Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1) (12 page)

"I don't know. What do you want me to see?" The man already had a real talent for getting on my nerves. Yet I continued to give him opportunities to hone his skill.

The sunny, cozy shop smelled like sage and patchouli. Being Sedona, half of it held books on every aspect of Wicca, the occult, and New Age spiritual practices. The other half was filled with a variety of supplies: Candles, herbs, powders, crystals and rocks, tarot cards, and chakra paraphernalia.

"Think," he snapped. "Look at the customers. What do you see?"

I scanned the room, looking for a clue to what Nicholas thought important. Two ladies in long skirts bent their heads over a case full of crystals. A lone man stood at the tall shelf of books, thumbing through a paperback titled Hidden Sedona. At a small round table in the back of the room, a woman with long, coal-black hair and a silver ring on every finger dealt a spread of tarot cards for a reading.

Nicholas's tone became more peevish.

"Or rather, is there anything you
don't
see?"

Then it hit me. I mimed a circle around my head with my hands. No auras.

He nodded. "Correct. The cloak intensifies your natural powers. It acts as a prop, a tool to direct your energy."

"Now I know why I had such a vivid vision the first time I touched it."

"Vision?" Nicholas looked surprised.

"Yeah. I saw a woman running through the forest with hounds chasing her. I didn't know it at the time, but now I think it was your aunt. She spelled the cloak to find me."

For the first time today, Nicholas gave me his full, laser attention. "Aunt Bella? Where did she disappear? What details of the scenery stood out?"

I shook my head. "I have no idea. She was in a pine forest. Dogs and hunters chased her."

Nicholas looked grim. "Did they catch her?"

"No," I said slowly, thinking back. "She was invisible. She took herbs to make herself invisible."

"Good for her." Nicholas studied me like some kind of science experiment. "For you, the cloak is a tool. Your focus sharpened when you wore it for the first time. Maybe we can find another tool, another trigger, to help you see more about her."

"But from what I saw, the cloak had a spell on it," I said slowly. "Are you sure other, uh, tools will have the same effect?"

He pulled me over to a glass counter. Inside, wands nestled on black silk, some of polished wood, others of crystal. Next to the wands lay a row of short-bladed knives, one of which looked similar to the blade I'd found on the ground outside his aunt's house in Jerome. It had a black handle inlaid with stones.

"A witch may use a wand, an athame, or any number of physical tools to help her focus."

I pointed to the knife. "Is this an athame? I've seen a knife like this before." I stopped myself when I realized I hadn't told him about the athame I'd found under his window. Do you have one?"

"I do, but mainly for ceremony." He waved dismissively at the counter and turned away. "As you train, and your self-control grows, you will no longer need any of these props."

He pulled me back outside and started back up the hill to my house. The man had no manners and no idea how much ground his long legs covered compared to mine. I had to jog to catch him this time.

"What's your hurry?"

"I'd like to get back and try a psychometry experiment with you."

"Nicholas, stop!" I grabbed his sleeve. "I don't know what psycho-whatever is, but just slow down." I pointed to a sandwich shop at the corner. "Let's get some lunch. I have a lot to tell you." I put my arm through his. "And you, sir, are going to be nicer to me, starting now. In fact, you're going to pay." I ignored his irritated expression and gestured him inside.

The hostess seated us with menus. "I think someone tried to break into your house, well, your aunt's house," I said. "Someone cut one of the window screens."

Nicholas stilled. "How do you know this?"

"Remember when we went out to see the house last month? You couldn't be there, so we walked all the way around and enjoyed the view. We tried to peek into the window of the library, and saw the screen had been cut."

"Samantha, you looked at the house a month ago. Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I'm sorry. I forgot. So much has happened since then, I simply forgot. Seeing the case of athames today reminded me, because I found a similar knife on the ground below the window."

"Confound the gods, Samantha," Nicholas slammed his menu on the table. "Do you have anything else to tell me, anything else at all, that has a direct effect on my personal safety?"

