The next night, the members of Ravyn's coven were gathered for the annual Lamenth celebration, a time to honor death and reincarnation, and to pay tribute to loved ones who have passed. There would be a dinner, and afterward they would perform a ritual to connect with those who'd departed.
Ravyn was sad, on edge, and the usual pleasure she took in coven dinners was severely diminished. As children, she and Sorina had dreamed of and longed for the time when they turned twenty-one and would be included in these wonderful, mysterious affairs. When she was ten and Sorina seven, they'd sneaked out of their rooms to observe. The dining-room doors had been open, and from the top of the staircase they'd had a perfect vantage point from which to watch.
Ravyn had decided that if she and her sister were caught, she would make sure Sorina wasn't blamed. Ravyn had planned to say it was her idea, even though they'd thought of it together. The adults would no doubt believe Ravyn was the instigator. After all, she was reputedly willful and incorrigible. At ten Ravyn wasn't sure exactly what those words meant, but her mother and teachers at school had used them, so she knew they must be true.
But they hadn't been caught. They'd crouched there for hours in their bare feet and pink nightgowns, peering through the railing of the staircase. They'd both been enthralled, though for different reasons. Sorina had admired the beautifully gowned women and the handsome men in their tuxedos. Ravyn had simply felt a sense of Tightness, of belonging. The warm camaraderie and bonding she'd sensed between the coven members gave her a feeling of peace she hadn't yet experienced at home or school.
When Ravyn had turned twenty-one, three years before Sorina, after each dinner she had regaled her sister with the details of the evening, and Sorina had listened with rapt attention, her eyes round blue saucers of delight.
Sorina's absence tonight left a hollow feeling deep in Ravyn's belly and anguish in her heart. These dinners would never be the same without her sister's wide-eyed wonder.
Gwendyl's seat was empty, too. Where was her mother? She'd never missed a dinner. Ravyn experienced a pang of concern but pushed it aside. Whatever her mother's problem was, she'd brought it on herself.
Vanora's dining table was covered with ivory lace that was inset with tiny gold fibers. Three gold candelabras, one in the middle and one on each end, held long, tapered ivory candles. The glow from their flames increased the understated elegance of the dining room. From the kitchen wafted the delicious scents of the meal: some type of roasted meat, although Ravyn couldn't quite identify it, and the fragrance of vanilla from the undoubtedly delectable dessert that Mindy, Vanora's cook, had concocted.
As always, the dinner was a warm and elegant affair. Elsbeth was lovely and glowing in a silk lavender gown, and Aladardo sat next to her, resplendent in a black tuxedo with a lavender shirt of the same shade. Ravyn's dress was of emerald silk and floor-length, formfitting and backless. Vanora sat at the head of the table, wearing a shimmery silver dress with a fan collar that framed her fiery red hair.
Ravyn tried to keep up with the conversations around her, but her mind went to Nick, to the kiss they'd shared. She could swear she still felt the touch of his mouth against hers and the warm imprint of his body. A flush spread through her, and she shifted in her seat.
She fought the reaction, good though it felt. This attraction to Nick was unexpected and unwanted, and she didn't know what to do about it. And yet… another thought made her smile: Sorina would be pleased after her initial matchmaking efforts. Sorina would be very pleased. She had always wanted Ravyn to find someone she could trust.
Ravyn's gaze moved to her sister's empty chair, and her heart ached with the need to see Sorina, to talk to her, to hug her just one more time. Willing away the tears that threatened, she dragged her eyes from the empty place and… met Vanora's piercing stare.
Vanora's eyes held… what? Disappointment? Anger? Ravyn wasn't sure, but the woman's expression was something other than her typical serene kindness. Ravyn felt a stirring of unease. Had Vanora learned of her activities? Did she know what had happened with the serial killer, with the pervert who had kidnapped the little boy, with Donald Moses? Ravyn's life had been touched by vermin recently. She had been acting out, trying to right her previous wrongs. The insulated cocoon of the coven thus had been compromised, and there was indeed a vile presence on the perimeter, the result, no doubt, of Ravyn breaking the coven rules.
