by Lisa Medley
The icy wind cut through his too light jacket. At least walking warmed him enough to stave off most of the physical discomfort, and the bonfire tonight would chase even that away.
Maeve had seemed much better today. Downright agreeable even. She’d spent the majority of the day sleeping on and off in front of the fire at his parents’ house. She hadn’t talked much, answering direct questions and little else. Still, he could sense a change in her. She was coming back together. Whatever Rosemary had done to her had worked—at least partially.
“Aren’t we heading the wrong way for the party?”
“I wanted to show you around first.”
“A tour? And meeting your parents? I had no idea you were so…old-fashioned.”
Nate shook his head. Of course, her sarcasm would be the first thing to fully return. “Do you want to go or not?”
“Don’t get your boxers in a wad. I’m still walking, aren’t I?”
Stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, he led her past a variety of now closed shops: the Witch Way Café, his mother’s aptly named Hands of Healing Center, the Ritual Majik supply store, Dell’s Grocery & Convenience Center, a small library and an auto repair shop. Beltane was the commercial spoke of their community wheel.
“How many people live here?”
“Around four hundred full-time. During festivals like tonight, it swells to more than a thousand.”
“Seems pretty self-sufficient.”
“It is. There’s a school along Lammas Street and even a worship pavilion at the end of Ostara Street.”
“A church?”
“A place to be close to nature in a worshipful way. No one here would call it a church. Everyone who lives here practices Wiccan in some form or another. Most full-time residents are here so that they can be immersed in the practice and lifestyle. They enjoy being surrounded by like-minded people.”
“And you? Why did you leave?”
Nate held back a secret smile, pleased that Maeve seemed interested in his history and home.
“I was adopted. Garrett and Rosemary brought me into the coven when I was five. Even here I was different. When I found an opportunity to leave, I did. It’s been a while since I came back.”
“Bad memories?”
“No. Not really. The coven was great to me for the most part. I just wanted…”
“To find your own place in the world.”
Nate stopped walking and turned to her. The wind picked up the tips of her hair and whipped it across her face. He wanted to brush it aside, but didn’t.
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Maeve walked ahead of him toward the permanent Beltane altar at the end of the street.
“Speaking of bad memories. How are yours? How do you feel?”
“Witch, you are full of surprises. Now you want to talk about feelings? Are you sure you’re not gay?”
“Hardly.”
A wary smile etched its way across her face and she looked away first.
“I think my deck has reshuffled. Everything before Camael’s reaper reign seems solid in my mind now.”
“And after?”
She picked up a phallic shaped candle and raised her eyebrows at him in question.
“What can I say? Beltane is a fertility festival. Some witches have a sense of humor.”
Maeve laughed and carefully placed the candle back on the wooden altar. “You have some strange parties, witch.”
“Wait until you see the rest of the altars. Our community is laid out like the Wheel of the Year. At the end of each spoke, or in this case street, on the rim is a permanent altar in honor of each Sabbat of Wicca. This is of course Beltane.”
“So how many more are there?
“Seven. Litha, Lammas, Mabon, Samhain, Yule, Imbolc, Ostara. We’d better hurry. It’s a little over a mile around the outside of the compound. It will take a good half hour to see them all.”
He waited for her to catch up. “Are you cold?”
“A little.”
Nate took off his jacket, even though he was freezing his ass off, and spread it over her shoulders. He was glad he’d left his scabbard and sword at home. Having visible weapons at the festival would not have gone over well with the Coven Board. The blades hidden under his jeans and strapped along his calves would have to suffice, although the thought of demon trouble in this well-fortified magical fortress was unconscionable.
She slid her arms into the jacket and zipped it up. “This doesn’t mean we’re going steady or anything. Right, Richie?”
“Richie?”
“You know, Happy Days? Don’t you get cable out here?”
“How do you have time for television?”
“You never heard of a DVR? Besides, you make time for the Retro Television Network. Gotta have something to look forward to.”
“Isn’t that a little too…wholesome for you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m practically drowning in wholesome.” She plunged her hands into the jacket pockets and hunched her shoulders against the cold.
“Uh huh.”
“I think you have the wrong idea about me.”
“I hope not.”
“Hoping for some corruption were you? I have a code, too, Mr. Squeaky Clean.”
“What? I think you have the wrong impression of me. “
“Touche.”
They walked to Litha Street without talking. This was not going as he’d planned. Talking to Maeve was harder than talking to Kylen. At least she was better looking. A lot better looking.
Good God, he felt thirteen around her.
Maeve picked up a tiger’s eye gemstone from the Litha altar. “Pretty.”
“An offering to the gods and goddesses for a bountiful summer harvest. And it represents how thankful we are for our many blessings.”
“Do you feel blessed, Nate?” Studying the gem that was nestled in her palm, she ran her thumb back and forth over it.
“I’m thankful that you seem to be on the road to recovery.”
“Then maybe I owe you an offering since you’re the one who saved me.”
