Family Reunion: What A Bitch
Chapter 3
By: Killing Frost

AN: The last chapter was kind of short, I know, but this time I'm going to try making it longer. It's still in the past, only not so far back. We're basically going to be following Mealla in this part, and seeing things through her eyes, so enjoy.

P.S.- In regards to a certain review the answer to your question is Aiden didn't want Meriel to take Mealla, because she was his child. She already had two of them, she couldn't be given the third. It wasn't anything personal on Mell's behalf or prophetic in the least. It was just a father not wanting to have his last child taken from him.

P.P.S.- What the hell is a 'Morgan's Moment'? That has been bugging me forever! What is it? Someone please tell me before I go *insane*!

Disclaimer: Usual ones apply.

Time: (Again) 9 Years Later

Place: Still Somewhere in Northern Ireland

Ages: Mealla-14
Bran-14
Aiden-36
Others- Who cares? They're not in this scene!


*Mealla's POV*

I absolutely could not believe it. It was *finally* (after years upon years of waiting) my initiation. I was nearly giddy with the thought. All my years of studying and hard work and putting up with people telling me what to do and how to do it were almost done. I could finally study on my own, learn what I wanted to, use my magick the way I dictated it.

My father wanted me to join his coven. My answer to that was hell no. I intended to tell him tonight, after the ceremony. I knew he was going to be disappointed; he wanted me to take over after him. Be high priestess to the Kier coven, but I couldn't. It went against my natural morals and ethics.

Kier was what the Council referred to as a 'dark' coven. (Funny thing is 'kier' actually means 'dark' in Celtic Gaelic.) Evil, wrong, whatever you want to call it. Point blank, they practiced arts that the Council had forbidden. Not that the Council knew they even existed. Kier was a secret coven. Totally and completely. Members were only brought in exclusively, unlike Amyranth and Turneval, who practically held up signs saying, "Hello! We practice the dark arts! Please turn us in!" Dipshits.

Bran was shocked to say the least. Angry, too, but after a bit he seemed to accept it. Bran was my nearest and dearest friend, sometimes I would think we were more than that, but...Oh! I give up! Explaining our relationship was too hard for words. We were more than girlfriend and boyfriend, more than friends. Our relationship seemed to transcend all those labels and become just one shining, glorious thing.

I'd known Bran for years. He'd already had his initiation a few months back, so he didn't have anything to worry about. He understood me and what I wanted and I suppose, what I needed. I was a fighter by nature, but I am not one to go against a group as powerful as the Council. (At least they would be powerful if they would work as a team, instead of getting everybody else to do the work for them.) I was not about to live my life in secret. It was either going to be an open book, or it would not be happening.

So I finished getting ready. When I was done I was wearing my black robe, my hair long and brushed out, and barefoot. My robe was something I'd gotten for my birthday last year from my da, made of some soft material. For just what it was used for it was cut rather extravagantly with a scooping neckline and a flowing bottom, tied with a silver cord around the waist.

My violet eyes shone amidst all the darkness, and the red in my hair suddenly stood out sharply. I felt really magicky just then, sort of glowing and crackling with energy. Like lightning. Yes, I would be strong and tell my father to shove it up his ass. Then maybe later I could sneak off and see Bran for a bit. Our parents seemed to be limiting our interaction lately. I would say a few choice words about now, but that's not lady-like.

I shook my head and started off downstairs, trying to quell the nervous butterflies in my stomach. Bran had said there was nothing to it, I reminded myself. When I got onto the first floor I automatically knew that I was the only person in the house. My father's vibrations- intense, commanding, and abrupt- were not inside the house. I looked outside the window, saw a few familiar vehicles, and knew they were all back in the woods, out by the cliffside.

That was where we held most of our circles, except for the occasional one held at somebody else's house. But if we wanted a powerful circle we went to the woods. That area held intoxicating, mind-numbing magick in it. It was wonderful for spell-casting and healing. Not so much meditation though. It wasn't a peaceful place. More angry and intense, like my da.

