“So, read in bars often?” Cedric asked, breaking the friendly, if awkward, silence.
Maddy laughed and held up her hand so she could swallow. “No. I mean, not lately. I used to write my university papers in bars. Thought I’d catch some new scenery.”
“Papers? Didn’t get too loud for you?”
“I grew up with four brothers and a sister. Trust me, you get used to loud. I can sleep through anything.” She took a sip of her water from the cute little plastic cup cut like a crystal tumbler.
“That’s a lot of siblings.” He noted as he scooped more Greek pasta salad onto his plate.
Another laugh. “Tell me about it. Xavier, Ian, Seamus, Evan, and Morgan. In order. I’m somewhere in the middle. I kinda miss the noise. I miss the goobers.”
Cedric finished chewing before replying, “You’re not from Serenity?”
“No. I’m from Toronto, but Mom’s from Serenity. Half the family went to Serenity State. It was a no-brainer for me to go here as well. Not to mention it has a solid Occult Studies program. I liked it so much, I stayed.”
“Toronto? Huh. I grew up here. My family settled here back in the day and then didn’t move. I did spend some time in Ireland, though.”
“What about your family? Any siblings?”
“Siblings enough, but it was only my mom and me as a family unit. Dad was --” He paused as he sought the right word. “-- Prolific in his love affairs. I don’t really know them.”
Maddy bit her bottom lip. Should she ask? Hi. Are you a godling? Gosh, she couldn’t ask that… Could she? What the hell, might as well. He knew she was a witch. It was only fair. “Um, I have a question, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. I’m curious, is all.”
He leaned onto one of his elbows and smiled. “Fire away.”
“Are you a godling?” Maddy held her breath.
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Yeah.” He looked almost sheepish. “Bonus points if you can guess who my father is.”
Adonis? More of his hair had escaped the elastic and fell about his face. She resisted the urge to brush it behind his ear.
“I… don’t know?”
“What? A witch of the old country doesn’t know?” he teased, his lips moving into a smirk.
There that was again. The old country? That would be a later question because right now there was a competition brewing, and she couldn’t let that just slide. “Oh? That’s how you want to play this? All right. Fine. We can play this game.” Maddy laughed and sat upright, crossing her legs in front of her. “Stay still.”
Cedric grinned and lay back on the blanket with his arms behind his head. “I’ll just lie here.”
Maddy closed her eyes to center herself and took in deep steady breaths. In her mind’s eye, she formed an image of Cedric. To her chagrin, it was the image of him running toward her, shirtless when they first met. He’d been sweating under the sun, and the moisture glistened on his gorgeously defined pecs and delts. She took another couple of focused breaths to wash that image away and opened her eyes to focus on the man in the flesh.
She imagined the breath washing up her spine and radiating through the crown of her head and the colors of his aura settled in her vision. Waves of a rich red with swirling orange dominated the glow about him. There were some flickers of green here and there, but the red stood out. She pushed further and let her spirit run up the cord from her head.
The view of Cedric’s aura in the astral plane was spectacular. She had never met a real-life godling before, only the spirits of those who had rooted themselves into the astral plane. While bright, their auras didn’t compare to the vigor of his. The green was more noticeable here, and while red and orange still dominated, the green was soft and blurry closest to his person. It ran deep. That was good. It meant he wasn’t just passion and stamina. Like that was a bad thing. Her physical self almost snorted at the thought. She pushed it aside and continued to focus.
The scene of the park around them faded and a woodland landscape opened up. Old, thick trees with moss and mushrooms surrounded her. She could smell the damp, fresh earth from recent rain. Maddy felt surety of purpose, a sense of stability and confidence and strength. The confidence was almost overpowering, like strong pheromones. It enticed and tempted, and pulled her closer. No wonder his mother had lain with a god. She wanted to rush headlong into the forest and search for the source of allurement.
A soft brush against her thigh on the physical plane brought her attention back to the park, the picnic, and Cedric. She kept her eyes closed for a moment and centered herself before opening them.
