[Dudes, turned out I got the new chap done pretty soon! Ok, like I said, gonna move the story along and not gonna babble, so...]
Giomanach is here. And his little lap-dog of a cousin, Athar. Urgh, why didn't we just finish him in Francisco!? When Mum told me that we would be spending Samhain with Neimhidh and his family (including various other MacEwan's) I told her, it would be the perfect oppurtunity to finish the job, that even if the council did somehow catch on then we would be no where in sight by the time they got another Wiccan Mulder-and-Scully to the states. But no, she had her own agenda, said that, "It wasn't yet time,". I wonder how her head works sometimes.
As for Hunter, he's been pestering Morgan. She burst into the house today with her idiot brother in tow, looking as if she had seen a ghost. It made me want to raise a Taibhs right there and laugh when I felt his heart pound its last.
I feel it's time to take this situation into my own hands, no matter what my plotting Mother says. Though what I suspect she has in mind for us all, could well finish this all.
-Sgath
"I think we should all go down to the village for dinner tonight," Dad stated abruptly, at near noon on Wednesday lunchtime.
Me and my Mother's faces both looked up from our pork pies and salad, surprised. Dad? Wanting to mingle with the Wiccan commoners of Barra Head? 'What have you put in these pies?' I sent to her. She barely consealed a grin. "Why's that then, love?"
"Fancied a change," He replied evenly, "No offence to your cooking." She lowered a perfect scarlet eyebrow at him playfully.
"Well," Selene started, putting her cutlery down with a flourish, "I think it's a superb idea! Cal and I hoped to enjoy some good British quisine." All eyes turned to Cal.
"Oh yeah," He said, "Steak and Kidney, who could resist?"
I turned back to my salad, rolling the lettuce round and round on my fork. Well, it would be nice to get out of the house. But also, while inside the house it is less likely that I would run into the seeker and possibly another moment, especially if my parents and Cal would be there. I had been up most of the night, think about and dreading another 'situation' with him, and daring myself to tell Da that there was a Seeker in the village. But I knew what that would lead to. And, if I would ever be anything to him, I wouldn't be his murderer.
After lunch I started up the stairs to my room. If ever I needed some time to meditate, it was now. Someone tapped my shoulder. "What!" I cried, irratably. I turned round to see Killian looking struck and kind of hurt.
"Whoa, if it's that time of the month, at least you could have put a warning sign up." He started walking away.
I watched him walk back into the parlour. I felt a pang of guilt creep up on me, but I pushed it back down. I had enough to think about without over-sensitive family members laying trips on me.
I got up to my room and sat down in one of my favourite meditative positions, one that had never failed to relieve my stress and restore perspective. It involved lots of crossed limbs and loose shoulders. Just what I needed. Only I couldn't sit still. If my blanket wasn't creased under me then it was too light for me to keep my eyes closed. "Dammit", I swore in frustration. What else could I do?
My eyes fell on the faded chalk circles on my bedroom floor, like scars on my carpet. Within a minute I had fetched out my athame and numberous candles, my pine box alter and velvet cloth and all the other items the spell. I hesitated picking up the beautiful ruby and obsidien athame that Dad had bought me just for rituals of this kind at my initiation. See, this spell is known for its accuracy, but the catch is, it involves blood letting. Only a small amount but still it makes it officially 'dark', at least according to the council. I smiled. It seemed ironic that I would use a 'dark' spell to analyse my feelings for a council agent. Remembering this ignited a small flame of hatred in my gut once again. Just get on with it, I told myself.
I called upon the God and Goddess and elements as usual. I laid my athame, a silver chalice, a black candle and my wooden pentagram infront of me. I felt an uncomfortable, almost electric buzz over the thumping drum beat of my heart as I laid the knife accross my wrist. If I was stronger I wouldn't have to do this, I thought. Dad hadn't for many years, and Mum never touched anything remotely like this. Usually I just slid it cleanly and efficiently over a vein, not enough time to fret pathetically over the sting and the jolt of seeing your own blood, running into a chalice. This was my Mum's doing, I thought grimly. The Roirdans blood had run in light. Restricted themselves pointlessly, Da had said, cutting off your nose just to spite a beautiful face.
One of the jet black stones encircling the ruby of the athame glinted in the candle-light. But, no, I was lying again. I didn't have this much trouble with this ever before. And I couldn't blame Mum for the fear I felt now. This was the Seeker again, his rightousness knocking me off track. Even the glints of the stones reminded me of him, the emeralds of his eyes, pulling me to him.
