Dark Magick (10 page)

“How—how did you know he was telling me anything?” I ventured.

“I felt it,” Selene said. “I felt him say Woodbane.”

This was really interesting. Creepy, but interesting.

“Yes, you’re Woodbane,” I said, standing up.“I’m Woodbane, too. Is there a reason I shouldn’t know your clan?”

“Mom, I trust Morgan, and you need to trust me,” Cal said thinly. “Now, will you get back to your work and leave us alone, or do I have to spell the door?”

My lips curved into an involuntary smile, and a second later the tension on Selene’s face broke. She breathed out. “Very nice.Threaten your mother,” she said tartly.

“Hey, I’ll make it so you’ll
never
find your way up here again,” Cal said, his hands on his hips. He was smiling now, but I felt he wasn’t entirely joking. I thought of Selene walking in on us when we were rolling around on Cal’s bed and secretly decided maybe spelling the door wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Forgive me,” Selene said at last. “I’m sorry. It’s just—Woodbanes have a terrible reputation. We’re used to guarding our privacy fiercely. For a moment I forgot who Cal was talking to—and how extraordinary and trustworthy you are. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, and Selene turned around and left. Quickly Cal stepped to the door and snapped the lock behind her, then traced several sigils and runes around the frame of the door with his fingers, muttering something.

“Okay,” he said. “That will keep her out.” He sounded smug, and I smiled.

“Are you sure?”

The answering look he gave me took my breath away. When he held out his hand, I went to him immediately, and next we tumbled onto his wide bed, the white comforter billowing cozily beneath us. For a long time we kissed and held each other, and I knew that I felt even closer to him than before. Each time we were alone together, we went a little further, and today I needed to feel close to him, needed to be comforted by his touch. Restlessly I pushed my hands under his shirt, against his smooth skin.

I never wore a bra, having a distinct lack of need, and when his hands slipped under my shirt and unerringly found their way to my breasts, I almost cried out. One part of my mind hoped the spell on his door was really foolproof; the other part of my mind turned to tapioca.

I pulled him tightly to me, feeling his desire, hearing his breathing quicken in my ear, amazed at how much I loved him.

This time it was Cal who gradually slowed, who eased the fierceness of his kisses, who calmed his breathing and so made me calm mine. Apparently today would not be the day, either. I was both relieved and disappointed.

After our breathing had more or less returned to normal, he stroked my hair away from my face and said, “I have something to show you.”

“Huh?” I said. But he was rolling off the bed, straightening his clothing.

Then he held out his hand to me. “Come,” he said, and I followed him without question.

As Cal led me down his outside steps to the back patio, the last flakes of falling snow brushed my face and landed on my hair. I held tightly to the iron rail; the metal stairs were slick with snow and ice.

Cal offered me his hand at the bottom of the stair. I crunched onto the snow, and he began to lead me across the stone patio. We were both cold; our coats had been in the downstairs foyer, and we hadn’t gotten them.

I realized we were heading toward the pool. “Oh, God, you can’t be thinking about going skinny-dipping!” I said, only half joking.

Cal laughed, throwing back his head as he led me past the big pool. “No. It’s covered for the winter, underneath that snow. Of course, if you’re willing . . .”

“I’m not,” I said quickly. I had been the lone holdout from a group swim at our coven’s second meeting.

He laughed again, and then we were at the little building that served as the pool house. Built to look like a miniature version of the big house, its stone walls were covered with clinging ivy, brown in winter.

Cal opened a door, and we stepped into one of the small dressing rooms. It was decorated luxuriously, with gold hooks, spare terry-cloth robes, and full-length mirrors.

“What are we doing here?” I looked at my pale self in the mirror and made a face.

“Patience,” Cal teased, and opened another door that led to a bathroom, complete with shower stall and a rack of fluffy white towels. Now I was really confused.

From his pocket Cal took a key ring, selected a key, and opened a small, locked closet. The door swung open to reveal shallow shelves with toiletries and cleaning supplies.

Cal stood back and gently swept his hands around the door frame, and I saw the faint glimmer of sigils tracing its perimeter. He muttered some words that I couldn’t understand, and then the shelves swung backward to reveal an opening about five feet high and maybe two feet wide. There was another room behind it.

I raised my eyebrows at Cal. “You guys have a thing for hidden rooms,” I said, thinking of his mother’s concealed library in the main house.

Cal grinned. “Of course. We’re witches,” he said, and ducked through the door. I followed, stepping through, then straightening cautiously on the other side.

Cal stood there, expectant. “Help me light candles,” he said, “so you can see better.”

I glanced around, my magesight immediately adjusting to the darkness, and found myself in a very small room, perhaps seven feet by seven feet. There was one tiny, leaded-glass window set high up on the wall, beneath the unexpectedly high ceiling.

Cal started lighting candles. I was about to say it wasn’t necessary, I could see fine, but then I realized he wanted to create an effect. I looked around, and my gaze landed on the burnt wick of a thick cream-colored pillar candle. I need fire, I thought, then blinked as the wick burst into flame.