Cedric was watching her carefully, concern on his face. “You were gone for a while.”
She took in a deep breath to clear herself of the wave of desire that had come over her. “Whoever he is, he’s sure of himself, passionate, and succumbs to primal urges.” She laughed self-consciously. “His strength and domain is the forest.”
“Primal urges?” Cedric bit back a smile. “That sounds about right.” He brought his hand back to his side of the picnic basket. “Cernunnos,” he said softly.
Maddy whistled. “Cernunnos? Like, the Cernunnos?”
“Yeah. The Cernunnos. You did ask if I was a godling. That’s who our parents are, right? Gods.”
“I know… I just didn’t think he’d be so,” she grappled for the word, “immediate.” Cernunnos was one of the major gods she called to during her practice.
“It’s not weird, is it? With you being a witch? I didn’t realize how it seemed until I said that out loud.”
“No. Not weird. Everything’s cool.” Everything’s cool! By the gods, Maddy. Get it together. Get it together. How? It wasn’t like you met the child of your god every day. The rutting stag was his father. No wonder there was so much red and orange in his aura. And why he had such magnetism. Even now, lying back, his eyes half-closed, he looked delicious. And after witnessing his power last night, wickedly dangerous.
Today he wore a band T-shirt and a pair of knee-length navy shorts. His T-shirt had raised and exposed his midriff with his hands behind his head, abs on full display along with the beginnings of that lickable V that drew the eye to --
“You all right?”
“Mmm?” Maddy shook her head to clear it. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
Cedric propped himself up on his elbows. “You all right? You kinda spaced out there for a second.”
“Oh!” That was a blush. Yup, she was blushing. Good going, Maddy. Great job. She took a sip of her water. “Just thinking, is all. So, what was your mom’s story? She a witch? A comely mortal that caught the Stag Lord’s eye?”
“I think it was more he caught her eye. Mom was always the black sheep of the family.”
If she lusted after gods, of course, she would be. Serenity was mostly New Religion and Cedric said his family was from the area. She wouldn’t be surprised if the family had shunned his mother.
“Well, I’m glad your mom was the black sheep,” Maddy blurted.
Cedric laughed and reached for her hand. She met his fingers with her own without thinking, and he interlaced his with hers. “Well, I’m glad your ancestors came over here from the old country.”
She smiled and watched his dimples form as he smiled back. And then his head was leaning in, and she leaned her head in to meet his because that’s what you did in these kinds of moments, right? He wore the same cologne as last night. Citrusy with a bit of something. Sandalwood, maybe? With just a splash of tonka bean. Well, whatever it was it smelled great mixed with his body chemistry. She wanted to nuzzle her face into his neck and nibble along his ear.
She could feel his breath on her lips.
Her phone rang. And not the normal calm Debussy ringtone but the loud ringing of Code Red.
Maddy opened her eyes just as Cedric pulled away. Damn it! She looked at her phone screen. “It’s the alarm company. The alarm is going off.” The phone buzzed in her hand. Alarm emoji and a sh
rug emoji blazoned across her screen. “Felicity tripped the alarm again.” She sighed. Felicity was about to get an earful.
“I need to go back to the shop. The alarm company will call any second. Thank you so much. We should do this again sometime. Ah!” she said as if on cue the phone rang. “Hello? Yup. It’s me. Yeah. She did it again. I’m on my way.” She got up to her feet and grabbed her water bottle.
She waved at Cedric and then thinking that wasn’t quite enough, confusedly kissed her fingers and pointed them in his direction. It was entirely without grace and equally ridiculous, but she didn’t quite know what else to do as she fled the most attractive man she’d ever touched. A man who was the son of the god she regularly called upon. No big deal, that. Nope. Not at all. By the gods, what was she doing falling for a godling?
