Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1) (15 page)

I put my hand over his. "Apology accepted. I see how you might feel it's a lot of coincidence." I stopped, my mind buzzing. "But there's no such thing as coincidence."

Nicholas looked at me in puzzlement.

"I've been thinking about the message I received during Mom's séance," I said. Actually, I had done nothing except think about her message. "Did Kamaria tell you the exact wording?"

Nicholas turned toward the little desk behind him. "I wrote it down here somewhere."

"Don't bother, I have it memorized," I replied wearily. "He will make you his or see you dead for the power."

"Before the blood moon," Nicholas finished. "Not much time. Do you have any idea who she is talking about?"

I shook my head. "But I think you're right. All these weird occurrences, they haven't been random. And none of it would have happened without the cloak." I looked at Nicholas grimly. "We really need to find your aunt. I think she's trying to warn me."

"Hmm."

Nicholas's gaze drifted to the snowy window. His thoughts seemed far away. "I might have a way to find her." His eyes cleared and he gave a sharp nod.

"We can discuss it more when we're both more rested."

The coffee pot was empty so Nicholas put a kettle of water on to boil for tea.

"Were you close to your aunt?" I asked as he pulled a canister from the cabinet.

He dropped teabags into the kettle, and I smelled the sweet scent of bergamot and mint. "Did you know Aunt Bella was the High Priestess of the Crescent Moon coven?"

"Yes, Maya told me. I was surprised to hear it."

"My grandmother had the position before her, for many years. The coven was different then. Such a long time ago." He paused, lost in thought. "There were seven women, scattered across the States and Europe. They met for a week four times a year, at each of the solar Sabbats. Of course, it was all done in secret. But every third year they would meet at Grandmother's and she allowed me to attend their celebrations."

I tried to imagine what his life had been like as a child, learning witchcraft before he was old enough to go to school. What an odd setting to grow up in. Isolating, yes, but such an advantage. It would have to affect how he related to people around him. There
was
something different about him, but even after this much time together, I still couldn't tell what exactly. Maybe the eyes?

He met my stare directly, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth, and I knew what was different about him. Nicholas didn't look at you, he looked into you.

Unnerved, I forced my gaze away from his and onto my teacup, stirring it as I spoke. "Where did your grandmother live?"

Nicholas leaned back in his chair and gestured around him. "This was the stateside covenstead. She divided her time between England and the States. The last time I came to visit I was in college. Then grandmother stepped aside and Aunt Bella took over the coven. But grandmother's the one who taught me most of our family witchcraft."

He grinned. "She was a terrifying old bat." The smile faded. "I'm sure she went out fighting."

"Nicholas, I'm so sorry I was flippant about studying with you," I said. "I feel awful. I had no idea you would be breaking your family's tradition to teach me."

He sighed. "At this point I have few options. My grandparents and mother are dead. My aunt has disappeared. It appears I am the last of our family. I'd hate to see our knowledge die with me."

"Has your family been gone long?"

"No. Grandmother died last year. Car accident."

"Oh! I'm so sorry."

He managed a small, sad smile. "It's been a bad stretch for our family. My mother was murdered the year before."

"Murdered?" I leaned across the table toward him in horror.

"Mugged in New York. Stabbed. She was there for a Sabbat get-together with her friends. She'd gone to the theatre."

"Alone?"

"No," he said. "They all went. Grandmother and Bella were with her, and the other coven members. It rained that night, and the others stayed inside the building to say their goodbyes. Mother had stepped outside to hail a cab." He grimaced. "So much for her divination skills."

He shook himself, as if to rid his mind of the sad memories, and stood up. "You should get to bed. It's nearly dawn."

I looked up at him, still numb from his family tragedies, and followed his gaze to the kitchen window where pale pink tinted the eastern sky. I swiped my tears away with the back of my hand, head down so Nicholas wouldn't see, and nodded. Our conversation, on top of my terrifying drive through the snowstorm, had left me exhausted.

