A/N: Hello! I would just like to say thank you to you lovely people out there for your patience. Thank you for reading and maintaining interest, even when I take ages to update. A million thanks to my Super-Beta, Nachos$Children, you are a rock star!
Twilight and it's character do not belong to me, however, this plot and a handful of characters do. Lion's Roar belongs to a wonderful group by the name of First Aid Kit. Check them out.
Enjoy!
"This is going to make a splendid story." - Show People, 1928
Noah's POV
One by one, the little witches filed out of their tent and into the dawn after their aunt like ducks in a row - the pink and orange light making them all look more beautiful than usual. Jo was a striking woman; I had had a crush on her once, but my eyes followed the girls, one in particular. They were creamy-skinned and doe-eyed creatures, legends, sirens, as different and fierce as Mother Earth herself, inspiring love, lust, and fear wherever they went. Bella was the worst one.
Jo lead her ducklings through the camp and towards the lake, smiling and wishing me a good morning and happy solstice as she passed me. Dana and Vi looked like zombies, shuffling in their leggings, tank tops, and sandals, yawning, but they nodded in my direction nonetheless. Lila's eyes were half closed as she rubbed the sleep from them, her long brown hair braided and draped over her shoulder. She opened her eyes long enough to make eyes at my brother. Bella brought up the tail of their little procession, eyes wide, alert, but too preoccupied to notice me.
I noticed her though. Her long hair hung freely around her pale shoulders, unlike her cousins. From where I stood, I appreciated the way the sun lit her hair, turning it red in places, the way her shirt inched up as she walked, revealing an intriguing slice of her stomach, and how small her shorts were.
All that skin...
"Noah." Reproach dripped from my brother's voice, even this early in the morning. "Don't."
I ignored him and followed her.
"Noah," she called without looking over her shoulder, her voice a bit raspy because of the night air no doubt...or the singing. Ah, her singing.
"Morning, Beautiful." I smiled, shaking my head and matching my stride with hers. It was impossible to surprise her. I learned that back when we all played Kiss the Witch last summer, so I never tried. As we walked, the back of her hand grazed my forearm, and I felt a zing of pleasure run up my arm and to my heart.
"Are you always up so early, or do you want something?"
"I told you before, I haven't been able to sleep since that kiss. It's all I think about."
She murmured something that sounded like "You don't have to tell me," and my smile grew, remembering how her lips tasted of strawberries. That kiss had been worth the sting of her hand.
"How about you? Did you sleep well last night?" I baited, noticing that her face looked surprisingly refreshed, in spite of her moonlit clandestine meeting with a strange man in the forest. She couldn't have slept much.
Bella stopped suddenly and turned to face me, her brown eyes hard, searching, suspicious. I grinned, rocking back on my heels, waiting for her to pepper me with questions. She didn't. She never did. Instead, she nodded quickly, and ran to catch up with her cousins, hugging the yoga mat closer to her chest as she went.
Well, Noah, you knew it wouldn't be easy.
I continued down the path to the lake, greeting friends as they emerged, sleepy and disheveled, out of their tents and campers to stoke fires, wishing them a happy solstice before venturing through the thin tree line between the camp and the glittering lake. Jo and the girls had walked farther down the lake shore, where they wouldn't be interrupted and were rolling out their mats. I sat myself down on a flat rock a few feet away.
Jo didn't mind me watching, even if Bella did.
As her cousins grumbled about the early morning practice, Bella stared at me, an inscrutable expression on her pretty face. I raised my mug to her, and she looked away, irritated, but not embarrassed. As far as I knew, Bella didn't get embarrassed. Jo called their attention and the talking, grumbling, and yawning stopped. She began their practice with breathing, speaking in a soft and soothing voice. I smiled to myself, hearing my own mother's direction. She held classes, too, only she charged.
"Let the breath flow through you, calm you, anchor you to the earth. Inhale through your nose, down to your center, exhale and let it grow, up your belly and into your ribs and lungs. Bring the breath up and out."
