Mystical Love

by Rachel James

  The figure grimaced. It was a dreadful fact that Nicodemus had the power to sabotage any spell a witch constructed. Cats could literally skirt the fabric of spells, and often did, when their Mistresses were threatened. The cat had done it in the clearing five days ago, and now that he had a new Mistress, he was attempting to protect her with the same tenacity as his former Mistress.

  “RRR-owww.”

  The cat’s cry had the figure rearing back in fright. Cats were also sneaky. Nicodemus was proving it by appearing out of nowhere and growling his dislike. The figure swished the end of the cape at the feline.

  “I’m not afraid of your power, Nicodemus. I have plenty of my own.”

  “Rrrr-Owww.”

  The figure dismissed the meow, raising a hand and chanting boldly.

  “From you to me, this spell I make; this is not your power to break. The path you take will abruptly end; and back to you, the spell I bend.”

  A red fire cone appeared in the palm of the figure’s hand, spinning wildly. Seeing it, the cat growled low in his throat and then arched his back with a fevered hiss. Not at all intimidated this time, the figure flicked the energy at the cat, who attempted to dodge it with a quick jump upward. He was two seconds too late. The bolt of energy slammed into his backside, and then catching hold, it rippled up his back and down his front paws. His painful scream set off a chain reaction in the earth beneath his paws. Startled insects broke off their scurrying and fled to a safe haven further underground. The birds in the nearby trees fell silent, and a small wind eddy spiraled up and over the cottage. The cat stiffened suddenly, and then collapsed to the ground, motionless. Feeling the change in energy shifts, even the caped figure backed up quickly and fled the scene. In seconds, the waterfall in the meditation garden stopped flowing, and a colorful desert iguana toppled over, off the top rock and into the darkening pool of swirling water.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE WEAVING

  Brianna stepped back from the mirror and drew in her breath. She had turned into her mother in the last few minutes, and it was an eerie transformation. She studied the netted hairpiece awash with sparkling moons and stars. She had wound the netting through her blonde ringlets in a most tantalizing way and had been thrilled with the result. It had been years since she had taken so much care with her appearance and it felt heavenly—a true feminine delight. In fact, since she had donned one of her Mother’s svelte blue gowns, she had felt a refreshing energy, as if she had just been bathed by one of the Ancients’ healing washes.

  Dropping into a chair in front of the dressing table, she began retouching her make-up. The Council would be floored to see her in coven attire; probably even rendered speechless. What would Devlin think? That you’re gor-ge-ous, her inner voice complimented. He’ll make love to you on the spot. Brianna grinned at her reflection. One can only hope, she mused, dropping her lipstick tube. He will definitely be shocked to see how well she cleaned up; she was shocked herself. And how would Nicodemus take the transformation when he saw her? Would he be confused by how much she resembled her mother? The watch on her dressing table buzzed the top of the hour. Two o’clock, and she was late!

  Brianna rushed up from the chair, stopping to slip her toes into a pair of sparkly heels, before giving a last glance into the mirror. Pleased by the voluptuous woman staring back at her, she whirled about and dashed out of the cottage.

  Six minutes later, she arrived at the Assembly Hall, out of breath, and cursing her choice of footwear. She had nearly broken her ankle twice during the run from the cottage. Reaching the outer door, she paused and took a deep breath. It’s now or never, her inner voice coaxed. Success or failure. She flung open the door and stepped inside.

  The six figures standing in the center of the room turned, startled by the door banging against the wall. She recognized Rufus, Sally, and her father at once, and even though she hadn’t set eyes on Eileen O’Connor in fifteen years, she recognized her robust figure and bobbed hair-do. Francis was conspicuously absent from the group, and the two figures standing by her father were total strangers.

  She felt a touch on her arm and turned.

  “God, you are breath-taking.” The words were barely out of his mouth when she was swept into Devlin’s arms and kissed with a hunger that belied his outward calm. Her heart jolted at the ravishment of her mouth and her heart began pounding like a runaway train. The moment her legs began to tremble, she broke the kiss and backed out of Devlin’s arms.

