Sacred Circle

by James, Rachel

  A plate suddenly swam in front of Brianna’s face, and she recognized the smell immediately. Pumpkin. She pushed the plate away and sank back down in her chair. Devlin dropped the plate on the table, and sank down alongside her. A bribe from the Gods? her inner voice chided. Yum. A gift from Satan, you mean.

  Devlin suddenly noticed her apathy.

  “What’s wrong? It’s pumpkin pie—your favorite.” He signaled the plate, and Brianna felt the table jiggle as he settled his legs beneath it. “I’m famished. I’ll eat and then we’ll talk.” He ignored her silence and began slicing into a large wrapped crepe filled with red berries. “I forgot how good coven food is,” he stated. “This cranberry soufflé is top-notch. Marla is one hell of a cook.”

  He popped another large chunk of the crepe in his mouth, and it took all of Brianna’s will power not to snatch the plate, and fling it to the ground. She heard a brief purr from behind her chair and grimaced. He would eat, and then they would talk, she told Nicodemus. She intended to throw his lies in his face at the first possible moment, and then leave the clearing. And if her curses gave him indigestion, it was just what he deserved for lying to her. She heard a brief sneeze.

  “Scat, you pesky cat!”

  Devlin’s frantic swing at Nicodemus had the cat diving away, and Brianna swallowing the lump in her throat. Was she about to cry over the loss of Devlin’s friendship? No, you’ll miss the shivers of delight that come from his touch. Shut up. She had been right about him as a child, and she was right about him now. He didn’t deserve her friendship, or her body writhing in ecstasy beneath him. And she had stupidly made him her husband. Well, do what you do best. Charm him into a false sense of security and then attack. Great advice, she mused. And when I’m through shredding his character, every single member of the commune will know what a despicable bastard he still is after all these years.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A FEW MOMENTS LATER

  Devlin pushed his plate back and indulged in an all-out stretch of his arm muscles.

  “I have missed good food. I never realized it until just now.” His glance swung to Brianna who was staring at the nearby preserve in quiet contemplation. “Okay, spill what you know. I can feel your heightened energy over here. What have you discovered?”

  Brianna’s gaze swept his face, and he sensed her mind was still elsewhere.

  “Not a thing, unfortunately—unless you call the catty bitchiness between Sally and Eileen something.”

  “Bad blood there?” Devlin asked, tossing a glance over his shoulder.

  “Bad vibes. Didn’t you feel it between them?”

  “No, I was too busy tuning into everyone’s auras. They’re clean, by the way, no sign of lying.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive—which means we’ve totally wasted today.”

  “Maybe not. I know I haven’t.”

  Devlin leaned back against the slats of his chair, studying the downward tilt of her lips.

  “Okay, but before you spill your news, let me run something by you first. Do you remember earlier when you thought the Guardians were angry at being sent from the circle?” A nod was all the response that Devlin got. “I think now, you were right. After all, why would they be angry at leaving? Their function is to serve and protect, like the perfect soldier. They don’t dish out any energy—unless provoked. So, the only reason they’d be angry is if they had been instructed to stay in the circle by your mother.”

  “Or her attacker.”

  “No, I’ve had hours to think back on that moment. The shock waves the Guardians sent your way were meant to warn you they needed to stay, not go. And because you hadn’t done a ritual in a while, you didn’t get the message.”

  “Because I’m such an idiot, you mean?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant, so can the sarcasm.”

  “Then don’t imply that I’m stupid.”

  Devlin’s chair hit the ground with a thud.

  “Stop trying to pick a fight with me.”

  “I’m not. I’m just saying you’re not the only one capable of thinking things through.”

  “Make your point, if you dare.”

  “The point is, while I’ve been asking questions of everyone else today, I’ve not

  asked you where you were and what you were doing when Mother collapsed.”

  “I don’t see how that ties into our investigation.”

  “Don’t you?” She began making lazy circles on the tablecloth with her fingernails, and Devlin got the feeling she was purposely trying to sever their aura connection for good. “No, I don’t imagine you would,” she finally remarked. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve asked you what you do for a living.”

