by Cate Tiernan
"Thanks," Jenna said, looking deeply into it, pleased.
"Your rune, Neid, will also become important. For one thing, you can use it as a signature, either on your spells or even in notes and letters." Jenna nodded.
I sat forward, excited. This was cool stuff—this was what I really loved about Wicca. In my Wicca books the use of quartz in various spells had come up again and again. It had been used religiously for thousands of years. In particular, pink or rose quartz was used to promote love, peace, and healing. Jenna could use all three.
"Robbie?" Cal asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Well, I'm a Taurus, my rune is Eoh, the horse, which also symbolizes travel or change of some kind. My metal is copper. My herb is mugwort. My stone is emerald."
"Interesting." Cal grinned at us. "This is really interesting. You guys are doing a great job of feeling your way to your essences. Robbie, I didn't even associate emerald with you, but as soon as you said it, I thought, yeah, of course." He reached into his bag, rejecting several stones, then brought one out.
"This is a rough emerald," he said, holding it toward Robbie. It was about the size of a pat of butter, a dark, greenish lump in his hand. Robbie took it. "Don't get excited—it's not gem quality. No jeweler would buy it from you. Use it in good health," said Cal, and I was oddly reminded of taking communion at church. Cal went on, "Emerald is good for attracting love and prosperity, to strengthen the memory, to protect its user, and also to improve the eyesight."
Robbie turned and wiggled his eyebrows at me. Until about a month ago, he'd worn thick glasses. My healing potion had had the unexpected side benefit of perfecting his vision.
"So do you just have every stone possible in that bag?" Ethan asked.
Cal grinned. "Not every one. But I have one or two of the most typical."
I had been wondering the same thing myself. "Okay, Matt?" Cal prompted.
Matt swallowed. "I'm a Gemini," he said. "My rune is Jera. My stone is tourmaline."
"Jera, for karma, a cyclical nature, the seasons," said Cal. "Tourmaline."
"The kind with two colors," Matt said.
"They call that watermelon tourmaline," said Cal, and took one out. It looked like a hexagonal piece of quartz, about an inch and a half long and as thick as a pencil. It was green on one end, clear in the middle, and pink on the other end. Cal handed it to Matt, saying, "Wearing this balances the user. Use it in good health."
Matt nodded and turned the stone over in his hand. "I can go next," said Ethan. "I know what Sharon's are— should I tell them to you?"
Cal shook his head. "She can tell us at the next circle or at school."
"Okay, then, mine," said Ethan. "I'm a Virgo. My season is summer. My stone is brown jasper. I don't have a plant or anything. My favorite jellybean flavor is sour apple."
"Okay," said Cal, smiling. "Good. I think I have a piece of brown jasper… hang on." He looked at the stones in his bag and pulled out one that looked like solidified root beer. "Here you go. Brown jasper is especially good for helping you keep your feet on the ground."
Ethan nodded, looking at his stone.
"I think for your rune, you should use…" Cal considered Ethan thoughtfully while we all waited. "Beorc. For new beginnings, a rebirth. Sound okay?"
"Yeah," Ethan said. "Beorc. Cool."
Cal turned to me with a special look."Last but not least?"
"I'm on the Scorpio-Sagittarius cusp," I said. "Mostly Sagittarius. My herb is thyme. My rune is Othel, which stands for an ancestral home, a birthright. My stone is bloodstone."
I might have been the only one to see Cal's pupils dilate and then contract in an instant. Was my choice wrong? Maybe I should have run my ideas by him first, I thought uncertainly. But I had been so sure.
Cal let a stone drop unseen into his bag; I heard it click faintly. "Bloodstone," he said, trying it out. I met his gaze as he looked at me. "Bloodstone," he repeated.
"What are its properties?" Jenna asked.
"It's very old," said Cal. "It's been used in magick for thousands of years to give strength to warriors in battle, to help women through childbirth. They say it can be used to break ties, open doors, even knock down barriers." He paused, then reached into his bag again, rummaged around, and pulled out a large, dark green stone, smooth and polished. When he tilted it this way and that, I could see the dark, blood-colored flecks of red within its darkness.
