Turning the Stone

by S. L. Perrine

  The three remaining sides of the table held the covens of The Raven’s Watch, The Sands of Luxe, and House of Moon. Evelyn Delany, the priestess of The Raven’s Watch sat across from Gwen. Her blonde hair was light enough to blind anyone when the sun hit it just right. The man speaking was standing behind her, an elder of her family. The setup was not much different than Silas had envisioned.

  There were only five houses. They governed their own territories. Silas was witnessing a meeting between four out of five. The fifth being his own family, which was never invited to such occasions. Having been labeled the dark force. None would have contact with them for such niceties.

  “It is not!” one of the males behind Gwen shouted. “It’s preposterous for you to even suggest. This isn’t a title that can be voted on, and you know it, Mort,” the man said.

  Mortimore Delaney. Silas should have recognized him. He’d seen him before at his home in Indiana. Mortimore had dealings with Sigmis for years. Then suddenly he just stopped visiting.

  “I have votes,” Mortimore boasted as if that would help his cause.

  “I don’t care if you had votes from every family head. You cannot do it.” Silas recognized the male behind Gwen. It was her father, Alistair Crawford. A tall brooding man dressed in overalls and flannel.

  “I have three,” the tall nasally man said smirking to old man Crawford.

  It was Gwen then who rose from her seat to speak. Silas couldn’t believe his eyes as she moved. The long white robe she wore moved as she did, contouring her curves as she pushed the chair away from the table. She hadn’t spoken, yet the crowd quieted in front of her. Those who stood behind and were not paying any attention to what was going on had stopped talking. Their eyes all adverted to where she stood. She was the high priestess, and no matter the family votes, she earned the respect of all of them in attendance.

  “Who?” was all she said.

  “All but Black Willow and of course Silver Shadows,” the man said, his thin nose pushed up into the air as if speaking to her, answering to her was beneath him.

  Silas watched as Gwen looked around the table. He knew one day she would enjoy her life away from being the high priestess. She would welcome the day that meant she would hand the reigns to her own child. However, in that moment, in front of the four families, she would cherish making them squirm. He didn’t have to see her eyes to know she was in her glory. The full powers of the death watcher were filling her, had been for the weeks they’d been training together hidden in the cave.

  Silas moved around the crowd, careful not to get too close. He wanted to see her face, but the entrance into the patioed area was filling with those who’d been lingering in the yard. All wanted to get a look of what was transpiring within.

  “You have the votes of those before us, or of those at this table?”

  “The elders of course.”

  “Then you have no votes. Save for Evelyn, herself. None other matter. We are a little over two months from the rite. You have no power anymore, Mortimer Delaney.” She lifted a hand and flicked at the air as if he were a bug she needed to swipe from her view and then sat.

  “Do you all wish to vote? I will give you that option if only to know who is on my side and who I will have to keep a watchful eye on.” She spoke to those sitting around the table.

  To Gwen’s right sat Thomas Hughes, an arrogant boy who’d become the priest of the Sands of Luxe. During the meeting, he’d been picking at the rubber on the bottom of his chucks. Now he let his foot drop to the floor and sat upright in his chair.

  “My family does not speak for me. If we were meant to transfer power from one family to another it would have been done well before now. Evelyn doesn’t have the backbone for the job anyway.” The boy looked across from Gwen at the blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty.

  Evelyn Delany sat upright, her shoulders of her narrow frame squared and stiff. She looked as if she would double over in pain in any moment. Her honey blonde hair had been swept up in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, delicate pink pearls sat on the lobes of her ears. Her eyes narrowed at the Hughes boy and Silas thought she’d be more likely to claw his eyes out than waste the talents she possessed.

  “For your information, Thomas, I have more backbone than your entire family. I was raised for this moment.”

  “You’re not a death watcher. Seems to me like that’s a big deal,” Hughes argued using his hand in a bird motion.