Nate held his breath. He’d never known what to expect from Maeve before the possession, and now she was a complete wildcard. She had reset to the Maeve he’d known, though briefly, before the possession. He was hesitant to scare this new Maeve away…and equally desperate to hold on to her.
She closed the distance between them and looked up. Hesitant, he waited to see what she would do next. Without making him wait, she slid her hands behind his neck and pulled his face down to hers. When she pressed her lips to his, his arms wrapped around her in response, drawing her against his body.
A pulse of energy coursed through him like a spark of static electricity, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Nate threaded his hands through Maeve’s hair and deepened the kiss, desperate to secure the connection he could no longer deny.
Maeve moaned against his mouth, her cold hands sliding under his shirt and up his back, her nails digging into him as she clutched him to her body. Their energies combined, surging through them, binding them beyond Reiki or magic. With a gasp, Maeve pulled away, her eyes wide, round and glowing with turquoise light.
“What are you doing to me?” she whispered, backing away from him. “I saw…”
“What? Did you remember something?”
“Something terrible is going to happen, Nate.”
“What? When?”
“I don’t know. I just see pieces. Memories—or maybe thoughts—from Camael. I don’t know which. Maybe it’s already happened. But when we kissed, the pieces began to realign in my head. Now they’re gone again.”
Nate stared at her, confident he was about to be slapped for his next action. He pulled her to him and crushed his mouth to hers, letting her body draw energy from him. When she leaned back into him, it was his turn to falter.
Shared images filled his mind, a tumble of Maeve’s and his own. It was impossible to determine which belonged t
o whom. Many of them were familiar, but others were not.
The flutter he’d sensed inside him earlier returned, drawn out by Maeve’s life force, by her very soul, and demanded the connection be made. Energy built between them as they fed on each other’s light, the exchange fueling their mental slideshow.
Maeve pulled away first. Nate held her shoulders, steadying her face as she recovered.
“That was some kiss.” She shrugged away from his hands and stared out toward the woods, now completely dark under the canopy. “Who is the girl? Consumed by fire? You know, the one in the drawing in your room.”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it me?”
“How could it be you? I drew it fifteen years ago.”
“How can any of this be happening? You should be dead after that little episode. You know that my light is poison.”
“Maybe what happened to your brother was a fluke. Maybe he had a defect that went undetected or it was some strange combination of circumstances that could never happen again?”
“I don’t think so. He was strong. I’m the one with the defect.”
He stepped closer to her, taking her elbow and turning her to face him. “You’re not defective. In any way. Maybe you’re damaged from your time with Camael, but you’ve never been defective, never will be either.”
“That’s what my parents said.” Maeve picked at a dried sunflower head on the Litha altar, avoiding his eyes. “But it still didn’t bring back my brother.”
“What happened with your family, Maeve? After your brother died, I mean.”
“Nothing was the same. They forgave me and told me it was an accident of some sort, but they were afraid for me. I couldn’t stand their pity. I ran away for a while and tried the normal human things. Even went to college for a semester. It didn’t work out. Death was everywhere and once you’ve actuated to reaper, you can’t deny the pull. At least I couldn’t.”
“You went back?”
“Yes. My parents had passed while I was gone. I didn’t even know until I returned. I finished training and threw myself into the work. I was careful, but no one wanted to be around me. Not after my brother…after Jacob died. Work is all I have.”
“Not anymore.”
Maeve frowned. “Don’t we have some more altars to visit?”
Chapter Twenty-One
The hub was packed with witches and it hummed with the cumulative magic of a gathering of so many. There were more than a thousand witches and family members along the outside rim of the hub. It was the largest turnout Nate had ever seen.
He led Maeve back to stand near the Beltane Street entrance. They’d visited all eight altars, taking just enough time for the tour that they could blend in with the Yule crowd in the darkness. He led her to a vantage point where she could still see, but they could still make a quick escape back home when the ceremony was over. Of course, some participants would stay until sunrise. Nate wasn’t feeling all that committed to the cause this year.
Harland West, the coven’s High Priest, ascended the podium. The P.A. system, a modern concession to their coven’s growth, crackled with static and feedback.
“Is this thing on?”
The crowd laughed and Harland continued.
“Welcome, on this longest night of the year. We gather to celebrate Yule, the festival rejoicing our lives, families and blessings. Having you all here is visual evidence of those many blessings. Tonight we’ll cleanse ourselves of the old, the negative and the impure, and embrace this as an opportunity for renewal, regeneration and hope. Let us cast our circle, including all who are present in its hold. Then we’ll light the Bonfire of the Sacred Woods and send our thanks to the gods and goddesses. Join hands.”
Nate chuckled at the sheer dynamics of more than a thousand people holding hands in the tight space, but he took Maeve’s in his and they added themselves to the developing chain. Her skin was cold against his. He smiled when she tucked both of their hands into the pocket of his jacket, which she still wore. Somehow he’d forgotten about the cold, finding it difficult to concentrate on anything other than Maeve’s immediate presence and his memory of kissing her.
Despite the bizarre complications of those kisses, he found himself wanting more. This party couldn’t be over quick enough to please him.