Even in Portola, California, a tiny city on the Middle Fork of the Feather River, by all accounts not a "trendy" place, yoga was catching like a cane field in high wind. It was more than a trend though, it was a way of life. Its roots were deep in Ancient India, mentioned in Vedas, one of the oldest sacred scrolls, my mom had told me. The philosophy was balance, to achieve poise, strength, and control and look at the aspects of life, pleasure and pain, with acceptance and serenity.
While I couldn't immerse myself in the whole yoga thing, I could see why so many were drawn to it, why witches had been practicing for centuries. It was physical, mental, and metaphysical, seeking truth through yoking the body and mind with the universe, the very earth we called mother.
As the practice continued, I could still hear my mom rambling on and on about the eight limbs of yoga. It sounded like gibberish to me.
From my perch, I drank my coffee and watched them move from pose to pose, their limbs flowing like a river, smooth and fluid - well, sort of. Dana wasn't very flexible, but she was trying. Vi wasn't rooted enough to the earth and kept losing her balance, but Lila and Bella were focused and grounded, limber. I could hear Bella's breathing, in and out, and fierce as she moved. In crow pose, with her knees swept on her arms and toes off the ground, her face was soft, almost serene, but the beads of sweat rolling off her and the vein jumping at her temple said different. Through the intensity of the practice her eyes remained closed, her breath steady and body strong, as strong as I suspect her mind was. It was admirable and...pretty damn hot.
When they finished, hands to heart and a soft "Namaste," each girl went their own way. Dana laid down on her mat, her chest heaving and face red. Vi trudged back to the camp, smirking when she passed me and mumbling about jealous imaginary boyfriends. Lila went for a swim after a minute or two in child pose.
"Jo?" I asked as she came towards me with Bella at her elbow. "Do you mind if I borrow Bella for a moment?"
Her face was pink from exertion, damp curls of dark hair were plastered to her temples and down the column of her neck. All at once, I relived that summer where I had been totally infatuated by this woman; heat flooded my face. A inviting smile curled the corner of her lips as she spoke. "Bella's time is her own, Noah. Ask her."
A look passed between them; Bella canted her head to one side, and Jo smiled softly, then turned to me. Sympathy danced in her dark eyes. Before I could reason out what had put it there, it vanished. With a sigh, she touched my shoulder and swept past me, her bare feet snapping twigs in her wake.
"Up for a walk?"
"Sure." Her voice was soft, calm from the practice.
Good, I thought to myself. She'll be more open.
Instead of heading back towards the camp, I led us west, down and along the lakefront. The sun was higher in the sky now, bright and hot and shining on the water. All around us, through the web-like lattice of tree boughs and limbs, mountains, green and brown, rose. After a while, the shore gave way to forest. The local flora bloomed here and there, ripe with color. Shadow Lake was, despite it's somewhat ominous name, a serene spot to spend a summer. We walked for a while without saying a word. I suspected she was letting me lead the conversation, but then again, Bella wasn't one for conversation.
She prefered to observe, to listen. We first met when she was ten, on All Hallow's Eve. She said nothing, sat in Jo's wicker hanging chair on the porch with her face in her hands, watching the festivities, her eyes were wide and haunting. I liked her then and there, I guess one could say she bewitched me. Her reluctance to talk only made me more curious about Cecilia's found-again daughter.
She was older now, almost fourteen - a young lady more than a child, if she ever was one. She still had moments where she'd clam up and refuse to speak, but they were rare these days. She could be tart-tongued and sarcastic if pushed, but most of the words from her lips were sweet, reserved, and innocent.
"Bella," I started, clearing my throat. "I saw you this morning, in the woods."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered calmly, without betraying herself. I almost believed her.
"Yes, you do. I saw you."