Nicholas led me up the shadowy curved staircase to the second floor. He opened a door halfway down the hall. "This is Bella's bedroom. There are extra pillows in the wardrobe chest. The bathroom is just across. I believe there is a fresh toothbrush in the medicine cabinet as well as other toiletries."

He looked at me, his eyes dark with an emotion I could not identify. "Do you mind staying in Bella's room?"

"I'll be fine, thank you."

"My room is next to the bathroom. If you need anything."

I felt his eyes on me as I walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

He was still waiting outside when I emerged a short time later. He stood perfectly still, eyes closed, as I stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

"Good night, Nicholas."

No answer.

As I closed my door, I heard him mutter,
"Si es atal es atal."
What will be will be.

Chapter 22: The Familiar's Secret

The snowstorm had ended during the night. Morning sunshine streamed through the lace-curtained window. I had forgotten to pull the blind, but something else woke me. I rolled onto my back and listened.

"Meow."

I sat up and looked around.

Magic sprawled on his back at the foot of my bed. With his four paws stuck in the air, he looked like an overturned, splayed-legged table. He was out cold.

I listened again.

"Meow."

I drew back the quilt and blanket, careful not to disturb my furry bedmate, opened the door and tiptoed into the hall. Nothing. Back in the bedroom, I spotted a second door in the corner, tucked next to a huge oak wardrobe. It opened to a steep, narrow staircase painted light blue. Wan light lit the top of the stairs.

Partway up the steps I heard it again.
"Meow."

I climbed into a large attic. The dirty panes of the beveled glass window at the far end refracted the hazy sun and turned the swirling dust motes into fairy crystals. Under the window, a second black cat crouched on a thick book.

"Shadow?"

"Meow."

I walked up to him slowly and quietly, murmuring soft sounds of encouragement, knelt, and stroked the top of his head. He answered with a raised rump and a contented squint of two startlingly amber eyes.

"So this is where you've been hiding." I picked him up, still scratching his ears, and turned to the stairs, thinking I should really call Rumor and let her know I'd be in late today.

He hissed and hurled himself out of my arms, settling back on top of his book.

"Geez, cat." I looked around. The floor was too dusty to sit, but I pulled an old footstool over and sat next to Shadow, stroking the top of his head. He purred and bumped my hand for more, just as Magick had the night before. He seemed mellow now.

"Hey fella, are you one of those guys who hates to be held?" I cooed at him.

He stood up, stretched languidly, and jumped onto my lap.

"Guess not, as long as it's your idea." Arms around the purring cat, I leaned over to look at the cover of the book he had just vacated.

It was the size of an encyclopedia and bound in black leather, dusty brown from disuse. Strange symbols were etched into the silver corner guards and a pentagram and crescent moon were embossed into the leather cover. I picked up the book. A lock with a metal clasp, engraved with an emblem in the shape of an eye, similar to the one on a dollar bill, kept the book closed. I pushed the latch. It didn't budge.

Suddenly the eye glowed with green luminescence and blinked.

I jumped, upending the cat on my lap, and heaved the book across the room. It bounced against the leaded glass window with a dull thud. Shadow stood at my feet, his back arched and his incisors bared, growling and ready to fight.

I slowly backed away, giving the book the same wide berth one would a rattlesnake. A voice whispered, "You need not be rough. Simply state yourself. Who comes before the book of Orenda?"

I stood against a rafter brace, rooted to the spot in fascinated terror, afraid to turn my back on the thing. Something brushed against my ankle and I squealed. Shadow, purring now, wound through my bare legs. I drew in a shaky breath and slid down the slanted brace onto the floor.

"Well? I'm waiting."

Shadow mewed and rubbed his whiskers along the back of my hand. He then darted over to the book and rubbed his face over its cover, purring so hard his whole body vibrated.

With a soft
click
, the latch fell open.

The cat looked up at me with expectant, calm eyes and dipped his head as if nodding
yes
.

A snippet of conversation with Nicholas ran through my head.
Learn to control your mind and its powers
. I crawled to the book—which now looked quite innocent–and picked it up. I ran my palm over the ancient leather, thinking,
why did you open?

