Prophecy

by C. Marie Bowen

  Bernard pushed himself away from the table, paced a few steps away, turned and looked at Amy. “What I am going to teach you is not who we are. It is not who we want to be as witches or as human beings. These skills are not something we would ever use against another living being. That being said, I’m going to teach you to be deadly.”

  Bernard paused and measured his nieces with his eyes. “I believe we should meet this demon in the open. Our plan is to come out of this alive, and we don't want the house to burn down around our heads.”

  Amy swallowed the lump in her throat.

  Alyse commands fire. I grow flowers and make ointments. How deadly can I be with Earth and Water?

  Bernard rested his palm on the table. “Let's make the ground itself our altar.” His gaze switched to Alyse. “Go into the yard and draw a large pentacle on the ground. Gouge it deep. Put the spirit point facing the house. In front of the water and air point, I want a trough of water and a fire pit. These need to be inside the circle we will ward.”

  Alyse started to move, and he touched her arm. “The pentacle needs to be big. We’re going to stand in the five points.”

  “But there are only four of us.” Alyse responded.

  Bernard tipped his head at Nichole. “We have our white candle right here. Nichole is our spirit element.”

  “Me?” Nichole touched her throat. “What good will I be?”

  “When we faced the spirit today, we worked as a group in a way I never knew possible. More than a twyne between twins, we melded—through you. We all saw the spirit and the passage when only you have the ability to do so.” Bern shrugged. “Your spiritual ability acts as a bridge. It may lessen Amy and Alyse's need to twyne, or help them do so under pressure. With five separate elements, we shall operate as one force.”

  “We were touching,” Nichole argued. “We won't touch in the yard.”

  “True,” Bernard agreed. “But even if we can’t meld, you’ll be able to see and feel things that we will not.” Bernard gestured with his arm. “I’ll take any advantage we have.”

  “I understand.” Nichole nodded, then shook her head. “I know next to nothing about magic.” She exhaled through pressed lips and rubbed her forehead.

  “You amaze me at every turn.” Jason hugged Nichole’s shoulder. “You’ll do well.” He lifted his gaze and addressed Bernard, “What I need to know is where I’ll be?”

  Bernard raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What do you mean?”

  Jason hooked his thumbs in his belt. “You’re putting the two most precious things in my life in harm’s way.” He shook his head. “I won't be hiding under a bed while my wife and cousin face a demon. So, I ask you again—” Jason stared at Bernard “—where will I be?”

  Amy looked from Jason to Bernard and bit her lip. She felt intimidated by Bernard’s serious demeanor.

  Yet Jason faced him without hesitation, demanding to fight by my side.

  She blinked at the burning sensation in her eyes.

  Alyse spoke up, “He will be in the center, along with the grimoire.” She tipped her head to the side with a shrug. “A gunman would be another advantage. Besides, I don't believe you’ll convince Merril to stay away while his wife is in the yard with us.”

  Bernard rubbed his chin. “I see your point.” He crossed to the trunk, retrieved the grimoire, along with a quill and ink, and brought them to the table. He paged through the book to an empty sheet. With a skilled hand, he drew a five-pointed star and surrounded it with a circle.

  “This will be our ward boundary.” He continued to draw as he spoke. “This is the corner of the porch and the corral. Here is where the bunkhouse sits.” He shrugged. “Well, approximately.” He wrote their names in the angles, the element they would represent, and sketched a small fire pit and water trough. He raised his gaze to Jason and Alyse and pointed to the drawing. “If you two could get started on this outside, I need a moment with Amy and Nichole.”

  Amy and Jason exchanged quick glances, and then Jason followed Alyse out the door.

  When they had gone, Bernard spoke to Amy. “Water and Earth are strong elements,” he told her. “They can be a force to contend with, without Fire or Air. I’m going to teach you what I can do with just those elements.” He shrugged. “If you are as strong in your elements as Alyse is with hers, you will surpass my skills very quickly.” Bernard indicated the chalice of water. “Show me how you spun the water.”

  Nerves scraped along Amy’s spine.

  I don’t know what to do.