  Devlin’s gaze narrowed. Now what had prompted that question? Had Tommy revealed his identity to Brianna? He studied Brianna’s sour expression. No, she had learned who he was some other way. Eileen or Marla. And now she was seething with a quiet rage towards him.

  “It’s obvious you know the answer already, so why are you asking?”

  “I just want to see how many lies you’re prepared to tell before I have you banned from the community again.”

  She rose from her chair, preparing to flee the table, and Devlin caught hold of her wrist.

  “I don’t give a damn what you say to the Elders about me. After all this time, what they think no longer matters. But I will not let your personal anger at me destroy any chance we have of finding a way to break the spell placed on your mother. Things would be far better if we could find her personal journal . . . are you sure you don’t have it and don’t want me to know? I’m having troubling reading your aura.”

  Brianna unhooked his fingers from her wrist.

  “I haven’t found the damn journal,” she retorted. “But when I do, I won’t be sharing it with you.”

  Devlin’s eyes glittered dangerously.

  “Don’t take that tone with me.” His fingers found her wrist again. “I need to see the journal. It’s the key to solving this whole mess.”

  Brianna twisted her wrist from his grasp again.

  “Go to hell, Devlin. I have no intention of sharing Mother’s journal with you, now or ever. And since I have no intention of ever speaking to you again—well, you get the picture.”

  She strode from the table without a backward glance. As she hit the incline and disappeared into the darkness, Devlin muttered a curse beneath his breath. He should’ve come clean with Brianna right from the start. Now, he faced her as an enemy. And worse, without her trust, they stood no chance of finding a cure for her mother.

  • • •

  Crossing the footbridge, Brianna scrubbed her wet cheeks. It was idiotic to cry over a stupid argument. After all, she and Devlin had never really been friends in the first place. But you hoped you could be. You hoped to snuggle against him, his hand caressing the curve of your thigh. She stopped the thought mid-stream. See how empty our life has become? she addressed her ego. We’re living on fairy-tale wishes and the lure of “what ifs.” No, she was on her own—like always. She brushed away a new set of tears. Devlin was right, though. Her mother’s journal was the key to ending this charade, and now that she had both the amulet and Nicodemus, it wouldn’t take long to identify the sinner and confront him or her face to face.

  “Rrrr-oww.”

  A flash of black shot by her, and then slowed to a walk as she stepped onto the mulched pathway. Pulling alongside the cat, she voiced her thoughts.

  “It won’t take Devlin long to start searching for Mother’s journal, so how about you show me where the journal is?”

  The cat shot off, leaving Brianna standing at the end of the path alone. A minute later, she saw him shoot through the wrought-iron gates on the outskirts of the Main Street Plaza and disappear. Bolting to catch up, she tried to keep his erratic scampering in sight as she jogged. When she reached the Main Street sidewalk, he was missing. And then he dashed out of the bushes in front of her, heading on a straig
ht-line trajectory towards the library. Brianna switched directions, right behind him. Her mother was undeniably smart. What better place to hide a book than amongst hundreds of them?

  Reaching the library steps, Brianna glanced over her shoulder. No sign of Devlin tailing her. That was encouraging. Or pretty shitty, her inner voice mocked. Annoyed at the thought, Brianna bolted up the steps and through the door. She had to retrieve the journal, and fast.

  Rounding the reception desk, she caught the scent of sickly candle-wax, and slid to a halt. What now? She saw a flicker of light casting shadows on the ceiling on the other side of the bookshelf from her. She bit her lip nervously. I see it, she told Nicodemus. A stuttered purr wound around her ankles, urging her to tread cautiously. She followed the advice, reaching the other side of the shelves, and drawing in her breath as she saw the reading tables shoved aside and a chalk circle etched on the floor.