I walked through the crisp woods, feeling wrapped in their protection, and followed a line of juniper plants. Their scent was heady, permeating the air, but I could still make out the smell of burning wick and incense carried on the breeze. Through a break in the foliage I could see nearly thirty people gathered 'round the altar. Tiki torches lit the area, allowing me to see my father standing with his backside to the cliff and the waters. For a moment he looked dark and terrifying, but I shook it off as only my imagination.

I stepped into the clearing and heads swivelled to stare at me. I was a bit unnerved. I mean, was there something wrong with me? Was I in a zoo on display? I saw Bran standing to my right, looking quite gorgey in his robe, which was a beautiful silver-grey color, like that of a wolf. Although I knew that the wolf was not his form when he was changed.

No, he was a different type of predator. He was a leopard- a snow leopard to be exact. Myself, I was a leopard too, but a different type. I was a black panther. We were now at that point in our lives where we had spent so much time in animal form that we no longer needed to use the spell. We could will the change to ourselves. Now I know that was another Council no-no, but give me a break! I grew up in *this* coven- what do you expect?!

He smiled at me as I moved past, and I knew what he was saying just by that. He was telling me to relax, that everything would be just fine. I thanked the Goddess for sending me Bran, one who knew and loved me just the way I was. I smiled back at him and nodded my head slightly.

Slowly I made my way up to the altar, which was really just three thick slabs of obsidian put together. I saw out of the corner of my eye Lanen McDougal, circling us with his wand as his wife, Claudette McDougal, sprinkled salt around us to purify the circle.

The McDougals were my second-favorite family next to Bran's. They were sweet and wise, totally at odds with the type of magick they practiced. Lanen was an old friend of da's back from college. He had gone on afterwards to study in France, where he had met Claudette, who was waitressing and lounge singing at the time. They soon had their wedding, which father attended, and came back here to live. I'd almost say they were the nicest people I'd ever met.

I remembered one Saturday afternoon a few summers ago. I'd just popped over at the McDougal's home for an impromptu visit. They'd offered me tea, and sat and talked with me about different thing. My schooling, magick, philosophy, a great play that the entire coven had gone to see last week. Lanen went off to work on his car then, an old 1961 Impala, and Claudette started to garden. She offered me a pair of gloves and a small shovel, then set to work. It had been a most wondrous evening indeed.

I focused on my father- his tall, imposing stature, the thick graying brown hair, his almost-black eyes- and began to listen as he started the circle and my initiation. He spoke in a loud, clear voice, beckoning us to the magick, to the Earth, to the Mother.

Then he began to question me. Question after question, answer after answer. I found myself thinking that I wasn't nervous anymore. In fact I was quite...empty. There was no thought, no emotion involved, just instinct. There were no options, you answered regardless, whether you truly knew it or not.

When he held up the athame and dared me to step forward I almost smiled. In my mind I found myself thinking, you arrogant fool. I stepped forward and...nothing. It was like I passed right through it, into nothing. They were all just air, shadows, and I was real. I was true substance, true power, and they were nothing to me.

After that everything was sort of anti-climatic. People clapped and cheered for me, smiling and happy. The circle was broken up and we went back to the house, where the celebration began. We drank and danced, laughed and shouted. While that went on I went upstairs and put on some real clothes. Street clothes. Just cut-off denim shorts and a yellow tank top. Who needed shoes in their own home?
I was walking down the hall to return back to the party when someone swept me into a side hallway with an arm banded across my waist. I turned quickly and smiled. "Bran," I began in a mock-scathing voice, "You nearly scared me half to death!" I slapped his chest playfully. "Sorry," He said, even though he didn't sound sorry at all, or look it for that matter. He leaned in for a kiss, but made it brief since we didn't want anyone catching us.

"You were great up there," He began with a smile, "I was so proud of you. You just marched up there and flew through it all like it was as easy as having afternoon tea." I was pleased by the compliment, but just modestly said, "Thank you." Nobody likes a bragger. "And you looked beautiful..." He murmured before he kissed me again. This time it was a bit longer, more involved, but when someone slammed a door downstairs we both jumped and broke apart.

