by Cate Tiernan
"Why doesn't Patrice just ask someone to step in?" I asked pointedly.
"She never likes substitutes," Celia said, her tart tone telling me she had gotten my point "Can you come? This would be a good chance to observe a circle."
I glanced at my watch and remembered that I had my magickal gear in a backpack in the boot of my car. "I'm in the middle of something crucial," I said, "but let me check, and I'll call you right back."
I spoke to Alyce, and she agreed that if I could get back there by eight o'clock, it should be fine. We'd have to explain the entire plan to Morgan, anyway.
"Right," I said. "If I can make it earlier, I will." Then I called Celia back. "I'm on my way," I said, and Celia gave me directions. Many covens meet in someone's house or outdoors. It was somewhat unusual to have Kithic move from house to house, the way it did, and Willowbrook also was a little unusual in that it rented commercial space.
In Thornton, I parked my car about three blocks away from the address Celia had given me. They were starting their circle early, at five. I slipped on my backpack, then made my way toward the small, three-story building whose top floor Willowbrook rented. I made note of alleys, escape routes, which buildings connected where, which streets ran between what By about quarter of seven I was in back of Willowbrook's building. There was a rusty fire escape ladder about two feet above my head. I gauged its condition, cast a quick see-me-not spell, and then jumped hard, catching the bottom rung and quickly clamping my other hand above that A bit of hand-over-hand, and then my right foot caught the bottom rung.
One story up, the ladder attached to a small, rusted metal balcony that ran in front of two windows. Another staircase ran up to the third floor, and then a ladder went to the roof. I cast out my senses, then crept closer to the two windows I would have to pass. They led to a hallway with some employees starting to take off for the day. I scrambled up the staircase as fast as I could. Then a step across nothingness to the last ladder, and voila, I was on the roof.
It felt like old days-by coincidence I was dressed all in dark gray, useful for reconnaissance, and I surrounded myself with the strongest cloaking spells I knew. No one would detect my presence. Up on the roof, I padded around until I felt I was right over Willowbrook's rooms. Robin had told me that their space included a one-room library, a tiny kitchen, one room of storage, and a larger circle room.
Inside my backpack I had all my Seeker tools-some magickal things, but also some gadgets I had gotten at mail order spy stores. Now I opened a small, foam-lined case and took out my tiny periscope. It was basically similar to the cardboard one Sky had made to spy on me when we were little, only this one was well made and spelled.
Slowly I lowered it down over the side of the building, grateful that their circle room overlooked the back of the building rather than the front, by the street. I said a little enhancement spell as it went down and hung over the edge so I could see exactly where the periscope was going.
As soon as it was maybe half an inch below the top of one window, I stopped and fitted my eye to the eyepiece. I rotated and zoomed and soon had a stellar view of the circle room. The room was painted a deep, rich purple. Crimson curtains hung on either side of an attractive altar lined with candles, incense, and silver cups filled with fresh flowers appropriate to the season. An embroidered cloth hung down on both sides of the altar, and I could see sigils for the Goddess and God. Nothing looked pretentious or fancy or flavored by wealth or pride. There were no obvious traces of dark magick. It was a circle room | would have felt comfortable in.
Turning my scope, I was able to count seven women (including Celia and Robin) and two men so far. | knew there were seventeen witches in all in the coven, but I assumed several of them wouldn't be able to make it at this unusual time and on such short notice. A minute later a woman came in, wearing a bright yellow robe: Patrice. She smiled and greeted everyone, and though I cast my senses strongly, I couldn't pick up on anything like fear or mistrust or anger. Of course, they were mostly blood witches, and they could hide their feelings easier than most. But I got genuine warmth, affection, and caring, both to and from Patrice.
Right at five Patrice invoked the Goddess and the God and, with a simple, elegant, and heartfelt ceremony, dedicated the circle to the four elements. Then the ten present members joined hands and began some familiar chants: to raise power, to join and mingle their energies, to recognize spring, to acknowledge the Goddess. Each phrase had a wealth of meaning and a subtlety I appreciated. The members raised their linked hands above their heads and began to move deasil around the large room. The way they chanted told me that most of them had been together a long time, years, and were intimately familiar with the forms of the ceremony and with each other.