  Brianna studied the candles placed at ninety degree angles around the circle. Someone had been extremely busy. Her gaze traveled the chalk markings. What did the circle represent? The candle placement could be a pyramid of folding gateways, but how did they fold in on themselves? She circled the formation, studying the alternating angles and spaces. The circle didn’t appear to be finished, and worse, it didn’t feel right. Her gaze latched onto the open book lying in the center of the circle. Her mother’s journal! A trapdoor out? Or an invitation in? she wondered.

  Dropping to her knees, she studied the book placement more closely. Whoever had created this circle was using a disguise. Leaving her mother’s journal as bait was sheer genius. Was the bait meant for her? She ran her hand through the air surrounding the circle. The energy field didn’t appear to be directed at her.

  She craned her head, spotting a scrap of paper peeping from beneath the book. She attempted to read the words. No luck. The only way to read the words was to lift the book and pull the paper out. Straightening, Brianna sat back on her thighs. She’d like nothing better than to cross the barrier and grab the book, but if she did, she might set off whatever had been instigated inside the circle.

  Scrambling to her feet, she chewed on her lip thoughtfully. Had Francis built the circle while they had been busy conducting the Weaving ritual? That would explain his conspicuous absence. No, that explanation didn’t sit right. In her heart, she knew he would never resort to misusing the Wicca creed. Could she say the same for Rufus? Yes; he was devoted to the congregation one hundred per cent. So who did that leave if not Francis or Rufus? Marla, Eileen, and Sally?

  Brianna’s gaze lifted to the circle again. Was the circle feminine in nature? It certainly could be. It felt emotional, rather than logical. And God knows, she knew about making emotional decisions instead of rational ones. Her gaze traveled the arc of the chalk again. Had the circle been cast against Devlin? That was certainly likely, given the scrap of paper hidden between the pages of the book. His name could be written on it. But then so could hers. She supposed Sally had the strongest motivation to cast a spell on one of them—as payback for her sister’s death. She might deem it justified; taking Devlin out first, and saving her for last. Her pulse skittered suddenly. She didn’t relish seeing Devlin on the receiving end of a deadly curse—unless, of course, she placed it on his head herself.

  Studying the circle outline again, she decided the circle was meant for Devlin, and the sooner she discerned its final goal, the better. She bent over and scanned the scribbled words again, able to read only the tail end of the last line: “Plus One More.”

  Her gaze lifted to the book again. The journal could be interpreted as plus one more—a trapdoor built in case things went horribly wrong. But that interpretation felt wrong too. The book had been placed on the floor as bait to come in, not to get out. But who was being invited in, if not Devlin?

  A shiver slaked her spine at the question, and Brianna wiped her sweating palms on her skirt. Now that she had read the last words of the mantra, the dynamics of the ritual didn’t seem to be aimed at Devlin. If only he was here to . . . she scratched that thought. It didn’t matter what Devlin thought about anything. He was out of her life for good. Still, two witches against one would be so much more effective, her inner voice nudged.

  “Rrr-ow.”

  The cat’s cry had Brianna rearing back as if stung.

  “Good Lord, Nicodemus! Stop sneaking up on people.” The cat blinked up at her, seeming not at all repentant as she stared down at him. His gaze never wavered from hers, and because it didn’t, she felt a shiver ripple up her spine again. What was he trying to communicate to her? To look beyond her own logic for answers?

  Turning her back on his intimidation, she took a step towards the circle. A loud hiss erupted at her movement, and a black paw swiped at her ankle. Falling back, she stamped her foot at the cat.

  “Yes, I know, it’s dangerous, but I have to determine the circle’s intent.”

  Nicodemus growled at her this time, and giving into his intimidation, she took six steps back, deciding he meant her to view the circle from a greater distance. She let her gaze encompass the total shape. No talisman, no engraved pentacle, no gifts for the Guardians.

  Circling left, Brianna began to chew on her lip again. Gateways and guiding words, but no gifts. Why? Only one reason. The circle had been improvised on the spur of the moment and had been interrupted before it could be completed.

  “Rrrrrrrr-ooooow.”