I was blushing because I'd gotten so jumpy over nothing. He wasn't. He was just smiling that little mischievious smile that meant he had something up his sleeve. "What is it?" I asked darkly. I didn't want to get in any trouble tonight. "Nothing, I just wanted to give you something." You've already given me so much. I wanted to say it, but I didn't. I didn't say it, I didn't send it, but I had a feeling he heard it somehow, because he leaned down and kissed me again, lingering, loving, heated.

When we pulled away breathless he brought his hand out from behind his back and said a breathy 'tada.' In his hand was a jewelry box. Not small enough for a ring (thank the Goddess), not long enough for a bracelet. "Go ahead, open it." He encouraged with the look of an excited child on his face. Hesitantly I took the box from him and flipped the top. I gasped in shock and wonder.

In it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I'd ever seen. It wasn't heavily laden with jewels, wasn't carved extravagantly, wasn't brightly colored. It was simple, plain even, but so beautiful and artistic in its simplicity. Delicate gold links formed a thin chain, and on it dangled a golden heart locket. I noticed it had been done custom because you could only get an engraved pentacle in something by getting it custom. Inside the locket there was a small poem, metaphorically speaking about love. On the other side was an inscription which said 'To Mell. Love always, Bran.' I just about melted onto the carpet.

"Oh Bran, it's beautiful." I said, turning up wide eyes at him. "No," He murmured, stepping close and grabbing the necklace, "You are." He clasped it around my neck and stepped back again. I felt so full of emotion I was scared to speak for fear that I would say something terribly mushy and romantic and corny and...well you get the picture. So I just stared at him, into his beautiful stormy gray eyes, and tried to tell him without words how much he meant to me.

"Mealla!" I heard my father call up the stairs, "Are you coming down?" Snapping out of my stupor I called back, "Yeah, da! In a minute!" To Bran I murmured, "Sorry, hun. Gotta go." He looked at me and smiled. "I know." I spun around and went downstairs, sort of mad, sort of grateful for the interruption. I knew that if allowed, I would've stayed like that all night.

On my way I grabbed a huge goblet of wine and slammed it down. Social functions always made me like that. I had to be under the influence of something or I couldn't deal. I've been thinking about getting tested for SAD. (Social Anxiety Disorder.)

Later on we said ta to everybody, including Bran, who had asked my father if he could spend the night and been terribly rejected. Only Bran would actually have the audacity to do that. It's one of the things I loved about him...and hated. After they all split I got stuck with garbage pick-up duty. My da got to wash the fucking dishes and take care of the food. Damn him!

Thirty minutes and two garbage bags later I was done. (We had a big house.) On my way back into the kitchen my father stopped me. Apparently he was done with the dishes. "Did you have fun tonight?" He asked with a deceptively warm smile. I flashed my own smile and said, "Yes, Daddy," even though I hadn't had that much fun. I would've rather spent the eve with Bran. Of course, what I want didn't matter. Ever.

"So sweetie, are you excited?" My father asked. He was asking a lot of questions tonight. I didn't like that. I was clueless as to what I was supposed to be excited about, so I said, "About what?"

"About your Initiation! Now you can officially join the coven and in a few years you can take over as high priestess!" He was smiling broadly by the time he finished saying this. I wasn't.

"Dad," I began carefully; it was now or never, "At this time in my life, I don't feel that Kier is the best place for me to be." As I said these words his face clouded over with the beginnings of anger. "I mean, I'm new to all of this. I don't want to be doing anything illegal just yet." Okay, so I was trying to spare his feelings. Argue the voice of reason. I didn't want him to get all pissy at me.

He looked at me with this strange expression on his face. "You are your mother's child. Even after all these years...she still has a stronger hold on you than I do." It sounded like he was disappointed...or maybe sad? Suddenly he looked me in the eye. "Honey, you know that I love you, but after this I just...You can't be trusted. You know our secrecy is everything to us. So, I'm sorry, but you cannot live anymore."

