Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1) (20 page)

"My family doesn't recognize the Rede," he reminded her, "and all your
harm none
nonsense. Most of the Traditional families do not follow the modern nonsense. Letting the other side have an advantage, simply because you have the weaker stomach, is nothing less than suicide." His voice cold. "Remember Aradia, Queen of the Witches? She taught her followers to poison their enemies. Enforcement's the role of the old families. To keep order."

"To keep order," she repeated, shaking her head. "What will you do when you find whomever you've returned here looking for?"

Nicholas shrugged. "I think the answer is clear. They must be stopped."

She put a hand across her mouth and whispered, "You mean killed?"

He said nothing.

Maya shuddered. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."

Nicholas smiled grimly. "Perhaps you should be thanking me for keeping your little witchy community under control, and your soul pristine." He averted his eyes, choosing to stare moodily at the bartender filling a Guinness from the tap.

Maya stood up, leaving her half-finished drink. "I think you should talk with Lilith personally if you want to know why she was banned." She hesitated before hugging him. "I don't know what you're planning, but please be careful."

"I'm always careful. It's why I'm still working." He pulled a bill out of his wallet and dropped it on the mahogany counter.

"Well, I think you have reason to be even more vigilant." Maya put on her coat and looped her arm through his. "Come to the car. I have something to show you."

The temperature had dropped even lower while they were in the bar. Patches of icy snow glinted in the streetlamps along the parking lot.

Nicholas turned up his coat collar and jammed his fists into his pockets while he waited for Maya to unlock the car.

She started the engine and turned on the windshield wipers to clear the fluffy crystals from the window. Turning, she pulled a plastic sack from the back seat.

"I found this in the ashes from our last full moon ritual." Her breath made little puffs in the cold air. "We burned negative things in our lives. I know it's supposed to be private, but I think you should see it."

Maya opened the bag, pulled out a fold of cloth and gingerly unwrapped it. In the cloth rested a crude doll, stuffed with herbs and dressed in a charred black cloak. One word had been carved into the poppet's forehead: Orenda.

Nicholas pressed his lips together in a grim smile. "I already have enough enemies to fill a graveyard." He stared at the snow silhouetted in the halo of the streetlight. "Looks like I can add another to the list."

Chapter 29: What Lies Within

I worried about Nicholas all week. Prickly as he could be, in the back of my mind, I thought of him as my protector, my knight in gleaming black magic armor. Now, I wasn't sure if he was friend or foe, pursued or pursuer.

Tomorrow was the last regular full moon of the year. The next one would be New Year's Eve. The Blood Moon. The thirteenth full moon of the year. A finger of fear ran down my spine, raising goose bumps on my arms.

The fear and uncertainty of having to rely on my magic to stay alive—my magic, which I mistrusted, disliked, and didn't understand—made me shake. According to Mother, there was no debate on what, or when. I would have to defend myself to stay alive.

No matter how the scenario played in my head, I always came back to the same recurring vision: Me on the plateau waiting for the storm to arrive. It left me with a defeated heaviness. The heaviness someone drowning feels as their clothes fill with water, the heaviness of a downward current as it sucks the strength from a swimmer's struggling limbs. There would be more deaths, I knew, as certainly as one wave follows another.

I crossed my fingers and made an early resolution to see the clock strike one in the New Year.

* * * * *

I considered not leaving the truck the next night, putting it in gear, turning around and going home. I wasn't in the best frame of mind for a full moon ritual. But the huge bonfire blazing in the circle looked so welcoming. In contrast to my empty house, the ritual would be full of laughter and good cheer this close to the holidays. And I would see Maya. And Nuin. I lifted my cape's hood over my head and looped a long wool scarf around my neck.

I got out and walked toward the fire. Nuin waved and walked part way out to meet me. He pushed a stray lock of hair from my cheek and whispered, "I've missed you, Samantha. Where have you been?"