Without me consciously being aware of it, I let the blade run down the tendon from the base of my thumb into the flesh of my arm. I wouldn't let myself be distracted. I sucked in breath, feeling the adrenaline rush that always came after the bitter, slicing pain of an injury of this kind. I tilted my arm to let the slowly pouring blood drain into my chalice. I waited a few minutes until I had bled enough, and ignoring the sting, ignited the thick pillar candle before me. I poured the blood over the candle, seeing it drain a beautiful marroon into the wax. The last drop finally quenched the candle. I saw the first of the smoke rise, and I breathed into it, "bethac nair."
The smoke began to convulse and expand on itself. I watched unflinchingly as it began to sting my eyes. I saw my room through a veil of grey and tears began to well up. I knew this was all meant to happen, but I still hated the idea that I was on the verge of weeping. I made me feel as weak as I knew i was, but physically crying was like admiting it, owning up to the handicap of emotion. I saw an imprint of what I knew and felt to be an impression of Hunter press into shape in the smoke. I tried hard not to breathe in, but as I did I felt what I felt when I looked at him. The vulnerability, the embarassment, the connection, the...love?
This shook me. What?! I hadn't even been properly thinking about him as I had breathed the spell, but there it was, sickening me, binding me in a terrifying way. More so than anything any corner of darkness could ever muster against me.
I blow away the smoke and broke the spell, feeling broken myself. Oh why, had I let it get this far?! You could have stopped it, stopped him, stopped you! I argued at myself. But, you know what stopping him would have meant, I reasoned, death. A cold, harsh death that her Father dealt everyday, without a care. I cringed. That thought felt even more empty than the knowledge of what I felt for him. Oh Mother of all things, give me strength to bear this burden.
*
He was out there somewhere, I thought to myself certainly. Maybe in one of the B'n'B's, maybe staying in one of the cottages. I stared through the dusty window, out into the October night. The stars were out and shining, a the cold breeze was wisping a few golden oak leaves off of the tree, just out of view of the window, at the entrance to the pub. I sighed, twisted in my bench seat to still stare at the night. I barely felt Da's rough tapping of my shoulder.
"Morgan, we're ordering, what do you want?" He asked pointedly. I blinked at him. "Oh, ermm...," I scanned over my menu, "The lasagne, please." I had definitely never inherited Dad's decisiveness.
He smiled and nodded and with an unspoken agreement him and Killian walked over to the bar to order. I was left alone with Cal, Selene and Mum. The tension was palpable. Cal obviously sensed it, I felt his emotional squirming like a radioactive glow. Normally, I'd have found this funny, but I wasn't feeling my usual sadistic self.
Mum looked around at the window, obviously hating the fact that she was alone with Selene, while Selene herself seemed to be scanning the pub, looking for something remotely interesting to beam her extroverted attention on. Finally, she settled on me. I groaned inwardly.
"So, Morgan!" She said, sitting up, "how has your studying been going? I feel like I've hardly seen you since your initiation." I saw Mum roll her eyes. Cal was watching his Mother without much interest.
I grudgingly began to explain the several trips Dad had taken me on in the few years since I had seen her last. Trips to numberous Amyranth hotspots, a few in London, France, New York even. We once went to Ireland and Mum amazedly wanted to come with us. While Dad and I had been socialising and exploring around the coast, Mum had taken herslef off and not returned for a few days. She had come back looking broken and tear-stained. I had expected Dad to either hold her all night until her beautiful smile returned, or to barrage her about being away for so long. But he hadn't, he'd simply kissed her on the cheek and told me that she was feeling down about something and to give her some space. Which both of us did. Of course, I didn't tell Selene all that.
Half an hour later, we were all sitting around our firelit table, eating and drinking, talking about our magick, Selene and Mum slipping in subtle barbs at eachother at every opportunity, Dad pretending not to notice and treating them both equally, holding Mum's hand. Cal chiming in whenever possible, or when Selene or occasionally even Mum invited him. She didn't seem to hate him as much as she hated his Mother. Oh, of course, the thought hitting me half way through the meal, because of me. Because Mum wanted to be at least curteous to someone I was supposedly devoted to. Another nail in my coffin. I had never really considered Mum in all this situation, I realised sadly, it had only ever been Dad, and Cal and Selne and their dissapointment, hurt, possibly even rage, but she'd always thought it made no difference to Mum. She always seemed to accept her anyway, but this would matter to her. She might even be pleased.