  “You’re smearing my lipstick,” she said, breathlessly.

  “I’d like to do more than that,” he retorted. “But the Council’s waiting.”

  Her glance switched to Doctor Ellis, standing off to the left of the group. He was staring at her as if he had seen a ghost. Well, wasn’t he? She was wearing her Mother’s gown, so technically, at the moment she was her Mother.

  “Do you remember the proper chant?” Devlin whispered from beside her. “You must not, because I can feel your heightened energy as if it were my own.”

  Brianna twisted her head and met his penetrating gaze. Did he not realize that their marriage had made it possible for him to actually do that? She certainly was able to feel his energy through walls. Obviously, her senses were more attuned than his, because he continued to stare at her with a strange look that belied any recognition of her energy.

  “I remember,” she finally remarked, dismissing his concern.

  “We’re ready for you, Brianna,” a deep voice beckoned from her left. Brianna jumped at the sudden appearance of Rufus Lord. “I assume you remember all the Council protocols?”

  Brianna sent him an annoyed glance.

  “I can recite them by heart, if you’d like.” She felt a squeeze on her arm and softened her tone. “I know all the chants, and I promise not to demean the ceremony.”

  The Elder looked doubtful, but he didn’t push the issue.

  “Very well. We’re ready when you are.”

  He spun on his heel, leaving the pair to follow him to the center of the room. Watching him go, Brianna knew he was playing his role as Third Elder to the hilt.

  “Keep your cool when we get there,” Devlin warned. “I’m getting tired of squeezing your arm all the time.”

  Brianna stumbled, surprised by his sarcastic tone.

  “That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t wearing three inch high heels and a push up bra.”

  “But I am wearing a clean shirt and coven trousers.”

  “I noticed. You look like . . .” She left the sentence hanging.

  “What? Ridiculous?”

  “No, dashing—like a Victorian rake.”

  “Careful, Mrs. Janus. That sounded a lot like a compliment.”

  “You’re an ass.” Brianna said, slipping away from him. She joined the group circle, addressing Rufus as she took her place in the center.

  “It’s Coven protocol for only the Elder Council to be part of the Weaving ceremony,” she said, eyeing Sally to her right. “Has Francis chosen not to participate in it?”

  She met with silence, and sensed no one wanted to be the bearer of bad tidings. Finally, Sally stepped forward.

  “Francis has chosen not to participate. He feels that this ritual will do more harm than good. As First Elder, he has invoked his right to substitute another witch in his place.”

  “And you got the luck of the runes?” Brianna asked.

  “I was flattered he thought of me. However, I promise you I am quite capable of channeling spirit. I shall not let you down.”

  Brianna studied Sally’s face. Why in the world had Francis chosen Sally as his replacement? Her recent illness made her an iffy candidate. He did it to piss you off, her inner voice chided. He lives to piss you off.

  Waiting for Devlin to join the circle, Brianna took a moment to judge the rest of the Council assembled around her. They were dressed in their ceremonial best, staring at her like terriers waiting for attention. Their glances were shifting between her and Devlin, and
then back to her again. Brianna sensed immediately she was being scrutinized for flaws. Well, that was better than being intimidated by dark, angry expressions, wasn’t it? She took a breath and adjusted her smile. Now, if only she could ignore Rufus’s critical squint. He seemed to be the only one in the circle with enough courage to wear his feelings on his face. His next words proved it.

  “We are ready whenever you are, Brianna. We will try to do you proud—even though evoking an Ancient Power without having undergone the Crowning is an insult to the Coven.”

  Brianna’s eyes darkened with emotion.

  “Your objection is noted, Rufus; however, I can’t imagine Papa phoned me about Mother without realizing that I might have to invoke my rights as Interim High Priestess if I came. Surely it dawned on you that I would follow Coven protocol to the letter once I arrived?”

  “Evoking the Weaving is highly premature, though,” Sally responded. “And not at all proper—given your questionable history with us.”