  She stared into the water, pushing her concentration down into the liquid. In the depth of the chalice, a battle with fire began to take shape.

  Bernard covered the cup with his hand. “Spin the water, Amy. Don't read portents from it.”

  Amy shook her head. “I don't think I can—”

  “Don't think about it.” Bernard’s voice grew loud. “The ability is in your blood.” He pointed at the door. “Your sister's life depends on it.” He slapped the table with his hand. “And now, your husband's life depends on it, and yours. Now, try.”

  Amy blinked at her uncle and stepped back.

  Nichole rounded the table and put her hand on Bernard's arm. “There’s no need to shout at her.”

  Bernard shrugged Nichole’s hand off. “No need?” Bernard glared at Nichole and turned his angry countenance toward Amy. “Bay and I grew up fighting demons in our sleep. Alyse has been trained, yelled at, and corrected her entire life until her skill surpassed even my mother’s.” He pointed at Amy. Disdain dripped from his voice. “This girl, with her fine Boston dresses and privileged life, will not be the weak link that gets us killed.” He slapped the table again and yelled. “NOW TRY, DAMN YOU.”

  Water from the chalice struck Bernard on the side of the head. He ducked the chalice.

  Amy stepped back. With a gasp, she covered her mouth with both hands.

  Oh, Goddess, what have I done?

  Bernard looked up laughing. “Now, that's better.” He picked up the chalice. “I’m lucky you haven't mastered ice daggers or throwing stones.”

  Amy looked from Nichole’s shocked face to her uncle. “You—provoked me.”

  “Yes.” He nodded and returned the chalice to the table. “Hold on to that fear and anger. There is power in those emotions. They’ll help you learn.” He turned and walked back to the chairs. “Eventually, you won’t need to be goaded into using your talents.” He spun and spoke sharply, pointing at the floor. “Now, clean your mess up.”

  Amy took a step toward the kitchen to find a mop.

  Bernard's voice stopped her. “No mop. No towels. Put the water into the chalice from where you now stand.” Bernard’s head tipped toward the ground and to the chalice.

  Amy narrowed her eyes at Bernard. Anger and frustration at his manipulation built in her chest. For several moments, nothing happened. Amy glared at Bernard and flicked her wrist. The puddle on the floor pulled together and leapt from the floor into the cup.

  “Dry me off while you are at it,” Bernard growled.

  Amy fought a smile as she stared into Bernard's eyes. Her lips twitched. She flicked her other hand, and the moisture from her uncle’s shirt and hair pulled away from him and flowed into the cup.

  A look of satisfaction lit Bernard’s entire face. “You used both Water and Earth skills to do what you just did.” He stepped to the table and looked into the chalice. “Your fine control is as outstanding as Alyse's. I could not have done what you just accomplished.” He chuckled. “I would have missed the cup with the water and set myself on fire trying to dry myself off. Well done.”

  “What else can I do?” Amy stepped toward Bernard with a grin. She had never imagined this skill—this power—resided inside her.

  “Spin the water.” Bernard nodded to the chalice.

  Amy flicked her wrist, and the water spun inside the cup. She clenched her fist, and it stopped.

  Bernard rewarded Amy with a nod. “Very good, niece.�
� He turned toward Nichole. “I hope Nichole can help us speed things up a bit; at least, we’re going to try.” He held out his arm. “Nichole?”

  Nichole rose from a chair and approached until she stood between Amy and Bernard.

  “Put your hand on Nichole's shoulder and reach out with your earth-sense.” Bernard did the same thing, and Nichole felt warmth on each shoulder, but nothing else.

  “Can you sense me?” Bernard asked, and Amy nodded, her eyes closed.

  “Open your eyes. Your sight will be outward, but hopefully, you will see and understand how I manipulate the water. Now, watch how I cool the water.”

  Bernard held his hand above the chalice and a thin film of ice appeared, and then deepened as the water froze through. Frost grew from the metal cup. He withdrew his hand and looked at Amy. “Did you see how it’s done?”

  Amy exchanged a glance with Nichole, then nodded to Bernard. “Yes, I did.”

  “Good. Now, warm it up,” Bernard directed.