I noticed Killian gulping down the last of the bottle of Chardonnay. He had smiled and told his trademark anecdotes over the course of the evening and I had laughed as I did everytime he added another new exageration, another humourous detail, even to the stories of my circle sickness. But I could tell he was bored, staring absent-mindedly out at the night. He wanted to be away, to be staring at a new set of adoring faces, of pretty girls, a new set of bright club lights and pounding music. He would be gone within a week. This made me so sad, I felt like my heart would break on top of everything else. I remembered I had snapped at him today, and I hadn't apologised. He looked back at me then, sensing my stare and he smiled and his brown eyes twinkled with all the love of brother that I ever remember feeling. I smiled stupidly. At least some love isn't scary, I thought.
*
Cal cornered me half an hour later, just as everyone was leaving to go home. He seemed incredibly good at that.
"Hey," he said, taking my hands, "how about a midnight stroll? You know, just the two of us."
I looked back at my family as he said this. Killian gave me a cheeky 'go for it' look, Dad and Selene both had that expectant look on their faces that I seemed to be seeing more and more recently. Mum was just smiling at me sincerely. I suppose I couldn't refuse.
"Well, a midnight stroll would mean having to stand around for a few hours until it actually was midnight, as, it's about half ten now, and it would be rather cold..." I trailed off my half-hearted teasing.
"Well, then, you'll have to be wearing this then," He draped his denim jacket over my shoulders. It flattered me but I still felt awkward. He took my arm and we began to walk the opposite way from the trail to the house, through the village.
We walked past the post office and supermarket co-op, around Blue's and up to the B'n'B, all the time talking about our family's, his Mother's and my Father's coven and the covens here in the village. Nothing amazing, but it was nice to be able to talk to him, although all the time I was internally coiled. I damned myself for not having the sense to down some of that Chardonnay to calm my nerves.
All of a sudden, I went rigid. My senses had seemed to have twisted. I saw what looked like a glint of gold in the silhouette of one of the buildings.
"What's wrong?" Cal whispered. I raised a finger to silence him. The glint shimmered as the person before us came into view of our magesight. The seeker stood, caught. For a split second, I was there just gazing at him. And seeing him gaze back. We both looked equally startled, like rabbits caught in headlights. His eyes were still green, the green that never grew old, was as breathtaking through each moment I was caught in them. He stared back. Were my dull muddy eyes as beautiful to him as his were to me? It seemed impossible but, for an eternity of milli-second, he knew me. And it was right.
Suddenly a bolt of blue witch-fire ripped through our connection and smacked him clean in the shoulder. He staggered back, both of us suddenly recognising Cal in all this. "How dare you?!" He yelled striding forward up to Hunter, "How freaking dare you be here!"
Cal aimed a punch at his brother's head, but Hunter dodged like a cat to be hit instead in the shoulder as he pushed Cal back. As he swung, I saw the silver braigh shining sadistically as his side, tasting victory. "I dare, because you deserve to be punished sgath,"Hunter spat, "You and that bitch of a Mother of yours!"
I watched, dumbstruck, as the two fought eachother, both with witchfire, fists and verbal abuse. I heard Cal mention something about easing guilt, and something about Giomanach's 'skrewed up and over' family. I knew Giomanach was Gaelic for Hunter and obviously his coven name. I didn't understand the insult, but the rage in Hunter as he flung his full weight at Cal, punching him hard accross the jaw was enough to make me flinch. And I admit, however grudgingly, that I was scared. I was not used to this. The anger I had known between enemies was always cold and calculated in the world I had known, pent up behind a, sort of 'stiff-upper-lip' until a circle where you could know the joy of releasing your anger ruthlessly upon the victim in a wave of black and neccesary vengence. It's almost an Amyranth motto, revenge is best served cold.
This was not cold, I thought as I watched the two brawling figures, willing to risk their own flesh horribly just to make the other suffer a fraction more. It seemed stupid to me, unacceptably reckless. And I knew I would not accept Hunter being injured, not for anything, I thought fiercely.
I tried to think of a way to stop them when I saw the same shimmer of silver in Hunter's palms. I saw him step towards Cal, Cal making no effort to flee. Instead he ran forward, grabbing Hunter's wrists and trying to force them downwards, carefully avoiding the chain. They were both close now, barely centimetres away, Hunter trying to bring down his braigh, Cal forcing him to keep in up, away from him, the flesh he knew it would scar.