  “Forgive me, Sally, but I was under the impression that this Coven excelled in not judging others. I thought we were all about forgiveness as well. It seems I was wrong. Now, it looks as though the Coven forgives some, but not others.”

  It had been a cruel thing to say, and Brianna didn’t know why she had felt compelled to twist Sally’s words. After all, they were standing in a sacred place, intending to summon the goodness of spirit, not trade in silly, childish taunts.

  “Enter the Land of Spirit, through any open door; and drink from the Grail of Life for one day more. It is there you will find the cauldron of love, as it is in the below, so it is in the above.”

  Devlin’s strong chant had Brianna’s mind switching gears. She centered her body and, lifting her arms, she addressed the heavens.

  “Before time was, there was the no-thingness. And the no-thingness was the One; and the no-thingness was the All. And the no-thingness felt a gentle stir, and the stir became a breath of life. And the breath of life expanded, splitting into two forms, equal but opposite. And the no-thingness named the forms God and Goddesses. And the Gods and Goddesses stretched out and became energy. And the energy became gases, and suns, and planets, and moons. And the whirling globes were alone, solitary, except for the no-thingness. And the no-thingness saw it was good and showered the forms with light. And the light formed union. And the union formed seeds. And the seeds sprinkled the heavens above and the earth below. And all were blessed by the Gods and Goddesses, in homage to the no-thingness. And the Goddess chose the Moon as her symbol to remind the seeds all are born, live, and die, and are reborn again. And the God chose the sun as his symbol to remind the seeds, that all things come to pass under its light. That has been the way of existence before time was. And with the blessings of the no-thingness, the nothingness into nothingness is the whole journey. So mote it be.”

  The group clasped hands.

  “So mote it be.”

  Sally’s voice washed over the group’s heads, loud and confident.

  “In the realm of magic, this Coven shall reside, no one but the chosen shall view what’s inside. If life be to Earth, as Water to emotions, let harm come to none, this is our devotion.”

  Rufus’ voice picked up the chant.

  “Our magic’s our passion; the spirit’s our guide. The love for the Goddess we hold deep inside.”

  Devlin carried on the chant.

  “We stand on the threshold of guardian light, to empower the Priestess with heavenly might. Protection from harm is all that we seek, this is our will, so mote it be.”

  His words drifted away, and Brianna felt the stirring of an energy shift. It was now or never, she knew. Success or failure. She lifted her right hand, focusing her attention on her palm.

  “Gifts I bring, and respect I’ll show. Fly all around me to and fro.” An energy shift occurred again and Brianna felt it immediately. She revved up the chant. “Help me with my magical quest; make it strong, and then you can rest.” A purple cone of light appeared in the middle of her palm and began to swirl slowly. “A weaving of truth is an honor not broken, to all who are asked, no lie can be spoken.” The purple hue began to whirl faster, and Brianna revved her chant up another decibel. “Through spirit, body, and mind, water the seed and watch it grow. For what you send out, will return to you times three; this is our will, so mote it be.” The colorful cone darkened to a deeper hue of purple and rose from the center of Brianna’s palm. The group raised their arms to the whirling dervish, echoing Brianna’s last words.

  “This is our will, so mote it be.”

  The cone vanished abruptly, as if sucked through a straw, and the air in the room turned suddenly cold, and then suddenly hot. And then, reclaiming its normal state of flux, the air became unnoticeable again.

  Brianna dropped her hands, suddenly drained by the ritual—or the touch of Devlin’s hand on her back. She was in need of fresh air—the outdoors kind. Her palm was still smarting from the pinwheel, and she longed to cool it off.

  “Well done, Brianna,” her father complimented. He threw an arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “It’s nice to know you still know how to honor your heritage. Your mother will be extremely proud of you when she wakes.”

  “From your mouth to God’s ear,” she told him, returning the hug. She felt a familiar presence by her side and turned. “Well, how did I do, Mr. Janus? Any flubs or mistakes?”