  “Enough,” Gwen spoke her tone even and lacking emotion. She would not show any there, and Silas was proud of her for it. “I was raised for this day. My ancestor is Seraphina Crawford. My grandmother, Margaret Crawford. I am Gwendolyn Crawford. This cannot be taken from me. It isn’t just a birthright.”

  “A birthright your family turned their back on when your mother refused her position,” Evelyn shot out, stealing a look at the sickly-looking Isabella sitting behind her daughter.

  Gwen stood again, just as she and Silas practiced. She walked out into the yard. The crowd parting for her. She turned, in full view of those on the patio. Silas could see her, make eye contact with her as she followed through with one last argument. As if on cue the wind moved around her. The earth shook, and pieces of loose soil rose to circle around her. Fire from the lanterns all around the yard left their perch and joined the circle.

  “I have the power of the elements. That is something that cannot be given or taken away. Not by the Council, and not by you. This argument is moot.” Her voice boomed all around them.

  A timid looking girl in the left of the table sat alone, except for one shifter. She rose, pushing the chair against the stones. “The House of Moon will always back a Crawford high priestess, no other.” The girl's red hair glowed with the light of the fire.

  “The Sands will follow.” Thomas stood as well.

  Evelyn sat with her arms crossed against her chest. Silas knew it was time to come out of hiding. He pushed forward to where Gwen stood, watching her as her eyes grew wide in surprise. He had told her, promised her that he would remain hidden.

  “The Black Willow will not back another…”

  He heard the gasping around him. Some women squealed with fear. It was nothing he wasn’t used to, yet he paused and turned when he reached Gwen. Silas moved his hand so it worked through the circle of elements around Gwen and clasped her hand. “We will back none other than a Crawford. Gwendolyn Crawford.” He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.

  “It’s happening again,” someone in the crowd yelled. “She will destroy us all, just as Seraphina did, and she will be blind to it.”

  Silas watched the crowd in the corner of his eye. He saw Chester Crain move into position behind Gwen. Silas sneered at Chester. He didn’t back away until he looked at Gwen and smiled. Having caused enough excitement, for the time being, he backed his way out of the meeting and left. His shifters on his sides, a giant white wolf, and a big black bear.

  Chapter VI

  The meeting went on for hours. Arguing back and forth between whether Gwen would have to hand over her title of high priestess before she’d even taken the rite. When she was younger she’d never wanted it. “Give it to Sabina.” She would tell her grandmother. She didn’t understand what the cost of her earlier decisions would have on her when the time came to take her rightful place as the leader of all the covens.

  The magic community was bigger than the five families. Gwen knew that. She knew the five families had been handpicked by the new Council and Seraphina, her great grandmother. Those who traveled and fought by her side were given positions within the five families. Those closest to her were divided between two. The Silver Shadows coven and Black Willow. The Crawford and Sigmis families. They would have been combined into one large coven if Seraphina ever got her way. Her first love, Seth Sigmis betrayed her and their cause. He stole the book of moons and disappeared. No one could determine why. That was why Gwen spent countless nights hiding in the cave. To read Seraphina’s journals. To find out wh
at happened after the Council was defeated.

  Her gran, Margaret told her stories all the time about the travels and the fight. How Seraphina won the Council and formed their new society. How important it was to uphold the gifts the mother goddess had given to their family, and to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves. Seraphina was just thirteen-years-old. Too young to have to protect anyone, but old enough to have succeeded.

  Still, she’d murdered to gain powers, which aided her in her quest. For that alone she accepted punishment. Margaret had spoken of that as well. As if she’d been there to witness it all first hand. The grim look in her eyes, cold and indifferent grew wide and withdrawn by the end of the tale. She spoke as if the events had happened to her own flesh, and not that of a woman born a century before.