My nose wrinkled. This was an old building, and the sun of the spring day had released some acrid scent from the old-fashioned pitch that sealed crevices on the room. My knees already ached, and I shifted positions. All part of the job. I was thirsty and realized with annoyance that I had left my water bottle down in my car. Damn.
I watched Patrice in particular-she was attractive for an older woman, I saw now, something I hadn't picked up on when Da and I had scried before. She had medium brown hair streaked with lighter shades and dark blue eyes. She looked vibrant and intelligent, but also fatigued and tense.
The circle went totally normally, as far as I could tell, over the next half hour. When their chanting slowed, many coven members shared things about their lives, or asked for help with a certain thing, or asked questions they hoped others could answer. I couldn't detect any reticence or mistrust It was odd. Patrice really felt like the warm, caring, generous woman that Celia and Robin had described. But they couldn't deny their concerns.
Once again the ten witches joined hands and began moving deasil, beginning the final power chant, the one that should leave them feeling energized and peaceful for the next couple of days. Patrice began it, and one by one the other witches joined in, their sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses all weaving together like a tapestry of sound. To my eyes, Celia and Robin and perhaps two or three others looked a tiny bit hesitant, but no one refused to participate. Everyone joined in, and like a well-rehearsed choir, their voices fitted seamlessly together in a beautiful expression of the joy of magick.
This was confusing. I just didn't see what had concerned Celia and Robin, yet I had trusted their instincts and feelings. Was this the one night Patrice was going to skip whatever it was that had made them nervous?
But wait. I frowned and angled my little scope so I could once again see the whole circle. A new note had entered the song, a thin line of meaning underlying and circling and flitting in and out among the other voices. Quickly I determined that it was Patrice's full, attractive voice-and just as quickly my eyes opened wide as I recognized her song as one of the basic forms of a "hypnotic" spell. Her dark blue eyes seemed a bit more focused on the coven members as she sang. Over the next two minutes the other witches slowly began to seem glassy-eyed. All of them, including Celia and Robin, were smiling, moving comfortably, keeping pace with the circle, continuing their song in a kind of circular reel that often helps invoke the most energy.
Patrice wasn't even pretending now to be part of the power chant. She held hands with two members and kept moving in a circle, but she wasn't singing and her eyes were clear and intent. Her mouth had lines of tension around it, and her face looked more set than it had earlier. In the next moment I saw her lips move in an actual spell, and I cast my senses as strongly as I could to make out what she was saying.
Oh, Goddess. My mouth opened and I held my breath, training the scope on Patrice, zooming in so I could see her closely. I wasn't mistaken. Patrice was casting a spell on the coven, a spell that would gather the energy they were raising now and refocus it on her so that she would absorb all of it. Not only that, but some of the phrasing she was using indicated that this would gather not only the energy raised here and now, but also whatever energy could be pulled
without too much force from each person there.
This was dark magick. If Patrice had been ill herself and had asked her covenmates to direct energy toward her, to aid in her healing, that would be fine. People did that all the time. This was deliberately taking something not offered from a living being, doing it without permission. To hypnotize an entire coven and sap their energy was completely wrong, and any initiated witch would know that.
After several minutes Patrice once again joined her voice into the power chant, and I heard her weave a spell of forgetfulness, of trust, of safety into the last round. Then voices raised to a crescendo. I looked up quickly to see that the sun was just setting at this instant, that it had gotten dark as I had sat on the roof, and my knees were completely numb from being knelt on for two hours.
My eye back on my scope, I watched as the last note was cried. Instantly each witch sank to the ground, crouching on their hands and feet, as if to ground themselves. This was unusual. I hadn't seen a coven do this before. I looked at Patrice and saw that she was hunched over, her shoulders shaking, her head bobbing. I assumed she had absorbed so much excess energy that she felt sick and needed time to assimilate it. At least four of the witches on the ground seemed to be leaning against others, as though they would fall over without support. Robin was also hunkered down on all fours, her shoulders heaving as if she felt ill.