  “You were sensational,” he said. His voice lowered. “Remind me to tell you how sensational you were when we’re in bed tonight.” He saw her mouth open and gave an airy wave. “I know, I know. I’m an incredible ass.”

  He moved away before she could agree. Her father studied her face and then said the obvious.

  “It’s clear you still have the man’s heart after all these years.”

  Brianna frowned.

  “I don’t want it, Papa. Why can’t he see that?” His eyebrow rose, and Brianna blushed. “That didn’t come out right. I don’t hate Devlin anymore, but I can barely manage my own heart, let alone his.”

  “Leave it all in the hands of spirit, my dear,” her father remarked. “They will sort it out.”

  Brianna brushed back a stray tendril of hair.

  “How long before the interviews start?” she asked.

  Her father dipped his head.

  “We have sent the junior elders out with messages. We should see the first of the members arrive sometime around four.”

  “I’m sorry it’s come to this, Papa. I know how upsetting this process will be for everyone.” She shook her head. “I only hope it works.”

  “It’ll work.” Eileen said, overhearing her words and joining the conversation. She studied Brianna’s attire. “You look smashing in that get-up, by the way. And the hairpiece is to die for.”

  Brianna laughed at her focus on style, brushing her hands down the front of her gown.

  “This dress was always Mother’s favorite. I’m surprised I had the audacity to wear it.” Her hand lifted. “And the hairpiece was a last minute concoction.”

  “And the Pentagram you’re wearing?” Sally asked, settling beside her. “Is it your personal amulet?”

  Brianna wrapped her fingers around the piece.

  “Umm, I bought it a New Age Fair a long time ago,” Brianna said. “It’s been a trusted friend ever since.”

  “Speaking of friends,” Sally said, “I like the one you brought with you. I met him in the Square this morning, and he seemed genuinely interested in discussing the Wicca creed.”

  Brianna hid a smile. Tommy could care less about spiritual creeds. He was simply flexing his legal muscles—quizzing the Elders with the same boyish charm he used in the boardroom. It had obviously worked on Sally. Who else had he tried his charm on?

  “Rufus has requested we vacate the center so they can prepare the room for the interviews.” Devlin said, joining the women.

  “Don’t you mean he has ordered us to vacate the room?” Brianna asked.

/>   “He did say please, I think.” Devlin replied, taking her arm and then Sally’s. He guided the women to the front door, continuing his thoughts. “Just remember, you’ve won his blessing on the Weaving, and knowing that, you should cut him some slack.” His words had Brianna’s jaw clenching, but she held her tongue. She had won Rufus’s blessing, but only time would tell if she kept it.

  Coming into the sunlight, Brianna shaded her eyes. A sudden feeling of dread assailed her and she glanced about. Nicodemus. The name echoed on the wind and she caught her breath.

  “Did you hear it?” she asked.

  “Hear what?” Sally queried.

  “N-n-nothing,” Brianna stammered. “I thought I heard someone calling my name.”

  “It must be the excitement of casting your first real spell.” Sally murmured. “You were fabulous, by the way.” She stepped off the curb, heading towards the clinic. “See you at the celebration later,” she called back.

  Brianna watched her stride across the roadway and towards the Main Street Fountain. She breathed a sigh of relief, wondering why she should be glad to see the last of Sally. She knew why. For a moment, during the ceremony, she had felt the pull of an odd energy outside the cone of power. She had dismissed it as nerves, but now she wasn’t so sure she should have. She glanced around the area again.

  “What is it?” Devlin asked, noticing her preoccupation with the tree-lined shrubs.

  “I don’t see Nicodemus,” she said. “I haven’t since lunch.”

  “He’s probably taken the hint and found something else to occupy his time.”

  “You’re right. I’m obsessing.” She was hit by another feeling of dread and, following her instincts, she switched direction and angled towards the cottage. She had to find Tommy at once and convince him to tell her where her mother’s amulet was stashed. Now that the Weaving was in place, she could use the amulet to find her mother’s Book of Shadows.