  Brianna looked down at the cat now walking by her ankles. He was studying the circle as intently as she was. Was he suggesting she finally use his magic to get her answer? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, her inner voice taunted. Right. Raising her arms, she reversed directions, walking back along the rim of the markings and offering an impromptu chant.

  “I walk this circle thrice about, one for the world within, one for the world without. Here, in this place, beginnings and endings are meeting. What lies ahead, shall be revealed at my greeting.”

  Giving a half-turn left, Brianna prepared to elevate her chant; however, the cat’s mewl had her breaking off. To her surprise, a voice inside her head introduced a new chant.

  “Weavers of black fire, heed my call. I bind the man in this circle, and ask that he fall. I bind all gateways in and out, preventing his escape in releasing your wrath. I bind his aura and energies so that my spell will override the one previously cast.”

  Stunned by the familiar voice, Brianna glanced at the cat at her feet. Was Nicodemus channeling Sally’s voice for her benefit? It felt like it. She craned her head and waited for the voice to continue in her head. When it didn’t, she leaned over and petted Nicodemus’ head.

  “You are a true spirit guide, Nicodemus. And you are absolutely right. I have been very stupid. All the signs were clear. The disjointed memories, the subtle grillings, the energy shift during the Weaving ceremony, the smell of sandalwood—clear signs I overlooked.”

  “Rrr-ow.”

  “I know I can feel it too. We have no time to lose. Devlin is about to feel the wrath of a conjured demon.”

  She whirled around, bolting for the front door; however, upon reaching it, she found it locked. She shook the handle and then pounded on the door. A second, louder hammering brought no response, and because it didn’t, icy fear snaked around Brianna’s heart. She was sealed in, and if she hadn’t been so immersed in trying to decipher the circle’s intent, she would’ve heard the rebar being dropped. If only she had listened to her instincts the moment she had spied the circle and retreated back out the front door. Now, she had no choice but to defend herself, rather than going on the offensive.

  “Rrr-ooowww.”

  Brianna whirled at Nicodemus’s wail. He darted away—towards the basement door. She moved quickly after him. He had the right idea. Find a way out and take it. In a matter of seconds, she was flicking on the wall light and descending the steps.

  Spotting a huge stack of furniture piled against the exit door, her spirits sank. The furniture was much too heavy to move without hel
p. Not to her surprise, Nicodemus took charge, climbing the lower limbs of the furniture and making his way to an open window near the ceiling. Reaching it, he glanced back at her and purred. She grimaced up at him.

  “I know I’m too big to fit through. Go get help.” He scrambled onto the ledge and out the window before Brianna could finish her instructions. “Wait!” Her yell was two seconds too late and she frowned. He’d seek out Devlin, but he’d be unable to converse with him when they met. Sighing, she turned back to the staircase and re-climbed the steps. How long would it take for Nicodemus to bring help?

  Reaching the top step, she found the basement door shut. Odd! Had the door blown shut behind her when she descended? She jiggled the knob. Locked! She would make Sally pay for her treachery.

  Giving the door an impatient kick, she whirled around and retraced her steps. Muted light spiraled across the basement floor ahead of her steps, casting misshapen shadows all around her. Brianna shivered, grabbing a discarded chair and righting it. She sank down on the seat cushion, plotting all the ways she would make Sally pay for harming her mother and the community.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE HUNT FOR BRIANNA

  Devlin slammed the stairwell door. He had been searching for Brianna for over an hour, and at each point of stopping, he had come up empty. How had she managed to slip off the face of the earth in such a short time? And how was she able to hide her energy from him? Since the marriage binding, he felt the pull of her energy no matter how far apart they were. And now, less than a day later, he couldn’t read her essence. Had he been wrong in thinking that their merged energies had been a sign from the Sisters of Fate that they had been forgiven for the Dark Time? No, he couldn’t feel Brianna because she was pissed at him. And a pissed off Brianna was nothing short of a wild tornado. Why had he been so stupid as to confront her on her mother’s journal? It had brought the she-bear out in her again, and now he hadn’t the foggiest idea how to catch up with her.