I cringed. "No. I don't think so." I put my menu down. "Maybe lunch wasn't such a good idea. Let's just go."

"No, we're here. Order."

I took his menu and put it on top of mine. "Nicholas. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you about the screen. And I know you don't want to mentor me. But here's the thing: Someone wants me dead." I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Damn him
,
for making me feel like an incompetent schoolgirl.
I sat up a little straighter and stared him down for a full thirty seconds. "So, while your cut house screen is important, it's not on the top of my list. In fact, it's not even in the fucking top five." I stood up and pushed my chair in. "Are you coming?"

He stood up and followed me out of the restaurant in silence.

"I've changed my mind, I'd rather not train with you," I said as we walked back to the house. "Maybe if I give you back the cloak, I'll stop having these psychic episodes."

"You can't give it back," he growled. "The cloak identified you, remember? But you were marked before then, probably at birth. There's no returning to your previous life. You can burn it. You can throw it away. It won't change anything. Now you see why I asked if you were prepared for this commitment." He paused at the bottom of my front porch steps. "Were you a loner as a child?"

"Yes. I was an only child and alone a lot."

"Good."

"Why?"

"Because witchcraft is a lonely business," he said. "But you're one of the fortunate ones. Most witches never learn of their true powers. If they're not told, often they don't discover the truth on their own. They may feel like they're odd or don't fit in, but they never know why."

"Did you know?" I asked.

Nicholas looked at me sharply. "My situation is different. I come from generations of witches. My family has handed down its teachings. The adults taught and initiated their children. So for me, there was no doubt."

"Does it ever bother you? Being different?"

"Of course. As a child especially, it hurt to be shunned, taunted." Nicholas gave a tight smile. "I got mad more often than I'd like. Anger is a dangerous emotion for me."

We stopped at the door of my house. "Nicholas, what if…do I have any choice at all if I don't want to do this?" The question came out in a rush.

He crossed his arms and drummed those beautiful damned fingers in impatience. "You can't choose what you are. Like it or not,
you are a witch.
But how you handle it is up to you." He continued more gently. "It's hard work, Samantha. It's lonely. Sometimes it's unsettling, even frightening. There is no exciting and exclusive school of wizardry. In fact, you are lucky to have found a teacher."

"You're saying I don't really have a choice. I'm resigned to this new way of living, being zapped by things I touch. Feeling evil entities when I sit on the ground."

"Oh, you have a choice. You can muddle through on your own and let every occurrence take you by surprise." He paused. "Or I can train you, at least teach you to understand your visions and control your powers."

"With everything going on around here," I muttered, "I'd rather go somewhere else. Somewhere people aren't trying to
kill
me."

"What makes you think they won't follow you?" Nicholas gave me a moment to let his question sink in. "Regardless of what you decide to do, I have specific business to complete here and am not going anywhere. Go ahead and ignore the powers you have been given and muddle through on your own, if you'd prefer." His shrug was resigned. "Of course, then my own family's deaths will have been for nothing." He gave a bitter laugh and shook his head slowly, a look of utter incredulity on his face. "Our fate lies in your hands. I am
profoundly
comforted."

He opened the front door. "Come to my house for your next lesson. You can expect it to be more intensive. I'll call you when I'm ready." He pushed me inside, still protesting, and closed the door in my face.

I immediately jerked it back open. "You are such an--"

He was gone.

Chapter 17: Laying the Wards

Sleep-deprived and bleary-eyed, Nicholas poured a cup of black coffee the following morning before heading into the pantry. Stupid, infuriating girl. Only by a stroke of pure, dumb luck had she remembered to warn him. Well, he'd known they'd figure out who he was at some point and come after him.

But if he was the next one marked for elimination, he planned to make their task as difficult as possible, starting by warding the house in case they decided to come back in person.