Vanora spoke, and the chatter ceased as all eyes turned to her. She lifted a wineglass, the muted light of the candles reflected in the deep burgundy liquid. "Thank you for coming, my friends. Unfortunately, not all of our beloved are with us to share the occasion." The elder's eyes, nearly the same shade as her dress, glistened with moisture. A poignant smile touched her red-lipsticked mouth, if only briefly, before she continued. "We are not here to mourn, however, but to celebrate life—to converse, to join in fellowship with those we love."
The coven members raised their wineglasses in a toast, and the conversation recommenced along with the serving of the meal.
At last the dinner drew to a close, and the coven members, warmed and replete from the ample food and even more ample wine, rose from their seats. Vanora went to Ravyn and rested a hand on her arm. "Before the ritual, I'd like to speak with you for a moment."
Ravyn nodded, apprehension sliding over her. Vanora's desire for a private conversation could mean only one thing: Ravyn was in trouble.
The elder led her into her sitting room, extracting a slim cigar from a jewel-encrusted humidor. She touched its tip to the flame from a gold lighter, and the fragrance of cherries rilled the air. Ravyn took a seat in a black easy chair and waited.
Vanora seated herself on the sofa and exhaled, giving a small sigh of satisfaction. Then the pleasure vanished from her expression and she leaned forward, retrieving a newspaper from the coffee table.
"Care to explain?" she asked, thrusting it toward Ravyn.
Ravyn glanced at the paper where it was folded back to show an article about an attempted kidnapping. Her lungs seemed to freeze for a moment as she read the headline: WOULD-BE KIDNAPPER MYSTERIOUSLY INJURED IN ALTERCATION WITH GOOD SAMARITANS.
Her heart dipped painfully into her stomach, and she swallowed loudly. "I… It was…"
"I know what it was, Ravyn. You used your powers to wound this man."
"He kidnapped a child, held a gun to his head. I had to do something."
Vanora shook her head in disgust. "You didn't
have
to. You were right to step in, to stop him. But did you have to cause him pain? Was it necessary to break his hand? You couldn't have just weakened his wrist, rendered it useless and made him drop the gun?"
Yes, she could have. But that hadn't been her first instinct. She didn't want to admit it, even to herself, but she'd
wanted
to hurt the bastard. Wanted to make him suffer for what he'd done. What he was planning on doing again. But she couldn't admit that to Vanora.
She shrugged. "I didn't think—"
"That is painfully obvious." Vanora's mouth tightened with anger. "You didn't think at all. You could be banished from the coven for this, don't you realize that?"
Ravyn couldn't speak, so she only nodded. As angry as she was over this, if Vanora knew about the Tin Man, she'd be livid. In all the time Ravyn had known Vanora, she'd never seen the woman lose her composure, and had certainly never seen her so angry with
her
. But, it was understandable. Ravyn had done wrong.
What had gotten into her? In spite of the violence she'd witnessed at home, she'd been raised with the doctrine of peace and love in the coven. She'd broken that twice recently. To be honest, she knew what the problem was: she'd gotten involved, become too close, with mortals and their world.
"I always considered you as the most probable replacement for me when the time comes to step down," Vanora was saying, her tone soft. "But now I don't know. As its high priestess, you must strictly adhere to the teachings of the coven."
"I know." A small thrill of hope wended through Ravyn. She'd always dreamed of one day becoming high priestess, but she'd never imagined Vanora would choose her. The high priestess could not be married, could not even be involved with a man. She must devote all her energy and affection to the coven. Which meant she and Nick could never…
But that was a good thing! She had no business becoming involved with Nick. It would be harmful in more ways than one.
As if reading her mind Vanora said, "You don't currently have a love interest, do you? I know you're young, but you don't seem interested in a relationship—not since the debacle with Kayne."
"I'm not. Not at all," Ravyn assured her.
"If that remains the case, I'll bring your name before the council when the time comes. But"—she tapped a manicured fingernail against the newspaper—"incidents like this simply cannot occur. It is bound to be a temptation, what with us being touched by the violence of the secular world, but we must resist. We cannot allow that corruption to affect our emotions, to draw us in. If one is touched by the vile, she must strive to overcome that with our teachings and not with retaliation."