"Bloodstone," repeated Cal, examining it. "Its ruling planet is Mars, which lends it qualities of strength, healing, protection, sexual energy, and magick involving men."
Jenna grinned at me, and I felt my cheeks flush.
"It's a fire stone," Cal went on, "and its associated color is red. In spells you could use it to increase courage, magickal power, wealth, and strength." His eyes caught mine. "Very interesting." He tossed me the stone, and I caught it. It felt smooth and warm in my hand. I had come across another bloodstone among the things in Maeve's toolbox. Now I had two.
"Okay, now let's make a circle," said Cal, standing. He quickly drew a circle, and we all helped cast it: purifying it invoking the four elements and the Goddess and God, linking hands within it. Without Sharon there were only six of us. I looked around and realized that I was starting to feel like these people were my second family.
Each of us held our stones in our right palm, sandwiched with the left palm of the person next to us. We moved in our circle, chanting. Looking forward to the rush of ecstatic energy I always got in a circle, I moved around and around, watching everyone's faces. They were intent, focused, perhaps more so than during other circles: their stones must be at work. Jenna looked lovely, ethereal as delight crossed her features. Wonderingly she glanced at me, and I smiled at her, waiting for my own magick to take me away.
It didn't. It was a while before I realized I was deliberately holding it down, not letting it go, not letting myself give in to the magick. It occurred to me: I didn't feel safe. There was no reason I could think of not to, but I simply didn't. My own magick stayed dampened, not the enormous outpouring of power that it usually was. I let out a deep breath and put my trust in the Goddess. If there was danger here that I couldn't see, I hoped she would take care of me.
Gradually Cal took us down, and as we slowed, my coven members looked at me expectantly. They were used to me having to ground myself after a circle, and this time, when I shook my head, they seemed surprised. Cal gave me a questioning look, but I just shrugged.
Then Jenna said, "I feel kind of sick."
"Sit down," Cal said, moving to her side. "Ground yourself. All of you may feel some increased sensations because of your stones and the inner work you did over the week."
Cal helped Jenna sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor, her forehead touching the floor, both hands out flat. He took her chunk of pink quartz and placed it on the back of her slender neck, exposed because her ash blond hair had slipped down on both sides.
"Just breathe," he said gently, keeping one hand on her back. "It's okay. You're just getting in touch with your magick."
Robbie sat down, too, and assumed the same position. This was amazing. The others were finally picking up on the kind of magickal energy I'd been overwhelmed by since the beginning. Forgetting about my own weird feelings, I met Cal's eyes and smiled. Our coven was coming together. An hour later Cal ended the circle. I stood and got my coat from the hall.
"It was a great circle tonight, guys," Cal said, and everyone nodded enthusiastically. "School starts again Monday, and we'll all be distracted again, so let's try to keep focused. I think you'll find it's easier to do now that you have your working stones. And just remember, we have a rival coven, Kithic. Kithic is working with witches who are untrustworthy, who have an agenda. For your own sake, I want you all to stay away from anyone associated with them."
I looked at Cal in surprise. He hadn't mentioned his intention of telling us this, but I supposed it was only natural, given the connection between Hunter and Sky, Sky and Kithic.
"We can't just be friends with them?" asked Jenna.
Cal shook his head. "It might not be safe. Everyone, be careful, and if anything feels strange or you feel things you can't figure out, please tell me right away."
"You mean like spells?" Ethan asked with a frown. "Like if they put spells on us?"
"I don't think they will," Cal said quickly, raising his hands. "I'm just saying be alert and talk to me about everything and anything, no matter how small."
Robbie looked impassively at Cal. I doubted he planned to quit seeing Bree. Matt looked completely depressed—he didn't seem to have a choice about seeing Raven or not: she wanted to see him, and so far he hadn't been able to say no.
Cal and I went out to the car, and I was silent with thought.
CHAPTER 14
Finding
December 2000
My petition to become a Seeker has gone to the top. Yesterday I met with the seven elders of the council. They once again turned me down. What to do now?