I shook my head. Having your energy taken from you against your will is an ugly thing. No wonder Celia and Robin had forced themselves to overcome their loyalty and trust of Patrice to seek out help. Patrice had driven them to extraordinary lengths.
Slowly people began looking up, either sitting down cross- legged or trying shakily to stand. Two women walked unsteadily to the kitchen and reappeared a few minutes later with fruit, fruit juice, tea, and cake. They put these on the floor, and witches literally scooted or crawled over to them, helping themselves to the food. This was horrible. Virtually every coven has snacks after a circle-there's something about making magick that seems to deplete one's blood sugar-but to see these initiated witches on the ground, too weak to stand up, turned my stomach. The food helped them, however. After eating and resting, they began standing up, grinning sheepishly at each other, as if embarrassed to be left so weakened by a circle. Patrice was the last one to stand, and I saw Celia and Robin watching her.
When she stood up and I saw her face, I saw that she too had been transformed by the circle, but in quite a different way than her coven. She looked terrific, as if she'd just had sixteen hours' sleep. She seemed to be glowing with good health and energy, while all the others still seemed a bit wobbly and sluggish.
I had seen enough. I sat back and folded up my scope and was just putting it in its case when the back of my neck prickled.
"What are you doing up here?" a man's voice demanded.
I turned around and gave a nonchalant nod. He was obviously the janitor. "Cable guy," I said in an American accent, patting my little case. I glanced around, and bless the Goddess, there was actually a black cable running right by my feet. I took out a pair of wire strippers and picked up the cable in a professional matter. "Emergency call. It's too much to let a guy eat dinner, right?" Go away. Everything's fine. Someone on the second floor has called about a dripping sink.
"Oh," said the man. "Okay. Lock the access door when you leave."
"Will do," I said, not looking up. As soon as he closed the access door behind him, I stowed everything in my small backpack and shimmied down the ladder to the fire escape. Within seconds I was walking briskly to my car. The neighborhood was quiet and approaching twilight.
The truth was, I didn't know what I was going to do. If I were still a Seeker, I would recommend that Patrice be stripped of her powers. But I wasn't a Seeker, and I had promised Celia and Robin to try to think of some other less drastic way to stop Patrice. What Patrice was doing was egregiously wrong-no question. But Celia and Robin seemed so certain that Patrice was, in fact, a good person at heart, just someone who had been pushed to do extraordinary things because of difficult situations.
I would have to find another option.
I waited in my car until I saw Patrice's car pass mine. As soon as she did, I frowned: Robin was with her. Maybe Patrice was just giving her a ride home. But there was something about the tilt of Robin's head-I couldn't pin it down, but something felt off to me. After a minute I pulled out and followed her, keeping a good distance between us.
I followed Patrice to a state park not far from there called Highgate Woods. I hung back far enough to make sure Patrice didn't pick up on my presence, then followed her into the parking lot. There were maybe twelve other cars here, people jogging, walking dogs, but nowhere did I see Patrice's SUV. I parked and got out, strolling past every car, mentally doing reveal spells so that if Patrice had set some kind of magickal camouflage on her car, I would notice it. But though I circled the lot twice, I saw no sign of Patrice or Robin or the car.
This couldn't be-I had followed her right into the park, right past the welcome center, dammit. Had there been another turnoff there?
I sprinted back to my car and started the engine. Rookie move, Niall, I thought as I wheeled my car around and headed for the park entrance again. I went slowly this time, and there was, in fact, another turnoff. And beyond that were another two forks. I swore under my breath. I was wasting time I couldn't afford. Though I cast my senses, I couldn't detect Patrice's signature and so had to search the other two turnoffs by sight. Of course, she wasn't at the first parking lot I checked-that would have been too easy. I retraced my route again and tried the right turnoff. This time, among the few other cars parked there, I saw the SUV.