Why was he attracted to me, a broken woman in the romance department, when he could have anyone he wanted? I still didn't know how I felt about him, but he was sexy and friendly, and much more accepting than Nicholas. I hugged him again looking over his shoulder at the bonfire. Maya stood in her long black robe, her back to the fire, looking out into the darkness at us. I broke Nuin's embrace and laced my arm through his. "Let's get near the fire, it's freezing."

The coven members had made wreaths of holly and mistletoe for each of us. Maya put one on each man's head and Nuin did the same for the women. He placed one on my head and kissed my cheek. His lips lingered on my skin an extra moment, and his breath warmed my ear. I shivered, either from the cold or from his intimate touch I wasn't sure.

"This full moon is an ideal opportunity to cleanse and charge your magickal tools for Yule, the Winter Solstice coming up later this month," Maya told us in circle.

I had no tools, so I watched as other members brought up wands, athames, wooden pentacles, and even a pair of antlers, to run through the flame and incense smoke, and sprinkle with salt and water. The ceremony was just the calm and soothing break I needed, and the incense smelled especially good this month, a mixture of frankincense, amber resin, and something Maya had called copal.

Nuin blessed his tool last, an athame with a handle of darkened bone and a gleaming new blade.

After the ritual, I sat by the bonfire next to Nuin and Maya, feeling much better than I had when I arrived. "Your athame is beautiful," I said to Nuin. "Do you mind if I hold it?"

He handed it to me. "I don't mind letting other people handle my magickal tools," he said, "but it's nice of you to ask first."

I ran my finger across the handle.

"I should start looking at athames. How did you decide on bone? I thought most were black-handled."

"The traditional ones are black," he said. "My last one was. But I lost it recently, so I decided to get something different this time."

My blood turned to ice at his answer, and I turned away so he wouldn't see my shocked expression.

He put his arm around me and pulled me close. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to jerk away from his touch. He disliked Nicholas. But enough to try to break into his house? And if so, why? Even more disturbing, why did Nuin make Nicholas uneasy?

I made an excuse to leave, blaming the cold. When I stood, Nuin stood also to walk me to my truck, tucking my arm into his. "I wondered something about the last full moon ritual," I said, keeping my voice carefully conversational as we walked. "What did you put in the bonfire when we discarded things we wanted out of our life? I saw everyone's except yours. It was wrapped. Remember?"

"I remember," he said in a mock whisper, "but it's a secret. If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

I stopped at the truck and wheeled around. "Not funny."

"Oh, come on Sam. Lighten up," he joked, putting his hands on each side of the truck door and capturing me between them. He leaned in to kiss me, and I remembered how angry he'd been when I turned aside the last time. I let his lips settle onto mine and held my breath. His kiss was light, gentle. Experienced. He leaned his body in to make contact with mine, and I let him. We kissed for a few seconds and then I gently pushed him away.

Nuin pressed his lips against my neck. Stopped. Took a step back. He unwound my scarf and lowered his gaze to my throat. "You're not wearing my necklace."

I put a hand to my throat, fingered the gold chain I'd put on that morning "I don't wear it every day."

His interruption was quiet but insistent. "I would like you to wear it every day. Think about me every day. That's what I want you to do. Think about me every day."

He tweaked my nose playfully and gave me a last quick kiss, then turned to leave. I let him go in silence. One by one, I was discovering that the men in this town harbored secrets below the surface of their confident, magickal exteriors. Nuin made two. Yes, he was beautiful. Beautiful and arrogant, and sexy…and creepy.

Chapter 30: Cutting the Yule Tree

"Honey, don't worry, I can handle the store by myself for one Saturday."

Rumor's reassurance did nothing to assuage my guilt at leaving her alone on our busiest day of the week. But I would have to return Bella's book to Nicholas tomorrow and was determined to copy it for myself before doing so. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"You could bribe me with the promise of pizza and beer tonight after work."

"Deal," I told her. "My house at seven."

I had the last entry finished in time to order a chicken Alfredo pizza from Picasso's, ice a carton of Pacificos and slice up a lime before she arrived.

After we had stuffed our bellies like hops-filled ticks, and moved to the rocking chairs on the front porch, I was relaxed enough to bring up the subject niggling my brain, and other parts as well, all weekend.