I hadn't been able to sleep after the night we spent in their tent. I could still hear the melody her fingers drew from Nik's old guitar and the lyrics her and Lila sang in perfect harmony floating around my head. My mom and uncles had gone to bed, and Nate was lying in the hammock hanging between two towering red pines, sleeping. It was 3:00 in the morning when I heard the voices. I couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but in the stillness of early morning they were enough to get my attention. I got up and followed.
It felt like I walked for miles in darkness and then, in the space between trees, I saw her - pale as the moon, her black cat on the ground hissing like a snake, and a man with his hands on Bella's arms. I was far enough to be hidden, but close enough to hear him. His voice was sharp, cold, and though I couldn't see his face, I imagined it was twisted with anger and desperation. My instinct was to protect her; I had almost ran to her, but then she…moved him. I didn't see how, but in my heart I knew.
Magic.
In world slowly being leeched of magic, evidence of it was rare. Even in the old days, the woman of her family were infamous for potent gifts and powers that surpassed us all. Through the years as other families fell to watered down thimbles of magic or none at all, hers remained strong. Her aunts and mother had been powerful witches before they were murdered. We had all assumed that their children, or what was left of their children: Dana, Viola, Lila, and Bella, were like all of us, with vague inclinations of power that never materialized and unexplained feelings. The weak ones were always spared. We were wrong.
"Good," the man had growled, laughing gruffly. "Very good, little one…That is the witch I know."
"But how do you know me? I don't know you."
"Now is not the time. You must remember what I have told you, dear. Remember it, watch and wait; the signs will be there. Be careful who you trust."
Bella gasped beside me and grabbed my arm. Her eyes were swimming with fear, and where our skin touched, I felt a zap, like a static shock, only much sharper, stronger.
"What the hell was that?" I demanded, pulling my arm back and away from her.
Yoga had brought peace to her features, but that was all gone now. Her brows knitted together, and her lips trembled as she spoke. "I'm sorry…please…d-don't tell anyone. I-It was an accident."
"Hey, honey," I smiled and held out my arm for her inspection, hoping that once she saw that I wasn't injured, she'd stop tearing up, stop apologizing. "I'm fine, no harm no foul. What was that though? It felt…strong."
I knew she different; I knew she wasn't like the rest of us!
Instead of stopping the tears, I made them worse somehow. Fat tears fell from her dark lashes and rolled down her face, wetting her shirt. I moved to touch her, wipe them from her flushed cheeks, but she took a step back. First one, then another, distancing herself from me.
"Please don't tell anyone. Noah, please," she begged.
"Bella…what's going on? Who was that man?" I couldn't understand what was wrong, why she was begging me to keep her secret. What was the big deal?
"Of course you don't understand! How could you possibly understand? You don't know what it's like…none of you do!" she shouted, breathing hard, scrubbing the tears away with the back of her hand. For no reason at all, I felt frustrated, scared and hurt. I shook my head; it was damn confusing. "Please, Noah, don't say anything about what you saw. Or what I did."
"Wait, how did you do that? I didn't…didn't say that! I…" My thoughts were dulled, scattered. Thoughts...
Thoughts!
Shit.
It dawned on me then, the more I turned it over in my head the more sense it made. She heard me think it. She was answering my thoughts. Like Jo. Like her mom. Like those before her. One look at her, and I knew I was right. She heard me; that wasn't normal. It wasn't common, not these days.
The air rippled, and I felt a surge of anger pierce through my heart like a knife, before my own disbelief and shock came back.
"That was you," I breathed, putting one hand to my heart-it was racing. The stories were true then. I gaped at her, a few feet away, hands fisted at her sides, lashes wet and eyes hard as stones. "You heard...me."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head.
"These are your emotions, not mine."
"No," she insisted.
"Yes!" I returned, with conviction."Holy shit, you can actually…Wow! What else can you do? Do you know what this means, Bella?" I rushed over to her, and this time she didn't retreat. Lifting her hand to my face, I held it there, enjoying the tingle her fingers left on my skin. "What can you see? Can you show me things? The stories, they're all true."