All of a sudden, Cal kicked Hunter hard, and I felt his blinding rage increase as he fell to his knees on the concrete, without his braigh. Within a second, Cal had the chain encircling Hunter's neck, and was pulling tightly. Hunter's face looked determined not to break, not to scream in the agony that even an unburning braigh tight around even an innocent's neck would inflict. He eyes flicked to me. I felt my shock turn to anger and, without thinking I ran over to Cal and smacked my fingers onto his temple. I sent my energy serging into his mind, where I knew he had been to shocked to block in just the millisecond that it had taken to decide on action. I felt his physical at an nuwanted mental invasion, and I envisioned an explosion happening inside his head, before any of the thoughts and empathy of a tath meanma could encase me. I knew that this was a dirty trick, a nasty, sneaky little spell which the best Wiccan's, dark nor light would teach their children. Lucky I had such a spell-worthy brother.
I left his mind and came back to my body, leaving the pain of the explosion I had envisioned in his mind. He sagged in my hands, unconscious and I let him fall. Frantically I turned to Hunter. He was kneeling on the path, rubbing his neck and looking up at me. I felt my heart beat and I was once again startled at the green of them. "Hi," I said, inadequately. He got to his feet, and set his jaw, seeming to decide to take control. How seeker-like.
He looked down at Cal, barely hidden dispising in his gaze. "We should get him out of-" He stopped abruptly. Well, he couldn't really talk any longer. I had swooped in and, in a moment I would remember until my grave, pressed my lips onto his. His mouth was still for a second, in shock. I then felt his arms moving up to wrap around my back and I clasped my arms around his back, under his coat, letting his warth radiate through me. I felt a release as both of us let ourselves merge, our hearts beat in time. I knew his cheek was slightly swollen from the fight and I kissed him deeper for it. I needed this. I needed him. He was my oxygen, my life force. And the way he kissed me, I knew he knew it too. That he needed me, like essence, like magick. And magick wrapped us together under the moon as we kissed.
[ok Dudes its finally happened! Please review cause this chap took a damn lot of effort and that effort dont come cheap, ya know!]
Giomanach is here. And his little lap-dog of a cousin, Athar. Urgh, why didn't we just finish him in Francisco!? When Mum told me that we would be spending Samhain with Neimhidh and his family (including various other MacEwan's) I told her, it would be the perfect oppurtunity to finish the job, that even if the council did somehow catch on then we would be no where in sight by the time they got another Wiccan Mulder-and-Scully to the states. But no, she had her own agenda, said that, "It wasn't yet time,". I wonder how her head works sometimes.
As for Hunter, he's been pestering Morgan. She burst into the house today with her idiot brother in tow, looking as if she had seen a ghost. It made me want to raise a Taibhs right there and laugh when I felt his heart pound its last.
I feel it's time to take this situation into my own hands, no matter what my plotting Mother says. Though what I suspect she has in mind for us all, could well finish this all.
-Sgath
"I think we should all go down to the village for dinner tonight," Dad stated abruptly, at near noon on Wednesday lunchtime.
Me and my Mother's faces both looked up from our pork pies and salad, surprised. Dad? Wanting to mingle with the Wiccan commoners of Barra Head? 'What have you put in these pies?' I sent to her. She barely consealed a grin. "Why's that then, love?"
"Fancied a change," He replied evenly, "No offence to your cooking." She lowered a perfect scarlet eyebrow at him playfully.
"Well," Selene started, putting her cutlery down with a flourish, "I think it's a superb idea! Cal and I hoped to enjoy some good British quisine." All eyes turned to Cal.
"Oh yeah," He said, "Steak and Kidney, who could resist?"
I turned back to my salad, rolling the lettuce round and round on my fork. Well, it would be nice to get out of the house. But also, while inside the house it is less likely that I would run into the seeker and possibly another moment, especially if my parents and Cal would be there. I had been up most of the night, think about and dreading another 'situation' with him, and daring myself to tell Da that there was a Seeker in the village. But I knew what that would lead to. And, if I would ever be anything to him, I wouldn't be his murderer.
After lunch I started up the stairs to my room. If ever I needed some time to meditate, it was now. Someone tapped my shoulder. "What!" I cried, irratably. I turned round to see Killian looking struck and kind of hurt.
