Between Light and Dark (15 page)

An immature and cowardly way to handle the situation,
but right now she didn't much care.

She could approach Fiona, but that idea was even less appealing than talking to Axiom. Who then? Reese? He'd been
friendly to her so far. He'd spilled the beans about her witchy
heritage. He seemed her best bet for a straight answer.

She found him reclining on the couch in the main house,
nose buried in a book. His blond hair flowed over his shoulders, freed from its usual rubber band, and he wore blue jeans
and a black sweater. An ebony long-haired cat purred in his
lap, and he stroked it absently.

"Anything good?" Laurell asked.

Reese peered at her over the edge of his book, and his
sky blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Nothing half as interesting as you." He placed the book on the end table beside him and patted the place next to him on the sofa.

Laurell sat and tilted her head toward the feline. "A
witch with a black cat. Sort of a cliche, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "Some cliches are worth perpetuating. This is Magic. She's been Fiona's kitty for as long as I can
remember."

She ran her fingers over Magic's back, enjoying the feel
of the sable-soft fur. The cat lifted its head, cracked open
one emerald green eye, and let out a satisfied meow before
settling back down into its nap. "I have a question for you."
"Uh-oh," he teased.

"It's no big deal, just something I need to know," she said.

"Okay then, shoot."

"How is it that your coven came to learn of me and my
family? Or the mission, for that matter?"

"It was through Fiona's sister, Anne, actually. She was
the group's psychic."

"So the visions," Laurell pushed, "they sent her to my
grandmother?"

"Yeah. I think that's how it happened. Then the next
thing we knew, she'd tracked your family down, and she
and your grandmother set up the safe house. Not too long
after, Axiom showed up here asking for help getting used to
his human body."

"That must have been something," Laurell said.

Reese snickered. "Was it ever. He just hovered, observing everything we did and mimicking our movements. Fortunately, he's a quick study. You wouldn't want to see what
it looked like the first time he ate."

"I'll bet." Having witnessed his aggressive eating habits
before, she could only imagine what his manners must have
been like upon first arrival.

"A few days later, he said it was time to go fetch you, and
he and Wayne left. That's about the time Anne went to
town to get supplies and never returned."

A shadow of grief crossed Reese's face, and Laurell's gut
clenched in sympathy. She touched his knee. "I'm so sorry
about Anne."

Reese's hand closed over hers. "Thanks. It's been hard on
all of us, but especially Fi."

She nodded and allowed him a moment of quiet before
asking, "Do you know anything else? Anything about my
mother, maybe? Did you know she was originally supposed
to mother the Earth Balancer?"

Reese's eyebrows flew up. "Oh no, you don't. Last time I
told you something about your family, I was taken out back
and flogged."

"What?" Laurell exclaimed.

He laughed. "I'm exaggerating. I was reprimanded though.
I'm under strict orders to keep my mouth shut about your
family."

Her heart sank. "I wouldn't want to get you into trouble."

"And just what type of trouble are you two brewing up?"
Fiona quipped, sweeping into the room. She looked stunning, as usual, in a black velvet skirt and forest green top.
The High Priestess's gaze focused pointedly on where Reese's
hand still clasped Laurell's.

Laurell's face flushed, and she snatched her fingers from
his, feeling as if she'd been caught doing something naughty,
but not certain why. She'd been so preoccupied with their
discussion, she'd forgotten he still held her hand.

"Hey, Fi, up from your nap?" Reese said.

"Yeah," Fiona said as she flopped into the wingback chair
opposite the couch. Her cat green eyes narrowed on Laurell
with a suspicious gleam. "Seriously, though, tell me what
you two are conspiring about."

"We weren't conspiring." Laurell lifted her chin in defiance. "We were talking about my family."

"No worries, Fi. I already told her I'm not allowed to share
any more secrets," Reese interjected before Fiona could respond.

Fiona eyed Laurell carefully. "Glad to hear that, Reese,"
she said, still looking at Laurell. "Laurell, if you want to
know more, talk to your Liaison. My understanding is she
asked to be the one to fill you in on all that."

Laurell rose, keeping her expression blank. She refused to
let Fiona see how much she dreaded talking to her mother.
The woman didn't need anything else with which to torture
her. "Maybe I'll do that."

"Get up, lazybones. Time for ritual." Hillary's husky voice
boomed through the closed door of Laurell's cabin. She'd
been trying to catch a quick nap before supper. Actually,
Laurell had attempted an astral travel trip, figuring it would
be best to talk to her mother and just get all their business
out in the open rather than stewing over it. Instead, she'd
simply fallen asleep sans Liaison visit.

"What ritual?" Laurell called out, her words muffled by a
yawn.

"Full moon. You've got twenty minutes, so move it, girl!
And dress nice! Ritual for us is like church for Christians."
Hillary's footsteps faded into the distance.

Laurell sat up and glanced at the clock. She'd slept
through supper. Her stomach growled its protest. She'd have
to grab a snack later. She slipped on a long, violet skirt
Hillary had given to her a few days before, along with several
other articles of clothing. "These are my clothes from when
I was scrawny like you," she'd said.

When Laurell asked if she wouldn't rather keep them in
case she fit into them again, Hillary had laughed. "Oh no, I'm
celebrating my goddess curves, not trying to get rid of 'em."

Laurell added a silky black peasant shirt to the outfit and
glanced in the mirror. She only wished she had Hillary's attitude about her less-than-perfect body. Scrawny? As if!

She ran a brush through her hair, then ruffled the mahogany strands until the choppy layers lay in planned disarray. As she applied some mascara and dotted her lips with
gloss, she thought over the day's training.