"Noah, stop."
"We need to tell everyone. Bella!"
"No!" Angrily she ripped her hand out of my grasp. The shock that she gave me that time was painful, and left a red mark across my forearm. "I'm not some circus freak in a side show. I don't want them ogling at me, poking and prodding to see what little Bella can do." In a much smaller voice she said, "I'm not different; I'm just like all of you. I fit here."
I felt like an ass then. We all knew what it felt like to be outsiders. People instinctually shied away from us, whether for self-preservation or a deeply ingrained prejudice, I couldn't be sure. Some were openly hateful. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be an outsider with your own kind.
"I fit here, Noah." Her voice was convincing, but I couldn't tell who she was trying to convince. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her to my chest, inhaling the soft scent of Nag Champa in her hair.
"Honey, I didn't mean it that way. You are different than us, but that's not a bad thing. Think about it, this changes so many things!"
"Are you stupid or naive?" she spat, shoving my chest hard. The irony of a thirteen year old calling me naive was too much. I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off. "Think about it for a second! Take a look at the people we know and trust, the people here. Sure, they're like family now; we're a community now, but what do you think would happen if it was me or their children, their wives...husbands. If it was my life or theirs, who would they choose? Who would you choose, Noah?"
Be careful who you trust, the man had told her, and I could see that she was already taking his warning to heart.
For a long time, she didn't say anything, she only watched me, her eyes sad and full of secrets. Her gaze went right through me, like an axe through wood as I let her words sink in. I wanted to argue with her, to tell her that she would be protected, but I knew better. History was on her side. When she spoke, I heard fear.
"No one can know. Please, Noah."
I nodded, promising to keep her secrets because I would do anything for her. I would choose you, Bella, I thought. She left me without a word.
xXXx
The rest of the day, while celebrations raged, I thought about the stories I grew up with: Josephin and the Dark Man, The Half-Breed Hunters, Wailing Witch, The Vicar's son and The Witch, Aaron, seeing them in a different light. They were true, really true. Of course we were brought up with a healthy belief in the mystical, in myth and lore-shit, we came from that ilk, every last one of us and myths were only just stories grown old, but...it was jarring to suddenly have walking, talking proof.
Night fell and fires broke out, logs were added to the roaring bonfire in the center of camp, and the smell of flowers, incense, and food mixed together sweetly. Nate was off with Lila, and I hadn't seen Bella rest of the day, though I suspected she joined the festivities. Dana and Vi floated around, like bees in a meadow, flowers in their hair, in thin white dresses that would have been virginal if they weren't so short. I avoided them, as Bella no doubt avoided me.
Closer to the bonfire, Nanna Cora sat with the children around her, the fire dancing and lighting their young faces as they learned their history. As they drank up a story about spirits battled on the solstice a hundred years ago and the woman that stood alone against the devil, I thought of Bella. The woman, Myra, was her family, generations and generations in the past, but there was a likeness there. She, too, was a rare one, a child born of war and strengthened by pain.
I knew of Bella's past. We all knew of her mother and the family that was taken from her. My dad and her's were friends - so close they were that they named one of their sons after each other. I had played with her brothers - George, Nate, and I were close in age. Then there were the aunts and uncles, the cousins... We all lost people, loved ones, friends, family. So much pain...and death.
How much more would come? I asked myself.
I looked around at the people, our people, laughing and enjoying themselves, only truly free among friends. What would they do to be spared, to live? The thought came to me unbidden, a product of Bella's questions. Once the doubt took root, I couldn't pull it out and every face was given a second look.
Almost eight years had passed since the Silent War, as we all called it. It died as quickly as it had started, but I wasn't fooled by the peace, by the lull. Something was brewing. I could feel it in my bones.
