Newton and I pulled up to her house a few minutes past nine. The half-oval driveway and adjoining dirt lots were already full. Meaning most of the coven were present. Newton lives on the outskirts of town, at the edge of another county. But it was nice out here away from the city. Sort of quiet and powerfully loud at the same time. And it wasn't like Newton lived in a log cabin. Her sprawling homestead was more mansion with its many 'wings'. Newton Hunter comes from money. She makes a lot of money. It's natural to her.
I blushed self-consciously as we entered the foyer, seeing Newton's girlfriend carrying a moving box out of Newton's house. Her ex-girlfriend.
"Charlotte, good to see you." I hugged the tall bendy woman.
"Virginia! You're looking fit as always. I miss you in class though."
But I guess their breakup was amicable. She seemed less put out than I was.
"Ah, I'm sorry Charlotte, I've been so busy. I'll get back to it, I promise." Charlotte was a yoga teacher…and a contortionist. Of course she was.
"Well, we have a few special classes coming up. One of them for Kundalini awakening?" She eyed me for a second too long, suggesting she knew something I didn't, then turned back to Newt. I wondered how much pillow talk Newton actually shared with her lovers. Coven business stays within the coven. No one knows this better than Newt. We won't even start the meeting until Charlotte leaves. Charlotte thinks we're some sort of naturist book club or something. Reading Sense and Sensibility in the nude under the pine trees. I don't know what Newton tells her girlfriends.
"I'm going to head out back," I said to Newton. "Nice to see you again Charlotte."
As I walked down the dark path out the back of the house, I could see the fires burning. There are almost no rules to where a coven must keep their ritual space. Except in their own county and state. But it's smart to build it in a place of power. It makes your spells stronger, more potent. Ours was in Newton's backyard.
I reached the end of the path and stopped between two stone columns. Our temple has no walls, no physical ones anyway. But if you're not bound to our coven, you will not be entering. She will not be letting you in.
The her to which I'm referring is the temple. She feels as real to me as any witch, any person.
I put one foot forward, my toes piercing the invisible barrier. She recognized me right away. I smiled an easy smile, blew out a heavy breath, as I crossed from one world into the next. Our temple is beautiful. Her floors may be dirt, but the temperature is moderate, the plants are green year round, the vines–clematis, ivy, honeysuckle–climb every surface, column, and altar, blooming regardless of the season; and the smell of eucalyptus and lavender floats in the air. Our spells, our collective power, keeps her so.
I stood there for a second. Soaking it in. Letting my human life recede, and the magic flare. Watching the witches in my coven file in from between the thirteen stone columns marking the outer boundaries of the temple. I kicked off my shoes as I spotted our Skyldr–Antoinette. I dug my toes into the dirt, affecting the best sneaking posture I could manage. Feeling like I was twelve again, playing a rigorous version of Murder in the Dark with my girlfriends back home, I stalked her. But Antoinette's feelers extend well beyond mine.
The chopstick-like fire starter in her hand swung around, the business end lashing out with an orange-red stream of fire that wrapped around my torso and licked at my sides. I squealed like a little girl as the harmless sparks prickled my skin and we spent ourselves giggling.
She hugged me tightly and twirled me around. "Oh my god! Why didn't you call me last weekend? We were supposed to go shopping?!" Antoinette Black is undeniably all female. Like Newt, she's got a few pounds and inches on me. But that's where the similarities end. Her long mass of auburn hair loops out in all directions, seeming to defy gravity and spits in the face of anything restrained or inhibited. Just like her. And if I were a lesser woman, I would be jealous of her hourglass figure, her glowing skin, her perfectly pouting lips. But Antoinette is my friend. The sister I never had but always wanted. And she's the kind of woman that radiates happiness. The kind you feel better just being around.
"I'm so sorry, I got bogged down with paperwork," I said, releasing her as she flinched under my touch. "Antoinette…you got another one didn't you."
"I told you I was starting my Phoenix last week." She unabashedly lifted up her shirt, pulled down her skirt and turned to the side. Red and orange flames, mixed with feathers, rose up from below her hip line, giving birth to the outline of a big phoenix on the side of her rib cage.
"Wow." It manages to be powerful and feminine, sleek and sexy. Just like her. Antoinette is an Elemental witch. She's been accumulating earth, air, fire, and water tattoos for as long as I've known her. "It looks amazing. But girl, aren't you running out of room?"
"Nah. Got plenty of room left," she said, grabbing handfuls of her billowing skirts to show virgin naked skin. But not much. "The ribs hurt like a bitch though! And I had to take a few days off work. Which sucked. But I can be molting all over my clients now can I?" she laughed.
The first time I met Antoinette, she was mostly naked, dancing on my lap. Her profession–exotic dancing. Though she calls herself a sparingly-dressed psychologist. Antoinette did go to college. Even has a bachelors. But I've seen her dance, felt it. And she's damn good at it. Those hips of hers are filled with magic.
