‘We’re getting out here,’ I confirmed as she tossed back her head to drain her soda. ‘Take nothing with you.’
‘What about my phone?’
‘No.’
‘My chips?’
‘No chips.’
‘But what if Wyn eats them?’
‘I solemnly swear I will not eat your chips,’ Wyn said, immediately reaching into the bag to steal one. ‘At least not all of them.’
‘Thank you for this,’ I said as she hopped out, leaving the two of us alone in the front of the cab. ‘I’m not sure how long we’ll be, could be hours.’
‘I’ll be here.’
He ran his hand down my arm, snapping back when hereached the blade I had hidden in my woefully sewn sleeve. ‘Em?’ he said, his sleepy eyes suddenly alert. ‘Should I be worried?’
‘It’s just part of the ritual, no one is going to get hurt.’
The journal I’d spent so long studying assured me of that, but I couldn’t quite see how plunging a dagger through my hand would be pain-free. Just like the time I let Lydia do my makeup, I was trying very hard to trust the process.
‘No matter what you hear, I want you to stay in your truck,’ I told him. ‘It may get weird but we’ll both be OK.’
‘You’d be amazed at how many times I’ve heard that over the last few months. Starting to think it might be nice to drive into the woods sometime without a “this could get weird” warning up top. We should plan a camping trip.’
‘A camping trip with hot running water and a private indoor bathroom?’ I asked hopefully.
‘We should sleep out in your backyard sometime,’ he amended, tenderly brushing his hand against my face. ‘Me, you and the stars. Nothing and no one else around.’
‘It’s a date.’ I smiled back, that golden pull sparkling as our lips met.
The spark of wanting him burned through me, fuelled by the magic I already felt rising with the moon. Out of breath, I broke away and rested my fingers against his lips, his ever-changing eyes deep, dark pools of desire.
‘Whatever you hear, stay away,’ I said again. ‘Promise?’
I didn’t want to scare him but I was afraid what might happen if a Were tried to follow us under the oaks.
‘A wolf has no place in a witch’s business,’ he replied easily, a statement not judgement, then kissed my fingers and pressed them to my own lips. ‘I’ll be here, waiting. With the snacks.’
‘You are a snack,’ Lydia said, appearing at the open window.‘Em, can we get this show on the road already? I want my super powers.’
‘Abilities,’ I reminded her for the thousandth time as I climbed out the cab. ‘Let’s hope our ancestors are in a good mood.’
‘Woah, the floor is squishy!’ Lydia exclaimed, leaping around as we entered the avenue of oaks, her feet bare and her eyes alight. ‘This is wild. I must’ve been to this place damn near a hundred times and I never noticed before.’
The trees arced towards one another, bowing to us as we passed. The Spanish moss hung still, unmoving in the chill night air. I looked up at the interwoven branches and felt an unexpected longing for Catherine’s strong comforting presence. She would know what to say right now, she would know what to do.
‘I really need you to take tonight seriously,’ I told her, shaking my head when she reset her face into a most solemn pout. ‘This is the Wilcuma, it’s part of your initiation.’
She walked onwards without fear, her head tilted back to take in the static trees.
‘Why doesn’t the Becoming have a spooky sounding name?’
‘It does have another name,’ I replied, the knowledge appearing in my mind. ‘The original name for the rite is Weorden but our ancestors chose the Becoming.’
‘Why?’
