The Blood Rites Trilogy
Blood Rites
Turning the Stone
The Fate’s Seal
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Today, Tomorrow, and Always.
~We struggle against the darkness, to forget the voices that compel us, and even the ones that do not. For we are witches, and our struggle is constant.
~S.L. Perrine
Chapter I
The matter hadn’t been settled yet, but still, Silas watched as his father turned and left the room. How the man could look him in the eye and lie outright was beyond him. He may have been his namesake, but he was nothing like his father. Silas Sigmis Sr. was a cold calculating man, with no regard for anyone other than himself. His incessant need for power was just so he could find his way to the immortal curse. It was all he’d ever thought about.
Silas moved to the window and watched as the men waiting by the car moved to attention when his father stepped into the afternoon sun. The silver that coated his hair above his ears shined as he turned to look up at his son, knowing he was in the window. He gave him a curt nod, one hand resting on the open door and dipped his head into the back of the black SUV.
Silas growled under his breath. “How is it he’s in and out in under five minutes and my blood pressure is through the roof?” He turned from the window as the vehicle turned out of the driveway and out of sight past the tree-lined property.
“He’s your father. We all have one who sets us off.” Silas’ friend and second in command, Hex Lavar plopped down into the desk chair and started shuffling through papers on top of the large mahogany desk. “So, what’s his big plan now?”
Silas ran a hand through his dark hair. It was well past needing a cut, laying in a way that covered his eyes and ears. He’d been too busy to take the time out for a trip to the barber. “The same damn thing. He wants us to leave in a week.”
“Wow, that’s rough. Wait…we? Leave in a week?”
Understanding crossed his friend's dark face as Silas turned to him. “Yup. We. Tell Necos to pack.”
“Oh, come on boss, Ginger? Why? We can handle this alone.”
Silas answered him with a glare.
Hex followed him through the house to Silas’ bedroom. He stopped at the doorway, watching as Silas reached into the big chest at the end of his bed. “We doin a circle tonight, boss?”
“Yes. Get the others. I’m not going into anything alone. My father wants a fight, he’s got one.”
The house buzzed with activity the moment Hex left his friend’s side. Servants moved in and out of rooms with luggage and food. The luggage to prepare the three men for their trip. The food was prepared for the guests they would be receiving for the evening.
When everyone had gathered in the living room, Silas left his solitude to meet them. Twenty witches and shifters in his house. It was a good thing his father had left for the weekend on business, or he’d be in for a lecture for sure. As it was he had no plans to stay inside for the circle. He just wanted to speak to everyone behind closed doors before he had to leave. To make sure if he wasn’t back for the blood rites ritual, that they would all know where to meet him. It was crucial to his plans that the ritual happened without any interference.
The blood rites ritual was something that never used to be. In the 1860s a witch by the name of Seraphina Crawford defied the Council. A panel of witches charged with keeping the magic community well behaved. She was just thirteen-years-old when she killed mortals and witches to gain more power. Then she found a way to take on the immortal curse without losing any of those powers. It was because of her that witches were no longer persecuted. It was also due to her that Silas’ father had carried on his father’s plan and his father’s before him, and so on to gain access to the immortal curse. They wanted the power that came with it.
The Council had put a safe guard on children, insisting that had Seraphina been older, she would have been able to see reason before doing what she had done. For any witch or shifter-witch within a coven to unlock their gifts they had to wait till their eighteenth birthday to receive them. Then they would bind themselves to four others on the solstice after a blood rites ritual. Of course, that was only those born to the five families. Others in the magic community were born with gifts that grew over time, only to peak at the age of eighteen. Their gifts were nothing compared to those born of the families Seraphina had chosen to be the leaders of the magic community. Even Silas had a gift he’d been able to use since he could walk. However, the full measure of his gifts came after his eighteenth birthday. More still would come once the rite was done.
Silas looked the room over. Nodding as a few people’s eyes met his, then cleared his throat. “Sigmis has planned for me to be away. I will be leaving at the end of the week, taking Hex and Finis with me. If I have not returned by the fall I expect you to join me.”
“Excuse me.” A short witch with mousy brown hair and bright green eyes cleared her throat and stepped forward. “Are we all expected to join you?”
“Ophelia?” Silas raised a brow at the direction of such a question.
“Well, sir. It’s just, would you need all of us or just the coven leaders?” She rung her hands in front of her, then making note that he was watching intently she thrust them to her side. “I just thought that if we were all to show up, it might raise some alarm.”
“Very true, Ophelia.” Silas moved and turned in place, pacing the length of the wide doorway. “Fine. Ophelia and Seraphine. You will join Finis, Hex and myself by Halloween if I have not returned. We will need to prepare for the rite.”