"Where's Newt?"
"Uh…I think she's talking to Charlotte. Helping her move stuff out of the house."
"Oh man, what is it this time? Does Charlotte smell like beef soup?"
Newton goes through lovers like she's collecting them. I guess that would make me part of the collection. Those first couple of years, we were lovers. But we made better friends. Much better.
We shared another giggle. "I have no idea. Newt told me Charlotte was rockin' in the sack, but lackin' in the knack."
"And what does that mean?"
"Hell if I know. You know how she loves to rhyme. I think she needs a brainier person?"
We both shrugged.
"Hey, Antoinette, already taking your clothes off?" A male voice asked from behind us.
"You wish," Antoinette said.
"Hey, Dylan." I turned and hugged our one and only male coven member.
"Maybe I should take my clothes off," Antoinette continued, walking from one fire bowl to the next, her passion adding to the creation of fire. "Maybe we should all take our clothes off. People need to get out of their heads and into their bodies more. Our spirits are trapped in these corporeal forms, suffocating. The least we can do is get naked, get horny, get loving, get emotional!"
She returned to us, the edges of her hair sparking in the night air.
Dylan raised his eyebrows. "Hey, I'm with you, girl. For about three out of six of those things. I'm all for getting horny and naked."
"Ugh." A bit of Antoinette's fire went out. "The human body is more than an object to be wanted, owned. Sex is more than an act. It is an expression of our spirits."
"Yeah, I love expressing my spirit," he said, a goofy grin splitting his face.
I smiled and shook my head. Theirs is an age old battle. Venus and Mars. Yin and Yang. Leia and Han.
"So Virginia, how's the book biz?" Dylan asked.
"Oh you know, another tax dollar earned, another day of salvation for the written word. How 'bout you?"
"Oh man. Guy brought in a '73 Elky the other day. The body needs work, but the engine is mint. I think he's gonna sell it to me."
I frowned at him.
"The best years for the El Camino are '69 to '72, hands down. But the parts are harder to find," Antoinette answered for me.
Ah. My car has one purpose. To get me from point A to B. Dylan is a mechanic. And Antoinette grew up with three older brothers. They both have opinions about cars.
Dylan squinted at me. "That's so hot."
"If you say so." I turned to take my seat but stopped in my tracks. It was being occupied by Sarah Mehta. Sarah is a Siren like Newton. She came to us, Newt, Antoinette, and myself, two months ago from a coven in Illinois, petitioning membership to the Norwood County coven. She wanted to study under Newton. As Sarah's powers are fairly weak, and Newton is the most accomplished Siren in our world. I forgot that tonight was Sarah's first official night in the coven. "Hi Sarah."
"Hi Virginia! Where's Newton?" She looked over my shoulder at the house.
"She'll be along in a minute."
"I've been working on my spells. Newton says I need to work on my intonation and emotional charge. I think I've improved already. Is it true? Was she really summoned to the council seat?"
I'm pretty sure Sarah is in her early twenties. She's a nice girl. A bit too bubbly for me. I certainly felt for her. Moving so far only to have her mentor possibly leave in six months. But I wasn't going to talk about the summoning. Not with her.
"I'm sure you're a gifted caster, Sarah. You know Newton is happy to guide you in any way she can. But…maybe you should take your seat now?"
"Oh! I don't get to sit next to Newton?" she asked, tossing her pretty chocolate bangs to the side.
I blinked stupidly. Sarah knows better. She knows coven rules. The Vala is flanked by the Vinstri and Skyldr. She was neither.
Antoinette saved me. Sauntering over, offering a hand to Sarah, and leading her to a spot on the other side of the fire pit. "Sweetie, you have a very special place in the coven. A place made just for you." Antoinette gave Sarah one of her winning white-toothed sweet smiles and called her power. Little chills ran down my arms as a tiny rush of wind swept by me, filled with the essence of Antoinette. She stopped at a gap in the circle. The ground under her feet shifted and erupted. A mound of dirt, rocks, and root began to coalesce into a form. When she was finished, she stood back and inspected her work. She looked at Sarah's ass then back at the mound. She took two steps toward Sarah and reached around. Sarah gave a small yelp as Antoinette grabbed a handful of both cheeks.
I bit my lip to keep from ruining the moment.
Antoinette turned abruptly back to the form, made a parting-of-the-seas motion with her hands. Sarah looked cautiously on, then took her freshly formed seat, made of earth, just for her. Giving a small nod of surprise when she found it fit perfectly.
The ass-grab technique is pure science.
Newton finally entered the temple, making a grand entrance. Her black silk fitted robe draping behind her, her ivory legs visible from crotch to feet. Her previously origami-ed and bound conservative hair now falling in wild waves around her face. The air became quiet as her electric and charged presence flooded the temple; she waited patiently in front of the stone altar until all of her witches took their places.
"Witches of Norwood County. Tonight we welcome a sister. Tonight we add to our family. Sarah Mehta, stand." Newton's power pushed out and vibrated my ear drums.