I must curb my anger. Anger cannot help me here. I will ask Uncle Beck to intercede on my behalf. In the meantime I am taking classes with Nera Bluenight, of Calstythe. With her guidance I can school my emotions more and petition the council once again.
— Giomanach
On Sunday morning I realized that one week ago today I had turned seventeen. Looking back, it had been an intensely unhappy day: trying to appear normal while reliving the horror of watching Hunter go over the ledge, the dismay over Cal's wounds, the temporary loss of my magick.
This week was going better. Thank the Goddess and God, Hunter was alive. I felt reassured by knowing that he wasn't inherently evil—and neither was I.
Yet there were still huge, unresolved issues in my life. Questions about Cal and the things he might or might not be hiding from me, questions about myself and the depth of my commitment to Cal, to Wicca itself…
I went to church with my family because I knew my mother would make a fuss if I tried to duck out for the second week in a row, and I just wasn't ready to fight that battle. I sleepwalked through the service, my mind churning ideas incessantly. I felt I was two people: Catholic and not Catholic. Part of my family and not part of my family. In love with Cal, yet holding back. Loathing Hunter and yet full of joy that he was alive. My whole life was a mishmash, and I was being divided in two.
When the time for communion approached, I slipped out of our pew as if I was heading for the bathroom. I stood in the drafty hall behind the organist's cubby for a couple of minutes, then came back and fell in line with the people who had just taken communion. I took my seat, dabbing my lips as if I'd just sipped from the chalice. My mother gave me a questioning look but didn't say anything. Leaning back, I let my thoughts drift away once again.
Suddenly Father Hotchkiss's booming voice startled me. From the pulpit he thundered, "Does the answer lie within or without?"
It was like a bolt of lightning. I stared at him.
"For us," Father Hotchkiss went on, gripping the pulpit, "the answer is both. The answers lie within yourselves, as your faith guides you through life, and the answer lies without, in the truth and solace the church offers. Prayer is the key to both. It is through prayer we connect with our Maker, through prayer we reaffirm our belief in God and in ourselves." He paused, and the candles glowing behind him seemed to light the whole nave. "Go home," he went on, "pray thoughtfully to God, and ask him for guidance. In prayer will be your answer."
"Okay," I breathed, and the organ started playing, and we stood to sing a hymn.
After church my family had lunch at the Widow's Diner as usual, then headed home. Up in my room I sat on my bed. It was time to take stock of my life, decide where I was going. I wanted to follow the path of Wicca, but I knew that it wouldn't be easy. It would need more commitment from me than the things I was doing. It had to be woven into the everyday cycles of my life. I needed to start living mindfully in every moment.
Serious Wiccans maintain small altars at home, places to meditate, light candles, or make offerings to the Goddess and God, like the one in Cal's seomar. I wanted to set one up for myself as soon as possible. Also, I had been meditating a bit, but I needed to set aside time to do it every day.
Making these simple decisions felt good—they would be outward manifestations of my inner connection to Wicca and my witch heritage. Now for another outward manifestation. Quickly I changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. When the coast was clear, I retrieved Maeve's tools from behind the vent and threw my coat over the box.
"I'm going for a drive," I told Mom downstairs.
"Okay, honey," she replied. "Drive carefully."
"Okay." Out in Das Boot, I put my coat on the seat beside me and cranked the engine. A few minutes later I was approaching the edge of town.
Surrounding Widow's Vale are farmlands and woods. As soon as we had gotten our driver's licenses the year before, Bree and Robbie and I had gone on many day trips, exploring the area, looking for swimming holes and places to hang out I remembered one place not too far out of town, a large, undeveloped tract that had been cleared for lumber back in the 1800s and was now covered with second-growth trees. I headed there, trying to remember the turns and forks, looking for familiar landmarks.
Soon I saw a field I remembered, and I pulled Das Boot over and put on my coat. I left the car on the shoulder of the road, took Maeve's box, and set off across the field and into the woods. When I found the stream I remembered, a sense of elation came over me, and I blessed the Goddess for leading me there.