I was confused. What did he mean, was he going to...? Just then I sensed his power build and he started making sigils in the air. One for speed, another for death, one more for silence. Quickly I built up my power and started counteracting the sigils with ones of my own. For protection, life, joy, happiness, and longevity. I built these into a wall, a fortress without windows or doors in my mind with me locked away in the center. I visualized it in my mind and knew it was happening. I was counteracting my father's spell.

He started throwing witch fire at me in the form of small circles about the size of golf balls. They brushed off of me like air, doing no harm to me at all, and dissipating back to wherever they came from. For a second I felt a crack in my shield, but quickly patched it up. My agility was starting to fail me, I couldn't keep this up for much longer. I had to get out of there. Stumbling, I groped for the car keys to the Lexus and ran. I felt my father moving after me, like some dark cloud. I saw my feet moving in and out of my view first on wood, then on cement, then I was in the car.

The keys were in the ignition before I knew it and soon I was gone. I know I wasn't supposed to be driving. Some law about being sixteen...pfh. Whatever. I kept driving until I was on route 17. With a shock I realized I was going to Bran's house. Bran?! What was he going to do for me? How could he help? He'd already accepted position within the coven. Oh, well, I thought with a mental shrug, what can it hurt? So I sent him a witch message. Think of it like a mental AIM.

*Bran? Bran!?* I didn't mean to come off so panicked, but hey, I was.

*Mell? What's the matter?* His mental voice was alert, like he'd been up and thinking.

*I need help,* I cried desperately. I felt his sorrow even before he said anything.

*Oh Maella...Does this have to do with refusing the coven position?*

*You know it does. Don't even fake it.* There was a thread of anger to my mind-voice. It was better than panic.

*...I can't help you. You know that Mell. Once the coven leader has declared someone to be our enemy, that's it. I'd be jeopardizing my own posititon within the coven. I just can't do that.* His mind-voice was filled with such sorrow it was unbearable. Sorrow and loss.

Bran spoke again before I could say anything. *But I mean, he's your father. He's not going to do anything permanently harmful to you.*

*Bran,* I began patiently, *He tried to kill me. He used runes for speed, silence, and death. He was trying to kill me on the spot. I just barely got out.*

I felt him weighing this, felt him decide, and I felt a part of my heart break. I'd always known it would come to this. My best friend and rival was choosing his power over me.

*I can't Mell. From now on...you're our enemy.*

Sad, disappointed, and pissed off, I broke the connection and locked him out just in case. I pulled back onto the road with dry eyes. I would not cry. I would never cry. To give them even that little of a victory over me would be too much.

Where was I going to go? All the people that I ever knew were in the coven, and they were now *all* my enemies. Potential threats.


What about your mother? Don't you know her? Part of me asked. Yes, I thought, pleased with my own idea. After making it out far enough that no one would sense me I pulled into an old gas station and sat there on park with the engine still running. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out one of the dearest things I own.

I stared at the worn, crinkled photograph, old and outdated, but it would do. I just needed it for a moment. Clutching it tightly in one hand I used the other to adjust the rearview mirror so I could see myself. Almost automatically I fell into meditation. I pictured my mother just as she was in the photograph, waking me up early Sunday morning for chocolate chip pancakes and cinnamon-sugar toast. The scene appeared in the mirror, then I thought, show me my mother *now.*
The scene changed into one where she was sitting at a dressing table, brushing out her now-shoulder length, layered hair. There was a deep blue motiffed bed behind her and on it was a man, still fully dressed with dusky blond hair and cornflower blue eyes. He looked about thirty something.

Suddenly Meriel's eyes flashed up to look in the mirror and those electric blue eyes widened for a moment. "Maella..." She breathed. "What?" The man behind her asked questioningly. She ignored him and focused on the mirror. "Maella...my child..."