Ophelia was clearly confused, but remained quiet. She stepped back nodding at Silas her understanding of what he expected of her. He could sense she just wasn’t sure as to the why of it. Silas motioned for everyone to meet him outside at their usual meeting place. Smiling at Ophelia as she passed by. Hex grabbed Silas by the elbow once the last of the congregation was out the door and it had banged closed.
“Ophelia is your fifth? Are you mad? Your father will have your head.”
“Lavar, seriously? He has no say in whom I choose. The leaders of the coven are hand-picked by me, not him. Besides, I hardly think he cares much who shares my circle. He’s more interested in who is to share my bed.”
“That’s a bit vulgar, brother.”
Silas saw his sister’s hair enter the room well before she did. It was pitch black, darker than Hex by three shades, and a frizzy mess of corkscrews. Silas recalled how she tried to get rid of the curls once by using their mother’s iron and board. She’d burnt more hair than she’d flattened.
“Bellatrix, how nice of you to join us.” Silas could never understand his younger sister and her inability to behave. “If father were here…”
“If father were here, you wouldn’t have had this little powwow, and I wouldn’t b
e late. Your goons banged on my door to tell me about said powwow while I was in the shower. I never heard what was said.” She raised a brow at Hex.
“Not my fault. I didn’t know.” He raised his shoulders and headed for the front door.
“I’ll be right there,” Silas shot at his friend. Then turned back to his sister. He was her senior by only a year, but by the looks of her she could be believed to be much younger. “You're expected to be by my side, as support from the family in father’s absence.”
“You mean because he can’t be bothered. Yes, Silas, I am aware of my responsibility. However, you can hardly fault me. This time.” She bunched her unruly hair together behind her and wrapped a tie in it. It stood off her head like a cannon ready to shoot at the next target it set its sights on.
“Fine. This time. Next time…” He thought for a moment and changed his mind. There would not be a next time for a while. Not with him on his way out of town. “Just walk me out. Maybe everyone will think you were in the back of the room, hiding as usual.” He held out his arm as if they’d been headed to a formal party.
The yard was lined with trees all around the perimeter. The front of the house couldn’t be seen from the road, nor could the rest of the property. It was the largest plot of land owned by any one family in Indiana. Weeping willows and birch trees lined the perimeter, but the gem of the land was the walnut grove on the back of the thirty-something acres. It hadn’t been in the family long, just two generations. Sigmis’ father couldn’t tolerate being poor when he was the high priest. He felt it was demeaning to his ancestor, Seth Sigmis.
The ongoing story was Seraphina Crawford loved Seth so much, that even after he’d betrayed her and their cause, that she’d given him the high powers hidden away in the book of the Covenant. The book that also harbored the immortal curse, but that spell had been destroyed. Now the only power of the immortal curse lay in a family heirloom, belonging to the Crawford family. That was what Sigmis wanted, and that was why Silas had to travel to Springfield, Ohio. He was only to return once he had the curse in his grasp. Among other things.
“Quiet down.” Silas raised his voice over the booming voices of the congregated witches. They’d grouped up in the rear of the house around a stone altar. “What is the problem here?”
A tall lanky boy stepped forward. His hair was spiked on top of his head in the most dramatic mohawk. He had a ring protruding from his eyebrow and Silas could see the silver ball inside his mouth when he spoke. “Some were just wondering why your pick of leaders seemed to be less of a priority and done so quickly in there? Usually, the final members wouldn’t be chosen till fall.” The boy said, clearly being one of them who felt Silas had chosen too quickly without the proper amount of thought.
“Oh, is that all?” Silas moved quickly without hesitation. His hand moved straight out in front of him, and even though he looked as though he were about to grab the boy by his neck with his bare hand, Silas stopped short. That didn’t stop the boy from grasping at his throat at an invisible force that grabbed, squeezed and lifted him by his neck. “Your questioning me is not permitted. Have you forgotten whose house you enter when you come here? In this house, I am my father’s son, make no mistake about that.
“I would snap your neck rather than look at you, if you ever choose to question my decisions again.” He let his arm relax to his side, which was followed by a coughing fit and sputtering as the boy stepped back into the crowd to put distance between himself and his soon-to-be high priest. “Does anyone else have questions? Ophelia Can was chosen for the gift of foresight. Her vision quests are more prominent than even her mother’s. She is also the descendant of one of the original coven leaders of the Sigmis coven.
“Seraphine was named after our creator and savior, Seraphina Crawford.” The group winced at the name. Crawford was a name the Sigmis coven had grown to hate without reason. Other than they had more power. “Her gifts are unknown as her eighteenth birthday is in a few weeks. However, she too is an original descendant. This generation of coven leaders is now comprised of the same members as the original coven of this house. Now. Any more. Questions? No? Well then. I give you the coven of the Black Willow.”
