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“But?” Diel asked, as if hearing her unspoken words hovering between them.
The vine of thorns returned, slicing into Noa’s flesh, flooding her with their poison. Its slithering length tightened around her neck. “But the Brethren had turned their evil fucking eyes on them. They’d heard of the small coven of misfits, worshipping the Triple-Headed Goddess and the Horned God, holding so-called ‘satanic’ rituals in a secluded forest not too far from one of their headquarters.”
Diel breathed faster, his chest rising and falling too quickly, and his fingers tightened around hers. Noa practically vibrated with the anger, the scalding wrath her memories invoked in her soul. Her eyes lost focus as she said, “And on Samhain, one of the biggest and most treasured celebrations of our calendar, they came for us … they came for them.”
“And did what?” Diel’s gruff voice pulled Noa’s attention. When she met his eyes, she saw they were simmering with fury.
His rage on her behalf filled her with enough strength to finish a story she had rarely told, rarely reflected on for fear it would tear her apart, ruin the person she had fought for so many years to become.
“They attacked,” Noa said, teeth clenched and skin burning as though she were standing in that fire that her family had circled around, paying tribute to deceased ancestors and welcoming in the winter season.
“That was the first time I ever met Father Auguste. Father Auguste and the twin priests that one day I will kill with my bare hands.” She closed her eyes, and she was back in the forest. The scent of pine swirled around her, a fragrant, earthy perfume. The wet mud on the ground was soft and sludgy beneath her feet from where it had rained the night before.
And after years of blocking that night from her mind, she was back there, twelve years old, and her world about to splinter apart forever …
Chapter 16
“Darling, you sit here.” Noa’s grandma guided Noa to a tree with thick roots that made a seat of sorts. Noa sat down, and her grandma wrapped her in a blanket. She leaned down and pressed a kiss on Noa’s forehead. Noa smiled as she smelled patchouli and lavender on her grandma’s skin.
Her grandma backed away toward the fire that Heather had lit. William had already started banging the drum, and soft voices hummed along to familiar songs, songs that Noa adored. She hummed along too.
Every time her grandma’s coven gathered for a circle, it was like watching magic in real life. The freedom, the love, the welcoming of life, death and nature—Noa loved it and couldn’t wait for the day she would participate too.
Tonight was Samhain. It was the most important night of the year. While other kids were dressed up, trick-or-treating and neglecting the ancient reason for the celebration, Noa was watching Wiccans honoring death with the respect it deserved, on the night when the veil between worlds was thinnest, bringing an end to the harvest season and welcoming the beginning of winter.
Noa smiled as her grandma’s hands rose into the air, joy and purpose on her face. The rest of the small coven, only six in total, held up their hands too, except for William, who kept beating the drum, his eyes closed and tilted up to the clear night sky. The moon and stars were out in full effect, and their glow kissed his cheeks.
Dropping the blanket to her knees, Noa held out her hands, her long hair falling down her back as she tipped up her head and closed her eyes, imitating her family.
“We call on the elements.” Noa’s grandma’s voice rang out into the clearing, and Noa opened her eyes to watch her. She loved to watch her grandma like this. The wind rustled the branches of the high trees around them as if it was responding to her call. Dying leaves dropped to the ground, nature’s autumnal confetti falling on the people who treasured it most.
The fire climbed high as her grandma called for air, fire, earth and water. As she called for the aether. The coven circled the fire, chanting their thanks to the Goddess. Noa swayed, a wide smile on her face as they moved faster, arms held up in total surrender. Excitement pulsed within her, an energy surge; she could almost feel the ground vibrating beneath her feet. She wanted to join in more than anything. She wanted to join her grandma and her family in that circle; she wanted to feel what they felt, be a part of the ritual.
Noa’s feet had barely moved toward them when she heard a sound from the left of the clearing. Her body froze, and the temperature seemed to drop around her, like her gut knew there was danger ahead.
Noa watched, wide eyed and pulse racing, as five men walked out of the trees. They were dressed in long black robes and had red dog collars around their necks. They looked like Catholic priests.