"How old do you think Nicholas is?" Despite the threat to my life and the odd occurrences swirling around me, this minor issue bothered me. Was Nicholas too old for me romantically? I fervently hoped he wasn't. I'd take anything within say, fifteen years of my current twenty-eight.

She twirled her beer bottle, considering my question.

"Chronologically?"

She broke the word down, chron…o…log…ic…ally, trying out the syllables one by one to get them off her tongue in the proper order. "Or emotionally?"

"Huh?"

"I'd guess he's late-thirties, maybe forty." She giggled. "It's hard to tell with the tall, lanky ones, though. They tend to hold together better. He might be older." She giggled again. "And his pale face hasn't been in the Arizona sun for long. He has youthful skin."

She was drunk. I should have known better than to bring up the subject after three beers. But why stop now? "What about emotionally?"

"'Bout a century."

I snorted, spraying beer on the table. Just a teensy bit. Then I sobered suddenly. "Do you think he's dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" Rumor looked at me, solemn as an owl. "No, I do not think he's dangerous. I think he's sad." She burped, but covered her mouth discreetly. "He's an ooold soul."

"Okay, I'll bite. What do you mean?" I mopped up my beer with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

She paused and twirled a lock of her straight dark hair. "It seems like he's seen a lot of bad things in his life, more than his share. It's hardened him." She paused again, looking at me with a slightly weaving head. "And it's made him lonely. Sooo lonely." She dropped her cheek onto her hands. "He needs to get laid."

Time to drive Rumor home and put her to bed. My inebriated partner was making way too much sense.

* * * * *

I recognized Nicholas's nasty mood as soon as I opened the door the next morning. He held his hand out, palm up. "The book please."

So much for
'tis the season.

I retreated into the den, pulled the leather book from the desk and turned to find him studying Sinclair's raven-woman in the credenza.

"May I touch it?" he asked.

Grateful for the distraction, I pulled the statue from its perch and handed it to him.

An amazing array of reactions flooded Nicholas as he held the carving, his expression changing from irritated to puzzled, ending with barely controlled excitement. His thin pale fingers were flushed deep pink, as if the tips were sunburned. "Where did you get this?"

I pried the statue gently from his hands. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Sinclair, Rod Standing Bear's uncle, carved it for me."

Nicholas shook his head, not making the connection.

"The shaman I met on the mountain. The one who told me the prophecy."

Nicholas took the statue again and held it for a long moment with his eyes closed. "I'd like to meet him," he said suddenly. "Would you introduce me?"

"It's not so simple. He's not exactly sociable." I hesitated. "The only reason he agreed to meet with me is because Standing Bear asked him to."

He put the statue back on the shelf, his hands still flushed and trembling slightly, I noticed. "Then how about an introduction to Mr. Standing Bear?"

"I can arrange it." I looked at him quizzically, wondering why he was so excited.

His eyes dropped to the grimoire on the desk. He turned it over and examined it for any damage, and checked to be sure it was locked. "We'll talk about
this
later," he growled.

"As you wish, dark prince." Picking up my coat and gloves, I escorted him out the door with a determined smile, locking it behind us.

Nicholas drove north toward Flagstaff through increasingly dense ponderosa pine forest. The morning was bright and cold. While I felt magnanimous and oddly unashamed of stealing his book, I did owe him an apology.

"Nicholas, I'm really sorry I took the book."

"Where is the key?"

This was going to be tricky. "What key?"

"The key to open it."

Nicholas's voice was calm and he kept his eyes on the road. But I knew his moods well enough now to know calm wasn't a good sign.

"I don't have a key."

He shot me a quick glance. "You're lying Samantha. Remember my rule about lying? I know you've opened it."

It wasn't a question but an assumption. So I shrugged and looked out the window, which ended the conversation for the rest of the drive.

We turned off onto a forest road, meeting up with the others about three miles after the pavement gave way to dirt.

Rumor, looking wan, greeted us when we pulled in. She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, "Thanks for driving me home last night." She turned to Nicholas. "We have extra gear in Nuin's truck."