She'd pretty much gotten the hang of the earth element;
after countless tries and lots of focused will and intent, she'd
caused a rather impressive crack in a boulder. She'd utilized
the air element to whip up a small dust devil, and as for fire,
well, it was clear she had a natural ability to tap into that particular element, so she and Fiona had left well enough alone.

Working with water, however, remained problematic.
No matter how much power she put into it, she was unable
to affect the water. Fiona continued to harp on perceiving
the water element within her, imagining it as the blood
running through her veins, and tapping into her emotions.
No matter what Laurell did, though, she couldn't assimilate
this element. Fiona had given her some more practice exercises to work with on her own and told her they'd come
back to it later.

It still amazed her, this ability to weave magic. She felt a
little like Alice in Wonderland, having stumbled into a
strange world where the improbable was possible and nothing was what it seemed. Knowing her grandmother had been
a witch and being able to tap into her own previously hidden
power, Laurell felt like a Graves for the first time in her life.

Suddenly, being a Graves meant much more than being
a Hollywood legend's daughter; it meant having access to
unusual abilities and strengths, being part of something
bigger than herself. She only wished she'd known her potential when her grandmother was alive.

She dotted some amber oil on her wrists and neck. Dawna,
the goth girl of the group who spent most of her time in her
cabin writing in a journal, had given Laurell the tiny cobalt blue bottle of essential oil, explaining it had protective
qualities.

Protective or not, Laurell adored the scent, sweet with a
hint of spice. One by one the members of the coven were
stepping forward in their own ways to welcome and befriend Laurell. Each time this happened, a slow and fuzzy
warmth spiraled through her. She actually belonged here.
Maybe not forever, but for now.

She took one more look in the mirror. Normally, she'd
have preferred jeans and a T-shirt, but Hillary had said to
dress nice. That's the only reason I'm primping. It has nothing
to do with Axiom being at the ritual.

She wrapped a black, hooded cloak around her shoulders, enjoying the softness of the velvet against her skin.
She had no idea whom to thank for this particular present.
She'd found it lying across her bed that morning upon her
return from breakfast.

The brisk night air greeted her as she stepped from the
cabin, and she was immediately grateful for the cloak. Something drew her eyes upward-perhaps the pull of the moon,
which shone bright and vivid against the black sky. She
could make out a face with a lopsided smile on its surface.

"Are you coming or what?" Hillary appeared at her side,
breathtaking in a black velvet dress with a red wool ruana
slung about her shoulders. Her eyes were heavily lined and
her lips shone with something glossy in the moonlight.

"Wow," Laurell said.

"Goddess of Willendorf, that's me!" Hillary quipped, grabbing Laurell's arm and pulling her toward the ritual circle.

They followed the beam of Hillary's flashlight and made
their way between the trees toward the place where a fire
danced and a lone drummer tapped out a primal beat.

Axiom observed Laurell from the west side of the ritual circle. She halted at the entrance to the clearing, and Fiona
drew a banishing fire pentagram on Laurell's head while the
blonde witch named Lynn waved sage around her body.
The smoke tendrils from the burning herb curled over Laurels, cleansing her in the manner of the Native Americans.

The scent of the sage drifted to his nostrils, and he tried
to concentrate on it, on the rhythm of the drum Reese percussed with such skill, on the coolness seeping from the
hard ground through the blanket on which he sat.

He wished to focus on anything but Laurell and the vision she presented, illuminated by moonlight, the image of
a powerful goddess in her flowing skirt and the cloak he had
gifted her. Breathtaking. The fact she so clearly did not know
her own beauty only made her all the more attractive.

Fiona pointed Laurell in Axiom's direction, and she
strode clockwise around the ritual circle toward him. Laurell folded her legs beneath her, sitting on the blanket as far
from him as she could. She kept her gaze averted despite
his pointed attempt to make eye contact.

Laurell sat with her back rigid, clasping her hands tightly
in her lap. Clearly, she was still angry with him. He had attempted to talk to her several times since their passionate
encounter, but she'd always hurried away before he could
utter more than a greeting.

"Brothers and sisters of the craft, please stand." Fiona's
voice broke through Axiom's thoughts. Reese's drumming
ceased, and the coven members, clustered into the four cardinal directions, rose. He stood and offered his hand to
Laurell, who teetered as she got up, almost losing her balance. She ignored his attempt to assist.

Fiona walked the perimeter of the circle, sweeping a
broom and chanting, "A circle within a circle, protected,
and clear of all negativity." Axiom knew Fiona referred to
the ritual circle and the larger circle of protection that encompassed the property.

Next, Fiona and Reese consecrated the elements, a task
that included saying a blessing over a dish of salt and one of
water, and lighting a stick of incense. Dawna collected the
incense, Lynn the salt, and Wayne the water. The three
then walked the circle once, returned the items to the stone
altar that sat in the middle of the circle, then resumed their
posts. Next, the coven greeted and called in the elements
one at a time.

"Guardians of the watchtowers of the East, element of
air, we summon, stir, and call you up to aid and witness our
rite," Reese called out from his station in the east. He held
up his athame, a short-handled knife used only for magic,
and cut a pentagram invoking east. Golden sparks followed
the trail of his athame, brilliant against the backdrop of
night.

Wayne repeated a similar act in the south, his athame
producing red flashes of light as he waved it through the
air. Then all eyes turned to Axiom and Laurell.

"Laurell, will you invoke the element of water, please?"
Fiona's words were more command than request.

Laurell's brow creased in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes. You and Axiom occupy the west quarter," Fiona
explained. Laurell shifted from one foot to the other, then twisted to view the water fountain trickling quietly behind
them. She bit her lip and looked perplexed.