eddie?”
“Do you know a man named John Stoker?”
She nodded.
“Did you know he got married yesterday?”
Again, she nodded and let him go on.
“How well did you know his bride?”
“Mary? Only barely. In name only, really. They had a wedding website that John told me about, but I wasn’t invited to the wedding.” She shrugged. She didn’t need to explain why. Some women just can’t stomach their men’s old flames, especially ones that looked like Maeve. “Why?” Then she realized Eddie spoke in the past tense. “Oh, Great Mother, she’s dead?”
Eddie nodded, his eyes focused on Maeve. “Murdered.”
Maeve covered her mouth. Mary had a connection to the Capacitors. Maeve had bridged the path from the couple to the Holy Capacitors. Mary’s murder had caused the dark spot. Who could have done this? Was it done to intentionally hurt the Capacitors or was that just a side effect?
Eddie asked, “Do you think John could have done it?”
Maeve dropped her hand and crossed her arms. “God, no.” It was impossible for a pair matched by the Vinculum to hurt one another. “Why would you think that?”
“We don’t.” Eddie went back around behind the desk and sat in his chair. He opened a drawer and pulled out a manila file, plopping it down between them. “Maeve, you’re not under arrest but before we go on, I feel I should tell you that you’re free to have a lawyer here.”
“Wait. I’m a suspect? You know me, Eddie. I couldn’t hurt a fly. No. I don’t need a lawyer. I didn’t do anything.”
“No, I know, Maeve. I was adamant that you had nothing to do with this but your body language tells me you’re hiding something.”
Maeve uncrossed her arms and laid them in her lap. “I don’t have anything to do with this, but there are parts of my life that are secret.”
Eddie asked, “The Daughters of Women?” Maeve nodded and he went on. “That’s why I suggested a lawyer. I need to ask you some things about them. This is a murder investigation so I need you to be completely honest with me.” He flipped open the folder to reveal a glossy 8x10. He jabbed his finger at the image. “Virgin sacrifice.” Then he turned it over showing her the next one. It was a design drawn in the dust on something wooden. Maeve recognized it. Eddie declared, “Witchcraft.”
Now she knew what this was all about. Eddie knew just enough about magic and the Daughters to implicate them, but little else. Maeve explained, “The Daughters don’t deal in blood magic. We can’t. That kind of violence is the opposite of our magic and would sever our ties with the source.” She pointed to the design drawn on the wood. “That symbol is a protection sign. Ancient. It’s something a witch would draw if she were scared, almost like a nervous tick. Not us. We don’t use pentacles and talismans. You’re looking for the SOFE.”
Eddie took out his tiny pad and began writing.
Maeve expanded on her statement. “It stands for Sorcerers of the Five Elements. They are completely separate from normal elemental witches.”
“I only know of four elements.”
Maeve picked up a pencil and drew on a nearby blank pad, probably put there for her to write down her confession. “A pentagram, not a satanic symbol no matter what they told you in Sunday school, has five points. One for each of the four elements—Earth, Air, Fire and Water and one more for the Spirit. But, SOFE don’t believe in the Spirit. They claim the fifth element is blood. They work in blood magic combined with elemental magic in a way no one else does.”
Eddie asked, “Where can we find a SOFE?”
“I don’t know. They’re very secretive, usually practicing only on the New Moon. Where were these taken?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask where Mary had been murdered.
“I can’t tell you that. Can you tell me anything else?”
The fact that he was asking her about it at all meant it had happened locally. Maeve guessed she was lucky she wasn’t talking to a federal agent about the ritualistic killing. “Well, I can guess that they aren’t finished.” Before he could ask how she knew, Maeve continued. “SOFE don’t usually kill to get the blood for their rituals. They use their own. SOFE must be prepping for something big to need blood from a virgin’s death.”
MAEVE PUSHED open the door to Nathalia’s private quarters. Jolie and Libby were already there. Libby sat at the Abbess’ desk, jotting down notes for Leonard to later add to Jolie’s accomplishment book. Nathalia stood over her making sure she recorded the details accurately. Jolie sat in the window seat; no doubt her thoughts were on JD. Matched couples have a hard time being apart, especially after just finding each other. The relationship was all magic at first, to enable them time to develop a real love connection.
Everything all right? Nathalia’s voice was a gentle touch in Maeve’s mind, but even a gentle penetration of one’s most inner self is painful. Maeve, already lightheaded from her meeting, felt the blood drain further from her face. “Come in,” Nathalia said out loud. “We can talk about your meeting after this.”
Maeve came in and closed the door behind her. She went to sit in the window seat next to Jolie and Nathalia sat in the chair next to them. As she reached over and took her latest accomplishment’s hand, Maeve asked, “So, what did we dream about last night? Anything good?” She knew that could not be the case from Jolie’s anxious expression, but hoped she was wrong.
Jolie said, “My visions aren’t literal. I can tell you what they were, but not what they mean.”
“That’s why we always write them down,” Libby said. “So that we can compare them and what actually happened. It won’t be too long before we have a legend, an interpretive guide to what Jolie’s dreams mean.” Libby flipped back a few pages in Jolie’s book. “She was just telling us one about you, Maeve.”
Maeve had never actually been present during a recounting of Jolie’s dream. This was going to be interesting
.
“You’re always a black cat,” Jolie explained. “Every dream I’ve had that came true about you revolved around the same black cat. Now when I’m dreaming I don’t even see the cat, I just recognize it as Maeve. The cat represents an independent spirit, feminine sexuality, power and creativity—it’s a great symbol.”
“Naw, a great symbol is an Owl. That’s mine.” Libby interjected with a smirk. “They represent wisdom and insight.”
“So what’s Nathalia?” Maeve asked her friend, seeing that this line of conversation was relaxing to Jolie.
Nathalia answered, “A one-eyed camel.”
Maeve burst into laughter and everyone in the room smiled. “Sorry, Nathalia, it just sounded funny, I’m sure the camel’s a very noble creature.” Maeve tried to stop laughing.
Libby defended her Abbess’ animal symbol. “The camel means that she has many responsibilities and burdens. She has the potential for handling big problems and carries them on her shoulders.”
Nathalia added, “It also means that I need to be more conservative, as you’ve said many times. I hold on to my emotions.”
“But why a one-eyed camel?” Maeve asked.
“It’s one eyed, because—”
“We think it’s one-eyed because…” Jolie stressed the interpretive nature of her dreams.
“I refuse to accept another viewpoint,” Nathalia admitted. “I’ve a very one-sided way of thinking.”
Maeve stopped laughing. If that was what one-eyed camel meant, Jolie’s dreams were very accurate indeed. Nathalia had a hard time admitting any males had value or a good side. She saw them as the embodiment of evil to varying degrees. She hadn’t strayed from that belief in over a decade, even though there were good men all around her.
“So what was the cat up to last night?” Maeve asked.
For the Love of Magic Page 5