  When Silas showed up in the cave, Gwen hadn’t feared him, or his family name. She knew it was going to happen. She’d been prepared for the encounter her entire life. Sigmis wanted the ring. The power it held. Too bad he had no idea of how that ring could be used. The power within was trapped until the witch deserving of the power wore it. Gwen tried it on once. She knew it wouldn’t work for her. She’d broken the riddle soon after Margaret had passed. Her mother warned her it was a dangerous road to bear, but she put it on anyway. What was inside was not a curse. It was essence. The essence of Seraphina herself. Her soul was trapped, but by who? That may be one question never answered during Gwen's lifetime. So, she focused on what she could do.

  Isabella cried herself to sleep when her mother had passed. Gwen grew up in a short amount of time. Even though her eighteenth year was still three off, her storm raged. Thunder and lightning beat the sides of her walls. Walls she’d been preparing since she could walk. Walls she’d ignored when she’d hit puberty. Walls, she neglected for far too long. She trained. With the night, and with the memory of Margaret. Gwen stole away in the cave every night for three years, preparing for the night a Sigmis would come for her. For the story in the journals to come true. She knew it would be her, just as much she knew her children would bear the most of any burden. She was prepared to begin the fight to end a centuries old battle. It would not end with her hands, and for that she would be grateful.

  “You did well.” Isabella, Gwen’s mother took her hands once the crowd dispersed.

  “Thank you.” She met her with a grim smile with no emotion behind it.

  “The face of a high priestess. Your gran had it too.”

  “Mother, I am not Margaret.”

  “No, you are not. However, you’ve decided to fight in this.”

  Gwen shook her head and began to turn from her mother, but the older woman took her face in the clutches of her fingers, squeezing her cheeks as a mother would to a small child.

  “You took it upon yourself to accept this. They are giving you an out. Giving our entire family and out. Why will you not accept?”

  “I’m also not my mother. I will not turn my back on everything we’ve been born to. Even if it is a burden. It’s mine to bear. Mine alone.”

  “You’ll never be alone, sis.” Barnaby moved to his sister’s side.

  Three years her senior, he matched her in height and stature. She looked at his feeble attempt at a mustache of uneven growth of dark hair on his lip to match that of the rest of the family. The oldest of the four Crawford witches, Gwen thought he was also the most intimidating.

  “Thanks.” She moved out of her mother’s grasp and turned to hug her brother.

  “Yeah, we’ll always have your back.” Cinnabar strode over to them. The youngest Crawford pat his elder brother on the small of his back and smiled at his sister. When the three looked to Sabina she simply stood and walked away into the back of the house. “She’s in too. She just doesn’t know it.” Cinnabar added.

  With the last remaining witches leaving the property, Gwen left the comforts of the patio to convene with her coven. Chester reminded her she had more duties to contend with. No doubt, Gwen thought, that he and everyone else would want to question her about Silas’ involvement in the meeting. She hadn’t expected him to make a grand statement. When she’d made him promise to stay away she knew he wouldn’t be able to. She hoped he’d stay in the shadows. No such luck. They’d gathered in the barn on the back of the property. For light and for shelter against the chill in the air. Satisfied with the state of the house, Barnaby and Cinnabar entered behind everyone a short while after they’d arrived.

  “Now that we're all here.”

  “Don’t,” was all she said to Chester. Her gifts were more in tuned to the minds around her. She could feel what was on their minds before they even started speaking. Chester was a blank slate. He’d practiced their entire life to keep what was inside his mind all to himself.

  “You’re doing it. You said you wouldn’t do that.” Chester sat on a bale of hay against an empty horse stall.

  “I can’t help it. You know that. After the rite, I’ll be able to control it better.” She looked around at the faces in front of her.

  “I say it’s about damn time they came over to this side.” Elle Walters hissed as she took a seat on the only wooden bench in the barn. “It’s been too long that we’ve been at war with one family. Enough already,” she said again smoothing her blonde hair against her temples.

  “Elle, quiet.” Her twin, Daniel spared a warning look at his sister. “Nobody asked you. As always.”