The pages ruffled and I heard the answer in my head.
No key is necessary when you are known. What you need will soon be shown
.

Inside the front cover was a folded piece of parchment. The spidery handwriting had faded from black to tan with the years:

To the one who now opens this book,

If you have been allowed inside my Book of Shadows,

I welcome you, new friend.

Use it well, for it contains a lifetime of learning.

What may now seem impossible will soon become clear.

~ Mlle. Renard Corbeau Orenda,1944

Below, in a different hand, was written

~ Bella Orenda, 2009

I thumbed through the pages, but could find no title or index. They were dated, appearing in no discernible order and written in more than one hand. Many of the entries were written in French, others in a language I didn't recognize. Still others looked like no language at all, but rather a child's imaginative stick figures.

I picked one of the more recent entries written in English. The ink on this page was clear and dark:

September 2009.

R is gone. No time to prepare.

I fear I will be next.

But I will make things more difficult for them this time.

The telephone rang in the lower recesses of the house. Then, Nicholas called, "Samantha. I have the tow company on the phone."

I returned the book to its place and tiptoed quickly from the attic back to Bella's bedroom. I heard Nicholas's quick footsteps on the stairs and pulled a fluffy robe from the closet. I was belting it around me when he knocked on the bedroom door.

"They need directions to your truck." He handed me the phone, eyeing my bathrobe. "And I'm making coffee, sleepy-head."

* * * *

When I joined Nicholas in the kitchen, he pointed to an empty coffee cup on the counter. "Sorry, we ate the only eggs last night. I can make dry toast…there's no butter."

I wrinkled my nose. "Any chance of jam?"

No reply. The
London Daily Times
obscured his face.

Looking around, I spied a walk-in pantry next to the stove. I filled my coffee cup and went into the storage area.

"You are very nosy." His gruff voice came from behind the paper.

I popped my head out of the walk-in. "No, I'm looking for jam. Why are you reading the London paper?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?" He sounded irritated and tired. "I'm reading it because I prefer the civilized world rather than the opinions of a man who calls himself
Sheriff Joe
."

Nicholas was most decidedly not a morning person. "But why London?"

From behind the newspaper, a snort. "As I said, nosy."

"But?"

With a long-suffering sigh, Nicholas lowered the paper. "Because I live there."

"You don't have an accent."

"Well, you do. It's nasal and twangy and–before I've had my breakfast at least—quite irritating." The newspaper went back up. "Are you fixing toast?"

"Not until I find jam," I muttered, returning to the pantry.

A mason jar in the very back looked promising until I opened it. "Eeww. What is this? It smells like sweaty gym shoes and soot."

Another snort. "Previous house guests."

Giving up the search, I sat at the table across from him. "My, you're a gracious host."

"I am when the guest is invited."

I gritted my teeth to bite off the snide reply he deserved.
So, last night was an anomaly. But remember, more flies with sugar. I bet you just hate sugar, especially in companions.

"You'll be pleased to know I found Shadow."

Nicholas folded the paper. Now I had his attention. "Where was that wretched cat?"

"In the attic. Now, he's asleep on my bed."

"You went up in the attic? You truly are a snoop."

"Well, he called me up there." I smiled sweetly to irritate him further. "Now, I'd like to take a shower before the tow-truck gets here."

I left him at the table, toastless, muttering something like "…quite sure she wouldn't come if I'd been the one calling."

I ran the water in the shower to cover the creaking of the attic steps. Shadow remained there, guardian of the mysterious book. This time, as my head appeared at the top of the stairs, the big cat strolled over to purr and bump against me in greeting. I knelt down to scratch his whiskers with both hands.

"Watcha think big guy? Will your grouchy new master let me read this book if I tell him about it?"

Shadow regarded me solemnly with those amber eyes and blinked, giving his head a quick shake.

I frowned at him. "Didn't think so."

He followed me as I retrieved the book and then accompanied me into the steamy bathroom downstairs. There he jumped into the sink bowl and curled up for a nap.