  Amy held her hand above the vessel. The frost beaded into drops and ran down the cup to the table. In moments, steam rose from the water, and then it boiled. She pulled her hand back as steam rose from the container.

  “Now,” Bernard leaned forward and pressed his thumb against his finger, “pull a sliver of water from the chalice—just a sliver, mind you—and freeze it.” He gestured with his hand toward the stone fireplace. “Throw the sliver of ice, like a dart, at the mantel.”

  One hand directed toward the chalice, Amy’s other hand remained on Nichole's shoulder. A tiny trickle of water rose from the cup. A string of water hung suspended before the drop splashed back into the cup.

  Amy growled with frustration.

  “You’ll get it.” Nichole nodded at Amy and looked back to the cup. “You almost had it. Try again.”

  Arm extended, Amy pulled a slip of water into the air. She clenched her teeth and made a fist. The thin string of water became a shard of ice. With a flick of her wrist she sent it into the stone wall.

  “Good.” Bernard nodded. “Finish the rest of the water the same way, only make the ice sharp, and throw the shard hard enough to scar the stone. When the cup is empty, retrieve the water from the floor and return it to the cup.”

  Amy pulled another string of water from the cup, froze it and sent it toward the fireplace. One. Then two. Then six. The missiles exploded onto the stones until one frozen dart remained, hovering. With a flick from Amy’s finger the ice flashed through the air faster than they eye could follow. The dart sliced through the wick on the burning candle and the flame went out.

  With a simple hand gesture, the water on the floor and chipped ice that clung to the stone came together and flew in a long stream back into the chalice.

  Bernard clapped from his seat against the wall, and Amy spun to stare at him in surprise. “When did you break the meld?”

  “He let go a while back,” Nichole told her with a smile. “You did that all by yourself.”

  Amy released Nichole’s shoulder and grinned as she ran a hand across her brow.

  Bernard retrieved his hat. “I think it’s time we go outside.”

  * * *

  Bayard James

  Bay reined to a stop in front of the Highlands’ barn and dismounted.

  Lloyd and Tom stepped from the shade to greet him.

  “Got an early start, I see.” Lloyd took the reins from Bayard.

  “Up and out before breakfast is no way to live.” Bay chuckled and pulled off his gloves.

  “Cookie will see you right with breakfast,” Lloyd spoke over his shoulder as he led the mount into the barn. “They’re waiting for you inside.”

  Bayard nodded to Tom. “How's the leg?”

  “Better than it should be. Pa said he thought I’d lose it.” Tom reset his hat and hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I want to thank you for savin’ my leg, and maybe my life.”

  “Oh no, not I, my friend. My nieces—Alyse and Amy. Their talents far exceed mine.” Bayard grinned at Tom, then chuckled and pointed his thumb toward the house. “Is Merril inside?”

  Tom shook his head. “No. He and his guests, Sam and Catherine, rode out to check on the cattle at the branding site.” Tom looked over his shoulder into the barn and took a step backward. “Merril said they’d be back around noon.”

  Bayard tipped his hat to Tom and crossed the yard to the house. He paused at the open front door and looked in. The entry and dining room were empty. He walked in and approached the table.

  White cloth circles, about 6 inches in diameter, with drawstrings already woven through holes around the outside edge filled the table. The serving table held bowls filled with pine needles, cloves, bay leaves, and witch hazel. A large pan of river stones set at the end with an artist’s small brush and an inkwell.

  Bayard pulled his hat from his head and scratched his brow. Everything on the list. Amazing.

  Cookie entered the dining room from the kitchen with a large bowl in her hands. She gasped at the sight of Bayard. “My lands, Mr. James, you scared the life out of me.” She set the bowl of marigold heads beside the pine needles and put her hand to her bosom.

  “I apologize, Miss Cookie. I saw the open door, so I came inside. I should have called out.” Bayard gave the cook a small bow. He removed his hat, hooked it on the rack by the door, and returned to the table.

  “You collected marigolds.” He pointed to the flower-filled bowl.

  Cookie sniffed and raised her chin. “Marigolds keep pests from the garden. I thought they might keep pests from the house, as well.”