Harland tapped the mike again, sending more waves of feedback rippling through the crowd. The man was ancient, well into his eighties, and it was clear technology wasn’t his strong point. But he was also a fount of Wiccan knowledge and had led the coven for the last decade, an admirable feat.
“Let us cast.” Harland held up a candle and lit it, giving it to a young boy, who would carry to its ceremonial location. “Guardians of the East, I call upon you to watch over the rites of this Eternal Light Coven…”
Nate felt a shift in the air as the circle was cast and it became a visible presence. He wondered if anyone else could see or if it was a result of his own transformation. The circle surrounded the hub, sliding along a permanent indention in the ground that had come from years of casting this spell in the same location.
The circle complete, Harland chose a log from the small pile beside him.
“Tonight we burn the nine sacred woods in this first ritual fire of the new year. Birch, for rebirth and regeneration.” He tossed the log onto the eight-foot high pile, and then picked up another log from his stash. “Rowan for personal power and success. Ash for divination. Alder for spiritual decisions. Willow for protection. Hawthorn for cleansing. Oak for strength and good fortune. Holly for good luck and safety for your family. Hazel for wisdom.” He tossed the last log onto the bonfire.
“Nine woods in the fire be. All once were of living tree. Burn them quick or burn them slow. To each here may blessings go.”
Four chosen pyromancers ignited torches and placed them at the base as the stack. When it caught fire, the first tendrils of smoke rose into the clear night sky. The group watched in silent meditation for nearly an hour before attendants returned to the fire and tossed in a small packet. Purple flames danced up out of the fire and floated into the air, flickering into the night. A few minutes later, another was tossed in and the flames turned turquoise.
Maeve squeezed his hand. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.”
A few people began to wander about, greeting friends, but the crowd remained thick, most of the guests opting to stay within the circle. Nate pulled Maeve toward the fire. As the most supernatural beings present, chances were good that they were the only two who couldn’t physically leave the circle until it was broken.
“What are we doing?” Maeve asked.
Nate pulled a folded bandana from the back pocket of his jeans. “If we collect ashes from the edge and you sleep with them under your pillow, you’ll receive dreams of guidance for the coming year.”
“God knows I could use that.”
“We both could.”
They made their way to the fire and Nate picked up a shovel from the edge of the podium. Once Harland gave a nod of approval, he scooped a shovel full of ashes from the edge of the burned down pile. After gathering a half-dollar sized amount from the shovel with his hand, he carefully folded the ashes into the bandana and laid the shovel on the ground. A line had formed behind him of others who apparently intended to do the same thing. Tucking the bandana into his front pocket, Nate reached for Maeve’s hand and led her back to Beltane Street.
Harland’s voice sounded one last time over the speaker system as he cleared the cast circle. Nate and Maeve stepped past the perimeter and headed home. He kept her hand in his while they made their way back to the Hands of Healing Center and his basement bedroom.
Maeve yawned.
“It was a long day for you.” Nate kept his eyes trained forward, trying not to stare at her even though that’s all he wanted to do.
“Not a bad one, though. It’s been nice to relax. I’d say I can’t remember the last time I got to relax, but that might not be the
best excuse.”
“My mother’s treatment was very thorough. Being cleansed of that much negative energy takes its toll. A larger one than can be overcome by a few good hours of sleep. Maybe I should share some more energy with you.”
The corner of Maeve’s mouth curved up into a sly smile. “Are you propositioning me, Nate Blackburn?”
“I guess that depends on your answer.” Nate could feel the blush creep up his neck and across his face. He hoped she didn’t notice.
“I wouldn’t hate it.”
***
Maeve was nervous. Which was just wrong. Nate turned her all squishy and soft inside. Dangerous. What was she playing at with him anyway? The guy had to be confused—she was attacking him one moment and teasing him sexually the next. Maybe she was brain damaged after all. How long could she keep using that excuse?
Her mind—what was left of it—told her to leave it alone.
But her body was saying, “Hell, yeah.”
Her experience with men so far had been limited to 100 percent humans. All of three of them. She figured there was zero chance that humans could draw energy from her unexpectedly. Based on what she’d gathered through observation, reapers were another matter—they had a way of inadvertently tapping into you and mainlining on your mojo.
After her brother’s death, she’d proceeded with the utmost caution. Even thought about dropping off the map completely, but the call of her destiny had been undeniable. Besides, it was the one job where she didn’t have to worry about killing anyone. Her clientele was already dead.
Following Nate into the house, her heart kicked up its pace and her hand grew sweaty in his. Every fiber of her being told her to stop. If she followed him down to that basement, things were going to happen. Things that couldn’t be undone.
She went anyway.
Her body betrayed her old inhibitions. Life was short and uncertain, even for a reaper, as had been evidenced by the past few months. She liked Nate. A lot. Moreover, her body responded to him in a way she couldn’t explain. The energy between them was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. The mere fact that he was still alive after their numerous exchanges, both the casual and intense sharing, and seemed to even crave her light was enough to convince her to take what she wanted.