* * *
The last of the customers gone, Maddy locked the front door and flipped the open sign to closed. It’d been a week and a bit since the picnic. She was pretty sure she’d blown it as he hadn’t texted her, though she hadn’t gone out of her way to text him either. They had waved to each other from their respective sides of the cobbled street a few times, but that was it. They were both busy she told herself. They each had businesses to run. Things to do. Inventory to count. Accounting to do and -- Nah. She’d blown it.
C’est la vie. Hot godling was now out of her reach because she’d clumsily left a picnic.
Cash counted and deposited at the bank down the street, she went back to her loft to settle in for the evening. Meditation and the family grimoires. Those were her big plans.
Almost immediately upon getting inside, she shed her clothes. With a sigh of relief, she unclasped her bra and slipped out her arms, leaving it where it lay. She put on her favorite nightgown, a glamorous word for an oversized T-shirt, and cute cotton undies with rainbow unicorns on them. Barefoot, she padded over to the kitchen to warm up some leftover moussaka in the microwave. She ate dinner over her laptop while diving down a rabbit hole of three-toed sloth YouTube videos.
After washing up, she cleaned off the decorative ornaments she had on the old trunk at the foot of her four-poster bed and opened it. The smell of old books and lavender wafted up and surrounded her. Grimoires and journals of generations lay carefully wrapped inside. She brushed her fingers over the blue velvet covering before lifting the fabric to reveal the delicate leather and parchment beneath. There were over thirty handbound books in this trunk. Where to start?
She pulled her meditation cushion from under the coffee table and placed it in front of the open trunk. Next to it went the wooden footstool she used as an altar. Upon the altar went amber for protection, turquoise for grounding, and smoky quartz for focus and concentration. In the incense bowl -- another of her sister’s creations -- she placed dried orange peel along with precious frankincense. From her wall of wands, she selected a stout branch of willow and placed it next to the bowl. She sat down on the cushion, legs crossed in front of her, bare feet resting comfortably on the thick woven rug. She fell easily into meditation, allowing her attention to the breath calm and focus her. All daily worries fell to the wayside and her body relaxed.
When she was ready, she turned her attention to the trunk of history, magic, and the hopes and dreams of the McKinley women. A flood of voices and sensation came over her. Voices of ancestors, lovers, and friends greeted her at once, clamoring for recognition. She ignored them and gently pushed their discord aside.
There was nothing at first, only the scent of orange peel and frankincense. And then, the softest brush of air against her lashes. Her vision blurred and her loft faded away.
The scent of pine permeated the atmosphere, air cool on her bare arms and legs. She heard them before she saw them. Two voices. One raised, one beseeching. It was difficult to tell what they were saying, as their language was different to hers. Lilting. Irish. It was Irish. Her mind shifted and with a quiet prayer to Brigid for the cunning use of words, her ears adjusted.
“Him? You chose him over me? After all I have done for your family, you spurn me at the end?” came the male voice. His shape began to form. He wore a cream shirt and crimson doublet with hose and dark breeches. He wore his hair long and had full facial hair.
With his apparition came hers, the softer voice. She wore a high-waisted wool bodice with tabbed skirts and linen chemise sleeves. A long mahogany red braid hung down her back.
“And we are thankful for your help in this delicate matter, but Eoghan and I are handfasted since a fortnite past. Dunlea, it cannot be.”
The man sputtered. “You. You witch! Demon-spawn. You could have everything but instead, you choose a mere blacksmith? Ungrateful wretch. I was willing to give up a dowry for you. I promised you wealth and a title, more than you could ever have imagined in your filthy life. You shall rue this day, Aileen.” In one quick movement, he removed a leather glove and brought it hard across the woman’s face. She fell to her knees, hands clasping her red cheek.
The anger, pride, and hurt that radiated throughout the scene wrapped itself around Maddy’s spirit. She gasped at the strength of it.
“Witch,” he spat before turning on a booted heel and marched out of the clearing.
The scene faded on the sobbing woman in a heap on the forest floor.
