Aline arranged several objects on the table – sage incense sticks, a thick pillar candle on a large silver tray, a goblet ofwater, a ritual blade called an athame, and a small tray of salt. “As soon as Maeve’s ready, we can start.”
“I’m ready. How do I look?”
I whirled around. Maeve stood on the doorway, dressed in a flowing white dress that set off her dark hair and glittering eyes. The Briarwood pendant hung between her breasts and she held up her hand to show off the matching ring. The pink streak in her fringe reflected against the diadem in the centre of her forehead, giving the glittering stone a pinkish tinge.
“Enchanting.” I wrapped her in my arms, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the fresh fruity scent of her shampoo.
“That’s a relief, because I feel ridiculous.” Maeve yanked up the skirt so I could see a pair of black-and-white striped socks and her boots underneath. “I’m the wicked witch of the west.”
“Funny, I’ve never noticed any warts,” I brought my mouth to hers. Our bodies melted together as we shared a deep, lingering kiss.
Another hand slid around my waist, and the familiar rosemary and flour scent of Rowan filled my nostrils as he pressed his body against ours. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered. “Both of you.”
Maeve tipped her head to claim his mouth. I wiped his locs off his cheek so I could kiss his midnight skin. His long lashes tangled together as his eyes fluttered shut. Maeve and Flynn had done a decent job patching up the cut on his head, and a small bandage on his hairline was the only reminder of how close we’d come to losing him.
A throat cleared behind us. Aline held up the salt container, her lips in a tight line. “It’s already well past midnight. We should get started.”
My eyes locked on Aline’s face as Maeve slid from our arms and moved across the room. Aline may be a powerful witch freed from a terrible spell, but she was still Maeve’s mother. As far asI knew, Maeve hadn’t told her we were all her magisters, but she hadn’t exactly been keeping it a secret, either. I wondered how Aline would react when she discovered the true extent of her daughter’s harem.
Judging by the pursed expression on her face, not great. But we could deal with that later.
Aline handed around the tray with the shot glasses and we all knocked them back. The foul liquid stung my throat and made tears burn in the corners of my eyes. Arthur caught my eye across the circle and screwed his face up, eliciting a choking laugh from Flynn.
Maeve moved to stand at the northern end of the circle, in front of the stone fireplace. The rest of us stood at points around the circle. Aline held up the salt and moved to the outside of the circle, then seemed to change her mind. She stood in front of Maeve, touching her hand to her daughter’s cheek as she handed over the salt. “This is your job now.”
To Maeve’s credit, she didn’t flinch from the woman’s touch, although her eyes betrayed how uncomfortable she felt. She took the salt and used it to cast the circle, then followed the salt with the lit candle.
At Aline’s signal, Arthur lit the incense with a wave of his hand. Smoky sage filled the room.
“Breathe deep of this magical herb,” Aline said. “Bring forth the dark memories that taunt you, the shame and guilt that blocks the flow of magical energy and prevents you living in the full light of the Goddess.”
It was all a little ‘woo-woo’ as Maeve would put it, but if it helped the guys, it was worth it.
Rowan stood directly opposite me, between Aline and Arthur, his eyes closed and his hands raised toward the ceiling. A wet trail marked his cheek. I hated that we even had to do this for him. Rowan shouldered the blame for all the pain in hislife, and not a single bit of it was his fault. Beside him, Arthur stood with his arms folded, his fingers touching the scars on his arm. How long had he been cutting again? That drove me wild. I thought he’d got over it.
Yet another person I couldn’t save.
Arthur’s gaze swivelled around to glare at me.It’s not your fault,he mouthed at me. I shook my head. This ritual wasn’t about me. I didn’t need it.
After a few moments of silence, Aline said, “As Corbin moves the sage around the circle, hold out your hand to receive the blessing and say, “With air, I cleanse myself.’”
Happy to do everything I could to help, I held my palm out toward the table and called up the pillar of magic rising inside me. The air between my fingers sizzled as I grabbed it with my mind and twisted, pulling the trails of incense toward me. I breathed in the heady smell, memories of Rowan in the kitchen coursing through my mind. “With air, I cleanse myself,” I muttered, for Rowan’s benefit. I flicked my hand to shift the flow of incense toward Flynn.
“With air, I cleanse myself,” Flynn said, his face unusually serious. Flynn was always hard to read – he never said much that wasn’t a joke. But when I’d found him he’d been running away from a life in the Irish mob, and I had a suspicion that humour hid a dark past.
I passed the air around the circle, touching it to each person’s skin. Now it was Arthur’s turn. He held his hand out in front of him, palm up. His eyes narrowed, and a small ball of fire appeared.
I jumped as a fireball burst to life in front of me. The heat blasted my face. Identical fireballs hovered in front of every other witch in the circle.
I glanced over at Arthur in surprise. He could control that many files simultaneously? He focused on his hand, his gaze even, his beard framing pursed lips. He looked completely calm.
This is the same Arthur that nearly burns down the castle every time he gets agitated? It doesn’t compute.
Aline nodded to Blake, who stood between Arthur and me. Blake waved his hand over top of the flame. “With fire, I cleanse myself.”
My turn. I swept my hand over the flame, feeling the sharp heat on my palm. “With fire, I cleanse myself.”
The air in the room shifted, heavy with the fragrance of sage and the weight of our pain. Magic sizzled in the air around us. For all Maeve’s derision of this ritual (and a bit of my own too, I admit) it had raised a cone of magic more powerful than we’d ever managed on our own before. I sniffed the air. Behind the sage was a familiar scent – hyacinth and butterscotch.