After following the stream for ten minutes, I came upon a small clearing. Last summer, when we'd found it, it had seemed a magickal place, full of wildflowers and damselflies and birds. Robbie and Bree and I had lain on our backs in the sun, chewing on grass. It had been a golden day, free of worries. Today I had come back to partake of the clearing's magick again.
The snow here was deep—it had never been plowed, of course, and only faint animal tracks disturbed it. With each step I sank in over my ankles. A boulder at the edge of the clearing made a convenient table. I set Maeve's box there and opened it. Cal had said that witches wore robes instead of their everyday clothes during magickal rites because their clothes carried all the jangled, hectic vibrations of their lives. When I had worn Maeve's robe and used her tools a few days ago, I had felt nauseated, confused. It had occurred to me today that perhaps it was because of the clashing vibrations of my life and my magick.
Father Hotchkiss had advised us to pray, to look within for answers before we tackled outside problems. I was going to take his advice. Witch style.
Luckily for me, it was another one of those weird, warm days. The air was full of tiny dripping sounds as snow melted around me. I shucked my coat, sweatshirt, and undershirt.
It might have been warm for late autumn, but still, it wasn't summer. I began to shiver, and quickly pulled Maeve's robe over my head. It fell in folds to midcalf. I untied my boots, took off my jeans. and even my socks.
Miserably I peered down at my bare ankles, my feet buried in the snow. I wondered how long I would have the guts to stick this out.
Then I realized I no longer felt even the tiniest bit cold.
I felt fine.
Cautiously I lifted one foot, it looked pink and happy, as if I had just gotten out of the bath. I touched it. Warm. As I was marveling about this, I felt a focused spot of irritation at my throat. I touched it and found the silver pentacle Cal had given me weeks ago. I was so used to wearing it that I hardly noticed it anymore, but now it felt prickly, irritating, and regretfully I took it off and put it on the boulder with my other things. Ah. Now I was completely comfortable, wearing nothing but my mother's robe.
I wanted suddenly to sing with joy. I was completely alone in the woods, enveloped in the warm, loving embrace of the Goddess. I knew I was on the right path, and the realization was exhilarating.
I set up the four cups of the compass. In one I put snow, then took out a candle. Fi
re, I thought, flame, and the charred wick burst into life. I used that candle to melt the snow into water. It was harder to find earth, but I dug a hole in the snow and then scraped at the frozen ground with my athame. I'd brought incense for air, and of course I used the candle for fire.
I made a circle in the snow with a stick, then invoked the Goddess. Sitting on the snow, as comfortable as an arctic hare, I closed my eyes and let myself sink through layer upon layer of reality. I was safe here; I could feel it. This was a direct communion between me and nature and the life force that exists within everything.
Slowly, gradually, I felt myself joined by other life forces, other spirits. The large oak lent me its strength, the pine, its flexibility. I took purity from snow and curiosity from the wind. The frail sun gave me what warmth it could. I felt a hibernating squirrel's small, slow heartbeat and learned reserve. A fox mother and her kits rested in their den, and from them I took an eager appetite for survival. Birds gave me swiftness and judgment, and the deep, steady thrumming of the earth's own life force filled me with a calm joy and an odd sense of expectation.
I rose to my feet and stretched my bare arms outward. Once again the ancient song rose in me, and I let my voice fill the clearing as I whirled in a circle of celebration.
Both times before, the Gaelic words had seemed like a call to power, a calling down of power to me. Now I saw that it was also a direct thread that connected me to Maeve, Maeve to Mackenna, Mackenna to her mother, whose name, it came to me, had been Morwen. For who knows how long I whirled in a kaleidoscope of circles, my robe swirling, my hair flying out in back of me, my body filled with the power of a thousand years of witches. I sang, I laughed, and it seemed that I could do it all at once, could dance and sing and think and see so startlingly clearly. Unlike the last time, I felt no unease, no illness, only an exhilarating storm of power and connection.