  “I wonder why I didn’t think of this. You’re a marvel, Miss Cookie. This should take no time at all.”

  “We have something else to add as well, if you think it would be all right.” Cookie waved her hand for Jeanne to approach.

  Jeanne held a large flat tray at the kitchen opening. On it were small crucifixes and crosses from necklaces, rosaries and bracelet charms. Most made from inexpensive tin and pot metal, but some appeared quite valuable.

  “I'm speechless, ladies.” Bayard held out both hands to the room and the women. “You’ve exceeded all expectations.”

  “I told you it would be fine,” Cookie said to Jeanne.

  Jeanne placed the tray of crosses at the end of the serving table and stepped back.

  “More than ‘just fine’,” Bayard declared. “It’s exactly what we needed.”

  Henny entered the dining room through the kitchen with Katy at her side. “We would like to help,” she said.

  “And I have just the job for you.” Bayard picked up the pan of small rocks—smooth, rounded river stones, about the size of a penny, cleansed of sand and dirt. He handed the pan to Henny. He unstopped the inkwell and then took a stone from the bowl. Dipping the tip of the brush into the ink, he quickly drew a symbol on the rock. It looked like the letter Y with a small line extended between the open branches at the top. He showed the symbol on the stone to Katy.

  “Can you paint this symbol on each stone? Be sure the ink is dry before you put it back into the bowl.”

  “Yes, sir.” Katy gave Bayard her shy smile and took the stone. “What does that letter mean?”

  “It’s a protection rune,” Bayard told Katy. “It’s been used for many years to help keep people safe.”

  “Is it the symbol they painted on the doors in Egypt to make the Angel of Death pass in the night?” Katy asked, eyes wide.

  “I don't know,” Bayard said honestly. “Perhaps so. This rune is an ancient symbol.”

  Henny nodded to her daughter as she crossed the room to the front porch, carrying the pan of stones. “Come along, Katy.”

  Katy grabbed the inkwell and brush and followed her mother outside.

  “What about us?” Jeanne asked

  “We can fill the satchels. How many cloth circles do we have?” He nodded to the stack of cloth cutouts sitting on a chair beside the kitchen door.

  “We made over a hundred circles. Will there
be enough?” Cookie asked.

  “Possibly.” Bayard looked from the table to the stack on the chair. “How many openings in the ranch house?”

  “Forty, if we include the fireplaces. There are less for the barn and bunkhouses, but we thought you would need these for The Shilo as well, so we doubled the number.”

  “Miss Cookie, you are as thoughtful as you are resourceful. I will certainly be able to use most of these, if not all of them.”

  Cookie’s plump cheeks flushed with pride at his compliment, and she patted her gray hair. “Thank you, Mr. James. Thank you.”

  “Let's get started.” Bayard rubbed his hands together and picked up the first satchel. He tightened the draw string part way to form a cup. He stepped to the serving table and took a pinch of pine needles. “Put a pinch of everything on the table in the satchel.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If you have a favorite prayer, you should say it while you add the ingredients.” Bayard took a pinch of aromatic cloves.

  “Even if it is a Christian prayer?” Jeanne tightened the string on her satchel and followed Bayard at the table.

  “Most certainly,” Bayard added a sprinkling of bay leaves and witch hazel petals.

  Jeanne added a pinch of pine needles and said, “Our Father, Who art in heaven—”

  Bayard picked up one of the small metal crosses and dropped it into the satchel. “The larger crosses would work better attached to the outside of the satchels. They’re far too beautiful to hide away. Put the smaller ones inside.”

  Katy came inside with her apron full of tiny rune stones, still warm from the sun and stopped before Bayard.

  He selected one, placed it in his satchel, and then drew the string tight and knotted it.

  Katy emptied her apron on a chair at the end of the serving table.

  “Katy, could you find a large serving tray for us?” Bernard asked.

  With a nod, the girl disappeared into the kitchen. She returned with a large metal platter.

  “Perfect,” Bayard proclaimed. He set his knotted satchel on the tray. “If you could put the tray on the parlor table, I would certainly appreciate it.