"Whoa, if it's that time of the month, at least you could have put a warning sign up." He started walking away.
I watched him walk back into the parlour. I felt a pang of guilt creep up on me, but I pushed it back down. I had enough to think about without over-sensitive family members laying trips on me.
I got up to my room and sat down in one of my favourite meditative positions, one that had never failed to relieve my stress and restore perspective. It involved lots of crossed limbs and loose shoulders. Just what I needed. Only I couldn't sit still. If my blanket wasn't creased under me then it was too light for me to keep my eyes closed. "Dammit", I swore in frustration. What else could I do?
My eyes fell on the faded chalk circles on my bedroom floor, like scars on my carpet. Within a minute I had fetched out my athame and numberous candles, my pine box alter and velvet cloth and all the other items the spell. I hesitated picking up the beautiful ruby and obsidien athame that Dad had bought me just for rituals of this kind at my initiation. See, this spell is known for its accuracy, but the catch is, it involves blood letting. Only a small amount but still it makes it officially 'dark', at least according to the council. I smiled. It seemed ironic that I would use a 'dark' spell to analyse my feelings for a council agent. Remembering this ignited a small flame of hatred in my gut once again. Just get on with it, I told myself.
I called upon the God and Goddess and elements as usual. I laid my athame, a silver chalice, a black candle and my wooden pentagram infront of me. I felt an uncomfortable, almost electric buzz over the thumping drum beat of my heart as I laid the knife accross my wrist. If I was stronger I wouldn't have to do this, I thought. Dad hadn't for many years, and Mum never touched anything remotely like this. Usually I just slid it cleanly and efficiently over a vein, not enough time to fret pathetically over the sting and the jolt of seeing your own blood, running into a chalice. This was my Mum's doing, I thought grimly. The Roirdans blood had run in light. Restricted themselves pointlessly, Da had said, cutting off your nose just to spite a beautiful face.
One of the jet black stones encircling the ruby of the athame glinted in the candle-light. But, no, I was lying again. I didn't have this much trouble with this ever before. And I couldn't blame Mum for the fear I felt now. This was the Seeker again, his rightousness knocking me off track. Even the glints of the stones reminded me of him, the emeralds of his eyes, pulling me to him.
Without me consciously being aware of it, I let the blade run down the tendon from the base of my thumb into the flesh of my arm. I wouldn't let myself be distracted. I sucked in breath, feeling the adrenaline rush that always came after the bitter, slicing pain of an injury of this kind. I tilted my arm to let the slowly pouring blood drain into my chalice. I waited a few minutes until I had bled enough, and ignoring the sting, ignited the thick pillar candle before me. I poured the blood over the candle, seeing it drain a beautiful marroon into the wax. The last drop finally quenched the candle. I saw the first of the smoke rise, and I breathed into it, "bethac nair."
The smoke began to convulse and expand on itself. I watched unflinchingly as it began to sting my eyes. I saw my room through a veil of grey and tears began to well up. I knew this was all meant to happen, but I still hated the idea that I was on the verge of weeping. I made me feel as weak as I knew i was, but physically crying was like admiting it, owning up to the handicap of emotion. I saw an imprint of what I knew and felt to be an impression of Hunter press into shape in the smoke. I tried hard not to breathe in, but as I did I felt what I felt when I looked at him. The vulnerability, the embarassment, the connection, the...love?
This shook me. What?! I hadn't even been properly thinking about him as I had breathed the spell, but there it was, sickening me, binding me in a terrifying way. More so than anything any corner of darkness could ever muster against me.
I blow away the smoke and broke the spell, feeling broken myself. Oh why, had I let it get this far?! You could have stopped it, stopped him, stopped you! I argued at myself. But, you know what stopping him would have meant, I reasoned, death. A cold, harsh death that her Father dealt everyday, without a care. I cringed. That thought felt even more empty than the knowledge of what I felt for him. Oh Mother of all things, give me strength to bear this burden.
*
He was out there somewhere, I thought to myself certainly. Maybe in one of the B'n'B's, maybe staying in one of the cottages. I stared through the dusty window, out into the October night. The stars were out and shining, a the cold breeze was wisping a few golden oak leaves off of the tree, just out of view of the window, at the entrance to the pub. I sighed, twisted in my bench seat to still stare at the night. I barely felt Da's rough tapping of my shoulder.