I was running out of energy fast. With the spells performed earlier and with now I was tired. I couldn't do that much magick that rapidly. I figured I had enough time to say a few words. "Mom...help," I ground out desperately between clenched teeth. I could feel someone swiping at the psychic 'nothing-bubble' I'd put up. "Witch message." With those words I broke the connection.

I let my head droop against the seat. I realized that I was sweating hard. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain, and looked down at my hands. My nails had accidentally pierced the skin, I'd clenched my hands so tight.Tiny red droplets welled in the palms of my hands, staying there like some dark stain. At least that's what it looked like at night. For some reason the sight of blood pleased me, like it represented how I was feeling inside.

I had to get going. I had to move. Staying put would get you killed. I had to keep going. I pulled back onto the highway and started away from there. Blood was smeared on the nice, leather-covered steering wheel. I didn't care. I just cared about getting away.

*Maella?* A voice said, reaching out to me, a tentative brush of the mind.

*Mom? Mom, is that you??* Again I was panicked. And exuberant, strangely enough.

*Yes, baby, it's me. What's wrong, honey?* Her voice was soothing like water running over stone.

*Dad, he-* I broke off. The thought was too painful, but I had to get it out there. *He tried to kill me. He's after me!* The last came out strained and scared.

*Where are you?* She asked immediately. I knew she would help. I knew she would.

*Route 17.*

*Okay, listen very carefully. I want you to take that until you hit highway 374. Take that all the way down the coastline past Deer Knoll, and into Laramy's Kiln. The address is 1782 Redbrick Lane. I'll set up a signal beacon. Just put out your senses for it. I'll be waiting.*

*That'll take me a few hours.* I said, apprehensive about being on the road for so long.

*I know. You'll be fine.* I felt the undercurrent of unsureness in that last remark.

*Okay. See you when I get there.* We broke off the connection, and despite my exhaustion and fear, I was still sort of glad. I was going to see my mom again. After umpteenmillion years... What would it be like? Would my brothers be there? Who was that man?

I shrugged it all off and decided to deal with that when I came to it. I had too much to deal with as it was. So I drove. For hours and hours I drove. My eyelids were drooping by the time I saw the sign that said, "Welcome to Laramy's Kiln."

I cast out my senses and felt a tug ahead of me. So I went straight. I bypassed almost the whole town by the time the tugging switched and went left. So I turned left. Then straight for a few blocks. Then right. I was on Redbrick Lane. My magesight had long kicked in (there is a god!) enabling me to actually read the sign. Numbers flew by, until I reached a cul de sac. At the end of the cul de sac was a very large house that said '1782.'

Pulling into the driveway, I cut the ignition. As I got out, the front door flung open and a woman came flying outside. Meriel stopped in front of the Lexus, breathing hard. The face was the same except for a few wrinkles. There were a few threads of grey running through otherwise-flawless red hair. We both looked at each other. There was complete silence.

Suddenly a cool breeze whipped past us and I shivered. It was then I realized that I was still in only shorts and a tank top, and barefoot. No wonder my feet were cold. Suddenly I started laughing. Hysterical laughter that only comes when you're in a crisis.

"What? What is it?" My mother (!) asked curiously.

Between bouts of insane laughter I managed to get out, "I just realized-I've been driving all this way-with no shoes on!!"

We locked eyes, then she started laughing too.

And that was how I spent my first night with my mother in nine years. Laughing hysterically.
_____________
AN: Well, that's it for this chapter. There's more though! This is *not* the end. I hope you liked it. God, it took me forever to write this. Um...the next part will probably be in Maella's POV too, unless I do 3rd person and have it Maella-centered. Um..it depends on what mood I'm in. Please review. Don't make me beg. = (

AAN: A 'nothing-bubble' is an idea that I got from another book series called the Black Jewels Trilogy. Only slightly modified. Here it's like putting up a shield that sends out the message, 'There's nothing here. Move on. Just emptiness...etc., etc.' That sort of thing. I think you get the point. Basically it's designed to subtly blank a person's mind on whatever it is their psychically inspecting, in this case, Maella.