There was a time when our kind didn't hide, when we weren't demonized. That was before the Purge, before our women were hunted and burned and tortured, before the trials, before the half-breed hunters. Bella could change it all.
"The girls are going to start any moment," Nate said, dragging my thoughts away from the melancholy. "Lila says they wrote a song together. I can't wait to hear it, maybe later we can play with them."
My brother was usually on the quiet side, but tonight he was in rare form. Lila did that to him, even when we were all kids she brought his emotions and thoughts to the surface for some much needed air. She made him bold. He made her optimistic.
"Sounds like a plan. Have a good time with Lila, did we?"
His face turned red, and a shy but pleased smile spread across his narrow face. "It's only been a couple of months since I saw her, but...I like being around her."
"Yeah, I can see that," I laughed and clapped him on the back. "Let's go, before you start to go through withdrawls."
"Like you're any better. I see the way you look at Bella."
I said nothing but smiled all the same.
Friends had already started to gather around the red tent where Nik had thrown up a low stage. Jo sat in the front on a log with my mom on one side and Joan, Soleil's mom, on the other, smiling lovingly as Nik held his violin to his chin. Without wood, the fire would die, I'd once heard my mother say about Jo and Nik, and their fire will burn forever. It was easy to see why. While he played some wild gypsy tune, I looked for Bella in the crowd of painted faces and crowned heads. Friends smiled back at me, but not her, and then, standing off to the side, leaning against the redwood, I saw her.
She was wearing a halter top with long multi colored tails of yarn worked at the hem, that left her back and scar on display without an ounce of shame. A skirt, soft and green, was wrapped around her hips and grazed her ankles. Her hair looked wild, wavier than I had ever seen it, braided in places and threaded with white flowers. The warmth of the fire and the day had left her skin flush and pink where the sun had kissed it. She looked like a different girl to me, still beautiful, but in an unearthly way. Maybe it was what I had learned, what I now knew about her.
How did she do it? I wondered to myself. Smile and act like everything was fine when really she was bubbling up with power from the top of her head to her slim toes? How did she hear, see, and feel everything and not want to scream? I had only been in the know for a day and my mind was running away. How did she keep such a huge secret?
While her uncle's song climbed higher and higher, twisting and wailing, my eyes fell to her lips, pink and plump.
Damn! What I wouldn't give to taste those lips again.
Her eyes cut to mine, hearing my thoughts no doubt. I smiled in her direction, wondering if she could turn it off or if she had always heard my thoughts.
You can't hold them against me, honey.
Her head shook in annoyance, but I saw a tiny smile playing in the corner of her mouth.
Lila and Bella walked up on the stage after Nik finished his song, each girl kissing their uncle before he hopped down. He joined his wife on the log and looked up at the girls with pride; he was their teacher, and his face said it all. I felt a prick of envy. Nik didn't father them, but he took them in, loved them as his own, which was more than I could say for my own dad.
"Umm...Bella and I wrote this together. Hope you enjoy it."
The guitar was old and too big for Bella, but the strap anchored it to her body. Lila stood beside her holding her mandolin, clad in a dress I imagine must have belonged to her mother, unearthed from some chest buried in the attics at home. Their fingers were poised over strings, eyes closed. Lila began first, plucking, strumming a progression of Em, G, D, Em. Bella followed, playing the same chords.
She opened her eyes and stared out at her crowd, her voice, though young, rang out from another decade, mythical and folky - like an enchanted Emmylou Harris. Her fingers moved, plucked, and strummed, over the same chords, slow and hypnotic.
Now the pale morning sings of forgotten things
She plays a tune for those who wish to overlook
The fact that they've been blindly deceived
By those who preach and pray and teach
But she falls short and the night explodes in laughter
Lila joined the verse, adding a deeper and throaty sound to the song, while the voice of her lute mated with the guitar's.
But don't you come here and say I didn't warn you
About the way your world can alter
And oh how you try to command it all still
Every single time it all shifts one way or the other
Together, the girls sang in sync in every way as they added a new C chord to the others. Their eyes slid closed at the same time, singing with conviction.