He pulled a sealed container of water with a hand-marked label from the pantry shelf, along with a box of sea salt. Then he turned his attention to the rows of amber vials.
Asafetida? No.
As a protective herb it was effective, but it smelled like dung and he still had to live here.
Angelica, then
. Its mere presence would keep bad spirits away. He walked deeper into the pantry.
Bay leaves to add both banishing and protection.
Briefly, he considered brimstone as his third ingredient, but again, too smelly.
Ah! High John would be the perfect complement for the trio.
It would not only protect, but also break and destroy any spells or hexes. He pulled both oil and root from the shelf. He would add the oil to the incense for the house and carry the root for personal protection.

Leaving his herbs on the kitchen counter, Nicholas stood in the first floor entrance to consider where the power point of the house resided. Warding the house would include all the windows and outside doors from attic to basement, but he would need to anchor his ward at the power point to keep the shield stable. Slipping his socked feet into boots and throwing his winter cloak over pajamas, he strode outside.

He began at the front of the house, letting his bare fingers trail along the cold wood walls. Most home power points were found on the first floor where family members spent most of their time and energy. Often it was the kitchen.

In his aunt's case, Nicholas wasn't sure. Dealing with a witch's house, the power point was more likely where she cast her circle.
Yes, there, the first floor library
. The room had felt full of residual magic when he'd first stepped into it. His hand brushed past the window ledge and he jerked to an abrupt halt. The screen bowed inward, revealing the prickly edges of cut wire. No footprints in the snow, but then he already knew it happened at least a month ago. He peered through the locked window. The wards will provide protection from both physical and psychic invasion, but he'd take the screen into town for repair any-way.

Returning inside, he chanted a sealing spell and traced runes over the doors and windows. His magic seeped into the walls, mingling with the spells Bella had laid before.

Finished with the first circuit, he crushed and mixed the herbs in a pottery bowl and lit them, blowing gently to develop embers. Working his way outward from the library, he repeated the process of sealing every possible entry, moving through the rooms, wafting fragrant smoke everywhere.

Finally, he went back outside to cast a protective circle around the entire property, laying seals on the ground at all entrances and exits. Summoning the entities who would make up the ward, he pulled them into a rock to anchor their physical presence. Next to the rock, he buried a small piece of meat to feed them until he refreshed the protection. Ticking off steps in his head, he finished by also covering the buried meat with a rock, hoping it would be enough to deter coyotes and any other local wildlife.

Nicholas knew the next activity on his list would be much more difficult to complete. He would need an accomplice, one with very specific talents. He wondered briefly if he should include Samantha in his plans. No, it would only scare her.
And I can't teach defense tactics to a warrior who is terrified.

Chapter 18: An Assignment

The phone was ringing when I stepped out of the shower.

"Well?" Rumor's voice gave me a guilty start. I had completely forgotten to call her back after the volunteer dinner disaster.

"Oh, Rumor, I'm so sorry. But there's too much to tell you on the phone. Can you come to my place on your way to work?" She gave me a thirty-minute head start so I could dress and make coffee.

We sat on the front porch and soaked up the morning sun while Rumor listened in horror to my vision of the old woman under the truck and the appearance of the ghost before the impact. The woman's image had seared itself into my brain. I could recall every detail of her face. The dark eyes and flowing gray hair. But what haunted me was her look of surprised recognition. She faced her moment of death and knew it.

Rumor reached over and squeezed my hand, her expression sympathetic. "Did you know her?"

I shook my head to clear the image from my mind. "Kamaria, Nicholas, the shaman...they seem to think I have, uh, powers."

Rumor raised one eyebrow but remained tactfully silent.

"I know. Sedona's buzzword for everything. But a lot more has happened." I paused and took a sip of coffee, wrapping both hands around the mug to still their trembling.

I described the auras, then my lesson with Nicholas and my experiences with, and without, the cloak.

"He says for me, the cloak is a tool, although I may not need it forever," I concluded.

"Let's try it again," Rumor said.

"What?" I gave her a horrified look.

"Let me try on your cloak. I want to see if it gives me any powers."

For just an instant, I felt like a circus act being paraded before the crowd. I wouldn't want to inflict this horror on anyone else. Rumor had no idea what she was asking.