I jumped out of my car and then pawed through my backpack and took a number of things I might need. I strode quickly to the park's entrance and cast my senses for Patrice, turning up nothing. No surprise. I searched for Robin, counting on the fact that Patrice probably wouldn't have thought to cover her tracks. This time I got something and headed into the park, down one of the maintained trails.
Although it was rapidly growing dark, I soon sensed that Robin had left the trail and set off cross-country. If I hadn't had to backtrack so much, I'd have been able to see them ahead of me. As it was, I relied on my senses and realized that the deeper I got into the woods, the more I could actually pick up on a trail of magick. Of course, I expected confusion spells, misdirection spells, and so on, but just the pattern of those spells themselves, where they were placed, what area they covered, was enough for me to triangulate a location. A more experienced witch-or a witch in less of a hurry-would have done a much better job of covering her path.
Besides the lingering prickles of magick I felt around me, I also saw signs that someone-two someones-had been through here recently. And they hadn't been careful about not leaving their mark all over the vegetation. A snapped twig here, the scrape of lichen there. It was a pretty clumsy show. I quickly considered the possibility that there were fake signs, created to mislead me, but I didn't feel that they were. The whole thing felt almost amateurish.
Here in the protected part of the woods, it was almost completely without light and more thickly vegetated. Once again I felt some misdirection spells. They were like tissue paper-I was walking right through them. Good thing Patrice hadn't set up the ones my da had used in Canada- the ones where everything in you is screaming uncontrollably that you'll die a horrible, painful death if you take one more step. Though I had managed to get through those, too.
After another minute or so I stopped and concentrated on Robin's energy pattern. I had never touched Patrice and so wouldn't recognize hers, but I did pick up Robin's, a bit more strongly this time. I turned about ten degrees to the north and set off again, stepping over fallen trees, pushing through thick undergrowth that waved leafy, twiggy branches in my face.
Soon I picked up on some disturbing feelings, of being upset, of fear, of feeling lost. More spells. It was actually rather amazing that Patrice had had enough time t
o do all of this, considering that she didn't seem experienced in terms of dark magick-plus the fact that I was only a few minutes behind her. All this had taken time. Unless she had set it up beforehand, and I didn't think she had. I told myself it wasn't real, that my mind knew the truth, and just bashed on, regardless. It was the only way to get through.
Though the early evening air was brisk, a chill sweat trickled down the back of my shirt. The air felt stale and muggy, making it difficult to breathe. Patrice's spells were a constant irritant, making me impatient. I damped down all these emotions. Emotions only clouded things in magick. I stopped quietly when I realized I was close. Slowly I stepped forward, a foot at a time, as silently as I knew how. I crouched down on a small patch of damp leaves that wouldn't crinkle noisily under my weight. By edging a bush's branch down, I could see about fifteen feet ahead, to a very small clearing.
Robin was propped against a young sycamore tree, looking lifeless. Her head hung awkwardly to one side, strands of untamable auburn hair falling over her face. Her eyes were mere slits and had no consciousness flickering in them. Bloody hell.
Patrice was a few feet in front of Robin, wearing her yellow robe. I'd refreshed my earlier cloaking spells, and it was clear she had no idea I was there. Leaning over, she began to trace sigils and runes in the air above Robin's head. In her left hand she held a book that looked so old, its pages were brown and crumbling. I realized Patrice was crying as she continued the spell.
I listened hard and heard Patrice saying, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Robin. I don't want to do this, but I have to. I don't know any other way. Please forgive me, Goddess forgive me." Sobs distorted her words. It was the strangest sight I'd ever seen, and that was saying something. I'd never seen someone working dark magick, causing harm to another, but feeling such regret about it at the same time.
From the form of the spell I could tell that Patrice was still working the limitations. From the form of the limitations it was clear that this spell was designed to sap Robin's life energy in a very strong way-such a strong way that I doubted whether Robin would survive. Maybe an incredibly strong witch might, but not Robin.