Chapter II
The sun started to dip below the treetops. He saw her then. Her raven hair reached the sultry curve of her hips in waves and billows. Even in the distance, Silas could see the blue of her eyes glow in the setting sun. Her skin was fair in contrast to Silas’ olive tone. He moved forward around the tree then ducked back again. Being told she didn’t use her foresight was the only reason Silas attempted to see her, but for some reason, she looked straight at him. A twig snapped behind him and he jumped before the muzzle of a white wolf settled against his hand.
“Lavar! You just about made my heart jump out of my chest,” Silas scolded his friend in a whisper. He’d thought he’d been alone in the woods, but when he looked back at the wolf, Silas saw the slim red body of a fox nearby. “Necos.” He nodded at the fox which feigned interest at Silas’ target by licking his paw. “Did Father tell you to follow me?”
“No, we saw you leave.” Hex shifted to his human form, ducking behind a tree. “What are you doing, Jr? You know your old man would be pissed if he caught you doing this.” He moved from behind the tree. His skin was dark enough that nobody would be able to detect him in the growing darkness of night.
“I just wanted to see her.” Silas looked back at Gwendolyn Crawford. She continued to walk away from them. “She’s stunning.”
“Hey now, Romeo. Keep your eyes open here.” Hex smacked his friend on the back of the shoulder propelling him into the tree.
“I am.” Silas pushed away from the bark and started to follow in the direction the Crawford girl was headed, but Hex hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt.
“Yeah, I can see that,” he said pulling Silas in the direction of their temporary home. “Finis, a little help.” Hex looked on at the red fox, but he just yawned and trotted off out of the woods. “Great. Now, where’s he off to?”
“Doing what I can’t.” Silas looked back at his general.
“Fine, but you owe me.” He gave Silas one last look before shifting into a raven. He cawed and lifted his wings following the red fox, and the dark-haired girl.
Silas found his car where he’d left it on the side of the highway. The walk back in the dark didn’t bother him. His sight allowed him to see in the most precarious situations. His father made sure he honed the gifts he was born with from the moment he could understand them. It’d been months since his eighteenth birthday, and the onslaught of the powers that used to belong to his old man were now his. He was discovering more and more every day, mastering them as quickly as possible for what was to come.
If Sigmis discovered what his son was up to, he’d skin Silas alive and he knew it. His father was born a death watcher, but then again, so was Silas. So, where Sigmis knew how to find out what others were doing, he couldn’t detect Silas or his motives. That was a saving grace growing up. Though, since his father made Hex and Finis follow along, they’d have to hide from him until Silas’ plan succeeds. Once that happened, nobody would be able to stop what was to come.
The gifts of a death watcher, or healer as they were originally called, are varied in most. When having such power wasn’t feared, it was simply that those who had the abilities were able to heal the sick and the dying. Most had the ability of foresight. The gift of sensing those around them. Later on, when one such healer decided to push his abilities to the limits, it was discovered that a healer could not just heal life, but also death. The ability to sense when any creature, human or animal was on its last breath gave this witch an idea. Once it came out that the man was able to heal the dead, he was feared more than celebrated.
He became known as the watcher of death, and as such, the healer became the death watcher. The Council had him eliminated when he refused to allow nature to take its course. The man insisted on keeping those he cared for aliv
e by using his powers. The Covenant came for him, prepared to remove his gifts, but he put up a fight and was killed.
Since then, those known to have been born with the gifts of the death watcher were taken from their homes at the first sign of the cursed ability, and never seen or heard of again. The magic community assumed the Council had them killed. Except the first rule of Wicca is to do no harm. Nobody knows where those children were taken, or what became of them. The history books didn’t record much from what the Council had deemed their best interest. What is widely known is that children with death watcher abilities were no longer taken once Seraphina Crawford overtook the Council.
As far as Sigmis Sr. was concerned, the Crawford witch was forgiven of her crimes far too easily. Sure, she had saved the magic community from corrupt leaders, but children should be punished. For him, her punishment was no punishment at all. She was given the highest position on the Council as the High Priestess. Her family, allowed to keep powers that she had killed to obtain, as well as the powers of immortality. This, all because the Earth goddess had found favor with the child. The Crawford family was given too much for acts of deception, betrayal, and murder. He didn’t see it as the rest of the magic community did. He would not.
“Why should our family play second fiddle to theirs?” he’d said to Silas more times than he could count. “Why should she have been given all of that, and Seth was given nothing?”
Silas listened to his father rant on several occasions through his childhood. The last one struck gold when Sigmis decided he was simply going to help the powers that be and give them what they wanted.
Turning the Stone (The Blood Rites Trilogy Book 2) Page 1