* * *
Cedric shoved his phone in his back pocket and looked about the park. The air was heavy, muggy, and still. It was the calm before the summer storm that he could see brewing a few miles away. There were the usual dog walkers and evening joggers, but the playground equipment lay empty save for a couple of teenagers on the swings who were, from the smell of things, smoking pot. But just outside all that there was a lurking presence. Heavy and angry.
The poltergeist was here.
He’d felt it a couple of days ago when he passed the park to pick something up from the post office. It surprised him that it had weaseled its way back so close and so quickly. He knew Madeline had caught its interest. It only spoke to her. She had tried to banish it, and it had followed her home. Those who walked the astral paths tended to attract attention from things that were other than human.
He couldn’t walk the paths, not really. Not like Madeline did, at any rate. She was all grace. Her movements were balanced and mindful and kind, whereas he was all strength and power. Instead of the paths opening up to him, he ripped them open. It wasn’t something he could help. It was simply what he was. His father was the god of the hunt. God of death and the dying, rebirth, and fertility and virility. He was strength and certainty. His will became law. But his confidence had proved always justified, so there was arrogance in that power.
The problem was, he wasn’t his father. He wasn’t a god with a seemingly endless supply of power and will. He was a mortal with an inherited fragment of a god’s power. There was a distinction. His magic was clumsy, though potent compared to other mortals.
He could feel the pride of the poltergeist coming from the wooded area at the back of the park near the old duck pond. It was a blot on the otherwise peaceful area, bubbling beneath the surface. He followed the asphalt walkway past the teens and into the woodlot. The dim orange sun dipped behind the trees. Thankfully, seeing in the dark was something his godling status awarded him.
The bubbling tension grew the closer he got to the pond. There was a bend in the path and just past that was the clearing with its quaint wooden pier, a few benches, and a public restroom. As soon as Cedric rounded the corner, he spotted the thing hovering over the pier. It had the appearance of a man of middling years in an old-fashioned doublet, breeches, and hat. He wore a crimson cape.
“You!” it hissed at Cedric’s approach. “You were with the witch, unattended!”
Cedric raised his eyebrows and shook his head, hands spread just past his hips. “Listen, buddy. No one wants this. Look at yourself. Look at what you’re doing. She has done nothing to you but try to help you find rest.”
“Never! Never can I rest whilst blasphemous harpies prey on the
hearts of men.”
“Uh… Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Suit yourself, but don’t go talking for all of us.”
“You are in league with evil, godling. Meddle not where you are not wanted.”
This guy was pissing him off. “I think she might have something to say about that.” He took a step toward the poltergeist to see what it would do. It continued to hover by the pier. He took another step. “Why not go find some other place to haunt? Like a cemetery or something, like a good ghost.” One more step. He was only ten feet away from the poltergeist.
“Witches shall rue the day they crossed me, godling. I will have vengeance.”
“All witches? Surely not.” Seven feet. “Why are you searching for vengeance?” Five feet.
“Enough!” the poltergeist cried, and a strong malignant force punched him in the gut. He balled over, the air knocked out of him.
Gasping for breath, he shook his head and roared. Glowing horns of light grew from his temples as he charged it. The magnificent spread of horns ensnared the poltergeist where his body went right through it and, in a tumble of limbs and plasma and godling magic, they both fell into the dark and stagnant water.
The water was shaded and cool, and while not an unwelcome temperature in the summer heat, the physical force that was holding his head under the water was a different matter altogether. He struggled against it, but there was no use. Brawn would not outwit a poltergeist bent on murder. He lashed out with magic as his lungs burned and felt the pressure on his head release. He kicked his feet and burst to the surface of the pond, heaving in air.
The poltergeist was on him again before Cedric could react.
“You should have left all well and enough alone, kin,” it rasped into his ear. It took its ghostly hand and shoved it inside Cedric’s chest. There was a pop. Or it felt like something popped and then there was heat and lacerating pain, and, gods, he was going to be sick. He couldn’t control his legs, couldn’t tread water. Gosh, he was tired. So very tired.
Cedric Bligh’s head submerged beneath the water.
The Witch and the Stag Page 3