Ravyn nodded reluctantly. Her mind knew what Vanora said was true, but her heart wanted to make the guilty pay—wanted to make them know the pain and suffering their victims knew. And though she was aware her desire for vengeance could destroy her chances of becoming high priestess, she knew she wouldn't stop. She
couldn't
stop. At least, not until one more monster was behind bars or dead.
A short time later Ravyn stood in the ritual place, surrounded by leafless trees and her coven. She had participated in this Lamenth ritual many times, but never had it held more meaning.
A cauldron sat on the altar, steam rising from it even though there was no fire beneath. The coven members were to stare into the smoke rising from the cauldron, and as Vanora recited their entreaty, they would perhaps see the faces of their departed loved ones. Ravyn prayed she would see Sorina, and that her sister would be somehow as happy in death as she had been in life. It seemed unlikely.
Vanora's melodic voice broke the stillness of the night. "We gather to honor our loved ones. We entreat those we love to join us once more. Though they have passed, we hope they will live again, we wish to know them in our future lives. We take these candles and light them from the candle of life."
One by one, each member of the coven stepped forward and touched the flame of their purple tapered candle to Vanora's. Purple represented the calling forth of spirits, the connection to souls who have moved on.
After they were all once more in the circle, the witches closed their eyes and waited, listening. The wind stilled, and around her Ravyn could hear the muted sounds from the deep woods: a rustling, perhaps from a small animal; a gurgle from the stream that flowed nearby; the hoot of an owl. Ravyn set her mind on Sorina, praying her sister would appear.
"We beseech thee," Vanora continued. "Goddess of the departed spirits, reveal to us now those who have passed. Those who wish to be revealed."
Ravyn opened her eyes and stared into the smoke from the iron cauldron. As she watched, the smoke moved, seeming to take on a shape and form something other than the random vapor it had been before. She held her breath, silently willing Sorina's face to appear.
So intent was her concentration, at first she didn't notice the cessation of background noise. Then, all at once, the smell of sulfur permeated the air and the ground seemed to move, undulating beneath her feet. The smoke from the cauldron was once again just smoke.
What was happening? Ravyn's heart began to pound, and she and the other coven members lifted their heads and looked around. From between the trees a hooded figure strode toward them.
Ravyn's heart shifted into overdrive as the apparition moved swiftly forward. This was not the spirit they had intended to conjure. This was something evil, and she could feel it. The tension in her body grew, and she looked to Vanora for guidance.
The high priestess's face was drawn into a grimace of distaste and… recognition? This was someone—something—with which Vanora was acquainted!
Ravyn returned her gaze to the figure, who now stood next to the cauldron. At his feet a swirl of leaves rose, and among them were black wisps of smoke, writhing and boiling mere inches above the ground. Ravyn sensed that within those black wisps was an evil presence. She couldn't say how she knew, only that she did.
The intruder's head was bowed, but he lifted it and threw back the hood of the robe. Ravyn's breath caught in her throat.
Kayne
! He held a hand into the steam from the cauldron, and Ravyn could smell burning flesh.
Kayne grimaced but didn't immediately withdraw his hand. After several seconds, he brought it out from the steam. The flesh was a deep red, almost black in some spots, puckered and already starting to blister. Excruciatingly painful, no doubt.
Kayne smiled and waved the hand in the air. Just like that, the flesh returned to normal; the burns disappeared. The gasps from the coven broke the strange silence that had descended.
Vanora's voice rang out, strong and unafraid. "What are you doing here? You know you're not welcome."
Kayne's gaze focused on Ravyn, but he responded to the elder. "I go where I please. I have the power to infiltrate any ritual, at any time, anywhere in the world. Your pathetic spells cannot stop me." He moved closer to Ravyn, stopping directly in front of her. "You are mine," he whispered. "One of these days you will realize that. You will rule by my side. There is nothing we cannot do together. I need you with me."
Ravyn shook her head, but her voice quavered. She lacked Vanora's strength. "You disgust me. Your evil is appalling. I will never be yours."
Fury crackled in his golden eyes. "You don't seem yet to understand my capabilities."