"Morgan, we're ordering, what do you want?" He asked pointedly. I blinked at him. "Oh, ermm...," I scanned over my menu, "The lasagne, please." I had definitely never inherited Dad's decisiveness.
He smiled and nodded and with an unspoken agreement him and Killian walked over to the bar to order. I was left alone with Cal, Selene and Mum. The tension was palpable. Cal obviously sensed it, I felt his emotional squirming like a radioactive glow. Normally, I'd have found this funny, but I wasn't feeling my usual sadistic self.
Mum looked around at the window, obviously hating the fact that she was alone with Selene, while Selene herself seemed to be scanning the pub, looking for something remotely interesting to beam her extroverted attention on. Finally, she settled on me. I groaned inwardly.
"So, Morgan!" She said, sitting up, "how has your studying been going? I feel like I've hardly seen you since your initiation." I saw Mum roll her eyes. Cal was watching his Mother without much interest.
I grudgingly began to explain the several trips Dad had taken me on in the few years since I had seen her last. Trips to numberous Amyranth hotspots, a few in London, France, New York even. We once went to Ireland and Mum amazedly wanted to come with us. While Dad and I had been socialising and exploring around the coast, Mum had taken herslef off and not returned for a few days. She had come back looking broken and tear-stained. I had expected Dad to either hold her all night until her beautiful smile returned, or to barrage her about being away for so long. But he hadn't, he'd simply kissed her on the cheek and told me that she was feeling down about something and to give her some space. Which both of us did. Of course, I didn't tell Selene all that.
Half an hour later, we were all sitting around our firelit table, eating and drinking, talking about our magick, Selene and Mum slipping in subtle barbs at eachother at every opportunity, Dad pretending not to notice and treating them both equally, holding Mum's hand. Cal chiming in whenever possible, or when Selene or occasionally even Mum invited him. She didn't seem to hate him as much as she hated his Mother. Oh, of course, the thought hitting me half way through the meal, because of me. Because Mum wanted to be at least curteous to someone I was supposedly devoted to. Another nail in my coffin. I had never really considered Mum in all this situation, I realised sadly, it had only ever been Dad, and Cal and Selne and their dissapointment, hurt, possibly even rage, but she'd always thought it made no difference to Mum. She always seemed to accept her anyway, but this would matter to her. She might even be pleased.
I noticed Killian gulping down the last of the bottle of Chardonnay. He had smiled and told his trademark anecdotes over the course of the evening and I had laughed as I did everytime he added another new exageration, another humourous detail, even to the stories of my circle sickness. But I could tell he was bored, staring absent-mindedly out at the night. He wanted to be away, to be staring at a new set of adoring faces, of pretty girls, a new set of bright club lights and pounding music. He would be gone within a week. This made me so sad, I felt like my heart would break on top of everything else. I remembered I had snapped at him today, and I hadn't apologised. He looked back at me then, sensing my stare and he smiled and his brown eyes twinkled with all the love of brother that I ever remember feeling. I smiled stupidly. At least some love isn't scary, I thought.
*
Cal cornered me half an hour later, just as everyone was leaving to go home. He seemed incredibly good at that.
"Hey," he said, taking my hands, "how about a midnight stroll? You know, just the two of us."
I looked back at my family as he said this. Killian gave me a cheeky 'go for it' look, Dad and Selene both had that expectant look on their faces that I seemed to be seeing more and more recently. Mum was just smiling at me sincerely. I suppose I couldn't refuse.
"Well, a midnight stroll would mean having to stand around for a few hours until it actually was midnight, as, it's about half ten now, and it would be rather cold..." I trailed off my half-hearted teasing.
"Well, then, you'll have to be wearing this then," He draped his denim jacket over my shoulders. It flattered me but I still felt awkward. He took my arm and we began to walk the opposite way from the trail to the house, through the village.
We walked past the post office and supermarket co-op, around Blue's and up to the B'n'B, all the time talking about our family's, his Mother's and my Father's coven and the covens here in the village. Nothing amazing, but it was nice to be able to talk to him, although all the time I was internally coiled. I damned myself for not having the sense to down some of that Chardonnay to calm my nerves.
All of a sudden, I went rigid. My senses had seemed to have twisted. I saw what looked like a glint of gold in the silhouette of one of the buildings.