  Daniel was sure to get the fifth spot in the coven circle. Each coven had four leaders and the priest or priestess. The circle shared the strength of power the priest or priestess had to give. When they fought side by side their own gifts would be amplified tenfold. That’s not to say the coven was only comprised of five people. Each of the families had their own territory. The coven of the Silver Shadows was the coven of the Crawford house. Their crest was embroidered on the hooded cape Gwen wore to the meeting and would wear to every meeting. Each of the territories would swear their fealty to a coven circle. Gwen thought it an old tradition that needed reshaping, but they couldn’t come to an agreement on it.

  “What we need to discuss here—” Marcus Tanner stepped forward. His younger sister, Crystal looked on at him from beside Daniel, “—is whether or not we have a fifth. Then we can ask her what the hell Silas Sigmis Jr. is doing in Springfield. Because to me, it did not look like she’d been surprised at all when he stepped forward.”

  “Yes, let’s just skip to that part, shall we?” Chester gave his vote.

  “No, let’s not.” Gwen took the cape from around her neck and spread it out on the hay filled floor. She moved to the office in the back of the room and reappeared with a bottle of water. “I say we just get to the other thing. Then we can all go home and get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Gwen!” Chester yelled almost jumping from his seat.

  “Fine,” she conceded. “He’s been here for a few weeks. He’s training me.”

  “Training? Looked like more than training going on. Did you catch the look on his face when he took her hand?” Elle elbowed Cinnabar as she asked. Then thought better of it and moved away from Gwen’s little brother. Considering he was only nine he should have been tucked away in bed, but Barnaby insisted he had a right to attend every meeting.

  “Yeah, what was that?” Chester asked.

  Gwen had assumed her brothers would be more upset with a guy being interested in her, but to her dismay Chester found a horse to beat. “It was nothing. I’m sure. He’s just training me. None of the others will help me. I would look weak if I asked anyway,” she pointed out. “Besides, he came to me. To warn me.”

  At that Barnaby stepped forward. “About what?”

  Gwen could see concern and fear mapped out in his eyes.

  “Sigmis. He has some weird idea he’s going to get me to join him. To give him the ring.”

  “Figures. Let me guess, Jr. wants to keep that from happening?”

  “Yes, Chester. He does. Is it so hard to think there is a child in this world that has
n’t been influenced by a parent? It’s been like…a hundred years. It was bound to happen eventually,” she said, yelling at the top of her voice, making the animals inside the barn stir. She lowered her voice and head looking to her feet before adding, “Or that someone would think about me like that? I’m more than just the high priestess. That’s all any of you ever think about when you think of me.”

  Chester rose, but didn’t go to her. “That’s not true.” He spoke it in a whisper.

  Barnaby covered young Cinnabar’s ears, he himself seemingly immune was the only one who didn’t flush and turn away at Chester’s words. Gwen knew. She knew how Chester felt for her, but he’d never made a move to do anything about it. She couldn’t make him. She wouldn’t. She knew he would never be able to look past his duty. In time, she had thought his feelings had gone. That he’d forced them away. To protect her at all costs. Just as she knew his anger toward her was for the same reason. Gwen knew he didn’t so much mind that another had found an interest in her, but that she was meeting the enemy without protection. She could see the words spinning in his mind. She pulled back. Conscious of how she started to wander about. To seek what they were all thinking.

  “I’ll be at the cave this evening. Training. You can stand guard outside.” She turned on her heel, picked up her cloak and left them.

  She moved from the barn and bypassed the trail that led to the house. A lone figure made her walk toward the farm plot behind the house. There her father stood; hands in his pockets at his sides, swaying toe to heel on his feet to unsung music. She noted the grey at his temples and the dark circles under his eyes. Her gifts even allowed her to see the lines that marred his face. Not so much age setting in, but the stress of an ill wife and contending with a power struggle. The farm was quiet in the dead of night. Fireflies lit the dark with green dots, impervious to the struggles of the world. Free to roam.