She walked over to Sarah, cupped her face in her hands, and kissed her deeply. Much of Newton's natural magic comes from her sexual energy. Her kisses are legendary. Newton drew back after several long seconds and belted out the call, "Witches, call your power and let it shower."
This part actually burns me. Not figuratively, I mean literally burns. I learned quickly those years ago that if I call my power too soon, when this many witches flare, I could lose my normal vision for several minutes and be plunged into total darkness. I liken it to staring at the sun. So I waited.
The ground shifted slightly underneath me. A dash of orange shot into the center of the temple from a fire bowel, igniting the wood and cinder in the fire pit. It fluttered hesitantly then erupted. Shooting mad powerful flames in a column, fueled by some unseen force. That's Antoinette. While Newton's power has a sort of sharpness to it, Antoinette's feels fluid and organic. I waited until I felt a certain smoothness, then opened myself to all of it.
The world exploded into softly-colored lights, bundles of patterns, some simple, some complex, all working and moving in a great symbiotic dance. The fire was a crazy display of chemical reactions. Bits of hotness rose above the flames, transforming into carbon. Twenty-nine people glowed in my sight, their bodies an intricate web of sparkling motion, each person emanating a unique light reaching up, connecting them to the Fabric.
The Fabric is the thing from which all life is created. It is life. I don't know where the term came from, but it's a good description. I suppose, it was a way for witches to describe the nature of reality. The Fabric is endless. There are layers upon layers, planes upon planes, all existing side by side, one on top of the other, even inside each other. I don't pretend to know what it is, or the extent of it. But it is beautiful.
"Welcome, Sarah Mehta, ancient sisterhood renew"
Newton began the initiate intonation.
Bound not by blood, but by choosing
To this coven your magic is now affined
Our stories, our fates', our courses twisted entwined"
The rest of us picked up the spell.
"Welcome, Sarah Mehta, ancient sisterhood renew"
Sarah has entry into the temple, but this her official binding. A sort of magical baptism. Casting, you could say, is a witches' bread and butter. But the initiate spell is old and, frankly, a bit outdated. It has also lost much of its power, its meaning. That's what happens when a spell is used by so many. Its binding stretches too thin. In the last five years alone, the number of known witches has almost doubled. Our coven has had three initiates in the last year. Big numbers for us. Though we're actually quite small in comparison. Other covens around the U.S. are growing twice as fast. Newton told me the council believes this may be my doing. Or rather, my birth–the accident.
After three repetitions of the spell, we each rose in turn and kissed Sarah, greeting her properly.
"Witches of Norwood County," Newton's deep and powerful voice flooded the temple again, "tonight we give ourselves to the healing of another. Lilly Scarlatti." She waited, letting the name hang in the air and cement on the tongue. I took her queue and rose from my seat, taking Lilly's card with me. It has her hand writing on it, her saliva from the bottom of the stickers–bits of her essence and DNA. I walked to the fire and plucked several of my own hairs out. When creating a spell like this one, you must give something of yourself, a physical sacrifice–hair, sweat, tears, a few drops of blood.
I folded the card as tightly as possible, wrapping the long strands of my hair around it, then dropped the bundle into the fire. The three items–Lilly, myself, and my intent–burned off to form the DNA-shaped misty thread. The Corpalm. A Corpalm is a corporeal offering. It links the physical world to the purely spiritual. The misty thread floated up above the fire, waiting to be bound to the spell.
"We beg, we bite, by lustful want our sorrow"
Newton fired off again. There are a limited number of spells witches are allowed to create without the intended's permission. This was one of them. A very basic, harmless, healing incantation.
"This energy, this body, we can only borrow"
We joined her, adding our collective powers to the words and the spell.
"Our natural state is not to splinter
But shine, glow, glide and glimmer
So let fire cleanse
Wind carry
And earth bury
And call back your rightful claim
To love, to life, to joy without pain
Be it fracture of mind, body or soul
Make it whole, make it whole, make it whole"
We kept the incantation running around the circle, repeating it in unison. Eventually a click was felt as we synchronized our voices and our powers. We reached a certain equilibrium and fluidity. Especially Newton, Antoinette, and myself. The three, the holy triad in the coven. The power of three is significant in our world. Newton is the top of the pyramid, Antoinette and I hold the two corners. Even our powers are significantly unique to each other. Newton holds the outward movement, the intellect. Antoinette holds the ground, the elements. And I hold the connection to the aether, the spirit.
The spell passed above each of us, gathering strength, transforming from a thin fibrous haze into a thick luminous mist. The Corpalm spun faster and faster on its axis, following the spell. Finally, a loud 'click' reverberated throughout the temple. Every witch could feel it. But I could see it. The spell bound itself, rushed up, and disappeared in a flash down one of the lines above the temple. It will travel along the Fabric now and bind itself to Lilly. I hope she uses it.