And I'm a goddamn coward, but then again so are you
And the lion's roar, the lion's roar
Has me evading and hollering for you
And I never really knew what to do
Again they plucked out the same chords that opened the song, stronger now, and braver.
Well I guess sometimes I wish you were a little more predictable
That I could read you just like a book
For now I can only guess what's coming next
By examining your timid smile
And the ways of the old, old winds blowing you back 'round
I smiled thinking of my brother, knowing which words belonged to which witch. That second verse was all Lila, and she sang it alone while Bella played, joining her at the chorus.
And I'm a goddamn fool, but then again so are you
And the lion's roar, the lion's roar
Has me seeking out and searching for you
And I never really knew what to do
My fingers itched for my guitar as I knew Nate's must have been aching for his banjo, as they played a strong and arresting bridge. Lila's chords chased Bella's, nipping at their heels until they blended seamlessly. I had the sudden urge to look around, to see if everyone else was as enchanted as I was. The crowd had grown, and the only sound that dared join the girls was that of the fire, cracking and spitting, which somehow seemed to be part of the song.
Lila's mandolin took the tune as Bella's fingers stilled, resting softly over the stings, her guitar falling silent. Her eyes opened and bore into mine, deep and brown and glowing in the light. I could feel desperation, longing...pain and love, and knew that they were hers. When she sang the words, I found myself asking who she wrote them words for. I knew they weren't for me.
Sometimes I wish I could find my Rose Mary Hill
I'd sit there and look at the deserted lakes and I'd sing
And every once in awhile I'd sing a song for you
That would rise above the mountains and the stars and the sea
And if I waannt-ed it to it would lead you back to me
The instruments softened almost to a whisper as their masters played them lightly. Again their voice joined, the high and low pitches woven in together like a melodic tapestry.
And the lion's roar, the lion's roar
Is something that I have heard before
A children's tale, the lonesome wail
of a lion's roar
I watched in stunned silence as they bowed their heads humbly, flushing with pleasure at the deafening applause and wolf whistles. Nanna Cora hobbled up on stage and kissed the girls, announcing that it was time to cast our wishes into the fire. The crowd moved then, dispersed and went off to gather around the bonfire in a flurry of muted tie-dye, paisley, denim, naked chests and flowers, both real and painted, bay leaves in hands and smiles on their faces. I followed, sort of numb to it all, as I realized for the first time with a painful pang that someone else had Bella's heart.
I wanted it. Mine was hers, completely.
Nanna Cora and the other elders were talking, chanting the old songs, but I didn't pay attention. Bodies swayed and moved, jostling me where I stood. Some shed their clothing and began dancing in lazy undulations. The heat of the fire washed over my face as I took out my leaf from my pocket. Bella's name was written on it - she was my wish. The flames threw it into relief, shadows danced and played, swallowing her name one moment then giving it back the next. I wondered if this was some sort of omen.
Across the bonfire, I found her. She stood with her cousins, eyes downcast at the leaf in her hand. As I watched she brought it to her lips, kissing it like I had kissed her once, and threw into the fire. When she looked up, our eyes met, though hers were clouded and far away.
Whose name was written on that waxy green surface? What did she wish for so desperately?
"She isn't meant for you, Noah," an unmistakable voice whispered behind me, low and raspy. I turned and there was the sympathy again. Jo laid a comforting hand on my arm; I twitched in response. "You'll only find rejection on that path. I'd tell you not to go down it, but..."
The stories are true, I thought. Jealousy rose in my throat, thick and bitter, and I jerked away from Jo's hand. I was already halfway down that path; it was too late to turn back now, and she knew it. I looked down at the leaf again, her name bold and black against the green, and tossed it into the fire with conviction.
"Stories can be rewritten."
A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Till next time...
XX
Autumn