It mesmerized me, and I leaned, timelost, into the wavering, triangular bloom of flame swaying seductively about the wick. I saw the wick shrivel and curl as the intense heat made the fibers contract and blacken, heard the roar of the victorious fire as it consumed the wick and surged upward in ecstasy. I felt the softening of the wax below as it sighed and acquiesced, melting and flowing into liquid.

My eyes shining, I glanced up to see Cal staring at me almost in alarm. I swallowed, wondering if I had made one of those Wiccan faux pas I was so good at.

“The fire,” I murmured lamely in explanation.“It’s pretty.”

“Light another one,” he said, and I turned to the next candle and thought about fire, and an unseen spark of life jumped from me to the wick, where it burst into a bloom of light. He didn’t have to encourage me to do more. One by one, I lit the candles that lined the walls, covered the tiny bookcase, dripped out of wine bottles, and guttered on top of plates thick with old wax.

The room was now glowing, the hundreds of small flames lighting our skin, our hair, our eyes. In the middle of the floor was a single futon covered with a thin, soft, oriental rug. I sat on it, clasped my arms around my knees, and looked around me. Cal sat next to me.

“So this is your secret clubhouse?” I asked, and he chuck-led and put his arm around me.

“Something like that,” he agreed. “This is my sanctuary.”

Now that I wasn’t lighting candles, I had the time to be awestruck by my surroundings. Every square inch of wall and ceiling was painted with magickal symbols, only some of which I recognized. My brows came together as I tried to make out runes and marks of power.

My mathematician’s brain started ticking: Cal and Selene had moved here right before school started—the beginning of September. It was almost the end of November now: that left not quite three months. I turned to look at him.

“How did you do all this in three months?”

He gave a short laugh. “Three months? I did this in three weeks, before school started. Lots of late nights.”

“What do you do in here?”

He smiled down at me. “Make magick,” he said.

“What about your room?”

“The main house is full of my mother’s vibrations, not to mention those of her coven members. My room is fine for most things; it’s no problem for us to have circles there. But for my stuff alone, sensitive spells, spells needing a lot of energy, I come here.” He looked around, and I wondered if he was remembering all the warm late-summer nights he had been in here, painting, making magick, making the walls vibrate with his energy. Bowls of charred incense littered the floor and the bookshelves, and the books of magick lined up behind them were dark and faded, looking immeasurably old. In one corner was an altar, made of a polished chunk of marble as big as a suitcase. It was draped with a purple velvet cloth and held candles, bowls of incense, Cal’s athame
,
a vase of spidery hothouse orchids, and a Celtic cross.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” he said quietly, his arm warm across my back. “I’ve never shown this to anyone, although my mother knows it’s here. I would never let any of the other Cirrus members see this room. It’s too private.”

My eyes swept across the dense writing, picking out a rune here and there. I had no idea how long we had been sitting there, but I became aware that I was sweating. The room was so small that just the heat of the candles was starting to make it too warm. It occurred to me that the candles were burning oxygen, and Practical Morgan looked for a vent. I couldn’t see one, but that didn’t mean anything. The room was so chaotic that it was hard to focus on any one thing.

I realized in surprise that I wouldn’t be comfortable making magick in this room.To me it was starting to seem claustrophobic, jangling, as if all my nerves were being subtly irritated. I noticed that my breath was coming faster.

“You’re my soul mate,” Cal whispered. “Only you could handle being here. Someday we’ll make magick here, together.We’ll surprise everybody.”

I didn’t know what to think of that. I was starting to feel distinctly ill at ease.

“I think I’d better get home,” I said, gathering my feet beneath me. “I don’t want to be late.”

I knew it sounded lame, and I could sense Cal’s slight withdrawal. I felt guilty for not sharing his enthusiasm. But I really needed to get out of there.

“Of course,” Cal said, standing and helping me to my feet. One by one he blew out the candles, and I could hear the minuscule droplets of searing wax splatting against the walls. One candle at a time, the room grew darker, and although I could see perfectly, when the room was dark, it felt unbearable, its weight pressing in on me.

Abruptly, not waiting for Cal, I stepped back through the small door, ducking so I wouldn’t whack my head. I didn’t stop till I was outside in the blessedly frigid air. I breathed in and out several times, feeling my head clear, seeing my breath puff out like smoke.

Cal followed me a moment later, pulling the pool-house door closed behind him.

“Thank you for showing it to me,” I said, sounding stiff and polite.

He led me back to the house. My nerves felt raw as I collected my coat from the front foyer. Outside again, Cal walked me to my car.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said, leaning in through the car window.

I was chilled in the frosted air, and my breath puffed out as I remembered the things we had done in his bedroom and the sharp contrast with how I had felt in the pool house.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I said, tilting my head up to kiss him. Then I was pulling out, my one headlight sweeping across a world seemingly made of ice.