"What's wrong?" Cal whispered. I raised a finger to silence him. The glint shimmered as the person before us came into view of our magesight. The seeker stood, caught. For a split second, I was there just gazing at him. And seeing him gaze back. We both looked equally startled, like rabbits caught in headlights. His eyes were still green, the green that never grew old, was as breathtaking through each moment I was caught in them. He stared back. Were my dull muddy eyes as beautiful to him as his were to me? It seemed impossible but, for an eternity of milli-second, he knew me. And it was right.
Suddenly a bolt of blue witch-fire ripped through our connection and smacked him clean in the shoulder. He staggered back, both of us suddenly recognising Cal in all this. "How dare you?!" He yelled striding forward up to Hunter, "How freaking dare you be here!"
Cal aimed a punch at his brother's head, but Hunter dodged like a cat to be hit instead in the shoulder as he pushed Cal back. As he swung, I saw the silver braigh shining sadistically as his side, tasting victory. "I dare, because you deserve to be punished sgath,"Hunter spat, "You and that bitch of a Mother of yours!"
I watched, dumbstruck, as the two fought eachother, both with witchfire, fists and verbal abuse. I heard Cal mention something about easing guilt, and something about Giomanach's 'skrewed up and over' family. I knew Giomanach was Gaelic for Hunter and obviously his coven name. I didn't understand the insult, but the rage in Hunter as he flung his full weight at Cal, punching him hard accross the jaw was enough to make me flinch. And I admit, however grudgingly, that I was scared. I was not used to this. The anger I had known between enemies was always cold and calculated in the world I had known, pent up behind a, sort of 'stiff-upper-lip' until a circle where you could know the joy of releasing your anger ruthlessly upon the victim in a wave of black and neccesary vengence. It's almost an Amyranth motto, revenge is best served cold.
This was not cold, I thought as I watched the two brawling figures, willing to risk their own flesh horribly just to make the other suffer a fraction more. It seemed stupid to me, unacceptably reckless. And I knew I would not accept Hunter being injured, not for anything, I thought fiercely.
I tried to think of a way to stop them when I saw the same shimmer of silver in Hunter's palms. I saw him step towards Cal, Cal making no effort to flee. Instead he ran forward, grabbing Hunter's wrists and trying to force them downwards, carefully avoiding the chain. They were both close now, barely centimetres away, Hunter trying to bring down his braigh, Cal forcing him to keep in up, away from him, the flesh he knew it would scar.
All of a sudden, Cal kicked Hunter hard, and I felt his blinding rage increase as he fell to his knees on the concrete, without his braigh. Within a second, Cal had the chain encircling Hunter's neck, and was pulling tightly. Hunter's face looked determined not to break, not to scream in the agony that even an unburning braigh tight around even an innocent's neck would inflict. He eyes flicked to me. I felt my shock turn to anger and, without thinking I ran over to Cal and smacked my fingers onto his temple. I sent my energy serging into his mind, where I knew he had been to shocked to block in just the millisecond that it had taken to decide on action. I felt his physical at an nuwanted mental invasion, and I envisioned an explosion happening inside his head, before any of the thoughts and empathy of a tath meanma could encase me. I knew that this was a dirty trick, a nasty, sneaky little spell which the best Wiccan's, dark nor light would teach their children. Lucky I had such a spell-worthy brother.
I left his mind and came back to my body, leaving the pain of the explosion I had envisioned in his mind. He sagged in my hands, unconscious and I let him fall. Frantically I turned to Hunter. He was kneeling on the path, rubbing his neck and looking up at me. I felt my heart beat and I was once again startled at the green of them. "Hi," I said, inadequately. He got to his feet, and set his jaw, seeming to decide to take control. How seeker-like.
He looked down at Cal, barely hidden dispising in his gaze. "We should get him out of-" He stopped abruptly. Well, he couldn't really talk any longer. I had swooped in and, in a moment I would remember until my grave, pressed my lips onto his. His mouth was still for a second, in shock. I then felt his arms moving up to wrap around my back and I clasped my arms around his back, under his coat, letting his warth radiate through me. I felt a release as both of us let ourselves merge, our hearts beat in time. I knew his cheek was slightly swollen from the fight and I kissed him deeper for it. I needed this. I needed him. He was my oxygen, my life force. And the way he kissed me, I knew he knew it too. That he needed me, like essence, like magick. And magick wrapped us together under the moon as we kissed.
[ok Dudes its finally happened! Please review cause this chap took a damn lot of effort and that effort dont come cheap, ya know!]